Chapter Text
It was the middle of the night in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Perhaps even later than that, as few cars and fewer people were out and about. You would think that some would have the sense to stay indoors, lest they get mugged or robbed. Well, not everyone did.
A man, all dressed in black, darted to and from streetlights, his eyes flitting from street to street, checking to see if the coast was clear. Once he had assured himself it was, he darted down the blackened road all the way to a single warehouse lying on the outskirts. Thankfully, there were no security guards around at all. Good. That was a reason this warehouse had specifically been chosen for this meeting.
Pulling out some bolt cutters from his bag, he quickly cut the chain link holding the doors together. Once the chains fell to the ground, he quickly made work of the heavy doors, pulling them open and ducking inside.
"You're late," a harsh voice grit out as soon as the doors were shut behind the man.
"Sorry about that," he spoke gruffly to the room, dusting off his chest and torso from the dust of sneaking around. "You know how it is." Large and heavy footsteps echoed as several figures walked from out of the shadows and gathered around the metal table, which was only illuminated by a single light fixture hanging from the ceiling. The single light made it hard to make out who the figures could possibly be. All that was visible were their black clothing and black gloves, a mix of skin, fur and feathers just barely peeking out. On the table, several pages of papers and plans lied scattered on top. Behind the table, a pinboard was firmly attached on the wall, several notes and connected together by red string and pins.
And in the middle of that pinboard were three pictures of three VERY familiar birds.
A duck. A roadrunner. A canary.
All Toons. All connected. All ripe for the plucking. Though none of the three knew about that last part yet. They would learn though. Oh, they would learn.
“You know what to do?” the harsh voice at the head of the table gets out, his voice disguised by a mix of the dusty, darkened environment. While still unable to be seen, it was clear that the figures around him at the table were nodding heavily.
“You remember the plan?” The figures nodded again, more firmly this time. The one who spoke pointed harshly at the pictures of the three birds, strongly emphasizing that “Our targets are not to be underestimated. We need to go in, grab them, and get out as quickly as possible.” In the dark, a wicked smile slowly spread across his face. “But with what we’ve been provided, it shouldn’t be that hard.”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a vial of bubbling, green liquid. From where he held it and the angle of the vial, the liquid shone brightly in the light, making it clear to all just what this was.
DIP.
The same substance that had been banned for decades. The same element that could take down ANY Toon, no matter what their power was or who they were. A slight shiver went through the spines of everyone present at seeing the liquid in the flesh. Some with excitement. Some with terror.
Regardless, they all knew what they had signed up for. And they wouldn’t fail. Not like Judge Doom once had in the past.
The leader nodded again, putting the vial back into his pocket. “You know what to do. You all have your roles. You know what happens if you slip up.” He suddenly pulls out a knife and embeds it into the picture of the roadrunner. “After all…those birds won’t know what hit them until it’s too late.”
The figures around him nod and start to laugh darkly, eager to commence their plan.
----
Somewhere in the New Mexico desert, far away from darkened warehouses and dark figures, the sun shone down brightly on the dusty road. Light sand brushed over yellow lines as the wind blew a gentle breeze. For a few seconds, all seemed peaceful.
That is, until a streak of sky blue zipped through, causing the road to be lifted sideways off its center. Small desert animals passing through instantly knew to get out of the way as quickly as possible, lest they be run over by this unstoppable force of nature.
For they all knew who this was. None other than the Road Runner (featherus zephyrus) himself. No other creature could run that fast. No other could match his speed. And so long as they didn’t end up as splatters of roadkill in the Road Runner’s eternal run, they were perfectly fine with that.
Road Runner, affectionately known to friends as ‘Roadie’, grinned brightly as he felt the wind brush against his feathers, perceived the rocky cement of the road beneath his talons. Never would he get tired of this. Never would he not love the feel of the endless open road in front of him. The only thing he loved more was bearing witness to the plans of a perpetually scheming coyote…the same coyote he happily saw as his friend.
And perhaps…just a wee bit more. Maybe more than that itself.
Oh Wile E, Roadie thought affectionately, a thought bubble of the coyote popping up in his mind. Already, he wished he could tell the coyote of his feelings. But he knew he had to wait until Wile E was ready to receive them. And he knew that day wouldn’t happen for a long time.
You might be surprised to learn that Wile E wasn’t actually chasing him right now. Thankfully, Roadie hadn’t fretted like he had the last time Wile E went missing for a long period of time. For you see, Wile E had communicated to Roadie earlier that he would be off visiting his human friends for the day, and wouldn’t be back until early evening.
Which was perfectly fine with Roadie. He may not have known them that well, but even he could understand how important Wile E’s human friends were to him. If anything, he appreciated that they had stuck through with his coyote, helping and providing for him when Roadie couldn’t do it himself.
Speaking of friends, Roadie had actually gained an unexpected few of his own. Roadie was usually a creature of willful solitude (aside from his coyote of course), but somehow, he had ended up with connections himself through the long years of his life. Surprisingly, they were none other than Tweety Bird and Daffy Duck.
