Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sylvester experienced plenty of odd situations in his life as a corrupt lawyer. From strange clients to stranger criminals and yet, to this day the strangest situation he ever found himself in happened one late spring day years ago. Back then, he usually found himself scamming locals in each town visited. But on this peculiar summer day, he was hired to do paperwork for this wealthy businessman In Upper Mouseton for a pretty penny. Of course, At the time he didn't think much about the offer. In fact, he felt grateful to find a quick job he could do before moving on to a real scam.

However, what happened next was something he wouldn't forget for the rest of his days.

He arrived early at the estate with a briefcase in hand and clad in what he usually wore at the time, all green outfit consisting of a shirt under a vest, pork pie hat and tie.

Upon knocking on the door,the client in question, Mr. Mouse, a tall mustached mouse clad in a purple businessman suit, greeted him.

“Ah, you must be the lawyer,” Mr Mouse said, flashing a bright grin, “I hope the train ride wasn't too rough for a lower man like yourself.”

Sylvester forced himself to a fake smile. He always hated these types of moneybags who had more gold than actual brains.

“It was bearable.” He simply replied. “Now, let's get to business, shall we?”

“Why of course, come in, come in.” The mouse replied, holding the door open.

Sylvester stepped inside the estate, and was greeted by an overwhelming posh and lavish foyer. With embossed glam style walls, polished ivory floors, floral stained windows, and white rotary stairs.

Following the mouse up the stairs,he almost groaned upon being led into a child's bedroom instead of an office.

The bedroom appeared much smaller than the foyer, almost as if it was nothing but mere afterthought. With only a small twin bed,a simple wardrobe and single toy chest. The only fancy thing was a mahogany armchair next to bed.

Speaking of the bed, tucked under its plain white covers was a tiny mouse clad in an orange sweater. He couldn't be older than ten.

Oh no. Is this what he thinks this is?

“Now, I know you are a busy lawyer, but I'm sure you won't mind watching my son while you work.” Mr Mouse said, giving him a ‘you'll get paid less if you say no’ smile.

Never before had Sylvester wished he had the strength to slap someone. Usually, he preferred more subtle methods to show his frustration, but that smile was testing his patience.

But he didn't, instead he plopped down on the chair and held up his fake smile as sat his briefcase in his lap. “Why, of course, I don't mind at all.”

“Excellent, I'll get to the paperwork while you get acquitted with junior."

With that, Mr. Mouse left. Leaving Sylvester alone with this small, tiny child.

“Great.” Sylvester groaned, causing the child to stir. Oh, no.

Sylvester stiffened up, watching the child rub his eyes and sat up with a big goofy smile on his face.

“Who are you mister! You look a lot like my dad but with a cool hat and big briefcase” the kid rambled. “Wait, wow is that real leather? Can I touch-”

“No.” Sylvester snapped his briefcase away, sitting under the chair where the brat couldn't mess with it.

“Awwww, okay,” the child frowned for a brief moment before almost immediately brightening up again, “Are you my uncle?”

Sylvester blinked. "What no!”

“Don't lie! You look like my dad!”

Good lord. This child was going to drive him mad. Before he could respond though, Mr. Mouse returned with the paperwork tucked under his arm.

“Ah, Mortimer, you're awake.” He said, walking over to his son, “Do you like him so far?”

Mortimer beamed and nodded, “Of course, what's his name?”

“Oh, uh…” Mr. Mouse hesitated, tapping his chin as he turned to Sylvester, “Samuel?”

“Sylvester.” Sylvester corrected, gritting his teeth.

Mr. Mouse snapped his fingers, “Yes, that.”

Sylvester sighed, rubbing his temples as Mr. Mouse handed him the paperwork. This was going to be a long day.

“Can I play with uncle Sylvester?” Mortimer asked.

“Of course, Junior, that's his job.” Mr.Mouse said, patting Mortimer on the head.

Sylvester wanted to kill him. He was a lawyer for goodness’ sake. Not an underpaid babysitter. Still, he stayed in the chair, knowing it'd be foolish to do something to a rich businessman without a proper plan.

“Yay!” Mortimer leaped off his bed and clung onto Sylvester's leg, “We're going to have a lot of fun!”

Mr. Mouse let out a hearty chuckle as head out the room, “Oh, I'm sure you will.”

The door slammed closed and Sylvester was once again left with this hyperactive child.

“Wanna play with cars?” Mortimer asked, beaming.

Sylvester sighed, knowing the little brat would probably cry to his dad if said no. “Fine, let's play with cars."

“Really! Ha- cha cha! ” Mortimer squealed, causing Sylvester's eye to twitch. He needed coffee.

Ideally black coffee.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sylvester didn't know how long he could deal with Mortimer. It had been barely fourteen minutes, and the child was already getting on his last nerve, constantly tossing toy cars into the paperwork and asking increasingly personal questions.

“Do all lawyers wear all green or is it just you?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Where do you live?”

Luckily, before he gave into the temptation of chucking the menace out the nearest window, he finished up the paperwork.

With a smirk, he rose from his chair, scooping up his briefcase and walking over the door.

“Wait, where are you going, Uncle Sylvester?” Mortimer called out, quickly following him.

“First of all, I'm not your uncle ”Sylvester corrected as he paused at the door. “Second, I'm leaving. Goodbye.”

“Nooo!” Mortimer's face fell, his ears drooping as he clung onto Sylvester's leg again, “Don't leave!”

“Huh!” Sylvester yelped, lifting his leg in an attempt to shake him off, only for Mortimer to tighten his grip. “Mortimer-”

“Please stay! Please!” the boy pleaded.

“Mortimer.” Sylvester snorted. He had enough. With a huff,he sat his suitcase down on the floor and managed to pry Mortimer off him. “Go play by yourself.”

“But- Uncle Sylvester!”

“I'm not your uncle.” Sylvester exited the room and closed the door on his face. After that he walked down the hall, finding the businessman at the end of the hall, smoking an embossed cigar.

“Here.” Sylvester shoved the paperwork in his chest. “I'm done.”

“Is that so? Then where is your briefcase?” Mr. Mouse gibed as he drew out a stack of fifties.

Sylvester blinked, glancing down at this empty hand. He left it with Mortimer. Great.

With a huff, Sylvester snatched the money and stormed back to Mortimer room, opening the door with a slam. Only to find that Mortimer was nowhere to be found. His briefcase, however, was still there lying on the floor.

With a relieved sigh, he picked up the briefcase and headed out, going straight to the train station.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Usually every train he boarded and left bends together into a blur. But today, he couldn’t help but notice that with each train he took,his briefcase got heavier and heavier.

By the time he reached his seat on the last train,he all but dropped the briefcase on the seat adjusted to the window.

“Ow!” A familiar tiny voice yelled from inside.

Sylvester felt his heart drop. In an instant, he pops the briefcase revealing Mortimer tucked in a sea of paperwork, clothing, documents, books, files, and the occasional lock pick .

“Ha- cha cha! Hi Uncle Sylvester!” Mortimer gulped as he peered out the briefcase.

For a second Sylvester didn't know what to say.He just let his hand shoot up to face.

But with a deep breath he said four simple words. “I’m not your uncle.”

“Liar!” Mortimer shouted, crawling out the briefcase and onto the seat, causing a few pictures to scatter on the floor.

“M-ortimer!!” Sylvester sputtered, quickly gathering the pictures by one. However, when he picked up the last picture, he paused for a second as he examined it.

It was an old picture of a certain coonhound reading a book under a tree. The Coonhound had rich red fur, a strong contrast to his light blue cardigan vest.

Why did he still have this?

“Hey, what are you looking at?” Mortimer questioned, tilting his head.

“Nothing!” Sylvester shoved the pictures back inside the briefcase, quickly shutting it before scooping it up.

“Wait!” Mortimer gasped, his eyes going wide with awe. “Do you have a secret past? Are you a superhero!”

Sylvester shook his head. This kid watches too much TV. “No Mortimer, that is absurd.”

“Oh, I get it! it's super secret!” Mortimer exclaimed, shaping his fingers. “Don't worry Uncle Sylvester, your secret is safe with me, as long as you take me to your super cool secret hideout!”

“Oh-” Sylvester rolled his eyes but before he could muster up a proper response, the train began to move forward.

“Wooh! Here we go!” Mortimer cheered scooting over to the window. “I can't wait to see your hideout Uncle Sylvester!”

Sylvester froze. For the first time in his life, he was lost on what to do.

What can one do in such a situation?

Wait.

If the kid believed he was a superhero.

Then perhaps...

“Oh Mortimer, sweet Mortimer,” he cooed, in the best worried tone he could fake. “I do wish I could take you to my hideout, however, it's my moral duty as a hero to return you home.”

“Aw, do you have too?” Mortimer whined, slumping back with his arms crossed.

Sylvester nodded, sitting next to him, “Alas, I must, my heart gold is far too big, I could never forgive myself if you got hurt there.”

Mortimer blinked, staring at him for a few seconds before nodding. “Oh, okay…” he whimpered.

Oh no. Was the kid going to cry?

“Uh, There, there-” Sylvester swallowed, awkwardly patting his head, “...Would some ice cream make you feel better?"

That seems to do the trick as Mortimer eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Of course, it'll be my treat.”

—-------—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The train huffed to a halt, Sylvester slowly exited the locomotive with Mortimer trailing close behind him.

The station stood tucked in the middle of a small desert town tucked between towering mountains and the occasional cactus.

The houses were wooden, tightly packed and most of the stores were tiny mom and pops, or rundown diners.

A great place to lay low for a while, but a terrible place to try to steal a car in order to get back to Mouseton.

In fact he almost reminded him of-

No.

He needed to focus.

“Mortimer, take my han-.” Mortimer immediately did so, squeezing it tight with that same big goofy grin. “Okay then..”

Why was this kid so attached to him? They barely know each other.

Nonetheless, for now he ignored the weirdness of the situation, and went straight for one of the diners.

This diner was a converted rail car standing next to an old rusty phone booth.

The car had a stained, rusty steel exterior, fractured glass block windows, and a flickering neon sign overhead that read ‘Rick's Diner’.

“Is this where I get my ice cream Uncle Sylvester?” Mortimer asked, bouncing in place.

“No, I need you to go into their bathroom and make the biggest mess you can.” Sylvester ordered, snapping his fingers. “When you're done, come back here.”

“Huh, why?” Mortimer questioned.

Sylvester rolled his eyes.

Kids.

Why must they question everything?

“Everyone in there is a spy for the villain Mortimer," he lied. "That's why.”

“Oooo. On it!” Mortimer nodded, saluting him before dashing inside.

With the plan set in motion, Sylvester turned his attention to the parking lot and started eyeing each car.

As he suspected, there weren't many, exactly perfect for cross-state travel, ranging from rundown trucks, to wrecked minivans straight from dump. But eventually he found something decent, a black Honda Accord with a key waiting inside.

Perfect.

Now, to make sure nobody saw him.

He glanced at the diner's windows, and saw the patrons; a mix of Meerkats, Jerboas, Roadrunners, and a single red panda, all gathering at the bathroom.

Looks like the kid did his part well.

Now, It was time for him to shine.

With a smirk, he grabbed a lockpick from his briefcase and unlocked the car door with ease.

Too easy.

He sat inside, placing his briefcase under his seat. Now he just had to wait for the kid.

A few minutes later, Mortimer bolted over to him, however, his upper body, including his face, was completely covered in ketchup.

“Mortimer, what happened!” Sylvester yelped, his eyes going wide. “I said make a mess of the bathroom, not yourself!”

Mortimer grinned, unfazed “Don't worry, it's not mine!”

Oh right. The kid still thought he was a superhero.

Wait.

“Superheroes aren't exactly known for killing, Mortimer."

“The newer ones are!”

Newer ones? What comics was this-

No. He didn't care. He shouldn't care.

“Alright, fine, get in.”

Mortimer obeyed, sitting right next to him. “So, do I get my ice cream now?”

Sylvester let out a long sigh, wincing slightly when he noticed Mortimer didn't click himself in. “Put on your seatbelt and I'll get you ice-cream at the hotel.”

“Okay!” Mortimer smiled, bucking himself in.

With Mortimer properly buckled in, Sylvester started the car and pulled out the parking lot and onto the main road.

He glanced around to see if there were any bystanders. Luckily the only person on the street was a elderly bighorn sheep humming a tune while walking her tabby.

How convenient.

Thus with nobody important around, he drove away northward.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a small dimly-lit wooden office adorned in wanted posters marked with red Xs, sat Redbone Coonhound. His medium wavy red covered one eye and was tied in a small ponytail in the back. He sported an all black uniform that consisted of jeans, a long poncho that reached past his waist, a classic cowboy hat, leather gloves, and of course, a gun holster.

He was in the middle of cleaning his pistol, when a red panda in a blue waitress uniform burst inside.

“Conner, someone stole my dad's car!” She screamed.

Reacting swifty The Coonhound loaded his gun, and placed it back into his holster. “Take me there now, Miss Pagie.”

Chapter Text

On his mighty black steed, Connor arrived at the scene of the crime and immediately noticed a trail of ketchup leading to the diner.

“Now, You say that bathroom was destroyed, right?” he recalled, dismounting his horse and approaching the trail with Pagie. “Did you see anyone coming out of it?”

“Only a little kid. Why?” Pagie asked, resting her hands on her side.

“Well, think they might have somethin’ to do with your car.” Conner hummed, tapping his chin.

“Connor, there is no way a tiny little kid stole my dad's car all by himself.” Pagie snorted.

“Well, of course not.” Conner agreed, nodding his head. “But, I still need to know what the little fella looks like.”

Pagie shook her head, letting out a huff. “Fine but there better be a method to this madness.”

“There's always a method Ms.Paige. Always.” Conner assured.

Pagie rolled her eyes. “Would you stop calling me Miss, Connor?” She huffed. “What I'm, a stranger to you?”

Conner paused, tapping his chain before letting out a heavy sigh. “No, it's just so odd that yer already an adult, Miss.Paige, ” He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It felt like it was yesterday when you were only a little kid.”

“And I ruined my own life..” Paige snapped, gritting her teeth.

“It wasn't-”

“Yes, It was. I shouldn't have listened to him.” She interrupted, turning away and letting out a heavy sigh. “....Look, I'll find that phone book but never bring that up again, okay?”

“...If you insist, Pagie.”

---------------------------------------------------------

When night fell Sylvester pulled over the car in the hotel's parking lot and let out an annoyed sigh when he took a closer look at it.

The hotel had an western theme to it, with stone walls, creaky wooden batwing doors, and a horseshoe hanging above the door.

The kid was going to freak out about this place wasn't he?

“Now Mortimer-”

“This is the coolest hotel ever!” Mortimer squealed, punching his fist in the air.

“Mortimer, you need to get clean first.” Sylvester reminded him, picking up his briefcase.

“But-”

“No buts, you are getting clean or you won't get your ice cream.”

“Please-”

“No.” Sylvester said, un-bucking the kid from his seat. “You aren't running around covered in ketchup.”

“It's not that bad!” Mortimer whinged, immediately climbing to the top of his seat.

“Mortimer.” Sylvester groaned. This kid was a little demon. Still he couldn't lose his temper. The last thing he needed was the kid crying. “Do you want your ice cream or not?”

“Oh, oh-” Mortimer bit his lip, letting out a small whine before finally slumping back into the seat. “Fine!”

“Good stay close, we don't have all night.

”

Together the two entered the hotel and were greeted by more outdoor and western themed memorabilia and decor. From wooden chiavari chairs to oil lamp lights overhead.

Sylvester went to the front desk where a camel stood clad in a simple brown vest and a matching cowboy hat.

“WELL HELLO!” she hollered, slapping her leg. “WELCOME TO THE OUTBACK, HOW CAN I HELP YOU!”

Sylvester's eyes twitched, then pointed at Mortimer, “A room with a decent sink.”

The camel gasped, seeing Mortimer's ketchup covered state. “My, what happened to you little one?”

“I killed like a million bad guys, no big deal.” Mortimer replied in a matter of fact tone, causing Sylvester to bury his face in his free hand.

“Well now, aren't you a little hero?” The camel cooed. “What will you do next?”

“I know right!” Mortimer boasted. “Oh, probably eat! I'm getting hungry!”

“Can I pay for the room now?” Sylvester scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, of course, It's five dollars a night .” The camel informed, holding her hand out.

Sylvester grunted but handed her the money, hoping to get the kid clean and dry as fast as possible.

“Have a nice stay, it's right on this floor!” She said, giving Sylvester the key.

“We will!” Mortimer exclaimed as Sylvester ushered him down a hall. “Well, she was nice!”

“A little too nice.” Sylvester grumbled, his eyes scanning for their room as they walked down the desert themed halls.

Mortimer tilted his little head. “How can someone be too nice?”

“You'll understand when you're older.” Sylvester replied, coming to a stop at a door at the end of the hall. With the key he unlocked it and walked inside with Mortimer following closely behind.

The room, unsurprisingly, had similarly outdoor themed furniture. With two wagon-like beds, rustic lanterns serving as lighting,a wooden trash can, and painting of waterfalls and cowboys adorning the walls.

“Wooah!” Mortimer gasped in awe, stepped towards the beds, “We get to sleep here?”

“After you get clean and changed.” Sylvester said, setting his briefcase and key on the first bed. He plop it open, pulling out an old tie-dye t-shirt. “Here this will do.”

Mortimer stared at him blankly. “Are you a hippie, Uncle Sylvester?”

“Wh-at no!” sputtered Sylvester. “How do you even know what a hippie even is?”

“My dad always complains about them.” Mortimer answered, lifting up his shoulders.

Sylvester groaned, shaking his head, “Nevermind, let's get you clean.” He huffed, steering Mortimer into the bathroom.

Once again it was western themed…

A bath in the shape of a wagon, rags adorned with symbols of pistols and ropes and the even toilet was painted to look like a bucket. Gross..

The only non-themed items were sink, and countertop.

This was starting to remind him of someone..

Nonetheless, he dropped the shirt on the countertop, turned on the sink, dripped a towel into the water then pressed against Mortimer's head.

“I still have no idea how you manage to do this.” Sylvester sighed, scrubbing the mouse's head.

“I'm an efficient hero!” Mortimer gloated, puffing out his chest.

Sylvester pinched his forehead. This kid…

Still, he kept scrubbing, only stopping when was finished with his arms. “Alright, you change yourself.”

“Aww, but I don't wanna.” Mortimer whined.

“Well then, you won't get your ice-”

“Nevermind!” Mortimer snatched the towel out Sylvester's hand. “I'll do it, I'll do it!”

“That's what I thought.” Sylvester chuckled as exited the bathroom, closing the door behind as he let out a sigh of relief.

It couldn't wait to get this little brat back home.

—-------------------------------------------------------

By the time Mortimer finally got out of the bathroom in that tie-die t-shirt. Sylvester had already settled in, lounging back and reading a law book without a care in the world while his briefcase and the roomkey lay safe under the bed.

“I'm done, where is my ice cream?” Mortimer asked, wadding up to him.

Oh right.

Sylvester shut his book. Holding back a glare with all his might as he looked down at the little devil. “Wait until tomorrow okay?” he told him. “You need your rest after all.”

“Okay!” Mortimer chirped, bolting over to the second bed. He tried to climb up it, but his little arms couldn't quite hold on for long on the bed sheets. “Grr! Let me up!”

Sylvester shook his head. How pitiful.

Still, he left his bed, scooping Mortimer up and tucking him over the covers. “There.”

Mortimer blinked but then smiled brightly. “Thank you!”

Sylvester paused. He didn't know why but that smile was different from the kid's usually goof one. It felt more genuine.

“Err, sure kid.” He said, waving his hand dismissively as he returned to his bed.

What a weird kid.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“Why yes Sheriff, I saw that exact child in a black car this morning while walking my cat. It was speeding off northward.”

Conner pressed the phone closer to his ear, taking in every word the elderly lady had to say. Finally after a whole day of calling the locals, it seems like he had a lead.

“Was anyone with the child?” he asked. “Anyone at all?”

“An odd stanger in all green, he glanced at me before speeding away.” the lady answered, sending a chill down Conner's spine.

It can't be.

Can it?

It's been four years.

“...I need to go, thank you.” He hung up the phone and turned to face Pagie who was standing behind him with her arms crossed.

“So?” she asked, tiling her head.

“I got a lead on that carjacker but it's a dangerous one.” He said, lowering his hat slightly. “You gotta go home.”

Pagie scowled, her face turning red. “No! I'm going with you!” She shouted, her hands squeezing into fists. “I don't care how dangerous they may be! I'm getting my dad's car back!”

Conner however, stood his ground. He needs to keep her safe and away from him.

“You ain't comin’ Pagie, no matter how much you pout.” He asserted. “Now leave!”

A tense silence fell upon them, the two staring each other down until finally Pagies resolved crumbled, her eyes welling with tears.

“You're an awful person, Connor!” She spat, as she turned on her heel and stormed away.

Poor girl. But this was for her own good.

Pressing on, he returned to his horse, opening the saddlebag and surveying the contents with a steely gaze,

With one look he knew he had all he needed to find and bring justice to no good lawyer.

From his trusty badge to the heavy handcuffs that never break or give when faced with resistance.

It didn't matter how many tricks Sylvester pulled or what scheme he had under his sleeves, Connor was going to find him, no matter what.

So, with a heavy sigh, he closed the bag and mouthed his horse, riding northward and as the moon shone upon him, his mind wandered.

Why was Sylvester back into his life all sudden?

Hasn't he got what he wanted?

Why was he traveling with a child?

Did he kidnap the kid?

Conner didn't know. The only way he was going to find anything out was to confront the lawyer himself.

Chapter Text

“Uncle Sylvester?”

Sylvester's eyes fluttered open as he turned towards Mortimer's voice, finding the little mouse right beside his bed.

“I'm not your uncle, Mortimer.” He said, rubbing his forehead as he sat up.

“You are so!” Mortimer insisted, pointing a finger at him.

Sylvester shook his head. It was too early for this. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I threw up, and I'm hungry.” Mortimer said, without skipping a beat.

“What?” Sylvester squinted his eyes. “You didn't.”

“But I did.” Mortimer pointed at his bed where a blur of green was leaking down on the floor.

Disgusting.

But not his problem.

“The Housekeeper will take care of it.” He told Mortimer as he stood up, scooping up the room key and his briefcase from under his bed. “We need to get back on the road.”

“And buy my ice cream and food !” Mortimer reminded him.

Oh, right.

“Only if you're good in the car, Mortimer,” Sylvester said, walking over to the door and opening it. “That means no crying, no yelling, or anything else that'll annoy me.”

