Chapter Text
'That...was awful,'
Wiping the frosting, smashed fruit preserves and clotted together cake off of his suit with a hastily retrieved napkin, Mr.Campbell grumbled to himself as he sat on a bench off to the side of the busy main street of Acorn Acres, watching absently as fellow suits rushed past and Toons eyed him with a mix of fear and disdain, all of which the Treekiller chose to ignore. It had been another botched attempt at a fight again, of course it was. Four plucky young Toons purposefully bumping into him on the street thinking they had the strength to take him down in a protest against the ever expanding refurbishment of the area, along with sending a message to the Cogs, the Bosses and eventually even the Chairman.
It was a valiant effort on their part, and Spruce much preferred going up against Toons who had the confidence to look him dead in the eye and take him on with genuine belief they'd win, rather than the half-hearted types who always approached him with reluctance, thinking foolishly that he'd be an easy win by comparison to his fellow managers.
But not this time around. The Toons had grit and were tenacious, but he still won in the end. Though not before they'd managed to destroy all three of the lower ranked suits who had bravely stepped in to aid him in the fight.
It couldn't be a proper victory worth celebrating if he was the only one able to enjoy it.
Cleaning off the last of the wasted confectionary and wadding the napkins into a ball, Spruce grit his teeth so hard it caused a horribly uncomfortable crunching sound against the cedar wood log gripped in his jaws and caused the Toons passing nearest to him to flinch as he gave the soggy paper ball one last stress induced squeeze before throwing it away into the trash can beside him, his eyes drifting across the street and surveying what had been the scene of the prior fight with a solemn silence.
The parts, the bodies, were still there. A Penny-Pincher, a Yesman and a Money-bags, all in various states of disrepair. One was utterly soaked through from a fire-hose blast, while another had exploded so violently that his head had flown clean off his shoulders and tumbled into the middle of the street. The last one seemed relatively intact, splayed out on the ground as though he'd merely slipped over, and if it weren't for the oily black substance trickling out of his nose after the thorough zapping he'd received? You'd think he were still alive, but just knocked out cold. As much as Spruce didn't want to sit and stare at the bodies like he was doing, he knew that if he didn't stick nearby then the little snatchers would get their hands on them first.
It was rare, but Spruce had seen it happen before during his years working for the company. If a suit that had been felled in a fight wasn't collected by the proper officials in time, the Toons would take them away to...somewhere. For what purpose Spruce didn't know, but it was always the Rangers that'd gather the parts up and cart them away. And even then, if they didn't arrive quick enough? Some Toons took it as free reign to take trophies. Spruce had caught them taking ties, jackets, cufflinks, watches...and the really sick ones would sometimes take chest insignias, or scoop up a tooth or an eye and pocket it away...that's why he had to sit and stay where he was, as much as he disliked it.
He'd called the officials so they'd come to collect these brave employees, and now he was acting as a steadfast guard to drive away any nosy beasties that got too close for comfort.
It was such a strange scene really, to any outsider who might happen upon the street. The epitome of tonal whiplash in fact! Here sat a lone businessman, eyes locked on a crumpled heap of what were to him former work colleagues taken before their time. He sat hunched forward on the bench, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped together in front of him, one thumb tracing over one of the bolts that acted as a knuckle bone while his teeth grinded against hard wood. And all the while? The sun was shining quite pleasantly, and the scent of Cinnamon, Nutmeg and sawdust danced on the breeze as colourful critters of all shapes and sizes rushed by. Some chatting, others laughing, and all openly ignoring the more macabre scene for fear it'd get the Treekiller's attention.
'Mr. Campbell! Thank you for such a prompt call!' a voice rang out, causing the clusters of Toons to hurry along and disperse as Spruce raised his head to the calling of his name, ripping his gaze away from the scene as he observed several Ambulance Chasers making their way up the street in a pack, one of them bringing along a large container with which to gather up the more intricate, fiddly parts that had been scattered in the fight. The Treekiller got to his feet and reached out a hand to grace the lead Chaser with a firm handshake as he noted the gold badge pinned on the Lawbot's lapel. He'd be due for a promotion soon.
'It's nae problem. Just doing mah job,' the manager returned simply, the intonation in his voice carrying a hint of simmering frustration that bubbled up to the surface just enough for the Chaser to pick up on it, as his brow furrowed and he followed Spruce's gaze to watch as his crew began the slow process of cleaning up the bodies and tracking down even the tiniest parts, not wanting to leave any piece behind.
