baffy omens - ImJustPassingThrough - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: baffy omens

Chapter Text

BAFFY OMENS

A Narrative of Certain Events occurring in the last eleven years of human history, in strict accordance as shall be shewn with:

The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Maltese

Compiled and edited, with Footnotes of an Educational Nature and Precepts for the Wise, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, and ImJustPassingThrough.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

SUPERNATURAL BEINGS

God (God)

Metatron (The Voice of God)

Gabriel (A Messenger Archangel with a punchable face)

Sandalphon (AWishes Fulfilled Archangel with a sleezy personality)

Michael (A Warrior Archangel who is actually not as bad as the others.)

Uriel (A Knowledge Archangel who has violent tendencies)

Bugs Bunny(An Angel, and part-time rare book collector, and part time Looney Tune Character)

Satan (A Fallen Angel; the Adversary)

Beelzebub (A Likewise Fallen Angel and Prince of Hell)

Hastur (A Fallen Angel and Duke of Hell)

Ligur (Likewise a Fallen Angel and Duke of Hell)

Eric/Legion (A Disposable Demon)

Daffy (An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards)

APOCALYPTIC HORSEPERSONS

DEATH (Death)

War (War)

Famine (Famine)

Pollution (Pollution)

HUMANS

Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Freleng (A Witchfinder)

Agnes Maltese (A Prophetess)

Sylvester puss*cat (Looney Tune Character,and Witchfinder Private)

Pepé Le Pew(Practical Occultist and Professional Descendant)

Lola Bunny (Witchfinder Sergeant)

Tina Russo (Painted Jezebel [mornings only, Thursdays by arrangement] and Medium)

Sister Mary Loquacious (A Satanic Drawer of the Chattering Office of St. Beryl)

Dr.Otto Von Scratchansniff (A Father Figure)

Mr. Tyler (A Chairman of a Residents' Association, and Warner Brothers Lot Security)

Lesley (A Delivery Man)

THEM

WAKKO (An Antichrist)

Dot (A Girl Animal)

Yakko (A Boy Animal)

Pinky (A Boy Lab Rat)

Brian (A Boy Lab Rat)

Full Chorus of Tibetans, Aliens, Americans, Atlanteans and other rare and strange Creatures of the Last Days.

AND:

Dog (Satanical hellhound and cat-worrier)

Chapter 2: in the beginning...

Chapter Text

Current theories on the creation of the universe statethat if it were created at all and didn't just start,as it were, unofficially,it came into being about 14 billion years ago. The earth is generally supposed to be about 4 1/2 billion years old. These dates are incorrect.

Some medieval scholars put the date of the creation at 3760 BC. Others put creation as far back as 5508 BC. Also, incorrect. Archbishop James Ussher claimed that the Heaven and the earthwere created on Sunday, the 21st of October, 4004 BC, at 9:00 a.m. This too was incorrect,by almost a quarter of an hour. It was created at 9:13 in the morning. Which was correct.

The whole business with the fossilised dinosaur skeletonswas a joke the paleontologists haven't seen yet.

This proves two things.

Firstly, that God does not play dice with the universe. I play an ineffable game of my own devising. For everyone else, it's like playing pokerin a pitch-dark room, for infinite stakes,with a dealer who won't tell you the rules,and who smiles all the time.

Secondly, the Earth is a Libra.

The entry for Libra in The Warner Advertiser on the night our history begins reads as follows: "You may be feeling run-down, and always in the same daily round. A friend is important to you. You may be vulnerable to a stomach upset today, "so avoid salads. Help could come from an unexpected quarter.” This was perfectly correct on every count, except for the bit about the salads. To understand the true significance of what that means, we need to begin earlier. A little more than 6,000 years earlier, to be precise. Just after the beginning.

21ST OF OCTOBER,

4004 BC, 9:13 IN THE MORNING, 6000 YEARS AGO,

JUST AFTER THE BEGINNING

It starts, as it will end, with a garden. In this case, the Garden of Eden. And with an apple.

A gorgeous woman with black hair, naked and dark skin stood in the middle of a luscious green garden, with trees and leaves as green as... anything, at the moment. She was staring at an apple tree. The apple tree. The apple tree God had told them to leave alone, but... the apples did look lovely and juicy in this bright, gorgeous, yellow sunlight...

Suddenly, huge black feathered duck, with an orange beak,andbrilliant black eyes, as dark a night, came up from the bright blue, cool lake, and waddled up and along a fallen brown tree truck. The duck flapped up to the woman's ear, and whispered to her, toEve, "go on... Take a bite, it'll be nithce...it'll give you..." It kept whispering, testing her, lisping.

Eve needed no further temptation. She walked forward, a sway in her steps, slightly heavy footed. She stared up at the apple tree, and reached her hand out, wrapping her long, slender fingers around a red apple, as red as as the first red to be invented... which it was. She plucked it from the green leaved branch with curious eyes, and took a big bite out of it, juice dribbling down her lip and chin. She grinned, and looked up to her romantic partner, Adam, and handed it over. With nothing but love, devotion and trust in his eyes, Adam took the apple, and took a bite out of the other end.

No sooner rather than later, the two found themselves with leaves covering their bodies were appropriate, and crawling through a hole in the Wall, stumbling out of The Garden of Eden into the hot, dusty sandy desert. Adam was holding a flaming something, it was hot with red, flickering flames, and Eve was holding her pregnant belly cautiously.

Adam lovingly helped Eve down from the small hill, and gave her comforting look, and she smiled nervously. He raised the fiery weapon, and walked forward, guarding Eve, who held her stomach, and followed.

It was a nice day.

All the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them so far, and rain hadn't been invented yet. But the storm clouds gathering east of Eden suggested that the first thunderstorm was on its way. And it was going to be a big one.

A flat like (known to be cartoon in the future) rabbit, with two long ears, and pale grey fur, and white furred chest, buck teeth and whiskers, and two black beady eyes, stood on The Wall with soft, his sad eyes, overlooking the first two humans leave the garden. He wore a long white, clean robe, that whipped against the picking up wind, with an empty sword sheath, two white gloves, and he had four, large and soft, white feathered wings protruding from his back, (well, actually he had the second set hidden), he was tall and slim, and wore a serious look on his face, with furrowed eyebrows. He also had a golden bracelet on his wrist.

The black feather duck, waddled up the Wall, around the angels feet, and phased upwards next to him. There next to him was another flat like(again cartoon),male presenting being. He was shorterthan the angel, well ever so slightly, but had a curve to his body, a duck, but more like the rabbit, able to stand tall, and on two feet — er, flippers. Almost human like, like the angel. His feathers were black, and neatly combed, and his eyes were just as black, if not more, completely covering where the whites of his eyesshouldhave been.On the side of his beak, was a tattoo of a cross with curves,and he was wearing a long, black cloak and dark black sash, that fluttered in the wind.But, what stood out was onething;two, sharp, black feathered wings protruding, well groomed from his back.

He was a demon, and the rabbit was an angel... this just go more difficult...

"Well, that went down like a lead balloon." The demon said, staring out to the humans who were kicked out from The Garden. His voice was nasally, and lisped, and sounded slightly high pitched.

The angel laughed nervously, feeling the roles of evil wash from the demon. He then frowned, realising he hadn't actually listened to what the demon had said, too overcome with the darkness washing from him and asked politely, "sorry, what was dat?" He asked, with a thick Flatbush accent - even though Bronx and Brooklyndidn't exist.

The demon looked to the angel, and repeated, rather amused, "I thsaid, 'Well, that went down like a lead balloon.'"

The angel nodded, and looked forward again, "yeah, it did..."

"Bit of an overreaction, if you asthk me." Hummed the demon, as the angel's eyes glanced over to him nervously. "Firstht offenthce and everything." He looked the angel up and down, and waved a hand, an apple appearing in his hand and he took a bite, looking away from the angel again, it was like he was glowing.

It fell silent as they went back to watching the humans walk through the sand, and they stood stiffly. The two could feel the others presence as things settled, and both were wary that the other would do something.

The demon leaned over, and shook his head with a confused face, "Ican't thee what'ththo bad about knowing the differenthce between Good and Evil anyway." His eyes held nothing but confusion, and curiosity. He was wary, unsure if he could trust the angel in front of him, unsure if he could make casual conversation.

"Well, it must be bad..." Started the angel, assuring him the demon could talk to him and could trust him, and he paused as if waiting for a name.

"Lucas."He nodded, a sneer on his face, nose scrunched up. He was now thinking about changing his name. Lucas, he decided, was nothim. (And, he hated it how it was the one thing he didn't lisp!)But, nobody has ever been this friendly to him before and so he relaxed his stance slightly.

The angel nodded, "Lucas, otherwise..." He looked Lucas over, noting the slightly larger than expectedbeak and he pointed, "you wouldn't have tempted dem into it."

"Oh, they just thsaid,'Get up there and make thsome trouble.'" Lucasshrugged.

"Well, obviously ye'rea demon. It's what ya do, doc." The angel responded, tense and snappy, unsure.

Lucasshrugged, as he slunk in place. It was like he was unable to stand still or keep in one spot, "tho, what'thyour name?"

The angel looked to the demon,"Happy."

"Happy?"

"Well... actually..."Happy sneered and shrugged, "yes, but my friends call me Bugs... well, if they want."Happy didn't actually have friends. The Archangels above weren't ones to go along with such a request, given as his name was a "gift". So, nobody actually called him "Bugs".

"Huh, nice name, angel." Nodded Lucas, smiling. He hoped he looked friendly rather than duck-like with a wide grin.

The two fell silent, and looked forward again. It wasn't as tense as last time, they were both more at ease. But, Happy was unsure of the nickname'angel', was it as an endearment, or was it as a way of talking down to him?

"Not very thubtle of the Almighty." Lucas said, with an at ease shrug. "Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a neon 'Don't Touch' thsign." He looked out again, stammering in thought, he made a noise that Happy realised was a quack, "I mean, why not put it on the top of a high mountain? Or on the moon?"

Happy subtly looked up, his eyes looking for the moon. It was a good question, wasn't it? Why not somewhere more safe? He frowned, and silently scolded himself. He almost Fell once, he doesn't need to give Her anymore reason to make him Fall.

"Makethyou wonder what God'thsreally planning." Offered Lucaswith a tempting smile, waddlingslightly were he stood. It was like it was getting harder, and harder for him tostand still.

"Best not to speculate... I learned not to question, and neither should you." Warned Happy, looking over the demon. His eyes landed on Lucas' wings, and the demon folded the back slightly, looking forward again with a frown. He then saw two more stumps under the robes, but he didn't question it. "It's all part of daGreat Plan." Reasoned the angel, "it's not for us to understand..." He paused, swallowing and gave a wary, and quiet disgusted look to the demon, but it wasn't aimed at him. "It's ineffable." He winced out, as if those weren't his words, as if they were someone else's.

Lucas frowned, confused, "the Great Plan'thsineffable?" He asked, with a disgusted sneer, full of doubt and utter disbelief.

"Yep." Happy looked to him,"it is beyond understanding 'n;incapable of being put into words."

Lucas just stared in disbelief and looked him up and down, annoyed. Maybe this angel wasn't so different from the angels he vaguely remembers from before The Fall? But then he squinted, leaning forward, he's watched Happy for a while that day, and he's noticed something... wait a minute, "didn't you have a flaming thsword?"

"Uh..." Happy paused, frowning. It was then he realised he should probably be doing some form of smiting, getting rid of the demon, doing actual Principality (though technically a Cherub, though Happy didn't see himself as that) angelic things, or something along those lines... but, he found himself not wanting to, not really. He didn't want to hurt the demon, he didn't even feel the twitch in his fingers like most angels do in close proximity with demons... he rather liked the demon. And, he didn't need the sword.

"You did. It waths flaming like anything." Lucas said, shaking his head, "what happened to it?" He asked, looking to the empty sheath at the angels hips.

"Uh..."

"Thought it wathsamazingly imprethsive."

"Yeah well—"

"Losthit already, have you?" Question the demon with a thoughtful smile, finding the entire situation amusing. The angel was a Principality (or, well a Cherub, though he didn't know that yet), and he's lost his sword! This is the best thing to ever happen!

"Gave it away." Whispered Happy.

Lucas'face froze in a grin, his eyes wide,"you wot?!"

"I gave it away!" Happy yelled, not loud enough for anyone Above to hear, but louder than before as he looked to the demon's gaze.

Lucas' eyes went all starry, sparkling, and amazed, as if he was entranced and in some sort of fantasy. His heart beat was speeding slightly, and it skipped a beat, and he lost an intake of air he didn't particularly need, his smile was still there, despite the fact his heart was threatening to escape. He was floored, and he just stared, soft, awestruck, filled with wonder, he was... captivated.

Immediately, Happy began trying to defend himself, "der are vicious animals, 'n'it’s going to be cold out there, 'n'she’s expecting already," his voice wavered, full of worry for the couple, "'n'I said, 'here ya go doc, flaming sword, don’t thank me.'" He could see it now, as he ran up to the man and woman, handing it over and holding a hand to stop them from saying anything. "'And don’t let the sun go down on ya here'..." He had sent them on their way, and they seemed grateful. "I do hope I didn't do the Wrong thing." Sighed the angel, as he wrung his white robe, setting the helmet down.

Lucas looked to Happy, and said softly and assuring him, "oh, you're an angel, Bugsth. I don't think you can do the wrong thing." Neither acknowledged the fact that angel'scando the wrong thing, the duck was living proof of that.

Happy — no, Bugs,visibly relaxed, "oh, oh, thank-oh, thank you, doc." He sighed out, looking to Lucas in relief. He smiled, shyly admitting, "it's been bothering me."

Roaring sounded inthe distance, and the two snapped their heads over to watch. A lion was heading to the humans, and Adam rushed forward, usingthe Flaming Sword on the poor lion, slashing at it, and kept Eve back in the distance, who gasped in fear for her lover, hands over he mouth.

"Like you thsaid," Lucas said, "viciouthanimalth, and expecting... I'd do the same. You know? Give it up... feel kinda bad for, you know? Tempting them..."

Bugslooked over to Lucas, who's eyes were soft and gentle with worry, a small smile on his face, watching the first couple of Humanity.

"You wantto protect them..." Whispered Bugs, his eyes sparkling,his heart beat was speeding slightly. He was floored, and filled with wonder, he was...captivated.

Lucas' eyes widened, and he looked over to the angel in shock, surprised.

"Youcareabout them..." Bugssaid, amazed.

Lucas was now scowling at the beaming angel, "thtop glowing!" He looked away, scowling, "for Hell'th thake!"

Bugs looked forward, as it fell silent between the two again.As the two watched the first humans, the quicker it began to settle what the two had done, and what it meant for them...

"I've been worrying, too." Lucas admitted suddenly, over looking the couple, who seemed worried, and unsure. "What if I did the Right thing with the whole 'eat-the-apple' buthineth?" He questioned, voice showing clear discomfort.

Bugs tensed up, it is true... what if the demon did the Right thing? Then what? What would happen? They now know Right from Wrong, and they now know of War, they're free to make decisions, and are no longer mindless, or submissive. Andhe, himself, gave away a Holy Weapon, allowing the knowledge of War.

Lucas looked to him, and it was then Bugs noticed that because his eyes were all dark, deep black, there was no whites of his eyes, he was unsure where his eyes ended and started. Though the demons eyes were full of fear and panic, "a demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the Right thing."

Bugs' face fell, but he shook his head, "yer a demon doc, I'm not sure it's actually possible for ya to do the Right thing."He assured, seeing Adam slay the lion with the Flaming Sword, and he frowned, "no offence, but it's down to your basic, you know,nature. Nothing personal, you understand."

"It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh?" Lucasquestioned, nudging the angel, and Bugs head snapped to him. "If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." The demon laughed out, smiling.

Bugs joined in, laughing as well, but his face turned to one of horror. "No!" He snapped, no longer laughing, as he glanced nervously out, "it wouldn't be funny at all."

"Well..." Shrugged Lucas, his small and laughter sobering up. "I thuppothe not."

It suddenly began raining with a loud boom and rumble, the thunderstorm starting. Droplets of water pattered down onto the Wall, the grey ground and onto the celestial beings.

Lucas jumped, his eyes wide in a mad panic, unsure of what this water thing was coming from the sky, and if it would hurt him. Bugs noticed, and automatically, either from being an angel, or because he was rather... fond of the duck demon, held up his white wing covering the demon, shielding him from as much water as possible, not bothered as his winggot wet and heavy, and he kept watching Eve and Adam stare at the lion.

Swallowing,Lucas stared at Bugs, his eyes soft, and he cursed Her, God must hate him if She's making him Fall all over again, for an rabbit, for an angel, who would never, ever feel anything for a low level demonsuch as himself. He hates Her, how dare She torture him more? Is She getting a good laugh out of this?! He looked over Bugs' face, admiring the soft, yet still sharp features, and longteeth, that was dripping wet with water, the liquid wetting his long grey ears, and wetting his gorgeous long lashes, that now glistened from the light.

Bugs looked down to him with a kind smile, and Lucas immediately shuffled overnext to Bugs, taking shelterunder the white wing carefully, not needing to duck down to hide under them, and Bugs gentle smile grew, happy to have the black feather, and rather nice looking demon stood so close to him.

The two looked out to the humans, over the Wall, as the rain thundered down on them.

It was going to be a dark and stormy night.

BaffyOmens, being a narrative of certain events occurring in the last eleven years of human history, in strict accordance, as shall be shown, with The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Maltese, Witch.

Chapter 3: the buggre all this bible; verse 24...

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THE GARDEN OF EDEN

4004 BC

How could Bugs do this?

Lucashad stayed in The Garden for a while, waddlingnext to Bugs, and happily eating apples off the apple tree, picking seeds out from between his teeth with his nail. He had stayed, and both had said it was a way to "torment the rabbit in his failure", but it hadn’t escaped either of them that they felt just as lonely as the other.

Bugs' mind was swimming with the duck demon dubbed Lucas. From his large, tamed, sulphur smelling, black as night wings, to his pear shaped figure and orange beak, and black eyes, that were asdark as the nights sky... the demons eyes, why... they’re gorgeous!

Embarrassing to admit, but when the two were walking around The Garden, Lucas eating everything in sight outof curiosity, and Bugs sinfully joining in with the gluttony, he found himself lost in the demons eyes, in a sea of delicious evil and sin.

He even loved the little "quack"Lucas choked out, and the stammering he did, and of course the lisping. He even loved the way Lucas waddled around him, like a curious duck happy to be about.

If he wasn’t so devoted to Her, if he wasn’t so loyal to his "Siblings"as they're dubbed, the head sibling being Messenger Archangel Gabriel, he would have yelled at them. Screamed at them. How dare they lie to everyone?!

He, as well as all the other angels, were told that demons were hideous creatures, with mould, and bacteria up their skin, inhuman looking, with a clear sense of an animal familiar. They were supposedly disgustingly, vile, evil creatures that deserved nothing but a good smiting, and yetLucaswas none of that.

Lucas was likehim! This flat, two dimensional animal, as if created by an accident. His Siblings were shocked as towhyBugs had been given such a high job, and had claimed it was only temporary, that Bugs was a Principality, so "here take this sword Happy, get to training", they said, and Bugs was less than pleased. But, oh well. He did also wonder (quietly, not out loud)whyhe was the way he was. For what Purpose? Why two dimensional? Why a rabbit, when his Siblings were "human shaped".

And yes, Lucas had temptedthe humans to eat the apple, but he admitted he felt guilty about it in their walk. Apparently, he really liked Eve, she was smart and amusing. He was so kind, and not to mention very... well, okay not good looking, but he was funny. So funny! He's never met another Being like it. He was the least bit of a demon he’d ever seen! But, then again, Lucas is the first demon he’s seen... but, being a Principality (Cherub), Bugscould tell between enemy and friend, and Lucas didn’t scream "enemy", no pulsing head, or annoying, metaphorical blinking light, but he didn’t scream "friend"either. But, he somehow screamed "familiar".

Currently, the angel was fixing the Wall in Eden, placing grey toned, chalkybricks back to their original spot.

Suddenly, a warm light shone upon him, giving him a pleasant tingle... well, it would be if he wasn’t so worried, tense and rigged, with shoulders up to his cheeks, ears stiff as a board, his eyes flashing white and red circles. God, Mother, Creator of Earth, The Almighty or Her, whichever you prefer, was there to talk to him, and he was terrified. She’s angry, he can tell. What did She want? Was he in trouble? Did She know he gave away the Flaming Sword? Did She know he didn’t smite a demon?!

Bugs. Angel of the Eastern Gate.

"Yes, Lord?"Bugs called loudly, (at least She wasn't so angry, and called him "Jack" (the only one who did call him by his name... besides Lucas)). He held up his gloved hand, blocking the bright light from his eyes. His wings were now hidden away, they had been since Lucas had left The Garden a while ago.

Her voice was echoing and demanding.

Where is the Flaming Sword I gave you, Bugs, to guard the Gate of Eden?

Oh Lord, he’s in trouble for that! But, it seems like She doesn’t know he gave it away, maybe he could lie? He lost it, or they stole it before they fled The Garden?

Maybe, he could actually get away with this if he played his cards right! However, it should be noted angels can’t lie, not well at least. Sadly, Bugs is not different to this lying business, not matter how unsure he is with God, no matter how curious he is, he couldn’t lie.

Still, he decided to try and stumble his way through a lie.

“Sword?” He questioned, swallowing back saliva, “right. Um... uh...” He pressed his back against the wall, his gloves coating in dust from the stones, and it grounded him in reality; this is happening. This is real. He placed his hand to his chest, the heel of the hand pressing into his fur, trying to ease his racing heart that he didn't need. "Uh... um..."He held up his hand, and his fingers straight, and began to move it up and down, as if chopping."Big, sharp, cutty thing. Yeah..." He swallowed.

Maybe he could throw Lucas into the mix? No, no, he didn’t want God to go after his... rather cute companion, who had a strange habit of waddling, and pale eyelids. Not to mention after The Fall, the poor demon was probably terrified of Her!

"W-what FlamingSword?" He stammered out, feeling an empty pit form in his stomach.

The one I gave you to guard The Garden, to hold the knowledge of War.

"Oh,thatFlaming Sword!" He said with wide eyes, as if in realisation. He hummed. “Uh, oh must have...” He looked around, as if looking for said Flaming Sword, as if wondering where it was. It was a huge pantomime, and he had no idea if it was working. He looked all over the sandy ground, and up the wall, left and right... "must have put it down here somewhere."He called looking to the floor shyly, and got no response, not seeing Her light go out, no longer shinning on him.

He began rocking on the heels of his bare feet, laughing out in fear. He was given this job as God believed he could handle it, and look what happened! He betrayed Her! He was trying to thinkof something. Why must he be an angel? A being of lying terribly! “Forget my own head next, doc,” he smiled with a weak laugh.

Finally, he noticed the light was gone, and he still got no response, nothing besides a gust of sandy wind, the sand stabbing his ankles like pins, and his robe whipping around his legs with harsh slaps. Frantically, he realised he must have made a terrible mistake letting the two humans go with the Flaming Sword, and he interlaced his fingers together, "oh dear..."

She didn't ask him again.

Chapter 4: noah's ark...

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MESOPOTAMIA

3004 BC

Thunder crashed overhead loudly, as lightening lit up the cloudy sky. The sky was filled with puffs of greying clouds, that looked like it was about to rain. People walked about, stood around, chattering amongst each other. They stood in dirty rags, voices full of confusion and kept glancing up.

Bugs was there, standing amongst them, in a white rag that looked like a potato sack, and was all scratchy and itchy, and by some miracle, probably his own, the clothing was not at all dirty. He had tied his ears into a ponytail, and used a small miracle to look more human, than atwo dimensional rabbit.

All theanimals went in two by two; Two chickens clucked on by, waddling up to the boat. A camel put its foot down. Two turtles slowly moved forward. Two mice scurried past. Two doves walked past. Two rats followed.

He fiddled with his fingers, tugging off his gloves, and then put them on again,and messed with his scratchy robe, watching the scene carefully as he glanced around. He could feel something... something was off, a feeling he's not felt since—

"Hello, Bugs." Came that lispedvoice, as a body waddled up next to him. He was in a long, black robe with large, bell sleeves, his black featherslooked soft, and thicker than last time, and his lisp had already died down, and his ducks eyes were delighted to see him.

"Lucas." Greeted Bugs, tensely and rigged, yet still tried to sound cheery. He couldn't lie, he was shocked the demon was using his "friend name". He's not seen the demon since The Garden, and he'd rather not think about that, but it seemed Lucas didn't care, and brought it up anyway.

"So," Lucas started with a grin. "Giving the mortals a Flaming Sword. How did that work out for you?" He questioned, a cheeky smirk on his beak, as he leaned forward against the railing that was in front of them, and he swayed in place in a way.

Bugs paused, seeing thatLucas' eyes were a bit more human. They still held an impossibly dark colour, and manly black, but he now had the white of his eyes showing, with a ring of glowing amber, much like Hellfire,around the black. Shaking his head, Bugs said with a nerved smile, "the Almighty has never mentioned it again." It was technically the truth, She brought it up once, but She... well, She stopped talking to him.

"Probably a good thing." Quacked Lucas, as he looked out in front of them. He could feel a slight tingle, but thought nothing of it.

The Principality (now officially no longer a Cherub, and thankful about it, as all the other Cherubs had been recalled),hummed, nodding, "how did that eating the apple business go for ya, doc?"

Lucas scowled, "it was hard enoughexplaining the thingBelow, why eating an apple was Bad."

"And? Did dey buy it?" Asked Bugs, hands and fingers running through histwo long ears.

Lucas sighed, "in a way, though they seemed sceptical. Had to pull out it "went against Her plan"..." He looked to Bugs, "I'm lucky to be alive... boss weren't too happy." He shuddered in horror, "got a promotion, but uh... not as high as I'd hope."

"Oh, I'm sorry Lucas..." Jackfrowned, feeling genuinely bad the demon didn't get higher.

The demon waved a hand, dismissing the angel."Don't worry Long Ears... So! What's all this about?" Asked Lucas, looking at the sea of people in confusion. They were all standing around and gawping up at a boat. "Build a big boat and fill it with a travelling zoo?" He asked, squinting as he looked at the large, wooden boat, sat atop of a stack of rocks, as two of each animal walked into said boat, or around it, kicking up dust and stand.

Bugs covered his mouth, holding back a laugh. It had been funny had the situation been less serious. Helooked around, taking a shaky intake of air. Really, he shouldn't be saying this, especially to a demon, but still, he leaned intoLucas' ear, or well hole, since ducks have holes for ears, whispering in a hushed voice, "from what I hear, God's a bit cranky." He said, and Lucas raised an eyebrow in confusion at the angels answer, and shook his head, his black and ambereyes full of wide curiosity, as he continued to sway. Bugs sighed, whispering even quieter, "killing the human race." Lucaspaused suddenly, no longer swaying. He stood frozen, as if someone had hit the pause button (whatever that meant). "Big storm," Bugs waved his hands.

Lucas' head snapped over to look at a few humans.In that one moment, he looked around to the crowd, hiseyes wideningfrom curiosity, toshock and confusion. He looked to a few men and a few women who walked by in rags that at one point must have been white, and he asked, "allof them?" He looked to Bugsagain.

Unsure how to respond, Bugs swallowed. He gestured to the people with a wave of his hand, as if they were lesser, or he tried to convey that, and he gave a nervous sneer of reassurance, "just da locals." At this point he was unsure who he was trying to reassure, himself or Lucas. He felt sick, he's a being of Love, he's meant to protect humanity, but he can't because "that's not God's will", as his Siblings had put it. "I don't think the Almighty's upset with the Chinese. Or the Native Americans. Or the Australians."

"Yet." Insisted the demon with a jerk of his head. His head kept moving, overlooking the boat, scanning every crook, every rope, bored and animal. He stared at everything in disbelief, and up to the boat, barely hearing a cow mooing in the distance.

"And God's notactuallygonna killoffallthe locals." Bugs assured, wearing an friendly smile. Lucas' head snapped to him in disbelief and shock, black eyebrow ridges furrowed in confusion, waiting for some explanation. "I mean," he trailed off, now thinking of someone, anyone! Bugs looked up, looking at the man on the boat with a long, slender index finger, "Noah, up dere." Lucas followed his finger, "his family, 'n' his sons, their wives," he listed, "they're all gonnabe fine."

It fell silent for a second. The angel in tense,apprehensiveness. The demon waiting for more to be listed.

When none came, the demon said, voice full of obviousness and nodded with each syllable to drive his point home, eyes full of disbelief, "but they'redrowningeverybody elthe?"He asked, lisping, his voice full of shock with eyebrows raised in shock. Bugs nodded, sucking in his lips, and then worrying his lower lip with his large, buckteeth.

There was loud hissing coming from the side of them, with baa-ing mixed in. Lucas looked over, annoyed and angrily, and got ready to let out an hateful quack in retaliation to the snakes, but he found himself freezing up in horror. Three children in rags, no older than nine, ranpassed playing a game of chase and laughed and giggled carelessly, and carefree, full of delight and joy. His eyes widened alarm, and his head snapped to a guilty nodding Bugs. "Not the kidths?" Asked Lucas, voice full of terror, nose scrunched up, "you can't kill kidths." He insisted, reasoned, his voice frantic.

"Mm-hmm." Hummed Bugs full of disgust too, but more well hidden. He sounded like he was about to cry, and he... he... he wanted to save those children, each and every one of them. Mortified, disgraced and... he felt sick, his stomach was empty, and his hearth thumped and pounded against his chest.

Lucas' beak dropped open in shock and horror, it didn't land to the floor like it usually would. This was the normal, appropriate amount. He looked back to the boat, eyes scanning it again. "Well, that'th more the kind of thing you'd expect my lot to do." (Was that a hatch at the top of the boat?) This didn't seem right. Even to him. A demon.

"Yeah, but when it's done," Bugs started, and Lucas looked over with a disgruntled sneer, "the Almighty's going to put up a new thing, called a 'rain bow'," he nodded, "as a promise not to... drown... everyone... again." He reasoned, though he knew it was wrong. Who would drown children to begin with?!

Lucas just gave him a look of shock, horror, and confusion, as if to say "what the f*ck are you going on about?". He shook his head with a sneer, and said sarcastically, "how kind." He kept looking around.

"Yacan't judge the Almighty, doc." Insisted Bugs with a weak scold, "God's plans are—"

Quickly, Lucas looked over to him and cut him off, "are you gonnasay "ineffable"?" He questioned with a sneer, a look on his face that said, "if you say that, I'm leaving".

Bugs went to deny it, but paused, tensing and swallowing. He lookedguilty. With a nervous wiggle, he let out a quiet, "possibly." He looked away.

"Why do you defend Her?" Questioned the demon, "especially when She blatantly chooses favourites!" Bugs opened his mouth to answer, but Lucas held a feathered hand (wing?) up, "never mind. The answer is probably "something-something ineffable"." He scoffed, and looked forward, and the angel looked down in shame.

It fell silent for a few moments, observing the scene of frantic animals and chattering people.

Lucas looked over the scene, his face going from blank to shock as he saw something on the ground, and he yelled out, "oy! Shem!" He pointed a finger out, the sleeves of his cloak like wings rolling up and blowing in the wind. Everyone turned to him, Bugs included, confused and squinted with a frown, following the finger. "That unicorn's going to make a run for it!"

The angel and demon, with the crowd,watched asthe white unicorn galloped away, kicking up dust behind it. Gone.

Dropping his hand with a frown, Lucas said voice quiet in uncaring defeat, "oh, it's too late." He shook his head quickly, much like a duck, and looked out, as he shouted, "it's too late!" He looked back to the boat, and saw another unicorn there, and Bugs followed his gaze. Lucas yelled, "well, you've still got one of 'em!"

Thunder crashed over head again with rolls of rumbling, rattling the floor so it seemed, and people whimpered out, chattering as they looked for shelter. The two celestial Beings looked up in shock, squinting, as they watched the sky, rain slamming down.

"We always meet in da rain..." Mumbled Bugs, as water slammed and tangled with his grey fur. He grimaced in disgust, his fur soaking, but it suddenly all stopped, as adark shade covered him.

Bugs, confused, looked up to see the bell sleeve of a black robe, much like a wing, over his head, and he followed the arm that held it. Lucas... Lucas was shielding him, yet he didn't even glace to the angel.

Bugs walked around the Ark, checking over the animals and making sure they were well fed and asleep. The Ark was swaying, as it continued to rain, it was dark out that night, and and this point, he was unsure when, if ever, it was going to stop. The rain had flooded everything, and it had raised and... he didn't want to think about all those people, all those children, gone.

He turned a corner, and paused.

The room was dark, and damp, cold, and full of hay. There were a few candles on the floor, and it was held up with a bit of magic, magic that wouldn't allow anything to catch fire, and it wouldn't fall. But, that's not what Bugs was staring at it. Oh, no. It was... there was... fifty to sixty children scattered the room, wrapped in thick, warm clothing, all with bags full of clothing, food and drinks, wrapped in blankets. All aged from newborn to eighteen, with a few nineteen-year-old's.

A nineteen-year-old stared in shock, and said, "please sir... don't kick us out..."

Bugs smiled softly, and clicked his fingers, food appearing in front of each child. He moved over to the newborns that lay in cribs, wrapped up, warm and cuddled, and he picked two up, "stay quiet, don't let anyone know ya here..." He said, looking to them all, and they all nodded solemnly.

"'Re you thu bunny?" Asked a five year old, blue eyes wide in amazement. "Thu duck sed you'd halp..."

Bugs smiled, "the duck"and he understood exactly who this "duck"was, "I am, don't worry... everything's gonnabe okay."

'Lucas, wherever you are... thank you for saving them, I won't say a thing.'

Chapter 5: crucifixion of jesus...

Chapter Text

GOLGOTHA

33AD

"Father, please." Rasped a male's voice, from a man with cloth around his groin and long beard and long, bloodedhair, which was entangled with a crown of thorns. A nail was hammered through his flesh and bones, and he grunted in pain. "You have to forgive them." He prayed, his teeth chipped, as a hammer slammed against metal again, and he let out a pain filled yell. "They don't know what they are doing." He sobbed out, voice gasping in pain.

Bugs stood in a crowd of ragged dressed, female onlookers, with one or two men, his eyes were brimmed with golden tears and his heart was heavy. He wore a long, white robe with a piece of fabric wrapped around his head, hiding his ears, and his hands clasped together, and white for the stitching. His whiskers were a bit longer, but not by much, and he watched the young man with saddened eyes.

A figure in a black cloak-like-dress sauntered up to him with a waddling, long, black and curledhair hidden under a hood and quiet feminine features. The figure leaned in, a scowl etched into plump, big beak.

"Yanot supposed to be here, doc." Bugs said, quickly, feeling the demonic energy coming from next to him.

The demon scoffed, "well you came to thsmirk at the poor bastard."

Bugs frowned, recognising the voice. Lucas, but he didn't look like a he, instead the demon looked like a she, and so, went with what he believed. Currently, Lucaswas a female, which looking around made sense. A lot of the men watching with the boy with sad eyes were getting wary stares, and the females were barely glanced at. Bugs realised he should have come as a female (he never liked missing an opportunity because he looked amazing in a dress!), but decided to focus on more pressing issues. "Smirk?" He asked annoyed and offended, "me?"

"Well, your lot put him on there." Lucas responded, watching the young boy. The poor man was being nailed to a wooden cross with rusty nails, and a heavy hammer.

"I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Lucas." Sighed Bugs, shaking his head with a sad frown, trying to maintain professional, and do as he's told. All he wants to do is run over, and heal the boy, and send him on his way.

"Oh, I've changed it." Lucas said suddenly, not once taking hereyes from the saddening scene in front of her.

"Your gender, I know." Assured Bugs, not at all bothered by the fact the demon was using female pronouns.

"Not my gender." She responded quickly. Since demons and angels were sexless, they altered between them whenever they wanted, Daffy and Bugs just did it more, and whenever they wanted.

Bugs frowned in confusion, and for the first time since the Crucifixion started, and since Lucas arrived, he looked up, "changed what?" Maybe he shouldn't have looked, the demon looked well... devilishly gorgeouswith the hood up around her, framing her face, for a lack of better words. She really is a tempting demon.

"My name." Lucas responded, still staring at the poor boy. "'Lucas"just wasn't really doing it for me." Sneered the demon, her beakscrunched up in disgust as she shook her head. "It's a bit too..." here she let out a "quack" and she stammered in disgust, "waddling-at-your-feet-ish, and try hard demonic-ish..."

"Well, you are a duck, duck." Bugs insisted his voice soft, "and still a demon." He offered, looking away from her, "so, what is it now? Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?" He asked in a sarcastic voice, wiggling slightly.

"Daffy."

Bugs hummed, head tilted in though, "Daffy..." He tested rather liking the name, and the demon swallowed. Her name on his tongue, it was dripping with gold and holiness.

A hammer slammed against metal, followed by a pain filled scream and yell, with a jerking body. People watched on in sadness, looked down in sorrow, and some watched on with smirks, as if the man was getting what he deserved.

"Did you, uh..." Started Bugs, looking to Luc— Daffy, "ever meet him?"

Daffy's eyes softened with fondness, and she smiled sadly, "yes." Her duck eyes filled with red, bloody tears, "seemed a very bright young man." She complimented, her voice thick with emotion, as she swallowed down a lump in her throat, and tried to hide the utter fondness and delight the man brought her. She looked to the angel, and stared, eyes racking the white robe, finding him rather attractive. "I showed him all the kingdoms of the world," she smiled.

"Why?" Asked Bugs, voice barely above a whisper. He was confused, surely it was some form of tempting she was doing? She can't just be doing a nice thing for the sake of doing a nice thing...

"He's a carpenter from Galilee. His travel opportunities are limited." Daffyreasoned, watching the man with a sad frown. She rather liked the boy, and was not trying to do demonic work when she befriended him, she was trying to do something good. She saw the boy as just that, a boy, trying to do God's dirty work.

A man swung a hammer down, slamming a thick nail into the mans flesh and bones, slamming it through his wrists, and red, thick pools of liquid seeped from his wrist, as he let out a loud yell of agony.

Bugs and Daffy winced, and tensed up in pain, sucking in air between their teeth. Itmade them both feel sick despite the fact neither of them needed to, nor could, vomit.

"That has got to hurt." Quacked Daffy, voice soft and in pain, her face scrunched as if in pain. She looked around at the crowd of people confused, and asked, "what was it he said that got everyone so upset?" She looked to Bugs for an answer.

Swallowing back bile, and thick, tearful saliva, Bugs said with a nod, "'Be kind to each other.'"

Daffy raised her eyebrows in realisation, "oh, yeah. That'll do it."

It was a familiar phrase they both knew, yet they weren't sure from where, nor did they give it much thought...

With one last metal against metal sound, a one final yell from the boy, and one more wince from the celestial beings, it was done. The cross had the young man hammered onto it, and he was hoisted up, as he moaned in pain.

The sun finally began setting.

"Seems God's always trying to kill kids..." Insisted Daffy, watching the boy with sadness.

Bugs sighed, "honestly Luc-Daffy." He was no better, he couldn't stand the poor boys cries of agony. The was the second timeThe Almighty had willingly killed children, allowed them to die by inhumane ways.

Daffy looked up to see the angels pain filled face, and wanting to stop her angel from being sad, she raised a hand, snapping her fingers loudly.

The boy on the cross stopped crying in pain, and instead fell into a dreamless slumber with no agony, and his chest raised and lowered, unsteadily, but it still moved.

Bugs' head snapped to Daffy, eyes wide in amazement, "did you just...?"

"Not a word..." Insisted Daffy, her voice sad.

Chapter 6: oysters in rome...

Chapter Text

ROME

8 YEARS LATER

Bugs sat at a table, playing a solitary game of checkers, so it seemed. He was in a small building, filled with loud chattering people, as his other hand was curled around a stone jug, he pulled up his white robe slightly, that held a grey pin, resembling wings. In recent years, he had started drinking carrot juice (that got him drunk), and eating (mainly carrots). It was a rather delectable indulgence.

The small tavern was filled with chattering, and pot jugs being slammed down, as people in robes moved from one place to the other, drinking.

"What have you got?" Came a slurred, dazed yet still lisped voice.

Pausing in his game, Bugs knew that voice. He looked up to see Lucas, in a black robe with red designs on and a black cloak, and what looked like metal, silver black leaves around his head, standing out against his black feathers, like a crown. However, he wore these... eye things, and they were balanced on the bridge of his beak, covering his dark black eyes, with an amber ring around them, with black, tinted glass so it seemed.

"Give me a jug of whatever you think ithdrinkable." Demanded Lucas, leaning on the table, his cheeks flushed, even through the feathers, and he seemed unable to sit comfortably on the chair.

"Jug of house brown." The woman behind the counter said, her voice stern and tired, with a blank look in her eyes, "two sesterces."

With his face scrunched up in dizzying pain, Lucas sighed with a large eye roll, and pushed over the sesterces, and reached out his fingers, curling them around the pot.

This was when Bugs formed some courage, and walked over to the demon, "Lucas..." The demon looked up, recognising his dead name. "Daffy?" The angel corrected himself, rather quickly, wiggling his fingers quickly. He grinned as he locked eyes with the demon, but his grin turned genuine and soft as the demon confusingly looked him up and down. Bugs sat down with a pleasant sigh, a smile of delight, "well..." He tucked his robe under himself, "who'd'a thunk,running into you here, doc."

The woman barely glanced up, and when she did her eyes seemed to glaze over them. She poured two drinks, though at the moment she forget why she was pouring drinks. She pushed two drinks over suddenly, and went back to cleaning the pottery.

"Still a demon, then?" Questioned Bugs, watching as Luc-Daffy curled his fingers around the pot and took a sip.

Daffy sneered, and looked up to the angel, raising his eyebrows in disbelief, "what kind of thstupid quethstion ith that, "thstill a demon"?" He asked in a slurred voice, voice angry, sarcastic and sharp, "what elthe am I going to be, an aardvark?" He looked forward, annoyed, as he leaned onto the table.

Bugs ignored the annoyed and snappytone, he was just happy to see the rather attractive demon after so long. He raised his beige cup with a smile, "salutaria."

Raising his own cup, Daffykept on scowling, clinking cups, "salutaria." He turned away, and took a drink, now focusing on not lisping.

Bugs squinted, and realised exactly what the issue was, the demon in front of his is drunk, hungover and tired... but, what was he tired from? He seemed to have had an eventful night. "In Rome long?" Questioned Bugs, taking a sip of his drink.

"Just camein for a quick temptation." Daffyexplained, swallowing back the liquid. He let his duck eyes wander to Bugs, and held back a smirk seeing the angels lost face, "sex in other words." He spelt out, and grinned, hearing Bugs choke on his drink. "You?"

Bugs shakily put his drink down, his throat burning from nearly choking on the liquid, "thought I'd try Petronius' new restaurant." He explained, and he suddenly gushed, "does amazin'things to oysters."

Daffyhummed, not looking to the angel again and he dragged his finger around the rim of the cup, "I've never eaten an oyster." He admitted, voice distant and thoughtful, as he took a sip of his drink. In recent years, he's started drinking, eating, sleeping is one of his specialities, as is sex, sex, sex.

Bugs eyes turned to one of shock and horror, as if he was personally offended by the demons lack of food pallet. "Oh," he set his cup down, "oh, well, let me tempt ya to—"

The demon looked to him quickly, placing his cup down again with a quietthud,and his eyebrows raised in shock as a cheeky grin formed on his face, trying and failing to hide his amusem*nt.

Bugs seemed to have caught himself, and winced, "sorry... that's ya job, huh, doc?"

"You stheemed to do well with the sword business." Smirked Daffy, glancing to a few guards that had wondered in, as he sipped his drink, "I think you should have been the demon." He said, thoroughly amused.

Bugs scowled, nose twitching in annoyance at the thought, "don't... itwas one time, I'mnota bad person..." He didn't want to admit that he too felt like he should have Fallen. He knew he should have, and yet he didn't... his entire life felt backwards... why didn't he Fall? Who stopped his Fall?

Daffy moved closer, a coy smirk curled on his beak, "I never said that." He said in a hushed voice, his cold beak brushing Bugs' largeear."Maybe, a bit sthinful..." He said, spraying spit, making Bugs shiver at the wetness on the shell of his ear. Daffy trailed off,"but..."

Long, white gloved fingers wrapped around Daffy's black feathered shoulders, "Daffy..." He bit his lower lip, keenly aware of Daffy's soft breathing.

"Tell me to stop..." Daffy said, his fingers digging into Bugs' grey fur, but he stopped all movement. He's a demon yes, but he isn't Evil.

Bugs moved his hands up, wrapping his arms around Daffy's neck, his fingers curling around the raven, black, thickfeathers, "don't stop..." He whispered, his white furry cheeks and nose turning a lovely, rosy red blush.

With a wave of a hand, eyes glazed past the demon and angel, and Daffy placed his wide beak on Bugs' furry neck softly, gently kissing up Bugs' warm fur. Bugs gasped, feeling dull, duck-like teeth sink into his tender flesh, and he dug his fingers into the demon's black feather, and groaned lowly, feeling the demon suck and lick his slowly bruising skin.

"Daffy..." Bugs gasped out, as the demons hot breath tickled his neck, and was now up to his long ear. He stiffened slightly, feeling the demon tug at the lobe. He looked Up to the sky, and frowned in horror, as it hit what he was he doing, and who could be watching, pushing the demon back slightly, "Daff, no... we..."

The demon froze, and frowned, but nodded respectfully. He moved away, back to his seat. He is not an Incubus, or a Lust Demon, but he is, in fact, a Temptation Demon... he just rather happened to like sex, and this rabbit angel in front of him made him needy. He would happily eat the angel up if asked to, by the angel himself. He sipped his drink, "oytherth?!" He lisped out, voice relaxed and at ease, eyes glazed over, not just in a drunken haze, but also lust.

Bugs smiled softly, flushing more. Forget the lustful neck kisses. The demon respected him and stopped immediately, "oysters..."

Daffy slouched in his seat, resting his large chin on his fist. He tried an oyster or two from Petronius' new restaurant, and he rather enjoyed it, it was nice, though the wine was better, but what was even better was the angel clearly enjoying himself in front of him. "They're good?" Asked Daffy, his beakpursed in thought, completely enamoured.

Bugs tipped back an oyster with a happily wiggle, "yeah, they're great..." He grinned, eyes shinning, as his eyes sinfully gazed over Daffy'sbody, "thanks for comin', doc." He placed his hand on the arm rest, his palm up.

Daffy stared at the angels hand, and gently traced his fingers over the white, smooth glove, "thanks for takin' me..."

Bugs smiled, and curled his hand, holding Daffy's fingers. Hewould never admit it, but the oysters would be what he considered his first date with Daffy... even if Daffy didn't know it himself.

Chapter 7: kingdom of wessex...

Chapter Text

THE KINGDOM OF WESSEX

537 AD

It wasn't night, but it didn't look like the day either.Theair was thick with fog, damp and cold, as crows squawkedominouslyin the quiet, echoing the area.

Bugs in a silver, off white knight uniform that was reflective like a mirror, it covered his ears too, and it moved forward with a heavy sway, he had a long white cloak, that had red fur around the rim, and was followed byan old man who was dressedin a brown robe with his hood up, and he lead Bugs' horse forward that also had a silver uniform. He really hates horses, and always has done, hecan't ride the damnedthings.

Carefully, he pushed up the mask of the helmet, and his skin was met by cold air, immediately making him want to sneeze. With a shaky breath, Bugs called out, "hello?" His brown eyes wandered the sagging trees, with frozen leaves, his voice bouncing off bushes. Slowly, he began walking forward and swallowed, "I, Sir Bugs of the Table Round, am here to speak to the Black Knight." The man and the horse followed behind him slowly, staying just a little away from the angel.

Suddenly, a hunched over man dressed in black and torn ragslimped up toBugs, a drag in his steps, and was shrouded in wet murk,squabbling and ramblingabout random nonsense.

Bugs slowed to a stop and gave a tense smile of friendliness, "oh. Um... heya doc." He greeted, trying to relax his muscles, his shoulders up to his metal, covered ears.

The man gurgled out, "yeah, come," frantically waving his hand, beckoning him over, before jumping and stumblingaway.

"I..." Started Bugs, following the man as he tumbled away into the dense fog. "I was hopingto meet with the Black Knight?" Bugs walked forward swallowing, as the mistcleared slightly, moving deeper into the cold, he saw; there, hidden in the white, greying clouds,multiple figures, knights dressed in black, metal uniforms,holding up weapons in defence, and he tensed up, swallowing backsaliva.

TheBlack Knight staggered forward as if attempting to saunter, his black metal uniform gave away a well built, yet slim figure, "you have sthought the Black Knight, foolish one." The Black Knight said, in a very, very,veryfamiliar lisped, nasally voice. "But you have found your death."

It fell silent for a tense moment, the two staring at each other, one ready for a fight and the other... well...

With a confused frown,Bugs lost the tense in his shoulders, squinted in confusionand causally asked, "is that you under there, Lucas?"

"Daffy." The Black Knight lifted the sharp face mask of his helmet up, his beak popping out painfully, revealing two dark pools of black, and amber glowing rings.

Bugs stared, as for the first time in a while, he saw those amazing eyes he found so stunning, those black eyes, andhypnotic amber ringsthat made his knees weak, and quiver. "What da Heaven are ya playin' at, doc?" Hissed the angel, in a hushed whisper leaning into the demon. He ignored the rush of joy being this close to him, and instead focused on the annoyance he felt.

Daffy turned behind himand called out to his small army, "it'thalright, guys! I know him!" He looked forward to the angel,"he's alright." He assured his men, who eased up, relaxing their weapons. "I'm here thpreading foment." Explained Daffy with a groaned, the metal heavy, his tone suggesting that he explained everything and he shrugged rather carelessly.

"What's that, some kind of porridge?" Questioned Bugs with a sneer. He doesn't like porridge too much, he finds it rather dull, and the texture was like some form ofpaste, and waxing shine used for armour.

Holding back a laugh, Daffysaid, "no!I'm, you know, fomenting dithent and dithcord." He explained, shaking his head, "King Arthur's been spreadingtoo much peace and tranquillity in the land, so I'm here, y'know?... fomenting."The demon smiled, all friendly and kind, shrugging. He was talking to the angel as if he wasn't ademon, as if he was an angel himself. (Bugs did think at times that Daffy shouldn't have Fallen, such as saving children, but there are times he disagrees with himself, such as Daffy having sex and swearing like a sailor...)

"Well, I'm meant tabe..." Bugs paused in his explanation, closing his eyes and shaking his head, "fomentingpeace." He tried, and felt idiotic for trying to one up the demon.

"Tho we're both working very hard in damp places, and just cancelling each other out..." Drawled Daffyin bored realisation, eyebrows raised slightly and seemed rather tired.

"Well, ya could put it like that." Hummed Bugs, as he looked around the area, "itisa bit damp." Sneered the angel, looking around the cold, brume area.

"You know? It would probably be easier if we both stayed home." Daffy said, thinking of his bed. He liked napping as well as the next demon, another human, mortal pleasure he had picked up on. He found it nice to loose some time, feel refreshed and have lovely dreams about cats, dogs and a certain brown haired angel.

Bugs hummed in agreement, he too liked sleeping as of late. Though he didn't do it often, but when he did, he did think of the blackfeathered duckdemon.

Daffy's eyes lit up suddenly, an idea forming in his head. The angel unknowingly agreed with his idea, a little temptation never hurt anyone. "What if we just sent messagethback to our head offices saying we'd done everything they'd asked for?"

"But that'd be lying." Bugs said in shock, remembering the last time he tried lying. Well, one with big consequences. He had stammered and stuttered through his words, and She didn't believe him, or did She? Either way, he hadn't sinned as much anymore... except being friendly-ish with a demon, a bit of sexual activities that didn't go far with said demon, drinking and eating, and sleeping, fighting in a War or two... and, lying, and... okay, so he isn't exactly Good, but he's not Bad!

Daffy grit his teeth together, and looked like he was about to deny it, he let out a "quack" and said, "eh, yeah, maybe. But, the end result would be the same." He shook his head, as he waddled, "cancel each other out. Equal to a thum of zero..." He smiled, "ya lie all the time, angel."

"Shut it..." Snapped Bugs, a light flush coming over his face. Has Daffy called him angel before? Yes, once... on The Wall, but back then, he had no idea if it was an insult, or a nickname... now, he knew. And alright, yes he's lied. He lied to God about the Flaming Sword. He lied to work about all those children mysteriously appearing on the boat, ("how did they get there, Happy?" Gabriel asked. "Oh, I don't know, must have got on board, and Noah's family kept dem alive, doc." Bugs had lied.), he lied about the poor child sleeping on the cross ("must-apassed out from pain."), and even the hickey on his neck from Rome ("just a bruise from a miracle backfire."). It is certainly not his first time lying. However, this is different, this is his actual work and, "but, Daffy, love cup..." Started Bugs, not realising he called Daffy "love cup", andmissing the way Daffy'sface lit up with pink from the nickname, "well, they'd check." He reasoned with a wobbly laugh, "Michael's a..." He nodded and stammered, "a bit of a rule follower." He scowled in defeat. Bugs sighed, voice full of tired annoyance, "ya don't wanna get Gabrielupset with you." His face had fallen completely.

Daffy frowned, realising a sad Bugs just wouldn't do! He let out a small groan of assurance, "quc!", another duck noise. "Oh, our lot have better thingthto do than verifying compliance reporthfrom Earth." He promised,rolling his eyes. He raised an eyebrow, "as long as they get the paperwork, they seem happy enough." He insisted and leaned forward, a serpent grin on his tanned face, "as long as you're being seen to be doing something every now and again." He tempted, eyes sparkling in evil mischief, and he licked his beak.

"No!" Shouted Bugs, despite being slightly tempted to join Daffy. "Absolutely not!" He yelled, voice firm and foot firmly planted down, he knew in the long run it wouldn't be good. "I am shocked that ya would even think of such a thing!" He could see what this demon was doing, and he wouldn't fall for it. He wouldn't Fall for a temptation! Even if it made somewhat sense. "We're not talking about this! Not another word!" He turned, and stormed away, the metal of his suit clashing together. His mind was on the demons temptation, it seemed to be working, he really didn't like riding on horses, and well... if they were just cancelling each other out, equalling to nothing, what was the point of doing all of this?

"Right."Sighed Daffy, not knowing the angel was genuinely considering his temptations.

"Right!" Snapped Bugs, glancing to Daffy before looking away.

Bugs frowned, watching the angel storm away to the fussing horse, before heslammed his helmet down again with a loudclank, letting out a yelp as it slammed on his beak, and threw his hands up, walking back to his men in defeat.

Chapter 8: shakespeare's hamlet...

Chapter Text

THE GLOBE THEATRE LONDON

1601

About six people stood in the audience of the theatre, at a push. One of them was a woman selling oysters and fruits, the other was the writer of the play, and the final one was Bugs. He stood in a white outfit, with puffed out grey pants, long stockings, white frills at his neck, and his earswere tied, and his fur was fuzzed up in a way, his shirt had too many grey buttons, and frills at the wrists. He smiled, as a young man walked out onto the stage, seeming to be bored.

"Oysters!" Shouted a woman, walking over with a wooden crate of food, "oranges!"

"A few grapes, please." Asked Bugs when the woman came close. She held out the crate, as he looked at them, waving his hand and a coin appeared between the pads of his fingers, "dey look delicious." He complimented, handing over money, and was given a piece of cloth filled with grapes.

"To be or not to be, that is the question!" Called the man on the stage in an over exaggeratedvoice. "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows."

Daffy walked in, opening a red wooden gate and sauntered up to the angel. He was in a black suit, his black feathers were less fluffy, but pampered,and he grew out a beard (or well, a fake one), that looked vaguely like a Norse skipper. His suit consisted of black puffed out shorts, his collar stood upright, with silver buttons and shoulder puffed pads, and black out glasses perched on his beak again, hiding his eyes.

"... of outrageous fortune..."

Daffywaddled next to Bugs and said, "I thought you said we'd be inconsthpicuouthhere." He looked around the empty theatre, a sneer on his face, and Bugs looked around rather guiltily. "Blend in among the crowds."

"Well, dat was the idea." Bugssaid, eating another grape. He held the grapes over to the demon, "grape?"

Daffy took a grape, and he ate it, as he leaned into the rabbit slightly with a grin, "well... you do look ravisthing, angel." He purred out, a coy smirk on his lips, spit landing on Bugs' fluffy cheek.

"Thank you, Daff..." Bugs blushed, and looked down shyly. He enjoyed the nicknames over time, and he felt bad referring to Daffy as "demon", or "Lucas", and "Daffy" at times was a mouthful, therefore "Daff", and the rare "Love Cup", which he called him years ago by accident, stuck. But, there was also dumb nicknames, like "Doc"and "Duck". The demon seemed rather fond of the nicknames, and Bugs' intended use of the nicknames were... to tempt the demon into a... form of partnership... it was a rather sinful admittance, despite the fact sex wasn't on the angels mind...

"Hang on."Called a man with long brown hair, with a moustache and slight curled beard, in red clothing, hand out rushing forward. The man on stage looked bored, and annoyed.

"Oranges!"

Daffy looked to the stage in thought, as he began recognising the story telling. He grew both excited and dismayed. "This isn't one of Shakespeare's gloomy ones, is it?" He questioned suddenly, looking to the angel. He has nothing against Shakespeare, if anything he got along well with the man, and the two had a lot of eventful and fun nights, nights he enjoyed as did Shakespeare, however, when it came to gloomy plays he hated them. He whined, throwing his head back like a child, "no wonder nobody's here!" He slunk in his spot.

"Sh." Hissed Bugs, seeing Shakespeare run over to them, "it's him. It's him."

Daffy saw, and he stopped complaining, replacing his whine with agrin. It's thanks to Shakespeare he has gotten a name for himself for lust, Downstairs loved him for it. Daffy had actually been thanked by Shakespeare through sex, because Daffy was the one who came up with "Romeo and Juliet", which makes sense if you think about it.

"Prithee, gentles." Greeted Shakespeare, looking to Daffy in a shy manner, "might I request a small favour?" He asked, his thumb and index finger close together. The two looked to him expectantly, and ready, something about the other made them balance out into... not good, or bad, but nice people. "Could you, in your role as the audience," Shakespeare moved his hands out, gesturing, "give us more to work with?"

Daffy just looked confused, a frown on his face. Bugs smiled nervously, pointing to the stage, "yamean, like when the ghost of his father came on, and I said, "He's behind you"."He raised his hand.

"Just so. That was jolly helpful." Shakespeare said, a smile on his face. He gestured to the stage, "made everyone on stage feel," he waved his hands, "appreciated. A bit more of that." He looked to Daffy, face hopeful, as he knew the gentleman preferred humour, rather than death and tragedy.

Daffy leaned over, winking, "don't worry love, I'll bevocal." He purred, and relished the blushed coming from Shakespeare and Bugs.

Shakespeare chuckled, "you sinful man." He flirted, "you're always vocal."

"Well, tonight the entire world shall know how vocal I am." Daffy smirked a promise, his voice low with a moan. Bugs scowled at Daffy, and then at Shakespeare, feeling the pricks of green jealousy stab, and coil around his heart.

A blushing Shakespearebacked away with a sinful smirk, looking to the actor on stage. "Good Master Burbage, please. Speak the lines trippingly!"He called, trying to ignore the man he frequently hadsex with.

Master Burbage, who was playing Hamlet, leaned forward with a painful smile of annoyance on his face, "I am wasting my time up here." He sang out, sarcastically.

"No!" Bugs denied quickly, eyes wide in horror, still fighting down the blush. He shook his head with a pained smile, "no, ya very good, doc!" Shakespeare pointed to him appreciatively. Bugs smiled, swallowing as he stumbled through a lie, again, "I love all the..." He waved his hand, as Daffy looked to him, "talkin'."

Master Burbage seemed to tell, and asked, "and what does your friend think?" (It should be noted, Shakespeare flushed a bright red at the mention of Daffy.)

Bugs turned his head, looking to a rather happy, and swayingDaffy, who's hands were behind his back. He looked to Master Burbage again, face flat, trying to hide his fear, "oh, he's not my friend. We've never met before. We don't know each other."

Daffy smiled, his dull teeth on show as he tried to hold back a laugh at the panicked angel.With an amused smile, he insisted with a twisted voice, "I think you should get on with the play."

"Yes, Burbage. Please!" Shakespeare looked from the two men, and gestured to the actor, "from the top!"

Master Burbage got read, "to be or not to be. That is the question."

"To be!" Shouted Bugs, his voice echoing the quiet the theatre."I mean, not to be!" He corrected with a wave of his hand, as if unsure himself, the room groaning quietly.He looked to the demon, who looked at him in surprise, the angel was smiling in nervous joy, and the demon hidhis adoration behind his glasses.

"Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" Called Daffy, helping the angel, though was no longer looking at the play, and he was ignoring Shakespeare. He watched Bugs softly. If the Principality (Cherub, Daffy tells himself, because Bugs would always be a Cherub after Bugs told him) could see how much he meant to the demon, well that would be a joke to tell the angels. (It should be noted he continuously curses God for making him Fall, again, for an angel. And, he just knows She's laughing her metaphysical arse off!)

Bugslooked to him, eyes shinning and he flushed bright red, seeing Daffy's gaze on him.

"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows..."

"He's very good, isn't he?" Questioned Bugs, eyes now looking at the play in front of him, as he leaned into the demon.

Daffy stared at the play, swaying, "age doethnot wither, nor custom stale hithinfinite variety."

Bugs stared, eyes soft in amazement, as if he couldn't believe the demon could be so... wonderfully spoken.

Shakespeare looked over, and hummed, "mm! Yeah, I like that." He nodded, and walked off to the small stand he was at before.

"To die. To sleep. No more..."

The demon saunteredto the other side of the angel, and the angel asked, annoyed, "what do you want?"

"Why ever would you inthinuate that I might possibly want something?" Asked Daffy, leaning into the angel. Their eyes locked together suddenly, as they stared. They were close, their noses were centimetres apart, and Bugs flushed a light pink hue.

Bugs swallowed, "you areup tano good, doc." He warned, as if there was a subtext, as if there was a double conversation.

"Obviously." Daffy insisted, glancing around the room. He leaned in closer, "you are up to good, I take it? Lothof good deeds?" He lispedout, sharp, dull teeth clenched together.

Bugs sighed, "no rest for the... well, good."

The two had leaned in closer (Daffy waddling closer), and they swallowed. They were grinning now, smiling. What they were doing; blasphemous and sinful, even for the demon, a complete scandal. It seemed as these thoughts caught up with them especially the angel who was trying not to Fall as it is, and their eyes darted away from each other suddenly, down to the floor.

"I have tabe in Edinburgh at the end of the week." Bugssaid, and Daffy hummed. "A couple of blessing's tado. A minor miracle taperform." He shrugged, and then shuddered in fear and disgust. "Apparently, I have taride a horse." He frowned.

Daffy sneered, and shook his head letting out duck-like groan, "hard on the backsthide, horses." He glanced back to the angel, to see him looking back as well. They were still close, too close... cheeks turned bright red. Daffy made the pained decision to pull away, "major design flaw, if you ask me." He sauntered, and waddling back around the angel, back to his original position.

Bugs frowned, and the two turned to watch the play in front of them. But, suddenly, his eyes widened and his cheeks turned a bright red. A hand was on his lower back, casually resting there, and he smiled slightly, eyes shining.

"I'm meant to be heading to Edinburgh too this week." Daffy said, his hand not leaving Bugs' lower back, though it was now his other hand, as he waddled back around the angel, again. He was unable to stay still. "Tempting a clan leader to thteal thome cattle." He said, his thumb rubbing into the angels waist, continuing as if he hadn't placed a hand on Bugs, as if he wasn't making the angel's mind melt with sinfully, delightful thoughts.

"Doesn't sound like hard work." Bugs said,leaninginto the touch slightly.

"The pangs of despised love and the insolence of office."

A man behind Shakespeare burped, as he dozed off, his head falling. The writer shook his head.

"And the spurns that we are..."

"That's why I thought we should..." Daffy started, and pursed his lips, as the angel looked to him.

"Well," started Bugs, looking doubtful.

Daffy smirked, "itisabit of a waste of effort, both of us going all the way to Scotland."

"You cannot actually be suggestin'..."all of this out loud."What I infer... you are implying." Bugsmumbled, making sure nobody heard their discussion.

"Which is?" Smirked Daffy innocently, a soft yet rather evil smile on his beak, as he picked out another grape.

"That just one of us goes toEdinburgh, does both. Theblessing and thetempting."

"We've done it before." Reasoned Daffy with a hum, as he looked around, fingers digging into Bugs gently, "dozens of times now." He felt proud he managed to somewhat tempt the sweet angel, though of course, the sweet angel still did a bit of tempting of his own, or maybe Daffy's just soft for Bugs. Yes, the angel came up to Daffy with the idea, after Wessex, and it was perfect, since Bugs let out a huff. "The Arrangement—" Sang Daffy quietly, looking around.

"Don't say that." Hissed Bugs, looking to Daffy.He looked Up, then Down, checking again.

With a scoff, Daffy looked to the angel and said, his body wavering softly, "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done." He said, shaking his head as he too looked around. He didn't want the angel in trouble, no matter how casual he is with The Arrangement.

"Dey just want taknow dey can cross it off ta list, I know." Assured the angel. "But if Hell finds out, they won't just be angry," Bugs said, eyes soft in worry as he looked to the demon, "they'lldestroyyou." He reasoned, is voice breaking. He couldn't bare to leave without the demon.

"Nobody ever has to know." Assured Daffy, voice soft and careful, "besides, it's you I worry about, you can't lie very well. Theywill destroy you, instantly." With a demonicmiracle, a coin was between Daffy's middle and index finger, "toss you..." Hewinked, and Bugs flushed, "for Edinburgh."

"You dirty demon." Sighing in defeat, looking between it and the demon. He smiled, "go on, heads."

Daffy flicked the coin, and caught it, placing it on Bugs' readily out fist. Neither wanted Daffy to move his hand from Bugs' back. They checked the coin. It wasn't their first time doing this, and it certainly won't be their last.

"Tails, I'm afraid. You're going to Scotland." Daffy said, and grinned seeing Bugs' disappointed look.

"It's been like this every performance, Juliet." Shakespeare said, talking to a nodding woman with a crate of oranges. "Complete dud. It'd take a miracle to get anyone to come and see "Hamlet"." He said, pointing to the play.

Suddenly, Bugs perked up and looked to Daffy with sad, puppy dog black eyes, and seemed like he was begging, hopeful. Daffy saw, and sighed, slouching, he can't say no to this angel. With a roll of his eyes, he said, "yes, alright." He caved, "I'll do that one. My treat."

"Oh, really?" Smiled Bugs, relieved and thankful.

Shaking his head, Daffy said, "I still prefer the funny ones."He began to walkoff, regretfully pulling his hand away, but Bugs stopped him. He raised an eyebrow, but turned a bright red when Bugs planted a bashful kiss to his cheek, buckteeth brushing against black feathers. Daffysmiled, and walked off with a waddled saunter, and called to Shakespeare, "see thee tonight, dearest!"

Chapter 9: paris' revolution...

Chapter Text

PARIS

1793

Cheering sounded from outside the small, dingy, damp and dark jail cell he was thrown in. Bugs, the poor angel, was sat on a rickety, creaking, wooden stool, with the sun beating down upon him from outside, seeping through the bars attached to the empty hole like window. There was a sound, one that sounded like something sharp cutting through meaty, wet flesh echoed the cell, then there was a dull thud. His wrists were bound in front of him by iron, and metal, as he stared at the wall in front of him with a slouch, back to the guillotine, and to be fair, he deserved it. He was the idiot angel who dropped into Paris during a Revolution, looking like the most British person alive in a white suit, and blazer like jacket, frills at the neck, and tight pants.

He's only situated in London for a few years, he just wants to go somewhere else!

He looked out the hole and through the bars, and saw the guillotine fall, it sliced through something wet, and fleshy again, and there was a dull thud soon after, ending with cheering. He stretched his bound wrists as far as he could, which was barely anything. The chain connected both his wrists, yet split into two, connecting to the wall. The clattering of keys came from just outside the bars of the cell, and he shuffled on the seat to face them, as the key lock squeaked and the cell gate was opened with a creak.

A guard in blackunlocked the cell, but another man walked in. He was rather large, and chubby, with an unruly beard and wore all red clothing, with white socks, and a red piece of fabric atop of his head, with a badge and sash of colours. He began speaking French, and Bugs stared at him lost, confused. The man moved forward with a smile, nodding and talking still, he moved over to Bugsto touch the frills on his neck.

Immediately, Bugs flinched back and held up his hands up in a surrender, and began speaking French as well, poorly, might I add. "Non attunds... mistake-uh, erreur." He sighed, wincing, "outtapractice for French." He admitted, rather embarrassed, "um..." He again tried to speak French.

The man held up a finger, shushing him, "I speak English." He assured, gesturing to himself, and Bugs nodded, not at all happy or reassured.

The guillotine outside slid down, and cut off another head, and cheering sounded the area again, as well as a scream. The two looked to the hole, the angel in not too well hidden fear, and the man in disappointment.

"Listen to that." The man said, a scowl on his face as he looked to Bugs, who swallowed tensely, ears plastered to the side of his head. "The fall of the guillotine blade," the man gestured with a grumble, "is it not terrible?"

Bugs had a feeling the man hadn't meant it as; "oh the death is terrible", but he jumped to it anyway. "Yeah. Yeah, cutting off thatpoorwoman's head!Terrible!" He readily agreed, eyes wide in terror, and he nodded.That poor woman! He felt guilt for being unable to help them, and he was annoyed at being captured himself. Maybe, he could change this mans views, and morals, though of course he couldn't miracle it, how could he? He's already in trouble for doing too many miracles...

"It is Pierre." Continued the man, as if Bugs hadn't mentioned the woman, "an amateur." He waved in his hands in a 'what can you do?' motion, "always he let go of the rope too soon." He scoffed. Bugs lost all hope, feeling sick and looked rather annoyed. "You are lucky that it is I, Jean-Claude," he waved his hand, a tipped his head in a bow, "who will remove your traitorous head from your shoulders!" He said with a joyful smile.

Bugs shook his head, face crumpled in sadness and fret, "look doc, this is all a terrible mistake." He said, "I don't think ya understand—"

"I have good news for you!" Jean-Claude said, all delighted and happy, not noticing Bugs sag in the stool. "You are the nine-hundred-and-ninety-ninth aristo to die at the guillotine by my hand!" He seemed rather cheerful of this, as if this was a big honour, and Bugs sighed, tense. "But the first Rabbit," he added, impressed and shocked, his voice sounded like Bugs should be proudto be the first.

Instead of genuine delight, all he got was a sarcastic, "yay." One that lacked enthusiasm, and joy.

"Now..."Jean-Claude moved to Bugs with a smile, standing behind him, and went to untie the scarf of frills at his neck.

"Please!" Demanded Bugs, standing up and moving away from him, "no." He scowled, face stern as he looked to the man. Jean-Claude just looked confused and shocked that someone dared to rush away from him. "A huge mistake, discorporating me." Bugs groaned thinking of all the stupid, godforsaken paperwork, "oh, it'll be a complete nightmare..." He dragged his hands down his face, and felt sick, and already felt his eyes dried out, and head throb and hurt from looking at said paperwork. He rolled his eyes, looking away from Jean-Claude.

Another sound of the guillotine slicing against flesh sounded, as did cheering. Jean-Claude smiled, and he turned, his mind now off the fussing angel, laughing slightly with his hands raised, but then froze, everything seemed to stop.

"Animals." Bugssnapped, a disgruntled frown on his face, unaware of what was happening.

"Animalthdon't kill each other with clever machines, angel. Only humanthdo that." Came a lisped, nasally,calm and high pitched, yet slightly co*cky voice.

A warm smile stretched over Bugs lips, eyes sparkling in delight and joy, and held back a happy wiggle, "Daffy."He turned with the clatter of the chain to see the demon; leaning against the bench, one flipper up, and an arm draped over his knee. He wore dark clothes, and a dark brown jacket, and a wig, his wig hair long and in three circled curls, tied in place, and wore black glasses on his beak. The angel scrunched up his nose slightly, and looked away, kind of. Actually, he kept glancing between Daffy, and the wall, "oh, good Lord." He would never admit the demon looked rather handsome, and this whole scene was rather... attractive.

"What the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille?" Daffy asked, slightly horrified. "I thought you were opening a book shop."

"Well, I was, doc." Bugs said, swaying in nerves, "I need tobe in Americafor that... if I everget moved to America."

"You will, London is temporary," Daffysaid, shrugging, "but, you're here...?"

Bugs sighed, "but, I got peckish"

""Peckish"?"Daffy asked with raised eyebrows, bothsounding and lookingas if he was done with the angel, his face blank.

"Well, if you must know, it was the carrot soup." Explained Bugs, as he shuffled over, sitting down on the stool annoyed, looking down. You can't get decent carrot soupanywhere but Paris.And the brioche."

Daffy shook his head quickly, eyebrows raised in dumbfounded amazement, "so you just popped across the Channel," started the demon, (as right now, they're both situated in England, and rarely travelled), "during a Revolution, because you wanted something to nibble?" He looked over the angels white, clearly British clothing style, "dressed like that?" In truth and honesty, his eyes were undressing the angel, finding him to be extremely sexy, all chained up...

"I have standards!" Insisted Bugs, "I'd heard dey were getting a bit carried away over here but—"

"Qua," there was the "quack", "yeah, thith is not getting carried away." Assured Daffy, looking out to the guillotine that was outside the small, bared up hole. "This is cutting off lots of people's heads very efficiently with a big head-cutting machine." He sighed, "why didn't you just perform another miracle and go home?"

With an eye roll, Bugslooked over and admitted, "I was reprimanded last month, doc. Dey said I'd performed too many frivolous miracles." He sneered, as if offended. Sure, some miracles were for his uses alone, but most were for other people helping them and making God's wishes come true. "Got a strongly worded note from Gabriel."

Daffy sneered, "ah, good ol' Gabriel, wish I could deck him." He smirked, relishing the little chuckle and wiggle the angel let loose. He smiled softly, "well, you're lucky I was in the area."

Bugs looked down, "guess I am." He looked up to see Daffylounging about on the bench, "whyare you here?"

The demon looked away with a sigh, shrugging as he looked to the frozen guillotine, "my lot thent me a commendation for outthtanding job performance."

Bugs black eyes widened in realisation, and he stood up in anger and horror, "so all this is your demonic work?" How he hoped it wasn't, he was desperate.

"No!" Denied Daffy, shaking his head in horror, reassuring the angel he was innocent."The humanththought it up themselveth. Nothing to do with me."

Bugs didn't look sure though, but he had no reason to disbelieve the demon, as backwards as that sounds. Daffy sighed, and snapped his fingers with an at ease wave, and the chains around his wrists came loose, falling to the ground in a loud, metal clatter. The angel rubbed his slightly red and raw wrists, "well... suppose I should say thank ya for the, uh, rescue, huh doc?"

Suddenly, with a jerk, Daffy was up on his feet and leaned forward, moving to the angel with clenched teeth, "don't say that. If my people hear I rescued an angel, I'll be the one in trouble. And my lot do not thend rude noteth." He was tense in fear, and worry, as if this was something that has happened before.

"Well, anyway," Bugs started, rewording his "thank you" so that the angel didn't worry, but knew he was thankful. "I'm very grateful." He smiled with a nod, and flushed, realising how close he and the demon were. They were so close, the tips of his beak was near Bugs' nose, they were near each other, not pressed together but near. Bugs swallowed, he couldn't allow himself to do what he's always wanted to do, and so instead offered in a whispered voice, "what about if I buy ya lunch?"

"Looking like that?" Daffyasked, voice just as quiet, eyes looking over Bugs' body.

Moment now ruined,swallowing his insults of disgust, the angel waved his hand over his suit, and he went from his white suit, into a red suit, and he brought his hand up again. Specifically the suit Jean-Claude was wearing, the one who was about to kill him, cap and all. Daffy raised an eyebrow in judgement at the miracle, which Bugs saw. "Well, barely counts as a miracle, really." The angel insulted, standing next to the demon and watching the mortal.

Daffy smirked, and clicked his fingers, waving his hands up and pointed his index fingers to the human.

Time started all over again.

Jean-Claude turned around, still speaking and laughing, but suddenly was confused, looking around. He no longer saw the traitor. The cell, to him, was empty. He noticed he was wearing the traitors white clothing, and he patted himself frantically. The cell opened with a squeak, and he began stuttering and stumbling over words as two guards in black grabbed him and dragged him out to his death.

The angel, now munching on a carrot,and demon watched silently, rocking on their heals, (the demon swaying).

"Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble." Daffy said, looking to the annoyed, and not at all bothered Bugs, who's eyes were half lidded, munching away. He scrunched his nose, noting the angel looked better in whites, and greens, ratherthan red. He watched the man disappear, as did the angel. "What'thfor lunch?" He asked, looking over to the tall male.

"What would ya say ta carrot soup?" Bugs asked, eyes dancing in thought and cheek.

The two looked to each other, Daffy'sface right in front of Bugs now, their hot breathe mingling together. "Lead the way, angel..."

The guillotine sliced into something meaty, wet and flesh like.

Chapter 10: the bookshop...

Chapter Text

GLENOAKS BOULVARD,CALIFORNIA

1800

Bugs stood outside his large, newly opened Book Shop in Glenoaks Boulvard. Now that he had been situated in California permanently, with minimal travelling, he thought it best to start and finish his Book Shop. The shop was to be called H. G. B. Bunny& Co., dealing with old traditional books, and drawings and doodles. He looked proudly at the sign painter, as he fixed his large, white top hat, and fixed his blazer.

The sign painted was in the middle of painting the tag name, as well asHistorical and New, Established 1800above the door.

"It looks great doc!" Smiled Bugs, watching the man who stood steadily on the ladder. Though, Bugs might have been using a miracle to keep the ladder steady. He walked into the shop, closing the doors gently behind him. He felt happy, to finally have this up and running, well in a few days officially.

The shelves were bare, and seemed smaller than what he hoped it to be in the future. Whistling, Bugsplaced a few books on the shelves, such as cookery, Wars, religion,books aboutromance too, all to fill and line shelves. He was content and happy.

The bell above the door dinged suddenly, as the door opened. Without turning around, Bugs called out, "sorry, the shop doesn't open 'til Friday. But, we will be havin'a grand opening immediately after lunch, Mac!"

"We aren't here to buy things, Happy." Came a voice, and Bugstensed up, almost dropping the book about in the courtships for females. He knew that voice, Gabriel. He turned away from the shelf, and saw Gabrieland, what a shock, not really, Sandalphon, Gabriel's right hand angel. Thetwo were dressed as Regency dandies, and were... well... astonishingly well dressed. Gabriel was in a pale purple clothed outfit, while Sandalphonwas in pale browns.

"Oh no," Bugs smiled tense, muttering to himself, and sweating in worry, setting the Kingdown. "Look, if it's about that business in Paris, I, uh, um... it wasn't my miracle, doc." He tried, lying terribly.

Gabriel smiled, and waved a hand, "I have no idea whereofyou speak, oh Angel of the Eastern Gate. We're here with good news." He assured, voice all happy and cheerful.

Bugs perked up, now rather excited, yet still on edge, "oh! How good!" He beamed, preparing himself for good news... or bad, he knew how Heaven worked, what's good news for them might be terrible news for him.

"We're bringing you Home!" Smiled Gabriel, hands out and seemingly excited, thought his excitement was over the top, and gave off the feeling of being fake. (Bugs always knew the Archangel was fake, but he always ignored it.)

Sandalphon leaned over, finger pointed up with a smile, "promoting you back Upstairs." It had one golden tooth, that shined and gleamed.

They waited expectantly for Bugs unbounded joy. Their faces were smiling, not beaming, but still happy, and Bugs well... he was confused, and not even close to happy. His face had fallen. He had to think of a way to stay here on Earth, Heaven wouldn't just take "no"for an answer. How could they?! "I'm opening this BookShop on Friday, doc," he reasoned, "if Master Hatchardcan make a go of it, I can really—"

"It's an excellent idea!" Smiled Gabrielhappily, cutting the angel off, as he pointed readily to the angel. "Whoever replaced you down here can obviously use it as a base of operation." He said, gesturing to the the open floor.

Bugs face looked absolutely horrified, "use my Book Shop?" He asked, shocked.

Gabrielwas still waiting for the joy though, not yet picking up the angel's forlorn expression and tone, "you're being promoted! You get to come Home!" He explained as if the angel was missing the point, and the angel was in a way, but Home hasn't been with Heaven for years. The phrase made him want to throw up, made him want to shiver, but he kept it down.

"I can't imagine why anyone would want to spend five minutes longer in this world than they had to." Sandalphon sneered, looking around the shop.

Bugs scowled,'of course you wouldn't!'He held back a loud scoff that threatened to escape his lips.Sandalphon wouldn't know a Good place ifit smacked it in the face.

Gabriel smiled, his hand out, pointed to Bugs, "Happy has been here for almost six-thousand years!" He pointed his finger to the sky, "we must applaud such devotion to duty!" With that, he and Sandalphon clapped, both wearing smiles. He opened a little, wooden box that was a lovely brown colour, to reveal a shiny, golden medal, that spun and twirled, laying on purple velvet cushion. It shone in the light, beaming. "And, it hasn't gone unnoticed!" Assured Gabriel, happily.

"I don't want a medal..." Bugs whispered, face full of sadness, and his shoulders sagged, ears dropping to the side of his face. He stared at the medal, not at all too happy.

"That's very noble of you." Gabriel said, not awed, but certainly impressed. It was if he couldn't imagine living so long on Earth, and not seeing it as a bother.He placed the medal around Bugs' neck.

Bugs looked out desperately, looking for an idea, or a way to get out of this mess. However, he saw the worst possible thing he could and tensed up. There walking pastthe window was Daffy, and he walked through the open door, standing in the doorway, behind Gabrieland Sandalphon, holding some sort of package and flowers, ad he waved all cheerily. Gabrieland Sandalphon luckily hadn't noticed him.

A plan formed in Bugs' head, and he said rather loudly, "but-but onlyIcan thwart the wiles of the demon Daffy!"

Daffy stopped smiling, and pointed to the package, which was heart shaped, tucking the bouquetof rosesunder his arm, and mouthed, "chocolates!"It was as if he was saying he couldn't be all that Evil, as he bought the angel chocolates to celebrate the shops opening.

"I do not doubt that whoever replaces you will be a good an enemy to Lucas as you are." Gabriel assured, hands behind his back, "Michael, perhaps?"

Daffy tensed up, his mouth dropping in shock, looking absolutely horrified, and he mouthed, "Michael?! Michael's a dick!"at Bugs, who couldn't help but silently agree with the demon. Michael reallyisa dick.

"Daffy been down here just as long as I have!" Tried Bugs, not wanting the demon to deal with Michael, not wanting to leave the demon, or Earth for that matter. "A-and, he's wily, and cunning, and brilliant, and, oh—" He cut himself off, voice wavering, as he realised he went too far. He glanced up to see Daffy's black feathered cheeks coated with a lovely red, his hand over his heart and the demon smiled, looking down to the floor shyly.

"It almost sounds like youlikehim." Gabriellaughed, shoulders bouncing. Though, it was easy to see the doubt, and dark look fall upon his face.

Daffy tensed up in the background, once of horror. If they found out about The Arrangement, who knows what would happen to Bugs? Though Daffy would go through all lengths to get him back! Bugs however, focused more on the fact if The Arrangement was found out, then who knows what they would do to Daffy? He knew he had to lie.

"I loath him, doc!" Snapped Bugs, dragging out the "loath", standing up with a tense back, shoulders up to his ears. His face was pulled into one of anger, as he kept looking the demon. "And, despite myself, I like a worthy opponent!" He shrugged with a sheepish smile. Gabriel saw Bugs'far off look, and went to turn, but Bugshands snapped out, stopping him,"w-which he ain't!" He backtracked, "because he's a demon, and I cannot respect a demon, or love one." He stumbled out.

Sandalphon sneered, "he never mentioned 'love'."

Bugs' eyes flashed with panic, realising the slip of his tongue. "I didn't say "love", I said "like"." He lied, "who would love, or like, a demon?!"

"That's the attitude I like to hear, Happy!" Smiled Gabriel,"you'll be an asset back at head office, I can tell you that!" He patted the angels shoulder.

Bugs noticed Daffy had disappeared,and heheld the circular, gold medal, that didn't fee like a medalto the Principality, "so, we're going straight back now? Before the grand opening?"Before I can say goodbye to my demon?

"Well, soon." Gabriel assured, "we're just going to stroll down to Cork Street to see my tailor." He explained, jabbing his thumb behind him, andpicking up his tall top hat, and placing it on his head. (Though Gabriel didn't like Humans, or Humanity all that much, he liked the clothing and fashion.) He andSandalphon left the shop, and walked down the street, leaving a worried and sad angel, who was now coming up with reasons to stay, however big or small.

Gabriel andSandalphon looked approvingly through their tailors window, a Regency dandy walked out of the shop, nodding his greeting to them. Gabriel looked to his clothes, admiringly, as if they were the best thing Humanity had to offer. He walked into the tailors, which was empty of customers, and Sandalphon positioned itself outside the door, on guard.

"Davidson, is my suit finished?" Called Gabriel.

An old man stood at the curtains, and said, "it is my Lord, if you wish to disrobe behind the curtain I shall have it all made ready."

Gabriel smiled, and went behind the curtain and began to remove his clothing, a button at a time, and taking his hat off,before freezing. He heard something, and finally, smelt something... Evil... someone was talking in the ally outside the tailor shop.

"Are you certain we are unobserved oh monstrous creatures from the bowels of Hell?"

Gabriel grabbed a stool, and moved it, so he could stand on it and peer over the edge, to spy on who this person was. They were talking loudly, and from the sounds of it... it was a demon... not just any demon, Lucas! And, a hooded figure.

"No one is listening, oh Demon Lucas." Came a guttural voice, all grumbled and harsh, like swallowing nails.

Daffy held back a smirk, if that didn't get the Archangel's attention, nothing would. He waited a second, and felt the Archangel's eyes burn into him and his... prop demon, that looked rather convincing with a black cloak wrapped around it. All it was, was a mannequin, that he had snatched up from the still open back door, and covered in a piece of spare, black fabric. All he was doing was changing his voice, making it more demonic, and putting on a dramatic, evil show.

Gabriel's view was obstructed, and so pressed himself against the wall so he could hear, and so nobody glancing up could see him. Though, the damage was done the moment Daffy felt his eyes piercing into him.

Daffy coughed, clearing his sore throat. "Curses!" He called dramatically, "if only I could understand why my evil plans are always so brilliantly thwarted!" He said, as if angry, and he tried to keep the gushing out from his voice, "it's as if the forces of Heaven have a champion here on Earth who thwarts me!... thwartingly!" He tried, desperate to make it more theatrical. If he was being honest, he was having way too much fun doing the voices.

"Why, Mr. Lucas! You must not be downcast," Daffy said again, in that deep choked voice. He stared at the patches on the dummy. "I hear news that will bring joy to you, and all the powers of Hell! They do say how the angel Bugs, your nemesis, is being sent back to Heaven!"

Daffy was acting slightly too broadly, but itisin style of the time, and he swallowed back saliva, wetting his raw throat. He grinned, "can this be true?" He asked, hand flourished on his chest as if amazed. He dramatically gestured to the sky,"I was going to swallow Holy Water in my despair, once more being beaten by the angel Bugs!" He clenched his hand in fake triumph, "but such excellent news!" He placed his hand on his chest, the other gestured, "only Bugs knows my ways, well enough to..."

"Thwart them?" Asked Daffy in the demonic, evil voice.

"Exactly!" He called out, louder this time, cupping his face to allow his voice to travel. He glanced to the wall, knowing full when the Archangel heard every word, "now," he moved forward, placing a hand on the dummy's shoulder. "Let us prepare to an Evil drinking den, and drink to the success of Evil on this Earth, thanks to Heaven's foolishness!" He wrapped an arm around the dummy, and lead it off, the head wobbled, and he stopped it from falling, glancing around to make sure nobody saw the mishap.

Gabriel in his new suit,stood in front of Bugs, withSandalphon next to him.

"So, Iain't going anywhere?" Bugs asked, confused. He had planned an entire speech, about why he should stay, why he couldn't leave, and they came back saying he was staying. They had sounded rushed, and panicked, so much so his shop door was still open, and was confused as to what had happened since leaving his shop and getting to Cork Street.

"Change of plans, Bugs!" Gabriel said, tense and panicked, "we need you here, in your book shop!"

"Battling Evil." Sandalphon playfully, and jokingly punched Bugs shoulder all in good-nature, though it did actually hurt the Principality, and he grasped his arm with a tense smile.

"Carry on battling!" Insisted Gabriel, pointing his index finger to the angel, "keep the medal!"

Bugs frowned, "but-but I-I don't understand..." It was too late, as with a pop, he was alone in his shop again, and he stared at where the Archangels once stood. They had never called him "Bugs" before, what happened?He grasped the medal around his neck, and frowned, taking it off and hiding it away. He didn't want a stupid medal...

"Hey angel!" Daffy called, walking in again, shutting the doors behind him, and held up chocolates and flowers, "thethe are for you." He walked over, holding them out.

Bugs flushed, and smiled, "thanks... for whatever ya did..." He took them, and smiled, seeing how lovely the plants looked. Daffy really had an eye for gardening.

Daffy shrugged, leaning over and kissing the angels cheek, beak bending up slightly, "you're welcome... couldn't let them have you, could I?"

"I guess not..." Bugs smirked, his arms wrapping around the demons waist as he kissed the demons nose. The weren't together, but well... things were happening, "well... would you like to eat the chocolate with me?"Would you like to stay and watch me eat chocolate?

"I'd love nothing more, angel..."

Chapter 11: whitter narrows park...

Chapter Text

WHITTER NARROWS PARK

CALIFORNIA,1862

Sun beamed down, shinning and twinkling off the crystal clear water, as ducks paddled and swam around the lake. Whitter Narrow'sPark was filled with people, families, friends and young couples, talking and chattering, taking romantic strolls down the cobble pathway that you could trip up on if you wasn't careful, as horses and carriages trotted on past carrying passengers.

Bugs was dressed in a white open suit, a light grey waistcoat, a black grey bow tie, he had grown out furry sideburns, and large white top hat, with white gloves. He was walking down the cobble path, watching the rippling water, and he saw Daffy, in a black suit, walking with a black cane with a duck handle, and black leather gloves, grown out feather sideburns, and a lovely back top hat, with a black tie. He was stood at the small gate, watching the ducks, and Bugs slid next him.

The angel pulled off his white gloves, and took off his hat, digging into the hat and began to sprinkle breadcrumbs into the water. He watched the ducks eagerly paddle to the food, and eat and peck the bread. The demon had sent a letter with rushed lettering and ash, sulphur smelling paper, he wanted a favour, yet was worried someone would see. It's the reason they were here today, to talk without fear of letters being read.

"Look, I've been thinking." Daffy said, facing forward, barely glancing to the angel. "What if it all goethwrong?" He asked. He looked tired though, not sick, but rather on edge, he has done for a while now... nearly sixty years now... "We have a lot in common, you and me."

"I don't know." Sighed Bugs, "we may have both started off as angels, butyouare Fallen." He reasoned, flicking breadcrumbs into the water. He barely glanced to the demon next to him, finding himself in a difficult position. Daffy has been his best friend since The Beginning, they aren't together, but some things have certainly crossed line, such as dates, cheek kisses, the occasional hand holding and the odd hug. Bugs knew how wrong all of this was, is, maybe that's why he's such a terrible angel? He can't keep to the rules and regulations, and finds mortal pleasures, and a demon, rather fun.

"I didn't really Fall." Daffy said, a wince on his face. He shook his head, "I just, you know... thauntered vaguely downwardth." He defended, "I need a favour."

Bugs threw a breadcrumb into the water, "we already have The Agreement, Daff." He said, nervously. He knew Daffy needed a favour, but he's been thinking about this favour, and was unable to fathom what this favour might be.What could he want? There was nothing he could want, right? "Stay out of each other's way. Lend a hand when needed."(At this point The Arrangement was simple, so simple it didn't deserve the capitalisation of the first letter, it was just a formality.) He was tense, as he kept feeding the ducks. What else could he offer the demon of temptation? Surely, not sex! The angel was uncomfortable with that sort of thing, human bits and pieces like that... he never made an Effort, he didn't want that yet, and Daffy knew that, Daffy respected that.Maybe, he was... he wanted to forgetall this stuff going on between them, or stop dancing around their... something-ship?

"This is something else," Daffysaid, "for if it all goes pear-shaped."

Bugs threw more bread into the lake, and sighed, face soft. Desperately trying to stall wherever this conversation was going, Bugs let his hand fall to his side, and placing his top hat back on his head. His hand brushed against Daffy'sblack, leather gloved hand, and their fingers lacing together. "I like pears," he said.

"If it all goes wrong," reasoned Daffy, not entertaining the angels distraction, though he did squeeze his hand gently. "I want insurance."He continued with his conversation, much to the disappointment of Bugs.

"What?" Asked the angel, thrown off.

"I wrote it down." Daffyreached into his coat pocket, and handed over a crumpled, slightly singed piece of paper, "walls have ears." He explained, but then looked around as Bugs took the note, "well, not walls. Trees have ears." He looked to the lake, "ducks have ears." He frowned, as Bugs opened the note. He looked around confused, "do ducks have ears?" He asked, and shook his head, "must do. That's how they hear other ducks." He reasoned to himself, answering his question. (They do have ears, it's the second most important sense for ducks. Waterfowl ears lack external appendages and are located slightly behind and below the eyes. The ear openings are covered with soft feathers, called auriculars, which offer protection and help muffle the sound of the wind when the birds are in flight.)

Bugs looked over with his eyes, half lidded, "Daffy, you're a duck."

"Are you athuming I know how I work?" Asked Daffy, eyes wide, as if offended.

Bugs shook his head, and read the note, chuckling. Suddenly, all humour was gone, and hishead snapped from the note, and looked to Daffy in horror, "out ofthe question."

"Why not?" Asked Daffy, glancing to the angel and looking away again.

The angel looked like he was about to be sick, and seemed terrified, "it would destroy you. I'm not bringing you a suicide pill, Daffy." He denied, handing the note back to the demon.

Daffy snatched it, and quacked back, "that's not what I want it for." He pushed the note back to Bugs, who took it was shaky fingers. "Just insurance." He snapped out.

Bugs looked to the black ink, and felt his heart plummet to his stomach all over again, as acid burned the walls of his heart. He swallowed back bile, and tears, "I'm not an idiot, Daffy." He threw a nervous glance over his shoulder, as he looked to Daffy, who was still staring forward, "do you know what trouble I'd be in if..."He looked up to the sky nervously and cautiously, "if they knew I'd been,fraternising?" He asked, this would get him into trouble, and it would kill his... partner, or friend, or... whatever they are at this point! Daffy slowly looked to him, face blank. "It's completely out of the question!" Bugs snapped. No matter what the demon said, Bugswas standing his ground, not taking anything the Fallen (Sauntered) Demon said as truths right now.

"Fraternithing?" Daffy hissed out, his teeth clenched together, his eyes sad and broken behind his glasses. "Is that what we've been doing?" Is that all he was, an enemy? How stupid of him to think that they were something more then friends... this has been in his damn imagination! I bet She's laughing at him now, huh? Dangle an apple in front of his face, and then snatch it away from him!

"Well, whatever ya want tacall it." Reasoned Bugs,with a tense shrug, looking forward again. "I don'tthink there is any point in discussing it further." Decided the angle, nodding as his breathing felt tense.

"I have lots of other people tofraternithewith, angel."Snapped the demon, glaring at the angel. It was alie, a big lie...

Hurt, Bugs scowled recoiling from the demon, as if he was stung, or hit, "of course ya do." He ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach, he ignored what felt like tar and cement fill his insides, and held back the golden tears that rimmed his eyes. He began to walk off.

"I don't need you!" Daffy lied, his eyes brimming up with red, bloody tears, his lipspulled into a frown. He held back his sobs, and kept his shoulders as still as he could, as his heart fell to his stomach.I need you!

Bugs paused, and looked to him. "Well, the feelin'is mutual, obviously." Bugs scowled, and threw the paper into the water. He stormed off, pushing past people, apologising each time. He clenched his hand, stretching and curling his fingers, missing Daffy'shand in his.

Daffy looked down to the cobble flooring,and shook his head, snappingout, mockingly, "obviouthly." He sniffed sadly, as a single red tear rolled down his black feathered cheek, and he watched his note flutter to the wet surface.

The paper landed on the water, and the paper from Hell set on fire, the scruffywriting smearing, vaguely reading;Holy Water.

Chapter 12: warner brothers studio...

Chapter Text

WARNER BROTHERS STUDIO,

1937

Bugs stared at the paper in his hands, of course Daffy had to wind up in this mess... but, the duck didn't seem to upset with it in the letter. Actually, he seemed pretty pleased with the outcome.

My dearest, Bugs

I'm writing to tell you that you won't see me for a while... not like we've seen each other since 1862, but now is a definite. I have recently gotten a job, not for Downstairs, but for Level Ground.

Have you heard of "Warner Brothers Studio"? If you haven't, they're basically this upcoming animation studio, they have all these characters, and shorts, and they're all rather funny. They also do comics! Now, here's the thing, these drawings of animals, such as a pig, (his name is Porky, swell guy), come to life!

Bugs, they're like us! They 2-D! And, they're drawn, like us! And, they're animals like us! They're drawn on paper, and come to life, like walking around the lot, and the studio with humans! This is the first time nobody have given me a second look!

I asked Porky how we (they, but like... you know, they think I'M a toon) was brought to life, and hesaid; "To make a toon, an animator must draw them on a cel, just as you'd do for a real animation frame. But then you take that cel and put it in a specialmultiplane camerabuilt for making cartoons. Once the magic camera snaps that frame, the toon is brought to life!" Now, I don't knowif that's the truth, but if it is, wow!

They're doing this WITHOUT us, Bugs. There's no divine intervention, just them!

Isn't that amazing?!

Anyway, I stumbled in, curious and they thought I was one of them, so I've been given a job here! I'll be doing shorts, and in comics, making people laugh! It's gonna be great!

I hope you're okay, and safe, and I hope business is good.

All yours,

Daffy Duck

Bugs grinned, looking to the near empty shop. It's not a bad thing, he hated selling books, so this was nice. He looked to the letter, and then the newspaper, opened on the funny pages, seeing Daffy Duck with a pig (Porky Pig, Bugs said to himself).

"That's my Daffy," grinned Bugs, looking back over the letter. The grin fell at one pen stroke, his eyes wide.

Daffy sat on his chair, and read the newspaper... okay, he didn't read the newspaper, he's lying. What with eyesight being afield of vision of nearly 340 degrees, able to see things from long and short distance,andin colour, he was usually given a headache,

"Fan mail for Daffy Duck," said the mail man, having knocked on the door, poking his head in.

"Just there, Lee," Daffy said, pointing to a space, not looking up. He's a demon, he's meant to be Evil!

Lee did, and smiled, "nice seeing you, Mr. Duck," he walked out, the door shutting.

Daffy hadn't been here for long, a few weeks, and there had been no response from Bugs. Not that heexpecteda response from Bugs, not after the way they ended things last time. It was painful though, working with that cartoon bunny that looked like Bugs. He couldn't stand it. At times, he wished it was Bugs, but no, it was this nameless bunny, who enjoyed Daffy's company.

There was nothingwrongwith the bunny, but he wasn't Bugs, and he was just unknowingly making him sad.

Daffy looked up to the pile, then down again, before his head snapped up. He knew that writing! Bugs! He surged forward, and gripped the letter, and ripped it open, and began reading;

My Dearest Daffy,

Congratulations. I've seen your short and your comic strip, and both are amusing. It was probably good your punishment made you the way you are, or else you working at Warner Brothers would have failed.

I'm happy for you, and your success, and I'm afraid, IMUST ask for an autograph if you're going to be a star. Business is good, and well, thank you.

The way these toons come to life does sound interesting doc, I can't lie. And, I hope this "Porky Pig" is treating you well, he seems nice from what you've said, and what I've seen.

In a letter I received from you two weeks ago, I noticed a comma in the middle of a phrase. It changed the meaning. Did you intend this? One stroke and you’ve consumed my waking days.

It says:

"My dearest Bugs," Daffy read confused.

"D-D-Daffy?"

Daffy screamed, and looked over, "Porky! Jeez, what are you doing, thneaking up on a duck like that?!"

Porky winced, "uh-s-s-s-so-sorry Daffy! W-wh-what are you read-reading?"

Daffy looked down, "fan mail." It was kind of the truth.

With a comma after “dearest.”

Daffy's eyes widened, and looked back in shock. He did...

You’ve written;

"My dearest," Daffy took a breath of air, pausing, "Bugs."

"W-what?" Stuttered Porky, but Daffy held up a wing, reading.

Anyway all this to say, congratulations, and I wish you all the look in your endeavours.

Forever yours,

Bugs Bunny

Daffy flushed a bright red, "forever yours..."

"D-D-Da-Da-Daffy?" Porky stuttered, taking hold of the ducks shoulders.

Daffy looked over, and clutched the letter close to his chest, "yeth?"

"You a-a-al-alr-alri-al-al-al uh, okay?" Porky asked, changing the last word, as clearly he was having an issue with saying it.

Daffy nodded, "yeth, I'm fine..." He looked back to the letter, Bugs stilled called "Daffy", Bugs still cared for him, Bugs washappyfor him. He left Bugs, he was without his best friend, his best friend of... how long has it been? It's been a couple hundred off of six thousand years.

"And I'm fine, I am totally fine," assured Daffy, thinking, a frown on his face. 'I will stand on the side as Bugs gets on with his life...' Daffy thought, eyeing the letter, softly. He's getting on with his life, and doing well, and without Daffy, Bugs deserves it all, even if they're not friends. Was he tearing up? His eyes were sticking.

There was a knock on the door, and Porky looked over, seeing the grey furred bunny stick his head in, "you guys ready—"

There was bloody tears rolling down Daffy's beak, and he wiped them clean, using a demonic intervention to hide the red liquid, 'I'm not fine, I'm not fine...' He thought bitterly, and looked over, putting his sunglasses back on. Despite the contacts he wore, he would wear sunglasses in case anyone saw the amber rings, and now to hide the tears.

"Let's go," he said, interrupting the bunny, and walking passed him.

Porky and the bunny shared looks, and shrugged.

Chapter 13: deals with nazis...

Chapter Text

LONDON,

1941

Air raid sirens echoed the dark, tense night, mixed with the chiming of a clock. The world was in the midst of Word War II, with fear and tensions high. (It's a demons wet dream, and they're all hard at work so it seemed.)

Bugs was walking down a pathway to a dark, gloomy Church, as search lights pointed to the sky. He pushed open the large double doors at the side entrance, and walked to the aisle, turned and began walking down it. He held books, wrapped together with rope and twine, and wore a white suit, his blazer was loose and had lines going up it, a redtie, and off-white pants, and pale brown shoes, and pale white waistcoat, and his ears perked through hiswhite fedora hat, his ears twitching.

He did notwant to be back in London, but he came back on his own terms to help the War. So, this was the consequence... at least now, he could stop hiding the fact he was a rabbit, and two dimensional cartoon animals walking around was still strange, but not shocking, a tad bit more normal.

The cold Church was dark, lit up by faint candles, the dark moonlight from outside, and was lined with benches and had candles everywhere, and just to the left was a font full of Holy Water, and a statue of Jesus on the cross. There, at the end of the aisle sat two men in black suits, and angel statue between them, and candles on either side. The two men, are German, and are the men he's 'working' with.

Bugs took his hat off and clutched it to his chest, "Mr. Glozier, Mr. Harmony." He greeted, a friendly smile on his face.

"Mr.Bunny,"Mr. Glozier greeted, looking down to his pocket watch he brought from his blazer. "You are late." He was rather chubby, with a greyreceding hairline, "but not to worry." He assured.

Mr. Harmony stood up, and gestured to the twined, old, historical looking books, "you have the books for the Fuehrer?" He was tall and rather lanky, also fairly slimy looking too, like a woozle, (is that the name of that animal?)

"Yeah, I do." Bugs moved forward, and setthe tied together books on the table that was situated between the men. "Books of prophecy," he developed a strange habit of collecting prophecy books, all old and historic. He enjoyed reading, sure, but this was just him collecting them."Otwell Binns, Robert Nixon, Mother Shipton. First editions, as requested, doc." He assured, the first editions he owned, and was now letting Nazis touch and fondle with un-gloved hands, and wandering, prodding and poking fingers.

"What about the other book we told you to bring us?" Asked Mr. Harmony, looking to the book he had in hisblood coated hands. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Bugswouldhave thrown a fit if the man was messing with his books with blood on them. "The Fuehrer was most definite that he needs it." Bugs tensed, and swallowed. "It has the prophecies that are true. With the true prophecy book, the War," he cut himself off with a giddy sneer, and laugh, "is as good as won." He looked down the the desk again.