You see, many weeks ago, Tweety had come to apologize personally to Roadie himself for the failed capture…as well as his attempt on Wile E’s life. Now, Roadie hadn’t exactly been willing to forgive the canary at first…in fact, he had been downright ANGRY when he heard from Tweety himself that he had threatened HIS coyote…but upon the two talking more and Tweety managing to explain, Roadie’s once harsh opinion of the canary softened considerably. It didn’t take long for Roadie to be inclined to forgive the smaller bird. He wasn’t unreasonable after all! He could absolutely understand the difference between forced and willing.
The two promised to keep in touch after that, and for the most part, they had through Tweety’s occasional visits to the desert. To Roadie’s pleasant surprise, Tweety had proven to be incredibly respectful and only ever showed during times the chase decided it was done for the day. The canary also demonstrated himself to be an excellent conversation partner, even giving Roadie anecdotes of ACME’s behind-the-scenes mishaps.
So yes, Roadie was perfectly fine considering Tweety a friend.
And honestly, the same could be said for one Daffy Duck.
Though Daffy himself was…a different case from Tweety. It was more so a chance encounter that led the two of them to cross paths rather than a forced meeting like his and Tweety’s had been. It had been back when they still made cartoons for Warner Bros. Back when Daffy was still…all there. It had been a chance meeting. A coincidence. Bugs (that damn rabbit, the one who kept flirting and bothering his coyote) and Wile E were filming one of their cartoons together, and while Roadie wasn’t HAPPY about it, there wasn’t much he could do. He had been wandering through the halls, bored out of his mind and trying to find something to do when he accidentally bumped into Daffy.
Daffy had been…annoyed at first. How dare this bird not look where he was going! Road Runner was about to beep something rude back, when Daffy asked him if he knew where Bugs was. When Road Runner beeped out a “yes”, Daffy made an off-hand comment that for someone as smart as Bugs presented himself to be, he was never surprised on how utterly stupid Bugs could be sometimes. And Road Runner found himself agreeing. They ended up sharing a smile and a laugh together, before heading off down the halls.
After that day, whenever Road Runner needed to vent about someone or something, Daffy was there immediately. They started a habit of venting to each other about Bugs’ stupidity. So yeah, that’s how the two of them became good friends. …Even if Roadie still couldn’t stand Daffy’s partner…or, well, he supposed they were mates. Whatever they called their relationship anyway. That dumb, stupid bunny just wouldn’t stop messing with Wile E!
Road Runner shook his head, shaking off his growingly angered thoughts as he continued to run down the road. No. No use getting mad about that now. Not while the rabbit wasn't here to ruin things. Just keep running, just keep running, he reminded himself. Running had always helped. Running always smoothed over the jagged edges of his less...desirous emotions. But maybe he should pay a visit to Daffy while the rabbit was out. See how he was doing, check in. Hearing that Daffy had been put into the St. Looney's asylum all those years ago had been...rough. Wile E could certainly attest to that.
Before Road Runner could turn around and speed off down the back of the road to head to where Daffy was currently staying, an odd feeling began to tingle in his feet. Then it soon spread to the rest of his body, causing his feathers to rise. He could sense the different vibrations beneath the ground. Vibrations that weren't from him, Wile E, OR anyone they knew.
People were in the desert.
Roadie instantly could feel the absolute WRONGNESS creep through his body. Before he can even comprehend what was happening, several armored trucks bearing the ACME logo surround him. Heavily geared humans step out and point their weapons at him, just daring him to make a move. This ranges from guns, net launchers,
An annoyed frown begins to grow on his face before he hides it with a tight smile. Ugh, ACME humans are in his desert AGAIN. Did they not learn the first time?
He could forgive Tweety for being in his desert without permission, he knew he had his reasons. What he wouldn't forgive was ACME or most other humans though. Not when they had made clear what intentions they had for him.
And really? After their last attempt at capturing him, this was the best they had? Some measly human weaponry hadn't stopped him before and wouldn't stop him now. He almost had the urge to roll his eyes at them. But that's not exactly his style now, is it?
So he does what he's always done best. He begins to run.
Instantly, weapons are flying out of hands, humans falling face first on the ground and scrambling to get back up before they're caught in a makeshift dust tornado. He smiles at the humans, a mockingly cheerful 'Beep Beep' emerging from him as they try and fail to grab him.
However, he's too busy having his fun with the humans that he doesn't notice another human, one that's managed to stay out of sight from behind a large rock and not get swept up, hold a gun in his hand and point it right at Road Runner.
With a steady aim, far steadier than one would think, he fires directly at the bird.
A glowing green dart, sharp and pointed, shoots out. Now, Road Runner is usually quite good at catching these things. The world moves so slow for him that it makes him incredibly observant of his surroundings themselves. However, Road Runner has occasionally been known to lose focus when he's too engaged in other matters...such as trying to drive the humans surrounding him out. And unfortunately, that's exactly what they were counting on.
