Chapter Text
Jan Kowalski was in an absolute panic.
Outside ACME headquarters, reporters crowded behind police barricades while cameras pointed toward the building. Red and blue lights flashed across the parking lot as more state police and unmarked cars pulled in.
Across the bottom of a nearby television:
NEW EVIDENCE DISCOVERED IN CASE AGAINST ACME
“Fuuuck…”
Buddy Crane clenched his fist.
“Damn you, Avery…”
Jan turned.
“They’re coming.”
Buddy waved him off.
“I know that.”
“No. They’re coming here. Today.”
Buddy sighed.
“Yes, Jan. I know. Pure insanity.”
Jan looked out the window again.
“The FBI has warrants, Buddy. Subpoenas. State Police are already downstairs and federal agents are outside as we speak."
He leaned over Buddy’s desk.
“We need to leave.”
Buddy stared at him.
“Leave?”
“The country.”
Buddy laughed.
Jan didn’t.
“Get your passport. Get whatever else you need. I don’t give a rat’s ass where we go. Canada. Mexico. Poland. We need to get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Jan, calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!”
Buddy’s eyes narrowed.
“They don’t have anything. Hell, we should be the ones pressing charges.”
Jan stared at him.
“Nothing?”
“Allegations. A stolen recording. A rabbit with a grudge. Slander, that’s all this is—”
“We did experiments, Buddy! Illegal experiments! And I’m telling you, that isn’t the only thing they’re gonna find once they start asking questions.”
“Not our problem. We had no involvement in any such activities. The law is on our side.”
Jan paced toward the window, saw the cameras below, then immediately stepped away.
“Do you have any idea what happens when they get those computers? The records? They start opening doors. They start asking questions. Questions they’re not gonna like the answers to.”
“Foghorn has it under control.”
“Foghorn couldn’t keep the goddamn tape from getting out! Hell, they’re coming for him too!”
Buddy stood.
“Watch yourself.”
“They find one facility, one photograph, one person willing to talk—”
“Enough.”
Jan stopped.
“Buddy…I'm not going back to prison.”
Buddy straightened his jacket.
“Then I suggest you compose yourself.”
Jan stared at him.
Then grabbed his coat.
“Fine.”
“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere but here.”
“Jan.”
He reached the door.
“If you run now,” Buddy said, “you’ll look guilty.”
Jan stopped.
Slowly, he looked back.
“Buddy.”
“What?”
“We are guilty.”
He left.
The hallway outside was pure chaos.
Phones rang. Employees hurried between offices. Security clustered around the elevators.
Jan pushed past them.
The elevator took forever.
“Come on…”
DING.
He stepped inside.
The doors closed.
The elevator descended.
Jan loosened his tie.
He reached beneath his coat and pulled out his Glock 23.
He chambered a round.
Then put it away again.
His reflection stared back at him from the elevator doors.
For a moment, he remembered Nashville, 2009, a police officer grabbing him.
Handcuffs closing around his wrists.
Click.
Jan shut his eyes.
“No.”
His hands were shaking.
“Not again.”
The doors opened.
The lobby was packed.
Security.
Reporters.
Cameras.
State Police.
Jan lowered his head and started toward the exit, pushing through the crowd as FBI agents entered through the front doors.
He almost made it to the far exit when someone stepped into his path.
Jan moved left.
So did he.
Right.
Same thing.
“Excuse me.”
“Sure.”
The stranger didn’t move.
Jan looked up.
Brown coat.
Hat pulled low.
“Move.”
“Nope.”
Two long gray ears rose from beneath the hat.
Jan froze.
Bugs Bunny lifted his head.
“Eh, what’s up doc?”
Jan’s face flashed with anger before he composed himself.
“You’ve got the wrong man.”
“Eh. Don’t think so.”
Jan tried going around him.
Bugs blocked him again.
“Get out of the way.”
“Can’t.”
“I’m warning you.”
Bugs’ expression changed.
“Isn’t that what you said to Winnie too?”
Jan stopped.
Only for a second.
But Bugs saw it.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know anybody named Winnie.”
“Sure ya don’t.”
Jan glanced toward the doors.
Bugs stepped closer.
“Where’s Woody?”
Nothing.
“My husband’s in St. Looney’s because of you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Where are my kids?”
“Shut up.”
“Yakko.”
Jan tightened his grip on his briefcase.
“Wakko.”
“Shut up, I said!”
“Dot.”
“I said shut up!”
Jan shoved Bugs.
Several people turned.
Bugs barely moved.
“Three years, Jan.”
“I don’t know anything about your children or your fucking duck husband.”
“Bullshit.”
Jan pushed past him.
Bugs caught his arm.
Jan spun.
“Get your fucking hands off me!”
“Hey!”
Both turned.
A state trooper across the lobby had noticed them.
“Everything all right?”
Jan went still.
The trooper started toward them.
Bugs slowly released Jan’s arm.
“Jan…?”
Jan swallowed.
“Sir?”
Jan looked toward the doors.
Another state trooper stood outside.
FBI agents were moving toward the elevators.
Cameras everywhere.
The trooper came closer.
“Sir, let me see your hands.”
Jan’s breathing quickened.
Only one thought flashed through his mind.
Don’t let them catch you.
“No…”
His hand disappeared beneath his coat.
Bugs’ ears shot upright.
“Jan—”
He pulled his pistol.
BANG!