"The Nice 'n'Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Maltese, Witch." Bugs said, nodding, meeting eyes with Mr. Glozier. "No luck, doc. I'm afraid that is the Holy Grail of prophetic books." He smiled, trying to be friendly still.

"The Fuehrer also wants the Holy Grail." Said Mr. Glozier, as he flipped through the pages of the book, staring at the angel. "And the Spear of Destiny, should you run across them."

Bugs nodded, tensely as he swallowed.

"Why are there no copies of Agnes Maltese's book?" Questioned Mr. Harmony, making Bugs look to him with a frown. "We have made it clear that money is no object." He assured, holding a book, and a small magnifying glass, with small, circular reading glasses on his face. "You will be a very rich man." He promised, looking to the angel with a smile.

"Theunsold copies of "The Nice 'n' Accurate Prophecies" were destroyed by da publisher, which is, well, all of dem." Bugs explained, he had done research to find if there was any book out there, or any information, with no such luck, just a lot of information about the unsold books and what had happened to them, by who and such, and went into a deep dive of information to find out more. "It never sold a single copy." He said, voice regretful, as if it pained him to loose out on one. His eyes lit up in excitement, "but I found da publisher's catalogue for 1655, and it does list one of Agnes Maltese's prophecies!" Like he said, he did his research! He found the witch interesting, as did... another person, the one he's tried to forget about over recent years.

Mr. Harmony, rather excited and giddy asked, "what was it?" Either the giddiness was his own, or it might have been from the angel, whose delight was rolling off of him in waves.

"Her prophecy for 1972." Bugs said, ""Do not buy Betamax"." Hequoted, amazed he had found one, as he looked between the men.

With a frown, Mr. Glozier looked to his partner then the angel, andasked, "who is Peter Max?"

His eyes wide, Bugs shook his head, amazed, and admitted, "ain't got a clue, doc!"

"I will pass it on to the Fuehrer." Mr. Harmony assured with a nod, setting one of the books back into the pile.

"These volumes of prophecy will be in Berlin by the end of the week." Mr. Glozier said, patting the book, and handed it to Mr. Harmony, looking to the angel, "the Fuehrer will be most grateful."

Bugs nodded, still smiling, as his heart thundered in excitement.

Mr. Harmony began speaking, and the angel looked over, "you have been exceedingly helpful, Mr. Bunny."

The metal, and click of a gun co*cking echoed the Church, bouncing off walls, and Mr. Glozier produced a gun from his inside, blazer pocket, standing up and aiming it the angel, "such a pity you must be eliminated, but take heart, just another death in the Blitz."

Bugs pouted, a frown on his lips, "dat's not very sporting, mac."

"You do not appear worried, my friend." Mr. Glozier scowled.

"He's not worried." Said a female, and Bugs grinned,'ha!'A woman stood behind, and shewas in all black, with a hat on top of her head, and a gun trainedat them.

Mr. Glozier and Mr. Harmony frowned, confused and worried.

"Who is she?" Asked the tall, lanky Nazi.

"She, my double-dealin'Nazi friends, is the reason why none of those books are going back to Berlin!" Smirked Bugs, as she walked up from behind him. His eyes weregleaming in joy. He couldn't lie, he took great pleasure in watching Mr. Glozier and Mr. Harmony raised their hands in surrender. "And why your nasty little spy ring'll be spending the rest of the War behind bars!" He declared, as if he had won the War. "Let me introduce you toCaptain Rose Montgomery of British Military Intelligence," he introduced, bowing his head to her.

"Thank you for the introduction." Smiled Rose, looking to the wiggling angel.

Bugs was practically dancing in excitement, as he smiled a dazzling smile of welcome to her. His eyes were all sparkly, and gleaming in victory. He was feeling all giddy, and his stomach was doing all kinds of flips, "our side know all about you two." He assured, rather co*ckily. "She recruited me to work for you," he nodded, smugly. "And now she's gonnatell you dat this building is surrounded by British agents!"

Mr. Harmony looked around, eyes darting madly and Mr. Glozier scowled.

"And that you two have been—" He was getting excited all over again, adrenaline shooting through his veins. He thought, "what's dat lovely American expression?" Bugs asked, his eyes lighting up, "played for suckers."

Rose frowned, and looked to Bugs, "yes, about that—"

"Right. Everyone!" Shouted Bugs, looking around, not noticing Mr. Harmony smirk evilly. "Come on! Round 'em up!" Smiled Bugs, his voice echoing the very empty Church. When nobody came in, his smug smile slowly disappeared. He didn't notice Mr. Glozier and Mr. Harmony's fearful faces turn into coysmirk. Bugs looked to Rose, hissmile a little more nervous now, wavering, "Rose, where're your people?"

Mr. Harmony laughed a hum, and waved his hands, dropping them. "We are all here," he smiled.

"Allow me to introduce Fraulein Greta Kleinschmidt." Mr. Glozier smiled, dropping his hands and walked forward.

Rose, who was actually, Fraulein turned, a scowl on her face, and she pointed her gun directly in Bugs face, and his eyes widened in shock and horror, and he yelped in surprise, backing into the Church bench seat.

"She works with us." Mr Glozier said, next to her now.

Bugseyes were trained on the barrel of the gun, and he gasped in shock, glancing to the men, and he felt his heart thundering against his chest, threatening to escape.

Mr. Glozierlooked to her, and began speaking German,"you fooled the sh*thead Irishman. Good job, darling."

"It wasn't hard, love cup."Fraulein said back, in German.

The two were sharing loving looks between each other, and pet names, which Bugs could understand, sent a wave of sadness through his chest. He has tried for so long to forget the nickname he gave to a certain male duck, or at least, presenting male last he saw, the same one he's been trying to forget for years.

She looked to a sad, and shocked Bugs."He's very gullible."

He looked between all three German's, he hates how gullible angels are, himself included! They trusted a bit too easily sometimes, and he gave people the benefit of the doubt.

Mr. Harmony smiled, and nodded, ""played for a sucker". I must remember that." He turned to the books, "I am played for a sucker, you are played for a sucker, he, she, it..."He seemed rather entertained with the idiom he had just learned, and chuckled, "will be played for a sucker." He placed everything in a leather bag, and picked it up.

"Now, where were we?" Questioned Mr. Glozier, then called out cheerfully, "oh, yes. Killing you."

Bugs groaned and threw his head back,looking up to the ceiling in anger, "oh! Give me a break! Why am I in danger, again?! Always me! I bet yahaving a good ol' laugh up there!" He yelled, voice echoing in anger and sadness, ""oh! Look at the Principality Bugs! Trustin'humans again, I'll show him!" Bet you're watchin'with popcorn! Huh?!" He frowned, "give me a little break, doc..." He begged, but nothing happened, no Divine help, no light, no nothing, "please?"

Mr. Glozier said, "no use praying, Mr. Bunny."

"You can't kill me." Bugs said, finally looking to the humans now, with his eyes wide looking between them. "There'll be paperwork." Always about the paperwork, but he didn't want to deal with that right now, he might cry if he has to! And, there would be so much! How could he explain this? He lost his body due to "working with"Nazis?!

Creaking echoed the Church suddenly, and the double doors opened and closed with a bang, the sound bouncing off the cold walls. All four of them turned, and Bugs couldn't fight back the smile that made it's way to his lips. There, turning the corned and now at the beginning of the aisle was a figure, in black. He wore a black fedora, and was in a black, fitted suit that looked a bit feminine, and blackshoes (that were huge and ridiculous), a black tie, with a white handkerchief in his top pocket and black sunglasses.

He was gasping in pain, and hopping from one foot to the other, as if walking on something hot and sharp, and he hobbled down the aisle, "oh! Ah! Ow! Eh! Ow!" He called, with each bounced footstep, and other noises that were more duck then human.

Bugs couldn't help himself as he let out a breathy, "love cup..." He's eyes were soft; it was his love cup. His demon.

The German's looked at the scene confused, and at a loss of what to do.

Daffy was hobbling along in pain, "thorry, conthecrated ground!"He apologised, getting closer to the group, he shoulders were tense, and up to his beak, and his face was contorted to one of pain. "Oh! It'th like... being at the beach in bare feet!" He grumbled out, arms swinging, trying to ignore the pain, and distributingit through his body.

Bugs shook his head, he's supposed to be fighting with the demon, as oppositions! And... it hit him all at once, Daffyshouldn't be here! In a Church, with guns trained on him, well both of them now! This was the worst situation the demon could be in! Would would Below say when they found put he was here, working against the Nazis?! And, no doubt the demons feet were burned and blistered. "What are yadoing here?" He hissed out, eyes wide in panic and moved forward to help Daffy,butthe gun pointed by Fraulein was now closer to his face, and he froze.

"Thtoppingyougetting into trouble." Reasoned Daffy, moving closer, still bouncing on his feet,his eyes narrowed at the German woman. His feet were sizzling and burning.

Bugs rolled his eyes, "I should of known. Ofcourse!" He nodded, "dese people are working for you!"

Daffywas still bouncing on his feet, leaning on a bench and his feet were brought up every second. His eyebrows flew up, and seemed rather offended, "no. They're a bunch of half-witted," he waved his hand at them, "Nazi thpies running around London, blackmailing and murdering people!" He stamped from one foot to the other again, leaning on a bench slightly, face in a horrible wince, as he kept one foot up longer then the last each time. The Nazi spies just looked horrible confused and thrown off from the whole ordeal. "I just didn't want to thee you embarrathed," he hissed out in pain. He suddenly winced, and waddled yet still somehow swayed, hopping in a circle, head thrown back in pain, as he flicked his ankles, kicking his flippers out.

"Mr. Duck. H. T. Daffy." Mr. Glozier greeted, "your fame precedes you."

Bugs frowned, and looked from the Nazis, now more at ease that Bugs was there and asked, "wait, what?" He asked, nose scrunched up in confusion, and his eyebrows knittedtogether.

"You don't like it?" Whined Daffy slightly,hobbling in pain. He'd change his name instantly if Bugsdidn't like it, and that alone scares the demon, but he wouldn't admit to it.

"No, no, I didn't say that!" Bugs denied in shock, and turned away from the demon. He caved, and his face fell, turning back to Bugs, "I'll get used to it, doc." He promised.

"The famous Mr. Daffy?"Fraulein gasped, amazed and interested. "That's such a pity you must both die." Though she didn't sound like it was a pity.

It suddenly occurred to Bugs that; Daffy might have a small business on the side,such as his own spies, as this was something the demon didn't enjoy; War's and people dying...

But, in actuality, Daffy was known because his spies had picked up on the meetings.He had a plan to burst in, all cool, and collected and say, "your saviour is here angel, yes it is I! Daffy! Here to save you!", but he hadn't know when the meeting was going to be, or where, so he had been bursting into random Churches, completely ruiningother Nazi Meetings, yelling about how he Duck. H. T. Daffy, was "going to save" this "Bugs Bunny", and word had gotten around about him. And, suddenly, getting it right, seeing his angel, his plan went out the window, and was just so happy to see Bugs.

Daffy tipped his black hat to her in greeting, a coy, sexual smirk on his beak, still hopping on his feet.

"What does the "H" and "T" stand for?" Asked Bugs, rather suddenly, looking over to Daffy.

Daffykept jumping from one foot to the other, and hummed out stuttering noised, "uh, um, quck... it's just a "H" and "T", really." (In truth he came up with it when he was drunk, and he was not about to admit his full name to the humans was; Duck Huck Tuck Daffy. (Yes, he knows he messed up with the order too, you don't need to tell him that.)) "Look at that!" Gasped Daffy, his eyes landing on a stone bowl, with intricate designs carved into it, and it was on a pedestal, with more carved designs. He was still leaping from one foot to the other. It was filled to the brim with clear, rippling water. "A whole fontful of Holy Water!" He turned, hobbling away, moving around to ease the pain. "It doesn't even have guards!" He was still bitter about the conversation between him and Bugs from 1862, but neither of them wanted to remember that, or discuss it again. They... well, from the way they kept looking and talking to each other, they wanted each other...

"Enough babbling. Kill them both." Mr. Glozier said, waving his hand and turning away.

Daffy turned around, and tripped back, one foot in front of the other, "in about a minute, a German bomber will release a bomb that will land right here." He warned, pointing his index fingers to the ground, bobbing on his feet. They all looked to him in confusion. "If you all run away very,veryfast, you might not die."He said, looking at them, "you won't enjoy dying, definitely won't enjoy what comes after."

Sirens wailed louder, and louder in the distance, filling the sky.

"You expect us to believe that?" Asked Mr. Glozier, a smirk on his face, one of disbelief. "The bombs tonight will fall on the East End." He looked out, proud of himself.

"Yeah." Daffyagreed, who was now wobblingand cavorting against the bench on the church, one foot behind his leg and pressed against his calf. "it would take a last-minute demonic intervention to throw them off course, yes."

Bugshead snapped to him, and looked to him in shock, "Daffylove cup, ya didn't..."

Daffy looked to him, eyes soft, before looking to the Germans. "You're all wathing your valuable runnin'-away time!" He called, backing up, jouncing from one flipper to the other, arms out and hands raised. He stood, swaying and looked to the angel, "and if, in thirty seconds, a bomb doethland here, it would take a real miracle for my friend and I to survive it."

"A-areal miracle?" Stuttered Bugs,as he tensed up, locking eyes with the demon. "Oh, Daffy..."He moved to him, but paused again, the gun closer to him.

Mr. Harmony waved a hand, "kill them. They are very irritating."

Daffy paused in his limping, and pointed upwards with his index fingers. The siren was heard louder, as air whistling echoed the quiet Church, as the German's and two winged beings looked up. The sound of bombs exploding echoed the area, as did screaming, and crying, the shattering and quaking of stone filled the fear.

The German's cursed, and went to make a mad dash, and the celestial beings tensed up. Bugs scrunched his twitchingnose up, and clenched hiseyes, and squeezing his hands, nails digging into his skin, summoning any magical abilityto keep both himself, Daffy and anyone good in close proximity safe, and unharmed from the bombs.

Finally, a bomb fell.

There was a violent, red, hot and loud explosion, the world shook and crumbled.

An angel and demon stood in the fire, and rubble of the Church, with no scratch on them, but their shoulders were covered in dust. Air sirens sounded in the distance, as well as screams of terror, and feet scattering. The place was full of destruction, and fear, as well as a few building that were now collapsed and caved in.

Daffy looked around, eyes soft, realising he was alive and the German's were gone. He was safe. "Dat was very kind of you." He said, looking to the demon gently.

Daffy shuffled on his burned flippers, swaying and feeling awkward as he cleaned his dust covered glasses, "shut up." He quacked,unknowing of Bugs admiring gaze of his duck eyes. He slid his glasses back on.

"Well, it was." Smiled Bugs, "no paperwork, for a start." Suddenly his eyes turned to one of horror. "oh, fdabooks! Oh, I forgot all the books!"

Daffy held back a smile, his chest thundering as he moved forward, and past the angel, as it was his turn to shine.

"Oh, dey'll all be blown to..." Bugs whimpered, but paused.

Daffy moved to a pile of rubble cobble and stone,gripping a bag, snatching it from the dead body'shand, and handedover, "little demonic miracle of my own." He admitted shyly, as Bugs fingers curled around the handle. "Lift home?" He offered, walking away and past the angel with a blush.

Bugs stared after the demon, eyes soft and amazed, and he knew right then and there... he was wrong, he wasn't fraternising, he was in love with the demon, and the feeling is very muchmutual.

"Would you like to come in?" Asked Bugs, voice soft and gentle as they sat in Daffy's black, slick Bentley, parked outside his book shop. (A miracle later, they had found themselves back in California.)

Daffy looked down, "are you thure? I mean—"

"Come in, Daff..." Bugs demanded, opening the door and moving to Daffy's side, opening it. He carefully helped Daffy out, who held back a hiss of pain, and Bugs frowned, "oh gosh!" He stared at Daffy'sblack boots, they were burned and practically melted off his flippers, "come on..." He helped Daffy into his shop, and set him down on his old, antique sofa, which had a tartan blanket on, and multiple pillows.

"Bugsy, really I'm fine—"

"Shut up, Daffy. Stay dere." Bugs got up, and walked off to the back of the shop, books under his arm.

Daffy sighed, and relaxed into the sofa. He looked around, it really had changed since he was last here in the 1800's. It was more dusty, and the lights were dim, it didn't look at all friendly, or welcoming, and the prices for everything was incredibly high, with all kinds of books, all lining the shelves, from the ceiling to the floor. (The Prophecy books is Bugs'hobby.) It was designed that way, so nobody would enter, and nobody would buy, or stay, but Bugs loved it.

Bugs walked back, his hat gone, and set down a bucket of water, and a sponge, and cloth. He knelt down, and cradled Daffy's flipper, and Daffy froze. The angel paused in shock, and looked up, "Daffy...?"

"Angel, what are you doing?" Daffy asked, his shoulders up to his ears, his heart pounding against his ribs, and felt a hot flush spread over his black feathered cheeks and beak.

Bugs stared, "I think ya know... may I?" He wrapped his index finger around the demons shoe, waiting for permission. He would do it anyway, but he just needed Daffy to give the okay. "Come on, love cup..."

Daffy swallowed, and shook his head, "Bugs... thithisn't right, it's blathphemouth..."

"Since when have we cared?" Asked Bugs, voice soft. He stared at Daffy softly, "please, doc?"

"O-okay..."

Bugs carefully removed Daffy's ruined shoes, and then slowly peeled off his destroyed, burned socks, and Daffy hissed in pain, feeling his peeling, burned palmate pull, his red, sensitive, inflamed palmate brushed against his socks, and he dug his fingers into the sofa. Bugs paused, eyes soft and sad, feeling immense guilt for getting the demon into his mess, again.

"I'm so sorry..." Bugs whispered.

Daffy shook his head, "don't apologithe angel..." He bit his lower lip, "you don't have to do this..."

"I want to..." Bugs dipped a grey tartan towel into the water, and softly, gently, and lightly, brushed the towel over Daffy'sscared flippers, cleaning them.

Daffy gasped, feeling the cool water, and he tensed up, his flippers tender and sore, as he felt the cool droplets of water trickle into his wounds. He felt something Holy seep into his feet, and up his leg, it tingled, sore and he whimpered. Bugs stopped again, and looked to Daffy, who had his eyes clenched shut, "thorry just... Holy..." Washing Feet (or Flippers in this case)... it's not a demonic thing, it was Holy and forgiving...

"Sorry!" Bugs went to pull away, but Daffy stopped him.

"Please, don't stop, the waters helping..."

Bugswent back to cleaning Daffy's flippers, softly and carefully. They stared at each other softly. Bugs stared up at Daffy, who stared down at him like he was looking at something Holy, as if he was looking at God Herself, and Daffy would never admit it, but he worshipped the angel in front of him, like Bugs was his God, and his God alone... they fell silent, as Bugs kept cleaning.

Slowly, Bugs raised Daffy'sleg, and placed a gentle kiss to the tender palmate, having finished washing this flippers, and leaned up, hands resting on Daffy's knees, kneeling between them. Daffy cupped Bug's face with his hands, as the angel sat on his lap, Daffy brushing his nose against the demons beak.

"Tell me to stop..." Whispered Bugs, his fingers tracing Daffy's under beak,(or his chin).

"Don't... Bugsy, don't do this..." Daffywhispered, and Bugs froze. "You can't, I won't let you..."

"Why not? I thought we wanted this... for years..." Bugs reasoned, eyes sad.

"I'm guilty, Bugs... I'm not an angel, no matter how hard I wish... I'm Bad, and I'm no good for you..." Daffystood on his sore feet, and Bugs scrambled onto the sofa. The demon picked up his ruined shoes and socks, he swallowed, and wrote down an address, handing it over, "here... if you wanna get a job, come to the Warner Brothers Studio... their other rabbit is getting a repaint... you can take over..." He looked down, and shook his head."I'll see you around, angel..." Hewalked off, and out the door.

Bugs sat, and watched him leave, heart breaking all over again, eyeing the note.

Chapter 14: holy water...

Chapter Text

WARNER BROTHERS, CALIFORNIA

1967

It was a small room, dimly lit, with one light hanging over head. Daffysat around a round table, a whiskey glass in front of him, he wore a black turtle neck, a long, black jacket with shoulder pads, and tight black pants that flared out at the ankles,and circular black sunglasses. His black feathers was soft, yet slick, and he looked to his two workers.

A black dog with curled hair, and a trench coat, nursing a beer,and the other was a female catwith black hair, and red shirt, sipping from her wine glass, stereotypical "jailbird" type cartoons, who stayed in "The Toon Rejects" land.

"Tho, thpike," Daffy said, looking to the dog,"you're the muscles, you'll be hauling on the ropes." He said, fingers interlaced, as his elbows leaned on the table.

"And she'll be going down on the ropes then?" Questioned Spike, nodding his head to Sally.

Daffy smirked, and went to make a sexual remark back, but paused, hearing a noise. Something clicked, and rattled, and creaked, and he mumbled, "hang on." He looked over, tense. He had locked the door, and even used a demonic intervention to keep it shut, and yet someone was unlocking it, picking the door. There at the door stood a female rabbit, she had a short, blonde fringe, her ears tied up into a ponytail, pale brown fur, and wore a pink dress. She also wore a black coat, and white gloves, holding a clutch.

"Who are you?" Asked Daffy, she was beautiful, he couldn't lie.

"I understand you need a locksman." The bunny said, tucking something behind her ear.

"I was expecting Mr. Narker." Daffy admitted, his eyes looking her over.She has a lovely figure, and a smooth, velvet voice. She truly is beautiful, however there was only one issue with her. She's not an angelic angel, baring the name Bugs.

She nodded, and walked over to the table with a sway. "Well, Mr. Narker's passed on to his reward." She informed,not noticing Sally give her a look as she walked behind her. "I've taken over the business. He was my cartoon partner." Spike glared at her. "He taught me everything he knew. My name's Lola, Lola Bunny."

Daffy raised an eyebrow, "Marielle"was a nice name, he had to admit, but it still isn't Bugs. "Please, sit down, Ms. Lola," insisted the demon, face blank.

"Lance Corporal Lola." She said, voice stern, and squinted with a nod, "if you don't mind."

Sally, wanting to keep the conversation on track, and wanting to keep the job, asked, "so, what's so valuable that they're going to leave it in a Church at night?"

Lola took a seat next to Spike, tense and watched everyone, it was clear she didn't fit in with this lot.

Daffy looked over to Sally, and leaned back in his seat, "we'll go over the details of what you're getting for me when we get there." He promised with a nod. He reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a stack of cash,"you will all be very well compensated." He said, seeing Spike and Sally share grins. He licked the pad of his thumb, and began thumbing through the notes, setting one on the table.

Lola raised her hand, and Daffy looked up, pausing in the dishing out of the money. His duck eyes gleamed. Spike and Sally looked to the Lance Corporal, annoyed and tense, and sent her glares, as if warning her to not screw this gig up for them.

"You have a question, Lance Corporal Lola?" Asked Daffy, using the title the bunny requested.

"Stealing from a church." She said, staring at Daffy, face blank yet thoughtful, "there's no Witchcraft involved here, is there?"

Spike frowned, and glared the man, as if he was threatening this caper, yet was also confused.

Daffy was confused, and thrown off, having no idea where this womangot Witchcraft from. "No," he answered, shaking his head. "Completely witch-free robbery." This female rabbitwas focusing on all the wrong issues, and he waited to see her response. He too was extremely confused as to where this question was coming from, and how she came to the conclusion.

Lola hummed, "pity." He lowered his hand.

"Thoming tells me you don't likeWitch Hazel," joked Daffy.

Lola hummed, "she isn't my favourite..."

Letting out a deep breath, Daffy asked, "any other questions?" His eyes dancing around the room. He rather just get on with it now, and went to continue, but paused, swallowing as the same voice broke through the room.

Again it was her, Lola spoke up, making the demon sigh. "You are not yourself a witch, warlock or someone that calls your cat funny names?"

Sally looked to Lola, confused, as did Spike.

"Not a witch. No pets." Answered Daffy, and he continuedputting out the money, to show he was now done with the witch-talk. "Anyone else?"

"What are we getting paid?" Sally asked, her elbow resting on the table, and Spike nodded fondly at the question.

"A hundred now, another hundred when the job's done. A hundred more to keep schtum." Daffyanswered, not looking up at them again, as he continued to fish out money.

Spike chuckled, as Sally smiled.

Daffy sauntered out into the night, his eyes squinting in the bright neon lights from the street lights, and bulbs. He adjusted his glasses slightly, as music filled the air. He was heading to his Bentley, and was planning on going back to his flat at E. Harvard Roadto sleep for a couple of days, to get ready for the Caper.

"Oh, Mr. Daffy?" Sang a female voice, and Daffy paused, turning to see Lola hidden in a dark ally, a toothpick between her lips. "May I have a moment of your time?"

"Yes..." Answered Daffy, and sauntered over to the woman, the flats on his flippers slapping against the floor. "Lance Corporal Lola. What are you a lance corporal in?" He questioned, when he was near and his eyes wandered her body. Not at all lustful, but curious, "you don't look like an army woman."

Lola let out a chuckle, taking out her toothpick, "well, that is precisely the matter upon which I planned to talk to you." She answered, and saw the wondering eyes of Daffy. She sneered, "I'm not interested, Mr. Daffy."

"And, neither am I." Daffy said, eyebrows raised, "I have an angel I wish to date..." (It should be noted, that at times, Daffy changes gender and experiments, and so, when he doesn't use he, or him pronouns, Daffy is not gay. He is whatever sexuality allows him to Fall for Bugs, over and over again. Not to mention, Bugs wore drag and she looked stunning in those dresses!)

Lola flushed, and continued her conversation, "you might remember earlier this evening, I asked a rather pointed question about Witchcraft."

Daffy nodded, one side of his face lit up red from the neon lights, "yeth."

"Well, I am a proud member of an enormous organisation." Lola said, "vast." She looked around, throwing a cautious look over her shoulder, and she leaned in, "a secret army that battles the forces of Witchery."

Daffy shook his head, as if interested and complimented, "how nice for you." He held back a gag, he hated the four letter word "nice".

"The Witchfinder Army. Perhaps you've heard of it." Lola nodded, with a thoughtful look on jer face.

With a confused frown, Daffy asked, dumbfounded and at a lossfor words, "what? I thought you thaid it was thecret." His mind swam with thoughts, when one came in loud and clear.TheWitchfinder Army? It's been years since he heard of these jokers,. This Army had killed hundreds to thousands of people who were not witches.

"Well, you never know when a gentleman such as yourself might have need of such an organisation." Lolashrugged. Even though Daffy knew they were useless, and moronic, it was a good point, this organisation would come in handy at some point. "A duck with hundreds of dollars to throw around. If you need us, the Witchfinder Army are here for you."

"A whole army?" Asked Daffyin thought, and amazement.

"Think it over." Insisted Lola, "you know where to find me." She placed the toothpick in her mouth, and walked off.

Daffy watched her leave, strange rabbit... "Lola Bunny"? Never heard of her... must be a reject, or has been used up, and unneeded now. He shrugged, before sauntering off to his car. He walked around the hood of the car, opened the door, and slid into the drivers seat, hearing a faint jingle of bells. His eyes caught sight of something grey and white, and he turned. There in the passenger seat was a rabbit, dressed in a white shirt, beige pants and shoes, a grey cardigan and an off-white tie, with two pointed ears. Bugs... the angel smiled at him.

"What are you doing here?" Daffy asked, blinking in shock.

"I needed a word with you, doc." Bugs said, lips pursed, voice serious. He looked panicked, and wasn't turning to face the demon.

"What?" Daffy just kept staring at Bugs.

"I work in Warner Brothers, you know this. So, I hear things." Insisted Bugs, nodding with each statement, blinking unsteadily. "I hear dat you're setting up a..." He glanced to Daffynervously, "caper torob a Church." He could see the moment Daffy tuned out, as the demon turned away annoyed. "Daff, it's too dangerous." He insisted, desperate and quick to get his point across, before Daffy booted him from the car. "For one, if ya caught, you'll be fired! And, no amount of convincing on my end will get you back. Second, Holy Water won't just kill ya body," he whimpered. "It will destroy you completely!"

With a shake of his head, Daffy looked back to Bug, "you told me what you think, a hundred-and-fiveyearthago." He reminded, bitterly.

"And I haven't changed my mind!" Bugs snapped, retaliating quickly, assuring the demon he still stood firmly behind his belief. "But I can't have ya riskin' ya life," he shook his head, eyes soft as the demon looked away. "Not even for somethin' dangerous." He said, desperately holding back sobs, and his voice now wavering. "So..." He produced a thermos, with a tartan design on it, pale greys and whites, and a black cap, lit up from the neon lights outside. Daffy turned and stared at it, as Bugs held it out to him, "you can call off the robbery." He assured, gripping the bottle gently, swallowing back bile. The demon looked between the thermos and Bugs. "Don't go unscrewing the cap," he begged, shakily.

Daffy stared, and slowly, he took off his glasses and set them on the dashboard. "It'ththe real thing?" The demon asked, as he took hold of the flask with such care, and gentleness, one hand on the base and the other on the cap. He heard the liquid splash, and slosh in the plastic, and he felt the dull burn beneath his fingertips. He looked to Bugs, who was fiddling with his gloves. They locked eyes, and the demon's grip tightened slightly.

Bugs could read the silent question in the demons gorgeous serpenteyes;Did you make this? Or, did it come from upstairs? Or, even a Church?

"The Holiest." He answered, softly;I made it.

Daffy stared in shock, and said quietly, looking to Bugs, "after everything you thaid."

Bugs nodded, swallowing, and he looked forward again.

Looking back to the thermos in his hands, Daffy asked with pursed lips, "should I say thank you?"

"Better not." Bugs said, tense and felt sick. He gave his... best friend, a bullet and a gun.

"Well, can I drop you anywhere?" Asked Daffy, desperately, wanting a reason for the angel to stay, to be with him

"No, thank you." Smiled Bugs, and saw Daffy's face fall. The demons eyes were sad and his shoulders sagged, swallowing. He seemed like he wanted to spend time with him, be with him... almost desperate. With a frown of his own, tense, Bugs said, "oh, don't look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could... I don't know." He shook his head, looking away from the demon to the road, then back, unsure where to look in fear of crying. "Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz."

"I'll give you a lift." Promised Daffy, looking to the angel softly, "anywhere you want to go."

It fell silent for a second, tense and somehow it got more sad in the car. Slowly, Bugs looked to his demon. His own soft, blue eyes filled with gold tears, meeting dark brown nearing black eyes, with slit serpent pupils, filled with bloody tears.

"Yougo too fast fer me, Daffy." Bugswrapped his hand around the door handle.

Daffy couldn't lie, that hurt. But, he knew where his angel was coming frown, and he looked down to his flippers. "Why do you think I said no all those years ago?" He asked, softly and carefully.

Bugs froze, and looked to Daffy. He remembered that, the demon had saved him from beingdiscorporated by Nazis, he had taken the demon to his shop and healed his flippers, and well... they nearly kissed. So close. But, Daffy had said no. What was it he said before leaving?

I'm guilty, Bugs... I'm not an angel, no matter how hard I wish... I'm Bad, and I'm no good for you...

Bugs looked to him, his eyes were sad and soft. He reached over, and cupped the demons face, rubbing his thumb under his eye. Daffylooked to him, confused and sad, pressing his cheek into the angels hand, his breathing uneven with nerves, and emotions.

"I don't care if ya guilty, I don't care if yanot. Ya Good and ya Bad, and ya All dat I've got..." Bugsleaned forward, and looked to the weapon in the demons hand, and Daffy shakily followed his gaze. The two looked to each other, their eyes mixing. Bugsstared, and prayed, "Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging ya please, don't take this sinner from me..." He leaned forward, and did what he should have done years ago.

He pressed his lips to Daffy's beak, and Daffy eagerly kissed back, and eyes closed, lips moved, and, rather suddenly, they found themselves in the back of Daffy's car.

The thermos sat in the cup holder, safe and sound, with Holy Water it, lit up by neon lights, as the car windows fogged up with steam.

Chapter 15: eleven years ago...

Chapter Text

ELEVEN YEARS AGO

It wasn't a dark and stormy night.

The sky was dark, with an owl calling in the distance. Trees covered the land, as did shadows, curlingaround the bends, as moon light seeped between the branches. The night was calm, and peaceful. It was all rather lovely.

But, don't let the weather fool you.

Just because it's a mild night doesn't mean that the forces of evil aren't abroad.

They are. They are everywhere.

Fallen, crumbled orange leaves on the floor caved in, and the mud and dirt crumbled with grotesque crunching and grinding sounds. Two figures shrouded in darkness and evil slowly came up, rising from beneath the mud, resembling that of a zombie.

One wore a trench coat, with stained, straw, blond shaggy hair that was actually a wig, covered in mud with branches entwined with the strands. The figure wore a wig, as under his hairline was a black piece of fabric, and under that was an animal, that looked like a some kind of frog. His face was dirty, covered in holes, and caked in bacteria, and black soulless eyes, his finger nails caked in dirt - this is Hastur, Duke of Hell.

The other man, or well Being if you will, had dark curled hair (or pubic hair-like, if you will) with some kind of orange lizard sat atop of his head, his eyes a bright orange, matching with the lizards scales. His clothing was mainly all black, a leather jacket and black turtleneck and scarf, with finger-less gloves, he cleaned up better then Hastur, that's for sure. - This is Ligur, Duke of Hell.

The two cleaned off the tree branches, and straw from their shoulders, the two covered in a cloak darkness and shadows, just the way they liked it. Ligur pulled a brief case from the ground, the black sleek plasticunder his hand, and it was clean somehow, no dirt and looked new, all he had to do was brush off the straw.

An owl called out with a hoot, and the two lurkedpast the old, cold, stone Church, and made their way through the cold, dead graveyard to stand at the edge of it.

Two demons lurk at the edge of the graveyard. They are pacing themselves, and can lurk for the rest of the night, if necessary. With still enough sullen menace left for a final burst of lurking around dawn.

They made their way to the front of the graveyard. Pacing. Walking back and forth the graveyard, holding hands. Lurking.

Hastur summoned a cigarette, and raised his hand, his entire hand was on fire, red and flaming, as if a ball of Hellfire. He lit the tobacco stick, and lowered his hand, putting the fire out as he did. He puffed out the tainted smoke of the cigarette, "bugger this for a lark."He grumbled out, voice choked, and scratchy,and rough like nails. "He should have been waiting for us," he said.

Ligur nodded, and his eyes looked down to Hastur. "Do you trust him?" He asked, voice soft and rather quiet. He's not been Up on Earth for years, unlike Hastur who came up every thousand years or so for a check in. Not that Hastur knew the modern world well enough to live here, or make a casual day of it, but the blond Duke liked to think he knew more than others, and Ligur entertained that notion, for both a laugh and because he... not loves since demons don't love, but enjoyed the demon.

The blond haired Duketook out his cigarette from his lips, "nope." He breathed out smoke as he said this, a sneer on his face.

"Good." Hummed Ligur with a nod, fully looking to the demon next to him. "It'd be a funny old world if demons went around trusting each other." He then frowned in thought, and asked, "what's he calling himself up here these days?"

With another puff of smoke, the tobacco in between his index finger and thumb, Hastur growled out, "Daffy."

"Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia, let me go! Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me..."

"Here he comes now, the flash bastard."Snarled Hastur, seeing a Bentleydrive down the road, andpull up in front of them. "If you ask me, he's been up here too long."

"For me, for me!"

The demon got out the car, and shut the door, the music automatically turning off as he did. A short figure sauntered up to them, walking in front of the headlights, revealing a well built figure.

"Gone native. Enjoying himself too much. Wearing sunglasses, even when he doesn't need them." Hastur snarled, seeing the figure.

The figure wasn't wearing clothes, he'd be nude if it hadn't been for the black, slick, smooth feathers covering his body. Though, he did wear black sunglasses, that hid his eyes. He also wore a watchthat tells you time for every time zone, country and city - he's not changed the battery since the 60's, even though it was eaten away at - and it was hidden beneath his feathers. This is Daffy, Duck Demon of Eden.

"All hail Satan." Called Hastur, raising a hand in a salute.

"All hail Satan." Called Ligur, raising a hand in a salute.

Daffy raised a hand, a golden ring on his ring finger gleamed in the back light from his Bentley, standing out against his black feathers, "uh, hi, guyth." He waved, humming out tiredly. "Sorry I'm late, but you know how it is on the A40 at Denham. I tried to cut up towards Chorleywood—"

"Now that we art all here, let us recount the deeds of the day." Hastur said, cutting the demon off with a scowl. He was not entertaining the demon at all, unlike Downstairs who let the demon prattle on about things.

Daffy blinked, though he didn't do it often, and nodded, "course." He opened his beak up, much like a duck (he is one after all), "deeds, yeah." He said, with the slightly guilty look of one who is attending Church for the first time in years.

Hastur's face was dead, "I have tempted a priest. As he walked down the street, he saw all the pretty girls in the sun. I put doubt into his mind. He would have been a saint. Now, within a decade, we shall have him." He was unable to fight back a smirk, feeling rather proud of himself.

Ligur chuckled darkly, his laugh sounding like a rasp in the back of his throat.

"Yeah, nice one." Smirked Daffy with a wavering laugh, nodding as he wobbledin his spot.

"I have corrupted a politician." Ligur said.Daffy stopped smiling, his eyes widened - him too? "Let him think that a tiny bribe wouldn't hurt. Within a year, we shall have him!"He said confidently.

Daffy nodded, "right, you'll like this." He smiled like the duck that he is, "I brought down every Burbankarea mobile phone network tonight." Itwas a stroke of genius. (Or, his angel seemed to think so...)

Squawking from a bird nearby sounded the area. The two Duke's stared agrinning Daffy down. The squawking sounded again.

"Yeah?" Asked Hastur, realising the duckdemon wasn't continuing.

"Yeah. It wasn't easy—" Started Daffy, ready to lie his way through it.

(It was rather easy, actually.

It had started at lunch, and Daffywas wearing a neon orange vest, leaning on the wall of an elevator.

A woman had walked in, going up with him.Security maybe? Who knows, but she definitely worked there. "It's terrifyin'," she said, not looking to the raven haired man, "I put down a tuna sandwich yesterday, never saw it again." She shook her head, face stern. She nodded her head, looking to Daffy, "Health and Safety have closed the tops floors as a Health Hazard until your lot get in."

"We'll soon see them off." Daffy had promised, barely glancing to her.

She looked away with a sigh, shoulders sagging, "sunglasses?"

"My eyes..." Was the demons response.

He had arrived, and got out the elevator, walking up the stairs and into the computer room, a clipboard under one arm, and the other hand held a silver thermos with coffee. From surface to surface, there were rats. Rats on the floor, rats on the table, rats on chairs and wiring. Everywhere. He looked around as they squeaked and squealed.

He moved over to one desk, and gently pushed a brown furred rat away with his clipboard. He unscrewed the cap, and set it down, then unscrewed the black stopper, and poured coffee into the lid, setting the silver thermos down. He picked up the lid, looking around at the furry chaos.

He raised his drink in a toast, "beautiful job!" He compliment, "thank you all so much, men!" He called, turning. A squeak sounded from behind him, and he turned with a genuinely apologetic wince, and smiled, as he bowed his head, "oh yeah, obviously, ladies too." The rat squeaked back, and he smiled, "nice job. You can all go home." He assured, and there was another squeak. He gestured to them, "yeah, stay cool."

He pulled open a door, that held wires, and circuit boards, and poured his coffee into the wires, and they sparked and exploded. There was a loud alarm, and ringing, as a light lit up saying;DANGER. MAIN SYSTEM MELTDOWN.

The elevator dinged, and Daffy sauntered out, and down the hall.

The woman from before looked up from behind the desk, "that was quick." She said.

"I left something back in the van." He lied. He walked down the wet street of Burbank, and began unbuttoning his jacket.

"No Gavin, you can pick me up here." Said a female on the phone, and then there was a dial tone.

"We're sorry, but your call cannot be—"

"Hello? Hello?"

He threw the jacket away with a smirk, as others began to frantically check their phones.)

"And what exactly has that done to secure souls for our master?" Asked Hastur, cutting the demon off, an angry look on his face.

"Oh, come on, think about it!" Laughed Daffy with a snort, "fifteen million pissed-off people who take it out on each other!" And, they take it out on others, and they will do the same, bring it home to families. It's a domino effect!

"It's not exactly..." grumbled Ligur, voice and eyes full of doubt, "craftsmanship."

Daffy held back an annoyed sigh, demons worked with one person at a time, while Daffy went for big groups of people to get more and more people. He wasn't the worst low level demon, but he wasn't the best.

Alright, time to bring out the big guns. "Well, Head Office don't seem to mind. They love me Down there, guys." Daffy bragged, noticing how annoyed the two demons were getting. It was rather entertaining. "Times are changing. So..." He shrugged, and sniffed, scrunching his beak up, "what'thup?" He asked, not expecting much. Besides Daffy, demons have no imagination.

"This is." Hasturanswered, and Legs picked up the brief case and produced it for the waterfowl.

Daffy's easy going smile fell, and he stared at the basket in horror. "No," he breath out. He never minded work that had required paperwork, it wasn't the best, but he got through it. But, this... he's never been more scared about paperwork in his life...

"Yes," Ligur hummed.

He was at a loss for words, and just stared at the briefcase. "Already?" Asked Daffy, voice full of doubt. He sounded squeaky.

Hastur moved forward, and wore a barely noticeable smirk,"yes."

"And it'thup to me to...?"Trailed Daffy, eyebrows pulled together in worry.

"Yes." Ligurand Hasturgrumbled together, nodding.Hastur seemedrather delighted for once, while Ligur was still serious. The taller demonpushed the briefcase forward.

"You know," started Daffy, shaking his head, trying to think of any lie to get out of this mess. "Listen, it..." He trailed off, stumbling over his words, "this..." For once in a very long time, he could find his wording, "uh, um..." He couldn't form a rational, tempting persuasion, "quc..." He needed to get out of this mess, now, "...really isn't my scene."

"Your scene." Said Ligur, "your starring role. Take it." He jerked the briefcase forward, and Daffy glanced to it.

"Like you said," said Hastur, making the waterfowl look to him. "Times are changing," he quoted.

Daffy held back a sneer ashis own words used against him.'Damn it, f*ck...'

Ligur spoke up, "they come to an end, for a start."

"Why me?" Daffy asked, helplessly, and leaned forward. For a second, it was like talking to friends, but he knew better. Is there anyway to get out of this mess?

"Well, they love you down there." Hasturanswered, mockingly.

Damn it, that backfired badly for the black featheredduck, and Daffy swallowed, realising he messed up.

Hastur continued, and he seemed rather jealous, "and what an opportunity. Ligur here would give his right arm to be you tonight."

"Or someone's right arm, anyway." Ligur said - there's plenty of good arms to go around.

Hasturproduced a contract, "sign here."

Daffy paused, and read over the one sheet piece contract. You don't just sign without reading over a contract produced by Hastur, yes, he went for singular temptations, and murders, as did Ligur, it was their "dates" that they didn't realise were dates, but Hasturspecialised in signing contacts, but they never meant what they said on the paper. He doubted Hasturwould mess with something like this, but a demon could never be too careful.

The duck produced a red fountain pen from hispocket, opening his feathers like a suit, one that was sleek and matte black.

"S'nice pen..." Ligur complimented.

"It can write underwater too..." Daffy numblyboasted and dull all over. He began signing his name, but Hasturpulled back angrily.

"No! No!I mean your real name, not DuckH. T. Daffy!" He sneered, spitting out his mortal name as if it was poison. "In the traditional way!"

With a mournful sigh and nod, Daffy tucked his pen away, and raised his index finger to his lips and and snipped his finger piercing the skin. He moved forward, index finger on fire, and signed an intricate and squiggled sigil, that basically translated into "Lucas". The line set on fire, as did the duck demons finger, sparking, and he pulled away quickly, waving his hand in pain. But he immediately stopped, and tried to look like he wasn't in pain, as if he wasn't too out of touch with evil. "Now what?" He asked, shaking his head with raised eyebrows.

"You will receive your instructions."Hastur said, and Daffy nodded. "And why so glum? The moment we have been working for all these centuries is at hand."

"Centuries," Daffy nodded, brain blank.

"Our moment of eternal triumph awaits," Ligur added.

Daffy shook his head, teeth gritted and nodded numbly, non-committed, "triumph."

"And you will be a tool of that glorious destiny," Hastur said.

"Glorious... tool. Yeah." Daffy said, mind hazy in sickness. A glorious tool indeed. "Okay," he grumbled, and reached out, taking the briefcase handle in his hands, "I'll, um, be off then." He said, "get it over with." He let out a shaky breath, backtracking as he realised how that sounded. "Not, I want to get it over with, obviously, but, I'll be popping along." He backed up, seeing the curious and stern gazes of the two, "great. Fine. Yeah."

""Ciao", it's Italian."Hastur responded, unsure but he had to seem like he knew more, "it means 'food'."

They watched as Daffy got in his car, and drove off, placing the briefcase in the backseat.

Daffy was all in favour of Armageddon in general terms. But it was one thing to work to bring it about, and quite another for it to actually happen.

His hands gripped the steering wheel as his knuckles turned white, and his teeth were clenched together as he sped down the long, winding, bending road, "sh*t. sh*t. sh*t. sh*t! sh*t!" He swore out, thrusting his head forward with each syllable,and eyes wide behind his sunglasses. His voice was getting a louder, and louder, and more quackedwith each word.

The Bentley plunged on through the darkness, its fuel gauge pointing to zero. It had pointed to zero for more than sixty years now. It wasn't all bad, being a demon. You didn't have to buy petrol, for one thing. The only time Daffy had bought petrol was once in 1967, to get the free James Bond bullet-hole-in-the-windscreen transfers, which he rather fancied at the time.

"When Queen released 'Bohemian Rhapsody'..."

"sh*t, sh*t, sh*t! Why now?! Why me?!" He asked helplessly, and angrily, voice full of distress.

"... in 1975, it was because—"

YOU EARNED IT, DAFFY, DIDN'T YOU? WHAT YOU DID TO THE HOLLYWOOD FREEWAY, AND GOLDEN STATE FREEWAY,WAS A STROKE OF DEMONIC GENIUS, DARLING.

Daffytensed up, eyes wide and played this calm persona, as helooked to the radio that readBBC Radio 4, and was now playing "Bohemian Rhapsody"again, except Freddie's voice was being used for something else. He blessed under his breath. He really wished he hadn't gave the idea to use technology to communicate, that's right it was his idea, but because that's how they talked to him now! They actually took him up on the idea, and now, the bastards use Freddie Mercury's voice.

He glanced between the radio and the road, and his eyes wide in panic,'did they hear me panicking?'f*ck if they heard him swear, he's meant to swear, his a demon! It's the panicking of his job, "the Hollywood Freeway and Golden State Freeway? Yeah, well... uh, quc, yeah, I'm glad it went down so well." He gulped out, glancing between the road and radio.

WE HAVE GREAT FAITH IN YOU, DAFFY.

"Thank you, Lord."

THIS IS IMPORTANT, DAFFY.

"I understand, Lord."

THIS IS THE BIG ONE, DAFFY.

"Leave it to me, Lord."

THIS IS WHAT WE ARE DOING, DAFFY. AND IF IT GOES WRONG, THEN THOSE INVOLVED WILL SUFFER GREATLY. EVEN YOU, ESPECIALLY YOU.

"Understood, Lord."

HERE ARE YOUR INSTRUCTIONS, DAFFY.

Fog began seeping into his eyes, as he retained the instructions. He was staring blankly, barely hearing the lyrics to the song he and his angel loved so much. He leaned slightly, getting numb and he squinted. He saw nothing but bright fog, as his glasses and eyes lit up. It was all there... all the information was now in his brain...

Numbly, still seeing the now repeating information, he said, "I'll be there in five minutes, Lord..."

GOOD.

"I see a little silhouetto of a man. Scaramouch, Scaramouch, will you do the Fandango!"

Was that a... oh sh*t, car lights! Quickly, Daffy turned the steering wheel, just barely dodging the lorry that nearly drove into him, as the driver honked past. The instructions and fog broke.

"Thunderbolts and lightning, very, very frightening me!"

The basket in the briefcase slid to one side, and Daffy turned the wheel to get back on the road, teeth clenched together and he looked up from under his sunglasses. The basket slid back again.

"Galileo, Galileo. Galileo, Galileo."

On the back seat the thing in the basket began to cry; the air-raid siren wail of the newly born. High. Wordless. And old. The flap on the basket opened, and out slide... a piece of paper, with black eyes and black fur, a red hat, andwhite muzzle, wrapped in a blue blanket.

"Galileo, Figaro - magnificoo."

Daffy glanced behind, and looked at the cartoon - The Antichrist.

"Here is a selection of your favourite sushi rolls, my dear Bugs-san."Said a Japanese man, setting down a tray full of complimentary sushi rolls.

The customer came here a lot, always ordering food and paying a hefty amount of cash. Hiswas naked, besides the white gloves, and had grey fury covering his body, slightly messed up, but still smooth. His ears were soft, and tall, and his whiskers prim. He wore a golden bracelet, and had glasses in his fur (as if it was pocket) that he didn't need, and was currently flipping a pen between his fingers, reading a script, his golden ring on his ring finger glistened in the light. This is Bugs, Principality, Angel of Eden.

"Thank you chef, that's very kind of you."Bugs thanked in Japanese,bowing his head in thanks, and respectfullywith a friendly smile.

The man walked away with a smile.

Bugsleaned forward, and sniffed, humming in delight at the smell, and his stomach called out in hunger. He placed his pen down on his script, it was another variation ofDuck! Rabbit, Duck!.He smiled, and looked out of the window, and frowned. There he was in the reflection, as to be suspected, but there wasanother figure in the reflection. A man, who wasn't there before, stood behind him with a condescending smile hands clasped together in front of him.

Bugs turned his head, andlooked up, meeting brightpurple glowing eyes. His hair was brown, in a quiff, and wore a very light and pale purple belstaff (that looked vaguely like the one Sherlock wears), with a loose purple scarf, pale brown shoes,and a purple undershirt, "mind if I join you?" He asked, voice sounding overly friendly.

"Gabriel?" Greeted Bugs, a tense smile on his face. "What an unexpected pleasure, doc," he lied, shoulders stiff with his white lie. Gabrielkept staring and standing next to him, and so Bugs said, "it's been..."

"Quite a while, yes." Nodded Gabriel, a fake friendly smile on his face. "Why do you consume that?" He asked suddenly, pointing down to the row of sushi, with a frown on his face, "you're an angel." He said, as if that explained everything, as if that, and that alone, should prove why Bugsshouldn't be eating things.

"It's sushi." Defended Bugs, face confused. Gabriel pulled a disgusted grimaced face, as Bugs said, "it's nice!" He smiled in delight, "yadip it in soy sauce..."His excited smile turned into a frown, noticing the lost, disgusted look on Gabriel's face, and settled with, "it's what humans do. And if Iamgoing tabe living here among dem," he insisted, with a nervous cough, "well, keeping up appearances." ("as a cartoonstar, the literal face of The Looney Tunes,who gets recognised at every turn", was left unsaid.) He took a shaky intake of air, and looked to the table, "tea?"

"I do not sully the temple of my celestial body with gross matter." Gabrielsaid, a sneer on his face, as he threw the sushi a look of disgust, as if it were a demon, lesser than him.

"Obviously not." Smiled Bugs, looking over Gabriel'soutfit, and said to ease the tension, "ya clean up nice."

Gabriel frowned in confusion.

With a sigh, Bugstranslated the slang, "nice suit."

Gabriel threw his arms out with a proud smile, and admitted, "yes, I like the clothes!" He held his hands out in a "what con you do"manner, and said, "pity they won't be around much longer."

"Dey won't?" Asked Bugs his face morphed to one ofa frown, his expressionconfused, and now worried.

"We have reliable information that things... are afoot." Explained Gabriel, slowly nodding with each word, eyebrows raised.

"Dey are?"

"Yes. My informant suggests that the demon..." Gabriel squinted in thought, trying to remember the name, "Lucas?"

Bugs instantly corrected him,"Daffy." He avoided eye contact as he corrected his "brother", as it was referred to in Heaven.

Gabrielnodded, "Daffy, may be involved." Bugs swallowed nervously, and nodded, as Gabriel said, "you need to keep him under observation without, of course, letting him know that's what you're doing."

"I do know, yes." Nodded Bugs, nervously, "I've been on Earth doing this since the beginning." He explained nervously, though gave off an air of ease.

Gabrielhummed in thought, lips pursed, "so has Daffy." He reminded, not noticing how tense Bugs was getting, his shoulders getting higher and higher to his ears. "It's a miracle he hasn't spotted you yet. - Yes, I know!" He laughed suddenly, arms out gesturing. "Miracles are what we do."

Bugs smiled, and looked down as Gabrielwalked out the restaurant, and he frowned, "ohlove cup... what the Hell have you done..."

Meet Angelica and Kassy. They the two executives who work at the Warner Brothers Studio.

"Are we there yet, Kassy?" Called Angelica, desperately, holding papers to her chest. "I can't keep this drawing steady forever!"

Kassy was driving down the dark pathway, and it was simple to see she was speeding slightly. "It's definitely this way. It's just the roads look all different in the dark." She said, annoyed and snappily. It's one thing to be driving at high illegal speeds, and a whole other thing to have your friend and business partnerin the middle of creating a Toon drawing.

"The Drawers said to come in when ourcharacterwas close to being finished drawing," cried Angelica, taking a deep breathe to calm down, she was panicking.

A third voice sounded, "is everything gonna be alright?"

"Oh, don't you worry, Yakko, I'm sure Kassy und Angelica know what they're doing," said Dr.Scratchansniff, who was here to comfort and help Yakko, and the new Toon.

Angelica looked over, "he's right! He's just fine Yakko! Your brother is gonna be fine!"

"Exactly! Ange, it's just an..." Started Kassy.

Angelica perked up suddenly, "oh, do we have any egg and cress sandwiches?" She asked, suddenly hungry, and Kassyjabbed a thumb behind them. She leaned over,but then screamed nearly dropping the loose drawing, stopping.

They hadn't finished the drawing, and yet it was coming to life!

Angelica sighed, and looked out, as sirens wailed from behind them, flashing blue, andred, cars speeding past them of high security.

Meet Harriet Dowling and her husband, Mr. Disney's right hand man Thaddeus Dowling.

Harrietyelled in pure anger and annoyance, clutching her briefcase, exhausted, with Donald Duck, and Huey in the car, and her stupid husband was nowhere to be seen, besides on a stupid screen!

"Relax, honey. Just relax." Thaddeus said.

"I am relaxed, goddamn it, Tad!" Snarled Harriet, glaring at Thaddeus. "Why aren't you here?!" She couldn't keep hold of this briefcase forever! And, there needed to be touches for this character!

"Honey, I'm with you. I'm with you." Promised Thaddeus, voice stern and uptight. "I'm just also here with Mr. Disney."

"Hey, Harriet," said Mr. Disney, walking over, "sorry we had to borrow your husband. Hope it's going okay with our new duck; Thaddy!"

Harriet smiled at first, trying to seem nice (even though she hated the name Thaddy, or Thaddeus - ew!), as hair clung to her forehead in sweat, before screaming out in shock, nearly dropping the wriggling briefcase.

"Creating a toonis the single most joyous co-experience that two animation executivescan share, and I'm not going to miss a second of it!" Promised Thaddeus, but Harriet glared at him, as if she didn't believe him.

"Tad, if we could get back to the matter at hand," said Mr. Disney.

"I'll get back to you, honey." Thaddeus said.

"You're meant to be with me, you useless son of a bi—"

"At some point this evening, Mrs Dowling will arrive." Said Mother Superior, overlooking all the other Drawers. Behind her there was a board, with a female cut out, and a cartoon creature cut out. "She will undoubtedly have Disney Secret Service agents with her. You are all to ensure that they see nothing untoward." The Drawers all shared giggles and smiles. "Drawer Theresa and I will create the Dowlings' drawing in room four. Once he has been created, we will remove the cartoon drawingfrom the artist..." Mother Superior took the cartoon cut out, and moved it down, "and give her back our master's cartoon." She placed a cut out of a cartoonwith devil horns where the original cartoon had sat. "Everything is ready. Tonight, it begins."

Suddenly, one Drawer put her hand up. A black woman, and she was rather plain looking.

"Drawer Mary Loquacious?" Said Mother Superior, sounding tired. (Drawer Mary Loquacious has been a devout Satanic Drawer since birth. She went to Sabbat School as a child and won black stars for handwriting and liver. When she was told to join the Chattering Drawing Order she went obediently, having a natural talent in that direction and, in any case, knowing that she would be among friends. She would be quite bright, if she was ever put in a position to find out, but long ago found that being a scatterbrain, as she'd put it, gave you an easier journey through life.)

"Yes, excuse me, Mother Superior," Drawer Mary smiled. "I was wondering where the other cartoonwas going to come from? Not the Disney drawing. I mean, that's obvious. It's just the paperand the pencils, and cels. But, you know, the, um..."

Everyone was sharing looks of annoyance.

"Master Lucas is on his way with our dark lord-to-be, Drawer Mary. We do not need to know more than that." Mother Superior said, and she nodded. "We are Satanic Drawers of the Chattering DrawingOrder of St Beryl. And tonight is what our order was created for!"

Everyone began chattering excitedly.

"Drawer Grace, you are on duty reception. Drawer Maria Verbose and Katherine Prolix, you will assist Drawer Theresa. The rest of you know your duties." Said Mother Superior, reading the check list, when suddenly, there was the sound of the sirens a little way away.

"Oh, it's a drawing car!" DrawerMary said, and everyone began grinning.

"Places." Called Mother Superior, and everyone ran about.

"Excuse me, Mother Superior. I didn't get a job. Probably an oversight." Smiled Drawer Mary, looking to Mother Superior.

"Yes, of course." Mother Superior said, face falling. She fell silent, and thought. "You could make sure there are biscuits. The kind with pink icing. I think we had a tin in the convent larder."

Drawer Mary nodded, and smiled, walking off, as did Mother Superior.

The drawing car drove in, sirens wailing.

Mother Superior andDrawer Theresa smiled, and waved in Harriet Dowling, who was rushing in, screaming and yelling in panic, followed by a silent Donald and Huey, who were panicking about the new duck, and was stilling being watched by Thaddeus. The doors closed;NO ENTRY!

Drawer Grace turned with a smile, and froze, seeing Kassy and Angelica, and Yakko and Dr.Scratchansniffwalk in with a case, and Angelicaclearly flustered.

"Breathe, Ange, stop panicking," said Kassy.

"Iam breathing!" Snapped Angelica, clinging to the briefcase."Oh, no not yet!"

"Excuse me. Angelica for Warner Bros." Angelica said, "half finished, coming alive —" The case jolted, "COMING ALIVE EARLY!" She screamed out, jerking with the drawing, and Yakko's ears bent at the high pitched noise.

"Welcome to St Beryl's, Ms. Angelica." Said Drawer Grace, shocked. "We weren't expecting you till next week."

"Now, Kassy will be with me while I'm finishing off the drawing," said Angelica, patting the briefcaseand swallowing back saliva, panting, out of breath from rushing in. "As will Dr.Scratchansniff and Yakko..."

"I'm afraid not." Said Drawer Grace, eyes wide, and Angelica frowned. "We believe that business partnersjust, uh, complicate the process for everybody." She said, as she and some other Drawers helped Angelica. "We'll let her know when to come up. Yakko and Dr. Scratchansniff can wait outside the room..."

Yakko perked up, and grinned, "good!"

Dr.Scratchansniff kept Yakko close, "best behaviour..."

"Well, I'm not going to argue with Drawers." Kassy said, unsure, watching as the three was taken away. "Professional Drawersknow what they're doing, Ange. I'll see you when it's—"

"She'll be in room three," said one Drawer, walking after Angelica.

"Right. Good... Good luck." Called Kassy, walking out.

It was quite a nice hospital, thought young Kassy. It would have been quiet, too, if it wasn't for the Drawers.

She quite liked Drawers. Not that she was a, you know, left-footer or anything like that, at least that's what it's called in England. No, when it came to avoiding going to the executive drawing boards, the board she stolidly avoided going to was Cecil and All Drawings, no nonsense D. of T., and she wouldn't have dreamed of avoiding going to any other. All the others had the wrong smell-floor polish for the Low, somewhat suspicious incense for the High. Deep in the leather armchair of her soul, young Kassy knew that Warner Brothers got embarrassed at that sort of thing, and possibly God if you believed in religion. But she liked seeing Drawers around, in the same way that she liked seeing the Salvation Army. It made you feel that it was all all right, that people somewhere were keeping the world on its axis.

This was her first experience of the Chattering Drawer Order of Saint Beryl, however. (Saint Beryl Articulatus of Cracow, reputed to have been martyred in the middle of the fifth century. According to legend, Beryl was a young woman who was betrothed against her will to a pagan, Prince Casimir.

On their wedding night she prayed to the Lord to intercede, vaguely expecting a miraculous beard to appear, and she had in fact already laid in a small ivory-handled razor, suitable for ladies, against this veryeventuality; instead the Lord granted Beryl the miraculous ability to chatter continually about whatever was on her mind, however inconsequential, without pause for breath or food.

According to one version of the legend, Beryl was strangled by Prince Casimir three weeks after the wedding, with their marriage still unconsummated. She died a virgin and a martyr, chattering to the end.

According to another version of the legend, Casimir bought himself a set of earplugs, and she died in bed, with him, at the age of sixty-two.

The Chattering Drawing Order of Saint Beryl is under a vow to emulate Saint Beryl at all times, except on Tuesday afternoons, for half an hour, when the Drawers are permitted to shut up, and, if they wish, to play table tennis.)

The point was, Drawers who worked under the pretence of bringing Toons to life without difficulty, theyshould be quiet. They were the right shape for it, like those pointy things you got in those chambers young Kassywas vaguely aware your hi-fi got tested in. They shouldn't be, well, chattering all the time.

She filled her pipe with tobacco - well, they called it tobacco, it wasn't what she thought of as tobacco, it wasn't the tobacco you used to get - and wondered reflectively what would happen if you asked a Drawer where the loo was (English slang and all). Probably the Drawing Gods sent you a sharp note or something. She shifted her position awkwardly, and glanced at her watch.

She finished thumbing the so-called tobacco into the pipe, and was already shivering, in the rain-swept courtyard full of righteous dustbins(or trash can in America, or even bin). She shivered, and cupped her hands to light her pipe.

It may help to understand human affairs to know that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.

"'Hard Times"by Queen was playing by the time Daffy arrived at the... Drawing Room? Satanic DrawingRoom? Chattering DrawingOrder of St Beryl? AbrahamDrawing Room? Whatever!Honestly, Satanists and Satanic Drawersembarrass him, as humans are worse then Satan, and yet when they do something stupid, or cruel, something only demonswishthey could think up, they cry out it was Satan himself telling themto do said Evil task. An embarrassment on all demons and Satan himself.

"This is a tricky situation, I've only got myself to blame..."

"Oh, f*ck you, Freddie!" Daffy quacked out in anger, the lyrics matching the situation far too well in his personal opinion. He skidded to a halt, and parked the car up in front of the Drawing Board, next to a trash can, the courtyard rain swept, and full of righteous trash cans, and he grabbed the briefcase from the backseat, and fixed his glasses on his face. He stepped out, swinging the door open as he did.

His eyes landed on a woman, she was taller and rather round, she had dark brown hair that fell to her mid back, and pink cheeks. She wore a blue jumper, and brown pants, a grey tie and a white button up, under shirt, she was smoking, or at least, had a pipe in her mouth and stood outside on the porch. Honestly, the woman looked a little too Warner Brothers to be the Disney's Right Hand, but then again, who was he to question when someone goes native for an area (as in a place in which everyone uses; Disney and Warner)? Look at Daffy, fitting in rather well with cartoons and humans!

Daffy sauntered,(or ducked whichever you prefer) with a waddleforward, the car door open still, and the headlights still on, the briefcasehandle in his hands and hanging tohis side.

"You've left your lights on." The woman - Kassy-said, gesturing helpfully with her pipe.

The demon gave her a blank look to someone whom lights are the least of his worries. With a snap of Daffy's fingers, and a vague wave of a hand, the lights on his car went out, and he continued to saunter forward. He wore a scowl, serious and held power in each step.

"Oh. Well, that's clever." Said the creator-to-be in amazement, with a rush of envy. "It is infrared?" She asked in jealousy. (She was mildly surprised to see that the mandid not appear to be wet.)

Daffy, who had thrown up a miracle a while ago to look human,could feel the two sins rolling off of her in waves and folds, and it engulfed him as he strolled passed with tense shoulders. Strange, the woman should have fancier things then the car she's staring at in amazement. He happily soaked up, it almost calmed him from the terrible task at hand.

The demon, now on the patio, turned around and faced the woman, "has it started yet?" He asked, straight to the point.

Kassy couldn't help butbeamin pride at being recognised as an official cartoonistnow, she's not worked at Warner Brothers long, a week so in fact, she seemed awfully pleased with herself. "Um... yes, they made me go out." She admitted with a shrug, waving her unlit pipe, and she tried to hide her pride. - Too late, Daffy already felt the prideful sin.

"Already? Any idea how long we've got?" Asked Daffy, eyebrows raised behind his glasses, seeming tense and worried.

"We",what an odd term to use. But suddenly, Kassyrealised that the raven haired, formally dressed looking man (as said, Daffy did a small intervention to look human)must be The Animator, obviously, and had views about co-creating. She straightened up immediately serious, yet still nervous. "I think we were, um, getting on with it, Animator." Answered the woman, with a strained smile.

Daffyfrowned, "Animator"? Oh! He could work with the Disney's Right Hand mistake, "got it. What room is she in?"He asked hurriedly, already walking to the door in long strides.

"We're in room three!" Kassycalled.She patted her pockets, and found the battered packet which, in accord with tradition, she had brought with her.

"Room three, got it!" Daffy yelled back, pushing open the door with his hand, sauntering in.

"Would we care to share a joyous cigar experience?" Kassysaid, but was too late, seeing Daffy gone. The woman blinked, placing the pipe between her red painted lips again as the door slammed against the wall. They're always in a rush these Animators. Working at all hours God sent.

There's a trick they do with three playing cards which is very hard to follow. And something like it, for greater stakes than a handful of loose change, is about to take place.

The text will be slowed down to allow the sleight of hand to be followed

Angelica for Warner Brothers Studio is in drawing room three. She has just finished drawing a black furred male with a snout, and long ears, we will call "Drawing A".

The wife of the Disney Right Hand Man, Mrs. Harriet Dowling, is currently drawing in Drawigf Room Four. She is creating a white feathered male with a beak, specifically a duck, we will call "Drawing B".

Daffy sauntered into the building, back to his duck self. The waiting room was rather stuffy, and warm, he could choke on the specks of dust that was in the room, and the lights that hung down from the ceiling were dim, with a dusty chalkboard, and walls that were off-white, and the lower half, an ugly green. The floor was a mix of worn down, stained carpet, and dark, ugly maroon cement that was dented from heels and things dropped on it. You know the kind? The kind you find in school hallways, or carpets you find in school classrooms. (Though, this might be specific for English schools, rather than American schools, and Space schools.)

The demon noticed a Drawer, she was rather pretty, with dark skin and friendly, yet ditsy eyes, and was holding a tin of biscuits - Chewy Chips Ahoy!, to be specific.

Daffy quacked out, "quc." It gained her attention.

The Drawer stopped hurrying down the hallway, and looked over, and Daffy curled his index finger, beckoning her over with a jerk of his head for good measure. She slowly walked over to Daffy - Master Lucas, to her.

Drawer Mary Loquacious is about to be handed a black furred male cartoon, with long ears, and red hat, we will call "The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness".

Daffy held the briefcaseout to her, the handle balanced on his fingers rather than his palm, his ring glistening in the dull light. He held it out at arms length, as if he didn't want to be near it, and was trying to shake off the nerves he felt, yet stayed relaxed on the outside, and at ease. He stared the Drawer down.

Drawer Mary Loquacious held the briefcase, the biscuits under her other arm now, and she opened the briefcase, pulling out the drawing. She smiled, "oh, is that him?" She asked, finding the drawing wrapped in blue to be cute. It was strange though, he looked so... ominously normal. (For cartoon standards.)

Daffy frowned, confused to why she was so calm, "yup."

She was smiling down at him, eyes gleaming in delight, "only I'd expected funny eyes, or teensy-weensy little hoofikins." Daffy watched her, both unimpressed and rather disgusted. Is this how parents and adults treat babies? It's sickening. "Or a wittle tail." She continued, gushing and cooing.

"It's definitely him." Assured Daffy with a groan,getting more and more annoyed asDrawer Mary Loquacious went on.

She nodded, grinning in joy, "fancy me holding the Antichrist." She said, a smile on her face, yet tried to soundserious.

Daffy hates people who talk, and talk, and talk. But, of course, these Drawers are meant to talk, and are not to stop talking until they have nothing left to talk about, or until they are satisfied. They don't even need to breath, they just continue!

"Counting his little toesie-woesies." She gushed more, going back to her baby voice. She was now addressing the cartoondirectly,lost in a some world of her own.

The demon smiled, or well tried to, it was rather pitiful and was more of a sneer, tiny, his teeth bared, and shook his head in fake wonder. Would she just shut up? This was ridiculous, and so, to get things on track again, he waved his hand in front of her wimple, "hello? Hello? Drawer Mary?"

"Sorry, Master Lucas. He's a little sweetheart, though. Does he look like his original daddy?" Drawer Mary Loquacious asked, all baby voice and gushy again. The cartoon just stared blankly at her, as she said, "I bet he does. Do you look like your daddy-waddykins?"

Rolling his eyes behind his glasses, Daffy said firmly, "he doesn't.Take him up to room three."He ordered, walking to the door to leave.

"Room three." She repeated. She looked to Daffy, "do you think he'll remember me when he grows up?"

Daffy opened the door with his back, still looking ather, "pray that he doesn't." He fled, the door closing behind him.

The cartoonsneezed three times.

Three drawings. Watch carefully.

Round and round they go.

"Drawer Mary, what are you doing here?" Snapped Drawer Grace, walking down the hall. "Shouldn't you be taking biscuits to the refectory?"

Drawer Mary, who had been walking down the hall, set the briefcasedown and said, "Master Lucas said to take the drawingto room three."

Drawer Grace paused in her walking, and turned, walking back to Drawer Mary. She slowly opened the briefcase, and swallowed, seeing the cartoon, looking normal, and even sweet. She closed the briefcase."Well, get on with it, then."

DrawerMary was walkinginto the room, flashing a smile to an excited Wakko and tired Dr.Scratchansniff, "I'm going to see if she's alright," and she entered the delivery room.

Angelicawas more than woozy. She was fast asleep, with the look of determined self-satisfaction of someone who knows that other people are going to have to do the running around for once. Drawing A, had black feathers, a duck beak and long ears, and red hat, and was asleep on the page, labelled with a number on a piece of cardboard. Drawer Mary, who had been brought up to be helpful, removed the name cardboard, copied it out, and attachéd the duplicate to the cartoon in her care. The babies looked similar, both being small, black coloured, and looking sort of, though not really, like dogs... well, one did, the other was more duck. She set The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World, Lord of Darkness down.

Now, thought Drawer Mary, I could do with a nice cup of coffee.

There was a knock at the door, and Kassyopened it, her head poked around the door. "Has it happened yet? I'm the business partner. The friend. Both."

Drawer Mary had expected the Disney Right Hand to look like those princess cartoonsor maybe more business like. Kassydidn't look like any Disney being she'd ever seen at the Disney Parks, except possibly for the behind the scenes people. (With tired people, old or sore.)She was something of a disappointment. She didn't think much of her jumper, either.

"Oh, yes. Congratulations." Smiled Drawer Mary, silently clapping, as Kassy closed the door, walking in with a relieved smile. "Your lady friends asleep, poor pet."

Kassy looked over her shoulder. "Two?" She said. She reached for her pipe. She stopped reaching for herpipe. She reached for it again. "Two? No one said anything about making two."

"Oh, no," said Drawer Mary hurriedly. "This one's your creation." She pointed to The Adversary. "The other one's..." She pointed to Cartoon A, "er... someone else's. Just looking after him till Drawer Grace gets back. No," she reiterated, pointing to the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness, "this one's definitely yours. From the top of his head to the tips of his hoofywoofies-which he hasn't got," she added hastily.

Kassy peered down. "Ah, yes," she said doubtfully. "He looks like Yakko's side of the family. All, er, present and correct, is he?"

"Oh, yes," said Drawer Mary. "He's a very normal cartoon," she added. "Very, very normal."

There was a pause. They stared at the sleeping cartoon.

"You don't have much of a magical feeling about you," said Drawer Mary. "Have you been over here long?"

"About a week," said Kassy, not too puzzledpuzzled."Would there be any possibility of me possibly being able to have a cup of tea with honey, perhaps?" he ventured.

"Oh my," said Drawer Mary, her hand flying to her mouth, "whatever am I thinking of?"

Kassy made no comment.

"I'll see to it right away," she said. "Are you sure you don't want sugary coffee, though? There's one of those vendible machines on the next floor."

"Tea, please," said Kassy.

"My word, you really have gone native, haven't you," said DrawerMary gaily, as she bustled out.

Actually, Kassyjust liked tea. SheisBritish.

"Look! We're done!" Cheered Thaddeus, "Mr. Disney. I have the honour, sir, to report myself the created of a regular duckcartoon."

Harriet smiled, and straightened outthe whitepaper holding the drawings.

"Now, we just have to take him away for a minute to bringhim to life and the usual," Mother Superior said, and Harriet smiled, handing him over.

"This creator-of-a-duck-male-cartoon is all yours, Mr. Disney." Giggled Thaddeus, "Harriet." He grinned, and fistbumped, "yes!"

One of the Drawers pushed him out the room, and Drawer Theresa walked down the other way. She walked into room 2, and saw two Drawers playing a card game, but, "where's the cartoon?" They shrugged. "Satan, give me strength."

Quickly, Drawer Theresa rushed out, "do you know where our master's cartoonis?" She asked Drawer Grace, who was rushing down the hall.

Drawer Grace paused, and looked to her. "Drawer Mary Loquacious has him in room three."

Drawer Theresa nodded, and walked in, pushing the door open to room 3.

Drawer Mary was explaining "cookies and biscuits" to Kassy, as she recently learned the girl was from England (she had no idea the Disney Right Hand was a British woman!). "Now, we call these cookies. But you'll be looking at them and going, "Oh, biscuits.""

"I call them cookies," said Kassy, having picked up on American lingo when she moved there.

Drawer Theresa looked at Drawer Mary, realised that Kassy had never seen the inside of a pentagram, and confined herself to pointing at Cartoon A and winking.

Drawer Mary nodded and winked back.

As methods of human communication go, the human wink is quite versatile. For example, DrawerTheresa's meant...

"Where the hell have you been? We're ready to make the switch, and here's you in the wrong room with the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World, Lord of Darkness, drinking tea."

And as far as she was concerned, Drawer Mary's answering wink meant...

"This child is the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness. But I can't talk now, because there's this outsider here."

Drawer Mary, on the other hand, had thought that Drawer Theresa's wink was more on the lines of...

"Well done, that, Drawer Mary. Switched over the babies all by herself. Now, indicate to me the superfluous child, and I shall remove it and let you get on with your tea with Her Disney Excellency, the Disney Right Hand."

And therefore her own wink had meant:

"There you go, dearie; that's CartoonB, now take him away and leave me to chat to her Excellency. I've always wanted to ask her why they have those tall bright colours with all the candysmells seeping out of them."

The subtleties of all this were quite lost on Kassy, who had taken to looking at the drawing and friend, as if they were the best thing in the world.

"Extra drawingremoval," smiled Drawer Theresa, and took thedrawing out.

"But, I'm wittering on." Drawer Mary said with a smile. "Where were you before you took up this appointment?"

"Gate 4."

"Oh!" Smiled Harriet, seeing the drawing alive. (DrawerTheresa had been told to change the feather colours and ears, and it worked, they looked the same.)

"Here's your little man duck, all cleaned up and weighed," said Drawer Theresa, pushing the duck in, and handing the cartoon over.

"Look, honey. Our creation." Smiled Harriet, holding the duck close with a smile.

"He's beautiful, hon. What a little tyke, huh?" Giggled Thaddeus with a smile. "Oh... seeing him makes me understand what's important in life. It's not work." He said seriously, and everyone smiled softly, hearing him. "Donald is going to teach him to play baseball. And on Sundays, they'll go fishing." He let out a deep breath, "Harriet, I think I want to have a baby..."

"Tad!" Called Mr. Disney.

Thaddeus looked over, "sorry, honey, we'll call you back." He rushed off, not seeing Harriet's face fall.

"You must name the cartoon." Said Mother Superior, walking over.

"Well, we were going to name him Thaddeus, after his creator and his creatorsdad." Said Harriet with a pained smile. She didn't see to keen on that name, as she was now realising her husband was useless man.

"Damien's an excellent name," said Mother Superior.

"Damien Duck?" Asked Harriet with a frown, "too alliterative. Too Warner Brothers."

"Warlock, then. It's an oldname. A good name." Nodded Mother Superior.

"Yeah, but... it still doesn't seem... right? Too weird..." Said Harriet with a wince, unsure.

"How about Dewey?" Offered Mother Superior, picking a random name from the top of her head.

Harriet blinked, and looked down to the crying cartoon, and leaned over and smiled, "hello Dewey..."

"Damien?" Asked Kassy, turning and rubbing her temple. "No. I'd always fancied something more, well, wacky. We've always gone in for good, wacky names in our company."

"Cain." Offered Drawer Mary, "very strange sound, Cain, really."

Kassy shook her head, "no... still... it's not too..."

Suddenly, Drawer Mary had a thought, is she wants a wacky name, well, "well, there's always..." She breathed out, "I mean, there's always Wakko."

"Wakko?" Repeated Kassy, her mind landing on Yakko... it rhymes. Maybe, that's why she agreed to the name since she enjoyed the rhyming? She hummed and moved over to the cartoon, that had been brought to life, wrapped in red, "Wakko..."

Suddenly, the cartoon began crying and Angelica woke up in shock.

"Come on, little one," smiled Angelica.

"Do you know, Ange, um..." Kassy swallowed, and Aneglica looked up. "I think he looks like an Wakko."

Angelica smiled, and looked down, "oh. Hello, Wakko."

One of the Drawers pushed the other, very much alive,cartoon, wrapped in white, down the hallway.

It would be nice to think that the Drawers had the surplus cartoondiscreetly sold off to Universal, or to the background characters. That he grew to be a happy, normal cartoon, and then grew further to become a normal, fairly contented cartoon. And, perhaps, that is what happened. He probably wins prizes for his tap dances.

"Call Bugsth." Daffy demanded, his grip on the wheel tight, as "Hard Life"kept playing. He was driving down the dark road, speeding as usual.

"You win, you lose."He sighed, and wanted to slam his head on the wheel. This song is perfectly matching the situation all too well.

"Calling Bugs Bunny."The automated voice said, and three dial tone sounded, confirming a disconnect or dead end. Until the female voice added on,"Sorry, all lines to Burbank are currently busy."He groaned loudly with sharp bared teeth of anger, loudly quacking as he did. Of course the lines are down! This is all his fault!

Bugs pulled off his gloves, setting the ring back on his finger, humming a little tune, along to the tune of, "The Four Seasons, Concerto No. 1 in E Major, RV 269 "Spring": I. Allergo (Orchestra da Camera Fiorentina Giueseppe Lanzetta, Christiane Edinger)" by Vivaldi. His Book Shop, now with modern books, how to... books, drawing books, and sketches, and other things, was dusty, dimly lit and cluttered, steering people clear of the shop. He hated selling things, and made sure prices were ridiculously high. When he wasn't working on his shorts and movies for Warner Brothers, he was working here, alone.

People scattered about outside that late night, as his shop was closed.

His landline rang, and so he picked it up, his own phone not working due to the phonesbeing down, good work on the demons part. He picked upthe phone, "I'm afraid we're quite definitely closed, mac."

"Bugsth, it's me."Came a lisped nasallyvoice.

Bugs' eyes widened,"love cup?"

"We need to talk." Daffy said, stood in a red phone booth, hunched over to fit in, shrouded by darkness, his arm propped up on the phone. His car was parked up, no longer playing Queen, as he was no longer in the car.

"Yeah."Agreed Bigs through the phone,"yeah, Ithink we do."

"I assume this is about—"Started Bugs, a frown on his face.

"Armageddon. Yeth." Daffy said, he hung up, and walked out the booth.

Everyone knows the best place for a clandestine meeting in California is, and always has beenWhitter Narrows Park. They say the ducks are so used to being fed by secret agents that they've developed Pavlovian reactions to them. Put a Whitter Narrows Park duck in a laboratory cage and show it a picture of two cartoons - a duck usually wearing black tinted glassessombrely,and a bunny wearing white glovesrelaxed-and it'll look up expectantly. The Russian cultural attaché's black bread is particularly sought after by the more discerning duck, while the head of MI9's soggy Hovis with Marmite is relished by the connoisseurs.

Bugs and Daffy have been meeting here for quite some time.

Bugs and Daffy sat on a bench, overlooking the ducks they had just fed crust. It has certainlychangedsince 1862, and the two were now on much,muchbetter terms. The demon was slouched in his seat, halfway down it, and one arm on the arm rest, the other hand was in between he and the angel. The angel, on the other hand, was sat somewhat straight, one hand on his lap, and the other gently on top of the angels.

"Ya sure it was the Antichrist?" Bugs asked, a strained sigh slipping past his lips.

"I should know. I delivered the cartoon." Grumbled Daffy, "well, not "delivered" like that, you know?" He nodded, correcting himself. He let out a deep sigh. "Handed it over."

"A Disneydiplomat." Sneered Bugs, squinting in confusion. (He didn't even like Warner Brothers diplomats that much either, which might be confusion,but in actuality, angels and demons don't belong to any country, or sex, or place, so him not liking either is normal.) "Really? As if Armageddon were a mind numbin' mass marketing show ya'd wish to sell in as many countries as possible."

"The Earth and all the kingdomththereof." Assured Daffy, with a bored drawl.

Bugs turned in his seat, and looked to the demon, "we will win."

"You really believe that?" Asked Daffy, a smile falling on his beak, amused.

"Duh." Insisted the angel, his thumb brushing over the demons feathery knuckles, "Heaven'llfinally triumph over Hell. It's all gonnabelovely."

"Out of interest, how many first-class composers do your lot have in Heaven?"Daffy asked, his voice slightly co*cky, and in fake thought and wonder, "because Mozart's one of ours. Beethoven. Schubert. Uh, all of the Bachs."He boasted, his voice proud as if he won, seeing Bugs confident smile dwindle to a dead face frown.

"They'vealready written their music."Scoffed Bugs, rolling his eyes, looking away from the demon. He does hate that Hell had most of the classical musicians, since when he wasn't listening to loud, rock music, and playing the drums, he was listening to classical's.

"And you'll never hear it again." Daffy reminded smugly, especially when Bugs face looked annoyed. He smirked, "at least you have Elgar and Liszt." He beamed in delight seeing the angels face change to one of disgust and horror. "Can you imagine an eternity with Elgar?"

"Too well..." Mumbled Bugs, a scowl on his face.

"No more Albert Hall. No more Glyndebourne." Daffy said, as if he himself was panicked, and worried. Suddenly, there was a sarcastic, toothy, duck-like smile on his face, as he sang out with a quack, "just celestial harmonies." He quacking-ly said, in a voice so sickly sweet, it for once (or any time Daffycaught him guard or ruining the house) made Bugs want to punch the demon... or, lightly tap... fine, never talk to again! (For a week... a day... an hour.)

"Well..."Sighed Bugs, trying to ignore the demonwho was staring intently at him.

"And that'thjust the start of what you'll lose if you win."Smirked Daffy, seeing the angel's face turn sour with each word, as if he was sucking on a lemon. "No more fathcinating little restaurantth where they know you. No gravlax in dill sauce. No more cartoons. No morebasketball.No more old BookShops."

"Ineffable..." Mumbled Bugs, weakly. "Life will be better when we win!"

"But, it won't be as interethting..."And, you won't have me anymore...was left unsaid.

Daffy got up smoothly, and winked at Bugs from under his glasses, his duck eyes gleaming and he walked off. Bugsglared at the demon, and messed with his ring in annoyance, knowing that the demon was right. He followed the raven feathered demon.

"We've only got eleven yearth, and then it's all over." Daffy said, as they walked up the stone steps. Daffy was walking with his hands behind his backs, looking up to Bugs, who was slouched over, "we have to work together!" He tried, desperately.

"No." Bugs mumbled, though he seemed unsure. Yes, he was a rebellious angel who, for some reason best known to Her, hasn't Fallen, but he didn't want to push it. I mean, how many angels would willingly do business and temptations with an demon? Which angel would mess up with the Flaming Sword? Him, an angel who has always been rebellious, hasn't Fallen somehow, and will continue to be rebellious, though always fear Falling. (Though, it wouldn't be too bad so longer as Daffy caught him. It was always an inner debate of his, but he never will Fall, so long as he could help it.)

"It's the end of the world we're talking about." Reasoned Bugs as they walked to his Bentley. Bugs hated Daffy driving as the demon sped, and went at unsafe miles per hour down busy streets and roads, filled with pedestrians. The car in question had a police officer looking the vehicle over, with a yellow lock on the back wheel. "It's not some little temptation I've asked you to cover for me while you're up in Edinburgh for the festival. You can't thay no!"

"No!" The angel snapped back,I just did!

"We can do thomething. I have an idea." The demon promised

"No!" Bugs threw his hands down in distress,"I ain'tinterested, doc."

Daffy stuttered to a halt in his steps, and turned to face the long earedangel, who turned to walk away. He got maybe three steps before Daffy changed tactics, "well, let'th have lunch, hmm?" Bugs paused, looking to Daffy, and the demon knew he had the angel, "I thtill owe you a date from..." He trailed off, shaking his headunsure. Honestly, at this point they've been on so many dates, some unknowingly, others knowingly, the two had lost count. (Except for the thirteenth century when the demon slept the whole century away, besides 1232 when he got up to go to the lavatory.)

"Paris." Bugs answered, tense, looking the demon down, "1793."

"Yeth. The Reign of Terror!" Daffy called out fondly, a dazed look in his eyes remembering the angel in chains. He moved to his car, the officer looked up in shock, as Daffy asked, "waththat one of ours or one of yourth?"

"Can't recall." Bugs offered, falling silent. His eyes lit up excitedly, "we had carrot soup!"

The two got in the car, and Daffy sped off, the officers ticket book spontaneously combusted into flames as they drove. Bugs gripped the seats, and Daffy's eyes widened in shock, looking at the rear view mirror, seeing the fire, "I'm pretty certain I didn't mean to do that..." He didn't know he did that! He hadn't meant to!

"Dat was me, Daff." Bugsadmitted, a sheepish smile on his face, and a blush. "I always thought you lotmade dem..."

Daffy smiled, "thank you, long earth. Though we thought your peoplemade them." He grinned, "lets do lunch, then..."

The demon had not bothered to book. In his world, table reservations were things that happened to other people.

The explosion of a cork, and cheering surrounded the area.

Bugs scooped the final piece of his carrot cakeinto his mouth, and let out a delighted, "mm.." Just in front of the now empty plate, was also an empty coffee mug.

Daffy had a coffee in front of him, and leaned his elbow on the table, his chin on his clenched fist, and covering his beak, staring adoringly at the angel, as if he was his God, and everything. The demon took pleasure and joy in treating the angel, always had done always will do.

"That was amazing." Bugs gushed, setting the fork down and patting his lips with a napkin, and glanced to Daffy, who was now scratching his chin with pursed lips, or well, beak. "So, what are ya in the mood for now?"

"Alcohol." Daffy declared, ringing his unused spoon against the empty, and unused wine glass in front him, a louddingechoed the area. He bit his lower beak, and quacked out, "quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol!"

"I have several very nice bottles of Châteauneuf-du-Pape in taback. I picked up a dozen cases in 1921, and dere's still some left fer special occasions. And, carrot juice!" Offered Bugs, as the two were walking down the street of Glenoaks, pushing past people, (Bugsapologising each time). Daffyhad his hand in between them, and Bugs had their fingers intertwined with each other, enjoying the way Daffy methodically twisted the golden ring on his ring finger.

"Not very big on wine in Heaven, are they, though?" Asked Daffy, rolling his hips as he looked up to Bugs, and the angel frowned. "Not going to get any more nice little Châteauneuf-du-Papes in Heaven, or single malt scotch, or little... little froufrou co*cktails with umbrellas. Or, carrot juice!"

Bugsscowled again, "listen here mac, I've told ya, I'm not helping ya." He said sternly, as they found themselves walking across the street, cars slowing down for them. Bugs smiled in thanks at the car, while Daffy just raised a hand in thanks. "I'm not interested. This is purely social!" He said, now in front of his little shop that never sold anything.

Daffy messed with his own golden ring on his ring finger, twisting and turning it. "Ith that what we've been doing for years? Specifically, 1967?" The demons voice was deep and husky, and grinned when he saw Bugs face turn as red as the apples from the original apple tree. "How about, 1970?" This time his voice was soft, and fond, as if remembering the best day of his life.

Bugs smiled, and looked to his own ring, and began twisting it. Yes, it all seemed rather sudden, but... when the two had sat down and talk about, they came to a similar agreement that nearly six-thousand years of ineffable romance in a way, it seemed silly to put things off. "Thepoint still stands, Daff," he said, looking Up and then Down. "I am an angel. You are a demon. We're hereditary enemies." He saw Daffy with an eyebrow raised in disbelief and a small mocking pout on his face, and so Bugscursed with a scowl, "get thee behind me, foul fiend!" He smiled immediately after, and and bowed his head, opening his shop door for the demon, "after you."

With a smirk, Daffy walked in and brushed his hand against Bugs' slowly reddeningcheek gently.

That night,Kassy and Angelicaproudly took the cartoonthey believed was theirs home to the busy Warner Brother Lot, while Yakko was holding Wakko, and Dr. Scratchansniff was close by, keeping Wakko safe.

The Antichrist had been on Earth for 24 hours. While in Glenoaks Boulevard, an angel and a demon had been drinking solidly for the last six of them.

Some fancy, classical music was on, specifically "String Quartet in C Major, OP. 163" by Bach: Cello Sonata No. 2. It sounded as drunk as them.

Daffy stood near a shelf, hunched over and was pouring himself another glass of wine, despite the fact the bottle of alcoholic red was empty, and managed to get a few drops from it.The demon was drunk, wasted, sloshed, sh*tfaced, wanker-ed, totally pyjama-ed, (I as the writing God, may or may not have invented "pyjama-ed", but the other words are very real. Bet I tricked a few of you Americans?)

"So, w'at... w'at exactly is ya point?" Stumbled Bugs, equally as drunk, pissed, arse-faced, sozzled, inebriated, completely trouser-ed, (I as the writing God, may or may not have invented "trouser-ed"as well, but the other words are very real. Bet I tricked a few of you Americans again?) He was sat at his desk, half empty wine glass in his hands, sipping away. His accent got thicker every time he drank.

"My point ith-my point ith," Daffy let out a deep breath, stumbling away from the shelf, "dolphinth." He burped, "that'thmy point." He walked to the sofa, old and dusty, "big brainth, the thize of..." He fell into the seat, dust puffing up around him, "damn big brainth." He shook his head in amazement. "Not to mention the whales! Brain city, whales!" He said, taking his sunglasses off, allowing his duck eyes to be seen. To wander the room in free light rather than through tinted glass.

Bugs stared, the music was definitelydrunk as well. He stared at Daffy's lovely eyes, "Kraken." He let out burp mixed with a deep breath."Ooh, great, big bugger." He said, over pronunciation the 'B's'.

Daffy scratched the side of his head, a mouthful of wine. He watched the angel from the corner of his eyes.

"Supposed ta rise up ta da surface." Explained Bugs,"right... right up." He pointed his index finger up, "at daend, when da sea boils."

Leaning forward, the demon nodded, "well, that'thmy point. Whole thea bubbling!"His speech was mixing between quacking, heavily lispingand not, as he was drunkenly forgetting himself.

Bugs was slowlynodding, having no idea what the demon was talking about, but was encouraging the black feathered duckpresenting male to continue, being supportive of him.

"The dolphinth, the whaleth. Everything turning into bouillab..." Daffy stumbled over the last word. "Bouill-bouillab..."His beaks were pouted, making a kissyfaces, lips pursed together

Bugs stared tiredly at the pursed beaks, eyes drooping, and leaned forward to help,his eyes closing and doing a pout, kissy face back, "bouillab-bouillab—" He could kiss the demon...

"Fithh thtew." Daffy said, waving off the mishap with the word. "Anyway, it's not their fault! And that's the thame with gorillath!" He pointing behind him with his thumb, "they thay, like, "Whoop". They thay a lot of-sky's gone red!"

Bugs was pouring yetanotherglass of carrot juice, slowly and tiredly, and looked to the demon under his eyes.

"There's... thtarth crashing down." Daffy was waving a hand up and down, "and what are they putting in bananas thethe days?!" He waved his hands with a sneer, and got up,stumblingforward.

"Dey're All creatures, great 'n'small." Bugs mumbled in a sigh, cradling the glass close to his chest, eyes drooping tiredly.

The demon looked to the angel, pausing mid-walk, "and you know what'thworthe?" He asked, with a dark, ducksmirk, his beak pulled up over his dull teeth, as if he thought of the most evil thing to exist. "When it's all over, you've got to deal witheternityyyyyy!" He squealed, head back, and arms out to the side, eyes clenched shut as his voice somehow echoed the room.

Pulling himself up, Bugs asked, "eternity?" How had he not realised he was sliding down the chair?

"Yeah," Daffy said, voice deep from burping, and he sniffed, "it won't be tho bad at first." He suddenly picked up a poster, looking it over and then showing it off to Bugs, "although no carrots in eternity, I'm afraid." Bugs frowned, forlorn. "Although, I have heard rumours that your boss really loves The Sound of Music!" He sang out, cheekily.

Bugsmade a noise that sounded like he was going to be sick, as he shook his head in disgust.

"You fancy spending eternity watching that?" Asked the demon, moving over to the angel. He placed his hands on the arms of the chair, "you could literally climb every mountain over and over and over and over and over and over and over." He said, shaking his head, stumbling, his beak were so close to Bugs now, and Bugs blinked, leaning in closer to the demon.

"I don't like it any more than you do," assured Bugs, reaching up and messing with a black feather of Daffy's head, "but I told ya, I can't diso-not do what I'm told." He was too tipsy to say that word right now. "I'm an angel. I..." Daffy was swaying over him, and Bugs covered his face, "oh, Gosh, I-I can't cope with dis while I'm drunk. I'm going ta sober up!"

"Yeah, me too." Grumbled Daffy.

Bugs closed his eyes and seemed to tense up, as if nursing a headache, while Daffytensed up with a wince and strain, groaning. The two were straining themselves, flushing the alcohol out of their system, and the empty wine bottles filled with alcohol again.

The music seemed to be drunk still, or at least coming to end, sobering up with them.

Daffyflicked histongue out due to the disgusting after taste, showing off his fungiform papillae, "blah."

Bugs sneered in disgust, doing the same. Daffy leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Bugs.

Harriet Dowling took little Dewey to his new home, an official Disney residence, with Donald and Huey close behind.

Mother Superior and Drawer Theresa watched as the Dowling's and the Disney Secret Service Men pulled out, with sirens blaring. Hastur crept up behind them, and they turned with smiles, feeling the looming presence.

"Our mission is done, Lord Hastur." Assured Mother Superior, watching Hastur's dead looking face. "The cartoon is in place, and his creatorsare none the wiser."

"Well, no need for the convent any longer, then, is there?" Hastur said, rhetorically.

"I'm afraid I —" Started Mother Superior.

"Dissolve," Hastur said.

"What?"

"Your order is dissolved," Hastur repeated, which he did not like doing, mind you.

"We're what?!" Snapped Mother Superior.

"Now hang on a moment," said Drawer Theresa, not at all happy."We did everything that was asked of us. What about our reward?"

"So irritating." Scoffed Hastur, not even looking to the two shocked women. "You never shut up, do you?"

"We are a chattering order. We say what is on our minds. And right now, what's on my mind is that you can't treat us like—"

Hastur raised a hand, and Drawer Theresa stopped mid-sentence, falling down limp to the ground with a quiet thud. Mother Superior looked shocked, seeing the woman limp, and white.

"Would you like to tell them that the order is dissolved? Or would you rather that they all perish in the fire?" Asked Hastur, not at all bothered.

"What fire?" Asked Mother Superior shocked, but jumped as a loud bang echoed the area. Lightening stuck one of the buildings, and she turned, screaming, and ran out, to get everyone to safety, the building up in flames. (No one was badly hurt by the fire, but it went on for some hours, doing a fair amount of damage in the process.)

Hastur let out a high, shrilled laugh, seeing Drawers run, screaming and fleeing from the fire, as Drawer Theresa lay limp in wet dirt.

It was the last thing that needed to be done before his return to the nether regions, and he had done it.

He could safely leave the rest to Daffy.

Hastur went home.

Chapter 16: godfathers...

Chapter Text

FIVE YEARS LATER

SIX YEARS BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD

The large, oak fancy looking door to the colossal, whitemansion opened with a ring of a bell, by what looked like a dog butler in a black suit. There stood in the doorway was an average height, black feather woman, with her back straight. Her hair was black, smooth, curled in perfect wavesand short to her shoulders, it fell to the side,which hid a cross tattoo on the side of her beak. She wore a lovely, big and floppy black Kentucky Derby hat, that held a lovely sizeable red rose, and a fitted black blazer, and red belt, her clothes framed her well built, yet slim figure, and brought attention to her large bust, with a black undershirt and a sharp edged, red bow tie. Her pencil skirt was long, and black and came to her ankles, and it hugged her long, thin legs, which had black stockings to her thighs, held up by a laced, high waist, strap suspender belt, and wore dangerously high heeled, black Mary-Jane's. She wore black, silk gloves, and held an umbrella with a green bird head on the handle, and a large, red, rather hideous carpet bag, and her lips were painted a deep red colour, plumping her lips, and she wore small black sunglasses that were perched on her nose, yet still kept her eyes hidden. Finally, she wore a ring on her ring finger, hidden beneath her gloves.

"I understand you need a nanny." She offered in a voice that sounded arousing British, "I'm Nanny Ashteroth." It sounded like she came from London, and went to the best schools possible, a woman to be admired. However, she had a voice that should be illegal, (one that got the Secret Service men, and even Thaddeus Dowling, all hot and bothered.) She looked like a stereotypical Nanny, if you're basing your looks offMary Poppins. (Daffy had seen it one Christmas with Bugs, albeit behind the scenes, but Bugs had a hand in television, making good, quality content. It did thwart Daffy's invention of the "Talk Show", one of his better achievements.)

A single, creme, small door with multiple windows in opened by one of the cooks in white. And, there stood a man, his back to the person and he turned around. He was tall and rather large, and plump, (in a harsher term, fat) and had grey and white fur. His long ears were pulled up and into a bun, and some fur was shaggy,his head was covered by a big, floppy beige hat, and big bushy eyebrows. He wore a big, overthrow off-white, apron dress that came down to his wrist, and past his knees, under that he wore a pale green button up, the collar tied together by a pale blue, flannel patterned tie, and wore baggy, beige pants, which were tucked into brown leather, scuffed gardening, wellington boots, and large, brown gardening gloves. He took off his hat, and held it in front of his chest, and wore a large, bright goofy smile, showing off his white, buck teeth, and held a singular hay straw held between his lips.He also had a golden ring on his ring finger, under his big gloves.

"They do say as you might be looking for a gardener." Smiled the man in what one might describe as a common, dumb voice. One you might hear from the country side from Ireland, and would mock and dislike behind ones back. "I be Brother Francis!"He introduced, in a friendly tone, (many people would befriend him, yet no one found him attractive. They thought he seemed rather dumb.)

Dewey skipped down the garden with freshly cut grass, lined with lovely green bushes and flowers growing on each branch, they would always go in the garden when their Nanny had the afternoon off, while their brothers had gone off to cause trouble... well, Louie went to cause trouble, and Huey went to stop him. Dewey is the middle child, and was left to their own devices. There they saw Brother Francis knelt down, smiling to the plants. Brother Francis was amazingly good at his job, no one quite worked out why this should be the case, since he never seemed to pick up a shovel and made no effort to rid the garden of the sudden flocks of birds that filled it and settled all over him at every opportunity. He just sat in the shade while around him the residence gardens bloomed and bloomed.

"Oh! Young Master Dewey!" Greeted Brother Francis with a smile, with extremely friendly look in his eyes and his big goofy teeth on show. "Yagrowing fast, mac!" He said in amazement, as he gently traced the leaf of a plant with his thumb. Dewey noticed hewas holinga wicker basket, with a dozen roses, with waslabelled, and tagged to their Nanny. "Yamust be all of, um..."

"Five!" Called Deweyhappily, showing off five fingers. Their feathers were ruffled, and knotted, a softwhite colour that was slowly whiteningwith age, and wore a blue shirt, and a matching blue hat."I'm five!" Theypointed up to a bush with purple flowers, "what's that?" They asked curiously, looking at a bird, with grey and purple feathers on.

"Oh, dat's Brother Pigeon." Smiled Brother Francis with agrunted, and threw down a bunch of seeds for it, and they watched it peck, and eat the seeds. "And Brother Snail," he pointed to a snail on the grass with a smile, and Dewey followed his finger."Oh, and Sister Slug." Smiled the gardener, pointing to the next pest, and Dewey followed and grimaced - gross! "Now, ya remember, young Dewey,"he heaved out, as if in pain from old age, sitting down on the grass, feet planted in the stone of the stairs,looking to the duck and smiling. "As ya grow, to have love 'n'reverence forall living things."

Dewey frowned, "Nanny Ashterothsays living things are only fit to be ground under my heels, Brother Francis."

Brother Francis smiled, and chuckledfondly yet looked rather annoyed, "well, don't youlisten todatwoman. Ya listen tome." His eyes were stern, yet welcoming and kind.

Dewey nodded, and Brother Francis smiled, "now! Let's go join your brothers, and pick some apples, yeah?"

Dewey's action figure moved in a circle, as a lullaby tune played, and they lay in bed under the flannel covers. They watched as Nanny Ashterothturned the night light on, the one that was in the window that is, and closed the curtains slightly. She sat down on the old wicker chair, and Dewey asked, "will you sing me a lullaby, Nanny?" They asked, tiredly. They loved the strange lullabies their Nanny sang, theirfriends never heard of them!

"Of course, dear." Nanny Ashterothsaid, voice soft and smooth, reaching over and tucking loose feathers up, melding with other feathersgently. Dewey caught her hand, and messed with her ring, twisting and turning it, this way and that.

"Go to sleep, and dream of pain, doom and darkness, blood and brains. Sleep so sweet, my darling child, you will rule, when Earths destroyed."

She smiled softly to them, tucking Dewey in who watched her with such attention. "Brother Francis says that I must be kind and nice to everybody." They said, repeating what the "dumb witted"(as Mr. Thaddeus had put it),yet "well meaning"(as Mrs.Harriet put it) gardener had said earlier that day. "Even Sister Slug." They sneered in disgust, leaning up, "and not ever destroy the Earth." - Whatever that meant!

"Don't listen toman, darling." Nanny Ashterothsaid softly, gently brushing feathers from Dewey's eyes. She leaned forward and quacked out, "listen to me."

Nanny Ashteroth held a dozen roses in her hand, the same one the gardener had not too long ago, and Brother Francis held what looked like coffee beansunder his arm. Her slender hand was nestled in the crook of his chubby arm, her umbrella pressed against the cobble on the ground sternly and he was smilingat her like she was his everything, while she smiled not once glancing to him, yet seemed to radiate as much love for him too. It was a rather odd... relationship. Nobody in the house would have put them together, (the Secret Service men were jealous of the gardener, if they were honest. How could he snatch up someone as gorgeous as her?! And, yes while it wasn't in Brother Francisnature to be possessive, or show off, and boast, he may subtly do that, by wrapping an arm around her waist, or kissing her cheek whenever any jealous men were in view of them.) The two watched Dewey run around the garden, kicking a ball at the makeshift goal with Huey and Louie, or ride their tricycle, though they never cycled in the house, and Nanny Ashterothcould never convince them.

NannyAshteroth leaned in, "if you athk me, he's too normal."

Brother Francis frowned, "we ain'thaving dis meetinghere, doc. Wait."

"Francis, angel... there's only thix years left." Nanny Ashterothwhispered.

"Not now,love cup." Brother Francis hissed back.

The two smiled as Dewey looked over, and they waved happily to them. That's how they usually saw their Nanny Ashteroth and Brother Francis, standing together, hand nestled in arm.

"Come play, Nanny Ashteroth!" Dewey called out.

