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(Tense announcer's voice:)
"White Paw and Aaron have come to the divided warrens of the old Parlor City to unite them and gain access to the latest mainframe technology being developed in the Binghamton area. But the mysterious commander Phong has sent fresh orders to the newest agents of the Mixed Fudd Division: Agents Matrix and Stick. What lies ahead for the devilbunnies and the Fudds of this burned out industrial town?
Stay tuned for...
REIGN... ((reign))
OF... ((of))
TERROR!!! ((terror!... terror!... terror!))"
(calm announcer's voice:)
"Brought to you by the Surgical Group of Cuttem and Sewemup, Board Certified Plastic Surgeons serving the Southern Tier for over seven years. Mention 'Reign of Terror' and get 50% off on rhinoplasty!"
"And now... REIGN OF TERROR!"
Phong sipped his espresso as he stared out the coffee house window. Outside, a cold summer drizzle dampened the shoppers at the Ithaca Commons. Inside, a few customers sipped their frappachinos and mocha javas while they discussed the latest pop groups. He frowned deeply. He'd watched over the years as the people grew fuzzier and fuzzier in their thinking, while the numbers of Snapple(tm) dispensers grew greater and greater. He sighed. Ithaca, home to a large and prestigous university, and his beloved second home, was going fluffy.
A tall man with big hair came up to him. "Hey man," he said as he sipped his shake, "Watching the chicks go by?"
Phong made a brief hand motion. "Rainy days always get me down."
"Screamin'," the man replied and sat down at the table with him.
Phong smiled. "Good to see you again, Agent Bob," he said quietly.
The man smiled, "Good to be back in town."
"Did you find anything, my son?"
The man shook his head. "The thumpers have concealed themselves pretty well," he said in near whisper. "But I swear there's a big nest of them somewhere north of here." Then he handed Phong a large manila envelope. "But I got something almost as good," and his smile grew even larger. "Symp shots."
Phong carefully opened the package and gingerly examined the photographs. He reddened briefly. "By the Tao! People really do such things?" he shook his head. "Never mind. And you're sure he didn't know these were being taken?"
Bob smiled. "Not a clue."
"Excellent!" he chuckled. "A little blackmail never hurt the cause. This symp will either have to face ah..." he cleared his throat, "exposure or stop helping the buns." He slipped the photos back into the package. "After we bleed him dry of course."
"If he's deep into the buns organization," Bob said, "he might find that a difficult choice. The buns might remove him, with prejudice."
"The choice was his," Phong replied harshly. "Now he must face the consequences. Anything else?"
"Agent Orange been keeping track of another area of the forest. He wants to rent an airplane and survey the forest with infrared photography. The heat from the warrens should show up on the film."
Phong frowned. "Who does he think we are? NoCo? The Wanderers? Far too expensive. If he suspects an area has a warren, he should tip off the local authorities of a plot of marijuana plants. They'll do an aerial survey. Then have him keep track of any raids the police do in that area of wilderness. The buns will hide from the cops," he smiled thinly, "but we'll have them located. Assuming the cops aren't symps or the warrens shielded, of course."
Bob pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Agent Sargasso has been keeping track of some odd beer trucks. Here are the license plate numbers."
Phong took the paper. "Good, I'll track them down. You should know we have a new agent in Binghamton; Matrix. He was trained in Utica..."
"That's not good."
"Don't interrupt your elders," he said sternly.
"Sorry, but can those old timers in Utica really train anyone anymore?" He shook his head.
"Matrix shows drive and ingenuity. But I am concerned that he might be too eager to fight the buns directly. Still, I think he will be an asset to MFD. Indeed, he has brought in a promising young woman, Agent Stick."
He leaned closer to Bob. "And I have new information from Agent Rat. Plan B is now in effect. Relay the necessary information to all your contacts."
"Then we'll need all the help we can," Bob said as he stood. "I'll get going. You know how it is; duty calls. To Rend and Defend," he said softly and walked away.
Phong nodded and watched the agent walk away. Then he opened the envelope and studied the pictures again. "I didn't know you could bend like that."
>brrrrrrring<
>brrrrrrring<
>brrrrrrring<
>click-click<
"You've reached the Office of Lorrie Whitetail. I'm sorry to say that I'm not here to answer your call. Please leave a message at the beep and I'll be happy to return your call as soon as possible. Peace be with you."
<beeeep>
"Lorrie damn your hide pick up this phone!" shouted Don Coniglio, "You've got 24 hours to unblock those tunnels and surrender whatever pitiful forces you have to me or by Frith I will tear out every throat in your warren! Starting with yours! Got that?"
-slam!-
******************************************************
At dusk, a well dressed man in his late 60s strolled along the riverside and sat on comfortable looking tree stump. On the ground beside him he placed a large black suitcase. It wasn't long before he heard a russle beside him. "Henry?" he asked and looked down, but didn't see the golden furred bunny that he expecting. A pure white doe sat there instead.
"Hello, Putman," she fluffed.
"Lorrie!" he exclaimed softly, "this is a surprise and an honor." Then his face fell from happiness to concern. "Is Henry alright?"
"He was wounded recently. He'll be all right <reassuringfluff> but needs to rest. I know you two have had a long relationship; so I thought I'd speak with you personally."