Mortimer frowned slightly. “Does that mean I have to sit still?” He asked, following Sylvester out into the hall. “I'm really bad at that.”

“Look, if you can't stay still, then at least try to stay quiet.” Sylvester replied, setting the room key down at the front desk then heading straight towards the exit.

“I'll try!” Mortimer said, fidgeting with his fingers.

He had better try.

Sylvester's patience was already running thin, especially after that little throwing-up incident.

Even so, he still helped Mortimer into the car passenger seat in the back, clicking on the little brat with a heavy sigh. “Remember to be good.”

“I will!” The little mouse chirped.

Sylvester sighed, shaking his head as he sat down in the front, setting his briefcase in the empty seat next to him and staring at the car, driving out onto the open road.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours passed and Mortimer was quiet as a ghost while Sylvester drove through the empty and arid desert.

A little too quiet.

Suspicious by this sudden good behavior, Sylvester glanced over his shoulder to check on the menace, only to find the young mouse asleep and snoring.

Odd. Didn't he sleep last night?

Not that Sylvester cared. The strange child was more trouble than he was worth, but still, Sylvester couldn't help but wonder what was going on in that kid's mind.

However, before he could think about it further, a sudden beep from the dashboard caught his attention.

‘Low gas’ it read.

Great.

With a huff, he turned the car into the nearest gas station, parking in an empty spot.

Glancing at the prices, his grip tightened on the wheel.

Four dollars per gallon.

Look, he'll have to scam some fools.

Especially now that he has a child to look after.

Exiting the car, shutting the door behind him as his eyes scanned for any potential ‘clients’

A pair of white owls by the station's window caught his eye. The duo looked like tourists, clad in overly tacky matching red Hawaii shirts and green bucket hats.

Perfect.

Sylvester approached them with a confident smile when-

FLASH.

Sylvester stepped back, stunned by the sudden flash of light.

The taller of the pair was holding a polaroid camera and had an overall proud smile on his face. “Sweetheart, look at this guy!” he exclaimed, showing the newly printed photo to the second owl.

The second owl gasped, her cups cupping her curly cheeks. “What is he?” She wondered, looking at the photo. “He looks like a mix of a rat and a weasel.”

“He looks more like a dog to me.” The taller owl replied.

Sylvester held back a groan. What idiots, gawking at him, like he's some sort of circus freak.

Still, he kept his confident smile, clearing his throat to get their attention. Maybe he can work with this. “Now, now, there is no need to get overexcited, my friends.” He said, leaning forward slightly. “I'm-”

“Uncle Sylvester, there you are!”

Sylvester froze as he felt little hands crawl up arm, slowly making their way up to his forearm. Why now?

“I thought I lost you forever!” Mortimer said, hugging his forearm.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” he said, taking a deep breath as he walked back toward his stolen car.

Rising up arms, Sylvester narrowed his eyes at the little brat who held onto his sleeve like his life depended on it. He was also wearing his glasses.

Wait.

When did he?

How did he?

Oh, never mind.

“Sweet little devil, will you let me scam people in peace?” Sylvester sneered acidly. Mortimer tilted his little head, staring at him like he had grown a second head.

“What's a scam?”

What?

“Are you messing with me, kid?” Sylvester asked.

Mortimer shook his head. Oh boy. “It's an easy way to make money,” Sylvester answered, lowering his arm.

“Oooooh!” Mortimer gasped, finally letting go of his arm. “Can I help?”

“No. Go inside and pick out your ice-cream and a snack.” Sylvester ordered, motioning at the gas station doors.

“But I don't want to be alone!” Mortimer whined. “I hate being alone!”

Sylvester sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Fine, you can watch but that's it, okay?”

Mortimer nodded eagerly. “Okay.”

With that settled, Sylvester returned back to the tourist couple. “My apologies, my nephew is a little ball of energy.”

“Is your brother a normal mouse then?” asked the taller tourist.

“My friend, all questions will be answered in my newest autobiography.” Sylvester lied, holding his hand. “All I need is twenty dollars each, that photo, and an address.”

“You're a writer?” The shorter owl gasped. “What a steal!”

“Indeed and you won't get a better deal for a new book.” Sylvester nodded, watching with a smirk as the taller owl drew out a pen, two twenties and a notepad.

“Here you go.” The taller owl said, handing him the bills and the photo. “Just give me a minute to write our address down.”

“Don't forget the a!” The short owl shouted, leaning over her husband's shoulder.

“I know, I know!”

“Or the b, or the l or-”

As the couple went back and forth, Sylvester tore the photo to sheds, tossing the remains in a nearby trash can before returning to Mortimer who had a look of awe on his face.

“How did you do that?” The boy asked as Sylvester ushered him inside the gas station. “I want to do that!”

“I'll tell you when we get back on the road.” Sylvester whispered, grabbing a basket. “Now go pick an ice-cream and a snack.”

“Okay!” Mortimer skips over the refrigerators.

Sylvester on the hand, scanned the shelves for any extra essentials for the kid.

Of course, being a gas station the section was rather limited with mostly unhealthy snacks and sodas lining the walls.

In the end, Sylvester only managed to find a bag of trail mix, a couple of granola bars, and a pack of water bottles.

It wasn't much but it would do.

Satisfied, Sylvester made his way to the register that was manned by Fennec Fox in a green polo shirt and matching hat.

“Uncle Sylvester, I got my ice-cream and snack!” Mortimer chirped, rushing over him with a pint mint chip ice cream and a pack of gummy worms.

“Really?” Sylvester commented, rolling his eyes. “Mint ice-cream and gummy worms?”

“Don't knock it until you try it.” Mortimer retorted with a little huff.

Sylvester rolled his eyes. The more he learned about this kid. The weirder he becomes.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Conner didn't want to rest, not even a second, also his poor horse was exhausted from moving all night, panting heavily as it trotted down the road.

With a heavy sigh, Connor guided the horse to a nearby hotel, tying her to a phonebook and placing his hat on her head before heading inside.

“Howdy!” The front desk lady, a camel, Greeted him as he approached. “Welcome to the Outback, cowboy! How may I help you ?”

“I need water for my horse.” Conner answered

“A real horse!” the lady exclaimed. “May I see it?”

“Ma'am, water please.” Conner repeated, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground.

The lady shrunk back slightly, her eyes looking him up and down, then quickly said; “Uh, we have some in the back, one moment sir!”

Conner narrowed his eyes, watching the camel rush down the hall, disappearing into one of the doors.

Suspicious, he followed her, his hand hovering near his pistol, ready to pull it out if need be

When he made it to the room, he was met with the sight of the lady on top of a stack of boxes, trying to pry open a window.

”What in Sam Hill are you doin’ lady!” Conner yelled. The lady yelped, falling to the ground with a thud.

Conner didn't move, staring at her as she scooted away, her back hitting the wall. “Please don't hurt me!” She pleaded, raising her hands up.

“I ain't goin’ to hurt ye.” Conner said, slowly approaching her. “I'm a shieff, not a bandit.”

“Then why are you dressed in all black?” The lady inquired.

“It's my style, alright?” Conner answered, kneeling down to meet her eyes.

The lady flushed. “Darn, now I feel silly.”

“It's okay, miss,” Conner assured. “But I still need that water or else a dangerous crook might get off scot-free.”

“A crook!” The lady gasped, the color draining from her face.

Conner nodded gravely. “One in all green, see ‘em?”

The lady nodded meekly. “He was with a little one.”

“Any ideas where they might be headin’ to?” Conner asked, offering his hand out.

“The kid said he was hungry, so they're probably getting food.” the lady answered, accepting his hand.

“Is there a restaurant nearby?” Conner pressed, helping her back to her feet.

She shook her head. 'No, only a gas station.”

“Hm, well, can you give me the key to his room?” Conner asked. “I need to look for clues.”

“Oh, of course, follow me.” The lady agreed, walking towards the door.

Conner followed closely, his nose winching as they approached another door at the back.

Was that the smell of vomit?

“Oh no!” the lady shrieked as she swung open the door.

Conner peered at his head inside and lo and beyond, a steam of vomit was leaking down from one of the beds.

“You got two mops by chance?” He asked her.

“Wait, isn't that crook more important?” The lady pondered, scratching the back of her head.

“He is,” Conner nodded. “But it'll be mighty cruel of me to let you do all the cleanin’ by yourself.”

The lady gave him a weak smile. “Thank you sir, I'll go get the mops right away.”

Conner watched her leave, then stepped further into the room. First he checked both beds, looking under and in the sheets for anything that could be another lead.

Alas, there was nothing.

With no wardrobes or cabinets in sight. He ventured into the bathroom and immediately spied an abandoned sweater lying on the ground.

Haha!

Stepping closer, he noticed that the sweater was covered in ketchup. This clearly belongs to the kid, he must have washed himself after the dinner incident.

With a hum, he kneeled down, debating whether he should take this with him for evidence. On the one hand, physical evidence was massive for throwing a crook like Sylvester behind bars but on the other hand, depending on the kid's age and his involvement with Sylvester's crimes, the boy could get into massive trouble with the law.

In the end, he decided not to take the sweater. It wasn't worth the risk.

Instead, he returned to the bedroom where the camel lady was waiting for him with two mops and a bucket.

“Let's get to work!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the room was cleaned spotless, the two of them returned to the lobby together.

“Are you sure I can't give you any money, sheriff?” The last asked as she returned to the desk. “You've been such a doll.”

“Nope.” Conner shook his head. “I only need water for my horse, and I'll be on my way.”

“If you say so,” the lady sighed, drawing out a water bottle and dog bowl from the drawer. “Will these do?”

“ It's better than nothin’, thank you kindly, miss.” Conner replied, taking both of the items and heading straight outside.

He set down the bowl in front of his horse then carefully poured the bottle contents inside. “Here you go, girl.”

The mighty steed lowered her head and began drinking immediately.

Conner smiled, petting her back as he took his hat back, returning it to his head. What a good horse.

“Erh, Mr. Shieff?” The lady's voice rang behind him.

Conner turned, meeting her worried gaze. “I already told you, I don't need anyth-”

“No, not that.” The lady interjected, wringing his wrists. “I just noticed you have a pistol.” She said, motioning to his gun. “Are you planning on killing the crook?”

“It depends.” Conner answered, patting his holster. “If he comes quietly, then we have no problem, but if not-”

“That's awful!” The lady protested, her hands squeezing into fists. “It doesn't matter if he's a crook, you can't just shoot someone dead!”

Conner frowned, taken back by her sudden anger. Who was she to judge? She had no idea how dangerous Sylvester was.

Nevertheless, he took a deep breath. “I understand you're worried, Ma’am, but trust me, this crook is as vile as they come.”

“But he has a little one with him!” She retorted, jabbing a finger into his chest. “What happens to him after you shoot the crook dead?”

Conner paused. Truth be told, he hadn't thought about what would happen to the kid if he did kill Sylvester, especially if the kid had no other family. However, he was confident he could find someone good to take care of the boy.

“I'll find him a good home ma'am.” he finally told her, unhooking this horse from the phone booth. “You have nothin’ to worry about.”

“But won't the little one be terribly upset?” The lady questioned as Conner mounted his horse.

“He can't be upset over somethin’ he won't see or hear about.” Conner asserted, spurring his horse forward.

“You can't do this!” The lady cried, but Conner ignored her as he rode northward once again.

A worrisome stranger won't deter him from his mission. He will get Sylvester.

Chapter Text

“So, how did you do that Uncle Sylvester?” Mortimer asked, his voice muffled by a bunch of gummy worms.

“It's called hook, line, and sinker, kid.” Sylvester answered, his eyes locked on the long empty road ahead. “And stop talking with your mouth full! It's uncouth!”

“Hook?” Mortimer blinked, tilting his head. “Like a fishing hook?”

Sylvester rolled his eyes. “No Mortimer, when you scam someone you first use a ‘hook’, a bit of information that piques their interest-”

“What does pique mean?” Mortimer interrupted, stuffing more gummy worms into his mouth.

Sylvester rubbed his temples. “Let's stay on track here, Mortimer.” he sighed. “After you get them hooked, you offer them a ‘line’, a way from them to get what they want, then you ‘sinker' the hook by getting them to accept your terms. Got it?”

Mortimer fell silent, his fingers drumming against his knees but eventually nodded. “Yep, Can I try it?”

Sylvester held back a snort of laughter. This kid really thought he could con someone?

Still, he supposed it would be fun to watch. “Alright kid, the next hotel you can try to scam someone.”

Mortimer beamed, pumping his fist into the air. “Yes!”

—------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later as the sun started to set, they arrived at the next hotel. This one was thankfully a normal hotel, albeit a bit rundown with a few tears and holes adorning the red floral walls but it'll do for the night.

However, before Sylvester could approach the front desk worker, Mortimer bet him to punch, bolting straight to the desk.

“Welcome to the flower palace, how may I help you?” a teen meerkat droned, propping his head in hand.

Mortimer grinning, holding his bag of gummy worms high in the air. “I'll give you my gummy worms if you give me a free room.”

Sylvester snorted back a laugh. Typical child logic.

“Kid, This isn't the candy kingdom.” The teen groaned, shaking his head. “Go back to your mommy, okay?”

Mortimer frowned. “I don't have a-”

“Don't care.” The teen snapped, drawing out a magazine from within the desk. “Go away.”

“Fine jerk! I didn't want a room anyway!” Mortimer cried, tossing the bag of gummy worms to the ground before turning around and running back to Sylvester.

Sylvester stiffened as Mortimer threw his arm around him, burying his face into his vest.

Oh no. This wasn't funny anymore.

“Erh, are you alright, kid?” Sylvester asked, patting his head.

“No!” Mortimer sniffled, tightening his grip. “He's stupid!

”

“Uh, why don't I show you a different trick?” Sylvester quickly offered, feeling the awkwardness settle In.

Mortimer looks up, his eyes red and puffy. “Do I have to talk to the jerk?”

“No, you only have to steal from him.” Sylvester replied, lowering his voice to a whisper.

Mortimer perked up slightly. “Yeah! He devers-”

“Shh!” Sylvester hushed. “You don't want to get caught, do you?”

“No.” Mortimer mumbled, whipping his nose.

“Then keep quiet and grab a key to one of the rooms.” Sylvester ordered, patting his back. “And do it fast before he gets done with that magazine.”

“Okay, got it.” Mortimer replied.

“Good.” Sylvester turned Mortimer around. “Remember don't get caught.”

Mortimer nodded silently, slowly making his way back. Sylvester watched him closely ready to grab the kid and ‘apologized’ at a moment's notice.

Then after what felt like hours, Mortimer returned triumphantly. With a key in his hand and a wide smile on his face.

He actually did it.

Sylvester took the key and hid it in his sleeve, a strange feeling of pride flooding through him as he headed down the hall with Mortimer in tow.

It was odd. One moment he couldn't stand this kid, and now was almost proud of him.

“Did I do good, Uncle Sylvester?” Mortimer asked as they reached their room.

“Yes kid, you did good.” Sylvester praised, ruffling the top of his head.

Mortimer beamed, his smile brighter than before.

Huh.

Maybe this kid wasn't half bad after all.

“Say, how about we try scamming the guests after we get settled in?” Sylvester offered, unlocking the door.

“Really?” Mortimer gasped.

Sylvester nodded. “Sure kid.”

Mortimer hugged him again, almost knocking the wind out of him.

This kid sure was an overly affectionate one, wasn't he?

Oh well. At least he was useful now.

—--------------------------------------------------------

When Connor reached the gas station, he let out a frustrated sigh. Instead Sylvester, the only patron of the station, was a pair of owl tourists writing on a notepad together.

Still, beggars can't be choosers.

Dismounting his horse, Connor approached the couple, his hat respectful removed. “Pardon me, ma'man and sir.” He said, clearing his throat. “Did you happen to see a fella dressed in all green pass by here?”

The taller of the two gazed up, a look of recognition in his eyes. “Oh yes! He's going to sell us a book after we finish writing our address.”

Conner blinked, glancing around for the crooked lawyer. “Well then where is he?”

“He's ov-” The tall owl trailed off, his eyes going wide. “He took our money and left!”

“That fiend!” The shorter one chimed in with a gasp.

“That's what I reckon.” Conner sighed, putting his hat back on his head. “Any idea where he may be headin’ to?”

“No, however, I did take a picture of him.” The taller owl replied, “But I think he may have thrown it away. “

Conner's gaze swifty landed on a trashcan nearby. “Excuse me for a moment.” He muttered , running over there.

As he rummage through the trash, he Sadly he only found sheds and tears of the supposed photo.

He couldn't work-

No.

He could tape them together!

Make handmade wanted posters!

Then-

A sudden scream snapped him out of his panic thoughts. It sounded like it came from inside.

Without even thinking twice, Connor rushed inside and meet with a chilling scene- a masked brown bear waving a knife at Fennec Fox.

“Give me all the money!” The bear growled.

In an instant, Connor drew out his gun, aiming at the bear's shoulder. “Drop the knife.”

“Excuse me?” The bear laughed as he locked eyes with Conner. “What are you some sort of cowboy?”

Conner frowned. “Nope, I'm a sheriff, Miss.” He corrected, tightening his grip. “And you have three minutes to drop that knife before I shoot.”

The bear laughed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah right!”

“One.”

“You didn't have the guts!”

“Two.”

“Do it! You wouldn't!”

“Three!” Without even a second hesitation, Connor pulled the trigger, the bullet flying right through the robber's shoulder.

“Ahh!” The bear screamed, dropping his knife on the floor as she clutched his shoulder. “What the hell!”

Conner quickly took his opportunity, inching closer to her and kicked her knife to the side, ensuring she couldn't hurt anyone else.

“I warned you, didn't I?” He huffed, pressing this gun to her head. “Now get out of here before I put a hole between your eyes.”

The bear swallowed. “O-ksy okay, I'll leave!” he stammered, raising up his hands in defense. “Just don't shoot!”

Connor didn't reply, instead he raised his gun slightly, watching the robbery closely as she crept towards the door.

What a coward. All bark, no bite.

Once the robber disappeared into the distance, Connor faced the Fennec Fox who was still shaking in their boots.

“You're alright?”

The fox shook their head. “I almost got robbed!”

“....You should take the rest of the day off.” Connor suggested, putting his gun away. “If your boss has a problem with it, I'll talk to ‘em.”

The fox's jaw dropped. “You would do that?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Connor replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It's the least I can do.”

“I-” the fox shook their head. “No, you have done enough, sheriff.”

Connor nodded. “Well, If it's not any trouble, may I ask you somethin’ ?”

“Uh, sure, go ahead.”

“Have you seen anyone in all green?”

“Oh yeah! His car went east of here.”

“Is there anything notable east of here?”

The fox shook their head, “Only a hotel, a fairgrounds and a casino-”

“A casino! Of course!” Connor snapped his fingers. “Sylvester won't be able to resist lurkin’ there!”

“What-” the fox blinked but Connor was already out the door.

He mouthed his horse again, waving goodbye to the owl couple as he took off westward.

By tomorrow, Sylvester will be his.

Chapter Text

The scamming went better than Sylvester expected, Mortimer, while a little awkward at first, managed to convince people with his puppy dog eyes and fake sneezing.

“I'm sick” the boy would plead to each of their clients.

By the morning, Sylvester had a whole bag of I'll gotten gains slung over his shoulder.

“Excellent job, kid.” he praised as they exited the hotel.“Perhaps I should teach you how to cheat at cards next.”

“You mean like go fish?” Mortimer asked innocently.

“I mean real card games, Mortimer.” Sylvester replied, ushering him into the car and concealing their stash of cash in the trunk. “I doubt a casino-”

“I hate casinos!” Mortimer screamed, slamming his fists on the dashboard .

Sylvester blinked, taken back from the sudden outburst. “Why so?”

Mortimer looked away. “...My dad always leaves me alone there when he has big meetings.” He muttered, tapping his fingers together. “Can't we go to a fair instead?”

Sylvester paused. One hand, a fair full of annoying children would be terribly boring compared to a casino, but on the other hand, he didn't want Mortimer to cry again.

“Okay, fine.” He conceded, getting into the driver's seat. “But don't squander our money.”

“Okay, I promise!” Mortimer exclaimed, calming down as Sylvester buckled him in.

Sylvester let out a sigh. This kid was going to give him gray fur.

Nonetheless, he started the car and began searching for a fair as he drove away from the hotel.

At first, there was nothing but the long empty road and the vast desert, then in the counter of his eye, a sudden gillmer caught his eyes.

Rising from the flat, dead terrain, a colossal ferris wheel stood proudly, its shining pink lights blinking and flickering.

“Uncle Sylvester, look!” Mortimer shouted, pointing at the wheel. “I want to ride that!”

“Of course you do.” Sylvester groaned, taking the nearest exit and driving towards the fair.

Once he parked, Mortimer jumped out the car, dragging Sylvester over to a ticket booth manned by a sand cat in a yellow waistcoat.

“Welcome to the summer feast fair folk!” The sand cat wave. “How may I help you?”

“I want to ride the ferris wheel!” Mortimer exclaimed, bouncing up and down.

“Ah well, a day ticket is five dollars per person.” The sand cat informed, extending out her hand.

Mortimer glaced at Sylvester, his eyes going big. “Please!”

Sylvester rolled his eyes but drew out a ten, handing the money to the sandcat. “Here.”

“Thank you.” The sand cat smiled, taking the money then tying a red wool bracelet around Mortimer's and Sylvester's wrists. “Enjoy your time!”

As they entered the fairgrounds, Sylvester couldn't help but wince. The fair was the definition of childish, with various rides painted in sunny colors, and loudspeakers blaring out overly cheerful music.

Oh. How wonderful.

“Oh look, an alien action figure!” Mortimer suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a yellow booth manned by a roadrunner.

Sylvester glanced towards the booth and sure enough, there were several rows of alien and monster dolls, along with a few plastic guns, and array of moving wooden targets in the back.

“What about the ferris wheel?” Sylvester questioned as Mortimer dashed towards the booth.

“Let me win this first!” Mortimer replied, causing Sylvester to groan.

“Why hello, young boy!” The roadrunner greeted, a cheeky smirk spending across his beak. “Wanna test your aim?”

Sylvester narrowed his eyes at this. He knew that type of smirk all too well.

“Mortimer, maybe you should pick a different booth.” He suggested.

“But I really want that alien!” Mortimer pleaded, motioning at a purple alien doll.

Sylvester sighed, rubbing his temples. He couldn't believe this.

The roadrunner grin only widened. “Come on, help the kid out.”