So, without a second thought, Nanny Ashterothhanded her bag and umbrella to Brother Francis, slid off her Mary-Jane shoes, and hitched up her black, pencilskirt, joining Dewey in their game. (Of course, she let the child win, but would never admit to it. For Dewey's sake, and her own.)

There are many doors that will take you to Heaven or to Hell. But when Daffyand Bugs report in an official capacity to their respective head offices, they take the main entrance.

Bugs and Daffy walked through the revolving doors to work. Daffy now in his normal outfit of a watch and glasses, but he wore a long black wig, and Bugs now in his white gloves, kept his ears tied back, the demon sauntering, the angel strolling. The weren't holding hands in fear of anyone seeing, their rings now hidden for good measure, but theydidkeep sharing glances with each other as they walked down the hallway to the escalators. One was shrouded in dark green, the other in sterilesilver.

Daffy sunk, or well phased, through the floor, and it was as if he was in the reflection of said floor, as he went up (or down in this case) the escalator, while Bugs went up, still on top of the floor rather than in it, or beneath it.

Hell was dark, hot and dingy. You could choke on how stuffy it is, and how much it stank of garbage and sex, with rotten flesh, it was full of demons and you had to push your way to get to where you needed to be. The lights were the terrible ones you might find at a school, or maybe the ones you would find at a terrible office job, maybe even in a horror movie, which would be rather fitting in this case, for all three...

Beelzebub walked forward through the crowd of demons, pushing past them without a second thought. Zirhad black shaggy hair, which flies buzzed around zirhead, with boils on zir face, as flies flew about zir head with a buzz. Zir walked into the dark meeting room, which had Hastur (without his wig), Ligur and Daffy situated in, as well as a few other nameless, low level demons, with paper and filing cabinets all up the wall - totally unorganised, a monitor, projector and old, metal chairs.

"Tell uzzzzabout the boy, Dewey." Called Beelzebub, zirvoice annoying. Dull, yet nasally. Zesounded bored, as zirflies buzzing around zir head.

"They're a remarkable child, Lord Beelzebub." Assured Daffy,smiling as he bowed to him. He was always more respectful to Lord Beelzebubout of absolute fear. His voice was less friendly, and more dead.

"But is he Evil?"Asked Hatstur, annoyed, gesturing his arms.

"Fantastically evil." Daffy said, his smile dull.

"Killed anyone yet?"Asked Ligur, moving forward and stood toe to to with Daffy, and he glared down at the waterfowl.

Daffy swallowed, and stopped himself from shrinking back, yet his smile was uneasily, "uh... not yet," he shook his head with an unnerved smile, "but there's more to evil than just killing people, eh?" He yelled, sweet talking himself out of the problem as he looked to the other demons in the room with a smile. They hummed in agreement. Dewey not doing anything "Evil"was a valid issue, one he nearly brought up with Bugs, but was unable to at the time.

"I suppose." Grumbled Ligur, "but it's fun!" He snapped, moving back to Hastur, who wrapped an arm around his waist. (Daffy was always tempted to ask if they were married, or dating, but they'd say "we don't love each other", because demons don't do love, and marriage was considered Holy.)

"Oh yeah, fun!" Daffy agreed with a grin.

"Have you encountered any problemzzzzfrom the... oppozzzzition?" Asked Beelzebub, buzzing slightly as zir choked out the final word. The thought of an angel...

"They don't suspect a thing." Smirked Daffy, shaking his head coolly.

"I am proud to say," smiled Bugs, looking to the row of Archangels in front of him, "dat on a very real level, theAntichrist child is now being influenced towards thelight." He poorly lied, smiling all kind and friendly.

Heaven was bright and clean. You could choke on all the sterility of it all, and how much it smelt of disinfectant, and lemon and lime from hospitals. It was empty, and spacious, and you never have to push people to get from point a to point b, though it felt lonely most times, and you felt small and insignificant. The lights shone, and it was hot due to Holy Light and Grace, a little too hot, and could melt your skin off...

There was also a slowly spinning globe just to his right, but that wasn't something he ever focused on.

Bugs was stood in front ofGabriel, Michael who was in a off-white, well framed suitwith frilled sleeves,Sandalphon who wore a pale brown suitand Uriel who was in a pale blue suit and gold markings on her face, less form fitted.

Gabrielclapped with a usual overly friendly smile, "very commendable, Bugs." The other three Archangels also clapped, blankly,and Bugs grinned. "Excellent work, as usual." The clapping felt lacklustre of any joy, or genuine praise, and echoed the room tensely.

Bugs held back a curious frown, seeing an angel zoom past in the background, situated on a hover board.

"Yes." Michael agreed, as the clapping quickly came to a stop. "But, Bugs, we will be most understanding when you fail." He insulted, and Bugs slowly frowned. Gabriel nodded in agreement with his brother. He held his hands out, "after all, Wars are to be won."

"Not avoided." Agreed Uriel, blankly and annoyed.

"B-but I won't fail." Bugs assured, his smile nervous and tense, "I mean, dat would be bad."

"Bugs, what you're doing is praiseworthy,"praised Gabriel, a frown on his face, "but obviously doomed to failure."

Bugs frowned, but tried to stay confident, though the friendly smile slowly diminished. He ignored another angel who zoomed past on a hover board, (since when does Heaven use hover boards like Vine idiots? (Or douche-bags, as the teens called them.))

"Still, as the Almighty likes to say," Gabriel said, moving to Bugs. ""Climb every mountain","He smiled, and Bugs smiled back weakly.

The Archangels walked off, asSandalphonmoved to Bugs, and said in a whiny voice, ""ford every stream"." It smiled, the shine in it's teeth, almost like a grill, glistened and walked off.

Bugs' smile vanished, completely.

Nanny Ashterothand Brother Francis left when Dewey got too old. They liketo think the two settled down somewhere together, in a cottage and got married, maybe had a child of their own? Maybe got a dog called Rover?

They left with less bounce than they arrived in, but Dewey got two new tutors.

Mr. Harrison, who taught them about Attila The Hun, Vlad Drakul, and Darkness Intrinsicate in the Human Spirit. (He avoided telling him that Attila was nice to his mother, and Vlad Drakul was punctilious about saying his prayers everyday.) He tried to teach Dewey to make rabble-rousing political speeches to sway the hearts and minds of multitudes.

Mr. Cortese, who taught them about Florence Nightingale (except for the bits about syphilis.), Abraham Lincoln and the appreciation of art. He tried to teach them about free will, self-denial and Doing unto Others as You Would Wish Them to Do to You.

(On more than one occasion Dewey saw Mr. Cortese and Mr. Harrison flirt and hold hands, messing with rings and sharing sweet smiles.)

They both extensively read to them from the Book of Revelation. And, despite their efforts, Dewey showed a regrettable tendency to be good at Maths, and neither tutor was pleased with the progress.

By the time Deweywas ten, they liked baseball; they liked plastic toys that transformed into other plastic toys that were totally different from the first set of plastic toys; they liked their stamp collection; they liked banana flavoured bubblegum; they liked comics, and cartoons, and their BMX bike.

Daffy was getting troubled, more and more.

They met intheCaliforniabuses, and sat in art galleries, at concerts, in a small cafe for coffee and in a garden, or pack, and exchange and compare notes, and smiled, and rarely frowned.

Daffy sauntered up the stairs and intoon old trailer van, the place packed with makeup artists, surrounding one cartoon, and saw Bugs reading something in one of the books. He made sure his wigwas pulled half back in a lower bun, and went over to the angel and sat a little away from him, hand casually resting on the long eared rabbitangels shoulder. Bugs lowered his book, revealing reading glasses he didn't need.

"The duck ithtoo normal." Whispered Daffy, leaning forward, once the artists had parted to collect a fewthings.

"Excellent." Smiled Bugs, tucking his book away, "it's workin'. The Heavenly influences are balancing outda Hellish." He nodded, taking off his glasses, "ano-score draw."

"I hope you're right." Daffy murmured with a jerk of his head, looking around. "It'th not long now... the duck should be warping the world around them, making it to their own desires. Baring in mind, they should be doing that unknowingly..." He looked behind him slightly to look at the angel, "have you any evidenthe they've been doing that?"

"No..." Bugs was also lookingforward, and around the room, making sure no onewas listening in.

"They should be a power-house of raw,unadulteratedenergy..." Daffy looked down.

Bugs frowned, "they should?"

Daffy frowned, "I don't like it... they're too normal, thomethingthwrong... I just can't put my finger on it..."

"You can't think of one possible thing dat could be wrong?" Questioned Bugs, and he grinned. "All our wild and crazy adventures, 'n' you can't think of one possible thing dat could be wrong?"

"Shut it..." Hissed Daffy, shoulders tense as he kept looking.

"Daff?" Asked Bugs, not looking behind him.

Daffy was looking out the wall opposite him, "yeah?" He asked, quietly.

Bugs breathing was a bit uneven now, swallowing nervously, "I mean, if they come into their full power, how do we stop them den?"

Daffy had no answer, and said, "I'm sure it won't come to that." Heleaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

Bugs swallowed, and went back to reading the pages in his book, shoulders tense.

THE PRESENT DAY

MONDAY

SIX DAYS BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD

Hastur and Ligur walked down the cramped hall of Hell, choking on the stuff air. They made their way through dead walking demons, and moved passeda sign that read;PLEASE, DO NOT LICK THE WALLS.

Hastur slid open the eye hole, on door 2549, it was metal and cold, and slimy. One would not want to lick it. Not even a demon. He peered in, with Ligur peering in too.

"He's big," Ligur said, only just able to see the claws on the floor.

"He's the biggest we've got." Assured Hastur, with cold dead eyes. "Only the best for our young master-to-be."

"Do you think he's hungry?" Asked Ligur. One might think it sounds caring, but it was said in a way, that one wished something bad would happen.

"Only one way to find out." Hastur said, looking to Ligur. He felt a presence behind him. "You. Get in there."

"Me?" Came a timid voice. It was an incredibly low demon, one of them Disposable Demons (Eric or Legion if you prefer).

"Yes, yes, you." Snapped Hastur, shoving Eric in, as the Disposable Demon screeched. He locked the door, and he and Ligur watched, as Eric screamed. "Watch out for his teeth."

Ligurwinced, as Eric backed into the door, screaming, when suddenly, lots of banging came from the door, things tearing and ripping. "Ooh. It's not like you didn't tell him to look out for the teeth."

The door rattled, no doubt Eric was trying to get out.

DISNEYLAND, CALIFORNIA

DINOLAND

"Dewey, are you listening to me?" Asked Harriet Dowling in her American accent, a red coat wrapped around her. She and her creation, Dewey, with Huey and Louie, walked down the path of the ride "DINOSAUR", she was looking at statues and dinosaurs, and they was on their phone, ignoring her, as most rebellious teenagers do. Especially if your the middle child. This is the first attention she's given them allday. "Look what they used to think dinosaurs looked like." (I would just like to say, it is a rather funny joke. How people haven't picked up on it yet, She has no idea.)

"Whatever." Sighed Dewey.

"They're old and educational." Tried Harriet, looking to her creation. She had no idea what she was doing, and she clearly had no idea how to act around children, and creations.

"It's dumb." Dewey said back, immediately.

"It's not dumb, sweetie." Tried the creator, really... she had no idea what her creations liked, she was rather bad at it as she had to keep up images for the business, Nanny Ashteroth, Brother Francis and even the tutors, Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese knew her creation better then she did. Dewey missed all four of them. "It's a dinosaur." She pointed out, obviously.

"Dumb-a-saur, more like." They insulted, though it was rather pathetic. The groupstopped walking, standing at a fence separating them, and the lake. They slid their phone into a pocket, and wrapped their handaround the curve of the green fence, "can we talk about my birthday party?" They asked, and she paused in front of then, watching them. "Why can't we have my party in an escape room?" They asked.

"Dewey, for the last time," she sighed, walking away. "We've already hired a..."

"But, Harriet..." Came the distant whine of the child.

Just up the walkway, overseeing the outing between creator and creation, and siblings, sat two presenting males on a bench. Bugs was sat somewhat straight, one hand on his lap, and the other between himself and Daffy. Daffy was slouched in his seat slightly, his arms crossed and his black hair gone, his feathers slick and smooth, he lowered one arm, and took Bugs' hand with his.

"Well, we've done everything we can." Hummed Daffy, watching the child they practically raised, "all we can do now is wait for their birthday."

Bugs glanced to him, then looked forward again, as Daffywas still staring at Dewey.

"The Hell Hound will be the key."Daffy said offhandedly, "shows up at three on Wednesday."

Bugs looked between the demon and the child, and took a deep confused breath. "Right," he nodded nervously, "ya've never actually mentioned a Hell Hound before." He said, looking to Daffy, now annoyed this was kept from him for however long it's been the demon has know.

Daffy took a sharp intake of air, looking to Bugs with a look of ease, trying to hide the nerves from having forgotten to inform the angel. His eyebrows were raised, "oh, yeah." He nodded, stuttering over his words, "uh, quc, yeah... yeah, they're thending them a Hell Hound." He looked to the annoyed angel, with a look of tempting ease, "to pad by their thide and guard them from all harm." The angels lips pursed, and Daffy looked away, "oh... biggest one they've got."

Bugs looked to Dewey again, "won't people remark on da sudden appearance of a huge black dog?" Asked the angel, as if it made sense. At to some, it would make sense. "While dey're absolutely useless, 'n' good-for-nothing, won't his parents say something about da dog?"

Shaking his head, teeth pulled into a dill look of doubt and scrunched beak, Daffy said, "no one will notice anything. It's reality, angel." He took a deep breath, "and young Dewey can do what they likes with that, whether they know it or not."

Bugs looked forward again.

"It's the start of it all. The childs meant to name it. Um..." Daffy thought, and shook his head with a shrug, "Stalks by Night, Throat-Ripper, Killer or Terror... something like that." He listed, coming up with a few creative names for a Hell Hound. "But," he nodded, eyebrows raised, "if you and I have done our job properly, then they'll thend it away unnamed." He said, nodding, trying to calm Bugs down. "They might even be petrified of the beast... they will be actually, they're terrified of dogs..." (There was a time a few years ago, when he was Nanny Ashteroth, she took Dewey to a shelter, and they stayed clear of the loud, yapping dogs. Theywas terrified of them, and so Nanny Ashterothhid the child behind her legs.)

"What if they do name it?" Asked Bugs, nervously and he swallowed.

"Then you and I have lotht, they'll have all their powers, and Armageddon will be days away." Daffy said, bluntly, and seemed nervous if that did happen, as he looked to Dewey again.

The angel kept lookingto the demon, "dere must be some way ofstopping it, doc." He looked away nervously.

Daffy's waterfowleyes lit up behind his glasses, eyes wide in thought, "if there was no child..." He glanced to Bugs, in thought, "then the prothethwould stop."

Bugslooked to him, the two now face to face, "yeah, but dere is a child." Reminded the angel, pointing over to Dewey, "they're over dere, writing a rude word on a description ofa dinosaur."

The two looked over to see Dewey with a sharpie, a smirk on their face as they wrote something on a green plaque to do with a dinosaur, (though it was based on a character... was his name "Aladar"?). They were unsure which one, as dinosaurs aren't real. Their creator was standing just a bit away, texting on her phone. Huey and Louie was helping Dewey to reach up higher, probably to draw a moustache.

"Well, there is a child now." Agreed Daffy, "that could change."Hinted the demon, seemingly tense. Bugs simply frowned in confusion, looking to Dewey. "Something could happen to them."Daffy winced out, hinting and insinuating, with a mysterious shake of his head.

Bugs shook his head, looking to Daffy, his face scrunched up in horribleconfusion, and completely lost.

Daffy wanted to sigh, and could no longer beat around the bush, and so with each hurried word he nodded, "I'm saying you could kill them." Well, that's what he said, but not what he wanted.'Say no, please say no...'He begged silently, and helplessly, he helped raise that child, and he loved the kid,'don't agree to it, angel...'

The two turned to the middle child. The mother was taking pictures, and Dewey was now doodling on the dinosaur, balanced on Louie, who was balanced on Huey. Dewey was unaware of the angel and demon they had unknowingly known their whole life.

"Why can't you?" Asked Bugs, nervously,'not Dewey... I can't kill the kid...'

"I mean, I don't really want to hurt the child... I can't, they're of Hell, my job y'know?But, you could?" Offered Daggy, nervously.

"I've never actually... killed anythin'." Reasoned Bugs, weakly. "Couldn't even smite you, doc. And, youcan't kill them either. Remember Adam and Eve, and yaagreed with me, givin' away the Flaming Sword?"

"Shut it..." Scoffed Daffy, waiting for Bugsanswer to his question.

Bugs could tell, and he swallowed, feeling golden tears well up in his eyes, shaking his head. He choked out, "I don't think I could."

"Not even to save everything?" Asked Daffy, and the angel looked to the small child, who was only just turning into a Disney legacy, only just starting theirlife, "one life... against the universe." Tempted the demon.

Bugs went quiet, staring at Dewey, swallowing back bile, he looked to Daffy, and asked, his breath and voice shaky, "den, dis Hell Hound, it'll show up at theirbirthday party?"

Daffy held back a sigh of relief, "yeah."

Bugs also held back a sigh of relief, "well, den we should be dere!"

The conversation of Dewey was over, thank God/Satan, and the two were relieved neither wanted to go through with it, and neither were pushing for the conversation to start back up again.

"Maybe I can stop the dog!" Insisted Bugs, and suddenly, his eyes lit up, "I could entertain." He declared, a serious look on his face.

Daffy looked to Bugs in shock and horror, his head snapping to the angel, "no, no, no."He begged, voice full of horror, as he watched the angel wiggle his fingers, moving this hands up and down. "Pleathe, no. No." He continued begging, realising what the angel was suggesting. He threw his head back in a pain filled groan.

"I just need to get back into practice!" Bugs said excitedly,clenching his hands and reached into hisback pocket, that was more like a fur pouch,for a coin.

"Oh, no, no." Cried Daffy. He threw his head back in a pain filled whine. This was Hell... this was torture... his own personal brand of Hell and torture! "Don't do your magic act." He pleaded. He looked over, to see Bugs had a coin held between his finger and thumb, "pleathe." Bugswrapped his other hand around the coin so it seemed, and the other hand clenched. "Please!" Daffy looked away as if he was being tortured.

"Owah!"

"I'm actually begging you." Whinged Daffy, as Bugs opened the clenched hand and blew air out of his mouth. The angel dropped the coin, and he bent down to pick it up. "You have no idea how demeaning that is." Daffy said, shaking his head, as he watched the angel bend down. "Please."

Bugs got up off the bench, and stood in front of Daffy. He moved his hand to Daffy;s ear, black eyes shinning and a smile on his face, and let out a, "hwaa!" He then waved the coin in front of the demons unimpressed face.

"In your finger." Scowled the demon.

"Nope,in your ear." Smiled the angel, gesturing to the ear.

"I don't have ears."

"Yes you do! Kinda!"

"It was in your pocket." Daffy said, head jerking to the angel's pocket.

"It wascloseto your ear." Reasoned Bugs, waving the coin to his own long ear.

"It was never anywhere near my ear." Sighed Daffy, shaking his head,

Bugssat down, a smile still on his face, "you're no fun." He went back to watching Dewey, a little more excited.

"Fun?"

"Yes."

"It'thhumiliating." Sneered Daffy, he would never actually admit that he found the angels fake magic cute. "You can do proper magic." He shrugged, "you can make things disappear!"

"It's nofun!" Smiled Bugs with a shrug, ignoring the annoyed look on Daffy's face.

"Make you disappear." Fibbed Daffy, with no malice in his voice, looking to the child.

Bugs looked to him annoyed, a frown on his face. Though, the playful twitch of Daffy's beakwas unmistakable, and it took everything in the angel to not kiss the demon in broad daylight.

WEDNESDAY

"Where has he got to?"

Bugs stood at the small stage, though it was more like he stood in front of the bored kids. He wore a stereotypical magicians outfit consisting of; a black, long tailor coat which was unfastened and open, high black pants that were tight on the waist, a white undershirt, and golden waistcoat and red bow tie, with a drawn on marker moustache, black, shiny shoes, and had ablack top hat, that wason the table. He even had a wand to complete the look!(Daffy hated to admit it, but he loved the outfit on Bugs, as black made the angel incredibly sexy and made his job difficult.)

It was all thanks to a few miracles that he was able to do this. Even if Daffy was heavily against it but, he did help the angel to get this... thing going, even if children's parties were the one thing an angel should run from.

Speaking of Daffy, he stood in the crowd of waiters, dressed in a white dress shirt, the collar up, and a black tie, that lined his neck. He wore black, highdress pants that was tight at the waist, and black shiny shoes, black sunglasses. The finally, a white blazer jacket, fasted with one button, his tie under the blazer, his hand holding his wrist in front of him, and was watching his wrist watch, the same watch he never changed the battery in. (The time read:3:58.) (Bugs rather liked the white jacket on Daffy, and it took everything in him to not rush over and pull the demon into the mansion.)

"Dere he is! Ha!" Smiled Bugs,seeming to be nervous. "Dis—" He accidentally flicked the cards out, all over the place, and he dropped his hands. "We'll come back to dat one." He assured, swallowing, none of the children seemed impressed, and the adults were less then helpful. Daffy wasn't even watching.

"Ya see, it's me old top hat." He gestured to the hat that was on the table, rim up. He pulled out his black, and white tipped fake magic stick, or fake wand whichever you prefer, and said, "but, wait!" He waved it around in a circle, and tapped the hat harshly three times. He looked into the hat with a curious gaze, and said, "what's dis?" He looked at the children in over exaggerated wonder, "could it be..." He reached into the hat, but paused, seeing Daffy now watching, his eyebrows were relaxed, and therefore his gaze was soft and fond behind his sunglasses. Bugs flushed a bright red on his white, furry cheeks, seeing the barely there smile on the demons face. He pulled out something from the hat, "our old furry friend, Roger the Rabbit?" He held up a cute, white, fluffy rabbit, a smile on his face again. He gasped, excitedly, gently waving the rabbit around.

Daffy groaned quietly, and shook his head subtly - this was painful to watch. He looked away, again checking for the Hell Hound.

"It was in the table!" Dewey said, easily explaining the trick. This was the lamest birthday ever...

"You said there was gonna be a celebrity magician." Said one of Dewey's female friends, who was resting her chin on the palm of her hand, bored.

Daffylooked down to his wrist watch with a raised eyebrow,2:59... literal seconds until three... he looked up, face blank and unimpressed at the girl mocking Bugs, (only he could mock Bugs, and get away with it.)

"I had Penn and Teller at my party, and I had a silent disco, and I got a—"

"You're rubbish!" Dewey declared, fingertips pressed together as they looked up to Bugs.

Bugs smile look painful and uncomfortable, as a child asked, "excuse me, excuse me." Bugs looked to the child with a wavering smile. "They're right, you know. You are," he shook his head, "actually rubbish." The angel looked down. The child continued, "and probably a fa*ggot." Bugs looked to Daffy for some help, completely embarrassed and mortified.

Daffy was looking down to his wrist watch not seeing Bugs, mumbling the countdown, "five, four..." Bugs stared at the demon, who was still counting and he too began looking around for the Hell Hound, tense, "three, two, one."

His wristwatch read;3:00.

"The time is upon us." Hastur said, looking into the locked room."As soon as the boy names the Hound, Armageddon will begin." He opened the door with a creak. "Go. Find your master."

Suddenly, the Hound roared, and seemed to run out, a black, shapeless mast, as everyone moved away, yelling and screaming in shock, not wanting to cross the thing when it was Master-less.

Angelica decorated the vanilla and chocolate cake with smarties, when Kassy and Dr.Scratchansniff walked in with identicalsmiles, the two reading the blue and red frosting on the cake;Happy Birthday Wakko.

"They're not back yet?" Kassy asked, hands in her pockets.

"They'redown in WarnerBrothers Lot, Stage 16, playing with theirfriends, and brother and sister," Angelica said, glancing up once."I've told them to be home by lunch."

"Right, well, give me a shout when they gets back, then we can light the candles." Dr.Scratchansniff said, plucking a piece of chocolate off the cake, and Angelica gasped, playfully hitting Dr. Scratchansniff, who yelped, jumping, while Kassy snorted behind her hand.

Music filled the tent, and Bugs was hit in the face with a piece of jam cake. Children were cheering and screaming, throwing cake and food around. Daffy sneered in disgust, and shuffled away, and out of the tent, practically unnoticed. Drinks and cakes flew everywhere. Parents flinched, and tried to duck for cover, and the Secret Service men had no option but to stand still. Bugs' magician outfit was ruined, and he wiped the cake splatter off his face with a grimace of disgust and followed Daffy, walking off the stage.

"That was the best eleventh birthday ever!" Declared Dewey, with cake smeared all over their face and in their feathers, eyes sparking in joy.

Bugs walked down the path with a frown on his cake covered face, his fur tangled, knotted and sticky, and reached into his magician coat, "it was all a bit ofa disaster."

"Nonthense. You gave them all a party to remember."Assured Daffy, trying to make the angel feel better as he got into the drivers seat. "Last one any of them will ever have, mind."

"A kid called me a fa*ggot..." Bugsfrowned, offended at the slur, as he allowed his ears to poke out, looking more like Bugs that the magician.

Daffy raised an eyebrow behind his glasses, "theemthto me the child is going to have nightmares for the rest of his life... which is six days."

He looked over to see Bugs smiling slightly at that, and now holding a dead, white dove, and the angel tapped it, "it's late." The angel literally breathed life back into it.

"Comes of putting it up your sleeve." Mumbled the demon,turning on the radio and flipping through channels.

"No." Sighed Bugs,and he let the bird go and watched it fly off. He climbed into the passengersseat and closed the door, "theHell Hound. It's late." He shut the door, not missing the glare the demon sent his way for getting cake all over the Bentley, "I'll clean it up, I promise."

"...Isle of Skye, and your time starts—"

The radio glitched and squeaked, and Daffyflipped on the radio.

"I-should-be-so-lucky,-lucky-lucky-lucky-lucky,-I-should-be-so-lucky-in-"

Thevoice on the radio was manipulated.

HELLO DAFFY.

Bugs tensed, and looked to the demon, who swallowed. Daffy looked at the radio nervously,"uh, hi. Who's this?"

DAGON, LORD OF THE FILES, MASTER OF MADNESS AND UNDER-DUKE OF THE SEVENTH TORMENT.

"Yeahcourse. Disguthted to hear from you again... yeah, dismayed you called!I'm just checking in about thatHell Hound." Daffysaid, trying to keep his voice level as to not arouse suspicion, "y'know, that it got off okay."

HE WAS RELEASED TEN MINUTES AGO, AND IT SHOULD BE WITH YOU BY NOW.

The angel and demon slowly turned to each other, it wasn't panic, it was blank. Dead. The fear, worry and panic was internal, and well hidden. Bugslooked out the rear window, checking around to see if they missed said Hell Hound.

WHY? HASN'T IT ARRIVED? HASSOMETHING GONE WRONG, LUCAS?

"Lucas", not "Daffy", he swallowed. Clearly, right now, they're suspicious, judgemental... he's not in their "good books", or well, "bad books", whichever you prefer right now. "Wrong?" Repeated Daffy with a confident scoff. "No, of course not. There'tjnothing wrong. What in Hell could be wrong? You thaying that, implies I made a mistake." He glanced to the angel at that.

Bugs was looking around, and caught the demons eyes, picking up on the last sentence, "I made a mistake"... what's gone wrong?

"Oh, no!" Daffy said, nodding his head. "I can theehim now, yeth! What a lovely, big,helly Hell Hound." Smiled Daffu, as if he saw the large dog, a shaky sneer on his face. "Thorry! Grounds are big, is all!"

Bugs looked forward, keeping his face steady and calm.

"Yeth, well... okay! Dishonoured talking with you! You're all doinghorrific work down there! Goodbye Dagon, we'll catch up soon, huh?" Daffy reached over, and pressed the off button quickly.

The two were staring out in front of them, staring blankly out the window, they had yet to look at each other.

"No dog." Said Bugs, chest heaving.

"No dog." Agreed Daffy, with a grumble.

The two turned to each other, their faces now holding and showing their fear.

"Wrong child."Bugs voice wavered.

"Wrong child." Daffy breathed out.

The right child was playing at Stage 16with their friends. After all, it was their birthday. Stage 16, (as well as the Water Tower) was their Eden, where they could play unbothered by adults. The children called themselves the "Them".

Pinky and The Brain.

Two white lab rats stood, the taller one waking with a wooden sword, while the shorter was improving his.

Dot Warner.

A girl, of a none specific animal, with a flower and skirt hit her sword against the taller rats sward.

Yakko Warner.

A tall boy, of a none specific animal,in brown pantswalked forward, holding a nut.

And the birthday child, their... not leader, but middle child who needed attention, who found their den and invented the best games of all... Wakko Warner.

Another child climbed up the hill, getting on their makeshift throne.

It was a hot, silent August day far from the middle of California. By the side of the Warner Brothers New York Streetthe dust weighed down the gravel. Wasps buzzed in the trash cans. The air had a leftover and reheated feel.

There was a sound like a thousand metal voices shouting "Hail!" cut off abruptly.

And there was a black dog in the road.

It had to be a dog. It was dog-shaped.

There are some dogs which, when you meet them, remind you that, despite thousands of years of man-made evolution, every dog is still only two meals away from being a wolf. These dogs advance deliberately, purposefully, the wilderness made flesh, their teeth yellow, their breath a-stink, while in the distance their owners witter, "He's an old soppy really, just poke him if he's a nuisance," and in the green of their eyes the red campfires of the Pleistocene gleam and flicker...

This dog would make even a dog like that slink nonchalantly behind the sofa and pretend to be extremely preoccupied with its rubber bone. It was already growling, and the growl was a low, rumbling snarl of spring-coiled menace, the sort of growl that starts in the back of one throat and ends up in someone else's.

Saliva dripped from its jaws and sizzled on the tar. It took a few steps forward, and sniffed the sullen air. Its ears flicked up. There were voices, a long way off. A voice. A childish voice, but one it had been created to obey, could not help but obey.

When that voice said "Follow," it would follow; when it said "Kill," it would kill. His master's voice.

It leapt the carand padded across the long road beyond. A grazing bull eyed it for a moment, weighed its chances, then strolled hurriedly toward the opposite road. The voices were coming from a room full of seats. The black hound slunk closer, jaws streaming. It was a stage room...

One of the other voices said: "She never will. You're always saying she will, and she never does. Catchyour creator giving you a pet. Or, maybe Dr. Scratchansniff will, actually... An int'restin' pet, anyway. It'll prob'ly be stick insects. That's our caretakersidea of int'restin'."

The hound gave the canine equivalent of a shrug, but immediately lost interest because now the Master, the Centre of its Universe, spoke.

"It's my birthday. Of course, I'm gonna get a dog."

"You never get what you want." Said a female, authoritatively. "I wanted a bike, and I asked for it. And I told them I wanted a razor blade saddle, and 12 gears and everything. And do you know what Dr. Scratchansniff got me? A girl's bike. With a basket."

"But you are actually a girl, Dot." Said one of the boys, who sounded a bit co*cky.

"That's just sexist." She snapped.

"I want a dog." His Master said.

"Oh, right," scoffed another male voice, sounding a bit too old to be there.

"And your Creators and Dr. Scratchansniff are just going to get you a big old Rotten-weiler, then, Wakko?" The girl said, sarcastically.

"I don't want a big dog..."

— the eye in the door handlevanished abruptly downwards —

"You don't?" Asked another, sounding a bit on the slow side.

"No, I want the kind of dog you can have fun with. But one of those dogs that's brilliantly intelligent and can go down rabbit holes and has one funny ear that always looks inside out. And a proper mongrel, too. Apedigreemongrel."

Unheard by those within, there was a tiny clap of thunder on the lip of the quarry. It might have been caused by the sudden rushing of air into the vacuum caused by a very large dog becoming, for example, a small dog.

The tiny popping noise that followed might have been caused by one ear turning itself inside out.

"And I'll call him..."

Everything seemed to stop.

And this is the moment. The naming. This will give it its purpose, its function, its identity. This is the moment that sets Armageddon into motion. The Hell Hound growls a low, rumbling snarl of spring-coiled menace. The sort of growl that starts in the back of one throat and ends up deep in someone else's.

"I think I'll call him "Dog". Saves a lot of trouble, a name like that."

The hell-hound paused.

Deep in its diabolical canine brain it knew that something was wrong, but it was nothing if not obedient and its great sudden love of its Master overcame all misgivings. Who was it to say what size it should be, anyway?

"And, what, this dog's just gonna turn up?"

"Maybe."

It trotted down the slope to meet its destiny.

Strange, though. It had always wanted to jump up at people but, now, it realised that against all expectation it wanted to wag its tail at the same time. It barked.

"Here, boy. Come on." Smiled his Master.

Dog rushed over, and greeted his smiling Master, that petted him, and the others shared a shocked look.

"Armageddon is days away, and we've lost the Antichrist." Grumbled Daffy, sat at the antique tablein Bugs old, dusty book shop. He held a glass of whisky, and swirled the drink, nursinghis head. "Why did the powers of Hell have to drag me into this anyway?" He whimpered out, near crying bloody tears at their obvious failure. All that time and all that effort, all for nothing... Hell, they almost killed an innocent child! One that they both adored!

Not even seeing Wakko, Yakko and Dot had cheered him up!

(That had been fun, the three siblings, and Pinky and Brain had been walking up the pathway, and Wakko had greeted them in their usual "Middle Child Syndrome" way, of just bulldozing right into them with a "Daddo!", because they called every male figure "Daddo", they had tried to play along, but quickly left.)

"Well, don't quote me on dis," Bugs said sarcastically, "but I'm pretty sure it's because of all those memos ya kept sending dem, saying how amazingly well you were doing." He poured himself a glass of whisky with a scoff.

"Ith it my fault they never check-up?" Daffy asked, letting his head go and looking to Bugs in shock, "I'm to blame they never check-up?" He asked loudly, as he placed a hand over his chest, one that held a cold hole, that was supposed to hold a heart. "Everyone stretches the truth a bit in memos to Head Office. You know that." Reasoned the demon.

"Yes," agreed Bugs, he had done it too. (In their defence, they now have acting careers to keep up on, movies, shorts, and musicals on the odd occasion, advertisem*nts, and Fan Meet Ups.) He sat down with a defeated slouch, "but ya told dem you invented the Spanish Inquisition, 'n'started the Second World War, doc."

The demon shook his head in slight defeat, "tho the humans beat me to it. That's not my fault." He blinked, and sniffed suddenly, his nostrils getting bigger, inhaling, "something's changed." He said in worry.

"Oh, it's a new cologne." Smiled Bugs, flushing that the demon noticed,"my barber suggested it."

Daffy shook his head, a sneer on his face and he snapped out, "not you. I know what you smell like!" He frowned, as he felt a grumble-like feel in his stomach and up his spine, and stopped looking around and he swallowed, freezing, "the Hell Hound has found its master." He said, deadpanned.

"Are yasure?" Asked Bugs, tense as he stared at the demon.

"I felt it." Daffy said, and he looked to Bugs, "would I lie to you?" He asked, eyes wide, leaning forward for an answer.

"Well, obviously. You're a demon. Dat's what ya do." Nodded Bugs, eyes wide, as if he needed to remind Daffy that he is, in fact, a demon, and not an angel like the demon wanted to be.

And, maybe most demonswouldlie, but this was Daffy, who does want to be an angel, (or well, not really...), mainly for Bugs' sake. The demon would be quiet happy being a Human,(or well... not Human, but not a demon, mortal, as a mortal cartoon)."No, I'm not lying. Not to you, never to you. The child," he shook his head, "wherever they are, has the dog." He ran a hand through his black feathers, watching as Bugsswallowed tensely. "They've named it. It's done. They're coming into their power." Daffy let out a shaky breath, as he locked eyes with Bugs, leaning up from his seat.

Bugs tensed up, and leaned forward slightly, taking the demons hand in his, swallowing back his anxiety, "Daffy,love cup..."

Chapter 17: the book and the witchfinder...

Chapter Text

GLENOAKS BOULVARD,CALIFORNIA

THURSDAY

TWO DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

The streets were busy, and loud, bustling with people unaware of what was just around the corner. Two Archangels walked down the busy street, one in pale purple, nearing grey and the other in a pastel brown, they were walking to an open and rather quiet antiqueshop, owned by one of their angels. - Gabriel and Sandalphon.

Gabriel pushed the door open, and the bell to the shop rang quietly, and Sandalphon followed close behind. The two looked around, and Gabriel picked up an old looking book.

Bugs looked up from behind his counterwith a small smile, already trying to figure out a way to get the two customers out, wanting to finish the bookin his back room, but soon turned tense seeing his two immediate superiors. He set down the book, slipping in the bookmark, and came out from behind the counter.

"Can I help ya, doc?" Asked Bugs, his smile tense, yet formal, as well as his tone. He clasped his hands in front of him.

Gabriel looked up, with a rigidwith a wide mouthedsmile, as if he knew what was going on around him, "I would like to purchase one of your material objects." He held out a thick brown book, as if to prove a point, patting his hand in the cover.

"Books." Sandalphon said quickly, aiding itsboss.

"Books!" Gabriel repeated quickly,hit its shoulder in thanks.

Bugs sighed, and noticed a man in a suit give the two new costumers a confused look, thrown off with how strange they were acting, and the angel gave them an apologetic smile, miming out "so sorry". The man smiled, nodding to him and went back to looking at the old book about War. If he was honest, he was oddly thankful to the two dimwitted Archangels, people will be so confused they'd leave the shop alone.

"Let us discuss my purchase in a private place," Gabriel said, "because I am buying, uh..." He waved his hand, as if expecting Bugs to jump in, and help.

Bugs did not jump in and help, he really wanted to see where Gabrielwas going with this, what was the plan? How much had his superiorplanned? He smiled softly, so nobody could say he was being rude, though he was.

"p*rnography?" Offered Sandalphon. (Who had used the Heaven equivalent to Wikipedia, which is the first result.)

It fell silent for a second.

"p*rnography!" Gabrielsmiled, pointing to Sandalphon appreciatively.

The same customer looked over confused, and Bugsfrowned, confused and mortified. p*rnography?! This is a bookshop! One that doesnothold p*rnography! And, even if he did own any p*rn for the shop, it was be old! Therefore, it would be of people who are dead, or in uncomfortable fashion, or who knows what else! (Also, possibly used, over and over again by it's previous owner, and it would be crumbling to bits. Not exactly a thing you'd want to read while jerking off.)

"Gabriel, come into my back room." Bugs all but begged, gesturing to the back room, and hated how he worded that too. Could he have said it anymore disgustingly?! So many sexual innuendos, (that he now only knows about because Daffy found them absolutely hilarious.)

Gabriel waved the thin, book case around, as if showing off the evidence of this p*rnography. Sandalphon spoke up in a whiny voice, as if backing its boss up, "we humans are extremely easily embarrassed. We must buy our p*rnography secretively."

Bugs nodded nervously, and lowered his arm as the two vanished around the corner. He smiled at everyone apologetically, "sorry everyone! Dey're uh... friends being funny. An inside joke!" He smiled, noticing the confused looks people were giving. Quickly, he followed the two, annoyed. He might not like customers, but people talked! (And, he's famous! "Bugs Bunny Likes Bunny p*rn!", ew!) He didn't want people to say he was disgusting, or tell Daffy the lie, (because everyone who visited the shop saw the raven feathered demon, and thought the two were dating.)

"Human beings are so simple..." Gabriel laughed, carelessly slamming down the book titledMrs Beeton's Household Management(a Victorian cookery book Daffy bought Bugs as a joke), "and so easily fooled."

Nobody was buying that performance, but Bugs smiled and nervously lied, with a laugh, "yes!" He laughed out a cough, "well done, good job! Ya fooled dem all!" He grinned, keepinga nervous tremble away, looking between Gabrieland Sandalphon.

"You remember Sandalphon?" Questioned Gabriel, a friendly smile on his face, gesturing to the Archangel behind Bugs. (The reason he asks is quiet simple, he believes Bugs to be stupid, not picking up on things. (If only he knew Bugswas clever and capable of outsmarting almost anyone who antagonises him.))

Bugs turned to see the sleezeball of an angelsmiling at him, and said, "uh... Sodom and Gomorrah." He smiled, tensely, hoping to give the impression of amazement, and awe, as if looking up to him, rather than disgust and anger, "youwere doing a lot ofsmiting 'n'turning people intosalt." He sneered, but hoped it looked like a proud smile, "hard to forget." He said, looking to Gabriel with raised eyebrows.

Sandalphon frowned, and turned it'sface up, sniffing. Bugs looked to it. Sandalphon scowled, "something smells... Evil." It sneered, disgusted. Gabrielfrowned as well, and stuck his nose up, also sniffing, smelling the air, smelling the Evil

Bugs frowned in confusion, and sniffed as well, looking around, but then his eyes flashed in panic. Yes, now that he's looking for it, it does smell Evil; of sulphur, and burning, with (what should be an uncomfortable) spicy smell, that tickled and prickled ones nose, (or should). "Oh, dat'll be the Jeffrey Archer books, I'm afraid. I'm sorry..." Smiled Bugs, tensely. He completely forgot demons smelt of Evil, Daffy had spent the night, and it was rather... eventful, to say the least. The magician and caterer outfits stayed on for their night of stress and fun.At this point, his entire shop and apartment smelt of Daffy, as did his clothing at times since the demon perchedon his shoulderlike a parrot, despite being a duck, and cuddled in his bed, all the time.

Gabriel raised his arms in a shrugging motion, as if that made sense. (And, it would have made sense if it wasn't for the fact books don't give off a sent like that, though those might have given Bugs really hates them.) In a motion that resembled a "what can you do motion?", "Well, we just wanted to stop by and check on the status of the Antichrist."

Immediately, panic set into the angels now thundering heart, chest slamming into his ribs, and asked, "why? What's wrong?" He asked panicked, "I-I mean, if dere's something wrong, not dat dere is last I checked! Which wasn't too long ago, nothings wrong! Why would there be anything wrong? But, if dere is I could put my people onto it!" He stumbled out. Good Lord, he's a terrible liar! The absolute worst, no doubt he would get caught!

"Nothing's wrong."Assured Gabriel with a confused hum. "Everything's going perfectly. There's a lot happening. All good."

"A-all good?" Asked Bihs, nodding his head with a nervous smile. His eyes were terrified, panicked, flashing in fear. What was good? What was considered good? It was stopped? It was going to plan? Not going to plan?

"Well, all going according to the Divine Plan." Gabriel said, shaking his head slightly,leaning forward a bit, hands held in front of him. "The Hell Hound has been set loose, and now the Four Horsem*n of the Apocalypse are being summoned. Death, Pollution, Famine, War."He listed, hands up slightly, and nodding his head with each name. He sounded tired, as if this was just a minor chip on his shoulder.

"Right." Agreed Bugs, worried, and asked, as if curious, "who exactly summons dem?"

Letting out a deep breath of air, puffing it past his lips, Gabriel shook his head, "not my division. I believe we outsource that sort of thing..."

"About time, that's what I say." Said Sandalphonin a snobby, snooty voice. It shook it's head with a sneer, "you can't have a War without War."

Bugs scowled in complete confusion, and slowly turned to lookat him. He is abook fanatic,he loves reading, andgood Lord that was awful! Shakespearewould have been insulted! Heaven, Daffy would be insulted, and the demon detests books! How can the lisping duck demon, be more eloquent, and creative with his words, than a literal Archangel?! Gabriellooked taken aback, "Sandalphon, that is very good!" He smiled, pointing to his right-hand angel. Bugs stared at it as if it last itsmind. Gabrielcontinued to gush, "you can't have aWarwithoutWar!" He gestured his hand, face utterly impressed. "I might use that. Huh?"

Sandalphon nodded, as if it was impressed with himself, and so Bugs gave a tight smile, nodding along with weak support.

"Anyway..."Continued Gabrielwith an overly friendly smile. "No problems? How was the Hell Hound?" He asked rather excitedly, practically skipping over to Principalityin joy.

Bugs frowned, panic on his face for a second, and backed up slightly, his superiorsliding past him, "I-I didn't stick around to see." He answered, putting on a strained smile.

Gabrielpoked his head out to the main building, and placed his hand to his cheek to allow his voice to travel, "thank you for my p*rnography!"

'Stop saying that! Good Lord, shut up!'Bugs begged quietly, wondering if Gabriel understood what p*rnography is, and the implications that came with reading, and owning p*rnography.

Gabriel laughed, and so Bugs smiled, while Sandalphoncontinued to nod with a smile. Gabriel pointed to Bugs, "excellent job." He looked to Sandalphon, still pointing, "'you can't have a War without War.'" He looked between the two, hands out palms up and his face looked mind blown and amazed. He then punched it's shoulder, "clever."

Sandalphon gave a snooty, nasally laugh and followed it'sboss.

Bugs smiled, and watched to the two leave. He frowned, and sagged, shoulders drooping, as he twirled the golden band on his finger, he wanted to collapsed into bed, and wrap his demon up in his long arms.

A grey toned wall rotated, and in sauntered Daffy, to his small office, his sunglasses off. The was a sleek, brown desk, and a large, golden chair like throne, with red, velvet cushions. The desk had a few notes on it, and a script for the next short he was doing. So long as he didn't get shot over, and over again, everything would be fine.Behind him on the wall was the original sketch of the Mona Lisa, he had brought it from the artist one hot afternoon in Florence, and felt it was superior to the final painting. (Leonard had felt so too. "I got her bloody smile right in the roughs," he told Daffy, sipping cold wine in the lunchtime sun, "but it went all over the place when I painted it. Her husband had a few things to say about it when I delivered it, but, like I tell him, Signor del Giocondo, apart from you, who's going to see it? Anyway... explain this helicopter thing again, will you?")

He picked up hisTrimline Telephone, and his finger hovered over the rubbed numbers. His face pulled into a horrible wince.Hewasgoing to call Bugs, and ask if he... no, not yet... at some point yes, but... no... second guessing himself, he slammed his phone down with a defeated sigh.

He turned, and snapped his fingers.

Pam & Samturned on, playing on his large screen television. The set was orange and red, and she was in a lovely red dress and he was in a suit. He fell into his chair with a slouch,and ran a hand through his hair, the other traced twisting the ring on his finger, as he looked down to the script, chin pressed into his fist.

"Welcome back."Pam greeted, and she was in a rather lovelydress. The camera panned in on the pair,"now, the government's foreign affairs spokesman will be here to comment on the recent increase in international tensions."

He glanced up, and then out the large window in front of him with a sad frown.

"But first, do you know what's in your fridge?"Asked Pam, a friendly smile on her face.

The television made a static noise, as if changing channels.

"Morning, Daffy." Came a rough voice, and Daffy sneered while they couldn't see, and then looked over. There in thePam & Samset was Hasturand Ligur, sat in chairs and on the television.

"Just checking in." Ligur waved off, and pointed to the chair Daffy sat on, "nice chair."

He looked over tensely, and let out a nervous and breathy, "hey, guyth. How was your date?"

"Date?" Asked Ligur, confused, "what you on about?"

Daffy cursed himself quiet, of course! Dates, they don't know dates! He looked at them blankly, "two people who lo-like each other go out, have a few hourthtogether, be all... couple-y with each other."

""Couple-y"?" Questioned Ligur, even more confused.

"Are you two together?!" Snapped Daffy, not able to put up with the ditsy and confused tone from the demon, "would you two kiss, hold hands, f*ck and happily mean it, and you wouldn't do it with anyone else?! Y'know?! Love!" There was a point in time where the three of them had gotten along, but that was quickly halteda few days after Daffy had started becoming a regular on Earth.

Ligur frowned, ""love"? We're demons, we don't love... we can't feel love."

Daffy sighed, "yeah, no, but clothest you can get to love." Right, demons can't love... tell that to him six thousand years ago when he saw Bugs up on the Wall, having just given away his Flaming Sword.

"It's about the Antichrist." Ligur said, moving the conversation forward. He didn't understand the concept of love, neither did Hastur. Daffyknew there was something between the Dukes, but it wasn't love, it was never love, the two were too much of demons, and Daffy... well...

"Yeah," Daffy hummed, shaking his head, not looking to the Dukes."Great kid. Takes after their dad."

"Our operatives in the State Department have arranged for the child's family to be flown to the Middle East."Hastur said, leaning back in the chair, back straight.

Ligur was zoomed in on now, "there, he and the Hell Hound will be taken to the Valley of Megiddo."

Daffy rolled his head, and clenched his eyes closed, realising he really f*cked up. It was going to happen, obviously, and it's going to be evident that there is no dog, no Hell Hound and therefore, no Antichrist. And then, it would be clear that Daffy messed up, and had done something wrong. That alone scares him.

"The Four Horsem*n will begin their final ride." Hastursaid.

"Yay." Cheered Daffy quietly, shaking his fist-ed hand is sad triumph, and looked down, choked up.

There was a close up on Hastur'sbacteria and maggot infested face, as Daffy closed his ducj eyes in dread, slamming his head back slightly. "Armageddon will begin." Said the frog demon. "The final combat. It's what we've been working towards since we rebelled. We are the Fallen." Daffy turned to the big television, and stared at Hasturwith a dead eyed stare, but Hasturgave an equally dead eyed stare back. "Never forget that."

"Well, it's not the sort of thing you forget!"Assured Daffy, annoyed. He knows he's Fallen, it's not something he can omit from his memory! Anytime he looks to Bugs, he's reminded he is a demon, and the male presenting bunny beingin front of him with grey fur and long earsisan angel... a beautiful angel. Bugs is an angel, one he must have a "star-crossed"(as Shakespeare had put it) relationship with, one he must have in secret, with worried and fearful glances, afraid of prying eyes and keen ears. He is a demon who Fell years ago, he loves sex and wine, and making people miserable... he's not an angel... he's a demon...

"I don't trust you, Lucas." Glared Hastur.

Really, he shouldn't. Daffy couldn't lie, that was the smartest thing Hasturhas ever said or done. However, itdidn't escape him thatHastur used "Lucas", a name he hates, he'sreallynot as trusted as he used to be. "Everything'thgoing just fine." He lied, with a weak smile.

He snapped his fingers, the largetelevision turningoff, and he dropped his arm.

"I didn't mean to Fall." He whispered, voice broken and choked slightly, and he looked down with sad eyes. "I just hung around the wrong people," he defended, hating himself for Falling, and he sounded like a teenager in trouble. Even now, he can feel the burning of his wings, and feathers.

Somebody has to summonthe Four Horsem*n of the Apocalypse. But they outsource that sort of thing these days.

A delivery van zoomed down the sandy, desert pathway. It sped through old, rickety stalls, and it pulled up harshly.

Meet the Summoner.

It was a man, in a brown outfit. He worked for as theInternational Express Man, for theInternational ExpressCompany.He went by the name Lesley.

He has four items to deliver in his van. He works for the International Express Company. And he's about to make his first delivery in a former War zone.

Lesley did not seem bothered by this, and was instead, getting his documents in order.

NO MAN'S LAND,

NORTH AFRICA

Sometimes, despite everything, peace breaks out. People get tired of fighting, and pain, and death,and are willing to start all over again.

A woman - Red - with bright red hair walked forward, in leather pants, a leather jacket, and ared shirt, with red lips. People pulled their guns up, taking aim.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Asked His Royal Highness.

"Carmine Zingiber. National World Weekly." Red said, also going byCarmine, "War correspondent." She raised her hands in surrender.

"Well, this is good, my friend." Said the Prime Minster. "It is good that a member of the world press is hereto see us sign the peace accord."

His Royal Highness nodded, and Carmine giggled.

"Right, well, if you'd like to sign this first, Your Highness," coughedthe Peace Treaty Negotiator, "and then the Prime Minister, then the Supreme Leader,then we'll get a photograph of all three of you together."

"Wait. He signs first?" Asked the Prime Minister, pointing to His Royal Highness.

Red watched with beady eyes.

"It is just a formality who signs first," assured His Royal Highness.

"A formality?" Asked the Prime Minister, "you make me a laughingstock in my country,and you call that a formality?"

Red smirked.

His Royal Highness laughed, "somebody has to sign the peace agreement first."

"They do," agreed the Supreme Leader, as she nodded, making her presence known for the first time,"and it's me." She snatched the pen, when suddenly, His Royal Highness pulled out a gun, as did the Prime Minister and then the Supreme Leader. Everyone followed suit, pulling out guns, while Carmine stood grinning.

Suddenly, Lesley walked forward, between the guns, "oh, don't mind me, ladies and gents." He said, with a clipboard, and package under his arm. "Oh, what a day, eh? Nearly didn't find the place." He didn't care about the guns, nor did he care about the strange looks he was getting. "Someone doesn't believe in signposts, eh?" He laughed, and looked around, people were shooting him looks. His eyes landed on Red. "Package for you, miss." He walked over, as she nodded. She took the package, and then pulled out the pen from his top pocket. "You, uh... you have to sign for it."

Lesley looked around, nodding. "Well, it's a lovely place you got here. Yeah, I always wanted to come here on my holidays."

Red signed and handed the clipboard to Lesley, and who whistled, leaving. Opening the package, she grinned, pulling out the object.Inside the package was a large sword. She examined it.

It was a very straightforward sword, long and sharp; it looked both old and unused; and it had nothing ornamental or impressive about it. This was no magical sword, no mystic weapon of power and might. It was very obviously a sword created to slice, chop, cut, preferably kill, but, failing that, irreparably maim, a very large number of people indeed. It had an indefinable aura of hatred and menace.

Red clasped the hilt in her exquisitely manicured right hand, and held it up to eye level. The blade glinted. "Finally."

Guns were suddenly trained on Carmine.

"Put it down," said the Supreme Leader.

Carmine pulled the sword from the hilt, swinging it around expertly. "Oh, you sweet thing. That's not gonna happen, is it? Sorry, folks. I'd love to stay and get to know you all better... but duty calls." She grinned, walking forward, sword over her shoulder.

Guns were back on each other. Bullets rang out, and people fell.

Red walked through the again fighting stalls, stalls exploding, and people falling.

She smirked the whole time.

She's the first of four. And you can't have a War without her. She's been killing time for so long now. Time, and sometimes people. And now, 60 centuries of waiting are about to end.

Carmine, no... not Carmine... Red... no... no not Red...WARsmirked.

AMERICA,

1656

This is also the story of a witch,a Witchfinder, and a book. And that story starts about 360 years ago,with the last witch burning in America.

There was a pile of twigs and a stake, fully prepared for a bonfire.

"Witchfinder Major Freleng, all is prepared." Said a man named Maggs.

"Where is the hag?" Asked Witchfinder Freleng.

"In her cottage. She suspects nothing." Assured Maggs, as he, Witchfinger Freleng and a whole mob stormed up the pathway to the cottage.

"I thought you'd tested her with a pin," Witchfinder Freleng said, tense.

"We did. Regulation-issue Witchfinder's pin." Maggs said, holding the rusty, old pin up, and jabbed it into the air. "Pricked her all over."

"And what was the result?" Asked Witchfinder Freleng.

"She said it cured her arthritis." Maggs said, not really wanting to answer, as they turned a corner.

Witchfinder Freleng asked, "of what else is she accused?"

"Predicting the future, mostly." Maggs said, "she told Mistress Bulco*ckthat Adultery would be coming to town."

"Such nonsense," said Freleng, voice quieter.

"That's you, isn't it?" Asked Maggs, glancing to the Witchfinder.

"It's not me." Snapped Freleng, pausing, and everyone stopped too, falling silent, and looking to the two. Freleng seemed annoyed. "My given name, Witchfinder Private Maggs, is Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery. But you can call me "Witchfinder Major Freleng"." Again, his continued forward, the mob following a second later.

Maggs rushed over, "so they don't call you "Adultery Freleng"?"

"They do not."

An old lady sat at a desk, writing with a quill in fancy cursive words.

Good milkman... bring no more milk,not this day or ever,for today I am to die in flames. Yours, Agnes NutterMaltese.

Agnes NutterMaltese, also know as either Agnes or Nutter, paused and smiled softly.

P.S. My best wishes to your wife.

"Witch! Witch!" Came the mumbled yells of the crowd, and Agnes looked up.

"They're late." She said, a scowl on her lips.

"She runs, I have heard tell,with no one pursuing her," said Witchfinder Freleng, as they stormed up the side of the pathway.

"Aye." Said Old Goody Larmour, skirt hitched up to keep next to Freleng. "She says running each morningin an unladylike manner around the villagedoth improve her health."

"Monstrous,"Freleng said. "Perhaps invisible demons pursue the witch as she runs," he said in thought.

"No, she says it's good for you." Said Old Goody Larmour. "She said we should get more fibre in our diet. I told her, I said, it's hard enough picking out the gravel."

"Aye, she is obviously mad," assuredFreleng. "But how can we be certain she is a witch?"

"She cured me of the howling pox," Maggs said.

"And cured my son of the bloody flux." Added Old Goody Larmour. "Obviously, a witch!"

The crowd, in unison, nodded and called out, "witch!" And then they chanted, closer to the cottage.

"Witch! Witch! Witch!"

WitchifinderFreleng made it to the door, and knocked but once, and it opened, revealing Agnes NutterMaltese.

"Adultery Freleng...good people,thou art tardy." She scolded, "I should have been aflame 10 minutes since. Right." She stormed forward, and pushed through the crowd of shocked people.

"Mistress Nutter?" CalledFreleng, running after, pushing passed people who yelled in shock.

"It'sMaltese!" Called Agnes.

She hobbled slowlyto the bonfire that had been hastily thrown together on the village green, and she climbed awkwardly onto the pyre and thrust her arms around the stake behind her.

Freleng moved behind her and tied her arms, "this is most irregular, Mistress Maltese." He had no idea why he would respect her name, and he wouldn't until he died, but maybe he would figure it out before then? He walked off.

"Gather thee right close, good people." Said Agnes, and the crowd did, fiery sticks held high. "Come close until the fire near scorch ye,for I charge ye that all must seehow the last true witch in England dies. And let my death be a message to the world. Come. Come. Gather thee close, I say."

They did, they got closer.

"And mark well the fate of those who meddlewith such as they do not understand."

WitchfinderFreleng dropped the fire, and Agnes grinned, biting her lip, as others followed suit.

Freleng frowned and squinted into the bonfire, "oh, bugger." He still didn't know why he agreed to call her "Mistress Maltese" too.

Suddenly, it exploded, fire and smoke.

Freleng's hat flew up, smoking; and it read inside;Thiff Hatte Belongeth To WitchfinderGeneral Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-AdulteryFreleng.

Among the folk from the next village,there was much subsequent debateas to whether this disaster had been sent by God or by Satan.

One of Agnes' relatives looked through the belongings of the witch, and opened a note.

However, a note found in Agnes' cottagesuggested that any divine or devilish interventionhad been materially helped by Agnes' petticoats,in which she had concealed 50 pounds of gunpowderand 30 pounds of roofing nails.

Freleng frowned and squinted into the bonfire, seeing Agnes drop a pin, "oh, bugger." He still didn't know why he agreed to call her "Mistress Maltese" too.

Suddenly, it exploded, fire and smoke.

Agnes also left behind a box and a book.

They were to be given to her daughter and her son-in-law,John and Virtue Device - Maltese (the reason for the conjoined last names, was because John liked it, but it wasn't proper to take a females last name).

John looked through the book, and read the letter.

"Dear Mistress Maltese,we take great pleasure in enclosing your author's copy of your book. We trust it will sell in huge numbers,yea, and be reprinted even unto a second printing. Yours, Bilton and Scaggs, publishers." John read. "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Maltese."

"Reminiscent of Nostradamus at his best. Ursula Shipton." Virtue said, looking through the book. "What does this mean, John?" Asked the woman.

"It means, Virtue, that even though Agnes is dead,we must study her book. For your mother knew the future." John said, nodding, as Virtuelooked through.

"Prophecy 2,214. In December 1980,an Apple will arise no man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes's machine,and good fortune will tend thy days." Virtue laughed, "oh, I mean, this is balderdash!"

PARIS, FRANCE

11 YEARS AGO

The book Agnes left behind herwas the sole prophetic work in all of human historyto consist entirely of completely correct predictionsconcerning the following 350-odd years.

Being a precise and accurate descriptionof the events that would culminate in Armageddon.

It was on the money in every single detail.

On the night the Antichrist was born, in a house in France,Agnes Nutter Maltese great-great-great-great-great grandsonwas with his creation,drawing on the title page.

And, metaphorically, the book had just begun to tick.

A small male skunkwas scribbling away on the book, drawinga person, surrounded by circles, usingwhat looked like cheap colouring pencils you'd find at the pound shop (dollar store for any Americans).

"Okay, Pepé."Michael(Junior, as Michael Senior died years ago) said, as he walked over to his fathers creation."Prophecy 2,214." He sat down, opposite the cartoon skunk.

"In December 1980,an Apple will arise that no man can eat." Pepé recited, stopping in his drawing of Penelope puss*cat, his failing crush of the time. "That one's stupid, Michael. It doesn't mean anything."

"My Père bought 5,000 shares in Apple in 1980. That's worth $40 million today." Michael said, and he reached over, pulling out a card. "Okay, 2,213."

The card was bent and yellow, and in blue hand writing it had;Four-Horsem*n of the Apocolypse?(Spelling error and all.)

TheMaltese family wrote notes to try and figure out what was what, after all, and the bookand notes would be handed toPepé, since he would most likely around for years. It was decided with Michael Senior thatPepé would be let in on the book secret, since creations were much like children, and Michael Junior decided he didn't want children, and wantedPepé to have the book, completely.

"Four shall ride, and three shall ride the sky as two,and one shall ride in flames,and there shall be no stopping them. Not fish, nor rain, neither devil or angel. And ye shall be there also, Pepé." Pepé recited.

"You see? She's got special plans for you, mon amie. Agnes gave us the easy job. We just had to make sure everything was good for the family. You're the one that's going to have to save the world." He smiled and got up, patting his head.

Pepé rolled his eyes, as it wasn't something he was fond off. He just wanted to woo Penelope.

Meanwhile, in America,Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery Frelenggreat-great-great-great-great grandson's creation should have been in bed hours ago.

"Sylvester?" Came Lily's (again, Junior not Senior, her mother was dead at this point) voice, walking up the stairs. "It's after your bedtime, dear."

"Jutht a few more minuteth, Lily." Sylvester said, looking up, and he twisted the screw driver. "I'm putting the old computer back together." He wanted to plan a new trap to capture Tweety, and found he enjoyed tinkering a few years ago.

"You young scientists and your experiments." Granny smiled, now in the doorway next to Lily.

"It'thnot really an experiment, Granny. I just changed the plug. It'll work now." Sylvesternodded, and plugged the plug into the computer wen sparks shot off, and exploded, when suddenly, the lights not just in the house, but around the block went off.

Groaning and yelling filled the street.

"I do hope the man from the electric isn't going to be upset again." Lily said, shocked.

"It'snot fair," pouted Sylvester.

"Oh, don't worry, Sly." Assured Granny, "it's not as if it's the end of the world."

THE PRESENT DAY,

WARNER BROTHERS, CALIFORNIA

"I just wanted to say, well, good luck on the new job." Lily said, in a soft tone. "I hope it works out this time."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Lily," smiled Sylvesternervously. He held a box, and wore a suit, bag over his shoulder. Really, he just wanted to get that stupidbird. So long as he didn't try to... fix any computers... or create traps...it worked... and other days, life hated him, and he couldn't touch the device.

"You've just been unlucky." Said Lily, "I made you sandwiches." She set a packed lunch in his box.

He walked into the wide, and open stage, and set his box down onto thedesk in the back.

"And you are?" Asked a woman - Louisa Blatt - she was new.

"Sylvester puss*cat. Old Looney Tunes Character. But, I'm new in the thense of I'm retrying to get roles." Sylvester said, nervously, as Louisa sat down opposite him. "Excuse me, I was just wondering, is there a way that I could do this without putting it in the computer? Or, like, without needing to touch the devices." Sylvester asked, because that would require him to log in, and set traps up... his creators child logged on for him, and Granny helped move things along, but this was all him... unless...

"Is there a way of accessing the scripts andplans...without using a computer?" Louisa asked, shock.

"Or maybe someone could print it out for me,and then I could do the reading on paper, or like, conduct others to build the traps." Sylvesteroffered, nervously, but saw Louisa looked shocked.

Suddenly, a spoon against a mug sounded, and they all looked over.

"Okay, who's excited by the training initiative?" Called Nigel Tompkins. "Let's see some hands. Yeah?" He raised his own hand, and others followed suit, including Sylvester who wanted to join in.

"Just so that you know, Norman,I've registered a complaint with HRabout this whole training initiative nonsense." Said one of the cartoon ladies, and an old man nodded, raising a mug.

"It's a team-building exercise, Janice." Nigel said. "And, um, just so as you know,there's no "I" in "team", yeah?" He said, waving his spoon.

"But there's two "I's" in "building", Nigel." Said Norman, leaning against the desk. "And an "I" in "exercise"."

Sylvester was typing away, trying to log in.

"Yeah. Alright. So, can I have everybody's attention, please?" Snapped Nigel, seeing Sylvester not listening.

"Sorry, I've just got to hit return and I'll be with you." Sylvesterapologised, and hit return, but then, all the computers turned off, as did the lights, and everyone looked around shocked. Sylvester went white, the black trickling out of his fur, and winced, "sorry, just not very good with computers."

And that's how he found himself leaving, holding a box of his belongings, just as quickly as he entered.

"Need a hand, Dick?" Asked one of the girls, walking passed; she could have been insulting him, or...

"My name's not actually Dick. It's the car's name." Sylvestersaid, and smiled - yes, he owns a car, he has to when he had to get place to place. "You can ask me why, if you like." But, she kept walking, and he frowned, as the things in his box fell out, and onto the ground. Today is not his day.

Stepping passed the US Border, Pepé gave hispassport over, "hello."

The Immigration Officer looked at the passport, "Pep-eLayPew?"

"Pepé Le Pew. It's an old cartoon name." Pepé said, quickly.

"Purpose of your visit to the United States?" The Officer asked, looking to him.

"Well, I'm commanded by an ancient family prophecy. I'm going to use all the wisdom and witchcraft at my disposalto hunt down the heart of darkness,and then do all that I can to destroy itbefore it brings about the end of the world." Pepé said, as if it made perfect sense; it did always get people talking back in France.

"I'm sorry?" Asked the Officer, unable to care. She just wanted to go home.

"Vacation." Pepé said with a smile - it's easier.

"Hello, Lily." Said Sylvester into the phone. "The new job? Yeah, it's going really well." He lisped out, it was sometimes there, and other times not. "They're great. They love me." He looked around. He was walking the streets of the Cartoon Rejects, he was not great, they were not great, he was jobless, this was terrible!

"Walk past them with your noses in the air." Came a female voice.

"Bye, Lily." Sylvester hung up, and paused, seeing a tall female rabbit, with pale brown fur, and looked a little faded, stoodon a box.

"There's only one thing we have to fear, you cowards,and it's not global warming, and it's not nuclear Armageddon." Came the girlsvoice, she was old, her voice sounded faded too, and a bit grainy, Sylvester noted, and she was holding a sign.

"Can anyone here tell me what it is?" She asked, but got nothing. "Ha! You don't answer. You don't answer, because you know it's true."

The sign read;WITCHES-BLIGHT CROPS/CAST THE EVIL EYE/DANCE NAKED (an abomination) WORSHIP THE DEVIL - HAVE TOO MANY NIPPLES/CALL THEIR CATS FUNNY NAMES!

"They are hidden in our midst." The bunny called, and Sylvester walked forward, shocked. "I'm the thin red line that stands between humanity and the darkness. Yea, I'm talking about..."

"Witches?" Asked Sylvester, confused.

"Yep, witches." Nodded the bunny. "They lurk behind a facade of righteousness. And there's nobody can stop them...but me!"

Something about this rabbit, made him want to stay, as you just couldn't help but like her.

"In the old days, Witchfinders were respected." The retired toonsaid, as they stood outside a Hot Dog stand. "Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder General he used to charge each town and village ninepencefor every witch he found. And they paid." Shesaid with a smile, as they waited behind the two other customers.

"Are you, um, Witchfinder General?" Asked Sylvester, a lot more relaxed.

"Oh, I am not." The woman said, shaking her head. "There is no longer a Witchfinder General. Nor is there a Witchfinder Colonel, a Witchfinder Major, not even a Witchfinder Captain. There is, however, a Witchfinder Sergeant. And you're looking at her." She smiled, handing over a business card.

Sylvester looked it over, and smiled. "Well, pleased to meet you, Ms. Lola."

The customers went, and Lola turned, "um, cup of coffee. Nine sugars. And a packet of cheese and onion chips." She lived in the glory days of animation, but as time grew, she found herself unable to grow with it, so she ended up with the Rejects, turns out, it's also the Retired. But, the Retired Toons could go off on their own to get their own places.

"Coming right up."

"Get your wallet out, buddy." Said Lola, and Sylvester stopped smiling, quickly getting out his wallet. "Bit of advice: You never want to appear tight-fisted on first acquaintance." She took Sylvester money, handing it over.

"Thank you."

"And it's not "Ms. Lola". It's "Sergeant". Witchfinder Sergeant Lola." She said. "What's your name, cat?"

"Sylvester. Sylvester puss*cat." Sylvester said.

"And, you're creator?" Lola asked, tapping her big foot.

"Uh,Isadore Freleng,"Sylvester said. "But, everyone called him "Friz"."

Lola frowned, and looked over, "Freleng? That's a familiar name, now you mention it." She swears she's seen that name somewhere before... but where? "You have your own teeth?" She asked, taking the change.

"Yes," said Sylvester, reaching out to take the change, but dropped his hand as Lola pocketed the change.

"How many nipples have you got?" Lola asked, stuffing the chips into her back pocket.

"What?" Asked Sylvester shocked.

"Nipples, Sly. How many?" Asked Lola again, taking the coffee.

"Um, just the usual amount," assured Sylvester, confused about the entire interaction. Is he meant to have more?

"Okay..." Lola said, and handed over a newspaper, with a circle around a section in blue biro. "Be here at 11:00 tomorrow. Bring scissors."

"What?" Asked Sylvester.

"Scissors! Scissors! Are you deaf?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I've got some scissors. I'm not deaf."

Lola nodded, and walked away.

Sylvester looked down to the advertisem*nt;

JOIN THE PROFESSIONALS. PART TIME ASSISTANT REQUIRED TO COMBAT THE FORCES OF DARKNESS. UNIFORM, BASIC TRAINING PROVIDED. FIELD PROMOTION CERTAIN. BE A MAN!

Witchfinder Sergeant Lola

Telephone: 0207 946 7725

Operations Base United States, Flat 36b, 11 Lismore In, Crouch End, California

JASMINE COTTAGE, POLARIS CENTRAL PARK,

THURSDAY,

TWO DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

Pepé pushed his bike up to Jasmine Cottage, it was old and lovely, and had lovely green leaves, with a woman following behind him, carrying boxes.

See, he couldn't get jobs anymore. His character was cancelled, but he's French, he can't stop, so his early retirement was not something he enjoyed, though it gave him time for his... extracurricular activity...

He grinned, taking his bike in, and said, "just put it there. Thanks so much." He said, pointing to the kitchen counter, and the man walked over, setting it down. "What a gorgeous park, huh?" He payed the woman, and shesmiled, and he said, "thank you."

He sighed, relaxing. He took out the old, faded Book, and pushed a pin in an old, faded map, and a stereotypical picture of the a beast. He pushed a pin in Warner Brothers Studio, and connected it to the beast.

"Right. To work."

Daffy sat there for hours in his desk chair, that was more like a throne. He just stared at either his modern phone he had messed with for a few hours, (he was angeringTwitterpeople on a burner account), or stared at his scriptthat he hadn't read for hours, or his window, with birds that slammed into the window due to it being so clean. He was feeling sick from the conversation he just had with the Duke's. He found himself slouching, waddling inhis large, golden chair in defeat and fear. "Easy job." He sighed out, "deliver the Antichrist. Keep an eye on them. A fine, straightforward job, eh?"He was beginning to breath rather harshly, finding himself on the edge of a mad panic, his non-existent heart was in his stomach, acid burning away at it. "Not the kind of thing any demon is going to screw up, right?" He asked the air, and clumsily got up, and out of his seat with a wobble.

He picked up a cheap, green plant mister, and went to his small room full of houseplants, they were huge and green and glorious, with shiny, healthy, lustrous leaves, and began spraying water, coating soil and leaves.

The only things in the flat Daffy devotes any personal attention to are the houseplants.

He had heard about talking to plants in the early '70's, and thought it an excellent idea. Although "talking"is perhaps the wrong word for what Daffy does.

He paused in spraying the water, and set the mister down. He reached out, his black feathered index finger and thumb gently twisting and inspecting a small plant with a slowly growing leaf. It was green, and smooth, luscious, it was rather beautiful. Expect for one thing, "is that a spot?" He questioned, looking around the room, his voice echoing, as his duck eyes hardened, "is it?" He quackedout angrily, his eyebrows pulled together in anger.

The leaves and plants began shaking with rustling leaves, quivering in pure terror and fear.

"Right, you know what I've told you all about leaf thpotth." Daffy warned, his voice stern. At first, one would say it sounded like he was telling off a child, (though a certain angel would laugh in your face, remembering all those times he let Dewey off the hook, and not because he's a demon. No, he just had a soft spot for children.) If you waited a second, you could hear the ducks voice getting angrier, and angrier as he turned to look at the scared plants, "I will not thtand for them!" He yelled out, spraying spit, looking around the small garden room, eyes moving from one plant to another. His voice was now more duck-like than human.

The shaking and trembling was more vigorous now, the leaves were in fear.

He looked down to the plant, and picked it up. It was rather small, and tiny, growing slowly, and scowled at it, "you know what you've done. You've dithappointed me," he shook his head with a sigh, tutting as he did, "oh, dear. Oh, dear."

"Everyone!" He called out, holding the plant up for all the other plantsto see, and away from him as if it was filth, saunteringthe room, showing it off."Thay goodbye to your friend! He just couldn't cutit."

He waddled off, down the long hall and looked to the plant in his hands, "now, thithithgoing to hurt you so much more than it will hurt me."He smirked, maliciously. He suddenly turned, and leaned in, looking to the rest of his now quivering indoor garden. "And you guyth,grow better!" He screeched out with a quack, his voice echoing the walls, before sauntering off totheroom.

Theroom the poor plants feared.

What he does is put the fear of God into them. More precisely, the fear of Daffy.

The plants are the most luxurious, verdant and beautiful in California.

The sound of a shredder went off from the back room, it echoed the quiet and rather empty flat. (It should be noted, he just presses a button on the shredding machine. The plants that don't look as nice, are planted outside, and are brought back in when they pick up the pace. It's all a, successful, fear tactic. It's just the way Hell talks down to him, and so he does the same, unlike Hell though, he gives them some slack.)

Also, the most terrified.

If plants could cry, they'd be in tears.

Daffy casually walked back to the room after about an hour, and so they stopped shaking, not wanting to displeasure him more. He looked at them all, and suddenly, he held up an empty plant pot between his index finger and middle finger, and he would leave it somewhere conspicuously around the flat. The question is; where?

"Well, I would need to check da shelves mac, but I know I have a first edition from 1740 ofPast Present and To Comeby Shipton's Yorkshire Prophecies, red morocco, binding only slightly frayed." Bugssaid, his antique phone pressed to his ear, reading glasses on his face as usual, despite the fact he doesn't need them. "I think I priced it at four-hundred dollars." He looked outside the shop window, wanting this potential customer off the phone, he doesn't sell things! He loves everything in his shop too much! It's times like this he wish he hadn't advertised he had prophecy books; a weird thing to collect, but let him do what he wanted.

He stared, and froze for a millisecond. A mother stood on top of the small, wet stairs, at least five steps or more, and she screamed, as a light blue coloured pram rolled down the steps, and into oncoming traffic, cars whizzing this way and that.

"I also have," Bugs flicked his hand, from up to left, and watched the pram turn around the corner. The mother cried in relief, and he smiled, "several... later less desirable editions." He continued with an easy flow, smiling looking away. (It's rather funny watching people get excited over the graphic, or well, disturbingimages in the shows, when Bugsis an angel.He doesn't even swear! (That's right, you'll notice so far, the angel hasn't sworn once!))

"I'll set it aside for ya." Smiled Bugs, remembering the days of Daffy trying to convince him to swear, and Bugs stating firmly "no". "Well, we do specialise in early editions ofbooks of prophecy is dere anything else ya looking for?" Yeah, these books had gotten him into trouble once. That was awkward.

"The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Maltese, Witch?" Questioned Bugs, "I'm so sorry mac, I can't help ya."

He laughed light with a scoff, "well, of course I know who she was! Born 1600, exploded 1656! But dere are no copies of her book available." He smiled, "no, I can't name my price. I don't have it. Nobody has—"

He scowled in disgust, "watch ya language, pal."

He slammed the phone down, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his pink nose twitching. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand with a dreamy smile;what he would give tothat book... might even have something to do with the end of the world in there...

Sylvesterstood at the door, and rang Madam Marisol Mallard's door bell; 36 A.

A female duck, her brunettehair done up, in rather skimpy clothes, though was rather old, answered the door.

"Hello," he began, tentatively. "I saw your advert."

"Which one, love?" She asked in a deep voice,savvy voice.

"Er, the one in the paper."

"Right, love. Well, Madame Marisol Mallard Draws Aside the Veil every afternoon except Thursdays. Parties welcome. When would you be wanting to Explore the Mysteries, love?"

Sylvester hesitated. "I think there must be another advert..."

"Oh, right! Then you're wanting Tina Russo... me still." Madame Mallard, or well Tina every other day, said, "come in, dear. You're lucky. One of my regulars had to cancel."

Sylvester walked in, the door shutting behind him, following the woman, looking around.

"Now, I don't do anything kinky except by prior arrangement. And my knees aren't what they were." Madame Tina said, (Sylvester decided to call her that, it's easier) looking forlorn at that. She led him upstairs, "also, if it's strict discipline you'll be wanting, you'd better tell me now because it can take me half an hour to squeeze into the leather pinny."

"I'm sorry?" Asked Sylvester, shocked and mortified. She seemed to sweet, savvy,and old, what's she going on about discipline, leather, and kinky knees for?!

Madame Tina paused, and looked to him, "are you not here for intimate personal relaxationand stress relief for the discerning gentleman?"

"No. I'm here to join the Witchfinder Army," Sylvester swallowed.

Suddenly, Madame Tina smiled softly. "Oh, Ms. Lolasaid she was expecting a visitor!" She continued on, and he followed. "It's just been her for so long." She stopped at the door, and knocked softly.

The door swung open, and out stepped Lola. "What?!"

"It's your new recruit, Ms Lola, look." Said the lady, gesturing to an awkward Sylvester.

"Away with you, harlot! Scarlet woman! Jezebel!" Lola yelled abuse, but Madame Tina wasn't bothered.

In fact, she seemed rather bashful. "Oh, Ms Lola. I'll bring you both coffee." She looked to Sylvester, in that soft motherly way, old ladies have. "Milk and sugar, Mr?"

Sylvester smiled, and opened his mouth.

"He's in the army now, Jezebel. He'll make his own coffee!" Lola said, and scoffed when the door shut. "Welcome to the Witchfinder Army, new recruit." She said, as Sylvester walked into the flat. "You are, as of now, Witchfinder Private puss*cat."

Sylvester always tried to see the best in everyone, but it had occurred to him shortly after joining the WA that his superior and only fellow soldier was as well balanced as an upturned pyramid. "Shortly," in this case, meant under five seconds. The moment he walked through the door.

The WA's headquarters was a fetid room with walls the colour of dark black from the coal fire, smoke which was almost certainly what they were coated with, and a floor the colour of coal ash, which was almost certainly what it was. There was a small square of carpet. Sylvester avoided walking on it if possible, because it sucked at his feet, and tore off fur.

One of the walls had a yellowing map of the America California Isles tacked to it, with homemade flags sticking in it here and there; most of them were within a Cheap Day Return fare of California.

Really, Sylvester should have turned around, and walked straight back out. Bur he didn't,because, well, horrified fascination had quicklyturned into horrified pity and then a sort of horrified affection. Lola wore clothes which, no matter what they actually were, always turned up even in your short-term memory as an old mackintosh. The old woman may have had all his own teeth, but only because no one else could possibly have wanted them; just one of them, placed under the pillow, would have made the Tooth Fairy hand in its wand.

She appeared to live entirely on sweet coffee, condensed milk, old and worn toothpicks, and a sort of sullen internal energy. Lola had a Cause, which she followed with the full resources of her soul and her Pensioner's Concessionary Travel Pass. She believed in it. It powered him like a turbine.

In less than two days,he found he rather liked Lola. People often did, much to Lola's annoyance. The Rajits who owned the building liked her because she always eventually paid her rent and didn't cause any trouble, and was racist in such a glowering, un-directed way that it was quite inoffensive; it was simply that Lola hated everyone in the world, rather bitter about her stolen fame and her early retirement which she did not want, she hated everyone;regardless of caste, colour, or creed, and wasn't going to make any exceptions for anyone.

Madame Tina liked her.

Apparently, sometimes Lola would stand in the corridor between their rooms and shout things like "hoor of Babylon!" but she told Sylvesterprivately that she'd always felt rather gratified about this even though the closest she'd been to Babylon was Torremolinos.

It was like free advertising, she said.

She said she didn't mind her banging on the wall and swearing during her seance afternoons, either. Her knees had been giving her gyp and she wasn't always up to operating the table rapper, she said, so a bit of muffled thumping came in useful.

On Sundays she'd leave Lola a bit of dinner on her doorstep, with another plate over the top of it to keep it warm.

You couldn't help liking Lola, Tina had said. For all the good it did, though, she might as well be flicking bread pellets into a black hole.

See, Tina was a background character of an old Looney Show, having gone through repainting more times then one could count. So, she left on her own terms, and while she wad faded in colour, and her voice rather old, she was happy just making ends meet. In fact, the name "Marisol Mallard" is what Tina wasoriginallymeant to be called, but they chose Tina Russo in the end.

But, that's a few days down the line, and this is now, so lets bring it back to now, yes?

"We used to be powerful." Lola said, as Sylvester poured coffee, "we used to be important. "Condensed milk, cat. And I take..."

"Nine sugars," Sylvester spoke up, opening and closing the fridge, just as quickly with a gag.

"Exactly." Nodded Lola, "we were the line of firebetween the darkness and the poor unsuspecting folkwho don't believe in witches."

"But, Sergeant Lola,don't the churches do that these days?" Asked Sylvester, walking forward nervously.

"Nah, cat." Sneered Lola, shaking her head. "Against the darkness? It's a War. And you know what our first weapon is?"

Sylvester blinked, and pointed to a glass case.

Lola turned her head. It contained the Regimental silver patent muzzle-loading, "Thundergun of Witchfinder-Colonel Ye-Shall-Not-Eat-Any-Living-Thing-With-The-Blood-Neither-Shall-Ye-Use-Enchantment-Nor-Observe-Times Dalrymple. Also known asThe Thundergun of Witchfinder Colonel "Get 'em before they get you" Dalrymple". Lolasaid with a smile, "nah cat. That'll never be used again. Not in this degenerate age."

Then Sylvester blinked.The male catwasn't deaf. And he did have his own yellow scissors. And, he pulled them out.

"Very good. And you know what we do with them?" Asked Lola with a proud smile.

Sylvester held them at the plastic handles, and stab the air.

"No, cat." Lola picked up a stack of news papers and set them down. "We read. And we cut."

Sylvesterlooked down, and saw a note attached to the top.

1) Witches.

2) Unexplainable Phenomenons. Phenomenatrices. Phenomenice. Things, youknowell what I mean!

Chapter 18: searching...

Chapter Text

The phone rang, and Daffy saunteredover to his desk. There was his answering machine;'Hey, this is DuckDaffy. You know what to do. Do it with thtyle.'He stood over the phone, listening in.

"No leads yet my end. Anything at your end?"Came Bugs annoyed, yet nervous voice, clipped and worried."Listen, I have sorta... anidea."

Daffy picked up the phone, "what?" He snapped, though of course it was not aimed towards the angel.

"Ah, hey. When ya did thecartoon swap eleven years ago, could something have gone wrong?"

"How, they were Thatanist! My kind!" Snapped Daffy, sitting on his desk his teeth bared, "I don't theehowthey could have messed it up! I mean, two cartoons, It's not exactly taxing, is it..." He sighed, rubbing his beak, sniffing. He was rather exasperated, and tapped his flipper.

Bugs hesitated,"what if derewas another mix up...? Like, dey swapped it back?"

Daffy went to repeat what he said, that they were his lot, but his eyes widened. Through the mists of his memory he pictured a small Drawer, who had struck him at the time as being remarkably loose-headed even for a Satanist. And there had been someone else. Daffy vaguely recalled a pipe, and a cardigan with the kind of zigzag pattern that went out of style in 1938. A woman with "expectant creator" written all over her. Suddenly,he grumbled out, "wot?"

There must have been a third cartoon.

The two zoomed down the street in Daffy's sleek black Bentley, weaving through traffic and cars. Daffy was gripping the wheel in anger, sunglasses on and next to him was Bugs, who was clinging to the seats in terror.

"You've lost the child." Bugs said, glancing to the demon, waving his hands.

"We'velost them." Daffy corrected, swallowing.

Bugs sighed, and held his hands up in defence, in an almost dismissive manner, "achild has been lost." He held up a finger,"but yastill know their status—"

"Weknow." Daffycorrected again, nodding, eyes wide.

"Their birthday. They're aLegacy Cartoon!" The angel continued.

"You make it thound easy." Daffysaid, voice full of doubt and disbelief.

"Well, it can't be dat hard," sighed Bugs, fiddling with his fingers. "Ihope nothing's happened tothem." He frowned, eyes sad and face full of worry.

"Happened?" Daffy asked,incredulously, eyebrows up his forehead, voice full of disbelief. He gave out a dull laugh, "nothing has happened to them.Theyhappento everything." He turned the wheel, barely missing a car. "Trust me, they'realive."

"How do we know?"

"If they had turned up Down There again, do you really think I'd still be sitting here?"

Bugs tensed up at that, feeling sick at the thought of Daffy gone, "good point."He letout a shaky breath, "we needto find their birth records."

"Yes, right... go through the hospital files." Daffy frowned, having just thought of something. "And then what?" He asked.

"We find da child." Said Bugs, swallowing, breathing clipped. He was smiling, nervously, raising his hands and dropping them with what he hoped was ease. He washoping the demon didn't crash, and hoped he didn't ask for further explanation, but of course, luck was not on his side.

Daffy frowned and shook his head. He looked to the angel,"and then what?"

"Good grief doc, I don't know!" Bugs admitted, rubbing his eyes tiredly.The demonwas right - then what? Neither really thought about this plan much, huh? He was just throwing out ideas and plans!

"I suppose —get off the road you clown!— your people wouldn't consider —and the scooter you rode in on!— giving me asylum?" Daffy asked, yelling at idiots on the road as he talked, voice thick with worry, yet his face held a bitter, playful smile.

Bugs let out a dead laugh, clinging to the edge of his seat, "I was gonna ask ya da same thing —watch out for that pedestrian!"

Daffy turned the wheel harshly, swerving the car out of the way, and the pedestrian screamed, dodging. Daffy looked to Bugs, "she's on the street. She knows of the risk she's taking!"

"Just watch da-watch da road!" Called Bugs, in terror pointing forward as Daffy looked to him. The demon sighed and looked forward for the sake of the male presenting being next to him. With a shaky breathe, and tense muscles, Bugs asked, "wh-where is dis Drawing Board, anyway?"

"A place near the north of Abraham LincolnPark, Brighton." Daffy answered, it was eleven years ago, he's not that certain anymore...

"Daffylove cup," Bugs said, pointing to the dial on Daffy's dashboard,"ya can't do ninetymiles per hour in Central California!" He said, eyes fearful.

"Why not?" Asked Daffy, in genuine confusion, looking to the angel. His hands were off the steering wheel held up in bewilderment.

"You'll get us killed!" Bugs reasoned, but then paused, realising what he had just said.

Daffy sighed, and went to slow down, "right, well..." He too paused, his hand no longer moving to the gear stick.

They slowly looked to each other, and blinked. Six thousand years on Earth, living as humans, they forget they aren't human at times, life would be much simpler, being a human, or mortal, rather than an angel and a demon. Bugs reached over, and gently took Daffy's hand, who squeezed his hand gently.

"Well, inconveniently discorporated."Bugs reasoned, softly, with a flourish of his hands. He looked down, looking to the music Daffy had in his car, "music. Why don't I put on a little... music?" He reached over, picking up a CD case and frowned in complete confusion, "what's a Velvet Underground?" He asked, seeing the title;The Very Best of The Velvet Underground.

"You wouldn't like it." Assured Daffy with a sneer, the CD had been in his car for over a fortnight, for over twenty-four hours - it would play Velvet Underground's "Under Pressure"no doubt.

"Oh. Bebop." Nodded Bugs with a hum, missing the horrified expression the demon gave him.

Daffy raised a eyebrow to a confident looking Bugs,and turned the wheel, distractingBugs who yellin shock, bracing himself against the seat.

"Ah, dis is more like it. Tchaikovsky," said Bugs, opening a case and slotting its cassette into the Blaupunkt.

"You won't enjoy it," sighed Daffy. "It'thbeen in the car for more than a fortnight."

A heavy bass beat began to thump through the Bentley as they sped past Heathrow.

Bugs brow furrowed. "I don't recognise dis," he said. "What is it?"

"It's Tchaikovthky'th"Another One Bites the Dutht"."

The Them exited the Ice Cream Shop, with Dog waiting patiently outside, all our holding ice cream.

"I still can't believe your creators and Dr.Scratchansniff let you keep him, Wakko." Dot said, holding a vanilla ice cream.

"You know, when wefound a catwe had to put up a notice saying we found a lost cat," Brain said, holding mint ice cream.

"And then we had to give her back." Pinkysaid, holding a strawberry ice cream, and it wasdripping down his hand.He grinned, and wrapped his lips around his chocolate ice cream messily.

"It's my birthday." Wakko said, in a tone that was not meant to be argued with it. They untied Dog from the gate. "And he wasn't wearing a collar. And we asked, and nobody's reported a missing dog."

Dog stretched it's back.

"Well, you dog doesn't like me," Yakko said, holding a chocolate ice cream. "It pretends I'm not there."

"Did you know that Dr.Scratchansniffsays that in Florida,they have shops that sell 39 different flavors of ice cream!" Smiled Yakkoin delightat the thought.

It was widely believed that he had once been created with the name Yakky, but changed to Yakko, though his creators called him"Youngster". They did this in the subconscious hope that he might take the hint; that he didn't need to be an adult for his siblings and that he could remain a child.Though he still talks and yaks away.

"There aren't 39 different flavors of ice cream." Said Brainin a superior tone. "There aren't 39 flavors of ice cream in the whole world."

"There could be if you mixed them up!" Whined Pinky, before hesmiled, and licked the ice cream.

Every gang needs a Pinky and Brain. One under an apparently permanent layer of grime, always supportive of anything Wakko invents or needs. While the other was sensible, and smart, and kept everyone in check, and gavethe impression of having been born with a mental age of forty-seven. Though both as dirty as the other.

"Well, there aren't 39 flavors of ice cream in the whole world," assured Dot, in a tone that suggested only she was right, before smiling and licking her ice cream.

Dot's fullnamewas Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca III. She had been given them as a reference toPippi Longstocking's full name. Though, it had been decided to call her thatin a muddy valley field that contained several sheepand a number of leaky polythene tents. (Her creator had chosen the Welsh valley of Pant-y-Gyrdl as the ideal site to Return to Nature.) Six months later, sick of the rain, the men,the sheep who ate first their marijuana crop and then their tents,Dot's creator returned to Warner Brothers and enrolled in a animation course.

There are only two ways a creation can go with a name like Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca III, and Dot had chosen theone in which she didn't need to tell her second and third name: the two outsider males in The Them had learned this on their first day of recording, in Stage 5, at the very beginningof their career.

They had asked her her name, and, all innocent, she had told them. Subsequently a bucket of water had been needed to separatePrincess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca III'steeth from Pinky'sshoe that he had worn to be smart. Brain's fur had been torn out, and Wakko and Yakko, who had been cheering their sister on the entire time, needed theirclothes fixed withfive stitches, as they had joined in at some point.

The Them were together from then on, and Dot was Dot only forever, except to her creator, and (when they were feeling especially courageous, and the Them were almost out of earshot) Greasy Johnson and the Johnsonites, the Warner Brothers only other gang that mainly lived in the reject world.

"There could be, if you mixed them up!" Pinky repeated, ice cream all down his front, and around his mouth, and down his hand. "You know, strawberry and chocolate!"

They all began walking down a road in the Warner Brothers Lot.

"Vanilla and chocolate. Chocolate and vanilla."Pinky listed, eating away.

"Strawberry and vanilla and chocolate," Brain added suddenly, that sounded nice actually.

"Anyway, nobody's going to take Dog away from me." Wakkosaid, holding the leash of Dog. "We're together to the end. Aren't we, boy?"

"Eye of newt and tongue of dog,north by northwest." Mumbled Pepé, holding out his copper dowsing rods. "There. And it's southwest." Hesaid suddenly, and turned, but it moved again, and he dropped his arms, annoyed. "It must be here somewhere."

"There's a witch moved in to Jasmine Cottage." Dot said.

"That's stupid," Yakko said, as they all sat around their usual hang out in Stage 16, chomping on a packet of chips.

"It's not stupid, stupid." Came Pinky's slow, yet annoyed voice.

"Mrs Henderson told Dr.Scratchansniffthat the skunk there gets a witches' newspaper," Dot said.

"Excuse me, Dot." Brain said, and glared ather sharp gaze. "My research says there's no such thing as witches."

"It makes sense that witches would have their own newspaper." Wakko said suddenly in thought. "Kassygets the Angler's Times, and Angelica reads it too, and I bet there's loads more witches than anglers."

"Shut up. I'm trying to tell you things!" Snapped Dot, "it's called the Psychic News. He's a witch."

"That's not witches," said Brain. "My creator has that. That's just spoon-bending and fortune-telling and people thinking they were Queen Elizabeth the First in another life. There's no witches any more, actually. People invented medicines and that and told them they didn't need them any more and started burning them."

"It could have pictures of frogs and things," said Pinky, who was reluctant to let a good idea go to waste.

"Androad tests of broomsticks. And a cats column." Yakko said in delight.

"Anyway, your creator could be a witch," said Dot. "In secret. She could be your creator all day and go witching at night."

"Not my creator," said Braindarkly.

"And recipes," said Yakko, still talking. "New uses for leftover toad."

"Oh, shut up," said Dot.

Pinky snorted. If it had been Brain who had said that, there'd have been a half-hearted scuffle, as between friends. But the other Them had long ago learned that Dot did not consider herself bound by the informal conventions of brotherly scuffles. She could kick and bite with astonishing physiological accuracy for a girl of ten. Besides, at varying, yet looney, wackyyearsthe Them were beginning to be bothered by the dim conception that laying hands on good ole Pep moved things into blood-thumping categories they weren't entirely at home with yet, besides earning you a snake-fast blow that would have floored the Karate Kid. But she was good to have in your gang.

They remembered with pride the time when Greasy Johnson and his gang had taunted them for playing with a girl. Dot had erupted with a fury that had caused Greasy's creator to come round that evening and complain.

(Greasy Johnson was a sad and oversized cartoon. There's one in every studio; not exactly fat, but simply huge and wearing almost the same size clothes as his creator. Paper tore under his tremendous fingers, pens shattered in his grip. Children whom he tried to play with in quiet, friendly games ended up getting under his huge feet, and Greasy Johnson had become a bully almost in self-defence. After all, it was better to be called a bully, which at least implied some sort of control and desire, than to be called a big clumsy oaf. He was the despair of the sports master, because if Greasy Johnson had taken the slightest interest in sport, then the studio could have been champions for Super Bowl Shorts. But Greasy Johnson had never found a sport that suited him. He was instead secretly devoted to his tap dancing classes, which won him prizes. Greasy Johnson was created the same day as Wakko Warner, to within a few hours, and hiscreators had never told him he was adopted, rather than originally created by them. See? You were right about the tap dancing.)

"Anyway," Brain said, "there are no more witches, because we invented scienceand all the vicars set fire to the witches for their own good. It was called the Spanish Inquisition."

Wakko looked shocked. "I don't reckon it's allowed, going round setting fire to people. Otherwise people'd be doing it all the time." Again, they might have thought of Greasy Johson.

"It's alright if you're a vicar and it stops the witches from going to hell." Said Pinky through a mouthful of food. "So I expect they'd be quite grateful if they understood it properly."

Brain stopped Pinky from eating anymore.

"We could be the new Spanish Inquisition," said Wakko suddenly.

"Actually, we can't be the Spanish Inquisition,because we're not actually Spanish," Brain reminded, and Dot hummed - it was a good point.

"I've been to Barcelona," Yakko said, as he was taken on a trip with his creator."I can teach you Spanish."

Pinky swallowing his food. "Don't they say "olé" a lot."

"We should practice before we start burning witches. We should start small and work our way up." Nodded Wakko, looking between their friends.

"Leave it to me." Assured Dot.

"Dis is theBrightonarea." Bugs said, as Daffy drove down the long, winding roads. There were tall, green trees on each side of the road, that went on for miles and miles, and unlike the last time Daffy was here, it was daytime. "Does it look familiar?"

"You know, it doeth. I know it's a long drive from The Lot, but there's houses allaround here." Daffysaid, looking around outside his window.

Bugsfrowned and leaned forward, also looking, "houses?"

"Well, you don't think Disney workers usually bright creations to life in little religious drawing boards, where anyone call walk in due to it being "fair ground" in the middle of nowhere, do you?" Asked Daffy, glancing between the angel and the road.

Bugs frowned in thought at that, it was a rather good point...

"No, it all had to seem to happen naturally, so there's a load of houses around Brighton." Explained Daffy, waving his hand that was pressed against the car wheel. He looked out the window. He looked to Bugs, "things started to happen, base drawing room isn't ready. "Oh", our man there said. "There's a drawing board just down the road." And there we were." Daffy explained, as Bugs nodded. "Rather good organisation."

Bugs scoffed, and mumbled out sarcastically, "flawless."

"It should have worked!" Daffy defended with a sigh.

Bugs let out a deep sigh, that sounded ever so slightly righteous. "Ya see, evil always contains da seeds of its own destruction. It is ultimately negative, and derefore encompasses its downfall even at its moments of apparent triumph. No matter how grandiose, how well-planned, how apparently foolproof an evil plan, the inherent sinfulness will by definition rebound upon its instigators. No matter how apparently successful it may seem upon da way, at da end it will wreck itself. It will founder upon the rocks of iniquity and sink headfirst to vanish without trace into the seas of oblivion."

"Alright War and Peathe, relax." Scoffed Daffy. He sighed, "for my money it was just an ordinary co*ck-up."

Bugs gave Daffyan annoyed look. Or, at least that's what he hoped it looked like, and not a stupidly fond smile, as Ludwig van Beethoven: Symphonien 1-9 "We Will Rock You" guitar riff played.

Pepé held a dangling pendant, his book out, when he heard barking. He looked over. There were three boys, one animal and one girl, and a dog. One was in a hat, and held a broom, one held a stick spear, another held a sword, one held a fake dagger, and the other held a staff.

"Hey, guys," she greeted, and gotgreetings back in return. "Nice hat." She said, as she began walking with them.

"Actually, we made it out of cardboard," Brainsaid.

"It's for our game!" Pinky smiled.

"Stylish." Pepé said, looking to the children. "What are you guys playing?"

"The British Inquisition." Said Brain.

"Come on, Brain," Dot dragged Brain over, now in a red raincoat, and Brain slowlywalked over.

"Sounds like fun," said Pepé. "How does the game work?"

"I am chief inquisitor. Yakkois head torturer," Wakkopointed to Yakko, who jabbed his spear to Pepé, who backed up. "And we're trying to find a witch."

"Oh. Sounds very sensible." Said Pepé, a bit uncomfortable. "'Ow do you do that?"

"Watch." Wakkosaid, and pointed their staff at Brain. "Art thou a witch?"

"Ole!" Yelled Yakko, pointing his spear at Brain, who was grabbed by Dot, and shook, while Pinky called "ole" a second too late.

"Yes?" Brain said, unsure.

"You can't say yes," sighed Dot, letting go."You've got to say no."

"Then what?" Asked Brain, as they continued their walk.

"Then we torture you until you say yes." Grinned Wakko.

"Wait, you're going to torture him?" Asked Pepé shocked, and horrified.

"We built a torturing machine," grinned Wakko, not noticing a worried hum from Pepé.

They walked into the middle of a tree, which held a tire by rope.

"It looks like a swing." Pepé said.

"But, obviously, in this situation, I actually am a witch." Said Brain, holding the tire, and looking to Dot. "I have a big pointy hat, and we have a cat at home, and... And I borrowed my creators broom." He got on the swing, and Yakko began pushing him, not even noticing Pinky jump on and laugh, swinging.

"Look, no one's saying you can't be a witch,but you just have to say you're not a witch." Said Dot, now highly annoyed. "There's no point taking all this troubleif you're going to go round saying yes the minute we ask you. Just say no!"

"But... I am a witch!" Brain reasoned, eyes wide.

"Yes but —"

"So, if I'm a witch, why add lying onto the equation and make me worse. Wouldn't I want less torture?" Brain offered.

"Art thou a witch, oh, evil crone?" Snapped Wakko.

"Excuse me, Wakko, why must I do all the work?" Yakko asked, as he stopped pushing Brain.

"I'm being tortured here. Actually, this is very painful." Assured Brain, though he was having fun. "I am thinking of admitting to being a witch."

"I'm a witch!" Called Pinky, wanting to be pushed more.

Dotrolled her eyes.

"I'm going to go home if I can't have a go," Yakkosaid, "don't see why evil witches should have all the fun."

"You have to keep pushing!" Whined Pinky, and Yakko sighed, pushing.

"Hey, kid," Pepé said.

"Yeah?" Wakko said, looking over.

"Can I ask you something?" Asked Pepé.

"Yeah." Said Wakko.

"Are there any great beasts or strange things happening?" Asked Pepé, flipping though her notebook.

"Well, there's Dog. I mean, he's a beast." Wakko said, and looked to Dog. "Come on, Dog, say hello." Dog barked, and whined, and looked to his Master's friends.

"Not what I was looking for." Smiled Pepé.

"Hold on. I have to tell them what to do." Said Wakko, looking over. "All right, evil witch Brain and Pinky, don't do it again." They finished lamely unsure what to do. "And now you get off the torturing swing and let someone else have a turn!"

"Right, well, you kids are hilarious,but I'm going to keep looking, so, bye!" Pepé said, wand backed away, waving, and Wakko raised their staff in goodbye.

Pepé decided to follow a weak source, it was a ride, but he could make it with shortcuts.

The building seemed old in a way, yet not in others. Clustered and cluttered, and looked to be steaming. Bugs and Daffy got out the car, and Bugs respectfully walked along the cobble path, while Daffy sauntered over the grass (every little helps). The two looked up to the building. It was the same, yet somehow so incredibly different then what the demon remembered.

"Yasure dis is ta right place, doc?" Bugs asked, as he looked behind himself. He looked forward, as Daffy walked next to him now. The building ground had... tires, and boxes, and it was surrounded by cars. NotDrawers type of cars mind you, just cars that were less than a year old. It took everything in the demon to not steal a few radios, or let down a few tyres.

"This... this doesn't look like a drawing board." Reasoned Bugs as the two made it to the stone entrance. Bugs paused, "and..." He gasped, his hand on Daffy's upper arm, his fingers running over the smooth black feathers, caressing the muscles. Daffy looked to Bugsconfused and worried, as the angel smiled, "... it feels loved."

Daffy frowned, and looked around the area confused, as if to sense anything out of the ordinary, or strange. "I don't feel anything... no, thithis definitely the place, I remember the stone lions." He assured, pointing to the stone lions on the gatepost. They were a little run down now, what with time and all, but still... they were the lions he saw years ago. "What do you mean 'loved'?" Asked Daffy, a sneer on his face as he turned to the angel. Please, don't let that be him giving off the love... even though demon's can't feel love... totally can't feel love...

"Ya know... daopposite ofwhen you say, 'I don't like dis place. It feels spooky'." Bugs said, his hand over his warmed heart, amazed.

"I have only thaid that for Looney shorts. I like thpooky." Daffy said, "big thpooky fan, me. Letsgo talkto someDrawers." He declared, and the two walked forward into the grounds.

The next thing they knew, thirty seconds later, someone shot both of them. With incredible accuracy.

If there was one thing that Mary Hodges, formerly Loquacious, was good at, it was attempting to obey orders. She liked orders. They made the world a simpler place.

What she wasn't good at was change. She'd really liked the Chattering Order. She'd made friends for the first time. She'd had a room of her own for the first time. Of course, she knew that it was engaged in things which might, from certain viewpoints, be considered bad, but Mary Hodges had seen quite a lot of life in thirty years and had no illusions about what most of the human race had to do in order to make it from one week to the next. Besides, the food was good and you got to meet interesting people.