"Trouble with Northside?"
Lorrie nodded slowly. "Yes. You'd best stay low for a while."
"If there's anything I can do..."
"No. We want you safe." She looked at the suitcase. "Thank you for all that you've done for us," and she hopped forward.
"My pleasure," he murmured and picked her up. As he cuddled her a soft, stupid expression spread across his lined face. "Ah....."
As he cuddled her, three other bunnies opened the suitcase and quietly rolled out the jars of pickled toes.
*********************************************************
(knock knock)
(knock knock knock)
(knock knock)
(knock knock knock)
Les paused in the consumption of his dinner and listened to the measured raps on his door. He dabbed his lips clean and answered the door. "Yes?"
A bulking looking man carrying a grocery bag smiled at him. "Hey man, long time no get drunk together." Then he frowned at Les, "Hey, you're not Wes Pathers."
Les looked a little confused. "No, I'm Les Pathways. I don't know know who Wes Pathers is."
"Ah hell, he musta moved again. Heh. Lost again, I bet, sailing on the Sargasso Sea."
Les paused then shrugged. "Maybe he just got lost in the matrix of streets and byways."
"Here, you can keep this," and the man extended the grocery bag to Les, "just to say I'm sorry for bothering you. And don't worry," he grinned, "there's plenty more to go around."
Les accepted the package and the man saluted him. Les nodded and closed the door. Gingerly he took out the two six-packs of beer. He stared at the cans for a moment. According to Phong, the one labeled 'Light' held vanilla gas, and the others were vanilla bombs. He smirked.
"Yeah," he murmured, "It's Miller(tm) time."
Nestled in the wooded hilltops behind the State University at Binghamton lies a large pond and a protected wilderness area. On a warm summer day it can be a nice place to hike and have a little outdoor lunch. It's also a nice place for devilbunnies to have warren entrances.
Larry lounged in the sun; to all appearances just a wild hare in the wild part of campus. In reality, he was guarding an entrance located several meters away, and he was bored. Nothing ever happened in the nature preserve (which was exactly why he'd been assigned to this post) and Larry was bored to tears.
The sound of apes walking his way caught his attention. He watched with interest as a young couple strolled by. A man with longish black hair and a heavy beard walked hand in hand with a young red-haired woman in a big straw hat. The man was carrying a picnic basket. Larry could smell the carrots. As they got closer he could see that they both were wearing open-toed sandals. Well, this called for a closer look.
He hopped forward and watched as the couple paused on the forest trail. "Honey," the woman said, "I'm thirsty. Could you pass me a Snapple(tm) please?"
"Oh course, my love," the man replied as he opened up the basket and handed her a bottle of Snapple(tm). He looked around as she opened the bottle. "God, it's gorgous here away from the icky city."
Larry thought they just might be symp material. Maybe he'd get a little closer. They could always use more symps. Perhaps if he brought in this couple he'd get a promotion, complete with bigger sleeping quarters and more does. Ah, does.
The woman opened the bottle (Iced Tea) and looked his way. "Oh honey, look!" she gushed, "a bunny!"
Larry <fluffed> and got a sigh from both of them. "He's adorable!" the male said.
Idiots, Larry thought. They're perfect.
The man opened up the basket and brought out some carrots. "Maybe he'd like a snack," he said, and laid them out on a napkin.
Well, he couldn't disappoint the poor creatures. He hopped forward to munch on the carrots.
"He likes them!" the woman said, smiling stupidly. "Oh, do you think we could pet him? He looks so cute."
Larry let them come closer. After all, he was a devilbunny! And their toes looked so... interesting. He felt the gentle hand of the woman as he examined her toes. They looked so nice, so fresh, so delicious. He barely noticed the man opening the basket up again. Maybe they had some nice lettuce too.
The man turned, and Larry suddenly found himself drenched with a slimy substance. He immediately shot back into the bushes - but found that every branch he touched, every leaf he ran over stuck to him and slowed him down. By the time he reached the warren entrance he was covered with twigs, leaves and dirt and could barely crawl along the ground.
Then he heard the apes behind him.
"Thanks for showing us the way in!" the man said cheerfully as he pulled a beer can out of the basket. "Too bad you're not getting in." He popped the ring on the can and tossed it down the hole. The stench of vanilla whafted up from the entrance. The woman took another can, popped it and rolled it down the hole. Then the two ran.
Sticky and dejected, Larry sat in his cocoon of dirt and wondered how much worse his day could possibly get. Then came the explosion. In truth, it wasn't a big explosion, just enough to close the entrance up and cover him with a burning spray of vanilla.
At the entrance to the nature preserve, the two humans hopped into a rusty Chevy and took off. As they left the campus, Matrix removed his dark wig and peeled off the fake beard.
"God, that beard itched," he said, looking at Stick, who was stuffing her hat and wig of red hair into a bag. "How do you like the on-the-job training?"
"What, reading Phong's downloads and getting battle tips from you?" She shook her head. "I'm better off using my soccer moves."
"It's better training than what I received," Matrix grumbled. "I had to listen to old wind-bags who couldn't swing an axe anymore try to teach me how to use one."
Stick grimaced and glanced at her watch. "Okay, we got five minutes to get to the next point on Phong's map. There should be a two air vents there. Then five minutes to change into our army camouflague outfits and hit a place near the top of the hill." She gave him a grave look.
