Chapter Text
Wiley felt sick in the head. His focus had shifted onto one specific plan: use his pet project to catch Roadie. If he had to go days isolated in his home, so be it; he knew if he was going to have any real chance of catching up to the fastest man this side of the desert, he'd have to go all out.
Images of Roadie's face haunted him in his dreams like he was having some manner of psychic withdrawals from avoiding him (and the rest of the outside world), but he was commited to his plan, to his project, and to his goal. It would be worth it. He promised himself this.
Every now and then, as he wrapped up his work for the day and winded down for bed, he found himself remember that simple question again:
What WOULD he do once he caught Roadie? What had his goal even become?
•
Roadie hadn't been chased in over a week, and he was beyond devastated.
He wondered what had changed. He'd always been one for a morning jog, and roller blading for work had always felt fulfilling, but recently he'd found himself in a newer, more exciting routine. Anytime he was out and about in town, there was always a chance that a certain Mr. Coyote had eyes all. On. Him.
It might've been creepy if Roadie was anyone else, but instead of scared, the feeling Roadie got as he tore down the streets being chased by that wild hungry-eyed beast of a man was one that left a flutter in his chest and bubbling bursts of energy at his feet. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't become a little addicted to it.
But as suddenly as the chase had begun, it seemed now to have ended. For whatever reason, he hadn't seen his beloved game partner in days, with no answers to why they'd been chasing or why it had stopped. Had Wiley moved away? Had he gotten sick? Or injured?? Or worse…
Roadie's eyes went wide as he turned a corner and suddenly screeched to a halt as he saw Wiley with another man in line at a coffee shop. The mystery man had a to-go cup in each hand, and he left the shop laughing good-naturedly as Wiley chased behind him.
Had he grown tired of their game entirely? Had he found someone else to chase?
Roadie was moving before giving it a second thought, and in seconds he had collided with Bugs in a jumble of limbs as Bugs desperately tried to hold his and Wiley's coffees out of the way.
"Woah, there!" Bugs called.
Wiley watched with confusion written all across his face.
"Hey, hey, hey," Bugs chided. He stepped away from Roadie with only mildly-spilt drinks and was otherwise unbothered from their collision. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to be careful on those things? Even rollerblades can be dangerous. They're called 'blades' for a reason." Bugs raised his brows like he was sharing an inside joke with nobody in particular.
Roadie blew a raspberry at Bugs and turned his attention to Wiley. He jumped in his skates, delighting in the clacking sound as his wheels hit the ground again, and circled Wiley in the hopes of getting his attention. And Wiley did watch him, albeit while still looking confused.
Roadie grinned. He continued to show off, spinning in place before zooming towards Wiley and waving, and then he dashed off into the distance.
Wiley wouldn't forget him. He'd make sure of it.
•
"Any idea what that was all about?" Bugs asked.
Wiley shrugged, dumbfounded. He looked hastily from Roadie's vanishing form back to Bugs, fingers twitching in anticipation.
"What, you don't want your coffee, now?" Bugs huffed, and folded his arms across his chest, and tapped his foot impatiently. The look he shot Wiley kept Wiley from taking off, and he took his coffee from Bugs, feeling even more parched than when they'd agreed to go to the coffee shop in the first place. He shot one last longing look into the distance.
"Well, I wanted to say congrats on finishing that pet project of yours. I was a little surprised when you told me you hadn't been outside in over a week, but it sounds like your progress has come a long way, huh?" Bugs playfully elbowed him.
[It still needs some finishing touches and a test run.]
"Oh, sure, sure," Bugs said. "But you're practically finished, right? You're done with the building part, and that's worth a celebration." Bugs clinked their coffees together like wine glasses. "Hey, why don't you take it for a spin for me when it's ready, huh, Genius?"
Wiley smirked knowingly. He already knew exactly what he was going to do once his beloved machine was ready, and Bugs wouldn't be the only one to see the show. His would-be gloating was interrupted, however, by a familiar sound of wheels being pushed to the absolute limit from off in the distance. The sound made the hairs on his arms stand. He whipped his head around to try and find the direction it was coming from, but Bugs kept him rooted in place.
"Hey, Doc, just wondering if you'd be able to do some repairs for me sometime," said Bugs. "Y'know, I've got this squeaky door, and my kitchen sink keeps clogging, and the light on my stove never goes out, and…"
Wiley's eyes went wider with every new item on Bugs's list, and his ears tingled as the incoming sound of wheels grew nearer and nearer. Fed up, he hastily scribbled a note.
[I'M NOT A HANDYMAN!!!]