The Order, such as was left of it, had moved after the fire. After all, their sole purpose in existing had been fulfilled. They went their separate ways.

She hadn't gone. She'd rather liked the drawing boardand, she said, someone ought to stay and see it was properly repaired, because you couldn't trust workmen these days unless you were on top of them the whole time, in a manner of speaking. This meant breaking her vows, but Mother Superior said this was all right, nothing to worry about, breaking vows was perfectly okay in a black sisterhood, and it would all be the same in a hundred years' time or, rather, eleven years' time, so if it gave her any pleasure here were the deeds and an address to forward any mail unless it came in long brown envelopes with windows in the front.

Then something very strange had happened to her. Left alone in the rambling building, working from one of the few undamaged rooms, arguing with men with cigarette stubs behind their ears and plaster dust on their trousers and the kind of pocket calculator that comes up with a different answer if the sums involved are in used notes, she discovered something she never knew existed.

She'd discovered, under layers of silliness and eagerness to please, Mary Hodges.

She found it quite easy to interpret builders' estimates and do VAT calculations. She'd got some books from the library, and found finance to be both interesting and uncomplicated. She'd stopped reading the kind of women's magazine that talks about romance and knitting and started reading the kind of women's magazine that talks about org*sms, but apart from making a mental note to have one if ever the occasion presented itself she dismissed them as only romance and knitting in a new form. So she'd started reading the kind of magazine that talked about mergers.

After much thought, she'd bought a small home computer from an amused and condescending young dealer in Norton. After a crowded weekend, she took it back. Not, as he thought when she walked back into the shop, to have a plug put on it, but because it didn't have a 387 co-processor. That bit he understood-he was a dealer, after all, and could understand quite long words-but after that theconversation rapidly went downhill from his point of view. Mary Hodges produced yet more magazines. Most of them had the term "PC" somewhere in their title, and many of them had articles and reviews that she had circled carefully in red ink.

She read about New Women. She hadn't ever realised that she'd been an Old Woman, but after some thought she decided that titles like that were all one with the romance and the knitting and the org*sms, and the really important thing to be was yourself, just as hard as you could. She'd always been inclined to dress in black and white. All she needed to do was raise the hemlines, raise the heels, and leave off the wimple.

It was while leafing through a magazine one day that she learned that, around the country, there was an apparently insatiable demand for commodious buildings in spacious grounds run by people who understood the needs of the business community. The following day she went out and ordered some stationery in the name of the Brighton Manor Conference and Management Training Centre (located in Abraham Lincoln Park), reasoning that by the time it had been printed she'd know all that was necessary to know about running such places.

The ads went out the following week.

It had turned out to be an overwhelming success, because Mary Hodges realised early in her new career as Herself that management training didn't have to mean sitting people down in front of unreliable slide projectors. Firms expected far more than that these days. She provided it.

Chapter 19: the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes maltese...

Chapter Text

Daffy sank down with his back against a statue. Bugs toppled backwards into a rhododendron bush,a dark stain spreading across his white furry chest.

Daffy felt a dampness suffusinghis own feathers.

This was ridiculous, the last thing Daffy needed was to be killed! It would require all sorts of explanations, and you didn't just get a new body, it required so much paperwork! They always wanted to know what you did with the last body - six thousand years worth of it!

Slowly, Daffy reached up and felt the dampness and brought his hand away... he was bleeding yellow? He stared at his hand in disbelief, and reached up to his mouth, gingerly liking the tip of his fingers. He groaned, as he quickly crawled over to Bugs, "angel?" He looked to see if the fallen angel was bleeding, if so something had gone terribly wrong with biology, and cartoon logic.

"Good Lord, dat hurt." Bugs moaned out, "got me right under theribs..."

"Yes, but do you normallybleed blue?" Daffyquestioned, eyes on the stain.

Bugs eyes shot open, and sat up,he reached his hand up, and went through the same examination as Daffy. He looked to the demon, "is dat blue...?"

Daffy rubbed the pad of this thumb against his fingertips, his hand away from him slightly, and a sneer on his face, one of disgust, inspecting the yellow. He quacked out, "it's paint."

"So, we aren't dead..." Bugs said, slowly. He realised just how ridiculous that sounded, saying it out loud, an angel, a cartoon,dying from a gun, "what are dey playing at?" He asked, pulling at the fur, staring at the blue paint with an upset frown.

"I don't know," said Daffy, "but I think it's called thilly bathtardth." His tone suggested that he could play, too. And do it better.Hestood up, and elegantly took Bugs' blue stained glovedhand, helping him stand, "come on, angel."

It was a game. It was tremendous fun. Nigel Tompkins, Assistant Head (Animator), squirmed through the undergrowth, his mind aflame with some of the more memorable scenes of some of the better Clint Eastwood movies.

There had been a lecture, but it had been about the paint guns and all the things you should never do with them, and Tompkins had looked at the fresh young faces of his rival trainees as, to a man, they resolved to do them all if there was half a chance of getting away with it. If people told you business was a jungle and then put a gun in your hand, then it was pretty obvious to Tompkins that they weren't expecting you to simply aim for the shirt; what it was all about was the corporate head hanging over your fireplace.

Anyway, it was rumoured that someone over in United Consolidated had done his promotion prospects a considerable amount of good by the anonymous application of a high-speed earful of paint to an immediate superior, causing the latter to complain of little ringing noises in important meetings and eventually to be replaced on medical grounds. And there were his fellow trainees-fellow sperms, to switch metaphors, all struggling forward in the knowledge that there could only ever be one Chairman of Warner Brothers (Bros) Entertainment and Pictures Inc., and that the job would probably go to the biggest prick.

Of course, some girl with a clipboard from Personnel had told them that the courses they were going on were just to establish leadership potential, group cooperation, initiative, and so on. The trainees had tried to avoid one another's faces. It had worked quite well so far. The white-water canoeing had taken care of Johnstone (punctured eardrum) and the mountain climbing in Wales had done for Whittaker (groin strain).

Tompkins thumbed another paint pellet into the gun and muttered business mantras to himself. Do Unto Others Before They Do Unto You. Kill or Be Killed. Either sh*t or Get Out of the Kitchen. Survival of the Fittest. Make My Day.

But, when he hit the two figures near the statues, and the two had gotten up about their business, he had gotten annoyed, and got out.

"Hey!" Yelled theman, and the two looked over. The man in a helmet, dressed in a camouflaged outfit with a red tie on his arm and what looked like a gun in his hands, jogged over, "you've both been hit! I don't know what you think you're playing at right—"

Daffy wasted no time, and suddenly, his face screeched, turning into something horrific with maggots crawling in the eyes and eating away at the ears. A beast of a thing only thought up in children's nightmares, or maybe even a child couldn't think of something so horrific. The man screamed silently, face one of white horror, and fell back, fainting with a thud, the crunch of gravel sounding as he landed.

"Well, that was fun."Smirked Daffy, restoring himself back to his favourite shape, practically on ecstasy on the fear and terror the man had. He bit his lower lip, or beak, as hefelt like his old self, not this mess of a demon he turned into with recent events."I do hate having to do that," he murmured. "I'm alwaythafraid I'll forget how to change back."

Bugs sighed, "well, yes, fun for you! I think the maggots were a bit much." He looked down to his fur and white, "look at the stain on mywhite gloves and fur!" He cried out, and watched as Daffy circled him in like a waddling duck, a predator circling pray. "I'll never get it out!"

"You could alwaythmiracle it away." Offered the demon, with a thoughtful shake of his head.

"Yeah, but..." Bugspouted, black eyes all sad and gentle, "well, I would know the stain was dere." He said, slowly offering the stain to Daffy, who playfully pouted."Underneath, I mean." His eyes were big and wide, as if someone had kicked him, like a lost puppy. Like a little sad kitten. (Speaking of kittens, Bugs remembers a time when he wanted to Fall. It was a time before Bugs agreed to become friends with Daffy, it was when he was keeping the want of befriending the demon away from the demon himself. It was when he was so adamant on Falling, so he could befriend the demon guilt free, that he had kicked (tapped, he's exaggerating) a kitten, and said to The Almighty in a prayer, "I kicked a puppy today. It, uh, was rather evil, if I do say so myself, doc. Maybe, I should Fall?" However, all he got in (a surprise) response was;"Bugs, didn't you invent kittens?") He kept looking at the demon, and turned, offering full view of the blue stain. His eyes, oh Satan his eyes!

Daffy sighed with a soft gentle frown reserved for the angel to see, and leaned into him. With a coy smile, he pouted his beak and let out a gentle breath of air, mimicking that of blowing a kiss, and the yellow and blue paint chipped and faded away into nothing, almost as if evaporating into air. (Honest time for the demon known at Daffy; he loves doing this for the angel, and he will continue to do things for his angel.)

Bugs smiled, "thank you, mac." He looked down shyly, and his smile was all soft and kind, and the demon nodded as a welcome, smiling back (the demon loved Bugs Brooklyn accent). "Dis impressive hardware." Said Bugs, picking up the lightweight gun, with a silver top on the barrel. "I've looked at this gun. It's not a proper one at all." Daffy looked at him with fake amazement, and shook his head, encouraging the angel. "It just shoots paintball's." Bugs looked to Daffy, who was nodding like a duck, with a pursed beak.

Daffy snatched the paintball gun from Bugs, and playfully aimed it at him. "Don't your lot disapprove of gunth?" Daggu asked, a curious grin on his face, with dull, straight, pouted lips.

The angel pushed the gun down, "unless dey're in the right hands,"he reasoned unsure, as he saw Daffy;seyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Den dey give weight ti a moral argument," at least that's what Gabriel had said. He frowned, seeing Daffy stop in his wobbling, and was staring at him amused. "I think," he reasoned, looking away with a swallow. (He had seen and listened to many unsolved cases, many of them had guns. And, even solved cases which also had guns involved. Such as Roger Rabbits case, Eddie Valiant needed a gun, Jessica Rabbit used a gun, guns were involved!)

"A "moral argument"?" Repeated the demon, eyes full of humoured disbelief, beak pulled into a grin."Really?" He let out a quiet laughed and wobbled, a smile now spreading across his face. He sauntered past the angel with a sway, throwingthe gun, "come on."

Bugs sighed in defeat, and followed the demon.

The two walked into the building, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, and looked around the main entrance room, Daffy shrouded by darkness with a saunter, and Bugs haloed with light with a stroll, hands behind his back.

"This is definitely the place." Assured Daffy, looking around. It was the same warm, stuffy waiting room were you could choke on the specks of dust, with dim lights that hung down from the ceiling. The same old dusty chalkboard, and walls that were off-white, and the lower half, an ugly green. The floor was still a mix of worn down, stained carpet, and dark, ugly maroon cement that was dented from heals and things dropped on it, yet more disgusting then years before as a whole lot more had happened. Yet, at the same time, things looked cleaner, and newer, besides the flooring that is.

Management training no longer meant watching half a dozen unreliable PowerPoint presentations.

The angel and demon walked past the check in desk, that had uniforms and guns in the back, with a red sign that read;BRIGHTON MANOR, August 20-21: WARNER BROTHERS [BROS] ENTERTAINMENT AND PICTURES INC., COMBAT INITIATIVE COURSE.

Firms these days expected more than that. They wanted to establish leadership potential, group cooperation and initiative, which allowed their employees to fire paint balls at any colleagues who irritated them.

Norman and Louisa paused in their shooting and shared grins, seeing Nigel on the floor, passed out.

"Wonder where the Drawers went." Daffy said with a tut, leaning over and grabbing a leaflet, withBugswalking next to him. The hallway had changed slightly, lined with brochure's and posters on the wall, and a blanket that was all different shades of green.

The demon looked down to the brochure in his hands, unfolding it, having it open to give it a read, and Bugs looked at the leafletover his shoulder. Leaflets like this usually promoted other get-away areas, the map of the buildingand parking areas and exits, with a bit of (usually) useless historical information about the place, however...

The brochure for Brighton Manor Daffy is inspecting fails to contain any sentences along the lines of;"Until elevenyears ago, the manor was used as a hospital by an order of Satanic Drawers who weren't actually very good at it".

"Wrong place?" Asked Bugs.

Drawer Mary put her hand up.

"No."

Mother Superior andDrawer Theresa smiled, and waved in Harriet Dowling, who rushedin.

"Wrong time, den."

Mother Superior walked down the hall.

"Yes." Daffy threw the leaflet to the ground, littering,not noticing a picture of a lovely woman who looked extremely familiar.

They continued to walk down the hallway, and to be fair it seemed familiar as well, as if this was the way the cartoon was wheeled down by a Satanic Drawer. Their heels clicked against the old flooring, Bugs' had his hands behind his back as he strolled, while Daffy was next to him, sauntering.

A woman in a brown and green suit, with a red tie on her arm, ran forward, and she yelled out, "oh, Millie from Voicing caught me on the elbow!" She picked up a paper cup of water and looked to the two, "who's winning?" She asked, chummily.

"You're all going to lose." Daffy informed absently, snapping his fingers with a flourish of his wrists. She ran off, ready to gear up for either a second round, or maybe another break, who knows? Daffy had no idea how this worked, really.

Suddenly, multiple bullet sounds echoed the area, one right after the other in a stutter. It sounded like a machine gun, of pieces of lead travelling fast through the air, as the metal hit things and bounced off other objects.

Daffy continued on his saunter, and Bugs followed.

Bugs frowned and grabbed Daffy's shoulder, "what-what da Hell did yajust do?" He asked, pointing his index finger to the stain glass window.

Daffy smiled like a snake, even though he was a duck. He looked terrifyingly evil. He looked like a demon.

Nigel Tompkins had come to with a mild headache and a vaguely empty space in his recent memory. He was not to know that the human brain, when faced with a sight too terrible to contemplate, is remarkably good at scabbing it over with forced forgetfulness, so he put it down to a pellet strike on the head.

He was vaguely aware that his gun was somewhat heavier, but in his mildly bemused state he did not realise why until some time after he'd pointed it at trainee manager Norman Wethered from the Camera Departmentand pulled the trigger.

"Daffy!" Snapped Bugs, demanding an answer.

Daffy jerked his head, and let out a high pitched, "hmm. Well, they wanted real guns, so I gave them what they wanted." He shrugged, completely at ease, walking forward.

Bugs slowed thinking, then gasped in horrified realisation, his eyes wide terror, and he froze in his step. Surely not. Surely the demon isn't suggesting what he was saying, right? He rushed after Daffy, voice thick with fear, "dere are people out dere shooting at each other." He wasn't asking, it was saying it, and he glanced out the window.

"Well, it lendth weight to theirmoral argument." Offered Daffy with a shake of his head, pausing in his step, using the angels words against him. He raised his leg, and slammed his flipper into a door, kicking it open. It slammed into the wall with a loud crash and bang, shattering something in the room. His flipper fell, and sauntered off down the hallway, Bugsjust a little behind him. "I don't thee why you're tho shocked. Shewanteda real gun. Every desire in their headthwas for a real gun." The demonshrugged, "the way I see it is no onehasto pull the trigger." He gave Bugs a bright and brittle grin.

"It'sa pretty low trick!" Snapped Bugs, as they strolled through the empty corridor.

"What did I do? What did I do?" Questioned Daffy, in genuine confusion.

"I always said you couldn't trust those people from Music," said Louisa, as she and one of the others began shooting. "The bastards."

Bugs scoffed, "dey're shooting at each other!" He reminded, angrily, "do ya not see a problem?!"

"Exactly, each other. They're doing it themselves, angel. Everyone hathfree will, including the right to murder. Ineffable, correct?" Asked the demon, not missing the glare sent his way, "just think of it as a microcothm of the univerthe." He insisted.

"I wanted to be a graphics designer," said Norman to his group, as bullets hit ground, and dirt flew up, "design LPs for the Rolling Stones,but the careers teacher said he hadn't heard of them." He said, barely dodging a bullet that hit the wall above them. "So I spent 36 years double-checking cel animations and voice lines. They couldn't just say, 'Oh, Norman, we're giving you early retirement. Have a watch, bugger off and tend your marigolds'." They were barely dodging bullets. He wrapped a red bandanna around his head. "Well, if they want War...we're going to give them War! Okay, guys, let's get the bastards!"

Suddenly, he was shot in the chest by one of the females, and Nigel looked shocked. Norman slowly fell down.

"Dey're murdering each other, Daffy!" Bugs yelled, eyes wide in fear and tears. He's an Arsehole with a capital 'a', he'll accept that, but he's not Bad (excluding all the things that would be considered Bad to an angel).

Daffy paused in his step, hisorange flippersstopped whacking on the floor, and he looked to Bugs who had fallen behind. He sighed, seeing the legitimate look of alarm in the angels eyes and straightened out his tie. "Oh, all right," said Daffy wretchedly. "No, they aren't. No one'thkilling anyone," assured the demon, his voice soft and careful, with a sigh to his voice. He sounded annoyed, but it calmed the angel. "They're all having miraculous escapes. It wouldn't be any fun otherwise."

Norman, now on the floor, opened his eyes and saw the bullet had hit his dog tag rather than his chest.

Bugs let out a relieved sigh, a smile on his face, as he moved closer to Daffy, relaxed,"yeknow,love cuo... " He nodded, "I've always said dat deep down," Daffy frowned, as Bugs beamed witha soft smile. "Yareally are quiet a nice—"

Suddenly, with a sneer of anger, and eyes wide in horror, Daffy gripped Bugs' fur and slammed the angel into the wall, pinning him there. The two were suddenly nose to nose, or well, nose to beak, and the demon was glaring, his teeth gritted together, and for a thin duck, he managed to be more threatening and somehow taller. No, the scene didn't look ridiculous, it looked terrifying and tense, "shut it!" Daffy lisped out, snarling, and Bugs tensed up slightly, his eyes locked with the ducks, even behind the glasses, his back pressed against the wall. "I'm a demon!" He spat out, spit spraying the rabbit, unbeknown to him that Bugs wasn't threatened, in fact the angel confidently held his gaze, even if his muscles were seized up slightly... oh, no, wait, this was totally doing something for the angel, and the demon had no idea!"I'm not nice! I'm never nice!" Daffy was so close, oh so close. It did look like they were about to kiss, if it wasn't for Bugs' wide eyes and Daffy's glare and sneer. "Nice is a four-letter word!" If Bugs leaned in, he could kiss the angry Daffy."I will not have—"

Daffy paused. Lips were on his beak. He was staring at closed eyes. Bugswas kissing him, his eyes closed gently, and his hands were covering the demons. Well, who was Daffy to deny a kiss from the angel? The demon closed his eyes, and kissed back greedily, still gripping the fur, and felt Bugs' hands move to the back of his neck, and runthrough his black feathers, as long fingers curled them feathers. He felt hands move to his hips and fingers dig into his soft, yet toned rump, and he let out a quiet groan. Daffy pushed the angel into the wall, and raised his leg, his knee between the angels legs and Bugs whimpered, cheeks flushing in need.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." A female voice sounded, heeled shoes slamming against wooden floor. She sounded awkward, walking into a scene she didn't want to see.

Daffy pulled away from the angel's lips, yet didn't let him go, and turned his head with raised eyebrows, but wore an annoyed scowl, and Bugs, breathless, soon did the same, finally looking away from the attractive demon, looking away from the soft, and now kiss swollen beak in front of him, ignoring hisproblem.

"Sorry to break up an intimate moment." Apologised the familiar looking woman in a sarcastic voice, tense and wishing she had called in sick, and she would have had she not owned the building. "Can I help you?" She held a hand out, confused and cautious.

She was short, and was dressed in a black business attire, in a pencil skirt, white undershirt, with her black hair was in dreadlocks andon show,and lovely dark skin. She was rather attractive, with very little make up, and she looked like... a remarkably loose-headed...Daffy's eyes widened behind his glasses, demons have extensively good memories for faces, and he saw her eyes widen as well, and she tensed up. It was if they were remembering...

Drawer Mary Loquaciousslowly walked over to Daffy, and Daffy held the briefcase out to her, the handle balanced on his fingers rather than his palm, andheld it out at arms length, at ease.

"You." Daffy quacked out with a grumble, sounding scarily almost like the night he called out to her to get her attention. Even with the loss of a wimple, and slight make up... he could tell who it was, even eleven years later...

Drawer Mary Loquacious, now known as Mary Hodgesbacked up, her eyes widening in fear, "saints and demons preserve us," she squeaked out. "It's Master Lucas!" She gasped and went to run off, but Daffy snapped his fingers not letting go of Bugs. She stood, straight and stiff as a board, her mouth slowly closing and eyes dead, and glazed over, her face becoming a blank and amiable mask.

"Ya didn't have to do dat." Sighed Bugs,"you could've justasked her!" He insisted.

Daffy's head snapped to Bugs, who was still pinned to the wall, his eyes wide in shock. "Oh, guh, quc, yes! Of course, of course!" He agreed sarcastically, "no, yeah!" He nodded and coughed, and looked to Mary, making his voice overly formal and bowed his head to her. "'Excuse me, good,—'" he looked to his wrist watch, "'— evening ma'am! We're a couple of supernatural, cartoon entities looking for the whereabouts of the notorious Son of Satan. We wondering if you might help us with our inquiries?'" He snarled out, getting more and more angry, and wore a sarcastic smile on his face as he turned to the angel. His smile was suddenly, now more cold and icy, more duck-like if any of that was possible, "I'll wake her up again, shall I? And you can thay it!"

Bugs sighed, "well when ye put it like t'at..." He grumbled out slowly.

"Sometimes the old ways are the best," insisted the demon.

"Love cup, can youlet me go?" Bugs asked, eyebrow raised.

"Oh, yeah." Daffy let the angel go, patting him down, "sorry, honey bunny..." He grumbled.

"Well... hownice." Smirked Bugs coyly, pushing himselfoff of the wall, and straightening his his white gloves, flattening the fur.

"All right, allright," Daffy snapped. "Tell the whole blethed world, why don't you?"

Daffy and Bugs walked over to the woman, with Daffy squinting, hunched overand Bugslooked nervously unsure.

"Um, ahem, look..." Bugs suddenly smiled all friendly and nice, "hello." He greeted, and Daffy looked to him annoyed as he made exaggerated chewing with his lower jaw, lips pursed and dull sharp. Bugs smiled, "ya weren't by any chance, a drawer here at this board eleven years ago, were ya?"

"I was." Mary said, voice blank and dead.

"There! I was right!" Smiled Daffy, gesturing to the woman.

"Luck ofdadevil." Said Bugs, judgemental.

Daffy took a sharp intake of air and went to say something, but paused and looked to Bugs with a frown realising the jab was at him. "Excuthe me! I wath correct! I wasn't wrong!" He looked to the retired Drawer, "see? It's Drawer Mary Talkative! Or, something..."

"Loquacious." Mary said in a hallowed voice.

"Do you recall the incident ofswitching newly drawn characters? What happened to the cartoon I gave you?" Questioned the demon, shooting off two questions, quickly. His eyebrows were raised in warning, if he didn't like her answers, he would kill her instantly. (He wouldn't, Bugs would be upset.)

She paused as if in pain, then finally said, "I swapped him with the creationsof the Disney Right Hand." Mary answered, she looked and sounded as if she had picked off a painful scab, one that she had long since forgotten from her brain. "Such a nice woman. She used to be Right Hand to Gate 4." Bugs looked confused and glanced to Daffy, whose mouth was open in shock. "Then Drawer Theresa Garrulous came and took the other cartoon away."

Bugsstared in confusion, and shot a nervous look to the worrying demon, yet took his hand gently. He didn't want to deal with a dead former Satanic Drawer.

"This Disney Right Hand, what was her name?" Asked Daffy, getting more and more panicked, and worked up by the second. "Where did she come from and what did she do with the cartoon?" He all but yelled, firing off rapid questions. He was scared, terrified, he was worried... it's his life, his head that will be mounted on the wall in Hell, possibly by Lucifer himself!... if he's lucky.

"I don't know."

"Records!" Bugs said, looking to the panic demon, the two now looking to each other."Dere must have been records!" He looked to the woman with a smile, as if excited - anything to calm Daffy down!

"Yes." Agreed Mary."There were lots of records. We were very good at keeping records."

Daffy looked to Bugs, a smile on his face, "brilliant, angel!Everyone has records! It was one of my better ideas!" He said, clearly proud of himself.

Bugs patted his cheek, "yeah, yeah, well done,love cup." He looked to Mary, "where areda records?" He asked sweetly.

"Burned in the fire thatstarted just after the birth."

Lightening stuck one of the buildings, andDrawers ran, screaming and fleeing from the fire

Hastur let out a high, shrilled laugh.

Daffy could practically hear the shriekof a childish, manic and insanelaughter.He threw his head back with a quacked groan, and sneered, "Hastur!" No doubt the Duke thought he was being clever, as it was certainly his style, "can you believe those guys?!"

"Well, is dere anything ye remember about thedrawing?" Asked Bugs, a soft frown on his face, and Daffy looked at the woman, as if expecting some form of a valid answer, or else he'd loose his sh*t.

"He had lovely little toesie-woesies."

Bugs smiled softly, finding her answer rather sweet. Daffy glared, unimpressed, next to Bugs magic act, hearing humans gush about babies and newly drawn characters (especially the Son of Satan), was sickening.

The was the sound of a siren outside, abruptly broken off as a bullet hit it. Daffy nudged Bugs, andlooked to the angel, "let's go. We're gonna be knee deep in cops at any moment."

"Right, 'n' I will ofcourse be morally obliged to assist dem in their questioning." Bugs fell silent in thought, "maybe she can remember who the other woman—"

There was sounds of running feet from downstairs.

"Thtop them," said Daffy, upon realising,"we need more time!"

"Anymore miracles, and we'll start getting noticed Up There," said Bugs, quickly. "If yareallywant Gabriel, or one of dem, wonderin' why forty officers have gone to sleep—"

"Okay, that'thit. That's it. It wathworth a try. Lets go." Daffy said, sauntering away annoyed.

Bugs smiled softly to Mary, "youwill wake, having had a lovely dream about whatever yalike best, and—"

"Oi!"Called the demon, irritated. Theangel smiled, and looked to him, he snapped his fingers, letting the woman goand chased after the raven haired demon.

Mary relaxed, and let out a deep breath of air, a small smile on her face as if having had a lovely dream. She looked out of the stained glass windows, hearing the police sirens grow nearer.

Daffy and Bugs walked out of the building. No one noticed them leaving. The police were too busy herding in forty adrenaline-drunk, fighting-mad management trainees. Actually, it was more like the polices' eyes passed them, as if not seeing them, the raid of officers scattering the grounds. They were arresting power hungry, adrenaline filled workers, confiscating the guns.

"You'd think they'd show up." Sighed Bugs, barely glancing at the police taking away guns from the team combat. "You'd think we could detectthem in some way."

"They won't show up." Daffy said,"not to uth. They have thithprotective camouflage, and they are none the wiseraboutit,their powers will keep them concealed from prying occult forceth."

"Occult forces?"

"You and me." Answered Daffy, reaching his hand down, and allowing their fingers to brush together.

"I'm not occult!" Bugs defended, looking to the demon rather offended.

"Oh?"

Bugs frowned, "angels aren't occult. We're ethereal!"

Daffy rolled his eyes, "whatever." He was too worried to actually respond, and opened the passenger seat for Bugs, "you first."

Bugs smiled, and got into his seat, and Daffyclosed the door, and he climbed into his drivers seat. At first Bugs made Daffyback up for the first ambulance, but then the demon sped off, the Bentley swished into the afternoon.

"We've left dat woman in an awful situation," said the angel, feeling guilt eat away at his stomach.

"You think?" Asked Daffy, trying to hit a hedgehog and missing. "Bookingth will double, you mark my words. If she plays her card right, thortthout the waivers, tiethup the legal bits. Initiative training with real guns? They'll form queues."

"Why are you always so cynical?" Asked Bugs, voice broken ever so slightly. He doesn't forget Daffy's the demon, but he does... Daffy's a good guy, he's nice, and it hurts him as an angel when the demon does things like this... but, he tries. Daffy tries for Bugs, and it's why he adored the demon so much...

"I said. Because it's myjob."

They drove in silence for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable. No, it was rather nice... had it not been for the situation at hand.

"Is dereother ways offinding them?" Asked Bugs, gripping the door handle as Daffy sped down the winding road, the sun was now setting, and there was an overcast of lovely orange hues.

"How the Heaven should Iknow?" Asked Daffy, annoyed and worried, raising his hands off the wheel as if shrugging. "Armageddon only happenthonce! You don't get to go round again until you get it right!"

"Cos these are the days of our lives. They've flown in the swiftness of time."Sang Queen, as "These Are The Days Of Our Lives" played.

Bugs glared at Daffy, who shrugged, not his fault his car listened to his emotions. The demon swerved out of the way of a honking car, and the angel gripped the seats, swallowing in fear as he braced himself.

The angel stared out at the rushing hedgerows. "It all seems so peaceful," he said. "How do ya think it will happen?"

"Well, thermonuclear extinction has alwaythbeen very popular. Although I must thay the big boys are being quite polite to each other at the moment."

"Asteroid strike?" Said Bugs. "Quite da fashion dese days, I understand. Strike into da Indian Ocean, great big cloud ofdust and vapour, goodbye all higher life forms."

"Wow," said Daffy, taking care to exceed the speed limit. Every little bit helped.

"Doesn't bear thinking about it, does it," said Bugs gloomily.

"All the higher life forms scythed away, just like that."

"Terrible."

"Nothing but dust and fundamentalists."

"Dat was nasty."

"Thorry. Couldn't resist it."

They stared at the road.

"Maybe some terrorist —?" Bugs began.

"Not one of ourth," said Daffy.

"Or ours," said Bugs. "Although ours are freedom fighters, ofcourse."

"I'll tell you what," said Daffy, scorching rubber on the park'sbypass. "Cards on the table time. I'll tell you ourthif you tell me yourth."

"All right. You first."

"Oh, no. You first."

"But you'rea demon."

"Yeth, but a demon of my word, I should hope."

Bugs knew it was a good point, Daffy is a demon of his word. Henamed five political leaders. Daffy named six. Three names appeared on both lists.

"See?" Said Daffy. "It's just like I've always said. They're cunning buggerth, humans. You can't trust them an inch."

"But I don't think any of ours have any big planthafoot," said Bugs. "Just minor acts of ter-political protest," he corrected.

Daffy sighed. "Look, I don't know much, butI know one thing," he admitted. "If we don't find them, it won't be the War to end all Warth. It'll be the War to end everything!" He glared at the radio, as much as he loved Queen, he need a break, "change the blethed music!"

Bugs sighed, and reached over, flipping the channel. Queen still played, but was now playing 'Bohemian Rhapsody',"Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me..."

"For me," murmured Daffy, his face going blank, and it took everything in him to not punch the radio in anger and distress.He gave a strangled scream, and slammed his hand on the wheel.

Bugs frowned, and reached over, taking the demons spare hand, feeling bad for Daffy.

Most books on witchcraft will tell you that witches work naked. This is because most books on witchcraft are written by men, who believed witches were just women.

"Darksome night and shining moon..." Whispered Pepé, the sun was setting.Young women, and men should not go alone on dark nights, especially in America, and especially in the park. But any prowling maniac would have had more than his work cut out if he had accosted Pepé Le Pew. He was a witch, afterall. And precisely because he was a witch, and therefore sensible, he put little faith in protective amulets and spells; he saved it all for a foot-long bread knife which he kept in his bag.

He sighted through the glass and made another adjustment.

"Come on," he sighed, annoyed, and saw the image clear, before looking down to his iPad map.

This was a terrible idea, following a weak trail between Disney Studios and Warner Brothers.

Night was creeping in closer, and closer with each passing second, the sun was setting, and now there were very little pinkish hues in the sky. Silhouettes of the bleak, towering trees surrounded them, covered in darkness and shadows, it seemed dead to the world. Secluded and alone. Isolated.

"Dere's a very strange feeling ta this whole area. I can't believe ya can't feel it." Bugssaidin shock, a confused smile on his face, as he looked around the darkening forest. His hand was over his heart, and he felt all warm and nice, it was a lovely tingle all over his body.

"I don't feel anything out of the ordinary."Said Daffy, a confused frown on his face, glancing between the road and the angel in worry.

Bugs looked to the demon. "But it's everywhere! All over here!" Bugsgushed in amazement, eyes wide. He glanced out of the window and frowned, for a second he swore he saw a bike...

And he had.

Pepé was speeding through the trees, on his bike, his lights were faded.

"Love. Flashes oflove." Bugs said in realisation, almost out of breath from how much love he felt. Then again, he always felt love in Warner Brothers too...

Daffy went pale, and he felt sick, worry circled his non-existent heart, and his cold, fake, not really there heart, plummeted to his stomach. He tensed up in horror, surely that's him theangel can feel?If Bugs an feel love from him, ifBigs can feel something a demon shouldn't be able to feel, does Hell know? Does Hell know Daffycan feel love? No wonder Ligur and Hasturare wary of him more than usually if they know he can feel love.'sh*t, abort! Abort!'He thought in distress. Quickly, he said, looking to the angel, "you are being ridiculouth!"

Bugs looked to him, confused as to where this hostility was coming from.

Pepé turned onto the road, not seeing a car — !

Daffy sneered, his grip tightening on the wheel, knuckles turning white, "the lathtthing we need right now is—"

Something crashed into the side of his car with a loud clunk and bang, and Daffy slammed down on the breaks, the car screeching to a halt, the passenger and driver lurched forward. Bugs eyes widened in horror as his hands slammed on the dashboard, and he saw a small figure fly over the hood of the car, with a loud scream, and a whirring noise.

Slowly, Bugslooked to the demon, "ya hit someone, mac." He said, voice trembling and felt sick with guilt.

"I didn't." Daffy quickly denied, and looked to the angel. "Thomeone hit me."

Bugs was already out of the car, and walked around the front of the car with panicked breathing. One of the headlights were broken, no longer lit up, and he paused looking around the small ditch. Daffy also got out the car, and leaned on his car door. There, in the darkness, they could see a bike and a cartoon.

"Let dere be light!" Demanded Bugs, snapping his fingers. A bright bluelight shone over the area, as if a fake light was pointed right at them. Daffy peeredto him warily.

There on the ground was a cartoon skunk, he was rather average looking, normal and had white and black fur, almost... other being like in a way. His arm was bent slightly, sprained, with leaves and mud stuck to his belongings that looked odd and other worldly, and mud weaved into his fur.He was not astonishingly beautiful. All his features, considered individually, were extremely pretty, but the entirety of his face gave the impression that it had been put together hurriedly from stock without reference to any plan. Probably the most suitable word is "attractive," although people who knew what it meant and could spell it might add "vivacious," although there is something very Fifties about "vivacious," so perhaps they wouldn't.Hisbike had a bent and twisted wheel in a Möbius strip, and seemed to be missing an item or two.

"How the Hell did you do that?" Asked the skunkin a pain filled groan, seeing the light over his. He was French too.

Daffy gave Bugs an unimpressed look and snapped his fingers, the light going away.

"Do what?" Asked Bugs, sounding so incredibly guilty, as he rushed over to help the skunk. Daffyfrowned, unsure if the angel felt guilt for the light, or if he was taking part of the blame onto himself for injuring the skunk, (even though he hit them).

The cartoon groaned, his voice sounding muzzy, "I think I hit my head."

"Dat's it." Bugs said, waving his now slightly glowing hand over the black furred, bent arm, fixing it easily, his arm letting out a quiet grind. "No bones broken." He began helping the skunk up. He couldn't help but heal him, every being in him screamed at him to help.

Daffy moved in front his car, and casually waved a hand, the broken headlight turned back on. He moved to the other side of the car seeing the dimpled dent in it, and so, he clicked his fingers, and the squeaking and groaning of metal echoed the area as it fixed itself, then he glared at the scratch and smear on the glossy paint, which soon healed itself. His Bentley knew better, of course.

"My bike." The skunk whisperedout with a groan.

"Oh." Bugs rushed over to the bike, and held it up, and suddenly, the wheel was back to normal, perfectly round as one of the Circles of Hell, and rolled it over. The skunk pushed his ears out of his eyes, and stared in shock, as Bugs smiled, "amazingly strong, dese old bikes." He smiled at the man, noticing there was also hay all in his hair, "where do ya need to go?"

Daffy, who had circled his car, suddenly shook his head, "no, no! We aren'tgiving him a lift. Out of the quethtion!" He placed a hand on the car door, "besides, there isnowhere to put the bike!"

"Yeah,da bike rack." Bugs hissed out quietly, annoyed.

"The Bentleydothsn't have a—" Squeaking sounded, cutting Daffyoff, making him look behind him to see a bike rack with a few tartan straps on. With a scowl and a sighed,"oh." Tartan... he hates tartan...

"Do get in, sir." Smiled Bugs, watching at the skunk looked back and forth confused.

The womanwarily walked forward, and began pulling put leaves from his fur, and picked his bagup.

"So, where are we taking you...?" Asked Daffy, andmoved from the car door for the skunk, trailing off for a name. He's seen this cartoon before...

The skunkmoved to the door, and kept glancing nervously at the males, especially at Daffy, "Pepé Le Pew. You're Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck...and, back to the Warner's Lot. You know the directions." He got into the backseat.

Pepé Le Pew! Of course they know him! What's he doing here? Last they heard he had gone to France for work, but now he's back? What's he here for? And, great, now he knows somethings off about Bugs and Daffy, and Daffy's tantrums were well known, no wonder he's nervous about getting in the car with him.

Bugs saw the sarcastic, duck smile Daffy was giving him, and he pouted his lips, blowing him an innocentkiss with a smile.

"Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle! I want to ride my bicycle, bicycle, bicycle!"Sang Queen, the song 'Bicycle Race' played.

Pepé looked behind himself, and out the back window. His bike, it was different. He looked to the two stars again, less nervous, but still on edge, "listen, Jones, my bike, it didn't have gears or a pump..."

Bugs swallowed, realising he had overdone it, "oh?"

"Iknowmy bike didn't have gears." He insisted, confused. Maybe it wasn't his? He looked between the rabbit and duck, and stared at the dark, brooding Daffy, "I have a bread knife you know." He threatened, his eyes pulled into a glare. "Somewhere..." He was cautious, they had all started out from nowhere, most sky rocketed, others didn't, and some did then stopped. Who knows what Bugs and Daffy are like now, they could be... well...

Bugs eyes widened in horror at the implications, while Daffyrolled his eyes, a sneer of disgust on his face, "Pepé, I athure you, I won't do anything. Trust me..."

Bugs could here the unsaid bit,you're not my type...(Daffy's type are Principality's (Cherubs) that have a Brooklyn, and has a career as a cartoon shorts character.) (It should be noted, Daffy no longer has frivolous sex, his lust was all for the angel in the passenger seat. But, he does flirt with people to keep up appearances.)

Pepé looked behind himself again, "uh, you know... Jones also didn't have lights... at least, not lights that work very well... they were all cracked, and muddy..."He hummed and pointed, "make a left, Daffy."

Daffy turned the steering wheel left, and leaned over, closer to the angel as he did. Hesang out like a hymn, witha deep, quiet, yet grumbled, "oh, Lord, heal thisbike." He whispered, sarcastically.

"I got carried away." Bugs hissed back, defending himself. He's not sorry, but he will have to rectify his mistakes.

"Tartan straps?" Questioned the demon.

"Oh, shut up."

"Oh, you can drop me off here." Pepé said, pointing to the side of the park in the Warner Lot.

The angel beamed, "our pleasure!"

Daffy turned, and pulled up in front of a small cottage, parking up. Pepéwas out of the car in seconds, nervous and tense at the two, and was shocked to find Bugs there, who helped him out. She paused. There was his bike propped up against the cobble wall, but he was sure neither of them got there before him, and another thing...

"Oh, look, no gears." Smiled Bugs in amazement. "Or a pump, or goodlights.Just a perfectly normal velocipede."

"Bithycle!" Corrected Daffy, getting out of the cartense, shooting the rabbit male a glare.

Pepé head snapped to them, and she looked between the annoyed Daffy and friendly smiling Bugs, tense. He kept looking between the two and his bike, worried they would try something. Was this a 'we helped you now you sleep with us' thing? Or, maybe, they hated him because of his fall from grace? He backed up.

Daffy sighed, "can we get on?" He asked, and looked to Pepé, "goodnight, Pepé." He looked to Bugs, "getin, angel."

Ah. Well, that explained it. He had been perfectly safe after all. Pepé carefully watched them, watching the dark feathered male help the bright furred male in,and he eyed them as the car sped off down the street, blasting out the lyrics;"I want to ride my bicycle, bicycle, bicycle!"

Pepé wrote notes down, his iPad in front of him, when suddenly, Skype rang. Taking a deep breath, he answered, and his creators sonappeared.

"Bonjour, mon ami!" Greeted Michael Junior. "How is it going?"

"Lousy," sighed Pepé.

"Any progress in finding the...?" Trailed Michael.

"The young beast and the lesser beast?" Finished Pepé, shaking his head. "It must be at the north end of the village. I'm certain of it. I just can't figure out... where."

"Have you used your pendulum?" Asked Michael, pointing softly.

"Michael, I'm not a newly created cartoon." Sighed Pepé, setting his pen down. "If I get too close, the signal swamps me. Further away, I can't get an accurate fix."

"Mon ami, the answers are always in the Book." Assured Michael, "it's just sometimes you don't see them till afterwards."

"Right, but the trouble was that in order to understand the Predictions you had to be able to think like a half-crazed, highly intelligent seventeenth-century witch with a mind like a crossword-puzzle dictionary." Sighed Pepé.

Other members of the family had said that Agnes made things obscure to conceal them from the understanding of outsiders; Pepé, who suspected she could occasionally think like Agnes, had privately decided that it was because Agnes was a bloody-minded old bitch with a mean sense of humour.

She'd not even...

Pepé looked down, and frowned in panic. Did he pick it up? Hold on a minute...

He didn't have the book.

"The Book." Suddenly, his heart began thumping, and his stomach dropped.

Pepé stared in horror at the things on the table. The maps. The homemade divinatory theodolite. The thermos that had contained hot soup. The torch. The rectangle of empty air where the Prophecies should have been.

He'd lost it.

"Holy sh*t, Michael. I'm going to have to call you back!" He hung up. and grabbed a jacket.

This was ridiculous! One of the things Agnes was always very specific about was what happened to the Book.

He ran out into the windy night, and looked around the road, and saw nobody, the car was already gone - sh*t! sh*t, and the two didn't even live on Warner Brothers property!

The angel and demon sat in a small cafe, it wasn't well lit by any means, but the demon and angel wanted something to eat and drink. Bugssat with a orange frosted carrot cake slice in front of him, taking small bites, watching Daffy, and Daffy sat with a coffee in front of him,his arms crossed, andwas glaring moodily at his drink. People were sat around, though sat far away from them.

"Ya know," said Bugs, dabbing his lips with a napkin,"we might get another human to find them." Declared the angel quietly, setting the napkin down and gesturing with his fork. Sometimes, angelic habits die hard, such a polite manners, even if he was hunched over slightly.

Daffy frowned, as Bugs nodded with soft, yet determined eyes. The demon looked up, unimpressed at the still nodding angel, "wot?" He grumbled, tightening his grip around his arms.

"Humans are good at finding other humans." Bugs insisted, gesturing with his fork slightly. He took another bite, "dey've been doing it
for thousands ofyears." He shrugged, patting his lips with a napkin, eyes wide in soft thought. "And the child is partly human.Other humans might be able to sense them." He suggested, leaning forward.

"They'rethe Antichrist." Reminded Daffy with an annoyed, dead faced stare,watching as Bugs bit his cake. He sipped his coffee slowly, "they've got an automatic defence thingy. Suspicion slides off them like..." He paused, trying to think as he shook his head, "whatever it is water slides off." He finished lamely.

"Got any better ideas?" Asked Bugs, growing more and more annoyed at the distractedly sad lookingdemon in front of him. "Oronesingle, better idea?" He raised his eyebrows, having another small mouthful of his cake again.

Daffy looked to him, unimpressed and annoyed, silent as he just held his coffee mug, fingers tightaround the warmth. Bugsheld back a smirk, seeing he won, and dabbed his lips with a napkin, smugly. The demon raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I still don't know why you let themkeep that dog," said Dr.Scratchansniff, sat on the sofa in the Water Tower, drinking tea.

"It was their birthday." Reasoned Kassy, looking up from her book, but at Angelica'slook, she sighed. "And, oh, I don't know,the way that they was looking at the dog and the dog was looking at them. As if they were made for each other."

"Kassy, you are a softy sometimes." Smiled Angelica softly, a small smile on her face, eyes teasing.

"I resent that remark." Scowled Kassy, rolling her eyes.

"Where's the dog now?" Asked Dr. Scratchansniff.

"Tied up outside." Kassy answered, "Wakkoasked if they could have him in theirbed,but I said absolutely not. "Absolutely not", I said."

Dr. Scratchansniff put the tea down, and got up, walking to the bunk beds. He peaked up. The bed was surrounded by mess, posters all over the wall, toys scattered the floor, you couldn't see the carpet, and the dim light of the computer Wakko and Yakko played on; Sucker for Love was apparently a big game right now - whatever that was. But, now Wakko was asleep, not playing their game. Still, Dr. Scratchansniff didn't turn the game off, unsure how saving worked in the game. He smiled - no dog. He walked off, now far away from the bed.

Wakko's eyes opened the moment their Dadoowalked from the bed. They waited, hearing the retreating footsteps and sat up. "Come on, Dog." They whispered, and Dog jumped up from under the bed, and curled up next to Wakko.

"What was that about?" Kassy asked, as Dr.Scratchansniff sat on the sofa.

"Oh, just checking on Wakko." Smiled Dr. Scratchansniff, "they're quite sweet, you know...when they're asleep."

"When they're asleep, yeah." Angelica chuckled, and Kassy smiled, laughing slightly.

As Wakko slept, dreaming of aliens and ships, theyheard whispers. They was unsure what they said, but they was there...

The car ride was silent. Daffy was tense as he drove at high illegal speeds down the street, and Bugs was staring at the road ahead, feeling sick, his stomach empty. The angel felt nothing but guilt for running into Pepé, even if it was Daffy who hit the skunk, ("he hit us, Bugsy!" Daffy had repeated over, and over again.)

"Look, uh... dere's something I should tell ya." Bugs admitted, looking over to the demonic driver.

Daffy turned to him, to show the angel had his attention, "yes, we can start filmingnext month."

Bugs smiled sadly, "if we're alive for it... I was actually gonna say; I have a... "network", ofhighly trained human agents spread across da country." He explained, "now, I could set dem searching for the child."

"You do?" Asked Daffy, looking back to Bugsin shock. Either from the fact he was now easing up, or that Bugs was this far ahead when it's usually him, or the fact this was kept from him for years, or maybe all three. Bigswas unsure, but the angel nodded. Daffy swallowed, nodding, "I actually-I actually have thomething thimilar." He admitted, nodding as he looked forward to the road again, "human operatives."

Bugs eyes widened in shock, glancing to the road and demon, "gosh, do y'think dey shouldwork together?"

"Satan no!" Cried Daffy, his eyes wide in terror and horror, "what the f*ck, angel?! We're meant to be enemieth, firstly! Secondly, I don't think that's a very good idea. My lot are not very thophithticated, politically speaking."

Bugs fell silent, and slowly nodded, "yeah, nah, neither are mine, doc." He took a sharp intake of air, "so we tell our respective operatives to look for the child?" He asked, making sure that they were on the same page, "unless ya have a better idea?"

No, he doesn't... Daffy knows he doesn't, and he knew he only had one option; unleash the loose canon. It might go well, but at the same time it could completely backfire on him, at times she is useless... I mean, come on! Yes, he was looking at her, but not in a sexual way, he loves the angel next to him too much! But, if he does release the woman, she'll probably hunt the poor child down, like one of those crazed people who hang out in huts, and hunt—

His forehead creased for a moment, and then he slapped the steering wheel triumphantly.

"Ducks!" He shouted.

Bugs frowned, and looked to Daffy in confusion and worry. "Ya've lost it... what are you on about ducks for?" He asked, annoyed, looking forward in worry.

"We're what water slides off," Daffy said with a smile. The tone in his voice suggested he'd been thinking about this for a while, and it had been annoying him. It was as if he had figured out how to stop Armageddon.

Bugs blinked, "you're a duck, and it took you this long to figure it out?"

"Look, I don't know anything about ducks!" Defended Daffy, eyes wide.

Bugs took a deep breath. "Just drive da car, please," he said warily.

Chapter 20: the bandstand...

Chapter Text

"Sorry, right number!" Bugs slammed the phone down, hanging up. He leaned back against his chair frame, sinking into it slightly, his mouth suddenly dry, and open,his eyes wide in shock and horror, and he gripped his messy grey fur.

FRIDAY

ONE DAY TO THE END OF THE WORLD

Pulling down the blinds in his book shop, and turned the sign to'closed'and locked the front door. He didn't feel bad about it, as his shop is more closed than open, however he was worried someone would see and look in. He pressed the palm of his hand against his angular chin, and dragged his face down, then up, his hand going up his face to his forehead, squashing his nose up in the process, and he closed his eyes.

His short, fluffy grey and white furwas a mess, standing and sticking up in all random directions, having ran his long, shaking fingers through it multiple times, while tugging at the strands, and his gloves were crumpled, his whiskers bent anddishevelled slightly, and his ears all knotted. He had been walking, and slinkingin a pace for hours, and hours, and hours.

Hepaced his small office downstairs, The Book still open on the desk, and he still had his cold cocoa, and he kept looking to the angel mug.It was almost as if he needed to be reminded that this is in fact happening, and Agnes Nutter Maltesedidn't have much of anuttermind afterall. He looked to a white vase of roses on his desk given to him by Daffy,(it should be noted that the roses Daffygrew forhim are never scolded, and instead are just complimented. (Bugs knew the demon yelled at them beforehand, warning them)).

"I'll just go to head office and explain it all."Said Bugs, his breathing nervous and wavering, as he shakily waved his hands. He sounded shaky, heisshaky, his hands are quivering, his heart is racing, he feels sick, his knees were quaking,and he feels like he wants to cry - he was about to cry, eyes rimmed with golden tears, there's a tingle all up his arm... why didn't he just tell Daffy what he found?!

"Yeah. So, Gabriel, um..." He swallowed back thick saliva, his heart pounding in his ribs. "Listen, Gabriel, most holy Archangel Gab—" He shook his head, clenching his hands, nails digging into the palm of said hands, "nah, way to formal."

He paced the floor in a nervous looking down, hoping to relieve the stress he was feeling. Is this stress? It feels worse then stress... he feels dizzy, like he might have a breakdown. Fear? He suddenly looked to his lovely, red and delightful roses, and said, tense and overly friendly, yet filled with absolute terror, "hello, Gabriel, old pal! Old mate!"

The red roses shook in slight fear at it's new owners odd behaviour, not used to the angel getting snappy, and Bugs frowned, "oh no. Don't fear!" He reached out, and gently nestled some damp soil into the pot, "it's all okay, I'm sorry, doc. I'm just a bit stressed at da moment." He apologised, voice soft and caring to the plants, and he rubbed his fingers against the leaf gently, soothing the poor thing.

He turned away, and looked to a wall, and began talking, pacing and moving around much like a nervous teenager who had to come clean, "there's a-a-a child we have to deal with 'n'-'n' make everything okay again." Bugs whimpered out - he's pathetic! "Oh, gosh." He walked away again, back into his office.

Swallowing back bile and saliva, he readied himself. He nodded with a deep breath, "hello, Gabriel." He greeted, tone softer and serious then ever. "Just thought yashouldknow dat because of a mix-up in a drawing board, da Antichrist has been lost. But it's fine!" He walked over to his desk, waving his hand about to show he had a plan, and pulled out a map, "I've found them. They're livin' in da Warner Brothers Studio, Lot A!" He smiled, pointing to the lot. Then frowned, how did he not know? Shouldn't he have sense them? No, no, suspicion slides off him like water slides off ducks, right."And their eleventh birthday, possibly their Legacy Day,was da start of..." He winced, recoiling from his notes, "da end ofthings." He picked up a piece of paper with writing on, "here's the address, 'n' now we have to eliminate them!" He blanched at that, at killing a child. He couldn't even smite a demon, he couldn't kill Dewey, their sort of Godchild, when they thought they was the Antichrist, - he's a terrible Principality!And now... "Then everythingcould still be okay, yeah!" He smiled, trying to convince himself.

"They'll have an enormous Hell Hound with them!" Smiled Bugs, "they won't be hard ta spot!"

Wakko walked down the grassy field, with Dog running forward with a bark.

This wasn't, insofar as the Hell Hound had had any expectations, what he had imagined life would be like in the last days before Armageddon,but despite himself he was beginning to enjoy it.

Wakko opened the gate, and Dog trotted through.

Form shapes nature. There are certain ways of behaviour appropriate to small dogs,which are in fact welded into the genes. He'd surprised the huge ginger cat from next door,and had attempted to reduce it to cowering jellyby means of the usual glowing stare.

Dog growled, eyes glowing red at the cat, but the cat screeched, and clawed it's nose, running off.

It had always worked in the past.

Dog was looking forward to a further cat experiment,which would consist of jumping around and yapping excitedly at it.

For example; he'd already chased a rat. It had been the most enjoyable experience of his life

Wakko came to a slow stop outside of Jasmine Cottage, hearing distraught yelling, and crying, with pots smashing into the walls.

"I can't believe it! I can't believe it!" It was that French skunkfrom yesterday, Pepé. "Three hundred and fifty years my creator and family kept it safe. Three hundred and fifty years!" He slammed another pot into the bench, crying, "tellement stupide!"

"Come on, Dog." Whispered Wakko, rushing to the gate, to see Pepé, knelt at the bench, crying. "Hello, are you okay? Can I help?"

"I'm fine," Pepé sobbed, wiping his eyes.

"But you were crying," Wakko said.

"I know." Sobbed Pepé. He got up, and wiped his eyes, deciding to pull himself together. "Hello." He jerked his head for them to come in.

They hesitated - this was the witch at Jasmine Cottage. However, they doubted that he was a witch. Wakko had a very clear mental picture of a witch. Their creators, Kassy and Angelica, as well as Dr. Scratchansniff restricted themselves to the only possible choice amongst the better class of Sunday newspaper, and so a hundred years of enlightened occultism had passed Wakko by. He didn't have a hooked nose or warts, and he was young... well, quite young. That was good enough for them.

They opened the gate and walked in.

"This is going to sound so stupid,but I lost my Book and it all just got a bit much," Pepé gave a watery smile.

"I can help you look for it," offered Wakko, they're a polite childand was brought up right, after all.

"Oh, that's sweet of you. It's been in my creators family for a long time," sniffed Pepé.

"I wrote a book once." Wakko said, "it was about this pirate who was a famous detective. I bet it was a lot more exciting than any book you've lost. Especially the bit in the spaceship where the dinosaur comes outand fights with the cowboys. I bet it'd cheer you up, my book."

"I'm sure your book is a very good book," Pepé said, endearing herself to Wakko. Something was telling her to like Wakko.

"I'm Wakko. I live inthe Water Tower." Wakko said, upon realising they didn't get to introduce themselvesyesterday.

"Oh. Yes. I've heard of you," said Pepé, dabbing at his eyes.

Wakko preened.

"Mrs. Henderson said I was to be sure to keep an eye out for you," he went on.

"I'm well known around here," said Wakko.

"She said you were born to hang," said Pepé.

Wakko grinned. Notoriety wasn't as good as fame, but was heaps better than obscurity. Which he was also used to, given he was the middle child.

"She said you were the worst of the lot of Them," said Pepé, looking a little more cheerful. Wakko nodded. "She said, WYou watch out for Them, Sir, they're nothing but a pack of ringleaders"," he said. He smiled then, "I'm Pepé Le Pew." He held out his hand, and they shook. "Are you from around here?"

"This is my world." Wakko said, proudly. "From the Water Tower, and Lot A, to Stage 16, and from the old Gate 4 up to the village."

"You haven't seen two cartoons in a big black vintage car, have you?" Pepé asked.

"Did they steal it?" Wakko asked, excited, suddenly full of interest. "Professional book thieves, probably go around in their car stealing books!" Foiling a gang of international book thieves would make a rewarding end to the day.

"No, no, they didn't mean to steal it. It's Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, they would never intentionally steal something... or, well maybe Daffy would." Pepé said, humming in thought. He stared at Wakko. There was something odd about them, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He just had an urgent feeling that they was important and shouldn't be allowed to drift away. Something about them..."Do you want some lemonade?"

"Are we going to have to break into the cottage and battle the witch for it?" Asked Wakko, looking over at the cottage. Because, he's not the witch, he doesn't look like one.

"That's my cottage." Pepé smiled, "I'm renting it."

"Look, excuse me for asking, if it's not a personal question,but are you a witch?" Wakko asked, looking him up and down.

"No, I'm an occultist." Said Pepé, with a smile.

"Oh, well, that's alright, then." Nodded Wakko, and followed him into the house. Suddenly, Dog stopped and began barking, and Wakko looked over. "Come on, you silly dog. It's only old Jasmine Cottage." They gave Pepé an embarrassed look. "Normally he does everything I say, right off."

There had always been a horseshoe over the door of Jasmine Cottage, ever since its first tenant centuries before; the Black Death was all the rage at the time and he'd considered that he could use all the protection he could get.

It was corroded and half covered with the paint of centuries. So neither Wakko nor Pepé gave it a thought, or noticed how it was now cooling from a white heat.

"You can just leave him in the garden," assured Pepé.

"No. He has to do everything he's told." Said Wakko, "Dadoo and Kassysays I can only keep him if he's properly trained."

Dog whined and gave them a pleading look. His stubby tail thumped on the floor once or twice.

His Master's voice said, "now, Dog, go inside."

With extreme reluctance, as if making progress in the teeth of a gale, he slunk over the doorstep.

"Good boy. It wasn't that hard, was it?" Wakkonodded.

The Hell Hound entered the cottage and a little bit more of Hell burned away.

Sylvestermoved to the desk in Lola's apartment. He frowned.

There was a thumbscrew, a bell, and other things that screamed "torture device", and he moved away. He moved over and paused, seeing a dusty hat in a case, with a tag;hiff Hatte Belongeth To Witchfinder General Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-AdulteryFreleng.

Sylvesterthen moved to ledger, and opened it, seeing Lola's handwriting.

Strictly speaking, Lola doesn't run the Witchfinder Army. According to Lola's pay ledgers, it is run by Witchfinder General Smith. Under him are Witchfinder Colonels Green and Jones, and Witchfinder Majors Jackson, Robinson and Smith (no relation).

Then there are Witchfinder Majors Saucepan, Tin, Milkbottle, deceased, and Cupboard, because Lola's limited imagination had been beginning to struggle at this point.

Best Caferead the faded, old sign above the tinycafe, it was a hideous combination of blue and red, with mucus green. There was a cartoon fried egg on the side of the sign. The small, run down cafe that was doing a $4.79breakfast, as well aslunch and dinner, and the buildingwas sandwiched between a row of tiny houses, and a small corner shop, that sold chocolate and magazines your Grandma would buy.

An old female bunnywith faded brown and white fur, and a large brown, nearing black parka coat and a dark, faded green, nearing brown satchel, walked into the small cafe, a dress on under her clothes. She saw Daffy sat slouched at the table, reading a newspaper, his sunglasses on as usual. She noticed a big breakfast, a muffin and a coffee in front of the empty seat, as usual.

Daffy looked up, and nodded, "Witchfinder Sergeant Lola." He greeted, yes - it istheSergeant Lola he met back in 1967. Helooked at Lola. "Take a seat," he offered, with a wave of his hand, and gestured to the food he had "bought"for the Witchfinder.

Lola sat down, "Mr. Daffy." She greeted. "You're looking well." She complimented, andpoked the breakfast, eagerly taking a bite to quench his growling stomach.

"Clean living." Was the easy response the demon gave, going back to his newspaper. He held back a laugh, finding the line ironic - he's a demon, a tempter, one who likes lust, and alcohol, and one who inflicts the seven deadly sins onto humanity, (besides lust, as that's now preserved for Bugs).

"And your father, how is he?" Asked Lola, rocking in her chair, her old and fading memories going back to 1967. She worked with, what she believed to beMr. Daffy's father years ago, and was hired by him permanently. "You resemble him very much, you know." Lola smiled, her eyes looking over the dark feathered duck. Exactly the same, actually... scarily the same. Could be the same cartoon, but toons don't last that long anymore...

"Tho they tell me," replied Daffy. "Yeah, he'thwell," he held back a coy smirk, and laugh. When Lola found out about his former Honour's "son"was taking over,she believed it, took it hook, line and sinker, and she didn't question, despite the fact everyone believed his "father"to be a bachelor, in kinder terms.

"I've prepared the ledger." Lola said, opening the tattered satchel, and pulled out a green, old and well used book,filled with names and writing, while eyeing her coffee, "is this...?"

"With condensed milk just as y'like." Assured Daffy barely looking up. He did glance over the few names he saw such as; Witchfinder General Smith, Witchfinder Colonels Green and Jones, and Witchfinder Majors Jackson, Robinson and Smith (no relation). And, so on, and so forth, he never read far enough or cared enough if he was honest.

"The men need paying, Your Honour. It's hard times for Witchfinder's in today's degenerate age." Lola said, spinning the book on the table, and pointing to a name.

Daffy shook his head, "that won't be nethethary." He looked back to his paper, he wasn't actually reading it, it just made him look uninterested, and it gave him more power. "Two hundred and fifty dollars." He assured, seeing Lola's pleased face, shutting the book, as the Witchfinder scooped scrambled egg into her mouth. "I'll drop the money off for you on Saturday." - If they were alive for it.

"Only in cash," Lola reminded, "in an envelope. Don't take plastic." She sipped her coffee eagerly, and eyed the pink frosted cake, with what she hoped was a playful and friendly smile.

"You athtonish me," quacked Daffy with pursed beak, reading his paper still. He glanced outside as a modern car drove past.

Lola swallowed nervously, losing her smile. In Lola's simple world, anyone in sunglasses who wasn't actually on the beach was probably a criminal. She suspected that Daffy was from the Mafia, or the underworld, although she would have been surprised how right she nearly was. "So..."

"There's a place; it's called Warner Brothers, Lot A, I'm sure you know Lola, you're from there. Send your best people down there..."Daffyglanced up at Lola, who sipped her coffee, hisdarkeyes gleaming behind his sunglasses. He could tell that rabbit wasn't happy about going back to her old stomping ground."I'm looking for a child. A boy —" somethings telling Daffy the child isnota boy, but it's easier for Lola's old mind,"about eleven, probably a new Legacy Toon. I don't have anything more than that." He said, and looked to the old rabbut, finally, "but look for anything... thtrange."He whispered, tone serious.

The employee looked around, nervously. "This, uh, boy... he's a witch?" Asked Lola, a thoughtfulsneer on her face.

"Possibly," agreed Daffy, leaning in slightly, a cold, duck-like smile on his sharp face. "We'll have to find the child first, won't we?" Ah yes, "we", as if they were in this together. As if they were a team. As far as the demon was concerned, he was only in this with Bugs, and that is it.

"Aye." The Witchfinder chuckled, taking another bite of her breakfast, not noticing she was nearly done.

Daffy waved a hand, and a mancame over setting more food down, another cake and left- nobody would ask for money, they didn't in Daffy's world.

"Well, my best operative, that would be Witchfinder Lieutenant Table." Said Lola, stumbling over her words as she shoved herbook into her bag.

Daffy collected his paper, and stood up, "call me if you find anything." He walked out of the cafe with a saunter.

"Witchfinder Sergeant Pepper." Lola continued, pushing the empty plate away and pulled one of the cakes in front of her, getting another coffee.

The door closed behind the demon.

And, so what it Lola grumbled out around a mouthful of cake, "the flash bastard!"

"All my creators family have had occult powers, going all the way back." Pepé said, setting drinks down on the table. "We can find ley lines."

"Right. What's ley lines?" Asked Wakko, watching as Pepé set two glasses down.

"Invisible lines of force linking places of power." Pepé smiled.

"Amazing there being all these invisible lines of force aroundand me not seeing them!" Wakko said, looking around, as if trying to find these lines.

"We can see auras." Smirked Pepé, pouring a glass of lemonade.

"And they are?" Asked Wakko.

"This coloured force field surrounding someone." Pepé, answered, pushing a glass to them. "Everyone's got one. And I can look at its strengths and colourand tell you how you're feeling."

"That's brilliant. Why don't they teach us about them at school?" Asked Wakko, now thinking that school was a load of trash - they never teacher you useful things! They was sent to school every other day, just so they could get a basic education.

"Because school is a repressive tool of the state." Pepé nodded.

"So, what colour's my aura then?" Asked Wakko excited.

Pepé looked to Wakko, and then frowned. "Wakko, I can't see your aura." He said, confused. It was a rainbow around his eyes, as usual, and blurred in the background, but nothing around Wakko. It was meant to be a colour, almost smoky like, but nothing...

"You said everybody's got one," Wakkofrowned.

"I don't know, mon garçon." Shrugged Pepé, "it's an art, not a science.Maybe I'm just tired?"

"So, what else don't they teach us at school?" Asked Wakko, getting over their sadness, and jumping right back in.

Wakko didn't often listen, but they spent the most enthralling twenty minutes of their life, or at least of their life that day. No one in the Warner household so much as touched wood or threw salt over their shoulder. The only nod in the direction of the supernatural was a half-hearted pretence, when Wakko had been younger, that Father Christmas came down the chimney (despite their being no chimney). (If Wakko had been in full possession of their powers in those days, the Warners's Christmas would have been spoiled by the discovery of a dead fat man upside down in their door, or slipped from the ladder.)

They'd been starved of anything more occult than a Harvest Festival. His words poured into their mind like water into a quire of blotting paper.

Dog lay under the table and growled. He was beginning to have serious doubts about himself.

Pepé didn't only believe in ley-lines and auras, but in seals, whales, bicycles, rain forests, whole grain in loaves, recycled paper, white South Africans out of South Africa, and English folkout of practically everywhere down to and including Long Island. He didn't compartmentalise hisbeliefs. They were welded into one enormous, seamless belief, compared with which that held by Joan of Arc seemed a mere idle notion. On any scale of mountain moving it shifted at least point five of an alp. (It may be worth noting here that most human beings can rarely raise more than .3 of an alp (30 centi-alps). Wakko believed things on a scale ranging from 2 through to 15,640 Everests.)

No one had even used the word "environment" in Wakko's hearing before. The South American rain forests were a closed book to Wakko, and it wasn't even made of recycled paper. They did this, while he painted their nails, and the only time they interrupted him was to agree with his views on nuclear power:

"I've been to a nuclearpower station. It was boring. There was no green smoke and bubbling stuff in tubes. Shouldn't be allowed, not having proper bubbling stuff when people have come all the way to see it, and having just a lot of men standin' around not even wearin' space suits."

"They do all the bubbling after visitors have gone home," said Pepégrimly.

"Huh," said Wakko.

"They should be done away with this minute."

"Serve them right for not bubblin'," said Pepé.

"Wako, I have to get back to work." Pepé said, and Wakkofrowned. "But if you're interested in any of this stuff,I have some old magazines here." He picked them up.He was pleased and gratified to find such a rewarding student, and decided to loan themsome copies ofNew Aquarian Digest, a small magazine edited by a friend of his. "You don't have to read them if you don't want."

It changed theirlife. At least, it changed their life for that day. "Wicked." They gasped, theirnails dry as they took them.

It might have helped Pepé to understand what was going on,if he understood the very simple reason why he couldn't see Wakko's aura.

It's for the same reason that people in Times Squarecan't see America.

An aura surrounded all of America, as they sat reading about Atlantis on a bench, though of course, Aliens could see... if they could see Ley Lines...

Bugs stood in the open space of Heaven. He was desperately trying to keep slouched slightly, and at ease to not alert anyone that anything was... completely wrong, or that he had been...helpinga demon...

"So, Bugs..."

The angle looked up to Sandalphon, Michael, Uriel and Gabriel walking towards him, all in a straight, single file line. Gabriel's fake, friendly smile spread, "got your message." He raised his eyebrows, "have you got something big? Lay it on us." He insisted with a jerk of his head.

"I'm sorry?" Bugs questioned, a confused smile on his face, his confidence wavering.

"What's happening?" Asked Uriel, her shinylips pulled into a scowl, her scales so it seemed, glistening in the light.

"Okay, ahem, so..." Started Bugs, in a stutter. "Well, ahem..."

Michael scowled at him, his dull pink matte lips pursed, blinking. Sandalphon had a disappointed and annoyed frown on its face.

"It's-it'sda Antichrist, doc." Bugs got out, all the preparationand practice in his book shop was no use when it came down to actually telling his superiorsthe issue.

"Yes?" Uriel pressed.

"I think dat, um... well, it's not impossible..." Bugs swallowed back saliva with an audible gulp. "Considering all-all da alternatives dat t-theother side," he nodded, going with the lie, proud of himself. "Might have lost track ofthem." He laughed out nervously, voice waveringslightly with each laugh.

Gabriel just looked at him with a confused smile, one that was smaller than his fake one, yet was still looking as friendly as possible, and he glanced to his right-hand Archangel. Sandalphon looked to the other Archangels in the room, then to its boss, a sneer on its face, and tried to see how the others looked.

"The "other side"?" Quoted Michael, his soft elegant voice holding one of annoyance, with his filled ineyebrows raised in confusion.

Slowly, Bugs pointed downwards to the floor,Hell... he translated, and his face morphed into nervousness, swallowing back saliva.

"Lost him?" Asked Gabriel with a confused scowl, trying to stay the "friend". "He's the creationof the Disney's Right Hand. He's under constant surveillance." Reminded the Archangel, he was discombobulated at the Rabbit Principality.

"Theother side," Michael said, "are currently transporting him to the plains of Megiddo." He looked to Sandalphon, who nodded in agreement. "Apparently, that's the traditional starting point." He said, with a tone of ease.

"Middle Eastern unrest. Everything else just follows." Gabriel shrugged, "the Four Horsem*n ride out." He took a sharp intake of air, "last great battle between Heaven and Hell." He was acting like it was any other day at the office, like people would on Earth... albeit, a corrupted office, but an office nonetheless.

"Yeah. Well, um... it's possible dat the demon, Daffy, a-a-a deviousadversary..." Bugslaughed nervously. "Keeps me on me toes, I can tell ya." He held himself back from gushing about the demon he adored so much. "But the, um," he swallowed again, like he was swallowing a rock, "Disney's Right Hand, uh, creation, uh...well, it may have been a ruse."

"A ruse?" Asked Sandalphon, voice full of annoyed disbelief, clearly tired of Bugs'... Bugs-ness.

"And thereal Antichrist might be, um... somewhere else." Bugs offered, shrugging with a strangled laugh, shaking his head. He could get his way out of any situation, throw Elmer Fudd, Yosemite Sam, Tasmanian Devil, Marvin the Martian, Wile E. at him, he can get out of it. Throw his superiors at him? He's in trouble.

Michael was staring him down, unimpressed. Sandalphon's mouth was open in bored shock.

With a now slightly angry, wide mouthed smile that you could happily punch,Gabrielasked, "where?" Smacking his lips together. He was annoyed.

Bugs stared, he knew where. He had a pretty decent idea where, and he could just be honest, get back on the good side! Stop being such a bad angel, and a bad Principality, and tell them where the boy is, roughly! These are his "brothers", his "sister", his "sibling",and his superiors! Tell them! All five of them are angels, they're Archangel's technically! Tell them, not bang on where, but close! A good idea, and his original plan! Okay, time to do his plan!

"Not sure." But, he can't... who knows what they would do the the boy. Who knows what will happen? Maybe,hecould stop it? It was more clear that Heaven was less then good, but not bad... no, Heaven is Right, and they're all a bit on edge for the Antichrist. "I mean, I-I-I could find out!" Bugs offered seeing Sandalphon shoot Uriel a look, (get more time to find the child before you do,in other words.)"I have a team of... agents. A dedicatedteam who-who would look intothe idea." He shook his head with a nervous smile, "um... hypothetically speaking," Uriel was staringhim down now, "if dat were da case—"

"It wouldn't change anything, Bugs." Uriel spoke up, staring at him still unimpressed.

"There was War in Heaven long before the Earth was created." Gabriel said, nodding. "Lucas and the rest were cast out, but nothing was ever really settled." He grumbled out.

Bugs scowled, "Daffy." He corrected the Archangel, ignoring the annoyed and outwardly suspicious looks the group was sharing. "and, I guess it wasn't." He saw Michaelstaring him down, and asked, "what?"

"Why do you correct Lucas' name,Happy?" Asked Michael, his lips pursed.

With a look of anger crossing Bugs dark, black eyes, he snapped out, "Daffy, and because it's his name!" He swallowed. "And, Happy isn't my name anymore. As my siblings I thought ya'd understand dat." He said, his voice sounding stern and angry, (he disliked the name as it had too many connections to Heaven, and to before The Fall, something he can't remember due to memories being wiped). No. It wasn't just anger, it was fear. They said his old name, the name he hated... they never did that... Michaelused"Happy", blatantlyused... they didn't trust him. He's not on good terms with Heaven anymore. Bugs scoffed, "dere doesn't have to be another War, does there!" It wasn't a question, and his voice was getting louder, and louder.

Gabriel straightened up slightly, not liking the glare that was thrown his way, one with anger and malice. Quickly, the archangelsaid, "as much as we appreciate your hypothetical's,Bugs," he corrected, hoping to calm the angel down. That, and to hide his suspicion. "I'm afraid we have other things to do. The Earth isn't going to just end itself, you know." He smiled, hoping the angel would ease up.

"Nah. Yeah. Right." Sighed Bugs, shaking his head and stumbling over words. He realisedhow unsavoury it was that he defended Daffy. Bugs defending the use ofown name was fine, but Daffy? Less fine...

Bugs watched the Archangels walk away in a single file line, and he relaxed, unaware just how suspicious his superiorswere of him.

Pepé stood with his notebook and pendant out, waving it, as he looked at people walking down the street of Warner Village. He crossed the street, and saw people encased in neon colours; blues, pinks and greens, and more... auras.

"Hello." Greeted a man, and Pepé smiled back, hiding the pendant.

"Hello," greeted one in yellow.

Pepé saw one in red, and looked down, and began to write, when an old man suddenly stepped up to him, in his face. "R.P. Tyler. Neighbourhood watch. I couldn't help but notice, young person, that you have a map. Casing the joint, are we?"

Pepé quickly closed his book. "I'm renting Jasmine Cottage."

"Oh, good Lord, you're an French tourist." R.P. Tyler said, eyes wide. "Sorry. Thought you were a person of interest."

Pepé ignored the sadness, yet another person who doesn't recognise him...

"Oh, I am!" Assured Pepé, ignorig the sadness, "listen,years ago, something came to this village. Some sort of beast or creature. And if you're neighbourhood watch, maybe you noticed." He smiled, poking his chest.

"Warner Village is a perfectly respectable village. If you're coming here to smoke your fatty spliffersand bimble off to woo-woo land,then I suggest that you go elsewhere." Snapped R.P. Tyler, walking off, "like back to France!"

Well that was mean."Fatty spliffers?" He mumbled confused.

Bugs was gone.

The Archangels walked back in a straight line, confused.

"What did you think of that, then?" Asked Gabriel, confused.

"That's an angel who's been down there too long." Sneered Uriel, shaking her head.

"I don't trust him," sneered Sandalphon.

"Hypotheticals, indeed." Grumbled Gabriel.

Sylvesterwas cutting pieces from newspapers, and read over a title;White Christmas in Warner's Studio- Again!,and read;Apple trees producing more fruits with miracle weather conditions.

The phone was ringing, and Sylvester looked up.

Madame Tina walked over, and picked the phone up,and answered in a soft, posh and slu*tty voice,"hello."

Bugsheld his phone to his long ear, tapping his foot,his fingers curling around the plastic inworry."Sergeant Lola, please." Asked Bugs in a polite voice, "or, one of her officers." He said, looking out the window in worry, checking nobody he knew saw him.

Madame Tina changed her voice to a bit... squeaky, "I shall endeavour to see if she is available. Hold on." She leaned over, and knocked on the door, "coo-ee, Ms. Lola." She opened the door, and paused seeing Sylvester. "Oh, hello, dear."

"Hello, Madame Tina," greeted Sylvesterwith a soft smile.

Lola bounded up the stairs, and yelled, "away with you, harlot!"

"There's a gentleman on the telephone for you." Madame Tina said, and sounded proud of Lola, shutting the door. "Sounds ever so refined. And I'll be getting a nice bit of liver for us for Sunday."

"I'd sooner sup with the devil," sneered Lola.

Madame Tina handed the phone over, and at Lola's annoyed look, ducked under the phone coil.

"So if you could just give me the plates back from last week. There's a love." Grinned Madame Tina, walking off as Lolasighed.

Bugs messed with his golden ring, twirling the band as he waited. He tapped his foot, and watered his roses, trying to calm himself,chewing his lower lip as he waited for the Witchfinder.

"Aye?"GreetedLola, finally taking the phone.

"Sergeant Lola. It's ya-know-who." Bugs answered, with a whispered voice.

"Who?"Asked Lola in confusion.

"Me. Your, um, sponsor!" Bugs said, shaking his head brushing off the woman'sforgetfulness. "Listen, do yahave any men free? I need dem ta poke about a bit."He looked around his shop again.

"Poke? Where exactly do you want them poking?"

The angel kept glancing around, worrying his golden bracelet, "Warner Brothers, Lot A. It's a small studio in California. Dere's a child I need placed under observation. I-I need ta know where they are at all times. I can give ya the address." Assured Bugs, now worrying his lower lip.

Lola had been nodding the whole time."I'll put a squad of my best men onto it."

"Oh, good. Thank you so much." Sighed Bugs, relaxing a hand over heart, practically wiggling in excitement. "Oh, I should've asked about Witchfinder Major Milkbottle!"

Lola rolled her eyes, wanting to hang up.

"I was so sorry to hear ofhis untimely end." Apologised Bugs will a sad, sorrowful nod and soft pout, "I sent flowers."

"Aye, the flowers were appreciated." Lola sounded annoyed, though she hid it well enough. "And so was the extra $20 for the family. He was a brave man."She would say something insulting to the man, but much like Mr. Daffy, made the assumption he was not someone to offend as well. She thought Bugs was a Russian spy (at first she thought Brooklyn Spy, but that didn't make sense in her mind), but unlike Mr. Daffy, she would hesitantly roughen him up if needed... though that was terribly risky.

"Oh, I was shocked when you told me how he died." Bugs said, seeminglythrown off and surprised.

"Aye. A brave man."Lola said, quickly moving the conversation along."I'll be by the book shop, um, next week to pick up your annual dues."

Bugskept looking out the windows of his shop with jittery movements. "Squad ofbest men to Warner Studios, Miss. And keep dem dere until I give ya more instructions." Ordered Bugs, tapping his foot worriedly. He reached out, and grabbed a piece of paper with writing on, "the childs called... Wakko Warner. The address is number four, Warner Studio, Water Tower." Bugs read out, "you got it?"

"Absolutely, Your Honour."Lola assured, writing down everything Bugssaid,"Warner Studioit is."

"Right. Pip-pip. And let me know when your men are in position." Bugs said quickly, not noticing he said something which might have been out of style for centuries.

Lola shook her head, andhung up, slamming the phone down. And, so what if Lola muttered, "'pip-pip'. Great Brooklyn pansy." She turned, and walked into her apartment, to see Sylvester, looking around.

"Find any witches yet, Witchfinder Private puss*cat?" Asked Lola, walking down the stairs.

"Even better than that." Assured Sylvester with a smile, finally getting the hang of Witch Finding. "I found thomething really interesting. I've discovered some unusual weather patterns. It's all at aStudio,with some very strange weather events."

"Oh? Raining blood? Or raining fish?" Lola asked, taking her jacket off. "Satanic frost in summer withering the cropsafter some hag got into an argument with a farmer?" She seemed rather excited.

"No. It's just...it always has perfect weather for the time of year." Said Sylvester - this was California, sunny and warn nearly all the time, or hot rains, that just made you humid. But, this?

"You call that a phenomenon?" Asked Lolain shock, pausing in her coffeemaking.

"Normal weather for the time of year isn't normal." Assured Sylvester, "crisp autumns, long, hot Augusts. The kind of weather you used to dream of as a kid. It's snowed there every Christmas Eve for the last eleven years!"

"Not interested," Lola said with a shake of her head. "Just look for witches and witch-caused phenomenon-enoms."

He called himself "Dr Raven Sable",but you know him by another name. He loves hunger. He loves people not eating enough in fancy restaurants.

Sable was a black man, with sharp, bony features. He sat across from a woman, at a fancy restaurant, with a hard to pronounce French name.

"Your main course, madam." Said the waiter walking over, and setting a plate down. "Chicken froth on a reduction of broccoli gel with a mushroom foam. And the chef recommends that you have this first." He held up a clear balloon. "A balloon filled with lavender-scented air. It is the first course." He popped it, and the woman - Frannie - hummed, taking it in.

"It just occurred to me." Sable said, "I've never seen a room full of rich people so hungry before."

MANCHESTER, ENGLAND

He's a businessman with a chain of restaurants. And he's about to launch something new.CHOW®: Food-free food.

Sable and Frannie walked into the Motel/Diner, and gestured to the suitcase with food on it... or well... not food... CHOW®. "Artificial bun. Artificial burger. Fries that have never seen a potato. Foodless sauces. And... we're rather proud of this: A completely artificial dill pickle."

"The shake doesn't contain any actual food content either," Frannie nodded.

"Well, nobody's shakes contain any actual food content," assured Sable. "Okay," he clapped, "let's try it out."

Lesley steered into the Diner.

"Press this button when you hand over the Chow." Said Frannie, "and don't call it "food". It's CHOW®."

The waitress clearly didn't care, and leaned over pressing the button, not missing how delighted Sable looked. The automated voice spoke.

"CHOW®-brand unfood contains spun,plaited and woven protein moleculesdesigned to be ignored by your digestive enzymes,no-cal sweeteners, oil replacements, fibrous materials,colouring's and flavourings. CHOW®is an edible substanceand must not be confused with food.Eating CHOW®can help you to lose weight, hair and kidney functions. May cause anal leakage. Enjoy your meal."

Lesley walked over, package under his arm and asked, "party, name of Sable?" Sable raised a finger, and Lesley set it down. "I thought it was you. I looked around, I thought, "Tall gent with a beard, nice suit." There's a package for you, sir. You have to sign for it." He handed over the documents.

Frannie opened the box, and pulled out another box, wood, and smart looking.

Lesley smiled, and looked up, pausing, seeing a bad Elvis impersonator singing. He walked off.

Sable opened the box, and revealed, "the measuring scales. Finally." He licked his lips. "I'm flying to England." He walked off, hungrily.

"I'll let the jet know. When are you returning?" Called Frannie.

"Who knows? Cancel all my appointments." Sable said, mesmerised by the scales.

"For how long?" Asked Frannie.

"The foreseeable future!" Called Sable... no... not Sable...FAMINEwith a hungry smile.

Sylvester sat with the small, blueWitchfinder Manualopen, reading. Lola walked in with her coffee.

"Sergeant Lola," Sylvester said, looking up. "You know the studio I was telling you aboutwith the perfect weather?" Lolaignored him, walking to the window. "Well, according to the manual,witches can influence the weather." Lolaclosed the window. "What if I was to sort of check over there tomorrow,have a little look round? I could pay for my own petrol." He was interested about this large studio, how it could have perfect weather such as this, even if it wasn't witchcraft, it was fascinating.

"This studio, it wouldn't be called Warner's Studio, would it?" Asked Lola, all knowingly.

"How did you know that?" Asked Sylvester shocked.

"Aye." Smirked Lola, "well, I suppose it can't do any harm. Be here at 9:00 in the morning, before you leave."

"What for?" Asked Sylvester, confused.

"Your armour of righteousness."

Sylvester grinned, excited.

Bugs was pacing back and forth in his shop, waiting for news from Lola, and messed with his reading glasses, until suddenly, his phone rang. He slammed down his glasses, and rushed over, grabbing it with a smile believing it to be the old Witchfinder, but his smile dwindled slightly hearing Daffy,"it'th me, angel. Meet me at the third alternative rendezvous."

Bugs frowned in confusion, his mind whirring, forming a headache, scrunching his nose up, "dat the old bandstand, the number nineteen taxi station, or theAmericanMuseum café?" He listed, mind too full to pick a meeting point.

"The bandstand!" Quacked Bugs, shaking his head and his voice sounded shocked, holding back a fond laugh, yet his smile was not hidden."I'll be there in fifteenminutes." He said, hanging up his phone.

"Guys, did you know that there are ley lines everywhere?" Smiled Wakko, looking up from the magazine.

"No, Wakko. Ley lines are rubbish." Dr. Scratchansniff said, not seeing his childs face fall.

"Oh, you'll like this bit, Angelica." Yakko said, pointing to the television. "They've taped the gun under the chair." He laughed, and Angelica nodded, next to her son - not really son, but her and Kassy saw the Warner Siblings as there children -, not really entertained by the show.

"It's not rubbish." Wakko said, totally enthralled with their magazines. "They wouldn't write about it in magazines if it was rubbish." They frowned, seeing their Dado and brother laugh at the show, and their sister not listening, and their creators looking tired, yet trying to listen to everyone at once. "There's people from Tibet watching everything we do through hidden tunnels." They frowned, seeing their brother and sister, and Dado and creators shoot them concerned looks. "I think I might go to bed early, actually." They said, much to their family's astonishment, and got up, and closed their magazine, walking out of the room.

"Do you think they're alright?" Asked Angelica, worried.

"They'refine." Assured Kassy, but she did hesitate to watch any more television.

The sun was setting, it was getting darker and darker, with pale pinks, and orange hues in the sky with the overcast of soft, fluffy watermelon pink clouds. They were running out of time.

Bugs walked up to the old, large, blue tinted yet faded bandstand in the middle of the park, surrounded by trees, Daffy was already there, pacing and sauntering back and forth, glancing around nervously. The angel walked up the three concrete steps.

Daffy paused in his pacing, andwas immediately hit by something... stinging him, or stabbing him... yet, it was... no, sizzling... he shook his head, and relaxed himself, "well?"He's never felt that before, not at the bandstand, there is no one in sight, and so it can't be anyone else... maybe, he's just feeling a little off? "Any news?" He asked, as Bugs came to a stop in front of him.

Bugs began messing with his fingers, "um... what-what kind ofnews would dat be?" He asked, wringinghis fingers between his hands,his voice full of nerves.

"Well, have you found the missing Antichrist's name, address and shoe size yet?" Daffy asked with a waddle of his body, annoyed and snappy.

"Their shoe size?" Asked Bugs in tense panic, and confusion. "Why-why would I have their shoe size?" He asked, shaking his head, clinging to that last question. His voice choked, and fearful, yet he gave off a short laugh, one so quick it wasn't really a laugh.

"It's a joke." Daffyassured quickly, brushing it off and shrugging. Honestly, what is wrong with Bugs? He can always take a joke, gotten better at insulting him over the years. "I've got nothing either, calm down Bugsy." The poor angel looked like he was about to faint. He moved forward, "angel, maybe you should..." He reached out to hold the angel, to steady both himself from the pain of sizzling, and the panicking angel.

Quickly, Bugs took a step back, eyes staring at the black feathereddemonic hands warily, and if that didn't freeze Daffy in his tracks, nothing would. The angel has never fled from him before, ever.Bugs looked down, "it's da Great Plan, Daffy." He said, weakly, shrugging with a wave of his hands.

Feeling hurt, as if hit by said angel, and eyes soft in worry, Daffy dropped his hands. "Yeah. For the record," he said, nodding and moved forward to stand in the middle of the bandstand, but then decided to saunter and pace, looking to the ceiling. "Great pustulent mangled bollocks," he spat out in quacks, "to the Great blasted Plan!" Screamed the demon with a snarl and a his, glaring up at the roof of the bandstand, head thrown back, and hands shaking in rage.

Bugs looked behind himself, tensely, and choked out,"may ya be forgiven." His face was full of pain and worry.

Daffy turned back around, his pacing stopping opposite Bugs, "I won't be forgiven." Laughed Daffy bitterly, denying all forms of forgiveness. "Not ever!" He snapped, voice incredulously. "That'thpart of a demon's job description. Unforgivable.That'swhat I am."He grumbled out, slinking in place and shook his head with a ducklike jerking motion, "I'm an unforgivable demon." He seemed broken, though he hid it well, he swallowed.

"You were an angel once." Reminded Bugs, softly and hopefully, as if that would... win Daffy over... no, not win, the demon noted, to try and turn him back into one, or something along those lines... the demon is unsure, it's not something he ever gave much thought about... becoming an angel again, it was impossible... maybe, he was hoping Daffy would join Bugs when the time came, join Heaven and side with them... that was a horrifying thought alone; to help Heaven... the very place that gave him the boot and lit his multiple wings aflame, tearing two out, turning what was once an elegantly soft white, black and ruffled.

"That watha long time ago, angel." Daffy reminded back, voice soft with a shake of his head. Hastur's voice was clear in his head,'We are the Fallen. Never forget that.', he had responded, 'Well, it's not the sort of thing you forget!'. Clearly, the raven feathered duckdemon was wrong. This was something that should never be forgotten, and it seemed the angel was forgetting, what with all this love talk, and being angels... "Never forget that..." Daffy warned, his voice grave, using Hastur's words, voice blank.

"Daffy..." Bugs frowned,you think too little of yourself.

I think just the right amount of myself...Daffy saunteredup to Bugs, face to face, but not as close as the Drawing Board, Park Manor,"we find the child. My agents can do it."

"And den what?" Growled Bugs, annoyed and angry. His breathing was ragged, and uneven. "We... kill them?" He asked, with a bitter laugh of disgust and fear, a glare in his eyes, and he looked around nervously.

Daffy raised his eyebrows and shook his head, slinking. "Someone does. I'm not personally up for killing kids." Hesaid, shrugging, looking away from the angel. He couldn'tmeet his eyes, he was unable to.

"Your dademon. I'm da nice one." Bugs said, clinging to any reason possible, even a low one,and began shaking his head, "I don't have to kill children."

Daffy frowned, and felt the sizzle grow stronger, and he held up a finger, "uh-ah-ah-ah—"

Bugs raised a finger as well, making the demon lower his,"If youkill them—" Daffy recoiled in shock "— the world gets spared, 'n'Heaven doesn't have blood on its hands." The angelsaid, nodding his head as if sure of himself.'But, how many people will be killed after the Great Plan? How much blood will be on Heaven's hands then? How much is on Heaven's hands already?'

Daffy sagged back slightly, horrified, as if being held at Holy Water point. Yes, he knows he's a demon! Yes, he's bad, but note the lack of a capital 'b'! He likes to think of himself as a good-bad demon, and this was just too far him!"Oh, no blood onyourhandth?!" Asked Daffy, looking to the angel, eyebrows up in disbelief and anger, with a slink of each syllable. Again the sizzlingwas more sharp. "That's a bit holier-than-thou, isn't it?!" He yelled, nose scrunched up in a sneer.

"I am a great deal holier dan thou. Dat's da whole point." Insisted Bugs, eyes sad and angry, but he was tense.

"You should kill of the child yourthelf." Daffy grumbled with an insistent tone, voice quieter now, in case someone was walking by. "Holi-ly." He shook his head with a quack, finishing his sentence off lamely, wobbling again. He has no idea what has come over his angel, but he hates it and he wants it to stop... he wants his Bugs back...

"I'mnot..." He trailed off, lowering his voice, "killinganybody." Denied Bugs, nervously looking between Daffyand the trees, his voice slow and careful.

It fell silent between the two, and they looked away from each other. Vugs eyes were sad, and Daffy scowled.

With a scoff, Daffy said, "this is ridiculouth." He shook his head, and looked to Bugs, "you are ridiculouth." He sneered, "I don't even know
why I'm still talking to you."

"Well, frankly, neither do I." Bugs said quickly, looking back to the demon for a second and looked away again.

Daffy turned away immediately after Bugs stopped talking,"enough, I'm leaving." He sauntered to the steps.

"Yacan't leave, doc!" Bugs called out, desperately, looking to the demon finally. "Dere isn't anywhereto go." He whispered, voice in a whimper. Broken and cracking.

Daffy turned at the top of the steps and held his hands out, "it's a big univerthe!" He insisted, and waved one hand dismissively at the air, one that clearly gestured to the Earth, "even if this all endthup in a puddle of burning goo, we can go off together." He said, voice softer and quieter now, careful.

It fell silent between them, the two looking at each other softly, hopelessly, emotionally broken and upset.

"Go off together?" Questioned Bugs, voice soft and eyes sad. He let out a choked, wet huff of breath, "listen ta yourself, Daffy."

Daffy stared, eyes sad and finally lowered his arms, "how long have we beenfriends?"Asked the demon, with heavy emphasis on the "friends", one that nobody could miss. "Six thousand yearth!"

"Friends? We're not friends." Bugs said, voice frantic and emotional, as his heart slammed into his stomach.

Daffy scoffed, "must I spell it out?!" He held up his hand, and his golden ring gleamed, "1970! Not friends, not dating! Married!" He yelled out, desperately. "Bugs, honey bunny! We're husbands!" He corrected himself; it's something they don't talk about... their marriage. They weren't ashamed, no! Satan no... but if Heaven or Hell find out about a marriage between an angel and a demon, who knows what would happen? It was all very hush-hush and secret, so much so that when they got married, they rarely spoke of it again. But, it was there. He knows it, and the angel knows it. If Hell found out a demon can feel love, do something so holy... it scared the demon, and if Bugs could feel his love then he was well and truly f*cked Downstairs...

Bugs looked down to his own hand, and there was his own wedding ring, and he twisted it, and turned it. His wedding ring was the only thing that kept him grounded, anytime he went to Heaven, he wore his ring under his glovesand it calmed him. If Heaven found out he Fell in love with a demon, a demon who was a sex fiend, ploughing through the sins of the earth. Daffy is the angels weakness, and if Heaven figured it out, not only would they do who knows what to the angel (which was the last thought on Bugs' mind), but they would use his demon against him, and torture in unspeakable ways... "No!" He cried out, voice shaky and chest heavy, "we are anangeland ademon. Dere is absolutely nothing between us!" He lied, his face scrunched up in pain at that, "I don't even like you." He held back a cry, and turned, going to walk off, it was the biggest lie he ever told.

"You do!" Yelled Daffy, his head thrown back slightly, "you love me! And, I love you!" He yelled out, trying to sound co*cky and confident, but was holding back tears, his voice hiding his fear of being left. Bugs was near the steps now, he was ignoring him. "You can't do this again, Bugs!" He yelled out, voice boarding on hysteria and begging, not again.He can't be left alone again, like back in 1862, he can't be away from the angel...

"I... I can!" Came the angels response and the sizzle in the demon grew. Wait a minute, the angel is the only one here, and this sizzling...

Daffy frowned in hurt and confusion, "what are you not telling me..." He asked, voice full of disbelief. That sizzling was coming from Jack, and Bugs was... "what are you hiding?" The angel was lying, he had been since the moment he walked up to the bandstand, and it wasn't a small fib like he sometimes did... no, this was a lie... surely, if the angel knew where the boy was, he'd say... "Bugth—"

The gig was up and the Rabbit Principality knew it. Suddenly, Bugs swung back around, and stormed to his original place, face full of rage, "even if I did know where da Antichrist was, I wouldn't tell ya. We're on opposite sides!"

Angry and distressed,the sizzling making sense now,Daffy stormed forward and quackout, desperately, "we're on our side."

"Dere is no "our side", Lucas!" Yelled Bugs, using the demons old name. He held back tears, "not anymore." Daffy faltered in his tracks, in shock and horror, he even stopped wobbling. "It's over," Bugs whispered, voice broken and was panting. Realising this was it, the end... no longer coworkers, friends, boyfriends or husbands. But, this fantasy he built up with the demon... it had to stop... even if it hurt him, even if it hurt the demon... it was dangerous... it had to stop...

Daffy's eyes welled up with read, bloody tears, staring at the Principality he loved so much. He nodded, thankful for his black tinted sunglasses. He realised it too, it was a break up... a divorce of sorts, he was right to worry about the "friend" talk over the phone. He was being left all over again, like he was back in 1862; heshouldfight and argue;heshouldbeg for Bugs to reconsider;heshouldfall to his knees and repent for Bugs; but if it's what his angel wants... "Right." He backed up, shaking his head, "well, then... ah, um. Quc..." He held back his sobbing, making sure to keep the wavering from his voice. He's been in love with this angel for six thousand years, since the moment he saw the angel on the wall, and now it's all gone. The angel he worshipped, more than Her and more than Satan. He turned around and sauntered off. Every stolen glance, every brushed hand touch, every hushed "I love you", every incredible night of secret sex...

Bugs' chin wobbled, and his chest shuddered, waiting until Daffy was out of sight. He looked down, and his lower lip stuck out, eyes filled with tears, as his mouth filled with saliva.

Daffy turned to him one last time, and tore his golden ring from his finger and threw it to the angel, spitting out, "have a nice doomsday,Happy!" He didn't mean it, he didn't meant to use the angels dead name, he was just hurt... he didn't mean it, not at all... but, Bugs had hurt him... well, how funny; it turns out he did have a heart after all, and it was breaking.

The demon had used Bugs name in a way to hurt him. It worked and he deserved it. It stung the angel, and he watched his ex-husband walk down the cobble pathway, and he looked to the ring that fell to the wooden ground with a deafening thud, despite it being so quiet.

The demon was now out of sight, and so, Bugs delicately picked up the ring, his golden tears rolling down his cheeks in big droplets, and held the ringclose to his chest, right over his heart. He fell to his knees harshly, though he was too numb to feel the pain, and his chest shuddered as he cried, weeps ripping from his throat, he wailed a heart wrenched cry, one full of anguish and pain.

"I'm so sorry, Daffy..." He sobbed, his tears pooling on the floor.

Wakko lay under the blankets until after midnight with a torch, the magazines, and a bag of lemon drops. The occasional "Brilliant!" emerged from theirferocious-chewing mouth.

When the batteries ran out he emerged into the darkened room and lay back with their head pillowed in their hands, apparently watching the squadron of X-wing® fighters that hung from the ceiling. They moved gently in the night breeze. But Wakkowasn't really watching them. They was staring instead into the brightly lit panorama of their own imagination, which was whirling like a fairground, ignoring the snoring of his brother and sister.

This wasn't Brain's creator and a wineglass. This sort of occulting was a lot more interesting.

Besides, they liked Pepé. Of course, he was very old, but when Wakko liked someone they wanted to make them happy. They wondered how they could make Pepéhappy. It used to be thought that the events that changed the world were things like big bombs, maniac politicians, huge earthquakes, or vast population movements, but it has now been realised that this is a very old-fashioned view held by people totally out of touch with modern thought. The things that really change the world, according to Chaos theory, are the tiny things. A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazonian jungle, and subsequently a storm ravages half of Europe.

Somewhere in Wakko's sleeping head, a butterfly had emerged. It might, or might not, have helped Pepé get a clear view of things if he'd been allowed tospot the very obvious reason why he couldn't see Wakko'saura.

Alarms went off.

Of course, there's nothing special about alarms going off in the control room of a nuclear power station. They do it all the time. It's because there are many dials and meters and things that something important might not get noticed if it doesn't at least beep. And the job of Shift Charge Engineer calls for a solid, capable, unflappable kind of man, the kind you can depend upon not to make a beeline for the car-park in an emergency.

The kind of man, in fact, who gives the impression of smoking a pipe even when he's not. It was 3:00 A.M. in the control room of Turning Point power station, normally a nice quiet time when there is nothing much to do but fill in the log and listen to the distant roar of the turbines.

Until now. Horace Gander looked at the flashing red lights. Then he looked at some dials. Then he looked at the faces of his fellow workers. Then he raised his eyes to the big dial at the far end of the room. Four hundred and twenty practically dependable and very nearly cheap megawatts were leaving the station. According to the other dials, nothing was producing them.

He didn't say "That's weird." He wouldn't have said "That's weird" if a flock of sheep had cycled past playing violins. It wasn't the sort of thing a responsible engineer said. What he did say was: "Alf, you'd better ring the station manager."

Three very crowded hours went past. They involved quite a lot of phone calls, telexes, and faxes. Twenty-seven peoplegot out of bed and inquick succession and they got another fifty-three out of bed, because if there is one thing a man wants to know when he's woken up in a panic at 4:00 A.M., it's that he's not alone.

Anyway, you need all sorts of permissions before they let you unscrew the lid of a nuclear reactor and look inside. They got them. They unscrewed it. They had a look inside.

Horace Gander said, "There's got to be a sensible reason for this. Five hundred tons of uranium don't just get up and walk away."

A meter in his hand should have been screaming. Instead, it let out the occasional halfhearted tick. Where the reactor should have been was an empty space. You could have had quite a nice game of squash in it. Right at the bottom, all alone in the centre of the bright cold floor, was a lemon drop. Outside in the cavernous turbine hall the machines roared on.

And, a hundred miles away, Wakko Warnerturned over in their sleep, hearing voices whisper.

Chapter 21: the antichrist's powers...

Chapter Text

Several thousand miles away, the pleasure cruiser Morbilli was aground in three hundred fathoms of water.

For Captain Vincent, this was just another problem. For example, he knew he should contact the owners, but he never knew from day to day -or from hour to hour, in this computerised world-actually who the current owners were. Computers, that was the bloody trouble. The ship's papers were computerised and it could switch to the most currently advantageous flagof convenience in microseconds. Its navigation had been computerised as well, constantly updating its position by satellites.

Captain Vincent had explained patiently to the owners, whoever they were, that several hundred square meters of steel plating and a barrel of rivets would be a better investment, and had been informed that his recommendation did not accord with current cost/benefit flow predictions.

Captain Vincent strongly suspected that despite all its electronics the ship was worth more sunk than afloat, and would probably go down as the most perfectly pinpointed wreck in nautical history. By inference, this also meant that he was more valuable dead than alive. He sat at his desk quietly leafing through International Maritime Codes, whose six hundred pages contained brief yet pregnant messages designed to transmit the news of every conceivable nautical eventuality across the world with the minimum of confusion and, above all, cost.

What he wanted to say was this: Was sailing SSW at position 33°N 47° 72'W. First Mate, who you may recall was appointed in New Guinea against my wishes and is probably a head-hunter, indicated by signs that something was amiss. It appears that quite a vast expanse of seabed has risen up in the night. It contains a large number of buildings, many of which appeared pyramid-like in structure. We are aground in the courtyard of one of these. There are some rather unpleasant statues. Amiable old men in long robes and diving helmets have come aboard the ship and are mingling happily with the passengers, who think we organised this. Please advise.

His questing finger moved slowly down the page, and stopped. Good oldInternationalCodesThey'd been devised eighty years before, but the men in those days had really thought hard about the kind of perils that might possibly be encountered on the deep. He picked up his pen and wrote down: "XXXV QVVX."

Translated, it meant: "Have found Lost Continent of Atlantis. High Priest has just won quoits contest."

Meanwhile, Wakko, still asleep, was dreaming of Atlantis and aliens...

"Wakko, I still don't understand the thing you were telling usabout alien spaceships." Dot said, as The Them and Dog walked down the leafy pathway of the forest."If I was an alien, I wouldn't be going around giving messagesof universal peace and goodwill." She skipped forward,"I'd say, "This is a laser blaster. Prepare to die, rebel swine."" She said, holding up a finger gun.

"I'd say that too, if I was an alien in a flying saucer." Said Yakko, shrugging.

"Or, "Exterminate"!" Yelled Pinkywith a grin.

Brain rolled his eyes, he needs knew friends.

"Obviously, the aliens used to do that. Now they give messages of global peace and cosmic harmony,and the government hushes it all up." Assured Wakko, because that's what would happen in their world.

"Why?" Asked Yakko.

"It's what they do." Wakko said, sounding annoyed. "They hush up aliens and nuclear reactors,and the people from Tibet who have secret tunnelsand are listening to everything we say."

"Wakko, I don't think this stuff is,you know... real." Dot said, as she, Yakko and Pinky and Brain stopped a few seconds before Wakko, and Dog whined.

Wakko frowned, and shook their head. "Things on the Internet can be made up. This is magazines. Of course it's real. Just like the City of Atlantis."

"Actually, I don't think Atlantis is a thing," Brain said.

"It's under the sea. And people live there." Wakko said, in a tone which meant they shouldn't be argued with.

"How can they breathe?" Asked Yakko, arms crossed with a sarcastic grin.

"I bet they wear diving helmets." Pinky said, always having Wakko's back.

"That's right," nodded Wakko.

"Do you believe that's true?!" Asked Dot, shocked.

"Of course it's true. What I say is true." Said Wakko, feeling annoyed. They're right... they'realways right... and what they says is true, and law...!

Yakko, Dot and Brain shared hesitant looks, watching as Wakko walked away. Even Pinky looked nervous.

"That's not the only news we're hearing from the ocean."Said the woman on the news."Some initial reports claim that the land that's risenin the Atlantic is the sunken continent of Atlantis. This photograph of so-called Atlanteanshas been posted by passengers on a holiday cruise ship. Strange times indeed."