Sylvester opened his mouth to protest, then closed it when noticed a small level near the target. It seems to have three notches on its metal base.

That must control the targets in some way.

“Very well.” He finally said, scooping up a plastic gun.

“Excellent,” the roadrunner chuckled, clasping his hand together. “I'll start the game.”

“Yeh!” Mortimer cheered, picking up his own plastic gun. “I'm going to win that alien!”

Sylvester didn't reply, instead he watched the roadrunner closely, studying his movements as he pulled the lever to the third notch.

In an instant, the targets began to move, bouncing and swaying in erratic distractions.

“They're so fast!” Mortimer remarked, lifting his toy gun up. “How am I supposed to hit them?”

“Simple Mortimer, when the target slows down you shoot, okay?” Sylvester replied, aiming his gun at the roadrunner.

Mortimer nodded. “Okay!”

“Hey watch where you're aiming the- ow!” The roadrunner shouted, slumping back as a pallet hit his eye.

As the roadrunner stumbled about, Sylvester swifty took aim at the lever and pulled the trigger .

The pallet flies through the air, knocking the level to the first notch, causing the targets to slow down, allowing Mortimer to shoot the middle target.

There was ding, snapping the roadrunner back to reality. “What- how, when?” He stammered, glancing around.

“The kid won, give him his doll.” Sylvester snorted, snapping his fingers.

The roadrunner scoffed, but complied, handing Mortimer the purple alien doll.

Mortimer squealed, hugging the doll close to his chest. “Thank you Uncle Sylvester!”

Sylvester froze. Did he really help this kid without expecting anything in return ?

No, that was impossible.

Right?

Before he could think of his a response, Mortimer grabbed his sleeve and dragged towards a nearby rollercoaster.

Oh boy.

Booth after booth, ride after ride, the duo made their way through the fair, winning every possible prize until Mortimer's arms were filled with army dolls.

“Here, put your dolls in here.” Sylvester said, grabbing one from a nearby booth .

Mortimer nodded, dumping all the toys into the bag.

Just as Sylvester zipped the bags, Mortimer grabbed his sleeve again, finally drawing him towards the ferris wheel.

When they reached the ferris wheel, Sylvester put the bag in a locker and allow a a young coyote girl to usher them inside the cart and secured them inside with a metal bar.

Then the wheel began to spin, slowly moving until it came to a sudden halt at the top.

Mortimer let out a yelp, clinging onto his arm. “Why did it stop!”

“Maintenance, Mortimer.” Sylvester guessed, patting his back. “No big deal.”

“Oh okay.” Mortimer let out an awkward chuckle and continued to gasp in awe at the tiny figures below.

Sylvester rolled his eyes. He wasn't as impressed. He had been on much higher structures. However, he was able to see a casino from here, its bright lights and flashy advertisements beckoning him.

“Uncle Sylvester?” Mortimer's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Thank you.”

“What.” Sylvester blinked, taken back.

“You didn't have to help me win those toys.” Mortimer explained, playing with his hands. “But you did, you're a good uncle.”

Sylvester opened his mouth then closed it. What kind of life did this kid live where he would be a good uncle?

“Erh, thank you?” He said at last.

Mortimer smiled and snuggled up against his side.

Sylvester tensed at sudden affection, but resisted the urge to pull away. “Eh, Mortimer, look at that!” He quickly pointed at a large tent, hoping to get the kid off him.

“Oh!” Mortimer pulled away from Sylvester, his eyes locking on the tent below.

Sylvester let out a breath.

He wasn't going soft for this kid.

He was better than that.

------------------------------------------------------------

As Connor stepped Inside the casino, he immediately had to cover his nose.

The air was thick with sweat , tobacco, and cheap gin. The noise was no better. Croupiers rapping on tables, slot machines rattling and people screamed in delight, despair, or even rage.

But what caught Conner's eye was a familiar group of three white cougars, drinking at the bar in the back.

The group all wore dark gray pinstripe suits, matching fedora, and we're all chatting up a storm.

“Ah, look at the time.” the first cougar drawled, shaking his head.” we better get back before the boss releases the hounds.”

“Oh man, I was about to order my favorite drink!” The second one grumbled, slowly rising from his seat.

“Oh shut your trap and get a move on !” The third one barked, snapping his fingers.

With that, the group departed from the bar and walked up a nearby stairwell.

Could It be?

Intrigued, Conner made his way over to the bar only to be blocked by a Caracal clad in black polo shirt and matching pants.

“Hold on buddy, no guns allowed.” The caracal hissed, extending out her hand. “Either leave it here or take it outside.”

Conner sighed but complied, handing over his pistol then continuing his way to the bar, where the bartender, a Kangaroo rat in white overalls, greeted him. “What can I get you, cowboy?”

“What's upstairs?” Conner asked, motioning at the stairwell.

“Apartments and an office.” The rat answered simply.

“Then you won't mind if I poke my head up there to meet your little friend?” Conner pressed, his eyes narrowing.

With a heavy the rat lowered his voice to a whisper. “Look pal, don't be a hero, stay in line your lane.”he warned, glancing around nervously. “I don't want to mop up any more red stains, capice?”

Conner saw red at the veiled threat, he clenched his jaw and rushed over to the stairwell, marching up the steps with a scowl.

He didn't care if he lost all his limbs, he was going to find out what was going on here.

After passing a few apartments, he finally made it to the top. In front of him was a towering metal door flanked by two white tiger guards in black leather jackets.

The taller of two grinned as Conner approached. “Well, well, look at this Leon,” she whispered to her friend. “The deputy is finally back with a new look.”

“He looks more like a bandit now if you asked me.” The second remarked, leaning against the wall.

“I'm a shieff now.” Conner gritted his teeth, squeezing his hands into fists. “Now move.”

“Of course, after all, the boss loves a good reunion.” The taller snickered, opening the door.

Conner immediately stepped Inside, feeling a cold chill go down his spine as he closed the door behind him.

The office was all white. White aspen. flooring,white marble walls,a cotton sofa occupied by the trio from earlier, and massive white desk paired with leather swivel chair that has its back turned to him.

Hell, even the array of windows behind the desk had a white trim.

“You!” Conner shouted, storming over the desk. “What are you up to now and where's Sylvester?”

The chair spun around, revealing a white lion clad in a black double-breasted vest and white polo tie.

“Ah, deputy.” The lion leaned forward, their icy gaze locking onto Connor's . “It's been a long time, hasn't it?”

Conner shot a glare at them. “Answer the question, Kragen.”

Kragen let a resigned sigh, their large gloved hands folding together on the desk. “Do you think I have a backstabber tracker, deputy?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “For all I know he's halfway to the moon.”

“Wait, he betrayed you too?” Conner questioned, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that really that shocking?” Kregan huffed, rolling their eyes. “That lawyer's ambition knows no bounds.”

“But how did you recover?” Conner probed, slamming his palms on the desk. “Sylvester ain't the type to leave folks with anyin’, much less power.”

“Oh deputy, did you forget who I am?” Kragen chuckled, wagging their finger at him. “When £ lose power, Ibdo whatever it takes to regain it.”

Conner squinted his eyes. “You disgust me.”

Kregan smirked. “Now, now, don't be like that deputy, we have a lot to discuss.”

“Such as?” Connor grunted.

“Oh, only a little plan that'll see our little crooked lawyer behind bars.” Kregan replied, their smirk growing wider. “I think you'll like it.”

Conner paused for a second, the offer was tempting but…

No.

He was better than these low rate bandits.

Thus, he reached for his gun, only to find it empty.

Oh no. He forgot.

Kragen noticed this, their grin slowly transforming into a sneer as they stood up.

“What a shame.” they cooed, grabbing Conner by the neck and lifting up to meet their eyes. “I was hoping we could do this the easy way.”

Chapter Text

As Mortimer continued to glance around the fair from the Ferris Wheel, a sudden movement caught his attention- a dark figure falling out a window from the nearby casino.

“Uncle Sylvester!” He tugged on his uncle's sleeve. “Someone is falling!”

“Mortimer, you're simply seeing things.” Uncle Sylvester replied, waving his hand dismissively.

“No I'm not, look!” Mortimer pulled harder, forcing Uncle Sylvester to look out the window and at the black figure plummeting towards the ground. “You need to save him with your superhero powers!”

“Mortimer he's falling rather fast.” Uncle Sylvester pointed out. “I doubt I can do anything about that.”

“BUT YOUR A HERO!” Mortimer screamed, trying to squeeze himself under the metal bar.

Uncle Sylvester quickly grabbed him by the back of his shirt, yanking him back to his seat. “Kid stop.” he ordered. “At least wait until we're on the ground.”

Mortimer frowned, slumping back into his seat as he waited for the ride to come to end.

When it did, he sprung into action, darting into action and dashing towards the fair's exit.

“Mortimer!” Uncle Sylvester called out.

Mortimer however, kept running, pushing through the crowds and booths.

Sprinting out the exit, across parking and down the road, he soon arrived at the casino, his breath ragged and his heart pounding a million miles an hour.

Swifty his eyes scan the grounds for the black figure, soon landing on a Redbone Coonhound sprawled upon the cold pavement

Mortimer gasped, rushing over to his side.

The Coonhound wore an all black uniform consisting of a long poncho, a classic cowboy hat, leather gloves, and an empty gun holster.

He almost looked like a bandit.

“Mortimer!” Uncle Sylvester bolted over to Mortimer, with the bag of dolls clutched in his grip. “What were you-” he trailed off, his gaze falling on the bandit. “Conner?”

Mortimer blinked. “You know this bandit?”

Uncle Sylvester paused, glancing between the two, before finally saying. “Yes, he's my archenemy.”

“Really!” Mortimer's jaw dropped, his shining with awe.

“Yes, and he's very dangerous!” Uncle Sylvester replied. “It best we leave-”

A sudden whimper came from the bandit and Mortimer frowned. He didn't like the idea of just leaving him, after all, this wasn't like the diner. This bandit was in real pain.

“Uncle Sylvester, are you sure we can't save him?” He asked his uncle. “I mean we can always toss him in jail!”

“Well, I-”

Mortimer glanced up at his Uncle, giving him his best puppy eyes. “Please.”

“Fine.” Uncle Sylvester sighed, handing Mortimer the bag of dolls. “Hold this.”

“Okay!” Mortimer nodded, watching Uncle Sylvester slang the bandit over his shoulder, a grunt escaping his throat.

As Uncle Sylvester began to drag the bandit towards the road, Mortimer noticed three white cougars armed with shotguns rushing out the casino. “Uncle Sylvester?”

“What?” Uncle Sylvester groaned, his legs wobbling from the extra weight.

“Look!” Mortimer pointed at the cougars.

“Shi- shoot!” Uncle Sylvester's eyes went wide, he scooped up Mortimer with his free hand and bolted down the road, the three cougars following suit.

“Woah more bad guys!” Mortimer exclaimed, hugging the bag of dolls. “Are they working for the bandit?”

Sylvester didn't reply, he simply kept running as bullets flew past them.

Mortimer squealed, clutching onto his Uncle tightly.

After what felt like hours, Uncle Sylvester made it back to the car. He quickly tossed the bandit in the backseat, Mortimer into front, then slid into the driver's seat, slamming his foot on the gas pedal, speeding off.

Mortimer stared out the window, watching as the cougars became smaller and smaller in the distance. “That was awesome, Uncle Sylvester!” He beamed, pumping his fists into the air. “You out ran real bullets!”

Uncle Sylvester let out a breath, his shoulders sagging. “Yes, yes I did..”

“And now time to take this bandit to jail!” Mortimer exclaimed, bouncing up and down.

“..Yes.” Uncle Sylvester sighed, glancing at the bandit for brief second, before returning his gaze on the road ahead.

Mortimer tilted his head at this but didn't press further. His Uncle would surely tell him everything when was ready!

But for now, he'll just be the best sidekick as he could possibly be.

—---------------------------------------------------------

When Connor woke up, a wave of overwhelming pain waved over him as if every bone in his body had been broken at once. He attempted to swift his position, only to find his limbs were tied to a sink by a rope.

Wait a sink?

He glanced around, taking in his surroundings.

He was sitting in the middle of a dimly lit bathroom, the tiles under him cold as ice and the air smelled of dish soup.

How the hell did he get here?

Suddenly the door creaked open and a little mouse boy scurried in , cradling a purple alien doll in his arms.

Wait…

It's the kid! Sylvester must be nearby!

“Hey there little buddy.” Conner smiled weakly. “Do you mind untying me?”

The kid shook his head. “No, Uncle Sylvester, gave me one job and I'm going to do it right!”

Conner stared at him blankly. “He's your uncle?”

“Of course he is and he's the best uncle ever!” The kid exclaimed, hugging his doll. “He helped me win this doll.”

Conner snorted. He didn't believe it for a second. Sylvester was rotten to his core, the type of scumbag that sees people as tools instead of friends.

Still, he hated to break the kid's heart.

“Look, little buddy I know you have no good reason to trust me but you gotta.” He begged, leaning forward slightly. “Your Uncle ain't what he seems.”

“But you're a bad guy, so why should I take your word?” The kid shot back.

“I'm ain't a bad guy little buddy!” Conner insisted, struggling against the ropes.

“Then prove it!” The kid shot back, pointing a finger at him.

“Prove it?” Conner repeated. “How I'm supposed to prove anyin’ if I'm all tied up?”

The kid hummed, tapping his finger on his chin. “Oh, I know, you can help me make my superhero costume!”

“A what?” Conner blinked, unsure if he heard the kid correctly.

“If I'm going be a good sidekick I'm going need a good costume!” The kid explained, grinning brightly.

Conner stared at him for a second before finally nodding. “Alright, I'll make ya a costume.”

“Yes!” The boy's face broke into a gleeful grin as he rushed out the room, his footsteps making little pitter-pattering sounds.

Let alone in the bathroom, Conner just sat silently, more confused than before. What kind ideas did Sylvester put into his kid's brain?

However, before he could think on it further, the kid came back with a handful of fabric and some sewing tools.

Where did he even get that?

“Here you go, Mr. Bandit ” The kid said, sitting the fabric and tools on the ground.

“Uh, my last name is Coonhound,” Conner corrected. “And I can't do anyin’ with my arms tied.”

“Oh right!” The kid swiftly untied his arms, but leaves his legs bonded “There!”

Conner couldn't help but smile softly. While he could easily escape and confront Sylvester, he didn't want to disappoint the kid, especially since he reminded him a bit of Paige when she was younger.

“Okay little buddy, what colors do you want for the costume?” He asked the kid.

“Purple with a red cape!” The kid answered with a bright smile. “and I want my face in the middle!”

“Alright then.” Conner nodded, gathering the fabric and tools. “Do you have a name?”

“Megamort!” The kid declared proudly.

“Megamort?” Conner repeated, cutting the fabric “That's quite the name, little buddy.”

“I think you mean an awesome name!” the kid boasted, puffing out his chest. “It'll strike fear into the bad guys!”

Conner chuckled. This kid was a real hoot. It was almost enough to make him forget that Sylvester was lurking about.

Almost.

Nothless, he took a deep breath and began to work on the costume. “So kid, where are you headin’ to?”

“Home.” Megamort answered vaguely.

“And where is home?” Conner questioned, sewing some fabric together.

“Uncle Sylvester says I shouldn't tell strangers where I live.” Megamort replied, crossing his arms.

Conner sighed. He should have expected that. Sylvester was far too smart to let a little kid expose his devious schemes.

So with a frustrated groan, he continued to work on the costume, occasionally glancing over to the door, half-expecting Sylvester to walk in at any second.

Eventually he finished up the costume, handing it over to Megamort.

“Thank you!”Megamort's eyes lit up as he grabbed the costume, spinning around in glee. “You're not half bad for a bandit!”

“I'm not a ban- '' Conner protested, only to be cut off by footsteps.

Oh great.

Sylvester stepped inside, his eyes squinted as usual and a firm grip on his beloved briefcase.

Conner immediately wanted to punch him.

“Mortimer, why are his arms untied?” Sylvester snorted, shooting a glare at Conner.

Megamort spun to face him. “It's only his arms, Uncle Sylvester!”

“Of for the love of-” Sylvester trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh before scooping up Mortimer and bolting out the room.

Conner huffed, quickly undoing his reminding bonds. Then with a pained whimper, He limped out of the bathroom out into a hall, passing several doors and as he hobbled after Sylvester.

“Sylvester!” He shouted . “Come and face me you coward!”

Sylvester however, kept running, bursting through a pair of double doors at the end of hall.

Conner gritted his teeth, pushing himself to move faster, only to trip over his feet and fall flat on his face.

Shit.

As he pushed himself up, dragging himself further down the hall and through the double doors…

Only to find an empty parking lot.

“Godammit!” Conner cursed, tossing his hat off his hat, and crushing it with his foot.

He was so close. So close. But his body failed him.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the wall, the pain finally catching up to him, leaving his breath heavy and his vision blurry.

“Hey! Not loiterin’ pal!” A gruff voice snapped him back to his senses. “I don't care if yer on your deathbed, move it!”

Conner glanced towards the voice, his gaze landing on lankey addax, who was clad in a loose fitting purple floral shirt and denim-jeans. “I only need a minute sir.”

“A minute can turn into an hour!” The addax retorted, raising a finger.

Conner groaned. He wasn't in the mood for this. “Fine.” He growled, scooping up his hat as he stood up. “I need to find a phone booth anyhow.”

“Ye better not round out your gang!” The addax shouted, as Conner limped back inside.

Conner simply ignored him and continued to search for a phone.

Eventually he found one laying on the front desk. With a sigh, he tapped in a number and held the phone to his ear.

“Pagie, are you there?”

“Oh, Hi Conner…” Pagie muttered bitterly.

“...Look, I might need some help.” Conner sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

A heavy silence fell over the room, save for the crackle of the phone-in.

Then finally ..

“Why?”

“I got thrown out of a five story window by Kregan.” Conner winches, shifting his weight onto his other leg.

“....I'll be there in ten minutes, don't move.” Pagie replied curtly.

“You don't even know-” Conner started but the line went dead, leaving him alone in silence. “Oh for goodness sake…”

How was he going to get Sylvester now?

Chapter Text

“Uncle Sylvester, are you okay?”

Sylvester could barely hear Mortimer as he drove down the road, his heart was thundering and his arms were shaking.

It felt like that at any moment he was going to lose it.

How he couldn't he? First he was stuck with a kid he may or may not be getting attached to, and now Conner and Kregan's goons were gunning for his head!

Still, he took a deep breath. If he was going to snap, he couldn't do it in front of the kid.

“I'm fine.” He lied to Mortimer, his voice slightly squeaky.

“You don't sound fine.” Mortimer replied, hugging his costume .

Sylvester groaned, his shoulders slumping. He needed a drink. “Only because I'm starving.” He quickly lied to the kid. “Why don't we stop somewhere to eat.”

“Are you sure it isn't the bandit?’” Mortimer pressed. “You seemed pretty scared by him.”

“Nonsense Mortimer, heroes don't get scared.” Sylvester retorted, his eyes scanning for any sort of restaurant or bar.

“Yeah you're probably right- Oh look at that!” Mortimer pointed out the window and towards a billboard on the side of the road.

The billboard showed three animatronics, the first was lion clad in red suit and black blower hat, the second was an alligator in a blue chef apron and matching toque, and the third was a wildebeest with a simple yellow bow tie on it's head and matching dress.

‘Leonard's family pizzeria’ it read, with a red arrow pointing to an exit.

‘“Can we eat there?” Mortimer asked.

Sylvester groaned but nodded. “Fine…”

At least it would be better than gas station food.

Hopefully…

As he turned into the exit, his eyes fell on a bright red two-story building that had a neon sign that reads: Leonard's Pizzeria! Come play inside!

How creative.

Nonetheless, Sylvester pulled over and parked in an empty lot then unbuckled Mortimer.

‘I'm going to change into Megamort now!” Mortimer announced, leaping out of the car and rushing towards the doors.

“Don't run..” Sylvester ordered triedly as followed behind.

As they entered, Sylvester noticed that aside from them, the place was practically empty, with only a handful of workers, and four small families watching the animatronics perform on a stage in the center.

Wow. This was beyond pitiful.

“Isn't there anywhere else you want to eat?” He asked Mortimer.

“Nope!” Mortimer shook his head, running into a nearby bathroom.

Sylvester grunted, leaning against the wall as his eyes scanned for anything he could enjoy.

Luckily in the far back of the restaurant, he spotted a small bar, manned by black bear in black waistcoat. Thank goodness.

Sylvester went over there, slumping down on an empty stool.

“Rough day?” The bartender guessed, cleaning a glass.

“Rough week.” Sylvester corrected, propping his head with his hand.

“Yeesh, clear to spill?” The bartender asked, putting the glass aside.

Sylvester shook his head. “No, I'd rather have a drink.”

“Something heavy I assume?”

“No, I need to drive later.”

“You don't have anyone else to drive you?”

Sylvester signed. “Look, I only want one shot, now are you going to severe me or talk my ear off?”

“I'm just making sure you can get home easily.” The bartender replied, pouring him a glass of whiskey. “Even a shot can leave some folks tispy.”

“I'll be fine!” Sylvester snapped, snatching the glass and turning away.

The bartender grunted. “Quite closed off, aren't you?”

“Is that a crime?” Sylvester retorted, taking a slip.

“No but it's rather unoriginal.” The bartender scoffed, causing Sylvester to turn back towards him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I've seen your type a million times.” The bartender snorted, shaking his head. “You don't open up because you're afraid of getting too attached to folks.”

“What are you, an armchair psychologist?” Sylvester sneered, taking another swing.

“You aren't denying it.” The bartender shot back.

“Nor I'm confirming it.”

The bartender hummed leaning forward. “If it's true then it must be a lonely life, eh?”

“I have friends..” Sylvester hissed, setting his glass down and standing up.

“Then where are they?”

Before Sylvester could sprout out another lie, a familiar hand tagged his pants. He glanced down and saw Mortimer in his superhero costume.

“I'm starving!” The boy whined.

Sylvester let out a small sigh of relief, he stood up and grabbed Mortimer hand. “Alright let's get you some pizza.”

“Hey! We aren't done talking!” The bartender protested but Sylvester ignored him, ushering the kid into a nearby booth.

“Who was that?” Mortimer asked as they sat down together.

“Nobody important.” Sylvester replied, scooping up the menu. “What do you want, kid?”

"Cheese Pizza and soda!" Mortimer answered.

“I should have guessed.” Sylvester muttered, waving over an elk waiter clad in neon pink uniform.