"No sweat," and he rubbed the steering wheel with his hands. "You know, I love the smell of vanilla in the morning. Smells like victory."
Stick gave him a worried look and shook her head. "You worry me sometimes."
"Don't worry, kill bunnies," he responded smiling.
"Phong said avoid killing," Stick said darkly.
"That from the man who us gave us the bombs," Matrix replied cheerfully.
He dug out his bag of candy. "Sourball?"
Lefty skittered carefully down the tree and peered nervously at the roadway, her tail twitching rapidly. It had been on a quiet back street like this one that the accident had happened, permanently maiming her right paw. But Lefty refused to be sidelined by her injury and remained an active scout. She might not be as fast as the others, but her hard- learned caution had kept her alive and scampering while others became casualities of busy roadways.
But now she was prepared to throw caution to the wind; a few minutes ago she'd been high in the branches above Southside witnessing a Fudd attack. Two humans in camoflague outfits had struck a thinly guarded warren entrance with vanilla gas and some kind of explosives. Now Lefty hurried to get the information back across the river. All she had to do was cross this quiet roadway, go up the traffic lights that crossed the busy Vestal Parkway, over the old railroad bridge and then from treetop to treetop to Squirrel HQ at Recreation Park.
She listened once more and started across. She'd nearly reached the double yellow line when a car roared around the corner. Memories of the first accident caused her to freeze. She saw her death coming to her in the of shape a metal monster; her life ending as another casuality of Firestone(tm) tires.
The car skreeched to a halt and flakes of rust showered down from it. Someone else's fast reflexes had saved her. The icy grip of terror faded and she was just about ready to bolt when a voice cried out from the car.
"Matrix! Did we hit it?"
She knew that name from the Intelligence briefings. That was the name of one of the Fudds! She decided to gamble and flopped down on the pavement as the doors of the car flew open.
"Damn! I thought I missed him!" a male human said.
"Is it dead?" a female asked.
"Careful, he's a wild animal."
Lefty opened one eye. The two humans looked down at her with concern. One was wearing a camo shirt and black jeans and the woman was wearing a dress and...camo pants?
"Look, he's opening his eyes," the woman said, sounding relieved. "But look at that paw... we can't just leave it here. We can take him to the animal hospital in Vestal..."
The male looked at his watch. "No time," and frowned. "To hell with it. We're here to fight buns, not squirrels."
She'd heard enough. She shook herself, sitting up, gave them a blinking look and bounded across the rest of the way to the other side and safety, leaving the two humans standing in the middle of the road.
Frankie stood up on his hind legs and sniffed the air. The empty field where he stood was located high on a hill and the grass smelled fresh, although there was a lingering trace of ape from the new homes being constructed a short distance away. He stood up and listened but he heard nothing out of the ordinary.
From this vantage point he could see half of Endicott spread out below him. It warmed him to know that his people would soon rule this town.
As he come back down into the tall grass one of the other devilbunnies guards came up to him.
"Dull assignment, eh, Peloso?"
"Yeah, <indulgentfluff> but easy. Any news on the Fudds?"
"Just that they've been poking around the river," he said, <amusedpoofle> "totally clueless in their black outfits and mirror shades."
"Uh oh," Peloso said as two apes came out of the woods and ran towards them; a male in a trenchcoat and a female clutching a hockey stick. Both were wearing mirrored sunglasses and dressed in black. "Maybe not so clueless."
"You take the doe," Frankie said as sprinted out to meet them, "Mr. Tenchcoat's mine."
They came within 3 meters of their targets when Trenchcoat pulled out a tube and aimed it at them. SPLOTCH! and Peloso was mired in some smelly goo. Frankie was just within leaping distance when the most horrible, frightful noise came out of the weapon the ape had. It stopped him dead in his tracks and Trenchcoat ran past him.
"YA-EIEIEIEIEIE!" the female screamed.
Frankie looked up just in time to see a descending hockey stick.
SMACK!
He found himself briefly airborne and tumbling end over end. He landed in the tall grass hurting, but alive. At least he was far enough away from the horrible whining sound to recover a bit from the sonic attack. He watched as the four other guards all leaped at the two Fudds, only to be gooed to the ground or whacked good and hard. Ignoring his smarting ribs he crept forward for a better view, hoping to get in another attack.
"Cover!" cried out Mr. Trenchcoat as the sound stopped. Frankie watched as he pulled a small cylinder out of the strange device and slam a new one in. There was a crack! as the hockey stick snapped in two. "Matrix!" the female shouted as one of the guards again leaped at her. She thrust out the remainder of the stick, and impaled her attacker.
"Clear!" he shouted and the noise and gooing continued until there wasn't a bun attacking them. Then the ape called Matrix shot goo into the holes, sealing them off. It was more than Frankie could stand. He stuffed his ears full of dirt and burst out of the tall grass, his sides aching with every breath. He leaped at the male and landed almost on his shoulder. He bit down hard but his teeth met metal instead of flesh. The male whacked him on the head with the barrel of his weapon and Frankie tumbled off, yelping with pain. On the way down, the dirt fell out of his ears. He tried to escape the horrible sound but felt the impact of something wet and terribly sticky. He clawed at the ground with his front paws but couldn't move. A tall shadow fall on him and the male ape hovered over him. Frankie gagged at the ape's sour breath.