It held a picture of Atlanteans and crew members, on twitter, hash-tagged and all.

SATURDAY

THE LAST DAY OF THE WORLD

Bugs was walking down the pathway, surrounded by green fields, trees and people who had no idea of the demise of the world. More specifically, he was walking just a little way away from The Bandstand (which now deserved the capital letters due to the devastation of it all), he wore his reading glasses he usually kept in his pocket, wanting to keep his sad eyes covered as best as possible. His memories surrounded that Bandstand, it always will. How he wishes he could take it all back, how he wishes he could take the demon in his arms and hold him close, never letting go...

He frowned, eyes brimming with golden tears again, lost in thought as he gripped Daffy's golden ring in his hands. He had yet to set it down actually, he was unsure what to do with it, it is still Daffy's in his mind, but it would stand to reason he no longer saw at as his own... maybe, they really had divorced? Left? No more "our side", as the demon had put it. His headache from crying was pounding and pulsing, it was killing him.

With a wave of his hand, a golden chain appeared in his hand. He thread the necklace chain through the ring, and clipped it around his neck, not wanting to part with it. He spun it around the chain, his thumb brushing against the rim of the ring, pressing into the solidharshly. It left a red line in his thumb under his gloves, leaving a dent in the white fabric, but he didn't care...

Pausing in his steps, he noticed a woman in all gold, with a tinsel halo, and fake golden wings protruding from her back, as still as a statue, but was clearly trying to earn money, and so, he hummed, letting out a quiet, "hmm." He fished out some money from his small pocket, and placed it in the practically empty, white napkin. It was a good distraction.

Loud thundering, yet steady thuds came from behind him, and he perked up. There was Gabriel in a pale grey-purple toned tracksuit with purple wings embroidered on the chest, and white trainers, jogging down the pathway, all clean and pristine as usual, sterile, and so, Bugs jogged after him, shoving the ring beneath his fur. The angel wasn't much for exercise unless he was running from a gun, and so was quickly out of breath, awkwardly running next to the Archangel, all noodle like, all limb, all leg more specifically.

They ran side by side, in silence for a moment.

"It's me." Panted Bugs, leaning in slightly, his feet stamping against the ground, voice bouncing.

"I know it's you, Bugs." Gabriel assured, sounding annoyed and tired, though his voice was steady and feet soft, yet loud.

"Yes. Right." Bugs said quickly, moving the conversation along. "Look, we need to get word upstairs to da..." He pointed up, "to da—" People walked past, "to da Big G." He finished lamely, and it didn't go unnoticed to him when Gabriel gave him a horrified look at the name given to God. "Dere-dere's been prophecies." Bugs tried, his steps short, and stumbled, voice worried.

Gabriel, taking steady strides, held his hands out, palms up as if confused, and asked in discombobulation, with a condescending tone, "what's in human prophecies that matters to us?"

"Well, er, da Kraken wakes and rises from da sea floor." Bugs said, voice nearing frantic as his hand moved up slightly, palm down. "So does Atlantis. And the rain forests return!" He was getting more and more worked up. "And that's just ferstarters." His voice now nearing hysterics. "Armageddon is coming!" He said, desperately, "and I'm fairly certain it starts today. Just after teatime!"

"Exactly." Shrugged Gabriel, confused."Right on schedule. What's your point?" He asked, looking at Bugs, well... more of a glance really, he didn't seem to care. He was just brushing the angeloff.

"Look, will ya please stop," begged Bugs, hand out. "Just for a minute, doc? Please."

Gabriel stopped running annoyed, and Bugs slowed instantly. Gabriel placed his hands on his hips, watching Bugs who bent over, hands against his knees, panting, cheeks flushed, he swears he can taste metal in his mouth.

He looked to the Principality, who slowly stood up. "Well?" Asked Gabriel, voice steady. He hadn't even broken a sweat. Jogging was another one of the human pastimes he could get behind, including the clothing, but obviously not enough to miss it.

"I just..." Panted Bugs, standing up now. "I just thought t'ere was somethingwe could do."

"There is!" Gabriel agreed, face full of obvious annoyance, and a look of boredom."We can fight. And we can win." He smiled, his finger pointing to Bugs. It was as if thiswas hisobvioussolution - apparently, to Gabriel. He clearly lacked imagination, or maybe he just didn't care?

Bugs' face morphed into one of desperation, "but dere doesn't have to be a War." He was still panting.

"Of course there does." Insisted Gabriel. "Otherwise, how would we win it?" He asked, a sarcastic, tight lipped look on his face, as if a child had gotten on his last nerves, and hummed, "hmm?" With a shake of his head. He waved his hands, "now look, wrap up whatever you need to wrap up down here." Bugs was looking to the ground, both in distress and worry, his face pulled into a slight wince. "Report back to active service and..." The Archangel looked Bugs over with a sigh, and poked the Principality's thin arms, "gain some muscle."

"Hey." Grumbled the angel in offence, being assaulted by Gabriel's wondering, and poking index finger. He looked to his slightly thin arms self-consciously. He's never felt like that before, he's never cared about his height, or size, Daffy loves-lovedhis arms, loved him, and would cuddle up to him, in his arms whenever he could.

"Come on," Gabriel said, with a disappointed look. "You're a lean, mean fighting machine." He laughed, and gently, and playfully punched his "brother", not noticing Bugs give a wavering smile and recoil, as he ran off with an overly friendly smile, yelling back, "what are you?!"

He probably expected Bugs to repeat what he said, "a lean, mean fightingmachine". Or, now that the world was ending, agree to being the Principality Happy, and drop this whole "protect and help the humans" fascination, drop his real, human job, drop the whole "Bugsthing". "I'm..." Started Bugs, watching after Gabrielwho ran further and further away, towards The Bandstand. Finally, with a look of despair, he admitted in defeat, "I'm fragile."

Suddenly, Gabriel was in front of his again with the use of a miracle, his hands together as if praying, and Bugs jumped, gasping in surprise. "Almost forgot. According to our records, you were issued a Flaming Sword."

Bugs felt a sense of dread set over his body; oh no, the Flaming Sword! The one he gave away in Eden?! The one that Adam used?! The one he no longer has, and has no idea about its whereabouts?! Oh dear, this is bad, this is very not good!

Gabriel frowned, seeing Bugs' distant look, and flash of worry through his dark hazel eyes. "You didn't lose that?" Asked the Archangel, voice suddenly tense and seemed worried.

"What, like I..." Smiled Bugs, thinking of an excuse, getting more and more nervous."Like Ijust give it away or something?" He asked, waving his hand,in a tone of what he hoped was a joking manor, one that conveyed how silly it sounded, even if it was true, one that sounded like he found the sword, and took it and still had it; not that he felt guilty for Adam and Eve, rushed over,and gave it away.

Gabriel patted his shoulders with a smile, before jogging away again and Bugs deflated, eyes sad in despair. His mind landed on Daffy again,and sighed,'oh, Daffy...'

Two items have been delivered. Two Horsem*n are preparing to ride.

The last two deliveries still need to be made.

Lesley stood, pulling on his tie in front of the mirror.

"Lesley." Whispered a female with black skin, and dark hair. "Come back to bed." It was Maud, his lovely wife.

"I can't, love. I've got deliveries to make," apologised Lesley.

"On a Saturday morning?" Asked Maud, in tired confusion.

"Well, at least it's local. Two jobs and I'm done." Promised the Summoner.

"Lesley." Maud said sadly. "Who are these deliveries for?"

"I don't know, love. Someone important." He nodded, "head office said the job was booked about 6,000 years ago."

"They were joking." Maud reasoned.

Lesley shrugged, "well, the company's only 80 years old. But I saw the paperwork. Anyway...ours is not to reason why. Ours... is to deliver packages." He pulled his hat on with a smile, and took hold of his clipboard.

"I love you...tiger." Growled Maud, in love with the white man, who was older than her.

"I love you, Maud." Grinned Lesley. He blew her a kiss, and blushed when she caught.

That morning, he drove off to deliver two more packages.

Michael walked forward, seeing Gabriel staring out of the large window. "I may be out of line here," he said, getting Gabriel's attention, "but I've been following up on Bugs' commentsduring our last meeting. I went back through the Earth observation files." He said, setting down three black and whitepictures.

All three pictures held Principality, (former Cherub),Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, Happy and Duck Demon of Eden, Tempter Demon, Lucas seeming to be rather friendly with each other.

One was of them elevenyears ago; Happyand Lucas sat on a bench.The demon was slouched in his seat, halfway down it, and one arm on the arm rest, the other hand was in between he and the angel. Happy, on the other hand, was sat somewhat straight, one hand on his lap, and the other gently on top of the demons.It was possible the two were holding hands.

The other was of 1496; Happy andLucas had leaned into each other, andwere grinning, smiling. And, yet their eyes were darted away from each other.

The final one was of 1862; Happy and Lucas were in Whitter Narrows Park, stood in front of the water, feeding the ducks, side by side, yet looked like they were in the middle of a difficultconversation.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly innocent explanation," Gabriel said, eyes blank.

"'Course." Agreed Michael, his thin lips pursed. "Would you have any objection to me following this upusing back channels?"

"There are no back channels, Michael." Reminded Gabriel, and Michael smiled. Gabriel looked at the picture of the two sat at a bench, and Michael made his way to the stairs, his heels clicking.

"It's me." Michael said, on the phone. "It's our man Bugs. Is there any possibility he's working for you?" He asked, and waited. "No? Well, then, you might want to investigate the activitiesof the demon Daffy. Might be playing his own game. Word to the wise." He rolled his eyes annoyed, "no, I'm... I'm telling you, you can't trust him!" He smiled seeing another angel walk passed, and they smiled back, Suddenly, Michael's smile went all sickly sweet, "of course you can trust me. I'm an angel."

He blew on the phone, and it disappeared.

Hanging up the phone on Michael, Ligur rubbed his heads together and said, "Daffy, Daffy, Daffy. What have you been playing at?"

Daffy waddled with a saunterthrough the rotatingdoor into his study, annoyed and tired. "Where should I go?" He hummed out, and placed his hand on hisglobe. Gently, he spun it and let his fingers graze over the smooth ball, it was coloured withpale blues and greens, it's not old, but not exactly new either. He placed his finger against an area and frowned, "England'thout." He pulled the globe out from the black, wooden stand, and held it between his hands, "America'thout." He frowned.

The globe hoveredin the air, between the palms of hishands and it spun slowly and steadily.

Daffy's dark black eyes shone in wonder, "Atlantith?" He questioned, seeing a new destination pop into existence. "Didn't exist yesterday." He hummed, voice full of thought. "It exists today." He reminded himself, "still out." He flicked his hand, and the globe flew to the side, hovering still and slowly spinning.

He slammed a green book down suddenly, one that Bugs had gotten for him.The title read;The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy, he loves astronomy, makes sense as he's fairly certain he was a Star Maker as an angel... he's also sure he was something else as well. The two would spend hours outside in the dark, lying on a red checker blanket, on their backs and would watch the stars, and he would tell Bugs everything about the stars, constellations, and planets, and black holes... (Bugs never stops him, and encourages the demon, who doesn't know he does it as much as he thought he did.)

"The moon." Daffy sighed out with a grumble, flipping the book open and looking to the page with the moon on. He read over the notes, "no atmosphere. No nightlife." He flipped through the book at rapid speed, as pages upon pages flew out from the book.

Pages flew and levitating all around him, and held a page, "Alpha Centauri." He read out, squinting, his eyes hurting. Bugs would like it there, of course he would! It had the same gleam as Bugs eyes! "That's always nice this time of year." He said, flicking the page away.

He took hold of a picture of lovely stars, "beautiful nebula." He smiled looking at the picture, leaning back slightly, "look at that... I helped build that one!" ("The stars remind me of that gleam in youreyes..." Daffy had once said, Bugs curled up on his chest.(Daffy believes he gained inspiration from another angel before his Fall, he just can't remember who.) "Dey do?" Bugs had asked, and then when he went home, he spent the night looking between Alpha Cantauri and his eyes in a mirror.) He smiled softly at the thought of Bugs, tracing his fingers over the image. His smile turned to a frown.

He sagged away from the images, and drapedhimself over the back of his large, golden,desk chair that was more of a throne, the food wasn't good... nothing on for the afternoon... friends with Lucifer. True, but that can't be the exact thing. He never really voiced his opinion on the food, he tried to keep his close friendship with Lucifer on the down low, it was all an afterthought... he knew therealreason...

Daffy sniffed, and his arms curled and coiledaround the backrest, he looked up to the ceilingdespair with red tears, "I only ever asked questions!"He defended, looking up to the ceiling, and was now holding himself up on the chair. He was holding back desperatewailing. "I just defended my friends in that War!" He yelled, eyebrows furrowed, "that's all it took to be a demon in the old days!"

The pictures and pages flew out of the room, hiding in a way, away from the demon, afraid he would lash out at them.

"Great Plan?!" He lamented, his voice echoing slightly. He seemed lost and... devastated. He kept looking up to his ceiling, "God,you lithtening?!" He bellowed, despairingly. "Show me a Great Plan!" He begged, pleaded, a frown on his face, wailing. He waited, still holding onto his Faith, (no matter what anyone said).

Silence.

Nothing.

No response.

Still.

Looking down slightly, his wide duck pupils moving to the side, the amber of his eyes glowing, "okay, I know you're tethting them, you said you were going to be tethting them." Daffy admitted, finding it harder and harder to keep himself up right, an he found himself slowly lowering. He shook his head, and looked up again, head resting against the backrest, "you shouldn't test them to destruction."He reasoned, looking down, his voice sad and quiet. Humanity, humans, angels and demons, and even Earth... None of them knew all the years they could give him and Bugs...

He's come to love Earth for, he's come to love Humanity for it, he can almost be human, he can... they're so clever, so smart, it was so fascinating, and he could never give enough back for everything they had done for him, for Bugs...

He stared at his hovering globe, "not to The End Of The World." He quacked out, slamming his hand against the ball. It flew away from the force, but like a boomerang, came back in position.

Daffy slouched, sagging and glaring at the globe.

Lesley drove down the road, parking up and looking both ways, whistling. He stepped forward, and jumped back, as a truck sped passed him.

"Shouldn't be allowed. Bloody trucks. No respect for other road users." Said Lesley, walking across the road.

In the old days, and it wasn't that long ago, really,there was an angler every dozen yards,children played here,courting couples came here to hold handsand to get all lovey-dovey in the California sunset.

He did that with Maud before they were married.

They came here to spoonand, on one memorable occasion, fork.

"Party by the name of Chalky, sir?" Asked Lesley, seeing a man sat on a bench, staring out at the river full of plastic.

Sometimes they was called White, or Blanc, or Albus, or Chalky, or Weiss, or Snowy, or any one of a hundred other names. Their skin was pale, their hair a white too, their eyes light white, they looked female, but wasn't. They was somewhere in their twenties at a casual glance, and a casual glance was all anyone ever gave them.

They was almost entirely unmemorable.

"Look at that river." Chalky said, amazed.

"Yes, sir. It's the pollution. Progress, you could call it." Shrugged Lesley, also looking out.

"It's just so... damn beautiful." Chalky said, nearly tearing up.

"It's a funny old world, though, isn't it? And no mistake." Smiled Lesley. "I mean, you go all over the world delivering, and then you wind up practically in your own backyard, so to speak. I've been to Africa, and Des Moines. That's in America, sir. And now here I am. And here's your parcel, sir." He handed over a document, and pen. "You have to sign for it. There you go."

Chalky took the pen, and dragged it against the paper, the ink leaking.

"Red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning. Or is it sailor's warning?" Lesley asked, cold.

"Everybody's warning." Offered Chalky.

The third of the Four Horsem*n took over when Pestilence, muttering about penicillin, had retired in 1936.

If only the old boy had known what opportunities the future had held...

"Erm..." Hummed Lesley, and handed over the box. He walked off.

They've had lots of interesting jobsin lots of interesting places. Helped design the petrol engine,plastics and high-tech weed Killers. They've killed as many people as Famine or as War. This is...

Opening the box, and throwing it into the river, they held up a white crown, and white cape, and they Chalky... no...Pollution, smiled, putting it on their head, and the other over their shoulder. It went completely black.

The delivery man had left his van on the grass verge by the dual carriageway. He walked around to the driver's side (carefully, because other cars and lorries were still rocketing around the bend), reached in through the open window, and took the schedule from the dashboard. Only one more delivery to make, then.

He read the instructions on the delivery voucher carefully. He read them again, paying particular attention to the address, and the message. The address was one word:Everywhere.

Then, with his leaking pen, he wrote a brief note to Maud, his wife. It read simply,I love you.

Then he put the schedule back on the dashboard, looked left, looked right, looked left again and began to walk purposefully across the road. He was halfway across when a German juggernaut came around the corner, its driver crazed on caffeine, little white pills, and EEC transport regulations. He watched its receding bulk.

"That one nearly had me!" Snapped Lesley, and paused, seeing on the floor... a dead body, contorted, bleeding... it was him. "Oh..."

I'M AFRAID SO, agreed a voice from behind his left shoulder, or at least from behind the memory of his left shoulder.

The delivery man turned, and looked, and saw. At first he couldn't find the words, couldn't find anything, and then the habits of a working lifetime took over and he said, "Message for you, sir."

FOR ME?

"Yes, sir." He wished he still had a throat. He could have swallowed, if he still had a throat. "No package, I'm afraid, Mister… uh, sir. It's a message."

DELIVER IT, THEN.

"It's this, sir. Ahem. Come and See."

FINALLY. There was a grin on its face, but then, given the face, there couldn't have been anything else.

"What does it mean, sir?" Asked Lesley.

IT'S A CALL TO ACTION. He said, WAR AND FAMINE. POLLUTION AND DEATH. TODAY, WE RIDE. THANK YOU, it continued. I MUST COMMEND YOUR DEVOTION TO DUTY.

"Sir?" The late delivery man was falling through a grey mist, and all he could see were two spots of blue, that might have been eyes, and might been distant stars.

NOW, DON'T THINK OF IT AS DYING, said Death, JUST THINK OF IT AS LEAVING EARLY TO AVOID THE RUSH. The delivery man had a brief moment to wonder whether his new companion was making a joke, and then decide that he wasn't; and then there was nothing.

He watched, and for once, and ironically, he felt... no...DEATHfelt alive.

Wakko knocked on the door to Pepé cottage, with Dot, Yakko, Brain and Pinky behind them, and the door opened, revealing a shocked Pepé.

"Have you got any more of the New Aquarians? 'Cause we need to know everything," Wakko said.

"You read the ones I gave you already?" Asked Pepé, surprised. Wakko handed them over, and he took them with a smile. "Yeah, sure. Hold on. Do you kids want some candy?" He asked, setting the magazine down, and grabbing a bowl, "it's chocolate."

"We don't take sweets from..." Started Yakko.

"Witches," Dot said.

Pepé frowned.

"I do," Pinky said, and walked over, taking the chocolate. Then Braintook one, thenDot, then Yakko,and then Wakko.

The radio played in the background.

"And he's back on the line to James Knockey. So, could what happenedat Turning Point Nuclear Power Stationbe terrorist activity?"

"Could be! All we need to do is find some terrorists capable of removingan entire nuclear reactorwhile it's still running without anyone noticing"

Sylvester pulled his car up, listening to the radio.

"How can it still be producing electricityif it hasn't got any reactors?"

"We don't know that. We were hoping you clever idiots at the CBS would have an idea."

He turned the radio off, and went inside.

He stood awaiting, when Lola yelled, "attention!" Sylvester snapped to attention, and Lola said, "this is our country. It's under our protection." Suddenly, much to Sylvester'sshock Lola's eyes misted over. "Wish I was going with you. I'm too old now. No more lying in the bracken,spying on their evil ways." She said with a smile, and Sylvester nodded, as if he understood what Lola was going on about. "It's all up to you now, Witchfinder Private puss*cat. Find this Wakko Warner, and keep an eye on him."

Sylvester looked confused, and hesitantly said, "shouldn't there be a few more of usif we're protecting the entire country from witches?"

"Nobody said it would be easy, Private puss*cat." Lola said, rolling her eyes, and handing over a parka, "here. Put this on."

Sylvester took the coat, and sniffed it; it stunk of perfume and carrots, and he pulled it on.

Lola laughed, a proud smile on her face, and handed over a, "Pendulum of Discovery."

"Pendulum of Discovery." Sylvester nodded, and took the pendulum.

"Thumbscrews," Lola said, handing it over.

"Oh, I... I don't think I'll..." Tried Sylvester, not actually wanting to hurt anyone, but Lola cut in with a yell.

"Thumbscrew!"

"Thumbscrew." Sylvester quickly took the torture device.

"Firelighters." Lola said, holding out a box of them.

Sylvester swallowed, staring at the box, "I'm not actually prepared to burn anyone..."

"Firelighters!" Snapped Lola, and quickly Sylvester took them.

"Firelighters."

"Bell." Lola handed over a bell, that rang.

"Bell."

"Book." She handed over a book.

"Book."

"And candle." She handed over a blue candle.

Sylvester's arms were now full, and repeated back, "bell. Book. Candle." He then frowned, "what are they for?"

"You might have to exorcise a demon." Said Lola.

"How do I do that?" Asked Sylvester in shock.

"Ring the bell." Said Lola, as if it was obvious, "light the candle."

"Read the book?" Guessed Sylvester, suddenly understanding.

"There'll be no time for light readingwhen you're under demonic attack, cat." Lola warned, a stern look in her eyes, and Sylvester frowned, trying to grasp everything that was shoved into his arms. "And finally...pin." He held up a pin, thin, and silver,that could have been rust, but it had WA on the top.

"Pin?" Questioned Sylvester.

"Aye. It's the bayonet in your army of light." Smiled Lola, proudly.

"Right," hummed Sylvester, reaching over and taking the pin between his fingers. "Well, off to Tadfield, then." In a way he was excited, this is something he's never done before. All this, just because he needed to get out of the house more!

"Off you go, Witchfinder Private puss*cat. And may the armies of glory march beside you." Lola said, and saluted.

Sylvester felt something akin to pride swell in his chest, and shuffled the things in his arms, and saluted back, making Lola chuckle.

Sylvester found himself driving down the roads, surrounded by grey cement, without a house for miles.

The world was changing.

What Wakko believed was truewas beginning to happen in reality.

Sylvester unknowingly drove over the road, which held two Tibetan people in a tunnel; a man and a woman.

"I run a nice radio repair shop in Llasa,"said the Tibetan man, inLhasa Tibetan."I just stopped for tea... and then I was here, dressed like this."The clothes were warm, but he was covered in dirt.

"Tell me about it."The Tibetan woman said, wanting to go home too."I was selling railway tickets in Shigatse."She took note of the time,"oh! Tea break's over..."

The man handed over a shovel, they got back to digging.

Sylvester was driving, when he heard a loud bang, and sputter, and looked, and quickly skidded to a stop in shock. It was a UFO...

It landed in the road ahead of him just as he was trying to find the Warner Brothers Lot turning and had the map spread over the steering wheel. He had to brake hard.

It looked like every cartoon of a flying saucer Sylvester had ever seen. As he stared over the top of his map, a door in the saucer slid aside with a satisfying whoosh, revealing a gleaming walkway which extended automatically down to the road. Brilliant blue light shone out, outlining three alien shapes. They walked down the ramp.

Sylvester rolled down the window, and saw one walk over to his car. It had a suit on, and a round dome over it's head, and greeted in a female voice, "morning, sir, madam or neuter. This your planet, is it?"

Upon thinking about it, the alien's might not have genders... so calling it a female feels rude... "Yes, I suppose so?" He said, nervous.Out of the corner of his eye Sylvester saw another alien kick a tree, and then run a leaf through some complicated gadget on its belt. It didn't look very pleased - but then again, he couldn't see it's face.

"Had it long, have we?" Asked the alien in front of him.

"Not perthonally." Sylvester swallowed. "As a species, about half a million years, I think."

The alien exchanged glances with its colleague. "Been letting the old acid rain build up, haven't we, sir?" It said. "Been letting ourselves go a bit with the old hydrocarbons, perhaps?"

"Sorry?" Asked Sylvester, shocked and confused. He knew the world needed help, but...

"Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you, sir,but your polar ice caps are significantly belowregulation size for a planet of this category, sir."

"Sufferin' succotash!"Said Sylvester. He was wondering who he could tell about this, and realising that there was absolutely no one who would believe him.

"We'll overlook it on this occasion." Assured the alien. Suddenly, the globe melted down, revealing a green faced alien, with a beak much like a ducks. "The fact is, sir, we've been asked to bring you a message."

"Oh? Me?" Asked Sylvester shocked, he was a nobody, why was he getting a message?

"Message runs, "We bring you a message of universal peace,"cosmic harmony, and suchlike." Message ends." It said, tone serious.

"Oh." Sylvester turned this over in his mind. "Oh. That's very kind."

"Have you got any idea why we have been asked to bring you this message, sir?" Said the alien.

Sylvester brightened. "Well, er, I suppose," he flailed, "what with Mankind's, er, harnessing of the atom and—"

"Neither have we, sir." The alien stood up. "Neither have we."

"You what?" Asked Lola on the phone to Sylvester, shocked.

"I just got pulled over by aliens."

"Did you count their nipples?" Asked Lola.

"I didn't think..." Sylvester said, in a phone booth. Did aliens even have nipples? And realised, he could have asked, how stupid of him!

"You're a Witchfinder,not an alien finder." Lola said, shaking her head. "But I'll make a note of it." She hung up.

Sylvester frowned, hearing the rapid beeps from the phone hanging up, and also hung up.

The Them and Dog walked down the road, eating ice lollies, and talking.

"I don't know if this is in your New Aquarian magazines,but I was thinking we ought to save the whales." Said Yakko, walking next Dot.

"Whales can sing, actually. And they have very big brains," Brain said, humming, walking on the other side of Wakko.

"And there's hardly any of them left," Yakko said.

"If they're so clever,what are they doing in the sea all day?" Asked Dot, eyebrow raised, and Brain went to answer, but she continued. "Just swimming and eating thingsand singing and..."

"Oh, my God, I want to be a whale!" Pinky said, eyes wide, jumping up and down.

"Right." Said Wakko, a serious look on their face. "We'll save the whales, then. All of them."

Storms had picked up, and theKappamaki ship was thrown about.

This is not a whaling ship. This is a scientific research ship.

Currently what it is researching is the question,How many whales can it catch in a week?

They see no whales on the radar, no tuna,nothing bigger than an anchovy. And now, the sea bottom appears to be dropping.

The captain drummed his fingers on the console. He was afraid that he might soon be conducting his own research project to find out what happened to a statistically small sample of whaler captains who came back without a factory ship full of research material. He wondered what they did to you.

The navigator punched up a chart and stared at it.

"Honourable sir?"He said.

"What is it?"Said the captain testily.

"We seem to have a miserable instrument failure. Seabed in this area should be two hundred meters."

"What of it?"

"I'm reading 15,000 meters, honourable sir. And still falling."

"That is foolish. There is no such depth."

The captain glared at several million yen worth of cutting-edge technology, and thumped it. The navigator gave a nervous smile.

"Ah, sir,"he said,"it is shallower already."

"It's impossible!"Yelled the Japanese Captain, seeing the radars, as water splashed onto the ship outside.

"It's as the captain said... this is an instrument error,"said a Japanese crew mate, who was holding on to keep himself upright from being thrown about.

The radar began beeping, and flashed;WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

"Oh! The sea level is rising again!"Yelled the man in shock, that it was rising again, in such a short amount of time.

Beneath the thunders of the upper deep,far, far beneath in the abyssal sea,the Kraken sleepeth.

And now it's waking up.

The kraken doesn't have eyes. There has never been anything for it to look at. But as it billows up through the icy waters it picks up the microwave noise of the sea, the sorrowing beeps and whistles of the whale song.

There is a tiny metal thing above it. The kraken stirs.

The news showedFIFTH JAPANESE WHALING SHIP DESTROYED TODAY: enormous sea creatures caught on tape!With a large beast wrapped around a ship.

"Scientists have pronounced themselves baffledby the appearance of the enormous sea creature,which the Internet has begun to refer to as "the Kraken",after the sea beast of legend."The woman on the news said.

Angelicalooked up, and paused in her sketching, as she was fixing up her old character she gave up on a while ago, and stared in shock, "what?!"

"It appears to be targeting whaling ships,according to a spokesman for the Japanese government."

Kassy and Dr.Scratchansniff looked down to Wakko's magazine in shock, and saw how similar the kraken drawing and the "real life" kraken looked.

And a million sushi dinners cry out for vengeance.

Ligur shoved his way passed groaning demons, making his way to Hastur, maybe a little too eagerly. Hastur was in the documents room, the ceiling was leaking, and it was both unbearably hot, and unbearably cold, the drip, drip, drip of sewage water landing in buckets would be enough to make any human mad.

"I've been thinking... about Daffy." Ligur said to Hastur, feeling a weird sense of pleasure at having the Duke's attention. "Something's not right."

"Oh, look at this!" Hastur said, and Ligur sighed, okay so he didn't have the demons attention, and he suddenly felt sad. Nonetheless, Ligur looked. Hastur was stood with a bucket, catching the water from a leaking pipe. "I meant to be getting ready to go to Megiddo to meet the boy. I should be leaving now. Instead, I'm standing here with a bucket,waiting for maintenance to come fix another bloody pipe!"

Yes, they did try to fix the pipes, but they never lasted long.

"So, Daffy. What's Mr. Duckdone now?" Hastur asked, deciding to mock his former friend for the animal he was cursed with.

"I'm not sure." Admitted Ligur, "but I know it's nothing good." He said. If there was one thing he could count on Hastur for, it was the Duke's help. Because, the two unknowingly had unwavering loyalty to each other, and loved each other... also unknowingly... and if you asked them, they'd deny it, because "demons don't love". But, you and I know that's not true.

"Oh. Well, that's alright, then." Hastur said, rather confused as to why they were praising Daffy - the two had bonded on their mutual hatred for the duck. "He's not meant to do good."

"Figure of speech." Sighed Ligur, knowing Hastur wasn't up to date with idioms and figures of speeches. "Nothing bad, then."

"Nothing bad?" Asked Hastur confused even more. "So...he's not in trouble?"

"He's definitely in trouble." Assured Ligur, promising. "Or he will be," the two had wanted a reason to go after Daffy for years. Maybe, their time would come.

"We going in?" Grinned Hastur, delighted at the thought of finally getting him.

"Not yet. We need proof." Grumbled Ligur, "but once we've got it, he's toast!"

Hastur nodded at the thought, delighted, "and that's gonna hurt!"

"What, being toasted?" Asked Ligur confused, and realised what he meant. "Oh, yeah!" They might actually toast the demon for a bit of fun.

"Right. Toast." Grinned Hastur, lifting the bucket. "Back to Armageddon, then."

Suddenly, the sewage water dripped onto documents, and Hastur grimaced in anger.

"Look at that!"

Pepé set down the Prophecy Card;

3819: When Orient'schariot inverted be, three wheles in the skye, a cat with bruises be upon Youre Bedde, achinge hishedd for willow fine, amanne who testeth with apyn yette his hart be clene, yette seed creashion of myneown undoing, take themeans of flame fromhimme for to mayk ryght certain, together ye sharlebe, untyl the Ende that isto come.

And in writing from the rest of theMaltese family, were little notes.

Japanese car?Upturned.Car smash ... not serious injury??

… take in … willowfine = Aspirin

(cf.3757 Pin = witchfinder (cf. 102)Goodwitchfinder?? Refers toFreleng (cf. 002)

Searchfor matches, etc.… hmm …

… less than a day

(cf. 712, 3803, 4004)

Pepé hummed, "when Orient'schariot inverted be,three threein the sky,a man with bruises be upon your bed,aching his head for willow fine."

He set down his phone, and the first aid kit, getting out bandages, and plasters. Suddenly, theclock on his phone pinged up;

11:58

PROPHECY ALERT!

Witchfinder 12:05pm will need Asprin...

Sylvester drove down the pathway, turning his wheel, and looking around for anything strange,in case there were any spectacular light displays, or another alien, or he saw something unusual. He couldn't lie, he was on edge after that alien fiasco, and besides looking for anything extraordinary, he was looking for anything else that might give him a heart attack.

Until recently, he lived a normal life, terrible with computers and a sweet Granny, and a lovely lady who was his creators daughter, and now he's hunting witches, and talking to aliens, spreading global peace.

He drove passed three children, and two rats, and a dog; The Them and Dog, and was heading straight for... two people poking their heads out of a hole?! He turned the wheel sharply.

The Them didn't pay the car that drove passed a piece of mind as they began to climb over the gate.

A squeal of brakes and a long drawn out crunch interrupted their adventure. They scrambled off the gate and ran up the lane to the crossroads, where a small car lay on its roof at the end of a long skid mark.

A little further down the road was a hole. It looked as though the car had tried to avoid it.

The Them dragged the door open and pulled out the hurt Sylvester. Visions of medals for heroic rescue thronged Wakko's head. Practical considerations of first aid thronged around that of Yakko and Brain.

"When Orient's chariot inverted be, three wheles in the skye, a cat with bruises be upon Youre Bedde, achinge his hedd for willow fine..."

They helped him stand and he raised his hands, before finally falling down, bleeding from his nose, vaguely aware of his head pounding.

"He's hurt. Come on, we should do something." Wakko said, as they and The Them, and a barking Dog surrounded Sylvester.

"We should get him away from the car. It might blow up." Yakko said helpfully, as Sylvester again sat up again. "They do that on telly."

"Dick Turpin won't blow up." Assured Sylvester, "you're probably wun-won-wund..." What was thatword again? Giving up, he said, "ugh—" which apparently meant"wondering" in his concussed mind "—why it's called Dick Turpin..." He said, rubbing his bleeding nose, "well..." He was going to explain, before he looked at his nose, and fell back again, this time unconscious, laying in orange leaves.

Wakko looked up, and paused,see two small Oriental-looking headsdarted out of sight from the hole, and they frowned confused.

THE FIELDS OF MEGIDDO,

PROPHESIED SITE OF ARMAGEDDON

Hastur stood in the sandy fields of Megiddo, it was hot, but not too hot of the Duke of Hell. He had a cigarette in his mouth, listening to one of the three Low Level Disposable Demons.

"The Four Horsem*n of the Apocalypse will ride over the plain to us,and then our forces..." Said the low level Eric, holding a clipboard, and Hastur turned to him. "I thought "the Forces of Darkness" was a bit long,so I'm calling us "Darkforce One." We rise up, pushing through the earth,while our opposition descend from above."

"This is Armageddon." Grumbled Hastur, cigarette between his fingers. "This is where the world will end."

"Well, that's the Greek name for it." Shrugged Eric with a smile. "Technically, the fields of Megiddo. Yeah. Archaeological excavations over there,avocado fields that way." Eric said, pointing one way and then the next.

"They grow avocados here?" Asked Hastur, balancing the cigarette between his lips.

"Yes. We have a joke. We say... It's going to be one big avocado." Eric smiled, and laughed, as the other Eric's joined in.

Hastur suddenly gripped Eric's neck, and the demon choked. "I, er... I don't like jokes. I don't do jokes." He smirked seeing the Eric catch fire. "And when people do jokes in my presence,they rapidly find themselves swallowing their tongues. No, I tell a lie. It's mostly me that swallows their tongues."

Eric was gone, in a pile of ash and smoke. Another Eric moved forward, picked up the clipboard and wiped it clean.

"So, what time do the boy and the Hell Hound get here?" Asked Hastur.

"About 20 minutes. The ambassador's here for a photo op with the ruins of the temple. And when they arrive,our master's son will come into his own." Explained the Second Eric.

"A photo op?" Asked Hastur, confused. "What's... what's... What's a photo op?" If this was Ligur he'd have more patience, but it's not. Not to mention, after the whole leaking ceiling, he's in no more for jokes! "Is it... Is it another joke?"

"No, Your Disgrace. It's... Well, you know what a selfie is?" Eric said with a smile, as if everyone knew was a selfie was. Hastur just looked ever more confused. "I believe the demon Daffy invented them..." In Eric's opinion, not that she has one, or is allowed one, selfies were genius!

Hastur's hand shot out, and touched Eric. Eric screamed, and went up in flames.

Eric the Third walked over the smoke, and picked up the burned clipboard, the cracked iPad, and the crumpled paper, "when all is ready, the boy and the dog and the Four Horsem*n will converge here. And the boy will give the word. And Armageddon will begin." They swallowed nervously.

"One... one big avocado." Hastur said, suddenly understanding the joke the First Eric said, and found himself laughing, a shrill, disgusted, high pitched laugh. He needed that laugh!

Pepé tapped his fingers against the sink, and heard Dog bark, and saw The Them walk up the pathway, holding up a tall cat, with black and white fur, and long whiskers, a parka wrapped around his body, his nose was bleeding, and he had a few bruises.

"Pepé, we found a cat!" Yelled Wakko, and Pepé walked over to the door to let them in. "He was in a car accident."

"I know. Come in." Pepé, said, as the children brought them in, and he eyed Sylvester warily. "Let's get him upstairs."

5 HOURS AND 48 MINUTES UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD

Sylvester lay on Pepé's bed, unconscious, and in pain, while Pepé put his first aid kit away, taking hold of the Asprin.

"It's almost like you were expecting him," Dot said, eyeing the Occultist.

"I was," nodded Pepé, antsy. For a multitude of reasons.

Wakko wondered over to Pepé's map, and came to a stop, face to face with a drawing of a drawing, old and ugly, it was of a beast. They felt uncomfortable, seeing the drawing, and felt something stir in their chest.

"I was hoping he wouldn't come. If he didn't turn up, maybe none of it was real." Admitted Pepé, swallowing, "but if he's here... then the Beast is real."

It had large horns, and claws, a beard and snarling teeth. Pepé's voice was blurred and echoed, and their vision was blurry, all Wakko could focus on was this drawing. They was feeling very odd.

"You mean Dog?" Asked Yakko, "heisa bit of a beast..."

"No. It's nothing. Nothing you kids need to worry about, anyway." Pepé had gotten up, and asked, "hey, do you guys want some sandwiches?"

Even the thought of food didn't pull Wakko out of their trance. Their nail polished and gloved hands felt limp, and their mouth opened slightly, as if lost in another world. Something felt off... like a connection...

"We have a very nutritious lunch waiting at home." Yakko said, "our creator likes us to come home with an appetite."

Voices... Wakko realised they was hearing voices, but not from The Them, or Pepé, from grumbled hushed voices, sounding like a whisper in theirhead, and that's when they realised these voices... they've heard them before... but they never picked up on them until now;

'Make it happen. Make it real. Make it happen. Make it real. Make it happen.'

"Bye, Pepé." Said Brain, and paused, seeing Wakko staring at the picture.

"You coming, Wakko?" Called Dot.

"Yeah, you ready to leave?" Asked Yakko, taking lead of the group.

"I didn't say you could go!" Snapped Wakko, suddenly over come with anger. The Them paused, shocked. Wakko swallowed, smiling warily, "see you after lunch."

The four Them left, walking down the leafy path and back into the forest.

"Wakko'sdifferent." Pinky said. He knew Wakko, and that wasn't Wakko.

"Yeah, they've been off since their Legacy Day," Yakko agreeding, having thought Wakko was just over whelmed with being eleven, being a Legacy Cartoon now. He knew Wakko first, a full year before Dot was created, and this was unlike his sibling, snapping at their friends. They was the middle child, but... well... Wakko's never been upset about that...

"Don't be wet," scoffed Dot.

"Actually, that's why we like them," said Brain. "They're not boring."

"Oh, you know what I mean," Pinky said, annoyed that the "mentally eldest one" was dodging his point. "You must do."

"They'reWakko." Sighed Dot, as if that was all the explanation that was needed. "They comeup with all the best games and all the best ideas."

"Yeah, but something's changed." Yakko tried to say again. It was weird, Yakko and Pinky were agreeing and teaming up, it was a tad odd, as the two didn't team up together."They'renot the same anymore."

"Can I say something stupidwithout you thinking it's stupid?" Pinky asked, looking to them."I was scared they wouldn't let us go just then." He admitted, he had felt something tell him to stay, as if Wakko's word was law.

"Same!" Agreed Yakko, and he'sneverfelt like that before, not with Wakko...

"That's stupid," scoffed Dot, though she too had felt something... off, when Wakko had said that. It was a bad feeling, and she'd rather not have to deal with it.

"Actually, I felt that too," Brain said, making Dot frown.

The four came to a sudden stop, seeing the one they were talking about, standing there, as if appearing from nowhere;

Wakko and Dog.

Black cars driven my secret service tore down the sandy lane of Meggido, and parked up, opening the door to Mr. and Mrs. Dowling, the Disney Right Hand, and out came Huey, Dewey, and Louie, Dewey rolling their eyes, bored already. This was not the place they wished they would be at.

"Honey, I'm still not clear on what we're doing here," said Harriet, annoyed, as she stood next to Thaddeus.

"This is life as a Disney Right Hand." Thaddeus said, "one moment you're in California,the next we're familially interfacingwith Israeli archaeological siteson a historical recording short vacation." He smiled, mumbling under his breath to Harriet.

"But it doesn't make any sense." Snapped Harriet, with a smile.

The two always had marriage problems, so this was nothing knew to Dewey. All they wanted to do is go home, and hide up in their room. They looked to Huey and Louie, as if looking for help, but they were busy running about, no doubt flattening the tires.

"You don't argue with the FilmingDepartment, hon," Thaddeus said.

"Is this because I said Mr. Disney'swife looked like a floozy?" Asked Harriet suddenly, and Thaddeus frowned. "Because I never said that." (She did, in fact, say that.)

There was a cough, and the two parents looked up.

"And this is our local guide to the archaeological site of Megiddo." Said the Megiddo guide, and the parents turned to see... a white, grey faced man, with artificial hair, and bacteria up his face, it was rather frightening and off putting, "Mister..."

"I'm Hastur..." Greeted Hastur with a dark, twisted smile, and he thought quickly. What's a human last name? Quickly, he thought of something Daffy had said, and he heard a name which sounded human. "La Vista. I'm an archaeologist. Which one of you is the ambassador?"

"Thaddeus Dowling, at your service." Thaddeus said, holding his hand out to shake, (though he wasn't looking forward to shaking Hastur "La Vista'" slimy hand), and wrapped an arm around his wife's thin wait. "My wife, Harriet."

Harriet gave a nervous, and tight smile.

"An honour." Hastur said, walking passed Thaddeus, much to the adults confusion. He was too excited. "You must be Dewey." He said, amazed.

Huey and Louie looked over in shock, eyes wide, nobody had ever paid attention to their sibling, as they are the middle child.

Dewey sneered, "you smell like poo."

Hastur suddenly barked out a laugh, and looked to the parents, "funny boy!" (Child would be the correct term, but who was Dewey to complain? They've never smelt something this foul before.) "Always love a good joke, me." Smiled Hastur, not noticing the creators share confused looks, or the child's brothers laughing. Hastur turned back to the child, "I've heard a lot about you." Suddenly, his face fell, noticing something was off. "Where's the dog?"

"So, Professor La Vista," Thaddeus said, as Hastur wildly looked around for the Hell Hound... the so called, "lovely, big, helly Hell Hound" as Daffyhad put it, yet saw nothing. "I understood from our briefing that Tel Megiddo was part of Tiglath-Pileser's administrative centre. The Assyrian kings fascinate me..."

"Will you shut up!" Snapped Hastur, making the adults jump, and fall silent in shock, and confusion. "Where's the dog? Why doesn't the boy have a dog?" Asked Hastur, desperately. He moved backed to the child, and bent down, "do you hear voices? What are they saying? What are they telling you?"

Huey waved a finger in a circle around his head, and Louie laughed behind his hand.

"The voices...!" Said Dewey, a bright smile on their beak.

"Yes!"

"...in my head all say..."

"What?!"

Suddenly, Dewey's face fell to one of a grimace, and pity, "...you smell like poo."

Hastur turned away, and bit his finger harshly, breaking skin, but no blood came out, and he groaned into his finger, "Daffy!"

Chapter 22: saturday morning funtime...

Chapter Text

Cartoon bunnies in a movie, being played in a movie theatre, mere hours away from the end of the world is where Daffy was situated. The red seats were empty, obviously, as this children's movie was terribly boring and dull, even for kids, except for one man. He was passed out, drunk, practically dead... is he dead?

Anyway, Daffy was sat, slouched in his seat his legs propped up, over the empty seat in front of him, and holding a bag of popcorn, with a fizzy drink next to him. The seats were uncomfortable, yet he still managed to want to sleep. And the snacks were amazing, delicious and yet extremely expensive - it's what happens in cinemas, and the popcorn was cooled quickly. Mainly, because cinema seats and the food was Daffy's idea. (Of course he had to make popcorn in movies expensive, but only him and Bugs could make them taste good.)

He stared up at the movie, three rabbits hopped along, humming playfully, as a cartoon-ish-y song played, the rabbits holding up whimsical looking signs,and they were arguing over which eggs they wanted to paint. It was a stop motion, CGI, animation clay movie. One blue, one green, and one pink rabbit, the pink one being the centre of attention. It was one of those disgustingly, child friendly, children's movie, but it was a good and effective distraction.

Suddenly, the pink one removed it's head, as if a mask, and there on the screen was a human-ish face on the pink bunny body, made of clay. It was dirty, with black eyes pulled into a glare and a frog on it's head.DAFFY?

"Yes," admitted Daffy, looking up and finally seeing the face,'sh*t.'

WHAT THE HEAVEN IS GOING ON, DAFFY?Grumbled Hastur in a voice not like his own, using the actors voice no doubt. He threw the bunny head away, and pointed its paw at him,WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

Daffy stared at the scene in front of him, and his eyes wide in surprise, yet tried to stay calm, "quc, Hastur. Hey. Not following you. How do you mean?" He asked, although he already knew. He hoped using his usual stammer would give the impression of "everything is fine, I have no idea what could be wrong, and I'm not going through a terrible breakup".

THE BOY...Hastursaid,THE BOY CALLED DEWEY.He pointed his paw out to the side.

The blue rabbit looked over the pink rabbit head in the background in wonder, and the green rabbit watched the pink rabbit talk to seemingly nothing.

WE TOOK HIM TO THE FIELDS OF MEGIDDO.He pointed to Daffy.

The green rabbit held up a paw, and the blue rabbit walked off screen.

THE DOG IS NOT WITH HIM. THE CHILD KNOWS NOTHING OF THE GREAT WAR!He kept saying, pointing accusingly at Daffy.HE IS NOT OUT MASTER'S SON.

Daffy watched this with a frown, both of mock sadness for the demon, and worry for himself, "ah."

IS THAT ALL YOU CAN SAY, DAFFY?Snarled Hasturin disbelief.

Daffy, who felt annoyed Hastur was mis-gendering Dewey, merelyhummed, "well..."

HE SAID THAT I...Hastur fell silent.

Daffy frowned, not sure if he wanted to here was young Dewey said about the Duke... but, curiosity was always his biggest downFall, "what did they say, Hastur?" He asked,

Suddenly, there was an extreme close up on Hastur'sgnarly, grotesque, clay animated face,THAT I SMELLED OF POO.

The blue rabbit placed a comforting paw on Hastur's tensed shoulder.

"Well, you can see their point." Daffydefended the poor child, wearing a thoughtful sneer. He held back a snort, andheld back his laugh, it did sound like Dewey.'That's my child!'He thought,'you f*cking go, Dewey! I raised you well! I'm so f*cking proud of you. Give it to him. No bedtime for the next century! Wait until I tell Bugsy about this. Absolutely fan-f*cking-tastic.'Oh, Dewey... he missed thechild, he hoped nothing happened to them. Satan, he hopes. Dewey was like kind of like his childto him, in a way. The child kept in contact with 'Brother Francis' and 'Nanny Ashtoreth', even 'Mr. Harrison' and 'Mr. Cortese'.

OUR TROOPS ARE ASSEMBLED, THE FOUR BEAST HAVE BEGUN TO RIDE - BUT WHERE ARE THEY RIDING TO?Snapped Hastur, a close up on his face.SOMETHING HAS GONE WRONG, DAFFY.He grumbled out, obviously.AND IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. AND, IN ALL PROBABILITY, YOUR FAULT. WE TRUST YOU HAVE A PERFECTLY REASONABLE EXPLANATION FOR ALL THIS...Hastursnarled out, getting angrier and angrier by the second.

"Oh yes," agreed Daffy, readily. "Perfectly reasonable."

YOU'RE DEAD MEAT, LUCAS.Hastursaid,YOU'RE BLOODY HISTORY. Suddenly, he grew claws, and slashed the blue bunny, red blood seeped out and gushed from the wounds and the green bunny babbled in shock. He pointed to Daffy, THERE IS NO ESCAPE. YOU STAY WHERE YOU ARE. WE'RE COMING TO COLLECT YOU!He warned, threateningly, hopping off the screen, dragging blood with him.

Not bloody likely! Daffyflourished his legs from over the back of the seat, and shot up out of his seat, slinkingas he did, his face one of shock and horror, eyes wide in fear. He ran through the aisle, and down the steps, running out the doors to the cinema room, and rushed out with a loud slam of the double doors.

Sylvester on the bed began to stir. And Pepé, who in the very nature of things always looked to the future, suppressed his disappointment and said:

"How are we feeling now?"

Sylvesteropened his eyes. He was lying in a bedroom, and it wasn't his. He knew this instantly because of the ceiling. His bedroom ceiling still had the model aircraft hanging from bits of cotton. He'd never got around to taking them down.

"You are Witchfinder Private Sylvester puss*cat." Pepé said, looking at the card he had nicked from the cats pocket.

Sylvester looked up and paused, seeing Pepé, and his mouth fell open; one thought rang in his head;he's beautiful...

"Apparently, all magistrates are enjoined to give you as much dry kindling as you need to burn any witches, hags or beldam you discover." Pepé said, tone dead, but his eyes were slightly playful. The cat was good looking, he couldn't lie...

Sylvester felt extremely embarrassed, a not unusual state of affairs. Lola had given him an Official Witchfinder's Warrant Card, which among other things charged all beadles, magistrates, bishops, and bailiffs to give him free passage and as much dry kindling as he required. It was incredibly impressive, a masterpiece of calligraphy, and probably quite old. He'd forgotten about it.

"Er... I'm not actually a real Witchfinder. It's just a hobby..." Sylvester admitted, swallowing. "There aren't really any witches. I'm actually a..." he wasn't going to say a struggling Looney Character, not here, not now, not to a skunk like this, not that he is one anymore given he was fired, and was probably going to go into an early retirement. "Computer engineer,"" he lied. Want to be, want to be; in my heart I'm a computer engineer, it's only the brain that's letting me down. "I just needed something to get me out of the house."

"I'm Pepé Le Pew." Pepé smiled,"I'm an occultist, but that's just a hobby. I'm really a witch. Well done. You're half an hour late," he added. That sparked a sense of déjà vu for some reason.He handed him a small sheet of cardboard, "so you'd better read this. It'll save a lot of time."

Sylvester swallowed, "yeah, I know you! You had a crush on Penelope! You would always chase her!"

Pepé grinned, andshrugged, "I am French! I love well... love... and you're Sylvester puss*cat... you chased Tweety, and now, apparently, a Computer Engineer... good for you." He grinned, "hey, is it true you married Penelope?"

"It was a short romance, but yes, divorce years ago," chuckled Sylvester; could you blame him? Penelope was a sweet cat, and beautiful, but they just fell out of love.

Pepé nodded to the card, "read it..."

Sylvester did as he was told, and readthe small piece of card, "when Orient'schariot inverted be,three wheels in the sky,a cat with bruises be upon your bed,aching his head for willow fine."His hand went automatically to his pocket. His cigarette lighter had gone. Well... technically, it was Lola's, he just carried a spare in case the woman lost hers ("what if there's a witch cat?! Constant vigilance!").

"That's you, the car crash and the aspirin." Pepé explained, and he smiled softly, "have you ever heard of Agnes Nutter Maltese?"

"I'm afraid not," said Sylvester.

"A witch from 300 years ago. I'm her descendants creation. One of your creators ancestorsburned her at the stake."

Sylvester listened in fascinated horror to the story of Agnes Maltese death.

"Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Freleng?" He said, when he'd finished.

"That sort of name was quite common in those days," said Pepé. "Apparently there were ten children and they were a very religious family. There was Covetousness Freleng, False-Witness Freleng—"

"I think I understand," said Sylvester. "Sufferin' Succotash. I thought Lola said she'd heard the name before. It must be in the Army records. I suppose if I'd gone around being called Adultery Freleng I'd want to hurt as many people as possible."

"I think he just didn't like women very much."

"Thanks for taking it so well," said Sylvester. "I mean, he must have been an ancestor to my creator. There aren't many Freleng's. Maybe... that's why I sort of met up with the Witchfinder Army? Could be Fate," he said hopefully.

Pepé shook hishead. "No," he said. "No such thing." He shrugged, "well, your creators ancestorsobviously has a tendency to burn mine,so... I took your matches."

"I'm not going to burn anyone," promised Sylvester.

"I know. Agnes would have told us if you were." Said Pepé, "but it is nice... comforting that you did say that..." He smiled softly. He wasn't that attractive, average really... but, there was something about him, he was nice to look at. He's not felt this ways since Penelope. "She wrote all these prophecies in a book published in 1655."

Sylvester stared at the prophecy again. His mouth opened and shut.

"Did she know I was going to crash my car?"

"Yes. No. Yes." Pepé said, unsure. "It's hard to say. You see, Agnes was the worst prophet that's ever existed. Because she was always right. That's why the book never sold."

"How do you mean?" Said Sylvester.

"She managed to come up with the kind of predictions that you can only understand after the thing has happened," said Pepé. "She just picked up one little fragment of information," said the skunk. "That's the point. Most of the time she comes up with such an oblique reference that you can't work it out until it's gone past, and then it all slots into place. And she didn't know what was going to be important or not, so it's all a bit hit and miss. Her prediction for November 22, 1963, was about a house falling down in King's Lynn."

"Oh?" Sylvester looked politely blank.

"President Kennedy was assassinated," said Pepé helpfully. "But Dallas didn't exist then, you see. Whereas King's Lynn was quite important."

"Oh."

"She was generally very good if her descendants were involved."

"Oh?"

"And she wouldn't know anything about the internal combustion engine. To her they were just funny chariots. Even my créateur—" (Sylvester noted he was French, and actually spoke French, it was more than an accent... he really is beautiful, he could hardly pay attention.) "—thought it referred to an Emperor's carriage overturning. You see, it's not enough to know what the future is.You have to know what itmeans. Agnes was like someone looking at a huge picture down a tiny little tube. She wrote down what seemed like good advice based on what she understood of the tiny little glimpses."

"Sometimes you can be lucky," Pepé went on. "My creators great-grandfather worked out about the stock market crash of 1929, for example, two days before it actually happened. Made a fortune. You could say we're professional descendants."

"How many prophecies are there?" Sylvester asked, head titled.

"Thousands." Smiled Pepé, "it averages to about a prophecy a month. Oh, more now, in fact, as we get closer to The End Of The World." (Not that he put the capitals there, but I believe it deserves the capitals.)

"When is that supposed to be?" Sylvester asked.

Pepé looked meaningfully at the clock.

He gave a horrible little laugh that he hoped sounded suave and worldly. After the events so far today, he wasn't feeling very sane. And he could smell Pepé's cologne, which made him uncomfortable.

"Er... in around four hours and 15 minutes."

"Oh, come on. The world ithn't really going to end today." Said Sylvester, nervously."What...?!"He cursed silently, and rubbed his eyes.

"The end of the world starts inWarner Brothers,this afternoon, according to Agnes. I just can't find it," snapped Pepé, annoyed, noting that Sylvester had a lisp... it suited him.

"It?" Asked Sylvester.

Pepé sighed, and carded through the cards, and pulled out one. "The Antichrist. The Great Beast. I've been searching for it, but it's impossible to find." He handed it over to Sylvester.

Sylvester took it and began reading, "Where the Wrnrs Bros meets Water 4, A, the young beast Will take the World,and Wrnrs line Will end in fire and darkness, and not Wakky." He blinked, "Wrnr meets water." Wrnrs... Wrnrs Line.... this was written years ago, languages have changed, Wrnrs... capital W...not Wakky... "Wakko Warner?"

And hisaddress is number four,Warner Studio, Water Tower.

"What did you say?" Asked Pepé.

"Wakko Warner. They live at 4 Warner Studio, Water Tower. Theywasgoing to be called Wakky." Sylvester said, as Pepé snatched the card back in shock. "I was told to keep an eye on them."

"How did you...?" Asked Pepé in shock, "oh, I didn't... sh*t." He gasped in shock, eyes wide, "Wakko, that's... that's crazy. They're such a sweet kid. Wakko and their friendswere the ones that brought you in here,I mean, they're the sweetest kid in the Studio. I mean, they can't be the Great Beast at the end of the world." His smile was falling though, he didn't really believe what he said.

"Come on." Wakkosaid, turning and walking to their area.

The Them found themselves walking, and dragging their feet.

"We don't want to go with you," Dot said.

"Actually... I really don't," Brainagreed.

"Wakko, please..." Yakko said, eyes wide.

"I don't like this," Pinky said.

"There's no point in going home." Said Wakko.

Something was happening inside their head. It was aching. Thoughts were arriving there without them having to think them. Something was saying,You can do something, Wakko Warner. You can make it all better. You can do anything you want.And what was saying this to Wakko was... Wakko. Part of them, deep down. Part of them that had been attached to them all these years and not really noticed, like a shadow. It was saying: yes, it's a rotten world. It could have been great. But now it's rotten, and it's time to do something about it. That's what you're here for. To make it all better.

"It doesn't matter. That's all done now." Wakko said, picking at the loose thread on their gloves.

"But we don't actually want to go with you," Brain said, carefully.

"You do." Wakko said, "you know why you're all coming with me, Brain? Because there's nowhere else to go. What's the point? What's going to be left when we grow up? When you continue to age?" Theyasked, annoyed, feeling angry.

This wasn't the old Wakko the Them knew. The Them avoided one another's faces. With Wakko in this mood, the world seemed a chillier place.

"Everywhere you look, there's all this environment going on. Everything's being killed or used up,and no one takes it seriously. Everyone thinks that somehow it'll all just get better again. Where's the sense in that?" Their tone suggested they didn't want to be argued with.

"Wakko, this is all wrong," Yakkosaid,"we're not going with you."

"But you are," snapped Wakko.

"It isn't actually funny," Pinky said, shaking his head.

"Pinky's right." Said Dot, agreeing with the skinny rat. "It's a stupid game. And you're being weird."

"It's our job to make it start again." Said Wakko like it made perfect sense. "Right, Dog?"

Dog just squealed. All the Evil's of Hell gone.

A black Bentley skidded around a corner with a screech of tyres, down a familiar street, near a familiar gameshop. Daffy saw a familiar figure with grey furwalk down the street wearing white gloves, and so he sharply turned the wheel, the head of the car now up on the pavement, parking up.

Bugswas fiddling nervously with his ring on his ring finger, he's a bit jittery as of now, having had a pretty rough run in withfew... superiors, but he then paused in confusion seeing the familiar car.

Daffy got out the car and called out, "angel!" Bugs watched as Daffy quickly sauntered up to him, "I'm sorry." Apologised the demon, voice desperate and fast. "I apologithe. Whatever I thaid, I didn't mean it!" He held his hands out, the two locking eyes despite Daffy's blackglasses. He was on the verge of begging, anything to get his angel back, he'll do it. He'll take the blame, everything! Daffy's eyebrows were pulled together in sadness and worry, "work with me, I'm apologithing here!" He held his hands out in an "accept me"motion. "Yeth?Good!" He answered his own question, moving the conversation along, and gestured to his car, "get in the car." He said, now begging. He needed to hurry this all along, he wanted to get Bugs into the car as fast as possible, and drive off, so that they both can survive.

"What?" Asked Bugs, quickly. He looked confused, and answered just as quickly,"no!"

"The forces of Hell have figured out it was my fault." Daffy explained, voice speeding up. "But we can run away together!" He raised a hand, pointing to the sky, "Alpha Thentauri."

The angel followed the finger, then glanced down,maybe... maybe would be better if we do flee...

"Lots of spare planets up there. Nobody would even notice us." He waved his hand, panting and his face was desperate. He thought he could do this without crying again, he needed the angel. His whole Purpose and belief in Faith was because of Bugs, he worshipped the angel. He clung to his Faith because of Bugs, and Bugs alone, but well... sometimes, he couldn't hold on forever.

"Daffy, ya being ridiculous, doc."Bugs said, voice in a whimper and all broken, shaking his head sadly.No, no! Humanity had given us so much Freedom, we need to help them! I like it here! You like it here! We like it here!Daffy'sface contorted into a painful wince, one of sadness and despair, and he lowered his arm. The angel was no better, seeing his demon again so soon after their break up, it was killing him, Gabriel and The Bandstand didn't help either. His little meeting with some of the angels wasn't helping... he could still taste the metal in his mouth. "Look, I-I-I'm quite sure if I can just..." Bugs waved a hand, "just reach daRight people," he clenched his hands, "den I can get all dis sorted out." He nodded, eyes certain.

Daffy stared at the angel in shock, and jogged forward, "there aren't any Right people."He said softly, bending slightly as he lookedup to Bugs slightly, close to him again. "There ithjust God," he said, waving a hand, "moving in mysteriouthwaythand not talking to any of us!"He yelled out, teeth grinding together as he shook and quacked in anger.

Bugs nodded, eyes shifting in nerves, it had been a while since She had spoken to anyone, "yeah, and dat is why I'm gonna have a word withda Almighty, and den da Almighty will fix it." He nodded so sure of himself, his face intense, eyes determined.

With a shake of his head, eyes wide and voice full of disbelief, Daffyquacked out incredulously, "that won't happen!" He shook his head, voice full ofbewilderment, "you arethoclever." He reasoned, desperate for Bugs to agree with him, and he took the angelshands gently."How can thomebody as clever as you besostupid?!" He questioned, voice soft and strained.

The angel stared at him softly, and gently squeezed the demons, and said, his voice soft and kind,"I forgive you."You're an angel now, see? We're on the same side... you're more of an angel than all angels I know... come on, help me fix this...

It was a Holy Forgiveness, something Daffy isn't used to, ever. In fact he's never gotten one before. It was burning slightly, but it didn't hurt... no, it was a tingle almost, all over his body and it was warm and... well,nice. He is a demon, he's supposed to be unforgivable. He groaned out a huffed, letting out a quacked, "oh!"That's not how it works, angel...he stormed off to his car, "I'm going home, angel!" He called, his voice anguished, and Bugs looked down, sadly. Daffywalked to his open door, and propped himself up on his car, "I'm getting my thtuff and I'm leaving!" He called,I'll be back soon! I promise! I just have to deal with some Dukes!

An average height man with darkhair combed back, a moustache,brown eyes and was tall and skinny walked around the corner in what looked like a suit, and looked up hearing the argument.

"And when I am off in the stars, I won't even think about you." Yelled Daffy, waving a hand in a dismissive way, voice sounding sad like it was breaking. He was distressed, and distraught. It was a lie, a bold face lie! My thoughts are of nothing but you, Bugs!He got into the drivers seat, speeding off around a corner withscreeching tyres.

Bugs watched with a blank eyed stare, saddened, eyes soft and broken, he felt like he was drowning in everything, sorrowed and angered by The Great Plan as well, not that he would admit it.

"I've been there." The grown man said, nearing the sad looking angel. "You're better off without him." He assured softly looking to Bugs, thinking of his ex-girlfriend, (though it was slightly different circ*mstance. (If he actually knew what was going on he would be terrified.))

Bugs looked down to the man with a confused, yet sad frown, (does he know this stranger? There's a familiar pull...), and the man shrugged softly and sadly, walking off. The angel looked up again, and frowned more, confused and... he gripped the ring onto the necklace.

Daffy quickly sauntered through the hallway of his Harvard flat, glancing to his wrist watch to check the time. He walked over to the sketch of the Mona Lisa, and pulled the portrait off the wall like a door, revealing a silver safe. He twisted the dial, left and right when necessary with quiet clicks, (4-0-0-4 was the code, easy to remember, the year he slithered on to this stupid, marvellous planet, back when it was gleaming and new. (And, when he sauntered vaguely in love with a Principality (Cherub) known as Bugs.)) and he slowly opened the vault door.

There, on a stand, in a cold, dark small room with one light shinning directly onto the stand, sat a flask. A white and grey, tartan thermos flask, the lid of it black, with a small handle on it. There was two heavy PVC gloves, the kind that covered one's entire arms, and some tongs.

Daffy paused. He took a deep breath, eyeing the flasknervously.

(There was a crash from downstairs. That had been the front door...)

He pulled on the thick, large black leather gloves, he gingerly picked up the flask, holding it out at arms length. Even through the thick gloves he could feel the numb burning it gave off, and he's never been so thankful for Bugs doing something like this for him. Slowly, he moved to his desk, where a large, plastic red bucket sat, and he set the flask down, deliberately. He picked up his old, antique tongs and carefully unscrewed the cap... carefully...

(A pounding on the stairs below him, and a muffled scream. That would be the little old lady on the floor below. (He made a mental note to apologise to her, later.))

Sweat collected on his forehead, and he wiped it clean, and standing at a distance, he began to slowly pour out thick, crystal clean, and slightly burning water into the bucket... carefully! Careful! Don't spill any on himself, or loose a single drop!... that's it...

A quiet jiggle of a door knob, and then a loud, obnoxious buzzing noise sounded, ringing throughout the entire bookshop, as well as a gutturalvoice yelling, "Lucas!" Duke Hastur...

Said demon looked up tense, glancing behind him with a worrying brow, as he kept pouring water into the bucket.

The door slammed open, just as thunder and lightening hit, it slammed into the wall, no doubt denting said wall with the metal door handle.

With his gloves still on, Daffy slowly took the bucket of water, and moved to the door to his study, his eyes staring at the water, and he swallowed, it was as if he was holding something that could explode if dropped.

Again, Hastur yelled out, "Lucas!"

"We only want a little word with you!" Yelled another voice.Duke Ligur. (It was said in a tone of voice intended to imply that "word"was synonymous with "horrifically painful eternity".)

Duke Hastur and Duke Ligur. The two were now inside his small and openflat.

Now, as Daffy would be the first to protest, most demons weren'tdeep downevil. In the great cosmic game they felt they occupied the same position as tax inspections - doing on unpopular job, maybe, but essential to the overall operation of the whole thing. If it came to that, some angels weren't paragons of virtue; Daffy had met one or two who, when it came to righteously smiting the ungodly, smote a good deal harder than was strictly necessary. One the whole, everyone had a job to do, and just did it.

Daffy fixed the bucket in place, balancing iton top of the edge of the office door, leaning on the old wall. Lightening struck. He stepped back, staring at it. He hopes this works.

"We know you're in there!" CalledHastur.

As an afterthought he walked into his little plant room, his own little Eden, and he grabbed his plant mister from beside a luxuriant rubber plant... he now has a backup-ish plan.

"Lucas!" Yelled Ligur. "I can feel thewatery little creep in there!"

On the other hand you got people like Hastur and Ligur, who took such a dark delight in unpleasantness you might even have mistaken them for human. (Between us, Daffy has just lived on this plant, and has been with an angel for so long, that this is how he believed demons and angels act, that they weren't necessarily Good, or Bad...they're are, as demons felt bitter and angels felt bigger... they're Bad and Good, unlike Daffy who is a good-bad demon and Bugs, who is a bad-good angel.)

Daffy sat down in his large, golden throne chair, taking his gloves off, hiding them in one of his drawers. He sat in a slouch, leaning back in his golden chair, forcing himself to relax and failed appalling. He turned his head. There he saw the face of Ligur, poking his head through the crack in the door, his gold eyes wandering the office.

"In here, people!" Called Daffy in a greeting, glancing over to the Duke's behind the door.

Ligur walked in, pushing the door open and suddenly, it was like watching a scene in slow motion. The red bucket toppled and fell neatly, pouring the clear, thick, musty, yet still clean not-ordinary water all over the demon with a lizard on his head, and a loud screech of pain, mixed with terror surrounded the room, as the bucket fixed itself on the demons head.

Drop a lump of sodium in water. Watch it flame and burn and spin around crazily, flaring and sputtering. This was like that; just nastier.

Ligur's face began to melt into multicoloured goop. He peeled and flared and flickered. Oily brown smoke oozed from him. He screamed and screamed and screamed. He screams turning to gurgles and soon, his body began turning to water as well, the bucket now like lava, melting and infusing with the demon, it was like a terrible fire with no flames, his body steaming, and turned to nothing but a pile of clothing and ash, rock solid sludge. The pile looked like mashed slugs.

Immediately, Daffy realised that most of the screams of pain, had been girlish screams of terror, all directed from Hastur, who had backed up and his hands clamped over his mouth, screeching and screaming in terror. He had, unfortunately, not been splashed, as he had backed up. He was still screaming.

Daffy stared, "hi."

Still screeching, Hasturstumbled into the room, pushing the door open further and shimmying around the pool of Ligur, still pointing to said pile, and looked like he was about to vomit, and yet kept screaming. Daffyalmostfelt bad for killing the demons friend, (or boyfriend, he was sure of that, but they would deny it and say they were "f*ck buddies" at best.Everyone f*cked in Hell, Hasturand Ligur sought each other out more. (Daffy never slept with demons, he had standards, though he stopped having sex with people after he and Bugs began dating and got married, even then, after a certain point, he barely slept with people unless the job called for it.))

Hastur screeched and stuttered out, "that's-that's-that's Holy Water!" He gestured to the pile, teeth gritted in terror and the black abysses for eyes welled up in bloody tears slightly, or maybe that's just Daffy's imagination? Probably getting his hopes up if Daffy was being honest. "I can't believe even a demon would-would-would— Holy water! That's-that's..." He kept glancing between the dead Ligur and Daffy in terror.

There are some things that are unthinkable: there are some depths that not even demons would believe other demons would stoop to.

Daffy stared at the Duke, whose frog was glaring at him and looked panicked, and he was getting more and more annoyed. He can't stand it when people go on and on and on, stuttering and stumbling, repeating things they've already said (besides Porky Pig, Porky has a pass due to him being Daffy's best human friend), talking and talking and talking, stating things they both knew. Stating the obvious. Though, it was always fun to mess with Hastur, make him angry and uncomfortable at times, make him scared, the duck demon would be feasting on the terror, had he too not been afraid and trying to hide it.

"You bastard. You completebastard! He hadn't never done nothing toyou!"Hastur screamed in anger and terror, waving his hands.

"Yet." CorrectedDaffy, feeling more comfortable now the odds were closer to even. Closer, but not yet even, not by a long shot. Hasturwas a Duke, Daffy wasn'teven a local councillor.

Suddenly, Daffy held up the plastic green plant mister, pointing it atHastur. The water sloshed in the cheap plastic confides threateningly, "go away."

"You..." Gasped Hastur, shaking his head, a slightly scared, yet smug smirk on his face. "You don't frighten me." He carefully watched a drip of water of water leak from the green nozzle and slide slowly down the side of the plastic, towards Daffy'sblack featheredhand.

Slowly, Daffy stood up, "do you know what this is?" He asked in fake thought and wonder, the plant mistertrained on the demon. "This is a Warlmart's —" (an American multinational retail corporation that operates a chain of hypermarkets, discount department stores, and grocery stores from the United States) "— plant mithter, cheapest and most efficient on the market today." He explained, voice steady and careful as he held his arm out. "It can squirt a fine thpray of water into the air." He used his free hand to hold the weapon wielding arm steady, "it's filled withHoly Water. It can turnyou," he nodded to Hastur, "into that." He nodded to the sludge of Ligur. "Now, go away."

Hastur turned, to stare at Ligur, the pile of clothes and water, ash a solid sludge still burning and steaming of oily brown. He looked to Daffy, and shook his head, co*ckily, "you're bluffing." His eyes landed on the water droplet, it reached the demons curled fingers, and stopped before it hit the ruffled feathers.

"Maybe I am. And, maybe I'm not." Agreed Daffy, in a tone of voice which he hoped made it quite clear that bluffing was the last thing on his mind, his plant misterwas still trained on the demon. "Ask yourself: do you feel lucky?" He quotedDirty Harry, a movie he and Bugshad watched and enjoyed, and the two watched it multiple times.

Hastur stood, his arms out, watching the plant mister in the duck demons hands, and he jerked his head nervously, inspecting the contraption. He stared at the droplet of water that had escaped the cheap, plastic, green nozzle, and to Hastur's delight, it landed on Daffy's featheredknuckle. Daffy tensed up, and desperately tried to ignore the wet feeling, and tickle he got from the water droplet, hopingHastur missed it. The duck demon wasn't too lucky, and Hastursmirked, the duck demon was still alive, and had not yelled out in pain, disappearing into a pile of goo.

"Yes." Answered Hastur. He then smiled, his teeth were too sharp and his tongue flickered between them, "do you?" He shot his hand out, and the plastic mister shattered into pieces, water and plastic shooting everywhere, all over Daffy's feathers and all over the duck demons desk.

"Ow!" Yelped Daffy, waving his stinging and wet hand that had been stabbed by the plastic. He stared at the Duke, and said nothing else, too overcome with what he hoped was hidden fear to answer. Plan A had worked. Plan Be had failed. Everything depended on Plan C, and there was one drawback to this: he had only ever planned as far as B. (And, even then it was rushed.)

"Time to go, Lucas." Hissed Hastur, pointing to the demon in front of him, and took a few steps forward.

Daffy backed up, and fell into his chair, back pressed against it, eyes wide in fear behind his glasses, "Hastur!" He needed to stall for time, and so the duck demon said, "I believe there is thomething you need to know." He kept the wavering from his voice. He stood up on shaky legs, to give the impression that he wasn't afraid, that he hasn't done anything wrong, and he knows it, and that Hasturwas rushing to conclusions.

"And that is?" SmiledHastur, cruelly.

Then the phone on Daffy's desk rang, and the two looked to it for two verydifferent reasons.

Bugs had his old, antique phone pressed against his long ear, and he stared around his shop. What was that? The dial tone stopped, "hello! Daffy, I know where da Anti—"

'Hi, this is DuckDaffy. You know what to do. Do it with thtyle.'

Hastur was confused at what the contraption was.

"Don't move!" Demanded Daffy, hand pointed to Hastur. He had a very good idea for who had called, as nobody knew this phone number, and instead, they called the one downstairs, and ifanyonedid call it, as it does sometimes happen, it was cut off after the first ring. Thisleft one person. And, no f*cking way was he letting this bastard hear from his (ex)husband! "There's something very important you need to know before you dithgrace yourself." He insisted. He reached over, and picked up the phone, just as Bugs began talking, "and I really mean it! Hallo?"

"I know where da Anti—"

"Quc! Yeah, it'thnot a good time, Bugsy angel!" Daffy cut in, horribly non-committal, with a voice of ease and annoyance (not at Bugs, at Hastur.) "Got an old friend here." He slammed the phone down, never once taking his eyes off Hastur.

Hastur just looked dreadfully confused, looking between Ligur's sludge and Daffy, who leaned up off the desk.

"But—"

Something clicked behind Bugs, and he turned, dropping the phone on the floor with a loud bang.

He wondered what his (ex)husband wanted, and suddenly, Plan C was there in his head. "Well," smiled Daffy, "you have definitely pathed the test." He complimented with a nod, a smile from one ear to the next, his hands out in a "here I am"gesture. "You're ready to start playing with the big boyth!"

"What?" Asked Hastur, a sneer on his face. "Daffy, you are lying, or you are insane, or possibly you are both, maybe just mad." He growled out, not believing the duck for a second. He threw his hand down, a sneer on his face.

"The Lords of Hell had to make sure you were truthtworthy," Daffy said, in a voice that screamed "duh", bending at the knees in a jerking motion. "Before we gave youcommand of the legionthof the damned." Daffy shook his head from side to side with each syllable for "legions of the damned", much like a duck, "in the War ahead." He grinned, "and," dramatically, his stepped up onto his chair, and held onto the backrest as if he was presenting on a stand, one flipper on the armrest. He began declaring loudly, and proudly; "Hastur," lightening struck, "Duke of Hell," he pointed to the frog demon, "you've come through with flying colourth!" He sounded like was hosting a television game show, ones that Grandma's watch out of boredom, and they believe it be entertainment, after all itisthe British past time. (Though it might be different in America, as you like talk shows.) (It was one of Daffy's better inventions for the sin of Sloth.)

"Me?" Asked Hastur, he certainly was shaken. However, he was unable to fight off the ever growing smile on his face. For a second, just a second, he had entertained the possibility; that was where Daffy had got him. Itwasjust possible that Hell was testing him. That Daffywasmore than he seemed, (rumour has it that Daffy was an angel with six wings, not that anyone believed it, not that Daffy fully remembered it). Hasturwas paranoid, which was simply a sensible and well-adjusted reaction to living in Hell, where they really were out to get you.

Daffy scoffed, as if shocked Hasturwas doubting his "honesty", and he shook his head with a sniff. "Quc, th'okay! Now, I-I wouldn't expect you to believeme, DukeHastur." He admitted, and he picked up his modern touchphone, and showed it off, "but why don't we talk to the Dark Counthil?" He offered, typing in a number with his thumb."Let's thee if they are able convince you."

"Y-you're calling the Dark Council?" Asked Hastur, stuttering over the first word, shocked and amazed.

"Yeth, I am." Daffy nodded, voice over the top, holding the phone to his ear. "And they say, 'Tho long, thucker!'" He yelled out, loudly, bending at the knees. He let out one final, mocking quack, his head shaking rapidly, left and right, (if he wasn't a demon, and wasn't a duck, he'd have whiplash), and suddenly, Daffy turned into small, pixelated squares and black smoke.

He vanished.

His phone fell to the throw, and the caller ID had his duck-like, dullgrinning face, and read;Calling Me...

You're probably wondering where Daffy has gone.

Demons aren't bound by physics.

Over the years, a huge number of theological man-hours have been spent debating the question: "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" To answer it, we need information.

Firstly, angels don't dance. It's one of the distinguishing characteristics that marks an angel.

So, none.

Men in suits, and in a club from what looked like the 1880's danced, they stood with other men, arms linked, and all in small lines, sharing happy smiles, and kicking their legs out, tapping their feet.

At least, nearly none.

Bugs followed the line with a bright smile of his own, his arm linked with another, and was in a white suit unlike the men next to him.

Bugs Bunny had learned a dance called the "gavotte" in a discreet gentlemen's club in Portland Place in the late 1880's.

Bugs danced in the middle of the club, as all the other men danced forward tothe middle, holding the lapels of their suits, and they all wore bright smiles on their faces.

After a while, he had become fairly good at it, and was quite put out when, some decades later, the gavotte went out of style for good.

They stood in a line with smiles, kicking their legs out straight, and moved forward with grins.

So providing the dance was a gavotte, and terrible flaying for the other dance, the answer is a straightforward "one".

Bugs smiled, finishing the dance with his friends and his arms were out.

Then again, you might just as well ask how many demons can dance on the head of a pin.

Daffy jumped back and forth, and waved his hands in a "come here"motion. He kicked his legs out, circling and dancing around a large pin, with Hasturand Ligur doing the same as well, all three hands placed on top of the pin.

They're of the same original stock, after all.

They were all doing poorly executed Disco moves, and were terrible at it. They wereoff beat, but seemed like they could do all sorts of dancing, and they were clearly having fun.

And at least demons dance.

A sea of demons danced, stamping their feet loudly, on beat to the music, shuffling and shimmying. They were having a grand old time!

Not what you'd call good dancing, though.

Daffy spun the large pin, then moved it side to side, as Hasturstuck his hands out, wiggling his fingers, and Ligur waved his hands side to side. They really were terrible at dancing!

Sometimes,Daffy and Bugs would be seen dancing disco moves together, not that any one ever saw, or talked about it.

For demons or for angels, size and shape are simply options. So, if you look from really close up, the only problem about dancing on the head of a pin is all those big gaps between electrons.

Daffy's phone slammed to the slightly worn down leather seat.

That's where Daffy has gone.

Hastur screamed, shrieking as he realised where Daffy had gone, the pixels disintegrating into the phone. Slowly, he too turned to specks of pixels, following after the duck, going through the screen. - All, in a tiny fraction of a second.

That's where Hastur is following.

Right now, they are both travelling incredibly fast through the telephone system.

RING.

Daffy screamed in shock, as he was flung around, "whoa-" he was pixelated to another section, "oh!"Pixels of blue, red and yellow flew past him as he spun around, everything shooting in the opposite direction to him, and soon his screams turned to laughter - this was kind of fun! "Whoo-hoo-hoo!" He pixelated, and transported to one place to another in the telephone system. It happened again, as he flew and spun around in all directions, and he grinned with a smile, waving his arms trying to steady himself.

"Lucas!" Yelled Hastur, his hand out, reaching for Daffy, glitching as he did. Hewas four or five inches away from Daffy, but at this size, it gave the duck demon a very comfortable lead. One that wouldvanish, of course, when he came out the other end.

RING.

The duck demon groaned in discomfort going through two telephone exchanges at a very respectable fraction of light speed, andhe spun, a headache forming, getting dizzy.

"You can't escape me! You bastard!Wherever you come out, I'll come out too!" Hasturyelled, getting closer and closer. Daffy would have time this very, very carefully.

RING.

Taking a deep breath, Daffy began counting down, "three, two, one!" He stopped suddenly, andpixelated out of the telephone system, stretching and pixelating.

"You hear me? Daffy!"

Slowly, the duck demon's pixels came out of hisanswering machine, the red digits now reading;02. He heard one last RING, and then a loud CLICK.

'Hi, this is DuckDaffy—'

Hastur's angry voice sounded from the answering machine,"where are you, you little runt? I heard your voice!You and your best friend Bugs, you're dead meat!"

Hastur, Duke of Hell, is now trapped on a tape inside Daffy's oldtelephone answering machine.

"Where am I?"Came Hastur's voice of confusion, and desperation."Don't leave me here."

"I know where da Antichrist is—"Bugs' voice said, echoing as it did.

"Oh, no."Hastur realised, he was frozen, hand outstretched, his head looking around.

Daffy smirked, fully sized and out of breath, leaning on his desk and listening to the voice messagein grim satisfaction, "enjoy your time in there Hastur, sorry your introduction to bondage is thoboring." He moaned out, voice deep.

"I know where da Antichrist—"

"Oh, no, you wouldn't."Yelled Hastur."You wouldn't dare, you... you bloodyloon!"He squeaked out.

Daffy pressed a button with a click, muting theanswering machine and let out a gleeful giggly, ducky like laugh, he grabbed his keys and ran out of his office.

Thunder crashed outside.

28 MINUTES EARLIER

Bugs walked down the damp, rain filled street, his head down as he messed with the ring on the necklace. It glistened in the light, and he held back a sob that so desperately wanted to escape. After this morning conversation with Gabriel, and seeing The Bandstand again, he realised; maybe, he should have ran off with Daffy? Not broken his heart.

"Hello, Bugs." Came a soft voice, and the angel in question looked up.

There stood Michael, Sandalphon and Uriel, surrounding him and he swallowed, quickly hiding thering, and fiddled with his own that he hadn't taken off yet. "Oh, bosses... Michael. Uriel. Sandalphon." He looked to each of them, and they stared at him in judgement. "Hey, erm..." The three slowly moved forward, and Bugs was left with no choice but to back up, ever so slowly, and he didn't even realise it was happening.

Smacking hislips together, Michael said, his hand on his thin waist, "we've just been learning some rather disturbing things about you, Bugs."The three moved forward, backing Bugs up into the alley, and into a blue, damp wall of a fogged up cafe.

He stumbled, feeling the wall and felt his heart drop, and his stomach feeling empty. He pressed his back into the wall, trying to get away but couldn't, the wall held him there, and he couldn't even hold their gazes. How could he hold the gaze of Daffy's, and not of his own kind? He was thankful hisglasses helped disguisehis wandering eyes, and he swallowed. He felt... scared...

"You've been a bit of a Fallen angel, haven't you?" Michael asked, sarcastically. "Consorting with the enemy?"

With a tense smile, realising most of the gig was up,Bugs stuttered, "I-I-I haven't been... "consorting"."'Michael, you have no idea...'He thought, sarcastically and angrily.

"Don't think your boyfriend in the dark glasseswill get you special treatment in Hell." Uriel said, sarcastically, her eyes in a slight glare. "He's in trouble too." She promised.

At this point Bugs, who was still smiling warily, was mainly gazing downwards to the wet, dirty floor, his mind on his (ex)husband. It took everything in him to not automatically say; "you mean husband, Uriel?", and it took everything to not loose his mind, grab the nearest Archangel, and ask them what the Hell was going on with his (ex)husband, and if he was okay.

Then the next wave of panic hit; they know. They know Daffy and Bugs knew each other. They know the two help each other. As far as they were concerned, they were boyfriends, but she could have just been saying that to be sarcastic. It didn't matter, what mattered is, they know about him and Daffy, even if to an extent.'They know... they know about us, they know I've been helping Daffy, and Daffy's been helping me.'They were in so much trouble, and he has no idea what to do, or how to help.

"Happy, it's time to choose sides." Michael said, voice high yet stern. Cold. The look he was giving the Irish angelwas one that said, "pick a side, and don't be stupid".He probably assumed Bugs would pick Heaven, and well... this put the Principality (or Cherub, depends on how you look at it)in a tough position. (Not that he would pick Hell, but he didn't want to pick Heaven really.)

Bugs nodded, his smile gone, replaced with tense worry, and looked between all three of them, "I've-I've actually been giving dat a lot ofthought lately doc." He assured, thinking of Daffy,"we're on ourside", the demon had said. He looked down, "da, erm, da whole choosing sides thing." He couldn't just say what he wants, he'll be killed... "Erm, what I think is dat dere obviously has to be two sides," he rambled. "That's da whole point. So people can make choices. That's-that's what being human means."

The three were staring at him like he had three heads, like he had suddenly turned into a demon, and had stated; "hey, maybe I should have Fallen all those years ago, hmm?" They didn't blink. They didn't entertain. They didn't falter.

"Choices!" Smiled Bugs, tense and nervous. "But-but dat's-dat's for dem." He pointed to the bustling humans walking down the street, who were none the wiser of his conversation, theyjust walked past, eyes glossing over the Archangels and Principality, sliding past them. Bugs then waved his hands at all four of them. "Our job as-as angelsshould be ta keep all this working, so deycanmake choices." He tried, good Lord did he try.

"You think too much." Uriel said, her voice bleak.

Sandalphon rammed its fist into Bugs stomach, and the Principality's black eyes widen in pain, and he groaned, puffing out air, doubling over, and gripping his stomach in agony. He moaned in discomfort, and felt something warm and metallic raise up to his mouth. Uriel gripped his fur, the grey fur bunching up in her hands, and slammed him up against the wall with a loud bang, and her knuckles rammed into his ribs.

Bugs gasped, and panted in pain, they had never hurt him before, never. No matter how much he angered them, never had they... no, they... his scared eyes locked with Uriel's cold brown ones, as his back was pressed against the wall, painfully. This wasn't like how it was with Daffy, even when he was slammed into that wall in that Drawing Manor, it didn't hurt, the demon was gentle. If he had said "let me go", to Daffy the demon would let go, but if he said that to Uriel, she wouldn't. He didn't even struggle, he couldn't, she was a lot stronger than him. Swallowing back the golden blood, he heaved out, "you... you can't!" His voice was whimpering and wavering, his voice full of pain and fear. "Why would ya do this? We're dagood guys!"

Uriel gave him a glance over, Sandalphon sneered and Michael blinked, bored.

"And dis isn't Right! I have tawarn you dat-dat I'm going to take this entire interaction up with..." Bugs frowned, who would take his call? "Up with..." Bugs' eyes looked up to the sky, "a higher authority." He nodded, swallowing. It was his only choice, his only option to go to the top, maybe She would still listen to him?

Uriel smiled, sad*stically, and she seemed amused by Bugs' suggestion, "you really think Upstairs will take your call?" She leaned in, and sneered, as if disgusted with the Bunny Principality, "you're ridiculous." She spat out, with white hot venom.

He knew that, he knew it was a ridiculous suggestion, a stupid thought, but... surely, no... no, She had to help! She would! Right...?

An air horn sounded from above, blaring loudly, calling for them, and all four looked up.

"Oh, this is great. It's starting." Grinned Uriel as she backed up, now in line with Michael and Sandalphon. Bugs slouched, and held his ribs and stomach, watching his sibl— no, not his siblings. Watching the angels. He stared at them, chest heaving in fear and worry, and suddenly a light shone on the three and they shot up in a flash, gone.

Bugs pushed himself off the wall, and he looked up with a soft eyed glare that turned harsh in a second, "you...you..." He pressed his lips together, forming a "b", a profanity right there, on the tip of his tongue, come on! Just one word, just one!It's not even the worst of swears! Come on, and he winced. Finally, he shouted, eyes sad, "bad angels!"

Wakko sat on their makeshift throne, made by The Them, overlooking their friends, sat on the stage in Stage 16.

There was a shadow over the whole world. Storm clouds were building up in the north, the sunlight glowing yellow off them as though the sky had been painted by an enthusiastic amateur.

"Seems to me it ought to be rolled up and started all over again," said Wakko.

That hadn't sounded like Wakko's childish, stuffy, British voice.

A bitter wind blew through the stage doors, making the red curtains flutter, while the trees whipped about outside. Wakko looked at Dog, who tried to stand on his head. There was a distant mutter of thunder. They reached down and patted the dog absentmindedly.

"Serve everyone right if all the nuclear bombs went off and it all started again, only prop'ly organised," said Wakko. "Sometimes I think that's what I'd like to happen. An' then we could sort everythin' out."

The thunder growled again. Dot shivered. This wasn't the normal Thembickering, which passed many a slow hour. There was a look in Wakko's eye that their friend couldn't quite fathom-not devilment, because that was more or less there all the time, but a sort of blank greyness that was far worse.

Dot and Yakko were sat next to each other, and Brain was sat next to Yakko, and Pinky sat next to Pinky,they couldn't leave, and trust me, they had tried.The Them had huddled together, staring at Wakko. They seemed bigger, somehow. Dog sat and growled. He was thinking of all the smells he would lose. There were no smells in Hell, apart from the sulphur. While some of them here, were, were... well, the fact was, there were no bitches in hell either.

"There's all these bombs going off. People get killed." Dot said, distressed. "Speaking as a mother of unborn generations, I'm against it!"

"And then giant ants take over the world," said Brain nervously.

"I saw this film." Yakko swallowed, "or you go around with sawn-off shotguns and everyone's got these cars with, you know, knives and guns stuck on —"

"I wouldn't allow any giant ants or anything like that," said Wakko, brightening up horribly. "And you'd all be all right. I'd see to that. It'd be wicked, eh, to have all the world to ourselves. Wouldn't it? We could share it out. We could have amazing games. We could have War with real armies an' stuff."

"But there wouldn't be any people," said Dot.

"Oh, I could make us some people," said Wakkoairily. "Good enough for armies, at any rate."

"Wakko, please let us go home!" Pinky begged, "I want my creators, please!"

"No!" Yelled Wakko angrily, standing up, "I'll make you new creators!"

Lightening struck, it was dark, the winds picked up.

"Please, Wakko!" Screamed Yakko.

"Wakko, what are you doing?!" Yelled Dot in horror, and Brain looked around scared.

Dog barked in worry, he had gotten used to chasing rabbits, and he had a new trick to do on that ginger cat! He likes being a normal dog! And now they have to go and mess it all up!

"I've got friends coming soon!" Wakko yelled over the wind, and blustery air. "You'll like them!They're a lot like you! They're going to help me make it all stop!"

"Actually, Wakko, please, I can't move!" Brain yelled in fear.

"I don't like this game!" Yakko called as well, feeling something he has felt in a long time; fear...

"You wait. It's going to be wicked." Promised Wakko with a grin, and in horror, they watched Wakko rise from the ground, ascending into air with a dark smile, the roof opening like a zip, revealing the dark sky.

Sylvester pulled on his jacket and scarf, "so we find this Wakko, and then what do we do?"

"Stop them." Said Pepé, like it all made sense, and was easy, walking forward, "they're bringing Armageddon."

"So, we ask them nicely to stop?" Asked Sylvester, looking to the map, then turning to the male skunk.

"I don't know. Agnes doesn't say." Admitted Pepé, pulling on a jacket. "She goes off on stuff about... you and me."

"Like what?" Asked Sylvester, pulling on the coat.

"Oh, stupid stuff. You... you don't want to know." Assured Pepé, and walked to the door, "the Water Towerisn't far from here."

Sylvester shrugged, and followed. He opened the front door, only to swept up by a tornado, and he yelled. Pepé took hold of the porch fence, and took hold of Sylvester's paw, and found themselves screaming, and hovering in the air, as rain thundered on them, and on the ground.

"Hold on!" Yelled Pepé.

"I'm not an idiot!" Sylvesterassured. "You don't get tornado's at this time of year!"

"We do today!" Pepé yelled, "prophecy 691! The wind should drop in a few seconds, then redouble. We'll have less than a minute to go back insidebefore it starts again. Got it?"

Suddenly, it stopped, and they fell to the ground panting.

"Okay. Got it!" Nodded Sylvester.

The two rushed inside, wet and panting, and rushed back to Pepé room, and he shut the door quickly.

The cottage windows burst inward. This wasn't a storm, it was War. Fragments of jasmine whirled across the room, mingled with the rain of file cards.

"Under the bed!" Yelled Sylvester, pointing, and the two rushed over, and rolled under the bed, side by side. "This is insane! You don't get tornado's in this season!" Yelled the cat, and two gripping the metal bed frame. "Did Agnes say what we have to do next?"

Pepé looked around, and gripped one of the cards at random; whether it be luck, fate, or what, it was the right card.

3477. Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts en-join, there are othere fyres than mine; when the wynd blowethe the blossoms, reach oute one to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde andWhyte and Blacke and Pale approche to Peas isOur Professioune.

? Some mysticism here, one fears.[A F Maltese, Octbr 17, 1889],Peas/blossoms? [OFD, 1929, Sept 4],Revelations Ch 6 again, I presume.,[Dr Thos. Maltese, 1835]

"Reach out to one another!" Translated Pepé, and Sylvester swallowed.

Pepé took it, and read it again. There was a sound outside like a sheet of corrugated iron pinwheeling across the garden, which was exactly what it was.

"Is this supposed to mean," he said slowly, "that we're supposed to become an, an item? That Agnes, what a joker."

Courting is always difficult when the one being courted has an elderly female relative in the house; they tend to mutter or cackle or bum cigarettes or, in the worst cases, get out the family photograph album, an act of aggression in the sex war which ought to be banned by a Geneva Convention. It's much worse when the relative has been dead for three hundred years. Sylvester had indeed been harbouring certain thoughts about Pepé; not just harbouring them, in fact, but dry-docking them, refitting them, giving them a good coat of paint and scraping the barnacles off their bottom. But the idea of Agnes's second-sight boring into the back of his neck sloshed over his libido like a bucketful of cold water

He had even been entertaining the idea of inviting the skunkout for a meal, but he hated the idea of some Cromwellian witch sitting in her cottage three centuries earlier and watching him eat.

He was in the mood in which people burned witches. His life was quite complicated enough withoutit being manipulated across the centuries by some crazed old woman.

A thump in the grate sounded like part of the chimney stack coming down.

And then he thought: my life isn't complicated at all. I can see it as clearly as Agnes might. It stretches all the way to early retirement, a whip round from the people in the office, a bright little neat flat somewhere, a neat little empty death. Except now I'm going to die under the ruins of a cottage during what might just possibly be the end of the world.

The Recording Angel won't have any trouble with me, my life must have been dittos on every page for years. I mean, what have I ever really done?

I've never robbed a bank. I've never had a parking ticket. I've never eaten Thai food.

Somewhere another window caved in, with a merry tinkle of breaking glass. Pepé put his arms around Sylvester, with a sigh which really didn't sound disappointed at all.

I've never been to England. Or France, because Calais doesn't really count. I've never learned to play a musical instrument.

The radio died as the power lines finally gave up.

He buried his face in the skunks fur, smelling the trace of his cologne, and the noxious scent of skunk.

I've never—

That's when he found himself pressing his lips to Pepé's, and Pepé happily pressed his lips back; they were kissing.

Lola stood, watching from her window, hands behind her back. She heard something creak and she turned, and saw the WA pin fly out of the map, and land on the floor with a clatter. She shook her head, and walked over to it. She picked it up, and stabbed it into Jasmine Cottage on the map, and whimpered in horror, as the map burned from the small hole.

"I made you a nice cup of coffee," Madame Tina said, walking in with a cup. "I made it just the way you like it. Nine sugars and condensed milk." She said, walking over.

"Awa' withyou, you murrain plashed berrizene." Though Lola'swords were mumbled, more focused on the burning map.

"Oh, Ms. Lola. You say the nicest things." Smiled Madame Tina with a flush, and smile.

"I've sent him into the jaws of doom," Lola realised in horror.

"Who?" Asked Madame Tina, as Lola turned to her.

"Private puss*cat! Aye, he's just a kitten. I let him go alone." Lola whimpered out in horror, disgusted with herself. "I should have gone with him."

"Well, he's just having a nice day out." Madame Tina assured, but frowned, seeing the smoking map, and pin moving. "That's unusual."

"I'm a bad woman and a worse Witchfinder Sergeant!" Lola cried out in horror. "I cannot believe I let him go alone! I should go to him." Nodded Lola, deciding that would be the best thing to do. She took the coffee Madame Tina held, and began drinking it, walking passed her.

Madame Tina followed, "there's a tramto Warner Studio."

"I can't get there on my pass. There's not funds for a train ticket." Lola said, shaking her head. She could ask Mr. Rajit. No, no she couldn't. As far as the Rajits were concerned, the question of seven weeks' rent would probably crop up in any financial discussion she instigated at this point.

Suddenly, Madame Tina reached into her bra, setting the saucer down, and pulled out some money.

"Oh, I'll not travel on the wages of harlotry and ghost-raising!" Lola yelled, shaking her head.

"You'll need an extra five pounds for a sandwich and a coffee," Madame Tina said, handing over the money.

Sylvesterfinally stopped kissing him, "wait. Shouldn't we have dinner or something first?"

"Shh. No time." Grinned Pepé, pulling Sylvester back into a kiss. And, who was Sylvester to deny that?

Quickly, clothes were being stripped off, and thrown about the room, lips still locked.

The map burst into flames, and Lola gasped in horror, walking closer to the map in horror. She threw the hot coffee at the map, putting the fire out, ruining the map, and paper litteredfloor,

"Well, if you won't take it from me,what about one of those nice men that called?" Offered Madame Tina, as she was Ms. Tina"receptionists", and took notes and calls for the Brooklyn manand lisped man. She stuffed the money away.

"Mr Daffy won't give me an advance. I think he's Mafia." Which left no one else. Save one. "But the Brooklyn pansy in the book shop might be a soft touch." Yes, he thought Bugs was a Russian spy, but unlike Mafia Daffy, the soft one with smooth grey fur was a different matter, and she'd risked trailing him back to his base once, and she could remember the way. She could ask him for money. Threaten him a bit. "Aye, he's got money. Even now, young puss*cat could be suffering unimaginable tortures at the hands of the Daughters of Night. I can't imagine what he's going through!"

Sylvester head popped out from under the bed, shirtless, well... completely naked. His fur was a mess, his cheeks were red, and he was panting, in pleasure and bliss. Suddenly, he was dragged back under.

Pepé suddenly crawled out, and found himself on his back, panting, hishair and fur messed up, and his back arching. (How Sylvester was single with a tongue and size like that, he'll never know.)

"Aye, we can't leave our people in there." Said Lolaseriously, and she grabbed her coat. "They could be doing all manner of things to himright this moment." She said, as Madame Tina turned to her.

Pepé panted, and gripped the bed frame leg, and Sylvester panted, also holding on, when suddenly, their paws were interlocked, and the bed shook, their pants filling the air.

Madame Tina took Lola's hat. "Well, I don't suppose it'll be The End Of The Worldeven if they are, Ms L." She put it on her head, and didn't miss the displeased look on the rabbitsface.

"But, please, Wakko!" Cried Dot loudly, the winds picking up. "We have to go home!"

"This is your home!" Yelled Wakko, floating in air, glaring down at them. "Here, with me! You don't have to go home, or go to school, or got filming, or anything. Or do anything you don't want to do, ever again!"

"Wakko, just stop it!" Screamed Yakko.

"Shut up!" Yelled Wakko.

"Just stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" Yakko and Dot screamed in unison.

"Stop talking! You all have to stop talking now!" Yelled Wakko, "everybody, stop talking!" They screeched, voice cracking.

Suddenly, their mouths were gone. Yakko, Dot, Brainand Pinky shared terrified looks, they were mouthless, as if they had been erased.

The winds had picked up outside his book shop, and Bugs pulled the blinds down, the shop sign still on 'closed'.He pulled back a white, circular rug, and there, on the floor was a white, circular symbol, with other little things doodled inside. There was another circle, a square and more circles, it was from the Cabala. He lit seven candles and placed them at certain points of the drawing and lit some incense, it wasn't needed, but it made the place smell nice.

Bugs paused, dithering. His mind fell on Daffy, he had bumped into him just moments ago and the demon tried to convince him to go to Alpha Centauri. He was tempted to. It would be amazing, so easy, but no... he couldn't. He just hoped he was alright now that Hell knew. He felt terrible for rejecting the demon again, but... he shook his head, he couldn't let his mind wander, he had to stay focused...

Really, he ought to tell Daffyabout the Antichrist, he should have told the demon when he had the chance, he deserved to know... no, hewantedto tell Daffy. Heoughtto tell Heaven, tell God...

He straightened himself out to give the impression of being proper, and brushed his jacket clean of invisible dirt, and placed his hands together as if praying. "Hello... dis is the Principality Bugs... I'm looking for, erm... a higher authority," he prayed. "Is dere anybody dere?" He asked, voice tense and desperate, wavering.

Lola fought her way through wind and rain, and got to the book shop, and bashed on the door, realising it was locked.

Knocking came from the door after a moment of silence, and so he opened his eyes and looked over, "we're closed!" He called out, not at all apologetic, and then looked to the symbols, to the gateway, to the call, and he clenched his eyes again. "Dis really is important! I'll take dis all the way to da top!"

Suddenly, the symbols lit up, and it spread from the ceiling to the floor, like a bright blueish tinted, white light, just on one area. He backed up with a gasp of shock, She's there... She's there? She's not spoken to him since, well... he failed with the Garden...

"I, erm..." He watched as three balls of light slowly lowered, dancing almost with a flutter, "I-I-I need to speak to the Almighty." One more light shot down.

A bald man with white eyebrowsappeared in the light, and white hair around his balding head.Well, it was just his face at least, and while Bugs is using the terms 'he' and 'him', he's going to switch to 'it' and 'its', just to be certain, as the figure in front of him is a celestial being.

"Speak, Principality Happy." The facecommanded, tone demanding.

Bugs didn't correct it with his name, as he didn't like being reminded of his... angelic nature like that, he knew it wouldn't do him any good, and instead asked, "am I talking to..." He moved forward, "God?" He whispered in amazement, his eyes shinning in wonder.

"You are speaking to the Metatron, Happy." It said in a withered, old, yet wise voice. Bugs frowned, and squinted confused, it has been a while since he was in Heaven, and he has forgotten most of the titles. "To speak to me is to speak to God. I am the voice of the Almighty." Ah, yeah that's who the Metatron was.

Lola could hear talking, but it was closed. If he's in, why not answer? She pushed the letter box open, and looked in. She stared in shock, seeing a floating face, symbols and candles.

Bugs vaguely heard what sounded like his metal letterbox opening with a squeak, but he ignored it. Instead, he looked up at the Metatron,"well, yeah. But you're the voice of the Almighty in da same way as, erm, a presidential spokesman is-is the voice of the President, mac." He reasoned... seriously, how was he not kicked out from Heaven? "Iactuallyneedta talkta God,directly."

"What is said to me is said to the Almighty." The Metatron said, and noted Bugs' hesitation, in a face of doubt. The angel wants to tell Daffy everything, hating the fact the demon was right, and he will tell Daffy at some point, if this conversation doesn't help Earth. "Well, Happy?"

"I was gonna complain about the behaviourofa few Archangels." Admitted Bugs, but waved his hands, "but the-the important thing is da Antichrist! I know who they are, I know where they are."

"Good work, well done." It said, sounding bored and unimpressed, itsvoicewas flat.

Bugs shook his head with a tense smile, "so dere doesn't need ta be any of dat stuff about, erm, a third of the seas turning ta blood or anything!" He assured, a grimaced smile on his face. "There doesn't need to be a War. We can save everyone." He was beaming, all happy now, if this got to God, then She could stop it!

"The point is not to avoid the War. The point is towinit."

It fell silent.

Bugs face dropped, fell into a blank glaze, and he felt an icy pit open in his stomach. He... he foolishly believed Heaven would... how naive of him...

"Ah." Hummed Bugs.

The angel made his final decision. He's telling his (ex)husband, Heaven's lost their mind! Heaven is Wrong! Hell is Wrong!And, the term "wrong"deserves the capitalisation.

