#The Twisted Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Sixteen: Toontown

Summary: Valiant and Twyla arrive in Toontown, hellbent on finding Jessica and saving the boys. An unlikely ally saves their asses.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @lastofautumn, @spookiifi, @amberfox232, @heartsissopure, and our new special guest @trashogram A.K.A. @mantisandthemoondragon. Thank you all again so much for the 500 like milestone! 💕😭💕😭💕😭

“Going up, sir and ma’am?” Droopy asked when the two arrived at a hotel for Toons.

After Eddie and Twyla arrived in Toontown, the red curtain pulled up which unveiled their destination. Twyla quickly learned that the Tooniverse has a different day and night cycle, so even though it was nighttime in the human world, it was sunset in Toontown. While Eddie drove, the two were welcomed by many Toons from singing trees to dancing hummingbirds. Even the sun was amiable. Once again, Twyla was bewitched by the beauty of hers and her family’s new home…

…but then Eddie crashed into a giant pile of junk.

The town was packed with traffic, and the atmosphere blared with cacophonous honks and laughter which made Twyla wince from the loud sounds. Despite her sensitive hearing, she saw Jessica’s shadow in a window several floors up in the hotel and followed her trail. But the minute she and Eddie stepped into the elevator, they both fell like deflated balloons. Droopy stood on their left, standing on a box accommodated for his small height.

“Mind the step, sir and ma’am,” he advised and pulled the lever. The sudden speed was so strong they were squished to the bottom of the floor like pancakes for the rest of the trip. The Toon bellhop dog suddenly stopped the elevator, and the two guests were tossed up to the roof. “Your floor, sir and ma’am.” He said and opened the elevator doors, throwing the two off like luggage. Before the doors were closed, Droopy stuck his head out and said, “Have a good day, sir and ma’am.”

The duo got up and approached one of the closed hotel doors. Eddie peeked in through the keyhole and smirked, “Gotcha.”

He pushed the door open with a slow creak, and Twyla quietly snuck in before aiming her pistol at the older Toon woman who was holding her lingerie. “All right, Red. Where are they?” she growled.

The woman turned around and her eyes widened.

“A MAN!!!”

Twyla’s eyes shot up wide and took in her error. The woman they’ve followed was not Jessica Rabbit. Not even the slightest. She wore the exact same dress and purple opera gloves, but her stature was thin and wonky in proportions, and her light green heels were sizes too big for her skinny ankles. Her cheeks were dotted by freckles, and her green eyes were drawn too close together above her large nose while an Adam's apple adorned her neck. Unlike Jessica who wore her hair in a coquettish style that��ll make Veronica Lake green with envy, this woman’s aerospace orange hair was a wild mess complimenting her man-crazy nature. Her painted lips pulled into a manic, lascivious smile revealing her bent teeth and her tongue lolled out. Yep, definitely not the singer they're looking for!

Twyla nearly dropped her gun, “Oh my God! Ma’am, I am so sorry—Eep!”

Eddie yanked her by the collar and dashed out of the room. He slammed the door just as the woman made her pursuit towards him, and the two ran. The door was kicked down, and the man-hunting floozy shouted, “Yoo-hoo! Lover boy! It’s Lena Hyena!”

“Is it wrong to say that Greasy’s nothing compared to her?” Twyla asked, not realizing she said her thoughts aloud.

“Kid, you better thank your lucky stars Tom did not hear you say that!” Eddie interjected, pulling her into the men’s bathroom to hide. They both turned around…and screamed. Instead of seeing a floor, they were seeing the streets from several floors down! They plummeted their way down at a dangerously fast pace until Twyla spotted a flagpole and she extended her arm long enough to grab onto the pole while holding Eddie with her right arm. She let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, wook! Piddies!”

Twyla and Eddie looked up to see Tweety. “Hi, Tweety.”

“This widdle piddy went to market.” Tweety plucked Twyla’s thumb.

“Uh, what?”

“This widdle piddy stayed home.”

“Tweety, what the fuck?”

“This widdle piddy had roast beef.”

“I swear to God, don’t even—”

“And this widdle piddy had—” Just as Tweety was about to finish, the Toon wolf girl lost her grip and resumed falling while she screamed obscenities at the iconic Toon bird.

But then, she heard the sound of…munching?

“Eh, what’s up, Doc?” Is that…? Twyla and Eddie turned to their left and saw Bugs Bunny! In the flesh! He held onto a backpack and wore parachute goggles.

“Jumpin’ without a parachute? Kinda dangerous, ain’t it?”

“Yeah!” The two turned to their right and saw Mickey Mouse! “You could get killed! Ha!”

“You guys got a spare?!” Eddie yelled.

“Bugs does.”

“Really?” Twyla smiled hopefully.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you want it~” Roger sang-song.

“We do, we do!”

“Give it to us!”

“Gee, uh, better let ‘em have it, Bugs,” Mickey told Bugs.

“OK, Doc, whatever you say,” Bugs replied, pulling out the spare parachute. “Here’s the spare.”

“Thank you.” Eddie thanked him, taking the spare in his hands just as the two Toons pulled their strings and parachuted high above them. Eddie pulled the string…only to find a spare tire. Not a spare parachute. A spare tire.

“Oh, what the fuck?!” Twyla cursed at them as she and Eddie fell inches closer to the ground. But just as they were about to become roadkill, two gloved hands caught them. Twyla saw it was Lena who saved them, and she sighed with relief. “Thanks—”

“Outta my way, bimbo!” Lena snarled, tossing the younger woman like she was a sack of potatoes. She tumbled across the street until she roughly bumped into a brick building. “Ow!” she shouted in pain, her head swarming with stars as she got up to glare at the crazy lady. “Bitch!”

Eddie somehow managed to release himself from the woman’s embrace and looked down at the road painted in a single white stripe. He lifted it up and tore it into two lanes. “Come to Lena!” the redhead lunatic cried as she ran a record-breaking speed while she stood on the line. She followed where the line led her…which ended at a brick wall.

“Toons!” Eddie snickered, “Gets ‘em every time.”

Twyla caught up with him while she was gingerly rubbing her arm. “You all right?” Eddie asked.

“I am now that we handled the bitch,” she muttered, cracking her back. “Ah, now that’s better.”

“You’re young, you’ll live,” Eddie snarked, pulling out his revolver. “Come on!”

The ravenette demoness nodded and grabbed hers, following her ally as they turned to the corner of a dark alley. It was all so familiar, like all the alleys she hid in back in Chatham. Trash cans, leaking rain gutters, and the smell of grimy street water. The further they walked, the bigger their shadows grew.

Eddie sneezed and his shadow turned to him, “Gesundheit.”

“Thank you.”

“Valiant.”

Twyla’s ears lowered and snarled, recognizing that voice. She slowly turned, pointing her pistol right at Jessica who held up a gun of her own, which made her slightly recoil and lower her weapon. Wait. She wasn’t aiming at her or Eddie either.

Speaking of which, Eddie slowly turned around, holding his hands up in surrender. With bitter humor, he stated, “I always knew I’d get it in Toontown.”

“Behind you!”

Jessica fired, making the two of them duck. The bullet missed them by a long shot, but Twyla’s wolf ears picked up something ricocheting off of something. She and Eddie brought up their guns, pointing at her.

“Drop it, lady!” Eddie snapped.

Twyla’s demanded, “Where the fuck are Roger and my brother?!”

“I just saved both your lives, and you still don’t trust me?” Jessica asked, approaching them as she dropped her pistol.

“I don’t trust anybody or anything!”

Twyla frowned, her ears perking back as she glared at him. “Gee, thanks.”

“Not even your own eyes?” Jessica pointed to the ground. The two sleuths looked down and saw a man-made nickel-plated Colt Buntline Special close to Eddie’s shoes. “That’s the gun that killed R.K. Maroon and Doom pulled the trigger.”

“Doom?!” They both chorused, though Twyla was more into shock than her employer. It was…Doom all along? Her heart dropped to her stomach. If Doom killed Marvin Acme, and if Maroon didn’t kill him to claim ownership over Toontown then that meant….

Doom wants Toontown. He framed Roger. And Greasy tried to warn her.

“I followed him to the studio, but I was too late to stop him.”

“That’s right!” The three turned sharply down to the other end of the alley. Doom ran, yelling, “You’ll never stop me! You’re dead! You’re all dead!”

“Doom!” Jessica covered her ears as Eddie and Twyla fired at the real murderer. However, he was too quick and made a right turn before they could reach him.

“Which way did he go?”

“I don’t know! He went that way!”

“Let’s go!”

“Dum dums,” Eddie shook his head, throwing the empty weapon to the side.

“Come on!” Jessica grabbed his arm, Twyla closely following behind them. As they exited the alley, Jessica gasped out, “Oh no! Where’s Roger?”     

“You’re only worried about him? What about my brother?” Twyla ran towards Jessica’s vehicle with the trunk open. She touched the soft padding; it was still warm. Her nose detected for Roger’s or Tom’s scents. “Tommy! Where are you, bro?”

“Roger? He chickened out on us back at the studio,” Eddie said, approaching the ladies.

“No, he didn’t,” Jessica elaborated, “I hit him on the head with a frying pan and put him in the trunk. So he wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Makes perfect sense,” Eddie’s lips pursed, and Twyla shrugged. Fair point.

“We’re obviously not going anywhere in my car,” Jessica turned to the detective, “Let’s take yours.”

Eddie turned around, only to find his vehicle missing. And not only that, but the town was a complete wreck. A fire hydrant had been knocked away, and buildings had hurt faces on them. On the road, there were skid marks made by tires going in any direction but straight. “I got a feeling somebody already did.” He extended his arm out for emphasis.

“By the looks of it, I’d say it was Roger. My honey bunny was never very good behind the wheel,” Jessica observed.

“A better lover than a driver, huh?” Eddie joked. Twyla was too focused on the road to pick up on the innuendo.

“You better believe it, buster.” Jessica poked his shoulder.

Twyla’s ears picked up something. A wailing siren.

“Uh, guys?” she said, pointing down at the street.

“Uh-oh. It’s the weasels!” Jessica exclaimed, pulling at Eddie’s arm while grabbing Twyla's shoulder. “This way! We’ll take Gingerbread Lane!”

“No, no!” Eddie resisted, sticking out his thumb, “Gingerbread Lane’s this way!”

A yellow blur whirled right in front of them, causing them to spin for a second. Benny greeted them, “So Valiant, you call a cab or what?”

Eddie climbed through the driver’s seat and Twyla hopped in from the back, activating a barrier made of thick ink with her magic large enough to cover Benny and their heads. Jessica made her way around to sit in the other seat, which definitely got the cab’s attention.

“Hubba, hubba, hubba! Allow me, mademoiselle!” Benny opened his door, allowing Jessica to sit before slamming it shut and taking off just inches away from being slammed by the Dodge. Benny zoomed in the tunnel and Twyla fired her Blackhawk and Maroon’s gun while quickly ducking from the firing bullets.

“Hey! Watch the paint job, will ya, kid?!” Benny shouted over.

“Sorry!”

“So how long have you known it was Doom?” Eddie asked.

“Before poor Marvin Acme was killed, he confided in me that Doom wanted to get his hands on Toontown. And he wouldn’t stop at anything,” Jessica replied.

“So he gave ya the will for safekeeping?”

“That’s what he told me, except when I opened the envelope there was only a blank piece of paper.”

“Eh! A joker to the end.” Eddie sarcastically responded.

“So where to, already? My meter’s runnin’!” Benny asked.

“I have to find my darling husband! I’m so worried about him,” Jessica put a hand on her forehead with worry.

“Seriously, what do you see in that guy?” Eddie asked.

“He makes me laugh,” Jessica answered. Twyla’s heartstrings pulled a bit.

Aw, that’s sweet. She hid a small smile, but her smile faded when her thoughts went back to Greasy. She faced the Dodge and sighed, “All this time, he had been working with Doom in Acme’s murder. First guy I meet who doesn’t throw rocks at me, and Greasy turns out to be another corrupted cop. Doesn’t explain why he would warn me, though.”

“Greasy?” Jessica whipped her head to her, her face scrunching with angered disgust. “That fucking pervert?!”

“What do you mean, he warned you?” Eddie furrowed his brows.

“Um….” Twyla’s ears dropped, and she chuckled nervously, “He sort of…heh-heh, tried to tell me to drop the case. I think he and his guys are a part of Doom’s plans.”

“WHAT?!” They both exclaimed in unison just as Benny sped off towards the exit. They were free!

Until Twyla spotted Doom not too far ahead on the side of the road. With his foot firmly placed on the tip of that damn barrel.

“BENNY, WATCH OUT!” she screamed.

But it was too late. The Dip had already spilt over the road and hissed as Benny drove through it. “AAAHH!” he screamed in pain, the white paint from his tires smearing onto the road as they spun out of control. “I’ve been dipped!”

Benny slammed headfirst into a light pole, throwing his occupants off him. Eddie landed right onto his back, Jessica skidded and landed on her backside, and Twyla tumbled over while her guns loosened from her grasp. “No! My gun!”

“Tsk, tsk,” Doom tutted, towering over the trio, “What an unfortunate accident. Nothing more treacherous than a slippery road, especially when driving in a maniacal Toon vehicle.” He smiled tauntingly at them, and Twyla responded with a hateful snarl.

Their heads turned to the sound of the damned wailing siren. The van pulled up with a screeching stop, once getting past the Dip of course. The weasels then started piling out. “Good woirk, Boss!” Smartass praised.

Doom turned to them sharply, “Don’t just stand there. Help them, put them in my car. I think they’ll enjoy the ribbon cutting at the Acme Factory.”

Smartass led the others, but Greasy slipped past them and made a grab for Twyla’s arm. Eddie went to stop him, but he was shoved back to the ground by the Spaniard’s surprising strength. He waited until his colleagues “escorted” Eddie and Jessica to Doom’s car.

“What the hell, muñeca?!” he growled at her, making sure to keep the volume of his voice for only his and Twyla’s ears. “I thought I told you to scram!”

“You honestly thought sendin’ me a note and torturin’ my brother was gonna do shit?!” Twyla hissed back, her fur bristling with fury. “Why would you even try to warn me in the first place when you knew I was gonna come back?! I thought I made that clear last night!”

“Ey, Greasy!” they both turned to see the Brooklyn mobster opening the door for Twyla, “I said ‘apprentice’ her, not schmooze with her!”

Greasy only growled in response and began leading the halfie princess. He turned to her again, “You better come up with a plan quick because I can’t help you anymore!”  

Twyla’s blood ran cold. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Her captor ignored her, escorting her to the Dodge. She looked over her shoulder at Benny and couldn’t find her pistol anywhere. She hoped Tom was all right, wherever he may be.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hi again, Slashingdisneypasta!

As a token of my gratitude for yours, Marinerainbow's and Kingston's kindness (I actually melted into a puddle after he called me sweet, lmao), I have a gift for you.

Allow me to introduce my OCs for my now-officially-posted story, the Toonz Twins Gunslinger Tom and Twisted Twyla!

I posted this drawing and wrote a little something about them, and I FINALLY posted Chapter One of "The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths"! Feel free to have a look and read if you're still interested 😊!

Have a wonderful evening 🌙!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THEY LOOK SO COOL AND YOUR ART STYLE IS SO BEAUTIFUL!!! Thank you so so much for sharing!! I will definitely be reading your stuff about them! ^^

<3 Gunslingers <3

@marinerainbow , you might've already seen these, but look!! ^^

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Thirteen: Paint and Tears

Summary: The time has come to learn the truth about the Twisted Toonz Twins with a bucketful of paint and tears.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING WARNINGS. THIS IS THE SADDEST AND DARKEST CHAPTER I HAVE EVER WRITTEN 💔💔💔. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THE FOLLOWING TRIGGERS YOU.

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @spookiifi, @lastofautumn , @amberfox232. Please give a special shoutout to our new guest, @heartsissopure! 🥳🥳🥳

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence, murder, heavy angst, death, gore, mentions of imprisonment and slavery, domestic and child abuse, Toon and hybrid Toon discrimination, attempted murder. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

The twins teleported out of Toontown and arrived at the corner of the Terminal Bar Station. Despite Tom’s enhanced healing abilities, Twyla insisted that he’d receive medical attention. Tom tried to protest, but a glare from Twyla Toonz was enough to make any tough bastard weak in the bladder. And that does not exclude her brother either. So the gang leader sighed and swallowed down his pride, allowing himself to be escorted to Dolores while his right arm hung limply around his sister’s shoulders.

Luckily, the bar was nearly completely empty, save for a couple of regulars. Dolores looked up from the countertop while cleaning a glass shot, expecting new customers. However, she almost dropped the glass and her blue eyes widened in alarmed shock seeing Tom all bruised and bloody. She quickly regained her composure and turned to her customers.

“Bar’s closed. Everybody, leave.” Dolores calmly addressed the men, though her tone was enfolded with a soft but firm authority. When they just sat there and gave her confused, albeit a little drunken-irked looks, her lips pursed. “Do you have corn in your ears? Bar’s close! Get out! Don’t make me grab my bat!”

This time, they got the message. The dreaded mention of her bat sent all of them scurrying down the stairs, barely acknowledging the twins’ presence. Once the bar was now void of customers (and potential snitches), Dolores sprang into action. She turned to the lower shelves behind her and pulled out a medical kit before she scurried out of the bar and hastily walked towards the secret rotgut room.

“Bring him here. Last thing we need are witnesses and some hunk-hunting floozies.” She told them, placing her hand on the handle. Looking over her shoulder, she caught Twyla raising an eyebrow, and the bartender scoffed, “You think I gotta deal with just booze-guzzling bums? This is a bar, you know.”

Twyla shrugged her shoulders in response. That’s a fair point.

She carefully walked her brother towards the rotgut room just as Dolores pushed the secret door open. As expected, Roger’s head poked out while greeting his saviors with a smile. “Hiya, again—SWEET SUFFERIN’ SUCCOTASH!!!” his cheerful expression dropped instantly, and his sky-blue eyes bulged out of their sockets in stricken terror. He didn’t hear Dolores shush him, instead he could only gape at Tom’s injuries as the Toon duo entered the narrow room. Dolores had to retreat to ensure all doors and windows were locked and secured while Twyla helped her brother towards the bed.

“I don’t need no babysitter,” Tom grumbled lowly, “I can do it myself.”

Twyla lightly smacked him by the back of his thick-furred skull. “Tom, you’re bleeding and covered in bruises. Plus, I just watched you get stabbed multiple times while muzzled and handcuffed to a chair.”

“He got what?!” both Dolores and Roger cried out shrilly. Roger took a few feet back, giving Dolores enough space to grab a nearby stool and pull it towards the bed. “Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?!” she demanded.

“Doom caught us sneaking into the club, and the weasels tried to get us to talk.” Twyla explained, taking off her hat, unbuttoning her blazer and setting it to the side. “Fuckin’ bastards.”

“But what about Eddie? Where is he?”

“We weren’t able to get him out,” the she-wolf Twisted Toon shook her head, sighing in remorse. “He’s still in Toontown.”

“Fuck.” Dolores hissed softly to herself, but the twins caught up on the worry in her tone. But they didn’t have time for that. She quickly put on a fresh apron, and instructed Tom, “You might wanna take your shirt off.”

He sighed. He’s been through this so many times, but he still complied. Despite the stabbing pain on his chest and shoulder, he was able to remove his jacket and unbutton his dark dress shirt with little difficulty. He pushed the sleeves back with his muscled shoulders, exposing his form. Unlike Twyla, who covered hers with an eerie emblem of tattoos, Tom’s muscular body was embellished with scars. Pale gray scars scattered his body like constellations of war, and each one held a grim story like his sister’s. Battle scars, claw marks, bullet wounds, etc.

Dolores opened the lid of the kit, revealing the contents she would need to heal Tom. Twyla peered into the kit, arching a brow. “Is this…a Toon medical kit?”

“I did say this is a bar, didn’t I?” The twins glanced up at Dolores, and she knew they didn’t buy that half-hearted rhetoric. “All right, all right. Before shit went down, Eddie would sometimes request my help to heal Toons who got themselves pricked while he took their cases. I’m not racist.”

“Thank Walt for that,” Roger wiped off the sweat from his forehead.

“Which one is first?” Dolores asked. Tom pointed to the angry red slash trickling down his chest. She sighed, pulling out a clean washcloth and a small bottle of peroxide. “You ready?”

Tom nodded, bracing himself.

The bartender, who was now apparently a nurse, carefully poured small doses of anti-infection liquid and set the bottle down. She gently held Tom’s left shoulder and began to dab him. The male Toon wolf growled in responsive pain, inhaling deep through his nostrils before exhaling slowly to calm himself. Still stings like a bitch!

Twyla watched the lady nurse her brother, covering her mouth to hold back the sob clogged in her throat. This is all her fault. She should have used her invisibility power to take out the weasels and get the guys out of their headquarters while she clearly had the chance, regardless of if they had enchanted weapons or not. They couldn’t be Monster Toon hunters, though. They lacked finesse, expertise, and perception.

And the judge…she will murder him too. Maybe she’ll dip him in the same vat he used to brutally murder that Toon shoe in cold blood. She’ll repeat the same slow, agonizing torture he bestowed upon that poor shoe. La giustizia è meglio servita con la vendetta. Justice is served best with vengeance.

She saw Roger taking a cautious step towards her and offered a comforting hand. He slightly recoiled, ready to pull away if she denied the gesture. But she relaxed and thanked him with a kind smile, giving a slight nod of her head.

After fifteen more minutes, Dolores finished wrapping the layer of gauze around Tom’s chest and taped a small padding on his injured shoulder. “That should do it.” she sighed with exhaustion, getting up from the stool and walking over to wash her hands. As she dried them with a towel, she acknowledged Twyla’s concerns. “He should be able to sleep it off, but make sure he changes his gauze and cleans his wounds.”

“Thank you.” The wolf girl nodded. Dolores returned her nod and left the Toon trio. Tom sat up straighter while minding his injuries, gently placing an ice pack on his bruised scarred eye. “You all right, sis?”

No. Yes? Maybe? Fuck no. Twyla couldn’t choose any one as an answer, so all she could do was let out a heavy sigh. That seemed to be enough for him.

“Sorry. I should’ve known better than that.” The leader reprimanded himself. He let out another hiss of pain as he gently applied more pressure on the black eye. He is going to shoot that pink-clad, Brooklyn bastard weasel’s eye out the next time he takes a swing at him! Or maybe he’ll gouge both out while his boys watched.

Suddenly, Twyla’s head snapped up like she had forgotten something and looked around the lower corners of the room, looking for an outlet. The boys watched her with confusion, but she ignored them. After she found one and cleared some stuff away, she manifested herself in a Toon-Tornado and revealed a sizeable table with an uplifted chair. The table was set with computer software and technology decades beyond the time period’s enhancement, consisting of a desktop computer, a scanner, a tablet, and an active stylus pen. On the far end of the table held a science kit holding multiple beakers and flasks. Twyla found a chord and knelt underneath the desk to plug in the outlet. Light blue luminescence glowed from the screens. “Yes!” she fisted.

“Oh, boy! What is all this neat stuff?” Roger asked, curiously inspecting the other Toon’s equipment. He peered at the glass beakers close enough to morph his face and made various goofy faces.

“It’s my old forensics kit.” Twyla smiled proudly, pulling out the small baggie of the yellow paint.

“Forensics? Ooh! You mean that criminal science stuff?”

“Yep. Took three years of it in high school.” It had been a while since she last used her old tools. Originally, she took the class as an opportunity while taking chemistry for educational purposes…as well as rising above the ranks she and her brother were more or less “placed” in the hierarchical standards of their former—and good-ridden—“classmates” and those sick, uncaring fuckbag teachers.

“Sooo….” The Toon rabbit cocked his head innocently, scratching his head. “Why does she need this stuff?”

“It may help prove your innocence and find the fucker who killed Acme,” Tom answered, watching his sister pull up a microscope and set up the stage controls once she scanned a printed photograph of the rope that was used for the safe. While she waited for the photo to pop up on her screen, she carefully applied a tiny amount of yellow paint on the glass clip and slowly slid it across the specimen stage beneath the lens. Twyla pulled the chair and took a seat, then she peered into the eyepiece tube.

“Hmm…” she hummed thoughtfully. The whole room was quiet, save for the soft humming of the computer. The dark-haired Toon forensics specialist slightly adjusted the stage controls and sharpened the focus, then after another minute of silence, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, shit.”

“What?” Tom’s brows slightly rose, and Roger’s ears lowered.

“This guy certainly ain’t no amateur,” his sister replied. “The paint is too cartoonishly drawn to be the dry, hardened flanks of man-made paint. Roger, did you by any chance, accidentally lose your glove on the night of the murder?”

“Hmm. Let me think,” the accused murderer rubbed his chin, his long ears gearing up. Then, he perked up. “Yes! I did! I had to escape through Jessica’s dressing room window because I heard Bongo coming. My glove must have slipped off.”

“And the killer must have found the glove and used it to frame you.”

“Exactly!” Roger agreed, “See? I told you guys! Boy, I can’t wait to see the look on Eddie’s face!”

“Yeah, and he owes me $20 bucks.” Tom snickered.

“Santino will have to be notified, as well.” Twyla mentioned the other man. That is, if the forensics team in this decade aren’t able to find enough evidence to prove Roger innocent.

Ding!

All three heads turned to the computer. The scanning procedure was now complete. Twyla whirled her chair back and touched the mouse, inspecting the contents of the photograph. The size was 9x11 in height and width, giving a promising view of the traces of paint on the rope. Twyla gave the mouse a couple of clicks, before zooming in on the rope. She studied the paint long and hard, her amethyst eyes inspecting with deep scrutiny. The paint was indeed Toon paint, but it was the fingerprints she focused on. The ridges were curved, the valleys were horizontal, and the core point was at the sole center. Nothing like a rabbit. Or a…

Twyla’s jaw dropped in shock. “Wait a goddamn minute.”

“What? What is it?”

“Guys, come here.” Twyla gestured with a manicured claw. The boys hurriedly walked until they stood on each side. “Look at the fingerprints. The killer was wearing Roger’s glove, but the size of the fingers is too realistic in bone texture and proportion. And Roger only has four fingers. The killer has five.”

Tom’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped too. “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

“What does that mean?” Roger asked, perplexed.

“The son of a bitch is a human.”

________

Dawn rose early the next morning.

It took full convincing, but Tom eventually assured his concerned twin sister that he was recovered enough to go out and find Valiant. He did, however, remind her that somebody needed to stay and keep an eye on Roger besides Dolores. That, and he didn’t want her to be on the risk of getting Toonnapped by Doom’s bastard boogle again.

The ink-furred Toon heard a Toon alarm clock ringing, confirming that he was getting closer to the Mount Hollywood Tunnel. Thankfully, the green shrubbery near the lamp post was dense enough for him to hide without getting spotted. He quickly blended in the dark shadows, and slowly pulled out his revolver just as he heard an echo of giggling and laughter.

Suddenly, Eddie flew out of the tunnel with the burlap sack still over his head, roughly tumbling over the ground as he landed. A moment later, the weasels stepped out of the tunnel, and they were carrying…paintbrushes? Psycho zigzagged around, holding a Toon bucket of paint. 

An uneasiness clenched Tom’s chest. What the fuck did they do to Valiant?

“Kinda stubborn, wasn’t he, Boss?” Greasy snickered, struggling not to laugh.

“Pig-headed, I’d say.” Smartass agreed, winking at his psychotic comrade. His boys trailed after him, laughing wickedly. “I think it’s safe to 'presume' he got da message.”

“You already slayed it, Boss!” his right-hand cackled, roughly nudging Psycho. Smartass gestured to them to follow back into the tunnel, but to Tom’s confusion, Greasy stayed behind. He waited until they were out of earshot, and he looked around the valley. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted in Spanish.

"¡Lupita, mi amor, si estás aquí, tu jefe testarudo está ileso! Le acabamos de dar... ¡Uh, un trabajo de pintura!"

Tom growled with hot anger, his blood boiling from hearing the perverted weasel giving his sister a pet name. But just as his wrath took over his conscience and cocked his gun, he heard the Hispanic gangster shout again but with more urgency.

“Y por favor, por el amor de Dios, ¡sal de este caso mientras puedas!”

Tom’s brows rose up in surprise. What did he mean, “get out of the case while you still can”?

He waited until Greasy eventually turned around and ran off to catch up with the pack, and Tom ran out of his hiding spot to get to Eddie.

“Wha?” the disgruntled detective flailed his arms, “Who’s there? Twyla, is that you?”

“Wrong twin.” Tom responded, taking a few steps back while holding his hands up.

“Tom? Will you get this sack off my head?!”

“Oh yeah, sure.” His assistant replied. Eddie leaned down slightly, and Tom pulled the sack off…and his jaw dropped to the ground.

“Oh, my God.”

“What?!” Eddie exclaimed, feeling his chest clench.

The Toon shook himself and tried to calm his boss. “Boss, try to stay calm.”

Despite his attempt to ease his frantic nerves, that only seemed to distress Eddie even more. He touched his face, but he felt something else on his face instead. Something living, breathing, and not human. His face paled, and his heart froze in horror. “Oh, God!” He pulled on the pig mask’s ear, and it snapped back. “Ow!”

“Boss. It’s gonna be OK.” the grizzled detective didn’t seem to hear his Toon employee and continued to touch his painted face. His hands trembled with a growing dread and bemoaned again. “Oh, no! I’VE BEEN TOON-AROONED!” He screamed and ran like his life depended on it.

“Valiant! Wait!” Tom cried out. He turned back to give the empty tunnel a low growl, then ran to catch up to Eddie before folks report seeing a terrified man wearing a Toon pig mask running around town like a dancing headless chicken.

Twyla

“When are they gonna be back? I’m booooooorrrrred!” Roger whined dramatically.

Twyla sighed, knowing that being locked up in a rotgut room for almost a whole day was starting to get to him. “Sorry, Roger. But we can’t take any risks with the judge and his goons huntin’ our asses.”

As soon as Tom left after breakfast, Twyla created a Toon-drawn bathroom with a shower and sink to freshen up. Instead of getting dolled up in a gangster outfit, she decided to return to her roots and wear her casual gothic biker attire, which consisted of an embroidered sweetheart threaded in black velvet and dark jeans. She laid her beloved jacket on a coat rack she found and sat down next to Roger before resting her face in her palms in exhaustion. Fuck, now she knew how her parents felt hiding from the cops back in their prime.

Tom

“Mr. Valiant?” a sultry voice called to Eddie. “Mr. Valiant?”

The boys quickened in freshening up and put on clothes before leaving the bathroom. Tom walked behind Eddie and saw a red-headed beauty checking her reflection and painting her lips like she was some sort of model.

Tom’s ears lowered, and his dark fur bristled. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snarled menacingly, taking one step forward. “You just sat there the whole time and watched us get our asses tossed and didn’t even bother to help us! What the fuck?!”

Jessica answered but didn’t spare the two a glance. “You got the wrong idea about me, boys. I’m a pawn in this just like Roger. Can you two help me find him?” she applied another layer of lipstick, “Just name your price and I’ll pay it.”

“Yeah. I bet you would,” Eddie said bitterly. He didn’t forget about her either. “You gotta have the rabbit to make the scam work.”

“No, no, no!” Jessica responded, surprising Tom with the little crack in her voice. “I love my husband. You got me all wrong.” She placed her gloves hands on her swaying hips, taking a stroll that would make a siren turn green with envy. “You don’t know how hard it is…looking the way I do.”

“Yeah, well…” Eddie spoke in a trance, like he did the first night he saw her. “You don’t know how hard it is being a man…looking at a woman looking the way you do.”

“I’m not bad,” Jessica looked over her shoulder, “I’m just drawn that way.”

Twyla

Twyla was reviewing the evidence she managed to dig, holding a tablet while drawing a sketch of the photograph on her tablet. She liked to sketch while passing the time and felt like it was important to do so for the photograph.

“Hey, Twyla?” Roger asked.

“Hmm?” Twyla set her supplies down and turned her attention to the Toon rabbit.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he cast his gaze down at the floor, his blue eyes filled with hesitation. He’s got something on his mind.

“…Why do you not talk as much?”

Tom

“You still haven’t answered his question,” Eddie’s frown deepened, joining Tom on his skeptical glare. Dolores was never like this. She never plays mind games on him with her own beauty and charm. She’s more of a diamond in the rough. Tough and gritty, but sweet like caramel beneath her quirky snark. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

“He’s the judge of Toontown, for God’s sake,” Jessica reminded him, her unveiled emerald eye flickered a small flame of anger. “And those weasels will do whatever the hell he says just for their own sick kicks!” she exhaled a quick breath, running down her hands through her waistline to regain her composure.

She then turned her gaze to Tom and alluringly ambled to him. Her icy green eyes thawed just a layer and pursed her full red lips in a small pout. “I’m not a murderer. Please, Mr. Toonz.” How did she even know his name? “You must believe me. We Toons got to stick together.”

Despite her captivating charm, Eddie was not going to let her win Tom over. He got in between the two Toons and lightly pushed the younger investigator away. “Right, like you expect us to buy that shi—”

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve.”

Bewildered, Eddie and Jessica turned back to Tom whose face was darkened by the brim of his fedora. For a moment, they couldn’t see his eyes from underneath his hat, but they could see the hateful grimace and his furry fists clenched so tightly, his knuckles turned white. Suddenly, Tom whipped his head back up and the two of them flinched. A dark mass of ink was dripping down the left side of the Toon wolf’s face, and inky raindrops trickled from the tips of his rugged, pointy ears. A resonant, spine-chilling growl rumbled from his chest, but it was his eyes the startled them the most. The white sclera of his orbs faded from white to solid black, and his pie-cut eyes sharpened like two swords forged in fire and dipped in blood. Filled with fiery, ice-cold unrestrained hatred.

“T-Tom?” Eddie stuttered, his body frozen with confused horror.

The gangster didn’t seem to notice his boss and only took an enraged step towards the singer. “YOU’VE GOT SOME FUCKIN’ NERVE! YOU DIDN’T STOP BONGO FROM SLAMMING MY SISTER AGAINST THE WALL HARD ENOUGH TO CRACK HER SKULL IF SHE WAS A HUMAN! YOU DIDN’T STOP THOSE WEASELS FROM POUNCING ON ME AND FORCING A GODDAMN MUZZLE IN MY FACE BEFORE THEIR BOSS STABBED ME! THE TEACHERS DIDN’T STOP THOSE OTHER BASTARD KIDS FROM TAUNTING US ABOUT OUR LIVES AS HYBRIDS, ABOUT THE SHIT WE’VE BEEN THROUGH, ABOUT OUR PARENTS’ DEATHS!!!”

The sound of his raging, beating heart was deafening. Everything hurt so much as a violent flood of memories drowned Tom until he could barely gasp for breath. Screeching, buzzing and drumming memories whizzed around in his head like murder hornets. He ran his claws deep into his scalp, desperately finding some sort of sensation that could bring him back to reality. He forced himself to take deep, albeit shaky breaths while he waited for his ink to dissipate. It had been a long time since his anger or occasional panic attacks got out of control.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when he regained control of himself, and his stomach churned from everything he’d just said. Fuck, he never meant to open that can of worms in front of two strangers. He looked up to meet the other two’s gazes, only to meet their looks of confusion, shock, and growing trepidation.

“What…what are you talking about?” Eddie asked.

Twyla

A sharp pang of unforgotten sorrow pierced the Toon ravenette’s inky heart, and Twyla’s ears lowered.

Roger knew he must have crossed a line and quickly apologized, “Wait, wait! I’m so sorry! You don’t need to answer, I didn’t mean to upset—”

To his surprise, a tired chuckle cut him off.

“Heh, it’s the first time anyone asked and sounded so sincere.” Roger looked back at the vigilante, raising a confused brow at her unexpected reaction. She rubbed her arms like she was hugging herself, and her enormous tail curled around her chair to rest on her boots. But it was her crescent-fallen, down casted gaze that startled Roger the most, and her orchid-painted eye was dewy with so much sadness.

“…I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble to anyone close to me.” Twyla sighed and began to tell her story. “Our parents died when we were pups.”

Roger cupped his hands over his mouth, blue eyes wide. “What? No!”

Twyla didn’t say anything, only grabbing her lighter and placing a black cigarette between her lips. She lit up the tip and blew a small puff of smoke. “I guess I’d say this tale starts a few years back. Once upon a time, in the city of Chicago, there was a Toon wolf named Tiziano Toonz who lived a life of crime. But he wasn’t like other Toons. He wasn’t even like other horror Toons.” She took a puff, continuing, “Some Toons are brought to life. Others are born through birth. My father…he was created by the leader of a powerful, extremely ruthless mafia through cartoon logic…and magic. Powerful, dark magic.”

“Dark magic?” Roger asked, then his eyes went wide like saucers. “You mean he was a…?”

Tom

“A Toon demon?” Eddie exclaimed. Jessica’s jaw dropped, horrified beyond comprehension and unable to speak due to the shocking truth.

Tom nodded.

“Yep. And I don’t mean it rhetorically, or poetically, or metaphorically, or any other fancy way. He was a real, living Toon demon straight up, created from a spell of infinite darkness and the blood of Lucifer Morningstar himself.”

An intense moment of silence descended upon them. Tom took that as an opportunity to predict what their next reactions, or movements, would be. Which, he predicted, didn’t take very long.

Eddie and Jessica were both equally dumbfounded beyond belief and stricken with a massive wave of horror leagues above description. It was kind of funny, seeing two people, a human and another Toon, dumbstruck and scared shitless at the presence of a Toon made through the darkest forces of creation, or the possibility of said creation ever occurring. Both of them were extremely pale beaded with sweat, and their eyes were wide with an increasingly intense storm of terror and trepidation as they finally began to grasp the reality of not just the twins’ existence, but the realization that if demon Toons exist, so do other monster Toons. In the minds of man, the possibilities are endless.

Tom couldn’t help but smirk at the looks on their faces. It was his father’s favorite thing in the world, the face of someone afraid of imagination—and death—in the eyes of a monster or a Toon. No matter what species they are, everyone makes the same one without fail. Not a lie to be found or a shadow of a doubt, a face that is genuinely honest.

As much as he’d love to stay and revel, he has a story and a case to finish. 

“But that’s not the real issue here. The mafia may have had more control over the city than any other gang had, but they were losing a bloody battle. And even if there wasn’t a crime war, the city was still a living hell for Toons. All kinds of corruption happened like it was a fuckin’ every other day; blackmail, embezzlement, mass extortion, kidnappings…slavery and senseless slaughter. Their boss, Maximus Artino,” he bit his tongue to hold back the bile at the mention of his….grandfather. “Used to be a cartoonist before he turned to crime, and seeing how much he was losing, he got desperate. One night, under the light of the full moon, he created a model sheet of my father’s and brought it to a machine he personally built and brought several ingredients he needed for the spell. His spell worked…”

Tom’s lips curled into a sinister grin. “But at a terrible price.”

“As soon as Tiziano was created, he caused one hell of a massacre. He killed everyone that night. The guilty, the innocent, it didn’t matter. He drowned them with his ink, tore their corpses to shreds, hell, he even ripped their heads off all at once.” He sighed, smiling smugly like an old soul fondly reminiscing about a happy memory. “I’ll never forget how many times he told us that story before bed.”

Twyla

“But even though he killed all of them, Artino managed to immobilize him.” Twyla’s grin dropped, “And instead of putting him down, he used our father as a superweapon to win the war and kill the other mafia. Soon after that, he grew his empire back and continued his operations with Dad’s uncooperative help.”

“I remember hearing his screams every time he had a night terror. The things Artino did to him, the unimaginable pain and suffering he put him through while he was chained, beaten, and tortured.” Her voice darkened, laced with black wrath. “He was forced to take on missions, mostly assassinations and other executions. His imprisonment lasted for thirty years until…”

“Until what?” Roger asked, speechless.

Another smile, but much warmer, etched on her face. “Until he met Mom.”

Tom

“Her name…was Vesper. A woman you do not want to fuck with. She sang in one of the biggest nightclubs in Chicago since the Ritz, but she wasn’t a ditz who puts up with someone else’s bullshit. Not even the customers.” A snicker managed to crack Tom’s morbid mood, “Shit, I’ll never forget this one time when a guy had too much to drink and tried to sneak his hand up another lady’s skirt. Mom saw the whole thing, marched over, and crunched his hand so hard his bones turned to dust! Ha-ha, and then she stomped on his crotch hard enough to break his pelvis and she yelled, ‘SUCK ON THAT, DICK!’”

That managed to make Eddie laugh, despite his initial shock of his employees’…secret. “She sounds like one hell of a dame.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, and I can easily break your skull too if you’re not careful.” Tom playfully jabbed his boss’s chest, but the message was crystal clear.

His face became a grimace, “But like Dad, she was locked in a cage too.”

Twyla

“Not only was the nightclub she worked at very popular, but it also brought in the wrong crowd to do ‘business’ with the manager.” The Toonz sister flexed her two fingers with emphasis on “business”, her stomach clutching with repulsion. “And because she was a Toon drawn to sing in his nightclub, the manager often at times ‘advertised’ her to other human men as a treat if you catch my drift.”

“Disgusting!” Roger exclaimed, his furry face scrunching with complete horror and disgust. He couldn’t imagine how awful her life was before she met their father!