"Yeah, I know," Bugs said smugly, "but I had to kill some time one way or another for our passerby pal over here."
Wiley cocked an eyebrow up in confusion just in time for Bugs to step aside out of the way as Roadie launched himself right towards Wiley, who yelped in fear of collision. With too-practiced finesse, Roadie just barely dodged Wiley, zooming by fast enough to leave Wiley spinning on his heels.
With a growl, Wiley tossed his hat to the ground wanting to bark obscenities at Roadie, who was already far from earshot. Bugs picked his hat up and dusted it off casually like his friend and neighbor wasn't about to explode. He set Wiley's hat back on his head.
"I think that's your cue, bucko," said Bugs.
Wiley was off, hardly needing Bugs's permission, running haphazardly with tunnel vision after Roadie's diminishing form, already too far for Wiley to possibly catch up to on foot. This reality didn't slow Wiley down at all. He'd done a lot of running since the beginning of their chase a month ago, and he could feel himself getting stronger at running; obviously, of course, because he was a genius and a natural learner. As he ran, he could almost feel the road itself propelling him forward with every step. He'd learn to run instinctually, to run without looking around him, to react to obstacles as they came instead of to anticipate them, to throw his whole body forward with reckless abandon, to-
Wiley felt the road drop out beneath him, and with it his stomach dropped. He'd managed to jump over a road barrier like it was a high school gym hurdle and straight down into a freshly dug dirt ditch. When he gathered the strength to sit upright, he saw stars dancing around his vision.
Well, today was a bust. It wasn't his first. He climbed out of the ditch with his ego only mildly bruised, and dusted himself off. He still had his dignity intact, after all. After a week of being cooped up in his home, he had to admit it felt pretty nice to return to the chase like nothing had even changed. There was something in the back of his mind that replayed over and over the way Roadie had come to him first, though. Not just once… but twice? Almost like he was trying to get Wiley's attention.
Wiley was being taunted. He couldn't fathom any other reason for it. Well, this, too, was fine by him; if Roadie wanted to be caught, he'd just have to catch him. The rest of his walk home was filled with Wiley lowly cackling to himself and altogether feeling conniving.
Back at his home, Wiley knew just what had to be done. He'd begun working on this project long before Roadie was ever in the picture, but he'd taken on a newfound enthusiasm for working on it given the situation. If Roadie wanted a chase, Wiley would give him one. If Roadie wanted speed, he'd give him speed. And if Roadie wanted his heart pounding, well, he'd-
Wiley caught himself drooling in his delirium. How undignified! He wiped his mouth and calmed himself down from his fervor. He was getting ahead of himself. He'd already had his mad chase for the day; now was the time for work. He made his way to his work station and toward his pet project, which sat large and unassuming in the middle of his room, covered in a large white cloth to protect it from dust and prying eyes. It was time.
Wiley yanked off the drape with cool flair and revealed to nobody but his own ego, in all of its chrome-coated glory, his fully rebuilt and refurbished motorcycle. He'd put a lot of love and care into rebuilding his beauty after a comical explosive run-in with a crate of dynamite sticks a few months back, and now it honestly looked so much better than it ever had that Wiley was almost thankful for the crash.
He worked into the night, doing the last few checks and tweaks. It had been a pain to replace the custom bulb that had instigated his entire rivalry with Roadie in the first place, but it had been worth it- he had made sure with diligent attention to detail that his baby was ready for all road conditions, rain or shine, day or night. He'd be so synonymous with his bike that it'd be weird to see them apart. Wiley laughed to himself, deluded.
The anticipation he felt as the door to his garage was raised was sickening to the point of dizziness.
Bugs had been relaxing at home, fully done up in a bathrobe and slippers, mug of tea in hand. Feeling the mood, he stepped out onto his porch for some fresh air, and he watched appreciatively as the steam of his drink dissipated into the night sky. As he took another sip, he heard revving, and he squinted into the dark to see Wiley coming around the way on a sleek, high-gloss, smooth-riding machine.
"Watcha got there, neighbor?" Bugs asked rhetorically.
"Do you fancy it?" Wiley asked in turn, his voice as slef-important and haughty as he could make it.
"Yeah, sure,"" said Bugs, unfazed by Wiley's rare speaking voice. "Where are you goin' this late at night?"
Wiley remembered the way Roadie had taunted him. That little bastard would get his hands, that was for certain. To Wiley, whatever came after the catch was starting to feel secondary to the catch itself.
"Isn't it obvious?" Wiley laughed. "To catch the roadrunner." He revved his engine again to emphasize his point and tore into the night.