"What sort of, er, initiating event will precipitate the War?" Bugs asked, changing his speech to a formal tone, his voice full of interest, as if he was excited for the War. He even brought out his carrot, and began chomping away, as cool and collected. His mind,however, was busy with other things, he won't make it running, or with a bus or taxi, he'll have to call Daffy and hope his demon will answer.

"We thought a multi-nation nuclear exchange would be a nice start." The Metatron answered in a thoughtful tone.

"Very imaginative." Bugs mumbled, sarcastically. He felt flat andhopeless. Of course that's the way they're going, angels and demons have no imagination, and are straight to the point. This call would have to be quick...

"The battle commences, Happy." The Metatron said, "join us." It insisted, in a friendly tone so it seemed. Bugs was not stupid, he knew why it was being friendly, no doubt he would get an accommodation for finding the child. (And, formality. But, he doesn't like thinking about his title.)

Bugs nodded, "in a jiffy... two shakes of a lamb's tail..." he felt his fur pockets, looking for his phone and then looked around the room, trying to figure out where he put it down, when his eyes landed on his landline... he'll have to use that. "Just a-a couple of business matters left ta tie up."

"There hardly seems to be any necessity," said the Metatron.

Bugs drew himself up, "I really feel t'at probity, and not ta say morality, demands t'at as a reputable businessman I should—"

"Yes, yes," said the Metatron, a shade testily. "Point taken. We shall await you, then. We will leave the gateway open for you." Itsaid, seeing Bugs stared at his phone and nod. "Do not dawdle."

"Yep, okay... right doc..." He mumbled,'not gettingout of this one...'

The light faded, though not quite vanished, the Metatron now gone. And so, Bugs stumbled off to his old antiquephone. He picked up The Book,The Nice and Accurate Prophecies, and placed the necklace which held Daffy's ring inside the front cover, allowing it to dangle out the end.

Lola was trembling with excitement.

She'd seen it all. She'd heard it all. She hadn't understood any of it, but she knew what people did with circles and candlesticks and incense. She knew that all right. She'd seen The Devil Rides Out fifteen times, sixteen times if you included the time she'd been thrown out of the cinema for shouting her unflattering opinions of amateur Witchfinder Christopher Lee.

The bastards were using her. They'd been making fools out ofthe glorious traditions ofthe Army!

She began picking the lock.

Bugs had his old, antique phone pressed against his long ear, and he stared around his shop. What was that? The dial tone stopped, "hey! Daffy, I know where da Anti—"

'Hi, this is DuckDaffy. You know what to do. Do it with thtyle.'

"Well, I know who yoare, ya idiot. I called you, doc!"He mumbled, eyes wide in shock. "Listen—"

Suddenly, he realised, Daffy's voice was getting louder and louder,"—and I really mean it! Hallo?"

Even in his present state, Bugs could sense trouble, but still he had to try, "I know where daAnti—"

"Quc! Yeah, it'thnot a good time, Bugsy angel!" Daffy cut in, horribly non-committal, with a voice of ease and annoyance (not at Bugs, at Hastur.) "Got an old friend here." He slammed the phone down, never once taking his eyes off Hastur.

Hastur just looked dreadfully confused.

"But—"

Something clicked behind Bugs.

"You foul fiend!"

He turned, dropping the phone on the floor with a loud bang.

"In league with the forces of darkness!"

He walked out from behind the rows of antiques and books,confused. He stared, seeing a familiar female rabbit that you can't help but like, in a familiar parka coat, soaked with rain, and a soaked hat, and he asked, "Sergeant Lola?"

"You monster!" Yelled Lola, stalking forward, her hat drooping over her face. "Seducing women to doyour evil will."

Bugs nearly blanched at the thought, and found himself rather uncomfortable. If it was Daffy (he hope to Sa- Go- Someone's sake, the demon was okay), then he'd be fine with it, but anyone else? No... "I think you've got da wrong shop." He informed quickly, with a wince. Is that what people liked?

"You are possessed by a demon, and I will exorcise you with bell, book and candle." Immediately, Lola began searching herself for the things she needed, patting her wet, soggy, gloved hands over her equally wet, soggyclothing, moving around the shop.

Bugs eyes widened in shock. The woman couldn't have been further from the truth, and then his eyes morphed from shock to horror, seeing the female so close to the gateway, and so he moved forward, "yes, er, fine. But, please, keep away from da circle. It's- it's still powered up." His hands were out, moving forward, ready to stop the rabbit.

"Bell." Lola said, pointing the till bell. She walked over and hit the pin, ringingthe gold bell.

Bugs frowned, looking between the woman and the bell. "I'm honestly not a demon!" Denied Bugs, really not even close, "I-I don't know what ya saw, but—"

Lola picked up The Book,The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Maltese,and the ring on the necklace dangled out the end, waving slightly, "book!" She moved on, and walked away, throwing The Book down.

Bugs stood between Lola and the circle still, "please, you-you-you must keep away from da circle." He kept between the circle and the wandering bunny, his smile was slowly falling, his friendly personality disappearing.

Lola got out her silver lighter, and flicked it on, "practically a candle! By the power invested in me..."

"Look da circle is on," Bugs said, talking over Lola's chanting.

"...and return henceforth to the place from..."

The Principalitybacked up from the lighter, as Lola moved forward, "and it would be very dumb!"

"...and deliver us from evil..."

"For you to step in it without the proper safety measures." Lola warned, eyes wide in fear for the woman. "Whatever you think you've seen," He wan getting angry now.

"...never come again to vex..."

"Don't cross the circle, youstupid girl!" Bugscried out, backed up as far as possible, voice desperate and full of annoyance.

"...evil, returning NO MORE!" Called Lola, her black stained, and dirty glovedindexfinger pointed to the angel, eyes full of anger, rage and determination.

Bugs stared in annoyance at the finger with a sneer, and then frowned, when did the cartoon mortal... get so far away? His head snapped down to himself, noting familiar symbols beneath his feet, "oh,"... that's why. He looked to Lola with soft and sad eyes, and in despair let out an unceremonious, "f*ck." A blueish, white light shone on him and suddenly, the angel raised up into the air, and when he was gone, a light exploded with sparks shooting in directions.

Lola stared in shock and horror, her gaze turning to lookat her finger, and she looked up to the ceiling where the tall, bunny,angel exploded to, "hallo?" She called out, nervously.

No one answered.

She backed away, and ran out the shop in fear, looking to her finger like it was a gun, and she opened the door to the heavy and wild wind and rain, and she allowed the door to slam behind her. It shook the floor.

A candle... all it took was a rolling candle; it caught the notes scattered on the floor, then the wooden desk, and old objects, and then the dust... fire, fire everywhere... the whole place up in red, hot flames and smoke.

Chapter 23: through blazes...

Chapter Text

"You're My Best Friend" by Queen played, as Daffy sped down the busy street in his car, going over sixty miles per hour, dangerously swerving corners, and steering out of the way from oncoming traffic. It was now the early afternoon, with heavy, dark clouds in the sky so it seemed - it will probably rain, heavily no doubt. He had to find out what Bugs had called about, about what he had wanted; maybe to run away together? Get back together? Maybe, he found out information?

"Oh, you make me live!"

He was trying to call the angel with his phone, but he wasn't picking up; it rang, and rang, and rang. - Honestly, it was worrying the demon. Bugs usually picked up after a few seconds, as he always had his phone in his back pocket, or in his hand, and if not, he would call on his landline.

"Whenever this world is cruel to me."

He glanced down to his phone, the caller ID readBugs, but the picture of the caller ID was of fire, red flames that were still. Usually, his car listened to the situations around him, involving him, and played music to match with said situation, as did his phone... what is his phone trying to tell him?

"I got you to help me to live!"

He waited for an answer, and yet again, got an automated response by some female voice operator, "please hang up and try your call again."

"You make me live now honey."

The first thing Daffy noticed was; a bright red firetruck swerve around the corner, its sirens wailing and screeching; the next was the bustling people of Soho crowding and chattering amongst themselves about whatever-they-were-talking-about; the last thing he noticed, wasH. G. B. Bunny& Co., up in flames and smoke, red and orange waves of fire lulled and raged out the windows, and black, greysmoke seeped into the air, making it thick and choke like.

"Ooh, you make me live!"

Daffy, agitated and worried, swung his car door open and stormed out, slamming his door shut. He stormed over, the his orange flippers were slamming on the ground. It was a bit more difficult to get to the shop, since the copsand firemen were keeping everyone away from the fiery chaos. He dully noted it was now raining, soaking his feathers and creating droplets on his glasses.

"Are you the owner of this establishment?" Shouted a fireman, who was older and more built then the others. He walked over to Daffy, a purpose in his step.

"Do Ilooklike I run a book shop?!" Yelled Daffy over the raging fire, and talking. "Don't be stupid!" He insulted, disdainon his face.

The fireman looked thrown off, "I really wouldn't know about that, sir! Appearances can be very deceptive! For example, I am a fireman! However, upon meeting me socially, people unaware of my occupation often suppose I am, in fact, a chartered accountant or company director! Imagine me out of uniform, sir, and what kind of man would you see before you? Honestly?"

Daffy stared at him, annoyed. Honestly, if the situation wasn't more dire, he'd respond with, "oh, I would have said an accountant too,"just for a distraction, while thinking, 'seriously? Do your job, and put out the fire! For f*ck sake, what's wrong with you?!'. However, thisisa diresituation, one that involved his husband and his husbands book shop, and so instead he said, "a prat!" He rushed forward, pushing past people going to the door.

"Hey, you can't go in there!" The fireman yelled, trying to stop him, finally doing his job.

The demonsnapped his fingers. The glass doors swung open harshly, nearly coming off the hinges, the glass smashing slightly, and he strolled in, the doors slamming shut; closed behind him.

He stood in the inferno, the whole shop ablaze. The fire was hot, nearly melting his skin, leaves and small pieces of paper flitted about, as the radio slowly melted from the heat,"you know I'll never be lonely. You're my only one, and I love the things..."

Daffy looked around, eyes squinting in confusion and worry, the smoke filling the shop, and coating his glasses, "Bugs!" He called, tripping over slightly, as he pushed himself off the door, running forward, "Bugs, where the Heaven are you, you idiot?" He yelled out, loudly.

There was no response, just the cackle of of burning paper, plastic consoles, game boxesand wood, as well as splintering glass, and the crash of collapsing timber.

"I can't find you!"Daffy shouted, looking around, up and down, around,I always find you!"Bugth?!"Remember the Arc, France?!"Happy!" He tried, hoping it would catch the angels attention. He looked around the hot, fiery room, as things flew about from the fire and he got no response, his searching was now mad and crazed, the music melted, all he could hear now was... was his own blessed music, some kind of of Queen music that sounded more demonic.

"Bugsth, for Go—" he can't say that, he's a demon! "For Sa—" No,Bugs an angel, he can't say that! With nobody else's sake to call out to, he yelled out in distress, "AHHHH!ForSomebody'sbloody sake, where are you?!" He shook in fear and anger, looking around, urgently, desperately, looking for the angel, looking forhelp.

I always find you! But, I can't feel you! Where are—

The shop window smashed from the outside, and suddenly, and unexpectedly, a jet of water struck him in his chest, knocking him to the ground, harshly.

His glasses flew to a far corner of the room, melting and burning into a puddle of hot plastic. Black eyes, with wide pupils, surrounded by glowing amber were revealed; wet and steaming, dazed yet still frantically looked around the shop. His orange beak was terribly ash-blackened, his feathers tussled up, and he was now on all fours in the blazing book shop. Daffy cursed Bugs, and the Ineffable Plan, and Above and Below, and he cursed himself. He cursed them all...

'Damn them, damn them all... bring him back! Please, anybody but him! Please, bring him back!'

Daffy's eyes landed on familiar symbols drawn on the floor, and he stared at it, then to the shop, then back... that was a Heavenly symbol... with a pain filled groan, he looked around a frown on his face as realisation hit him like a bag of bricks, "you've gone." It was a Heavenly attack, how could it not be? How could it be anything else? He choked out a sobbed, "somebody killed my best friend..."

No... come back, come back to me, come back...!

"Somebody killed my husband..." He then whispered, as it all began hitting him at once what happened to his husband, and who was at fault.

Bring him back! Come back, Bugs! Or, I'll... I'll sell all your books! I'll sell your secret carrot stash! Come back...

He sneered sadly, and screeched out, "BASTARDS!" His voice growing hoarse, and dull, almost scratchy, as he shook his head furiously. He shook in anger, and he grit his teeth together. No doubt both Heaven and Hell could hear his wails of anger and despair, but what was he without Bugs? What was he without the one he worshipped? He looked around, and screamed, "ALL OF YOU!"

He looked down, and saw a tattered, slightly burned book on the floor, it was all kinds of dogeared, and torn, yet was still mostly unharmed. No, notabook.TheBook. The Book that French skunk -Pepé - with a bike named 'Jones' dropped in his car. He noticed his ring on anecklace dangling out of the book, and he gently took it, pulling it out. It burned the pads of his fingers slightly, but he didn't care, instead he shakily slidit onto his finger and let it glisten on his finger again, just as it had been before their break up, just as it had been since 1970, and hastily, with gritted teeth, he stuffed the book into his inside pocket jacket.

He looked up with dull gritted teeth. Then, he screamed, he screamed, and screamed and screamed his throat raw, and sobbed with red, bloody tears rolling down his face, and he curled up, holding himself, and cried.

The floor above him collapsed.

Daffy had lost Bugs, and the world was ending in a few hours. He was in Hell's bad books.Not that Hell has any other kind.

"Find me somebody to love."

The fiery doors opened automatically, and out strolled Daffy, walking through the flames, holding his melted and ruined glasses at a distance.

The chattering of worried people, officers and firemen stopped seeing the man. The fireman, who had been telling anyone who would listen what had happened, ("I couldn't stop him. He must have been mad. Or drunk. Just ran in. I couldn't stop him. Mad. Ran straight in. Horrible way to die. Horrible, horrible. Just ran straight in...") stared in shock. Yet, they saw the expression on his face, and stayed where they stood.

Thunder crashed, as a wave of anger and sin washed over London like a dark cloud. People began fighting, people began swearing, people began stealing, eating, sleeping and f*cking... cars crashed, buildings crumbled, people bled.

"Find me somebody to love."

In the midst of the dark storm cloud of fury, anger and sin was Daffy.

The fiery doors slammed shut behind, and the fire rolled up the building.

Daffy stood there, accepting the pelts of rain that smashed down onto his dirty skin, too angry and numb to care. The rain mixed with red, bloody tears. He held out his glasses, and sneered at them, "I shouldn't litter, should I?" He asked himself, with a frown. "I mean, I probably should litter. I'm a demon, after all." He reasoned rather pathetically, swaying were he stood, and stared at them. "But nobody'threally keeping thcore anymore." He dropped the glasses to the floor, before sauntering to his car, and got in.

One officer spoke. "Weather like this, he ought to of put his lights on," he said, numbly.

They watched the car speed off.

"Especially driving like that. Could be dangerous," agreed another, in flat, dead tones, and they allstood there in the light and the heat of the burning bookshop, wondering what was happening to a world they had thought they understood.

"Find me somebody to love."

He began driving, speeding down to road as the shop window exploded behind him. He gripped the wheel, his knuckles turningwhite, ringing the leatherslightly, and just stared ahead of him.

"Somebody somebody somebody somebody."

He felt numb, his face was resting in a dead and bleak, blank look. Bugs was gone. There was nothing, he couldn't feel his fingers, or feel himself blink... he... he didn't feel like he was in his corporation anymore. His... his last interaction with Bugs was him saying he was leaving, was him saying he would never think of Bugs again... Bugs died thinking Daffy left him, didn't love him, that he was easy to forget. He was...he wasn't existing... he wasn't living... he wasjust... nothing...

"Somebody find me. Somebody find me somebody to love."

Numbly, he reached over to his passenger seat and opened the small glove compartment. It revealed multiple glasses, and he hastily picked one, and shakily pushed them on his face and up his nose. He was numb, dead... Hell was a better haventhen living in a world, Above or Below, without Bugs... without Bugs... without Bugs...

There was a flash of lightning, blue-white, strobe-ing across the cloud-black sky, a crack of thunder so loud it hurt, and a hard rain began to fall.

His memories flashes back to "Looney Tunes: Back in Action", and he remembers the car falling to ground, and"sell my Warner Brothers stock, I got an inside tip that Bugs Bunny is about to die", and suddenly, Daffy found himself with a thought.

I don't want that to happen...

"Anybody, anywhere, anybody find me somebody to love love love! Somebody find me, find me love."

So, this is what the end of the world felt like...

Bugs stumbled, arriving in... Heaven, is this? Gasping and panting for air he didn't need. He looked around, it was a white room, incredibly well lit and felt void of... everything, if he's honest. Yes, this is Heaven. Same weird spinning globe just to the left of him. He went to twist his ring, or well, tried too, but it wasn't there. His fur was a light grey, his gloves whiter than usual, his bracelet was still there, and any other possessions that didn't fit the clean, and simple white clothing, and sterile aesthetic, would go... and, he needed that ring! It's the last thing he had of his (ex)husband!

"You!" Shouted a male, with a... a beard? It looked more like sideburns if he was being honest, well actually it looked like whiskers, and he was in an all white military outfit. There were angels behind him lined up in a single file line. "You're late!"

"Yes!"Bugs turned, his voice echoing, and stared at the Quatermaster Angel, and he swallowed, "um... actually, I..."He slowly walked forward with a limp, he was in pain. He held his leg, "I-I didn't mean to be here... um, yet, doc."He reasoned, seeing the Angel picked up a suit, "still sorting things out... on Earth." He felt heavy, and tired, not like how he sometimes had an actual night of sleep, but genuinely tired. Like he could sleep for six thousand years.

The Quatermaster Angel looked to him, trying to remain calm and respectful, "Bugs, isn't it? Principality, Angel of the Eastern Gate." He shoved the pale, of white, beige uniform and hat into Bugslong arms, "your whole platoon is waiting for your command."

Bugs held the clothing, and looked over to the line of angels, no soldiers, in uniform and ready for battle. Ready for War. He numbly took his clothing, he has to lead and command an army... when he was given his Purpose of Cherub he was happy. See, a Cherub guards God's glory both on Earth and by Her throne in heaven, work on the universe's records, and help people grow spiritually by delivering God's mercy to them and motivating them to pursue more holiness in their lives. But, Gabriel, who thought it was a mistake, also made him a Principality he was less than happy, but he could do that! But, to be in charge of people...? But, that's not what he liked...

"Bugs." Hummed out the Quatermaster Angel, "Bugs... why is that name so familiar..." He skimmed through his file, he's read something somewhere. Bugs shook his head in fake confusion, as the Quatermaster Angel read over the file, "hang on. Bugs. You were issued with—"

The Principality winced, realising he was found out. "A Flaming Sword, I know!" Bugs cut off, and leaned forward, shaking his head, "it's not my fault! She was having a bad day, and—"

The Quatermaster Angel looked up at Bugs, "you were issued with a body!Where is it?"

Bugs swallowed, and looked to his hand to see it fade to nothing and then back, including the bracelet he's had for over six thousand years, "I wasn't ready to step into da portal!" He waved his hand, his bracelet catching the light of the bulbs, "and da body... discorporated." He giggled nervously, his laugh sounding incredibly guilty (the same one he had when he accidentally smote demons in that appeared out of thin (if they didn't mock Daffy, who could win in a fight if he wanted to as they were lower than the demon, he wouldn't have to smite them!)).

"Discorporated?" Asked the Angel, eyes wide in annoyance. He was unable to hide his irritation to the Principality.

"It was six thousandyears old." Bugs defended, and it did make perfect sense, at least to him. And, it would make sense to Daffy too.

With a sneer, Quatermaster Angel walked forward, "I count them all out, and I count them all in again." He walked forward, his teeth gritted in anger. Bugs listened, feeling sick suddenly, either from nerves and being yelled at, or... is this what happened when you discorporate? "And then you turn up,latefor Armageddon, no Flaming Sword, not even a body!" The Quatermaster let his irritation and anger show, "you pathetic excuse for an angel!" He was shaking in anger now.

Bugs didn't want to stand for the yelling, Daffy wouldn't... what would Daffy do? What would he say? ("You need to take lead..." Daffyhad once said, kissing Bugs temple after a bad meeting with Gabriel - not that there's any good ones.

"I can't..."

"You can, you're a Cherub," Daffysaid, looking at the sad Bugs. "You're higher than the Archangels"

"No, not anymore —"

"She never renounced your Title..." Reminded Daffy.

"I don't like yelling," Bugs decided, "I don't like Wars, I don't like taking command." Bugs listed, using a finger for each point, "dey know dat... in deir eyes dey demoted me. Not to mention, dey're upper case 'a'..."

"Right, but God's left you down here. She made you a Cherub, she allowed you to have a Flaming Sword, she never made you a Principality, that was Gabriel... and, while every other Cherub was recalled, she left you here, and you and I both know She knew when you lied to Her, therefore...")

Bugs frowned - Daffy's right. He's higher those Archangels, upper and lower case,he's higher than most angels, (besides Seraph's)and God clearly knows what She's doing... he'sa Cherub, he's someone important. She wants him on Earth, despite all the others being recalled, and he needs to take command back from this witless angel who thinks he's higher than him!

Bugs glared, he wouldn't stand for it, "silence!" He yelled out, in a commanding voice. A voice he's not used since The First War, he never used that tone since, unless for human Wars when his superiors, or used to be superiors, asked him-told him to.He doesn't like this tone even now, but, he did like the way the angel paled, and tensed up, shaking ever so slightly. He sighed,'remember who you are, calm down.You're not Principality by choice, you're a Cherub despite not really wanting to be one, you work at a book shop, and you're a cartoon star...'Bugs glared, "I guess I am pathetic..." The Quatermaster stared in fear, and well masked annoyance. "Because, I ain'tfightingin any War, mac," he slammed the clothes down, and glared at the line of angels, whose's heads snapped to him in shock.

"D-don't be a coward..." Whimpered the Quatermaster, looking at Bugs who seemed to be taller now, holding more power than usual. "Y-you need to get into position and I won't say anything more about the body you discorporated." He tried, as if assuring him and hiding things would make the commanding Cherub ease up on him. "We can take the sword out of your celestial wages."

"I was in da middle ofsomethingimportant!" Snapped Bugs, no he didn't care about any of this!"I demand to be returned!"

"Without a body?" Asked the Angel in shock, "that's ridiculous." He walked off behind the stand, to get back to work and to shy away from the Cherub who was of a higher authority than him. (Most people had forgotten Bugs was a Cherub first, and technically not a Principality.)

Bugs paused, a small, thoughtful frown on his face, his eyebrows pulled together, and askedquietly and curiously, "it is?"

"Obviously." Came the curt reply. "What are you going to do? You can't possess them."

Bugs frowned, he always knew his entire angelic life was backwards, because, "demons can." Same stock, backwards life... his eyes lit up with an idea.

"You're not a demon. You're a Principality."

"No, I'm a Cherub," Bugs mumbled.

The Quartermaster looked up, correcting himself, "you'rea Cherub." He watched Bugs slowly walk up to the slowly, spinning bright blue globe that hovered in the air, the Cherubstared in wonder and thought. The Angel yelled out, "what are you—? Where are you going?!"

"How does one navigate?" Bugs asked, looking to the Angel, who squared his shoulders, putting his pen down. Bugs frowned. He looked to it again, "oh, well."

"Get away from that thing!" Tried the Quartermaster, moving over quickly.

"I'll figure it out..." Bugs reached up, and pressed his finger to the globe, pulling back as it made a noise of air.and slowly his body turned to white smoke, and light. He stared at it in thought, "as I go."

'God, I know you don't talk to any of us... and, I'm sorry for anything you believe I've done wrong... but, I have a favour; don't let me die, help me... I need Daffy... I need to save the world, and remarry him... please... just... please, please, please... help me... help us! He's the kindest demon ever, and we both love humanity... we have so much more to live for... humanity as so much more to love for... please... Amen...'

Bugs looked behind him, as it pulled him in and he let out a loud, "whoo-eee!"

The Quatermaster Angel turned back to the army, and scowled, seeing them staring. He yelled, trying to regain the dignity he had just lost from being scolded by a Higher Up, (especially one like Bugs, a Cherub, an angel who had never been recalled, unlike the Quatermaster), "what are you lot looking at?! Don't you know there's a War on?!"

BEFORE THE BEGINNING

ONE YEAR BEFORE THE FALL

Happy stood inline with angels, it was lines, upon lines, upon lines. There was lines of angels, soldiers, and than his line that was up in front; Principality.

Happy was so happy when he was given his Purpose, but then grew sad. See, he was given the Purpose of a Cherub, to praise and protect God's throne, but Gabriel said that there must be some mistake, and instead he's a Principality. Bugs then he realised what that meant; he had to lead, he had to command and lead platoons into War's, he's to be an educator and guardian of the realm of Earth. And, if he's honest, he doesn't want that. He wants to exist, and yes, he wants to help Earth; however, he doesn't want to command people, or fight... he doesn't want to do that...

Why can't he be a Cherub? Helping guide people, protect humanity, and Her?

He held up his Flaming Sword, ready and in a stance, listening to the Archangel Michael, who was one of Heaven's best fighters, "bring your swords back!" He yelled, his voice echoing the large, open Training Room.

The room was filled with a yell, and in one movement, the swords were brought back, up and pointed.

The Training Room was big, large and square, with three marble steps to get to the floor. It was held up by large, white, marble pillars, holding up a high, domed ceiling. Yelling echoed the room from the angels, and Michael's voice travelled, and echoed the room, shaking it, it was spacious, all white and clean, and crisp.

"Upper left!" Michael yelled.

Happy, along with other angels, yelled and stabbed their swords in the upper left.

"Lower right!"

Again, they all yelled, stabbing their swords to the lower right.

"Bow!"

This was when Happy stopped being a robot, stopped following orders in his training, and while everyone else bowed lowly to Michael, their swords aimed down, Happy stayed standing, sword lowered no longer defensive, but would be with one move, and instead, he was staring up at the large double doors that was open.

There was two figures, two angels. One Happy recognised; Archangel Samael, he had two wings, with black shaggy hair, tall and muscular and black eyes, but that's not who Happy was staring at, he was staring at the Seraph. Yes, a Seraph, one of God's highest angels, one who praises and calls out to God, talks to Her, sings to Her at times... this Seraph has long, black feathers, that looked more like silver, that were fluffy and primed, and was haloed by gold light that was like a a crown. But, this angel wasn't a normal Seraph, no; this Seraph is strange. Seraph's stay in the upper circles, and stays away from the lower ones, and his six white, large, soft looking wings, with golden specks like stars in the feathers, and had a few silvery black feathers intertwined with the white feathers,weren't covering his feet, or bright orange flippers,or face, which had a soft looking, bright orange beak, like it was meant to. He was shorter than Samael, but had nomuscles, his eyes were amber, andshone and glistened in Heavens light, and he was wrapped in a white robe, with sleeves that dragged on the floor, and was barefooted, and when he talked, he gestured, his soft looking hands revealed, and he had a golden ring on each finger.

But another thing was, he was two dimensional. Like Happy. He thought he was the only one...

Happy watched; they were talking. Samael was talking, he looked angry and furious, and was pointing down, and then to the soldiers. The Seraph just seemed amazed, his eyes wide and curious and shrugged, looking over to the angels, but froze.

The Seraph stared, his wide smile turning soft, locking eyes with Happy.'Dear God, I'm sorry My Lord... but, it seems I've found something more beautiful than your Earth... his eyes are a soft, bright, glittering, glistening black... I could use those glistening sparkles for Alpha Centauri, he's all tall and pale grey like snow, skinny and soft skinned like ourrobes, with a cute, fluffy tail like a could,he's gorgeous, his lips look soft, and his wings look fluffy... his fur looks like silk, and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through it...'He looked like he was talking to Her, as if seeing God Herself, he looked over Happy's robes, white. And realised, Happy had two sets of wings, a Cherub... hmm... he also had four heads; an ox, a lion, an eagle, and his head, thatshouldbe human; a rabbit...

Then a final thing was; he's two dimensional, like him... he's not the only one.

Archangel Michael frowned, seeing Happy distracted and followed his gaze, confused. He frowned, seeing the Seraph who was acting none Seraph-like, "Repe!"

The Seraph, now known as Repe, jumped in shock, and his upper wings covered his face, while his lower wings covered his feet, his middle wings stayed to his side as they were for flying, and suddenly, multiple amber coloured eyes popped out from his wings, staring down at everyone, "hi Mike!" Came Repe nervous, yet lisped voice.

Michael sighed, and rubbed his nose. He couldn't say anything against him, Repe is higher than him.

Repe moved forward, and smiled, his eyes closing, but peaked out from beneath his thick, soft wings, and his two, brighteyes locked onto Repe'sexcitedly, "hello... I'm Repe, Repe Sorsa, I'm very sorry if I distracted you..." He trailed off for a name.

Happy straightened up, "u-uh, Happy..." There was a sneer on his face, nose scrunched up. He was now thinking about changing his name. "Happy", he decided, was nothim. "Cherub..." He finished, voice have a posh, yet slight twinge of some accent nobody could put their finger on, as he hadn't picked up on the Brooklynaccent yet, as it had not been invented (though he would pick up on when he'd spend years on Earth in the future).

"Well honey, I'm thorry if my improper manner distracted you... if I may thay, you have very pretty eyes..." Repe complimented, eyes soft and genuine, "I've never theen anything thparkle so beautifully..."

Happy went bright red, and his eyes sparkled more, bowing to him, "th-thank you... If I can say, I... I rather like your feathers doc, it looks so silky and soft..."

Repe's cheeks went bright red as well, as did his wings - he didn't get compliments often, and he rather enjoyed them...

Michael scowled, "Happy! Lower position!"

Happy looked over, "ask nicer doc, and I will!" He called back, as if suddenly remembering,hey, I'm higher than you!

Michael snapped to attention at being reprimanded, "please get into lower position..."

Happy smiled, "was dat so hard?" He bowed, moving to the position he demanded, but his eyes stayed locked with Repe's.

Repesmiled, and waved, wiggling his fingers before leaving with Samael who grinned, following his friend.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Repe sneaked away from his duty of praising God. She's not been talking as much to people, probably due to creating this Earth thing, and She's not answering his questions. They were simple questions really, such as; Why don't these humans fly? Why do you need to have soldiers and Principalities? Will these humans know of you, My Lord? Why am I to create the Stars if they can only see them as specks? Will they be safe in Eden, My Lord?

I mean, surely those are not too hard of questions to ask, is it?

He moved over tocircular symbol on a raised floor,of swirls, and circles, and squaressurrounded by candles. A launch pad. He stood on it, and his eyes closed, as a blue light surrounded him and beamed him up.

He found himself in the hallway, and rushed over to the Training Room, and poked his head in; there stood Happy, now an official Principality, but now he was acting more Cherub like, and the Archangels couldn't control him. Happy was training his a platoon. He wore a white robe, that had bell sleeves and the golden rim of the robe dragged on the floor, and donned a silver holster, that held his Flaming Sword.

The soldiers were battling each other and so Repe let out a 'psst'.

Happy looked over, and smiled seeing Repe behind a corner, waving his hand in a "come here" movement, and, well; who was Happy to ignore one of his superiors? He looked around, and walked to Michael, "can you finish up here?" Though, it was less of a question, and more of a demand.

Michael nodded, not like he could disagree, "yes, of course." He was less than happy that Happy was higher than him, and no matter what Gabriel said, the bunny didn't listen.

Happy bowed to Michael, who bowed back, andrushedover to the Seraph, who took his hand and dragged him down the hall, and into the backrooms.

"Come on," giggled Repe.

Happy grinned, and ran his finger across his knuckles, "what's happening?"

"I think She's making plantth!" Gushed Repe, his eyes sparkling.

Happy squeezed Repe's' hand, "what's "plants"?"

Repepushed open a large door, and found themselves on a cloud which had recently been invented, it was white and fluffy, all soft and cuddly, and the two looked over the edge. There on the ground was a large, grey, circular wall, and in it was multiple things, and a bright line shone down on the floor, as green...things, that had appendages and colourful things on top formed out of nothing, and changed shape and looked different each time.

"She said it'tha living thing that growthin the ground, usually has leavethor flowertj, and needs thun and water to survive!" Smiled Repe, who then frowned, "but; it makes me wonder... this thurviving thing... does that mean it can die? And, what happens after that? And, do these humans die?"

Happy also frowned, "best not to speculate, lovely."

"Yeah, but... honey... She said to me they won't know the difference between Right and Wrong..." Repe explained, voice full of confusion.

"What?" Happyasked, voice confused, "why?" Maybe the Seraph knew, maybe She told him?

Repe shook his head, and shrugged, "I-I don't know... She didn't thay." He frowned, confused and ran a hand through his feathers, pulling a ribbon from his head, "I mean, one mutht know the difference..."

Happy hummed, "well, yeah... but, surely She has a plan, mac... why would anyone want to be Wrong?"

"Well..." Repe thought, really thought, falling quiet. "Remember Bugsth, honey, be kind to each other..." - One must know, and be natural and remember to be kind to each other, and if one is to hate, than be hateful, but at least you know the difference...

Bugs wrapped his arms around Repe's waist, and buried his face into the Seraph's soft locks of silky, silver feathers, delighted the Seraph used his preferred name. The Seraph had demanded that the others do the same to. It gave Bugs freedom. He'd have to remember that; be kind to each other... "Is that why you're friends with Samael?" He asked, voice quiet, and thoughtful.

Everyone knew about Samael and his friends; he's not to happy with God. He wanted his own world, his own kingdom, denying agency, and he had lots of angels who agreed with him, shared similar thoughts, they were all angry God wasn't talking to them, that God created this new world, created new beings, ignoring the ones that existed.

Repe is one of these friends, however, "all we want ithanswerth, we're just curious... what's wrong with asking questionth?"

Bugs frowned, cuddling up to Repesoftly, and thought quietly,'whatiswrong with asking questions?'

THREE MONTHS LATER

Bugs sneaked from his position. He's doing well in his Purpose, guiding and protecting angels, teaching them, praising Her and protecting Her, even as his secondary role, he was good, he never commanded, no... he didn't like being in charge, he didn't like bossing people around.

Repe had secretly told him God liked him, and was planning on giving him a position that no other angel had; something to do with protecting the earth. ("But, lovely, I'm a Cherub! I'm meant to protect humans." Bugs had reasoned, but Repe smirked. Bugs frowned, and asked, "what?"

"Not that kind of protecting. Between uth, you'll be there for however long this Earth thingy will be around, others will get a recall... and, they'll be protecting houses of God, and all that, and the Cherubth will be protecting Her, but you, honey, I'm willing to bet, will be doing more than just protecting houseth and Her." Repe had reasoned back. "I think she wants you higher than anyone here..." (The Seraph should not have told Bugs, but the angel loved the other angel, not that the two understood the feeling yet.)

"You and I were created for a thimilar reason too," Repe said.

"Us?" Bugs perked up, "you mean how we're two dimensional, and a rabbit and a duck? I thought we was an accident."

Repe shook his head, "entertainment. We are to entertain the sad lot of her Siblingth. She found uth entertaining when She drew uth, She laughed, and decided to share uth.")

Bugs moved over to the launch pad, having a brilliant idea to sneak surprise the Seraph, going up to the upper atmosphere. The Seraph was also a Star Maker, currently the angel is still working on Alpha Centauri, apparently the Seraph can't work without the Cherub there, or else he won't "get the sparkle in your beautiful eyes right, honey". He stepped onto the pad, and in a beam of blue, he was gone.

He arrived on AlphaCentauri, it was truly beautiful! He looked around, his eyes yet again glistening.The stars, they were rotating, and together, with a lovely shade of pastel, cornflower blue, yet glistened and twinkled, with a shine that had no words to describe,they area shining, stunning, warmthglow, and the sky, it was the blackest black to exist, wrapping around the area like a blanket of warmth. The nebula's were purple and silky, curling and bouncing back into place, and danced around the stars. Oh, it really is beautiful, and Bugs knew God made the right choice, pinking Repe as Her number one Star Maker.

He looked around with a soft smile, and his eyes gleamed seeing Repe, but froze for two reasons. His smile turned to a frown.

One reason his froze was because Repe's wings were out; they were covering his face and feet, and all his eyes were intently watching Samael. Bugs could see the fear and worry the Seraph was desperately trying to hide from the Archangel.

Reason number two was Semael; he was talking angrily, and waving his hands around, annoyed. Bugs frowned, and hid behind a small cloud wall, and leaned in, listening to what the Archangel was yelling about.

"We'll attack if She doesn't answer you Repe!" He snapped.

Repe raised his arms, "no, wait! She might anthwer, but... Thamael, She is very busy..."

"Yeah! Bored of us! Bored of you! You need to stop defending her Repe!" Snapped Samael, "you're her best Seraph, nobody shines like you, She talks to you most, and how many Seraph's have that many eyes, and create Stars?! You! And, if She doesn't tell you anything, we will attack!"

"Let me just... talk to Her, give me a while, okay?" Repe practically begged, eyes desperate, wanting time.

"You don't have eterni—!" Samael looked over, and paused, his eyes locked with Bugs. Repe followed his gaze, and tensed up, seeing the Cherub.

Bugs came out from hiding, and smiled at ease, "eh, whats up, doc?"

"Hello, Happy..." Greeted Samael, his tone deep and smooth as silk, tempting in a way.

Repe was suddenly in front of the Cherub, all six wings were out, blocking Bugs from the Archangels sight, and all his eyes seemed to glow, "leave, Samael..."

Bugs wrapped his arms around Repe's waist, and leaned into his back, his face furrowed between all six wings, and brought out his two wings and three extra heads, something he had gotten into the habit of hiding,and all the eyes, on both angels,watched Samael leave, stalking past him, and the Archangels fake, warm gaze bore into their's. The two watched the Archangel step onto the launch pad and in a beam of blue light, was gone.

"What was dat...?" Bugs asked, softy.He rocked on his feet, and moved his bracelet around, before he began twisting, and wringing his fingers together, he looked guilty, as if he had barged in and heard more than he should have.

Repe turned, and kissed Bugs' cheek, "nothing honey, I just need to talk to Mother..."

Bugs frowned, and asked, "can I come...?"

The Seraph frowned, and thought, "yeah thure, I don't thee a problem with it..." He shrugged, and took the Cherubshand, "come on." He smiled, and took him to the launch pad, and stood on it together. Repe threw small, golden Star Dust into the sky, methodically, and the scattered like freckles.

In a flash of blue, they were gone.

They appeared in a large, white and bright room. It was clean and crisp, and a had a golden glow coming from the ceiling, or well sky, as there was no ceiling. Inthe middle of the room was a stand, with three stairs, and the room was surroundedup by white pillars, and Repecarefully, and quickly, hid the Cherub behind the nearest pillar.

Bugs realised, he shouldn't be here. Repe would be in so much trouble if She found out, and so, he tucked his wings away, and hid his other faces, and peaked out from the pillar. He watched Repe waddle up the steps, and kneel, his hands clasped together, and look up to the sky.

"Mother, are you there?" Called Repe, his voice soft and sounding awed.

My youngest son, Seraph Repe. Why are you here today?

Bugs' eyes widened, She was talking and She sounded so fond and amused. As if She loved Repe the most, (and between us, She did. She favoured Repe.)

"I-I'm afraid I mutht ask thomething!" Called Repe, "and, I underthtand that the things you do are not to be questioned; but I'm merely curiouthof your infinite, and fascinating wayth! I wish to understand, oh genius, oh clever Lord, Mother!"

It fell silent for a moment, and Bugs thought She went away.

Ah yes, you are so curious... one of my most curious...

This time when She spoke, She didn't sound too happy. If anything She sounded annoyed, and tense. She sounded... angry...

"Yeth, I wathjust wondering... why do you need these amazing creatures named "humans"? I can't help but feel as if we aren't enough - not that that ithyour intention, My Lord!" Repe called out, tense and uneasy, being careful with his wording.

A flash of light, and suddenly, there was a figure in front of him, smiling. It looked neither male or female, or anything in between, yet looked profoundly divine - this is God, Bugs realised.

"Hello Mother." Repe bowed.

I do not need them, and you are enough...

She smiled softly to him, though Her tone was tense.

"Y-yeth... but, why must they not know Right from Wrong?" Questioned Repe, in genuine curiosity.

Why must they know Right from Wrong?

She questioned back with an angry smile.

"Well... wouldn't that make thingth, fair?" Asked Repe, frowning, "and why must they not have wingth? Why are there to be healing Archangels? And why are they to... to die...?"

Nothing is fair, and everything is fair... everything is going as it should be.

Repe tensed up, realising how angry She was getting by had to ask, "I'm not doubting you, I promise Mother! But, but thithIneffable Plan, why can't we know it?"

She glared, tense but still wore a smile.

You do ask a lot of questions...

Repe swallowed, but nodded, "I do, thank you for your time Mother..." He stood and bowed, realising this wasn't getting anywhere, She was just getting angry, and he didn't want that, he was... he was just curious...

She smiled suddenly, that knowing look still in Her eyes, and She moved Her head.

Take care of Bugs!

Her eyes locked with Bugs' wide and curious ones, and the Cherub winced. He came out from behind the pillar and waved, "hi Mom!"

Repe looked to Bugs, and smiled nervously, looking back to God,'I have to lie to Samael...'

FOUR MONTHS LATER

A soft, black feathered hand cupped Bug's soft, grey furred jaw, tilting his head up. Bugs blushed, "lovely..." He blushed, looking up to the Seraph softly, and his eyes gleamed in delight, and sparkled and shone.

"Yeth, honey?" Hummed Repe, his voice soft. He looked up, and waved his hand in a flick, his fingers shining, and the stars began glowing. He kissed Bugs' soft, smooth, and warm temple, and Bugsrelaxed, his eyes fluttering close.

"I just... I just love ya..." Bugs hummed, nuzzling his face into the base of Repe'ssix wings, his long arms wrapped around Repe's thin, and pear shapedwaist. He smiled, and looked around, seeing white, black and silver feathers on the ground, scattered around, the two had just molted their wings together, and helped each other. There was long, slender, and stiff fingers running through soft, thick, fluffy wings. It was rather intimate, and not really done between angels, usually kept on the down low. Even mates didn't usually molt together, and instead did it privately, as it was a vulnerable task. And, at times, not at all, as it was considered vain.

"I love you too, angel..." Smiled Repe, pausing in his task and he looked to Bugs. (Is it Wrong? Wrong to love someone more than Her? But, Repedidn't care... no, not at all...)

Bugs reached up slightly, and cupped the Seraph's face, "angel? We're both angel's, lovely."

"Yeah, but you are the only angel who ithRight, Holy and Good..." Repe admitted kissing the Cherub'scheek.

Bugspaused, and looked down to Repe, "da would imply that you aren't a Good angel..."

Repe frowned, and shuffled on his flippers, "well... y'know how it is..."

"Re..."

"So, Samael is getting antthy! And, I'm not getting answerth—"

"Repe!" Bugs gasped, horrified. It was a discussion amongst the Archangels; Samael is a bad angel, asking questions, demanding answers and rebelling against everything God stands for, and seemingly, going against this "Ineffable Plan". There was fear of a rebellion from him and his friends, an actual rebellion.

Repe looked to Bugs, "I don't agree with their War! I don't want that, but... I'm curiouthand I don't underthtand why She can't answer us, tell uth things..."

"Because, it's Ineffable..."

"Yeah, but doethn't She want us, and the humans, to do thithIneffable Plan with a hundred percent accurathy?" Questioned Repe, looking down upset.

Bugs kissed Repe, "I know, but... well... She knows what She's doing..." He frowned, "please don't fight in any War..."

"I might have to..." Repe said, regretfully, "but... I'll try and not fight..."

How was he to know that he would have nothing going on that afternoon?

THE FALL

THREE MONTHS LATER

It was happening.It was finally happening.A Rebellion. A Rebellion between Samael'sArmy, and God's Army, one thateveryonehad to fight in, without a saying.

Bugs had no choice but to be a Cherub, who had also trained to be a principality, to be a leader, to fight and do his Purpose. He was fighting, going through Traitors, but... when I say "going through", I mean blocking and defending, moving and weaving through angels, looking for his Seraph, looking for his Repe, his lovely.

He's already seen multiple angels, or Traitors as they're known now, struck by a blinding light, with a loud crash and bang. He had seen multiple Traitors fall through the floor, off the side of the flooring, he saw them plummet, down, down, down, through the sky. Their wings burning, on fire, slowly singeing feathers and skin, turning black. It was followed by pain filled screams and cursing. Honestly, Bugs was terrified, for everyone, mainly Repe.

He's passed angels who were on the ground, injured and bleeding out golden blood, eyes glazed over and rigid. Their bodies merely fought over, and ignore, yells of pain and agony, with weapons covered in warm, gold liquid.

At this point, Bugs has no idea who was winning, or who was loosing. He didn't want to know!

Suddenly, he was tackled and he landed on the floor on with a yell of pain. He looked up to see pale orange eyes, and Bugs gasped out, "Leo, please don't..." He wriggled, barely budging the Traitor. He couldn't. He didn't want to fight anyone...

"'Please'," whined Leo, sarcastically. "Pathetic,” hespat, eyes pulled into a hateful glare. He raised his golden blood covered daggerabove his head, ready to strike the Principality.

Bugs tensed, and struggled weakly, dropping his Flaming Sword and sighed, accepting his fate, but suddenly, a figure slammed into Leo, pushing him off the side of the flooring, sending him spiralling through the sky, down, and he screamed in pain and terror.

"Bugs..."

"Repe..."

The Seraph helped Bugs up, and cupped his angular face, running his thumb over the soft cheek, "are you okay?!" He saw an angel running at him with a yell, and so he spread his six wings and eyes came out, they glowed staring down the angel, and the angel screamed, turning to black dust, and he looked to Bugs, "angel, honey?"

Bugs frowned, and looked over Repe's clothing, he was wearing the clothes of a Traitor, grey toned, black and dark, and he shook his head, pulling the Seraph into a hug, holding him close and his eyes filled with golden tears, "please." He whispered, and Repe clung to him like a life line, his fingers digging into the Cherub's back, careful of the three extra heads, that nuzzled into his face desperate. "Please, please stop, lovely," he begged, shaking. "Please, you can stop and we can sort dis... we can go home, back to Alpha Centauri," he waved his hand to the stars, "please! Please, please, please lovely..."

Repelooked down shakily, "I never wanted thitj!" He admitted, voice croaked, and pulled away, gesturing with his sword to the battle around them. "Never! I only wanted anthwerth!They're my friendth, and yeth, some things I agree with, but not this! Never thith! I'm just standing up for what I believe in, Bugs, and I had nothing else to do!" - They had asked for help, and who was Repe to deny? Maybe he could get answers! But this...?

"Repe..."

"I never wanted thith..." He whimpered out, squeezing the handle of the sword. "I just, had nothing to do and they athked for help, and..."He looked up, helplessly and shaky, with golden tears running down his tanned cheeks, "God! When did welose your reathon?! Save uthmy God if you're there!”He gestured to his friends, and Bugs, "God can you not feel the terror?! It’thlike a fire, in the air!”

A bolt of white, blue tinted lightening struck down on them, aimed at Bugs,well it would have hit the rabbit, had Repe not pushed Bugs out of the way to safety. The Seraphlost his footing, and fell backwards and over the edge of Above. He stabbed his sword into the ground, gripping the handle and shaking eyes wide, "please, God!" He begged, dangling off the edge, legs flailing, eyes tearing up with golden tears.

Bugs' eyes widened, "Repe!" He ran over, and held his hand out to grab him, reaching out. He's so close! So close!- Too late!

Lightening struck Repe, and the ex-Seraph had no choice but to let go of the sword, falling through the sky, feathers and clothes whipping wildly in the wind, "Bugs!" His wings, they burned, fire, pain, stabbing, thought this would feel better than later when Samael would cut off two of his wings,his eyes stung, and his stared at Bugds, as a pain filled scream escaped his lips, a scream that would leave his throat raw.

"Repe!" Bugs screamed out, eyes wide full of golden tears and terror, leaning over the edge, still reaching. He would have followed the raven feathered angel Down, he would have Fallen with him, willingly, had it not been for Gabriel holding him back. He couldn't fly to him fast enough... “No!”

Repe's angelic memories were gone the moment he hit Hell, gone, wiped. Who was he? Who was anyone? What was he before he Fell? Was he alone Up there? Satan, why did he cut off two of his wings? Wait, did he have six wings? He has no clue, and he'll more than likely, never remember or regain those memories, however he's always known one thing, one thing for certain, one thing for sure, something he's known since before the Fall, something that carried with after the Fall.

PRESENT

"I never athked to be a demon."

Daffy sat at a bar, on a small single, wooden table, and an empty whiskey glass held up, looking to the bartender. He had just asked for the "same again!", and the bartender walked over, slamming down a bottle of... oh, has he been drinking wine? Not whiskey? Who cares, it does the same thing. Get him uncontrollably f*cked.

Daffy sniffed, face pulled down in despair as he tipped back the last drops of liquid from his small glass.

He was explaining his woes, looking up to a bartender, who thought the ravenfeathers cartoon duckwas just drunk, and having had a rough day. He had no idea, of course, just how bad of a day it really was. He walked off immediately after.

'Why didn't you just flee to Alpha Centauri with me?!'Daffy thought in sadness. Maybe, if he had stayed on the phone he could have saved Bugs, but no! He had to hang up!

"I wathjust minding my own buthinethone day," Daffy slurred out, looking up to the sky drunkenly, "and then..." He wiggled in his seat with a sneer, "oh, lookie here, it'thLucifer and the guyth!" He cheered, drunk and sarcastic. He looked to his left, "oh, hey," he shrugged, hands out, sounding like a snake, "the food hadn't been that good lately." He looked to the right, "I didn't have anything on for the rest of that afternoon!" He looked down, voice choked and thick with tears, "next thing, I'm-m-m, quc, uh,doing a-a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur!" He wailed out, lips pulled into a large pout, frantically looking around, his voice broken and bloody tears down his face, and down his beak. (Not that anyone saw the blood of course, even in his drunken state he made sure of that. (Technically, demons don't cry. They aren't meant to, at least.))

Daffy wrapped his hands around the bottle, desperately trying tostabilise himself in the moment, bring him back to reality. This was happening, this was actually happening. Bugs is dead...lightening stuck, and rain thundered. He looked up and paused, a frown on his face and he squinted, "Bugs?" He whimpered out with a drunk groan, seeing a wobbly figure, transparentand warped in the seat in front of him, and it reflected onto his glasses. I mean, itlooked like Bugs, but he could be wrong, "are you here?" He asked, seeming a bit more sober, as he pulled up his glasses, placing them on his forehead, fully squinting his brightduck eyes. He was less sad now, maybe Bugswasthere! Or, it might be a drunk hallucination, even so he’ll grasp onto it.

"Good question." Came the grumbled, tired Brooklyn voice... "Not certain. Never done dis before." The wobbly, transparent figure looked around in confusion and thought. "Can ya hear me?!"

It can't be Bugs, Bugs is gone! Dead! That fire killed him! "Of courthe I can hear you!" Bugs'eyes were wide in shock, and his glasses fell over his eyes again, loosing the friction from his frown lines, and he let go of the bottle.

"Afraid I've rather made a mess of things." Bugs admitted in a broken voice, eyes sad and soft, "did ya go ta Alpha Centauri?" He asked, all nice, and soft, kind, just the way he always his.

Daffy truly has made a nice imagination, and he smiled, beak pursed in a sad wince, "nah, I changed my mind." He explained, calm, relishing the angels kindness. He paused. "Things happened," he explained, his features turning soft and sad, seemingly heartbroken and he held back a sob, "I lost my best friend." He admitted, choked up, lips pulled into a sad, pain filled grimace, as fresh tears formed, rolling down his cheeks in hot, sulphur smelling pelts. They rivalled the rain outside.

Bugs' face fell to a look soft sadness, twirling his ring on his ring finger, as it was now back what with being a ghost, "I'm so sorry tohear it." He apologised, wishing he could just reach out and hug the demon, "listen, back in my book shop dere's a book I need ya to get."

Suddenly, Daffy's face crumpled to one of sorrow, regret with a hint of distress all over again. Worse than before, somehow. "Oh, look," he rested the underside of his beakon the palm of his hand and leaned forward, "your book shop ithn't there anymore." He informed, sadly, and softly, as if that was the saddest thing to happen at the moment.

Bugs frowned confused, "oh?"

"I'm really thorry. It burned down."Informed the demon regretfully, being as soft, and gentle as possible. His voice was wavering and quivering.

The angelsface fell more, voice broken slightly, "all of it?"

Daffy sniffed, "quc, nu, em, erm, uh, yeah."He was again, cradling the drink to his chest, "what-what was the book?"

Bugs took a deep, shaky breath, as he looked down sadly, "da one the young skunk withda bicycle left behind. You know, Pepé." He explained, his voice wavering in emotions as he thought of his home gone, "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of—"

"Agnes Maltese!"Choked Daffy in a triumphant yell of delight, pulling out the book from his feathers, as if it was jacket, "yeth, I took it!"He held the book out to the ghostly figure, it was burned and tattered, and he pointed to the title, jabbing his finger into it. His voice was croaked and scratchy, choked and despaired. He practically shoved it in the angels face.

"Oh, ya have it?" Asked Bugs with a smile, looking around, not able to see.

"Look, thouvenir!"Cheered the demon, drunk and hazy, still pointing to the title, his eyes basically screaming;'look what I did! Be proud of me! Please come back!'He had something the angel was looking for, and if he has it, which he does, that means Bugs is going to findhim, and they're going to be together again!

"Look inside. I made notes, 'n'yaring is in dere as well!" Bugs smiled, twirling his ring around his own finger, there was hope yet.

Daffy looked down, and looked through the notes, flipping through the book carelessly, "I'm wearing it again!" He held up his hand with his ring on, showing it off proudly to whoever dared to look. He's never taking it off again, not for Hell, not for shooting shorts or films!Never! "Whenever I thee you again, I'm going to kiss you I thwear!" He pulled out a folded piece of paper and began unfolding, looking through the notes. Luckily, they weren’t too damaged.

Bugs blushed, "it's all in there. Da child's name, address. Everything else. I worked it all out."

"You brilliant angel, you! Look," Daffy said, looking up, eyes soft. He needed Bugs,"wherever you are, I'll come to you. Where are you?" He asked, desperatelysquinting, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at, trying to figure out where his husband was.

Bugs looked around, eyes glazed, "I-I-I'm not really anywhere yet. I've been discorporated." He explained with a frown.

"Oh." Nodded Daffy in remorse, still drunk.

"Ya need ta get toWarner Brothers Studio Lot, to Lot A... between the Water Tower and Science Base." Bugs explained.

Daffy looked down at the map, and saw the water tower circled with a pencil, and asked, "w-why?"

"World ending." Bugs answered, and the demon looked up. "Dat's w'ere it's all going to happen," he said sad. "Quite soon now. I'll head dere too. I just need to find a receptive body." He sighed annoyed, "harder than you'd think." He reasoned.

Daffy sneered, "I'm not going to go there." Dazed, with a shake of his head.

"I do need a body." Sighed Bugs, "pity I can't inhabit yours."He laughed lightly, swallowing.

"Oh." Daffy hummed in thought, with a sneered shake of his head.

"Angel, demon..." Smiled Bugs, "probably explode."

"Bleh..." Daffy grunted.

"So I'll meet ya at the Water Tower, Science Base," Bugs said, as Daffy looked to the notes."But we're both gonna have taget a bit ofa wiggle-on."

Daffy looked up suddenly, face contorted of drunk confusion, "what?" Surely, he misheard in his drunken haze.

"Warner Brothers, Water Tower, Lot A, Science Base!" Bugs repeated, as hefaded away into nothing.

"I heard that." Assured the demon, and he sneered, "it waththe 'wiggle-on'." And, Bugs was suddenly gone. Lighting struck again. Daffy leaned back in his chair, and raised his hands as if to say; 'what the f*ck is 'wiggle-on'?!' He looked around the room, as if searchingfor answer,before deciding; he needed to sober up.

Chapter 24: the doomsday option...

Chapter Text

MEANWHILE,

ABOUT 20 MINUTES BEFORE,

"It's a bad world, but we can fix it," Wakko said, sat on their throne.

Yakko, Dot,and Pinky sat, with teary eyes, while Brain glared, fists shaking in anger, and no mouths, looking up at Wakko with distaste and fear.

"And it doesn't matter that you four aren't my friends anymore, or my sister, or my brother." Wakko said, "I've got better friends than you'll ever be." They said, not bothered by the loss of their friends, or family. Not even bothered Yakko and Dot didn't have their back anymore. "My new friends will be together soon. They're coming here, and then we make everything better."

Wakko looked to them, and they straightened up; Wakko had red, glowing eyes.

Lola walked the wet, raining streets with a shocked look on her face. She paused outside the door, and lifted her elbow, refusing to use her blasted finger, and pressed her elbow to the doorbell, ringing for Madame Tina, before leaning against the wall.

The door opened, and Madame Tina was now in ginger hair, and green robes, and hoped she looked other worldly. "Ms.Lola?" She asked, seeing the female bunnyleaning against the wall. "Oh, what on earth happened?"

"What would you say if I told youthat this hand had just exorcised a demonclean off the surface of the earth?" Asked Lola in horror, waving her finger, but kept it pointed away from Madame Tina.

Madame Tina frowned in worry, "I'd say somebody needs to come insideand have a nice cup of coffee." She gently took Lola's arm, and helped her up the stairs, much to the rabbits distaste.

All the way she yelled out about being left alone; "get away from me, wumman! I dunnoknow my own powers! Stand back, I tell ya! I can't be responsible!" Then finally, she moved away from that and said, "young Sylvester, he's still out there. In thrall to heathen ways and lubricious occult wiles. There could be women there!" She squeaked, as they got to their floor.

With a soft smile, Madame Tina gently took Lola's shoulder. She knew Sylvester, he's been married to Penelope, but since he's been hanging around Lola, came clean to Madame Tina that he's bisexual. "Oh, well..." She let the dazed Witchfinder into her apartment.

She, Lola, scourge of evil, was powerless to resist being drawn into her flat.

She'd never been in it before, at least in her waking moments. Her dreams had furnished it in silks, rich hangings, and what he thought of as scented ungulates. Admittedly, it did have a bead curtain in the entrance to the kitchenette and a lamp made rather inexpertly from a Chianti bottle, because Madame Tina's apprehension of what was chic had grounded around 1953.

And there was a table in the middle of the room with a velvet cloth on it and, on the cloth, the crystal ball which increasingly was Madame Tina's means of earning a living.

"Now you can't be in here, because Mrs. Ormerod and such will be arriving any minute." Madame Tina said, leading Lola to her room, "why don't you come in here and have a nice lie down. You're no use to young Sylvester in this state." She said softly, and gently took of Lola's hat.

Lola turned her head to take in her surroundings.

Madame Tina's concepts of what was erotic stemmed from the days when young men grew up thinking that women had beach balls affixed firmly in front of their anatomy, Brigitte Bardot could be called a sex kitten without anyone bursting out laughing, and there really were magazines with names like Girls, Giggles and Garters. Somewhere in this cauldron of permissiveness she had picked up the idea that soft toys in the bedroom created an intimate, coquettish air.

"Aye. I'll have a bit of a lie down." Lola agreed blankly, sitting down, and watching as Madame Tina left the room with a smile, shutting the door. She started looking around again.

Lola stared for some time at a large, threadbare teddy bear, which had one eye missing and a torn ear. It probably had a name like Mr. Buggins. She turned her head the other way. Her gaze was blocked by a pyjama case shaped like an animal that may have been a dog but, there again, might have been a skunk. It had a cheery grin.

"Urg," she said. She pulled off her gloves, and paused at the sight of her finger.

But recollection kept storming back. She really had done it. No one else in the Army had ever exorcised a demon, as far as she knew. Not Hopkins, not Siftings, not Diceman. Probably not even Witchfinder Company Sergeant Major Narker,who held the all-time record for most witches found. (The WA enjoyed a renaissance during the great days of Empire expansionism. The American's army's endless skirmishes frequently brought it up against witch-doctors, bone-pointers, shamans, and other occult adversaries. This was the cue for the deployment of the likes of WA CSM Narker, whose striding, bellowing, six-foot-six, eighteen-stone figure, clutching an armour-plated Book, eight-pound Bell, and specially reinforced Candle, could clear the veldt of adversaries faster than a Gatling gun. Cecil Rhodes wrote of him: "Some remote tribes consider him to be a kind of god, and it is an extremely brave or foolhardy witch-doctor who will stand his ground with CSM Narker bearing down on him. I would rather have this man on my side than two battalions of Gurkhas.")

"I'm the ultimate weapon." She said, staring at the end of her arms, at her finger.Sooner or later every Army runs across its ultimate weapon and now it existed. "I'm the doomsday option." She reflected laying down.

She felt something dig into her back, and she shifted, pull the thing out, and saw pink, leather handcuffs, with a furry inside, and plastic diamonds, and turned, picking up a similar pink thing, with whips on the end, and she frowned.

"What kind of a place is this?"

When Madame Tina brought the coffee in the bunny was snoring. She tactfully closed the door, and rather thankfully as well, because she had a seance due in twenty minutes and it was no good turning down money these days.

"My friends are on their way,and then there'll be a world just for us." Said Wakko, looking at their four friends with a smile. "We'll get rid of everything stupid and start all over again."

Dog whined, upset. He really liked Earth! Does this mean he can't get that stupid cat?!

"Won't that be awesome?" Asked Wakko, excited.

Yakko and Dot sagged sadly, and Pinky looked just as miserable as the other two, and Brain crossed his arms.

"Say something." Wakko said with a frown, noticing the four weren't saying anything. They hadn't yet noticed theytook their mouths, theirperception of reality was rather warped at the moment, and this all seemed perfectly normal to them. "You have to say something." But, still they said nothing. "I'm telling you to say something!"

Dot was unable to keep the tears back, and one fell down her cheek, as she pointed to where her mouth should have been.

"Stop it. Stop crying. This is fun." Snapped Wakko, seeing Yakko now tearing up. (That scared him, their big brother didn't cry!) "We're having fun. This is the best day of all." They reasoned, not knowing why their friends were so sad. Suddenly, they found themselves floating up in the air in anger, eyes red again. "You have to smile! I can make it happen!" They warned, and began screaming, their voice echoing and overlaid with two other voices so it seemed, "Smile! Smile!"

Suddenly, Yakko, Dot, Pinky and Brain found themselves with a smile stretched over their now there lips, painfully there, and forced.

"That wasthwonderful," said Sylvester.

"Good," said Pepé. "The earth moved for everybody." He got up off the floor, leaving his clothes scattered across the carpet, and went into the bathroom.

Sylvester raised his voice. "I mean, it was really wonderful. Really really wonderful. I always hoped it was going to be, and it was."

There was the sound of running water.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Taking a shower."

"Ah."

He wondered vaguely if everyone had to shower afterwards, or if it was just skunks. (He shouldknow, he was married, but... the couple never didthat.) And he had a suspicion that bidets came into it somewhere.

"Tell you what," said Sylvester, as Pepé came out of the bathroom swathed in a fluffy blue towel. "We could do it again."

"Nope," he said, "not now." He finished drying himself, and started picking up clothes from the floor, and, un-self-consciously, pulling them on.

Sylvester, a cat who was prepared to wait half an hour for a free changing cubicle at the swimming baths, rather than face the possibility of having to disrobe in front of another human being, found himself vaguely shocked, and deeply thrilled. Bits of him kept appearing and disappearing, like a conjurer's hands; Sylvester kept trying to count his nipples and failing, although he didn't mind.

"Why not?" Said Sylvester. He was about to point out that it might not take long, but an inner voice counselled him against it. He was growing up quite quickly in a short time.

Pepé shrugged, not an easy move when you're pulling on a sensible black cardigan to keep warm after the shower. "She said we only did it this once." He didn't mention how he had said "not now" before, because Sylvester really was good. Despite it being his first time, (as he had warned him when they began undressing), he'd never had known.

Sylvester opened his mouth two or three times, then said, "she didn't. She freaking didn't. She couldn't predict that. I don't believe it."

Pepé fished for the right card, and handed it over.

Sylvester took it and read. "You go, boy. May fortune be with you. Pepé, my descendants creation,I trust he will be fine of feature and mighty of..." He went bright red, "oh, my dear Lord."

"Get dressed." Pepé said with a smile, "I've got to make the sandwiches."

"So, we find this Wakko, and then we...stop them?" Asked Sylvester, nervously picking at his sharp claws. He hoped it wasn't the last time he and Pepé did it.

"Mmm..." Hummed Pepé, "I'm not sure anymore... Agnes doesn't tell us to. Because if there's a card with instructions, I don't know which one it is." He said, waving his arms around.

"What do you mean, "Agnes doesn't tell us to"?" Asked Sylvester with a sneer. He didn't want to sound rude but, "don't you ever just do things for yourself? See how they turn out?"

"No, not important things." Reasoned Pepé, and Sylvester frowned, hurt. The skunkpaused, and turned, "no offence, you're important, it's just... look, we have maybe an hour or so to gountil there's nothing anybody can do. I'm not going to waste a second of it, so come on." He said, expectantly.

"You can't let a 400-year-old witch tell you what to do." Sylvester said, throwing a sockup.

"I've spent my whole life trying to figure outwhat Agnes wanted me to do." Pepé said, shocked, "and she's never failed me. Sometimes I fail her."

Sylvester frowned, "you can't fail someone who has been dead for years." He stood up, and took his small, black furred hands, "it's impossible. You need to live your own life..." He hesitated, and kissed Pepé's cheek, and grinned at his flush. "Bet she didn't predict that."

And he's right, Agnes didn't...

And now, we are caught up with Daffyand Bugs.

Although Madame Tina was by many yardsticks quite stupid, she had an instinct in certain matters, and when it came to dabbling in the occult her reasoning was faultless.

Dabbling, she'd realised, was exactly what her customers wanted. They didn't want to be shoved in it up to their necks. They didn't want the multi-planular mysteries of Time and Space, they just wanted to be reassured that Mother was getting along fine now she was dead. They wanted just enough Occult to season the simple fare of their lives, and preferably in portions no longer than forty-five minutes, followed by tea and biscuits.

They certainly didn't want odd candles, scents, chants, or mystic runes.

Madame Tina had even removed most of the Major Arcana from her Tarot card pack, because their appearance tended to upset people. And she made sure that she had always put sprouts on to boil just before a seance. Nothing is more reassuring, nothing is more true to the comfortable spirit of English occultism, than the smell of Brussels sprouts cooking in the next room.

The door bell rang, and Madame Tina, in her green flower dress and with her styled, lovely tight, ginger wigged, curled hair, rushed over to open it. There stood two women, and a man, battling off the rain, and wind. Madame Tina smiled, and greeted them, "enter all seekers after wisdom." They piled in. "Only if you are prepared to part the veil, and receive wisdom from those who have gone before." She hurried out noticing the pink umbrella inside out, and she shut the door to get a move on with the session, fighting to keep it shut.

"We are here to receive your wisdom, Madame Mallard." Panted Mrs. Ormerod, she wore a dark green hat on her head and was rather short, covered head to toe in rain.

Madame Tina nodded, and walked on. She got them seated around a table with a crystal ball on, and thunder rumbled, as the smell of boiling sprouts filled the air, which she boiled as it gave a sense of comfort. "Oh! Very good weather for a séance." Smiled Madame Tina, with a delighted gasp, holding onto her seat, feeling rather proud of herself as if she had done it, though she knew she hadn't.

"Did you have them do it special, the weather," asked the other woman, Julia, waving her hand around. "With your psychicness?" She wore too much silver in her headdress in her hair, and green eye shadow, as she believed it gave her a gaunt and haunted look, though she was a lot larger than she thought she was, (I'd like say, I as the Writing God, not God-God, is also "big boned" as one might say, but I simply refer to myself as fat, because I am. The character and actress who play's Julia is a lovely looking woman, and this description is meant as no offence to her.)

"No, dear." Answered Madame Tina, shaking her head.

Julia kept smiling, as Mrs. Ormerod shoved passedher, sitting down, setting her small black leather bag down. She noticed none of them moved, and impatiently said, "they're waiting for us!" Everyone began sitting down, and the small lady in the green hat said, "our Ron and the spirits, they're waiting!"

"And we are looking forward to hearing what they are going to say to us, after we've made our donations." Assured Madame Tina, hastily.

Immediately, Mrs. Ormerod, Julia and Mr. Scroggie, the third guest, who was thin and pallid, began fishing out money from their pockets, bags and purses.

Bugs had to find a host to inhabit.

The moon came up over the Kookamundi Hills. It was very bright tonight.

Johnny Two Bones sat in the red basin of the desert. It was a sacred place, where two ancestral rocks, formed in the Dream-time, lay as they had since the beginning. Johnny Two Bones' walkabout 151 was coming to an end. His cheeks and chest were smeared with red ochre, and he was singing an old song, a sort of singing map of the hills, and he was drawing patterns in the dust with his spear.

He had not eaten for two days; he had not slept. He was approaching a trance state, making him one with the Bush, putting him into communion with his ancestors.

He was nearly there.

Nearly... He blinked. Looked around wonderingly.

"Excuse me, sir,"he said to himself, out loud, in precise, enunciated tones."But have ya any idea where I am?"

"Who said that?" said Johnny Two Bones.

His mouth opened."Idid."

Johnny scratched, thoughtfully. "I take it you're one of me ancestors, then, mate?"

"Oh. Absolutely, sir. Absolutely. In a manner ofspeaking. Now, ta get back ta my original question. Where am I?"

"Only if you're one of my ancestors," continued Johnny Two Bones, "why are you talking like an America? 'Cause if you're not, you can bugger off!"

"Ah. Australia,"said Johnny Two Bones' mouth, pronouncing the word as though it would have to be properly disinfected before he said it again."Oh darn. Well, thank ya anyway."

"Hello? Hello?" said Johnny Two Bones. He sat in the sand, and he waited, and he waited, but he didn't reply.

Bugs had moved on.

Citron Deux-Chevaux was tonton macoute, a travelling houngan: (Magician, or priest. Voodoun is a very interesting religion for the whole family, even those members of it who are dead.)he had a satchel over his shoulder, containing magical plants, medicinal plants, bits of wild cat, black candles, a powder derived chiefly from the skin of a certain dried fish, a dead centipede, a half-bottle of Chivas Regal, ten Rothmans, and a copy of What's On In Haiti.

He hefted the knife, and, with an experienced slicing motion, cut the head from a black co*ckerel. Blood washed over his right hand. "Loa ride me," he intoned. "Gros Bon Ange come to me."

"Where am I?"He said.

"Is that my Gros Bon Ange?" he asked himself.

"I think dat's a rather personal question,"he replied."I mean, as dese things go. But one tries as it were. One does one's best."

Citron found one of his hands reaching for the co*ckerel.

"Rather unsanitary place ta do ya cooking, don't ya think? Out here in the jungle. Having a barbecue? What kind of place is dis?

"Haitian," he answered.

"Damn! Nowhere near. Still, could be worse. Ah, I best beon my way. Be good."

And Citron Deux-Chevaux was alone in his head.

"Loas be buggered," he muttered to himself. He stared into nothing for a while, and then reached for the satchel and its bottle of Chivas Regal.

There are at least two ways to turn someone into a zombie. He was going to take the easiest. The surf was loud on the beaches. The palms shook.

A storm was coming.

The Four Horsem*n needed to come togetherfor their final ride.

War got on her red motorbike, with her red leather suit, and sped off with her helmet.Not a friendly Honda red; a deep, bloody red, rich and dark and hateful. The bike was apparently, in every other respect, ordinary except for the sword, resting in its scabbard, set onto the side of the bike.

"Purpose of your visit to the U.S.?" Asked the Immigration Officer.

Famine leaned forward, "I ride to where the end of the world begins."

"Sounds like fun," she responded blankly.

She pulled up at a service area, and went into the Happy Porker Cafe. It was almost empty. A bored waitress was darning a sock behind the counter, and a knot of black-leathered bikers, hard, hairy, filthy, and huge, were clustered around an even taller individual in a black coat. He was resolutely playing something that in bygone years would have been a fruit machine, but now had a video screen, and advertised itself as TRIVIA SCRABBLE.

The audience were saying things like:

"It's 'D'! Press 'D'-The Godfather must've got more Oscars than Gone With the Wind!"

"Puppet on a String! Sandie Shaw! Honest. I'm bleeding positive!"

"1666!"

"No, you great pillock! That was the fire! The Plague was 1665!"

"It's 'B'-the Great Wall of China wasn't one of the Seven Wonders of the world!"

There were four options: Pop Music, Sport, Current Events, and General Knowledge. The tall biker, who had kept his helmet on, was pressing the buttons, to all intents and purposes oblivious of his supporters. At any rate, he was consistently winning.

War went over to the counter,took off her helmet. She smiled at the woman in pink. "Four cups of coffee, please. One of them black. And a cheese sandwich."

"You take a seat and I'll bring it over for you." Smiled the waitress. "Four of you, are there?" She asked, writing down the order.

"There will be. I'm waiting for friends," smiled War.

"You're better off waiting in here. It's Hell out there." Joked the waitress, pointing to the rainy, windy outside.

"No. Not yet." Smiled War, much to the Waitress' confusion. She sat in an empty seat.

Another motorbike, jet black and gleaming, drew up in the car park outside.

"War." Greeted Famine, in a black, leather outfit, and War stood. "It's been a long time."

"Famine." War smiled, and the two kissed cheeks, as they sat down. "Feels funny, all of us getting together like this."

"Funny?" Repeated Famine, as he sat down.

("What do you mean, you've got no steak and kidney pies?" asked one of the men playing the game, affronted.

"I thought we had some, but we don't," said the woman.)

"We've spent all these thousands of yearswaiting for the big day, and finally it comes." Said War with a smile.

"We'll have a thunderstorm to ride in," grinned Famine.

"Any idea how far we've got to ride?" Asked War.

There was the roar of a motorbike with a defective exhaust, un-tuned engine, leaky carburetor. You didn't have to see the bike to imagine the clouds of black smoke it travelled in, the oil slicks it left in its wake, the trail of small motorbike parts and fittings that littered the roads behind it.

"A hundred miles!" Came another voice, and two turned to see Pollution dressed in all white walking over, with crisp packets fluttering about their feet.

"I would have thought it'd be farther, somehow." War said, watching as Pollution patted Famine's shoulder, who held up a fist in greeting.

"It's not the travelling, it's the arriving that matters," Pollution said. They frowned, "any sign of him yet?"

They shook their heads.

An argument had broken out around the video screen (current categories showing on the screen were War, Famine, Pollution, and Pop Trivia 1962-1979).

"Elvis Presley? 'Sgotta be 'C'-it was 1977 he snuffed it, wasn't it?"

"Nah. 'D.' 1976. I'm positive."

"Yeah. Same year as Bing Crosby."

"And Marc Bolan. He was dead good. Press 'D,' then. Go on."

The tall figure made no motion to press any of the buttons.

"Woss the matter with you?" Asked one of the men, irritably. "Go on. Press 'D.' Elvis Presley died in 1976."

I DON'T CARE WHAT IT SAYS, said the tall biker in the helmet, I NEVER LAID A FINGER ON HIM.

The three people - or Beings if you will -, dressed in black, red and white, at the table turned as one.

The tall man turned, as if sensing them, and walked over to the table, leaving the astonished bikers, and his winnings, behind him. He was in all black, and a black helmet, unlike the other three,who had taken theirs off.

"When did you get here?" Asked War, smiling in shock.

I NEVER WENT AWAY, he said in a growl,his voice was a dark echo from the night places, a cold slab of sound, grey, and dead. If that voice was a stone it would have had words chiselled on it a long time ago: a name, and two dates.

"Your coffee is getting cold, Lord," Famine said, bowing in amazement, and awe.

"It's been a long time," War said, sounding slightly choked up.

"But now we ride," Pollution said, delighted, and emotional.

YES. NOW WE RIDE.

The lights went up. The Power Cable (Nebraska) Evangelical Choir launched into "Jesus is the Telephone Repairman on the Switchboard of My Life," and almost drowned out the sound of the rising wind.

Marvin O. Bagman adjusted his tie, checked his grin in the mirror, patted the bottom of his personal assistant (Miss Cindi Kellerhals, Penthouse Pet of the Month three years ago last July; but she had put that all behind her when she got Career), and he walked out onto the studio floor.

Jesus won't cut you off before you're through With him you won't never get a crossed line, And when your bill comes it'll all be properly itemised He's the telephone repairman on the switchboard of my life,the choir sang.

Marvin was fond of that song. He had written it himself. Other songs he had written included: "Happy Mister Jesus," "Jesus, Can I Come and Stay at Your Place?", "That OI' Fiery Cross," "Jesus Is the Sticker on the Bumper of My Soul," and "When I'm Swept Up by the Rapture Grab the Wheel of My Pick-Up". They were available on Jesus Is My Buddy (LP, cassette, and CD), and were advertised every four minutes on Bagman's evangelical network. [$12.95 per LP or cassette, $24.95 per CD, although you got a free copy of the LP with every $500 you donated to Marvin Bagman's mission.] Despite the fact that the lyrics didn't rhyme, or, as a rule, make any sense, and that Marvin, who was not particularly musical, had stolen all the tunes from old country songs, Jesus Is My Buddy had sold over four million copies.

Marvin had started off as a country singer, singing old Conway Twitty and Johnny Cash songs. He had done regular live concerts from San Quentin jail until the civil rights people got him under the Cruel and Unusual Punishment clause. It was then that Marvin got religion. Not the quiet, personal kind, that involves doing good deeds and living a better life; not even the kind that involves putting on a suit and ringing people's doorbells; but the kind that involves having your own TV network and getting people to send you money. He had found the perfect TV mix, on Marvin's Hour of Power ("The show that put the FUN back into Fundamentalist!").

Four three-minute songs from the LP, twenty minutes of Hellfire, and five minutes of healing people. (The remaining twenty-three minutes were spent alternately cajoling, pleading, threatening, begging, and occasionally simply asking for money.) In the early days he had actually brought people into the studio to heal, but had found that too complicated, so these days he simply proclaimed visions vouchsafed to him of viewers all across America getting magically cured as they watched. This was much simpler-he no longer needed to hire actors, and there was no way anyone could check on his success rate. (It might have surprised Marvin to know there actually was a success rate. Some people would get better from anything.)

The world is a lot more complicated than most people believe. Many people believed, for example, that Marvin was not a true Believer because he made so much money out of it. They were wrong. He believed with all his heart. He believed utterly, and spent a lot of the money that flooded in on what he really thought was the Lord's work.

The phone line to the saviour's always free of interference He's in at any hour, day or night And when you call J-E-S-U-S you always call toll free He's the telephone repairman on the switchboard of my life.

The first song concluded, and Marvin walked in front of the cameras and raised his arms modestly for silence. In the control booth, the engineer turned down the Applause track.

"Brothers and sisters, thank you, thank you, wasn't that beautiful? And remember, you can hear that song and others just as edifyin' on Jesus Is My Buddy, just phone 1-800-CASH and pledge your donation now."

He became more serious.

"Brothers and sisters, I've got a message for you all, an urgent message from our Lord, for you all, man and woman and little babes, friends, let me tell you about the Apocalypse. It's all there in your bible, in the Revelation our Lord gave Saint John on Patmos, and in the Book of Daniel. The Lord always gives it to you straight, friends-your future. So what's goin' to happen?"

"War. Plague. Famine. Death. Rivers urv blurd. Great earthquakes. Nuclearmissiles. Horrible times are cumin', brothers and sisters. And there's only one way to avoid 'em. Before the Destruction comes-before the four horsem*n of the apocalypse ride out-before the nuclear missiles rain down on the unbelievers-there will come The Rapture."

"What's the Rapture? I hear you cry. When the Rapture comes, brothers and sisters, all the True Believers will be swept up in the air-it don't mind what you're doin', you could be in the bath, you could be at work, you could be drivin' your car, or just sittin' at home readin' your Bible. Suddenly you'll be up there in the air, in perfect and incorruptible bodies. And you'll be up in the air, lookin' down at the world as the years of destruction arrive. Only the faithful will be saved, only those of you who have been born again will avoid the pain and the death and the horror and the burnin'. Then will come the great War between Heaven and Hell, and Heaven will destroy the forces of Hell, and God shall wipe away the tears of the sufferin', and there shall be no more death, or sorrow, or cryin', or pain, and he shall rayon in glory for ever and ever—"

He stopped, suddenly.

"Well, nice try,"he said, in a completely different voice,"only it won't be like dat at all. Not really. I mean, ya right about da fire and War, all dat. But dat Rapture stuff well, if ya could see dem all in Heaven-serried ranks of dem as far as the mind can follow and beyond, league after league of us, Flaming Swords, all dat, well, what I'm trying ta say is who has time ta go round picking people out and popping dem up in the air to sneer at the people dying ofradiation sickness on da parched and burning earth below dem? If dat's your idea ofa morally acceptable time, I might add. And as for dat stuff about Heaven inevitably winning..."

"Well, tobe honest, if it were dat cut and dried, dere wouldn't be a Celestial War in the first place, would dere? It's propaganda."The voice said as if having a realisation."Pure and simple. We've got no more than a fifty percent chance ofcoming out on top. Yamight just as well send money toa Satanist hotline tocover ya bets, although to be frank when thefire falls 'n' the seas of blood rise ya lot are all going to be civilian casualties either way. Between our War and your War, dey're going to kill everyone 'n' let God sort it out-right?"

"Anyway, sorry tostand here wittering, I've just a quick question; where am I?

Marvin O. Bagman was gradually going purple.

"It's the devil! Lord protect me! The devil is speakin' through me!"

He erupted, and interrupted himself.

"Oh no, quite da opposite in fact. I'm an angel. Ah. Dis has ta be America, doesn't it? Perfect! I'm getting closer again! Sorry, can't stay..."

There was a pause. Marvin tried to open his mouth, but nothing happened. Whatever was in his head looked around. He looked at the studio crew, those who weren't phoning the police, or sobbing in corners. He looked at the grey-faced cameramen.

"Wow!"he said,"am I on T.V.? Though, I think ya better spend ya time watching Looney Tunes; specifically Bugs and Daffy!"

Madame Tina sat with her eyes closed, her mouth shut as she sat in silence, holding hands with Mr. Scroggie and Mrs. Ormerod. It was silent, broken only by Mr. Scroggie's stomach rumbling. "Pardon, ladies," he mumbled.

Madame Tina had found, through years of Drawing Aside the Veil and Exploring the Mysteries, that two minutes was the right length of time to sit in silence, waiting for the Spirit World to make contact. More than that and they got restive, less than that and they felt they weren't getting their money's worth.

She did her shopping list in her head.

Eggs. Lettuce. Ounce of cooking cheese. Four tomatoes. Butter. Roll of toilet paper. Mustn't forget that, we're nearly out. And a really nice piece of liver for Ms. Lola, poor old soul, it's a shame...

Time.

Madame Tinathrew back her head, let it loll on one shoulder, then slowly lifted it again. Her eyes were almost shut.She made a noise, "oh. Pfft." She titled her head, as if blowing dust off her shoulder.

Mrs. Ormerodleaned forward, "she's going under." She assured, seeing Julia's confused look and Mr. Scroggie's curious gaze. "Nothing to be alarmed about. She's just making herself a bridge to the other side." The two guests, who didn't come as regularly as Mrs. Ormerod, nodded as if they understood, watching as Madame Tina jerked her head, this way and that. "Her spirit guide will be along soon."

Suddenly, Madame Tina sighed, and yelled out, "oh!Are you there, my spirit guide?!" She let out a deep groan and growl. Washing-up liquid. Two cans of baked beans. Oh, and potatoes.

Julia and Mr. Scroggie were intrigued and amazed. Mrs. Ormerod jumped in shock.

"Ah, begorrah..." She answered herself in an Irishaccent, hervoice soft and childlike, her face black, "'tis me. Little Colleen O'Leary."

Mrs. Ormerod leaned forward to explain, "Colleen died in Dublin in 1746 when she was nine years old." Explained the woman, as Madame Tina sang quietly. "But she was very psychic!" She looked to Madame Tina, "Colleen. Hello, dear. Is my Ron with you?" She asked, "I've got so much to tell him!"

Madame Tina had learned her lesson years earlier, and now never brought Ron through until near the end. If she didn't, Beryl Ormerod would occupy the rest of the seance telling the late Ron Ormerod everything that had happened to her since their last little chat. ("... now Ron, you remember, our Eric's littlest, Sybilla, well you wouldn't recognise her now, she's taken up macrame, and our Letitia, you know, our Karen's oldest, she's become a lesbian but that's all right these days and is doing a dissertation on the films of Sergio Leone as seen from a feminist perspective, and our Stan, you know, our Sandra's twin, I told you about him last time, well, he won the darts tournament, which is nice because we all thought he was a bit of a mother's boy, while the guttering over the shed's come loose, but I spoke to our Cindi's latest, who's a jobbing builder, and he'll be over to see to it on Sunday, and ohh, that reminds me...")

"Oh! Ah, Colleen wants to know if there's anyone named Mr. Scroggie here?" Madame Tina asked in her normal voice, staring into the ball, as if thinking.

Mr. Scroggie smiled all kind, and friendly, "actually, that's my name." His eyes were watery, and hopeful.

Mrs. Ormerod rolled her eyes.

"Yes." Agreed Madame Tina, looking to him. "Well, Colleen wants to know if you've ever known anyone named... " She stared into the ball, "John." She tried.

Mr. Scroggie paused and shook his head, "no."

"Or it could be Jim." Offered Madame Tina, not noticing Mrs. Ormerodget more, and more annoyed at the lack of Ron.

"No."

"Tom?" She tried again.

"No."

"Steve?" She shook her head.

He paused, eyes lighting up as if he recognised the name,but then said, "no."

"Dave?"She offered, seemingly bored.

"I knew a Dave from LamerStreet." Said Mr. Scroggie, with a smile reminding one of fond memories.

"Yes!" Agreed Madame Tina quickly. "So, you see, that's what he's saying. He's saying Lamer Street. He wants you to know that he's doing very well," her voice turned grave, "beyond the veil."

Mr. Scroggie looked shocked, and rather doubtful, puzzled too, "I saw him walking his dog the other day and he looked perfectly healthy!"

"People go very suddenly." Julia said, voice stern and was siding with Madame Tina. "Like my Mom."

Mrs. Ormerod said, voice stern and snappy, "your Mom can bloody well wait her turn, Julia Petley!" She was unaware of Madame Tina hunching over, cheeks puffing out in a gag. "I've been coming here for seven years. I do have seniority." She looked to the wig wearing ginger, "now, you tell my Ron—"

Suddenly, an elephant noise escaped Madame Tina's red, painted mouth, loudly. She groaned, inhaling harshly,as the lightening and thunder picked up outside. She screamed.

"Is it our Ron?!" Asked Mrs. Ormerod, in slight fear.

Julia looked alarmed, while Mr. Scroggie looked excited.

"No, it's something real!" Madame Tina said, in shock and amazement, fear as well. She squealed, and panted, then snarled sticking out her tongue, the pursed her lips together blowing. Then she began singing 'Can Can' by Offenbach. She panted and heaved, howling in high pitched voice. They looked tense, and worried, she belched.

Suddenly, she took a sharp intake of air, opened her eyes and asked, in an Brooklyn, grumbled and high voice;"Sprechen sie Deutsch?"

Julia looked incredibly confused.

"Is that you, Ron?" Mrs. Ormerod asked, soft and careful.

"Ron?"Scoffed the voice, the male voice. Madame Tina smiled in confusion,"not Ron. Definitely not."

"Well, I want to speak to Ron Ormerod." Mrs. Ormerod demand, looking at Madame Tina in surprise and annoyance. "He's rather short, balding on top. Can you put me through, please?" She snapped, spitting out the words like venom.

Julia and Mr. Scorggie looked to her confused and amazed, how was she so calm after that?

"Ah, well, dere does seem ta be a spirit matching dat description trying ta get our attention."Said the voice, mixed with Madame Tina's voice."I'llhand ya over, but y'need to be very quick!"The ending was more of a mans voice now."I'm tryingtaavertthe Apocalypse!"

"Right." She agreed, shuffling in her seat. She seemed reluctant to agree with the spirit.

It thundered again, lightening struck. Madame Tina let out a squeal, tensing up,"midnight becomes you—"She sang out in a male voice.

She let out a horrid screech, head thrown back, then paused, frozen and tense, lips forming a small circle. Hyperventilating, eyes darting around wildly, a mans rough voice came through, "hallo, Brenda."

Mrs. Ormerodlooked shocked, "Ron? What... you sound like... you." For all the years she's been coming here, Ron has always sounded like Madame Tina, not Ron.

Julia looked confused, and Mr. Scorggie was intrigued.

Madame Tina stared at nothing, or well Ron, stared at nothing, and he said, "I am me, B-Brenda. It's c-c-cold here." He said, stuttering, tense his muscles solid as a rock.

Mrs. Ormerod nodded, letting out a deep breath, "right, so I went to our Krystal's wedding last weekend." She said, going into her long tale, getting on with the session. She looked to Julia and Mr. Scroggie, "that's our Krystal eldest. And they start serving Korean food. Well, I can take a joke as well as the next woman." She laughed. The other two looked bored.

Ron gaggedout, cheeks puffed, "Brenda!"

"I'm getting to the good bit." Assured Mrs. Ormerod in a snappish tone, "so, I hold up the kimchi and I say, 'What you expect me to do with this, then?' Whereupon, without even the grace to look ashamed..."

Madame Tina was gagging and shuffling and all sorts, heaving, and finally, Ron roared out, "BRENDA!" The room shook, and the thunder and lightening picked up.

Beryl Ormerod was disgruntled by all this. Previously when Ron had manifested, he had told her that he was happier beyond the veil, and living somewhere that sounded more than a little like a celestial bungalow. Now he sounded like Ron, and she wasn't sure that was what she wanted. She asked shocked and rather horrified, "yes, Ron?"

"Y-Y-You never g-gave me a-a chance," stuttered Ron. Julia looked terrified, like she was ready to cry. Mr. Scroggie was amazed. "To g-g-get a word in edgeways when-when we were married! And now I'm dead!" He yelled out, tone rough and harsh. "Oh! There's only one thing I want to tell you!"

"You've never spoken to me like this before." Grumbled Mrs. Ormerod, missing Mr. Scroggie's excited look.And she said what she had always said to her husband when he began to speak to her in that tone of voice."Ron, remember your heart condition."

"I don't have a heart anymore!" Shouted Ron, and he began laughing madly, rocking back and forth in the chair. The thunder and lightening went crazy. "And Brenda?"

"Yes, Ron?" Asked Mrs. Ormerodin horror.

Madame Tina gave out wheezes, and stood up, shoved her face into Mrs. Ormerod's face, and screamed in Ron's voice, "SHUT UP!" His yelling matched with Mrs. Ormerod's shrieks of fear, and Julia joined in with the yelling in fear, Mr. Scroggie was having a grand old time! All the while Lola slept soundly in the other room. Ron's voice turned to a high pitch squealing, and howling and, Madame Tina fell into her seat, as stiff as a board, pulling her hand down with a deep breath.

Everything fell silent, and still, and becametense, filled with fear. You could suffocate.

Suddenly, she looked around, and said in the Brooklynlike male voice,"wasn't dat touching, doc?"She smiled, or he smiled, uh someone smiled."Right, well, uh, greatmeeting ya'll."She jerked her hands up, "out!"They stared at her, and suddenly Madame Tina and the man said, waving her hands, "show's over!"

Mrs. Ormerod, angry and confused collected her bad, and Julia pushed herself out of the chair nervously, also getting her bag.

"World ta save! Can't lollygag!"He, or she, said.

Her sitters stood up, more than a little puzzled, and, in Mrs. Ormerod's case, outraged, and they walked out into the hall.

Mr. Scroggie smiled, as he got up, shakingher hand, "well, that's very good value. Very entertaining!"

"Glad you enjoyed it." Grumbled Madame Tina, unsure of what was going on, on what had just happened.

"You haven't heard the last of this, Tina Russo," hissed Mrs. Ormerod, clutching her handbag to her breast, and she slammed the door. Then her muffled voice echoed from the hallway, "And you can tell our Ron that he hasn't heard the last of this either!"

Madame Tina (and the name on her scooters-only driving license was indeed Tina Russo) went into the kitchen and turned off the sprouts. She picked up her red kettle and began making herself and Sergeant Lola (who was shell-shocked, asleep in the other room still) a cup of tea.

She was confused as to what had happened, that's never happened before, ever! She looked over, and caught herself in the mirror, only... she did a double take. It wasn't her, it was... a tall, grey and white furred rabbit, with long ears, white gloves, and whiskers, sort of skinny looking, and rather soft features, with a golden ring on his ring fingerworn with pride.

She set down the kettle, and walked over, the figure moved too, they stared at each other. She wore a confused frown, he wore a confused frown... until he smiled, bright buckteeth glistening, all friendly and waved happily, showing off golden braceletonhis wrist. Maybe she's tired?

She sat down at the kitchen table, got out two cups, filled both of them. She added two sugars to one of them. Then she paused.

"Could I have a coffee, please,"said Madame Tina.

That threw her off.

She lined up the cups on the table in front of her, and went about making a coffee, and took a long sip from the coffee.

"Now," she said, in a voice that anyone who knew her would have recognised as her own, although they might not have recognised her tone of voice, which was cold with rage. "Suppose you tell me what this is about. And it had better be good."

Chapter 25: the freeway's...

Chapter Text

1 HOUR AND 43 MINUTES TO THE END OF THE WORLD

Rain pounded to the floor, crashing with wild winds and luminous loud lightening, as did fish at times, as Beethoven's "Another One Bites the Dust"played on the radio, hundreds of cars lined up all down the motorway, the motorway to get intoBurbank, the motorway to leave. It was car, after car, after car.

Daffy is currently stuck in a traffic jam as he tries to get into Burbankto find Wakko.

Daffy drove forward in his car, very, very, very slowly, as his windscreen wipers went back and forth, wiping the rain clean, and he gripped the steering wheel, the leather squeezed beneath his hand, the other was messing with his golden ring, as an exaggerated chewing motion was made with his jaw, as he glared at the car in front of him.

The radio suddenly spoke up,"and it's official! This is the biggest traffic jam in American'shistory."The male's voice said, amazed and astonished, as if this was a big achievement in American's history.

The demon's face contorted into a helpless look of despair, sagging in his seat and his shoulders slumped, "why?" He whined, face crumpled in annoyance, his mind whirling in sad thought, his nose scrunched into a sneer of distress and anguish.

Suddenly, his mind went back to eleven years ago, throwing his thoughts back,and heard Satan compliment him, using Freddie Mercury's voice,'WHAT YOU DID TO THE HOLLYWOOD FREEWAY, AND GOLDEN STATE FREEWAY, WAS A STROKE OF DEMONIC GENIUS, DARLING.'It echoed in his head, mocking him and laughing at him. It was a terrible shock that nearly gave him whiplash.

His face fell, of course! Anything he does backfires on him, horribly! "Oh," groaned Daffy, his head slowly shaking, realising this was his fault again, "no, no, no, no, no!" He cried out, voice full of grief and misery, quacking each sound.

Lightening struck again, lighting up the entire road,with a loudCRASH.

The traffic jam is being caused by problems on the Hollywood and Golden StateFreeway's that meet up at each side,and circles Burbank.

Daffy had a lot to do with the design of the two freeways back in the 1970's.

Daffy, with a moustache, stood in a tightblack shirt, and tightblack pants, with his sunglasses still on. Hestood in a meeting room with Ligur, Hastur, Beelzebub, Dagon, and other demons he didn't know the name of. He himself was up front, in front of a projection with plans on for a freewaythat was in the middle of being built.

"Tho, thanks to three computer hackth, two breaking-in's, onechosen minorbribery," he explained. He licked his lips, "and me moving thome markers across a field one night," he hastily and quickly admitted, glossing over the fact. (He'd rather not think of that, everything else had failed and he spent two hours, in a wet, squelchy field at night, in an orange neon jacket, moving and shifting marker pages a few, but occultly incredibly significant meters.) "The Golden State and Hollywoodorbital freeways, which waththupposed to look like this," he turned to it.

Beelzebub coughed, bored, Dagonstared,bored, Ligur slouched, bored, Hasturscowled, bored.

He shifted the sheet, and looked behind him to a normal looking, and rather sensible road plan, projected up on a the pull down screen, then threw it down to the floor. "Will, when it opens in 1986, will actually look likethis," he slammed a new sheet down, to a used and worn down piece of paper, with an incredibly messy plan, looking crazed, it was a demons wet dream of anger, hatred and frustration.

Ligur scratched his upper lip, bored. Dagonand Hasturlooked unimpressed, bored. Beelzebub shuffled in zir seat, bored.

"And reprethent the dread sigil Odegra in the language of the dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu." He raised his hand with a flourish, and gestured to the title he wrote on the page, ""Odegra"meanth, "Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds"." He looked to the group, and grinned, proud of himself. "Can I hear a "wahoo"?"

All he got in response was groans, yawns and a few "boo's" so it seemed, however Daffykneweven then, that this would be one of his better achievements. How could it not be? All that mad, raging Wrath, oh it would do sinfully well! He may be a low level Temptation Demon, but he knew human sins well enough, but he swallowed, none of the demons were entertaining his plan just yet, and he couldn't push.

He hastily continued, moving the conversation along, "onthe it is built, the millionthof annoyed, Americanmotorists who grumble their way around it are going to be like water on a prayer wheel," he waved his hand around the plan, a coy smirk on his lips, pulled over his sharp teeth.

Hastur, whose arms were folded, raised his hand, a scowl on his face, with a dead eyed stare.

"Grinding out an endlethfog of low-grade evil that will encircle the entirety of Burbank." Daffy turned with a grin, and saw Hastur. He walked forward, swaying his hips and asked, "yeth, Duke Hastur?"

"What's a computer?" Asked Hastur, face unimpressed still. (Ligur glared at the duck demon.) The two were easiest to mess with.

"Another one bites the dust!"

Lola woke up with a loud, sudden snort. She momentarily forgot what had happened, but soon remembered about that great Brooklynpansy, and her dangerous index finger. She looked around, noting she was still in Madame Tina's pink room, with toys and teddies everywhere, staring her down, and a pink leatherwhip and cuffs, for whatever reason. It really is a strange place...

With a groan, she heaved himself up, a toy squeaking below her. She threw the pink whip down annoyed, very much disgusted in herself feeling as if she betrayed hercause.

Suddenly, she heard Madame Tina's voice, "so, what exactly do you propose we do about this?"

She got up, and opened the door with a squeak, of course the woman had a client! She'll get some coffee, and maybe a bit of condensed milk, and go. She looked around, and then heard a familiar voice. Not just any voice, a familiar great Brooklynpansy voice!"Given da state ofthings, we're both gonnahave to be extremely flexible."

Gritting her buckteeth teeth in anger, her blood running cold, she marched into the next room, through the beadedcurtain, to where Madame Tina'svoice and a familiar male's voice was coming from, and demanded, "get your hands off her, you...!" Lola paused in the doorway, only seeing Madame Tina sat on a chair, and she looked around confused. "Whurrizee?"

"Who?" Asked Madame Tina confused, smiling at her, all soft and kind.

"SomeBrooklynpansy." Lola said, with a nod and knowing eyes, shuffling slightly. "I heard him, making lewd suggestions." She looked her upand down with sneer.

Suddenly, Madame Tina'sface fell into a disgusted sneer, but then turned co*cky with a smug smile."Not justABrooklynpansy, Sergeant."Came a male voice, finding it rather fun to wipe that co*cky smirk off Lola's face. "THEBrooklynpansy!"Exclaimed Bugs, a proud smile on Madame Tina's face, her arm raised in a dramatic gesture.

"Demon!" Gasped Lola, and suddenly she held up her fingers, co*ckily and slightly shakily. "You know what this is, huh?" She asked, "four fingers," she wiggled them, "one thumb." She clenched her three, pointing the index to Bugs in Madame Tina, who looked thrown off, and Lola's thumb to the ceiling. "Now, you get out of this good woman's head before I blast you to kingdom come!"

"That's the trouble, Ms. Lola." Madame Tina said in her own voice, unbothered by Lola's theatrics, "kingdom come. It's going to." She stood from her seat, and moved to the female rabbit, "Mr. Bunnyhas just been explaining it."

Lola didn'tlowered her weapon, face pulled in confusion.

Madame Tinawaddled past Lola, her old, withered knees not like they used to be, "you come and have a nice cup of coffee," she patted the Witchfinder's shoulder, "and listen to him." She insisted, pulling out the chair in her main room.

As Wakko came into their power, the world welcomed themin ways not even Daffy had expected.

"I can't hold it in," a man said, in the car with his wife. His name is Horace, and he is in desperate need of the toilet, as the rain that pelted the car and windows was a helpful reminder of his full bladder.

"Well, what if the traffic starts moving again?" Asked his lovely wife, annoyed. Her name is Nora. She isn't proper, but still! She has some standards. It's times like this she wonders why she married him! "It's the Golden State Freeway. You can't just get out and have a piss," (piss = urine, for all you English folks and Aliens),"in the middle of the road."

"I can, and I will," assured Horace in defiance. He didn't see his wife give a sarcastic nod, as he got out into the rain, getting wet instantly, "Hail the Great Beast."

"What'd you say, Horace?" Asked Nora, looking up to him from inside the car.

"Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds." Horace said, suddenly stopping his tracks.

Nora blankly repeated,"Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds."

"Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds."

What was that noise? It was coming from far in front of all the traffic, and was getting louder and louder.

Daffy looked up with a confused frown, one full of thought as he heard chanting coming from the Hollywood Freeway, and the Golden State Freeway. It was getting louder again. It was spreading. It was becoming repetitive, as if it was a prayer. It was coming in waves, carried by the harsh wind and was louder then the honking of horns and rain.

"Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds."

The cars one the opposite side of the The Golden State and Hollywood Freeways exploded with a loud bang that echoed the quiet, and crashed into another. The road set on fire, and the chanting continued, before turning into silence and cackling. Balls of fire shot outward, catching fire to the one next to it. It spread.

"Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds..."

It went up in flames, the type that if you looked at it, it would hurt your eyes. Fire spread, blowing up more cars, specks of fire flicking off in directions, it was getting bigger, and bigger.

TheGolden State and Hollywood Freeways had become, unexpectedly, a burning magical ring of fire that surrounded Burbank. Nobody was getting in or out.

Daffy had made it, now Daffy was trapped outside of it.

Daffy stared at the red and orange flames that wreaked carnage and havoc, the flames grew and grew. The flames fluttered, and whipped wildly, spreading, surrounding the area and keeping everyone inside trapped. Trapped like a cricket in a shoe box, just on a larger scale, with more anger and a higher chance of death. While everyone else was trapped outside, like a panicked teenager who sneaked out of the house one night to go drinking, and was unable to get back in, with the threat of their parents walking out, but with fire and death. The ribbons of red and orange danced, as he sighed, feeling his stomach turn to a cold, icy, bottomless pit.

He growled out a pain filled, groaning quacking, one that started in ones throat and chest, and end up in the back of the other, annoyed at how this backfired (literally), again! Everything he does always backfires on him! "Right, okay. The Golden State and Hollywood Freeways is now an impassable burning ring of infernal flames, and that's my fault." He admitted, for once hoping for some form of forgiveness from Above, (he'll ask Bugs) and yes it was a great job grant you, 'but, was it worth it? It's all out of control, and Heaven and Hell are not longer in control of things...'

Letting out an anxiety filled sigh, his chest empty, his heart falling to his butterfly infested stomach, as he whispered and muttered out, "come on, Warner Brothers. Warner Brothers. Warner Brothers." He chanted like a prayer, hoping someone heard, hoping someone would help, as he looked around.

He turned the wheel slightly, and slowlysteered out into the side lane, a lane that you really shouldn't be driving in, the hard shoulder, the side of the road if you will, and drove down it slightly. He drove past car, after car, after car, who were staring at the ever rising fire in terror and shock. He gritted his teeth, and kept driving, lower jaw worrying at nothing again, tense and sick.

"Motorists are being advised to avoid the The Golden State and Hollywood Burbankorbital freeways because, in the words of a Transportation Department spokesman; 'It's on fire or something.'"Came the woman's voice on the radio,"what does that even mean?"She asked confused.

Hastur was still suspended in Daffy'sanswering machine, and has been listening to Bugs' voice for about half an hour.

"I know where da Antichrist is —I know where da Antichrist is —I know where da Antichrist is —I know where da Antichrist is —"

There were six women and four men, and each of them had a telephone and a thick wodge of computer printout, covered with names and telephone numbers. By each of the numbers was a penned notation saying whether the person dialled was in or out, whether the number was currently connected, and, most importantly, whether or not anybody who answered the phone was avid for cavity-wall insulation to enter their lives.

Most of them weren't.