"Got a message for your boss," Trenchcoat hissed. "You tell him he's being watched. As for you," and he flashed a hunter's knife.
"Matrix! No!" called out the female and Trenchcoat paused. "Consider this your lucky day, rabbit," he said and walked away.
Margaret Woodfield sipped the last of her coffee and left the Mall coffee shop. She normally didn't care for the drink but she needed to have her wits about her tonight. This was going to be a dangerous evening.
In the gathering dusk Margaret Woodfield drove her new Ford Excursion to a spot near the top of a hill and stopped the motor. She nervously checked to make sure she'd brought the blankets, and adjusted her fine silk scarf. Soon she spied a movement in the brush and opened the door.
A bunny hopped into the open and nodded to her. She got out and pulled out a ramp from the back of her vehicle. Escorted by two adult buns, a parade of small furry forms hopped two by two out of the bushes. She felt her heart flutter as the cuton levels rose to near lethal levels. Outfitted with their little backpacks, the three dozen kits filed neatly into her car.
"I appreciate your taking the kits to safety," a voice said. She looked down and saw a white doe at her feet. "I don't think we've met before," the bunny continued, "I'm Lorrie Whitetail <gentlefluff>."
Woodfield regained her pose and knelt down to look the bunny in the eye. "I am pleased to meet you at last, though I grieve at the circumstances. Northside should be ashamed for attacking you. How is Furry Thunderpaw? Is he safe?"
"He is safe, but he is old, very old, and may not last another winter." <sadpoofle>. "He spoke very highly of you. That is why we entrust you with our most precious treasure, our kits."
More the fools you, she thought and looked at the three dozen kits shedding all over her nice new upholstry. "This isn't all of them?" she asked worriedly.
"No. Others will come for the rest. Now go, quickly. And may Frith be with you."
Margaret rose and returned to the vehicle. In the passenger seat was another adult bun. "Mrs. Woodfield?" the bun asked in a voice reminicent of an old school marm, "I'm Miss Buttertop. In the back is Mr. Puff. We do appreciate you taking us on this field trip," and gave her a look that told her to play along.
Woodfield nodded sagely, "Oh course. I loved field trips when I was in school." She adjusted the rearview mirror and caught the sight of 36 pairs of big, soulful eyes looking up at her. Her heart stopped as they all blinked at the same time.
"Problem, my dear?" Miss Buttertop asked politely.
She swallowed and felt her pulse return. "Just that they... blinked."
"Oh dear," the bun replied. "Class? No Unison Blinks(tm) while we're on the road."
"Yes, Miss Buttertop," the kits chorused sweetly.
"Now, how about a song?" Miss Buttertop.
Woodfield concentrated on driving as the kits sang their saccarine songs. The farmhouse that was their destination was several miles out of town and had no tunnels connecting it to the warrens. The kits would be safe there, if they arrived. She glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed an old truck behind them. She wasn't sure, but it might be following them.
She stopped the intersection of Old Maine Road and Airport Road and looked cautiously both ways. The truck behind them also slowed - but in a one terrifying moment she realized that it wasn't slowing fast enough.
-WHAM-
The impact slammed her against the seatbelt, and the kits screamed in excitement and terror. "Blanket hide!" Miss Buttertop commanded and all the kits vanished under blankets. The adult bun dived under the passenger's side seat.
An older man wearing worn overalls and a worried expression jumped out of the truck. "Are you all right?" he called out to her, "My blasted brakes failed."
She rolled down her window. "I'm fine," she replied sticking her head out. "Just a little shaken."
"Aw, shucks, I dented your fender. So sorry, ma'am," he said as he came alongside. "I guess we gotta exchange numbers and such."
"Get him away from the car," came a whisper from below the seat cushions.
"Of course," Woodfield said as she took her purse, rolled up the window and opened the door. The man politely held it for her as she stepped down. She had almost dismounted from the tall car when the man swept her feet out from under her. She fell on her face.
"How dare you..." she began, and felt a foot push her flat to the ground. She moved her head around and could see him glaring down at her.
"Symp," he spat, and slammed the door just as Miss Buttertop leaped at him. The bun slid down the glass of the window, leaving a thin trail of blood from her nose.
She heard a second car roar up. Twisting her head, she was just able to see a young man jump out, carrying some kind of compressed gas container.
"You harm those kits..." she threatened.
"Oh we won't hurt them," the younger man giggled as he fiddled with the tank. There was a hiss and Woodfield caught a wiff of something sickly sweet. He tossed the container in the car and slammed the door shut. Inside there came the horrid sound of panicking kits. "We'll just put 'em to sleep for a while."
"What are you going to do with them?" she demanded as she squirmed against the weight holding her down.
"Good question," the younger man said. He produced a vial of liquid. "But I'll give you a clue," he said as he poured the liquid in a handkerchief. "They won't get what they deserve."
He knelt down and stuck the handkerchief in her face, "And neither will you, you [PiG-13] symp."
She choked on the smell and felt the world fall away.
******************************************************
"Mrs. Woodfield! Mrs. Woodfield!"
