Work Text:
He got Daffy out.
He got Daffy out, because unlike everyone else, he had recognized that something was wrong with Daffy. Daffy had always been a little crazy, using the line between sanity and insanity like a jump-rope, but after so many years of working for ACME…well, Bugs had thought it was just stress. Stress causing more and more frequent moments of insanity. That was to be expected, but then Daffy got worse and worse and Bugs finally snapped.
He got Daffy out.
He got Daffy out, but by the time he had finally gotten Daffy to agree to stay in his burrow, ACME had already rabbit-proofed the entirety of Project Sisyphus’s facilities.
Well, they mostly rabbit-proofed it.
Bugs was aware that sometimes he was…more conscious then the rest of the toons. Like he could see them for what they were, and how the laws that ruled their existence were bendable. He could do things that regular humans couldn’t, but he could also do things that regular toons couldn’t. He was aware.
So sure, ACME rabbit-proofed Project Sisyphus.
They didn’t Bugs Bunny-proof it.
But it was trickier to get in and even trickier to get out. He couldn’t find Dr. Lorre, nor could he find any files that explained the entirety of Project Sisyphus—he kept finding bits and pieces, but never anything substantial enough to make a case.
He smuggled Pepe out—gave him to Granny, figured that she would be able to keep that menace under control. He managed to exchange some correspondence with Tweety, and he almost got them out, but the guards had spotted him, and he had to flee. They raided his burrow after that, Bugs barely managing to escape with Daffy in tow. He swore that next time he saw Tweety, he was going to punt that little bird harder than any attack Sylvester had ever done.
Not that it was Tweety’s fault that they were being blackmailed into helping ACME.
He thought about bringing ACME to court, but what did he have? A duck that no one would believe because of his mental destability, a few scraps of information, and a singular paint can that he had smuggled out when he had rescued Daffy. He didn’t have enough evidence, ACME knew he was looking into them, and now they could get any information about him from Tweety. They could get to him, but worse, they could get to Daffy.
He had to go into hiding.
He checked Daffy into St. Looney’s. It was the worst thing he had ever had to do, but he couldn’t take Daffy with him, not when any mention of ACME would send the duck off the rails. He had to figure out a way to bring ACME down, and St. Looney’s would be a safe place for Daffy. There were already a few other patients affected by ACME there, patients who had either managed to escape themselves or had been released by ACME when they were no longer useful.
Daffy…had not liked it.
But Bugs had to hide, and Daffy would be safe at St. Looney’s. He wasn't sure if Daffy would ever be his friend again, but it was a choice he had to make. Daffy and the paint can were safe, and he was free to go into hiding.
Hiding was a stretch.
He bunkered down by the carrot festival, tempting fate—and Tweety’s knowledge—a bit, but he knew that the commitment to the bit would pay off. He didn’t know how, exactly, he just knew that it would. He stayed there for a very, very long time, continuing to sneak into ACME and obtain more and more information. He came across the recordings of Daffy and had promptly blown up a good portion of Project Sisyphus’ facilities.
He visited Daffy occasionally, whenever he felt it was safe enough to sneak away. Daffy was calming down, thankfully, beginning to grasp reality again. Bugs wasn’t sure how ACME was going to have changed him, or how the therapy and calm of St. Looney’s would affect him in the long run, he was just glad that his friend was starting to return.
Then the coyote showed up.
He had been eating breakfast, reading the newspaper he had stolen, when the headline had caught his eye. He spat out his carrot juice in a frankly absurd spit take, staring at the words on the page like they might disappear at any moment.
Wile E. Coyote Sues ACME!
He knew Wile E. Coyote, of course. Sometimes it felt like he had met every toon on Earth, and most of the ones in the greater galaxy as well. Wile E. Coyote, the inventor, self-proclaimed genius, who spent his days desperately trying to catch The Road-Runner. An epic chase, one that had been going on for as long as Bugs could remember.
He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought of Wile E. sooner. The coyote was perfect! Bugs had known Wile E. used ACME products, which meant he had a wealth of information and evidence to be used against ACME. Foghorn—the traitor—wouldn’t know what hit him!
Kevin Avery was the lawyer in charge of the case, which was interesting, because Avery, Jones, & Maltese was well known to be a settlement firm. The whole thing smelled like a con, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Bugs knew that cons could become legit movements, and legit movements could be cons. Either way, ACME was going down.
He watched the first trial on TV.
It was a disaster.
Clearly, they needed his help.
He made the call from above-ground, trying to let the music of the carrot festival seep into the phone call. His situation was still precarious—he couldn’t be at the forefront of this movement. It might put Daffy in trouble. Still, with a sinking heart, he realized he was going to have to include Daffy anyway. The paint can would explain Project Sisyphus better than he could. Besides, the knowing was happening again, the way that he knew he had to carry something out in a specific way, even if it didn’t make the most logical sense.
So he sent them Daffy’s way, and then prepared. They’d end up here eventually. He left enough clues in his calls to make sure.
