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"I don't believe it," Duck said firmly to Rev the next day, after letting Ace cry himself to sleep.
"Well-gosh-I-don't-want-to-believe-it-either-but-Ace-says-so-and-I-don't-know-who-else-can-argue," the roadrunner replied. He was still slightly perplexed at the other's behavior. Duck usually shunned Ace, even argued against his leadership. And now he was sticking up for him, by saying that he hadn't done it?
Well, they all wanted to think so.
"Ace thinks he killed Richard," Tech replied, flipping once more through Ace's diary. "I'm more worried about how this'll come out in court rather than—"
"Court?!" Lexi demanded, understandably angry. "Court?! This isn't a court case—"
"Not yet, it's not," interrupted Tech. "He'll end up in jail sooner or later, and I don't see how that's going to help him."
Slam muttered something with the word ‘Zadavia’ in it. Everyone assumed he was asking what Zadavia would say about all of this.
"Well, Zadavia won't be happy," Lexi answered for Slam. "I just don't think that Ace would kill someone. At least, not intentionally."
"Are you saying that it might have been an accident?" Duck inquired.
"Well-it-makes-much-more-sense. It's-not-like-Ace-to-want-to-hurt-people," Rev postulated. "But-look-at-how-Ace-described-it. Putting-a-gun-to-someone's-chest-doesn't-sound-like-an-accident-to-me."
"Rev," Lexi snapped, "remind us again whose side you're on again."
Rev was slightly hurt that they would even think that he would go against Ace like that. "I-don't-have-anything-against-Ace-I-just-think-that-we-need-to-consider-all-possible—"
Tech put up his hand to silence the bird. "Normally, I would be the one to say that, Rev."
"Maybe your personality influenced his," Duck said sarcastically.
"Are-you-saying-that—?"
"Yeah, I am. You got a problem with that?"
"I-have-a-problem-with-you-guys-assuming-things-about-me-that-aren't—!"
"Stop!" roared Slam suddenly. Rev and Duck glared at each other for the last time, and with a great effort, turned their backs on one another. Tech and Lexi sighed simultaneously.
Ace's bedroom door opened. Ace himself walked out of the door, followed by a depressed-looking Asphodel.
"Ace, are you feeling better?" Lexi inquired, studying her fellow rabbit's face.
"Fine…" Ace replied. He seemed to snap back to the present. "Why are you guys still speaking to me? I'm—" Ace shook his head, not wanting to say it.
"That's what you think," Tech remarked.
Ace was silent for a time. He bit his lip nervously and picked up Asphodel, unconsciously stroking her. Asphodel looked up at Ace with what appeared to be a concerned expression.
Tech unfolded his arms. "Ace…you're not yourself. You haven't been since all of this started. What's wrong?"
Ace braced himself against the wall and took a deep breath. "It was about 10 years ago to the day…"
[The following story is a flash-back scene]
Camilla tossed a head of red hair over her head and turned around to grin at her passengers, a gray-and-white rabbit, a blond jaguar, a Martian, and a brown coyote.
Her large grin faded as she noticed the depressed look on the rabbit behind her. She navigated her black SUV to a joint called Quick Wrap Sandwich Shack, and asked, "Avery—what's wrong?"
The rabbit sighed dejectedly. "How many times do I have to tell you—it's Ace, not Avery. And I'm fine."
The alien decided to try and offer something he considered help at that particular moment. "If you want to get rid of anybody, call me. I'm your guy."
Avery—or rather, Ace, as he preferred to be called—did not look amused. "Oh, and by ‘get rid’, you mean ‘do in’, right Martin?"
Martin unsuccessfully tried to refrain from grinning.
Camilla—who was the only human in the group— looked at her passengers. "Gee, Richard, Sanya—y'all are sure quiet today."
Richard, a handsome coyote, had a younger brother—well, three younger siblings actually—who did not approve the use of the term y'all. The jaguar—Sanya—was less opposing.
"There's just nothing to do," Sanya complained, poking her Princess Leah-like curls to make sure they were still in place. "Are we here for a bite to eat?"