Conciousness returned quickly, aided by a bunny bouncing on her chest. It was the other adult bun, Mr. Puff. "Mrs. Woodfield! Are you all right? Can you drive?"
"I think so," she said groggily, sitting up too quickly. She winced at the pain in her back and knew that she'd be visiting her chiropractor before her regular appointment.
"The kits?" she gasped.
"They took a dozen, and Miss Buttertop." <frightened fluff>. "All the rest are a bit sleepy but okay. And Mrs. Woodfield? I'd've call Lorrie for help but they broke your cell phone. They left this." He held out a sheaf of paper in his trembling paw.
She took the papers and scanned them quickly. "Let's get the kits to the farm, then I'll take these to Lorrie."
They got back into the car where 24 crying kits were huddled in the back. "Mr. Puff! Mr. Puff!" one cried out, "Sydney had an accident."
Woodfield squeezed her eyes closed and thought of how she'd suffered for the Cause. But looking at the tiny, adorable, scared little faces, she wondered if she was on the right side after all.
Les and Gina staggered into Les's apartment, looking much the worse for wear.
"Dammit Les, you got to be more careful!" Gina lectured as she helped him out of his trenchcoat. "You should have let me drive."
"I'm just bruised... ow!" he said as he pulled his arm out of the coat. The trenchcoat fell to the ground with a heavy thump. "Those buns were tough. Glad I reinforced my coat."
"And we've been driving around like maniacs," Gina complained as she examined his shoulder. "Phong's running us ragged. ... Yeah, you got a nasty bruise there."
"And you!" Les muttered. "Weaving and dodging like some B grade movie heroine."
"Les," she said evenly as she got out an ice pad, "I _can weave and dodge like a B grade movie heroine."
"Oh," he said quietly as he got out the medkit. "True. But I worry about you in battle without protection. Phong told me to train you but we really haven't the time."
"I rely on speed, not armor," she reminded him. "And my soccer and field hockey moves have sufficed."
Gina sat him in one of the two kitchen chairs and handed him the ice pack. "Well, let's both be more careful," she conceded.
Gina got out the laptop. "I'll dial up Phong."
"And what's with the knife waving?" she said. "You were positively gleeful when we were vanilla bombing the warrens."
The computer beeped as it booted up. You know Phong's instructions. Maim, wound and harm, he said, but no killing unless absolutely unavoidable. You must really have it in for the buns."
"I have my reasons," he muttered as he held the icepack to his shoulder.
"Oh yeah? I'd like to hear them."
Without a word Les got up and walked into his tiny bedroom. Gina curled her lip. Men. Just when you want to talk to them they shut up and stalk away.
But a moment later Les returned and gently placed a photograph in front of her.
"My sister," he said quietly.
Gina whistled. "Wow! Got any more sisters? She's gorgeous!" She paled, realizing what had just escaped her lips.
"Did the buns kill her?" she asked gently.
"No. Worse. They've done a lot of research into genetics, and they created a virus that turns people..." he breathed in, "into devilbunnies."
"She's a fluffer now?" she said aghast. She looked at the photo of the stunningly beautiful young woman. "Les, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Do you know why they did it?"
"I'm not sure," he said as he reclined back into his chair. "But I think that Heather encountered them when she was at Syracuse University. She was having some trouble..." he trailed off briefly.
"Heather was the baby of the family and even when she was an infant, she was adorably cute. Humanly cute, not ky00t. She was also just an all around nice girl. Small and lithe, and people just loved her. Then she became a teenager and grew up tall and..." he threw his free hand in the air, "buxom. A real knockout. But she lost part of that cuteness that had always been there. I think, I think the bunnies promised her a way of getting it all back."
The computer squawked and Gina typed in the password. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."
He looked drained from the fight. "That's all right. I should have told you before."
*********************************************
"Honey, are you feeling alright?"
Margaret Woodfield fiddled with the food on her plate. Across the table, Jeffery, her husband of fourteen years, looked with concern at her. He'd been a blessing in her widowhood, a good stepfather, a fine companion. Yet the life of a double agent is a dangerous one, and she'd never told him about the War, and never would. Fortunately the external injuries were minor and easily explained away. "I guess I'm still a little sore after the accident," she said.
"It's too bad the man got away before you could get his license plate," he said with a touch of anger. "I knew I should have bought the Range Rover..."
"I'm just a little shaken, is all," she said as she tried to blink away the tears. All those little faces, looking so scared, looking up to her for help. Lorrie Whitetail, consoling her and telling her that it wasn't her fault. But it was her fault. She'd delievered those helpless kits into the hands of the Fudds. "I'd better lie down," she choked out.
She made it to her bedroom and fell on the bed, sobbing. Her mind knew the about Menace and how Evil they were, but looking into the trusting eyes of those kits had broken her heart. Had she turned into a monster? Had she been wrong all these years? Jeffery came in and held her. Good Jeffery, loving Jeffery. Ignorant Jeffery.
His arms were warm, but there was no comfort for her soul there.
The vicinity of Binghamton has many small pockets of natural gas.
At one time, the G. P. & F. Drilling Company had paid many people for their permissions to drill test holes in backyards, with promises of steady checks from the gas company if anything was found. Upon finding almost nothing, the company folded, leaving many disappointed homeowners with neatly capped holes in their yards. Still, every once in a while someone would come by and check to make sure everything was okay with the dry wells.