“I know, I know.” Twyla sighed with a nod. “Bein’ treated like a sex object is definitely not something women should go through while pursing that kind of career, whether they’re human or not.”

Her disposition changed again, trading her snarls for a smile that eventually turned into a dry, wicked chuckle. “But don’t worry. Here comes my favorite part.”

She smoked, “They met one night at Le Nocturne, and they just like, Zinged!”

“Zinged?” Roger tilted his head confusedly.

“They fell in love.”

Roger’s blue eyes changed into hearts, and his ears curled over to form a great, big heart which made Twyla chuckle again. “It was love at first sight. Or should I say, at first fright.”

“Like Snow White and the Prince! Anthony and Cleopatra!” Roger sighed dramatically, trailing off. He clasped his hands together, “Romeo and Juliet!”

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Twyla shook her head, amused. “Not like those two. The love Mom and Dad had for each other was unlike anything you’ve ever seen.” She smiled wistfully, “A love, one born of pure light, shining in the darkness of the universe brighter than a whole galaxy of stars kissing the night sky as they painted their world black and red. Like a beautiful nightmare emerging from a dream’s shadow, and a beautiful dream born from the womb of a nightmare. Their love isn’t something many could comprehend. A love, born through darkest desires and twisted temptations warped by the chains of despair and madness, that’s the kind of love they’ve had for each other.”

She carried on, “But you see, Roger, Mom wasn’t just a prisoned singer. She was also…” she smiled proudly, “a witch.”

Roger’s eyes widened, bewildered. “You…you mean, a real witch?”

“Mm-hmm. While Artino thought he could create a Toon made through the Devil to do his bidding, Mom’s creator, Cassius Lemaitre, thought he could create a horror Toon associated with darkness, temptation and desire, just so his “nightclub” could become popular and he’d gain wealth beyond human imagination.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Tch. Stupid greedy bastard.”

“Anyway, during her imprisonment, Mom started to learn and create spells using grimoires, spellbooks and even her own model sheet Lemaitre thought he could hide from her, knowing that one day she will break her chains and escape that hellhole. But despite her best efforts, Lemaitre was infuriatingly smarter than he’d let on and it got to a point where she had to play pretend and act like she didn’t know who, and what, she really was. And so, she played that game until that night at Le Nocturne and…”

She cast her gaze down, her tale slowly trailing.

“And what?” Roger asked after a moment, minding himself of Twyla’s pace.

The ravenette finally answered. “And the Hellfire Bellum of Testaments. When Mom and Dad began meeting in secret, they found a way to defeat their tormentors and end theirs and other Toons’ suffering. Eventually, they came up with a plan, but Artino and Lemaitre found out, and there was a massive, bloody war between the creators’ allegiance and our parents. Metal and ink tore through flesh, leaving a trail of bodies until the Second City was stained blood-red. The war was endless, until the final night of battle at St. Patrick’s when Mom and Dad lured them into a trap. And they took their sweet time repaying those fuckers for everything they had done to them, let me assure you.”

Her lips stretched in a wide, demonic grin, “Their blood spilt like they spilt my parents’. Their screams were like a wonderful symphony of death, chaos, and divine vengeance. Mom and Dad even broadcasted the whole ordeal like their own little cartoon, to show Chicago that a new era had begun. A bright future for themselves, for each other, and their people. And to show humans that their love and power must never be challenged.”           

Tom

“So they fell in love, got hitched, and had a red wedding. It’s amazing what you can do with your creators’ blood if you’re out of paint.” Tom chuckled, finishing his parents’ tale. He spotted Eddie and Jessica who both gave him an uneasy look.

“What? You gotta appreciate the work of art in horror industry!” Tom shrugged his shoulders, defending his parents’ behalf.

“If your folks worked in a horror cartoon studio, this story would be ten-fucking-times less creepy.” Eddie grumbled, his gut clutched with the remnants of distress.

“No sense of humor?” Jessica arched a brow, though she wasn’t not freaked out by the gory details of the twins’ parents’…love story.

They waited for Tom to continue. “So after the war and their creators’ “disappearances”, they took over and became the King and Queen of Chicago. What was once a purgatory had become a safe haven for Toons and their families living in the city, our city. A prosperous kingdom far greater than any other crime boss, even Capone himself. In one night, Hell became Heaven.”

Kinda ironic, hearing that the Devil of Toonkind was a hero, Eddie thought. But for once, he made no comment.

Twyla

“When they discovered they were pregnant, our parents were over the moon. They didn’t think it was possible to birth kids, not that they didn’t try.” She left out the part about interspecies couples struggling to create a child, because of how horrendously biased her science teachers were when she first learned about born-Toon biology. Not only were the other kids cruel to her because she was a hybrid, but the adults made their disgust towards Toons like her and her brother very clear. And some of those adults weren’t humans, they were Toons too. She could remember their words stinging like a thousand bees, calling her names like “ugly ill-bred freak”, “abomination”, and “monster” behind her back.

“Twyla?”

The ravenette wolf was brought back to reality, and she turned to catch Roger’s concerned look. “Oh, right!” she forced herself to smile, but her lips ached from how heavy her smile was. “Now, where was I?”

Tom

“For a moment, everything was perfect.” Tom’s wistful smile darkened to a grimace. “And then that moment ended.”

The air was now thick with tension. Eddie and Jessica could see a chink in the Toon demon’s armor, and a small drip of ink returned. But this time, it was not from anger. He crossed his arms, pressing his claws on his sleeved arms hard enough like he was pushing the pain out of his core while he kept his head down. His face was set, but a tiny wobble shook his lip. The two knew better than to press forward, despite the uncomfortable silence.

After a long moment, Tom finally gathered enough strength to drop the bomb.

“They were murdered.”

Twyla

“What?!” Roger kept his voice soft for Twyla’s sake, but there was no mistake hearing the wave of unimaginable horror. “What happened?”

“At first, we thought it was a fire that killed them.” Twyla admitted; it is true that the twins and everyone else thought that natural fire that potentially burn Toons to death. And, to her understanding, natural fire was the only other element that could cause hazardous harms to Toons besides Dip-injected man-made weapons, and of course, the Dip itself. But Toon deaths caused by fire rarely occurred…unless the fire was infused with that very same, toxic green liquid comprised of Toon-killing elements. “But that’s the main reason why I took chemistry and forensics. I learned that fire can be lethal to Toons if properly mixed with Dip and chemicals used to create fire. The same thing applies to explosive compounds, grenades and even a holy nail if you’re aiming from a safe distance.”

Roger’s heart dropped to his stomach, and so did his ears. “So, i-it was arson? A holy nail? Is…is that how they…?”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish.

Twyla responded with a grim nod, swallowing the angry sorrowful wobble down her throat. “The Holy Nail of Helena killed my parents. And to add salt to our wounds, the castle was hosed with holy water and gas bombs full of bloodroot, a cherubic kind of root that is so potent, it can put even the strongest of demons into a coma. The bastard used enough bloodroot to ensure our family’s entourage of top soldiers wouldn’t survive.”

The Twisted Toon demoness shut her eyes tightly, shoving those memories, those painful nightmares, out of her mind with such brute force. And yet, it was too much. Remembering was too much.

The first gas bomb broke the window, sending the first wave of panic in her little heart. The rising cacophony of screams ringing her ears like blaring alarm bells as her father roared orders, it hurt so much. So much fear and chaos. Her mother got the twins to safety out of the window, and the last thing she ever said to them was, “I love you.”  

“Twyla…” Roger whispered, horrified. He couldn’t believe the twins who graciously promised to help him, lost their parents to such a horrific tragedy. “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you for your condolences,” the hybrid Toon demoness thanked him, “But that’s not all what happened.”

She took a long inhale of her cigarette, breathing in as much calm as the tobacco and nicotine can offer for the next part of her story. Smoke escaped her lips, “We…we had an older brother. His name was Darry.”

Tom

“Darry?” Eddie arched a brow, sharing a glance with Jessica. “Who the hell is Darry?”

“A dipshit who was related to us by blood,” Tom’s grimace deepened, his ears lowering from the memory of that bastard. “And…our former guardian.”

“So,” Jessica asked, wary caution in her tone, “It was just the three of you.”

“Unfortunately.” Tom caught an increased look of alarm in their eyes, and he sighed. “Twyla and I may be demons, but he was a monster.”

Twyla

“By the time the fire happened, Darry was already settling on his own and had dreams going to college. I guess I don’t need to tell you what happened after that.”

It took a moment, but when Roger put the pieces together, he nodded solemnly. “He had to give it up to take care of you and Tom.”

“Mm-hm.” Twyla hummed, her heart heavy with a pang of guilt for the trouble she caused him, despite everything that happened. She can still remember watching him brood in the kitchen, the table scattered with bills to pay and holding onto his beloved college flyers as a somber reminder of his crushed dreams. Crushed by her. “Things were fine living with him at first. We lived in a rough part of town, so he had to teach us how to be smart whenever we’re outside and he wasn’t there to protect us.”

“Why wouldn’t he be there with you?” Roger asked, a frown grimacing his usual cheerful face. The eldest brother’s absence didn’t sit well with him.

“He worked a full-time job, and sometimes he’d have to take double shifts. It’s not his fault Chatham’s got some of the worst economies in Chicago.” The Toonz sister responded, shrugging. “And since our shitshow of a school refused to send a bus for us, we had to maneuver our way back home without gettin’ jumped.”

“What?” Roger’s blue eyes flared, “They can’t do that! That’s illegal!”

“Illegal, but not uncommon.” Twyla sighed bitterly, before continuing, “But despite all of that, Darry stuck around to take care of us. I mean, why wouldn’t he? We were all he had left…and he was all we had left.” She trailed off, feeling a great apprehension clutching her chest and anxiety striking her nerves.

Roger sensed the girl’s hesitation and chose wisely to wait until she was ready.

“But…a few years later, he changed.” Taking a deep inhale of tobacco, she breathed out. “My mom’s been around long enough to see what men become when they drink. She said, ‘They think they’re made of stone until they ask for a drink. Give him a shot, and he’ll crumble faster than fragile glass’. I’ve come to learn folks only become one of two things when they’re drunk. Vulnerable prey, or angry beasts. And Darry…”

Tears pricked her eyes. Her voice cracked. “He…”

Roger’s ears lowered further, but his eyes widened in concern. “Twyla?”

The princess didn’t make eye contact with him. Her throat was burning with red-hot pain, and her eyes stung with tears she hid with her hand while an armor-piercing bullet shot her heart. She would never forget the things he said to her, the awful, horrible things he said to her. Even though they were true.

It should have been you. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!!!!  

“I…I only wanted to help him.” Twyla finally spoke, her voice broken with grief. “But that only made him worse.”

Tom

“Darry went downhill fast after that.” The gunslinger crossed his arms. “He started drinking.”

While he was telling his story, the two could only stand there and listen without saying a single word. Unbeknownst to the demon Toon, Eddie was grimly tearing his own ass a new one. He helped a couple of Toons get out of bad situations when their creator or someone they lived with started to get nasty whenever they’d got drunk. He himself was drinking around two Toons, two scared kids, and never once picked up the signs. What the hell was he thinking?

Next to him, Jessica watched Tom with a stoic, grim look. She’s seen it happen to a lot of women. She doesn’t even need to ask him what happened to his brother. She knows exactly what it was like to live with a man consumed by anger and alcohol.

It turns them into beasts.

They have both been very kind to not pressure him, and after a few minutes, the Twisted prince caught up with his story. His face suddenly skewered with rage, and a monstrous growl escaped his throat. Behind him, the walls and floorboards were cast by dark shadows of ink. Eddie’s eyes went wide, immediately recognizing them as the same shadows Twyla’s wrath manifested last night back at Toon Patrol Headquarters. Jessica, on the other hand, was startled by the unsettling sight.

Before she could speak, Tom snarled. “And then that bastard started to take it all out on her. He blamed her for all his grievances, sayin’ shit like it was her fault he couldn’t make it to college, or that it was her fault his apartment turned into a shitshow when he spent all his money on the booze and didn’t pay the goddamn bills. But Twyla, bless her soul, still went out of her way to help him. Or make the burden hurt less, fuckin’ bullshit. She did most of the chores, and even started cookin’ on the stove when she was eight. Eight!”

“But no matter how hard she tried, it was like living with her was such a fuckin’ hassle to him. And he made it his sole mission to make her hurt and suffer for all his pain, not her own.” Fury boiled his ink blood like a hot, angry volcano and he clenched his fists so tightly, his claws pierced the skin of his furry palms hard enough to draw blood. “He said that she deserved the shit she put up with at school, deserved to be kicked around and treated like a fuckin’ joke.”

“But,” Jessica couldn’t help herself any longer, “If things were so bad, why didn’t anyone help you?”

“Because they’re hybrids,” Eddie responded before Tom could, and his voice was low and gruff with cold venom. “That's the thing, ain't it?"

“We tried to get help.” Tom responded, summoning the two back to him. “We tried everything we could. The teachers, the principal, we even called the cops.”

“Keep in mind the cops were the last resort, all right? Despite our parents’ intentions, they led a mafia, and both of them were killers. But we were so frightened, we thought they could help us. I mean, their job is to keep people safe, for God’s sake! Or so we thought.”

“They didn’t listen to you, did they?” his boss asked grimly.

“More like threatened to arrest us if we wasted their time again.” Tom sighed, nodding at the appalled indignance the two responded with. “I know, I know. It’s bad enough they pull this kind of shit to Toons, but hybrid Toons...” He clenched his teeth, “I don’t need to tell you how that went.”

“Oh, that is bullshi—”

Twyla

“Then one night, it got so bad we had to leave.” Twyla said, taking a sip of her glass of water. Her cigarette finally snubbed, and she tried to grab another. But Roger, who had had enough of smelling the smoke, grabbed her small pack and YEETED it out of the window far enough for her not to retrieve. Then he insisted that she’s done smoking and drank her sorrows down with water instead. Twyla tried to protest, only to quickly learn that a serious Roger Rabbit is a scary Roger Rabbit.

Yeah, nope. She ain’t fucking with that. Nuh-uh!

“We were only about thirteen when he came home. It was late past 9:00 when we should’ve already been in bed with the door locked. Tom and I were having a little argument about who’s going to be cooking meals from now on. I told him that I was more than capable of handling the stove, and I’ve done it for five years when Darry slammed the door open. God, he was a huge mess. I smelled whiskey on his breath and saw a look of fury in his eyes. He found out we called the cops on him.”

She continued, noticing the alarmed worry on Roger’s face. “As soon as he saw me, he went off. Nothin’ like his usual outbursts or his weeknight benders. He was royally pissed.”

Royally pissed was an understatement.

You ungrateful, selfish bitch. I took you in. I gave you food and shelter when no one else was gonna save your stupid, sorry ass. You would be dead on the streets if it weren’t for me. I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING, AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?!?!

“Tom tried to protect me, like he always does, but Darry grabbed him by the scruff and tossed him out of the kitchen. I was so scared I couldn’t even move. And then, he…” she whimpered, finally letting a few tears roll down her face.

Roger straightened his posture, shocked by how fast she was crumbling. Before he could utter a word, Twyla finally broke down. “It’s all my fault.” she sobbed. It hurt so much. Talking, crying, all of it. Her chest was heavy with the weight of sorrow she tried so hard to bury, her heart was tearing apart with grief and anguish. Her lungs burned painfully, and she couldn’t breathe from all the agony. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve kept them safe. I…”

Fighting his own tears, Roger shook off the horror he was hearing. “Oh, Twyla. Come here.” He carefully stood up from the bed and stretched his arms towards Twyla, spreading them wide open. As she’s rising from her chair however, he seemed to change his mind and decided that Twyla deserves—for once in her life—to have someone else willingly give her affection besides her brother and the others, rather than offer it. “Actually, wait. Stay there, and I’ll come to you. OK?”

Twyla’s amethyst pie-cut eyes grew tenfold in size as Roger dusted his overalls and walked towards her. As soon as she was within his range, he swept her in his gentle, soft arms and held her close to his chest in a comforting manner. If Twyla’s eyes weren’t already wide before, they sure are now.

“It wasn’t your fault, OK? Tom’s not guilty, either.” The rabbit whispered, “You did nothing to deserve it. What happened was not your fault.”

Somewhere deep in her heart, there’s this part of Twisted Twyla Toonz that she keeps under lock and key behind impossibly tall walls of ice. Roger’s kind words—his unconditional kindness—seemed to have helped him burn through Twyla’s walls and reached the very center of her dark, twisted core where the same, scared little girl hid. The more he spoke, the more ice melted…and then she shattered.

A watery sob rippled through her throat as she shut her eyes tightly. Her little nose stung and twitched as she struggled to hold back the tears that continued to build up like a dam. She tried so hard not to cry, but the years of pain, betrayal, and anguish now rushed up to the surface. Her throat tightened and clenched as another sob wracked her entire body, causing her lungs to constrict and spasm in her chest and make her feel like she was drowning.

“It’s gonna be OK, sweetie.” Roger whispered, gently running his gloved fingers through her hair, and holding her close like he was protecting her from all the monsters who hurt her. It’s been so long since an adult provided her comfort. “It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

The room was silent, save for her soft sobs.

Tom

“What happened after that?”

Tom’s breathing was shaky, heavy from grief or from rage. “He found out we got the cops involved, and he went on another bender. But it was worse than the others. As soon as he came back, shit hit the fan. He started screamin’ his ass off at Twyla, and called her an ‘ungrateful, selfish bitch’. He even said she killed our parents.”

“Excuse me?” Jessica’s eyes burned with fury, clenching her pearly white teeth.

“He fuckin’ said what?” Eddie growled, his voice scorned with rage. His dark eyes flashed like lightning and his teeth bared into a snarl while he was clenching his fists. An angry shudder rolled through his stocky body, and if he were a Toon, steam would be blowing out of his ears.

“It didn’t help that I was runnin’ my mouth, so he literally tossed my ass. I wasn’t havin’ any more of that shit, so I grabbed a lamp and smashed his head, knocking him out cold. After that, we immediately ran to our room and locked the door so we can grab whatever we needed and ditched him for good. We spent the last five years stayin’ with two Monster Toons we call family now, but I knew we couldn’t keep on hiding in the shadows, pickin’ up scraps in the city. So we decided to leave.” Tom revealed his plans, “We needed the money and we had to wait until we turned 18 and graduated, so I came up with a little gig that could get us quick cash.”

“Vigilantism,” Eddie said.

Tom nodded. “Most of our targets were the same bastards who tormented us, so the job was a lot more enjoyable.” He chuckled, “I see why you took the job, too.”

“Yeah. It’s slapstick comedy,” the grizzled detective chuckled, ignoring the icy glare Jessica gave him. If looks could kill, he would be buried six feet under.

“The day finally came, and we got emancipated not too long after that.” Tom’s grimace returned, “But…I made a mistake.”

“What happened?” Jessica asked.

A deep-seeded guilt spurned its roots in Tom’s core. “I…I thought it would be a good idea to go back and grab some more things.”

“What?!”

“Tom!”

“I know, I know,” Tom held his hands up, nodding understandably. “I had no idea what I was thinking. We needed some extra money, and I thought stealing from Darry was the best solution. I cased his apartment and figured out what days he leaves and what time he comes back. But…”

Eddie can already tell where this was going but made no comment.

“Things didn’t go as planned.”

Twyla

“You went back?! Are you crazy?!” Roger exclaimed, gobsmacked with newfound fear.

“Tom was gonna go with or without me, and I didn’t want him to be alone.” Twyla defended her brother. “So I snuck in the bedroom window while he took the other route. I packed up whatever I could find and tried to find Tom. But…Darry found me instead.”

“Oh God, no.” The redheaded Toon rabbit buried his face in his hands, dismayed. He didn’t know how much more he could take of this. But he had to know.

“What…what happened next?”

Twyla’s eyes darted to the left, and Roger could instantly tell there was something she was hiding. Some horrible. And something deep, deep in his gut told him he was not going to like it.

“Well, he…” the young she-wolf chuckled nervously. “Heh, he tried to…. kill me.”

The glass Roger was holding for her slipped out of his grasp, and it shattered. “He…what?”

“Yep. He finally lost it and tried to put me down,” Twyla’s nervous grin dropped when she saw a dangerous flash gleam in his kind, benevolent blue eyes. Uh-oh.

“B-but he didn’t actually kill me!” she waved her hands, shaking her head. “Right? I’m still here, I’m OK, and I’m here to help you. You don’t need to worry about—”

“What did he do?” Roger’s voice was completely devoid of that cute, Southern lisp she once knew. His voice was cold like ice, and each word he spoke was frigid and frosty. It was so cold, Twyla couldn’t help but shiver at how frozen the atmosphere suddenly became. What was most startling was his eyes. His bright, sky-blue eyes turned to a dark, stormy blue and a layer of icy stone hardened his orbs. She had never seen him so angry before since he found out about Jessica, and it frightened her.

“Roger, please stay calm.” She tried.

“What. Did. He. Do?” the rabbit hissed.

“Fuck. He, um….” Twyla gulped, “He strangled me, tried to shoot me with a holy Dip-barreled gun.”

Roger took slow, deep breaths. His expression was calm, if not stoic, but Twyla recoiled seeing the fire flicker in his icy eyes and saw his snow-white fur bristle slightly. He clasped his gloved hands tightly, and she could see his knuckles turn white. After a long, intense moment of unnerving silence, the Toon rabbit spoke in an eerily calm tone. “Please, finish your story.”

He didn’t even have the lisp. Fuck, he’s pissed! The Toon demoness’s pupils shrank and stuttered with a nervous nod. “Uh, s-sure.”

Tom

“I accidentally took a wrong turn and had to choose a different route to get to his bedroom. But when I got there, I heard him screamin’. I ran to the hallway and found him pinnin’ my sister to the ground in a chokehold while he pointed a gun at her face.”

“He tried to kill Twyla?!” both Eddie and Jessica exclaimed in unison, overdone by horrified shock and rage. The young gangster recoiled from the sharp volume of their reactions and the fiery anger in their eyes. He can only imagine how Adam and Echo are going to take this news when the twins find a way to contact them. Tom panicked pretty much on the spot when the two began to let out a cacophony of angry curses and snarls, and frantically flapped his hands to get their attention so they don’t alert the neighbors and call the cops. Or worse, Doom and his goons.

“Guys! Chill the fuck out! We’re bein’ chased by weasels, for Christ’s sake!” Tom hissed, ready to clasp his hands over their mouths if he needed to. Thankfully, the two managed to calm themselves and Tom let out a sigh of relief. Jesus!

“Please tell me you whooped that fucker’s ass,” Jessica exhaled, running a gloved hand through her crimson hair.

“Oh, I did more than that.” he grinned again, but there was a dark mirth in his smile. An aura of apprehension surrounded the detective and the singer, but he didn’t care. “He tried to kill me too, but Twyla pounced on him, and she slashed his throat. I looked him in the eye while he laid there in a puddle of his blood…and I killed him.”

He didn’t wait for whatever they had to say about that and went on. “And I don’t regret it. He betrayed us. He betrayed her. He left us to rot and threw us away like we were nothing! And then he tried to kill her because Mom and Dad DIED trying to protect their kids! To protect us! Funny how family don’t mean shit without love and loyalty, huh?”

The office was silent for a moment, then Tom’s ear picked up the sound of walking heels coming from outside. “I think that’s Dolores. I’ll be right back.”

He left the office and quickly walked down the stairs while straightening his collar and jacket. Fuck, that was an emotional shitstorm. He found Dolores just as she entered the building.

“Tom? Are you all right? Did you find Eddie?” the lady asked, her voice had a little panic. “Your sister told me you were going to look for him, and I just stopped by probate.”

“Yeah, he’s all right. He’s in the office right now.” Tom assured her.

Dolores nodded, then walked past him and ascended upon the stairs. The Toon’s eyes widened from the reminder that Jessica was still there, and he darted after the bartender. “Wait, hold on!” he called out, but she ignored him.

He trailed behind her down the hallway before she suddenly halted at Eddie’s door. Tom caught up…and saw Jessica’s hands on Eddie’s shoulders…..while his pants were down to his ankles.

Ohhhhhhhh shit.    

“Dabbing in watercolors, Eddie?” Dolores asked. Her tone was neutral, but her arms crossed so tightly Tom could see the veins pop beneath her creamy skin.

Eddie looked down and picked up what she was assuming. He hastily pulled them up but accidentally bumped into Jessica’s cleavage. “Sorry.” He apologized, giving Dolores a nervous chuckle.

The femme fatale paid no mind and saw herself out. Before she left, she looked over her shoulder. “Goodbye, boys. My offer stands firm. Think about it.” she said and blew a kiss for Eddie and one for Tom. The kisses fluttered like butterflies and each one landed on one of their cheeks with a SMACK.

Dolores watched her stroll her way out of the office, and once she left, the bartender whipped her head back to Eddie. “Well!” she exclaimed, storming over towards the man who Tom figured out had to be her old flame and ripped the kiss off his cheek. “Do you want to tell me what she was doing with her arms around you?!”

“Probably looking for a god place to stick a knife,” Eddie replied sarcastically.

“Come on, Eddie! I caught you with your pants down!” Dolores snapped. She whirled around and stormed off without hearing him.

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Seven: Judge Doom and the Toon Patrol

Summary: Eddie Valiant and Twisted Twyla Toonz meet Judge Doom, the sole jurist of Toontown, and his law enforcement group called the Toon Patrol. Twyla learns that they’re here to investigate, but they’re working on the other side of the law.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd and @lastofautumn

WARNING: This chapter contains unlawful Toon execution, abuse of jurisdiction and authority, death of an innocent Toon shoe, Doom being an absolute terror, and a certain green zoot weasel trying to put the moves on Twyla

“Is this man removing evidence from the scene of a crime?” the man asked Twyla sharply. His voice was harsh like graphite, whetted sharp enough to cut leather.

Thankfully, Santino came to her rescue. “Uh, no, Judge Doom. Valiant here was just picking it up for you.” He pulled Eddie up, “Weren’t you, Eddie?”

The man, Judge Doom, extended his gloved hand. “Hand it over.”

“Sure,” Eddie said, taking the buzzer and slammed it on Doom’s hand, making the pale man shake and convulse from the effects. Twyla raised a brow; humans don’t shake exaggeratedly like that when they get shocked. Eddie took his hand away and smiled, “His number-one seller.”

Doom returned his smile, but it sent chills down Twyla’s spine. His smile was ominous and foreboding. Good thing she was in control of her composure, otherwise her tail would’ve frozen off. “I see working for a Toon has rubbed off on you.”

“I wasn’t working for a Toon,” Eddie replied harshly, “I was working for R.K. Maroon.”

“Yes, we talked to Mr. Maroon,” Doom agreed, “He told us he became quite agitated when you showed him the pictures. The rabbit said that one way or another, he and his wife were going to be happy. Is that true?”

“Hey, pal. Do I look like a stenographer?”

Eddie, I swear to God, Twyla rubbed her temple.

“Shut your yap, Eddie. The man’s a judge.” Santino said.

“That’s all right, Lieutenant. From the smell of him, I would say it was the booze talking,” he lightly sneered at the smaller man. “No matter, the rabbit won’t get far. My men will find him.”

Men? Twyla’s rose her brow.

As if on cue, the doors burst open with the blaring sound of a siren. A black 1937 Dodge Humpback panel truck, otherwise known as a paddy wagon, drove into the factory, nearly running the officers over. Twyla dodged it before it could hit her and ran her claws across the stone ground to ease her pose. The car swerved to the side and knocked a few boxes over. Twyla read the logo on the side of the car.

City of Los Angeles Toon Patrol.     

“‘Toon Patrol’?” she read, feeling uneasy.

“You all right, Twyla?” Eddie called out.

She responded with a thumbs-up and dusted off her suit.

“Weasels?” Eddie exclaimed.

“Yes. I find they have a special gift for the work.” Judge Doom answered.

“All right, you mugs! Fall out!” a familiar old-style Brooklyn voice barked.

Twyla’s eyes widened. It’s that voice from last night!

Five Toon weasels stepped out of the car. The first one, obviously the leader, was a lean mean-looking bastard. Like James Cagney kind of mean. He had tawny brown fur and tangerine painting his ears, muzzle and neck, palms and underbelly with a long scruffy tail tipped with black streaks. Although he was slender, his muscles were firm and solid and between proud, broad shoulders displayed a wide, masculine chest. His style of choice consisted of a light pink double-breasted James Cagney zoot suit sewn with four gold bronze buttons, and a matching fedora branded with a hot pink band. He also wore a hot pink bejeweled tie over a crisp white dress shirt and white spats adorned his clawed feet in an attempt to make him appear classy and sophisticated. A shining gold chain hung from his left breast pocket, matching the glint of his sharp golden eyes. His very presence sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

The second weasel, obviously the second-in-command, stood a head taller and almost towered over the whole group. He must have been some sort of Spanish descent. His eyes and fur were dark chocolate, accented with light mocha warming his ears and muzzle. Oiled black hair curled above his nape, slicked with greasy flamboyance. Unlike Cagney Weasel, whose muscle was apparent behind a lean form, the Latino weasel’s form was slender with a bit of a pot belly, though it looked natural and well in proportion to his size. He wore a zoot suit, too, referenceable to the Zoot Suit Riots. He was shrouded in a jade green trench coat trimmed with black lapels and baggy sleeve cuffs, high-waisted pants hiked up to his chest held with a narrow black belt and his head was hatted with a wide-brimmed fedora that matched his suit’s color. His fashion style was complimented with a white dress shirt and a hot-pink tie that stood out from his attire, and he wore pointed spectator shoes. Behind him, a long furry tail swayed, coated in ink and dark chocolate. His clawed hands tucked in his pockets as he followed his boss in a suave, near serpentlike saunter. Twyla took a whiff and recognized the strong, heavy cologne.

Standing on the leader’s left was a tall, scrawny weasel skinny as a pencil. His arms were long and spare, but hard like stone. And they were packed with steely muscle. Unlike the pack, his fur was an ashy blue streaked with light blue and just reeked of cigarette smoke permeating his body all the way down to his unkempt tail. He wore a stained bowler hat, dress shirt with half-rolled sleeves, an undone black tie and an open black vest, decorated with cigarettes. Cigarettes, some fresh and some old, poked out from his lips, and he hacked, revealing rotten yellowed fangs. He left a massive, nasty cloud of smoke in his wake, and blinked against the smoke as if he didn’t care about the toxic plume burning his bloodshot cobalt eyes.

Jesus, it’s like looking at a walking roadkill that died from smoking, Twyla’s little nose twitched in concealed disgust.

The fourth weasel was small, scrawny, and kind of cute. He had caramel fur with a light tan muzzle and spiked hair like he had a headful of porcupine quills sharp, untamable and serrated without mercy, and his tail lashed out like a barbed whip. His vibrant blue eyes were wide and maniacal, yellow swirls wildly dancing around his pupils with demented glee. He only wore a straitjacket with open restraints, and large baggy sleeves covered his paws. The looney-looking weasel’s lips pulled into a creepy, yet derpy smile adorned with small razor-sharp fangs that can probably tear off your fucking face and chew on your cranium flesh. But still, he was kind of cute.

And the last of the boogle, who looked more like a potato than a weasel, was just absolutely adorable. No seriously, he was so damn cute! His fur was scrumptious gingerbread, though his apricot-painted snout wasn’t lean and a single fang popped out. Soft, fluffy gingerbread warmed his thick, meaty arms dominated with comically concealed muscle. He only wore a blue and white striped T-shirt which barely fit his teddy bear gut, and a red beanie decorated with a yellow propeller. His blue tennis shoes were untied on both feet, and he nearly tumbled over his tail layered in a coat of massive fluff. He held up a large baseball bat dented with a sharp nail. His hazel eyes shone bright with pure innocence, presenting him as more childlike than ignorant.

It was like looking at a McDonald’s chicken nugget that can bash your skull with a baseball bat. And only one thought came across Twyla’s mind upon seeing this adorable walking teddy bear.

She internally gasped.

BABY!!!!!! Twyla’s eyes sparkled as she took him in her sights, unable to hold back from digging out her phone and taking quick pictures of him.

“Did you find the rabbit?” Judge Doom called out.

“Don’t worry, Judge! We got ‘deformants’ all over tha’ city! We’ll find him.” the leader said, his lips pulled in an evil glimmering grin.

Don’t you mean ‘informants’? Twyla mentally corrected him, digging down her purse to pull out a black Cigaronne case.

“You there!” Judge Doom called out.

The female hybrid nearly dropped her tin. Then, she raised a brow and pointed at herself.

“Yes, you. Do you have any idea where the rabbit might be?”

Her gut on Roger was still strong, so she gently shook her head with a silent, feigned apology. She heard the Hispanic weasel in the jade-colored suit chuckle.

“Not much of a talker, is she, Boss?” he smirked. His voice was low and husky like bourbon-soaked velvet and sinister as poison-kissed knives with a strong Puerto Rican accent.

Twyla went back to her own business and pulled out a long sleek black cigarette. She placed it on her soft lips and reached down her pocket to grab a lighter.

“It would be a damn shame if the flames of a fire burnt the petals of a flower as beautiful and delicate as you~”

Startled, Twyla nearly jumped and whirled around. Only to see the green-clad gangster standing a bit too close to her comfort. He held his hands up nonchalantly.

“Heh-heh. Lo siento, hermosa. No quise asustarte.” He apologized.

Twyla raised a brow, tilting her head confusedly. She didn’t understand Spanish very well.

“He said,” the blue weasel stepped in, his voice hoarse and scratchy and hacking up a fit of smoke. “He didn’t mean to startle you.” 

She glanced at the Spaniard, then gave him a slow, grateful nod.

Then, the pink mobster shoved the two out of the way. “Lemme talk to tha’ broad.” He barked harshly and lit up a cigar. He faced Twyla, “What are you doin’ here anyway? And where are ya from? You dress funny.”

The taller Toon rose a brow, giving him the once-over. Says the guy dressed up in a fuckin’ pink zoot suit, she thought while addressing his attire with her eyes.

He didn’t probably like what she was gesturing at and blew a ring of smoke in her face. “Ain’t you gonna ‘slay’ somethin’? It’s rude ta’ ignore your superiors.”

Superiors? Oh, you wanna do this now? Bet. Twyla opened the lid of her diamond skull-encrusted lighter and ignited a small flame, creating a thin silver smoke. She took a soft inhale…and blew out a large puff of black smoke shaped like a skull at the three weasels.

They coughed against the plume heavily, and even the blue weasel who probably smokes his packs religiously, swatted off the smoke. “What da hell was that for?!” the Brooklyn weasel snapped, coughing.

Dominance and personal space, asshole, Twyla smirked and walked off towards the humans. She stopped when she heard a red-and-white Toon clown shoe squeaking. The little guy was snuggling against Doom’s shoe, as if he were looking up to him for protection. Twyla’s heart froze with a newfound sense of dread and fear for the shoe.

“Since I’ve had Toontown under my jurisdiction, my goal has been to rein in the insanity.” Doom explained, putting on a rubber glove. “And the only way to do that is to make Toons respect the law.”

Insanity? Twyla visibly flinched. Make Toons respect the law? 

Doom picked up the shoe, shaking his head before he walked over to the back of the Toon Patrol vehicle.

“How did that gargoyle get to be a judge?” Eddie whispered to Santino.

“Spread a bunch of simoleons around Toontown a couple of years back. Bought the election,” Santino replied.

“Yeah?” Eddie motioned to a large barrel in the backseat. “What’s that?”

Twyla watched Doom open the lid…and what she saw next made her fur stiffen. Green boiling liquid. Is that…Dip?

Her eyes darted back to the judge. Wait…no.

Oh God, please no.

“Remember how we always thought that there wasn’t a way to kill a Toon?” Santino asked, trying to keep his voice hushed but Twyla’s ears never failed her. “Well, Doom found a way. Turpentine, acetone, benzene. He calls it the Dip!”

The Lieutenant noticed Twyla and silently jerked his head back, as if he were motioning for her to get behind him. Unbeknownst to her, the Latino weasel had been standing next to her with a flirtatious grin. But his smile faltered when Santino caught Twyla’s attention, and he growled at the human official.

Twyla caught up with Santino and he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Ma’am, you might want to look away. And cover your ears.”

Oh God, she mentally whimpered as she did so. Santino shielded her, as if he were trying to protect her from the impending horror.

“I’ll catch the rabbit, Mr. Valiant.” Judge Doom spoke. “Then, I’ll try him, convict him…and execute him.”

Twyla pressed her palms hard against her eardrums as relentlessly as she could to muffle the shoe’s screams. But it wasn’t enough. She could feel the shoe’s excruciating pain as he was slowly dissolved, and her heart sobbed for his tragic end. Every nerve of her body winced and tensed as the shoe’s painful screams echoed the walls, haunting her to the core. It was agonizing, so painfully and unbelievably agonizing she felt herself dying with him. Eddie watched the horrific death with eyes shot wide and jaw-slacked frozen terror.

The silence was deafening, save for psychotic giggling. Doom lifted his gloved hand dripping with red blood of the shoe.

“That’s one dead shoe, eh, Boss?” the weasel in the jade zoot suit chuckled.

“They’re not kid gloves, Mr. Valiant,” the tall, dark-clad bastard smiled with a toothlike grin. “This is how we handle things down in Toontown. I’d think that you of all people would appreciate that.” He flexed his fingers, rubbing the leather as he were flexing his knuckles.

I’d think you’d appreciate the last moments of your life before I’m done with you, Twyla’s blood boiled with red-hot rage and vengeful murder as black as the void. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to KILL him!

The horror Toon rubbed her temple, inhaling as much nicotine as she could to sate her rage. But she had to leave now, before she loses control and destroys the goddamn factory with everyone in it.

However, the head weasel somehow got a hold of the rubber glove used for the execution and thought it would be really fucking hilarious to torment her even more. He slowly walked towards Twyla, curling his lips in a sadistic bloodcurdling grin. “And just where do ya think you’re goin’?” he snickered.

Twyla’s fist clenched. Her fangs pinched her gums.

“Hey! Lay off, will ya?!” Eddie barked.

“Sergeant, no!” Santino shouted, but his voice fell deaf on the pink-clad weasel’s ears. He continued his stagger, and each step only intensified Twyla’s wrath.

“Well? Ain’t you gonna answer me, broad?” he sneered.

The chain just fucking snapped.

Twyla whirled around, nearly hitting him with her whip-like locks. She bared her lips in a dark, resonant growl, and revealed rows of fearsome fangs as she lifted her right hand, extending massive claws far sharper than any blade in the world. And she swung down.

Slash.

The little bastard watched the fingers slip off the rubber glove with wide, shocked eyes before he resolved and tried to pull a move—

And then Twyla punched him in the face.

Everyone else watched him fly across the factory until he crashed onto three giant wooden crates containing other Toon shoes, and they all burst out of the cage and ran around the warehouse like pieces of splintered wood. Laughter erupted clamorously, even the other four weasels as they watched him break through the debris, his eyes swirling with dizziness as he coughed from the dust.

Twyla stormed out of the Acme Factory, growling curses under her breath as she smoked heavily. That little fucker!

“Still in shock?” Santino asked from her right, breaking her out of her furious trance.

“Oh, gee, I don’t know,” she snarled sarcastically. “What the hell do you think?!”

“So you do talk,” he replied incredulously.

Twyla gaped at him indignantly. “What is this, a shock to everyone? Of course I can talk! I’m like fuckin’ Wile E. Coyote in Operation Rabbit!”

Santino took pity in the young lady’s state. “Look, ma’am, I understand your case, but you need to be careful. That’s the leader of Toontown’s highest police department.”

“Fuck.” Twyla cursed, crunching her cigarette.

“Um, ah, call me if you need anything, Eddie.” Santino glanced at her boss nervously. Then his eyes steeled, “Stay out of trouble this time.”

“Can’t make no promises.”

Just as they were about to part ways, the Dodge drove up and immediately stopped near Twyla’s right. The window rolled, and the driver was the Hispanic weasel.

“Don’t mind the boss, querida.” He purred. “He thinks that business comes before pleasure, like yourself. Well, adios! We shall see each other again…” he reached out and gently grabbed her hand before giving a kiss. “…real soon.” He winked at her, rolled up the window and drove away.

Twyla watched the car, then looked at her hand. Dumbstruck. “What just happened?”

“Well, he’s got eyes on you.” Eddie remarked.

A long awkward silence was broken by a chirping Toon cricket. Two pairs of eyes stared at the smaller man.

“What?”      

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths Chapter Twenty-One: Welcome Home

Summary: Now that the case of Who Framed Roger Rabbit is solved, it is time for the Twisted Toonz Twins to part ways with their allies. But not for long, they will be back. And Toontown will gladly welcome them home.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

In honor of Bob Hoskins, a man of sublime talent and humility who brought our beloved detective Eddie Valiant to life, I post this final chapter of “The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths” to contribute to the eleventh anniversary of his passing. Although he may no longer be with us, his legacy will live on forever in the hearts of animation, Toonkind, and ours. RIP Hoskins, you absolute legend 🕊

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @lastofautumn, @spookiifi, @heartsissopure, @amberfox232, @trashogram A.K.A. @mantisandthemoondragon, @basiabd

It was a clear, sky-blue morning when the twins left the hospital. A few hours prior to their departure, Eddie helped Tom arrange a ride with the Red Car and estimated that the trolley would be arriving at Hyperion Avenue in twenty minutes. It wasn’t long until the twins found their designated ride, but they were, uh…. occupied at the moment.