“Yes?” The elk hummed.

“One medium cheese pizza, and two cups of water.” Sylvester ordered, setting down the menu.

The waiter scribbled down the order then left, leaving Sylvester alone with Mortimer who was pouting.

“I wanted soda…” Mortimer mumbled,tapping his fingers together.

“No Mortimer, pizza with soda is far too unhealthy.” Sylvester scolded lightly, wagging his finger at him.

“So is whiskey!” Mortimer pointed out.

Sylvester paused. How did this kid know what whiskey was but not a scam? “Can I ask you something, kid?”

“...Uh, sure Uncle Sylvester.” Mortimer said, titling his head.

“How much does your dad watch you?” Sylvester asked.

“Uhhh, I think like four minutes.” Mortimer answered, drawing out four fingers.

Sylvester's eyes went wide. No wonder the kid latched onto him like a leech, his father was barely paying attention to him. “I'll have to fix that..”

“You would?” Mortimer beamed, his perking up. “Could you convince him to play catch with me?”

“What is this? A cheesy-” Sylvester trailed off as Mortimer flashed his puppy dog eyes again. Godammit . “...Sure kid.”

“YES!” Mortimer plumped up his fist in the air.

Sylvester just let out a heavy sigh.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Conner's jaw almost hit the floor as Pagie entered the lobby with his horse in tow. How could she easily find him, but couldn't capture Sylvester even when he was right in front of him?

“How in the Sam Hill-”

“Walking around in all black cowboy costumes tends to attract a lot of attention.” Pagie interrupted, stepping closer to him. “And I got a ride from a gearhead that doesn't mind illegal car parts.”

“Good graces, Pagie.” Conner groaned, shaking his head.

“Hey, I made it, didn't I?” Paige replied, shrugging her shoulders. “Now, sit down and let me look at your injuries.”

Conner grunted, but complied, slumping down against the wall.

Pagie kneeled down, checking his arms and legs. Conner hissed at the contact .

“Yep, they are very broken. In fact, it's a miracle you can even stand.” Paige hummed, tapping her chin.

“Can you fix it?” Conner asked.

“Yeah, I can set it but It's gonna hurt.” Pagie warned, tightening her grip around his arms.

“I can take it.” Conner assured.

“Alright in one, two, three!” Paigie jerked his arms back in place, causing Conner to bite his tongue, suppressing a cry. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine!” Conner nodded despite the tears welling up his eyes. “Get to my legs now!”

“Alright, alright!” Pagie's hands moved down to his legs. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Pagie snapped his legs in place, earning another cry from the coonhound. “I'm going to find some braces, you stay here.” She ordered, standing back up and disappearing down a hall.

Conner gritted his teeth. He was torn, on one hand, he wanted to listen to Pagie and get better, but on the other hand, Sylvester was getting further and further away. He glanced up at his horse who was snorting, signaling she also wanted to leave.

“Me top girl, too me too, but just wait for her to do her thing then we can leave.”

She huffed, but nodded her head.

“Thanks for understanding, girl.”

Just then, Pagie returned with braces and quickly secured his arms and legs. “There you go.”

Assuming he was free to go, Conner pushed himself off the ground and mounted his horse but before he could spring her on.

“What you think you're doing!” Pagie shrieked. “You can't go anywhere alone like that!”

“Pagie, I can handle the rest of this, go home.” Conner replied.

“No! You can't just call me all the way out here to just leave high and dry” Pagie shouted, stomping her foot on the ground. “ I want to help!”

Conner paused. He hated to admit it but she had a point. “Fine, but you need to promise that you'll follow every order I say.” He sighed. “The last thing I want is for you to get yourself killed.”

“I'm not two, Conner, I can follow orders just fine.” Paige retorted, climbing on the horse. “Now let's go find my dad's car then take down Kregan.”

Conner sighed again but sprung on his horse, riding out of the lobby and out to the road ahead.

Truth be told, he felt overwhelmed, at first all he had to do was put Sylvester behind bars and find the kid a good home, but now he also has to take down Kregan again while also keeping Pagie safe..

Oh boy..

He was going to need a bigger gun.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kregan tapped their fingers against their desk as their three little cougars, Colt, Cody, Colin crept over within their heads lowered.

“We can't find them boss.” Colt swallowed, his eyes glued to the floor. “We checked every building in the area.”

“We even checked out that very fun arcade downtown,” Cody added, earning a slap in the face from Colin. “What!”

“The point is-” Colt continued, removing his hat and holding it close to his chest. “It seems like they're out of state now, boss, wants the next move?”

“Simple.” Kregan smiled, clearing their throat as they stood up. “You go out of state and kill them.”

“Even the kid?” Cody asked, arching his brows.

“If he gets in the way, yes.” Kregan answered. “If not, bring him to me alive.”

Colt and Cody exchanged worried glances, Colin however nodded his head saying “On it sir.”

“Good.” Kregan's smile grew wider. “Now get out of my office boys.”

The trio obeyed, scuttling out the office and slamming the door shut behind them. Kregan sat down, folding his hands as his smile turned into a smirk.

Soon Sylvester and Conner will be out his fur permanently.

Chapter Text

Sylvester felt slightly better after eating. His heart rate returned to normal and arms were steady. Yet his shoulders were still tense as he drove down the road.

That bartender got on his nerves. He had friends! He only needed some time to reach out to them, that’s all.

Yes. He wasn’t some-

Before he could finish his thought, there was a loud pop and the car suddenly came to a halt.

What the?

“Uncle Sylvester, why did you stop?” Mortimer asked, cocking his head.

“I didn’t.” Sylvester rolled down the window and glanced down. The left tire was completely shredded, with only a couple of scraps on the ground. “Dammit.” He cursed, exiting the car and circling to the trunk

Mortimer gasped. “You said a bad word!”

Sylvester ignored the kid and popped open the truck to check for an extra tire, alas all that was there in was the remains of the gas station food. “Mortimer, stay in the car, I’m going to find help.”

“But I want to he-”

“Stay here.” Sylvester repeated, not waiting for a response as he stomped down the road.

Luckily, after walking for five minutes, Sylvester spotted a white car heading there way. Immediately he waved his hands, signaling for them to stop.

The car did so and the window rolled out, popping out the all too familiar face of Muck Raker.

His massive black glasses and brown bushy mustache sticking out like a sore thumb. “Well if it isn’t my favorite lawyer.” He said, leaning forward. “Whatcha doing? Sightseeing?”

“Ah yes, because there plendly sights to see in the dull desert.” Sylvester replied sarcastically. As much as he liked Muck, sometimes the editor couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

Muck chuckled, opening the door. “How about we go sightseeing in Vegas instead?”

“Let me get the kid first.”

“You have a kid?”

“It’s a long story, okay.”

“If you say so.”

Sylvester sighed, rubbing his temples as he returned to the car. He retrieved Mortimer, his briefcase, and a couple snacks then returned to Muck.

“Who is this?” Mortimer asked as they got into Muck’s car and buckled in.

“Muck Raker, boy!” Muck chirped as the doors shut. “Future chief editor of the daily quack!”

“Future?” Mortimer blinked.

“He’s only a junior editor right now.” Sylvester explained, setting his briefcase by his feet and the snacks on his lap.

“Not for long!” Muck exclaimed, starting the car and driving down the road. “Soon I’ll be the top dog and publish the articles I want!”

“Can you publish a story about me?” Mortimer questioned. “I’m a superhero you know!”

Muck hummed, tapping his chin. “A child superhero… now that can sell!” he grinned, causing Sylvester to shoot him a glare. “Don’t worry you’ll get a cut of the profits!”

“ I’m being chased by a cowboy with a hero complex, Muck,” Sylvester sneered. “The last thing I need is the kid’s face everywhere.”

“...Cowboy with a- oh you mean Conner?” Muck gasped, his eyes going wide. “I thought you two were dati-”

“MUCK!” Sylvester snapped, flushing deeply.

“Oh my gosh!” Mortimer gasped, his ears perking up. “You dated a bandit!”

“They were the cutest couple.” Muck continued, ignoring Sylvester. “Always holding hands and such.”

Mortimer squealed, his eyes lighting up. “It’s just like my comics!”

Sylvester groaned, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t believe his life right now. “Muck, kindly shut up.”

“What? Your son was curious.” Muck shrugged his shoulders.

“He’s not my son,” Sylvester grumbled, slumping back in his seat.

“Yep, I’m his nephew!” Mortimer chirped, bouncing up and down in his seat.

“Nephew? Di-”

“I’ll explain when we get the Vagas.” Sylvester interrupted, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Alright, alright.” Muck waves his hand in the air before finally falling quiet.

Thank goodness.

The rest of the drive was thankfully silent, only broken by the occasional sound of Mortimer mucking on his snacks.

Finally, after an hour, the city of Vegas loomed over the horizon, the vast shining lights nearly blinding the trio.

Nonetheless, Sylvester let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a city.

Muck pulled over in a parking lot near the strip, exiting the car and holding the door open for Sylvester. “Alright time to talk.”

Sylvester sighed, sliding out his seat with his briefcase. He turned around and faced Mortimer. “Stay in here.” He ordered,shutting the door.

Mortimer nodded.

Good.

Sylvester and Muck walked over to a nearby bench and sat down.

“So, is the kid related to you or not?” Muck asked.

“He's not.” Sylvester answered, rubbing his face. “The kid kinda leeched on me.”

“How? You're not exactly the motherly type.” Muck pointed out.

“Apparently I'm the only one that ever paid any attention to him.” Sylvester explained, sighing heavily.

“And you felt bad?”

“What no!” Sylvester sputtered, his hands clutching into fists. “I never feel bad!”

“Then we should ditch him and pay some slots.” Muck suggested, lowering his voice to a whisper. “After all, if his parents barely pay attention to him, then they won't notice he's missing.”

Sylvester opened his mouth then closed it, his gaze returning to Mortimer who waved to him from the car's window with a cheerful smile.

“I can't.” He grumbled, his shoulders slumping.

“Why? Your Sylvester Shyster!” Muck exclaimed, raising a finger. “The most cold hearted lawyer around!”

“He's a bargaining chip.” Sylvester lied. “I can't use him if he's in the middle of nowhere.”

“Ah, I see.” Muck smirked. “And to think, I thought you were going soft.”

“Never.” Sylvester snapped, “Now be a pal and booked us a room.”

“Hold on, what about Conner?” Muck asked, cocking his head.

“Muck, room.” Sylvester hissed, snapping his fingers

.

“Alright, alright.” Muck stood up, holding his hands up in the defense. “No need to be snappy.”

Sylvester didn't say anything; he just watched Muck leave.

“Uncle Sylvester?” Sylvester glanced over at the car, Mortimer had rolled down the window and was poking his head out. “Is everything okay?

Sylvester forced a smile. “Yes Mortimer everything is okay.”

Mortimer frowned, clearly unconvinced. Then he climbed out the window and rushed over to Sylvester grabbing his hand. “Uncle Sylvester, it's my duty as a hero to make sure you're okay!” He declared, squeezing his hand. “Is there anything we can do that'll cheer you up?”

Sylvester stiffened up. It wasn't exacting the kids to throw back his word in such a genuine way. “Erh… the library?” He managed, blinking twice.

“Then we shall find a library!” Mortimer chirped, pulling Sylvester to his feet and dragging him forward. “Megamort away!”

Oh boy….

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Vagas the city that never sleeps.” Cody remarked as Colt drove towards the strip.

“That's New York!” Colin hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. “Did you trade your brain for a rock?”

“A nice rock!”

“You're an idiot!”

“And you're mean!”

“Hey cut it out you two!” Colt snapped, shooting a glare at both of them. “We came here to find Sylvester, not yell at each other like a divorced couple!”

“I think you mean like an old married couple.” Cody corrected, earning another jab from Colin.

“Whatever! The point is someone like squinty eyes can't resist the temptations of Vagas.” Colt explained, tightening his grip on the wheel. “We're bound to find him here.”

“Isn't that his photo friend over there?” Cody asked, pointing out the window.

Colt immediately slammed his foot on the break, and turned to look out the window, his jaw nearly dropping as he spotted a certain editor sitting on a bench alone. “Yes it is.”

“Shit, I forgot his name. What was it, Mac or Max?” Cody asked..

“Who cares, let's ‘ask’ him a few questions.” Colin chuckled, drawing a rope from under his seat.

“I'm going to check his car too.” Colt said, drawing his gun from under the seat. “He might have something useful.”

“Good idea, now let's go!” Colin grinned, leaping out of the truck

The trio rushed over to the editor with Colin grabbing him from behind and gagging him with rope, While Cody patted him down and Colt checked Muck's car.

“Nothing in here but snacks boys, take him to our truck.” Colt ordered, snapping his fingers.

Colin and Cody obeyed, dragging the editor to their truck and tossing him the back.

With that Colt and Cody returned to their seats, While Colin stayed in the back, keeping a firm grip on the editor as the car took off again.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Conner don't you think this a bit much?”

“Not at all, Pagie.” Conner shook his head as he set ten revolvers on the counter, causing the kit fox cashier to give a sink eye.

“Dude she's right,” The fox scoffed, her face scrunching up. “You don't need something this many.”

“With all due respect, you have no idea what we're facing.” Conner huffed, patting the revolvers. “We need as much firepower as possible.”

“Wait, shouldn't we focus on the carjacker first then go after Kregan?” Pagie asked, twisting the rims of her sleeves.

“It's better to be safe than sorry.” Conner replied, holding his head high.

“Dude, we have a limit per buyer, pick two or leave.” The kitfox snapped, shooting him a cold glare.

“Fine…” Conner pointed at the closest pair of revolvers. “These two.”

“Alright..” The kitfox scanned the two guns, bagged them with some ammo then handed them over to Conner. “That'll be eighty husband dollars.”

Conner paid for it, taking both bags then marched out the store with Pagie in tow.

When…

“Let me go!” a squeaky voice screamed.

Conner immediately grabs one of the boxes from the bag, opens it and draws out the revolver and ammo, loading the revolver before turning to face to voice while Pagie took the two bags.

There, he saw a massive mountain lion in a demi bomber jacket pinning a burrowing owl to a wall.

“Pay first and then I might think about it!” The lion hissed, tightening his grip.

Conner saw red. Winching slightly, he aimed his gun at the lion's shoulder and fired.

The lion screamed, releasing the owl as he stumbled back. The owl took her chance and bolted away.

“What the…” The lion hissed, facing Conner. “...A bandit and waitress?”

Conner shoots him again, twice.

“The fuck!” The lion shrieked , slumping to the ground.

“Conner, can you stop now.” Pagie said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Conner didn't budge, his finger still on the trigger. He didn't know why out of everything he saw and heard this week, this was the final straw. All he knew was that he was mad and wanted to empty all his lead into the lion's skull.

However, Paige quickly drops the bags on the ground and steps in front of him, allowing the lion to bolt down the street. “Save it for Kregan.”

Conner grunted, and placed the revolver in his gun holster. He hated to admit it but Pagie was right, if anyone deserves a head full of lead, it was Kregan.

“...Hey are you okay?” Pagie asked, cocking her head. “I know you called you a terrible person, but I didn't mean it..”

“I know you didn't Paige.” Conner replied simply.

“Then why the heck did you shoot that guy three times!” Pagie yelped, tossing her hands in the air. “You could have killed him!”

Conner opened his mouth then closed it. He didn't have a good answer for that. All he could think of was that he let his emotions get the better of him and that was an excuse and not a proper answer.

“I'm sorry.” He finally said, lowering his head.

At first Pagie was silent then she let out a long sigh. “You scared me Conner,” she confessed quietly. “Never do that again.”

“O-f cour-se.” Conner stammered, tipping his hat.

“Good.” Pagie picked up the bags and walked towards Connor's horse, stuffing them in the saddlebags. “Now let's move on and find that carjacker.”

Conner nodded and followed her, his thoughts running wild. Why did his anger control him in front Pagie? He can usually keep a level head in front of her, and yet, he snapped like he did at the gas station, but instead feeling justified and righteous, all he felt was pure rage.

“Conner, are you going to get on the horse or not?” Pagie's voice snapped him back to reality.

He glanced up, noticing Pagie was already on the horse, holding out a hand to him.

With a deep breath he accepted the hand and mounted the horse, ignoring the bad feeling bubbling up in gut.

“Okay! Let's go!” Pagie spurred the horses, guiding it out to the open road.

Conner didn't say anything, he merely basked in the desert sun, breathing in and out in an attempt to calm himself.

He needed to focus, this was no time to lose track of his goal. He needs to bring justice to Sylvester one way or another.

Chapter Text

“You don't have to do all this, kid.” Sylvester said as Mortimer pushed him into a leather chair that stood in the middle of the library.

“I don't but I want to, Uncle Sylvester!” Mortimer chirped, grabbing a random law book from the self and handing it to him. “I mean you have already done so much for me!”

Sylvester stiffened, feeling a strange pit form in stomach as Mortimer shoved a blanket and cup of coffee towards him.

Was this what guilt felt like?

No .

He was Sylvester Shyster. He did not feel guilt for anyone, least of all a random child.

Right?

“I'm going to find more books for you!” Mortimer exclaimed. “Stay here okay?”

“....Sure kid.”

—--------------------------------------‐—--------------------------------------------

Muck gasped as the gag was pulled from his mouth. His arms and legs were tied to a metal pole in the middle of a dimly-lit alleyway, and looming above him was a familiar trio of white cougars, one of them aiming a gun at his head.

“He-y calm do-wn boys, I thought we need things on good terms.” Muck swallowed, feeling his face turn pale.

“This isn't about you Raker,” Colt said coldly,npressing the gun closer to his head. “It's about your little green friend.”

“Wait Sylvester?” Muck blinked, cocking his head. “I thought he was about to become Kregan's personal lawyer?”

“Oh don't play dumb, newsboy!” Colin sneered, crossing his arms. “You know very well, Sylvester ran off with all the money!”

Muck stared at them, his jaw slightly agape. What the hell did he miss?

“Uh guys, I think he genuinely doesn't know about the betrayal.” Cody finally piped in, stepping in front of the other two.

Colt lowered his gun. “If so, he's a pretty terrible a new editor-”

“Hey, I'm right here!” Muck snapped, earning a kick to the jaw from Colin. “Ow!”

“Do you at least know where Sylvester is?” Colt asked, ignoring Muck’s scream.

Muck rubbed his jaw, then quickly nodded. “I booked him a room at Excalibur hotel.” He explained. “But he's probably going to return to the parking lot first to look for me.”

“Good newsboy,” Colin smirked, snatching the gun from Colt. “Now stay here with my friends while I take care of him.”

“Hey who died and made you king?” Cody protested, but Colin was already out the alley, disappearing into the distance, leaving Muck alone with the two other gangsters.

“So are you going to go after h-”

“No.” Colt hissed, snapping fingers.

Shit..

‐—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After what felt like hours of questioning and riding from city to city, they finally spotted the car that Sylvester should be in.

Only to find it abounded in the middle of the road with a popped tire and no signs of life.

Conner wanted to scream. Pagie on the hand let out a sigh of relief, dismounting his horse and towards the car, hugging the trunk.

“The car is okay!”

“But the carjacker is gone.” Conner grumbled, clutching his fists. “You think they stole another car after the tire popped?” Pagie asked, taking a step back. Conner hummed his eyes scanning the road for any more clues, soon locking on a fresh pair of car tracks heading northward. “Seems so..”

“But why haven't they come back for it yet?” Pagie questioned, leaning back on the car. “Even with a popped tire, won't this still sell?’

Conner paused. On one hand, He knew he couldn't tell her the carjacker was a certain crooked lawyer from their past, but on the other hand, he couldn't just lie to her.

“I may have scared ‘em a little before I called you over.” He said, rubbing the back of his head. “So I reckon they left the car in panic thinkin’ I could get ‘em at any moment.”

“And you couldn't catch their face?” Pagie huffed, raising a brow.

“Look, Let's focus on following these tracks, okay?” Conner quickly said, offering his hand out to her. “We can ask questions later.”

Pagie stared at him for a second then let out a heavy sigh as she took his hand. “I hope you know that you can trust me.”

“I do Pagie.” Conner replied, pulling her up onto a horse. “It's just….”

“Just want?” Pagie pressed, crossing her arms.

“It's complicated, okay.” Conner sighed, urging his horse forward,following the tracks.

Pagie looked down, clutching her teeth. “Is it really?”

“Yes, I swear.” Conner promised.

Paige didn't respond to that, simply staring at the ground, going completely silent.

Conner pays no mind to it, focusing on tracks instead .

Eventually they arrived at Las Vegas, following the tracks to a parking lot, where another abandoned car sat.

“How odd, there ain't anythin’ wrong with this car.” Conner remarked, dismounting his horse, grabbing his handcuffs from the saddle bag. “Perhaps he's plannin’ to return to it?”

Pagie didn't say anything in response, she simply turned her head away as she approached the car.

“Oh come, Paige..”

“... Isn't there anything you can tell me about the carjacker? Anything at all?” Paige pleaded, clasping her hands together.

“No….”.

“....Is it really that bad?”

“Yes…”

“......So, now what?” Pagie asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

“I'm going to question the locals.” Conner said. “You stay here and make sure nobody messes with the car.”

“Alright.” Pagie nodded.

“Good.” Conner marched away, eventually coming upon a elderly jackrabbit and liger sitting on a bench together.

“That little kid was so cute.” The taller jackrabbit gushed.

“Yes, he loves his uncle so much. ” The liger cooed.

Conner immediately approached the duo. “Pardon me..” He cleared his throat . “I'm actually looking for that kid, where is he?” “Why are you looking for a little kid?” Asked the jackrabbits, raising a brow.

“He's with a dangerous criminal and it's my job as sheriff to bring him home safely. '' Conner explained, flashing his cuffs.

“Oh my!” The jackrabbit gasped, covering her mouth. “You mean the man in green?”

“Yep.” Conner nodded.

“I thought he was the kid’s uncle?” The liger blinked, clearly taken back.

“That doesn't make him less of a criminal.” Conner pointed out. “Now where is he?”

“The library.” The liger answered, pointing eastward.

Conner immediately bolted that way, drawing out his revolver. When he arrived, he kicked down the doors, earning him a few glares from the patrons and staff alike.

“Hey this library! No guns allowed!” protested one brave lamb patron.

But Conner ignored him, his eyes scanning for any sign of the sleazy lawyer as he marched down the halls.

Finally, his eyes found Sylvester who sat in a leather armchair, wrapped in a green blanket. He was reading a book in one hand, holding a cup of coffee in the other hand and havw his beloved briefcase by his feet.