So nobody thought much about it when a burly man in work clothes checked out a series of wells one day. Nor did anyone think much about the sensitive detectors he pulled out of the wells, since this also was done from time to time. No one noticed when he replaced the detectors with objects the size of beer cans.
In the warren below, Don Coniglio stood before his troops. His advisors had suggested that he wait until White Paws' troops would arrive, but 'Bouncy' had other ideas. He knew he had to strike now, before Riverside could erect any real defenses. Not that he was much worried about it.
"Today is a great day for our warren." He addressed his troops. "Today is the day we will start reuniting the divided Parlor City Warren. Today we take down the <ickfluff> heretics of Riverside!"
The troops cheered and Donnie basked in the spotlight.
"The fools believed in the Angel Bunny gambit! They actually deluded themselves into thinking that they could become 'god's bunnies'. Deva Bunnies!" He laughed and the troops roared with him. "There are no such thing as Angel Bunnies!" he shouted, "and why?" <perk ears>
"Because we kill Angel Bunnies!" the troops roared.
"And this is but the first step! We have equipment, reinforcements, and fresh toes coming in from our esteemed guests..." he nodded to White Paw and Aaron, who were off on the sidelines and away from the spotlight, "And after Riverside, Southside shall fall! Then we shall be the rulers of Parlor City!"
He basked in their acclamation until explosions rocked the warren.
The G. P. & F. Drilling Company didn't find gas that day, but it did strike devilbunnies.
The campus was dark as Sid pulled the beer truck into the College-In-The-Woods. He parked and gingerly loaded a large package on a dolly. He wheeled it into one of the dorms where a tired and wet-looking Ariel was waiting.
"Um, hi Ariel," Sid greeted her quietly as she held the door open for him.
"Yeah, hi," she said distractedly.
In her dorm room they carefully opened up the package. Out of the padded cardboard box hopped White Paw and Aaron.
<Irritatedfurruff> "A most unpleasant ride," White Paw said.
Ariel gave Sid a disapproving look.
"Oh, don't blame Sid," White Paw continued, "we had to leave in a hurry and under the eyes of the police department."
Aaron ruffled his fur. "Yes. The police raided the place and took everybody but Sid into custody. Something about money laundering. Then came the explosion..."
"What explosion!"
"Don't know, but there was a definite air of vanilla afterwards." Aaron shook himself. "We quickly became unpopular in Northside. They think we brought the Fudds with us."
Ariel frowned. "Mean old fudds. We got hit hard here too. They tell me about a dozen fudds working in pairs hit a lot of the entrances and ventilation holes with vanilla gas."
<perkears> "Were a man in a trenchcoat and a woman in black among them?" Aaron asked.
"Yes. Meanwhile, I've been sneaking the worst hit buns into the dorms so they can shower."
"That's very kind of you," Sid replied softly.
White Paw nudged Sid with his paw. "Why don't you get Ariel and yourself a Snapple(tm)."
"Sure thing... but I'd like to get something else besides Snapple(tm) for change."
Ariel gave him a sharp disapproving look.
White Paw cocked his head. "And what would you prefer?"
"How about Dr. Pepper?(tm)?" Sid asked casually, "I thought I saw some in the vending machine by the door."
Ariel's eyes bugged out. "You like Dr. Pepper(tm)?"
"Sure!" Sid said with a smile. "I'm a Pepper, my parents were Peppers... won't you like to be a Pepper too?"
Ariel smiled, her exhaustion lifting. "Be a Pepper," the two symps sang, "Drink Dr. Pepper(tm)! Be a Pepper, Drink Dr. Pepper(tm)!"
As Ariel and Sid danced out the room Sid gave the buns a thumbs up and White Paw winked back. Aaron shuddered. "Apes. They're going to mate you know." <ickpoofle>
"Oh, leave them be," White Paw said generously. "After all, where do you think little symps come from?"
(Intro music starts)
(announcer's voice) "Welcome to the 10 O'clock News. News Now, Not Late!"
(video shot of anchorman with bad hairpiece) "Good Evening, I'm Fred Wately. In local news..."
(video of police cars) "Local police raid a mobster hangout and arrest seven people in money laundering scheme..."
(video of distinguished looking man waving at cameras) "A local politician's surprise announcement; he'll be retiring immediately..."
(video of middle class neighborhood) "Binghamton and college residents complain of strange vanilla smell..."
"But we lead tonight's news with a story about an earthquake in Endicott.."
Phong hit the mute button on his remote control and chortled. Plan B was working like a charm. Agent Rat's information on the Northside symps, the symp politician responding perfectly to blackmail, Agents Matrix and Stick vanilla bombing the Southside warren, Agent Sargasso dropping the bomb on Northside and snagging the kits from Riverside; all was working as planned. His tiny force had the buns in a panic and he knew it. But he also knew that his rag-tag forces were spread dangerously thin and would collaspe from sheer exhaustion very soon.
A commercial for a local car dealer came on and he grinned. Pleasure comes in odd places, he thought as he unmuted his television.
(poorly framed video shot with two men at a desk)
Man 1: "Stanley! Just look at these prices!" (shakes papers) "How are we going to make a profit with these ridiculously low prices!"