“I’m gonna miss you!” Roger sobbed while he hugged them both in his arms. Fountains of tears burst out of his eyes, creating two puddles by his side. He had literally been hugging them while Eddie, Dolores, and Santino drove them to the avenue, and Jessica came along to console her emotional husband. Behind them, Benny led the other Toons so they could exchange their own goodbyes.

“We’re gonna miss you too, buddy,” Tom struggled to breathe due to the prey’s python-strong grip. “But we’ll be back soon.”

Roger pulled away, sniffling, “Promise?”

Twyla’s heart melted, “Of course, goofball.” She ruffled his head, “It’s just a little road trip.”

Tom was reminded of the Tardis of the Red Car but made no comment. To them, a road trip would only be a day and a few hours, but to the twins it would be over seventy years. He mentally winced at how worried sick Roger was going to be when they eventually reunite.

“It’ll be all right, honey bunny,” Jessica reassured him, and gently pried his arms of the demonic duo, much to their relief. However, she fixed them an icy glance that certainly rivals their mother’s. “You will come back soon, right?”

Both twins paled. “Uh, o-of course!” Tom stuttered, internally regretting calling her a bitch earlier. “I mean, do we look like shmucks to you?”

The singer only raised a brow.

“Right. OK,” Twyla stepped in front of her brother to save his ass. She took off her fedora and placed it over her heart and held her right hand up. “We solemnly swear by oath we will return to Toontown, our rightful home. By order of the Twisted Toons.”

“By order of the Twisted Toons.” Tom interjected with an honest nod.

Jessica’s icy demeanor melted just one layer, and let a small smile tug her lips. “That will do.”

HONK-HONK!

The twins turned to see the Red Car just a few blocks away. It’s time.

Eddie stepped in, “Before you go, I got somethin’ for ya.”

Everyone watched curiously as the man dug through his pockets and pulled out a small rectangular holder in black leather. He opened the clasp and laid in a neat padding of velvet were two detective badges engraved in gold. One for Eddie and one for Teddy.

A chorus of astonished gasps were let out, and the twins’ eyes widened.

“Is this…?” Twyla trailed, holding one that belonged to the fallen brother’s Eddie gave her. She looked up, “Are you sure?”

The former caretaker nodded, “Somethin’ to remember me by.”

Tom silently chuckled at the older investigator’s gruff façade, taking the other one for himself. “Much obliged.”

Everyone clapped and cheered for the twins’ incredible bravery, and some even cooed at Twyla’s adorable attempt to hide her blush. Tom’s smirk only broadened, unaware that a certain lady was walking towards him.

“Yoo-hoo~”

Tom turned slightly and saw Betty Boop standing next to him. He tipped his hat at her politely, “Um, hi again. What’s up—”

Betty wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed Tom on the cheek.

The Toon wolf’s face went red as a tomato and steam blew out of his flustered ears. Everyone else chorused “Ooohhh’s!” while some of the male Toons (mostly Benny and Baby Herman) catcalled and wolf-whistled, which Tom jokingly flipped them off in response.

Twyla chuckled and leaned towards Jessica just to tease her brother further. “I told you he was a ladies’ man.”

“Shut up!” Tom shouted, which only made everyone laugh even harder while he gently pried off the petite ravenette’s embrace.

The Red Car doors opened, catching the twins’ attention. Eddie glanced at the trolley and addressed his former assistants. “Well, what are you standin’ here for? You got a ride to catch.”

“Right.” Tom motioned for his sister to follow, and they walked towards the bus. The Toons exchanged tearful goodbyes and wished them the best while they watched the duo walk near the bus. Twyla turned and tipped her hat before stepping inside. Tom stayed behind and shook Eddie’s hand, then Santino’s before joining her.

“🎵 Smile, darn ya, smile

 You know this old world is great after all

 Smile, darn ya, smile

And right away watch Lady Luck pay you a call 🎵”

The Toons sang when the bus started driving. Twyla and Tom looked through the window with smiling faces of warmth and gratitude as their fellow Toons cheered and clapped for them. From within the crowd, they swear they spotted Eddie winking at them as he, Dolores and Santino gave them another round of applause. Confetti was thrown around the bus as the Twisted Toonz twins, one of the Three Saviors of Toontown, were on their carmine chariot out of Los Angeles.

________

The rest of the journey went smoothly. As expected, Adam whooped their asses real good the moment they found him and Echo outside of a luxurious hotel called the Bellagio, one of the finest hotels on the south end of the Strip. Thankfully, Echo intervened and decided that the twins needed a day or two to rest and recharge after spending hours on the stuffy bus. She even ordered pizza for them. Bless her little soul.

After a wonderful reunion of fun and delicious cheesy goodness, the family got to business. The twins explained everything; Tom’s theory about the Red Car acting as a Tardis that travels back in time, the case, everything. Echo was mostly intrigued about the Tardis and had a little giggle when Tom thought that he and his sister were stuck in a Doctor Who rip-off while Adam was a little more skeptical with how it was possible for a trolley vehicle to act as a portal to the past. His skepticism was short-lived, however, when Echo mentioned that most human and mortal Toons are skeptical that monsters do exist and live amongst them, so he let it slide.

And then, they asked about Darry. Not surprisingly, they reacted the same way Roger, Eddie, and Jessica did when they explained what happened that final night in Chatham. Twyla made one of the smartest decisions of her life to cast a soundproof and fireproof spell around the entirety of the room they stayed in to prevent a ruckus and an accidental massacre from occurring. Listen, the Toonz Twins may be twisted cartoon demon hybrids, but Echo isn’t a Toon banshee for nothing. And Adam’s games are not something to laugh at.

Fortunately, they managed to calm them down and continue telling their story. Adam and Echo were reasonably horrified after they learned what the twins experienced with Doom—wait, sorry, Von Rotten, and what he tried to do to other Toons and Toontown, their home. Poor Echo nearly had a heart attack when Tom accidentally slipped up about being stabbed while his sister was forced to watch. Adam’s face darkened with grim fury as he calmly proposed he should “design” certain tests for genocidal monsters and traitors of Von Rotten’s category. Tom immediately agreed, quite eager to see what the ghoulish tactician could do.

The story was finished with a goofy dog pile of hugs, a much-needed necessity for comfort after the physical, mental, emotional and psychological hell the twins went through. After they finished dinner and watched one of their favorite horror movies as an early celebration, they refreshed themselves and slept the night away.

Once morning rose, the gang woke up bright and early to pack everything they needed in Adam’s SUV he managed to bring with him, and they went off on a family road trip back to L.A. The boys sat in the front while the girls were catching up on their beauty sleep in the back, sharing a blanket together. Tom adjusted the rear-view mirror to the girls’ direction, and silently cooed at how abso-fucking-lutely adorable they looked all snuggled up together.

Echo, bless her heart, was curled close to Twyla, as if trying to make herself as small as a puppy mouse to gain more of the warmth the older girl provided. Short, cotton candy hair stuck up in every direction, some strands flying up in Twy’s mouth. Her mouth was open, as a small trail of drool escaped her lips. Twyla was leaning in her reclined seat with her arm around the smaller girl protectively, mouth slightly agape as well. Her raven hair was sticking up in every direction, too, making her look younger than she already is, and it added a touch of innocence that wasn’t tainted by darkness and trauma.

“Awww!” Tom’s pie-cut eyes glittered like stars (Yes, they actually glittered) and turned to Adam. “Dude, you gotta take a picture.”

“On it,” the eldest Twisted Toon nodded, changing the camera settings before he lifted his phone up. Perfectly aligned, the boys shared a selfie with the sleeping girls and did a “Shhh” pose as the picture was taken. Adam smirked at the sight of them together in the photo. He shook his head with a smile gracing his lips at his family, whose bonds he felt humming vibrantly. They have come so far in the last five years they’ve shared, good and bad, back in the dreaded city (Also known as Chicago). Each and every one of them has gotten stronger both physically and mentally. Being fortunate to have each other helped tremendously to keep themselves grounded and have impeccable control over their lives and their inner demons. A gang of misfits from nobody to nightmare blossomed into a real family.

And now, they were almost home.

Tom remembered to cast a soundproof spell around the car before they drove into the tunnel that led them to Toontown just in case the citizens welcomed them with a cheerful song. Which, of course, they did. As soon as the curtains unveiled, they were greeted by shining sunlight, dancing trees, and flying hummingbirds.

“🎵 Smile, darn ya, smile—Tom!” They all cheered upon recognizing one of the Three Saviors, finally seeing him again after so many years.

Despite the genuine gratitude Tom had, he and Adam both shushed then pointed at the sleeping girls for emphasis. The Toons apologized and continued to sing and dance, though silently. As soon as they were out of earshot, one of the birds flew over to a telephone booth a Toon tree offered them. He turned a few numbers, “Hello? Roger? Get Jessica on the line! I got some news for ya.”

The boys remembered the address by heart, even though Adam was kind to use the GPS he accommodated on his phone. Tom followed the directions as he drove the car past Main Street, located in Uptown Toontown. Uptown was where Twyla had first visited, and it was as beautiful as she described it. It was kind of odd to stand out from the cartoon-drawn architecture while in a real-life vehicle, but honestly, he could care less if a couple of folks stared. He politely nodded at their greetings in response, but quickly rolled up the window when he saw a certain man-crazy redhead Twyla warned him about who goes by the name of Lena Hyena.

Whew! That was a close one!

During the long ride to their destination, the gang came across a fog located miles away from Uptown and Downtown. But this wasn’t your ordinary kind of fog; six months prior to their departure from the Chicago, Tom and Adam quickly discovered that the fog acted as a barrier of sorts – as soon as Tom drove into it, it was as if they had suddenly been teleported into another dimension in the Tooniverse. Suddenly, they weren’t in town anymore, but rather a dark forest veiled by the thick mist. A canopy of dead trees towered over them, their branches warped like skeletal hands. It both fascinated and unnerved Tom, though he knew Twyla was going to get a kick out of this which made the gang leader chuckle.

Despite the thickness of the fog, there was no trouble finding their estate. Tom spotted a faint silhouette of sharp-pointed entrance gates not too far ahead, and knew they were getting close. The SUV stopped in front of the gates, and the Toon wolf halfie rolled down the window to enter the passcode Adam was able to hack into and retrieve the numbers for him. Once it was completed, the iron clasp unlocked, and the gates eerily pushed themselves open with a soft creak before finally revealing the property.

It was strange. It was abnormal. It was beautiful.

The house was a dilapidated mansion built in macabre architecture and drawn as a near-replica of the iconic Addams Mansion in the 1991 version next to a haunted cemetery. Built over five stories in height, the building was accented by the same odd number of horizontal alignment of windows and the tallest vertical portion wore the same permanently petrified face as its real-life counterpart. And all the windows were accented with archaic obsidian trims. Sunbleached grey painted the wooden framework of the mansion, devoid of harsh sunlight beams while shadow-painted tiles covered the rooflines. A mass of dead trees surrounded the property, complementing its ghoulish glamour.

Tom stopped the car just over seven feet away from the front entrance and shared a knowing glance with Adam. “You ready?”

“Ready?” the fox nodded.

The boys quietly got out of the car and walked over each side to retrieve the girls. They both slowly opened the doors and Tom gently shook his sister’s shoulder. “Twyla. Hey, wake up.”

“Mrgh, what?” Twyla groaned, slowly awakening from her slumber. “Are we there?” she asked, yawning.

“Yeah, but close your eyes. You too, Echo.” Once both girls covered their eyes with one of their hands, they allowed their escorts to carefully lead them out of the vehicle. They walked closely while holding hands as the boys led them closer. “All right, ready?” Tom asked, unable to hold back the smile.

“Yeah.” They spoke in unison.

Grinning, the boys let go of the girls’ shoulders and maneuvered in front of them. “Surprise!”

Twyla and Echo opened their eyes and stopped. They stared at the house. And squealed.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!” they squealed with unrestrained, girlish excitement and elation, their cries of glee echoing up against the misty morning sky. The boys cracked a chuckle, they squealed just as they expected it.

“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh! We made it! We finally made it!” Echo beamed, wrapping her arms around the demoness's waist in a tight embrace.

“Yeah? You like it?” Adam smirked.

“Are you kidding? We fuckin’ love it!” Twyla exclaimed, extending her right arm out for emphasis. “Do you have any idea how many horror fans would KILL to live in a mansion like this? This is every Goth girl’s Disney castle!”

Tom didn’t have the heart to hold back a smile. Seeing his baby sister finally happy after so many years warmed his dark, ice-cold heart. And he was happy too, in a way. Happy to be in Toontown. Happy to be free. Happy to be home.    

“Well, what are you standing there for?” Twyla asked, breaking him out of his wistful trance. “Hurry up and open the door!”

Laughing, Tom obliged and walked up the two massive arched doors painted in archaic onyx. He grabbed the keys and placed in the keyhole—

“WAIT!”

Instinctively, Tom whipped out his revolvers as Adam pulled up his right sleeve revealing a wrist-attached gauntlet wielding a deadly blade. They guarded the girls even though Twyla aimed her pistol and a spark of fire ignited Echo’s palms. They glared at the intruder defiantly, but their murderous demeanors instantly dropped. However, Tom grew exasperated upon recognizing a familiar face. Or rather, two familiar faces.

“Roger, Jessica! What the fuck?!” he cursed angrily, before dropping his guns down and letting out a huge sigh of relief. He spun around to check on the girls, though Twyla was already assuring the little mouse girl everything was OK. Then he snapped his head back to Adam and told him to put the gauntlet down. “Adam, it’s all right. They ain’t here to hurt us.”

Adam raised a brow, lowering his blade just an inch. He gave the couple the once-over before turning back to the Alpha, “You know them?” he asked.

“Yeah, they’re the couple we mentioned. Remember? From the Acme case?”

The older male’s glare dropped instantly, and his ears lowered with embarrassment. “Oh, shit! Sorry.” He apologized, pulling the sleeve back down.

While Roger dusted off his trademark overalls, Jessica fixed Tom a cooly glance and crossed her elegant arms. “You’re late.” she said.

“Circumstantially,” the wolf replied, returning her glance though there wasn’t any genuine malice in his eyes. Twyla peeked over his shoulder, “Roger? Is that you?”

Upon hearing the Toon heroine’s voice, the Toon rabbit in question’s face glowed up. “TWYLA!” He smiled widely, his lips pulled in a beaming pearly-white grin. He ran over to her, arms opened wide. “Give me a hug, you little rascal!”

Unable to shake off the amusement, the female halfie walked over and accepted her former client’s hug. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders despite being a little taller than him and ruffled his ginger red hair. “Hi, Roger. How you been?”

“Jeepers, Twyla! I haven’t seen you in ages!” Roger pulled back, holding her shoulders. “Where have you two been? Everyone’s been wonderin’ when you were gonna come back!”

“We, um…” she turned back to her brother, who casually shrugged while avoiding the slight tensity in Jessica’s emerald eyes. “We’ve had a few detours.”

“Detours?” the singer arched her brow skeptically.

However, her husband was so happy to see the twins he didn’t really care. “Well, you’re back home now and that’s what matters! Hope you don’t mind, we’re here to help you unpack your things in.”

Surprised, the pack exchanged a glance. “Wait, really? Is that why you jumped over the gates, unwittingly at the risk of being impaled?” Adam asked.

The shorter Toon scoffed, “Impaled? Pfft! Pb-pb-pb-please! It takes more than a pointy sharp fence gate to take out a Toon!”

Adam made a mental note to start installing the security system as soon as they finished unpacking, but he briefly nodded. “Fair point.”

Smiling, Roger turned around to walk towards the trunk of the SUV. With ease, he opened the lid and grabbed one of the boxes. “Let’s get started!”

_____

The rest of the morning was spent unpacking several boxes and suitcases while deciding whose room is whose. The pack decided to take the second floor as their main hallway hosting four doors to their bedrooms while maintaining proximity. That way, they all felt connected to each other even in different rooms. Speaking of rooms, Twyla probably had one of the biggest bedrooms out of all four besides Echo’s.

And speaking of Echo, the twins had an interestingly difficult time keeping Adam from flashing his fangs at Jessica when she finally couldn’t hold it any longer and spent the last 20-35 minutes squishing the banshee girl’s face off. Who could blame her, though? Echo is so cute she must be squished! Squished with love, of course!

In the middle of the room, there was a raised Gothic queen-sized bed plumped over a vampiric bedframe polished with glossy onyx and velvet black covers designed with cerulean witchcraft symbols around a flying raven in the light of the pale moon glowing like stars along with matching pillows. Above the ceiling was the fan designed with vampiric motifs; the lightbulb was shaped like the head of a bat and the six onyx blades were shaped like bat wings. There was a dark nightstand table on the left side of the bed, holding a purple Victorian lampshade lamp accented by an ivory-painted skull and two other skulls sitting close to each other.  On the right side of the bed laid a wide desk perfect for her artwork, sketchbooks, and other art supplies needed for her creative work while two doors stood nearby, leading to a walk-in closet. Another desk stood a few feet away from the bed near the curtain-veiled glass doors leading to the balcony, though it was much longer in comparison, and Twyla knew this would be a temporary spot for her potions, brews, curses, and other kinds of witchcraft. The window provided an excellent view of the cemetery and the full moon at night, something she made a mental note to check on later.

There was a polished black vanity mirror and dresser combination located near the closet designed with Gothic embellishments and witchcraft memorabilia. On the other side of the room was where the bathroom was. The walls of the lair were royal purple, accented by Gothic décor inspired by one of Twyla’s favorite singers, Aurelio Voltaire, while a set of black vintage couches surrounded the room, tufted by flying-bat-moon-and-skull pillows, and the glossy silver floors were carpeted by a ginormous black rug enchanted by magic of dark academia and spooky botany including purple flowers, bats, owls, butterflies and owls, black roses, and a single silver skull surrounded by three different purple flowers.

Her own lair of darkness. Hauntingly beautiful.

A gentle knock on the door snapped her out of her trance. Jessica politely poked her head in, “Can I come in?” she asked. Twyla nodded.

The redhead stepped into the dark chamber holding a box, enthralled by the bedroom’s bewitching beauty. “So, this is how witches decorate. I must say, I’m kind of jealous.” she admitted.

“Did I just hear that right?” the halfie ravenette smirked, cupping her left ear to tease the singer. “The Ice Queen of Toontown, jealous of a half-demon Toon witch’s bedroom? Somebody alert the media!” she feigned a gasp, clasping her cheeks.

“You know, I may not be a witch or a demoness, but I still got my frying pan,” Jessica “warned” her, but there was no genuine threat in her tone while she pulled out said frying pan once she placed the box on the drawing table.

“And I’m a fuckin’ Toon demon prince with a gun,” Tom drawled, joining in on the little banter. He put a heavier box on the bed and dusted off his hands. “That should be the last one,” he said, gingerly rubbing his hands. “Do you really need this much potion bottles?”

“Dude, you’ve crushed necks, ripped heads off, and tore people to shreds, yet you’re complainin’ about a box full of bottles?” His baby sister arched a brow and placed a hand on her hip, glancing at him with the one-over.

Tom’s ears lowered, mentally wincing. “Touche.”

Jessica silently chuckled at their quip. Roger was right. They are adorable.   

As if hearing her thoughts, the rabbit sprung into the room and landed on his wife’s shoulders. “Phew! That’s all of ‘em.” He wiped off the sweat from his forehead. “Now that that’s outta the way, y’all got any idea on how you wanna celebrate?” he smiled at the twins.

They shared a glance. “Well,” Tom began, “Once we get settled, we’ll take a little tour around town if the others are feelin’ up for it. And, I dunno, find a place to bite.”

“Maybe we’ll run into Eddie on the way, if he’s around?” Twyla guessed.

She trailed off when she saw Roger’s and Jessica’s smiles instantly drop. Roger’s sky-blue eyes became dewy, and a somber frown grimaced Jessica’s composure. Silence hung in the air, permeated by a mist of sadness.

Tom also noticed it and was the first to break the silence. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong, sweetheart,” Jessica replied, swiftly moving something away from her eye. She answered the young male’s question while she was comforting her husband, who had grown oddly quiet. “It’s just that…” she stopped mid-response, like something clutched in her throat.

Twyla’s ears drooped, but patiently waited for one of them to finish.

Jessica finally met the twins’ gazes, and her emerald eye shimmered with a caged tear. “Eddie passed away.”

Once again, silence hung by shock and a heavy pang of sorrow. The duo’s eyes widened, agape.

“What?” Tom quietly whispered, sharing a glance with his sister who returned her gaze to the older woman. “When?” she asked softly.

“Four years ago. He died of pneumonia in April.” Jessica choked and the twins winced, “Dolores is still around, and they had six children. Santino’s gone, too.”

The silence in the dark bedroom had now lingered for too long, but no one was willing to be the first to break it. The atmosphere was heavy with grief, and thick with sorrow. A fog of grief and sorrow they both know too well. Eddie Valiant, the first human friend they’ve ever had, gone with the wind. Twyla’s eyes cast to the ground. She could only speculate how painful it was for them—and all Toontown—to lose another of the greatest Toon detectives in Los Angeles, and one of the Saviors. Tom silently cursed the grizzled bastard’s mortality. Humans are so goddamn fragile.

Thankfully, the silence was cut by Adam’s voice calling out from downstairs. “Um, guys? Need a little help here,” he grunted, breathing heavily as he sounded like he was holding some heavy equipment for his computer set. Jessica took back some of her composure, “I’ll help him.” she told her husband before leaving the bedroom.

Roger stood in his spot, his posture slightly hunched over and arms crossed. His long ears drooped over the back of his shoulders, heavy with the burden. And his eyes remained stuck to the ground, clouded by the heartbreak that lingered in his otherwise happy-go-lucky, cheerful soul for seventy-one years. When the silence became unbearable, Twyla cautiously reached out to comfort him.

But before she could say anything, he spoke first. “You know, he asked us to keep an eye out for you.”

When he found their confused looks, he elaborated. “Before he…left, he often wondered about you and wanted to see you guys again. But he couldn’t because he was so busy…and he got really sick. So, he made us promise to wait for you and bring you back home if he couldn’t be here to do it with us, that’s another reason why we came over. But I guess it was the other way around, am I right?” he chuckled, but there was too much sadness in his jest.

“Yeah,” Tom responded, “It sure was.”

A gloved hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up to meet Roger’s smile. “But hey, like I said, you’re back home and that’s what matters!”

His sunny demeanor returned with a bright glory, and he pulled them both in for a one-armed headlock. “Right? You sneaky scoundrels!” he ruffled their heads, making them squirm and laugh at his antics. A positive wave of energy flooded their systems, flushing away the ocean of sadness. It wasn’t until Jessica called out for him did the rabbit release the twins from his embrace.

“I gotta go help my love cups!” He walked towards the door. He stopped and turned around to point a stern finger at them. “Don’t disappear this time, y’hear?”

Twyla chuckled, “We won’t.”

She watched him leave and looked back to her brother. He was standing near the window with his back turned to her. His stoic gaze was strong as he stared at the world outside of their home. He looked so much like their father right now, standing in the mist-covered sunlight beaming through the large windows like how King Tiziano often gazed at the glowing moonlight alone in his own regal chambers. How he often gazed at the city that was once his and his family’s kingdom. Tom could only imagine his father’s disappointment.

His ear twitched at the sound of his sister’s footsteps and a small smile tugged his lips. She never once failed to remind him of how she and their mother are so alike. Queen Vesper graced the decent folk and miscreants visiting her with her sinister sophistications and killed many with graceful, refined mercilessness. But she only unveiled her iron shield for a select few and gave them her heart full of love. A mother’s love the twins miss so much.    

All that was left of their mother was her eyes Twyla inherited.

“We’ll raise a toast with the family tonight,” Tom said. Twyla nodded, she couldn’t agree more. Her brother pulled out a fresh flask of water from his pocket and held his fedora over his heart. “But today, I’d like to take a swig for ourselves in this moment.”

He poured a glass for Twyla, and both twins held their beverages up. “Eddie Valiant…you were one hell of a detective. Riposa in pezzo.” He raised his toast and took a gulp.

“Hear.” She raised, then downed hers.

After another long moment of silence, Echo echoed, “Guys! We’re all done! Let’s go out!”

“We’ll be right there!” Twyla called out, setting her glass down. “So, we’re finally home.”

The Twisted Toonz twins spared the cemetery one last glance. “Yeah. Home.”

Far in the distance, the home address was engraved in the crystal stone plaque. The words were written in solid vantablack.

Twisted Toonz Manor.

1313 Cemetery Lane, Haunted Highways, Toontown.     

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths Chapter Twenty: Testament of Toontown

Summary: Now that Doom has perished, the case is drawing to a nearing close. But only one question remains. Where is Acme’s will?

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @lastofautumn, @spookiifi, @amberfox232, @heartsissopure, @trashogram, A.K.A. @mantisandthemoondragon, @basiabd

Beep…Beep…Beep…

Twyla regained consciousness to the faint sound of a heart monitor. She listened to the rhythmic beeping and could feel her pulse thrumming in her head. Her sight had not yet been restored, but she could ascertain that she must be lying in a bed from the way her limbs were laid out. Her head felt heavy, and her chest heaved with each breath. Unimaginable exhaustion came in waves with her fatigued breathing, as if her need for oxygen was draining, and the rest of her body suffered from it.

But her senses slowly eased into reality as the Twisted Toonz princess shifted her weight against the warm, soft comfort of her pillows. She felt a strange heavy warmth veil her legs and figured she must be covered in a blanket. She blinked a few times and squinted, trying to find the source of the strange noise. Shapes and colors formed into recognizable objects, aided by the daylight that was pouring in from two windows. The walls were sterile white, devoid of colorful life save for the golden rays of dawn. An old-style furnace heater sat below the unveiled windows while a chair sat nearby.

Even from the bed, Twyla could tell that someone else was here. A dark shape of a familiar male leaned back against another chair, eyes closed with the brim of his fedora shadowing his forehead. A blanket had been draped around him, too, but he discarded it while he remained snug in his slumber. Once Twyla’s sight had finally returned, she could also identify scruffy black hair, and black fur. Not animal fur, but Toon fur.

Tom was in the room with her.

“Tommy?” she whispered, her voice frail and weak. Despite the barely-there softness of her voice, her twin brother jolted wide awake so fast he nearly fell out of his chair. He whipped his head towards her, and his eyes glistened.

Before she could speak, she was pulled into a tight, protective embrace with his arms secured around her. His larger body shuddered with heavy breathing forced out of his lungs as he whispered frantic, rapid English and Italian. Blinking, Twyla managed to return the hug with less aggression and that’s when she heard his voice crack.

“Tommy?” she said, a wave of concern pulling her heartstrings. Loosening his grip on her just a layer, he pulled away and his state panged her. Tears ran down his face like crystal-clear waterfalls, forced by anguish and vulnerability he’s mastered to hide for so many years. A broken sob escaped his throat as he struggled to speak.

“I…I’m so sorry. I should’ve done something sooner. I should’ve killed those fuckers from the start and—”

“Tommy, Tommy, no,” the youngest Toonz sibling shook her head, gently holding her big brother’s shoulders. “What happened was not your fault. We both didn’t know it was Doom who killed Acme, all right? We had our eyes set on Maroon, and even I didn’t predict it was Doom who was the murderer. But everything’s fine now. That bastard’s dead, Toontown is saved, and Roger’s name should be cleared by now. Everything is all right.”

Despite her reassurance, Tom shook his head. “But what about you? I thought you had some serious injury you were trying to hide from me, a-and thank God that wasn’t the case, but what about you? Are you all right?”

“Oh, Tommy, I’m fine. Really,” she assured him, once again touched by how loving and caring he was to her, no matter what situation they were in. She quickly figured out it was more than just a promise he made to their parents to always keep her safe, but it was so much more than that. She looked around, “But where are we?”

“We’re, uh…” the Rubberhose gunslinger cast his darker-colored eyes down, unsure how she was going to take this. “We’re in the hospital.”

Discomfort instantly unnerved her. Twyla never liked hospitals. Not because she didn’t understand why they exist, but because of how awful the doctors and staff were. If the teachers weren’t already bad enough, then the doctors were downright vicious. On the very, very rare occasions she had to go to the hospital, she would be treated like her unique species was a parasite of the Toon anthropomorphic anatomy and they would whisper nasty things about her, no matter if she was a patient or if she was visiting her loved ones. She was grateful that Adam had medical experience because that gave her another reason not to step one foot in hospitals again.

Her brother sensed her distress and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I made sure no one was doing or saying shit about you while you were resting.”

“While I was resting?” she arched a brow. “What happened?”

“You passed out from extreme exhaustion and fatigue after spending over ten hours being chased, pursued, and fighting a fuckin’ insane, shape-shifting piece of shit.”

“What a creative display of alliteration,” Twyla couldn’t help a sassy smirk curl her lips. “Maybe you did pay attention at school, after all.”

“Fuck off. I’m a born poet,” Tom snarked, but chuckled at her joke.

 A knock came from the door, and both twins turned. A human nurse politely poked her head in, “Excuse me? Sorry to disturb you, but you have visitors.”

Visitors? They shared a confused glance, but sensed no harm done.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, that’s fine.” Tom nodded, wiping off his tears, “Send ‘em in.”

The nurse nodded and slowly opened the door further—

“TWYLA! TOMMY!” a white blur zoomed through the door and knocked Tom to the ground, and Twyla found herself ensnared in another hug, but it was tighter and almost constrictive. Despite the limited amount of oxygen, she recognized the scent of lemon carrots and gasped out a laugh, “Hi, Roger.”

“Jumpin’ jeepers! We thought you were a goner!” The Toon rabbit sobbed waterfalls of unmanly tears as he unwittingly continued to squeeze the life out of her oblivious of her growing discomfort.

Thankfully, his wife arrived to gently pry him off while Eddie and Dolores trailed after her. “Thanks for keepin’ an eye on ‘em,” Eddie thanked the nurse. “We’ll take it from here.”

She nodded and turned to leave. Her hand reached for the door—

“Outta the way, lady!” Benny drove past the startled woman, sending the poor lady tumbling to the floor. He ignored the staff telling him that he can’t drive inside a hospital because he’s a Toon cab, but he just continued his path towards the twins while flipping everyone off. And he wasn’t the only other Toon in the hospital besides Roger and Jessica. Multiple Toons filled the entirety of the hospital room, some who the twins recognized as cartoon celebrities. They all looked at the twins with friendly, albeit concerned gazes.

Seeing them all in here with Twyla and her brother warmed her dark, twisted heart. “Awe, you guys came all the way to visit us?” she asked.

“What, you thought we were gonna just sit on the couch like a bunch of lazy potatoes while you’re in the hospital after you saved our asses?” Benny cracked, “Honestly! You probably think we’re nothin’ more than ungrateful bastards!”

“She meant no offense, bub,” Tom waved off, but there was a slight edge of warning in his tone.

“Easy, Toonz,” Eddie told him, walking towards his spot. He glanced at Twyla, “How you doin’, kid?”

“I’m all right. Just a little sore,” she returned his glance, though hers was filled with wary hesitation. “What about you?”

It took a while for him to realize what she was asking him about. His brother, Doom, or the twins’ true nature, she could only guess. His face was grim, but he didn’t break. “It’s part of the job, kid. Shit hits the fan.”

“I’ll say!” Benny jumped in, “I’ve been a cab for thirty-seven years, and I’ve never seen a mess like that!”

“That reminds me,” a new voice interjected. A few Toons cleared a path for Lieutenant Santino as he entered, “We found Doom’s corpse, and he had yellow paint around him. Eddie and the others explained to me and my colleagues about Doom’s revelations while he showed me your results, but we still don’t know how Doom was able to disguise himself as a human in flesh and blood.”     

The twins shared a knowing glance, and Twyla decided to answer.

“I wouldn’t say he disguised himself with human flesh and blood,” she replied, “He used prosthetics, Lieutenant.”

Everyone looked at her, confused.

“What do you mean by that?” Roger asked.

“What I mean is, Toons can use prosthetics the same way humans can,” Twyla elaborated, “My brother and I cracked a few cases like this, and we hunted down humans and even a few Toons who go through surgery just to hide from the cops. Whether they’re terrorists, shady salespeople, or even corrupt politicians, they all use prosthetics as a desperate means to hide and prey amongst others in secret.”

Her fellow kin gaped at her with wide-eyed looks of horror and bewilderment while the humans exchanged shocked, unnerving glances. Tom realized this must be the first time they’re hearing about a Toon capable of disguising themselves as a human and nodded, “I know, right? Shit’s scary as fuck.”

“Damn straight,” Eddie muttered, then he cracked a smile. “When you said you pulled off jobs on creeps, you weren’t kidding.”

“And we also killed one last night, so that’s a bonus.” The detective laughed at the twins’ morbid sense of humor.

Dolores spotted a dark blue splotch on Eddie’s shirt. “What is that?” she asked, gesturing with her hand.

“It’s ink,” Eddie responded, looking down. “That goof Acme squirted me with some the other night. Why it’s coming out now, I don’t know.”

“Here’s your answer, Eddie!” Roger walked over, pulling out a dark fuschia bottle, “‘Acme’s Disappearing Reappearing Ink’! Boy, that Acme! What a genius!”

“Applesauce!” a familiar, gruff voice shouted. Another newcomer, the one and only Baby Herman, strutted his way towards the group with a freshly lit cigar, “If he was such a genius, why didn’t he leave his will where we could find it? Without it, we’re just waitin’ for another developer’s wreckin’ ball!”

Something lit up in Eddie’s mind when he remembered the origin of Acme’s ink stunt. The twins caught onto that look in his eye, too. He dug through his coat and pockets for Roger’s love letter. “Roger?”

“Yeah?”

“That love letter you wrote to your wife at the Ink & Paint Club, why don’t you read it to her now?” He handed the letter over to him.

“Wait. Is that…?” Twyla asked her brother who only gaped at the letter.

“No fuckin’ way,” he responded.

“‘Dear Jessica, how do I love thee? Let me count the way—’” five paragraphs written in black ink began to seep through his massive lipstick handwriting. “‘I, Marvin Acme, of sound and body’—It’s the will!” Roger beamed with elated joy, and his fellow Toons chorused cries of glee. “‘Do hereby decree in perpetuity the property known as Toontown to us loveable characters, the Toons’!”

A thunderous acclamation of merriment and gaiety burst through the walls of the hospital as everyone clapped and cheered for their leader’s final will of right. Toontown was theirs now! No longer would have they have to live in the shadows of fear and corruption now that the bad guys are gone for good! No more tears. No more suffering. No more loss of life. Only happiness and prosperity.

“HELL YEAH!” Twyla joined in on their cheer, raising her fist up in the air in victory.

Unable to help himself, Tom replicated a dance move in courtesy of the ‘90s’s rapper M.C. Hammer in his album, “Please Hammer, Don’t Hurt ‘Em”. He spun around and finished with an iconic dab. What? They just saved their rightful home and kicked ass! Guy’s gotta do a victory dance!

A muffled buzzing noise vibrated in his pocket. Tom dug down and pulled out his ringing phone, but his face paled at the caller’s I.D.

Adam. Uh-oh.

“Shit,” he softly cursed, and decided to spare his sister and their allies his surrogate big brother’s wrath. He politely excused himself and managed to find a broom closet for some privacy. Once the door was locked, he pressed on the accept button and nervously held the phone up.

“Hel-lo?” he singsonged.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” The Toon fox roared through the screen, sending a violent gust of air against Tom’s face and blew his fedora off. He tried to explain himself, but Adam cut him off. “I’ve been on my goddamn phone for almost a fuckin’ week, waitin’ for your stupid ass to respond! Echo’s been panicking like crazy when she couldn’t get hold of you or Twyla either! And you haven’t even answered my texts! I’ve sent you over fifty-five texts and twenty-seven calls, but all I got was a sorry, shitty-ass voicemail! You’re lucky we’re stuck in Nevada, motherfucker, otherwise I would’ve whooped you to a bloody—!”

Tom heard something shuffled and another voice, thankfully much gentler, interrupted him.

“Gimme the phone. I wanna talk to him,” Echo said, and Tom’s heart panged with sympathetic regret from all the worry he caused her. Poor, sweet kid. She doesn’t deserve this shit.

He decided it would be best to put her on facetime, so he clicked on the setting buttons and the petite Toon mouse girl’s tearful face lit up the screen.

“Tommy!”

“Hi, Candy Girl. Are you all right?”  

“I’m OK, now that you’re finally answering the phone.” Echo snapped, which made both the boys flinch from the sharp tone in her usual, soft voice. It was so rare to see the sweet-natured banshee so upset, let alone frustrated, which meant that it’s serious when she’s not happy. To be fair, the twins unintentionally scared her to death, so they did deserve that.

Her demeanor dropped, and she sighed tiredly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you. I just…I tried to reach out for your auras, but this city is so noisy it’s hard to concentrate. And the Wi-Fi is out of whack, which doesn’t help. I was so worried about you. Are you guys OK?”

“Yeah, we’re fine.” Tom nodded, rubbing his throbbing temple. He remembered Adam mentioning something about Nevada and asked, “Wait, Nevada? Are you guys in Las Vegas?”

“Yeah, we sort of had a little jam, so we decided to find a place to stay until the Amtrack is fixed,” Echo’s ears drooped at their own little situation, but she arched a brow when she noticed the hybrid wolf’s surroundings. “Why are you in a broom closet? Where’s Twyla?”

The demon prince internally winced, and mentally prepared himself for how they were going to take this next piece of news. “I’m in the broom closet, so I can talk to you guys in private. Also, um…” his eyes and ears lowered, “We’re in the hospital.”

“What?!” Echo’s voice raised with panic, “Why are you guys in the hospital?! Are you OK?!”

Adam must have picked up on that, and he gently snatched the phone from her grasp. “Why the fuck are you in a hospital?! Did somebody jump you? Who did it? Why’d they do it? Are they still alive?” he bared his fangs, “I swear, if that prick followed you, I’m gonna—”

“Dude, please chill the fuck out!” Tom barked, his tone sharp enough to snap the monster Toon out of his tirade. “Oh my God, I swear you can be worse than me sometimes.” He muttered, ignoring the hacker’s indignant glare, “It’s nothin’ too serious. She was dehydrated and passed out from the heat, but she’s gonna be OK.”

The two knew he was sincere with his response, so they let out sighs of relief. Tom’s expression hardened, “And don’t worry about Darry. He’s long gone.”   

He’ll never hurt us again, he wanted to add but kept that to himself. Unbeknownst to him, Adam and Echo quickly caught on to what that really meant but made no comment. They know he will explain everything later.

After a long, intense moment of silence, Echo broke it. “So where are you right now? Do you want us to catch a ride and meet you guys there?”

Tom shook himself from his grim trance, “Huh? Oh no, you don’t need to go through another jam. We’re somewhere in Reno, and once Twyla’s recovered, we’ll hitch a ride and come get you guys. I promise we’ll call you back, OK?”

“OK.” Echo responded, an adorable smile painting her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but once again Adam took the phone. He glared at Tom right the eye, and the younger male immediately regretted putting this call on facetime. A vein popped on one side of his forehead, and his green eyes burned with fury as steam blew out of his ears.

“GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE NOW! I’M BEATING BOTH OF YOU WHEN I GET MY FUCKIN’ GHOUL GRIPPERS ON—”

“Bye, Slick,” Tom hung up on him, unable to hold back a tired snicker from how PISSED the vulpine ghoul must be right now. Oh fuck, he’s going to murder him.

He tucked his phone back in, straightened his collar and fixed his fedora before leaving the broom closet. After muttering an apology to the custodian, he returned to Twyla’s hospital room where everyone else was still with her. She took a bite of her breakfast the staff must have given her, and Tom’s heart sank from how god-awful hospital food is. He made a mental note to whip up a healthy nutritional lunch for her before they leave town.

The ravenette's eyes met her brother’s. “Tommy?” she asked, and all eyes turned on him.

“Everything’s fine, people. No need to worry,” he checked his watch, “I hate to break the party, but doctors said she’s recovered enough, and we gotta catch a ride soon.”

“You’re leaving?” Roger’s ears drooped, and everyone else exchanged “Aww’s” of disappointment. “But you just got here! Can’t you stay to enjoy the celebration?” he pouted, giving him the puppy eyes. Tom grit his teeth to avoid falling for the rabbit’s cuteness, even though Jessica slowly raised a brow almost daring him to deny the request.

“I-I,” he stuttered, “I appreciate it, but I got a call from the rest of our family. We promised to catch up with them and come home together.”

Jessica’s icy glare melted a few layers at the mention of the twins’ extended group and nodded in understanding. “I’m guessing they had a little traffic on the way here?”

“Yep, pretty much,” Tom returned the nod, “But at least they don’t have to deal with that stupid fuckin’ freeway.”

“Amen,” Eddie muttered, then turned to the other Toons. “All right folks, you heard ‘im. They gotta scram, and they need some privacy.”

Despite their responses, they complied and left the hospital room. Santino stayed behind to escort Eddie and Dolores but looked over his shoulder. He gave the twins a brief nod, then closed the door behind him.