The dart quickly finds a home in embedding itself right into his leg.
Road Runner instantly feels white hot PAIN shoot up. Streams of paint and ink begin to drip from his leg from where the dart has inserted itself. His running abruptly slows to a stop and he finds himself tripping over his own feet and landing harshly on the ground. He tries to get up. He can't get up. Why can't he get up?
"He's down! Move, move, move!"
They quickly surround him, one trying to drag a net over him. Road Runner hisses loudly and primal as the rope coves him, wings flapping and kicking wildly. He feels his clawed foot hitting someone’s face and hears a loud CRACK. A human stumbles back, clutching his gushing nose. Good. He hopes he broke something.
Another dart is stuck into him, on his other leg and much more forcefully this time. Road Runner absolutely SCREECHES and through sheer force of will, he pushes himself up, his beak snapping at any human that tries to get close. However, his legs are trembling and whatever they injected him with is starting to spread through the rest of his body. He can already feel his body grow heavy, his eyes dragging down.
He's fighting to stay conscious. He has to stay conscious. He needs to get...
Finally, his body can't take it anymore. He falls to the ground helplessly, lying on the dusty road.
The last thing he hears before his mind darkens is an ominous saying of:
"Phase 1: Complete."
----
Elsewhere in a secluded backyard, reds, greens, and browns throw themselves on a white canvas. A black feathered eyelid closes itself as he tries to get a better picture of what the view he wanted to capture. For one Daffy Duck had challenged himself to see if he could complete an entire landscape by late afternoon. And he's got to say, painting an entire landscape by that time ain't easy bub!
Bugs had gone to...huh, he doesn't actually know where Bugs had gone to. His dear Bugsy wasn't much of a talker nowadays, but he told Daffy everything nowadays. Heheh! He still remembers the time his darling bucktooth told him when he left out his entire, get this, his entire carrot patch he had just grown in the fridge for five days! Five whole days! Now that was a blast! A real hoot and hootenanny!
He hears a rustle from one of the bushes. Then another. Meh, Daffy thinks, waving off his growing unease as he gets back to his beloved painting. Probably a squirrel or something. it's nothing important. Nothing at all.
The next rustle has Daffy's feathers rise up. Something that hasn't happened in...well, a while! He makes a step to tiptoe away...
And that's when several humans rush out.
Daffy grins wildly. Oh, okay! So they want to play that way, huh? Well, he's had more than enough experience dealing with disruptive people trying to grab him! St. Looney's provided him plenty of practice regarding that!
He bounces around with a happy "woo-hoo!" avoiding all of their guns, their grabby hands (naughty, naughty!), and their nets. He jumps and is about to do the most majestic swan dive ever seen into the nearby pond...when someone points something at him and he feels...something tear through his body. Something painful.
Daffy feels his bouncing around abruptly stop and he falls unceremoniously to the ground. His body’s already paralyzed. He can’t move. Feeling where he was hit, it doesn't take him long to realize that he was shot with a bullet. And clearly not just any bullet either, if the green leaking out of him was an indicator.
Oh, haha! That's a first! A bullet, actually managing to harm HIM! He can't wait to tell Bugsy all about it! Well, once he gets out of here, that is.
But maybe, he thinks, his eyes beginning to close and his body unwillingly sagging as the humans surround him...maybe he can tell him...later...
Darkness consumes him.
"Phase 2: Complete."
---
The sun is just beginning to set in Albuquerque. The sky is dipped in light orange hues with the last of the clouds rolling lazily across the sky. Birds are settling down in their nests and one Tweety Bird thinks it's about time he should head back and settle in for the night as well. It is getting rather late after all. And he doesn't want to worry anyone.
After all, the last time he was out for much longer than an hour...he didn't come back for thirty years.
Tweety still doesn't like talking about those years that much. Not even with his Puddy Tat. His Sylvester.
Maybe one day, he'd open up about it. What he'd been forced to do, what he suffered underneath. The thought of an angry Sylvester tearing through the source of his thirty year pain makes him giggle.
As he rounds the corner of the familiar street leading to his home, a hand snatches him out of the air and pins him on the ground. Tweety's survival instincts kick in and he's instantly pecking and trying to scratch at the hand holding him with his talons, only for the hand grasping him to tighten around him, causing a pained gasp to be let out.
He opens his mouth to scream, call for help, do something....only for something sharp to insert itself into his neck.
Everything goes black.
"Phase 3: Complete."
---
Somewhere in the city, as a coyote walks out of a restaurant, a rabbit strolls through the sidewalks, and a cat sits at home, all three feel a sudden drop of deep dread sit right in their stomachs. Without a word, the coyote rushes instantly to the desert he calls his home, the rabbit burrows straight under, and the cat throws himself out of the door.
Only one thing is on their minds:
Something is wrong.