The ten people sat there, hour after hour, cajoling, pleading, promising through plastic smiles. Between calls they made notations, sipped coffee, and marvelled at the rain flooding down the windows. They were staying at their posts like the band on the Titanic. If you couldn't sell double glazing in weather like this, you couldn't sell it at all.

Lisa Morrow was saying, "... Now, if you'll only let me finish, sir, and yes, I understand that, sir, but if you'll only..." and then, seeing that he'd just hung up on her, she said, "Well, up yours, snot-face."

She put down the phone.

"I got another bath," she announced to her fellow telephone salespersons. She was well in the lead in the office daily Getting People Out of the Bath stakes, and only needed two more points to win the weekly Coitus Interruptus award. She dialled the next number on the list. Lisa had never intended to be a telephone salesperson. What she really wanted to be was an internationally glamorous jet-setter, but she didn't have the O-levels.

Had she been studious enough to be accepted as an internationally glamorous jet-setter, or a dental assistant (her second choice of profession), or indeed, anything other than a telephone salesperson in that particular office, she would have had a longer, and probably more fulfilled, life.

Perhaps not a very much longer life, all things considered, it being the Day of Armageddon, but several hours anyway. For that matter, all she really needed to do for a longer life was not ring the number she had just dialled, listed on her sheet as the Mayfair home of, in the best traditions of tenth-hand mail-order lists, Mr. D. D. Dumas.

But she had dialled. And she had waited while it rang four times. Then something strange happened, Mr. Dumas answered!

"Yes?" Came the guttural voice.

In Daffy's flat, the machine went from;02, to01.

"Hello, Mr. Dumas." Smiled Lisa, sounding fake, "we're calling about an accident you had!"

"It, eh, wasn't an accident, Lisa." Came the voice, dark and angry. "And this isn't Daffy."

"Um, h-how do you know my name?" Asked Lisa, face fallingin fear. What has this Dumas done?! How does he know her name?!

"I know lots of things, Lisa." Came thevoice. "I should be grateful to you for setting me free, shouldn't I? I mean, I should thank you personally and meet your friends." He said, in a voice that sounded like he was being pleasant, but was cold and dark.

"I'm hanging up the phone now," Lisa said, chest heaving in fright"

"Too late."

But then something climbed out of the earpiece. Something very big, and very angry.

It looked a little like a maggot. A huge, angry maggot made out of thousands and thousands of tiny little maggots, all writhing and screaming, millions of little maggot mouths opening and shutting in fury, and every one of them was screaming "Daffy."

It stopped screaming. Swayed blindly, seemed to be taking stock of where it was. Then it went to pieces. The thing split into thousands of thousands of writhing grey maggots. They flowed over the carpet, up over the desks, over Lisa Morrow and her nine colleagues; they flowed into their mouths, up their nostrils, into their lungs; they burrowed into flesh and eyes and brains and lights, reproducing wildly as they went, filling the room with a towering mess of writhing flesh and gunk. The whole began to flow together, to coagulate into one huge entity that filled the room from floor to ceiling, pulsing gently.

A mouth opened in the mass of flesh, strands of something wet and sticky adhering to each of thenot-exactly lips, and Hastur said: "I needed that."

Spending half an hour trapped on an ansaphone with only Bugs' message for company had not improved his temper.

Neither did the prospect of having to report back to Hell, and having to explain why he hadn't returned half an hour earlier, and, more importantly, why he was not accompanied by Daffy.

Daffy tapped his thumb against the steering wheel of his car as he kept driving, as the woman on the radio spoke,"... save me a fortune in fertilisers. Now, what you do is, you dig them in to your—"

LUCAS?

Daffy said nothing.

LUCAS. THE WAR HAS BEGUN, DAFFY. WE NOTE WITH INTEREST THAT YOU AVOIDED THE FORCES WE EMPOWERED TO COLLECT YOU.

"Mm," Daffy agreed.

LUCAS... WE WILL WIN THIS WAR. BUT EVEN IF WE LOSE, AT LEAST AS FAR AS YOU ARE CONCERNED, IT WILL MAKE NO DIFFERENCE AT ALL. FOR AS LONG AS THERE IS ONE DEMON LEFT IN HELL, LUCAS, YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD BEEN CREATED MORTAL.

Daffy was silent. He already wished he was mortal, make his life with Bugs easier, marrying him slightly easier, just... existing, without Head Office trying to figure out where they are, without having to keep things hush, hush.

MORTALS CAN HOPE FOE DEATH, OR FOR REDEMPTION. YOU CAN HOPE FOR NOTHING. ALL YOU CAN HOPE FOR IS THE MERCY OF HELL.

"Yeah?"

JUST OUR LITTLE JOKE.

"Quc," said Daffy.

"... now as keen gardeners know..."

Daffy swallowed, he wasn't looking for redemption, he wasn't hoping for death, or mercy, he didn't care if he was mortal or not, all he wanted was his Bugs, all he wanted was for Humanity to be left alone.

Lola picked up the tin of condensed milk that Madame Tina had found under the sink, and poured it into the tea. She looked up as Madame Tina'sbody pacedback and forth, and asked in surprise, "so there really is an Antichrist?" She was still holding her finger at theready.

"Da Antichrist is alive 'n' onEarth at dis very moment, Sergeant."Bugs said, in Madame Tina''s body. He did truly feel awful about using this lovely woman's body."They arebringing aboutArmageddon."He explained, his voice turning more and more annoyed like with each panicked word, yet not quiet scared, not yet.

Lola stirred her coffee with a spoon, face fallen in a thoughtful frown.

Bugs-as-Madame Tinagripped the top of her chair, and said,"I'm sure y'can see dat the destruction ofda world is not somethingthat any reasonable person would allow."

"No." Grumbled Lola, shaking her head,picking up the tea, needing a sip. She was acting like this was something she dealt with daily, as if she wasn't shocked and thrown off.

"Am I right?!"

"Aye!" Laughed out Lola, sipping the drink. If she was honest, this was much too different then what she is used to. Much too different.

"The Antichrist... must be stopped,SergeantLola."Bugs said, and shenodded, Lola nodding with her, swallowing her coffee,"and you... are da woman ta do it!"

Lola froze, andlooked shocked, and nervous, giving off a bashful smile, "well, I don't know about that." She chuckled nervously, "um, the Witchfinder Army, we just kill witches." She said, her face pulled into confusion.

"I'msure ya've killed lots ofwitches!"Boasted Bugs, waving her hands, eagerly boosting the Witchfinder's ego so she'd agree. Bugs' been with Daffy, and friends with him long enough, six thousand years! And he's been doing temptations long enough to know how to convince people to do what he wanted them to. - Boost their ego, compliment them.

"Well, early days." Agreed Lola, wearing a smile, andfeelingrather proud. "This Antichrist of yours, how many nipples does he have?"

Thrown off, yet realising this would seal the deal, he knew he needed an answer. What would Daffy do? Lie...so, he lied,"oh...uh... loads ofdem, oodles!"She waved her arms,"potsand pots of nipples. Nipples everywhere. Ha-ha-ha!"She smiled nervously, as he choking out the lie.

"Wud he be harder to get rid of than, say, a demon?" Asked Lola, who had begun to brighten.

"Not much more,"said Bugs, who had never done other to get rid of demons than to hint to them very strongly that he, Bugs, had some work to be getting on with, and wasn't it getting late? And Daffy had always got the hint. (Though he sometimes stayed with Bugs, perched on his shoulder, as the angel worked on another script for another Looney Short.)

Lola shook her head with a smile, "then I'm your man!"

"Good! Now, Lola, what weapons do ya have?"Asked Bugs, fully prepared to do this job himself if he must. He just needed a ride.

"Oh." The Witchfinder held up a hand, and pointed her finger, and gestured to it,"here." She blew on her finger tip, as if blowing smoke from a gun.

Bugs held back annoyance,as she tapped the woman's chair with her hand.Right the female rabbitthinks she can exorcise demons.He said,"yeah, anythingmore substantial?" Real, true, actually be able to help in that case, not a stupid finger! Though, of course he couldn't think that, as he's sharing his thoughts with Madame Tina now, that went well - not.

(He was unknowingly thinking about Daffy, as he explained what was happening with the Antichrist,'is my love cup okay? Is he hurt? Has he made it in time?! Lord, please have heard my pray and let him be safe...'

"Who's this 'love cup' of yours, Mr. Bunny?" Madame Tina asked, cutting Bugsoff from his explaining and thoughts.

"Oh! Nobody, just a good friend!"He lied, her cheeks turning red. Right, okay, so she can hear his thoughts... that doesn't do him any good...

"You sure it's nobody, Mr. Bunny?" Asked Madame Tina, curiously.

Bugs saw her cheeks turned a brighter red, lying,"yep!")

"Um, I've got pins..." Explained Lola, patting herself down,as Bugs paced. "And the Thunder Gun of Witchfinder Colonel Ye - Shall - Not - Eat - Any - Living - Thing - With - The - Blood - Neither - Shall - Ye - Use - Enchantment - Nor - Observe - Times Dalrymple."

Suddenly, Bugs turned, a shocked and amazed look on her face.

"It'll fire anything." Lola said, boasting with a fondness in her tone. "Silver bullets."

"Dat's werewolves."Nodded Bugs, in a thought.

"Eh... garlic?" Offered Lola, a frown on her face.

"Vampires."

Lola hummed, "hmm. Bricks?"

"Dat should do nicely."Grinned Bugs, gesturing to the woman with a wave of hands, sounding mighty pleased,"ha!"

Lola walked into her apartment, to a large, metal, winding bending gun, that was formally owned byWitchfinder Colonel Ye - Shall - Not - Eat - Any - Living - Thing - With - The - Blood - Neither - Shall - Ye - Use - Enchantment - Nor - Observe - Times Dalrymple. She opened the glass case slowly, and heaved it out, and with a ready intake of air, walked out, a man on a mission.

"Now, Ms. Tina,"said Bugs."I trust ya have a reliable mode of transportation at ya disposal."

"Oh yes," said Madame Tina.

She went over to the corner of the kitchen and picked up a pink motorbike helmet, with a yellow sunflower painted on it, and put it on, strapping it under her chin. Then she rummaged in a cupboard, pulled out three or four hundred plastic shopping bags and a heap of yellowing local newspapers, then a dusty day-glo green helmet withEASY RIDERwritten across the top, a present from her niece Petula twenty years before.

Lola, returning with the Thundergun over her shoulder, stared at her unbelieving.

"I don't know what you're staring at, Ms. Lola," she told him. "It's parked in the road downstairs." She passed her the helmet. "You've got to put it on. It's the law. I don't think you're really allowed to have three people on a scooter, even if two of them are, er, sharing. But it's an emergency. And I'm sure you'll be quite safe, if you hold on to me nice and tight." And she smiled. "Won't that be fun?"

Lola paled, and somehow managed to blush bright red at the same time.

The flames continued togrow on the The Golden State and Hollywood Freeways, the flames flutteringand flickering, in rolls of bright blinding red and orange hues.

Daffy was still driving, only to realise there was no opening, no other turning points still and was just getting closer and closer to the fire. He pulled over, fumbled over to The Book, opening it, having read through the notes a million times now. "Come on. There must be a way across it." He mumbled, thumbing through pages, "burning roads... you mutht have predict this, right Agnes?" He questioned, but his thoughts came up blank. (She had done, but he couldn't find. It read; A street of light, the black chariot of the Duk will flayme, and a Queene wille sing quickfilveres songes no moar.Most of the Maltese family had gone along with Gelatly Maltese, who wrote a brief monograph in the 1830's explaining it as a metaphor for the banishment of Weishaupt's Illuminati from Bavaria in 1785.)

The demon knew a few things for sure having being sat in a traffic jam for a while. He knew that Armageddon was under way; there was nothing he could about this; it'll begin in Warner Brothers Studio, at the Water Tower, or around it, in Lot A, then happen everywhere; Bugs was a ghost for now, or was probably dead as Daffy is somewhat certain he was having a drunken hallucinations, and most importantly; all was black,gloomy and awful. There was no light at the end of the tunnel - or if there was, it was an oncoming train. And yet...

And yet, that was were it fell apart.

Because, underneath it all, Daffy was an optimist. He look back on all the bad times over the years, and remember he was still there, the universe gifted him Bugs, up until now, everything was swell. If there was one rock - hard certainty that had sustained him through the bad times - he thought briefly of a certain century he only thinks about in dire situations - then it was utter surety that he would come out on top; that the universe would look after him.

He began flippingbetween the pages of The Book, flipping back and forth and he asked with an annoyed and helpless sneer, "why ithn't there an index?" He asked, completely lost, and he kept flipping, until a grimy, dirty, never washed hand, with dirt covered nails reached over and slowly pulled off his black sunglasses. He jerked his head, confused, and his duck eyeswidened, following the slimy hand, tense and he backed up into the drivers door automatically, his bright eyes shinning in fear.

There was Duke Hastur, holding out the dark glasses at a distance as if they were poisonous, and he snapped them half with a clenched hand, the lens shattering, and Daffy's entire body winced, gritting his teeth, shrinking in on himself in pain, as he watched the scene unfold, trying to keep a distance between himself and the demon he pissed off, by killing his (boy)friend. He slipped down into his seat, and into the car door, looking for an escape, making himself smaller. Nothing, he would be caught up with immediately if he ran... besides, he still needs to get to Warner Brothers...

"You'll never escape into Burbank." Hastursaid, calmly his voice in a rasp, facing the front of the road. He hadn't even glanced to the demon who was now staring at him at him fear. "Nothing can."

Lightening struck again.

"Hastur!"Greeted Daffy, in fake joy and loudness, hiding his terror."How wathyour time in voicemail?"He asked in fake wonder, as if talking to an old friend who went on vacation, and he's not seen in a while.

"Funny, ha-ha." Hastursaid, blandly. He smirked, "joke all you like, Lucas. There's nowhere to run."

Daffy hummed, taking a sharp intake of air, and closed the book,"aren't you to be lining up, ready for battle around now?" He carelessly threw the book on the backseat,'get to Warner's Lot, that's more important than an antique book, I'll take all the scolding from Bugs.' He eased himself, he couldn't allow the Duke to see his fear.

"Hell will not forget."

Daffy grunted, leaning forward, lower jaw jutting out slightly, teeth gritted together.

"Hell will not forgive."

His usuallyamber and black duck eyes were scanning the area, and road, and the large fire, his eyes... they were practically glowing.

"You know where the real Antichrist is, don't you?" Asked Hastur, a knowing look on his face. "You'll never reach him." He held back a smirk.

Daffy wasn't really listening, but he jerked his head as if displaying his doubt, beak scrunched up, and he began to obnoxiously jut and wiggle in his seat again.

"You're done, Lucas." Hastursaid, and then he pointed a disgusting fingerthe wall of fire, leaning closer to the duck demon. "Think you're going to get across that? There's nowhere to go." He chuckled, a dark smirk on his face.

Daffy stared at where Hasturwas pointing,at the wall of fire, and he had one thought on his mind; What the Hell?

"Well, if I'm f*cked as it ith; it maketh you wonder what I'm willing to do, doesn't it?" Asked Daffy, gaining fake confidence. "Let's put your theory to the tetht." Suggested the duck demon, co*ckily and he smirked. He put on a CD, 'The 50 Greatest Pieces of Classical Music', but of course it started playing Queen, not that he cared. 'Let's find out,'the demon held back a smirk.

Daffy began driving forward at a rapid speed, his face pulled into a calm, at ease look of casualness.

Hastur tensed up, confused and slightly worried, "what-what-why are you driving?" He questioned looking between Daffy and the road. "That's-what-stop this thing." He said, worried and scared, but he hid his fear, swallowing back his anxiety.

"You know the thing I like betht about time?" Asked Daffy as he kept driving, acting as if he was talking to an old friend, glaring from under his eyes, hunched over and leaning forward. "Ith that every day it taketh us further away from the fourteenth century," he sneered suddenly, and shook his head, dull teeth bared in disgust, eyes in a glare, and beak scrunched up, "I really didn't like the fourteenth century!" He looked to Hastur, "you'd have loved it, then!" He assured looking to Hastur, as if making casual conversation, and shook his head, a snarl on his beak.

Hastur swallowed and let out a fearful, "yeah." He too was alsotrying to keep this facade of casualness, though his tense shoulders gave away his fear. He sniffed, warily.

"They didn't have any carth back in the fourteenth century. Lovely, clever human people inventing carth, and freewayth, and bringing cartoonth to life." Daffy listed, and looked to Hastursuddenly, "you got to hand it to them!" He looked back to the road, and sped up.

Lightening struck again.

"Yeah." NoddedHastur still trying to be calm, and suddenly he yelled a fearful scream, "ah! Stop it! It's over!" He yelled through gritted teeth, shaking in terror and anger.

Daffy didn't listen, he gripped the wheel with two hands, his black feathered knuckles turning white, and stared, teeth clenched together, as reds and oranges lit up face, his forehead already getting sweaty, feeling the fire getting closer, as his feathers stuck to his skin already, pinned down by sweat. His was getting a dark look on his face.

"You're doomed!" Screeched Hastur. "You hear me, Lucas? You're doomed. Whatever happens. DOOMED!"

"See?" Smiled Daffy, looking to Hastur. "Thithday is already getting better." His eyes were glowing a bright red, mixed with brown, and slowly and ever so slightly, the iris expanded. Smoke steamed from inside the car already, surrounding the two.

Queen's, "I'm In Love With My Car"played, as they drove into the fire wall, the fire engulfing them, surrounding them, swallowing them,"when I'm holding your wheel!"

"Stop this!" Demanded Hasturin terror, gripping the seat, pushed back into the seat. The fire licked at the car, and heated it up, dancing and threateningly. "You'll discorporate us both!" Hasturreasoned, and screamed in fear. He looked around in horror, seeing the thrashing and lashing, whipping red fiery flames, that slammed and kissed, licking the windows, the car, and was seeping into the car, and was now stabbing his feet, and up his legs.

The leather seat-covers began smoking.

Daffy had planned to stay calm, and hide the fact he was struggling to keep the car together, he had planned to whistle his way through calmly, however... it would scare Hastur more if the demon who was ditsy and had an ego problem, snapped and lost his mind in a way, to look like he was enjoying the pain. He smiled, and iris's expanding, the dark of his eyes continued to spread, "HAHAHAHA!"

Hastur kept screaming and whimpering, "this is not funny!" He cried out, eyes panicked.

"Come on!" Shouted Daffy, whose's teeth were gritted together, a bright, yet dark toned smile on his face. "If you've got to go, then go with thtyle!" He screamed, with an insane, waterfowl smile on his lips, stretching making him look methodically evil.

Suddenly, Hastur's corporation caught fire, and quickly went up in flames, wrapping and cloaking him, "I hate you!" He screamed, and exploded in a ball of fire, and a loud bang. He burned. He burned and burned and burned. Ash.

Daffy kept laughing in pure delight, just in case he could still hear. After a moment when he was sureHastur was gone, he stopped laughing, and he gritted his dull teeth in pain, as the car rattled unsettling him, and bumped and crashed, and he tightened his grip, breathing harshly though his nose and teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as sweat formed on his head, his feathers already a mess. His iris' were larger now.

He had to keep driving.

"You are my car!" Growled Daffy, "I've had you from new! You are not going to burn!" Suddenly, his eyes were just pure black, his iris' had now covered the whites of his eyes, and the amber circle was gone, the black pupils filling out the space appropriately. He's not had eyes like that since The Beginning. "Don't even think of it!" He warned, angrily, his throat hoarse, hands tight and muscles tense. He grunted in discomfort.

The car rattled angrily, and furiously, as if rebelling against the demon. Or trying to, but it knew better, and so, it was trying. Daffy yelled out in pain and anger, his mind and will at work, "AH! Ha-ha!" He screeched, breathing heavily, panting and strained. His nostrils flared.

Daffy has something no other demon or angelhave, especially not Hastur: an imagination.

The demon screamed in rage and agony, forcing himself past his limit, his duck eyes shinning, and wide in pain. He was shaking, and his muscles felt weak. He couldn't whistle all calm now, he was in too much pain. His teeth were grinding together, and his entire face scrunched up.

Right now, he's imagining that he is just fine, and that a ton of burning metal, rubber and leather is a fully functioning car.

He has started the journey in his Bentley, and he was damned if he wasn't going to finish it in the Bentley as well.

He screamed, mixing with hissing and quacking yells, as the car furiously shook. It was the effort of holding the car together that caused the extreme screams of pains, and for him to grit his teeth near breaking them, and the biospatial feedback that was causing his eyes to become bright red, mixing with dark brown. That and the effort of having to remember not to start breathing.

He hasn't felt like this since the fourteenth century!

The Burbankpolice were serious people. They were the hardest, most cynically pragmatic, most stubbornly down-to-earth police force in Burbank.

"The scientists are on their way." Said one officer, as a few of the other officers laughed about a police report. "In the meantime, nothing is going to get intoBurbank." The police report was about a stolen police car, only the robber turned out to be an octopus. Honestly, some police forces believe anything these days!

It would take a lot to faze a copper from Burbank, clearly.

It would take, for example, a honking car horn, a huge, battered car that was nothing more nor less than a fireball, a blazing, roaring, twisted metal lemon from Hell, driven by a duck-like grinning, raven feathered lunatic, with glowing dark black eyes, sitting amid the flames, with wiggling fingers in a wave at them, as it was trailed by thick black smoke, coming straight at them through the lashing rain and the wind at eighty miles per hour.

That would do it every time.

"What was...?" Asked the officer shocked, "he was waving."

"The machine of a dream!"

Wakko slowly lowered, "listen, I'm sorry I made you all shut up,but I'm going to make it so you can talk again,and we'll all play a game." They said, eyes still red, and allowed their friends to stop smiling.

Their mouths dropped, and they looked miserable, but Wakko wasn't sure why. Surely, Yakko and Dot was supposed to have their back! But, even their brother and sister looked sad.

"We're all going to meet my new friends. You'll like them so much." Wakko promised, and again shot up into the dark, cloudyair, as lightening struck, and began yelling, their voice travelling. "Come to me! Come to me!"

The motorbikes sped down the path; first Death, then War, then Famine, then Pollution.

Wakko lowered and smiled, "come on. We can still be friends. After all the people have gone, you can rule the world that's left." They grinned, as their friends stood up, wiping themselves down, and Dog barked madly. None of them looked happy. "Yakko, you can have Colombia, and Brazil."

Yakkoscowled, not too happy.

"And Dot, you get Asia," grinned Wakko, walking forward.

Dot looked disgusted... and scared. If this was any other occasion, she would have said"I don't s-see why Yakko's got Colombia and Brazilan' all I've got is just Asia. Asia'sboring." However, she didn't in fear of the cartoonin front of her.

"And Brain, you can have Europe, and Pinky you canAfrica." Wakko said.

Brain raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and Pinky scowled, annoyed. If this was less scary, the two would have complained.

"And Dog, you can have Australia!"

Dog whined, tilting his head.

"So we'd rule the world." Dot said, looking at Wakko, finally gaining her voice. "But what about you, Wakko?"

"What?" Asked Wakko.

"Well, you divided up the world, right, and we've all of us got to have a bit; what bit're you going to have?"

The silence sang like a harp, high and thin.

"Yeah," said Pinky.

"You never told us what bit you're having," Brain said.

"Dot's right," said Yakko, shaking his head. "Don't seem to me there's much left, if we've got to have all these countries."

Wakko mouth opened and shut.

"What?" They said.

"What bit's yours, Wakko?" Said Dot.

Wakko stared at her.

Dog had stopped howling and had fixed his master with an intent, thoughtful mongrel stare.

"M-me?" They said.

The silence went on and on, one note that could drown out the noises of the world.

"But I'll have the Warners Lot," said Wakko.

They stared at him.

"An', an' the Water Tower, Studio 6, and Warner's Village, and Stars Hollow—"

They still stared.

Wakko's gaze dragged itself across their faces. "They're all I've ever wanted," they said.

They shook their heads.

"I can have 'em if I want," said Wakko, their voice tinged with sullen defiance and their defiance edged with sudden doubt. "I can make them better, too. Better trees to climb, better building, better..." Their voice trailed off.

"You can't," said Yakko flatly. "They're not like Shows and those places. They're really real. Anyway, they belong to all of us. They're ours."

"And you couldn't make 'em better," said Pinky.

"Anyway, even if you did we'd all know," said Brain.

"Oh, if that's all that's worryin' you, don't you worry," said Wakkoairily, "'cos I could make you all just do whatever I wanted—"

They stopped, their ears listening in horror to the words their mouth was speaking.Dog put his paws over his head.

Wakko's face looked like an impersonation of the collapse of empire. "No," they said hoarsely. "No. You will do as I say."

"Or what?" Snapped Dot, "you've already taken our mouths and frozen us here. We can't get away."

"Actually, they could kill us," Yakkosaid.

"Yes, you could do that." Dot agreed, and Brain shook his head in agreement.

Pinky hummed, "yeah they could..."

Wakkolooked horrified at the thought. "You aren't frozen anymore. You can go anywhere you want. See? I don't care where you go." They said, swallowing, maybe this would make them stay?

The Them shared looks and nodded.

"Goodbye, Wakko," Dot turned, and walked off.

"Goodbye, Wakko," said Yakko, turning and following Dot.

It hurt them to leave their sibling, their friend, their family, but they needed to go, escape, possibly get help; somethin's wrong with Wakko.

"Bye bye, Wakko," Pinky said, following the brother and sister.

"Actually, yes. Goodbye, Wakko," agreed Brain, following after the three.

"What do you mean "goodbye"?!" Snapped Wakko, floating after them now, with Dog following.

"Stop following us!" Snapped Dot, turning around once, then facing away again.

"I'm not following you," reasoned Wakko; either they didn't know, or they refused to acknowledge it.

"We aren't your friends anymore. We don't like you!" Assured Dot, as they all walked away from Wakko.

"You aren't anybody's friend." Pinky said, shaking, and whimpering.

"You're going to burn all this away. Why?" Brain asked, sneering at Wakko. "Because some adults and humans mucked things up. That's a reason to fix it, not destroy it."

Wakko glanced to Yakko, looking to their brother, maybe... maybe, Yakko would stand up for them? Right? He always helps them.

But, that didn't happen...

"You're really scary, and you aren't our friend," Yakko said in horror, looking up at Wakko. It hurt him to be so cruel to his sibling, but thiswasn't his sibling, this wasn't his Wakko.

Wakko fell silent in hurt for a moment, "I don't care."

They shot Wakkodirty looks, before running off, and Dog took off after them, deciding they weren't going to make him a Hell Hound again, and he was quiet happy being a little dog.

"Dog, come back." Yelled Wakko, "Dog!"

Suddenly, there was whispers in their head,'Let them go. You have the world. You have the power. You have the glory. Let them go.'They whispered, and Wakko looked around, scared, eyes wide.

"Come back!" They yelled, no... begged. "Please! Please!" They sobbed, and maybe that's why they stopped at the edge, hearing Wakko cry. Theydidn't cry, not like that... sure when things got too much for them, they beganactingup, they got teary eyed, but the groupnever made a big deal, and helped them out. This was... actual crying, "please! I didn't mean it! You're my friends, and my brother and sister,I —"

Theirbody jerked.

Theirhead was thrown back. They raised their arms and pounded the sky with their fists. Their face twisted.

Thefloor cracked under theirsneakers.

Wakko opened their mouth and screamed. It was a sound that a merely mortal throat should not have been able to utter; it wound out of the Studio, mingled with the storm, caused the clouds to curdle into new and unpleasant shapes. It went on and on. It resounded around the universe, which is a good deal smaller than physicists would believe. It rattled the celestial spheres. It spoke of loss, and it did not stop for a very long time.

Everyone turned, trying to find the source of the screaming, when it would end, where it was coming from, who, or what, was making the noise.

Wakko saw everything. A card shuffle, the Antichrist, the stage, Dog, their friends,the Kraken, Aliens, the hands waved, revealinga card, showing a Cherub to the Antichrist, Dog the Hell Hound, a lemon drop, and... their brother Yakko, their sister Dot, Dr.Scratchansniff, and creators; Kassyand Angelica.

"Come on, little one. Hello, Wakko."

And then it did.

Something drained away.

Wakko's head tilted down again. Their eyes opened. Whatever had been standing in the old Studio before, Wakko Warner was standing there now. A more knowledgeable Wakko Warner, but Wakko Warner nevertheless. Possibly more of Wakko Warner than there had ever been before.

The ghastly silence in the stage was replaced by a more familiar, comfortable silence, the mere and simple absence of noise.

The Them and Dog had frozen, their eyes fixed on them.

"It's all right," said Wakko quietly. "Yakko? Dot? Brain? Pinky? Come back here. It's all right. It's all right. I know everything now. And you've got to help me. Otherwise it's all goin' to happen. It's really all goin' to happen. It's all goin' to happen, if we don't do somethin'." They looked at them all, as they walked out.

"We need our bicycles, they're in the Costume Building 4, 5, and 6. And, we need some stuff, I think. We need a sword, a crown and cape, and some scales." Wakko said.

The groupstared at them.

"What, just here?" Said Brain.

"There's nothin' like that here." Pinky said, only able to think of the Prop Studio, but nobody was allowed anything from there.

"I dunno," said Wakko. "When you think about the games and that, you know, we've played. Meet back here in five minutes."They walked off.

"Where are we going?" Called Dot, "Wakko! Wait!"

"Wakko, after we get our bikes, where are we going?" Yakko called, watching as Wakko walked down the path to Costume Building 6.

"The End Of The World. It's not far." Wakko said knowingly, and the others shared a look, but listened walking off.

"I've got it," said Sylvester, walking up to Pepé, who was packing a bag at his table.

"Oh, yeah?" Pepé asked, looking up.

"If Agnes tells you what to do, and we need to do this right, then you just need to pick a card, any card," Sylvester reasoned; it worked when the cards were being thrown about before anyway. "See, any card picked right now has got to be relevant. That's logic."

"It's nonsense."

"Yeah? Look, you're even here because she predicted it." Sylvester reasoned, making Pepé pause.

Pepé looked himover, and picked out a random card, handing it over. Sylvester took it and swallowed, and began to read, "when the skies are crimson seen..." He looked up, "well, she got that bit right."

Pepé nodded, and crossed his arms.

"Then ye both must stand between the world of life and the world of War, where the researchers rats stay no more, near tower of empty, water no more, lota." Sylvester swallowed, having no idea what this was going on about. Pepé rushed over, and snatched the card from the cats paws, and reading. "See?"

"It could be talking about us." Agreed Pepé, not tearing his eyes away from the card. "Where the researchers rats stay no more..."

"Researchers. That could be a lab." Offered Sylvester, "where don't haverats?"

"There's the old laboratory, where Pinky and Brain used to be locked up, until they got out." Said Pepé, "the place is abandoned, it's an hour away from the Water Tower. Lota could mean "Lot A". I met some of the guys who work there at the village bar." They had been rather nice, "but why would we go there?" He tapped the card against his lip, "I mean, all they have left in there is communication technology. Computers and stuff. Nothing explosive at all."

Sylvesterfrowned; crazy scientistsnot have something explosive? Sounds wrong to him, and to Pepé too apparently, as suddenly he looked horrified.

"Oh, my God."

Madame Tina was on her scooter, as she was the only one with the means of transport. That is, besides public transport, but no way was Bugs wasgoing to use that, who knows who'd pick them up, and how far they'd go? He is still an angel, and he'd feel terrible if he made them go too far out, and at drastic speeds.However, this small scooter, that wentputputputput, the only moving vehicle in California (another reason he couldn't get public transport), as everything else was in a traffic jam, moved extremely slowly, ploughing through the rain.

"I've never seen a traffic jam like it!" Madame Tina said in shock, and worry. "Ms. Lola, unless you put your arms around me your going to fall off.The thing wasn't built for two people, you know."

"Three." Muttered Tina, who was on the back, gripping onto her Thunder Gun, and quickly, she leaned into Madame Tina's back, sandwiching the weapon between them, and wrapped two thin arms around her waist.

She shuffled,"okay, dis is happening..."Muttered Bugs, a sneer on her face. Yes it's nothiswaist, and yes it means nothing, still he'd rather it be his demon, not Lola. He hid his discomfort and focused on the task at hand.

They rode through the rain without talking for another ten minutes, putputputputput, as Madame Tinacarefully negotiated her way around the cars and the taxis.

Madame Tina found her eyes being moved down to the speedometer-rather foolishly, she thought, since it hadn't worked since 1974, and it hadn't worked very well before that.

"Ms. Russo, how fast would ya say we were going?"Asked Bugs.

"Why?"

The rain hailed hard on the pink crash helmet with a flower painted on,"Ms. Russo, if I'm being honest, we could make better time walking."Bugs admitted, his voice coming from Madame Tina'sred painted lips. He used the name 'Tina Russo' as it is her real name, rather than her stage name, and she appreciated it very much.

"Well, with just me on, the top speed is about fifteen miles an hour, but with Ms. Lola as well, it must be, ooh, about..."

"Four or five miles per hour,"Bugs interrupted.

"I suppose so," she agreed.

There was a cough from behind her. "Can you slow down this hellish machine, wumman?" Asked an high pitch voice. In the infernal pantheon, which it goes without saying Lola hated uniformly and correctly, Lola reserved a special loathing for speed demons.

"In which case,"said Bugs,"dis thingwill get to Warner's Lot in something less than ten hours."

There was a pause from Madame Tina, then, "how far away is this Warner's Studio, anyway?"

"About forty miles."

"Um," said Madame Tina, who had once driven the scooter the few milesnearby the flats,to visit her sister, but had taken a taxisince, because of the funny noises the scooter had started making on the way back.

"... we should really be going at about seventy, if we're going to get dere in time,"said Bugs.

"It'd be a miracle to get past 10 miles an hour!" Madame Tina exclaimed in realisation, over the rain, as her scooter was really slow.

Her face shifted, to one of realisation as Bugs said,"miracles!"He nodded,"yes! Right, of course!"She swallowed, her voice still Bugs, and glanced to Lla,"hmm... hold on, SergeantLola, if ya wouldn't mind!"(Lola suspected she wouldn't care, neither would Tina, as the two oozed love from each other, directed to the other. It was rather sweet!)

Lolaglanced to the rain covered, rear handle bar mirror, and saw, not Madame Tina but instead Bugs, wearing the same things as Madame Tina, flowery crash helmet and goggles that is, and he seemed to be straining, a concentrated look on his face. Suddenly, the bike glowed a light, nimbus blue, and the slowly, the bike raised, hovering off the road, and into the sky.

Madame Tina screamed in fear and shock, and Lola let out a low moan of terror, gripping onto Madame Tina's waist tighter, pressing the gun between her front and the witches back, much to Bugs' discomfort.

"Don't look down, Sergeant Lola!"Called Bugs, straining himself and was finding himself tight voiced to allow the straining to stop. Suddenly, it shot off in the sky, leaving a trail of blue light,"'n'off we go!"

It skidded to a slow stop as it reached the end of the road, or well, air, and the indicators flipped on, and he turned the bar and drove off again.

The Burbankpolice had now doubled in size on their side of the fiery The Golden State and Hollywood Freeways, since Daffy hadcrossed about half an hour earlier. With now additional officers, two hundred people standing around, and they inspected the flaming The Golden State and Hollywood Freeways from binoculars. This included representatives from Her Majesty's Army, the Bomb Disposal Squad, MI5, MI6, the Special Branch, and the CIA. There was also a man selling hot dogs.

"Look, I don't care if you believe me or not," snapped the officer, with a sigh. He was cold, wet, puzzled, irritated and exasperated. "All I'm telling you is what we saw. It was an old car, a Rolls, or a Bentley, or something, one of those flashy vintage jobs, and it made it over the bridge."

"It couldn't have done." Reasoned a senior army technician. "The heat coming from theGolden State and Hollywood Freeways are exceeding seven hundred degrees centigrade!"

"Or a hundred and forty degrees below." Offered the seniors assistant. He frowned, "must be an error or something?" (That was true. There was no machine on earth that could pick up both 700°C and -140°C at the same time. Though that was the correct answer.)

The senior nodded, "we can't get a helicopter over theGolden State and Hollywood Freeways without it burning up instantly, how could this vintage car drive through unharmed?"

"I didn't say it drove over unharmed!" Corrected the officer, who was now seriously planning to leave the Burbank police, and going to work for his brother, who was resigning his job with the Electricity Board, and was going to start breeding chickens. "It burst into flames. It just kept going."

"Do you seriously expect us to believe..." Began somebody.

A high-pitched keening noise, haunting and strange. Like a thousand glass harmonicas being played in unison, all slightly off-key; like the sound of the molecules of the air itself wailing in pain.

AndVROOOSH.

Over their heads it sailed, forty feet in the air, engulfed in a deep blue nimbus which faded to red at the edges; a little white motor scooter, and riding it, a middle-aged female duckin a pink helmet, and holding tightly to her, a taller-ish female rabbit in a mackintosh and a day-go green crash helmet (the motor scooter was too far up for anyone to see that taller woman's eyes were tightly shut, but they were).

The short female duckwas screaming. What she was screaming was this:

"Cooolllleeeeennnnn!"

Chapter 26: all arriving at once...

Chapter Text

It is a high and lonely destiny to be Chairman of the Warner's VillageResidents' Association.

R. P. Tyler, short, well-fed, satisfied, stomped down a country lane, accompanied by his wife's miniature poodle, Shutzi. R. P. Tyler knew the difference between right and wrong; there were no moral greys of any kind in his life. He was not, however, satisfied simply with being vouchsafed the difference between right and wrong. He felt it his bounden duty to tell the world.

Not for R. P. Tyler the soapbox, the polemic verse, the broadsheet. R. P. Tyler's chosen forum was the letter column of the Warner Advertiser. If a neighbour's tree was inconsiderate enough to shed leaves into R. P. Tyler's garden, R. P. Tyler would first carefully sweep them all up, place them in boxes, and leave the boxes outside his neighbour's front door, with a stern note. Then he would write a letter to the Warner Advertiser. If he sighted teenagers sitting on the village green, their portable cassette players playing, and they were enjoying themselves, he would take it upon himself to point out to them the error of their ways. And after he had fled their jeering, he would write to the Warner Advertiser on the Decline of Morality and the Youth of Today.

Since his retirement last year the letters had increased to the point where not even the Warner Advertiser was able to print all of them. Indeed, the letter R. P. Tyler had completed before setting out on his evening walk had begun:

Sirs, I note with distress that the newspapers of today no longer feel obligated to their public, we, the people who pay your wages...

He surveyed the fallen branches that littered the narrow country road. I don't suppose, he pondered, they think of the cleaning up bill when they send us these storms. Parish Council has to foot the bill to clean it all up. And we, the taxpayers, pay their wages...

Thetheyin this thought were the weather forecasters on Radio Four, whom R. P. Tyler blamed for the weather. (He did not have a television. Or as his wife put it, "Ronald wouldn't have one of those things in the house, would you Ronald?" and he always agreed, although secretly he would have liked to have seen some of the smut and filth and violence that the National Viewers and Listeners Association complained of. Not because he wanted to see it, of course. Just because he wanted to know what other people should be protected from.)

Shutzi stopped by a roadside beech tree to co*ck its leg.

R. P. Tyler looked away, embarrassed. It might be that the sole purpose of his evening constitutional was to allow the dog to relieve itself, but he was dashed if he'd admit that to himself. He stared up at the storm clouds. They were banked up high, in towering piles of smudged grey and black. It wasn't just the flickering tongues of lightning that forked through them like the opening sequence of a Frankenstein movie; it was the way they stopped when they reached the borders of Lower Warner. And in their centre was a circular patch of daylight; but the light had a stretched, yellow quality to it, like a forced smile.

It was so quiet.

There was a low roaring.

Down the narrow lane came four motorbikes. They shot past him, and turned the corner, disturbing a co*ck pheasant who whirred across the lane in a nervous arc of russet and green.

"Vandals!" Called R. P. Tyler after them.

The countryside wasn't made for people like them. It was made for people like him.

He jerked Shutzi's lead, and they marched along the road.

Five minutes later he turned the corner, to find three of the motorcyclists standing around a fallen signpost, a victim of the storm. The fourth, a tall man with a mirrored visor, remained on his bike.

R. P. Tyler observed the situation, and leaped effortlessly to a conclusion. These vandals - he had, of course been right - had come to the countryside in order to desecrate the War Memorial and to overturn signposts.

He was about to advance on them sternly, when it came to him that he was outnumbered, four to one, and that they were taller than he was, and that they were undoubtedly violent psychopaths. No one but a violent psychopath rode motorbikes in R. P. Tyler's world.

So he raised his chin and began to strut past them, without apparently noticing they were there, (Although as a member (read, founder) of his local Neighbourhood Watch scheme he did attempt to memorise the motorbikes' number plates.)all the while composing in his head a letter (Sirs, this evening I noted with distress a large number of hooligans on motor-bicycles infesting Our Fair Village. Why, oh Why, does the government do nothing about this plague of...)

"Hi," said one of the motorcyclists, raising his visor to reveal a thin face and a trim black beard. "We're kinda lost."

"Ah," said R. P. Taylor disapprovingly.

"The signpost musta blew down," said the motorcyclist.

"Yes, I suppose it must," agreed R. P. Taylor. He noticed with surprise that he was getting hungry.

"Yeah. Well, we're heading for the Water Tower."

An officious eyebrow raised. "You're guard. With thescientific base, I suppose." (Sirs, when I did national service I was a credit to my country. I notice with horror and dismay that airmen from the Warner Scientist'sare driving around our noble countryside dressed no better than common thugs. While I appreciate their importance in defending the freedom of the western world...).

Then his love of giving instructions took over. "You go back down that road for half a mile, then first left, it's in a deplorable state of disrepair I'm afraid, I've written numerous letters to the council about it, are you civil servants or civil master. that's what I asked them, after all, who pays your wages? then second right, only it's not exactly right, it's on the left but you'll find it bends round toward the right eventually, it's signposted Porrit's Lane, but of course it isn't p*rnt's Lane, you look at the ordinance survey map, you'll see, it's simply the eastern end of Forest Hill Lane, you'll come out in the village, now you go past the Bull and Fiddle-that's a public house-then when you get to the church (I have pointed out to the people who compile the ordinance survey map that it's a church with a spire, not a church with a tower, indeed I have written to the Warner Advertiser, suggesting they mount a local campaign to get the map corrected, and I have every hope that once these people realise with whom they are dealing you'll see a hasty U-turn from them) then you'll get to a crossroads, now, you go straight across that crossroads and you'll immediately come to a second crossroads, now, you can take either the left-hand fork or go straight on, either way you'll arrive at the air base (although the left-hand fork is almost a tenth of a mile shorter) and you can't miss it."

Famine stared at him blankly. "I, uh, I'm not sure I got that..." he began.

I DID. LET US GO.

Shutzi gave a little yelp and darted behind R. P. Tyler, where it remained, shivering.

The strangers climbed back onto their bikes. The one in white (a hippy, by the look of them, thought R. P. Tyler) dropped an empty crisp packet onto the grass, over their shoulder.

"Excuse me, " barked Tyler. "Is that your crisp packet?"

"Oh, it's not just mine," said the Being. "It's everybody's."

R. P. Tyler drew himself up to his full height. (Five foot six) "Young man," he said (not know the Beings pronouns, nor did he care), "how would you feel if I came over to your house and dropped litter everywhere?"

Pollution smiled, wistfully. "Very, very pleased," they breathed. "Oh, that would be wonderful." Beneath their bike an oil slick puddled a rainbow on the wet road.

Engines revved.

"I missed something," said War. "Now, why are we meant to make a U-turn by the church?"

JUST FOLLOW ME, said the tall one in front, and the four rode off together.

R. P. Tyler stared after them.

"Behind the eagle's nest a great ash hath fallen." Said Pepé, as Sylvester drove his car.

"That's it." Sylvester said, rather shocked that's all they had to go off.

Pepé nodded, "you know, most of my family thought it was somethingto do with the Russian Revolution."

"You know, these places have some pretty serious peoplewith some extremely big guns guarding them." Sylvester reminded, "and if we don't get shot trying to break in,then we're going to spend the last few minutes before the world endsin a little cell without any windows in it..."

"Okay. I think you're getting yourself a little overexcited," said Pepé, rather amused.

"I'm not. I'm getting myself quite calmly worriedabout being shot, and then put in a cell,and then waterboarded, and then shot again!" Sylvester said, swallowing. Being shot in shortshows is very different than being shot in real life!

"Don't worry, Agnes would have definitely told meif someone was going to shoot you," promised Pepé.

Sylvester frowned, it a weird way, that was sweet.

"Now pull in here. There's often cars here, and no one takes any notice," said Pepé.

"What is this place?"

"It's the local Lovers' Lane."

"Is that why it appears to be paved with rubber?"

They walked along the hedge-shaded lane for a hundred yards until they reached the ash tree. Agnes had been right. It was quite grate. It had fallen right across the fence. A guard was sitting on it, smoking a cigarette.

The man stood up when they approached, and then sagged into an easier stance.

"Oh, hi, Pepé," he said.

"Hi, George. Terrible storm, wasn't it."

"Sure was."

They walked on. He watched them out of sight.

"You know him?" Said Sylvester, with forced nonchalance.

"Oh, sure. Like I said, sometimes a few of them come down to the pub. Pleasant enough in a well-scrubbed way. And, he's also a fan, says I didn't deserved to be cancelled."

"Would he shoot us if we just walked in?" Said Sylvester.

"He might well point a gun at us in a menacing way," Pepé said.

"That's good enough for me. What do you suggest we do, then?"

"Well, Agnes must have known something. So I suppose we just wait. It's not too bad now the wind's gone down."

"Oh." Sylvester looked at the clouds piling up on the horizon. "Good old Agnes," he said.

The Four Horsepeoplepulled up in front of the airbase, just a little away, the whole place had American flags, and warning signs everywhere.

THIS IS THE PLACE, he said, lifting his mask up, revealing a dirty skull, a cobwebs where his eyes would be.

War lifted hers up, revealing red eye shadow, "is this all there is? I thought it'd be more impressive somehow." She sounded disappointed, and Pollution's white eyes fluttered to her. "All these thousands of years waiting,just for a ride of a hundred miles."

IF ARMAGEDDON IS ANYWHERE THE IS EVERYWHERE, reminded Death.

War grinned, "let's crash through the barriers."

Famine looked to her quickly.

NO. Death said suddenly, WE GO IN, WE DO THE JOB, WE GO OUT. THE GEOGRAPHY IS IMMATERIAL. He flipped his mask down again, as did War, and they drove and in a flash, was now a car.

Afterwards, Guard Thomas A. Deisenburger recalled events at the gate as having happened like this:

A large staff car drew up by the gate. It was sleek and official-looking although, afterwards, he wasn't entirely sure why he had thought this, or why it sounded momentarily as though it were powered by motorbike engines.

Four officers got out. Again, the guard was a little uncertain of why he had thought this. They had proper identification. What kind of identification, admittedly, he couldn't quite recall, but it was proper. He saluted. And one of them said, "Surprise inspection, sir."

To which officerThomas A. Deisenburger replied, "Sir, I have not been informed as to the incidence of a surprise inspection at this time, sir."

"Of course not," said one of the generals. "That's because it's a surprise."

The officer saluted again.

"Sir, permission to confirm this intelligence with base command, sir," he said, uneasily.

The tallest and thinnest of the generals strolled a little way from the group, turned his back, and folded his arms.

One of the others put a friendly arm around the officersshoulders and leaned forward in a conspiratorial way.

"Now see here —" he squinted at the sergeant's name tag "— Deisenburger, maybe I'll give you a break. It's a surprise inspection, got that? Surprise. That means no getting on the horn the moment we've gone through, understand? And no leaving your post. Career soldier like you'll understand, am I right?" he added. He winked. "Otherwise you'll find yourself busted so low you'll have to say "sir"to an imp."

Officer Thomas A. Deisenburger stared at him.

"Civilian," hissed one of the other generals.

According to her tag, her name was Waugh. OfficerDeisenburger had never seen a female guard like her before, but she was certainly an improvement.

"What?"

"Civilian. Not imp."

"Yeah. That's what I meant. Yeah. Civilian. Okay, officer?"

The sergeant considered the very limited number of options at his disposal. "Sir, surprise inspection, sir?" He said.

"Provisionatedly classificisioned at this time," said Famine, who had spent years learning how to sell to the federal government and could feel the language coming back to him.

"Sir, affirmative, sir," said the officer.

"Good man," said Famine, as the barrier was raised. "You'll go a long way." He glanced at his watch. "Very shortly."

No one stopped the four as they purposefully made their way into one of the long, low buildings under the forest of radio masts. No one paid any attention to them. Perhaps they saw nothing at all. Perhaps they saw what their minds were instructed to see, because the human brain is not equipped to see War, Famine, Pollution, and Death when they don't want to be seen, and has got so good at not seeing that it often manages not to see them even when they abound on every side.

The alarms were totally brainless and thought they saw four people where people shouldn't be, and went off like anything.

Something told Pepé, that this was the time to go in, and so he did, Sylvester hastily following her, confused. They walked to the airbase from where they parked up.

"Behind the eagle's nest, a great ash hath fallen." Said Pepé, "well, she's on the money there."

"Nice going, Dick Turpin." Grinned Sylvester.

"You really do call your car "Dick Turpin"." Pepé smirked.

"Yes," said Sylvester.

"I bet you're hoping one day someone's going to ask you why," guessed Pepé, all knowingly and teasingly.

"Maybe," grinned Sylvester, brightening.

Pepé smiled playfully, "right." He walked forward.

Sylvester frowned, and followed, "it can't be this easy. It really can't. There's going to be guards and security cameras." They paused outside the broken down gate, and Pepé continued forward. "Where are we going exactly?"

"There."

"How do you know?" Asked Sylvester, voice squeaked.

"Because everything in my life,everything Agnes wrote down on that book 400 years ago,everything is all leading me here." Pepé said, looking to Sylvester, box under hisarm. "Now. With you." He nodded, "I know." He walked on.

Sylvester cursed under his breath, and walked forward, "how are we going to stop them exactly?"

"Come on!" He said, getting antsy.

Sylvester tripped over the branches, rushing after him.

The Them met up in the three way street, paddling on their bikes, and Wakko had Dog in theirbasket.

"It's stupid calling it the ScienceBase," Dot said on her bike, (You could always tell it was Dot's bike. She thought it was improved by a piece of cardboard cunningly held against the wheel by a clothes peg. Cats had learned to take evasive action when she was two streets away.), "I went up there on that open day,and they didn't even have experiments and things. Just lots of radios, satellite dishes and stuff."

"Yeah, it used to be all knobs and dials." Agreed Pinky, on his bike with Brain on the back,(Pinky and Brain'smight have been white, once, but its colour was lost beneath a thick layer of mud.), "stupid."

Brain looked to Wakko, "what are your new friends going to do here?"

"Well, I suppose they could patch into the worldwide military netand issue orders to all computersto activate all automated systems and start fighting," said Wakko, without missing a beat.

"Actually, that would be quite difficult," reasoned Yakko, on his bike. (Yakko's bicycle was black, and shiny, and sensible.)

"Not really. Not if you're them," assured Wakko, horrified.

With Wakko in the lead, they all took off, pedalling.

War, Famine, Pollution and Death pulled up outside the building. They got off, and walked in, Death's cloak appearing on him in smoke.

R.P. Tyler was walking down the pathway, and blinked, seeing fivecartoons on bikes.

"You! Stop!" shouted R. P. Tyler.

The Them braked to a halt and looked at him.

"I knew it was you, Yakko andWakko Warner, and your little, hmph, cabal. What, might I enquire, are you children doing out at this time of evening? Do your creatorsknow you're out?"

The middle child, and sometimes leader, certainly now, the leaderof the cyclist turned. "I can't see how you can say it's late," they said; sure it was getting pink out, but it's not that bad, "seems to me, seems to me, that if the sun's still out then it's not late."

"It's past your bedtime, anyway," R. P. Tyler informed them, "and don't stick out your tongue at me, young lady," this was to Dot, "or I will be writing a letter to your creator informing her of the lamentable and unladylike state of her creationsmanners."

"Well 'scuse us," said Wakko, aggrieved. "Dot was just looking at you. I didn't know there was any for against looking."

There was a commotion on the grass. Shutzi, who was a particularly refined toy French poodle, of the kind only possessed by people who were never able to fit children into their household budgets, was being menaced by Dog, who had jumped out.

"Master Warner," ordered R. P. Tyler, "please get your-yourmuttaway from my Shutzi." Tyler did not trust Dog. When he had first met the dog, three days ago, it had snarled at him, and glowed its eyes red. This had impelled Tyler to begin a letter pointing out that Dog was undoubtedly rabid, certainly a danger to the community, and should be put down for the General Good, until his wife had reminded him that glowing red eyes weren't a symptom of rabies, or, for that matter, anything seen outside of the kind of film that neither of the Tyler's would be caught dead at but knew all they needed to know about, thank you very much.

Wakkolooked astounded. "Dog's not a mutt. Dog's a remarkable dog. He's clever. Dog, you get off Mr. Tyler's horrible of poodle."

Dog ignored them. He had a lot of dog catching-up still to do.

"Dog," said Wakko, ominously. Their dog slunk back to his master's bicycle.

"I don't believe you have answered my question. Where are you four off to?"

"To the Water Tower," said Pinky.

"If that's all right with you," said Wakko, with what they hoped was bitter and scathing sarcasm. "I mean, we won't want to go there if it wasn't all right with you."

"You cheeky little monkey," said R. P. Tyler. "When I see your creators and caretaker, Wakko Warner, I will inform him in no uncertain terms that..."

But the Them were already pedalling off down the road, in the direction of the Water Tower, Science Base, travelling by the Them's route, which was shorter and simpler and more scenic than the route suggested by Mr. Tyler.

"Can someone pass me a screwdriver?" Asked one of the scientists, hand out, stressed about the computer that wasn't co-operating.

Death handed it over, and he took and paused.

"Who the Hell are you?" Asked the man.

I AM NEITHER OF HELL, NOR HEAVEN.

And, the man dropped dead.

"What's so special about this place anyway?" Asked Pollution, as they all walked in, the soldier's dropping to the floor as one.

"This is a classified communications hub." Famine said, walking over. "Everything comes through here. They've made it so they don't even have to fight anymore." He sat down, "machines will do it for them."

EXCEPT THE DYING. Death said, WHEN IT COMES TO SOMETHINGS, MACHINES WILL NEVER REPLACE PEOPLE.

It was inevitable that all four of them couldn't contribute equally, War thought. She'd been surprised at her natural affinity for modern weapons systems, which were so much more efficient than bits of sharp metal, and of course Pollution laughed at absolutely foolproof, fail-safe devices. Even Famine at least knew what computers were. Whereas... well, he didn't do anything much except hang around, although he did it with a certain style. It had occurred to War that there might one day be an end to War, an end to Famine, possibly even an end to Pollution, and perhaps this was why the fourth and greatest horseman was never exactly what you might call one of the lads. It was like having a tax inspector in your football team. Great to have him on your side, of course, but not the kind of person you wanted to have a drink and a chat with in the bar afterwards. You couldn't be one hundred percent at your ease.

"I can feel it." Smiled War, "another five minutes,and the whole world will be at War."

"And once the War begins,the Famine comes..." Grinned Famine, "then the Pollution."

WHAT ARE THOSE GLITTERY THINGS? he said suddenly, in the tones of one who knows he won't be able to understand the answer but wants to be seen to be taking an interest.

"Seven-segment LED displays," said the Being. They laid loving hands on a bank of relays, which fused under their touch, and then introduced a swathe of self-replicating viruses that whirred away on the electronic ether.

"I could really do without those bloody alarms," muttered Famine.

Death absentmindedly snapped his fingers. A dozen klaxons gurgled and died.

"I don't know, I rather liked them," said Pollution. They cupped their hands, and blew white smoky light, and it started attacking the computers.

War reached inside another metal cabinet. This wasn't the way she'd expected things to be, she had to admit, but when she ran her fingers over and sometimes through the electronics there was a familiar feel. It was an echo of what you got when you held a sword, and she felt a thrill of anticipation at thethought that this sword enclosed the whole world and a certain amount of the sky above it, as well. It loved her.

A Flaming Sword.

Mankind had not been very good at learning that swords are dangerous if left lying around, although it had done its limited best to make sure that the chances of one this size being wielded accidentally were high. A cheering thought, that. It was nice to think that mankind made a distinction between blowing their planet to bits by accident and doing it by design.

Pollution plunged their hands into another rack of expensive electronics.

"We're in business..." They grinned.

They are taking charge of the electricity, all of it. And under their rule, it is coming to life. They're fusing relays. They're closing switches. They're turning off the lights.

They are in control.

War clapped her hands, sparks shooting off, "let's get this show onthe road!" She pressed her fingers to the screen, and smiled in delight, eyes turning red, and liquid dripping from them. Fire, and War...

NORTH DAKOTA,

USA

H7 opened, sirens wailed. Launch switches turned on.

All warheads armed.

"What the heck?" Asked US Silo Commander.

"Did you really just say "what the heck"?" Asked the crewmanshocked, looking at the issue.

"Get me STRATCOM Cyber Command. Something's happening!" Demanded the Commander.

The man nodded, and picked up the phone.

War turned to them, bleeding, or peeling so it seemed. "It has begun. Nuclear codes delivered. Everything is set in motion for the final countdown. The sword is raised,ready to strike."

ЯДЕРНАЯ ПОДВОДНАЯ ЛОДКА,

"ПОЖАРНАЯПТИЦА",

СЕВЕРОАТЛАНТИЧЕСКИЙ,

NUCLEAR SUBMARINE,

"FIREBIRD"

NORTH ATLANTIC

They were under the North Atlantic, and the Russian Captain went to the crewman,"what exactly is happening?"He asked in Russian.

"Coded message from the Kremlin. I think we're at War!"The Crewman said back.

"Who with?"Asked the Captain.

"Who do you think?!"Asked the crewman, as others rushed around, frantically.

"Ukraine?"

"Keep going..."

"Uzbekistan?"

"Everybody!"

Red dots were showing up everywhere.

Everybody...

"It's not just nuclear destruction." Pollution said, and they looked like they was melting black. "It's chemical too. And my favourite standbys are all chemical. Say what you like,plutonium may give you grief for thousands of years,but arsenic is forever."

"The War, the Pollution and then the winter." Famine said, fangs on his face, veins popping and purple oozing. "I like the winter. So cold. So clean." Pollution winced at that, and he threw them an apologetic look for his wording. "So hungry."

R. P. Tyler had composed a lengthy mental letter on the failings of the youth of today. It covered falling educational standards, the lack of respect given to their elders and betters, the way they always seemed to slouch these days instead of walking with a proper upright bearing, juvenile delinquency, the return of compulsory National Service, birching, flogging, and dog licenses. He was very satisfied with it. He had a sneaking suspicion that it would be too good for the Warner Advertiser, and had decided to send it to the Times.

Putputput putputput

"Excuse me, sir," said a warm female voice. "I think we're lost." It was an ageing motor scooter, and it was being ridden by a middle-aged female duck. Clutching her tightly, witheyes screwed shut, was a rain coated female bunny with a bright green crash helmet on. Sticking up between them was what appeared to be an antique gun with a funnel shaped muzzle.

"Oh. Where are you going?"

"Science Air Base, Water Tower, Warner's. I'm not sure of the exact address, but we're looking for someone," said the woman, then, in a totally different voice she said,"theirname is Wakko Warner."

R. P. Tyler boggled. "You want that child?" He asked. "What have theydone now — no, no, don't tell me. I don't want to know." (The reason he used Wakko's correct pronouns was because Kassy, Angelica and Dr.Scratchansniff cornered and demanded it, and the creators nearly beat him black and blue, when he dared say no.)

"Child?" Said the woman. "You didn't tell me they was a child. How old are they?" Then she said, "they;re eleven. Well, I do wish you'd mentioned this before. It puts a completely different complexion on things."

R. P. Tyler just stared. Then he realised what was going on. The woman was a ventriloquist. What he had taken for a female bunny in a green crash helmet, he now saw was a ventriloquist's dummy. He wondered how he could ever have assumed it was a real cartoon. He felt the whole thing was in vaguely bad taste.

"I saw Wakko Warner not five minutes ago," he told the woman. "Wakko and their little cronies were on their way to the sciencebase."

"Oh dear," said the woman, paling slightly. "I've never really liked the Yanks. Dey're really very nice people, ya know.Yes, but you can't trust people who pick up the ball all the time when they play football."

"Ah, excuse me," said R. P. Tyler, "I think it's very good. Very impressive. I'm deputy chairman of the local Rotary club, and I was wondering, do you do private functions?"

"Only on Thursdays," said Madame Tina, disapprovingly. "And I charge extra.And I wonder if ya could direct us ta —"

Mr. Tyler had been here before. He wordlessly extended a finger. And the little scooter wentputputputputputputdown the narrow country lane. As it did so, the grey dummy in the green helmet turned around and opened one eye.

"Ye great southern pillock," it croaked.

R. P. Tyler was offended, but also disappointed. He'd hoped it would be more lifelike.

'We Will Rock You' by Queen sounded the small area of Warner's, and R.P. Tyler, who was ten minutes away from the village, frowned. Besides the terrible racket, that he would write about, he sniffed and smelt something unpleasant, it was the smell ofburning in the air, of scorched metal and rubber and leather,

"We will, we will, rock you!"

R.P. Tyler slowed, and stayed calm as a car completely on fire, pulled up from behind him, and parkedin front of him. Or, he gave the appearance of calm.

The window rolled down, and a male duck with raven feathers and weird black eyes stuck his head out, and said in a quacking tone, "ah, hello, excuthe me," he wore a nice and lovely smile on his face. "Tho thorry to bother you. I seem to have gotten slightly lost." He apologised, "could you give me directionth to Water Tower, Science Base? I know it's around here somewhere."

Tyler looked at the flaming car, squinting from the light and heat that came off the thing.

There are some things it is very difficult to say. What R.P. Tyler truly wants to say is:

"Your car is on fire!" Reasoned Tyler, in his sensible mind, and even more sensible imagination, waving his hands around in shock.

But he can't. I mean, the duck must know, mustn't he? Perhaps it's some kind of practical joke? So instead he says...

"Might have taken the wrong turn about a mile back." Tyler said in a friendly tone over Queen's blaring voice, and the cackling of flames, pointedly ignoring the fire and the mans wild eyes. "A signpostsblown down."

The raved feathered duck smiled, his dull, level teeth on show, "that must have been it!" The orange flames below gave him an almost infernal appearance. Said fire blew through the wind and towards Tyler, who felt his eyebrows frizzle.

Tyler smiled, all tense and he nodded, waving a hand,"easy mistake to make. So, second on the right." He began explaining, uneasily and gesturing down the street. He's been here before, after all.

The male duck nodded, a pain filled expression on his face, teeth gritted together, drinking in the information.

When what he wants to say is...

"Young man, your car is on fire, and you're still sitting in it," Tyler said in his imagination.

The raven feathered male in his imagination looked at the dashboard with a frown, dark black eyes squinting in thought, or was that real life? Wait, is Tyler still explaining in his head?

"And frankly, it's in no fit condition to drive."

"Right. Got it. That'thterrific." Smiled the stranger, "much obliged." He thanked, with a bored yet still friendly drawl, leaning back in his seat, and went to roll up the window.

Tyler decided to tell him, he had to! He couldn't keep ranting in his head! "Excuse me, good sir?" He started, testily.

The cartoon sat in fire looked to him again, "yeth?"

I mean, it's not the kind of thing you don't notice, your car being on fire.

No, he best not... right? He stared at the fire flickering across the charred dashboard, and said lamely, "very unusual weather for the time of year."

"It ith?" Questioned the man, with a welcomingsmile, as he leaned back, ready to leave again. "I'm afraid I honethtly hadn't noticed." He sped off down the street in his burning car.

"That's probably because your stupid car is on fire!" Screamed Tyler in anger, watching the car leave down the narrow road.

"We will rock you! All right!"

To The Editor Sir, I would like to draw your attention to a recent tendency I have noticed for today's young people to ignore perfectly sensible safety precautions while driving. This evening I was asked for directions by a gentleman whose car was...

No. Driving a car that...

No. It was on fire...

His temper getting worse, R. P. Tyler stomped the final stretch back into the village.

17 MINUTES TO THE END OF THE WORLD

Look at Daffy doing 110 mph down the narrow road. He kept driving down the winds, car on fire and all, gritting and jutting his teeth and his eyes still dark black with no whites, more duck than human then ever. The guitar solo riff played as he drove down the swerving road, the car shaking, as he grunted in pain.

At the main gate, OfficerThomas A. Deisenburger was also having problems...

Chapter 27: the end of the world...

Chapter Text

Deisenburger looked to Daffy in distress, "did any of those kids have some space alien with a face like a friendly turd in a bike basket?"

Daffy shared at look with Bugs, who shrugged her shoulders. He looked back to the man, "don't think tho."This is real life, not E.T.,he thought.

"Okay, those kids are in big trouble." Warned Officer Deisenburger, moving backwards to the base, gun still pointed. "And so are you cartoons." He pointed his finger at them, "don't move!" He rushed off, and the small group stared at him, and the children on bikes.

Daffy relaxed, his tense shoulders easing up, tired from holding his car together, his head was pulsing in pain, with hot, stabbing pounds, and the acid in his stomach turned and twisted, feeling sick. He let out a shaky breath, trying to sort his duck, black eyes out.

A loud explosion of hot fire, heat and metal debris came from behind them. Lola recoiled in shock, Madame Tinaand Bugs both flinched and Daffybarely reacted, just turned with a raised, black eyebrow. Pieces of metal scattered and hit the floor, a long piece of metal with what looked like a handle on each side hit the ground with a loud ringing noise.

"Any way the wind blows..."

Lola stared in shock, and Bugs in Madame Tina's body, looked to Daffy first. Daffyfrowned, his eyes sad as he staggeredforward and between the two, looking at the dark, thick, black smoke rolling off of his now destroyed car, he fell to his knees rather dramatically, ignoring the numb pain that coatedhis knees.

Daffy's dark eyes, which was now reducedin size, slowly but surely, were lit up with red from the fire, making the amber glow more than usual, "ninety yearthand not a scratch, andnow look at you..." He whimpered out, voice broken and sad.

Madame Tina raced over with a hobble, and said in Bugs' voice,"Daffy! He'sgot a gun!"She gestured toDeisenburger, but Daffykept staring at his car sadly."He's pointingit. Dis has gone on long enough! Do something!"He yelled, in annoyance and fear, waving her hands about.

"I am having a moment here!" Daffy reasoned, nodding his head with each syllable, looking up to Bugs, or well Madame Tina. His voice was thick with emotion, and his eyes rimmed with red bloody tears, as his ash covered beak and face was contorted to one of pain.

"Daffy!"She threw her hands down, then gestured to herself,"I'm the nice one."Bugs paused, remembering The Garden and the Flaming Sword, and every time he hoodwinked Elmer Fudd,"most ofdatime! Yacan't expect meto do da dirty work!"

But, Daffy just stared, with blank teary eyes focused onhis destroyed car, shoulders sagging with a deep, mournful look on his face, his beakpulled into a dull, and heavy frown.

Lola was still pointing her shaking finger toDeisenburger, "I'm going to count to three, then I'm going to use my finger!"

"Ma'am, I'm giving you all five seconds to vacate this area!" YelledDeisenburger, his cartoon gun still raised as he moved forward.

Lola kept pointing her weak weapon, and Daffy kept moping over his car.

Bugs glared,"oh, blast it! Yatry 'n' do a good thing! Where does it get ya?!"She moved forward, her heels clicking and snapped her fingers. With the sound of an old-fashioned light bulb popping,Deisenburger disappeared.

Lola's eyes widened, and stared at her finger in amazement, and looked to Madame Tina, still not used to her split personality, "see? Youstick by me, you'll be all right."

Bugs tutted, rolling her eyes.

"Retht in peace." Daffy said, pressing a gentle kiss to the piece of burning metal - a tire iron, looking at the car. "You were a good car." He got up, and kept holding it, sauntering over to the Madame Tina, Bugs and Lola. "Very nice work on the soldier. I didn't think you had it in you," he said, sniffing with a scowl on his face.

"Well..." Lola started, but Bug cut her off.

"Same here. I hope I haven't sent him somewhere bad."Bugs fretted, pulling his, her, face down and in a panic.

Daffy sighed, "you betht get used to it, and fast. You just send them, alright Bugsthy... or uh...?" He looked over Bugs, and said, "are you going to introduthe us?" He asked, gesturing to the body Bugs inhabited.

Bugs nodded,"oh? Yeah! Yeah, of course! Ms.Tina Russon, disis Daffy, Daffdis is Madame Mallard, or Ms.Tina Russo."He introduced, gesturing between the body and Daffy.

"Charmed, I'm sure." Madame Tina said, in her normal voice, ("Daff" must be a nickname between friends, just like "Bugsy", she thought.), warily looking the demon over. Daffy looked intimidating, rather scary, all dark and annoyed. It didn't help she knewDaffy; he threw temper tantrums, and everyone knew of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Ducks rivalry. (Then came the shocking realisation; she's being possessed by Bugs Bunny! Her old mind isn't what it used to be, and she' rather slow on the uptake these days. But, she figured it out eventually!)

Daffy noticed Madame Tina's wariness, and felt terrible for making her worried, and so, held out his hand, and she took it, "charmed, I am." He smiled, all friendly, politely kissing her knuckles gently, through her purple gloves. She blushed, a bright red coating her beak, but it could have just as easily been Bugs blushing.

Lola glare hardened in jealousy, hating the raven feathered demon more and more.

Suddenly, Daffy saw a jeep heading towards them purposefully, and was crowded with people who were about to shout questions and fire guns and not worry about which order they did this in. "Oh," he looked between them and his destroyed car, "okay. I need to move on from my car." He suddenly smiled, brightening up slightly, "thithithmore my area of competenthe." He grinned, looking to his husband. "I'll deal with them." He smirked, and waddled forward.

"Never fear, duck." Lola assured, "I've got a finger." She waved her finger with a confident chuckle.

Bugs looked to Lola, and pointed to her,"yamay need ta brandish ya weapon, Sergeant Lola."He said, pointing to the gun, and walked forward, behind Daffy, and Lola followed behind her."We are here ta lick sum serious butt."Grinned Bugs with an easy walk, full of purpose.

Daffy sighed, ""kick", Bugs. It's "kick butt"!" He corrected with his beak scrunched up with a sneer, though he was fond of the angel's mispronunciation. "For Heaven'th thake!" Suddenly, he shivered and gagged, jerking forward like he was about to throw up, his eyes wide in shock as if he had eaten something bad. "Oh! I can'tbelieve I just thaid that."

WARNER BROTHERS, STUDIO TOUR

16 MINUTES TO THE END OF THE WORLD

Kassy was cleaning her car, with Dr. Scratchansniff fixing the wheels. Angelica watched, "this is what you get for letting Wile E. use your car."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Kassy, in annoyance, not really wanting to listen to her friend nag her.

Dr.Scratchansniff looked up, thenwinced, seeing R.P. Tyler heading their way, "Tyler." He whispered, and the two girls looked over.

Quickly, the three ducked behind thecar, Kassy with a rag, hoping to hide, but if they was caught, they could play it off as "cleaning".

"Oi, Kassy! Angelica! Dr. Scratchansniff!"

Kassy sighed, they'dbeen caught. She stood back up, "yes?"

"Your creation, Wakko."

Dr. Scratchansniffsighed, also standing up. "What've theydone now?" It was said in a tone of someone who knew their child was trouble, but also knew the annoying neighbour would get them into trouble no matter what.

"Do you know where they are?"

"Not here," Angelica said, sarcastically.

Kassy laughed, and checked her watch. "Getting ready for bed, I would assume."

Tyler grinned, tightly, triumphantly. "I doubt it. I saw them andtheir little gang of cronies, and that appalling mongrel, not half an hour ago, cycling towards the sciencebase."

"That's Lot A, it also holds the Water Tower, could be sleeping," snapped Angelica, scowling.

"They said so themselves," Tyler continued, rather smugly.

Kassypuffed out air. Sounds like her child.

"You know how strict they are up there," said Mr. Tyler, in case the two adults and cartoonhadn't got the message. "You know what a one your creation—"

"Child," snapped Kassy and Angelica.

"Well son —"

Dr.Scratchansniff snapped, "child!"

"Child, is for pressing buttons and things," he added. "If you think that armed guards and whatnotwill tolerate your child's tomfoolery,I, for one, do not."

Dr.Scratchansniff examined the car thoughtfully, and looked at Tyler. Sure, his child is trouble, and yes it sounds like something they would do, despite being told not to go there, but at the same time, he knew Wakko. Wakko wouldn't sneak in and start pushing buttons, because his child did respect him, even if one wouldn't believe it.

"Wakkowouldn't..." Kassysaid, sharing the same sentiment as Dr.Scratchansniff.

"You saw what he did to my begonias!" Tyler said, and Kassyheld back an eye roll, these were largely different reasons.

Angelica grinned, "yeah, because I told them to."

Kassy laughed, and Dr. Scratchansniff face palmed.

Tyler scowled; Creator's these days have turned crazytoo, no longer having professional relations with their creations like they're meant to. "Don't blame me if your child starts World War Three." Laughed the elder, which could only be described as cruelly, whilewalking off with his tiny dog.

Wakko stood with The Them, the four and Dog waiting; though of course the other three were waiting for the adults, they didn't know what to expect, but Wakko did.

Sylvester and Pepé rushed over to the base, and hid behind a wall.

"Where exactly are we going?" Asked Sylvester, but was quietened by Pepé's "sh".

They peaked around the corner.

The Four left the building. It was noticeable that Pollution, while still walking, nevertheless gave the impression of oozing.

And this was noticed by the Witchfinderand Occultist.

Pepé grimaced, their aura's were pitch black, and faint purple...

In a handful of moments, the missiles will fly. The forces of Heaven and Hell will attack. And everything depends on one small child.

Silence holds the bubble of the world in its grip.

The Horsepeoplemade their way to Wakko and The Them, and they stood across from each other, staring.

Pollution stared Pinky and Brain down, with black, oozing eyes, and Pinky and Brain stared back.

War stared Dot down, with red leaking and peeling eyes,and Dot stared back.

Famine stared Yakko down, with a gaunt-like face and purple seeping eyes, and Yakko stared back.

Death's eyeless sockets merely gazed at Wakko, his hood flying around, and Wakko gazed back.

Dog whined.

"What were they?" Said Sylvester. "Some kind of terrorists?"

"In a very nice and accurate sense," said Pepé, as they looked around the room they had entered, soon after The Four walked out, "I think you're right."

"What was all that weird talk about?"

"I think possibly the end of the world," said Pepé. "Did you see their auras?"

"I don't think so," said Sylvester.

"Not nice at all."

"Oh."

"Negative auras, in fact."

"Oh?"

"Like black holes."

"That's bad, is it?"

"Yes." The skunk said, "I don't think they're entirely human."

They turned to the computers, which had faces of people on, crying, screaming, and looking worried so it seemed, all looking panicked in some varying degree, but silent.

"If only we knew what they were saying," whispered Sylvester, frowning.

Pepé grabbed a remote, and turned the volume up.

"We no longer have control of the ACME-6 nuclear launch protocols! I think we've been hacked!" YelledDr. M. Banerjee in a mad panic.

"Nuclear strike orders implemented..." Whimpered Roisin Reidy, "against Belgium." She turned to someone off screen, and asked worriedly, "are you sure this is a good idea?"

Suddenly, J Braun began yelling out in fear and panic, shaking his head.

"Look, we're trying to turn off the controls,but there's some kind of satellite override in place!" Yelled Bruce Corbally in fear, and panic.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sobbed Roisin.

Pepé stared, horrified, "they're saying it's The End Of The World."

Pepé glared at the rows of metal cabinets. For once, just now, because it wasn't just for play but was for real, the machinery that was going to bring about The End Of The World, or at least that part of it that occupied the layers between about two meters down and all the way to the ozone layer, wasn't operating according to the usual script. There were no big red canisters with flashing lights. There were no coiled wires with a "cut me" look about them. No suspiciously large numeric displays were counting down toward a zero that could be averted with seconds to spare. Instead, the metal cabinets looked solid and heavy and very resistant to last-minute heroism.

"Yes, I got that," assured Sylvester.

IT HAS BEGUN.

"I didn't ask for it to begin." Wakko said, shaking their head as they stared Death down.

YOUR VERY EXISTENCE DEMANDS THE ENDING OF THE WORLD.

A military jeep holding Daffy, Lola, and Madame Tina possessed by Bugs swerved around the corner. There they spotted three children, two rats, and four beings, and one dog. A boy who was tall, dressed with formal brown pants, a rat covered in muck and the other clean but with dirty hands, a girl wearing a red skirt, and a short child with a blue shirt and red hat. The adults were the Four Horsem*n, there was no doubt about that; War, Famine, Pollution and Death.

The Them looked over confused.

Daffy pulled the car up, and they all climbed out quickly. (Daffy would have ran the child over, but Bugs was glaring at him in fear the entire time.)

YOU COULD FINISH THISFOR THEM WITH ONE THOUGHT. Death said, looking at Wakko, who stared back, not shying away from his harsh, dead and blank gaze. YOU CAN MAKE THE WORLD ANEW.

"That's them!" Daffy yelled, pointing to Wakko with his index finger, sauntering forward in a rush, followed by Madame Tina possessed by Bugs, and Lola."The mediumone. If you shoot them, you'll save the world!"

YOU ARE PART OF US, NOT THEM. Death called, angrily and assuring. NO ONE WILL DISOBEY YOU.

"What?" Lola asked, confused and slightly fearful, holding her gun, recognising the child as Wakko."They're just a smallchild. You can't—"

The demon and angel looked to her.

"You... are part... of us," repeated War, between teeth like beautiful bullets.

"It is done. We make... the... world... anew," said Pollution, their voice as insidious as something leaking out of a corroded drum into a water table.

"You... lead...us," said Famine.

And Wakko hesitated. Voices inside them still cried out that this was true, and that the world was theirs as well, and all they had to do was turn and lead the Four out across a bewildered planet. They were their kind of people.

In tiers above, the hosts of the sky waited for the Word

"Oh, forHeaven'ssake!"Snapped Bugs, rushing over and snatching the gun.

"Oh, no." Lola choked, loosing grip of the gun.

Yakko looked to Madame Tina in shock.

"Give me dat!"Bugs pointed the gun, and Daffy bent down to the body's height, watching. Bugs appreciated the form of comfort, feeling Daffy's hand on her lower back, his thumb rubbing circles. Bugs looked to him, and Daffy looked back. It was like they were back at The Globe Theatre in London, back in 1601.

Daffy frowned, being soft and kind, "maybe I should...?" He offered, trailing off and wrapped his fingers around the weapon.

"And, let Hell have you?"Hissed Bugs, her grip tightening and her eyes shone in worry.No, I won't let you... you're not theirs!

IGNORE THIS NONSENSE. A WORD FROM YOU AND I WILL END THEIR LIVES. Death assured, voice calm and steady, ready to follow orders.

Bugs went to pull the trigger, but Madame Tina wrestled and pulled the gun away, "you can't just shoot children!" She cried out.

The body paused, and looked to Daffy,"we should wait."Bugs said, nervous. Bugs would do the job if must be, all to keep Daffy from Hell's grubby, harshhands, but he'drather not.

Daffy's eyes widened, having to do a double take to his angel, "what, until they growup?!" Shrieked the demon in a mad panic, and pointed to Wakko, who wasn't bothered by the whole ordeal. "Shoot them, Bugsth!" He cried out in fear.

The short, ginger wigged headnodded, and she hoisted the gun, preparing to shoot, and Lola turned away, unable watch the death of a child. She shot, pulling the trigger, but pulled up as the firework like bullet shot up into the sky. The gun was now aimed up, and the man and womanbacked away. Daffy stared in despair at the sight, seeing they lost their only weapon and gritted his teeth, but he was oddly relieved, at least their's no dead child.

"I'm sorry." Panted Madame Tina revealing she took control, as she shook her head. "I couldn't let you do it!" She lowered the gun, panting. She did sound regretful, but she knew it was the right thing to do.

"It'salright, Tina..."Bugs panted back, he too not wanting to do it.

"Excuse me," called Wakko, "why are you two people?" They asked in confusion, looking at the woman inhabited by an angel.

"Ah, long story."Bugs said, shifting the gun to rest against her waist."I wasin my bookshop—"

"It's not right." Wakko said, cutting him off, eyes serious and sure. "You should go back to being two separate people again."

Suddenly, with a squeal and a squeak, then one stretch of white light, Bugs was now standing next to Madame Tina, the two light on their feet. Bugspatted himself over with a smile, smoothing his white and grey fur. Lola stared in amazement at the sight, still amazed by everything.

"Oh, made me go all tingly." Smiled Madame Tina, and then looked to Bugs in disappointment. "Oh," she huffed as if let down, "I thought you would be younger, and that it was the mirrors that made you look older."

Lola glared in jealousy at the angel, as well as the demon. Madame Tina moved to Lola, giving her the gun back, and the two hastily stared at the sight of the dog, the children, adults, and angel and demon, and Lolathought about using the gun on the angel, and, yet again, the demon instead. Less competition that way.

Bugs frowned and looked down at himself, rather self consciously at her comment, his gloves were a lot cleaner that's for sure. He raised a hand, and fiddled with his gold ring, that's back, and he ran a hand through his grey, smooth fur, then up his long ears, and rubbed his thumb against his teeth. Same teeth. Same Brooklyn accent so it seemed. Same long ears.Still the same old, well... old looking corporation.

"Angel..." Daffy said, softly, his voice near choked up. He sounded so disgustingly sappy, and so hideously in love, his voice conveyed his adoration and genuine relief. "Honey bunny..." This was not the time to be so open and happily in love, it is usually saved for the end of the "final battle", but who cares? He's had the worst day ever in his entiresix thousand years...

Bugs perked up, and looked over slowly, his eyes sickeninglysoft, with a delightfully, grossly, deeply in love gleam in his eyes,and his voice gentle withnauseatingadoration, "love cup?"

Daffy rushed over in a sagging relief, and desire, as if a puppet cut of itsstrings, the dark sin of cloud disappearing from around Burbank. He pulled Bugs into a harsh, yet loved and adoration filled kiss, and Bugs barely had time to eagerly wrap his thin arms around the demon's soot cover neck, and kiss back, before rough, chapped lips of a beak were eagerly kissing his face, and the angel laughed, and face twitching in excitement, his long fingers running through Daffy'smessy,ash covered, rumpled feathers. That's when Lola realised therewas no reason to be jealous, and Madame Tina realised this was "love cup", and the grey rabbitwouldn't have gone for her anyway.

The kids just looked uncomfortable at the massive display of pubic affection, and found themselves comparing the two to their parents who adored each other, all soft and mushy in love.

"Isn't dis usually kept for da last battle?" Asked Bugs in a love filled daze, his eyes warm, and staring deeply into Daffy's beautiful dark ones, circled with bright amber circles. He was no longer straining his voice, having his strength back, as he twirled a black feather with his thin index finger.

"I believed you to be dead, and I wathunthure of when I was able to kithyou again. If ever." Daffy reasoned, "I don't care if thithis the last thing we are meant to do."

Bugs dragged hishand from the demons neck, and cupped his cheek, rubbingthe gloved pad of histhumb under Daffy's eyes, "why were ya eyes so... duck-like, before?"

"I drove through the f*cking Golden State and Hollywood Freeway, and it was up in flames! Okay?" Daffyreasoned, his cheek eagerlyleaning into the palm of the angels hand, kissing his palm gently.

"But we have to be able to do something," sighed Pepé.

"We're not in a movie! We're not even in a short," Sylvester said, rocking in his chair. "There's no handy little red wire to cut to stop the countdown." He waved his hands to the screen, "you'd think there'd be a manual or something."

"Hmm." Hummed Pepé, staring Sylvester down in thought. He was right before. "Agnes, do you have better ideas?" He asked herself, looking to the box, and dragged his small fingers over the cards, then picked one at random.

"You're not gonna be able to shut down 21st century technologywith some random 17th century prediction," said Sylvester - that did seem illogical, even with all the things he's dealt with today.

"He is not what he says he is." Read Pepé, and Sylvester's eyes widened in horror. "Agnes, you're not even trying!" The skunk slammed the card down.

"Weapons activation in two minutes!"

Pepé turned to look at Sylvester, and paused, seeing him try and looked innocent, but it had the opposite affect, making him look even more guilty.

"What does that even mean?" Asked Pepé, in a tone that suggested he was onto the cat.

"I don't know," said Sylvester, trying very hard to not look at Pepé, his voice squeaky.

"Tell me."

"I think it's about me." Admitted Sylvester, rather quickly,wretchedly."This isn't really the time to say it but," he swallowed, "actually I'm not very good with electronics. Not very good at all."

"You said you were a computer engineer, I seem to remember, said you started after you stopped chasing Tweety."

"That was an exaggeration. I mean, just about as much of an exaggeration as you can possibly get, in fact, really, I suppose it was more what you might call an an overstatement. I might go so far as to say that what it really was," Sylvester closed his eyes, "was a prevarication."

"A lie, you mean?" Said Pepé, sweetly.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," said Sylvester. "Although," he added, "I'm not actually a computer engineer." He admitted, "at all. Quite the opposite. I mean, I'd like to be." He smiled weakly, fiddling with his fingers, "but I'm actually just..."

"Just?"

"Just..."

"Just? Just what?"

"Just the opposite." Sylvester said quickly. "I'm terrible with computers. Every time I try and make anything electronic work, it stops.I'm sorry. We're doomed."

It was time to decide who your friends were. And Wakko had.

So, the Antichrist, two unspecified animalchildren, two rats, and a former Hell Hound, faced Death and three monsters who came from the minds of humanity.

Dog began to growl.

Wakko hadlooked at the Them.

The Themwere their kind of people, too.

You just had to decide who your friends really were.

They turned back to the Four.

"Get them," said Wakko, quietly. The slouch and slur was gone from their voice. It had strange harmonics. No one human, or cartoon, could disobey a voice like that.

War laughed, and looked expectantly at the Them.

War stood in the middle of the circle of people (and the Horsepeople, and angel and demon, and a dog), as she waved and swung the Flaming Sword around rather skilfully. Daffy and Bugswatched her, more specifically the sword, squinting in confusion, eyebrows pulled together, and had yet to pull away from each other.

"The thing is, they're not actually real." Wakko said, not phased by the horsewoman,"they're just like nightmares, really."

War held out her sword, and pointed it to them, "little boys with your toys." She smirked, eyes evil.

"I'm not a boy." Snapped Dot, angrily.

"I am War." She introduced, lowering the sword, looking to each child. "You were made to serve me, to live in me and die in me." She carefully gestured to herself.

"My creators says that War is just masculine imperialism executed on a global stage." Dot informed, a sneer on her face.

Chuckling, Warlooked to Dot with a smirk, "alittle girl. Run home and play with your dollies, little girl." She waved the sword in the girls face.

Slowly, and angrily, Dot walked forward and snapped out, "I do not endorse everyday sexism." She raised her shaky arm.

It wasn't much of a sword, but it was about the best you could do with two bits of wood and a piece of string. War stared at it.

"I see," she said. "Mano a mano, eh?" War brought it up so that it made a noise like a finger being dragged around a wineglass.

There was a flash as they connected.

"I believe in peace, bitch." Swore the girl, shocking Lola and Madame Tina.

Death stared into Wakko's eyes.

There was a pathetic jingling noise.

Lola and Madame Tina shared a look of shock. Daffy and Bugs shared a look of thought to the sword, and the looked back to them, impressed with the young girl.

"Don't touch it!" Snapped Wakko, without moving their head.

The Them stared at the sword rocking to a standstill on the concrete path.

"Didn't that uthed to be your thword?" Daffy questioned finally, leaning into his husband and turning to him.

Bugs pursed his lips into a thin line, nose twitching, and sheepishly admitted, "I do believe it was." He glanced to the demon, who looked away.

"'Little boys,'" muttered Dot, disgustedly."We're Wakko'srealfriends. Not you lot." Dot sneered at them, throwing them the dirties look one could muster, "you're a joke."

Famine and Pollution shared a look, with Pollution looking offended.

Sooner or later everyone has to decide which gang they belong to.

"But, but," said Pinky, "she sort of got sucked up the sword—"

The air between Wakko and Death began to vibrate, as in a heatwave.

Yakko raised his head and looked Famine in the sunken eye. He held up something that, with a bit of imagination, could be considered to be a pair of scales made of more string and twigs. Then he whirled it around his head.He glared, "and I believe in food and a healthy lunch. Actually, it's a very good thing."

Famine stuck out a protective arm.

There was another flash, and then the jingle of a pair of silver scales bouncing on the ground.

"Don't... touch... them," said Wakko.

Pollution had already started to run, or at least to flow quickly, but Pinkysnatched the circle of twigsfrom his own head, Brain pulled off his cape of grass,and the two flung the items. It shouldn't have handled like one, but a force took it out of his hands and it whirred like a discus, and the cape fluttered like wings.

"Webelieve in a clean world!" The rats said in unison.

This time the explosion was a red flame inside a billow of black smoke, and it smelled of oil. With a rolling, tinny little sound a blackened silver crown bowled out of the smoke and then spun round with a noise like a settling penny.

At least they needed no warning about touching it. It glistened in a way that metal should not.

Lola's mouth dropped, and Madame Tina cuddled into her side in horror.

Everyone stared in amazement, and Death stared at everyone. Bugs took hold of Daffy'shand nervously, and Daffy squeezed gently.

"Any moment now." Beelzebub said, in the middle of Hell, surrounded by troops with Dagon next to zir, ze had boils on zir face, and looked vaguely like big, huge zits and Malassezia. "Encourage the troopzzzz, Dagon."

Dagon had wet looking scales up her, dirty and slimy, with sharp teeth and greasy hair, with a bunch of fur around her neck. She was a fish. "Right. Listen up!" Yelled Dagon, hands on her hips, looking to the sea of demons. "Any moment now, we'll be leaving Helland we'll be going up against the army of angels. Now, all of you were angels once,and we fought in the glorious Revolution! And we lost. But that was then. We have had thousands of yearsto get tougher."

"Tougher!" The demons yelled back,

"Smarter," she pointed to them.

"Smarter!" They pointed back.

"And more dangerous! I want you to repeat after me." Dagon yelled with a wave of her hands, "tougher."

"Tougher!"

"Smarter."

"Smarter!"

Beelzebub perked up, feeling something shift almost, something draining.

"And..."

"Zomething'zhappening." Beelzebub said, making everyone quieten down and look to zir. Ze looked shocked and horrified. "Zomething'zzzzwrong."

Pepé was rocking in the chair, and then blinked, "Sylvester... say that again about you and computers..."

Sylvester raised an eyebrow, breaking his concentration on wondering what he could do, "I'm terrible with computers?Every time I try and make anything electronic work, it stops?"

"We're idiots." Said Pepé, "or, I am for not figuring it out sooner."

"Thirty seconds..."

Pepé gave him a bright little smile, and posed theatrically, like that moment in every conjurer's stage act when the lady in the sequins steps back to reveal the trick. "Tra-la," he said. "Repair it," he said.

"What?"

"Make it work better," he said. "You said every computer you try and fix dies,so... fix it."

"And speed up nuclear Armageddon?" Asked Sylvester, in horror.

"Try." Pepé said, taking his hand softly.

"Easy. I mean, if I actually wanted to improve this computer's performance,all I'd do is open it up and then click on the disk defragmenter," he pressed a few buttons with a smile, but then frowned.

There was the noise of something he hadn't realised he'd been hearing suddenly stopping, and the descending whine of a distant generator. The lights on the panels flickered, and most of them went out.

All over the world, people who had been wrestling with switches found that they switched. Circuit breakers opened. Computers stopped planning World War III and went back to idly scanning the stratosphere. In bunkers under Novya Zemla men found that the fuses they were frantically trying to pull out came away in their hands at last; in bunkers under Wyoming and Nebraska, men in fatigues stopped screaming and waving guns at one another, and would have had a beer if alcohol had been allowed in missile bases. It wasn't, but they had one anyway.

"Death, this all has to stop now." Wakko said, looking at the remaining horseman.

IT HAS STOPPED.WITHOUT THEM, he indicated the pathetic remnants of the other three Horsepersons, IT CANNOT PROCEED. NORMAL ENTROPY TRIUMPHS. Death raised a bony hand in what might have been a salute.

"Where'd they go?" Said Yakko.

WHERE THEY BELONG, said Death, still holding Wakko's gaze. WHERE THEY HAVE ALWAYS BEEN. BACK IN THE MINDS OF MAN.

He grinned at Wakko, or as close as he could get, due to his face being a skull.

BUT THEY WILL BE BACK. Assured Death, looking to the small child, WE ARE NEVER FAR AWAY.

Wakko stared at Death still.

BUT I, he said, AM NOT LIKE THEM. I AM AZRAEL, CREATED TO BE CREATION'S SHADOW. YOU CANNOT DESTROY ME. THAT WOULD DESTROY THE WORLD.

The heat of their stare faded. Wakko scratched their red, shinynose.

"Oh, I don't know," they said. "There might be a way." They grinned back.

Death looked like he was grinning. He thenlooked Bugs and Daffy, and said, WHY IS IT ALWAYS YOU TWO?

"Believe us Az..." Started Bugs with a tired sigh, bowing his head to Death.

"We've been athking ourthelves that for thix thousand years..." Daffy assured, also bowing his head to Death.

Death bowed his head to the angel and demon who he, in a strange way befriended, (but more just talked to) for six thousand year. It's just something that happened after so long. Then, he looked to the others, GOOD DAY, GENTLEMEN.

Madame Tinalooked shocked, and scoffed out, "cheek."

"Cheek." Dot added, sneering.

Lola's hands were on her waist, unimpressed.

There was a tearing sound. Death's robe split and his wings unfolded. Angel's wings. But not of feathers.

They were wings of night, wings that were shapes cut through the matter of creation into the darkness underneath, in which a few distant lights glimmered, lights that may have been stars or may have been something entirely else.

The wings flapped, just once, like a thunderclap, and the angel of Death vanished.

Everyone stared in shock at the sight of big black wings, appearing, swooping in black smoke and light, and Death disappearing out of sight.

"Dere. Ya see, Daffy?"Questioned Bugs, looking down to his demonic husband. "It's like I've always said—"

"Oh, it ithnot over." Daffy cut in, flatly. His eyes were wide and shaking his head, "nothing's over. What cauthes War is two thides that cannot stand the thight of each other, and the pressure buildthup, and up. Both Heaven and Hell still want their War." He assured, and walked forward, "you. Child." He nodded with a confused sneer, as the children looked over. "Antichrist, Wakko... right, it is Wakko, and we've not messed up again?"

"WakkoWarner, yeah," greeted the child with a friendly smile.

Bugs hummed, "kinda obvious when ya think about it, huh doc?"

Daffy sighed; it was obvious. He should have known, there was always something off about Wakko, not bad, but mischievous. He always thought it was the same thing Dewey had; Middle Child Syndrome.

"Tho your friends got together and thaved the world." Daffy said in a sneer, looking them over."Well done. Good effort. Have a gold star, and half a holiday. Won't make any differenthe." He sniffed.

"You!" Shouted a French male voicein shock, eyes wide. Just a few meters away from the group, was Professional Descendant and Practical Occultist Pepé Le Pew and Witchfinder PrivateSylvester the puss*cat, storming over to them. Daffy and Bugs turned their heads to them in unison, and Pepé pointed to them, "you're the cartoons in the car. You stole my book!"

"Oh, book thskunk!" Daffy called and looked to the book, "catch." He threw the book to the witch, and he caught it with a grunt.

A piece of burned paper slipped out, and fluttered to the ground in the wind, and Bugs reached out catching it. He held the charred paper, and glanced over it only catching one sentence,choofe your faces wisely. He folded the paper, and pocketed it to read it over properly later.

"Nice ta see ya,Pepé," greeted Bugs with a relaxed smile.

"What is going on out here?" Pepé demanded, glaring, as his quiff-ed fur whipped in the wind.

"Long thtory. No time."Insisted Daffy with a shake of his head, and Bugs frowned in the background.

"Well, try me." Pepéhuffed, a wary look on his face.

"Uh..." Started Bugs walking over to Daffy, who looked between him and Pepé. "Okay," he moved over, and stood next to Daffy, who watched him, eyebrow raised. "So, uh... in Da Beginning, in DaGarden, dere was— Well, he was a deviousold duck," he pointed to the duck demon, nodding with a scowl, but was clearly fond. "And,I wastechnicallyon apple tree duty—"

"And, instead you gave away the Flaming Thword, and shielded me from Holy Rain."Offered Daffy, absentmindedly wrapping an arm around the angels waist lovingly. He did very much enjoy talking about the time they met, after The Fall, as they didn't remember anything from before. That, and they couldn't really tell the full story until now.

They were all confused, and frowned, listening.

Daffysighed though, this wasn't the time for a "how I met your mother"situation, and he leaned over, shushing him, and pinched his index finger and thumb together, turning his fingers like turning down the volume on a radio. Bugslooked to him, a frown on his face, but was pleasantly surprised by his husband pulling him closer, and planting a gentle and loving kiss to his lips, and he kissed back softly, eyes wide. Daffy pulled back and said, kindly, "be quiet, yeah?"

"Right." Flushed Bugs,he'll tell them another time, when they had time.

"So,you two really are Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck?" Asked Yakko, who had been trying to decipher if the angel and demon really wasBugs and Daffy.

"Yes, dats us alright. Why?" Bugs asked, eyebrow raised.

"Well, we thought you two hated each other," pouted Dot.

Daffy laughed, "nah, not at all..."

"So,you're an angel and a demon?!" Asked Pinky, amazed.

Brain then asked, "who else are angels and demons on Earth? Posing as cartoons or humans?"

"Well, do you know Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej? You know from Watcher, and Buzzfeed Unsolved?" Bugs asked, eyebrow raised, (still feeling rather emotional with the shows end, the question of if ghosts are real will remain Unsolved.) "Well! They are..."

"Uh, yeah..." Hummed Daffy, "I know Ryan'tha demon."

"Shane's an angel," assured Bugs, "I don't think Ryan and Shaneknow the other is a Demon and Angel though."

"Let'thnot tell them," grinned Daffy.

Pepéblinked, totally confused and lost. Oh, he finally noticed the wedding rings on Daffy and Bugs! He looked to the children, and greeted them all."Hey, Wakko. Hi, Dot. Hi, Yakko, Pinkyand Brain."

"Hello, Pepé." Greeted Wakko, a knowing smile on their face. "You just stopped them blowing up the world, didn't you?" They asked with a cheeky, already aware grin on their face.

"I guess." Grinned Pepé, taking Sylvester's hand in his gently, "my petit ami here did the tricky bit."

Sylvester smiled, and nodded his head bashfully, but then hiseyes widened and looked to the skunk, translating the word, "boyfriend?"

"Another deluded victim of the American ways." Commented Dot, shaking her head.

The loud sound of thunder and lightening came from behind them, and they yelled out, turning in shock. Bugs stumbled, and Daffy spun around.

The lightning flashed, struck the ground a few meters from them, and stayed there, a sizzling column that broadened at the base, as though the wild electricity was filling an invisible mold. The lightning vanished, leaving behind ash, and there stood a figure in faded purples, and off-whites, a blazer, belstaff (that looked vaguely like the one Sherlock wears), turtleneck and scarf, Archangel Gabriel.

The ground next to him rumbled and crumbled in on itself, boiling, as fire flamed slightly.A figure rose from the churning ground in the manner of the demon king in a pantomime, but if this one was ever in a pantomime, it was one where no one walked out alive and they had to get a priest to burn the place down afterwards. Thefigure hadblack hair, in a suit, red tie and balls in zirhair (or a huge fly if you cared to notice), burns on zirface, and brushing off dirt from zir shoulders with an "ugh," Lord Beelzebub.

The two looked to each other, regarding the other, and walked over, walking between Lola and Madame Tina, and Bugs and Daffy.They turned to the angel and demon. This was the moment the group realised, the two male present cartoon beings in front of them are well and truly an angel and a demon.

The angel fixed his grey fur quickly, tensing up slightly, looking between their bosses worriedly.

Daffy swallowed, and bowed, nervously with a flourish of wrist twists, "Lord Beelzebub. What adithhonour."

Beelzebub looked at him, and sneered, "Lucas, the Traitor."

Daffy sneered, shaking his head still bowed,"that'th not a nice word."Despite trying to look confident, he recoiled, and pressed himself into the angel's side as much as possible, and said angel was holding him close, allowing him to shrink back.

"All the other wordsz I have for you are worzse." Beelzebub assured with slight buzzes from zir fly side, "where'zzzz the boy?" Zir buzzed, in no mood to entertain the demon, and Gabriel looked to them, annoyed.

"Well, you thee Lord Beelzebub—" Started Daffy, ready to give a long winded explanation as to what had happened to save his skin, as well as Bugs.

"Silenzzzze!" Buzzed the Lord, seeing what was happening before it began.

"Right! Right!" Daffy said, hurriedly shutting up. Slowly, the raven feathered demon reluctantly nodded his head to Wakko, who looked at Gabrieland Beelzebub.

Gabriel smiled, his co*cky, punch-able wide smile, and pointed to the child, "that one." He moved forward, happily, "Wakko Warner." He shoved his hands into his pockets, while Beelzebubfollowed. The two were now in front of Wakko, and Gabrielleaned down, "hi." He sneered slightly, trying to be friendly.

Daffy and Bugs shared a look of horrifieddisbelief. Years with Dewey taught them, you don't lean down like that and speak all condescendingly! That's the last thing you do with a child! But, then again, Gabriel was never good with children, and if Wakko's disgusted, and rebellious look said anything, it was Gabriel was doing the exact opposite of what he hoped would happen.

"Young man... Armageddon must..." He waved a finger in a circular motion, "restart. Right now. A temporary inconvenience cannot get in the way of the greater good."

Wakko just stared at them blankly. They was not impressed.

"Asto what it standsin the way of, that has yet to be decided." Beelzebub corrected, a bored look on zir face, and Gabriel scowled in anger."But the battle must be decided now, boy! That is..." Ze buzzed, and swallowed, stopping zir-self, "your dezzzztiny. It is written. Now start the war!" Ze drawled, eyes stern.

Wakko took a deep breath. The cartoon watchers held their breaths. Daffy and Bugs had forgotten how to breathe some time ago.

"I just don't see why everyone and everything has to be burned up and everything," Wakko said. "Millions of fish an' whales an' trees an', an' sheep and stuff. An' not even for anything important. Jus' to see who's got the best gang. It's like us an' the Johnsonites. But even if you win, you can't really beat the other side, because you don't really want to. I mean, not for good. You'll just start all over again. You'll just keep on sending people like these two," they pointed to Bugs and Daffy, "to mess people around. It's hard enough bein' people as it is, without other people coming and messin' you around."

Daffy turned to Bugs. "Johnthoniteth?" He whispered.

The angel shrugged. "Early breakaway sect, I think," he said. "Sort ofGnostics. Like da Ophites." His forehead wrinkled. "Or were dey the Sethites? No, I'm thinking ofda Collyridians. Oh darn. I'm sorry, dere were hundreds of dem, it's so hard to keep track."

"People beingmethed around," murmured Daffy.

"Obviously." Laughed Gabriel, a smile as he shook his head, having ignored the angel and demon. "It's the Great Plan." He reasoned, his tone just making Wakko move further and further away from this "Great Plan".

Daffy gave the child, and their superiors worried looks, he was ready to grab the angel and bolt. Bugs on the other hand frowned, as he looked to his boss, confused. The "Great Plan"... he and Daffy havetaken that Great Plan, shook it, torn it, turned it upside down, and inside out! How can this Great Plan still be up and running?! How has everything not been destroyed?!

"It's the entire reason for the creation of the Earth." Gabrielexplained, with a smile.

"I don't see what's so trifficabout creating people as people and then gettin' upset 'cos they act likepeople," said Wako severely. "Anyway, if you stopped tellin' people it's all sorted out after they're dead, they might try sorting it all out while they're alive. If I was in charge, I'd try makin' people live a lot longer, like ole Methuselah. It'd be a lot more interestin' and they might start thinkin' about the sort of things they're doing to all the environment and ecology, because they'll still be around in a hundred years' time."

"I've got this." Smiled Beelzebub, while Gabriel looked away furious with the Lord. "Wakko..." Ze moved forward, and bowed to the child's height, perfect! Doing exactly what Gabriel was doing, telling the married couple they had no idea how to talk to children either, and Wakko scowled."When all this is over, you're going to get to rule the world." Ze assured, a patronisingly,dead, evil smile smile on zir face. "Don't you want to rule the world?"

"It's hard enough having to think of things for Yakko, Dot and Pinky and Brain to do all the time so they don't get bored." Reasoned Wakko, shaking their head, "I've got all the world I want." Theywas not going to do what two back stabbing, two faced adults wanted - no way!

Gabriel looked absolutely baffled, "well, you can't just refuse to be who you are." Beelzebub stepped back, as Gabriel continued. "Your birth, your destiny, they're part of the Great Plan."

