Bah, schoolwork is piling up. What say I abandon this? Nobody's reading it. [Actually, even Nobody hasn't bothered, he's bathing his cat]


*Chapter 5: Loaction, location, location*

The lake glistened dully in the moonlight. And it glistened; in a way no water should. Its banks were a jungle of life, twisted winding weeds choking the few straggly trees that remained. Nearby a chainsaw rang out signalling another proud forest denizen was becoming a sheet of newsprint and a chair. The rabbits liked wood, they even ate it on occasion. Wit stood by the lakeside, idly dipping a shoetip into the water, which bleached and corroded the leather as he watched. Wit smiled warmly; now *this* was a sight to see; as the sun rose the air glowed orange, and the lake shone like a thousand pearls, and like a pearl, an irritant and lifeless. Wit had had a lot of names over the years; he never could keep just one, besides, it helped with the passports. Sometimes he'd been Mark Darcon, Gunter Weiss or Andy Dull; nonody noticed Wit, he was just that kind of guy. He was, at the current time, a rather tall and gaunt rabbit, his fur the colour of dirty snow, eyes bright red and focused at a point about three feet behind the back of your skull. He wore a worn out business suit and some glasses held together with so much sellotape they'd withstand a direct hit by a tank. He had a quiet, slightly nervous disposition that made him easy to pass over. He sat in the background, janitor, graveyard shift security, small, unoticeable jobs involving day to day running of various enterprises, usually of a scientific or industrial bent. This had been his most recent; he'd barely been there two weeks, yet he'd done so much! There had been the leaky valve for one thing...

And the rabbits never cleaned up, or said they were sorry, that was so much fun Even after they did something horribly, terribly wrong, they'd just walk away, and act like it never happened! All you had to do was prod here, twist there, and they'd let it all go wrong and, this was the important bit, make it worse in a thousand little way, they made up themselves! Wit smiled, it would be great just to drop a match, just to see... so perfect...

There was something in the weeds. Wit stopped his musing and walked over to it. It was a small, silver crown. As he touched it it tarnished. He put it on, it turned pitch black, and gleamed with a purple sheen no metal could have. Wit straightened up, there was work to do; the biggest job of all. It was about time too, but he had to hurry, the others would be there already.

* * *

Jazz walked aimlessly down the corridor, humming tunelessly under his breath. It figured, it just figured You get home after a hard day of blasting turtles, blowing up their villages and crushing their industry, and they're all out of carrot soup! On carrotus for chrissake! Why did all the bad things happen to him? His deeply philosophical line of reasoning was shattered by the Queen ambling down the same corridor, as absentmindedly as he was. She was singing, and in a bright pink dress. Windows craked as she passed by, and Jazz' filling popped out when she hit a high note. She was, Jazz noticed, attempting to hop and skip, though this was having a rather detrimental effect on the floor. SHe stopped dead when she saw Jazz. 'What are you staring at? Can't I be cheerful if I like?" She stormed past, her footfalls causing bits of masonry to fall a story below. Jazz realised he was crouched in a corner, hell, it was either that or become a bightly colored stain on the stonework. Jazz quietly tiptoed the other way, evidently this was some kind of middlea aged woman thing, and you just didn't mess with that stuff, some things men were not meant to know.