However, the comfortable position he was in, his eyes were downcast..

Tsk, it must be a trick.

So,without a word, Conner pointed his gun at him, causing the other patrons to scream and scramble out the way.

“What th-” Sylvester lowered his book, his face turning pale as his eye locked into Conner's. “Fuck-” he dropped his book and coffee on the floor, scooping up his briefcase and rushing away.

Conner immediately chased after him, running faster than an injured man should.

In response Sylvester tossed books at him but the sheriff dodge each one with ease, eventually countering him in the history section.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Conner hissed, aiming a gun at his shoulder.

“Now, now, we can talk about this Conner.” Sylvester swallowed, raising his briefcase over his head in defense.

“Talk about this! Talk about this!” Conner fumed, stomping his foot on the ground. “You stole dead man's car, scam two innocents and got me toss out window by betrayin’ the most mad lion in the world!”

“....You got tossed out a window?” Sylvester repeated, titling his head.

“That's not the point!” Conner tightens his grip on the trigger. “It seems like everywhere you go, you only make things worse!” he shouted, his face turning more red than usual. “You are like a disease, destroying every town you touch”

“Conner-”

“No! You don't get a word in!” Conner snapped, shooting his shoulder three times.

Sylvester yelped, clutching his shoulder, and sinking down to the ground. “I-”

“ No! The people of-”

“Stop hurting him!”

Conner immediately froze, he glanced over his shoulder, feeling his heart drop as he watched Mortimer try to take a swing at him with his little fists.

Oh goodness..

“Little buddy-”

“Don't hurt him anymore!” Mortimer pleaded, his voice cracking.

Conner felt his heart sink deeper. He couldn't say no to face…

Thus with a groan, he l took a step back, putting his gun away. “You have five minutes before he's taken away.”

“Uncle Sylvester!” Mortimer cried, rushing over to Sylvester and hugging him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes I'm fine, Mortimer..” Sylvester sighed, picking the boy. “Are you okay?”

"Yeah." Mortimer nodded. “Sorry this didn't go well.”

“It's fine kid…” Sylvester stood up, then turned his gaze back to Conner, then without saying a word, he pushed Conner to the ground and rushed away.

“Why you!” Conner growled, leaping up to his feet and chasing after Sylvester again. He should have seen that coming and yet, here he was, looking like the biggest fool in the world.

Still, as always he pressed on, chasing Sylvester out the library and into the streets and towards a mall.

When suddenly-

“Conner, help!” Pagie's scream reached his ears in an instant and he immediately turned around and followed Paige screams.

Eventually, he found himself back in the parking lot, finding that Colin was pinning Pagie to the car, pressing a gun to her temple.

“Hey!” Conner shouted, immediately drawing out his revolver.

Colin turned, a devilish smirk crawling on his lips. “Well, well, ready to die Mr.hee haw?”

“That's assmuin’ you're faster on the draw, scumbag.” Conner huffed, spitting on the ground.

“I'm always faster. “ Colin boasted, aiming the gun towards Conner. “Always.”

Conner hissed, aiming his own gun at Colin.

For a moment, everything was quiet, the air was thick and tense as two gunslingers stared each other down, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Colin fired first, but Conner ducked down, quickly firing back.

Colin dodge the shoot by jumping to the other side of the car, dragging Pagie with him. “Give it up, deputy!” he shouted. “It's either you or her!”

“Yer already pullin’ that coward?” Conner snapped.

“It's your choice!” Colin retorted, moving his gun back toward Pagie's temple.

Conner stiffened, his breath growing heavy as he slowly lowered the gun. He knew might regret this but he had no other choice. “What about your old gangmate?”

“Excuse me?” Colin scowled.

“He ran toward the mall.” Conner explained, with a heavy sigh, pointing towards the way Sylvester ran off. “You can still catch him if you let her go..”

“No he ain't! Raker says he would be here than that one kiddy hotel!” Colin shot back, causing Conner's eyes to widen.

Muck Raker was here too?

“What's more likely me lyin’ to you or the newsboy known for over exaggerating things tellin’ the truth?” Conner asked, lowering his gun even more.

Colin went silent for a second, then with a growl, he let go of Paige and ran that way.

Conner let out a sigh of relief and immediately rushed over to Pagie, helping her to her feet. “Are you okay?”

Paige nodded, dusting off her uniform. “Yes, but who's this old gang mate?” She asked. “Wait, Is he the carjacker?”

“Yes..” Conner answered, “I was chasing him earlier-”

“Why do you have to hide his identity then?” Pagie interrupted, crossing her arms.”

“Again it's complicated.” Conner groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

Pagie's face turned red with rage, she opened her mouth to yell but then closed it, letting out a little huff instead.

“I'm sorry.” Conner apologized, lowering his head. “I know you want a good answer, but I sadly don't have one.”

“...Fine..” Pagie muttered, kicking a nearby pebble. “But what's the plan now?”

“You keep guardin’ the ca-”

“Nope, I want to do something that isn't just standing around and being helpless!” Pagie protested, shaking her fist in the air.

“Oh…uh.” Conner tapped his chin. “Well, how about you can look for that Kiddy Hotel while I look for Muck and the carjacker?”

“...Okay, I can do that.” Paige said, taking a deep breath.

”Good.” Conner let out another sigh of relief. Thank goodness she didn't and anything else, after all, he doubts the poor girl can take more bad news. “Let's get this with, alright?”

“Alright."”

Chapter Text

Sylvester panted as he came to a halt in the middle of the crowded mall, the pain in his shoulder forcing him to sit Mortimer down.

“This road trip isn't fun anymore.” Mortimer sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “I want it to be fun again!”

Sylvester froze, watching as the boy began to sob. Shit, he really hated seeing this kid cry. “...There, there.” He sighed, cupping the little mouse's cheeks. “It will be fun again, I promise.”

“How you got shot!” Mortimer cried, burying his face into his chest.

“Well…” Sylvester paused, his eyes searching for anything inside the mall that could be fun for the kid. After all, the last thing he needed was that pit in stomach to return. Finally his gaze fell on a small purple tent at the end of the mall, standing next to it stood a metal sign that read ‘fortune teller”. “Why don't we check this out?” He said, pointing to the sign. “It looks quite fun to me.”

Mortimer frowned. “Should we fix your arm first?”

“I'll fix it later, kid.” Sylvester ushered the boy towards the tent. “Now, let's go get our future told.”

“Well… okay..” Mortimer muttered as they entered the tent.

Inside was a small dark room with only a round mahogany table. Behind that table sat a dark hooded figure, the only part of him visible being a set of piercing yellow eyes and a black beak.

Sylvester blinked. Well this was new, Most so called ‘fortune tellers’ were overly tacky and dramatic. But this guy? He looked like he came straight from a cult.

“Hey look at this guy!” Mortimer perked up slightly. “He's so cool!”

“Thank you young Mortimer.” The fortune teller spoke, his voice deep and low.

“WOAH!” Mortimer gasped. “He knows my name!”

Sylvester opened his mouth but then closed it. As tempting as it was to mention that Mortimer was an exceedingly common name for a mouse, he rather not spoil the kid's fun.

“Indeed, now sit.” The fortune teller ordered, motioning to the ground.

Mortimer obeyed, grinning ear to ear. “Do I get a girlfriend?”

“Mortimer, you're ten.” Sylvester reminds the boy. “Can't you ask something more age appropriate?”

“Aw but I really want a girlfrien-.”

“....That is not how this works.” The fortune teller interrupted, shaking his head. “I need your hand.”

“Oh okay!” Mortimer exclaimed, holding out his little hand.

The fortune teller hummed, taking his hand. “I see you growing a big head yon-”

“Eww! I like my small head!” Mortimer gagged, earning a chuckle from Sylvester.

“Metaphorically…” The fortune teller clarified. “Thus I see many great embarrassments in your future with by the hand the mouse in red but I also see a great love with the duck in green.”

“OHH! Is she cute?” Mortimer blushed, bouncing in place. “And will we get married?!

”

“....Can you ask something else, young one?” the fortune teller sighed, rubbing his beak.

“Oh! Can you do one for my Uncle?” Mortimer asked, pointing over to Sylvester.

“Yes, of course.” The fortune teller nodded, drawing his hand away and turning his attention toward. “Sylvester Shyster, sit down.”

Sylvester's eyes widened slightly but compiled, sitting across the fortune teller, simply figuring he must have heard about his work.

“Good, good, now your hand.” The fortune teller said.

Sylvester held out his hand, watching Mortimer face break out into a huge smile.

“I bet your future is going to be so cool!” The boy exclaimed, scooting closer to Sylvester.

“Perhaps so.” Sylvester replied, flashing a rare half smile at the boy.

“Let's see..” The fortune teller took his hand, peering into his palm. “No matter how much you run, you'll eventually find love in the most unexpected person, taking a blow to your pride.”

“What.” Sylvester snorted.

“You get a girlfriend!” Mortimer squealed, cupping his cheeks.

“But how is that a blow to my pride?” Sylvester questioned.

“That is not all.” The fortune teller continued, flipping his hand. “You will meet your match with the mouse in red.”

“That's the same mouse that'll embarrassment me!” Mortimer exclaimed, pulling down his ears.

Sylvester resisted his rolling eyes. This was ridiculous. “Are we done?”

“I see-”

“Hello Sylvester~” Colin suddenly burst inside the tent, chuckling as he aimed his gun at Sylvester and Mortimer.

Sylvester yelped,quickly standing up and scooping up Mortimer, swifty running out of the tent.

“It's those bad guys again!” Mortimer fumed, clinging onto Sylvester's neck. “Why can't they leave well enough alone!”

“No clue kid.” Sylvester lied, heading straight towards the exit.. “Let's just find the hotel that Muck booked okay?”

“Oka-Ow!” Mortimer screamed, clutching his leg.

Sylvester felt his heart drop. Oh shit, did Colin shoot him?!

“It hurts!” Mortimer whined, tears streaming down his face.

In an instant, Sylvester's pace increased, pushing through the crowd in an attempt to lose Colin.

Finally, they exited the mall, the hot Nevada air hitting their face.

Naturally, he circled back to front the mall and raced back to the parking lot, sitting Mortimer down on the hood of the car.

With a baited breath, he rolled up Mortimer's pant leg. Luckily the wound was only a graze.

Thank goodness, the last thing he need was dying child in his arms

“Hold still, alright?” He ordered Mortimer, setting his briefcase on top and the car and pop open, slowly drawing out an old green polo shirt.

Mortimer didn't say anything, completely going silent.

“Kid?” Sylvester gently nudged his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Why do people hate you so much?” Mortimer asked, twisting the rim of his sleeveless.

“I don't know, kid.” Sylvester lied, wrapping the shirt around Mortimer's leg. “Some people are simply bad.”

“That sucks,” Mortimer muttered. “I want to go home!”

“After we get to the hotel, okay?.” Sylvester replied, patting his head.

“Okay..”

-------------—-------------—-------------—-------------—-------------—-------------—--

It didn't take long for Conner to find Muck. The newsboy was tied to a metal pole in the middle of the alleyway, guarded by Colt and Cody.

Despite being outnumbered, Conner drew out his gun and aimed it at the pair. “Release the newsboy if you know what's good for ya.”

“Woah, slow down deputy.” Colt raised his hands in defense. “Last I checked, neither of us like Mr.Raker all that much.”

“I may not like him but I need him.” Conner snorted, stepping closer.

“I won't do that if I was you.” Colt warned, shooting him glare. “Kregan's wants your head, and if you don't want be six feet under ground, I suggest you get a move on and let us take care of business before Colin comes back.”

“ You don't control me.” Conner hissed, aiming his gun right at Colt's stomach. “Now move.”

“Woooh!” Cody stepped in front of Colt. “We can tal-”

BANG.

Conner pulled the trigger, hitting Cody right in the stomach.

“Cody!” Colt screamed, catching Cody in his arms before he could collapse on the ground. “Why did you do that!” He yelped “He wasn't going to trick you! He's Cody!”

Conner ignored him, then rushed over to Muck, untying him.

“Thanks deputy” Muck coughed as he stood up.

“I'm a sheriff these days, Muck, now stay behind me while I take out the trash, alright?” Conner huffed, pushing Muck behind him as he turned back towards Colt, already loading another load.

Colt said nothing, instead he shot one last glare before bolting out the alleyway with Cody in his arms as Conner shot at him.

“That's right, run you scum!” Conner hollered, firing out more bullets. “Run all the way to Kregan and tell him that I ain't givn’ up no matter what!”

“Okay, okay, that's enough.” Muck swallowed, tugging on his poncho. “Can I g-” he was cut off by Conner suddenly grabbing his neck with his free hand and lifting him up off the ground “Hey- I thought you were-”

“Why are you here, Raker?” The shieff sneered, pressing the gun under his chin.

“He-y, I only came here to play some slots!” Raker yelped, squirming in his grip.

“No! I mean what are you doing here with Sylvester?” Conner demanded, tightening his grip. “What's his plan and why does he have a kid?”

“Look, all I know is that the kid isn't his!.” Muck squeaked, his face turning red from the lack of air. “He is only a bargaining chip!”

“...I should have known.” Conner scoffed, tossing Muck on the ground.

Muck wheezed, starting to crawl away, only to be stopped by Conner crushing his foot on his back.

“Gah!” The editor screamed. “What happened to you! You used to be much nicer!”

“Sylvester happened.” Conner retorted, whipping out his handcuffs and slapping them on Muck’s wrists.

“May I remind you that I wasn't there for your apparent fallout with him!” Muck shot back, gritting his teeth as Conner forced him to stand up. “I'm almost completely clueless on what's going on with you two!”

“And I hope that way.” Conner spat, shoving him forward. “Now let's get ya behind bars.”

Muck snorted, but went silent, a first for the over talkative editor. Nonetheless, Conner didn't complain, he never liked Muck’s constant talking anyhow.

As they arrived at the station, two towering wolf officers flanked the door, glaring down at them.

“Here.” Conner pushed him towards him. “He was-”

“Hey hold on a minute.”The first officer interrupted.“We just received a report that a Coonhound in all black brought a gun inside a library.” He explained, narrowing his eyes. “And you look just like this fella.”

Oh shoot.

“HE IS!” Muck forced a gasp. “Officers save me!”

Before Conner could respond, both officers launched forward with their guns drawn.

Double shoot.

Swifty, he dropped Muck and ran back towards the alleyway, ducking and swaying as bullets flew towards him.

“Stop bandit!” One the cops shouted.

Conner gritted his teeth, his hand creeping down towards his revolver, only to slap it back.

Who cares what they say?

He wasn't a bandit.

So, he pressed forward, bolting back towards the mall. He'll surely lose them there.

Stumbling inside, he noticed a lone tent standing in the center of a crowd.

That'll do.

He pushed past the crowd of people, then dash into the tent, letting out a sigh of relief as he slumped down, exhausted

.

“Conner Coonhound.”

Conner blinked, glancing up. There sitting behind a mahogany table, was a hooded figure.

“..Who are you! Why do you know my name!”

“Keep your voice ” The figure hushed, holding up a single black claw. “You are being chased, are you not?”

“Yes…” Conner whispered, lowering his head. “My apologies for snappin’, I haven't had the best days of late.”

“I can tell, though I wonder…” The figure muttered, tapping the tap. “Can you give me your hand?”

“Okay?” Conner tilted his head but compiled, scooping over to the table and holding out his hand.

“Let's see,” the figure hummed, taking his hand. “Oh, this is interesting.”

“Pardon?”

“I see you standing face to face with a mouse in red-”

“Wait, are you a fortune teller?”

“But before that, you are behind bars-”

“Look, I'm sorry but I don't really trust magic.” Conner said, drawing his hand away. “From what I've seen, it causes more harm than good.”

“Hmm, I can respect that.” The fortune teller replied. “It's hard putting your trust into anything these days.”

“No kiddin’.” Conner nodded in agreement. “Even the people you love the most will stab you in the back for some extra cash.”

“Do you wish to talk about it?” The fortune teller asked.

“I don't know.” Conner sighed, averting his eyes. “I ain't use spillin’ my guts to a stranger must less a magical one.”

“You don't have to.” The fortune teller assured, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But if you want to, I will be here.”

Conner fell silent, weighing his options. On one hand, He didn't have the time to spill his guts while Sylvester was still lurking about, but on the other hand, he did really need someone to talk to about this whole mess…

“So?”

“It started four years ago.”

Chapter Text

If there was one job Conner hated as a deputy it was nighttime patrol duty.

Shadydale was a small town, meaning he spent most of his time riding around on his mighty black steed in the middle of the barren desert in nothing more than a white shirt, blue cardigan, matching cowboy hat and gray slacks.

Today seemed to be no different. He rode forward, scanning the area for any bandits, Only to find a smoking green car in the middle of the road.

What the?

Curious, Conner dismounted his horse and slowly approached the car, peering inside.

There,sprawled on the ground was an odd fella sporting a pair of black glasses, gray pants and a white collar shirt adorned with green tie and matching suspenders.

Immediately, Conner attempted to open the door, only to find it locked “Girl!” He shouted to his horse. “Can you break the window?”

The horse nodded, trotting towards the minivan and smashing her hooves against the window, breaking it open in an instant.

“Good girl.” Conner praised, patting her muzzle before crawling through the window, making his way straight towards the green clad fella. “Sir, are you okay?”

The fella groaned, but stayed motionless otherwise.

Ah, shoot.

Conner immediately scooped him up his arms and crawled back out the window, placing him on his horse. “We need to get this fella to a doctor quickly.” He told his horse as he mounted her. “You think you can trot faster than usual?”

The horse nodded again, shooting forward though the sand like a speeding bullet towards Shadydale.

Once they enter the town, a few curious town folks, a mix of cows, owls and a few dogs exited their small oak wood houses and gathered around them, asking several questions.

“Deputy, who is this?”

“What happened?”

“Is he hurt?”

“Does your father know about this?”

“Why is he wearing all green?”

“Everyone settle down!” Conner ordered,raising a hand. “I'll answer any questions later, for now I need Doctor Percy!”

The crowd parted, allowing Conner to reach the clinic, a small ricky stone building that a single car parked outside.

Picking up the stranger, Conner jumped off his horse and kicked the door open, revealing a small room with several beds lined against the wall and a cherry desk next to a set of stairs at the end. Sitting at his desk was a short chubby, red panda sporting a gray frock coat, matching pants and a pair of black glasses.

“Doctor Percy!”

The red panda let out a small yelp as he turned his head towards Conner. “Mr. Coonh-oun-d!”

“Percy, this stanger needs medical help now!” Conner shouted, laying the fella on one of the beds.

“Doe-s the you father know about this?” Percy stammered meekly, standing up from his seat Connor approaching the bed.

“He will soon.” Conner replied.

“Conner!” Percy gasped, pulling down his ears. “He'll-”

“I know, I know he's goin’ to scold me again for helpin’ an outsider but I can handle it!” Connor assured him.

Percy frowned. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Reckless and hardhead.”

“Well, what do you want me to do? Just stand there while someone dies of heatstroke!”

“I didn't say that.”

“Look, if it makes ya feel better I'll go talk to him right now!” Conner declared, already walking towards the door.

“I-”

But Conner was already out the door, marching straight to the sheriff's office.

The office sat on a small hill at the very edge of town, it looked out of place compared to the rest of the town, with walls of steel and tinted-glass windows.

He threw the door open, revealing a large room with five iron cells lined against the wall on the left and a long oak desk on the right with piles of wanted posters sat on top of it.

Behind the desk sat his father, Copper, the sheriff, clad in his usual beige duster, matching cowboy hat and a golden star on his chest. Being an older Coonhound his once rich red fur, dulled to a ugly black bean red, and his long white hair was a complete mess, curling and twisting in an almost octopus like fashion.

“ What is it?” He asked gruffy, not even sparing a glance at his son as he sorted the posters. “Can't ye see dat I'm busy?”

“I saved a stranger during patrol..” Conner answered, holding his head high. “ I reckon you would like to meet him.”

“Goddammit!” His father cursed, slamming his fists on the table. “Why do you keep doin’ dis!?”

“It's the right thing to do.” Conner answered simply

.

“Oh my goodness…..” his father sighed, pinching his forehead. “You do realize we already dealin’ with Kregan's goons! We don't need more trouble!”

“Hold on, let's not jump to-”

“You have no right to say those words.” his father interrupted, standing up with a huff. “All you ever do is jump!”

“Well-”

“You jump into arguments, duels, even into bar fights!” He huffed counting his fingers. “And I can't jump to the idea dat dis outsider might be a no-good goon out for our money?”

Conner went silent at that, simply lowering his head. Why must his father be like this?

“Look, yer have a good heart and dats good thing, for da most part,” His father said, taking a deep breath. “But you should keep a close eye on that stanger, alright?”

“Fine.” Conner sighed, shaking his head as he exited the office. While he wanted to be mad at the unreasonable paranoia from his father, at the end of the day he was the one in charge, not him.

Thus he returned back to the clinic, stomping right back to Percy and the unconscious stanger.

“It didn't go well, did it?” Percy guessed, fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Nope, he wants me to keep an eye on him like some sort of spy.” Conner explained, leaning against the wall.

“Well, better safe than sorry right?” Percy gulped, shrugging his shoulders.

Conner groaned, narrowing his eyes at the doctor. “I don't want to spend the rest of my life livin’ in fear!” He fumed, his face turning redder than usual. “I'm goin’ show my father this fella is no danger to anyone here!”

“Conner, that's insane!” Percy replied, his eyes widening. “We know nothing about this man!”

“It'll work, trust me.” Conner insisted.

Percy opened his mouth, only to close it when a pair of footsteps rushed down the stairs.

“Why is everyone yelling!” shouted a tiny voice.

Conner turned towards the voice, finding a fourteen year-old Pagie storming over to them with a pout on her face.

She was wearing a simple purple dress and a matching bowtie, but her eyes had the fury of a thousand fires.

“Paige what are you doing? Go back to bed!” Percy yelped, his face going pale.

“But dad! I want to know what's going on!” Paige huffed, her eyes falling on the unconscious man. “Who is that?”

“There is only one way to find out.” Conner replied, shaking the stranger's shoulder.

“Conner!” Percy yelled, causing the stranger to stir.

“The blazes..” the stranger muttered, sitting up. “Who are you people?”

“Coonhound, Conner Coonhound, deputy of Shadydale!” Conner introduced, extending out his hand. “And these fine folks next to me are Percy and his daughter Pagie.”

The stranger squinted his eyes, slowly taking his hand. “Sylvester..”