'We...are very appreciative of your sticking around like this, Spruce. Truth be told, you're one of the few managers who actively stay at the scene so we can take care of collection in peace, So - - the team think quite highly of you,' the Chaser said, watching out of the corner of his eye as the Treekiller initially said nothing, deciding to instead continue watching the clean up effort as he buried his hands into his jacket pockets.
'Ah think it'd be a lot more appreciated if those three were still up and about, personally,' he finally admitted, his head turning sharply as he caught sight of a pair of Toons peeking out of the doorway of a little grocery shop, spying on the scene and seemingly trying to listen in on the conversation as he gave a low grunt of acknowledgement and locked eyes with the blue Monkey most visible behind the door and motioned with a nudge of his head for the Toon to get going.
'Mind yer own business ya varmint! Clear off!' he boomed, the cluster of Ambulance Chasers twitching as some of them looked up to see who it was Spruce was addressing with just enough time to catch the sight of the Periwinkle Primate pushing their friend, a grey Horse, backwards into the shop and slamming the door with a startled -eep!-, before going right on back to their gathering efforts, their expressions grim.
Shaking his head slowly all the while, and turning to face the head Chaser with an even more aggravated look than before, Spruce huffed through his nose as he added 'Ah'm goin' on break once we're done here. But once ah'm back on shift ah'll put together a report for yer books n' have em' sent up to the HQ,' to which the Ambulance Chaser nodded politely, stepping into the street to bend down and pick up the head of the Money-bags that had rolled away earlier, treating the process with the utmost care as he turned back to look Spruce's way, his expression neutral as he gave a soft shrug.
'Trust me, after all this? I'd probably do the same. Don't worry about hurrying to get the records sent our way, it's a slow day at the clinic currently if you can believe that,' the Chaser replied, pausing momentarily to look down the length of the street to where they'd parked the Vehicle they'd arrived in just for the sake of making sure no Toons were harassing the driver he'd told to stay put.
'I think, also...' he then added, returning his gaze to Spruce as he shuffled the head in his hands into a cradled position, since it was quite heavy '...from a medical perspective...? I think it would serve you to go and take some time to yourself regardless. If I may be blunt, um...I can tell this fight has affected you,' the Lawbot confessed, watching as Spruce's brow furrowed deeply, his teeth grinding softly against the log between his teeth as he seemed to contemplate his words.
'...ay. Fair enough. If'n ya think it'd be good for meh to take a breather anyway...ah'll take yer word for it, doc,' the manager admitted at last, looking off to his left as one of the lower ranked Chasers approached his superior, the one carrying the now rattling container.
'Looks like we're ready Chief, 'got every bolt, screw and spring accounted for. We're gonna start stowing the casualties in the van, if that's alright with you,'
'Hm? oh, good! alright, you boys head back to the vehicle and i'll be right along...'
Watching silently as the Chaser with the container turned and began making his way down the street, seemingly keeping a watch for any Toons that might cause trouble for his colleagues as he went, the other lower ranked Ambulance Chasers worked as a perfect unit as they began the process of carrying each body individually back towards the van, one nurse lifting under the arms, while the other grabbed onto the legs, so used to the duty of carrying their own around after failed fights that even the heaviest high-rank suit seemed to give them no trouble at all. Like ants carrying something several times their own body weight.
And then, finally, once every body had been retrieved, and the parts had all been claimed, the head Chaser turned and gave the Treekiller a nod of his head to suggest a farewell for now, simply saying 'Thank you again for your service Mr. Campbell, don't be afraid to call again should you need our assistance,' before turning on his heel and jogging off down the street to regroup with his Fellow Lawbots, passing along the head of the Money-bags to one of his fellow nurses before motioning for the others to start clambering into the van. And once he himself had hopped into the front passenger seat? He turned and tipped his cap to Spruce from the window before the engine roared into life and they disappeared out of sight, the Treekiller having been watching in the middle of the street the entire time without a word.
The only real sign that those three suits had ever existed at all were some smatterings of oil on the paving slabs, surrounded by broken pie shells and smushed cake frosting, all congealing in a pool of fire-hose water.