Man 2: "Well you know Frank, we have to keep our reputation of having the lowest prices in town."
Man 1: (clearly exasperated), "But how are we going to make any money?"
Man 2: "How about a bake sale?" (brings up a plate of cookies)
Man 1: (throwing papers in the air), "I just don't believe it!"
"Neither will the buns," chuckled Phong as he clicked his TV off.
The railroad no longer goes across the river into Vestal; the trains are gone and the track was pulled up years ago. But the old cantilever bridge still stands across the Susquehanna River. Nearby is the coal burning power plant with its tall smokestack and piles of cinder. It is not a fluffy place.
Yet this location was the best place for the leaders of the divided Parlor City to meet face to face.
President Mellow Ears hopped delicately between the old railroad ties from the Vestal end of the Bridge. In the empty spaces between the ties he could see the river flowing swiftly beneath. Above him were the dark heavy old beams of the bridge. In the middle of the bridge sat Lorrie Whitetail, already waiting. As per agreement, they came alone.
"He's late," said Lorrie <irritated fluff>.
"As usual," Mellow Ears replied, "I think he does this on purpose." He looked up to see 'Bouncy' Coniglio carefully hopping across the railroad ties towards them.
"They took the kits!" <anguishfluff> annouced Lorrie Whitetail, not waiting for the usual greetings. "We were moving them away so they'd be safe," she glared at Bouncy, "but they were ambushed by Fudds. They took a dozen kits and their guardian!"
President Mellow Ears opened his mouth to speak but fell silent. He was a good enough politician to know when words meant nothing. <sympathicpoofle>
'Bouncy' Coniglio wasn't. "Don't worry," he said with a <sternfluff>. "We'll get the apes who did this. We'll make 'em pay!"
"WE? Who's WE?" Lorrie shouted and spun around to face him. "You're the one who caused this mess! If you hadn't started pushing your weight around, and had done a better job controling your buns, the Fudds wouldn't be here! You and your 'new friends' from out of town were too busy scheming to think about what would happen if the Fudds came back!"
"I'll have you know we've real casualities," he puffed. "There were sixteen dead when they blew the roof off our meeting chamber! More wounded!"
"They have the kits!" she cried out. "They're holding them for ransom." She produced a roll of paper and thrust a copy at the other buns. "Read their demands."
Mellow Ears scanned the documents carefully. "I'd say we're getting off pretty light..."
"Never!" Bouncy retorted, "I will not be black- mailed into an agreement with a bunch of dirty apes. No, we must join forces against them..."
"Under you," Lorrie spat, "the lives of our kits are hanging in the balance, and you still think of conquest."
"It's never too far from my mind," Bouncy admitted <shrugfluff>. "Especially since my forces have surrounded your end of the bridge, my good friend." <fangy grin>."
"This is neutral ground!" <outragedpoofle> "How dare you!" Lorrie exclaimed.
"Easily," and Bouncy waved a paw. A group of big bucks moved in from the Johnson City side of the bridge. "We'll discuss your surrender now, Lorrie." He paused and gave her an long, evil look. "End of discussion! Take her boys!" he commanded and the buns hopped forward. "You're next," he sneered at Mellow Ears.
SKKKKREEEEEEEEE!!!!
Mellow Ears jumped back with surprise. From the high girders, squirrels leaped and landed on the backs of the advancing squad of bunnies. They were camouflagued with soot to blend into the bridgework, and had strapped jagged bits of metal to their paws.
"Eat Death From the Skies(tm)!" cried out one squirrel.
The combatants, both squirrel and bun, quickly lost their footings and fell between the gaps in the boards. Mellow Ears took a moment to look down at the river and noticed other squirrels had dropped slender lines into the river, just the right size for squirrels to catch and climb up. The lines were too small for bunnies and any bun who tried to grasp a rope was quickly cut loose. Within moments Bouncy's attack force was swimming for its life.
Mental note, thought Mellow Ears, never get between Lorrie Whitetail and her warren's kits. "Well," he murmured as the last of Bouncy's buns hit the water, "I guess we should discuss the Fudd's demands."
Bouncy puffed up with indignation. "She... she... brought squirrels to do her dirty work!"
Lorrie seemed almost serene now, "As you brought your milbuns. Now, agree or face the consequences."
Both Mellow Ears and Bouncy looked upward to see more squirrels staring down at them. "Hey," <easyfluff> Mellow Ears said, "no need to get uptight." <agreepoofle>. "We'll get the kits back." He waved the paper in the air. "I can shove this through the Council. Representative Democracy be damned."
Bouncy snarled. "Do you really think I'll actually follow this agreement? Imposed upon me by force?"
The squirrels chittered threateningly overhead.
"Yes," said the other two buns.
"I don't get it," Les muttered tiredly as he scanned the documents, "half of this agreement is just the standard stuff the AoF signed with the buns. No kit/children killing, no Omega weapons..."
Gina sat at his kitchen table and looked over her copy of the agreement. "Yeah, but Phong told me the local warrens had never signed any of those treaties. But from now on, they play by the same rules as the rest of us. And putting strict limitations on each warren's territory? Somebun's not going to like that. No milbun activity, no military aid in or out," she flipped through the document, "no military anything. These guys are going to have to be total pacifists. They're out of the War."