"Why else?" Camilla replied, already out of the car.
Cookie, the person who ran Quick Wrap Sandwich Shack, was not a nice person. The people who actually worked there were otherwise.
"Hey Ron," Sanya said teasingly to a roadrunner who was on duty at the front. "What's up? Anything happen lately we should know about?"
The roadrunner grinned. "Just the same as ever, although if you guys came and helped once in a long while, I'd be better off."
"We don't work here," Richard replied, nearly grinning. It didn't take much to get him in a good mood. Especially when ‘much’ was a half-tankard of cold beer.
Ron was still slightly worried about his friends. "Guys, I hear there's a brawl goin’ on tonight with you guys and those kids from the West Side. Why?"
"I'd like to know where you get your information, more knowledgeable than half the professors at Acme Tech, you are," Martin replied, taking one of the Sparkling Waters and placing it on the counter for Ron to sell. "That stupid Jeremy-what's-his-name and those crazy girlfriends of his moved into our turf."
"Will you knock it off with the street talk and talk like the rest of us," snapped Camilla, who always got edgy whenever someone commenced with what she considered ‘street talk’, rather than proper English. "Jeremy's just being an idiot again. But we'll put him right."
"You've tried doin’ that before, didn't work, now did it?" Ron remarked, giving Martin the correct change for his Sparkling Water. Martin inspected the can to make sure there was no poison inside and then gingerly unscrewed the lid. "I tell you, those rich kids just don't get their lessons learned."
Sanya looked at an empty soda filling station behind Ron. "Hey, where's your brother, Rev?"
"Oh, he's delivering again. Some coyote friend of his at the Institute gave him some new rocket blades, but Cookie cut Rev's delivery time again when he found out, so Rev don't get paid. Dang, I wish he didn't do that. We're just tryin’ to earn a living."
Ace took a Pepsi and tossed it and some change to Ron. "Here."
Ron smiled at them. "If you guys think I'm paid on commission, you are sadly mistaken."
"We're not," Martin reassured him. "Just hungry. Where's that book I lent to you last week?"
Ron tossed Martin a blue, hardcover book. Martin was a very bad catch, and Richard caught it for him. The coyote squinted at the cover. "How to Split the Atom?! What do you do in your spare time, Martin?"
Martin felt everyone's eyes on him and blushed. "Er—yes, well…it's a long and very funny story actually… His voice trailed off. "Just interesting things…"
"I hear the tours to the Mayor's house start at 12," Ace cracked sarcastically. "You have plenty of time tomorrow."
"This is just a misunderstanding…"
Ron attempted to hide a snort by sneezing violently. "Sorry about that," Ron said, nearly laughing with the humor of it all. "I've got a bad cold…"
"Naturally," Martin remarked sullenly, looking slightly depressed at the lack of support from his friends.
Bang!
The doors to the Shack opened with a slam followed by a crash as an intimidating thug and a group of equally intimidating ‘body guards’ walked in.
Ace swore violently under his breath, causing Camilla to nearly do a double-take. "Jeremy. Weren't we supposed to brawl tonight, and not in a public place?"
"I knew Martin shouldn't have called him a crackpot," Sanya whispered as the rest of the Shack's diners quickly cleared out. They had heard of Jeremy's ability to smash a cinderblock with his forehead. No telling what he could do to much-more brittle bones.
The black-haired, dark-skinned Jeremy Walters pointed a finger at Camilla. "You, come with me."
Camilla stared at her friends. Her friends stared back. "But—"
"You heard me," Jeremy said impatiently, already exhausting his limited vocabulary. "Now, unless you'd like us to take over the Building by force, and you know we can do it, hear?"
Ace probably would have punched him then and there if it weren't for the fact that there were other people still in the Shack. The Building was more or less a nickname for an abandoned brick warehouse down by the Acme space port—east of a vacant lot that was supposed to be built on sooner or later and also where they were supposed to brawl later tonight—and it was generally known among the cliques of Acmetropolis that the building was the main headquarters of a group of people (or animals, in this case) called the Urbaners (Ace was not quite sure who the genius was that thought up the name), of which Ace was a member. People always said he should have stayed away from the group. Ace had silently vowed never to trust those people again. And he didn't intend to break that vow.