A small smirk curled Twyla’s lips. He’s not bad.

“He’s all right,” Tom must have heard her thoughts, “I might actually not kill him.”

Twyla rolled her eyes, but she knew that was true. She gently discarded her bowl and easily pulled herself out of bed despite her brother’s assistance, then walked over to the suitcase sitting by Tom’s chair while he closed both blinds. “So where are they?” she asked, unlatching the locks of the suitcase.

“They’re hangin’ out in Vegas, and I told ‘em we’ll be arriving from Reno.” The older twin answered, loading one of his revolvers. “Heads-up, Adam’s pissed.”

“Well, fuck.” She cursed, opening the lid, and grabbing another of her outfits. She folded them neatly over her arm and headed towards the bathroom, “Y’know, there’s something else about Doom that don’t fit with me.”

“Hmm?” Tom turned to the bathroom door, “What’s what?”

“I confirmed those were human fingerprints, and we explained to Santino about prosthetics,” she called out, “But I don’t think his real name is Judge Doom.”

Tom’s eyes slowly widened upon realizing where she was going with this. “You think he already had a name for himself, and went through surgery to cover his tracks?”

“Possibly,” she responded, stepping out of the bathroom. She was clad in a jet-black elastic halter top adorned with a spiderweb-designed neckline over dark shadow-gray jeans and her dagger-heel boots. “Do you have the book?”

Tom took a seat on the bed and pulled out the book. It was a hardcover book threaded in onyx leather, bound in a blood-red pentagram sigil strap to conceal the confidential information, and protected by a spell. The weight of it held heavy in his hands, like how he was holding the weight of untainted information given to him by his father as the book was once his. It was a Bible to Tom. A Bible of not religion, but of sacred documentation. Records were well-kept within the stark-white pages, records of the finest and most influential Toon killers that have ever existed besides their parents. Tiziano felt like he should document his discoveries on his fellow slayers, allies and even enemies, out of respect and literacy he felt was important to share with his wife and children. Every Toon killer’s face was on the pages, their origins, their strategies, their legacies. Crime bosses. Mercenaries. Serial killers. Assassins. Psychopaths. And even other Toon monsters who started their own life of crime. This was nothing like the information provided by the law and government officials, or criminology teachers and professors. This was real information. Made from scratch.

And now the responsibility to continue filling the pages was passed on to Prince Tomasso Alessio Marcello Salvatore Toonz.

It was like writing an endless journal of horror stories. Fascinating.

He flipped through the pages chapter by chapter with blinding-quick scrutiny until he finally spotted their latest victim’s face. There he was. The monster drawn in Toon flesh. He stared back at one of his murderers with those burning, blood-red eyes of his and his lips curled in that deranged smile that once made his demonic ink blood run cold, flexing his bony fingers as if they were twitching with an evil enthusiasm to strangle him. Written on the left side of his photograph laid the following contents:

Name: Baron Von Rotten (also known as Judge Doom, and the Toon of a Thousand Faces)

Occupation: Former Jurist of Toontown, Bank Robber, and Genocidal Murderer

Origins: Unknown

Crimes: Mass Murder, Treason, Attempted Genocide, Torture, Bank Robbery, Judicial Brutality, Tyranny, Incrimination, Blackmail, Attempted Murder

The twins both growled at him and exchanged glances before Tom read the lore.

In 1939, Von Rotten manifested in Toontown as a villainous psychopath and a threat to Toonkind. He began his life of crime as a bank robber and stole money from the First National Bank of Toontown. He was targeted by the legendary Toon detective brothers Eddie and Teddy Valiant and followed him to a hidden dive on Yockster Street. Sadly, Teddy’s life was lost that night. Von Rotten dropped a real-life piano on his head from fifteen stories, crushing him to death while his brother was forced to watch. He disappeared along with the money but secretly used it to win the upcoming election as a jurist in Toontown. It was when he began his reign of terror under a new name - Judge Doom. Doom conspired with the Toon Patrol, a fearsome gang of Toon weasels who terrorized the citizens as the sole law enforcers while entrusted with the supply of Dip, a fatal combination of chemicals including turpentine, acetone, and benzene that killed thousands of Toons under Doom’s jurisdiction of tyranny. After seven years of jurying, Doom attempted to create a freeway proposed by his company known as Cloverleaf Industries by exterminating the town he ruled over and every Toon in there while buying the Red Car Trolley system to be dismantled. But his plans would only come to fruition if the will of Marvin Acme, who owned and protected Toontown, was not delivered by midnight on August 16, 1947. Acme, who refused to sell the property, had been tragically killed by Doom in desperate greed and rage. His reign of terror eventually came to a righteous end when he was confronted by Eddie Valiant, who had originally been hired to find dirt on Acme, who had been having affairs with Jessica Rabbit, wife of R.K. Maroon’s co-star Roger Rabbit. To cover his tracks, Doom framed Roger by using yellow paint similar to the gloves Roger wore on the rope holding a safe that was dropped on Acme’s head at the Acme Factory that night on August 15 at 12:00 a.m.

Maroon had originally planned to sell his own studio to Cloverleaf but wouldn’t do so unless Acme sold them his. When he refused, Maroon was forced to blackmail him with pictures of him and the rabbit’s wife. And yet, Doom was hellbent on achieving his goals. Maroon repented but was shortly killed by Doom in his own studio. After a violent confrontation with Valiant, Doom met his own demise when Valiant killed him with Dip, avenging his brother after seven years of grief and drunken solitude.

Although his reasons for his crimes remained unknown, many speculate that his misdeeds were manifested out of jealousy for not being loved and known in the spotlight like other cartoon celebrities, while others claim that he was drawn pure evil. Either way, his origins remain a mystery.

“Jealous because he wasn’t in the spotlight like other cartoon celebrities?” Twyla arched a brow. She turned to her brother, flexing her left hand. “Tommy, do you think he might have been another washed-up co-star who went rogue?” she asked. It was so petty, but murders like this have happened before.

Her brother shrugged, “Who knows? That might be the case. I mean, we’ve already seen the crap Roger goes through with his boss, and folks here are still strugglin’ after the Great Depression ended.”

Twyla grimaced, reflecting on the Toons in the Modern World. Sadly, this is the reality of Toons who dedicate their lives to acting in famous entertainment industries, mostly Disney. They live their dreams to the maximum zenith, and when all things are right with the world, it all comes crashing down. Their dreams are shattered, and they get thrown away like trash. Like they were nothing. It wasn’t the first time the twins learned about this kind of life for acting Toons; they even took a couple of cases and dug up dirt on their clients’ former employers as a means of payback. Most of them are petty racists and money-hungry bastards, but some are too dangerous and corrupt to live. Pain can be delivered as punishment, but sometimes death is a kindness. Not for the humans, though.

“So, it’s safe to say that theories are the best source of evidence?” Tom asked.

“Theories carry an element of truth, no matter the facts that are laid out on the table,” Twyla advised, nodding. “But yeah, it is.”

“Right.” The pack leader nodded, putting the book away. He got up and offered his hand. “You ready to go?”

Twyla smiled and took her brother’s hand. “Yeah. Let’s go.”         

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Nineteen: The Final Battle, Here Comes Revenge

Summary: It is time for Judge Doom, the Terror of Toontown, to meet his grisly end in the heat of battle. It is a battle between a human private eye, and three monsters.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @lastofautumn, @spookiifi, @amberfox232, @heartsissopure, @trashogram A.K.A. @mantisandthemoondragon, @basiabd

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence including gore, murder, and death. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Twyla whipped around and came face-to-face with Doom. He was gliding down the air from a zipline with his cane intact. Snarling, the demoness lunged towards him with a mouthful of fangs to rip his head off, but he grasped her by the throat in an alarmingly strong grip and tossed her right at her brother who was about to pounce on him. The twins collided and rolled into another pile of boxes, as Doom managed to maneuver the cannon back to the couple in distress then he hopped off the platform.

Gritting his teeth with fury, Eddie stood up in a fighting stance and put up his dukes. However, he flinched back when Doom pulled out a sword from his cane and aimed it at him.

Shit! He cursed to himself, looking around for a weapon of his own against Doom’s sword of death until he spotted a carmine-painted box labeled with a yellow décor. He opened the lid and pulled up his own sword…which began to sing.

“🎵 Wicked witchcraft 🎵”  

Eddie glanced back at the box and read the label, “Singin’ Swords”. Well, isn’t that just convenient?

Doom smiled with malicious amusement.

Eddie tossed the singing sword away and took out a massive Toon magnet. Two pairs of sparking yellow hands zigzagged towards the pale-skinned madman, reaching out for his sword. As Eddie walked closer, the hands managed to grab the weapon, but Doom suddenly stopped struggling and allowed himself to be pulled towards him. Eddie’s eyes widened with panic and turned the magnet around, but that was an error. The magnet aimed at a large barrel and swiftly pulled it towards the detective, trapping him in a dangerously thin line between saving his life and facing his death shrouded in black.

“Don’t move.” Doom ordered, sheathing his sword back in his cane.

BANG!

A bullet grazed his left cheek, slicing his pale gaunt flesh. He didn’t scream or jolt, though. He only cupped his cheek and slowly turned to whoever just shot him.

The twins stood there before him, armed to the teeth. Tom stared him down with a vicious, bloodthirsty growl as he pointed his revolvers at Doom. And on his right, Twyla pulled out a skull-painted stiletto switchblade. Doom chuckled condescendingly, but his amusement was cut short when the girl clicked on the button, and her switchblade modified into a menacing, soul-reaping scythe. The base stood two feet taller than her, tipped by a silver, razor-sharp fountain pen point and the other end was weaponized with an immense, spine-chilling curved blade glistening in the light. Twyla held her scythe higher with her left hand, darkly chuckling at her opponent’s expression.

Doom only stared at her for a moment, then his lips pulled into a vile grin. He unsheathed his sword again, and with a blink of an eye, he charged at her. Twyla dodged and kicked him in the back, sending him tumbling flat on the ground. Snarling, he turned around and cartwheeled back just inches away from being sliced to avoid his opponent’s larger weapon and her bastard brother’s bullets.

“Twyla, head back and destroy the machine!” Tom called out, firing, “I’ll shoot him down!”

His sister dodged an attack, responding without taking her eyes off Doom. “No. You help Eddie and the others. I’ll hold him off.”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up with panic, “What?! But, sis—”

“Go!” Twyla whipped her head back to look him in the eye for a moment to show she wasn’t going to back off then slid to the side with one leg, tripping her enemy. She pulled her base back and stabbed Doom’s torso with the bladed fountain tip. He let out a sharp scream of pain, clutching onto his side where blood began to pool down his gloved hand and gritted his teeth hard enough to crack.

Snarling, he raised his sword up, “You bitch!”  

He swung down in an attempt to slice the girl’s cranium into two, but she blocked him off with her scythe. Tom growled in response, turning away to run towards the Dip machine that was slowly driving itself towards Roger and Jessica when he saw Doom driving a steam roller in Eddie’s direction.

“Fuck!” Tom cursed, glancing between his fellow Toons and his ally. But then he spotted a box of portable holes. “Valiant, grab the box!”

Eddie spotted the box and began to wiggle his way. He kicked down a stack and managed to grab one, then he quickly squeezed it between the ends of the magnet that successfully blocked the roller of the vehicle. Doom lowered down to peek at Eddie’s demise, only to look up and get kicked in the face. He collapsed onto the ground, and Eddie leapt over the stream roller and lunged his clenched fist towards the taller man’s face, but this time Doom dodged, and the smaller human fell on his stomach. He turned to his left to the stream roller driving towards him, knocking off a box carrying the familiar Toon boxing-glove mallet before he turned back to block Eddie’s attack while he was holding a small pot of Acme Super Super Glue. He grabbed the spot and spun Eddie around with his back turned to the vehicle and socked him in the face. In defense, Eddie blocked another of Doom’s punches with the pot of glue. Doom’s fist slammed into it, and the sticky liquid covered his hand. He tried to shake it off, but to no avail as more glue leaked out of the pot. Doom let out a roar and swung his fist towards Eddie again, but he dodged out of the way just as the other man’s fist gets stuck onto the roller. He stepped onto a pool of glue from the ground, without knowing he got himself stuck.

“Valiant, we need help!” Tom called out while he was trying to push the machine back away from Roger and Jessica.

“Right!” Eddie replied, running over to catch up with them. He ran over to Twyla who was hanging onto the steering wheel, dangling like she was trying to prevent herself from falling.

“Hurry! P-pb-leeeease!” Roger exclaimed.

Eddie placed his hands on Twyla’s shoulder and gently pushed her up into the driver’s seat. She reached for the keys and switched off the vehicle as soon as the Dip was inches away from the Toon rabbit. All the Toons let out a gasp of relief.

“I wasn’t worried,” he looked up at Jessica, “Were you?”

“WHOOOOO!!!!!!”

Everyone turned their attention to the source of the noise. The twins’ grinned at the sight of Doom getting caught under the steam roller. He tried to wiggle his way out of the sticky deathtrap, but his legs were already crushed by the heavy roller of steel and metal. His screams of agony and pure terror were music to the demonic duo’s ears as they watched the vehicle squish his upper body, slowly driving towards his head.

Excluding the twins, Eddie, Roger, and Jessica turned away to avoid the sight of blood and brains splattering.

But…it didn’t happen.

Doom laid there, and then his arms coiled up.

“What the hell?” Tom spoke, gobsmacked.

“Eddie! Look!” Roger yelled, pointing down where Doom was with his ear.

Eddie and the twins watched Doom lift himself off the ground with confused terror. But his body was still flattened, and his limbs curled like he was a cardboard cutout. He stumbled around a little, trying to regain his balance. No. This couldn’t be possible.

Humans don’t hop back up when they’re killed by a stream roller. Humans don’t brush off the bone-crushing pain like it was nothing. And humans…don’t look anything like that.

The horrifying realization dawned upon the twins. Doom was not a human.

“Holy smoke! He’s a Toon!” Eddie cried out.

Doom turned to face him. “Surprised?” he grinned, his voice sounding just a pitch higher.

“Not really. That lamebrain freeway idea can only be cooked up by a Toon.”

“Not just any Toon!” he staggered over to a helium tank nearby. He put his lips on the nozzle and turned a valve on the tank, inhaling enough air to inflate himself back into his original three-dimensional shape. As his limbs were no longer flat, Doom’s hat popped off his head, exposing a tuft of wild pale blond hair. Then, two fake eyeballs fell onto the ground.

Twyla’s and Tom’s eyes widened in panicked alarm. “What the f—?” Tom was cut off.

Slowly, Doom turned to face Eddie and the twins with a horrifying smile of incarnate evil…and burning red eyes.

An ice-cold wave of freezing terror flooded them as they witnessed the monstrosity before them. Eddie’s eyes shrank into petrified pinprick pupils, and his face paled several shades of white as a sheen coat of sweat dampened his frozen, frightened face. His heart thundered against his ribcage, beating loud and fast as his moments of panic and fear festered. It was all coming back to him now. The thunderous drop of the piano, Teddy’s bones crushed, maniacal high-pitched laughter…and those red eyes staring down at him.

“Remember me, Eddie?” the monster smiled, his voice raising several pitches higher into a shrill crescendo. “When I killed your brother, I talked…JUST….LIKE…THIS!!!” his eyes literally glared daggers at his old nemesis.

Eddie gasped frightfully and turned around to run. Doom sprung up high in the air with the help of metal springs sprouting out of his feet. He reached his hand out to grab Eddie by the neck, but Twyla lunged up and delivered a butterfly kick to the head while unsheathing her scythe. The abomination nearly collapsed but quickly regained his footing thanks to the springs and hopped back towards her like a demented jackrabbit.

Tom shot his guns at him, but the other Toon was quick enough to dodge the deadly bullets and grabbed him by the throat. He stared down at the Rubberhose gunslinger with wicked, malicious madness swirling in his eyes, then lifted him back up with one noodle arm before slamming him back down hard enough to crack the ground. Twyla dashed towards him with the curved blade of her weapon lunging down to strike him, but he kicked her in the gut with enough force to send her flying. Then he tossed Tom out of the way, too.

He sprung around and finally grabbed Eddie, turning him around to face him.

“Jumpin’ jeepers!” Roger gasped as Doom shoved Eddie to the ground. He smiled viciously and turned the key to turn the Dip machine back on. The deadly green liquid started shooting again while slowly pushing forward.

“Oh, my goodness! Oh, no!” Jessica struggled in her bind.

Before Eddie could land a direct punch, the monster socked him in the face with a yellow Toon anvil that sent him flying.

“You see, Eddie?!” Doom cackled, towering over him. “Nobody can stop me! Not you, not your brother, and especially not those flea-bitten Toon mutts!”

Silence fell. The warehouse is mostly silent, save for the sounds of mechanical whirring and the spraying of toxic fatal Dip. Other than that? Silence. Uncomfortable, unbearable silence. The silence was so deafening, it was maddening. Doom’s insane smile faltered a bit, genuinely confused by the lack of screaming and he looked around to see Eddie and the couple already on edge, but they were not looking at him with terror. No. They all wore looks of appalled shock.

“Did…did he just say what I think he said?” Jessica asked, her voice laced with venom.

“Unfortunately, I believe he did.” Roger answered, his Southern lisp dropping several floors down and his voice was frozen with ice-cold anger.

Doom rose a brow and turned back to Eddie who bore a glare full of red-hot rage of his own, but a wicked smile curled his lips. “What?” Doom said.

Suddenly, the light began to flicker. Doom looked up in confusion, then spotted something moving around the walls. Something was dripping down the entire walls of the warehouse, something like…ink?  The ink dripped down like blood, and the red-eyed monster’s eyes widened in panic as he watched the ink seep to the ground, then crawl towards him like spiders. As the black tendrils slithered near him, Doom’s blood ran cold as he saw many inky hands rise from the depths. What’s going on? Why is this happening?!   

“Oh, you’ve fucked up now.” He whipped his head in Eddie’s direction, who was still smiling at him. Doom opened his mouth to speak, but he heard dark, rumbling growls echoing from the other side.

He turned around to see the twins slowly pulling themselves back up as the inky tendrils coated the walls and the floor with pitch-black darkness. Everything was slowly being submerged in their path. But it was the twins Doom focused on. They focused on him, too. And they looked damn murderous.

They looked at him the eye…and transformed.

Twyla’s manicured claws increased their length tenfold into gigantic, colossal claws of carnage capable of unimaginable horror as ink coursed up from her fingertips to her entire arms like poison. Black wisps of smoke coiled around her like a cloudy aura of darkness and corruption as the ink flowed down her legs, and three toe-claws tore through her biker boots like talons tearing fabric into ribbons.

Tom hunched over, grunting in pain and anger with clenched fists as his body went through his own massive series of changes. His own aura formed, and inky spikes erupted from his back, bursting out of him. The spikes were massive in size and sharp enough to stab and impale like armor. Ink exploded from his body, bursting out of him like a hundred-year-old volcano of indescribable wrath and boiling rage, splattering ink all around him until it covered any remnants of the floor, walls, ceiling, and inventory that haven’t been tainted by the ink. Bones snapped and popped repeatedly in and out of place as his body restructured itself as his dress shirt was torn, exposing his muscular and scarred chest. His muscles stretched along with him, making him look a little less of a young, brilliant hybrid Toon gunslinger and more of a frightening, twisted wolflike demon prince.

He reared himself back up and revealed his face. Ink dripped down the tips of his ears and his entire face, save for two obsidian eyes with glowing, hellish crimson pie-cut slits for pupils, his eye-scar, and a fearsome mouthful of beastly fangs dripping with hunger for vengeance and violence. Twyla’s hair and tail whipped around like angry, hissing serpents spewing venomous ink everywhere. Her tattoos, once coated in fine, rich ink of beautiful symbolism, now glared against the darkness of her power like emblematic omens of death. She clenched her teeth painfully as her own bones rearranged themselves, and tearing free from her forearms were armor plates of piercing, curved blades. Her fangs pierced her gums due to their increased size, and her crescent pendant thrashed around violently, leaving a glowing streak of red-hot fury. Inky tears rolled down her cheeks due to the pain, forming cracks on the face of a porcelain doll. Her eyes opened, revealing two pitch-black orbs and demonic, blood-red pie-cut slits.

They faced their enemy and let out bone-shaking roars that frightened everyone in the warehouse, even Doom.

His look of genuine fear didn’t last long, and that hideous smile returned to his face. He took off his right glove, revealing a colossal yellow buzz saw instead of a hand. “Let’s play!” he cackled, dashing his way towards them with surprising speed.

He lunged his buzz saw at them with incredible force, but they dodged as the jawed blade came inches away between them. Twyla raised her massive, clawed hand high, and swung down to slice up the bastard’s hand saw. It grazed the metal, but the force was enough to knock him off his footing. As soon as he collapsed onto the inky flood, multiple pairs of inky hands coiled around his body like the coils of a nightmarish serpent made from a fusion of human limbs. Then, two clawed hands grabbed him tightly by the throat. Doom heard Tom burst out of the massive puddle, strangling him from behind. His lungs were constricted from the demon’s rip, almost completely cut out of oxygen before a newfound adrenaline burst into his system and gave him enough energy to pull himself back up on standing legs.

He grabbed his assailant’s arm and threw him off, tossing him high against the wall near the circus organ instrument. Doom pulled off his other glove with his teeth and loaded a Tommy gun for a left hand before he began firing. However, thanks to his power, Tom was able to stick close to the ink with no chance of falling and a pair of mighty, spiked obsidian wings burst out like the wings of a monstrous, demonic dragon and he flew around the warehouse while being chased by the rapid rain of bullets. He kept his eyes on his opponent before he lunged off the wall and flew high to the ceiling, whipping out his revolvers and retaliating the shootout.

Doom gritted his teeth and fired again.

Click-click.

He looked down at his gun. He was out of bullets.

“Oh, fiddlesticks!” he cursed. Then, he looked at his buzz saw and shrugged. “Eh, oh well. At least I can slice you to—”

The sound of impaled flesh cut him off. His whole body froze, left completely immobilized by a new sensation of pain. Something big and sharp punctured deep through him, and he felt the object jab deeper in his torso, making his organs and tissues squelch. He looked down….and his soulless organ for a heart dropped upon seeing the curved blade of the sinister scythe piercing out of his stomach.

Horror overtook the sensation of agonizing pain, intensifying to a tenfold as he just stared down at his own blood pooling down the formidable, bloody bayonet. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t talk.

A dark, shadowy chuckle sent chills down his spine as he felt the laughter vibrate from behind him before ice touched his skin. “That can be arranged.” Twyla replied.

The human-fleshed monster was spun around, then shoved down to his knees. Inky black tendrils coiled around his body and throat with the vice-grip of a petrifying python as Twyla gripped onto his left shoulder tightly, digging her claws deep through his clothing to pierce into his skin until she found the acromioclavicular joint. Doom’s red eyes widened, but he couldn’t form words clutched in his throat. The world seemed to slow down around him and something inside built. Something…like fear. Not the fear he has bestowed upon his victims, but the fear bestowed upon him. Fear flooded his senses and clouded his sick, gruesome mind while adrenaline rushed through his veins, mixing with his terror-frozen blood and coursing through his entire system as the realization dawned upon him.

Without any source of dignity left in him, he looked back at the halfie monstress and shook his head pleadingly. However, Twyla’s twisted smile only widened as she tightened her grip onto his shoulder….and ripped his gun-drawn arm clean off.

A blood-curdling scream escaped his throat, as he arched his neck back as a reflex and snapped his teeth together to take back some of his disgusting dignity. But Twyla’s grip is too strong, and the bastard’s body was already starting to go into a traumatized state of shock after being stabbed in the fucking back. Blood spewed out of the stump that was once his arm like a sickly yellow sprinkler, and Twyla reveled at the sight. Just then, her brother joined her and tucked his guns back in his hostlers before grabbing Doom’s right shoulder and tore his buzz-saw for an arm off from its socket. Doom howled in agony as the excruciating, tortuous pain seized him completely.

“Look at him writhe, wigglin’ like the worm he is,” Tom mocked, chuckling with amusement as he watched his and his sister’s new victim squirm.

“Yeah. He’s so pathetic,” Twyla agreed. She hoisted her scythe, preparing for the kill. “Memento mori?”

“Memento mori.” Tom nodded, drawing out both his guns. He stonily stared down at the bastard before him and delivered his sentence. “For the treacherous crimes of treason, genocide, and terrorism, bringing harm to the civilians of Toontown, and the murders of Theodore J. Valiant, Marvin Acme and R.K. Maroon, you, Doom, are hereby sentenced…to death.”   

Doom’s face paled ghostly white as a newfound sensation of terror burst into him. The Twisted Toonz Twins cackled insidiously as their eyes glowed with hellish, demonic delight. Tom pressed his left revolver against his forehead as Twyla reared her deadly scythe up, ready to strike—

“Hey, Doom!”

All three heads turned to Eddie’s direction. He stood up with renewed vigor and aimed the Toon mallet at him. “Wanna go for a little dip?!”

He shot the boxing glove past the monster’s head and the twins turned around to see the glove hitting the knob of the dreaded Dip machine. The fatal green liquid sprayed out the valve with violent force, and the twins flew high into the air to as the chemical concoction sprayed Doom. The sound of his screams of bloody murder filled the air, creating a beautiful symphony of death and karma with the intoxicating scent of blood and fear.

Unfortunately, Roger and Jessica didn’t have the chance to salvage the morbid melody as the spraying cannon was closing in.

“Goodbye, my darling. Goodbye!” Jessica screamed in fright as their fate was creeping closer…but death did not claim their souls. As the massive machine was continuously drained of the Dip, the spraying cannon’s shooting grew weaker and weaker until there were barely a few drips of toxic fatality. “Oh! I think…” Jessica gasped, “I’m going to faint.”

“Waaaaaaaaahh! Waahhhhhhh! I’m melting! Melting!” Doom’s screams echoed off the walls of the once inventory warehouse now became the monster’s tombstone as his lower legs slowly submerged into the noxious, pernicious pool of peril. This was the twins’ second favorite part of their job, watching them die.

“Yeah, that’s right! Melt! Melt in the puddle of your own demise, motherfucker!” Tom cackled wildly, flipping him the bird.

Twyla’s eyes widened from the curse, but not with appall. She turned to him with surprise, “You finally said it!” she told him, smiling.

His laughter halted when he realized it. “Uh…I…did…did I really?” A wide, beaming smile brightened his face. “OH, MY GOD! YES!” He fisted his hand victoriously, flying around. “YES! WHOOO!!!!”

An unforgiving rage coursed through Eddie like a wildfire raging through a forest at the sight of the monster squirming around while dissolving. It’s like some beast, some vicious predator just woke up from a century long nap in the core of his shattered, tormented soul. And it’s hungry. Hungry for blood, hungry for vengeance. Hungry for justice, for himself, for Toontown. And for Teddy.

Doom’s screams faded into pitiful whimpers of pain and anguish as he finally perished to the liquified monstrosity he created, only leaving green smoke rising in his wake. Only silence permeated. He was dead. The Terror of Toontown has finally met his end, along with his reign of evil.

“Eddie! Do something!” Roger cried out, the Toon couple struggling to get out of the machine’s way with little success. “Hurry up, Eddie! Do something!”

Eddie rushed through the Dip and grabbed the controller for the giant hook. He pressed the button and the hook lurched as it moved out of the machine’s direction just in time. It broke through the brick wall and the entire side was filled with the bright, shining colors of Toontown’s morning sky. The vehicle pulled itself forward, but then a Toon train rushed by, crashing into the machine, and smashing it to pieces.

Toontown was saved.

Once the train was destroyed, Eddie ran over to a center of fire hydrants. He pulled on the handle and kept pulling on it until all of them were pushing out water that forced the deadly Dip to go down the drain. After it vanished, Eddie pressed the button on the controller to lower the hook down. The twins flew down and ran over to help.

“Jeepers, you guys! That was a close shave! I thought for sure our goose was cooked!” Roger said as Twyla and Tom got him down from the escape-proof Toon rope while Eddie carefully lowered Jessica.

“My hero!” Jessica swooned, clasping her hands together. Eddie blushed, but then she shoved him out of the way. “Oh, honey bunny!”

“Oh, love cups,” Roger was picked up in his wife’s arms and was given multiple kisses. “Oh, Roger. You were a pillar of strength.”

Twyla smiled at the happy couple. Somehow, she imagined how happy her parents were on their wedding night. But suddenly, dots clouded her vision as a wave of fatigue shot through her body. She wobbled a bit, struggling to keep hold of her stance. Tom whipped around and gently pulled her close to him.

“Sis? You all right?” he asked worriedly.

“Uh, yeah. I-I’m fine,” she stuttered.

He didn’t look too convinced, nor did Eddie and the others.

A cacophony of blaring sirens rang in her ears, making her head throb and ache with nausea. Her throat felt dry, and her limbs were burning with great exhaustion.

“Sister Mary Frances!” she heard Benny shout, “What the hell happened here?!”

“Twyla?” Tommy said, his voice raised with panic.

She didn’t speak. Everything was swirling around her, even though she wasn’t moving. And then, she went limp in her brother’s arms.

“Oh, shit!” her big brother cursed, carefully lowering himself quick enough to scoop up his baby sister. “Valiant, we need an ambulance now!”

“Call the medics!” Twyla heard Santino shout over to his officers, and many voices swarmed her dizzy head like bees. “One of the survivors is losing consciousness!”

Tom’s screams of alarm fell deaf on Twyla’s ears as the world went black.   

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Seventeen: Doom’s Plan

Summary: Captured by Doom and his goons once again, the trio are invited against their will to witness the horror of Doom’s plan.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

P.S. I goofed up 🤦‍♀️ I forgot to mention that I also plan on posting Chap. 18 on Saturday April 19 at 6:00 P.M., Chap. 19 on Wednesday April 23 at 5:00 P.M., Chap 20 on Saturday April 26 at 11:45 A.M. and Chap. 21 on Tuesday April 29 at 8:30 A.M. My bad 😅!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @lastofautumn, @spookiifi, @amberfox232, @heartsissopure, @trashogram A.K.A. @mantisandthemoondragon

If Tom had been with them and seen this, he would have gone berserk. The trio were forced to arrive in the Acme Factory and stand on the same spot where Acme’s corpse once was. Behind them, Wheezy and Stupid were drilling a hole on the far end of the brick wall.

“All right. Psycho, Greasy, frisk Valiant and the broad!” Smartass barked, waiting for Doom’s return.

Frisk me?! Oh, hell no, not happening! Twyla’s eyes widened in alarm and took a step back. Again, Eddie tried to block them off, but Psycho pointed his deadly razor at him. Just then, Jessica shielded her with her arm much to her surprise. The singer turned to glare at the green-clad Lieutenant, “Don’t. Touch. Her. She doesn’t have the will, all right?!”

Greasy didn’t appear to be intimidated, nor really convinced. “We’ll be the judge of that. Psycho.” He addressed his kaleidoscope-eyed comrade, crossing his arms.

Twyla’s panic only increased. She did not even want Psycho to search her. But to her complete surprise, he didn’t even lay a sleeve on her nor seemed interested in violating her personal space. Instead, he loomed in real close to the point where their noses could have touched. And he began to…sniff her?

Wait, what?

He quickly sniffed her like he was some sort of ferocious police dog, and then he shook his head. “Nope! No will, hehehehe!”

The Puerto Rican weasel exhaled, “Bien.” His face pulled into a scowl when he faced Eddie and pulled his hat over his eyes. “Now…help me search him.”

Jessica cautiously pulled Twyla away from them while they searched Eddie’s pockets. He fidgeted and even kicked Psycho. “Are you all right?” she whispered. Twyla shrugged.

Smartass turned back to Doom who was standing atop a vertical conveyor belt and yelled, “We searched Valiant and the broad, Boss! The will ain’t on ‘em!”  

Doom called out, “Then frisk the other woman!”

Twyla moved her eyes to Greasy and expected him to jump at the chance. But he didn’t even spare her a glance, and instead sharpened his claws with his switchblade.

He felt several eyes on him. “¿Qué?”

“Well?” Smartass put his hands on his hips.

“Well, what?”

“Frisk the rabbit’s wife.”

The taller gangster raised a brow as if he had been asked such an audacious question, looked at Jessica and then back to Twyla before he wrapped an arm around her waist, glaring at his boss.

"No. No estoy engañando a mi mujer. Caperucita Roja aquí no tiene mierda en mi Lupita." He jerked his head towards Jessica.

She gawked in indignant response, “Um, I beg your fucking pardon?!”

Twyla glanced between the two, more confused than fearful. What did he even say?

“Way to sell it to the cheap seats,” Wheezy called out, clapping his hands with condescending applause.

Greasy whirled around, his face skewered with hot anger. “¡CÁLLATE LA BOCA!” he violently threw an ashtray right at the chain-smoker’s head, causing birds to fly around his head. He flinched and cursed out loudly while flipping the other weasel off.

Twyla turned to Psycho, slightly leaning enough to get his attention. “What did he say?” she whispered.

“He said he’s not gonna cheat on his girl,” he deadpanned, completely done with the jade-glad gangster’s shit as well.

CHEAT ON HIS GIRL—BOY, WE AIN’T EVEN A COUPLE! She screamed at her “lover” internally, while trying very hard to fight her cheeks from blushing. This is NOT a romance cartoon!

“Fine! If you’re not gonna frisk ‘er, I’ll do it!” Smartass snapped and took a step forward.

All of a sudden, Greasy released her. “NO!” he exclaimed, “I’ll handle this one.” He ruefully looked at the Twisted Toon who he claimed to be his “love”, “Forgive me, mi amor.”   

After that, he rolled up his sleeve and licked his chops lustfully. He walked closer and stuck a paw down Jessica’s cleavage. The sight made Twyla’s fangs clench with fury, and she took a step to yank him off—

SNAP!

“YEEEOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!” Greasy screamed, taking his paw away that had apparently set off a Toon bear trap and clamped onto his wrist. The other weasels laughed as he was jumping around, trying to get it off while cursing in Spanish.

“Nice booby trap,” Eddie commented Jessica, who smirked in triumph.

Twyla leaned over and whispered, “I'm guessin' you deal with this on a regular basis?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

As Greasy still struggled to remove the trap, Doom went up to him and smacked him by the neck with his cane. Twyla flinched from that, like she did with Smartass back at the bar. The tallest weasel was sent flying into a pile of boxes, releasing a mess of fake eyeballs all over the floor. Still, the pack continued to laugh at their comrade’s pain.

One harsh glare from the judge and they shut their trapped instantly.

“Do they have the will or not?”

“Nah, just a stupid love letter,” Smartass replied, Psycho taking the letter from Eddie’s jacket. He made a grab for it, but the tiny weasel took it away.

“No matter. I doubt if that will’s gonna show up in the next fifteen minutes anyway.”

Twyla frowned and quickly snatched the letter out of Psycho’s paws with her tail. He shook his head and looked at his empty paws before looking at her. She returned the letter to Eddie just as the psychotic weasel made a grab for it. Psycho threw up a glare at him before eerily walking away as Eddie asked, “What happens in the next fifteen minutes?”

“Toontown will be legally mine. Lock, stock, and barrel,” Doom answered with a sinister, smug smile.

_________

Benny broke from his unconscious slumber at the screeching sounds of wheels echoing against the walls of the tunnel. He turned around and saw Roger behind the wheel of Eddie’s vehicle that had the roof completely torn off. Next to him, Tom was gripping onto the railing of the passenger door for dear life while covering his snout to hold back from vomiting. Green colored his face, “Oh, God. I am never, ever drivin’ with you again,” he grumbled.

“Benny, is that you?” Roger called out. Tom looked over Roger’s left and saw a badly beaten Benny the cab next to a broken lamp post, and his nose scrunched from the familiar stench of Dip.

“No, it’s Shirley Temple!” the cab replied sarcastically with missing teeth. Standing up on deflated hind tires, he started limping towards the two with noticeable difficulty.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?!” Tom exclaimed.

“Doom grabbed Valiant and the girls and took ‘em to the Acme Factory!”

“WHAT?!” The gunslinger’s worry immediately dissolved, and the familiar dark abyss of murderous rage returned with a frightening vengeance. Those bastards got his sister?! Oh, hell no!

“The Acme Factory?” Roger’s eyes widened, “I know where that is! Get in!”

Hearing that snapped Tom out of his wrath for a brief moment. There is no way in hell Roger was going to drive again! “Fuck off, I’m driving!” he lightly shoved the rabbit out of the way and grabbed onto the steering wheel.

“Oh, come on!” Roger pouted, scooting back into the driver’s seat.

Thankfully, Benny wasn’t too keen on having him drive either. “Move over, Rog. You had enough driving for one night.” He squeezed himself in.

Tom’s eyes spotted something silver glinting off the light of the moon. It was Twyla’s pistol! He created an ink lasso and snatched it just as the car took off.

________

“Duh, Toontown’s on the other side of the wall, Boss!” Stupid called out, Wheezy pulling out the last of the bricks before a sunshine of bright colors beamed out through the cracks like a beacon of light.

“You see, Mr. Valiant, the successful conclusion of this case draws the curtains on my career as jurist in Toontown,” Doom walked towards something that was hidden behind a large, ominous green curtain. “I’m retiring to take a new role in the private sector.”

“There wouldn’t be Cloverleaf Industries by any chance, would it?” Eddie as he began to approach the judge, but Smartass pointed his revolver to stop him.

Doom turned back to them, “You’re looking at the sole stockholder.”

_________

The car stopped at one side of the Acme Factory. Tom was the first to hop out, guns loaded and rage coursing through his inky veins.

“Benny, you go for the cops,” Roger told the cab, his hand trembling as he held up a golden pistol. “I’m gonna go save my wife.”

Benny recoiled when the barrel got too close to him. “Be careful with that gun! This ain’t no cartoon, you know!” he called out as Roger joined the blood-hungry demon prince. “This is no way to make a living.” He muttered, driving away.

The two ran to a window on one side of the warehouse that was only big enough for Roger to squeeze in. He tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Wouldn’t you know? Locked.” He said, leaning over against it. Like any other cartoon gag, the window suddenly swung open, and Roger fell into what appeared to be a restroom.

“Roger! No!” Tom tried to pull him back by the tail, but he missed. He watched him splash in one of the toilets and flushed in. “Aww!” he exclaimed in exaggerated disgust, then he held his hands up. Nope. Fuck that!

He managed to crawl his way into the restroom and looked around. He could hear them from a couple of blocks away, but how was he going to save Valiant and the girls without barging in?

His eyes locked onto the floor, then his hand began to drip with ink from his anxiety and anger. “Well, looks like I have to improvise.” He let the ink spread up his whole body, and he dissolved beneath the floor.

________

Doom reached behind a crate and brought out a silver dish. He dropped it to the ground and turned on a nozzle from behind the curtain. “Can you guess what this is?”

From the hose poured out steaming toxic green liquid. That same green liquid that was once used to take Twyla’s life and killed that innocent Toon clown shoe. It made her fur stick up on end.

“Oh, my God! IT’S DIP!” Jessica screamed, her emerald eyes widened in sheer horror.

“That’s right, my dear!” Doom pulled down the curtain behind him, “Enough to dip Toontown right off the face of the Earth!”

Behold them revealed a machine. A monstrous Leviathan born with metal instead of flesh, its body built of mechanical components instead of organs, tissues, and bones. The beast stood just a few feet below the ceiling and consisted of a large vat filled with gallons of heated, steaming Dip as well as a giant rotating brush used to convey the amount of the deadly liquid drenched on it. Its face was designed with a mechanism used to mix the Dip vat while it was apparently the driver’s seat. The monster’s malevolent red eyes glared at the three sharply from its windshield and held up a pressurized water cannon accommodated to spray huge streams of Dip like the barrel of an anti-tank cannon rifle. On each side of the doors held a decal labeled "Cloverleaf Industries".

This was horrendous. This was madness. This was genocide.

This was something only a monster like Doom could invent.

“Toontown will be erased in a matter of minutes!” Doom explained as Wheezy pushed down the empty barrel from the giant bowl, catching himself from falling.

Jessica defiantly put her hands on her hips, “I suppose you think no one’s going to notice Toontown’s disappeared?” she challenged.

Doom gestured his cane to the weasels without them noticing, “Who’s got time to wonder what happened to some ridiculous talking mice when you’re driving by at seventy-five miles an hour?” he countered.

Twyla’s stomach dropped. Had he just said what she thought he said?

She glanced warily at Smartass, who barely even acknowledged Doom’s reply. He didn’t even blink, just kept his eyes and revolver on her and her comrades. An ice-cold trepidation froze the demon princess’s blood. He's going to get rid of his own team, too? Even Smartass?

Despite her own reasons to slaughter them, the thought of them dying in the hands of their own employer without knowing of his betrayal made her gut clench.

“What are you talking about? There’s no road past Toontown!” Jessica shot at him, snapping the younger Toon back to the horrifying reality of their situation.

“Not yet!” Doom replied, approaching them once again, but nearly sliding among all the discarded fake eyeballs. “Several months ago, I had the good providence to stumble upon the city’s councils. A constriction plan of epic proportions. They’re calling it………… a freeway.”

What?

“A freeway?” Eddie asked, sharing a glance with the girls. “What the hell’s a freeway?”