"And how long do you think that'll last?" Les grumbled, waving the paper in the air. "It's just paper."
"Then we'll just have to give them another two week reign of terror until they comply."
Les moaned. "It may be okay for you, but with all that running around and my new job... I'm beat! Let's hope it stays quiet for a while..."
*************************
Don Coniglio hopped up on his rebuilt platform to address his warren. "We have suffered losses; the arrest of our symps, the deaths of our warriors and the collapse of many of our tunnels. Our new allies have deserted us and left us at the mercy of the Fudds. But..."
He let the word hang in the air.
"...but we have survived! We have regrouped and rebounded! And we have tricked the stupid apes into signing a treaty that will give us time to rebuild!"
He had learned a trick from the apes. In defeat, blame someone else and declare victory. He knew that with the right planning he'd survive this. They didn't call him 'Bouncy' for nothing.
*************************
President Mellow Ears leaned back in his chair. "This treaty," he said to his staff, "means nothing to us. We're already in compliance. We're an educational facility." He glanced at one of his aids. "So how's the production coming?"
"We'll be ready to shoot very soon," the bunny replied, "as soon as we can get the vanilla" <bleechpoofle> "stink out of the studio. "We've even arranged a local outlet for 'Happy Friendly Folks' when we're finished; the local PBS station will air it."
"Excellent! <fluff> Dude! We're on our way to purple dinosaur land!" He spun around in his chair. "We'll soon be on the airways spreading our fluffy goodness!"
"Oh yes," <ittybittyfangygrinned> his aide. "Why do you think they call it programming..."
*************************
Sid and Ariel cuddled in her darken dorm room. "I really didn't take you for the fluffy type," Ariel said after awhile.
Sid shrugged. "The buns promise a brighter, better world. That's enough for me. May I kiss you?"
Ariel smiled. "Think kissing is fluffy?"
"As long as it's not French kissing."
"With the tongue thing? Yuck!" Ariel replied and kissed him gently on the lips.
Out in the moonlight Aaron and White Paw surveyed the campus. "A setback," White Paw remarked, "this is just a minor setback. We'll have our way with this place yet."
"Don't know," Aaron replied, "we've lost our ally" <droopears> "who was right on top of the mainframe manufacturing plant. How do we go about obtaining direct access without it?"
"Through indirect access. Patience, my dear mentat! There are resources here we can use. Remember, this is an educational facility."
*************************
In the gently swaying branches above the city Blacknose Swifttale pondered the information. <chewchewchew> "Do you really think you can find them," he waved a paw, "out there? Two humans? out of many?"
Lefty cleaned her ears. <tailflick> "I think so." <tailflick> "I promise to do my best."
Blacknose nodded. "Find those Fudds." <flick> <flick> "We can use them."
*************************
In a underground dwelling barely large enough for a human to stand up in, Margaret Woodfield tickled the belly of a kit. It squealed with glee. The other kits crowded around, "My turn next!" each pleaded. Margaret wept with joy and hugged the dozen kits one by one. "Oh, you're safe, you're safe! Did they hurt you at all?"
"Uh-uh!" Rose Petal chirped. "They were mean though. They caged us and wrapped Miss Buttertop in goose tape."
"Duck tape," corrected Cindy, "it made Miss Buttertop go quack!"
"They played lots of good TV for us, lots of P-B-S 'cause it's edukashenal."
"An' lots of Disney videos too!"
"The one with the deer was scary..."
"But Thumper looked like Mr. Puff!"
"Only skinnier!"
Furry Thunderfoot turned away from the joyous celebration and hopped slowly down into the depths of the warren. He had led the warren for many years and was now too old and frail to continue. But he was proud of how his young successor had handled the crisis and felt that the warren would be safe in her paws. And he was very proud of the two legged friends who'd come through for them.
He crept into his room and pulled out the telephone. He dialed a number that no one else in the warren knew, got an answering machine, tapped out a code on the telephone numberpad and waited for someone to pick up the phone at the other end.
"Yes?" a male voice answered.
"Hello, old friend," Furry said quietly.
"Moons over Miami," the man replied, his voice flavored with an oriental accent.
"And the turtle moves."
"The kits arrived unharmed, eh?" the man said.
"Yes. Plan B went exactly as we hoped. Thank you, and may Frith be with you."
The man chuckled and hung up with a gentle click.
The trenchcoat.
The bag of candy.
The Grease gun.
These were the trademarks of Doug Track, The GreaseMan: a radio announcer from my high school and college years. In an odd tribute to the wacko who cracked me up all with his zany on-air bits (which eventually got him fired) I used those trademark items in the creation of Les Pathways. About a month ago, Doug Track returned to the Binghamton airways after a hiatus of over 20 years. I don't know if this goes under the catagory of 'speak of the devil' or 'build it and he will come.'
Originally planned as a quick, 5 - 6 episode run, Reign of Terror expanded as my vision of the story expanded. I find that my writing tends to 'compost' itself growing richer as I see more of the posibilities within. It also eats up more time. Hopefully the next three (!) projects will go more swiftly.
Kudos go out to the original GreaseMan and to Kylinn (Tansy Bunny) who edited the text and pointed out several plot flaws. Thanks Ky!
~Malada-Jenny
Originally was published on alt.devilbunnies between April 4 and April 10, 2001.