Gaze lingering on the remaining mess a minute more, Spruce finally shook his head and grumbled to himself as he turned away sharply and began to march off in another direction, away from the scene. Let the Toons clean up THEIR mess themselves. He needed to clear his head, and he knew just how to go about it too. It was the one activity that without fail always improved his bad moods and took his mind off of well...everything, honestly.
Deciding to take the more meticulous, long winded route so as to not get challenged by more Toons, Spruce opted for the winding side-streets and narrow passages of the Acres, areas that Toons rarely took since there were very few locations for them to frequent or gather at worth knowing. Occasionally the Treekiller might pass the odd front window of a little business that hadn't yet gone under from lack of foot-fall, or cafes that were secluded on purpose to give them an air of exclusivity, and while there rarely were many customers present to bother or impede him he'd still be met with suspicious or nervous looks from the shop owners themselves, who he'd frown at and lock eyes with before going on his way, the tell-tale scent of sawdust and well oiled metal growing stronger and helping to lead him closer and closer to his penultimate destination.
It was during moments like this that he wished he were back in his home town, away from the Toons and their constant egging him on to fight or their judgemental glances. He missed being able to go down to the local bar with his old work friends for a tall, cold glass of oil or to stride through the remains of a recently felled forest and marvel over just how much lumber they'd managed to harvest whilst working as a team, hootin' and hollerin' about the major pay rise they'd get at the end of the month.
It helped sometimes to think on how once he'd saved enough to be able to go on a short vacation, he wanted to take Chip out to the old stomping ground, like he'd promised him he would. Get the poor guy away from all the stress he was under and introduce him to some like-minded souls and help his younger brother-figure make some more connections...maybe introduce him to his folks too. He grinned to himself just knowing that his old Ma would adore Chip right off the bat, and it made him feel less frustrated deep down to imagine them both deep in the heart of some sprawling nature reserve somewhere working as an unstoppable duo to fell the biggest, oldest tree they could find. Really showing mother nature who was boss!
But for now, until that time, this would have to do. And until then he and Chip would have to be content crowding around his apartment's tiny kitchen table going over their future vacation plans and enjoying all the thought that went into it.
Perking up suddenly as the sweet sound of saw blades slicing through lumber came into ear-shot, Spruce picked up the pace as he caught sight of the Lumberyard in the distance, emerging out from the gloom of the quiet side street and into the open as the small gatherings of Toons going about their day quickly parted like a wave of rainbow colours to get out of the Treekiller's way as he strode through, darting this way and that as they watched the manager march up to the front door of the 'Cut to the Chase' Logging Co. building and slipped inside without looking back, leaving everyone very much curious as to just what the Treekiller could be up to! Was he going to join the Chainsaw Consultant for a tag-team fight or something?
Meanwhile, choosing to ignore the waiting room and the front desk, Spruce bobbed his head to a passing Flunky in greeting as he headed in a straight forward stride in the direction of the break room at the back of the building, where he had a locker set up in which to keep his lunch and other items when not out on street duty. Watching as the manager passed, arms absolutely piled high with assorted files and manila envelopes almost as tall as he was, the Flunky gave a jittery nod of greeting in return, wondering what the Treekiller was up to that he seemed in such a hurry! He didn't recall Mr. Revington mentioning anything about an expected meeting with Mr. Campbell as part of the schedule for that day, so it couldn't have anything to do with that.
Before the Bossbot even had a chance to try and call out to ask Spruce where he was headed, the sudden -Slam!- of the entrance doors to the building immediately caught the low ranker's attention, eyes widening as he gripped the paper stack in his hands tighter and began a frantic mad dash in the opposite direction down the hall, the Toons had invaded for another fight with the Chainsaw Consultant, and he needed to make sure he got to the manager's office before them! Whatever Mr.Campbell was up to could wait!
All the while, having pushed open the door of the break-room with a tap of his shoulder, Spruce gave the small cluster of Bossbots sat around the lunch table a nod of greeting as he wondered past them and approached the long row of lockers on the right-hand wall, the two Pencil-Pushers and lone Yesman acknowledging Spruce's arrival with a polite greeting here and there from behind their steaming coffee mugs as they curiously watched him fiddling away at the combination to get his locker open.
They had no idea that despite Spruce being a Cashbot, and thus assumedly good with numbers, in actuality the Treekiller saw little point in making the combination to his locker complicated, as he knew that he'd immediately forget it if he did. It was like how, unlike Chip who had written his full name and title on the name tag of his locker, Spruce had simply written 'CAMPBELL' in the neatest handwriting he could muster.