“Eight lanes of shimmering cement running from here to Pasadena,” Doom answered, looming over him. “Smooth, safe, fast. Traffic jams will be a thing of the past?”

“So that’s why you killed Marvin Acme and R.K. Maroon? For this freeway? I don’t get it.”

“Of course not. You lack vision,” the inhuman jurist replied coldly. He walked past them where the crack was, “I see a place where people get on and off the freeway. Off and on, on and off, all day, all night! Soon, where Toontown once stood will be a string of gas stations, inexpensive hotels, restaurants that will serve rapidly prepared food, tire salons, automobile dealerships…” he spread his arms wide like he was holding the entire heavens, and smiled with wicked, maniacal glee. “And wonderful, wonderful billboards reaching as far as the eye can see!” he sighed, “My God, it’ll be beautiful.”

So this is why he was doing all of this? He killed Acme, the protector of Toontown and Maroon, a corrupted, greedy human who tried to atone for his misdeeds but was killed because he knew too much, and wanted to destroy Toontown, a promiseland Twyla and her family envisioned as their sanctuary, their true home…all for this stupid fucking freeway?

“Come on!” Eddie exclaimed, “Nobody’s gonna drive this lousy freeway when they can take the Red Car for a nickel!”

“Oh, they’ll drive. They’ll have to,” the bastard walked past him just a few inches away from Greasy who stood on a manhole. “You see, I bought the Red Car so I could dismantle it.” he tapped his cane for emphasis.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling noise.

“What the—?”

Greasy looked down at the manhole. And then…

BOOSH!

The lid that covered the manhole blasted off the floor, sending a screaming Greasy up and a white blur into the air with watery air shooting out.

“¡Caramba!” the Latino weasel gasped as he grabbed onto a net holding a ton of bricks. The white blur came down with a scream and landed on his feet.

Roger?!

Doom tried to make a grab for him, but something cold and metallic touched his neck.

“Move a muscle and your brains’ll be leakin’ lead.” A deep voice growled in his ear.

Twyla’s eyes widened with hope and relief upon recognizing the assailant. “Tommy!” she cried out and tried to rush to him.

Her big brother, on the other hand, held his hand out to stop her. “Stay right there, sis! I’ll take care of it.”

“OK, nobody move!” Roger threatened, pulling out a small gold pistol at Doom. “All right, weasels! Grab some sky, or I let the judge have it.” He glared at the weasels who tried to apprehend him but were hesitant. “You heard me! I said drop it!”    

Smartass knew he was not playing around, and dropped his revolver.

“Roger, darling!” Jessica cried out.

“Yes, it’s me, my dearest!” Roger answered, hopping to her side and taking her by the hand. “I’d love to embrace you, but first!” he quickly turned back to point the gun at the boogle about to rush at him. “I’ll have to satisfy my sense of moral outrage!”

Tom locked Doom in a chokehold, pressing the barrel of his gun at his temple. The bastard gritted his teeth at the rabbit, “Put the gun down, you buck-toothed fool!”

“That’s it, Doom! Give me another excuse to pump you full of lead!” Roger snapped back, making the judge trapped in the demon’s grasp back up a bit. “You thought you could get away with it, didn’t ya? Ha!”

Click!

Twyla looked up, silently gasping. Greasy had climbed onto the top of the net, his switchblade now cutting through the rope. And Roger was under it.

“We Toons may act idiotic, but we’re not stupid! We demand justice!” the rabbit continued, his eyes fixed on his opponent, “Why, the real meaning of the word probably hits you like a ton of bricks!”

Twyla, without warning, took off from where she was standing and tried to push Roger out of the way. But the bricks collapsed onto them both. The weasels broke into sadistic laughter, falling deaf on Jessica’s and Tom’s ears.

“Roger!”

“TWYLA!” Tom screamed, shoving the judge out of the way. He and Jessica both ran towards the massive pile, just as Roger’s head slowly popped out with stars orbiting around his head. Tom used his claws to dig out the remaining bricks, and his heart dropped seeing the state of his sister. She coughed off the dust, her jacket and hat scrapped, and her fur and hair all messed up. He gently pulled her into his arms, cradling her like he used to so many years ago.

“Twyla, why the fuck did you do that?!” he yelled, his voice panicked with worry.

“I…” she whispered, so weakly it was barely audible. “He was gonna drop ‘em on Roger.”

“Who?”

She pointed up, and Tom lifted his head up to see Greasy who was still laughing. He growled at the sleazeball.

“Roger! Say something!” Jessica pleaded, gently caressing her husband’s cheeks.

“Look! Stars! Ready when you are, Raoul!” he giggled before his face slammed down on the bricks.

“Tie the lovebirds together,” Doom ordered the weasels, “But line the twins next to Mr. Valiant.”

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Twelve: The Frayed Ends of Sanity

Summary: Shit’s going down!

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd and @lastofautumn. Also, please give a shoutout to @spookiifi and @amberfox232, our new special guests! 🥳 Please accept this chapter as a Thank You gift 🎁, and Happy Valentine’s Day! 💘💕💘💕

WARNING: This chapter contains violence including stabbing, interrogational brutality, panic attacks, and things are about to get EXTREMELY TWISTED 😱

Freaking out is an understatement, in Twyla’s case.

She had been pacing around the small room in circles since Greasy locked her in and hadn’t stopped since. The room was soundproof on both sides, but Twyla can hear the muffled sounds of Smartass’s shouting and the multiple set of blows striking down the boys. Twyla had already tried breaking free herself, but the handle wouldn’t even budge. She even resorted to slamming herself against the door with as much strength as she could muster, but the sturdiness proved to be too much of an obstacle even for her.

The only other option…was to transform.

But it wasn’t as simple as that. For one thing, she had no idea what sort of tools the weasels had in store for them, and she couldn’t detect anything that could potentially harm Toons like her, Tom, and the others. The second thing was the reality of her nature.

She may have more control of her “other side” than Tom with his, but she was just as vicious and monstrous as her brother in her own element. The twins’ powers result from an intense, uncontrollable burst of adrenaline and a deep-seeded, vigilant instinct to protect themselves or those they love. But at the same time, the urge to protect is warped by the twisted madness of their nature.

An urge to maim, dismember, or kill.

If Twyla was found culpable of a gruesome, brutal massacre that took five—or possibly six—lives from Toontown and L.A., it wouldn’t be just the judge after the twins’ trail. It would be all of California. A disastrous manhunt.  

She knew she didn’t have enough time to come up with a plan, but she couldn’t think while her mind was in a state of panic and distress. So, without another thought, she fished her pocket and pulled out an iPod that had Spotify attached to her earbuds. She clicked on the first song her Metallica playlist.

The rhythm of drums thumped in her eardrums, and the melody of the electric guitar soothed her nerves. When the long intro ended, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

🎵 Never hunger, never prosper

I have fallen prey to my failure

Struggle within, triggered again

Now the candle burns at both ends 🎵

James Alan Hetfield’s powerful, vehement vocal cords pumped the Twisted Toon with ardent, fiery waves of kinetic, musical energy. But the lyrics were words of morbid, beautiful poetry written in molten ink and crimson blood. They say that music is the food of the soul and had never once failed to provide nourishment for her inner being in her time of need. As the song continued, the ravenette raised her arms over her head and danced, swaying her hips to the rhythmic, thunderous beat of drums and metal bass. The walls of her surroundings faded deep in the obscurity of her subconscious, and instead she visioned herself in there, painting the walls with the weasels’ blood while torturing them with her dark magic.

🎵 Twisting under schizophrenia

Falling deep into dementia

Old habits reappear

Fighting the fear of fear

Growing conspiracy, everyone’s after me

Frayed ends of sanity

Hear them calling

Hear them calling me—🎵

Something sharp poked Twyla’s back, snapping her out of her tranquil trance. She whirled her head to growl at whoever dared to interrupt her, only to flinch at the sight of a feral-grinning Psycho who was twirling with his deadly razor while standing waaaayyy to close to her comfort.

“Time to meet the boss, girlie!” he exclaimed with giggling mania.

“Not yet, Psycho!” Smartass shouted from the hallway. “The broad’ll have to wait!”

Excuse me. I’M RIGHT HERE! The female horror Toon growled vehemently in response.

“Vamos, Psycho!” Greasy called out. “Señor Valiant and the pistolero first, and then we’ll talk to the dama!”

Twyla watched the mentally unstable weasel zigzag out of the room, remembering to lock the door on the way out.

Once he left, the she-wolf snarled a sigh and returned to her mental train of thoughts while plotting the weasels’ demise.

🎵 Birth of terror, death of much more

I’m the slave of fear, my captor

Never warnings spreading its wings

As I wait for the horror she brings

Loss of interest, question, wonder

Waves of fear they pull me—🎵

The door unlocked.

“Fuck!” Twyla whispered-shouted and hastily hid her iPod before she leaped on the loveseat, sitting cross-legged. The door slowly opened, and Greasy greeted Twyla with his presence. He walked in the same posture he did when Twyla first saw him, but there wasn’t a single trace of suavity in his eyes. Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh of frustration and took his fedora off to run his clawed fingers through his oily slicked-back hair while muttering Spanish curses.

“Tu hermano es un huevo muy difícil de romper, déjame decirte.” Greasy grumbled. When Twyla tilted her head in confusion, he elaborated. “I came back because Boss is ready for you now. He just couldn’t make up his mind and your brother is driving him up the damn wall with his snarling fangs.”

Twyla sighed and held out her hands.

“No, those soft hands of yours will have to wait until we get there.” Her captor shook his head.

All right, Twyla thought. Lead the way.

_________

The interrogation didn’t go well for either of them. Before the weasels began to “interrogate” them, Eddie instructed Tom to use improvisation like he did back at the office. But this time, however, they were in the weasels’ turf. And they were not as hospitable as the twins’ boss was.

An intense ringing shot in the Toon wolf’s ears from the countless blows and beatings he and Valiant were forced to endure. His chest heaved with labored breathing as he gulped an intake of air, exhaling puffs of painful exhaustion. Blood trickled down his nose and his lower jaw, staining his crisp jacket and dress shirt, and he shut his eyes tightly from the harsh light. The weasels, mostly Smartass in particular, had “tried to be nice” in their favor while asking him about Roger’s whereabouts. But Tom hadn’t spoken the whole time. All he could think about was his poor, sweet baby sister locked in God knows where and with God knows who.

Smartass finally lost his patience and punched the Twisted Toon wolf in the face. Tom finally lost his temper and roared “VAFFANCULO!!!"

Apparently, the Brooklyn weasel did understand Italian and did not like what the taller gangster said. He ordered Greasy to retrieve his sister and wreaked havoc upon him. 

The boss weasel heaved heavily with labored rage, gritting his fangs while a vein popped. His fists and sleeves were stained with crimson Toon blood. He glared at the wolf for an intense moment, then forced himself to exhale his frustrations out before he stormed off.

Eddie took that as a chance to lean over to Tom. “You all right?” he asked.

“I’ve been through worse.”

“Your sister’s gonna kill you when we get outta this.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Tom couldn’t help but chuckle despite the pain in his jaw.

When the door opened, Tom whirled his head over to see Twyla arrive with Greasy. His sister’s eyes widened in terrified rage seeing her brother in his state and tried to reach out to hug him, but her hands were handcuffed behind her, and the zoot-clad Lieutenant gently tugged her back.

“Did he hurt you?” Tom whispered as soon as the twins were within earshot.

To his relief, Twyla shook her head.

“All right, you broad,” Smartass addressed Twyla with a snarl, “I want youse ta’ sit down and ‘corroborate’ with us.”

The ravenette returned his glare but complied and allowed the Hispanic weasel to escort her to a chair between Eddie and Tom.

“Now listen here, toots,” the pink-clad bastard loomed over her, his voice laced with venom. “I’ve tried very hard ta’ be nice, but tha’ three of youse have been a pain in my ass, and now I’m out of patience.”

Despite the terror clutching her heart in a vine-like grasp, the female halfie glared at him with intense defiance. Smartass, however, only became more displeased with the lack of fear in her expression.

“Stupid,” he called out to the muscle of the group, “Bring her brother over.”

The muscleman routed towards Tom and grabbed the bars of his chair. To his surprise, Stupid was able to lift him up with ease despite Tom’s size and carried him over to the center of the interrogation room next to his boss.

“Wheezy, get the muzzle.”

A feeling of unease dropped in Twyla’s stomach, and Eddie’s bellicose demeanor faltered.  

The ash-blue chain-smoker walked behind Tom and pulled out a Toon muzzle. It was designed with hardware metal held together with a set of springlocks, and it was narrow enough to force a dog’s muzzle shut. Wheezy harshly strapped the muzzle around Tom’s snout and quickly fastened the restraints. The wolf’s jaws struggled and thrashed to break the metal off, but it was no use.

Smartass snickered with sadistic mirth, then turned back to Twyla. Without taking his eyes off her, he pulled out his switchblade.

Her orchid orbs shrank into petrified pinprick pupils, but Tom saw a red streak flash across her eyes. Oh no.

“Twyla,” he forced himself to speak, but his voice was muffled. “Don’t. I’ll be fine—”

“Let’s see how long it takes for you to crack, broad!” Smartass shouted with wicked malice. He lunged the blade down and slashed across Tom’s right bicep deep enough to cut through the fabric and make contact with inky fur and flesh. The muzzled Toon let out a strangled grunt of pain and shock, instinctively recoiling from the impact. A chorus of maniacal laughter echoed the stone-built walls, howling like demons.

Smartass laughed and lunged again, but this time he stabbed Tom’s right shoulder. The brutal amount of force was enough to make Tom scream in agony, matched by Eddie’s furious shouts. The weasels laughed and laughed, unbeknownst of the sudden change of atmosphere. Above them, the lightbulb began to flicker, slowly at first. Then it began to flicker rapidly. Tom focused on the walls that were now being submerged by a dark aura. Inky shadows manifested the walls like creeping tendrils, swathing the room in near pitch-black darkness. Tom’s dark eyes widened in alarm, and he turned back to his sister. Trails of obsidian ink ran down Twyla’s right eyebrow while her cheeks were wet with tears and her tail and hair dripping with ink, dampening her bangs with black liquid. Her fangs increased in size, changing from a pair of adorable vampiric fangs to massive daggers that can bite down on flesh hard enough to break bone. But it was her eye that he focused on the most. Her eye was completely solid black, and her pie-cut iris was narrowed to a dangerous razor-sharp slit that changed from a gentle amethyst to a glowing hellish blood-red.

“This is your last chance, broad!” Smartass shouted, not making eye contact with her. Even he didn’t notice what was going on. He gripped Tom’s bleeding right shoulder and raised his switchblade up.

This time he was aiming for Tom’s heart.

He cackled, ready to strike—

“LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!!!!!”

The weasels all jumped in shocked alarm from the unknown, nightmarish roar. They whipped their heads to see Twyla who had broken free of her restraints and now towered over them, raising the chair over her head. With a furious scream, she tossed the chair not towards them, but up towards the lightbulb. Nevertheless, the weasels instinctively ducked and covered their heads to protect themselves as the forceful impact of the thrown chair snapped the lightbulb from its metal wire. The room was now swathed in complete darkness, and the sound of a light bulb shattered on the floor.

For a moment, everything was quiet. Too quiet.

And then, the light returned.

The weasels were greeted by a horrific sight. What they saw before them was nothing short of petrifying. All the tables that had once held their tools of torture now lay on the cold ground, split into wooden pieces while sharp weapons scattered all over like debris. But it was the walls that caught their attention. The entirety of the walls was stained with shadowy ink and letters written in blood. Every single wall, scrawled in cryptic calligraphy. Massive red, gory letters dripped down the walls, and they all said only two words.

You’re next.

“What the fuck?” Wheezy broke the silence with a horrified whisper.

A low, resonant and feminine chuckle shook him and his comrades out of their terrified trance. “My, my. How the tables have turned.”

The weasels all turned to the spot where Twyla once stood, but it was as if she had vanished. But she sounded like she was so close and yet she sounded so far away. Her voice was a haunting, beautiful nightmare laced with shadowy enchantment. Her words were like the sound of a dozen luminescent stars twinkling, but there was a sinister echo of darkness tainting the words she spoke.

“You crazy broad!” Smartass shouted, breaking free from his stricken stupor and back to his harsh, unyielding exterior. “Where are ya?! Show ‘yourshelf’ or I’ll slice your bastard brother!”

“Hmm. I don’t know. What do you think, Tommy?”

Smartass and his men turned back to Tom, only to find an empty chair. Nearby stood a muzzle that had been snapped in two.

“She could.” Ten pairs of eyes widened from the new and equally frightening voice. Tom’s voice was completely devoid of the rough, Chicago-graveled grit and now there was only an otherworldly, guttural growl. Just like his sister’s, there was a dark manifestation in his words too. Something malicious and infested with an abominable cacophony of what could only be described as evil. “But it wouldn’t do you much good. Would it, Sergeant?”

“They can toin themselves ‘invincible’!” the boss weasel shouted over the others, “Huddle up!”

At once, the Toon Patrol backed themselves close to each other, their weapons drawn out. Their mugs wore looks of defiant anger, ready to fight. But there was no point in hiding the unbridled fear freezing their nerves.

Suddenly, Smartass felt something ice-cold poke the nape of his neck. Gun drawn, he turned around to shoot whoever it was only to feel a powerful force punch him in the face and cause him to fall down. “What the hell?!” Wheezy exclaimed, aiming his Tommy gun at the invisible foe only to feel two hands hold onto him tightly. His right hand was forced to snatch a few cigarettes from his hat and jab Psycho. The smallest weasel let out a painful “Eep!” before he faced the culprit. His swirly blue eyes narrowed in anger, and with bared teeth he pounced on the smoker with his razor hungry for blood. Stupid swirled around and his bat slammed over Greasy’s head. “Ay!” the Latino weasel cried out. “Why you…”

Growling, he flicked his switchblade. Letting out a war cry, he lunged onto Stupid who tumbled onto the other three, causing a massive Toon dust cloud.

Eddie watched the whole scene with frantic, confused eyes. What the fuck is going on?! What the fuck just happened?! How did the twins do that?!

“Sorry, Eddie.” Startled, the human detective nearly jumped out of his chair only to see Twyla’s ink-ridden face while Tom stood behind her. “We’ll come back for you.”

Without another word, the Twisted Toonz twins vanished once again.     

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Fourteen: Trouble at the Bar

Summary: Once again, our heroes cross paths with our villains. And trouble ensues at the bar.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @lastofautumn, @spookiifi, @amberfox232, @heartsissopure

Eddie and Tom ran downstairs to catch up with Dolores. “Come on, Dolores! You don’t think a painted hussy like that could turn my head! She’s just trying to get her hands on the rabbit!”

“That’s not all she’s trying to get her hands on!” the lady snapped. She crossed the street and headed towards the bar before Eddie finally caught up with her.

“Listen, listen! I want you to go out and buy yourself a new swimsuit, ‘cause you and me are going to Catalina. I’m on the verge of wrapping up this case!” he flexed his fingers for emphasis.

“No, you’re not, Eddie. That’s what I came to tell you. I stopped by probate.” Dolores shook her head, fixing the shorter man’s collar. “Maroon’s not after Toontown like you thought. It’s Cloverleaf that wants to get their hands on Toontown!”

“Cloverleaf?” Tom arched a brow, looking across the street where the Red Car trolley system was. Above the neon sign draped a massive sign painted in dark leafy green. In bold white text, the sign said ‘Cloverleaf’. What the fuck is Cloverleaf? A rival transit company?

“They put in the highest bid. And unless Mr. Acme’s will shows up by midnight tonight, Cloverleaf is going to own Toontown!” Dolores’s voice brought Tom’s attention back to the case, and his pie-cut eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. Tonight?! That’s less than fourteen hours!

SHIT! FUCK! CRÊPE SUZETTE CUPCAKES SERVED ON A SOGGY-ASS SHITSTORM SUNDAY!!!  

“First they buy the Red Car, now they wanna get their hands on Toontown?” Eddie shook his head, “I don’t get it.”

“Shh!” Dolores shushed him just as Tom’s ears perked up the sound of…upbeat music coming from the bar?

Wait. Music?

Tom’s eyes widened when the realization hit him. “Fuck!”

“Roger!” Eddie exclaimed. He took Dolores’s hand and ran towards the bar, Tom not too far behind. When they entered the bar, the place was swaying with life and music. The regulars gathered around the bar, bobbing their heads to the rhythm, and at the center was Roger Rabbit, who was singing and dancing. Tom couldn’t see his sister in the crowd, so she probably must have fallen asleep.

“Nice shirt! Who’s your tailor? Quasimodo?” Roger spotted Eddie and decided to do a solo for him.

🎵My buddy’s Eddie V,

A sourpuss you’ll see,

But when I’m done,

He’ll need no gun,

Cause a joker he will be🎵  

He stopped by one of the regulars and spun his hairpiece to add comical humor. Then he slid across the counter where the record player was.

🎵C, D, E, F, G, H, I

IIIIIIII love to raise some cain!

Believe me, it’s no strain🎵

The lively Toon danced towards a stack of plates and grabbed one.

🎵It feels so great to smash a plate,

And look, there is no pain!🎵

Roger smashed it over his head for emphasis, and repeated the last two lyrics. The record player must have gotten a little rickety, because it started playing on repeat. Roger kept slamming plates over his head as the song progressed. Eddie finally lost it and pulled the tone-arm off the record, then grabbed him by the ears again. He accidentally knocked off the stacks from the bar. Tom quickly dived down and caught a few other plates before they could shatter thanks to his Toon and demon speed. Just then, Twyla carefully opened the latch and her eyes widened in panic seeing the chaos.

“Did I fall asleep? Shit!” she cursed before she found Eddie’s heated glare. Her ears lowered, and she gave a nervous chuckle. “Uh…oops?”

She ducked out of the way just as her boss shoved the door open and tossed Roger’s ass in the rotgut room. She did, however, noticed the kiss on Tom’s cheek and crossed her arms, smirking. “Nice kiss, Romeo. Did you get her autograph, too?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Tom quickly shoved it behind them and locked the latch before returning to the bar. To keep everyone quiet, he called out to the crowd.

“OK, listen up, you drunken-ass meatsacks! If you rat on us to the judge, I’ll cut your dicks off.” He pulled out machete, grinning at their paling faces as they quivered while they nodded. He grabbed a stool and rested his forearms before he buried his face in his hands. “God, this case is turnin’ into a clusterfuck.”

“Way to start the morning,” Dolores muttered as she put the plates away. But then, Tom heard her press a button and hiss, “Ix-nay! Ix-nay!”

Suddenly, the fur on the back of his neck pricked up. An unsettling dread churned in the pit of Tom’s stomach, and he slowly turned to the ominious source himself.

Judge Doom.

“I’m looking for a murderer…and three fugitives.” He announced himself. All of the barflies turned away, and Dolores just stayed in her spot while Tom kept his guard. Behind the judge, the weasels were glancing around with Smartass leading the charge. They glanced around the bar, smirking at whatever damage they could cause. Greasy’s evil grin, however, dropped in confusion at the absence of Twyla perhaps. The audacity made Tom’s blood boil with wrath.

“I’ve already found one of the fugitives,” Doom spoke, referring to Tom. He sent him a very icy glare, which Tom gladly returned. “Him, Mr. Valiant, and a Toon lady wolf.”

“A Toon lady wolf?” the dirt-stained human, called Angelo, snickered. A few other man snickered lasvicious chuckles, “Damn, I would love to hear her howl at the moon!”

They snickered, and some of them howled and whistled. Tom’s face skewered with rage, and his wrath overtook his sense of logic. But just as he was about to hop off his stool and tear those fuckers into ribbons, something flew by him like a flash. Then, he heard an object stab into flesh and Angelo cry out in agony. The demonic Rubberhose whirled his head towards Angelo’s direction, and saw a switchblade impaling his hand deep enough to draw blood. He slowly glanced around the bar, but stopped when he spotted one member of the Toon Patrol standing out of the group huddle.

Greasy’s grinning demeanor faded into an ominious, bloodcurdling glare that nearly put Tom’s to shame. He stared at the unkempt man coldly with dark, merciless eyes and something that can only be described as black murder. "Pinchazo.” He growled. Wheezy rolled his eyes, but the Puerto Rican weasel ignored him.

“Thank you, Lietuenant,” Doom thanked him, without any gratitude. Then, he decided to confront Tom. “I heard you and your sister gave my men quite the trouble last night.” He leaned in slightly, like a predator serpent looming in on its prey trapped in its coils. “And I also heard she had finally spoken.”

“Spoke?” Tom asked, letting out a sigh of exasperation as if he had already heard this so many times. “My sister was born a mute. She cannot speak.”

“Bullshtick!” Smartass snapped, making himself known. He pointed a furry finger at the taller Toon. “She told us ta' get off of ya, then she tried ta' ‘mash’ us with a chair!”

“Duh, yeah!” Stupid poked his head behind Greasy’s shoulder, nodding in agreement. “She made the the place drip with yucky black ink, and then disappeared! Is she a magician?” he asked Tom, his hazel eyes sparkling with childish wonder.

Tom was caught off guard. He had to admit, he did not see that coming. “A...a magician? That’s new.”

“Shuddup, Stupid!” Smartass barked again.  

Tom knew it was still a question, so he was kind enough to answer. He looked at Stupid and spoke in a gentle tone. “Buddy, I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no dripping ink, and my sister didn’t talk. You guys had a mental break and it caused a hallucination.” Then, he glared at Wheezy. “I could blame it on the walkin’ roadkill here. You can tell him to quit, but he was probably drawn with less of a brain thanks to his ashy, chain-smokin’ ass.”

Wheezy’s reddened eyes narrowed, and a huff of smoke escaped his lips. “Why, you—!”

He was about to lash out, but Doom stopped him with his cane. “As I was saying, I’m looking for a murderer.” He looked at a small group of men and exlciamed, “A rabbit!” They scurried out of their table like a pack of cowardly rats. “A Toon rabbit. About…” He pushed down the head of a human dwarf, setting him down to his knees, “…yay big.”

Dolores stepped forward. “Look, he’s the only Toon here,” she began, gesturing to Tom. “So don’t harass him or my customers.”

“I didn’t come here to harass. I came here to reward,” Doom replied, taking the sleeve of an African-American man who was apparently a war veteran. He used the sleeve to erase what was “French Onion Dip” as the special and the decimal on the price that was orginally fifty cents. He threw the sleeve to the side and took a piece of chalk. He wrote on the chalkboard, pressing enough pressure to make an earsplitting screech.

Tom flinched and shut his eyes tightly, flattening his ears down from the painful sound. Finally, Doom stopped writing and the board was written, ‘RABBIT DIP, $5000’. Tom’s ears perked as he heard a whistle, turning his attention to Angelo.

“Hey.” He said, “I’ve seen a rabbit.”

FUCK! Tom’s brain screamed, his body tense. I told him to shut up!

Doom leaned forward in interest, “Where?”

“He’s right here in the bar.” Angelo replied. But then, he swung his arm around an imaginary person sitting in an empty chair and said, “Well, say hello…Harvey!”

The patrons rose into laughter. Tom let out a sigh of relief, and couldn’t help but chuckle at that joke. He cast Smartass a nasty grin and flipped him the bird. The Brooklyn mobster’s ears flattened, growling in response. He glared back and flipped both birds at him.

Tom heard Doom turn off the record player and removed the record. He read the song, “‘Merry-Go-Round Broke Down’. Quite a loony selection for a group of drunken reprobates.”

Many turned away from the judge’s stone-cold stare, but Tom did not relent. He watched him pick up the record and…sniffed it?

“Here’s here!” he exclaimed, tossing the record through the air like it were a Frisbee until it hit Stupid right in the mouth. The boogle burst out into laughing, even Smartass. “Stop that laughing!” Doom shouted at them, mostly Smartass.

They didn’t relent, only laughed even harder. Out of the blue, Doom lashed his hand out and slapped Smartass in the face. The impact was so violent, he crashed onto a table and it snapped into wooden splinters. Tom recoiled in shock, and his eyes widened. “Holy shit!” he whisper-shouted. He glanced warily back at the dark-clad judge and felt a newfound sense of fear deep in his core.

“Have you forgotten what happened last time?!” Doom bellowed at the Sergeant. “If you don’t stop this laughing, you’re gonna end up dead just like your idiot hyena cousins!”

Smartass groaned silently as he got up and straightened his collar like nothing happened. “Say, Boss, ya want we should ‘disresemble’ the place?”

“No, Sergeant. Disassembling the place won’t be necessary,” Doom replied, walking towards where Dolores was standing behind the bar. “The rabbit is going to come right to me.”

He tapped on the countertop with the skull of his cane, beginning a rhythm. Tom’s fur tensed at the familiar sound, and knew that rhythm anywhere.

“Shave and a Haircut”.

“No Toon can resist the old ‘Shave and a Haircut’ trick,” Doom explained, peering around the back and tapping his cane against the wall.

Don’t fall for it, Roger! For the love of God, no! Tom panicked nervously. Doom was not joking; the trick is so well-executed, the Toon demon hybrid struggled to keep his claws from tapping.

Tap tap-tap-tap-tap tap tap.

Fuck fuck-fuck-fuck fuck fuck fuck!

“Shave and a Haircut,” Doom sang as he tapped the wall.

CRASH!

The wall that once hid the rotgut room exploded into a massive cloud of dust, making Tom struggle not to sneeze once a bit of dust tickled his nose. Once the dust cleared, Roger sprung out and sang the rest, “Two Bits!”

Suddenly, Doom grabbed him by the throat and held him in a chokehold. He brought the struggling rabbit up, and his lips curled in a sadistic smile with murderous mirth.

“Hey, Judge, what should we do with tha’ wallflower?” Smartass asked, he and Greasy aiming their switchblades at Eddie. He held his hands up in surrender, and Tom looked behind him to see if his sister was still there. But she vanished, much to the wolf’s horror. Fuck! Where is she?!

“We’ll see to him later. Right now, I feel like dispensing some justice. Bring me some Dip!” the judge ordered. Wheezy commanded Psycho and Stupid to help him roll the metallic barrel while being cautious to not accidently pull the lid. Roger continued to squirm his way out, but the jurist only tightened his merciless grip on his throat, making him choke a petrified whimper. After the barrel was put into place, Doom flipped the lid open. A putrid green hiss rose from the boiling liquid, and Roger screamed in terror upon seeing his fate.

Tom’s obsidian eyes glowed bright red, thinned to razor slits. He bared his teeth, ready to lunge at the bastard when a hand stopped him. Instinctively, he whipped around to slash his assailant only to meet his sister face-to-face. He was about to speak but she silently shushed him.

“Hey, Judge!”

All eyes turned to Eddie who stood next to Dolores. “Don’t a dyin’ rabbit deserve a last request?” he asked.

“Yeah, nose plugs would be nice!” Roger exclaimed, using his ears as hands to push back against the judge’s attempt to lower him into the deadly vat.

“I think you want a drink,” Eddie brought up a glass of bourbon. “How about it, Judge?”

The human judge paused for a moment, like he was pondering the offer. Then he slowly pulled Roger away from the vat. “Well, why not? I don’t mind prolonging the execution.”

“Happy trails!” Eddie brought the drink closer, but Roger shook his head and pushed it away. “No thanks, Eddie!” he said, “I’m trying to cut back!”

“Drink the drink!” Eddie pushed it back.

“He doesn’t want the drink.” Doom noted.

“He does!” Eddie objected.

“I don’t!” Roger shook his head.

“You do!”

“I don’t!”

“You do!”

“I don’t!”

“You don’t!” Tom cut in.

“I do!” Roger responded, and Eddie cut in.

“You don’t!”

“I do!”

“You don’t!”

Roger took the drink out of Eddie’s hand. “Listen, when I say I do, that means I do!” he exclaimed and drank it all in one gulp.

Aw shit, here we go again.

Roger’s eye twitched and he started convulsing. His fur changed to different colors and garbled gibberish. Despite Doom’s grip on him, he began to shake too in an oddly violent manner. As Roger’s cheeks swelled up full of air, the twins made it their cue to duck underneath the bar along with Eddie and Dolores. Finally, with his lungs full, Roger exploded high in the air and wailed like a broken train whistle. The glass bottles behind the bar exploded from the high frequency and volume into tiny glass shards, sending Doom tumbling into the customers.

Greasy was the first to attack. He saw Eddie leap over the counter and pulled out his switchblade, but the human detective socked him in the face hard enough to crash into a table. Stupid came at him with his baseball bat, but Tom grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and tossed him back into the judge and other humans, however his strength caused the potato muscleman to be sent soaring across the bar before he crashed out of a window. Psycho was about to stab Eddie with his barber razor when a gloved manicured hand punched him in the stomach, throwing him into a table. Eddie looked over his shoulder to Twyla, and the two shared a nod like they finally found some common ground. Kicking ass!

Eddie then took a chair and slammed it at Wheezy, causing him to collapse. He spun around only to see Smartass deliver a punt-kick in the balls. Then he threw a painful punch, throwing his back against the bar.

The pink-clad gangster grinned evilly as he brought out his switchblade. Before he could use it, Twyla rushed in and smashed his head with a bottle, sending him flying away from her ally.

Roger’s tea-kettle screaming came to a stop and he almost got dunked into the vat of Dip but Eddie caught him at the last minute. “Gotcha, kid!”

He pushed the barrel towards Doom’s direction, and to the twins’ surprise, he immediately flinched and took several steps back before the green liquid could make contact with his shoes. He flinched like he was afraid. Why did he do that?

“Come on, guys! Let’s get outta here!” Roger yelled, pushing past two men walking up the stairs. “Move it, pops! Yikes!”

________

Eddie and the Toons managed to make it outside and find the Toon Patrol van.

“That was quick thinkin’, Eddie! Nothin’ like usin’ the old spy flower, the wise noodle, the smart pud—”

“Roger!” Eddie yelled, grabbing him by the ears and opening the driver’s door. “Let’s use this!”

The twins squeezed in with Roger. “Let’s get out of here! What are you waitin’ for?!”

“There’s no damn key!”

“Hey, you weasels!” a gruff voice shouted. All four heads turned to the back of the van. “Let me out of here, will ya? Come on, I gotta make a living!”

“Who the fuck is that?” Tom asked.

Roger opened the sliding hatch and stuck his head through the gap. “Benny? Is that you?”

“No, it’s Eleanor Roosevelt!” the voice, Benny, replied in sarcasm. “Get me outta here, Roger!”

The rabbit squeezed himself in through the gap, and Eddie caught his love letter after it popped out of his pocket. “Guys, we got ourselves a ride! Open the doors!”

Eddie and the twins jumped out of the van. The doors opened, and a Toon taxicab leapt out with Roger in the seat. He looked pretty much like any other cab; black fenders and taxi patterns accented the doors while red patches decorated his white tires. A silver fender was placed as his nose, and the bumper served as his lips and mouth. A red flag appeared above his headlights for eyes, a spare tire hung on the trunk, and brown cushions were reserved. “Ah, that’s better! I can’t believe they locked me up for driving on the sidewalk.”

“Come on guys, get in!” Roger gripped onto the steering wheel.

“It was just a couple of miles,” Benny shrugged. Just as Eddie and Tom were about to climb into the seats, Benny pushed them back with his left wheel for a hand. “Hey, hey, hey! Ladies first.”

A light pink blush colored the tomboy’s cheeks, making her brother growl. “Oh, um…thank you?” She thanked him and slid in next to Roger.

“For fuck’s sakes!” Tom cursed, shoving Valiant out of the way. How many guys does he have to kill for hitting on his sister?! She’s too young and innocent for this indecent shit!

“I’ll drive!” Eddie said.

“But I want to drive!” Roger whined with a childish pout.

“No, I’ll drive. I’m the cab!” Benny pointed at himself, taking off and making a U-turn. “Outta my way, pencil neck!” He nearly ran a random over as he drove the group into the street. “How about this weather, huh? It never rains! And how about those Brooklyn Dodgers? Are they bums or what?”

The twins turned around at the sound of an oddly familiar wailing police siren. The Toon Patrol van was now on their trail.

“Guys, we got company!” Roger pointed to the back.

“Will you look at these two? Excuse me, ladies!” the four of them yelled as Benny cut in between two vehicles. “Now that’s what I call a couple of road hogs!”

BANG!

Twyla and Roger both ducked as a bullet flew past them. Panicked, Tom cried out his sister’s name in alarm before casting a glare back at the van. Smartass aimed at them with his revolver, and the other gangster’s fur bristled with fury. That fucker just tried to shoot his sister!

Growling, he reached down his pocket. Twyla, however, only chuckled and tucked her left hand in her jacket. “Here comes my favorite part.” She snickered with sinister delight. This scene is like playing a re-run of the chase scene in The Goonies. In sync, the twins grabbed their own weapons of choice, Tom’s Smith & Wasson revolvers, and Twyla’s deadly obsidian Blackhawk pistol. They aimed and fired back.

BANG! BANG-BANG!

The bullets boomed like thunder and soared like knives bladed to the tip and glistening with green streaks of Dip. A few of them managed to hit the sides of the van, and the impact was so powerful, it caused the vehicle to jolt. The twins could hear Smartass shouting, “SON OF A BITCH! WHAT DA FUCK?!!” Eddie whirled around to witness the shootout, and his dark eyes widened when he recognized the gun in Twyla’s hand. “What the hell?! She got a Blackhawk pistol?!”

“What is that?” Roger called out, covering his head with his hands while he was ducking from the bullets.

“It’s a super powerful gun!”

“Eddie, look out for the Red Car!”

“The what—OH, SHIIIIT!” Tom’s eyes bulged out as Benny screeched to a stop before taking off in another direction. The twins lost their posture and fell into the seats, but Tom managed to grab his sister. To make things escalate, the chase now became even more intense when the twins spotted two human cops riding motorcycles chasing after them.

“There’s cops behind us, guys!” Roger called out.

“Not for long, Roger!” Benny accelerated the speed.

Tom decided to choose a different method. “I got this.” He tucked his gun back and morphed his hands into a pair of elongated, inky tendrils before grabbing a `30’s Ford Model. Eddie’s, Rogers, and Benny’s eyes widened, and their jaws dropped in shellshock at the demon vigilante’s intimidating strength and power while he reared himself back, then threw it at the officers like he was throwing a basketball as he shouted, “YEET!”

“Tom, what the fuck?!” Twyla cried out, and he only responded with, “I’m improvising!”

Despite Tom’s assault, the cops managed to dodge the larger vehicle and continued their pursuit. Benny decided to turn around and drive backwards into an alleyway, “Now they’re right in front of us!”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Tom snapped sarcastically and held onto his fedora.

“Guys, we’re goin’ backwards! Turn us around!” Roger shouted, grabbing onto the wheel. “Gimme the wheel! GIMME THE WHEEL!”

Tom dug his claws onto the seat while holding his twin sister close to keep her from falling out of the cab as they spun around wildly until they finally drove in the right direction.

“The cops are still on our tail!”

Twyla’s eyes widened and she pointed with a claw, “Uh, guys? I think they’re on our head, too.”

The guys looked ahead and screamed in unison. The Dodge entered the other end of the alley and was now barreling towards them. They were trapped!

“Pull the lever!” Benny called out. Eddie and the gang looked through the dashboard, only to see so many buttons out of order and unlabeled.

“Which one?!” Eddie cried.

“Which one?!” Roger and the twins chorused.

“WHICH ONE?!” a sign suddenly popped out, pointing at a lever that just so happened to be there. The sign read, ‘THIS LEVER, STUPID!’. Now that she looked, Twyla did feel kind of idiotic for not noticing that it was the only lever. “Tom, cover our backs!” she commanded her brother.

He nodded, whipping out his revolver again. “I gotcha, sis!”

She made a grab for the lever and yanked it down just as they were about to crash. With a harsh rattle, Benny rose up high in the air on his wheels just as Tom turned around and fired two bullets at the van’s wheels. Smartass’s enraged screaming echoed through the stone walls of the alley, and he poked his head out of the driver’s window to deliver his second-known nemesis an angry flip of the bird, “FUCK YOU!”

“UP YOURS TOO, ASSHAT!” Tom returned the bird and watched the van slam into the motorcycles. He pointed at them, cackling as Benny wobbled down the street.

“Hey, Roger! What do you call the middle of a song?” Benny asked.

Roger scratched his head, “Gee, I don’t know—A BRIDGE!!!”

Tom dived back in and used his body as a shield to protect Twyla while ducking them both. Thankfully, Benny leapt over the rim of the bridge and narrowly missed a lady before finally landing back on the ground. “Heh-heh-heh! So fellas, where can I drop ya?”

“Somewhere we can hide,” Roger answered.

“I got just the place! And incidentally, if ya should ever need a ride, just stick out your thumb!” he delivered his catchphrase. “HEY! Share the road, will ya, lady?!”

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths Chapter One: Point of No Return

Summary: Life is hard, especially if you’re a Toon. But life’s even harder if you’re a Toon hybrid living in a modern-day world where humans and Toons co-exist…and neither play nice. Cast aside by one of their own, a pair of twisted Toon twins finally leave the past one fiery night along with their pack to start a new life. But while they hit the road, the twins accidentally travel back in time and become a part of an investigation like no other.