“It's nice to meet ya Sylvester.” Conner smiled, shaking his hand.

“Sylvester..” Percy repeated scornfully, tapping his chin. “What are you from the big city or something? We don't like-”

“Dad, don't be rude!” Pagie scolded, wagging her finger at her father. “Not everyone from the city is bad!”

“Your daughter is right.” Conner agreed, shooting a pointed glare at the doctor. “And frankly I expect better from you.”

The doctor shrinks down slightly, letting out a small squeak.

Conner simply shook his head, turning his attention back to Sylvester. “Anyhow, your car isn't really goin’ anywhere, so you may have to stay here for a few days.”.

“And you don't have a mechanic, do you?” Sylvester guessed, letting out a small snort.

“Woah, how did you know?” Pagie asked, leaning forward.

“...Well, it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.” Sylvester answered, his eyes scanning the trio up and down. “Nonetheless, I assume one of you will show me around?”

“Nope!” Percy grabbed Paige by the hand and bolted away from the bed up the stairs, leaving Conner alone with Sylvester.

“What a peculiar man..” Sylvester muttered, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh just ignore him. I'll give ya the grand tour.” Conner said, offering out his arm. With a hum, Sylvester accepted his arm and the deputy led him out of the clinic and outside.

“This is the lovely town of Shadydale!” he exclaimed, gesturing to the surrounding buildings which, besides the houses and the sheriffs office, consisted of a single saloon, a blacksmith, a mom and pop general store, a tiny brick schoolhouse with only the front painted blue, and a rundown post office. “It's wonderful ain't it?”

“....It's certainly quaint.” Sylvester replied, flashing a polite smile.

“It's more than quaint! ” Conner continued leading him down the dirt path as the townsfolk gawked at them. “This little town is full of heart and spirit!”

“...Such as?” Sylvester questioned .

“The saloon!” Conner beamed, pulling him over to the establishment. “This is where my mum works at and where you'll be stayin’ for the time bein’ while we get a mechanic from out of town.”

“...Are the rooms nice?” Sylvester asked, his feet shifting uncomfortably on the ground.

“ Don't worry, they are as nice as they get!” Conner assured, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Now let me show you to my mum, she'll love ya! ” He smiled, ushering him inside.

The interior of the saloon, like the rest of the saloon, was quite simple, five oak tables, one stairwell leading to the guest room, and a maplewood countertop.

Sitting at the countertop, was Conner's mum, Cora, clad in a long red dress, white apron and matching lace bonnet hat.

“Conner!” She yelped, standing up and rushing over to him, cupping his cheeks. “Are you okay baby? Did you bump into any nasty snakes while at work?”

Conner shook his head. “No but I did meet someone new.” He replied, motioning to Sylvester. “This Sylvester-”

“Why is he so skinny!” She fretted, moving her hands to Sylvester's cheeks. “Is he underfed?”

“‘Mum, I don't think-”

“Doesn't matter, you're both eatin’ and restin’ now!” His mother declared, returning back to the countertop and drawing out two bowls of onion soup.

“...Is she always like this?” Sylvester whispered to Conner as they sat down together.

“Yep but aren't most mothers?” Conner whispered back as his mum pushed the bowls toward them.

Sylvester didn't reply to that, instead simply turning his head away.

Oh.. was that a sore sport for him?

“I mean-”

“Conner, Sylvester, eat!” His mother interrupted, snapping her fingers in their faces.

“Right, sorry mum!” Conner quickly apologized, digging right in.

After they ate, Cora ushered them both up the stairs and into a small room with two beds, a mirror, and a wardrobe.

“Now go to sleep !” She ordered, shutting the door, leaving Conner alone with Sylvester once again.

Conner sighed, turning to face Sylvester. “Hey, Sylvester.” He said, removing his hat from his head and holding close to his chat “I want to apologize for earlier.”

Sylvester blinked, staring at him like he grew a second head. “Pardon?”

“It aint in my right to assume somethin’ so personal.” Conner continued, setting his hat on the first bed. “I hope we can still be friends.”

“...Hm now that you mentioned it, a friend wouldn't hurt.” Sylvester grinned, extending out his hand.

Conner accepted the hand, shaking with a bright smile on his face.

Things are going to be different now, he can just feel it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I look ridiculous.” Sylvester groaned the next day as he changed into a green cowboy hat, a matching bib shirt, and a pair of black trousers.

Conner on the hand, was flushing pink seeing his new friend dawn these clothes.For city fella, he was quite cute.

“Well, I think you look perfect.” He managed to tell Sylvester through his thundering heartbeat.

“I'm glad that exactly one person thinks so.” Sylvester shot back sarcastically.

Conner chuckled. “Oh, don't be like that, the townsfolk will love it!”

“Didn't one of them run away from me the other day?” Sylvester reminded him.

“Eh, it's only one person.” Connor shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. “I'm sure the rest of the town will come to like you.”

“If you insist.” Sylvester grunted, patting down his new shirt.

“I do.” Conner nodded, offering out his hand “Now come on, I got an idea to give ‘em a good first impression of you.”

Sylvester let out a small huff but accepted his hand causing the deputy to smile softly. Swifty he led Sylvester out of the room, downstairs and outside into the town, leading him straight to the brick schoolhouse, where a few paint cans and brushes sat at stone steps..

“Do you see what's wrong with this building?”

“Besides the fact it's frozen four centuries in the past?” Sylvester snarked, folding his arms.

“No! It's not fully painted!” Conner corrected, raising a finger. “But we're goin’ to lend a hand and paint the rest of it.

“A tad bit messy, isn't it?” Sylvester questioned, stepping closer to the cans.

“Yep, but it's good honest work!” Conner chirped.

“..Of course. ” Sylvester sighed, shaking his head.

“What, never painted a building before, city boy?” Conner teased, elbowing his side.

“Oh shush you!” Sylvester snorted, scooping up a brush.

“Nope, if you get to be a little cheeky, so do I, it's only fair!” Conner shot back, scooping back up a brush.

“Oh, I don't think you want to be cheeky with me, cowboy~.” Sylvester smirked, leaning closer to him.

Conner flushed letting out a small yelp. He always heard that city folks were more forward than most but this was something else. “Uh, let just get to paintin’ okay?”

“Why of course.” Sylvester nodded, picking up the second brush.

Together they start painting the school building, falling into an uncomfortable silence. Until Conner noticed that Sylvester movements were rather slow and his breathing heavy.

“You alright?”

“I'm a lawyer, not a painter.” Sylvester replied bluntly.

“You a lawyer? That's strange..”

“How so?”

“Well, you wear suspenders. ...”

“What? Do you think lawyer's clothes are limited to only black suits and ties?”

“Honestly yes.”

Sylvester snickered.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, you're simply cute.”

Conner blushed at that, hiding his face under his hat, however, before he could think of a reply he heard a shrill scream coming from inside the school.

“What the blazes?” Sylvester blinked, dropping his brush on the ground.

“That sounds Miss.Owlbert! Conner exclaimed, quickly rushing to the door and swinging it open, revealing a bone chilling sight in the middle of the classroom.

Miss Owlbert, a small elf owl clad in nothing more than a simple white pinstripe blouse and black skirt, was being countered by three Kregan's goons, Colt, Cody and Colin, wearing their usual black blazers and gray flap caps.

“Look lady, me and Cody don't want to do this, but the boss’ rules come first.” Colin sighed, shaking his head.

“So hurry up and pay the fine!” Collin hissed, kicking her down the floor, causing the young teacher to scream and earning a look from Cody.

Oh, those no good scumbags!

“Hey, get away from her!” Conner shouted, storming over to the three goons.

“Well, oh well, isn't our favorite deputy.” Colin mocked, sauntering over to him. “Still, having daddy issues with the shieff?”

Conner growled, throwing a punch at Colin who easily caught his arm, twisting it hard.

“Ah!”

“Oh I bet you regret not bringing a gun, do you?” Colin taunted, shoving him to the floor.

“For the last time, I don't do guns.” Conner gritted his teeth, pushing himself back up, only for Colin to slam his foot down on his back, earning him a pained yelp.

“That's because your weak, soft heart, and-”

“Colin that's enough, she gave the dough.” Colt interrupted, flashing two twenties.

“...Is that all?” Colin scowled, stomping over to his partners in crime.

“Can get more from the others.” Cody quickly suggested.

“Wow, that's the smartest thing you ever said, Cody.” Colin replied, chuckling.

“Let's just go already ” Colt ordered, putting the money in his pocket

With that, the trio left, allowing Conner to finally stand up.

“Are you okay?” He asked Miss Owlbert as he rushed over to her side.

“Me?” Owlbert blinked, “Yer the one who got punched and kicked my lad!”

“Oh, I'll be fine, I'll deal with worse.” Conner assured, helping her to her feet.

“Sure lad, sure.” Owlbert sighed, rubbing her temples. “Why are you even here anyhow, shouldn't you be clockin’ to your pops?”

“Well uh, me and a friend are paintin’ your school for the day!” Conner quickly answered.

“Friend?”Owlbert's scanned the room. “I don't see a friend.”

“...Oh shoot, he's still outside! They might get him!” Conner gasped, darting back outside.

Luckily, he quickly located the lawyer, finding him hiding behind the school.

“Are you alright?” Conner asked, his heart thundering in his chest as he grabbed the lawyer's hands.

“A bit shaken but otherwise I'm fine.” Sylvester shuddered, letting out a breath. “..Who were they anyway?”

“Kregan's goons..” Conner answered bitterly.

“I still don't know who that is.” Sylvester replied.

“He's a city crook who ‘gives’ towns like us money to get nice things.” Conner explained. “But when we can't pay him back he sends his goons.”

“You mean a loan shark?” Sylvester asked

.

“A loan what?”

“..Nevermind, the point is I know how to deal with these kinds of people.”

“You do!?”

“Yes but I need a friend first, is there anyone that still works at that old post office?”

“What yer takin’ about? It ain't abandoned or anythin’ !”

Sylvester blinked. “Then why is it rundown like an abandoned playground from the sixties?”

“Oh Cassidy owns place and she refused to take any of Kregan's money, meani’’ she can't really afford any repairs.” Conner explained with a sigh.

“I see.” Sylvester hummed, tapping his chin.

“But with your plan, the town will be saved right?” Conner asked, his ears perking up.

“Why of course, deputy, you can have full faith in me.” Sylvester assured, winking at him.

“Wonderful, I'll tell pops right away!” Conner blushed, his tail thumping wildly against the ground. This man was going to be the death of him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few weeks they waited for Sylvester's friend. Conner found himself falling deeper in love with the lawyer, even teaching ride his horse and showing him his favorite places outside of town.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore and decided one day to finally confess, buying a bouquet of roses from the general store and riding straight to the saloon.

“Aww are you finally going to tell him?” His mother asked as he entered.

“How did you know!” Conner yelped, his ears peering up.

“Baby boy, when you crush, you crush hard.” She giggled, covering her mouth.

Conner blushed hard but pressed forward, taking a deep breath as he walked up the upstairs, immediately knocking on Sylvester's door.

“Come in.” The lawyer said, his voice slightly muffled by the door.

Conner did so, pushing the door open and stepping inside, finding the Sylvester sitting on the bed. “Sylvester, do you want to go out with me?” He asked the lawyer as he walked over to him, thrusting the roses towards him. “I know the timin’ ain't right with Kregan's goons still about bu-”

“Sure, I will go out with you.” Sylvester interrupted, accepting the flowers.

“Really?” Conner gasped, grinning ear to ear.

“Of course, darling.” Sylvester rose up, kissing him on his cheek.

Conner blushed, gigging a bit as Sylvester took his hands.. Oh this was going to be wonderful.

And so they began going on little dates, from enjoying small dinners in the morning to cuddling together at night

However, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.Occasionally Conner had to leave in the middle of the date to deal with Kregan's goons.

The worst time was during one of his days off from work.

He and Sylvester were enjoying a nice swing of beer outside the general store, when he spotted a pair of familiar white tigers marching inside the saloon.

“I need to go, Sylvester.”

“Wait wh-”

But for once Conner didn't listen, instead bolting straight inside the saloon to confront the duo, only to find them lounging at one the tables and eating some fresh apple pie.

Even so, Conner still stomped over to them. “So, enjoying that stolen pie Leon and Talia?” He sneered, shooting a glare at them.

The pair exchanged some confused glances then let out a cruel laugh, making Conner clenched his fists.

“It ain't funny! My mum worked hard on thoses!”

“Which is why we pay for It fair and square.” Leon responded, smirking.

“I don't believe yo-”

“Son, they're tellin’ da truth.”

Conner teased as he heard his father's voice, slowly turning to face him. He stood with Sylvester, mother, Doctor Percy and Pagie, all staring at him with wide eyes.

“But pops!”

“No buts, Conner!” His father shouted. “You can barely deal with the three stooges, how can I expect ye to deal with these two!”

Conner bit his lip, fighting off tears as he rushed back outside, thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated as he slumped down on the ground.

Why can't he do this right for once?

“Mr.Coonhound?” A familiar voice called out.

Conner glanced up, meeting Paige's eyes. “Ye-a-h?’

“While I think you overreacted a bit, you have every right to too.” Paige said, sitting next to him. “After all, they are big bullies!”

Conner brightened up a bit at that. He was glad that someone understood.

“Thanks little one.” He sniffled, patting her head.

But besides that day, most of their dates went pretty well, always ending in at least one kiss.

During one of these dates they sat together under the shade or oak tree by the old lake, enjoying the rare spot of green in the otherwise barren arena.

When suddenly Sylvester drew out a book.

“Woah, I haven't touched one of those since I was fourteen.” Conner remarked, cocking his head

“Wait, you never read anything past middle school age?” Sylvester snorted, squinting his eyes at him.

“I never needed to.” Conner shrugged, removing his hat and setting it behind the tree. “There ain't any jobs around here that need that sort of smarts.”

“It's still unacceptable, Conner, you need to learn!” Sylvester insisted, thrusting the book towards him.

“Alright, alright!” Conner chuckled, blushing deeply as he opened the book. As he read, he noticed Sylvester resting his head on his shoulder.

Oh sweet summer tea!

Before he could act on this, however, the sound of a camera clicking caught his attention.

What the!

“Sylvester you old dog, it's good to see you again!” A sleazy voice called out.

Conner turned towards the voice, finding a stubby mustached dog holding out one of those instant cameras. He looks like some sort of news reporter, sporting a pair of black glasses, a double-breasted blue suit and a matching tie.

“Muck, Long time no see!.” Sylvester smirked, standing up and approaching the reporter. “This Conner, Conner, Muck.”

“Nice to meet you Conner.” Muck grinned, stepping closer to him and extending out his hand.

“Erh, likewise Muck.” Conner replied, standing up and shaking his hand. “Mind if I ask, why'd you snap a picture of us?”

“Simple everyone loves a sappy love story! It bonded to get a smile from the boss ” Muck exclaimed, earning a glare from Sylvester. “What? Are you two not dati-”

“We may be but you are not reporting on it.” Sylvester cut him off, snatching the picture from the camera and stuffing it in his picture.

Muck frowned. “Then how I'm going to sell this story to my boss?”

“How telling me that a gang terrorizing a little town isn't enough for your boss?” Sylvester scoffed, resting his hands on his side.

“He's a man of high standards, Sylvester, I need more to work with!” Muck replied, tossing his hands in the air.

“Wait you're telling me, nobody is going to help my town without some story?” Conner asked, feeling his face heat up in rage.

“I know, people are horrible these days.” Muck sighed dramatically. “But you do what you have to do!”

Conner grimaced at that. Has the world really gotten that bad? Nonetheless he nodded. “Alright, what do I need to do?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To say Conner felt silly would be the understatement of the century. For days Muck took picture after picture of him doing various staged heroic acts for the town from saving a kitten to taking out a fire, but today was just plain outrageous as Muck had him kneeled down, holding little Pagie's hands to look as ‘Father-like as possible.’

“You don't have to do this Pages.” He found himself whimpering to the girl as Muck aimed his cameras at them.

“But gotta!” Pagie whispered back. “For you and the town!”

Conner sighed but kept quiet. She was right, what mattered was the town, not his wounded pride. Thus, with a deep breath, he forced a smile at the camera as they clicked.

“And that's a wrap!” Muck clapped, turning off his cameras. “Good job you two, the money will be coming in no time!”

Conner didn't know why but he wanted to punch him. He didn't of course, after all, he was Sylvester's friend, he must mean well.

… Right?

Before he could linger on his new doubt, he had a familiar kiss on his cheek.

“Now, can we get back to our date.”Sylvester cooed, wrapping his arms around him.

Conner smiled softly, returning the kiss. Perhaps he didn't need to worry, after all, even if he didn't trust Muck, he trusted his beloved to save this town.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the following weeks, no money came and worse of all, Colin, Leon, and Talia got more violent, the trio were often seen breaking windows, stealing food, even stabbing a few folks, forcing more of the town to pay up.

“Conner, when is that money coming!” His father would often demand. “You said it would be here by now!”

“It will be pop! Sylvester would go back on his word!” He would always reply.

And yet more weeks passed without even one cent coming to town.

Then one day, everything went horribly wrong.

Conner was playing catch with Pagie behind the clinic while Sylvester was supposedly writing another letter to Muck, when heard the sound of a few vehicles pulling over.

“Stay here.” He told Pagie, dropping the ball and rushing to the front of the clinic.

There he saw a bulldozer, a wrecking ball, and a white limousine.

Of course, Kregan stepped out from the white limousine, a icly puff of air following him.

“Kregan!” Conner yelled, throwing a fist at him.

Kregan smiled, not even flinching as the fist hit his chest. “Tsk, do you have no manners, deputy?”

Conner shivered, feeling an intense chill go down his spine. “What do you want?”

“Your little scared boyfriend handed all the money I wanted to save himself.” Kregan answered, smirking. “So, I don't need this pitiful place anymore.”

“What..” Conner stepped back, the realization of what was happening hitting him like a freight train.. That money from the stories was never for the town, it was for Kregan.

“It's nothing personal, deputy. In fact, I was hoping one day we could work together one day.” Kregan continued, circling around him like a shark. “But oh well, your boyfriend will do just fine as my personal lawyer.”

Conner felt his world crumbled apart. No this can't be. The man he loved so dearly had sold them out…

“Anyhow, any last word before I destroy this pitiful town?” Kregan asked, his tone disgustingly upbeat .

“....Tell Sylvester, I'm gonna kill him!”

==================================

(Back to the Present)

==================================

“I managed to escape with Pagie in Percy's car but the rest of the town-” Conner trailed off, his throat tightening.

“..You suffered a great loss, Conner ” The fortune teller hummed, taking his hand into theirs.”But your grief will lead behind bars if you keep going this way.”

“Again, I don't trust magic.” Conner snapped his hand away, slowly rising up. “I make my own fate.”

“If you insist but don't say I didn't warn you.” The fortune replied.

Conner simply scoffed and marched out the tent. It doesn't matter what magic says, he was going to bring justice to Shadydale one way or another.

Chapter Text

Four hours.

For four hours Paige had waited in the hotel lobby for any suspicious characters that might be the carjacker. In fact, she was about to leave, when spotted three two faces entering the hotel with a small mouse boy.

…Was that Sylvester and Muck?

Gasping, she quickly hid behind a wall, watching the trio closely as they walked towards the front desk.

“Muck, are you certain staying at this hotel is safe?” Sylvester asked the dog.

“Look, Sylvester, I get it, I got jumped by them too but that was in the parking lot.” Muck replied, patting the lawyer's shoulder. “This place however, is far better with security, nobody is going to hurt us here.”

“Do they have bandaids?” The boy whimpered, clutching his leg. “My leg still hurts.”

“Of course, my little Mortimer, you'll be patched up in no time!” Muck grinned, patting his head, earning a wince from Mortimer and a slap to the wrist from Sylvester. “Ow! What was that for?”

“The kid isn't comfortable with that.” the lawyer sneered, picking up the boy and holding close.

Muck scoffed, but didn't say anything to Sylvester, instead turning his attention to the front desk lady, a yak sporting a simple black suit and tie.

“Is the room finally cleaned?” He asked her.

“Yes, you may go inside.” The yak answered, handing him a key labeled 301.

“Finally!” Muck groaned, snatching the key and matching up a flight of stairs with Sylvester in tow.

Swifty, Pagie followed them up the stairs, holding her breath as she continued to watch the trio.

“Alright, you tucked in the kid and we can talk about this ‘situation’ at the bar.” Muck said, as he unlocked and opened the door.

“No Muck, the Mortimer had a rough day, it's best I say here.” Sylvester replied, earning a small grin from the boy.

“WHA- I mean of course…” Muck cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “Mortimer's happiness is key after all, right?”

Sylvester simply shot him a nasty glare, snatced the key from his grip and stomped inside, slamming the door behind him.

Paige could hardly believe her eyes nor did she know what to think about the situation.

For as foolish it might be, she always blamed herself for the destruction of the town, instead of Sylvester and Muck, after all, she could have done more, refused to take those photos or even maybe listened to her dad for once and just stayed out of it.

Nonetheless, despite her doubts, she went back downstairs and rushed out of the hotel, searching the now dark streets for the black clad sheriff. As much as she regretted her decisions back then, what mattered now was finding Conner and confronting him for hiding this from her.

“Conner!” She shouted, her eyes darting back and forth. “Conner, where are you!”

She ran faster, peering in every alleyway and dark counter, but instead of finding Conner, she found Colt and an armed Colin arguing in the middle of an alleyway.

“Colin, we need to get out here!”

“Not without Sylvester!”

“Cody will die if we don't leave!”

“Colt, you're smarter than this.” Colin groaned, waving his gun around like a madman. “You know what he'll do if we come back empty handed .”

Colt clenched his fists. “Oh don't pretend you're afraid of him!” He snarled, grabbing his partner by the collar. “If anything-”.

“Shut up!” Colin screamed, pulling the trigger.

“Gah!” Colt screamed, slumping down the floor as the bullet hit his chest.

Pagie covered her mouth, immediately running away from the scene as fast as he could.

Finally after what feels like a entirety, she finally spots the shieff huffing out a mall.

She opened her mouth to yell, but quickly shuts. She didn't know what it was but there was something different about Conner.

As usual he carried an air of determination, but this air was different, there was a terrible yet, somber darkness around him.

“Paige! Did you find the hotel!” He asked, drawing her out her thoughts.

Paige paused, scanning him up and down. His cowboy was covering his eyes and his fists were shaking.

Oh goodness…

Maybe she shouldn't confront him.

“No, I'm still looking for it.” She lied, taking a step back.