Tapping out '0100' on the little lock, Spruce gave a soft grunt of satisfaction when he heard the light -click- echo from inside, pulling the green metal door open and giving a contented grin to himself as he reached inside and withdrew what was probably his most treasured possession, that being a sturdy woodcutter's axe that sported a very sharp, very effective blade. One that had likely only just recently been sharpened, the metal glinting gorgeously in the overhead fluorescent lights.
Closing his locker up once more with a -Clang!- and hefting his axe over his shoulder now he'd found what he'd came for, Spruce turned to face the three Bossbots, who were still silently observing him in mute intrigue, and bobbed his head over at a nearby door at the opposite end of the room that essentially acted as a short-cut directly into the lumberyard itself, muttering 'If'n Chip askes about where ah am, ya can tell 'im ah'll be out in the yard, ah won't be away long, got it?' with a casual air, the Yesman nodding swiftly in return with that trademark reliable smile of theirs while one of the Pencil-Pushers went to go write the message down on a nearby napkin so none of them would forget.
'Consider it done boss!'
Pleased enough by that response, the Treekiller wasted very little time then in striding across the room and past the three co-workers as he gripped hold of the door handle and gave it a hefty pull, as that door was notorious for getting jammed, before stepping out into the wide open expanse that was the ongoing lumberyard, where it was nothing but logs, logging equipment, and trees still yet to be felled as far as the eye could see.
Breathing in deeply, Spruce could already feel himself slowly starting to relax, the scent of sawdust, pine and even the vague hint of maple combined with the familiar weight of the axe propped over his shoulder bringing him steadily back down to earth as he made his way further into the yard, aiming for a patch of trees still yet to be felled as one by one, the Treekiller made a point to count every log or stump that he passed by, proof of Cog inc.'s continued conquest over Toontown.
10...
20...
30...
It never failed to help quell Spruce's low moods, going back to his more humble beginnings in the lumberjack business. Back then, while there were still casualties that happened amongst the loggers, not only was it a lot rarer of an occurrence, but above all else those fatalities were almost always accidents. Sheer bad luck that simply came with the job. Nothing more, nothing less. It wasn't like here in the corporate world, where losing co-workers for utterly stupid, preventable reasons were so common.
Spruce often found himself thinking that he wished he could tell fellow suits to go away whenever Toons approached to fight him. That they should go on their way and continue their work elsewhere...but alas, he couldn't. Lower ranking suits were contractually obligated to assist managers in fights whether they truly wanted to or not.
That's why Spruce chose to come out here whenever he felt low after a failed fight. He could temporarily be left on his own, with his thoughts, and pretend like he was back home, felling trees the old fashioned way.
Entering the beginnings of the untouched woodland, rather than take aim at the first tree he came across, the Treekiller instead marched further inland for a few paces, looking for a tree in specific that he'd marked as an indicator that he was in the right place.
Not too long ago, maybe two or three months at most, Spruce had been out in the woods on another one of his cool-down sessions, when he'd happened to come across an area off the beaten path that for all the world seemed more densely packed with varieties of trees than the rest of the woods. It was just secluded enough that Spruce knew the Bossbots wouldn't easily be able to find him if they went looking, not unless they used their propellers anyway, so it had quickly turned into his ideal chopping-ground.
Ah! There it was now. Carved into a bowed old Yew tree was a decently sized 'X', off to the left-hand side of the trail the Treekiller had been following. Just unassuming enough that nobody would think it meant anything, other than maybe that the tree was sickly and wouldn't yield any good timber.
Grinning with anticipation, Spruce parted a pair of bushes set beside the old Yew and stepped clear off of the carved path entirely, already able to make out the outlines of the trees in his little 'secret spot' off in the distance as he easily clambered over large stones and stepped over raised tree roots without much thought, having mentally mapped out the route precisely so he'd not trip at any point, looking forward to an hour or two of sweet solitude and not really thinking about his immediate surroundings.
All the while, some feet behind, Spruce had no idea that he wasn't alone in those moments, not as much as he'd like to believe. Watching from beside the old Yew, tucked away beneath its shaded boughs, a stranger watched him go in silence, waiting until the Treekiller was out of ear-shot before continuing on down the path after him, hot on his trail...