Note: I’ve actually written this story before way back in 2018, but that was long back then when my old computer was slow AF and I wrote over 14 chapters. Sadly, I didn’t know how to download the original story before I got my new computer TnT. So I’m rewriting this from scratch.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence, murder, alcoholism, death, gore, Toon and hybrid Toon discrimination, profanity, attempted murder, and the Author’s terrible sense of humor

Life in Chicago is hard.

It’s hard to survive, it’s hard to get by on a day-to-day basis. New York City may be one of the toughest cities in the world, but Chicago was a city that was also known to make or break a person, but if you could make it in the Second City, you could make it in the Big Apple and that’s a fact.

But life’s even harder for a Toon. It doesn’t matter what generation you’re from, or how things changed back then. Speaking of which, here is a quick history lesson. Up until the year 1928, the world was full of nothing but humans. Humans that went about their daily lives, doing little things here and there to survive. However, that all changed after a…magical incident. Apparently, the animation legend Walt Disney had been working tirelessly to achieve his lifelong goal; make his dream come true. And after years and years of hard work, his dream stepped out of the crisp, clean white sheet of paper.

The first cartoon ever brought to life. Mickey Mouse.

But, you see, Mickey wasn’t really brought to life from an ink pen and white paper. Unbeknownst to humans, another universe existed like all the others in the galaxy. It goes by many names, but it is known as the Tooniverse, an alternate version of the human world ruled and constructed by cartoon characters. Imagine it as a universe where Cool World meets Bonkers, and Disney’s relationship with Mickey was lightly like Jack Deebs’ with the devil-in-disguise bombshell Holli Would. Disney thought he created Mickey, but he existed long before he popped out of the paper.

Shortly after he made his debut to the public, there was a HUGE ruckus. Human citizens began reporting seeing cartoon characters made by Disney and other cartoonists and animators popping up all over the city of New York, and it wasn’t long before Toons began pouring from the woodworks. But despite the love and success Disney and Mickey gained, it did cause a controversy.

Not all humans were thrilled to see cartoon characters coexist in the human world. In fact, most weren’t. Many saw them as nothing more than entertainment for kids, and often talked down to Toons as if they were mere toddlers unable to grasp the concept of human civilization and reality.

And then…things escalated into violent breakouts. Let’s just say Disney wasn’t happy with the humans’ negative response to the new way of life, and with the little help of another entrepreneur named Marvin Acme, they managed to convince Congress to pass the Disney & Acme Civil Rights Movement for Toons Act of 1947 (or Toons’ Rights Act of `47 for short). They pushed politicians to do the right thing, to give Toons civil rights because they were people too and deserved to be free instead of spending their lives caged and living in fear. Although the battle was long and brutal, the politicians gave in and several laws passed, eventually giving Toons equal rights. Life became happier for Toons.

However, humans still discriminate against Toons in the modern generation.

There were hate crimes. There were occasional riots not just outside of Toontown, a safe haven built for Toons located in Los Angeles, California, but literally in other states and even countries. Toon families who lived outside of Toontown were pretty common, but many fled to Toontown in fear of being mugged. Those who stayed, however…well, you get the picture. More laws were put in place to protect Toons living outside of Toontown, but the bloodstained ink still paints the walls to this very day.

But if you think things are bad enough for Toons, imagine your life as a hybrid Toon.

Hybrid Toons, like any hybrid creature, are Toons born between two different Toon species, whether one Toon parent is a cartoon human, animal, insect or even a Toon created through…darker circumstances. A halfie…is probably the only polite term hybrids have other than “hybrid”. Others would call them “half-breeds” and etcetera due to having physical features inherited by their interspecies parents but addressing them as “half-breeds” and such is basically a racial slur. WHICH IS LITERALLY THE WORST THING TO SAY TO A HYBRID TOON!!! Sadly, humans and Toons discriminate against halfies, because they weren’t “fully Toon like one of their parents”, which is bullshit. Thankfully, there are Toons out there who are more accepting of halfies and often at times see them as one of their own, but the hate still plagues the lives of these poor individuals.

Especially if they’re living in Chicago. Until one night in Chatham…

_

In folklore, the Witching Hour or “Devil’s Hour” is a time of night that is known to be associated with supernatural events, whereby witches, demons, and other supernatural entities are thought to appear and be at their highest of power. Times often vary, such as the hour immediately after midnight, and the time between 3:00 am and 4:00 am.

That won’t be happening for two more hours, Twisted Twyla Toonz thought. She checked the time on her phone. 11:20 pm.

Crossing her arms, she emerged from the darkness of the abandoned warehouse and stepped into the pale, golden light of the streetlamp post.

Twyla’s Toon design appeared as an “emo teenage Minerva Mink” at first glance. But upon noticing her long wolf-like ears and her powerful femininity, she’s blossomed into a young woman reaching her early twenties. She stood just shy of six feet and carried herself with a dark queenly power. Twyla’s hair was as black as a starless midnight with waves hovering her midriff like the wings of a hovering raven and wistful bangs that veiled her left eye like the blade of a curved dagger. Her ghostly pale gray fur was an eerie contrast to her dark hair, so pale it appeared unnerving. Although she was slightly thin, she had a body that was carved with voluptuous curves carefully crafted by the skillful hand of an artist, and between small shoulders hung a large, womanly bust. Her hands and feet were delicate and feminine, but not without their deadly weaponry; sprouting from the tips of four fingers and three paw-toes were lethal, sharp claws painted glossy onyx that can slash through stone, flesh, and bone. Behind her, a long, enormous tail nearly twice her size was covered in soft, thick layers of inky fur swaying in the light like a looming shadow.

Twyla’s face was angelic and youthful, framed like a heart with a small touch of fluff on her cheeks, and she had a small, adorable black puppy nose that could easily sense prey and danger miles away. Two large, slightly rugged wolf ears matched her fur, and her right ear had a notch pierced by a single silver hoop earring. She also had dark, delicate lips soft like petals hiding a fearsome bite. But it was her eyes that gave her name. Twyla’s large, doe-like eyes, shaped like 1930s pie-cuts, were two bewitching shades of midnight and amethyst glittering in the darkness of night like stars.

Since the Witching Hour is close at hand, she thought she would dress for the occasion. For her outfit, she was wearing a gothic midnight purple bustier crop-top, trimmed with black elegant vampiric lace accenting the cleavage and the hem. Despite the month being the middle of August, it gets chilly when nightfall rises so she decided to wear a badass studded black biker jacket with matching biker gloves to keep warm, and like hell she was going to go anywhere without her large broad-brimmed black hat. She also wore skintight black jeans framing the svelte shape of her legs adorned with a silver vampire skull-buckle belt, black biker boots and around her neck she wore a necklace holding a beautiful sparkling silver crescent moon pendant, complimenting her name.

Her right ear perked hearing the sound of walking footsteps and turned to see the three other members of her family.

The first one to walk out the rusty door was the youngest, Echo. Echo was a petite pre-teen Toon mouse, and she had no business in being cute. Her fur was a light soft tan, warming her up from the tips of her ears to the tip of her long, slightly shaky tail. On top of a messy cloud of pink cotton candy for hair were two big mouse ears with pink insides, twitching from every sound they detected, even a heartbeat. Her eyes were pale milky blue, kissed by girlish lashes that fluttered like the wings of a fragile, innocent butterfly. While she had no whiskers, she had cute little buck teeth peeking out of her mouth accented by an adorable pink twitching nose.

Because she was a cartoon mouse, she had to be spoiled with cheese-themed clothing and accessories. She wore a long-sleeved black top with a Tom and Jerry logo with a baby pink tank underneath, cheese-designed pajama bottoms and sky-blue sneakers. Her jewelry only consisted of turquoise cheddar rhinestone earrings and a matching necklace. She was dragging the last remaining suitcase holding precious cargo she needed with her for the trip, and as she walked, her right sleeve accidentally slipped down her shoulder. Twyla’s heart panged spotting a handprint bruise that has been slowly healing and bit her cheek to hold back a murderous growl stuck in her throat from the memory of how Echo got that bruise.

The sweet mouse girl walked over to the slightly older female and requested for her help. They walked over to the back of the expensive silver SUV and Twyla clicked on the key button to open the trunk before helping Echo lift the suitcase in.

“Move faster!”

“Excuse me, asshat, last time I checked I can’t moonwalk without tripping over my fuckin’ tail!”

The girls turned their heads to the source (or should I say, sources) of the ruckus. It was just the boys taking a turn carrying a rather large heavy box, probably for Adam’s computer table.

Adam Rivers Foxington, or “Slick” as he’s nicknamed, was the oldest of the group. He was a young, handsome Toon fox with a lean bod. His fur was a fiery orange, save for his snow-white muzzle and underbelly. His face was cartoonishly vulpine, tufted in fluffy white fur softening his cheeks though his bite wasn’t nearly as soft. His ears were fluffed with cream innards, pointed with keen sharp awareness that matched his eyes like sharp jade razors. His attire of choice only had the intention of blending in, so he only wore a black hoodie with navy blue jeans and black shoes.

The fourth member was Twyla’s twin brother, Tommaso Toonz, or “Gunslinger Tom” for short. Unlike Twyla, he appeared more as a 1930s Toon wolf minus the longer snout and whiskers that haven’t grown in yet. His fur was inky black and quite rugged from the tips of his ears to his long furry tail, warming his sinewy physique. On top of his head was a wild mess of scruffy jet-black hair reaching down the nape of his neck adorned by unkempt bangs veiling over his forehead, casting a dark shadow over his pie-cut eyes that can pierce any man’s heart like two deadly obsidian bullets. Like his sister, he wore biker clothing. He wore a large, bulky black leather jacket over a matching V-neck top that barely concealed his brutal power, and wore dark ripped jeans adorned with a single silver chain dangling his left hip held up by a golden belt with ass-kicking biker boots. And like hell he was going to go anywhere without his own black fedora. His outfit of choice complimented his overall style; big and bad.

The boys lifted the box and with one heavy grunt, they carefully pushed it into the trunk. Tom fanned his sweaty face with his fedora. “All right,” he panted. His voice was smooth gravel smoked by a thick Chicago accent. “Is that everything?”

Echo pulled out her notebook where she’d listed down the essentials they’d bring. After a long moment, she looked up to their leader and nodded. Three sighs of relief exhaled.

This all started with an idea Adam suggested a few months ago, something that they all have been wanting for as long as they knew each other: a new life.

After they all discussed this during a sleepover meeting, the plan was set in motion. While the girls were sleeping, Tom and Adam stayed up all night, planning. They plotted the overall costs –- the cost of gas for hundreds of miles, the cost of food, hotels, and ideas for the ideal location. Thanks to Adam’s tech-wizard and hacker skills, he pointed Tom to a property resided in a few states over in a unique town where security is enhanced and job opportunities are better, and the house was big enough for all four of them. And thanks to Tom’s sleuth skills he learned while taking “odd jobs”, he was able to receive more than enough money to pay for most of the costs. The boys even cracked a chuckle, imagining the girls’ excited squeals when they see their “new home” while discussing what they’d need to bring, what’d they need to leave behind, and how much money they still needed to save. After figuring out how long it would take for them to reach that goal, they set a date: in six months, they’ll pack their bags and leave Chicago for good.

Tonight is the night.

However, only one question remained. Tom and Twyla turned to Adam. “Well, Slick?” Tom asked.

The fox chuckled and whirled himself around in a Toon-Tornado. He was sitting in a judge’s chair with a desk while holding a neat stack of papers. Putting on an antique pair of round spectacles, he spoke in a deep powerful voice. “After reviewing your case in a thorough analysis and inspection with the court, I have concluded the state of your request.”

All three heads zeroed on him, “Well?”

Adam looked up at the twins…and smiled broadly. “Congratulations, Mr. and Ms. Toonz.” He handed them over the papers, “You have been properly and officially emancipated. Case close.” He pounded his table with the gravel.

The silence was monumental before the three Toons let out a huge “WHOOO!!!!”, and the girls hugged each other while Tom did a Smooth Criminal victory dance and finished with a dab. Then, they all pulled Adam in for a powerful group hug, happiness flowing through their bonds, their spirits alive and singing. Their hug lasted for another long moment before Tom reluctantly pulled away. He dusted his arms and his hat, “All right, enough of this gooey emotional shit.” He ignored the girls’ deadpan looks and put his fedora back on. “How’s it lookin’ for transportation?”

Adam pulled out his phone and viewed the contents. “Smooth like silk. The Amtrack will be able to get us to L.A. within two days, seventeen hours and forty minutes, and the train doesn’t leave until midnight. Unfortunately, I couldn’t save two more seats for you guys, so I propose using the only Toon-friendly trolley system Chicago has to offer.”

“The Red Car.” Tom nodded. “Which means, it’s gonna be an even longer trip for us.” He frowned thoughtfully. “That’s not too far from here, so we should be able to catch the Red Car on time.”

Adam could tell there was something else Tom was hesitating to say. “What are you gonna do in the meantime?”

Daring to sneak a glance, Tom softly cursed from the slightly tense look in the older male’s eyes and sighed, knowing damn well how they’re going to take this next news. “Twyla and I are gonna grab a few more things at the Hellhole.”

“What?!” The twins winced from the anger of Adam’s sharply loud voice and the terror in Echo’s eyes. “Toonz, are you shitting me?! You said that you’ll never step one foot in that fuckin’ place again, and we both know why!”

“I know, and I mean that.” Tom placed a hand on the Toon fox’s shoulder. “But there are a few good memories that were stolen from us, and we want those back.”

After hearing “good memories”, Adam’s sharp glare softened, albeit slightly.

“No one’s gonna find us, right?”

Three heads turned to Echo who spoke for the first time since they started packing. She was glancing at them worriedly and her poor ears drooped, which softened their hearts. Sweet, precious Echo. She’s always looking out for them even after she has been through so, so much pain and unimaginable suffering.

Tom walked over and gently placed both hands on her delicate shoulders. “We’re gonna be fine, Candy Girl. Adam and I both made sure that our tracks are well hidden while going over the costs of our plan. Right, Slick?”

“That’s right, pipsqueak.” Adam nodded, “I went through the trouble of tweaking the security footage of the webcams and traffic light cameras to make double-sure we don’t get any unwelcome visitors. Not like that’s ever gonna happen. I mean, I’m already emancipated since I got tossed out. You were pronounced “missing”, basically dead. And the twins…” he trailed off, casting the twins a somber, wary glance. “Well…”

“No one even acknowledged us, so our “disappearances” will barely make it to the news.” Tom finished grimly.

His packmates looked down at the ground, bracing the chilly air of silence or Tom’s ice-cold resentment. Or the memory of the hard pill they’ve all swallowed long ago. After another long moment, Adam was the first to speak. “You sure we can’t tag along?” he asked.

“Trust me, it’s as bad as you remember. And we definitely don’t want Echo to get sick from inhaling the nasty stench of B.O. and booze.” Their leader replied, chuckling from seeing Echo’s cute little face scrunch. “You got your phone set?”

Adam looked at his device. “We’re hot.”

“Good.” Tom nodded. The boys exchanged a quick bro handshake, silently wishing each other good luck while Echo walked over to give Twyla another hug, only to make this one last longer. She finally pulled away, still holding onto the ravenette’s shoulders.

“Promise me you’ll be careful?” she asked, looking her right in the eye.

Twyla nodded. She understood why Adam and Echo were so hesitant to start the trip without them, but she and Tom didn’t want them to take any chances at the Hellhole. Her brother gently nudged her shoulder, getting her attention. Then he looked at the other two. “You gonna buy us a pizza to welcome us home?” He grinned at Adam.

“After making me haul up all your heavy-ass cargo? I don’t think so.” The fox snorted, flipping him the bird.

“Up yours too, asshole.” Tom chuckled, returning him the bird before he and his sister began their trail to the Hellhole.

Adam shook his head, grumbling as he walked over to get into the driver’s seat. Echo watched the twins go, her eyes glistening with inky tears. She held onto the passenger’s handle with one hand, and behind her back she kept her fingers crossed.

__________________

It was practically pitch-black when they stopped at the apartment in East Chatham. The building was four stories in height and held more than 20 apartments, built of crumbling red bricks and mortar that weakened with age, bits and pieces falling off like the paper edges of a torn, tossed model sheet. The sides were caked with moss and mold from rain, age, and neglect. All the windows were closed and most of the lights were off, but the twins could see the cracks that had been left uncared for. Across the left side of the entrance stood a towering tree, its posture hunched over from the weight of the leaves and its branches dangling like a pork pig carcass. The perimeter was guarded by iron black gates tipped with sharp spear points, but no one was really living there. Everyone left, but some stayed to rot.

The twins exchanged a silent conversation, then they both nodded. “You sneak in through the bedroom window, I’ll check the master’s for more cash and heat.” Tom spoke, then he walked off to the other sidewalk.

Twyla observed her surroundings, pondering how she was going to sneak in without having to use the door. Her eyes saw the tree and a lightbulb lit above her head. She spotted the largest and thickest branch, rubbed her gloved hands together, and lunged onto the tree. With one hand on the branch, she hoisted herself up and used her tail to secure her landing before she began to climb. The wolf-mink female prowled across the branch like a graceful panther, moving the thick leaves out of her path, then she spotted the closet roof she could land on. Without taking her eyes off the roof, she took a slow deep breath, and jumped. Her raven hair flew around the air like a dark cape as she adjusted her altitude into a somersault, and like a performer, she landed on the roof with graceful time and finesse.

Twyla walked across the left side of the building, keeping her ears high and her eyes clear. It wasn’t long until she spotted the only window she was looking for, and she crouched down to knee-level before she reached for the bottom rail. It wasn’t locked. She carefully lifted the window up and stepped into the bedroom. Twyla’s and Tom’s old bedroom.

The walls were painted pale gray, almost white and the floor was blanketed in grey carpet padding. Across them were pale shadows of the band posters the twins already took down, and the bookshelf was void of the twins’ favorites, like The Outsiders and The Great Gatsby, and Twyla’s collection of Edgar Allan Poe. On Twyla’s left stood a twin-over full bunk bed, padded in skull-designed pillows and blankets. Sighing, she sat on the larger bottom bed where she once slept, her head in her hands. She thought of the good memories she acquired in the room. The times she spent trying to read while Tom played his favorite video games, days she spent helping Tom with his homework.

There were so many memories in this one room it was crazy. Her mind flittered to nights long ago when she helped clean her brother’s wounds, Tom cheering her up with his goofy voice impressions, but she banished the memories as soon as they came. The pain of remembering was too hard. She already had her bags packed in Adam’s car, and she entrusted him and Echo to look after them. And in spite of everything, she’s not bringing as much as she would need to. She only brought one purse where she kept her most valued and important necessities, and everything else she needed.

Sighing, she got up gingerly, careful to keep her movements quiet as she took her purse. As she grabbed onto the bedroom doorknob, she looked over her shoulder to the opened window, her heart steady and still as she faced the city with a somber glance.

Chicago was no longer her home.

Twyla opened the knob, and carefully pushed the door open without making a sound. She poked her head out, and noticed the long hallway across the living room and kitchen where the master bedroom was. Tom should be finished by now.

She stepped out into the living room and—

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Twyla froze. Her pale gray fur raised, alarming her that she was in grave danger. And when she looked at the balcony, her blood ran cold like ice.

Standing in front of her was another male Toon wolf, older by a few years. Unlike Tom, his fur was a rusty red and dirty compared to Adam’s. His hair was shorter than Tom’s but just as scruffy, and one of his ears was nearly torn off. He wore a stained white tank over worn-out jeans and black western boots adorned with a leather strap studded with flesh-piercing spikes. And he was muscular, but he wasn’t built with a soft layer like Tom has. No. He was huge, shredded, and his arms were packed with heavy muscle like steel armor. He towered over her, standing at an imposing height of seven feet, clenching his fist with one hand and Twyla could see the empty bottle.

Oh fuck, he’s drunk again.

Twyla’s eyes moved back to him, but doing so made her heart stop. He was looking at her the same way he always did, and it always frightened her. His lips bared into a menacing growl, revealing a mouthful of sharp bone-chewing fangs, but it was his eyes that terrified her the most.

Eyes full of ice-cold hate.

Twyla was paralyzed with fear, her heart beating so loud her eardrums would burst. Every fiber of her being trembled, unable to shake off the impending waves of horror from the sight of him, and she fought very hard not to let the memories cloud her vision.

If she spoke, he would only get angrier.

And if she did not speak, he would only get angrier.

She had to be careful.

“I-” she began to stutter but caught herself. He hates it when she stutters. “I’m sorry, Darry. I’ll leave now—”

It happened so fast. Paralyzing pain singed her right cheek. Her head spun so fast she could have gotten whiplash before she fell on the floor, spots popping up in her vision as she tasted blood on her tongue.

“You’re sorry? YOU’RE SORRY?!” the male roared. His voice was like an avalanche of a thunderstorm; loud, booming, and unforgiving. His icy blue eyes flashed like lightning, and a low growl rumbled from his throat like a warning thunder. “You have the fuckin’ nerve to show your ugly-ass mug here in my house, after what you’ve fuckin’ done, and now you’re fucking SORRY?!?!”

Twyla couldn’t breathe. His words dug into her chest like sharp claws, ripping out her heart. It wasn’t the first time he said something like this, not the first time he blamed her. Every day and night was the same back when she and Tom lived with him. He comes home from work. He drinks. And he gets angry. And even on nights he doesn’t drink, he gets angry. She wanted to help him. And she tried—she really tried, but the grief destroyed him.

She tried to speak—but bolted as soon as she saw the bottle flying towards her.

It shattered upon impact against the wall, broken glass shards scattering across the floor like pieces of broken crystal. Twyla was terrified, silent and shocked. He had never raised a hand or threw his beloved Jack Daniels at her before. She faced Darry, but he was already charging at her like a savage animal; luckily, she was able to leap over him despite being in a narrow-spaced apartment just as her opponent slammed headfirst into the stove. He grabbed onto the counter and stove railing for support, but he accidentally knocked over another bottle of alcohol, but it was full, and he switched the burner control knob on. Fire burst from the grate right into Darry’s face and right arm, causing him to recoil and scream in agonizing, burning pain.

Twyla spotted the balcony and its doors wide open. She grabbed her bag and ran over to get ready to jump.

But just as she reached out for the railing, Darry’s large hand grasped onto her tail in a very painful grip and swung her high in the air before slamming her on the ground hard enough to injure her skull. Mind-searing pain coursed her head, and her vision became distorted. And then, the large red beast pounced on her and curled his strong hands around her neck, using his strength and body weight to prevent her from escaping.

Twyla tried gasping for breath, but she could barely breathe due to her lungs being constricted. She writhed and kicked as much as she can, but Darry wouldn’t even budge. Her vision began to darken. Fuck, this is bad! She needed to be stronger!

Despite her deteriorating vision, she saw Darry pull something large and metallic out from his pocket and heard something click. Then she spotted little green splatches drip from the long barrel of the object. She took a whiff, and her heart dropped down to her stomach.

Is that…Dip?! Her amethyst eyes went wide as saucers, stricken in horror. How the hell did he get a Dip-bulleted gun?!

A new burst of adrenaline kicked in her system, and she felt a newfound strength within her fight-or-flight instincts. She clawed and kicked even harder, even as Darry’s vice-grip on her neck tightened.

“It should have been you,” Darry snarled resonantly. Twyla dared to look at his half-burned face. His right eye was bloodshot, marred by the burn scars scorning the side of his forehead all the way down to his cheekbone and neck. He glared down at her with barbaric, murderous hatred before he aimed the barrel of his gun at her face. Twyla’s heart pounded with intense, quivering terror. “IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!!!”

“GET THE HELL OFF OF HER, YOU BASTARD!!!”  

Darry whirled his head around and Tom lunged onto him, knocking Darry’s gun out of his grasp. Twyla rolled over to her side, gingerly soothing her throat as she coughed heavily. As she slowly regained consciousness and oxygen, she turned to see her brother on top of the larger wolf and beating the absolute shit out of him. His tail whooshed and lashed out like a furious, deadly cobra as he beat his bloodied fists repeatedly in the drunk bastard’s face, screaming curses and obscenities in hateful English and Italian.

And Darry was completely fucked up.

His hair and fur massed with dirt and blood, his left eye nearly swollen shut, and his red cheeks battered with red, purplish bruises. His snout was smeared with traces of blood dripping down his nose and seeping down his lower lip, staining his gritted teeth red. Twyla could see three bleeding claws marks across the older male’s chest, and figured that Tom was trying to rip his heart out.

Tom saw his sister watching and shouted, “GO! I’ll hold him off! GO!”

With him distracted, Darry took advantage of the opportunity to unsheathe his claws and swung his right hand at Tom’s face, scratching him. He was sent flying across the room before he tumbled into the crappy sofa, causing the furniture to fall on top of him. The drunk brute used his hands to steady himself, swaying a bit as he struggled to stand up, his eyes locked on the biker-clad gangster.

No! No! Twyla panicked, looking around to find what she could use. She saw the gun and immediately tucked it into her jacket pocket, but her eyes spotted something. A long glass shard.

Tom clutched onto his left ribcage painfully, gritting his teeth as he held onto the sofa with his one hand before he slowly pulled himself up. A thin trail of blood dripped down his right eyebrow, clouding his vision. He dug in his left pocket, but Darry had him cornered. He grabbed Tom by the scruff of his neck and reared his right fist, ready to punch him.

But before he could throw his fist, Twyla pounced on him from behind and used her delicate arms to pull him into a chokehold. The red Toon wolf dropped Tom and grasped onto the girl’s arm, intent on pulling her off him. But Twyla was quicker.

She pulled out the shard, shoved it around Darry’s neck, and slit his throat.

Slash.

Crimson blood sprayed from Darry’s throat like a sprinkler, staining his shirt. His eye widened in shock. All he could do was grasp his bloodstained neck and let out a garbled symphony of choked screams and groans from the unbearable, flesh-tearing pain. The twins watched him sway, his arms dangling to his sides. Then he fell onto his back motionlessly.

Tom stood up on his feet and quickly walked over to his sister. He knelt and gently held her by her shoulders. “Are you all right?” he asked, then reprimanded himself when he saw the nasty bruises on her cheek and neck. “Fuck that. You’re not all right. Stupid question.”

Twyla nodded, but softly gasped when she saw the scar on his eye. “Tom. Your eye.”

“Huh?” He reached up and touched his eyelid, hissing upon impact. “Oh, I’ll be fine. I’m fuckin’ Gunslinger Tom Toonz, for God’s sakes.” He snickered.

Twyla sighed and shook her head, but she couldn’t hold back a snicker.

A garbled groan interrupted them.

The twins both turned to see Darry, who was still alive. But he was barely breathing. He laid in a puddle of his own blood, gently grasping his slit throat to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. His heartbeat was slowly growing faint, his breaths growing weaker by the minute. He heard two sounds of footsteps walking towards him, and he looked up to see Tom and Twyla standing near him.

They loomed over him like two foreboding phantoms, staring down at him with bared fangs and hellish fury glowing in their eyes. Tom’s hardened, murderous glare suddenly extinguished into a calm but stoic expression. He and Twyla turned to each other and stared right in the eyes, as if they were having a silent conversation.

After a long moment of silence, Tom spoke. “If we do this, we cannot return.”

Twyla looked at him for a moment, then slowly turned to the dying drunkard before them. She stared at him long and tense, unwavering even as he glared hotly at her despite the life slowly draining out of him.

Twyla shut her eyes, then looked away.

Tom jerked a nod, “You might wanna take a step back.”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his gun.

Darry’s dying heart skipped a beat and opened his mouth to scream.

A gunshot broke the silence, and the bullet pierced right into his heart.

Splatches of dipped red smeared the floor right where Twyla stood and stained the sofa. Smoke rose from the corpse’s bleeding chest where Tom shot him, and Darry’s right hand fell to his side. The slash was so deep Twyla practically cut his head off. Hell, Tom could even see the veins on his jugular. He grinned with proud sadistic mirth.

Suddenly, a harsh brazen screech shrieked, followed by the smell of alcohol and gas. The twins whirled to see a growing fire fueled by the spilled booze, the flames tickling the steel exterior of the stove and dripping down to the floor. “Oh, shit! Fire!” Tom shouted, “Grab your bag and let’s bail!”

Twyla secured her purse and took her brother’s hand, running together towards the balcony. With one great leap, the twins jumped high in the air and soared across the backyard. Tom pulled his sister close protectively while keeping his hat on before he landed on his feet just inches away from the gates. He allowed himself to take a few deep breaths before he and Twyla continued running. They ran across the narrow trail leading to the left side of the apartment, not once releasing their grip even after they stopped out in the open. Twyla’s chest was heaving heavily, inhaling huge gusts of air and suddenly she spotted something red driving down their way. “Look!” she pointed.

Tom looked past his twin’s shoulder and squinted. Then he beamed, “The Red Car!”

Indeed, it was the Red Car. Their own chariot, painted in shining red and gold. Brought to you by the Pacific Electric Railway company. And right on schedule!

With all the energy they had left, the twins darted all the way down to the closest stop on the end of the sidewalk. Once they reached there, Tom pulled out his wallet while Twyla quickly applied some concealer to hide her bruises. Her brother stuck out his thumb, motioning for the vehicle to stop. With a slow, steaming hiss and the brake on the wheels, the Red Car stopped for them. The doors opened, revealing the driver to be an elderly male Toon vulture.

“You here for the midnight trip?” he asked gruffly.

“Yeah.” Tom, being the gracious gentleman he was, dug out a big smack of $20. “Would this do?” he asked, giving the driver the money.

He looked down, then sighed. “All right. Hop in.”

Tom tipped his hat, “Much obliged.”

He led his sister to the back seats at the end of the Red Car and let out an exhausted sigh the moment he sat his ass down. Twyla joined him, digging in her small mirror to check her reflection. The doors closed, the engine started, and the ride began. The Red Car was driving a few blocks past 79th Street when the twins suddenly heard a siren. They looked over Twyla’s right where the window was and saw a Toon firefighter truck zooming down past them. Eyes widening, they turned around and peered through the small glass window to watch the truck drive towards East Chatham where a flaming inferno blazed to life, eating the blackened tree leaves. The glow of the fire shone bright in the dead of night, melting the chains of the unreachable past.

This was the point of no return.

“Boy, am I glad to be out of this hellhole.” The driver grumbled to himself.

“You and me both.” Tom agreed, unaware of the stricken look on his sister’s face.

She shook it off, then looked at the words on the tracker written in glowing neon.

3280 Hyperion Avenue, Los Angeles, California.

Their destination; Toontown.

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths Chapter Six: Acme Dropped Dead

Summary: A murder occurred last night, and all fingers point at Roger. What was once a simple snoop job is now a case only Valiant and the Toonz twins could solve.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, and @lastofautumn

It was around 8:45 p.m. when Eddie and Tom returned to the office. After Tom hung his hat and jacket on the coat rack, he turned to see his boss pulling down a bed from one of his shelves. “Here, you and your sister can sleep on the bed.” He spoke.

“Thanks,” Tom replied, but suddenly his stomach growled. “There ain’t no way we’re having that disgusting fast-food crap for dinner. Mind if I borrow your kitchen?” he asked.

“Sure, just don’t make a mess.”

“OK, thanks.” The Toon wolf hybrid walked up the small staircase to the kitchen counter. He pulled out three large bowls, kitchen utensils, a lodge cast iron dual handle pan, and a meatball baking tray. “How do you feel about classic Italian meatballs and spaghetti?” he called out.

The homeowner nearly dropped his bottle, gaping at him with wide eyes. “You cookin’ Italian? I barely have ground beef in my fridge!”

“I grabbed some while we were out on the road,” the young male replied, pulling out a grocery bag containing two pasta boxes and ground beef packaging to prove it. “Fast food is only as nutritional as a can of half-baked beans, and my tastebuds are still crying from touching that shit.”

Eddie thought about that for a moment, then slightly pursed his lips as if saying “Fair point”. The office was silent for the next ten minutes, save for the mashing of meat and steaming, boiling water. Until Eddie broke the silence. “So how long have you kids been traveling?”

“A couple of days,” Tom answered, stirring the wooden spoon around the pasta pan while checking on his phone for the meatball timer. He still hasn’t managed to reach out to the rest of his family. Fuck, they’re going to be pissed.

Tom continued, “It was cumbersome to find an easy ride operated by folks who wouldn’t try to overcharge you for making ‘modifications’ or use shady tactics to increase the prices.”

“Really?” the detective asked, sounding mildly shocked that a transportation system would actually refuse to serve someone—even if they’re Toons. “Even the Chicago Union Station?”

Tom remembered that the station was built in 1925, and back in that time, Toons weren’t even allowed to get a ticket without receiving permission from their creators. Which is complete bullshit. Things did get better over the last few decades, but there’s always some jerkass loitering the Grand Halls spouting offensive comments about Toons entering the station to find their destinated trains acting all grown-up and independent.

He sighed, “Yeah.”    

With his back turned, he didn’t see the gruff investigator furrow his brows in concealed appall. His grip on the bottle slightly tightened, then he asked, “So how did you get here?”

Tom pondered for a moment, then smirked, deciding that the humor is worth it. He looked over his shoulder, holding the spoon. “You ready for this piece of news?” he grinned, “The Red Car.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged. “They got Red Cars in Chicago? You got any idea how many stations you gotta stop at?”

“It was a long road trip, but it’s worth it. And it’s our first job out-of-state,” Tom shrugged, chuckling. He turned back to the stove after hearing the timers go off, gently pouring the pasta in the drainer before he opened the oven lid and pulled out the meatball tray, releasing a delicious aroma of cooked, sizzled meat. He spent the next few minutes pouring Old World Style meat sauce and adding just a pinch inhaled and grinned, “Mmm! I hope you’re hungry because my meatballs are motherfu—”   

“Uh-oh, I smell meatballs!”

Eddie and Tom turned to see Twyla opening the office door and walking in. Her little nose twitched, “Damn, Tommy, you could’ve told me we were having Italian for dinner! I would’ve been here faster.”

“Yeah, well, you know the rule, sis. When Tommy’s in the kitchen…” he grinned widely.

“Stay the fuck out!” Twyla finished, earning her a wide-eyed look of surprise from Eddie.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed incredulously, but he wasn’t offended. “Did you teach her that?”

“We’re from Chicago, what did you expect?” Tom snickered, washing his hands before he walked over and greeted his sister with a hug. Then, he whispered. “Did you find her?”

Twyla shook her head apologetically. “I couldn’t find Roger, either.”

“It’s all right,” the pack leader patted her shoulder. “I still couldn’t contact the others, either.”

He sighed, then brightened his demeanor while heading back to the kitchen to fill up Eddie’s bowl with mouthwatering meatballs and spaghetti. “Here you go, Valiant. A full dish of Tomasso Toonz’s capolavoro di polpette e spaghetti.”  

He placed the bowl down on Eddie’s desk. The human thanked him while setting his Jack Daniels aside, placing a napkin down on his lap and he grabbed his fork. He twirled a meatball around the noodles and took a bite.

“Well?” Tom asked.

Eddie chewed and swallowed. Then, he spoke. “It’s fuckin’ great.”

Tom laughed and pumped his fist victoriously while Twyla shook her head in amusement and took a seat at the card-playing table. She poured herself a glass of water before Tom handed her bowl and joined her for dinner. Eddie stayed at his desk while enjoying his meal, but the twins respected his space. They all ate in quiet, pleasant chatter and ate every bite of meat and noodle. When they finished dinner, Twyla helped her brother clean the dishes then headed for the bathroom to take a well-earned shower.

The chatter quieted down, and Tom enjoyed the tranquil silence while going through various WiFi networks. Still no signal, the gangster growled in soft irritation.

“Is your sister always quiet?” Eddie suddenly asked, breaking the silence. Tom put away his phone and turned to his boss, giving him his full attention. “I’ve only heard her speak a couple of times, but was she always quiet?”

“Like I said, she’s a gal with a few words.” Tom reminded him, raising a brow. “Why?”

The man cast his eyes down, then spoke. “Before I did cases with Toons, I had a couple of cases with people who had been threatened by criminals and other creeps.”

Tom’s brows furrowed, but his gaze wasn’t harsh. “You’re askin’ me why we’re really here.”

“Can’t blame me for being curious,” the older male admitted, shrugging half-heartedly. “It’s not every day you find a couple of Toon kids showin’ up at your door and asking for help with navigation.”

Tom held back his tongue. He had to admit, the guy can use his eyes even when he’s not on the job. After a long debate, he sighed. “OK, look.”

He stared at the human in the eye before speaking, “Truth is, we’ve been having some troubles back in Chicago and we’ve been sightseeing across the state to find a potential new place to crash.”

Eddie nodded, listening intently. “Any idea where you’re gonna go?”

“We’re almost there.” Tom replied half-truthfully. He didn’t fully trust Eddie in his and his family’s plans. “We just need to freshen up a little longer, then we’ll be outta here.”

The detective frowned a bit, then lightly titled his head. “Don’t get into any fights, you hear? I’m not paying for your bail if you get locked up.”

“Same to you,” Tom retorted, but that earned him a slight chuckle.

The next twenty minutes were silent like the grave, until the bathroom door opened. Twyla walked out, all clean and dry. She wore a black tank top designed with a skull crescent moon and embroidered with soft lace at the hem and matching lace-accented bottoms. Her arms were coated with an inky emblem of tattoos consisting of skulls, spider webs, bats, crescents, and stars kissing her forearms. Tom’s heart panged every time he saw them; he’d seen the horrific truths of those tattoos and remembered the dark events that occurred.

His baby sister noticed the bed, and her brother was already standing up. She raised a brow in confusion, and Tom’s heart nearly shattered. “Tom?” she spoke softly.

“Here,” he gently pulled back the covers and took the other pillow to prep. “You can sleep on the bed. I’ll take the recliner.”

Twyla only continued to stare, confused, but Tom softly insisted. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll be here with you.”

“Always?”

“Always.” He nodded, and his sister returned the nod before settling in the bed.

Tom only took a quick shower and returned, wearing a dark skull-patterned T-shirt and navy-blue pants, his scars fortunately veiled by the dim-light darkness. As he carefully placed the recliner close to his sister’s left, Tom heard a soft, barely-there chuckle. He sneakily peeked at Eddie, who was in his chair going through some photos that probably weren’t from the job.

His brown eyes lightened, but his smile dropped when he pulled up the last photo. Then, his lower lip wobbled, and tears glistened in his eyes.

Tom watched in shocked silence as he silently wept but didn’t dare let out a peep. He watched the man’s eyes look over to the other desk, and saw another name engraved on the plate.

Theodore J. Valiant.

He had a brother, Tom realized with quiet shock. He saw Eddie’s eyes steel, and took a big, almost hasty gulp of the booze to numb the pain before he fell into a drunken slumber.

Tom watched him for a moment, then turned back to his sleeping sister. She had the blankets pulled up to her shoulders, looking like she was in a cocoon, and the pillow was close enough to squish her left furry cheek. Like she did when she was a child.

The older twin wondered how far they’ve come, how many years they’ve spent hiding in the shadows, chased away by those who’ve shunned them. How many days they’ve spent at school being teased, bullied, and tormented for their troubles and species, and ignored by many teachers who witnessed the whole scene, and didn’t even spare the twins a glance. How many nights they’ve spent in the Hellhole, locking the bedroom door to keep the monster out.

Tom shook his head with steel resolve. The past is behind them now, and they’re still on the road to the bright future. He leaned over and kissed Twyla’s temple, patting her curly head. “It’s gonna be all right, baby sis. I’ll take care of everything.”

He reclined in his chair and finally succumbed to a deep, dreamless slumber.

________

Clank!

“Gyah!” Eddie’s loud, disgruntled shout bolted Tom out of his slumber. Instinctively, he whipped out his two Smith & Wesson revolvers and pointed them at a taller man who instantly held his hands up.

“Don’t move, stranger, or you’ll never move again.” He growled, his voice deep and threatening. “Who are you?”

“Easy, easy, Toonz!” Eddie got out of his seat and hastily stepped in between the two. “He’s with me!”

Tom looked back at the other man. He was lean and slender, clad in a mink grey jacket over a white dress shirt with a Diamondback-styled tie and mink grey trousers while wearing a light grey fedora. “Easy, son.” He said, “I’m not here to hurt ya.”

The wolf gave him the once-over, then sighed, and lowered his guns. He turned around and gently shook his sister. “Sis, wake up. We have company.”

Twyla’s eyelids slowly fluttered, and she got up with a groggy murmur. “Hmm?” she yawned, half-sleepily turning to the visitor’s direction. Suddenly, her purple eye shot wide awake and yanked up the covers to cover her chest with a surprised yelp.

Immediately, the sharply dressed man apologized. “I—I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he took off his hat, quickly turning around. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“And here you are, banging my drink.” Eddie sighed exasperatedly, ignoring the other man’s glare. “Guys, this is Lieutenant Santino. Santino, my assistants, the Toonz twins.”

“Assistants?” Santino raised a brow and give them a quick once-over, then turned to Eddie. “Gee whiz, Eddie, if you needed money so bad, why didn’t you come to me?”

Come to him? What the fuck? Tom shared an annoyed glance with his twin, who only rose a brow at the two men.

“So I took a couple of dirty pictures, so kill me.” Eddie grumbled, pouring himself another drink.

“I already got a stiff on my hands, thank you.” Santino retorted.

Stiff? All three pairs of eyes zoomed on the officer.