“Goddammit!” Conner cursed, drawing out his revolver and firing two shots on the ground. “We need to find him, now!”

Pagie flinched, taking another step back. “..I don't know Conner, he's just a carjacker of a vehicle we already found.” she ‘reminded’ him. “Maybe we should leave him be..”

Conner blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait a few minutes ago you were as determined as I'm..” He pointed out. “...What changed?”

“Nothing!” Pagie lied again, taking a step back. “I just don't feel like this is worth it anymor-”

“It is worth it!” Conner insisted, clutching his jaw. “And I ain't gvin’ up until that fiend is behind bars or dead!”

“And you can do that!” Paige quickly said, holding up her hand in defense. “But I want to go home..”

“...Okay, you can go.” Conner took a deep breath. “But I'm findin’ that carjacker.”

Pagie simply nodded, watching Conner stomp back over to his horse in a huff.

That poor, poor, man….

—------------------------------------------------------------------------—------------------------------------------

“Thank you again for staying with me, Uncle Sylvester!.” Mortimer smiled.

“I can drink with Muck anytime, but fixing your leg properly is far more time sensitive.” Sylvester quickly replied, turning his head away from Mortimer as he sat the boy, the key, and his suitcase on one of the beds. He was starting to hate how this kid was making feel and act, yet even now he couldn’t stop himself from marching to the bathroom to find a medkit.

Why is it that out of all the people he ever met, it was a stowaway child that finally got to him, breaking down well-crafted walls like an armored tank.

It couldn’t be that Mortimer loved him like a father. He never had a problem in the past with hurting those that grew to care for him, but this kid…

This kid was different.

“Uncle Sylvester, why do you have a picture of that bandit in your briefcase?” Mortimer suddenly called out.

Sylvester tensed up, freezing in place as he finally found the medkit in a cabinet. “Put it back, Mortimer.”

A pregnant pause fell over the room until finally Mortimer asked; “....Will you still tell me?”

“Yes, but you need to put that back.” Sylvester replied, his voice hardening slightly.

“Okay..” Mortimer squeaked, making Sylvester feel a stab of guilt.

With a heavy sigh, he returned to the bed, immediately treating Mortimer’s leg, doing his best to ignore the little pained whimpers from the boy.

He didn’t need to feel any more guilt..

After he finished, he sat by Mortimer, taking the picture from his tiny hands. “Look kid, I don’t know why I still have thi-”

“Hold on, didn’t Muck say you dated him?” Mortimer interrupted. “And if you still have that picture, that must mean you still love him, right?”

“..He was a casual lover, Mortimer.” Sylvester responded, earning a confused look from the boy. “...Someone you find cute, especially his delusions of glory, but you can’t exactly stay with him.”

“Why not?” Mortimer asked, titling his head.

“ Because It’ll destroy your opportunities,” Sylvester explained, putting the photo back in the suitcase. “And you can have anyone holding you back, no matter what you feel about them, especially when the chips are down.”

“....I do hold you back?” Mortimer asked meekly.

Sylvester opened his mouth then closed it. Truth told, Mortimer was holding back, making him act more like a sappy father by the second.

But, he couldn’t tell the boy that…

“Nonsense. If anything, you make me stronger.” He lied to the boy, ruffling his head.

Mortimer immediately perked up, tossing his arms around his waist. “You make me stronger too!”

“...Yes… erh, how about we watch some tv?” Sylvester quickly offered, letting out a sigh of relief . He was getting worried that the kid would never smile again after that little ‘incident’ with Colin.

“Yes! I want to watch color rangers!” Mortimer nodded, leaping off the bed and sitting right in front of the small box TV sitting in the corner of the room.

“Alright…” Sylvester let out a breath, hiding his briefcase under the bed before sitting behind Mortimer. “What channel is it?”

“Ninety!” Mortimer answered, bouncing in place.

Sylvester nodded, turning on the TV and flipping to the channel.

Mortimer’s little eyes lit up and he let a loud squeal. “COLOR RANGERS!”

A few days ago, Sylvester would have found the squeal grating, irksome, and franking annoying but now he felt a strange wave of protectiveness washing over him.

Without thinking, he grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around the young mouse, ensuring he was comfortable.

“Thanks Uncle Sylvester!” Mortimer chirped, snuggling closer to him.

“...Anytime kid.”

The pair continued to watch the show, enjoying the overdramatic fights and teenage melodrama. Then there was a sudden knock on the door.

Ah, Muck must be done with his gambling.

“Keep watching your show kid, I'll answer it.” He told Mortimer as he stood up.

“Okay but hurry they are about to beat Darkblood!” Mortimer gushed, flapping his hands about.

“I'll be right back, sport.” Sylvester replied, raising up and walking over to the door.

Wait…

Did he just call Mortimer, sport?

Oh no.

The knocks grew louder, snapping Sylvester back to reality.

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” He grumbled, swinging open the door, revealing a red panda clad in a blue waitress outfit instead of Muck.

“....Hello Mr.Shyster.” she greeted, her eyes glued to the floor.

Sylvester tilted his head. “Who the blazes are you?”

“It's me, Paige, the little girl from Shadydale..” The panda muttered, wringing her hands.

“Oh, are you here to kill me too?” Sylvester sneered, his eyes drifting back to Mortimer, ready to pick up the boy and make a run for it if need be.

“No, I'm he-re to war-n you.” Paige explained, her voice quivering. “Coli-n and Conner are both re-ady to k-ill you on sight!”

“I'm a aware but this hotel is saf-”

“You really think some hotel security guards are going to stop Conner or Colin?” Paige interrupted , stomping her foot on the ground. “Hell, I just saw Colin shooin’ his own! He won't stop until you're dead!”

For a moment, Sylvester didn't know what to say to that, simply staring at the red panda with wide eyes, but finally with a sigh he asked. “..Why are you helping me?”

“You may not be a good person but that boy doesn't deserve my grief.” she replied, pointing at Mortimer who was cheering at the TV. “He should grow up to be happy and healthy!”

Again Sylvester was speechless. She was doing all this for Mortimer? Sure, the kid was a good one, but she barely knew him. “What benefit do you-”

“There is no benefit, Mr.Shyster, it's simply the right thing to do.” Pagie cut him off, raising up her hand. “Well, for the kid at least..”

Sylvester stared at her, completely baffled by her childlike reasoning but kept his mouth shut for once. Given the situation, he'll take all the help he can get.

“Do you have a fast car?” Pagie asked. “If not, I can stall for time with Conner”

“Yes you do that, I'll get Mortimer.” Sylvester nodded, immediately rushing over to the blanket-covered boy.

“Uncle Sylvester!” Mortimer beamed, his hands jolting up toward him. “Are we going to finish the show?”

“Maybe another time,sport, for now we need to go home.” Sylvester replied, scooping the little mouse up in his arms.

“Oh okay.” Mortimer yawned, resting his head on his shoulder.

Sylvester felt another wave of protectiveness wash over him….

Dammit.

He needed to get Mortimer home and fast

.

Bolting out the room, He went straight downstairs to the hotel's bar to find Muck.

“Muck!” Sylvester whisperer yelled, covering Mortimer’s ears and nose as he rushed through the bar. “Muck where the hell are you!”

At last, he found the editor sitting at a back table, drunkenly flirting with two ocicats sporting in black cocktail dresses and feather headbands.

“And I said that's old new, baby, you need to-”

“Muck!” Sylvester shifted Mortimer to one arm, and used his free hand to grab the editor by the collar, pulling him away from the ocicats. “We need to go now, give your keys.”

“Oh come on Sly-Sly, I know you enjoy a good party!” Muck giggled drunkenly.

Oh for goodness sake!

With a groan, Sylvester fished the keys from Muck’s pocket, pushed the drunk editor back to the floor then ran back upstairs and out of the hotel towards the parking lot.

“Uncle Sylvester, did you just leave your friend behind?” Mortimer asked, his eyes peeling open.

“He'll be fine.” Sylvester scoffed, patting Mortimer on the back. “Now, go back to sleep, you need your rest.”

Mortimer frowned. “I don't like Mr.Muck but he's your fr-”

“A fair weather friend.” Sylvester corrected, earning a deeper frown from the kid. “Look kid.” he signed, swifty unlocking the car and sitting the boy in the passenger seat next to him. “Sometimes you have hurt your friends to survive, it's unfortunate especially if they're useful like old Muck, but you can’t be dragged into a grave with them.”

Mortimer went dead silent even as Sylvester sat in the driver's seat, closing the door behind him, he didn't even peep one single word . It was extremely odd for the boy, but Sylvester didn't have time to question it. With a deep breath, he started the car and sped off, driving as fast as the legal limit would allow.

It's time to end this little trip once and for all.

Alas, as he drove further and further from the city, Mortimer’s silence became more and more deafening, especially after an hour passed.

“Mortimer?” Sylvester glanced over to the young mouse, finding him curled up in a little ball under the blanket. “Are you alright, kid?”

“Uncle Sylvester, promise me you'll stay when we get back to my house?” Mortimer asked, slowly poking his head out the blanket.

“Mortimer-

“I ca-n ma-ke you your ow-n room! And I'll even s-hare all the ice-cream!” Mortimer whimpered, clinging onto his arm. “Ju-st please stay!”

“Mortimer, I can't…” Sylvester pry his arm away. “If I do, the bad guys will hurt you,okay?”

“But you beat them before, can't you beat them again?”

“After your safe kid.”

“I will be safe if you'd trian how to fight!”

“No.”

“But-”

“No buts Mortimer,” Sylvester cuts him off sharply. “This isn't one of your comics, if you die, you won't come back, understand?”

“Ye-s, Unc-le Sylve-ster!.”Mortimer squeaked, tears filling his eyes.

Sylvester signed “...Don't cry kid, I don’t mean to snap.” he muttered, wrapping his arm around the boy. “Look, when things calm down, I might visit you one day.”

“You promise?” Mortimer whimpered, burying his face into the Sylvester’s sleeve.

“I'll try, that's all I can promise.” Sylvester replied, finally being honest with the boy.

Mortimer sniffled but didn't say anything else, only clinging on to Sylvester’s sleeve as at last the Calisota state sign came into view.

“Finally.” Sylvester let out a sigh of relief, then felt a tug on his sleeve. “Yes, Mortimer?”

“Can you tuck me into bed?” Mortimer asked weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I-” Sylvester paused, feeling his throat tighten up.

BANG!

HISS!

Four gunshots rang out, followed by loud hiss of the tires popping.

Oh crap.

The car came to a screening halt, and a bullet came flying through the windshield, barely gracing past Sylvester’s face.

“Uncle Sylvester!” Mortimer screamed, his face turning pale.

“It's oka-”

“You have three minutes to give up or I'll kill both of you!” Colin's voice interrupted, cutting through the air like a knife.

Trembling Sylvester turned toward the voice, feeling his heart drop as he saw an armed Colin stepping out of a truck.

“Don't make me repeat myself!” the mafioso threatened, marching straight toward them.

“Uncle Sylvester, what do we do!” Mortimer shrieked, his whole body quivering.

“Stay quiet.” Sylvester whispered, scooping Mortimer up into his arms.

Quietly, with Mortimer his arms, he ducked behind the chair, watching Colin's movements closely from the window as he approached the car.

The mafioso seemed to be extremely unstable, twisting his gun around like a toy and muttering something under his breath.

Oh great, he completely lost it.

“HEY DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?” Colin screamed, kicking the car door.

Sylvester swallowed, holding Mortimer tighter, silently hoping that Colin would eventually leave.

“Y’know, maybe I should be happy there's someone out there that's worse than me, But this low even for the lowest like us.” Colin chuckled, kicking the door again. “You know what he'll do to me! You know how terrible it is! And yet-” He trailed off, a cough sob escaping his lips. “..Oh fuck.”

Seeing this as an opportunity to make a break for it, Sylvester slowly made his way to the door opposite of Colin, and carefully opened it, keeping Mortimer close to his chest as he exited the car and bolted forward down the road.

However, Colin's eyes immediately snapped towards them. “Hey! I'm ain't done with you!” he yelled, firing his gun at Sylvester.

“Ah!” Sylvester screamed, feeling the bullet hit his leg, sending him and Mortimer tumbling to the ground.

“Look at you, you can’t even take a single bullet.” Colin scoffed,rolling his eyes “I can easily kill you and take the kid, but here's the thing, I still need your little boyfriend, so I'll make ya a deal.” He offered. “If you hand the brat over and lure Conner to our old base, I'll let ya live another day, if not, well, then you'll make some good roadkill for the vultures!”

Sylvester froze in place, a lump forming in his throat as he glanced between a quivering Mortimer laying on the ground next to him and the end of Colin's gun. For once in his life, he hesitated on saving himself, his arms incidentally wrapping around Mortimer’s tiny body like it was second nature.

“Oh, now you have a heart!” Coilin sneered, his finger teasing the trigger. “But it's for some little brat instead of me!”

“Wait! Wait I- I” Sylvester starmmed, scooting back.” I… I accept the deal, I'll lure Conner to the old base...”

“What!” Mortimer squeaked, his eyes going wide. “But Uncle Sylvester you said-”

“It doesn't matter what he said.” Colin interjected, grabbing Mortimer by the back of his shirt and lifting up to meet his eyes. “You're going to the boss, rather you like it or not.”

“N-o!” Mortimer sobbed, shaking his head. “Uncle Sylvester do something!”

Yet, Sylvester remained motionless, merely watching as Colin marched back to the truck and threw Mortimer into the backseat. He hated to do this to the kid, but he had a plan that'll save the both of them….

Hopefully….

Chapter Text

To say the old base was rundown would be a vast understatement, the once luxurious penthouse build from Kragen's reign of terror, was nothing more than husk of its former self,the main lobby is completely empty with the expectation of the torn-up front desk, a dented elevator , a long twisting marble stairwell and a few scattered glass window.

“This happened after you took all that fucking money from us.” Colin had told him when they first entered, dragging poor Mortimer by the ear. “But if you can figure out how to this dump to kill your old fling, you can live on while the boss raises this brart.”

“Perfectly fine by me.” Sylvester forced a smirk, a rarity for him, usually a smirk is second nature to him, alas Colin poke the wrong lawyer and he was going to pay.

“Good.” Colin nodded, turning his attention towards Mortimer. “As for you, follow me and keep your trap shut, got it?”

Mortimer let out a little whimper, but nodded giving Sylvester once last pleading look as Colin pulled him towards the elevator.

Sylvester gritted his teeth, but otherwise simply turned around. Colin will pay in due time but for now, he needs to stick to the plan.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Colin shuddered as the elevator opened to Kragen's old office. Unlike the rest of the penthouse, it remained as it always has been: cold and dreadful with a towering iron desk that only held a traditional landline phone and metal throne, icy walls of polished white steel, a glassy almost transparent floor, and white fluorescent lights above that somehow still had power.

That alone made Colin swallowed. Even when Kregen failed, they remained untouchable and in control. Nonetheless, he steeled his nerves and dragged the young mouse over to desk, dumping the little brat on the metal throne.

“Don't move.” He ordered, picking up the phone and dialing Kragen's number. “...Ya there boss?”

“Ah Colin, about time you got back to me, I was worried you tried to run from me!” Kregen replied in his usual chipper voice.

“M-e na! N-ever Boss!” Colin yelped, holding the phone close to his ear. “In fact, I got two dead bodies and the kid here in the old base!”

“And It's only you?” Kregen questioned, their tone darking slightly. “What happened to your partners?”

“They'd chicken out!” Colin quickly lied “Yeah, couldn't take the heat y'know!”

A heavy pause fell over the room and Colin began to sweat bullets.

“Colin, I sure hope you're telling the truth or-”

“I swear on it, boss!” Colin pleaded, shaking his head rapidly.

Another pause followed, only broken by the sound of Kragen's claws scratching a familiar steel container, then finally he asked; “Do you swear on your life?”

“Wha- Wh- what?” Colin starmmed, taking a step back.

“Do you swear on your life?” Kregen repeated, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.

“....I swear….” Colin replied, his eyes locking on the desk.

“In that case, I'll be there in two hours in my jet, don't disappoint me.”

“I won't sir…”

“Good.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He's In the theater!”

“He's up there!”

“Oh, oh, over there!”

Initially Conner was happy to listen to Pagie's directions, seeing her returns as another change of heart but after almost twenty minutes of searching the Vegas strip, he had enough.

“Pagie, I'm starin’ to think you helpin’ the carjacker now.” he said, stomping out another hotel with the said panda in tow.

“Wh-at, n-o! Why would I do that?” Pagie starmmed, holding her hands up in defense.

“Moments ago, you said we should leave him be and now your draggin’ me all round the city in a wild goose chase!” Conner spat, kicking the ground with a huff.

“Conner-”

“No, don't start Paige, this might not be important to you, but it's to me!” Conner interjected. “I'm ain't lettin’ him get away!”

“But he has a kid with him!” Pagie blurted, causing Conner to narrow his eyes. “.....What?”

“.....Pagie, how do you know that?” He demanded, his face hardening.

“Well, I- you see, I-.” Pagie starmmed, her eyes suddenly locking to her feet.

“Pagie, how do you know that!” Conner repeated, his voice rising.

A heavy, tense silence fell over the pair, with the clogs in Conner mind clicking into place.

“You know it's Sylvester, don't you?”

“Conner, I can explain-”

“He killed your dad..”

“I know bu-”

“He killed my mum, my pa, and everyone else I knew in Shadydale!” Conner snapped, his rage finally reaching its peak. “And you are goin’ let him get away with it!”

“It's not like that Conner!” Pagie protested, finally meeting his eyes. “It j-ust- I'm worried y-ou ain't in the right mind to face him, especially with the kid around!”

“What kind of monster do you take me for? I wouldn't ever hurt a child!” Conner seethed, his fur bristling.

“N-ot on pu-rpose, but-”

“No, Paige, there are no ifs or buts, I would never lay a finger on a child.” Conner interjected, pushing past her. “Now, I'm going find, Sylvester, and you better not get in my way!” He sneered, whistling for his horse.

“Conner wait, you need to listen!” Pagie pleaded as the black steed stomped towards them.

“I have enough of listenin’’ it time for action!” Conner declared, grabbing into the reigns of the speeding animal and swinging on top.

“Conner no!” Paige begged, desperately grabbing onto the horse's saddle bag.

But Conner paid her no mind, even when the bag snapped off, sending Pagie crushing to the ground, all he focused on was the road ahead and his loyal steed.

“Faster girl, don't stop until you see that scumbag!”

His horse neighed in response, her pace quicking to an impossible speed.

Conner didn't know how long he rode for or even what routes he took, but eventually his horse came to suddenly halt, stopping in front of a towering yet long abandoned penthouse, with the snow white walls covered with dying poison ivy, gray classical wall sconces long shattered, and the massive double iron doors rusting away.

“You think he's in there?” Conner asked his horse, who lifted up her head in response. Following her head, the sheriff spotted his loathed target standing upon a balcony on the fourth floor. “Oh! Good catch girl!” He complimented, patting her mane. “Now,it's time to finally end this.”

With a deep breath, he discounted his horse and marched towards the door with his gun drawn, yet as he reached the door he hesitated, feeling the eyes of the dead staring upon him, weighing on his shoulders like a metal chain.

Would he truly be able to avenge his beloved home or was he a dead man walking? After all, he still couldn't even leave a dent on Kregen, why would Sylvester be any different?

However, before he could doubt himself any further, he heard a sinister chuckle..

That can only mean one thing….

Sylvester was up to something.

“Oh you-” he trailed off, kicking open the double doors and bolting straight up a nearby staircase, not even flinching as the marble below him started to creak.

He made his decision. He was going to take down Sylvester, even if It was the last thing he'd ever do.

“Sylvester!” He shouted the second he arrived on the balcony, only to find that vile lawyer had disappeared. “What the-”

“There's no need to be violent, old friend.”

Conner glanced up, finding a smirking Sylvester six floors up on another balcony. How In the world did he get up there so fast? “Call me that again and I'll skin ya alive!” He threatened the lawyer, firing a warning shot in the air.

Sylvester flinched slightly, yet reminded otherwise still. “...Look, Conner, as outrageous as it is, I do want to talk.”

“No you don't !” Conner rushed back to the stairs, running as fast as his legs would carry him.

Reaching the second balcony, he found that once again Sylvester had vanished.

“Oh, you coward! Come down here and fight me fair and square!” He shouted, looking up to see Sylvester was on a third balcony, four floors up.

“Fair and square? You have a gun, I don't!.” Sylvester sneered, propping his elbow on the railing.

“And yer Sylvester Shyster! ” Conner snapped. “For all I know yer lyin’ like ye always do!”

“Not-”

“Nope! I don't believe ya!” Conner interjected, stomping back towards the stairs.

This went on for a while, occasionally Conner got close enough to fire a few shots at the lawyer but none of them hit..

But then finally, the cycle ended when he reached the final balcony. In an instant, a rope wrapped around his leg, hoisting him up in the air and causing his hat to fall on the floor and his gun to slip out his grip. “No!”

“Now will you listen to reason?” Sylvester's voice asked from behind him.

Conner huffed, shooting a nasty glare as his old flame sauntered over to him, keeping that same god dammit smirk as he picked up his gun and tossed over the railing. “Go to hell will ya?”

“In sixty years Conner, for now, I have a proposal for you.” Sylvester offered, raising a finger.

“Whatever it is, I ain't doin’ it.” Conner growled , turning his head away.

“Even if It involves the safety of a child?” Sylvester immediately retorted.

Conner paused, his hands squeezing into fists. “What the hell did ya you do with the kid!?” He demanded, feeling his rage return in full force. “If you sold him, I swear-”

“No! No!” Sylvester waved his hands frantically in the air. “it's not that at all, it's simply… well, Colin took him from me-”

“And yer too much coward to face him alone.” Conner hissed, narrowing his eyes. “That boy deserved better, yknow.”

“Look, You can scold you want Conner,” Sylvester groaned, rubbing his temples. “However, we don't do anything that same boy is going to end up on Kragen's thumb and I doubt you want that.”

“I don't, but I also do not trust ya at all for a true truce.” Conner replied, gritting his teeth.

“You don't have to trust me, Conner,” Sylvester claimed, folding his arms. “But can we at least agree that getting Mortimer out of here is more important at the moment?”

A heavy silence fell between them and a second Conner thought lying to his face , allowing Sylvester to let him back on the ground in order to push him off the balcony, after all, he can save the kid himself from Colin..

But then remembered how easily Kregen threw him out that window and knowing Colin, his boss and the rest of the gang shouldn't be far behind.