Kevin Avery was a mess of a lawyer. The girl was less of a mess, and Wile E. had a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, although Bugs could tell that he was focused on one thing—catching Road-Runner. Still, Bugs delivered his information, played his scene up for the audience, because he was aware of the way the cameras zoomed around him and the faint itch of animators adjusting his posture. He just…was more aware.
It was a close call when ACME showed up, but he escaped easily. This burrow would have to be abandoned as well, but it was all for a good cause. All of it was for a good cause. He resumed his watch on ACME, waiting for the perfect time to strike. With their entire focus on the trial, it wouldn’t be long before they would loosen their guard.
And loosen their guard they did.
The attack on Road-Runner did that—Road-Runner stopped by his latest burrow, briefly, on his speedy way to D.C.. Bugs had never seen the bird look so frantic. The bird wouldn’t have stopped if Bugs hadn’t flagged him down, talking faster than he ever had in his life to explain the situation to the speedster. He wasn’t sure how much of it Road-Runner had understood, the bird’s only focus seeming to be to go help Wile E., but he managed to get the information he needed about ACME. They had tried to capture Road-Runner, and they had failed. They had also wasted a ton of resources.
He broke in on the day of the trial.
It was easy. The guards were all clustered around the television, watching with slack jaws as Foghorn monologued and Kevin awkwardly tried to fight back. Bugs was able to amble his way to the computers, downloading more information then he could have ever dreamed about. He took photos, stole evidence, shoving them into the many pockets of his trench coat—the pockets were bigger on the inside, of course. Toon logic. More than toon logic. He was aware.
He found Tweety on the way out—the bird was staring at a smaller screen, watching the trial with big eyes. He gave the little bird a good kick across the floor, causing them to squeak with fright.
“What was that for?” Tweety shouted, their usual lisp making the words almost incomprehensible.
“Cause, doc, you suck.”
“They would’ve hurt—”
“Granny, I know. I’ll forgive you in a few years.”
“ACME will never let me go.”
Bugs scoffed, and hauled Tweety back to their feet.
“Don’t be too sure of that.”
He left Tweety there, still staring at the smaller screen. He was leaving the building when he heard familiar beep-meep’s coming from all of the screens currently watching the trial. The speedy menace did it. He would testify, the world would know, and ACME would be destroyed—maybe not immediately, but it would happen.
Bugs made his way back to his burrow and watched a recap of the trial before sending all the photos, videos, and evidence he had gotten to Kevin.
It was over. They hadn’t won the trial, but more and more toons were bringing cases forward. Avery, Jones, & Maltese had their hands full, and Road-Runner stopped by Bugs’ burrow on the way back to the desert, pecking him once on the top of the head before speeding off in a cloud of dust. Bugs supposed that was closest he was going to get to a thank you.
All that was left was Daffy.
The duck was painting in the garden again.
“What’s up, doc?”
He asked, almost shyly. Daffy spun around to look at him, a grumpy expression on his face. He supposed that was better than a manic expression, and the peaceful, calm Daffy of late had been weirding him out. Grumpy Daffy was…normal. It made some tension in his shoulders vanish.
“I suppose I have you to thank for those…humans who caused me to have an episode?”
Bugs shrugged, and plopped down on the grass next to the duck.
“The CEO has been arrested.” He said, eyeing Daffy cautiously. The Duck blinked, slowly, his eyes flashing with suppressed mania, but nothing happened. “You helped.”
“Of course I did, I’m very helpful”
Daffy grumbled, and Bugs couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.
“It was Wile E. and Road-Runner who did it.”
“I don’t know that I ever met them.”
“Well, they’re nice. Mostly non-verbal toons.”
Daffy hummed in response, continuing his painting. Bugs leaned back in the grass, staring up at the sky. It was nice here, he couldn’t deny that.
“I am sorry for sending them here.”
“Bugs Bunny apologizing, what a day.”
Paint got flicked on his nose and he glared at Daffy.
“Watch it.”
“You can’t be mean to me, I’m in an institution.”
He kicked at Daffy’s leg, missed, and sighed as Daffy snorted with laughter.
“You’re losing your touch, rabbit.”
“So are you, duck.”
They fell into silence, the only sound the running water and the faint squelch of paint being applied to canvas.
“WHAT THE HELL?”
Bugs jumped to his feet at the shrill shriek. One of the nurses was standing in the doorway, her mouth wide open as she stared at him. He was very aware of Daffy glaring at him, but he just flashed a wide grin in response.
“You can’t be in here!”
The nurse shrieked and Bugs gave her a little salute before turning to Daffy, who was clearly trying to decide if he was angry or amused.
“I’m not losing all of my touch.” He said, reaching out and grabbing his duck’s painting off its easel. Daffy’s jaw dropped and Bugs took off sprinting.
“HEY!”
He was being chased by both Daffy and the nurse, and he was pretty sure a doctor had come out of the building at the commotion as well. A well aimed carrot over his shoulder managed to trip both Daffy and the nurse, and Bugs was home free, sliding through the tunnel he had made in the bushes ages ago.
He hung up Daffy’s latest painting in his burrow with the rest.