“Marvin Acme. The rabbit cacked him last night.”

_________

“Tom, find Baby Herman and let him know about the murder.” Eddie ordered while straightening his collar.

“Yes, sir.” Tom answered, hiding his gun in his hostler. He considered a change of wardrobe for the case, one that’s considered “professional”. He wore his signature black fedora strapped with a silver grey band, but his new outfit consisted of a black double-breasted suit jacket with sleek, matching trousers. A pitch-black tie tucked in his silver dress shirt snugly, and he wore polished black Oxfords. On his left hip, a silver chain dangled and glinted dangerously like a switchblade.

“Where should I meet you after?” he asked.

“Meet us back here when you’re finished,” Eddie replied, and the gunslinger responded with a short nod. He and Santino were about to head out when Eddie looked around. “Where’s your sister?”

A soft whistle piped up, and all three heads turned to see Twyla leaning against the doorframe.

Like Tom, she had a change of wardrobe. She wore an obsidian single-button blazer, pulling back the collars a bit to reveal a wisteria sweetheart top over sleek obsidian trousers and obsidian Cesare Paciottis adorned with beautiful, bladed swords for heels. A silver chain hung from her right hip, matching the glint of her necklace and earring. Her outfit hugged her curves snugly, outlining the frame of her voluptuous figure, and she held up her purse. She adjusted her hat and took a swan-like stroll towards the men and tilted her head as if silently asking if they’re ready to go.

“Twyla, what the fuck?” Tom demanded, his overprotective big brotherly instincts already sending him into a frenzy. “This is a murder case, not a fuckin’ Gangster’s Hideout gig!”

His sister only rolled her eyes, swept her tail up, and walked out the door. Both men watched her go, then Eddie snickered at Tom’s baffled face. “I think the lady just said you can kiss her ass.”

Santino saw the absolute murder in Tom’s eyes and decided to take the risk and save Eddie before he gets shot in the face for that comment. “Come on, Eddie.” He grabbed the shorter man by the arm and yanked him out of the office.

It was a short drive to the Acme Factory. The sun glared down harshly upon the three investigators after getting out of the car, and Twyla was relieved she was wearing her dark shades. The trio made their way to the factory, but Eddie suddenly stopped.

“Now what?” Santino grumbled.

“It’s just the closest I’ve been to Toontown in a while.” Eddie murmured. Behind him, Twyla smiled at the haven before her. Suddenly, Yosemite Sam soared out of the sky, leaving a long trail of smoke. His pants were on fire.

“Ow! Ow! My biscuits are burnin’!” shouted, running around like a jackrabbit. “Fire in the hatch! Ow! Ooh! Eee! Great horny toads, that smarts!” He found a small puddle and rested his bum down.

Twyla shook her head amusedly at the cliché act and followed the two in the warehouse. The building itself was massive, in terms of height and square feet. From what she learned at high school, Eddie and Santino, the ACME Corporation was a supply industry of running gags featuring outlandish products designed to fail at the worst possible times, and most of these products were sold for Toon-acting businesses and used for pranks. It was Marvin Acme’s kingdom of jokes, laughs, and pranks. Now the place was a shadow of its former glory, loitered with cops and detectives scavenging for clues and details.

Santino filled in Eddie and Twyla with the facts of the case on the way to the factory. The murder took place inside the factory at midnight, and Acme was found with a safe dropped on his head. All fingers point at Roger Rabbit as Acme’s murderer, which didn’t sit well with Twyla. Human deaths caused by Toons were extremely rare in the modern world, even in Chicago, but most of them were addressed as acts of self-defense in response to the horrific, intense violence bestowed upon them by humans. Murders and violent breakouts mostly occurred at alleys or in bars, but some did happen even in broad daylight.

Twyla and Tom learned long ago that Toons are very powerful creatures, no matter how they were drawn or what they exist to represent. If you fight a human, you’re bound to end up with broken bones or a black eye. But if you fight a Toon, especially one as powerful as the twins…

Well, the silver screen turns black very quickly.

She was no stranger to those crimes, and she wasn’t naïve to Toons being dangerous or committing murder. But Roger…

Something in her gut told her it couldn’t be Roger. She’s seen how he interacts with humans, and how he always smiled with no venom in his eyes even after being yelled at for messing up his lines. It’s Toon nature. If a refrigerator falls on your head, you will get birds. You cannot expect to get clonked and see stars. Impact and circumstance are two different things.

Twyla’s train of thoughts braked when she spotted a safe stuck in the center of the factory. Beneath the safe was an outline of Acme’s corpse where the safe crushed his skull. Ouch.

“Just like a Toon that dropped a safe on a guy’s head…” Santino began but trailed off when Eddie looked at him. “Sorry, Eddie. Better wait here, all right?”

Twyla’s right ear perked up, and she looked up her right to spot Jessica in a small glass-tinted room. That room was probably used for the interrogation, she thought.

“Hey, get a load of this.” An officer pulled out a Toon flat black circle from a box. “Seen one of these?” He smacked the circle and put his hand through it, and a few officers laughed.

“Hey guys!” another voice called out.

Eddie and Twyla turned around, and another detective held up a Toon wooden mallet. A spring-loaded boxing glove burst out of the mallet and nearly hit the two detectives twice. He recognized Eddie, “Didn’t you used to be Eddie Valiant?” he snickered, “Or did you change your name to Jack Daniels?”

The smaller man growled, then motioned Twyla to follow him.

One of the officers scoffed mockingly, “Lookie here, boys. He’s working with a Toon on the case. And a lady, too! I give ‘er five minutes before she breaks a nail.”

“Better give ‘er three before she breaks her heels,” another snickered, and the other men laughed.

Twyla’s posture straightened, then she slowly turned her head to the initiator officer. The dark-haired vigilante lowered her shades and sent the cop a cold icy glare with a soft, but audible growl rumbling in her throat. Their cocky grins disappeared faster than the speed of a cheetah and immediately shut their traps, turning away with their tails tucked between their legs.

Eddie gave his assistant the once-over, then slightly jerked his chin up. “Not bad.”

Twyla shrugged, giving him a small shy smirk before following him towards the safe. A man was carefully picking out some yellow flakes on the rope; it was the rope that held the safe. “What’s that?” Eddie asked.

“Paint from the rabbit’s glove,” the man responded, putting the flakes in a small zip-lock bag. Twyla silently snuck behind him and grabbed a baggie of her own with a pair of tweezers. As soon as he left, Twyla picked off some remaining traces and gently tapped him in her baggie, then she zipped it and quickly hid it inside her blazer pocket.

I’ll do a thorough inspection on this when we get back, she decided.

“Mr. Valiant?”

Both investigators turned to see Jessica. She wore a red sweetheart dress and matching heels, this time. The singer glanced at Twyla, then she looked Eddie right in the eye and slapped him across the face. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, and those pictures you took!” she exclaimed and stormed off in a dignified fury. A series of whistles came from the crowd.

Suddenly, there was a crash. One of the officers carrying a stretcher that held Acme’s body bumped into a crate, and Toon shoes started squeaking and scurrying. Twyla watched the officers struggle to put the shoes back in the crate, when all of a sudden, she heard a small buzzing noise and Eddie exclaimed in pain. She turned to see if he was all right but froze.

Standing above Eddie was a tall, skeletal man. His skin was nearly bleached of color and life, as if he were a walking corpse. He wore a peculiar ensemble of black; a long, cloak-like caped overcoat over a white dress shirt adorned by a tidy black bowtie, and his unwrinkled obsidian vest was embedded by the chain of a silver pocket watch. His long, spindly bony fingers were covered in leather black gloves. A broad-brimmed pitch-black fedora perched on his head, casting a dark foreboding shadow over his gaunt face. He wore round yellow-tinted glasses, but the intensity of his cold, soulless glare burned through the shades like the piercing gaze of a stone gargoyle. The man stood over six feet tall in height, and he pointed a skull-encrusted cane at Eddie’s hand.

As Twyla observed, the realization made her blood run cold. The man was dressed like a judge.     

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Eighteen: Kill ‘Em with Laughter

Summary: Desperate to rescue Roger and Jessica and save the future of Toontown, our heroic detective trio comes up with a plan to keep the weasels busy. Doom suddenly seems to take an interest in the twins and gives them an offer.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @lastofautumn, @spookiifi, @amberfox232, @heartsissopure, @trashogram A.K.A. @mantisandthemoondragon. Please give a shoutout to our new guest, @basiabd! 🥳👏

The twins were forced to stand next to Eddie while Roger and Jessica, who were both bound in escape-proof Toon rope, were tied to a hook to be lifted in the air. A perfect position to be dipped in mid-air, much to the twins’ horror.

Greasy managed to get himself down from the net and dusted off his trench coat. However, when his eyes locked on Twyla’s injured state, he zeroed in on her so fast she nearly jumped. Then he turned to face Tom, who was shielding his baby sister while glaring down at him. “What happened to her?!” he exclaimed, but he didn’t break his gaze from her.

“She tried to push Roger out of the way when you cut the rope,” Tom growled, “You just fuckin’ dropped a pile of bricks on her, you dick!”

The older gangster didn’t seem to react to his insult, and still focused on Twyla, much to her brother’s complete dislike. However, he stopped and whipped his head to deliver Smartass a glare so fiery, the pink bastard would have been burned to a crisp. His face darkened to a terrifying grimace, and chocolate eyes blackened like onyx. "¡¿Por qué diablos no me advertiste sobre esto antes?! ¡Se suponía que iba a ser aprehendida sin ninguna lesión! ¡Teníamos un acuerdo!" he shouted at him.

Twyla flinched from the furious volume of his voice and the intense rage in his eyes. “Uh, what did he say?” she whispered to Tom, but he barely looked at her.

Instead, he watched Greasy with genuine confusion. “What did he mean, they had an agreement?” he whispered, loud enough for her to hear.

“That ain’t how this woirks, Greasy!” Smartass shouted back, “She’s been ‘frying’ about the rabbit ever since dis case started! For Christ’s sakes, she even tried ta’ kill us twice!”

“¡Eso es porque intentaste matar a su hermano frente a ella para obligarla a hablar!" Greasy roared, his fury echoing off the walls of the warehouse. Twyla’s growing anxiety only increased as she watched the two argue. His face was monstrously skewered with anger, and his eyes flashed like lightning. He took a furious step forward, and the stomp thundered the ground. "¡Ella no necesita ver morir a su hermano! ¡Podemos convencerlos a ambos de que se unan a nuestra causa sin tener que recurrir a la tortura!"

“What?” Tom’s dark eyes shrank into pinprick pupils with great terror, but instinctively pulled his sister closer. Seeing her big brother panic made her nerves tense up, “Tommy, what did he say?”

“Awful ‘confident’ that she kept you distracted long enough ta’ lose focus on our future! Your future!” Smartass yelled and pointed at the demoness in discussion. “Tha’ broad is an enemy, and you need ta’ stop thinking with your dick!”

“His what?!” The twins chorused, though Tom’s reaction was more out of repulse, protective wrath while Twyla’s was from confused panic.

Greasy whipped out his switchblade and ran towards with an enraged cry, then he pounced on Smartass. A massive Toon cloud covered the two whilst in their violent confrontation, but the twins could catch a peek at the Hispanic weasel’s hand around the Brooklyn mobster’s neck while trying to get a direct stab. A loud cacophony of punches, exclamations, and irate bilingual cursing were exchanged between the two.

Doom appeared out of nowhere and separated them. He ordered Smartass to keep the twins and Eddie occupied while Greasy joined the other three to ensure the couple couldn’t escape.

“Time to kill the rabbit!” Psycho giggled, carrying his barber’s razor in his jaws as he climbed up and into his position on the water cannon. Meanwhile, the rest of the weasels, excluding the two leaders, were hard at work on the machine. Wheezy and Stupid worked on the other mechanisms.

“Oh, Roger, you were magnificent,” Jessica told her husband as the hook began to lift them up.

“Was I really?” he asked, smiling hopefully.    

“Better than Goofy.” 

Twyla couldn’t help but let a small smile pull her lips. Betty was right. Jessica is lucky to have Roger for a husband. Her smile dropped, however, when she noticed the judge was looking at her, then switched his gaze to Tom. His look was cold, but there was a calculating gleam in his unfeeling, soulless eyes that rubbed the dark-haired halfie’s fur the wrong way. Tom noticed it too and stepped closer to his sister.

Greasy noticed too and stepped up to his boss warily. “What are you planning to do with them, Juez?” he asked.

“I think…we can consider your offer,” Doom replied, not taking his eyes off the twins.

“Offer?” The twins exchanged an uneasy glance before Tom glared sharply at the two. “What offer?”

The skeletal monster ignored him, and instead took a step towards the ravenette despite her brother standing so close to her. Then, he answered Twyla as if she was the one who asked. “An offer I think you wouldn’t refuse,” he explained, “I don’t usually do this, but given the circumstances, I’ll consider it. Join us.”

Join you?! Twyla screamed in her head, and Tom’s teeth bared. Smartass, on the other hand, was more vocal about it.

“Join us?!” He whipped his head to the judge while his gun was still pointing at Eddie. “Judge, are you fuckin’ serious—”

“Do not question my authority, Sergeant,” Doom calmly responded, though the murderous warning in his glare was enough to shut his right-hand up. “As I was saying, I’ve been paying a lot of attention to you during this case. From what I’ve seen and what the Lieutenant told me, you’re very powerful…for a hybrid.” He muttered with so much venom in his voice, Twyla felt the insult sting her flesh, but he continued, “While you lack speech, you make up for it with brute strength and strategy. That can be valuable for our goal. Your brother will be spared, but he’s going to become more of a challenge if you’re not able to convince him.”

Smiling maliciously, he extended his hand, “So what do you say? Deal?”

Twyla’s brow arched higher as she crossed her arms, peering at him. She looked at Doom with a bewildered expression, almost as if she was seeing the malicious jurist’s stupidity for the first time. Her eyes moved to Tom’s, whose expression was no different. The silence reached an intense crescendo, so Doom leaned slightly closer.

“Well?”

Twyla looked back at him…and burst into laughter.

Everyone, excluding Tom, flinched in shocked surprise from the booming volume of her laughter. Soon, her brother cracked and cackled at the proposition too. The offer was so absurd, so utterly stupid, they couldn’t help themselves.     

“You want me to join you?!” Twyla cackled, pointing at the insane bastard of a human judge. She ignored his look of genuine shock, and asked Tom and her comrades, “Can you guys believe this shit? The…” she struggled to breathe due to her giggling, “The absolute nerve of this skeletal son of a bitch?”

“So you can talk!” Doom exclaimed.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!” The noirette barked, her amused demeanor melting into a grimace of dark, hateful rage. “You honestly think we’d actually want to help you with your shitshow of a freeway, that we’d want to help you destroy my true home and KILL everyone there because we’re a hybrids?!” she growled spitefully, “We may be twisted, but we’re not insane enough to commit genocide for our own ambitions!”

Her brother delivered a jab of his own, giving the inhumane asshole a disgusted glare of his own. “Oh, Jesus Christ, we’re bein’ extorted by a fuckin' fanatic? As if we don't kill shitbags like you for a living!”

Doom just flinched from the insult, like he did not expect that coming from anyone, let alone a hybrid Toon. Even the weasels gaped at him with jaw-dropped disbelief. But the gunslinger ignored them, “You know, I feel bad for callin’ Valiant a racist, because you’re clearly demented as FUCK!”

“So in other words,” Twyla finished with a calm tone of steel rancor, “Hell no.”

The whole warehouse was engulfed in complete silence. Not a single sound was made, nor did a single muscle move. Doom’s unwavering gaze met the twins’ for a long, unbearable moment. But then an insidious smile curled his lips. “Suit yourselves. You’ve only sealed your fates.”

He cast Eddie one last look. “It’s over, Mr. Valiant.”

Then, he just turned away, walking off while whistling a tune. He didn’t watch where he was going and walked over the mess of fake eyeballs. He lost his footing and fell to the ground, peculiarly like how a Toon would slip and fall.

The twins merely smirked, but the five weasels found the sight to be hilarious. From the corner of Twyla’s eyes, she saw Eddie inching slowly towards Smartass. With the leader distracted, she guessed he could try to disarm him and gain the upper hand.

Unfortunately, Doom turned to his side and saw the ploy. He pointed and yelled out, “Look out, you fools!”

Smartass was the first to react, ceasing his laughing and pressed the barrel of his revolver to Eddie’s face. “Not so fast.”

“One of these days, you idiots are gonna laugh yourselves to death!” Doom yelled at them.

She saw the enlightenment on Eddie’s face, and an invisible light bulb lit up her head. Tom had one, too. Die laughing? Of course!

“Shall I ‘repose’ of him right now, Boss?” Smartass asked.

“Let him watch his Toon friends get dipped, then shoot him. We’ll see to the abominations later.” The dark-shrouded skeleton replied, his hand over his right eye as he turned back around to leave the main floor.

“With pleasure.”

The other weasels laughed at the impending doom of the detective's fate. It wasn’t until he left the room that Eddie looked back at the twins, like he was silently telling them he had a plan. And they had a plan of their own.

________

Eddie looked down at the snickering Smartass, “Everything’s funny to you, ain’t it, Needle Nose?”

The hot-tempered mobster snarled, pressing the tip of his revolver at him and backed him up, “You got a problem with dat, Valiant?”

“Nah,” Eddie ‘nervously’ laughed as he stopped in front of a podium. “I just, uh…want ya to know somethin’ about the guy you’re gonna dip!”

He spun around, pushing a lever and slamming his hand on a button marked “Merry-Go-Round Broke Down”. Once pushed, a flash of colorful lights awakened a massive circus band organ instrument, and music burst with life. This caught the weasels’ attention, and even Jessica and Roger were drawn to the unexpected performance.

“🎵Now, Roger is his name, laughter is his game! Come on, you dope, untie his rope and watch’im go insane!🎵” Eddie sang, strutting forward and pretending not to notice he was walking right up to a broom. He stepped right onto it, hitting the handle right in his face.

The weasels looked at him questioningly, especially Smartass. However, the suspicion lifted when Eddie was hit with the broom again, sending him forward in a somersault right in front of the pink-clad mobster. Smartass burst out laughing, and so did the other weasels.

“He’s lost his mind,” Jessica said.

“I don’t think so!” Roger singsonged.

Before Eddie could perform his next stunt, the lights started to dim; a wave of excitement and curiosity washed over the crowd including the detective as a stage appeared out of nowhere from the other far end of the warehouse. In the mouth was the runaway stage podium veiled by dark crimson curtains, tipped by skull-shaped footlights across the edges of the stage. An eerie ocean of fog appeared from the stage and slowly filled the entire floor of the warehouse like a haunted cemetery.

Deep within the fog, Eddie could spot Tom from the left side of the stage. The Rubberhose wolf met his eyes and winked. Realization dawned upon the stocky human, and he grinned while returning the wink. He grabbed a vintage electro microphone from the circus instrument and strutted at the center of the stage while remaining cautious of Smartass’s gun-aimed peripheral vision. Stage lights wielding bright light beams of light illuminated the curtains, giving Eddie the cue.

“And now, ladies and gents, for tonight’s show, I give you a special performance!” he announced, extending his left hand to the stage. “By yours truly, the Twisted Toonz Twins, Twisted Twyla and Gunslinger Tom!”

Thunderous heavy metal music dominated the glory of the circus organ as the curtains were drawn back, and the stage lights unexpectedly darkened in the blink of an eye, just as the fog continued to flow.

“🎶Get ready for a new look, new rhythm and a new Toon crook🎶”

A single spotlight bestowed upon a Twisted Toon beauty, leaving her audience completely bewitched.

Twyla was shrouded in a strapless sweetheart lace dress as dark as the moonless midnight sky, accenting her curves just in the right places. Her sweetheart top was accented by an orchid corset of silver chains glinting off the light and jingling to the sway of her hips. The skirt of the dress was floor-length, regal, and haunting like a moving shadow. A slit, on the left side of her dress, all the way up to her thigh unveiled a svelte leg embellished by a dark variety of tattoos. Running down from her thigh to her ankle was an emblem of inky art consisting of a crescent moon glittering with stars and crystals, spider webs, and a silky ribbon adorned in tiny skulls. Her feet, small and dainty, were clad in strapped velvet black pumps adding height to her stunning statuesque frame. The beautiful crescent pendant accentuated her neck, and fell above the swell of her fluffy breasts, as though it’s always been there and glittered under the light. Both her arms were kissed by tattoos of dark temptation like constellations of gothic darkness and starlight. She kept her hat, and the wide brim cast dark shadows over her soft, angelic face. Her amethyst eyes glowed like two orbs of crystal and starlight as the thick, smoky ocean of fog once again began to manifest the stage, covering the ground beneath her feet entirely in grey, billowy smoke.

Eddie’s dark eyes widened in a trance that was much more powerful than Jessica’s sultry siren stroll. He couldn’t even move a muscle due to the massive effect Twyla’s magic created upon him. Roger and Jessica were not much different, either. It was like a domino effect, both with their mouths open at the sight of the dark goddess.

Her magic did affect the weasels more than she anticipated, even though that was the point. Her eyes trailed to Smartass for a brief moment and she was genuinely surprised by the lack of anger or hostility she had grown accustomed to. No. He was completely captivated by her haunting beauty and macabre magnificence, unable to take his eyes off the magnetic creature before him. Her glittering gray fur had him completely hypnotized when he took in her decadent presence, greedily soaking it all in as the air left his lungs like he couldn’t breathe from watching her. She bewitched him and he wasn’t even mad about it.

Wheezy’s reaction was a little more subtle, but he was affected no less. Her intoxicating presence was far more addicting than the foul-stench cigarettes he poisoned himself with. He could feel the wonderful venom of her dark majesty coursing through his veins, and he wanted more. He didn’t know why, but he craved more. The ice in his glacial eyes melted just a layer, and he had to turn away to “loosen” the collar of his dress shirt, releasing steam bursting out of his chest where his suddenly pounding heart was buried. He hoped she didn’t see that or the pale pink blush painting his face.

Psycho and Stupid were captured by the charms of her cryptic canvas, completely mystified. The swirls in the straitjacket weasels’ kaleidoscopic eyes moved slowly like a calm river stream, but there was no denying the sheer wonder gleaming in his natural blue orbs. His heart craved with a powerful obsession, but it wasn’t fueled by a desire to kill. No. This was different. Ever since he met her, he always felt trapped. Not like the suffocating padded walls of his cell or the tight restraints of his clothing, but trapped like he was tranced by the golden light of fireflies. If only fireflies can turn purple. Stupid’s hazel eyes glinted with childlike wonderment, his face beaming with innocent delight like a child seeing the stars for the first time.      

And, of course, Greasy’s reaction was the most apparent. His chocolate eyes popped out of their sockets to the point where they broke the red-tinted, glass window and turned into two pink hearts. He poked his head out from the driver’s seat, and his jaw dropped to the ground with his tongue lolling out. His heart burst out of his chest, beating uncontrollably. He stared at her in her gothic glory, completely enamored and in awe before his face fully morphed into a Toon wolf’s. Comically, he blew a wolf whistle, howling while wildly banging his fists on the wheel like he was banging on a table.

Twyla strolled across the stage like a graceful predator drawn in inky smoke, not a single rigid wobble detected. “🎶Not here to cuddle, more like leave you in a puddle🎶” she swept her hand, creating a splash of ink just as Tom magically appeared behind her, synchronizing her movements, "🎶 Writhin’ in a pool of blood and ink🎶”

“🎶Ha-ha, that’s our link!🎶” Tom leapt and delivered a kick to an unseen foe before he landed with a powerful, thunderous boom that shook the ground beneath the audience. He accented the jacket of his suit with a skull chain brooch lapel pin that glinted like the blade of a dangerous switchblade in the darkness of night, like the glint of his dangerous fangs unveiled from his wicked grin. A great ball of fire burst from the ground the moment his boots made contact, but didn’t affect him. “🎶Feed sin with flames of fury, wrath pourin' fuel to the depths of hellfire and brimestone🎶” the fireball manifested in his hands and swirled like hellish flames glowing up in his onyx orbs.

The crowd watched him with awestruck bewilderment. His voice was like fire forged by molten lava, fueled by a gasoline of raw passion and power compared to his sister’s soft tunes of a haunting melody. There was something dangerously enthralling about the fiery manifestation of his diabolism that fascinated many but also struck fear in their hearts. And for good reason. He was a predator, intellectually and naturally. His silver tongue never failed to charm and lure unsuspecting prey to their demise, concocted by his husky voice and Chicago grit. But beneath the surface of his calculating façade lay a monstrous, frightening beast starving for the smell of fear and taste of blood.

He wasn’t King Tiziano Toonz’s son for nothing.

“🎶Feelin’ hungry for some monster fright

       Madness ain’t just happiness, it’s our paradise🎶”

The twins chorused, shrugging their shoulders before they created a spark of magical ink and fire from their palms (Twyla’s right and Tom’s left) and lunged at the ground, releasing a powerful boom. A burst of colorful smoke rose from the stage, veiling the demonic duo from their audience for a short moment. Once the fog cleared, everyone dropped their jaws as they watched the twins float high into the air. Perfectly aligned, they twirled around with such poise and elegance that puts ballerinas to shame.

“🎶Give into temptation

 Take your time, I’ll be patient

 But watch your step, we ain’t just the new big bad batch🎶”

They quickly spun around, leaving a streak of black ink and blazing flame in their wake. Tom wrapped his right arm around his sister protectively and brought a thin paraffin stick to his lips right where Eddie was standing.

“🎶I’m a Twisted Toon, bitch!🎶”

Tom blew a massive cloud of fire, aiming directly at their fellow performer much to his expected fright. Eddie yelped, pretendedly and genuinely turning around to run from the flaming-hot trick, only to howl in agony when the fire burned him right on his ass. The weasels screamed in guffawing laughter and manic exhilaration at the investigator’s misery as he ran around in circles until he found a bucket of ice-cold water that just magically showed up out of nowhere and literally jumped in it. He let out a sigh of relief as the water instantly soothed his pain, releasing steam.

“Roast ‘im to a crisp!” Smartass cackled, holding onto his stomach tightly while waving his gun around.

“Barbecue his ass!” Wheezy shouted, hacking up a cough from his toxic cigarettes.

"🎶Toontown’s our kingdom, bitch!🎶” The twins rejoiced with terrifying triumph.

“🎶Give me the crown, bitch!🎶”

With one last twirl, their song reached a cryptic crescendo. They rose even higher and gestured with their ears,

“🎶You hear the sound? You’re goin’ down

      ‘Cause I’m a Twisted Toon, bitch!🎶”  

The velvet curtains descended upon them, and a thunderous roar of applause echoed the walls of the whole warehouse. Greasy’s approval of Twyla’s performance was the most apparent as he whistled twice before bonking himself on the head with a large Toon hammer. Poor, silly weasels. They were so ensnared by the twins’ show, they never once heeded the warning of their song. However, despite their very best efforts, that wasn’t enough to kill them. Eddie decided to take it from here and grabbed three bowling balls. Oh, this oughta be good.

“🎵This singin’ ain’t my line, it’s tough to make a rhyme! If I get stuck, I’m…I’m out of luck, uh—🎵”

“I’m running out of time!” Jessica called.

“Thanks!” Eddie threw the balls up, looking like he wanted to juggle them. As they hit him on the head, he slipped on a banana peel and fell into a giant stack of boxes. Tom stepped out the wooden crates in his casual suit and decided to egg him on. He hopped on a unicycle and rolled out while juggling human skulls for bowling pins. He called out, “What the fuck, Valiant?! That’s so pitiful, you couldn’t rhyme if you were drawn in a Dr. Seuss book!”

“HA HA! Dr. Seuss! That’s a good one!” Wheezy wheezed out, cracking with laughter.

From the broken wreckage of the boxes, Eddie came out on a pongo stick with a happy smile. Twyla shook her head, leaning upside down on her trapeze as she flew by him, “Are you serious, man? Leave the bouncin’ to Jiminy Cricket!”

“Jiminy Cricket?!” Smartass laughed, yet somehow keeping a firm grip on his revolver. “Keep goin’, doll! You’re on a ‘toll’!”

Twyla winced as Eddie bounced straight up into a hanging light, convulsing an electric wave of shock as it shocked him. Stupid laughed so hard, he fell off the ladder on the side of the vehicle, his bat clutched in his hand. Her heart broke a little as the tubby weasel convulsed, giving out a final gasp before going rigid, holding a flower in his hands as his soul flew out of his body, looking dopey and clueless as ever. Despite everything that happened, Twyla didn’t hold anything against him, and he didn’t seem so bad. Well, except maybe for laughing at Tom while he was being tortured back at their headquarters. And for assisting Doom.

Wheezy, who was hanging by his feet on the other ladder, panicked as his soul tried to leave his body. He grabbed it, coughing and laughing at the same time as he tried to stuff his soul back in.

“Hey, guys, keep it up! You’re killin’ them! You’re slayin’ them! You’re knockin’ ‘em dead!”

Finally, Wheezy lost the fight and stood rigid on the top of the ladder, his stained paws over his heart as the ladder fell backwards. The ladder fell onto a rope, releasing a fifty-ton block onto a board, which threw metal balls across the room. One of them hit a lever, starting a conveyor belt with a few vases.

“🎵I’m through with takin’ falls! I’m bouncin’ off the walls!🎵” Eddie sang at Smartass, pointing harshly at him, which caused the Sergeant to cease his laughing and point his gun back at him, “🎵 Without that gun, I’d have some fun, I’d kick you in the—🎵"

CRASH!

A vase fell off the conveyer belt, smashing over his head and knocking him to the ground. Roger took that opportunity to finish, “Nose!”

“Nose? That don’t rhyme with ‘walls’!” Smartass yelled.

“No, but this does!” Eddie got up, but before his adversary could even use his revolver, Eddie kicked him right in the balls and sent him flying right towards the Dip tank. He fell in with a splash, and Twyla felt shiver down her spine. His death wasn’t like the Toon clown shoe’s. The little guy’s demise was slow, agonizing, and painful. Smartass’s demise was quick as an arrow, fatal like a bullet.

Tom cackled and flipped him the bird one last time, “Hasta la vista, jackass!”

Psycho and Greasy continued to laugh, completely oblivious of their leader’s sudden death. Psycho wrapped his arms around his torso, pointing at the vat while Greasy cackled wildly. Suddenly, he choked, and his long neck spun around and twisted like a pretzel. Twyla watched her “lover” fall out of the driver’ seat, which also released the brakes on the gigantic vehicle. His soul flew up, playing a halo like he was serenading an unlucky lady. However, his smile dropped the moment his eyes met hers and reality finally sunk into his mind.

“NOOOOO!!!!” he screamed, desperately fighting to stop his wings from taking him out of the warehouse. He struggled between trying to return to his body and trying to reach out to her. “Lupita, help me!”

Twyla didn’t know what to do and just stood there. Why does he want her to help him when she’s been trying to kill him? A golden light shined down upon the Puerto Rican weasel’s ghost, and Twyla was under the impression that the light was going to force Greasy to go to Toon Heaven, whether he wanted to go or not. That seemed to frighten him even more, and he turned back to her one last time.

“Mi amor, te am—” he was suddenly yanked up inches below the ceiling, cutting him off. He screamed out, “TWYLA!!!!”

And then, he was gone.

Twyla could only stare at the ceiling where he once was. What was so important he wanted to tell her?

Psycho was still giggling and dancing over his spot. His sleeved arm triggered a lever, spraying the Dip straight at the brick wall near the couple.

“Yikes!”

“Oh, my goodness!”

The remaining member of the Toon Patrol lost his footing and grabbed onto the lever, making the water cannon turn its direction away from Roger and Jessica. He yelled as he fell into the sweeper, flattening him like a pancake. Twyla’s heart panged a little as she watched his soul leave his crushed body. For a moment there, she liked the little guy.

But before he left for good, he moved the lever back, making the cannon start turning back towards the other two Toons. “Bye-bye. Hehehe!” He giggled and finally joined the others.

“Guys! It’s coming back!” Roger cried, squirming against the ropes.

Twyla took off before her brother could and hopped into the driver’s seat. She figured if she could turn off the vehicle itself, the cannon would cease its fire. But just as she considered tearing the cannon off instead and prowled onto the platform, she heard Tom scream,

“TWYLA, WATCH OUT!”

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Fifteen: The Connection

Summary: Taking refuge in a theatre, Eddie and Roger reconcile. Then the gang makes a shocking discovery.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @lastofautumn, @spookiifi, @amberfox232, @heartsissopure

“Ah, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” a narrator asked. The movie theater was playing a Goofy cartoon. The audience roared with laughter as he was getting tossed around. After the car chase, Benny dropped off Eddie and the others off at the movie theater as a hiding spot. Twyla was showing Eddie her discovery of the killer’s DNA while he told her what Jessica told him. Tom was nearby, calling Dolores and informing her where they currently are.

Roger sat a row or two away from Eddie and Twyla, laughing so hard he was spilling his popcorn. “Boy, did you see that? Nobody takes a wallop like Goofy! What timing, what finesse, what a genius!”

Eddie’s temper flared and he yanked Roger’s ears again, pulling him up to a seat next to his. “We’re supposed to be hiding!” he hissed, smacking Roger’s head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ow! What’s wrong with you?” Roger hissed in pain, “You’re the only person in this theater that isn’t laughing! Is there nothing that can permeate your imperious puss?”

He tried to make an incredibly goofy face to make the hardboiled human laugh but to no avail. Eddie barely cracked a smile. “Boy, nothing.” Roger rubbed his chin, “What could have possibly happened to you to turn into such a sourpuss?”

Eddie was silent for a moment. He cast a quick glance at the twins who sat a few seats away from them, then turned back to Roger. “…You wanna know?”

Roger nodded.

“I’ll tell ya. A Toon killed my brother.”

“A Toon?” Roger cupped his gloved hands over his mouth, horrified. “No!”

“That’s right. A Toon.” Edde confirmed, his voice clenched with bitterness. “We were investigating a robbery at the First National Bank of Toontown. Back in those days, me and Teddy liked working Toontown. We thought it was a lot of laughs.” He briefly chuckled, tucking a hand in his pocket to grab his bottle. “Anyway, this guy got away with a zillion simoleons. We trailed him to a little dive down Yockster Street. We went in…only he got the drop on us. Literally.”

“Dropped a piano on us from fifteen stories,” he glanced down at his right arm, “Broke my arm. Teddy never made it. I never did find out who that guy was.” He would never forget seeing his brother crushed by that damn piano. He pushed Eddie out of the way. That piano was about to drop on them both, and Eddie watched his brother’s life get taken away in the hands of that bastard. His heart burned in the flames of a great fiery fury that never died since that fateful night. “All I remember was him standin’ over me laughin’ with those burning red eyes…and that high, squeaky voice. He disappeared into Toontown after that.” He took a swig and swallowed his sorrows in one gulp.

Poor Roger broke down into tears. “No wonder you hate me!” he sobbed, running his fisted hands down his droopy ears. “If a Toon killed my brother, I’d hate me too.”

Aw shit, not this again. “Oh, come on. Don’t cry.” Eddie sighed, putting his bottle away. “I don’t hate you.”

“Yes, you do.” Roger whimpered.

“No, I don’t.” the human interjected.

“You do hate me!” Roger yanked his ears down, “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have yanked my ears all those times.”

“Well, I’m,” Eddie stuttered, “I’m sorry I yanked your ears all those times.”

Roger’s doleful demeanor instantly brightened, “All the times you yanked my ears?” he asked, eyes fluttering.

“All the times I yanked your ears.” Eddie confessed.

And just like that, Roger’s infamous joyful nature returned. “Apology accepted! Put it there, pal!” He held his hand out, and Eddie begrudgingly took it. “I feel better—Oh, boy!” He saw another flick appear on the big screen and hopped all the way down to the end of the box seats. “I hope it’s another cartoon!”

His hopes were crushed by a newsreel. “Jeepers, another stupid newsreel. I hate the news!” He rested his cheek on his hand as he slumped on the counter.

Just then, Dolores arrived and took a seat on Eddie’s left. “Did you get all my stuff?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s all packed up in the car outside,” Dolores nodded, “Would’ve been here right after Tom called, but I had to shake the weasels.”

Eddie jerked his head back to her, his stomach dropped with guilt. “Yeah. I’m sorry about the trouble at the bar.”

“Well, stuffin’ olives for a living wasn’t for me anyway.”

A pang sore Eddie’s heart. He always wondered how she could stay so faithful to him even after all the times he pushed her away, all the times he refused her help. How could she keep sticking her neck out for him when all he did was bring trouble to her and her bar. “Dolores?”

She turned to him.

“You ought to find yourself a good man.”

A small, beautiful smile painted her lips. “But I already have a good man.”

The two leaned in, eyes closed like old lovers about to share a kiss…

A sigh interrupted the reverie. The two humans turned to see Roger watching them with heart-eyes and his ears curled over to form a great big heart. “P-pb-pb-please, don’t mind me.”

“You’d better get going, Eddie.” Dolores reminded him, breaking the awkward silence.

“Right.” Eddie followed and called out to the twins, who barely said a word as they got up. Their boss arched a brow at their odd behavior, but the realization dawned upon him and a rancid guilt rotted in his chest. “Glad Teddy’s not here to see me runnin’ with my tail tucked between my legs.”

“It’s not so bad…once you get used to it.” Roger spoke, earning him an arched brow from his fellow Toons.

Twyla followed from the back of the pack, but then her ear perked up at something.

“…The Pacific Red Car Trolley Line and the venerated Maroon Cartoons Studios…” the newsreel announcer spoke in the movie screen.

Her eyes widened in shock to see R.K. Maroon shaking hands with a younger man, his eyes elated with avaricious opportunity. Pacific Red Car Trolley? Venerated cartoons studios? Are those…Cloverleaf executives?

Twyla sharply whistled to get the others’ attention, mostly Eddie’s. He zeroed in next to her, his eyes wide in a dumbstruck trance.

“Here R.K. Maroon is seen clenching a deal with Cloverleaf’s bankers and executives in one of the biggest real estate deals in California history!”

“That’s it!” Eddie shouted, “That’s the connection!”

______

Eddie drove the car to the studio later in the evening. He went over the plan with Roger and the twins. While the twins remained determined, Roger was already chickening out.

“Let’s forget it!” Roger said as Eddie parked the car, “There’s nobody here!”

“Is that it or are you scared?”

“P-pb-pb-pb-please! Me, scared? Don’t be ridiculous!” Roger lied. His teeth nervously chattered comically as he followed Tom out of the vehicle. “When you called Maroon, you told him you have the will, but you don’t! When he finds out, he’s gonna get mad!” He pressed himself against the wall as if he was hiding from his boss. “He might try to kill ya.”

“I can handle a Hollywood creampuff. I just don’t want the odds to change!” Eddie brushed it off, “Twyla and I will deal with him. You and Tom cover our backs.”

Tom’s brows shot up, “What? No, I’ll go with you.” But before he could take his sister’s place, she stepped in front of him. “Tommy, no. It’s OK, I’m gonna be fine.”

“But—”

“Tommaso.” Tom froze. Behind her, Eddie and Roger recoiled from the firm tone in her usual soft-mannered voice. She rarely addressed him by his full name, but he knew she had made her decision. His baby sister’s demeanor dropped, and she sighed while putting her hands on her big brother’s shoulders. “Tommy. I know that the last time we split, it didn’t end well. But this is a human we’re up against. An easy target.” When he didn’t relent, she should’ve known that wasn’t enough. “I promise, if we need backup, I’ll call you. OK?”

He stared deep into her eyes for any trace of hesitation but relaxed his shoulders when he found none. He still didn’t like this new plan, though. Tom gave his sister a brief hug and met Eddie’s eyes in a silent, intense conversation. He gave a brief nod of his head, understanding the younger investigator’s request.

Twyla pulled away from the hug and made her way towards the stairs. Eddie followed and cast a look over his shoulder. “If you see or hear anything, beep the horn twice.”

“All right, Boss.” Tom responded, pulling out his revolver. As soon as they left, he turned to Roger. “You hear that, Roger?”

The Toon rabbit saluted. “Yeah, cover their backs! I’m ready! Are you ready, Tom?”

“Shootin’ brains out and kickin’ ass?” The wolf grinned, revealing his menacing fangs. “Fuck yeah.”

“Dukes set, eyes peeled, ears to the ground!” The Toon rabbit chanted, gesturing his moves as he walked away from the gunslinger. He continued to the edge of the bricked wall, “Why, nobody gets the drop on Gunslinger Tom Toonz and Roger Rabbit!”

BANG!

Tom’s head whipped to the far end of the entrance. “Roger?!” he called out. When he heard no response, his fur bristled at the first sign of danger. A low, threatening growl rumbled his chest as he cocked his gun and cautiously walked around the studio. He kept his ears strained to the slightest sound, his gaze unafraid and vigilant. His nose caught the scent of lemon carrots and followed the trail to the far side of the wall. He poked his head, “Roger?”

Something snuck up behind him. Tom whirled around and aimed his gun only to see the end of a Toon frying pan slam in his face.

______

Eddie led Twyla to a secret room where the film reels were kept that coincidentally led to Maroon’s office. He slightly jarred the wall and spotted Maroon with his back turned, holding something close to his chest. Twyla’s ears flattened and slowly pulled out her pistol. Eddie, however, lightly stopped her with his hand. “Not yet.” He shook his head, motioning for her to wait in the room.