Bugs looked to Daffy to see him staring at them all warily. He took a deep breath and let out a polite cough,"um, ahem..."He hurried froward, missing the double take his husbanddid. Daffy's eyes widened in fear and panic, watching Bugswalk forward, internally screaming.

Gabriel sighed, annoyed, and Beelzebub pursed zir lips.

"Excuse me, ya keep talking about da Great Plan."Bugs said, standing behind Wakko on right.

Gabriel raised a hand,"Happy, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut."He pinched his index and thumb together.

Bugs didn't bother correcting his name, and stayed on topic."One thing Iain't quiet clear on. Is dat the Ineffable Plan?"He questioned, eyes soft and kind, full of thought and wonder, though it had faltered to a bit sterner. He and Daffyhas ruined the Great Plan, and yet no God has come to Punish them, and the world still stands.

"The Great Plan!" Yelled Beelzebub, unhinged and angrily. "It izzzzwritten!"

Bugs looked to Daffy nervously, looking to see if he was getting it, and Daffy stared at him in confusion, leaning back slightly, thinking through what his angel just suggested, looking between his husbandand his boss. He was prepared to grab Bugs, and run, after knocking his boss out, because how dare they talk to his angel like that?!

"There shall be a world, and it shall last for six thousandyears!" Beelzebub continued, and Gabriel gave Bugs a dumb look, as if shocked he didn't know. "And end in fire and flame." Zir eyes burned into Wakko.

"Yes, yes, dat sounds like da Great Plan."Nodded Bugs, eyes wide slightly, assuring them he understood that. He grew more and more smug, but hid it. You see, Bugs had one thought, I can wrangle my way out of any situation, I'm done being kicked around by them! I can get out of this!

"Just wondering," Bugs continued, "is dat theIneffable Plan as well?"He challenged, with an air of one who just asked an unwelcome question in a political meeting and won't go away until he gets an answer. His kindness went away, his face no longer smiling, no longer friendly, and instead was replaced with a cold look, one that dared them to correct him.

Beelzebub looked a bit off, and looked between the angel and Antichrist.

Daffy's beak dropped open in shock, he too realising why Bugs was bringing it up... the Plan was ineffable, they messed with the Great Plan, but not the Ineffable one, as they're both alive and well, as is the Earth. He looked to the bosses, who were thinking, slightly thrown off. He too was now waiting for an answer.

"Well, they're the same thing." Reasoned Gabriel, as if that made sense. "Surely!" He raised a hand, squinting as if Bugs was the dumb one.

'Surely,'thought the demon in pure delight at the loophole."You don't know,"he whispered in amazement, and he too sauntered forward."Uh, um, ugh, quc..."He stood behind Wakko on the left side,"well, it'd be a pity if you'd thought you were doing what the Great Plan thaid, but you were actually going directly againtht God'thIneffable Plan."He stumbled out, praising to Her all over again, like the Seraph that he didn't know he was.

Gabriel frowned, confused, and Bugs blinked smugly, a smirk on his face.

To further drive the point, Daffy looked around, "I mean, everyone knows the Great Plan, yeah?" He looked to everyone, and nodded, prompting them to all shyly and nervously nodded along, (they had no clue). "But the Ineffable Plan... well, it's ineffable, isn't it? By definition, we can't know it."

Bugslooked to their bosses, waiting for an argument.

"It's not given to us to understand the ineffable Plan," said Gabriel, "but of course the Great Plan—"

"But the Great Plan can only be a tiny part of the overall ineffability," said Daffy, with a smirk. "You can't be certain that what'thhappening right now ithn't exactly right, from an ineffable point of view." He reasoned to them, with the air of one who brought up a very good point, and the others weren't sure how to respond.

"But it izzzz... written." Reasoned Beelzebub, zir argument falling weak.

"But it might be written differently somewhere elthe."Said Daffy,"where you can't read it."

"In bigger letters,"said Bugs.

"Underlined,"Daffy added.

"Twice,"suggested Bugs.

"Perhapththis ithn't just a test of the world." Daffy said, feeling smug and co*cky, which showed in his tone of voice. "It might be a test of your people, too. Hmm?"

"God does not play games with the Universe, or Her loyal servants." Gabriel said, in a worried tone, pointing at the two of them. Beelzebub nodded, She didn't play games with the demons, She made them Fall, without question.

Bugs smiled, and laughed,his eyes widened in sarcasm and shock, "whooo-eee!" He called, throwing his head back, as if that was the biggest load of trash in the world.

Daffy sneered and asked, wanting a genuine answer, yet still with a sarcastic laugh and scoff, "where have youbeen?!"

The married couple looked to each other, sharing a look of confusion, wondering where their bosses were getting this information from, though their gazes also held joy. It got even better for the two when they saw Gabriel and Beelzebub grow worried. They began laughing again.

"Can I just—?" Gabriel took Lord Beelzebub aside, away from the others, and whispered (well, he thought he whispered, but he's not used to his corporation, so he was actually yelling it), "um..." He pointed his index finger up, "I'm going to need to talk to... Head Office." He waved a hand, "how I am supposed to get ten million angels to stand down from their war footing is..." He waved a hand, stumbling over his words, "it doesn't bear thinking about."

Beelzebub looked dead, and horrified, "you should try to get ten million demons to put down their weapons and go back to work." Ze looked to Gabriel, who was leaning down,and was lockedeye to eye with zir.

"Well, at least we know whose fault it is!" Gabriel yelled, looking over to the Traitors, as did Beelzebub.

Daffy, one hand in his feather, cartoon pocket, gave a relaxed, sarcastic, duck-like, grinning smile to them with a shake of his head, and Bugs raised one of his hand, wiggling his fingers in a wave with a pleasant, friendly smile, while Wakko just stared, tense and uncomfortable. Honestly, looking at it, it looks like two gay parents and their child at a hom*ophobic family gathering.

"Young man..." Gabriel walked over to Wakko, as did Beelzebub, his finger to his lips in disbelief. "You were put on this Earth for one reason and one reason only. To end it." He pounded his knuckles into the palm of his hands twice. "You're a disobedient little brat. And I hope someone tells your father." He pointed to the child.

"Oh, they will." Beelzebub assured, staring at Wakko with a dead eyed stare. Gabriel pointed to zir with a jab ofhis thumb."And you two!" Snapped the Lord, looking to the Tempter and Principality. Ze sneered, looking to Gabriel, "fraternising with the enemy."

Gabriel nodded with a sneer, "it's disgusting, almost as disgusting as that bump on your beak." He continued, glaring at Daffy, who looked high offended, and clenched his fingers, holding back from feeling his beak.

Instead, Daffy raised an eyebrow, and looked to Bugs, "do you want to tell them, or should I?"

"I think we shouldbothtell dem.." Bugs offered, with a tired sigh.

The two looked to their bosses, and called in unison, "we're married!" They held up their hands, showing off their golden wedding rings.

"We've been married since da 70's!" Bugs yelled, "how have ya not figured it out?!"

"We've been on Earth for thix thousand yearth, thtationed in California, not just that, but inWarner Brotherth, and you thent us to thwart each other!" Daffy said, eyebrow raised. "And, you expetht uthto have not thpoken to each other once?! To not have gotten along?! Do you realise how thtupid you thound?!"

Bugs snorted, "we do Looney Shortsfor a living, doc! We'd have seen each other dat way! Which by da way, how do ye not know about dat?! We're famous!"

Their bosses froze, it was as if they had lost their brains, like someone hit the pause button, everyone could see their minds malfunction; how did they not notice? They have been on Earth for six thousand years! Of course they met, of course they knew of the other, and they were lied to... now, the Lord and Archangel just felt stupid. Though, they couldn't let them know that... however, they didn't hide their shock well.

Bugs smirked, and looked to Daffy, "aw look, dey've hurt demselves from thinking too much."

Daffy laughed, and Bugs leaned over, kissing his temple.

"Your Father, yourCreator, will not be pleazzzzed,"Beelzebub buzzed out looking to Wakko, but felt and looked too surprised for it to land.

Daffyand Bugs shared a tense look of worry,and Gabriel and Beelzebub vanished in a puff of green and purple smoke and sparkle.

Madame Tina broke the silence.

"Weren't they odd," she said.

She didn't mean "weren't they odd"; what she did mean she probably could never hope to express, except by screaming, but the human brain has amazing recuperative powers and saying "weren't they odd" was part of the rapid healing process. Within half an hour, she'd be thinking she'd just had too much to drink.

Lola nodded in agreement.

Daffy's head then snapped to Bugs, scowling, "why didn't you tell me I have a bump on my beak?!" He held his beak in horror, eyes wide.

Bugs frowned, "I never noticed a bump."

"Do not patronisthe me!" Snapped Daffy, glaring at Bugs, in that way lovers do when arguing though there is no real anger. "If there'th thomething wrong with me that I don't know about, then you owe it to me, ath my husband, to tell me!"

Bugs looked bored, with half lidded eyes, "all right. You're a narcissist. You're a sociopath. You're probably a psychopath. You're a..."

Daffy scowled, not liking his husband wasactuallytelling him.

"You're paranoid, sexist, and you make fun of the elderly," Bugs listed, finishing up.

It meant something, that the angel didn't say "you're a demon".

Daffy looked to him, eyes wide, "thothe are just quirks. Endearing quirks. I'm talking about thomething important. My appearanthe. And if you won't be honest with me, then I'll find thomeone who will—!"

Bugs kissed him softly, and pulled back, "you are gorgeous, doc. And, you've been gorgeous for six thousand years..."

Daffy flushed, the red flush standing out against his orange beak, "aw, honey bunny—!"

Suddenly, something changed, something intense and it pulled at Daffy's very being, metaphorically dragging him down. It was as if the winds had picked up in him, and had weighed him down with his muscles, shoulders and into his stomach. Like, two sharp clawed hands gripping his ankles, and dragging him down. Something shot through his chest, and immediately, Daffy understood what was happening, and what the pain he was feeling was.

"Daffy?" Bugs asked softly, concerned, as Daffy just went silent, and white as a sheet.

A breeze swept up the dust and dropped it again. The air became hot and heavy, imprisoning those within it like flies in syrup.

"No!"Yelled Daffy in agony."No!"He fell to the ground with a slam, his head hung low and pressed himself to the floor, no longer able to fight off the nonexistent hands. He curled up in on himself, in agony as things shook around them, angrily, the ground quaking. Wakko looked to him in worried confusion, while Bugs jumped in shock. Daffy pressed himself to the ground, feeling a tortured stabbing pain, slashes and burns, with tight gripping and wringing of feathers,"no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"What else is he able to say? He was wrapped in a blanket of torment and fear.

Bugs' eyes widened, and went to help his distressed husband, but paused, "what's happening? I can feel something." He tensed up, his stomach felt empty and his heart was racing. His face dropped, shoulders up to his cheeks, was this...?

"They did it."Daffy breathlessly gasped, eyes blank,"they told hithFather, hith Creator."He grumbled out in shaking agony, cheek pressed to the floor.

"Oh, no." Bugs eyes were horrified, and his lips were pursed, as he swallowed back saliva. His heart was slamming against his ribs.

"And his Satanic Father, and Creator, is not happy."Daffy said, slowly kneeling up shakily, eyes wide in mad panic, on all fours.

The ground began to shake. The noise was like a subway train, but not one passing under. It was more like the sound of one coming up. Something slammed, creating a bang, and it threw everyone about, making people stumble and yell in shock, clinging to each other.

The ground moved under Pepé and Sylvester, flinging them onto the dancing concrete. Yellow smoke gushed from between the cracks.

"Perhaps it's a volcano!" Sylvester yelled, stumbling.

"No, there aren't any volcanoes in Warner Studios." Pepé reasoned, trying to stabilise herselfand his new boyfriend, and he groaned. "It's really angry, whatever it is. I can feel it." He stumbled, nodding to where he felt this dark,uncontrollableanger coming from, "it's getting closer."

It threw everyone about again, and everyone screamed. The kids were thrown into each other. Madame Tina flew forward, and Lola fell backwards. Daffy fell back again, still on the floor, planning a means to escape.

"What's happening?" Lola demanded, stumbling and keeping Madame Tina upright.

"Well, ya can call me an old silly, but it looks like da Devil is coming,"Bugs answered, with raised eyebrows,"Satan Himself."

Pepé nodded, all sarcastic.

"Oh, that's the way it is, is it?" Asked Lola, gun raised, not at all bothered or shocked after the day she's had, (though she is, she just wants to impress Madame Tina). "Anyone wants to hurt the whor* of Babylon is going to have to get past me!"

Sylvester and Pepé looked confused.

"Oh, Ms. Lola." Smiled Madame Tinain a soft voice, touched as she cuddled closer to the Witchfinder.

Everything rumbled and grumbled, throwing everyone again. Daffy fell again in pain, and Bugs stumbled backwards in shock. The kids stumbled into each other. Madame Tina clung to Lola. Sylvester and Pepé helped each other to stay upright.

"Right. That waththat." Nodded Daffy to Bugs, who standing up right, there was no way out of this, his amber ringed duckeyes werewide and sad,"it was nice knowing you, my angel." He panted in pain, eyes soft and defeated.

"We can't give up,Daffy." Reasoned Bugs, sadly, shaking his head,"dere are people!" He placed his hands on Daffy's thin shoulders, desperately trying to calm the demon down.

"Yeth,andme!" Daffy reasoned back, knowing Bugs wanted to help the humans, and the cartoons, but he was here. He looked up, his fearful eyes locking with Bugs' horrified gaze. "Thith ith Satan Himself! Thithisn't about Armageddon, anymore!Thithithpersonal!" The demon grumbled working through the pain, kneeling on his knees, looking to his angelic husband. "We are f*cked!" He quacked out, angrily and in pain,distressed.

"We shouldn't let dis happen ta dem," Bugs said.

"Well, what—" Daffy began, and stopped.

"I mean, when ya think about it, we've got dem intoenough trouble as it is. You and me. Over da years. What with one thing 'n' another."

"We were only doing our jobth," muttered Daffy.

"Yes. So what? Lots ofpeople in history have only done feir jobs 'n' look at da trouble dey caused."

"You don't mean we should actually try to stopHim?

"Daffy!" Snapped Bugs, annoyed that the demon was arguing with him on this.

Everything grumbled in fury, and Bugsfell back, letting go of the demon, as he wavedhis arms to steady himself. Wakko tumbled back, shocked. Pepé clung to Sylvester, who clung back. The kids held onto each other, Dot was held between Yakko and Wakko, and Yakko was holding both his siblings. Pinky and Brain were holding each other. Dog was yapping crazily. Lola held a tumbling Madame Tina. Daffy looked around wildly for the danger, in a fear.

Bugs looked down, and saw the no longer Flaming Sword. He picked it up, and marched over, raising the swordup to Daffy, "come up withsomething or...!" He hasn't rightfully used this thing since The First War in Heaven, not to mention he didn't actually want to hurt Daffy in anyway, he couldn't, he was too connected... he looked to his demonic husband.

Daffy looked up, eyes soft and panicked, waiting for hisdeath either from the Sword or Satan, or even a death threat from Bugs, his eyebrows raised. He was ready, he'd allow anything to happen to him if it was from Bugs, and deep down, Bugs knew that... six thousand years, and the demon on his knees did truly worship him like a God...it scares Daffy that he would wait for Bugs, and accept anything the angel would throw at him, including death... I mean, whats worse than death?

"Or I'll never talk to yaagain." Threatened Bugs with a breathlessly scared whimper, (he believed the threat to be weak, and pathetic). He lowered the Sword, eyes soft and shaking his head.

Daffy's eyes widened in fear at the thought, death he could deal with, but to live and never talk to Bugs? There was nothing he could lose that he hadn't lost already. They couldn't do anything worse to him than he had coming to him already. He felt free at last... suddenly, he stood up with a pained growl and panting, and felt around for untouched power up, and dug deep into the pit of his stomach. With a yell, he threw his hands up to the sky, and screamed out a loud yell. He pulled.

Time suddenly stopped.

Another Place...

It was sunny, calm, empty and sandy. There on a sandy hill was Daffy with sharp, pointed and angular black wings, with two lumps on his back you couldn't really see, his duck eyes scanning the area, still holding the tire iron. Bugs stood withwhite smooth, large wings, that used to be messy, but now looked lovely, and he stood with the still not Flaming Sword held up. Then there was Wakko in the middle, looking around and amazed, staring at the two.

The angel and demon stood, rolling their shoulder blades, stretching their wings and letting their muscles relax.

There was awhoomphas the sword suddenly flamed like the red sun, orlike a ribbon of destruction, with fluttering flames like orange silk. Bugs smiled, and rubbed his thumb over it the handle, "once you've learned how ta do it, ya never forget."

Daffy reached into his feather pocket, and pulled out sunglasses, placingthem on his face,"Wakko, listen,"he started,"your Father, your Creator, is coming to destroy you. Probably to destroy all of us."

"My Dado and Creators?" Questioned Wakko in doubt, "they wouldn't hurt anybody." They assured, it seemed ridiculous and humorous that their dad would do something like that. "Well, okay, my Creators would, but they're more like a Mum... but, they beat old Tyler up for mis-gender-ing me."

"Not your Earthly father and creator. Satan."Daffy corrected with a quack, shaking his head head,"your Father and Creator, who ithno longer in Heaven. He ithcoming, and He ithangry."

"So, what do you want me to do about it?" Questioned Wakko, "fight Him?" They asked, scared and theireyes flashing in mad panic.

It fell silent between them, the angel and demon sharing wary looks.

Daffy, hesitantly and warily said,"I don't think fighting Him would do any good."He frowned,"you're going to have to come up with thomething elthe."Fighting is what started this entire mess to begin with.He moved forward, trying to calm the child.

"But, I'm just a kid." Reasoned the child, turning away from them in fear, and they looked out. They felt... small...

"But, dat's not a bad thing tobe, Wakko."Smiled Bugs, his voice soft and gentle, and the child looked to him,"ya know, I was scared dat you'd be Hell incarnate. I hoped you'd be Heaven incarnate. But you're not either of those things."He smiled fascinated and amazed,"you're much better. You're Humanincarnate."He shared a soft look with his demonic husband, and Daffyshared an equally soft look with him.

Daffy took a deep breath, and looked to the child,"Wakko, reality will lithten to you right now."The child looked to him,"you can change thingth."

"And whatever happens, forgood or forevil..."Said Bugs, taking Wakko'shand comfortingly,"we're beside ya."

Daffy took Wakko'sother hand gently, and Wakko took a deep, shakybreath, relishing the comfort these men gave them. They looked to Daffy, "you know you're powerful..."

"What?" Asked Daffy, a confused frown on his face.

"You were a Seraph..." Said Wakko, and Daffy swallowed.

Daffy was not used to people identifying him so readily, but Wakko stared at him as though Daffy'sentire life history was pasted inside the back of his skull and they, Wakko, was reading it. For an instant he knew real terror. He'd always thought the sort he'd felt before was the genuine article, but that was mere abject fear beside this new sensation. Those Below could make you cease to exist by, well, hurting you in unbearable amounts, but this child could not only make you cease to exist merely by thinking about it, but probably could arrange matters so that you never had existed at all.

"It's why Satan cut off your wings, you were more powerful than Him, you can still summon your eyes..."

"My eyeth?" Daffy questioned, gently touching under his eyes with his fingers.

Wakko nodded, "yeah, like I said, you're powerful."They looked around, as if that proved his claims - the demondidstop time.

Daffy looked around, hedidstop time.

Wakko then looked to Bugs, "and you're still a Cherub."

"Huh?" Bugs looked over, confused.

Wakko blinked, as if seeing everything, and Bugs felt small, and empty, what are they seeing?

"She never took away your wings or your faces, you're still a Cherub," Wakko shrugged, "you need to stop denying who you are..."

Bugs blinked, and shuffled uncomfortably, "right..." So, She never demoted him...

Daffy looked over, and swallowed, "I'm going to rethtart time." Explained the demon. "You won't have long to do whatever you're going to do." He warned, softly.

Bugs raised the Flaming Sword, and Daffy grunted, spinning the tire iron. Winds picked up, blowing their wings back, making them unsteady, sand spun around their feet, and suddenly, time started again. There they stood, hand in hand, at Warner's Science Base.

"Do it quickly!"Called Bugs, desperately, not allowing the child to feel or see his fear, as he and Daffy let go of Wakko's hands.

The ground moved, ripped up with a rumble, a fiery base under it with yellow smoke, and a monstrous red hand shot through the ground, and out came a fiery red coloured giant figure with a big crown of black horns, teeth and claws, glaring down at them with an inhumane roar, with it's large red, and slightly torn wings spread out, with horns and spikes on them. Daffy recoiled slightly in terror and fear, and Bugs held his breath. Everyone gasped and stared in fear and terror, letting out small whimpers.

Bugs held out his hand.

"Nice knowing ya," he said.

Daffy took it.

"Here'thto the next time," he said.

First, Satan's eyes landed on Daffy, and Hescowled, "Daffy..."

Said demon gulped, and he gave a shaky smile, "heySatan."

"Where is my son?" Came Satan's angry, grumbled voice, awaiting His demons answer.

Daffy realised this, and realised, his former King believed him to be under His control. Slowly, he shook his head, "I'm not telling you..."

Wakko, being the brave Antichrist that they are, shakily walked forward, eyes wide in terror, but stood protectively in front of the angel and demon, after all, they were helping them, gave them a confidence boost.

"Wakko," Dot called out in fear, eyes wide.

"Don't!" Called Yakko, rushing over, butPepé gripped the two, stopping them.

Satan's eyes fell onto Wakko, "you? You're my rebellious son? Come here."

Wakko marched forward, and the angel and demon got ready to attack if needed.

"You're not my Dad or Creator." Wakko said, looking up to Satan with a shake of their head. "Dads and Creator'sdon't wait until you're eleven, and a Legacy Toonto say hello, and then turn up to tell you off, all the while you use the incorrect pronouns." They spat out.

"What?" Questioned Satan, withconfusion, His wings falling slightly.

"If I'm in trouble with my Dad and Creators..." Said Wakko, the ground rumbled, throwing everyone about,"... then it won't be you. It's going to be the Dado and Creators who were there. You're not my Dad! And, you're not my Creator!"

"What did you say?" Gasped Satan in shock.

"Ya can do it!" Shouted Bugs, hearing the wavering, a hint of defeat in Satan's voice. He held the sword up in battle position. He had placed himself protectively in front of Daffy slightly, yet to let go of his hand.

"Say it, Wakko." Daffy called, tire ironraised, spinning it and his knuckles white, his grip tightening,"say it again!" He yelled, his voice echoing, also sensing Satan's loss, sensing the confused reaction.

Satan slammed His hands down, the floor on lave under the devil raised, and the groundshook, "come here."

"You're not my Dad, or Creator." Repeated Wakko, "you never were."

"No." Said Satan, crumbling into dark, black smoke. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" He glared at Daffy, who glared back, and He disappeared with one final, "no!"

Bugs and Daffy felt the worldchange.

A car drove forward and pulled up as the smoke disappeared. The angel looked around, and the demon looked to his sword confused, it was still Flaming, the two looked to each other softly.

A cartoon man got out the car, "Wakko? Wakko?"

Two girls got out, and one yelled, "Wakko!"

"Look, see, they're fine!" Called the other, though she looked worried.

The first female figure,Daffy recognised. He saw hereleven years ago. Kassy... and there was Angelica and Dr.Scratchansniff.The three moved forward.

Chapter 28: the night at daffy's flat...

Chapter Text

Thomas A. Deisenburger opened his eyes.

The only thing strange about his surroundings was how familiar they were. There was his high school photograph on the wall, and his little Stars and Stripes flag in the tooth mug, next to his toothbrush, and even his little teddy bear, still in its little uniform. The early afternoon sun flooded through his bedroom window. He could smell apple pie. That was one of the things he'd missed most about spending his Saturdaynights a long way from home.

He walked downstairs.

His mother was at the stove, taking a huge apple pie out of the oven to cool.

"Hi, Tommy," she said. "I thought you was in California."

"Yes, Mom, I am normatively in California, Mom, protecting cartoonisms, Mom, sir," saidThomas A. Deisenburger.

"That's nice, hon," said his mother. "Your Poppa's down in the Big Field, with Chester and Ted. They'll be pleased to see you."

Thomas A. Deisenburger nodded. He took off his military-cartoon-issue helmet and his military-cartoon-issue jacket, and he rolled up his military-cartoon-issue shirtsleeves. For a moment he looked more thoughtful than he had ever done in his life. Part of his thoughts were occupied with apple pie.

"Mom, if any throughput eventuates premising to interface withThomas A. Deisenburger telephonically, Mom, sir, this individual will—"

"Sorry, Tommy?"

Tom Deisenburger hung his cartoon gun on the wall, above his father's battered old rifle.

"I said, if anyone calls, Mom, I'll be down in the Big Field, with Pop and Chester and Ted."

It was dark, and quiet. The Apocalypse averted. An angel and demon in new sunglasses, sat on a bench in front of an old church, the demon on the left and the angel on the right. They shared a bottle of wine together that was hidden in a brown paper bag.

"It's all worked out for da best, though." Bugs assured, taking a mouthful of alcohol from the bottle. "Just imagine how awful it might have been if we'd been at all competent." Joked the angel with a sneer, passing over the bottle of wine to the demon, looking to him gently, who was looking at as if he was a God in his own right.

Taking a sharp intake of air to disagree, Daffy stammered, "quc, point taken." He took a sip as well,"at least we lived." Then frowned, seeing Bugs holding a piece of charred paper. "What's that?" Daffy asked, leaning over, leaning up slightly from his slouch.

Bugs reached his hand across to him, and gave it to the demon, "fell outtaAgnes Maltese'sBook." He explained.

Daffy looked over it,When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely,"'for thoon enough you will be playing with fire'?" He read out, his mind whirring with thoughts. "So thithis the final one of AgnethMaltese's prophecieth?" He asked, waving the paper lightly, as he looked to the angel, both amazed and astonished. What on earth could that mean?

"Yep."

"And Wakko... human-cartoon again?" Asked the demon, voice gentle and curious, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Believe so, yeah."

A white mail van came driving over, having a delivery to pick up, and he drove past the angel and demon, barely seeing them, as if his eyes scanned over them. It skidded to a sudden stop just a little way away, with a loud tyre screech.

"Angel..." Started Daffy, looking to his husband who looked back, giving the wine back,"what if the Almighty planned it like thithall along?" He questioned, "from the very Beginning?"

"Could've." Shrugged Bugs, slouching. "I wouldn't put it past Her." He reached out again, and took hold of the wine, drinking it again, a confused frown on his face. God... She didn't help prevent Armageddon, but She didn't really help cause it. She doesn't talk to anyone, and when it came down to it, it was Daffywho was with him to the end, Daffy who drove through a fiery mess of the Hollywood and Golden State Freewaysto get to him, Daffy who stopped time, Daffy who covered for the small Antichrist.

(That had gone a little like this...

Kassy and Angelica paused, as Daffy moved forward with a tempting smile on his beak, all kind and soft, said, "uh, hello? Wakko's Creatorth? I'm so thorry, it appearth our game of Armageddidn't went a little out out hand." He held out a hand, "Daffy."

Kassy nodded, "nice to see ya, Daffy. Not seen you in a few days."

Angelica took his hand and shook, "and, you're at the Science Base because?!" She asked in outrage, panicked for her children and their friends. I mean; talking to strangers?! (Lola and Madame Tina.) Running onto land that would get them killed?!

Dr.Scratchansniff said, "I'm sure there's a logical explanation," he looked over to Yakko, Wakko and Dot, who looked all kinds of guilty.

"I'm afraid that wath me as well. Thee, I know a few of these young men here, and they let uth on the grounds." Daffy lied with ease. Why blame a child, when an adult, especially a star like Daffy, could smoothly convinced them? Wakko would still be punished of course! But, not as much as they originally ought to have been punished.

"And, your eyes...?" Asked Mr. Scratchansniff, glowering at theduck eyes.

"I never noticed that," hummed Kassy.

Angelica hummed, "looks nice though!"

That had stumped the demon, what could he say about that? That was until Bugs walked up next to him, "Daffy here has contacts in, don't worry." He held out a hand, "I'm Bugs! Daffy's husband."

Kassy whispered harshly to Angelica, "I knew it! I told you they were secretlyhusbands!"

"Darn, I owe you five dollars," cursed Angelica, silently.

"And, that sword is...?" Asked Dr. Scratchansniff, glowering at the Flaming Sword.

That had stumped the angel as well, what could he say about that?

Daffy slipped his hand into the crook of Bugs' arm, "my husband the magician, they were interethted in a little magic."

"Oh..." Dr. Scratchansniffsaid in thought.)

Daffy smiled as if in deep thought, "from what I remember, we were never on what one might call speaking terms. She certainly wasn't one for straight answers. In fact, She'd barely answerat all. She would justsmile, as if She knew something that you didn't."

"Of course," smirked Bugs. "What'dbe da point?"

A car door shut from not too far away, and a man came over wearing a brown uniform, and brown cap. Lesley, he held a clipboard and asked, "you got the, um...?"

"Ah,"Bugs hummed, patting the box gently,"didn't want dem falling intoda wrong hands."

Daffy watched him, and looked between the human and the box.

Lesley looked through the box, checking the items, scales, a crown and cape,... "Uh, excuse me, gents. There's, uh... there's meant to be a sword in here." He said suspiciously, and confused, pointing to the box.

Daffy and Bugs turned to look at each other, the demon with pursed beakand the angel confused.

"Oh. Dere is."Bugs gasped out, looking around,flushing a bright red, as he got up, handing the wine to Daffy.He picked up the no longer Flaming Sword, his fingers clenching around the handle. "Oops, I was sitting on it..." He picked up the no longer Flaming Sword, his fingers clenching around the handle. "Sorry doc." He really didn't want to let it go, but he knew he had to for safety, not to mention, he was never good at keeping it safe, and he gave it to Lesley.

Lesley let out a smile and chuckle, "good thing you were here, really." He nodded, picking up the things

"How nice ta have someone who recognises our part in saving da..."Started Bugs, him and Daffy looking to each other, until Lesley cut in.

The delivery man cut the angel off, and held out a clipboard, "I need someone to sign for it."

Daffy's head turned from Lesley to the angel.

"Oh, right,"hummed Bugs, his face falling, taking the board, and signing his name.'Of course, don't be silly...'He glanced to a smirking Daffy.

"Do you believe in life after death?" Asked Lesley, breathing out nervously.

Bugs looked to him,"I suppose I must do."He admitted.He signed the paper, but for the first time in ages, signed it asBugs Bunny.

Daffy reached out to signfor the package, heraised his index finger to his lips and and scratched his finger against his dull pointed teeth. He signed the paper, but signed it as Daffy Duck, unlike the sigil he would have had to sign on Hell contracts.

"Yeah." Chuckled Lesley, as he was handed the clipboard back, not batting an eye to Daffy after the day he's had. "If I was to tell mywife Maudwhat happened to me today, she wouldn't believe me." He picked up the package, tucking the pen into his upper pocket, a smile on his face thinking about hisgorgeous wife. "And I wouldn't blame her." Lesley moved off, and placed the package in the back of the van, before driving off.

A small blue bus drove down the small road, now that Daffy no longer had a car, they had to wait for the circular, bumpy buses.

"Oh. Dere it is." Bugs smiled, pointing to the bus,but the frowned confused. "It says "San Francisco"..." What's the driver doingall the way out here!The driver must be exhausted!

Daffy sipped more wine, "yeah, but he'll drive backanyway." He assured, and sniffed the drink, cheeks a light red,"he jutht won't know why."

"I guess I should get him ta take me to da book shop." Bugs said, looking to the front of him.

Suddenly, Daffy turned and looked to him with a shuffle, back straighter than usual, and was no longer slouching, "it burned down, remember?" His voice was so soft, and gentle, so incredibly tender, that for a second you could forget the fact the demon was in fact a demon. He sounded just as sad as Bugs probably felt. Speaking of Bugs, the angel looked down, as golden tears brimmed his eyes, and so, Daffy said gently, "you can stay at my place, if you like?"

Bugs shook his head, licking his top lip, "I don't think my side would like dat." He reminded the demon, ringing his hands together. His voice sounded so sad, and defeated, so small.

"You don't have a thide anymore." Daffy said, reminding him, and Bugs blinked at the realisation. "Neither of uth do. We're on our own side." Daffy smiled, "just like Agnes said, we are going to have to choothe our faces wisely."

Bugs looked to the demon, and stared, his eyes wide, as if he had just seen something incredibly divine, and Godly. Daffy saw, and flushed a bright red, "what'thwrong, angel?"

Six thousand years, and the demon truly worshipped him like a God... and, maybe it was time Bugsstarted doing the same. They only had each other now, and while God might not be angry at him, he is angry with Her, "I worship you, Daffy." He stared at him, as if the demon was his God, and now staring at him, lurking in the darkness, no longer dirty, and demonic and sinful, Daffy well and trulyishis God.

Daffy went scarlet, "Bugsth!" He looked to the sky quickly, checking She didn't hear, but nothing happened. The angel didn't Fall. She didn't yell. There was no lightening or fire. Nothing. Still flushing, he shyly stuck his hand out, and the bus pulled over. Bugs kept staring at him,with a small smile.

The demon felt shy. Sex was one thing, but to be worshipped, like a God was different. And, no, not a Fake God like he did with the Humans over a thousand years ago, but in fact, a Real God, who deserved nothing but Love and Holy Attention, or Unholy in his case. He's never been worshipped before, not like how Bugs was intending to worship him.

"Me? Godlike?" Laughed Daffy, his voice wavering. "Ridiculouth."

"Yes, you Godlike," smiled Bugs. "Not ridiculous."

They climbed on the bus, and sat in the dirty front seats, and automatically, Daffy took Bugs' hand in his. The demon squeezed gently, and softly, and softly, the angel squeezed back.

"Angel, you don't have to clean that..." Daffy said, trying to stop his husband.

Bugs was on his knees, cleaning the brown, solid sludge of Duke Ligur, and Holy Water, "I do. And, I'm not gonnalet ya clean it up, am I?"

Daffy sighed, "yeah, but I want to cuddle with you, with a glathof wine." He sighed, and leaned down, kissing Bugs' cheek, "come on."

With a sigh, the angel looked to Daffy, "go putGolden Girlson, and get us wine doc, I'll be dere soon." He promised, kissing Daffy's beak softly, "go on..."

The demon sighed, and got up, "fine..." He went off, pouring two glasses of red, expensive wine, and sat on his brown, leather couch, turning his flat screen television, and switched it ontoGolden Girls, that was playing on theDiscovery Channel, because it always plays whenever Daffy wantsGoldenGirl'son. He then set down a carrot muffin for Bugs on his coffee table,and sat on his couch with a groan.

Daffy walked over a few minutes later, collapsing onto the sofa with a sigh, and picking up his glass of wine,wrapping his long fingers around his wine glass, sipping the alcohol, as an episode ofGolden Girl'sbegan playing from the beginning. It knew better than to start in the middle.

"I'm sorry about da car," Bugs was saying. "I know how much ya liked it. Perhaps if ya concentrated really hard—"

"It wouldn't be the thame," said Daffy.

"I suppose not."

"I had it from new, you know. It wasn't a car, it wathmore a thort of whole body glove."

"So, a Seraph..." Hummed the angel, looking to Daffy, who swirled his wine in his glass with a slight sneer. The red liquid raised at the sides and to the rim, but it didn't spill, no... no, of course not, his wine also knew better.

"Yep," Daffy sipped his wine, taking his sunglasses off and dropping them to the table. He glanced up, "that'ththe reathon they cut off my wingth..." He sighed, and sat up straight, stretching his back as if feeling the pain, "I wath... am, higher than Satan..." He looked down.

Bugsturned in the seat with his hole body, giving Daffy his full attention,and his eyes wandered over his demons body, "so, ya have multiple eyes..."

"Apparently," Daffy nodded.

"Try it," Bugs said, eyes sparkling. Daffy looked to him, and Bugs moved closer, cupping his face, "summon your eyes."

Daffy sneered in anger, and looked down, "why should I? You don't look like a Cherub, why should I look, somewhat,like a Seraph?"

Bugs raised an eyebrow, and sipped his drink, setting it down on the coffee table, on top of a white coaster,and got up. He rolled his shoulders, summoning his four, large white wings from the ethereal plane, and he wrapped them around his body, then dropped them. His eyes were shinning and glittering, and there was a bright glow over his head, a halo, and there werefour heads; an ox, a lion, an eagle, and finally Bugs' head. The animals were beautiful, soft and looked to Daffy like he was God.

"It would scare da sh*t outta da Archangels if dey saw dis..." Bugs shrugged his shoulders with a cheeky grin on his lips. He's sworn already, who cares about swearingagain?

Daffy stared, and swallowed back his wine, standing up, (ignoring what it did to him when Bugs swore). He closed his eyes, and let out a deep breath, thenrolled his shoulders, bringing forth his two black, sharp wings that were styled and well kept, and they curled around him. Quickly, like ripping off a band-aid, he brought his wings down, and he was covered with multiple, closed eyes. He swallowed back thick, bittersaliva, and slowly opened his eyes, as duck pupils, glowing amber, scanned the area, making him dizzy, "holy f*ck..."

"Are ya alight?" Bugs asked, cupping the demons cheek, careful of the extra eyes.

"I'm fine... jutht..." Lisped Daffy, his big tongue slipping from his lips."Haven't you ever wondered about it all? You know - your people and my people. Heaven and Hell, good and evil, all that thort of thing? I mean, why?"

"As I recall," said the angel, "dere was da rebellion and —"

"Ah, yeah. And why did it happen, eh? I mean, it didn't have to, did it?" Said Daffy, a manic look in his all his eye. "Anyone who could build a univerthe in thix dayth won't go letting a little thing like that happen. But, for if they wanted it to, of courthe."

"Oh, come on. Be sensible," said Bugs, doubtfully.

"That'thnot good advice," said Daffy. "Notgood advice at all. If you take a chairand think about it logically, you come up with a few, very funny ideath. Like: why make people inquithitive, and then put thome forbidden fruit where they can look atit with a big neon finger flathhing on and off reading 'THITHITHIT!'?"

"I don't remember any neon."

"Metaphorically, I mean. I mean, why do that if you really don't want them to eat it, eh? I mean, maybe you kinda want to watch how it all turnthout. Maybe it'thall part of a great big ineffable plan. All of it. You, me, them, everything. Some great big tetht to thee if what you've built all workthproperly, eh? You begin thinking: it can't be a great cosmic game of chesth, it hasthto be just very complicated Stholitaire. And don't bother to rethpond. If we could know, we wouldn't be uth. Because it'thall-all—"

"Ineffable," smiled Bugs, looking to him. He was making lots of profound and divine discoveries today.

Bugs moved forward, and he kissed Daffy softly, pulling the demon close, and his eyes closed. Daffy hummed, and wrapped his arms around the angel, careful of the three heads that was nuzzling his face, and he closed all of his eyes as well, and licked his thick tongue against Bugs' buck teeth, then lower lip. Bugs opened his mouth with a pleasant hum, and fell backwards on the couch, the demon straddled his waist.

"Daffy," gasped Bugs, pulling away, "stop..."

Daffy stopped immediately, and his thick tongue flicked out between his beak, "what'thwrong?"

Bugs frowned, and petted the lion, "we need ta figure out da final prophecy..."

"I thought we did?" Daffy asked, confused, beak frowning, eyes squinting in thought,as he began wording his words without s's, and had to focus to bring back the lisps, and hide said lisps.

"Or, not... because whats with dafire thing?" Asked Bugs.

"Fine..." Sighed Daffy, moving off the angels lap, kissing the angels cheek. "Right, hand over the paper angel," he said, wording everything carefully, but kept his tone soft and gentle, to show he wasn't demanding his husband around.

Bugs fished out the prophecy from his fur pocket, and held it out to Daffy. Daffyheld the scorched paper, and looked over the swirled, old time-y words.

When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enough you will be playing with fire.

"Well,'alle isthfayed and all isthdone', clearly equivalent to Armageddidn't, when it'sthover and done with." Daffy said, sipping his wine, leaning into Bugs' side. He wished there was other words, but some things with s's just have to be dealt with, "but'choofe your facthesthwisthely', wouldn'tthat mean picking our own thide?"

"I guess..." Bugs hummed, and looked over Daffy'smultiple eyes softly, amazed. He pressed a kiss to the demons temple gently, trying to ease the lisping.

"Can I run to you?" Daffyasked, keeping his tongue behind his beak, slowly gaining control, "are you true to me?"

Bugs nodded,"I'll do unto you as tou do to me... I choose our side, doc.I feel terrible forrejecting you so much, for years, and I'm sorry."

Daffy didn't listen, he stared at the last half... fire...'why would we be playing with fire?'He frowned, and looked to Bugs, "fire..." Does she mean like anger? Hatred? Or... revenge... a trail?

"What?" Bugs asked, frowning, looking over the last sentence of the prophecy,"'for soon enough you will be playing with fire'." He went pale, "oh sh*t..." He felt like a bucket of iced water was tipped over him, and down his back, and his stomached turned inside out, and his heart dropped,"ya think Hell 'n' Heaven'll come after us?" Bugs asked, softly and gently, whispered, his voice coated in fear."Someone has ta burn..." He realised. Holy Water would make Daffy burn up into sludge, and Hellfire would make Bugs burn up into ash.

"If they do, I won't let them hurt you, Bugs..."

"What?" Bugs asked softly, confused.

"Better me than you." Daffy realised, his multiple eyes lighting up in realisation, he looked to Bugs.

Daffy's eyes widened, "no. No, absolutely not! I won't let ya!I won't let dem get ya, doc!"

"I don't think you underthtand, angel... I burn for you, Bugs." Daffy said softly, and caressed his cheek.

Bugs swallowed, and leaned into the demons hand, "I burn for you too, Daffy... always."

Chapter 29: happily ever after's...

Chapter Text

SUNDAY

THE VERY FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF THEIR LIVES

Wakko had rebooted reality.

They had changed the past and changed the present.

So on Sunday, people woke to find a world that was almost, but not entirely, the one that they used to inhabit. Although people who were dead were now alive. And things that were broken had now been miraculously restored.

"Angelica, I've tidied it!" Called Wakko, finishing straightening their bed, as they sat down with Dog.

Angelica hummed and walked to Wakko's section of theroom with a smile, "well, was that so hard? I can see the carpet." She grinned; it's true she can. Usually, the childhas toys scattered around the floor. "Now you just have to keep it clean." She smiled, and walked out.

"Can Dog and me go outside?" Wakko asked, hopeful, making Angelicastop and turn.

"You know what Kassy and Dr.Scratchansniff said." Angelica said, walking over.

"They said that even if theydidn't know why I was in trouble, I would," Wakko said.

"And?" Angelica asked, tone stern. "Was they right?" She asked, as she too didn't know what had happened, despite being there.

Wakko stared at their Mum/Creator, and nodded. They deserves it, they did try to end the world.

Angelica frowned, "can you explain it to me?"

Wakko would love nothing more than to explain the entire situation to his Mum/Creator; about The End Of The World That Didn't, about the angel and demon who was Bugs and Daffy, about Death and the Others, about the cartoon swap just over eleven years ago... but, they shook their head. She wouldn't believe them, and if she did, she wouldn't understand.

Angelica sighed, "well, you can go intothe garden,give Dog a little exercise, but that is all." She warned, but she was smiling.

Wakko smiled back, "thanks, Ange. Come on, Dog." Theysaid, walking out with a barking Dog at their feet.

Angelica watched with a soft smile.

Sylvester opened his eyes, he was naked, and in a room, and he grinned, turning his head. Pepé was next to him, just as naked as him. He leaned over, and pressed a soft kiss to the skunkscheek.

Pepé opened his eyes, feeling the cars whiskers tickle his cheek, and she smiled, "bonjour, mon amour." He sighed, seeing Sylvester's smile, and realised, if he was in this for long run, he had to know. "Oh, I'm gonna regret asking this... but I'm gonna ask."

Sylvester frowned, confused.

"Why is your car called "Dick Turpin"?" Pepé questioned.

Sylvester, who had been waiting for years for this question, swallowed, as he realised it was terrible. Why did he name the car something stupid? "Um, well... Dick Turpin's a famous highwayman." He said, licking his lips, as he clung to the sheets. "It's a sort of joke."

"Yeah?" Pepé asked, eyebrow raised.

"Well, it's called Dick Turpinbecause everywhere it goes,it holds up traffic," he mumbled.

"Oh, I regret asking," groaned Pepé instantly, but the two laughed together, sharing soft smiles. Pepé looked to Sylvester softly. "Hey... Witchfinder Private Not-a-Computer-Engineer... did we save the world yesterday?"

Sylvester face fell into a thoughtful look, "I don't know."

Pepé eventually shrugged, and said, "you're a pretty good Witchfinder, though." At Sylvester's confused face, he said, "I mean, you found me."

Sylvester flushed and got up with a smile, and Pepé turned, deciding to sleep for a few extra minutes.

Lola was reading. Sge does every Sunday, thumbing through an elderly copy of one of the Witchfinder Army library's (Witchfinder Corporal Carpet, librarian, 11 pence per annum bonus.)books on magic and Demonology-the Necrotelecomnicon or the Liber Fulvarum Paginarum, or his old favorite, the Malleus Malleficarum. ("A relentlefs blockbufter of a boke; heartily recommended"-Pope Innocent VIII.) This one was about Imp's, as "Jerusalem" played in the background.

Then there would be a knock on the door, and Madame Tina would call out, "Lunch, Ms. Lola," and Lola would mutter, "Shameless hussy," and wait sixty seconds, to allow the shameless hussy time to get back into her room; then she'd open the door, and pick up the plate of liver, which was usually carefully covered by another plate to keep it warm. And she'd take it in, and she'd eat it, taking moderate care not to spill any gravy on the pages she was reading.

That was what always happened.

Except on that Sunday, it didn't

There was suddenly four knocks on the door, and she didn't even glance up.

"Just leave the plate outside the door," Lola called, things were going as usual, but then she heard the door click, and she perked up.

Madame Tinapoked her head in, her brunette, natural hair framing her face, and wore a blue shirt, and blue skirt, stopping short of herold knees. She was also standing in the centre of a perfume zone. "Hello, Ms. L."

Ms. L?She thought, warily. "Yes, Jezebel?" Lola asked, staring up at Madame Tina as if she'd never seen her before. She truly is beautiful...

Madame Tina'svoice was bright and fast and brittle with uncertainty."I was just thinking...after all we've been through the past couple of days,it seems a bit silly for me to leave the plate outside the door,so I've laid a place for you at the table." She swallowed, gesturing to her place, behind her.

"In your den of iniquity?" Lola asked, swallowing, nervously.

Madame Tina nodded, humming.

"Oh..."

Madame Tina moved from the door, and Lola heaved herself up, sorting out her blonde hair nervously.

For the second time in twenty-four hours for the second time in her life - she entered Madame Tina's rooms.

There was a knock on Jasmine Cottage, and Sylvester, who was up and dressed, went and answered the door. He already dealt with a female, telephone salesperson, sounding forced friendly; thinking it was Saturday, as she had "missed a day" - whatever that meant. He opened the door.

There was a small dapper man in a black raincoat standing on the doorstep. He was holding a cardboard box and he gave Sylvester a bright smile.

"Mr. Sy-l-vester?"

"Sylvester, the beginning syllableis like "silver"." Sylvesteranswered, not too bothered. People make the mistake all the time.

"I'm ever so sorry," said the man. "I've only ever seen it written down, Mr. Sylvester," the man corrected, and held out a small card. "Well, I... I have the peculiar honourof bringing you and Mr puss*cat-Pewa small bequest."

Giles Baddicombe

Robey, Robey, Redfearn and Bychance Solicitors

13 Demdyke Chambers,

PRESTON

"There isn't a Mr.puss*cat-Pew." Sylvester said, frowning. "Well, other than my drawn father,but he wasn't a "Pew", that'sPepé... but, yeah..." He was totally confused "puss*cat-Pew"?

"How odd. The letter is quite specific." The man said, "can I come in?" He didn't wait for an answer, and walked in.

"Uh..." Sylvester closed the door, walking into the kitchen with the man. "Coffee?"

"Oh, I mustn't." He said, setting down a box, an old looking package. It looked like it was crumbling. "To be honest, we're all very interested in this. Mr Bychance nearly came down himself,but he doesn't travel well these days." Heshrugged.

Sylvester gave the polite, friend laugh and nod one usually picks up from living as a people please-er for so long. And, if you're not one, Sylvester wants to know your secret, please. "I have no idea what you're talking about," the cat admitted, messing with the business card.

The man frowned, "the bequest. It's what's in the box with the letter. My firm has had it for over 300 years..."

Pepé peaked in, watching with a frown.

Virtue stood out of a man's house, over 300 years ago, holding that very box, "Master Robey?" The man nodded, and she held up a letter, with the wrapped box. "This is for you, from my mother. And this with it for safekeeping."

He frowned and took it.

The letter contained his instructions, a gold coin,and five interesting facts about the next 10 years,which would ensure that he was able to pursuea very successful legal career.

All he had to do in return was see that the boxwas carefully looked after for several centuries,and then be delivered on this particular Sunday morning.

"And well... here it is." The man said.

"No one's opened it all these years?" Said Sylvester.

"Twice, I believe," said the man. "In 1757, by Mr. George Cranby, and in 1928 by Mr. Arthur Bychance, father of the present Mr. Bychance." He coughed. "Apparently Mr. Cranby found a letter—"

"—addressed to himself," said Sylvester.

Mr. Baddicombe sat back hurriedly. "My word. How did you guess that?"

"I think I recognise the style," said Sylvester grimly. "What happened to them?"

"Have you heard this before?" Said Mr. Baddicombe suspiciously.

"Not in so many words. They weren't blown up, were they?"

"Well... Mr. Cranby had a heart attack, it is believed. And Mr. Bychance went very pale and put his letter back in its envelope, I understand, and gave very strict instructions that the box wasn't to be opened again in his lifetime. He said anyone who opened the box would be sacked without references."

"A dire threat," said Sylvester, sarcastically.

"It was, in 1928. Anyway, their letters are in the box."

Sylvester pulled the box out, looking it over.There was a small iron bound chest inside. It had no lock.

"It's from Agnes," Pepé realised with a sigh.

"Are you sure?" Asked Sylvester, as Pepé walked over.

"I recognise the style too." Pepé looked to the man, "I'm Pepé." He took the manshand.

He shook the skunkspaw with a smile,"Baddicombe."

"Well, should we see what's inside?" Asked Pepé, unsure if he wanted to read what was inside.

"We've been having bets in the office," grinned Baddicombe, hardly able to contain himself.

Pepé raised an eyebrow, and turned the box, "would you like to open it?"

"Me? Would that be proper?"

"I don't see why not." Sylvester shrugged. "Go on," he said. "Be a devil."

"I don't mind," assured Pepé.

"You-you could have power of attorney, or something," shrugged Sylvester, wrapping an arm around Pepé's waist.

Baddicombe looked shocked. "Oh, I say, that would be something to tell the grandchildren!" He hesitantly opened the box with a nervous puff of air, then frowned. "That's odd. That's my name, I..." He picked up a note, and read it, a coin fell out and spun. He frowned, "excuse me, I..." He grabbed the coin and ran.

Sylvester lifted the note, and read it. "Here is a florin, lawyer. Now run fast, lest the world find out the truth, about you and Mistress Spiddon of the council town planning department."

A car engine revved and sped off, making the two turn and look over confused.

(Later, Sylvester will havelooked at the other letters.

The crackling paper of the one addressed to George Cranby said: "Remove thy thievinge Hande, Master Cranby. I minde well how yowe swindled the Widdowe Plashkin this Michelmas past, yowe skinnie owlde Snatch-pastry."

Sylvester wondered what a snatch-pastry was. He would be prepared to bet that it didn't involve cookery.

The one that had awaited the inquisitive Mr. Bychance said: "Yowe left them, yowe cowarde. Returne this letter to the hocks, lest the Worlde knoe the true Events of June 7th, Nineteen Hundred and Sixteene.")

Pepé picked up the folded paper and untied it. He read it out;

"Further Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Maltese,Concerning the World That Is to Come." He pulled off his glasses with a defeated sigh. "Ye Saga Continues."

Lola had a glass ofcarrot juice, sat at the table, with Madame Tina opposite her.

"You know, I've got a tidy amount put away,"she said, apropos of nothing. "And you know, I sometimes think it would be a nice thing to get a little bungalow, in the country somewhere. Move out of California. I'd call it The Laurels, or Dunroamin, or, or..."

"Shangri-La," suggested Lola, and for the life of her could not think why.

"Exactly, Ms.L. Exactly. Shangri-La." She smiled at the rabbit. "Are you comfy, love?"

Lola realised with dawning horror that she was comfortable. Horribly, terrifyingly comfortable. "Aye," she said, warily. She had never been so comfortable.

"Only trouble with having a little bungalow, called-what was your clever idea, Ms. L?"

"Uh. Shangri-La."

"Shangri-La, exactly, is that it's not right for one, is it? I mean, two people, they say two can live as cheaply as one. And it would be nice to have some companyaround, specifically a rabbit."

Lola realised that duck was talking about her.

Shewasn't sure about this. She had a distinct feeling that leaving Witchfinder Private puss*cat with the retired skunkin Warner's Brothers had been a bad move, as far as the Witchfinder Army Booke of Rules and Reggulations was concerned. And this seemed even more dangerous.

Still, at her age, when you're getting too old to go crawling about in the long grass, when the chill morning dew gets into your bones, and ruin your old, faded painting...

"I'm the only Witchfinder left," she muttered.

"And you found me." Assured Madame Tina with a giggle, "I'm not much of a witch, but... I'll have to do."

Lola blinked, shocked and then smiled.

"Now what?"

"I suppose now, I, uh... I pop the question?" Lola said, unsure.

Madame Tina coughed, and straightened up, nodding. She tucked her hair behind her shoulders,"yeah. Go on, then."

"Aye. How many nipples have you got, Jezebel Mallard?" Asked Lola, swallowing.

"Retired Jezebel, Ms. L." Swallowed Madame Tina, coughing, "and call me Tina..." She smiled, "just the two."

"Well...that's alright then," nodded Lola, with a nervous smile, looking to her softly. "Call me Lola..."

It was Sunday afternoon.

Far from Disney California, a card rove. In the long limo,a child called Dewey put down their comic and stared out of the window.

It had been a very strange couple of days. They still wasn't certain why their creatorhad been called to the Middle East. They was pretty sure that their creator didn't know, either. It was probably something cultural. All that had happened was a lot of funny-looking guys with towels on their heads and very bad teeth had shown them around some old ruins. As ruins went, Dewey had seen better.

And then one of the old guys had said to them, wasn't there anything "he" (Dewey didn't correct him) wanted to do? And Dewey had said they'd like to leave, and told him, he smelt of poo. They'd looked very unhappy about that.

And now they were going to Duckburg, as in his Uncle Donald and Aunt Daisy told their creator that Dewey is no longer living there, and Dewey, Huey and Louie are going to see their Uncle Scrooge. I mean, Dewey liked Disney, both Disneyland and the Studio. It was a nice place to be a cartoonin, but they was excited for a new adventure"

The plane was at that point passing right across the Warner Brothers Studio Reject Land bedroom of Greasy Johnson, who was aimlessly leafing through a photography magazine that he'd bought merely because it had a rather good picture of a tap dancing shoes on the cover.

A few pages below Greasy's listless finger was a spread on American football, and how it was really catching on in Warner Studios. Which was odd — because when the magazine had been printed, those pages had been about photography in desert conditions. It was about to change his life.

And Deweyon to Duckburg. They deserved something (after all, you never forget the first friends you ever had, even if you were all a few hours old at the time) and the power that was controlling the fate of all mankind at that precise time was thinking: Well, they'regoing onto new endeavour's, aren't they? Don't see how you could have anythin' better than having new endeavour's.

You can even trythirty-nine flavors of ice cream!Maybe even more!

Sylvester and Pepé sat under a tree, huddled together, with the papers on their picnic blanket.

"Are you sure?" Asked Sylvester.

"Yes, I'm sure." Pepé said, looking to Sylvester. "I know what I'm doing. I just... I just don't like it."

"Technological marvels can be revealed," grinned Sylvester.

Pepé looked to him with a smile, "and you'd probably just break them."

Sylvester laughed lightly. He looked to the skunk softly, seeing his conflicted look. "Think of it this way. Do you want to be the creation, of a descendant all your life?"

Pepé swallowed, and set the notes down, into to cackling fire, and watches as the letters burnt up.

There were a million exciting things a childand their dog could be doing on a Sunday afternoon. Wakko could think of four or five hundred of them without even trying. Thrilling things, stirring things, planets to be conquered, lions to be tamed, lost South American worlds teeming with dinosaurs to be discovered and befriended.

They sat in the garden that Kassy had created for the siblings use, and scratched in the dirt with a pebble, looking despondent.

The August sun hung high in an August blue and cloudless sky, and behind the hedge a thrush sang, but it seemed to Wakko that this was simply making it all much worse.

Dog sat at Wakko's feet. Hehad tried to help, chiefly by exhuming a bone he had buried four days earlier and dragging it to Wakko's feet, but all Wakko had done was stare at it gloomily, and eventually Dog had taken it away and buriedit once more. He had done all he could.

"Psst!"

Wakko looked up, and stood, walking over, it was Yakko, Dot, Pinky and Brain, stood behind the garden fence.

"Angelica said we couldn't talk to you, so we came round the back," Brainexplained.

"There's a circus come to Gate B," said Pinky. "Yakko was down there, and he saw them. They're just setting up."

"They've got tents, and elephants and jugglers and pratic'ly wild animals and stuff and-and everything!" Said Yakko.

"We thought maybe we'd all go down there an' watch them setting up," said Dot.

Wakko shook theirhead sadly. "Can't go anywhere," they said. "They said so."

"Wakko, what happened last night?" Asked Dot, eyebrow raised,a trifle uneasily.

Wakko shrugged. "Just stuff. Doesn't matter," they said. "'Salways the same. All you do is try to help, and people would think you'd murdered someone or something. And now I'm stuck in the garden."

"How long until they let you out?" Asked Pinky.

"Not for years an' years. Years an' years an' years. I'll be an old man by the time they let me out," said Wakko.

"How about tomorrow?" Asked Yakko.

Wakko brightened. "Oh,tomorrow'llbe all right," they pronounced. "They'll have forgotten about it by then. You'll see. They always do. You all go," they told them, with a brief, hollow laugh. "Don't you worry about me. I'll be all right. I'll see you all tomorrow."

The Them hesitated. Loyalty was a great thing, but no lieutenants should be forced to choose between their leader and a circus with elephants. They left.

Wakko sat back down, and picked up a twig for Dog.

Dog gave up on his master, and began to stalk a butterfly in the grass by the garden hedge. This was a serious, solid, impassable hedge, of thick and well-trimmed privet, and Wakko knew it of old. Beyond it stretched open fields, and wonderful muddy ditches, and unripe fruit, and irate but slow-of-foot owners of fruit trees, and circuses, and streams to dam, and walls, stages, and houses, and trees just made for climbing... But there was no way through the hedge.

Wakko looked thoughtful. "Dog," said Wakko, sternly, "get away from that hedge, because if you went through it, then I'd have to chase you to catch you, and I'd have to go out of the garden, and I'm not allowed to do that. But I'd have to... if you went an' ran away."

Dog jumped up and down excitedly, and stayed where he was. Wakko looked around, carefully. Then, even more carefully, they looked Up, and Down. And then Inside. Then...

And now there was a large hole in the hedge-large enough for a dog to run through, and for a middle child to squeeze through after them. And it was a hole that had always been there. Wakko winked at Dog. Dog ran through the hole in the hedge.

And, shouting clearly, loudly and distinctly, "Dog, you bad dog! Stop! Come back here!" Wakko squeezed through after him.

Something told them that something was coming to an end. Not the world, exactly. Just the summer. There would be other summers, but there would never be one like this. Ever again.

Wakko paused, seeing Pepé and Sylvester burning something, and they turned. They waved to the couple with a smile, and they waved back.

For a fraction of an instant Wakkosaw, outlined in the smoke, a handsome, female face. A face that hadn't been seen on Earth for over three hundred years.

Agnes Nutter Maltese winked at them.

The light summer breeze dispersed the smoke; and the face and the laughter were gone.

Better make the most of it, then.

Wakko grinned, and began to run once more.

Wakko looked up. Above them hung an old apple tree, gnarled and heavy. It might have been there since the dawn of time. Its boughs were bent with the weight of apples, small and green and unripe.

With the speed of a striking cobra the child was up the tree. They returned to the ground seconds later with their pockets bulging, munching noisily on a tart and perfect apple.

"Wakko Warner," screamed R.P. Tyler,"get away from my apples!"

Wakko and Dog began running again.

"Oi, you child! I'll tell your Creators and the Doctor!"

Wakko laughed, speeding up, Dog at their heals.

They couldn't see why people made such a fussabout people eating their apples. But life would be a lot less fun if they didn't.

And there never was an apple, in Wakko's opinion,that wasn't worth the trouble you got into for eating it.

If you want to imagine the future, imagine a child and their dog and their friends. And a summer that never ends.

And if you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot... no, imagine a sneaker, laces trailing, kicking a pebble; imagine a stick, to poke at interesting things, and throw for a dog that may or may not decide to retrieve it; imagine a tuneless whistle, pounding some luckless popular song into insensibility; imagine a figure, half angel, half devil, all human and cartoon...

Slouching hopefully towards Warner Brothers Studio...

Forever.

Chapter 30: the very last day of the rest of their lives...

Chapter Text

MEANWHILE,

ABOUT 12 HOURS AGO,

AT THE SECOND BEGINNING,

SUNDAY,

THE VERY FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF THEIR LIVES

Wakko had rebooted reality.

They had changed the past and changed the present.

So on Sunday, people woke to find a world that was almost, but not entirely, the one that they used to inhabit. Although people who were dead were now alive. And things that were broken had now been miraculously restored.

Bugsstood outside the game shop, it was good as new and he ignored the sick, sinking feeling in his stomach. He walked in, and traced his perfectly soft and newly stitched gloved fingerover the desks, and he twirled the ring on his finger. The couple came to an agreement to wear their wedding rings on show, they are on their side, they worship each other, it was only appropriate.

He paused, and stared at a shelf of books,Biggles Goes To Mars and Jack Cade, Frontier Hero and 101 Things A Boy Can Do and Blood Dogs of the Skull Sea. They weren't the style of the shop, but they were nice, he's sure and in mint condition, he's sure and brand new. The only thing he could say, with a scowl was, "those are new." He looked around again, and decidedthat things certainly were off.

Daffywalked out of the flat at ease, and paused to a slow stop. There, on the side of the road parked up, was the black Bentley, not a scratch on her, all shiny and new. It truly looked brilliant! He slowly smiled, all kind and soft, and he stepped forward, fixing hisruffled black feathers, making them smooth, and flattened the few strands that stuck up on his head. Hestuck his hand out, calling out for a taxi, getting in the back seat and leaving the Bentley there.

Whitter Narrows Park was comparatively quiet. The ducks, who were experts inrealpolitikas seen from the bread end, put it down to a decrease in world tension. However, there were a lot of people in offices trying to figure out what happened to the computers yesterday, and where Atlantis had disappeared to.

A brass band played Queen's "Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon"in the park, as the mostly deserted park, was filled with quiet chatter. A member of the MI9 was trying to recruit someone who, to their later mutual embarrassment, would turn out to also be a member of the M19.

"As far as the American government is concerned, the apparent appearance of the legendary monster the Kraken was a mass hallucination." Said one man, reading over the newspaper as some rain fell down with a quiet and gentle patter.

"There were a number of mass hallucinations in our country too." Said the other, with an accent as he bit a sandwich and read his paper.

"Yes, only this one ate our trade delegation."

And there was alsoBugsandDaffy.

"A thtrawberry lolly, and a vanilla with a flake, please." AskedDaffy, pulling out money and handing it over to the man behind a red, wooden ice cream stand, that had an umbrella up.

"How is da car?" AskedBugs, back straight-ish, but not as straight as usual.

"Not a thcratch." AssuredDaffy, leaning onto the ice cream stand with effort, watching asBugswobbledaround him, eyeing him up and down. "How'ththe bookshop?"

"Not a soot mark."Bugssaid, tensely. "Not an objectburned." He answered, strolling around his husband with a stumble. "Everything is back just the way it was."

Daffyreached out, and took the vanilla ice cream, handing it over toBugs, who was now on the opposite side of him. He took his own strawberry lolly, and gave the man behind the stand a nice, yet still duck-likesmile.

"Yaheard from ya peopleyet?" AskedBugs, tense, as he glanced around warily.

Shaking his head with a pursed beak,Daffyasked, "your people?"

"Nothing." He responded in a whisper, shaking his head and looking like he had just sucked a lemon.

The man behind the counter shut the case with a quietthud.

Daffyopened and closed his mouth, beak pursed, as he took his husbands spare hand, "do you know what happened yethterday?" He asked, leaning in slightly.

"Well, I understand some ofit."Bugsreplied, squeezing his husbands hand. "But some ofit..." He trailed off, as if he was heaving, "well, it's just a little bit too—"

A dark hoarse, rumbledvoice sounded from afar, INEFFABLE. Death stood, with his scythe raised and was feeding the ducks.

Daffystared at Death, and mumbled, gesturing with his lolly, "oh, dat-that's funny, seeinghim here. That's meant to be bad luck." He stammered out.

Death vanished into black smoke, gone again, as the ducks flew about in fear.

Stammering,Daffyturned to his side, "it's meant to be bad..." There was noBugs, nothing, and he wondered in fear when he lost the hand he was holding before. He spun around frantically, confused and worried, and suddenly he paused.

There wasBugs, white tape over his mouth, hands bound with white rope and was being dragged back by two angels. His black eyes were wide and he was mumbling and yelling behind the gag. (What was being said was, "Daffyrun! Run now!" (Because ofcoursehe would, even bound and gagged Bugs would try and warn him. No doubt in Daffy's mind.))

Sandalphon and Uriel stood in front of the scene, shieldingDaffyfromBugs.

"Renegade angels all tied up with strings." Urielsaid, in an outfit of a white shirt and beige dungarees.

Sandalphon, like the slimethat it is, smiled, a sick twisted smile, "these are a few of our favourite things."

The two turned, loosing their twisted smiles as they went off afterthe shuffling and helplessly tied upBugs.

'Damn everything!'Daffythought in panic and worry. He threw his lolly to the side,and pointed, "stop! Stop them!" His eyes wide, and he ran forward, stumblingas he did. (Because, ofcourseDaffy would run after him if he was in danger, that's just who Daffy is. No doubt in Bugs' mind.)

"What's wrong, love?!" Screeched a voice of what looked like a Korean woman. She raised a crowbar, and slammed against the raven feathered beings head, and watched in satisfaction asDaffyfell down with a pain filled grunt. No, who was thought to be a lovely Korean woman, was in fact Hasturin disguise and he spat out, "oh, bad luck, dear."

Daffylooked up, eyes squinting behind his glasses, and looked around with groans, three demons surrounded him watching with hateful glares, and he grunted out, and groaned in pain, everything spinning, "its not a problem. It's... tickety-boo..." He fell down, unconscious and in pain, limp.

Lord Beelzebub, Duke Hastur and Under-Duke Dagon,walked down the dark, damp and flickering, crackling lighted hallway, with a small creature known as one of Hell's Ushers leading them. The ceiling was still leaking with gunk, and sewage water, and smelt of fire and brimstone, mixed with sulphur.

Dagon looked utterly delighted, as she walked down the hallway. Next to her was Hastur, who scowled. In front of them was Beelzebub, who looked bored.

The Usher hummed, and groaned, it was small and pudgy, and was wearing a black torn sash and a staff, that held the symbol of a goat, the image of a goat well used in Hell, and it was something everyone used it for the symbol of satanic cults. (No one ever knew why, maybe Satan liked goats.)

Beelzebub sat on zir large, black throne that had multiple spikes coming from the back support, and ze began slouching in it with a delighted sigh, zir back practically on the seat itself rather than the back rest, as the seat came too far out. Hastur and Dagonsat on seats, either side of the FlyLord.

They were in a dark and dingy room, thick with dirt, with a bacteria infestedbathtub, and one large, grimywindow in the wall, hand prints and grease dragged down it. Behind the window was a sea of demons, sat on the floor, and maggot eaten benches, eagerly watching and groaning, waiting for what was to come.

"The trial of the demon Lucas, beginning with evidence and ending with utter obliviation, is in session." Hell's Usher announced, and slammed his staff down twice. "All rise."

All the demons, Hastur and Dagonincluded, stood up from their seats as asked, all seeming eager. Hastur less so, more angry and co*cky.

Beelzebub stayed in zir seat, flies buzzing around zir head, watching with a glare-full glare, and buzzed out with a bored drawl, voice echoing,"bring in the Traitor!"

Two dark hooded and cloaked demons led a frowning, and annoyed sauntering duck demondown the same flickering hall, his orange webbedflippers slamming and slappingagainst the floor. He was in his usual noneclothed self, besides his black sunglasses, only this time his golden wedding ringwas blatantly on show, unlike all the other times he tried not to draw attention to it, and his hands were bound with red rope in front of him, tight and uncomfortable.

He waddled in front of the three with a saunter, the guards on either side. He smiled coyly suddenly, "hey, guyth." He looked around, checking the place over, "nice place you got here. A sex dungeon! It took too long to convinthce you!" He smirked, eyes half-lidded with lust behind his glasses, and relished the choking of spit from Hastur.

("Hathturis the eathiest to methwith..."

"Is dat you encouraging me ta mess with Hastur?"

"Yep!")

"It's not a nice place... not for you, it won't be." Hasturchoked out, tense and uncomfortable, as he shuffled.

"Could do with a pillow or two." He scowled, as if personally offended there was no pillows in a sex dungeon, "maybe a coffee table." He shrugged, "an actual bed..."He scrunched up his beak.

"Silenzzzze!" Buzzed Beelzebub, making the duck look to the Lord, a lewd smirk on his lips. "The prizzzzoner shall approach."

"Love to." Heagreed, steppingforward with a smile. "Tho, four of uth. Rubber of bridge? Barbershop quartet?" He asked in a joking manner, a smirk om his beaks.

"The trial of a Traitor." Answered Beelzebub with a sarcastic look on zir face, and sounded bored, not at all amused. To be fair, ze always sounded bored, and done with everything.

With a frown, he asked, "Lord Beelzthebub, you are...?" He trailed off, as if unsure.

"I'm the judge." Ze spat out, rolling zireyes, and waved zir hands in disbelief, and the duck gave a curt nod of realisation.

"And I'm the prosecutor." Hasturgrumbled, making the raven haired demon look over. The Duke was smug, smirking and proud, as if he had something evil planned,he looked utterly delighted.

His dull teeth were clenched, and his beak waspursed,and a confused look in his eyes, slinking just a bit. Helooked over at the smirking No Bones, and offered, "and, tho Dagonhere uthdefendingme?" He looked to Beelzebub. That didn't seem right, but... that was the only logical thing.

Beelzebub just looked annoyed and done, as if the duck was treating Hell like Heaven, and ze clenched zir hands.

"Oh, I'm afraid not." Dagon answered, not sounding too sad, showing off her rotten sharp teeth. "No, I'm just here in case there's anything you've done that they forgot." She smiled evilly, correcting the demon.

The ducknodded, with a look of stuttering realisation.

"But we built this place for you specially." Beelzebubinformed, sitting up and leaning on the edge of the throne.

("Beelzthebubwill be that in a throne, usually is..."

"Been thinking about dat; ya think Beelzebub and Gabriel are doing it?"

"Ha!")

"It shall be your place of trial. And it shall be your place of destruction." Beelzebubsaid, a smirk on zir face, though ze still looked bored.

"That ith very kinky, gorgeouth. You shouldn't have gone to all the trouble, Beelzthebub." Smiled the duck, looking between all three of them with ease. He realised this trial was more of a theatrics than an actual trial. With a coy smirk, and suggestive lower lip/beak bite, he asked, "what theemth to be the problem?" He held back a proud smirk, 'I hate when the bastard gets somethingright...'

Heaven was bright and sterile, and he gently moved his thin and narrow wrists, the golden bracelet glistening in the light. He was bound to a white chair, with pure white rope done up with a miracle, the wedding ring on show, and he stared ahead, blankly, ignoring the feeling of being stared at, and he ignored the feeling he got from the place. It was like being at the beach in bare feet...

("I'll wash yafeet again, less blasphemous now, huh?"

"Oh, hush!")

"Ah!" Came a deep, and overly friendly, and clearly fake voice, "Happy."

("Dey will use my other name, and do not correct dem."

"But, it'th yourname! They could at least have the decenthy to —"

"I know, but dey won't. Do not correct dem. I did so once, and I'll never do it again."

"Fine, tho long as you do the thame with me...")

He didn't give Gabriel the satisfaction of looking over,and he stared at Uriel and Sandalphon, hiding disgust for the Archangel.

Gabriel slammed his hand on his shoulder, and said evilly, "so glad you could join us." He moved in front of him.

Hefinally looked to the Archangels glowing purpleeyes, and said, "yacould've just sent a message, through a letter maybe, ya do have my address." He offered, a tense smile on his soft face, "I mean, popping in and kidnapping me, in da middle ofbroaddaylight."

"Call it what it was: an extraordinary rendition." Gabriel said, his arms out and hands out. "Now, have we heard from our new associate?" He questioned, finger pointed, looking over to Sandalphon and Uriel, who stood just a bit from the Archangel.

"He's on his way." Uriel answered.

Gabriel smiled, and shook his hands in clenched triumph, "he's on his way."

("Youwill want to punch him, but don't."

"I won't hurt him, I promithe!... much.")

Gabriel smile was sickeningly joyful, as if he had won the lottery, or had won the final battle between Heaven and Hell. "I think you're going to like this." He said, hands clasp like he was praying as he walked up to him, "I really do."

("Be kind, be friendly."

"But, he—"

"'Be kind to each other'... please?")

He gave a look of soft interest,though his blue eyes were a bit blank.

"And I bet you didn't see this one coming." Gabriel smirked, now bending down to be at height level with him, praying hands pointed to him.

His smile was gentle, as if being friendly, eyebrows raising kindly,'you have no idea, you arsehole...'He thought, fighting off a malicioussmirk.

The duck demon, not Daffy, certainlynotLucas, not The Original Tempter, but is in fact Bugs-as-Daffy, stared up at them, ignoring the glares sent his way from demons behind the glass, as Hastur continued his biased case, "...and the murderer of a fellow demon, a crime I saw with my own eyes!"

("I uh... clearlykilled Ligurwith the Holy Water you gave me, angel..."

"Yeah, I see! But, why?!"

"I had to! They were going to kill me!")

"Actually, from what I remember, you waththere to do the actual..." Bugs raised his bound hands, and slid them across the white aythya collarisneck. Daffy had promised him it was in self defence, that it was the lowest of the low, even for demons, "don't I get leeway for defending onethelf?" Adding a lisp was the hardest thing Bugs ever had to do, given the fact he was rather eloquent and also had a Brooklyn accent.

"Silenzzzze!"

"Iththere anything I can thay in my defence?" Questioned the raven feathered duck demon, that was a actually a grey furred rabbit angel, looking at them, smiling all sexual. It was as if he was offering sex as a way of freedom, even though he was being charged for sexual flirting as well. (And, even Daffy wouldn't actually have sex with any of them.)

("Offer thex, but I don't thleep with any of them."

"You don't?"

"No, it's you... it's alwaythbeen you.")

Hastur scowled, "that's a very good question, Lucas."

Bugs but back the snappy response - he did promise.

"Objection!" Dagonargued, sounding uppity,and Bugs-as-Daffy looked to the Under-Dukeannoyed, his lower jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together. "It's a stupid question, there is nothing you can say or do, Traitor, as you've done it all."

"Objection sustained!" Beelzebub called, zir voice in a bored drawl. "Creatures of Hell," drawled the Lord, tired. This reallywasmore of a theatrics then it was a fair and proper trial, but what could he expect? It was Hell. He looked behind him, back hunched and slouched as usual, and his eyebrows raised. "You have heard the evidence against the demon known as Lucas. What is your verdict?" Called Lord Beelzebub, resting zir elbows on zir legs, leaning forward.

("They'll call guilty."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what...")

"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" They chanted, thumping their fists into the air, as did Dagon, her sharp teeth on display as she cheered with them.

"Do you have anything to szzzzay before we take our vengeance on you? Asked Beelzebub, messing with a few boils on zir face, as Bugs turned around to face them, a subtle panic on his face.

What if they had read this wrong? What if this was all a shot in the dark, going off of a theory they had had? If that's the case, then they're f*cked...

("And, if we're wrong?"

"Then I willfind you, I have before haven't I?"

"But, not all ya ideasturn out right..."

"Only the onethI do when I'm not trying...")

"What'thit tobe?" Bugs questioned, nervously, looking around at them with a shrug. "An eternity in da deepest pit?" He asked, before he could stop himself. Heneededto be reassured, reassured this was happening, and they hadn't just jumped to a conclusion. Please, let them be right...

"No, we're going to do something even worse." Assured Hastur, a dark, evil smirk on his face. "Letting the punishment fit the crime."

There was a ding from the hallway. Heels clicked frown down the dark, flickering hallway suddenly, and he turned. He squinted, and grew confused. There, coming down the hallway was a being who looked like a woman, in heels, curledhair pulled up and in white clothing, with large bell sleeves, the being was holding a large, clear and tall pitcher of water, so it seemed, far in front of them, one hand under the pitcher, and the fingers wrapped around the handle. They moved to the tub with purpose.

"The Archangel Michael?" Bugsquestioned, looking to Beelzebub in confusion. "That'thunlikely." He offered; why was he here? Did he know? Was he going to kill him? Heisthe Archangel of Justice, a Warrior.

"Cooperation with our old enemies." Dagonsmirked, her teeth sharp as she looked all too pleased with herself. As if nobody had ever thought about that before, to team up with the enemy, for an angel and a demon to work together.

Bugs held back an evil, yet still angelicgrin,'you haven't a clue.'He thought, his mind on The Arrangement.

"Well, wank-wings, you brought the stuff?" Questioned Hastur.

("I thwear angel, Ligur and Hasturwere a thing! If demonthcould get married, myself excluded, they would be married!For demonic couplethwho don't understand love, or friendship, they were cute. Look, Hathtur willbe wanting revenge..."

"I would want revenge too if someone killed ya, doc."

"Never thaid I didn't see where he'thcomingfrom. Would kill everyone if they killed you, angel...")

"I did." Michaelanswered, and held out the vase of liquid for them. The Archangelkept his face stern, and tense, not showing his disgust and anger,"I'll be back to collect it."

Bugs knew how Michael acted, he could see the Archangel'stense shoulders up to his ear, he could see his grimace and pulled down lips. He couldn't hide the discomforted shuffle. It was rather amusing to the Princi— the Cherub.

"No," Hasturdenied quickly, tense as he leaned back, as if burned. A rather funny sight. He sucked his teeth, "I think perhaps you ought to do the honours. It's..." He glared down at the duckdemon that was on trail, "I've seen what that stuff can do."

Archangel Michael stared at them all, a blank look in his eyes. He raised his arms, spread out, mimicking that of Jesus on the cross, and steadily tipped the jug, and began pouringthe crystal, sterile, clear and clean contents of the jug into the tub, and it splashed, and sloshed, droplets backfiring and hitting the sides. The demons behind the glass recoiled, and some even had the decency to look horrified, and they yelled and grunted in fear, as if they felt the pain, while recoiling in terror.

Bugs stared, he kept staring, blankly, at least he hoped it was blank. Sadly, he knew he was probablygrimacing. He stare at the tub, and... is that? Surely not, but even if it is,'we were right.'

"You don't get this view down in the basem*nt." Said a lower level demon, and... not Bugs, and certainlynotHappy, or Principality and Cherub, but Daffy-as-Bugs, didn't look up and instead stared at Gabriel, not giving him the satisfaction. He only glancedwhen the demon was in his side view.

It was an incredibly low demon, one of them Disposable Demons (Eric or Legion if you prefer), (to be fair, he always liked them, they were very nice and kind. Hilarious in a way, and the least threatening of demons. ("Selfies, mate! Blood genius!" Eric cried out, hugging Daffy with a smile.)) He marched up to a ring of white brimstone's, put there by Sandalphonand Uriel("ask questions, only when necessary."), (when asked, Sandalphon simply responded with, "barbeque.") and threw down a bunch of black powder from a black, faded cauldron. The white stones lit up, and it went up in flames, a tornado like fire of ribbon and string, and Daffy stared.

("Dey won't give ya a trial..."

"But it'thHeaven, why would—"

"Don't... Heaven's not good... and, I've been an idiot ta think other wise!"

"... right, no trial...")

He swallowed back a lump in his throat, feeling the heat light up Bugs' pale face, as he thought back to the book shop, the fire, his best friend and husband dead, and he tried to hide how he tensed up. He stared it up and down, and he tightened his hands into fists, he could feel the darkness squirming off of it, and he stared, "dat's Hellfire." That's how they planned to get rid of Bugs, with Hellfire, to let him shrivel up and burn to death, into a pile of nothing, to a pile of ash. At least they were right...

"The hell-iestofHell..." Assured Sandalphon with a nasally voice.

"Can I, can I ask a favour? Can I hit him?" Asked Eric, looking to Daffy, who looked even more unimpressed now. "I've always wanted to hit an angel." He explained,looking to Uriel and Sandalphon.

The two Archangels shared a look of confusion, but then turned back to Eric.

"Go for it." Sandalphon agreed with a careless shrug.

Eric nodded, chest hammering in excitement, and his gaze fell onto Daffy-as-Bugs, who stared unimpressed. He could take the hit, and he would smile all kindly, but he would f*cking kill him when he's back to being plain oldDaffy. Eric moved in front of the demon disguised as an angel, and got ready, in a stance, fist pulled back.

Daffy stared, and let his beak pull up into a small, kind smile just as Bugs would, fighting back a sneer of anger.

Eric stared, thrown off, but it didn't stop him. He shook his head.He pulled his fist back, and slammed it forward, harshly. Gold blood fell from Bugs'corporationlips, and Daffy just kept smiling. (Thankfully, the demon and angel had the foresight to change blood colours just in case they fell, or cried, or anything like that.)

Eric smirked, and looked to them, "I should be going back."

(In an alternate universe, Ericpulled his fist back, but then froze. Daffy-as-Bugskept smiling, and Eric swallowed nervously, gulping back saliva. "I should be going back." He said, eyes wide and his face pale.)

Bugs-as-Daffy stared in horror, hidden behind Daffy's black tinted sunglasses, watching as Archangel Michael emptied the jug. He swallowed back the lump forming in his throat, he could feel the waves of Holiness coming off of it, and all he could see was himself, giving his husband that thermos of Holy Water all those years ago, what he believed to be, at the time, a suicide pill.

The jug was now empty, the bathtub was filled.

"That'thHoly Water." Bugs said, this was the way Daffywas to die? With this?... of course, "punishment fits the crime", of course Hasturwants revenge, why wouldn't he?

"The Holiest, yes." Assured Michael, his soft and angelic voice crisp and clear.

"Uh, it's not that we don't trust you Michael," Bugs looked back, "but obviously we don't trust you." Beelzebub sneered, and ze leaned on the arm of zirchair. Zewatched as Archangel Michaelleft, taking the pitcher with him, holding it close to him. "Hastur, test it," ze demanded in a drawled voice.

"Hmm." Hasturhummed, and walked down the steps.

Surely not... the demon wouldn't sacrifice himself, just a drop of that water would be enough to kill him! Bugs turned to Hastur as the Duke walked past Daffy's corporation. He moved to the small Hell Usher, and picked up the now struggling and panicking being. The angel stayed silent, though he desperately wanted to call out, to tell him to stop and that the Usher did nothing wrong, but he couldn't. No, that would give everything away! But, it did make him feel sick.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" Asked the Usher, as it dropped the goat staff, "oh, ow!" It yelped, it's tail being pulled. With a content sigh and hum,Hastur hovered the Usher over the water, and it tensed up in terror and fear, "no. No, no, no. What have I done?!" It called out, and Bugs stared, the terror in his... well, Daffy's eyes, well hidden behind the glasses. "No, no! Please!" Begged the Usher.

"Wrong place. Wrong time." Hastur said with a sigh, as if apologising but everyone knew better, he wasn't.He quickly lowered the demon in the bathtub, so Hastur could back up when he needed to.

"Please!" It was dropped,"please! No!" It tried to leave, to escape,but it was too late, as it set on fire, screaming as it turning to sludge,it melted away into nothing. It vanished, as if it never existed.

Bugs felt red, bloody tears brim the waterline, and he blinked furiously. No! He's not crying! Demons don't cry, or at least, aren't supposed to. And, if one tear dropped and they saw, it would be known he wasn't demonic. To know this is what would have happened to his husband had they not switched, to know that was his Daffy's intended fate... he felt the duck pupils constrict to small dots in fear, as he felt sweat collect to his forehead, and his mouth pull down, his skin going white and his face dropping... those... those bastards! His Daffy's would die in agony, in pain, surrounded by people who hate him!

"Demon Lucas," sighed Beelzebub, and Bugs turned to zir in terror. "I sentence you to extinction by Holy Water. Have you anything to say?"

At first Bugs was going to say no, wanting to get this over with,but then remembered, "um, well yeth..." they waited for his last sentence. His goodbye. "Thethe arenew glathes, and I'd hate to ruin it." He said, with a voice of ease and relaxation, "don'twannaget it wet," hesmirked, his voice deep and slu*tty with the word "wet", and he licked the ridge of his beak hungrily. "Would you mind if I take it off?" He asked, shrugging and lips pulled down in thought, while his eyes were locked with Hastur, who gave a disgusted shiver. He had a plan...

"So, with one act of treason, you averted the War." Gabriel said, his lips pulled into a disgusted, large frown, as he shook his head.

Daffy shrugged with Bugs' shoulders, straight in his seat, a smile still planted on hislips, "well, I think da greater good—"

"Don't talk to me about the greater good, sunshine." Snapped Gabriel, cutting the demon off, and Daffy slowly frowned, "I'm the Archangel f*cking Gabriel. The greater good was we were finally going to settle things with the opposition once and for all."

'And, there you go... not so different now, are we?'Daffy thought, swallowing back his anger, because how dare they treat his angel this way?! He wore a smile, a smile that disguised his ever growing rage. Well, he was trying to smile, but he could feel it turn into a blank look, or scowl. He was nervous and furious now.

Uriel walked over, the gold glittering specks on her face, Daffy noted, seemed to be infused with her skin. What he would give to reach out, and pull of each blessed f*cking speck, he'd enjoy watching her bleed. The demon wasn't... Violent, much... scarce of a few occasions, such asDuck! Rabbit! Duck!and Hastur...Wrathful at times? Yes. Tempter? Absolutely! But, to picture himself torturing a person, and taking pleasure in it? No, that wasn't him... much...

She bent down, and pulled the white ropes loose with a quick, minormiracle, "up."

Daffy-as-Bugs stood up, steadily,and he rolled his wide wrists, checking them for rope burns. Nothing. He looked between the fire, his eyes soft in sadness, in fear and terror, his eyes lighting up, and he felt so small, and powerless, despite being in the body of a warrior, and he ignored the hammering in his chest, the awful reminder of the game shop, that these bastards would had killed him... his Bugs would die in agony, in pain, surrounded by people who hate him! How could he walk in? How could he—? No, he has to, for Bugs, to get the angel out of this. He fixed thewhite gloves he was wearing.

"I don't suppose I can persuade ya to reconsider?" He asked with a nervous yet pleasantsmile, as Bugs would have done,he looked to Gabriel, Sandalphonand Uriel. They glared, not moving or changing their mindsas they waited. He frowned in confusion, hurt and upset that they cared so little for the angel, "we'remeantta be da good guys, for Heaven's sake!"

"Well, forHeaven'ssake," Gabriel said, hands out. "We are meant to make examples out of Traitors. So..." He gestured to the swirling cylinder of fire,"into the flames." He clasped his hands together again.

They stood and watched him. With a tense sigh, Daffy walked up to the wall of fire, keeping the fear and his panic attack well hidden staring into the flames. He smiled to them, "Right. Well..." He swallowed, "lovely knowing ya'll, doc." His smile turned gracious and forgiving just like how Bugs would have done, "may we meet on a better occasion, for sushi maybe."

"Shut your stupid mouth and die already." Gabriel said, with a wide, heavily sarcastic smile on his lips. That wide smile dropped, gone and replaced with a look of anger, all under a second.

Bugs scowled in fury, the smile gone, unable to fully keep the act of "kind, forgiving angel Bugs". Hestood with his back straight, as Bugs would have done,and with one final look to the Archangel's, walked into the flames as he silentlyasked.'Why did I promise my angel I wouldn't hurt them?'He thought, and as he stepped in, as he saw Gabriel grimace with tightened musclesin discomfort, as if he was the one to die! An idea stuck him...

It was as if they were in perfect unison with each other, as if they could read each others minds. In unison, they came up with an idea, a plan. They smirked, and decided, if they were trying to kill their beloved, and possibly not leave them alone, then they might as well,'fear him...'

Demons behind the glass window screamed and recoiled in terror and fear. Water splashed on the grimyglass again, and it seemed to steam and bubble under it's touch, and it dripped down the glass. It was sizzling, like bacon in oil and fat. The Holy Water burning the Evil's of Hell.

Duke Hastur felt sick with fear and terror, and looked like he swallowed something nice. Lord Beelzebub had coiled up in zir throne, knees up to zir chin, and was stunned into silence. Under-Duke Dagon was hiding behind the Lord and the throne, her eyes wide in shock.

There Bugs-as-Daffy lay in the bathtub his flippers on either edge of the tub,naked as usual,the feathers on his body soaked with Holy Water and heavy, his eyes on show, and he dragged his finger around the painfully(for Hell that is) clean, clear, rippling water. It truly was refreshing to be away from all that Evil, and take a nice Holy bath, it was like a warm shower, or a well prepared meal, easing his slowly stinging skin. He looked at them, Daffy's eyes were just as a ducks, nothing at all small or human about them, the entire white of the eye gone, replaced with black. "I don't thuppothe that anywhere in the Nine Circles of Hell there'thsuch a thing atha rubber duck?" He questioned with a sniff, leaning up slightly.

He got no response, as he flicked another drop at the window of peeping demon, who flew back in fear with a screech. He leaned up to look at the Lord, Under-DukeandDuke, with a lick of his lips and forked tongue.

"No?" Pouted the angel, as he relaxed in the bathtub. His voice echoed, yelling, "finally, treathon will theize us!" He smirked, coldly as he gestured to himself, throwing himself up, as the water flew everywhere from the force, and he flung his handful of water at the demons that tried to execute his husband. He watched in dark, and less than angelic,satisfaction as Hastur and Dagonjumped away, stumbling over themselves, and Lord Beelzebub pressed zir back into the seat, curled up in a ball of terror.

'Fear him!'He thought in his head, loud and clear.

The Hellfire was truly... not Heavenly or Hell-ly, but Earthly. It coiled around Daffy-as-Bugs, at it melted away the burns that the cleanness of Heaven gave him, and he rolled his shoulders with a pleasant, relaxing hum, his muscles easing. He cracked his neck with three loud sickening cracks. He looked up to nervous looking Archangels, who kept glancing to each other, tense and nerved, they then stared at him, as if this was the most horrifying thing to exist... and it wasn't. 'Notyet...'Thought the demon, as a sickeningly evil smile fell upon his lips

Daffy scrunched Bugs' nose up like a broad beak, and wore a broad, duck-like, twisted and evil smile, and let out a loud yell, spitting and spluttering a jet ofHellfire at them, a largeblast of it shooting at them. He felt immense joy, as he watched Uriel, Gabrieland Sandalphonskip backwards, falling over themselves, with Sandalphon and Gabriel practically in each others arms. He smiled at them, eyes angry.

"It's very warm in here, Gabriel. Rather pleasant." Assured Bugs, with glowering cartooneyes, as he was pacing around the small circle tauntingly, "would ya care to join?" He asked, tilting his head with a sickening crack, as he reached his hands through the flames, holding his hand out for the Archangel who wore all purple clothing.

Gabriel backed up more in fear, as he stared at Daffy-as-Bugs, and pointed nervously, "it may be worse than we thought." Sandalphonlook to him, worried and Uriel rung her tie in fear.

Daffy smirked and said, "ev'ry Judas once loved a Jesus!" He yelled, flinging his arms out in an "embrace me"gesture. He laughed, as he flung Hellfireat the Archangel's feet again, just to scare them,'fear him!'

Bugs-as-Daffy hummed the tune ofCliff Friend and Dave Franklin's "The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down", and he waved his hands, flicking the water about, and around onto the ground, wall and window, completely and utterly relaxed. He kept humming as he listened to what they were saying. Demons behind the glass whimpered in fear, moving away.

"He'zgone native." Buzzed Beelzebub, watching Daffy's body with a blank look of fear. Dagon quickly looked to the Lord in horror. Beelzebub just kept staring at Daffy's corporation in terror, "he isn't one of uzzzz anymore."

Bugs picked up handfuls of water, and again, threw it at the window of demons, who all screamed and backed up in terror, and he flung more at the window, flicking his fingers, and they screamed. "I'd like thome privacy," the angel called, "do you mind?" This was fun.

"W-what is he?" Urielasked, shaking her head in confused fear.

Gabriellet out a puff of air, shaking his head, and Sandalphonsneered in fear, watching.

Daffy-as-Bugs gave them all an incredibly friendly, yet evil smile, "ya worst nightmare. If I can withstand Hellfire, who knows what I can do?" He questioned to himself, and to mock them more, he closed his eyes and summoned all the magic he had and released two sets ofwhite wings (that belonged to Bugs), and covered himself, bringing them down. Daffy's (or well Bugs')eyes were shinning and glittering, and there was a bright glow over hishead, a halo, that was more of a crown. Though, that's not what was shocking, it was the three extra heads; a lion, an ox and an eagle. "It's hilarious dat ya think yastand a chance..." He mocked, as he glanced up, as if looking to God, making a big act of it, as if saying "She's kept me down there for a reason, She's kept me alive for a reason". With another grin he said, "ya know I'm higher than ya, don't ya? Because, I am... I'm still a Cherub!"

He relished how Gabriel shook in fear, and how SandalphongrippedGabrel'sarm, and how Uriel nearly fell to her knees.

"Yaprobably curious about what else I am capable of, huh duc." He hummed in fake thought, "and soon, ya'll about ta find out," Daffy warned, voice dead with a co*cky shake of his head.

He was lucky, nobody seemed to want to test that theory.

There was a ding, and heavy footed boots from behind the Hellfire twister, and everyone looked to the noise. There stood the Disposable Demon, Eric or Legion, holding the black and chippedcauldronfor the Hellfire, and called out with a grin, "just 'ere for the—" He faltered in his steps, face one of horror, "oh, forSatan!" He saw Bugs' body, in his Cherub form, still stoodthere in the flames, with a very kind smile on all four ofhis face's.

Daffy knew that Bugswouldn't blame this low level demon, (but the demon would), so to maintain appearances he greeted the demon, still facing away from him, "Eric! Doc!" He called, his head thrown back showing his long neck, and his arms were thrown up as if stretching, one arm bent slightly, looking a bit like the woman fromThe NightmarebyHenryFuseli. He looked to Eric finally,"do us a quick demonic intervention, will ya?" He held out a hand out, "I need some moisturiser for my new tan!" And, oh Someone... he held back a laugh. The demon was doing it!

Eric shakily held out a hand, and there, in his hands was a bottle of moisturiser, and he shook holding it out, and the demon happily took it. He poked his head through the fire, looking between the Archangels and lower demon, and said, "I think ya should leave me alone, huh? And, leave my husband Daffy alone, yeah?"

Slowly, Gabriel nodded a frown on his face, Sandalphon and Uriel fearfullynodded, and Daffy looked to Eric, who nodded as well, shakily, swallowing.

"Good." He smiled, and wiggled like how Bugs would.

Bugs leaned his body over the bathtub and he smile, sniffing, "stho, you're probably thinking, 'If he can do thisth, I wonder what elsthe he can do?'" He lisped out, as he took a handful of water and drank a bit of the crystal clear liquid, and licked the ridges of his beak with his thick tongue, and exaggerated movements. He remembered what Wakko said, and let Daffy's multiple eyes overtake his body, watching them all closely, "and very, very sthoon, you're all going to get the chancthe to find out." He lay back again, but let the duck eyes turn to the demons in the room. "There isth a reasthon Satan cut off two of my wingsth," he reasoned, letting out a fake moan.

"He's bluffing." Sneered Hastur, as he moved forward, swallowing. (At this moment in time, he's realising the greenplant misterwith water in, probablydidhold Holy Water, and he could have died, (though of course,youknow it didn't).) "We can take him!" He grumbled out, eyeing the dark black, with a ring of amber, duckeyes,that were tracking his every move, warily and fearfully. What the f*ck is Daffy?! How high was he as an angel?! Higher than Satan who was an Archangel, that has to be for certain.

Lord Beelzebub looked positively sick, and ze looked everywhere. Dagon too felt ill, but was trying to hide it, unlike the Lord who getting more and more fearful.

"One demon against the rest of Hell? What's he going to do?" Hastur shakily questioned, taking one step forward, but that was as far as he went.

"Shut it!" Snapped Beelzebub, glaring at Hastur and ze stood. "Get him out of here, this'll cause a riot." Ze grumbled out panicked, as ze walked to the middle of the room, but stayed away from Bugs-as-Daffy in the tub, ze leaned up on the tips of zir toes, looking over the tub, and looked to the demons, trying to give off that everything was fine. Dagon quickly moved to Hastur, to hide behind him in fear. Beelzebub called, "what are you all looking at? Nothing to see! Nothing to see here!"

They slowly began to move, began to leave, confused and worried about what had happened.

Bugs flicked more water at the window of demons, encouraging them allto flee,and so they scattered about with fearful yells, disappearing in terror. That got them moving quicker.

A ding of an elevator sounded, and they turned to the noise of clicking heels, Bugs turned in the tub. There stood Michael, a tense yet trying to be friendly smile on his face, as he turned to Beelzebub as he walked in, "I came to bring back the—" He turned to the dirty tub, his smile falling and pausing in horror. "Oh, Lord." He gasped out, voice wavering, frozen.

Beelzebubglanced back to Bugs-as-Daffy in fear, a scared scowl on zir face, no longer taking zir eyes off Bugs.

"Michael! Pal!" Greeted Bugs in a very Daffy way, and flourished a hand out, looking a lot like Adam reaching to God, inThe Creation of AdambyMichelangelo. "Do utha quick miracle, will you?" He asked with a sniff, "I need a bath towel."

Michael reached out, oh good Someone! He wasactuallymiracle-ing the blonda towel!He walked over, looking flabbergasted, and shakily held it out for him. Bugs gripped it, relishing how he kept at a distance, and he smiled evilly,'no more two sides huh? Can't now that a demon withstands Holy Water.'

He leaned over the bathtub, elegantly holding the towel and looked at them all pointedly, with a kind yet twisted duck smile, "I think it would be better for everyone if my husband, Bugsth, and I were to be left alone in the future. Don't you?" He asked, his eyes soft at the temptation as he nodded. He made sure that no suspicion arose with adding his name in the mix, it was more of a "hurt my things, I'll kill you" thing, and they knew that.

Beelzebub stared at him, and ze nodded. Dagon nodded in shock and fear, as did Hastur who looked like he sucked a lemon, but was a bit more reluctant. And finally, he looked to Archangel Michael, and he stiffly nodded to the agreement.

"Right." He said, voice low and he smiled, scrunching his beak up in a twitch, just the way Daffydoes.

LONDON,

BERKELEY SQUARE

Berkeley Square was quiet that afternoon, and it was still sunny out, and the air cool and crisp. An angel and a demon sat on a bench in the middle of the garden, deciding to go on vacation, get away from California.

"Do y'think dey'll leave us alone now?" AskedBugs, slouched, half way down the seat, with one arm across the back of the bench,his voice a bit deeper.

"At a guess, dey'll pretend it never happened." RepliedDaffy, back straight-ish and hands clasped over his stomach on his lap, his voice a bit higher and he sounded posh.

"Hmm." HummedBugs, "mine too... that'th bureaucracy I guess..."

Daffylooked around nervously, "anyone looking?" He questioned, tense.

Bugsplaced the tips of his fingers to his temple, and sighed, "nobody." He looked toDaffy, his eyes soft, "right, we thwap back?" He held out a hand.

It was just like Agnes had told them.

Daffyleaned up with an equally soft smile, and planted his beak againstBugs, andBugsoutstretched handwent to hiswaist, holding him close, gently.

They were playing with fire and would need to choose their faces wisely.

A black light came from ones lips, and the other ones lips were white, and it washed over them, morphing and phasing, like a line and cover, like a blanket, and as to not draw attention to themselves time temporarily stopped around them, and they phased from one to the other being.

And so they had.

Opening their eyes, they smiled.Daffywas now Bugs, andBugswas now Daffy, back to their normal clothing and bodies. Swapping bodies had been the best decision, and prophecy the two had ever had, and seen. Bugs shook his body out, and Daffy stretched his hand, the two feeling a slight tingle in their bodies from the mild possession - I suppose one could call it.

"Nowdatwas playing with fire." Bugs smirked, watching as Daffy messed with theflattened feathers on his head, and shoulders.

Daffy sighed, as he took the angel's hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the softknuckles,"flattened featherth.Really?" He asked, looking to Bugs with a soft sneer.

"It's neat! It'sstylish!" Defended Bugs, who did like the neatnessvery much, however adored the fluffy feathers of his husband.

Bugs blew his lips out, like blowing araspberry but just with his lips.

It fell silent, the two relishing each others presence, demonic and angelic. They were alive, their husband was alive.

"Nowdatwas playing with fire," Bugs grinned. "So, Agnes Maltese's last prophecy was on da money." Smiled the angel, feeling Bugs' fingers gently tighten around his hand. Bugs grinned, "I asked dem fer a rubber duck..." Daffy looked to the angel in shock, and saw how utterly delighted Bugs was. His angel looked to the demon, "and made da Archangel Michael miracle me a towel!"

Daffy let out a loud laugh, that sounded somewhat like a duck and threw his head back, while Bugs cackled playfully evilly,the two wearing bright smiles on their faces. But, that laughing soon turned into wheezing, and they leaned on each other for support.

"They'll leave uthalone..." Smiled Daffy, "for a bit." His smile softened to a tired frown. "If you ask me, both thides are going to use this as breathing sthpace." He offered looking to his angel. "A chance to morally re-arm, and get the defencethup. Get ready for the big one."

Bugs frowned, and looked to his demon, "I thought dat was dabig one?"

"I'm not sure. For my money, the really big one..." Daffylooked around the park, to people who wandered the streets innocently, oblivious to the dangers around them, "is all of Uthagaintht all of Them." He said, throwing him and Bugsinto the mix, they were better humans than an angel or demon.

"What?" Bugs followed Daffy'seyes, "Heaven 'n'Hell against... Humanity?" He fell silent in thought, confused and worried.

"Right. We should go, andleave the garden." Daffy said, turning to the angel, wanting him to calm down.The demonlooked to the angel, and grinned, leaning into the corner of the bench, and he quackedout, "let me tempt you to a thpot of lunch?"

Bugs grinned, it was as if he was back on that Wall, back in the Garden, but this time the angel liked the temptation, and wanted to agree with it."Temptation accomplished," He grinnedpatting his knees, and the two got up.

They began walking down the grass, Daffy waddling and Bugsstrolling, smiling with soft eyes.

"Hmm... what about The Ritz,love cup?" Hummed Bugs, his arm going around the demons pear shaped waist. "I think a table for two has justmiraculouslycome free."

Daffy smiled, and let out a pleasant, and giddy, "ah...!"

The Ritz was fancy, and bright, blooming with people, couples young and old, all genders, all sexuality's,and all ethnicity's. And one angel and one demon. A pianist in a black dress, played a familiar song on a white piano, Vera Lynn's, "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square".

A waiter poured a glass of champagnefor Bugs, and the angel smiled in thanks softly. The waitermoved toDaffy, who had yet to stop watchingBugs with soft eyes, andand poured the demon a glass.

Bugs picked up his glass, "I like tothink none ofdis would have worked out..." Daffy looked over to him, as the waiter walked away, "...if you weren't, at heart, just a little bit agoodperson."

Daffy could take being a good person, he liked that. He smiled, "and if you weren't, deep down, jutht enough of abastardto be worth knowing."

Bugs smiled, and flushed lightly as he looked down shyly,he liked that, he could takebeing a bastard.

The demon raised his glass, and said with a soft smile,"cheerth..." he stared at his angel,"to the world."

"To da world." The angel replied with an equally soft smile, staring at his demon, nearly choking up.

The two clinked glasses, the glasses ringing out, and sipped their champagneslowly, still smiling, as their golden wedding bands glistened in the light.

Perhaps the recent exertions had had some fallout in the nature of reality because, while they were eating, for the first time ever, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.

No one heard it over the noise of the traffic, but it was there, right enough.

"That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air,
There were angels dining at the Ritz,
And A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square."