"What for?" Martin demanded, finishing off his Sparkling Water, and tossing it in the nearby trash can.
"It don't matter what for," Jeremy snarled, lapsing into traditional Acme street talk.
Camilla reluctantly followed Jeremy's impatient finger to the back alley behind the Sandwich Shack.
"I hope she's all right."
To the amazement of everyone who had been present, Camilla emerged safely if scared from the alley.
Martin blinked at Camilla to make sure his eyes were still functioning properly. "You're still alive?! How's that possible?"
Camilla wordlessly passed a piece of paper to the group of four, and they crammed their heads together to read:
We're changing the time of the brawl. In fact,
we might not even do it. Something came up. We
gotta jet on out of here. Tell the other Urbaners
to meet in the Building to discuss. Hurry. Tell no one else,
except maybe that roadrunner friend of yours.
—Jeremy
Martin tapped the paper tactfully. "I didn't know Jeremy could write."
"I don't trust him," Sanya breathed.
Ron stared, concerned, at his friends, who had headed for the streets and opted for a rough life over a secure one. He sometimes wondered why. Ron wasn't the street type. Maybe he would never understand why they had done so. "When the police get wind of this…"
"You're turning us in?" Richard asked. There was no threat in his voice, but he seemed disturbed.
"No, but someone's gotta crack sooner or later," Ron shrugged. "Remember, I wasn't involved."
"Right, you were only on duty, and everyone only knows the six of us are like peas and carrots," Ace sniffed. "You might not be an Urbaner, but you are one of us. Dis is ridiculous. I can't believe you would—" Ace shook his head.
"I'm not abandoning you guys!" Ron cried, startled that they would even think he would do such a thing. "I just want to look after Rev—y'all know how he gets. I've got family. Believe me, if I didn't, I'd be signing up to be an Urbaner right now, don't doubt it for a second."
"We don't."
"Good. Get to the Building, talk to whoever the hell it is runs the Building, and see what happens. That's the best I can say."
"Thanks. Just thanks."
"I caught the sarcasm."
"No, thanks for being a friend. You don't get many good ones these days."
Ron never saw Ace's tears.
Martin's older brother Mithras, both elected and unofficial leader of the Urbaners and manager of the Building, squinted at the note given to Camilla by Jeremy suspiciously. "Oh, and you really think we can trust Jeremy? He's been giving us trouble for as long as I can remember, the piece of—"
"We're not recommending for you to trust him," Sanya said, shrugging and ignoring what Mithras had been about to say. "It's your call, but personally, there's gotta be somethin’ wrong if Jeremy would go to the trouble of writing it down. Didn't know he was literate."
Mithras' face reflected Martin's, except it was harder, more cruel. That came with years of running with the Long Patrol, the famed vigilante police of Dreampoint. "Jeremy ain't as stupid as you think he is. And knowing him, he isn't coming alone, either."
Ace looked out of the dusty window. "Well, something's gotta give. Maybe I can run over to Jeremy's place, see what it's all about before we do anything else."
"NO!" everyone exclaimed.
"He'd shoot you right then and there," Martin said, paling. That was unusual for a hardened person like Martin. If you could call him human, given that he wasn't from Earth and he had seen things nobody should ever have to see in their lifetime.
"You shouldn't," begged Camilla. "The Urbaners have it rough as it is."
"Mithras' call," shouted Richard, but his teeth were clenched together. This could turn out nasty.
Ace knew it was risky, but it had to be done. "Can I?"
Mithras looked up, in thought. "Take Martin with you."
"But—" stammered Camilla.
"No ‘buts’ about it," warned Mithras.
"He's your brother."
"And it's my life," piped up Martin. "I'll go. But we need some security." Ace knew what he meant by ‘security’.
Mithras handed each of them a switchblade. "Do us proud, okay? We ain't got nothin’ left ‘cept each other."