He silently stepped out behind Maroon and tapped his shoulder. “Gyah!” Startled, the man whirled around drenched in sweat, like he was seeing a ghost.

“What’s up, Doc?”

“What are you trying to do, Valiant?! Give me a heart attack?!” Maroon exclaimed.

“You need a heart before getting an attack.” Eddie said, and the other man didn’t seem to acknowledge the stony undertone in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. You got the will?”

“Sure,” the detective gave Maroon a brief look at Roger’s love letter hidden in his coat. “I got it.”

He turned away from the head cartoonist to a tray of bottles, “But the question is, do you have the way? Because I’m tellin’ you now, it ain’t gonna come cheap.”

“You got a lot of brass, coming up here by yourself!” Maroon replied bitterly.

“Who said I’m here by myself?” Eddie remained unphased.

He poured himself a glass…and Maroon pulled out a small golden Colt Model 1903 Pocket Hammerless pistol. Twyla silently phased herself through the wall, holding onto her Blackhawk while her claws dripped with ink.   

“Let me see that will.”

“I told you, I got it.”

“I want to see it now!” Maroon shouted, smacking the glass out of Eddie’s hand and swiped Roger’s letter out of his coat. Eddie slowly grasped onto the neck of a bedazzled seltzer bottle without taking his eyes off the other man.

“‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways’?” Maroon read the letter aloud. “Is this supposed to be a joke?!” he growled, stuffing the letter in Eddie’s suspenders.

“Nah. But this is!” Eddie brought up the bottle and sprayed Maroon in the face, blinding him in surprise. He reared up his fist and punched him hard enough to fall, knocking the gun out of his grasp. Twyla cocked her pistol just as Eddie grabbed the other one and they both pointed their guns at Maroon.

“Get up!” he exclaimed.

Maroon quivered like a coward and hastily got back up on his feet before Eddie grabbed him by the tie. “Wha-what are you going to do to me?” he quaked fearfully.

“We’re gonna listen to you spin the Cloverleaf scenario!” Eddie hissed, tossing away his pistol in Twyla’s direction. She caught it and safely tucked it in her biker jacket. “A story of greed, sex, and murder. And the parts that I don’t like,” he walked towards a cartoon editing machine, forcing Maroon to comply. “I’m gonna edit out.”

“Mm-hmm,” Twyla hummed in agreement. “And boy, do I have one hell of a review for you.”

“You got it all wrong!” the olive-toned human shouted, “I’m a cartoon maker, not a murderer!”

Eddie only tightened his grip on his tie, “Everybody’s got to have a hobby!”

He shoved the other man down, intentionally stuffing his tie in the machine’s jaws and stepped on the pedal while Twyla pointed the barrel of her pistol at the nape of Maroon’s neck. The ice-cold metal sent a shiver down his spine and his neck ached from the violent pressure. “Stop it! Stop it!”

Maroon finally began to confess. “The truth is, I had a chance to sell my studio. But Cloverleaf wouldn’t buy my property unless Acme sold them his. The stubborn bastard wouldn’t sell, so I was gonna blackmail Acme with pictures of him and the rabbit’s wife!”

“So you didn’t kill Acme. Is that what I’m hearing?” Twyla asked. Maroon nodded weakly, obviously relieved that someone believed him. His hopes were short-lived, however, when the Twisted Toon princess growled darkly and pressed the barrel further in his neck. “And yet, you were willing to cost Roger and thousands of other Toon employees their dream jobs by selling your own fuckin’ studio for the money?” A hateful snarl escaped her dark painted lips, filled with disgust. She released her finger from the trigger and swung her gun down at his skull. “Fuckin’ humans. You’re all greedy bastards.”

“Blackmail, that’s all!” Maroon cried out, “I’ve been around Toons all my life! I didn’t want to see ‘em destroyed!”

Destroyed? Twyla recoiled in shock, “Wait, what?”

“Toons destroyed?” Eddie asked, genuinely taken back. “Why?”

“If I tell you, I’m a dead man.”

Eddie only applied more pressure on the pedal, “You’re a dead man if you don’t tell us!”   

“Unless Acme’s will shows up by midnight tonight…” Twyla’s eye caught something silver glint off another cartoon poster and looked at the window behind her and Eddie. Oh shit, is that a fucking gun?!

“…Toontown’s gonna be land for the free—”

“EDDIE, WATCH OUT!!!” Twyla leapt and shoved her boss out of the way just as the gun fired. The two dodged the bullets and ducked behind a couch. An ice-cold terror froze Twyla’s heart when she realized something must have happened to the boys. Her fear washed into wrath, and she fired back, but by then the assailant had already vanished. “Fuck!” she cursed and was about to get up when Eddie stopped her.

“No, you stay here. I’ll check,” he ordered, briefly looking over his shoulder and Maroon’s corpse dangling from the machine with his tie still lodged in. Eddie ducked behind the curtain near the window, and cautiously opened the blinds. Twyla was quick enough to catch up to see Jessica Rabbit looking around before she disappeared into a corner where her car must have been hidden. She knocked out the boys!

Twyla’s blood boiled with hellish, demonic fury, and she slammed her fist against the window. It shattered into a waterfall of broken glass, and Eddie flinched but Twyla paid no concern. She gripped onto the window railings and poked her head out, roaring,

“JESSICA!”

She leapt out of the massive window, and Eddie’s frantic shouting fell deaf on her ears. All she could hear was the furious pounding of her inky heart burned by violent, fiery rage and her fangs ached with bloodlust. She chased after Jessica’s vehicle with ferocious determination, and the ground seemed to shake from her thunderous steps. Ink dripped down her face and dampened her hair, but she could care less. She was going to paint the walls with ink and blood tonight!

Twyla chased Jessica all the way out of Hyperion, but she had to make an abrupt stop when she spotted the tunnel. Toontown. She watched the car disappear into the darkness and growled with frustration.

She whirled her head at the sound of Eddie’s car approaching but stopped just inches next to her. He hopped out of the driver’s seat, his eyes locked on the tunnel. Twyla opened her mouth to retort, but she saw his eyes freeze with that familiar ghost of past horrors. Teddy.

But then, Eddie reached for his bag. Twyla peeked over his shoulder and saw a small wooden box. “What’s that?” she asked.

“A little gift from Yosemite Sam.” The detective replied. He opened the box and pulled out a Toon pistol. After flipping a flap, six Toon pistols (five dressed like cowboys and one dressed as an Indian) awakened from their slumber.

“What the Sam Hill—?”

“Eddie Valiant! You’re a sight for sore eyes!”

“I ain’t seen you for nigh to five years!”

“Where you been?”

“Drunk.” Eddie confessed. He opened the spinning barrel, “You fellas feelin’ frisky tonight?”

“YEAH!” They all whooped in unison and hopped in the pistol. When the barrel closed, Eddie took out his beloved bottle of whiskey and took out the cork with his mouth. But he stopped and took a long, good look at it. And then, he poured it out like he was pouring out his sorrows. He threw the bottle high in the sky and pulled the trigger. The Toon Indian bullet whooped a war cry and shattered the bottle with his ax.   

Eddie and Twyla hopped back towards the car, hellbent on the chase. The detective stopped temporarily, and opened the passenger door her for. He smiled, then bowed, "Your Majesty."

Twyla blinked, but chuckled and nodded before taking her seat. Eddie started the car and turned to the princess, “Ready?”

Twyla cocked her pistol, “Let’s go.”

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Five: Pattycake

Summary: Now that the show’s over, the twins and their employer snoop around to get the job done. However, they get more than they bargained for.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, and @lastofautumn. Autumn, you have been officially honored as a special guest in the story. Congratulations! 😁

Warning: This chapter contains some sexual innuendos because it’s the 40’s, poor Roger in heartbreak, and some suspicious activity 👀

“AND DON’T LET ME CATCH YOUR PEEPIN’ FACES AROUND HERE AGAIN! GOT IT?” Bongo shouted after he literally tossed Eddie and the twins out of the club.

Tom rubbed his head gingerly, cursing at the bouncer while Eddie glared at the door and scratched his armpit, shouting “OOGA BOOGA!”

The gunslinger, who transformed back into his Toon form, glared up at his boss. “You just had to call him a chimp, didn’t you?”

“How was I supposed to know he was skulking around—Uh, Twyla, what are you doing?” Eddie’s glare faltered and Tom turned around to see his twin sister looking through a window. Then, she softly gasped and quickly ducked down.

“You found `em?” Eddie asked.

She nodded.

“Good.” Eddie fished down his pocket to grab his camera while Twyla quietly pulled out a milk crate and pushed it against the wall. The window was half-sealed by the dark rose curtains, but he didn’t want to risk it. “Not a sound,” he told his silent assistant, who nodded.

“Come, my dear Jessica.” Acme said, “I got everything arranged. Right here, on the bed.”

Bed?

“Oh, not tonight, Marvin,” Jessica replied groggily, “I have a headache.”

“But Jessica, you promised,” Acme whined.

Jessica sighed, “Oh, all right. But this time, take off that hand buzzer.”

Eddie angled his camera to the window, careful not to be seen. He took a shot.

“Pattycake.”

The twins’ ears perked up at the sound of…moaning?

“Pattycake.” Acme repeated, and Jessica moaned again.

“Wait,” Twyla’s eyes widened in shock, turning to her brother. “Are they…?”

Tom pulled himself up and nudged Eddie, ignoring his glare. “Valiant, get out of my way!” he whisper-shouted.

Tom carefully at the window, and his eyes went wide like saucers.

Jessica and Acme…they were…

“Marvin!”

“Pattycake, pattycake, pattycake!”

“Oh, Marvin!”

“Holy shit.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped, matching Tom’s state of shock. “You gotta be kidding me!”

_______________

“PATTYCAKE?! PATTYCAKE?!” Roger bawled miserably as he pounded the blinds of the window where the Acme Factory could be seen across the road. “I don’t believe it!” He jumped off the shelf and walked to Maroon’s desk, banging his head. “Pattycake?! Pattycake?! It’s not true!”

Seeing the poor guy bawl and weep in heartbroken betrayal can stab anyone’s heart. Even Tom, who was leaning against the wall, frowned sympathetically at the sight. You can’t not feel sorry for this guy after finding his wife cheated on him with his idol and literally had old-fashioned cartoon sex with him.

“Take comfort, son,” Maroon said with little sympathy, “You’re not the first man whose wife played Pattycake on him.”

He handed Roger his handkerchief and he blew his nose, emitting whoopee cushion and deflated saxophone sounds. “I just don’t believe it,” Roger whimpered. His brows furrowed, “I won’t believe it! I can’t believe it! I shan’t believe it!”

Twyla accepted the photos Eddie handed to her, and she handed them over to the heartbroken rabbit. “Believe it, kid.” Eddie told him, “I took the pictures myself, and the twins saw it for themselves. She played Pattycake.”

“No! Not my Jessica,” Roger shook his head, going through the pictures at rapid speed. “Not Pattycake. This is impossible. I don’t believe it! It can’t be! It just can’t be! Jessica’s my wife! It’s absolutely impossible!” he shouted, tossing the pictures away and looking at them in denial. “Jessica is the light of my life…” he whimpered, shutting his eyes tearfully. “…the apple of my eye…the cream in my coffee.”

Twyla patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“Well, you better start drinking it black, ‘cause Acme’s taking the cream now.” Eddie said, taking a sip of his drink while ignoring the twins’ deadpan glares.

“Hard to believe,” Maroon agreed, staring at the Acme Factory. “Marvin Acme’s been my friend and neighbor for thirty years. Who would’ve thought he was a sugar daddy?”

“Somebody must have made her do it,” Roger sobbed.

Maroon walked over with a small glass of whiskey and handed it to him. “Drink this, son. You’ll feel better.”

Roger took a deep breath and swallowed the whiskey in one gulp.

Suddenly, his eye popped.

Tom rose a brow, slowly stepping away. “Uh, Roger?”

The rabbit started twitching, changing colors as the twitching became violent. His face turned steaming red, and his cheeks expanded.

Uh-oh.

“Take cover!” Eddie shouted at the twins, and they ducked beneath the desk before covering their ears.

Roger flew up high to the ceiling, screeching eardrum-busting steam whistles. He screeched and steamed with absolute heartbreak and fury, his limbs lashing out in violent fits of rage and sorrow fueled by the oxygen blowing out of his lungs constricted by the pain in his broken heart. As he screamed, the trophies shattered, and glass shelves exploded into little shards.  One of the pieces nearly stabbed Twyla and Tom swatted it off with his tail. “Roger! Calm down! We get it, OK?! She betrayed you! Now calm down before you shatter our ears!” he exclaimed, tucking his sister close to him.

Roger’s steam-whistle screaming stopped and he fell back on the chair, faceplanting the desk. The twins slowly got up and looked around to witness the office in chaos. It looked like a tornado had burst in the window, and the floor and desk were scattered with broken glass, papers, and other debris. They turned around to Roger, who slowly lifted his head up wearing a goofy, exhausted smile.

“Thanks!” He grinned, eyes spinning around. “I needed that.”

He slammed face-down on the desk the second time.

Tom gently touched Twyla’s shoulder, “You all right?”

She nodded.

“Son of a bitch,” Eddie muttered. “Look, Mr. Maroon. I think my work here is finished. How about that carrot you owe me, huh?”

“A deal’s a deal.” Maroon replied, pulling out a check for him.

Both men walked over to Roger, whose eyes were bloodshot and was wheezing with exhaustion. His hair and fur were a mess. He looked pitiful.

“Roger, I know that it all seems pretty painful right now,” Maroon comforted him, “But you’ll find someone new. Won’t he, Mr. Valiant?”

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie replied, standing on Roger’s left. “Good-looking guy like that?” he chuckled, “Heh-heh. The dames’ll be bringing his door down.”

Roger sprung up with gritted teeth, his blue eyes flashing with newfound fury.

Both Tom and Twyla recoiled. Oh, he’s pissed.

“Dames?! What dames?!” Roger exclaimed and pounced on Eddie. He grabbed him by the collar of his trench coat and sneered at his face, “Jessica’s the only one for me! You’ll see! We’ll rise above this piddling peccadillo! We’re going to be happy again! You got that?! Happy! Capital H-A-P-P-I!” 

Roger released him and burst out of the glass window. Maroon and Eddie walked over.

“Well, at least he took it well.” Eddie said.

Maroon pulled down the blinds, revealing an outline of the Toon rabbit.

_______________

Twyla walked over to stare at the window, then asked, “Do you think we should check on him?”

“So you can talk!” Maroon exclaimed, and Twyla only responded with a deadpan look.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He’s a Toon, he’ll bounce back.” He answered, but Tom suddenly cut in.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” He stood next to Twyla, “Just because we’re Toons doesn’t mean we can’t feel the same heartbreak any fella or dame would feel when they just got their hearts broken.”

He looked at his sister, and she could tell he had something else in mind.

They left the studio, but Eddie stopped them. “Hold on, hold on,” he stopped in front of them. “What are you two up to this time?” he asked with a slight glare. He obviously has not forgotten about their little disguise trick back at the club.

“Any guy who just found out their lady’s had an affair is prone to make dumbass decisions like getting drunk off their asses or confrontin’ the guy who took their place.” Tom answered, “And now Twyla’s talking, she can handle Roger a lot better than I can.”

Eddie looked down, brows furrowed, then sighed. “Do you two have a place to stay for the night?”

The twins’ brows rose and glanced at each other in shocked silence.

“Sorry?” Tom asked, raising a brow.

The detective grumbled, muttering, “Do you kids have somewhere to go?”

They shared an uncertain glance, silently debating on whether or not they should tell him about their plan. However, their current situation brought back their sense of logic. This is exactly where they’re supposed to go, but they’re in the wrong time period. They need to get into contact with Adam and Echo and figure out how they’re going to get back to the modern world. And not to mention, they’re still new here.

After a silent moment, the twins shook their heads.

Eddie sighed, fishing his pocket. He pulled out a key and tossed it to Twyla.

“You know the way back to my office?” he asked.

Twyla shared a raised brow with her brother, then nodded.

“All right,” Eddie said, “Find the rabbit, make sure he’s not dead, and come back.”

The twins nodded and watched him go before Tom turned to her. “Hey, sis?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“How do you feel like doing a little…solo mission?” he asked.

Her ear twitched. “Solo mission?”

“Yeah,” her brother nodded curtly. “I think he might head back home in Toontown.”

Twyla’s purple pie-cut orbs widened. “Toontown?”

“Yeah. It’s right behind the Acme Factory, and there’s a tunnel called Mt. Hollywood in Vermont Canyon Road on the other side of town.” He leaned in closer, and his voice deepened with dark malice. “If she’s home, you know what to do.”

A low growl erupted from Twyla’s throat. “Shall I spare her?”

“Yeah. But don’t go easy.”

“Oh, trust me.” His sister held her hand up, and massive razor-sharp obsidian claws erupted from her fingertips. “I’m about to give her a brand-new makeover.”

Tom ran off to catch up with Eddie and Twyla ran in the opposite direction towards the Acme Factory. She had no clue where the tunnel was, so she decided to take a shortcut and jump over the brick wall near the factory. When the warehouse became present in her peripheral vision, she dodged in the dark, narrow alleyway between the two buildings and continued to run with flashing velocity. She reached out with her arms, extended her claws, and leapt high in the air. Twyla grabbed onto the brick wall, using her claws for stability before she began to climb. It didn’t take too long for her to make it to the top, and when she got there, she heard laughter.

She hoisted herself up and kicked her legs over to give herself relief.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

The wall suddenly shook, rumbling as if there was going to be an earthquake. Twyla nearly fell, but she grasped onto the edges to prevent her from doing so. She lowered her head down low enough to move her ear, and she heard something loud, large, and metallic coming. It sounded like the wheels of a bus.

It’s a Toon bus, she realized and rose to her knees, preparing to jump. Her tail moved around to check the altitude and was pleased with her results. She inched closer as the blare grew louder…

And louder…

Just a few more moments…

The Toon bus, painted bright red, zoomed in. And Twyla leapt in the sky of the Tooniverse.

She landed on the roof with a gentle thump and rested her hand on her right knee while she took some slow, deep breaths.

Twyla lifted her chin up…and her jaw dropped in astonishment.

Everything she had imagined about Toontown was beautiful, but dare she say her dreams cannot compare to the sights before her! The night sky was illustrated in shades of midnight and lapis, kissed by tiny little stars dancing around the crescent moon, and Toon cloud people sat in their puffy chairs reading their novels. Despite the cool evening temperature, a foreign sense of warmth welcomed the new traveler. Warmth, like sunshine. The streets were bursting with life and laughter, and the entirety of the environment consisted of a fantastical, dreamlike atmosphere. Cartoon characters known and loved by all around the world, new and old, smiled brightly and danced around with wild wonder. She could have sworn she spotted the Three Little Pigs dancing and playing, once again oblivious of the Big Bad Wolf prowling after them. As the bus drove on, Twyla noticed the buildings, cars, plants, and even the streetlamps were drawn with eyes and smiles. Jazz music filled the wonderful atmosphere with glorious passion. Everything was drawn and painted in colors, sizes, and shapes of all kinds, moving to the upbeat jazz music playing with rhythmic, stylistic movement.

Everyone was a Toon. And they all were so energetic. So happy. So lively.

This is Toontown. The promiseland.

A tear fell from Twyla’s eye and she cupped her hands together. “Oh,” she gasped dreamily, “It’s so beautiful.”

She caught a whiff of something sweet like lavender and lemon-scented carrots. “Oh, crap!” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot what I came here for!”

The horror Toon rested on her hands and knees as her ride was now driving towards a quaint little neighborhood called Sweet Sunflower Acres. It was a beautiful series of blocks of two-story family houses and duplexes on one side of the street and combinations of townhouses perched on the other side where the park was. The streets were lined with large trees that shadowed the sidewalks beneath them with leaves blossomed with little sunflowers, and Toons birds snoozed peacefully in their little nests.

Twyla’s nose detected the scent growing stronger, meaning she was getting closer. The scent led her to a two-story townhouse painted in pale lavender with roofs and shingles neatly drawn in dark violet. And good thing the tree was close enough for her to leap onto. The Gothic-clad vigilante stood on two careful legs, spread her arms open, and jumped off the bus…but then crashed in the middle of the tree quite roughly.

“Ow!” she cried out. She climbed up on the tallest and thickest branch, rubbing her head gingerly while stars moved around her head. Two angry Toon birds flapped their wings around, but their anger melted into concern when they saw her injury. “I’m sorry,” she apologized with a nervous chuckle before she reached down her pocket and pulled out a Toon box of birdseeds. “Here. Help yourselves.”

The birds took it, kindly rubbed her head to ease the pain, and flew away. Twyla chuckled, then focused on the balcony. It was close enough for her to get to, and this time she didn’t have to jump. The lupine ravenette walked across the branch with careful footing until she stepped over the railing. She walked over to the doors, and with a gentle push, the velvet purple curtains whooshed as she made her appearance. The pale light of the moon basked upon the floor, making it easier for her to observe the bedroom. Her shadow loomed over like a ghostly specter haunting the night, and her raven locks softly flew around her shoulders like a dark caped crusader. It was a large-scale bedroom covered in orchid wallpaper accented with tiny purple carrots, and the floors were carpeted in deep eggplant with rugs. On the right near the closet stood a vintage vanity mirror and table set with a tufted chair, and the mirror sides were adorned with neon lights. Nearby, a vintage three-panel room divider stood near the vanity mirror and Twyla blushed bright pink seeing a lacy embroidered crimson bra. And on the left stood a tufted upholstered queen-sized bed blanketed in silky purple pillows and matching blankets.

Twyla sniffed around the air for Jessica’s presence, but not a single trace of her perfume was there. “Damn it,” she cursed softly, then her eyes spotted a picture frame on the right nightstand. She walked over and gently picked up the frame before looking at a photograph. Roger stood on the left, wearing a tuxedo that was a little too big for him and striped trousers while holding a top hat. On his right stood Jessica, wearing a sweetheart dress and a veil. They gazed at each other lovingly, which only made the intruder’s heart burn with quiet rage.

“How could you break a guy like him?” she whispered to Jessica.

“Ey! Pipe down there, ya mugs! I can hear ‘im walkin’ and talkin’.” a nasally, old-style Brooklyn voice broke Twyla out of her thoughts.

Shit! Someone else is here, too!

It’s coming from the sidewalk, Twyla thought as she soundlessly leaned against the wall while resting her hand on her hostler.

“Duh, where, Boss?” another voice, one for a simpleton, asked.

“In the ‘bed-broom’, stupid!” the first voice barked.

Twyla picked up new scents. She smelled something reek of cigarette smoke, dandruff, and…cologne? She had no time; right now, she needed to get out of here. Reaching down her jacket, she pulled out a small grenade labeled ACME GAS POWDER, ripped off the safety pin ring, and tossed it out of the window. A Toon cloud emerged from the ground, followed by individual voices coughing and cursing. The cloud was thick enough for her to escape without being seen, so she darted out of the balcony and silently leaped on the roof before running miles and miles away until she leapt off the bridge out of Toontown.

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Eleven: Oh, Crap!

Summary: Caught red-handed in a failed attempt to find answers, Valiant and the twins come across Judge Doom and the Toon Patrol once again. And the weasels ensure that their “special guests” feel welcome.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd and @lastofautumn

This chapter contains slight violence and Doom being completely and absolutely disrespectful to the twins. What a bastard 😡

When Tom regained consciousness, he found that he had been lying on what felt like a leather chair. His blurry-eyed vision tried to clear as he caught a dark shape looming over him. Slowly, his senses began to intake his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was his sister, who was sitting next to him. She wasn’t injured, thank God!

“Twyla!” he cried, reaching out for her. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but for some reason she was trembling. Tom noted that her fur and tail were slightly bristled, and her ears dropped. Like she did when she and Eddie came back from the Acme Factory. Something was very wrong.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered softly.

His baby sister didn’t say anything, only cast her eyes to her left. Tom turned to her direction…and froze. They were not alone.

Standing in front of him was a towering skeleton of a man. His skin was sallow, almost completely bleached in color, or even life, and his haggard cheekbones poked out from his pale complexion. Christ, the guy looked like the Walking Dead. And his attire matched his ghoulish presence; a long, black caped overcoat draped over his bony shoulders, and he wore a white dress shirt adorned by a black bowtie with a matching unwrinkled vest embellished by a silver pocket watch chain. Long, spindly hands were wrapped in leather black gloves, and he held a silver skull-encrusted cane. A pitch-black fedora perched on his head, casting a foreboding shadow over his angular face. But it was his eyes that made Tom’s blood run cold. The man also wore rounded, yellow-rimmed glasses that did nothing to thaw the bone-chilling ice in his frigid, callous gaze. They stared at the two stoically with no flicker of disgust. No, his eyes were the dangerous kind of cold; unfeeling, and merciless. Completely soulless. Stone-cold like a gargoyle’s.

This had to be Judge Doom. And that meant really bad news for them.

A groan interrupted the silence. Tom spotted Eddie on the ground, who was slowly breaking out of his knocked-out slumber.

“Pick him up,” Doom ordered.

Bongo grabbed the detective by the collar of his coat and placed him on the chair on Tom’s right. As soon as Eddie was seated, the judge slithered towards the broken window before he finally addressed the three intruders.

“Rummaging around in a ladies’ dressing room with two Toons?” he clicked his tongue, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. What were you looking for, Mr. Valiant?”

“Last week, some heavy breather wanted one of my nylons as a souvenir,” all four heads (minus Bongo’s) turned to Jessica who was sitting cross-legged on her vintage couch. She hiked her left leg over her right knee, revealing a nylon she was wearing.

“Look, doll,” Eddie growled, “If I wanted underwear, I’d broken into Frederick’s of Hollywood! You know damn well we were looking for Marvin Acme’s will!”

“Marvin Acme had no will,” Doom replied, sitting on another chair. “I should know by the instincts in my jurisdiction.”

“Oh, there was a will, all right,” Tom whipped his head to Jessica with a snarl, “She and R.K. Maroon killed him for it!”

Jessica rose up from her seat in anger and put her hands on her hips. “That’s absurd!” she exclaimed, unintimidated by Tom’s animalistic glare.

“Someone else is looking for the will, too!” Eddie backed the Rubberhose up. “Probably Maroon’s flunkies! We would’ve caught them too if Cheater here hadn’t interrupted us!”

Bongo charged at him with his hands ready to strangle his neck, but Doom held him back with his cane. “Take it easy, Bongo,” he told him, “I would like to ask these two a couples of questions, if they don’t mind.”

The twins exchanged a wary glance but didn’t say anything about that.

“You, boy. I heard from my associates that you and this young lady were hired by Mr. Valiant to help him solve the case. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” Tom nodded, “He needed someone who works on the same level as him, and we offered our services, so he hired us.”

“Works on the same level?” His expression remained blank, but Tom noted the sneer tugging the judge’s lips that made Tom bite his tongue to hold back another growl. He cast a glance at their human employer as if the twins weren’t there, “You stated that you weren’t working for Toons, and yet you’ve hired a mixed motley duo to assist you? That does sound a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

MIXED MOTLEY?!?! OH, THIS FUCKFACED BONY-ASS PIECE OF SHI—

“Species doesn’t mean shit!” Eddie boomed so loudly Tom nearly jumped out of his chair. He and his sister who reacted no differently gaped at their boss in jaw-dropped shock. He didn’t seem to notice that. “It don’t matter if they’re a different Toon breed! I’ve watched them while on the job, and they’ve got more skill than those donut dicks!”

Everyone in the dressing room was silent. Even Bongo didn’t make a comment. The jurist, on the other hand, just shrugged his shoulders. “If you say so.”

Then he turned to Twyla. “And you, ma’am. Do you know where the rabbit is hiding right now?”

Twyla silently shook her head. But Bongo didn’t seem to accept that as an answer. He loomed over, glaring down at her. “Answer the judge’s questions.” He growled.

“She wasn’t lookin’ at you, asshole.” Tom returned his glare, growling back.

That finally pissed the Toon gorilla off. He bared his large fangs and lashed his hands out, “WHY YOU LITTLE—”

“Enough!” Judge Doom shouted over Bongo with a glare of his own, stopping him with his cane again. He took a slow, deep breath and regained his composure. “We’ll handle Mr. Valiant and our guests our own way…downtown.” A sinister smile curled up his face.

“Downtown?” Eddie jested, “Fine! Let’s get a hold of Santino! We’ll be more than happy to go downtown.”

Doom’s smile dropped and the twins felt a sense of dread. “Oh, I’m not talking about that downtown.” He leaned over, “I’m talking about downtown Toontown.”

Eddie’s grin immediately disappeared. His skin paled several shades of white, and his dark brown eyes shrank into pin-prick pupils. The twins could hear his heart pounding with unfettered terror. Seeing the hardboiled, biased detective shaking in fear was more than enough to set them on edge. Why was he so afraid to go to Toontown?

A familiar high-pitched giggling and raspy coughing interrupted their perturbed train of thoughts. Ffffffffffffffuck.

The door opened, revealing Smartass and his gang. “We warned you stay out of this case, Valiant.” He taunted while fixing his bejeweled tie. “We even warned you two.” he fixed the twins a sadistic smile with a deadly glint in his eyes, “But you didn’t.”     

Greasy was the second one to enter the room. He snickered maliciously at Valiant, but he stopped when he saw Twyla again. And for the first time since he met her, he frowned.

The fuck is that about? Tom furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t have time to question it.

“No, not Toontown.” Eddie pleaded. “No, please. No.”

Stupid and Wheezy held a rope with one hand while holding a giant burlap sack in the other, staring at Eddie with a wicked gleam in their eyes.

“NOOOOOOOO!!!” Eddie screamed before the two lunged at him and threw the sack over his head. The twins jumped up, ready to fight them off, but Tom was suddenly pounced by a manic-giggling Psycho. He thrashed and struggled with all his might, but he was no match for the thin weasel’s surprising strength. Psycho’s eyes swirled with maniacal enthusiasm while he was holding rope of his own. Except this was escape-proof Toon rope. Shit!

Twyla’s amethyst eyes flashed with ferocity, and she raised her clawed hand. But just as she lunged down to strike Psycho, Bongo’s larger hand grasped hers tightly and he grabbed her by the collar of her blazer before roughly slamming her against the wall. The impact was hard enough to make a few portraits fall from the hooks and Twyla’s head spin. A sharp ache coursed her skull, and Eddie’s and Tom’s furious shouts only made the pain worse.

Suddenly, a flash of green shoved Bongo away from Twyla, forcing him to lose his grip on the raventte’s collar. The bouncer nearly stumbled but caught his footing and barked at whoever intervened. “What are you doing, sleazeball?!”

“That’s Lieutenant, pendejo.” Greasy’s voice was an intimidating, deep growl that made Twyla’s eyes widen a bit. Her captor turned to her and pulled out a pair of escape-proof Toon handcuffs. “Estos cabrones no saben cómo tratar a una dama, lo juro por Dios.” He muttered to himself, then he slinked behind the female Twisted Toon and quickly clasped the cuffs on her wrists. Twyla snarled with indignant fury, but she couldn’t help but raise her brows. Why was he not typing her up with rope like the guys were? Why was he not treating her like the other two “fugitives”?

The Puerto Rican mobster must have picked up her confusion and his lips curled in a flirtatious smirk. “Rope doesn’t suit you well, Chiquita. I’d prefer you in silk, but this’ll do~”

Twyla’s orchid orbs widened in befuddled shock. Why would he prefer silk over rope? She can easily tear her way through either of them, but from hearing her brother’s enraged reaction and Eddie’s vulgar shouting she can only imagine what the Spaniard’s intentions were.

She cast Jessica a glance, who had been just sitting there the whole time. She can’t really be on their side, can she? She can’t really be cooperating with that bastard of a judge, who wants her husband dead. Is she that cruel to watch sweet Roger, who gave her his heart full of undying love and loyalty, die a horrifying, gruesome death?

After a long moment of silent trepidation, the woman turned her head away. Twyla’s jaw dropped at the redhead’s traitorous audacity. No. No. She couldn’t. Next to her, Tom gave the singer one last hateful glare.

Smartass commanded Bongo to escort Tom to their vehicle outside while Psycho, Stupid and Wheezy forced Eddie to follow. Behind them, Greasy accompanied Twyla with his right hand on her cuffed wrists while laying his left hand on her mid-back. When they finally left the club, the trio were forced towards the back of the van. Bongo opened one of the doors and tossed Tom in before leaving. Eddie attempted to escape, but surrendered after the Brooklyn weasel pointed his revolver at him. Twyla was the last to enter the van without any major complications before Smartass and Greasy closed the doors behind them.

They heard the engine start and felt the car move. It was easy to spot Eddie who was sitting across from them despite the pitch-black darkness thanks to their enhanced vision, but they heard his shaky, panicked intake of breath.

Tom leaned over close enough while keeping his distance. “Valiant?” he whispered softly.

However, that only made the former Toon investigator more tense. “Who’s there?!” he barked.

“Shh, shh!” Twyla shushed him while Tom reclined. “It’s OK! It’s me, Tom Toonz. And my sister’s with us.”

That managed to calm Eddie down for a moment, but he tensed up once again. “Is this your first time being Toonnapped?” he asked. The twins only shared a silent glance, but that seemed to be an answer enough for Eddie. “Fuck.” he cursed. “You two gotta listen to me very carefully, OK?”

The vigilantes slightly leaned forward, their attention solely on him.

“Shit’s gonna hit the fan when we get there, and the weasels are gonna do whatever they’ll do to force you two to talk.” Eddie warned them, “Twyla, I want you to try and stay quiet, OK? And Tom,” he turned to face the Toon wolf despite being blocked by the sack, “Tom, you—”

Suddenly, the van stopped. Then they heard the front doors open, and multiple footsteps. Are they in Toontown already?

“Damn it,” Eddie hissed, “I’ll explain without them hearing.”

The back doors opened, and a bright, intense light nearly blinded Twyla. She hissed and shut her eyes tightly, trying to force the stinging, painful amount of light out of her sockets. But just as she lifted her tail to soothe the pain, something soft and silky blocked her vision.

What the hell? Twyla flinched. Am I being blindfolded?

“Ribbon blindfold? Really?” she heard Wheezy speak, and her ears perked in surprise. His voice wasn’t hoarse and raspy; instead, it was deep and gruff.

“Oh, cállate, fumador.” Greasy snarked. Twyla could hear him flipping his comrade off.

Her captor wrapped his arm around her waist. “Ladies first.”

Even with the blindfold on, she rolled her eyes before she was carefully escorted out of the van, followed by her comrades. Without vision, Twyla used her three other senses. The first thing she detected was the temperature. It was constantly changing from a heated balm to a gentle, cool breeze. Another thing she noted was the texture of the ground touching her tail. She knew for a fact it was a street, but it wasn’t like the ones she walked across. They were made of hard tar and rough gravel, paved in real-life asphalt concrete. The one she was standing on was made of the same materials, but they felt somewhat smoother…like they were drawn. The second sense she used was sound. She heard multiple sounds of distant breaking glass from bars, the yowls of angry cats in an alley nearby, and a switchblade flicking open before poking Tom’s back. And the third sense was the familiar heavy whiff of strong cologne and harsh trail of cigarette smoke.

After another five minutes of walking, the weasels stopped their trail.

“We’re here.” Smartass said. Twyla can hear him fishing in his pocket, then dug out a pair of keys. The door opened with a click, followed by an ominous creak. Twyla was forced to walk inside, and she heard shuffling change from concrete to wooden floors. They must be inside of a building.

Finally, the ribbon blindfold was removed, and Twyla squinted her eyes for a moment before she took in her surroundings. If Eddie’s office wasn’t already bad enough, then the Toon Patrol’s was a fucking wreck. The waiting lobby appeared to be more of a living room, decorated with worn-down tufted chairs, a wooden table, and half-torn sofas. On the table was an overused ash tray that probably hadn’t been washed in weeks, covered in a pile of cigarette ash. The tan-painted walls were tarnished with cracks, and the curtain-unveiled windows were shattered with bullet holes. Twyla’s nose scrunched from the reeking stench of smoke staining the room, but then her eyes found the only other décor on the walls besides a dart board. There was a massive bulletin with nails pinning various photos of Toons on the board. Hundreds of photos nearly filled the entire bulletin, and each one held a picture of a frightened or an intimidating Toon “criminal”. But they all had one thing in common.

They had blood-red x marks crossing their eyes.

Twyla’s blood chilled witnessing the horror symbolizing their demise, but then she found a sole photo that wasn’t marked. It was a photo of Roger Rabbit.

A rough shove startled her out of her horror-stricken trance, and she was pushed between Eddie and Tom like they were in a single line.

“Fall in!” Smartass commanded. His men lined up like a group of ruthless, dedicated soldiers, except they lacked the proper posture and slouched. He lit his cigar, and took a heavy puff of smoke, then began to walk in a line like a drill sergeant. “I want these three fugitives placed in separate rooms. Greasy, while I go pick up some ‘stools’, figure out which room is appropriate for our ‘printers’. I’ll call youse in for your input when I’m ready. We’ll deal with Valiant and Scarface foist, then we’ll ‘ill-terrogate’ the broad to ‘spell’ information.”

The twins’ ears lowered from hearing his malapropic error for “stools” with “tools”. A heavy dread clenched their guts from the imagination of their impending torture.

Smartass stopped walking and made full eye contact with his men. “Any questions?”

Stupid raised his hand, but his boss ignored him. As soon as he left the lobby, Greasy took over his spot. He studied each of them with an unrecognizable, calculating gaze that sent a sense of uncertainty deep in the recess of their core. His gaze stopped when he spotted Twyla in the middle and stared at her the longest. Tom’s ears lowered not out of fear, but in protective defiance. Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed and warily stepped closer.

“Well?” Wheezy arched a deadpan brow. “Where should we take ‘em?”

“Blindfold them again, then escort them to the interrogation room. El jefe is certainly gonna take his sweet time, so we’d best ensure our guests are comfortable.” A dangerous flash gleamed his dark eyes, and his lips warped into a bloodcurdling grin.

Wheezy and Psycho pulled out the blindfolds and tied them over Eddie’s and Tom’s vision again. Stupid attempted to tie one over Twyla, but Greasy snapped his fingers like he was scolding a misbehaving puppy. “Uh-uh. Not her. You follow Wheezy and Psycho, and make sure her brother doesn’t try to break free.”

“But duh,” Stupid protested, “You said to take all three of them!”

“Boss said he wants them to be separate, Estúpido.” The second-in-command gangster reminded him, his tone filled with frustration. Then he gave Twyla another smirk. “I’ll handle this one~”

The she-wolf halfie took a step back, not liking the sound of that. Tom’s fangs bared, his fur bristling with protective rage. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ touch her, you—!”

Psycho leapt up his left shoulder and clasped the wolf’s snout shut tightly with his sleep-covered while keeping a firm grip on his left shoulder, cutting his threat off. “Bad doggies don’t get a treat! Heehehehe!”

“Way to be subtle, Grease.” Wheezy muttered sarcastically, grabbing Eddie’s arm.

“Shut the fuck up and move it!” Greasy bellowed, startling the twins and even Eddie to an extent.         

The other three weasels complied and forced the struggling males out of the lobby. Eddie called over his shoulder, “Remember what I told you! Don’t say anything!”

Tom, who had a good grip of the consequences of his actions, tore his snout away from Psycho’s strong grip and bit on his paw hard enough to draw blood. The lunatic screeched in pain, and his assailant faced his sister. “Twyla, starò bene! Va bene? Non preoccuparti, troverò una via d'uscita da qui!"

Thankfully, their captors had no idea what he just said and only used more force to shove them away.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” Greasy purred, gently taking Twyla’s right arm. “Come this way.”

He led her down to a long, foreboding corridor. A flickering light barely gave any light in the darkness of the hallway, but Twyla could see a set of many doors across each side and the floor was accented by a dirty, aged carpet. After a couple of steps down, Greasy stopped at a door probably meant for her interrogation. He dug down his trousers pocket and pulled out a different set of keys. He unlocked the door with a click and pulled the handle. As if he were a gentleman, he bowed.

Twyla sighed quietly and entered the small room. She lifted her gaze…and was quite surprised by what she saw next.

She’d expected the room to be like one of those interrogation rooms in those old-school cop movies where the only furniture present consisted of a cold, steel table with two chairs standing on each side of the table. Or hell, she even expected it to be a torture room. But instead of seeing a single table or a room of torture devices, three vintage magenta loveseat couches surrounded a polished coffee table standing on top of a deep mahogany rug woven with intricate Oriental accents. Instead of feeing frigid, damp air, the room was enfolded with home warmth. However, there was no window. No chance of escape.

Is this…an interrogation room for ladies?

A pair of hands touching her cuffed wrists snapped her back to the situation.

What is he—? Twyla’s eyes widened.

“It’s all right, señorita. Just hold still.” Greasy replied.

What are you—? Twyla internally panicked.

Clink.

The cool metal restraints removed Twyla’s wrists. She can move her arms again.

Did…did he just uncuff her? Why would he…?

“See you later, princesa~” Greasy stood by the door, holding the handle with his left hand. He blew a Toon kiss, then he chuckled and locked the door behind him as he left.