….Godammit. He had no choice, did he? If he wanted any chance to save that Innocent boy, he would have to work with Sylvester.

“...Fine.” He finally agreed. “But this is for the kid, not ya.”

“Finally…” Sylvester let out a sigh of relief, then drew out a knife from under his sleeve, cutting Corner down in one swift motion.

“So you did have a weapon.” Conner grimaced, dusting himself off as he stood up and put his hat back on.

“Oh calm down, I found this when I got here.” Sylvester snorted, rolling his eyes.

Conner clutched his jaw but took a deep breath. “...Just get rid of it and lead the way.”

“Very well.” With the flick of his wrist, Sylvester tossed the knife over the balcony and headed back into the hall.

Conner swifty followed behind, keeping a close eye on his movements as they walked through the ruined hallways.

“So, what exactly yer plan here? It's only us against a whole gang.” He questioned Sylvester as he came to a stop at the end of the hall where a white grand piano stood, seemingly untouched unlike the rest of the building.

“Oh Conner, you think I betrayed Kregen without learning some secrets?” Sylvester winked, slowly approaching the piano, then with a devious snicker, quickly tapped a couple keys .

Conner's eyes widened and a small gasp left his mouth as the wall next to him opened to a secret passage. “So that's how you got ahead of me!”

“And the best part is, only Kragen knows about these passages, meaning we can exploit them to their full advantage.” Sylvester explained, rubbing his hands as he slowly approached the new entrance way.

“Don't say it in that way, we're savin’ a child for goodness sake .” Conner grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I certainly have no idea what you're talking about, alas if you insist-”

“I do. Now stop stallin’ and show me the next part of this plan.” Conner interrupted, his face darkening.

Sylvester gulped but nodded, entering the secret passage and carefully walking forward.

Conner kept close behind, all but looming over Sylvester’s shoulder. Once the kid was safe, this lawyer was as good as dead, even if he has to use his bare hands to do so.

Chapter Text

Colin paced around the room, his footsteps echoing across the glassy floor. Where was that goddamn lawyer? Kregen was going to be here any second and all he had to show him was some snotnosed kid!

“Uh, Mr. Mafia guy, are you okay?”

Speak of the devil…

“Didn't I tell ya to keep your trap shut, brat!” He lashed out, stalking over to the small mouse child. The brart let out a small squeak, sinking into the throne like a pitiful little worm. How sad. “I don't know what the fuck boss see in ya, but you better keep it, or you'll be nothing more than a blo-”

“That's quite enough Colin.”

Colin felt his throat tighten as he heard Kragen's voice. “Boss!” He quavered, turning to face the white lion. “You made it!”

“And you're threatening a prized child, how lowely.” Kregen tsked, wagging a finger at him.

“But you said-”

“Oh Colin, reckless, hot-head Colin.” Kregen mocked, circling the mafioso with a dark smile. “You really think I won't look into your partners ‘chicking’ out?”

“...The-y did! I promi-”

“Then who are they?” Kregen interrupted, motioning towards the elevator.

Colin’s jaw dropped as a red face Colt and Cody stepped out of the elevator. “BOYS YOU CAME BACK!”

“You left us behind…” Cody snarled, cracking his knuckles while Colt shot him a glare.

“It was an honest mistake c'mon!” Colin lied, clutching his hands together as his partners stomped near.

“Enough of your lies Colin, this time you'll get punished for trying to pull a fast one on me.” Kregen snarled, glancing over to Cody and Colt. “Take him to the containers.” He ordered, snapping his fingers.

“Wai-wait! I brought the kid! Ain't that enough!” Colin begged, falling on his knees. “Ain't I'm still useful!?”

“Let me think…” Kregen hummed, tapping their chin. “...Nope.”

Colin felt his heart drop. “No, boss ya can't!” he pleaded as Colt and Cody grabbed his arms. “I'll do anything! Anything!”

Kregen simply laughed, holding their head high as Colin was dragged into the elevator by Colt and Cody.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What are the containers and are you sure they can't see or hear us?” Conner asked, watching as Cody got dragged off from above. Turns out the secret passage Sylvester took through led him right under Kragen's office.

One hand this was quite convenient for taking down Kregen , but on the other hand, this was still Sylvester Shyster’s plan, he needed to be careful.

“Why does it matter? It's Colin being taken there, not us.” Sylvester rolled his eyes. “And yes, for the last time they can't see or hear us.”

<

“They might have innocents in those containers!” Conner snapped, throwing his hands in the air.

“You can save those hypothetical innocents later.” Sylvester waved his hand dismissively. “The only innocent that matters right now is Mortimer.”

“Of course you'd said that, you no good crook…” Conner grumbled, spitting on the ground.

“Enough with the half-baked insults,..” Sylvester groaned, shaking his head. “There's a ladder around the corner.” He said, motioning towards the far end of the passage. “Use it to climb up and break the floor under Kragen-”

“But I'm still injured, I won't be ston-”

“Even with injuries, the floor’s age should be enough for it to crack..” Sylvester insisted. “And before you asked, there's solid stone under the throne and desk, Mortimer won't fall with them.”

“ But wait, his fall wouldn't be enough to kill them.” Conner noted, pointing at the glass floor above them. “At most the drop here Is only a couple feet.”

“I know, but I'll give us time to get Mortimer out of this low rate hellscape.” Sylvester replied, watching Kregen closely as they walked over to Mortimer.

Conner scowled at that. “I want ‘em dead, not stunned.” He snarled. “Ain't there a bigger drop somewhere nearby?”

“Save your bloodlust for la-”

<

“It ain't bloodlust! It's justice!” Conner corrected, lifting up a fist. “Or did ya forget everythin’ they'd done with yer help?”

Sylvester went dead silent for a moment. About time, Conner was about to slap that mouth off his face if keep rambling on and on. But then the lawyer suggested something he wasn't expecting….

“...We can put them in the containers if you want.”

“....You know how to use- wait.” Conner paused, taking a step back. “What do they even do? The containers, I mean.”

“You'll see once you get them down here.” Sylvester answered vaguely. “Now hurry and grab that ladder.”

Conner didn't like that answer, it was far too vague, almost like it was a trap. Even so, he complied, stomping over to where Sylvester motioned to earlier and scooping up the ladder from the stone floor.

Naturally, he scanned the ladder, checking for anything that could lead him to an untimely end…

Alsas, there was nothing..

It was just a normal wooden ladder.

“Conner, wha-t the hell are- you doing!” Sylvester shouted, his voice oddly shaky. “Kr-egen is getting c-lose to Mortimer! Go break the floor!”

“Oh, don't pretend to care for the boy!” Conner seethed, huffing back over to him. “Your friend Muck told me himself that he's nothin’ but another tool to ya!”

The lawyer blinked, his mouth falling slightly agape, but then let out a heavy sigh. “Godammit Muck…”

“It's true then, ain't it?” Conner snorted, setting down the ladder against the wall with a low growl.

“No, it's more complicated than that.” Sylvester claimed, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Sadly I doubt you'll believe my words.”

“Yep, I don’t believe your words one bit.” Conner agreed, climbing up the ladder. “You lied about the money and now yer lyin’ about carin’ for that poor boy! Is there anythi’ you won't lie about?.”

Sylvester went silent again, much to Conner relief. One more lie and would have choked him out then and there. Not an ideal situation, but he can hardly take being in the same room with him, much less listening to his endless lies.

Nonetheless, with a deep breath, he readied his fist and threw a hard swing upwards.

At first, the floor remained unyielding, refusing the bend under his fist, but with one hard punch, a large crack formed and the floor finally shattered, sending Kregen plummeting down to ground just a few feet away from him, knocking them out cold in an instant .

Conner couldn't help but grin at sight, the almighty Kregen brought unconscious by their own flooring. Yet, knowing better than to celebrate early, he jumped down from the ladder and grabbed the unconscious lion by the collar, dragging him down the passage with a proud smile.

Time to find one of those containers and end this cruel lion once and for all.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once Conner was gone, Sylvester moved the ladder closer to the throne and climbed up it, reaching Mortimer in seconds.

The poor boy was curled up into a tiny ball, sobbing and shaking.

“Mortimer?” Sylvester said softly , tapping his shoulder.

“...Uncle Sylvester?” Mortimer squeaked quietly, glancing up with puffy eyes. “But I thought -”

“That'll leave you with these dunderheads? Hardly.” Sylvester cuts him off, holding his arms out. “I'm a superhero, remember?”

“I don't know…” Mortimer hesitated, scooting back slightly. “I'm still a bit sad that you left me with that meanie.”

“I don't have a choice kiddo, He would have killed us both if I didn't trick him.” Sylvester explained gently.

“Well, Can you at least say sorry?” Mortimer asked meekly.

“Pa-rd-on!” Sylvester sputtered, his eyes widened. “Kid, haven't anyone taught you that you don't need to apologize if it's not your fault?”

“I don't?” Mortimer blinked, tilting his head.

“Of course not kid.” Sylvester attested, cupping his cheeks. “Now, can we get out of here before those fools come back?”

“.....Okay.” Mortimer nodded, leaping into his arms.

Sylvester let out a sigh of relief, but then…

“WHAT THE! THE FLOOR!” Cody's voice suddenly screamed.

Sylvester glanced up, his face turning pale as he saw Cody standing in the elevator with Colt who was armed with a tommy gun.

“Forget the floor Cody, Sylvester is stealing the kid!” Colt shouted, aiming the tommy towards Sylvester.

Sylvester yelped, leaping down the ladder and running back the way he came as fast as leg would carry him, narrowly avoiding the array of bullets .

“I'm scared Uncle Sylvester..” Mortimer whimpered, clinging on his shoulders.

“Shh, It's okay, it's okay.” Sylvester comforted, rubbing circles on his head. “We're almost out here, wer- ah!” He screamed, feeling a bullet scraping the back of his leg. “...Again really?”

“Uncle Sylvester, are you okay?!” Mortimer screamed, gazing down at his leg.

“I'm fine, I'm fine!” Sylvester gritted his teeth, pressing on through the secret passage despite the pain.

Time to finally get Mortimer back home.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eventually, Conner finds a lone door at the end of the passage. Like the front doors it was made of iron, however these doors were untouched by the elements remaining as gleaming as the day It was made.

“Time to get rid of ya for good.” Conner said to Kragen's unconscious body as he pushed the door open with your shoulder.

A freezing blinding puff of air hit his face, causing his ears to peer upward.

Wait…

…..What the hell did containers do?

The answer came instantly as the air cleared. There in the room were rows and rows of stainless steel containers that held countless frozen folks.

One of these folks was Colin, his face now permanently twisted into a look of utter agony, his bulging eyes forever open and his mouth ever agap.

But another of those folks was his mother, though her container, unlike the rest, had a deep scratch mark imprinted across its left side.

“This can't be!” Conner gasped, dropping Kregen and rushing over to her. “Mum, can you hear me!” He screamed, banging on her container. “I'm goin’ get ya out there, hold on!”

Swifty searched the room, looking for anything that could free his mother.

Finally, he finds a broken pipe laying on the floor. Immediately he picks it up and rushes back to his mum, however as rises up above his head, he hears a familiar voice.

“I wouldn't do it if I was you.”

Conner quickly glanced at where Kragen's unconscious body should be, only to find it gone like the wind. “No…”

“Oh yes Conner, one wrong move and your mother is dead like that rest of that backwater town.” Kragen's voice threatened.

Conner backway slightly, feeling his heart racing a million miles per hour . “Why-” he managed through his fear. “Why her?”

A dark shadow passed over him followed by a dark chuckle. “She was the only one that survived the attack, thus I figured at times she'd be a good trophy like the rest of my collection.” he explained cruelty. “In fact, I was planning to do the same to that kid who once you and Sylvester were dead as a celebration of sorts but alas…”

“Trophies….” Conner repeated, unable to believe his ears. How can someone be this evil? “You sick monster , what kind person uses people as trophies!”

“Well, they used to be trophies, but now they are merely bitter reminders of what I used to have!” Kregen replied, their tone suddenly turning bitter and tense. “I WAS A KING! A LEGEND! WHOLE TOWNS USED TO FEAR ME!” they shouted, followed by the sound of metal snapping. “…And while I still have some power, it'll never be the same!”

Conner gulped, his grip on the pipe tightening. “Wou- wo- you sto-p monologuin’ and face me already!”

“If you insist..” Kregen snickered, peering from behind a nearby container with a malicious grin.

Conner yelped, his legs quivering as the white lion stalked closer, baring their fangs. “I ain't sc-ared of ye!” He stammered, swinging the pipe towards Kregen who simply caught it with one hand. “Wh-”

“Oh, little deputy, you still think you can beat me in a fight?” Kregen giged, breaking the pipe with his bare hands.

“I-I ain't givin’ up!” Conner exclaimed, jumping back with eyes wide.

“Oh really?” Kregen snorted, lunging towards him.

Conner screamed, driving to the ground and rolling away just in time to avoid his head being crushed under his claws.

"How about now, little deputy?” Kregen cooed.

Conner crawled away, shuffling through the rows and rows of containers.

“Ooh Connie, I thought you were all brave and strong?” Kregen mocked, his shadow coming nearer and nearer, followed by the sound of something heavy scraping against the ground.

Conner shuffled faster, pushing down as many containers as could to put more distance between him and Kregen.

“Connie, come out, come out wherever you are!” Kregen singsonged, their footsteps growing lounger and lounger.

Conner shuddered yet pressed on until he reached a wall.

Oh no.

Was this the end?

“Ah, there you are!” Kregen piped, appearing with his mother's container in his grip, earning a scream from Conner. “Now, are goin’ to listen to me or shall keep my word and kill your mother for good?”

“I… okay…” Conner slowly stood up and raised his hands in defeat. “What do ye want now?”

“At first,I wanted you dead, after all, you did try to shoot me.'' Kregen confessed, tossing the containers aside and rubbing his chin. “But now, it seems like you'll do what I want as long as I keep your mother alive, no?”

“I hate doin’ anythin’ you say, but if ye don't hurt her, I'll do as you say.” Conner sighed, hating every word that came out his mouth.

“Interesting, If I knew it was this easy, I wouldn't have thrown you out that window…” Kregen replied, lifting up his shoulders. “Oh well, you live and learn.”

Conner wanted to scream. How dare they act this way towards his suffering! Was this a game to them?

Still, he didn't do anything-

No.

He couldn’t do anything.

Not as long Kregen has his mother.

“Can we get to the job already?” He asked them, clutching his jaw. “I want to get this over with as fast as I can..”

“Tsk, tsk, deputy, patience is an ideal.” Kregen snarked, poking his nose. “After all, you can't take down other gangs all by yoursel-”

“I can if it'll save my mum!” Conner declared, holding his head height.

“In that case, your first mission starts in the morning.” Kregen replied, folding his arms behind his back. “In the meantime, let's tell the others, no?”

With a heavy sigh, Conner nodded his head.

It wasn't fair. In every story the hero was supposed to have a final battle with the villain, a big showdown where the best man wins! Yet, not this time..

There was no fight , no dramatic last stand. Instead, he followed Kregen back out the hall, taking one last look at his mother before closing the door behind him…

Maybe he should have listened to Pagie after all…

Chapter Text

Finally after what felt like hours of running, Sylvester finally made it outside with Mortimer in his gasp, heaving as took in the shining sun.

While the gunshots still ring in ears, the tommy has long stopped firing.

How weird…

Did they finally give up?

Sylvester didn't stick around to find out, instead he quickly retrieved his briefcase from the abandoned car then ran until he found a bus stop.

With a rare smile, he rushed over to it and checked the stops.

To his relief, Upper Mouseton was listed. Thank goodness.

“Well, it's time to go home, kid.” He said out loud, only to meet with silence . “Kid?”

He gazed down and saw that Mortimer had fallen asleep in his arms. Hopefully he'll think all that was a nightmare….

Hopefully.

“Sleep well kid, it's going to be a long ride.” Sylvester whispered. However, as a bus pulled over, Mortimer began to shift in his arms. “Shh, it's okay, it's okay.” He comforted, stepping onto the bus. After paying the toll, removed his vest, wrapping it around Mortimer as a makeshift blanket, then sat the boy in an empty seat in the front. “Is that better?”

Mortimer let out a little yawn, shifting one more time before finally relaxing in the seat.

“There we go..” Sylvester signed, sitting next to him. “You are such a handful sometimes you know little devil?” He snorted, ruffling the top of his head. “Making me risk my neck to save your-”

Mortimer snuggled up closer to him, causing him to trail off.

Dammit…

As mucus he hated to admit it, he grew to somewhat like the kid…

In a practical sense, of course! He wasn't some mother hen who frets over her little chicks!

No, he only grew to like Mortimer because he was useful sometimes. Nothing more, nothing less…

“Last stop!” The goat bus driver announced, snapping Sylvester out his thoughts. “Either get out or I'll kick ya out!”

Sylvester huffed, gathering Mortimer up his arms and making way out.

Upper Mouseton was your typical rich part of any city with massive marble mansions, vast golf courses, and neoclassical style museums.

“Finally…” Sylvester said to himself as gaze down at the sleeping Mortimer. “After this, I never have to see you again…”

“Uhh?” Mortimer jolted awake, his little eyes peeling open. “What did you say, Uncle Sylvester?”

“Nothing important Mortimer, simply musing about the area.” Sylvester quickly lied.

“...What does musing mean?” Mortimer asked innocently.

“It's doesn't matter kid, it time to get you to hom-”

“Wait! Can we get ice-cream first?” Mortimer interrupted, flashing his puppy dog eyes.

“Mortimer….” Sylvester groaned, pinching his nose

.

“Please!!!” Mortimer begged, tugging his sleeve.

“...Fine..” Sylvester exasperated, earning a gleefully squeal from the boy. “But afterwards you're going straight home.”

“Even if I have go peee?” Mortimer questioned, tilting his head.

“Mortimer, you can go pee when we get you home.” Sylvester answered, walking towards an ice-cream truck parked at the curb.

“What if I need to go really bad?” Mortimer whined, squirming in his arms.

“....Wait, do you need to go now? Sylvester asked, taking back his vest and swifty placing Mortimer on the sidewalk.

“...Maybe.” Mortimer muttered, shifting his feet together.

“Really kid?” Sylvester groaned, rubbing his temples as he tossed his vest back on.

“Yessss!” Mortimer exclaimed, twisting the end of his shirt.

“Fine..” Sylvester led the young mouse right to a nearby public bathroom that stood in one of the many golf courses. “Don't take too long, alright?”

“Wait! Can you make sure there are no bad guys first?” Mortimer squeaked, tugging his sleeve harder this time. “I had a nightmare about them earlier and I don't want it to be real!”

“...Of course kid…” Sylvester sighed, opening the door to peek inside.

Nothing.

It was a normal public bathroom, excluding the typical disgusting smells and screaming children.

“It's safe, kid, you can go inside. ” He informed Mortimer.

“Can't you step inside to make sure?” Mortimer pleaded.

“Hold on, kid, you are stalling to spend more time with me?” Sylvester accused, narrowing his eyes.

“Wh-at noooo!” Mortimer chuckled awkwardly. “Why would I do that?”

Oh boy….

“Kid, you're going home now.” Sylvester replied firmly, reaching down to scoop up Mortimer.

“Nooo!” Mortimer screamed, bolting away from him and deeper into the golf course.

“Mortimer!” Sylvester yelped, immediately chasing after him. “Get back here this instant, young man!”

“Nooooo! Nooo!” Mortimer repeated, rushing over to a tree and climbing up to the top.

“Mortimer, get down from there before you get yourself hurt!” Sylvester shouted up to him.

“No! I don’t ever want to go home!” Mortimer declared, crossing his arms with a little huff.

Sylvester groaned again, running a hand down his face. It can never be easy can it?

“Mortimer, why are you doing this!” He asked the boy. “I already told you that I'll talk to your father about his treatment of you!”

“But th-en you'll leav-e for goo-d like everyone else!” Mortimer stammered,“A-nd I don't wan-t that! You're the best fam-ily I'd ever have!”

Sylvester paused at that, unsure how to react but with a deep breath he found the right word someone like Mortimer would want to hear.

“But kid, we'll still be family even after I leave.”

“We will?” Mortimer sniffled, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes kid.” Sylvester lied, holding his arms out. “Now get down from there.”

“....Can we still get ice-cream?” Mortimer asked weakly,tapping his fingers together.

“Only if you promise to be good.” Sylvester replied, his tone almost sounding like his mother's.

Bah, now that would be a nightmare…

“Okay, I promise, Uncle Sylvester..” Mortimer muttered, leaping out the tree.

Sylvester gasped, managing to catch the little mouse in mid-air. “Don't ever do that again!” he scolded, placing him on the ground.

“Sorry..” Mortimer apologized, clinging to his free hand.

“It's fine, just stay close.” Sylvester ordered, tightening his grip on Mortimer’s as he walked back to the ice-cream truck.

Mortimer sniffled again, looking on the verge of tears.

“...What's wrong now?” Sylvester asked, feeling that infamous pang of guilt swell up in his chest.

“...I still don't want to say goodbye..” Mortimer lamented, his eyes locking to his shoes.

“...Look, how about you focus on what favor you want for your ice-cream instead?” Sylvester suggested, dragging him out of the golf course and back to the sidewalk.

“Okay, I'll try…” Mortimer said, letting out a hum. “How about lemonade ice-cream?”

“..What kinda world do you live in where lemonade ice-cream sounds good?” Sylvester snarked.

“

Well,It's more interesting than vanilla ice-cream !” Mortimer retorted proudly.

“You are such a weird kid.” Sylvester chuckled, leading him back to the ice-cream truck.

“Nooo, you're weird!” Mortimer exclaimed, poking his nose.

“Defection can only work for so long, kid.” Sylvester countered, smiling cheeky.

“Stop using such big words! It's not fair!” Mortimer pouted, stomping his foot on the ground.

“Oh, Mortimer..” Sylvester laughed, unable to hide his smile as he stepped up to the ice-cream truck's window. “One lemonade ice-cream.”

“Lemonade?” The ice cream truck vendor, a Bradford Cow blinked, clearly taken aback.

“With chocolate chips!” Mortimer added, smiling widely.

“Okay kid, now you're simply being gross.” Sylvester gagged.

“Please!!” Mortimer begged.

“..Fine but you're going to throw up from that nasty combination.” Sylvester warned, paying for the ice-cream.

“I won't! I have a strong gut!” Mortimer claimed, bouncing in place.

Sylvester shook his head but found himself ruffling the kid's head.

….What the hell was wrong with him?

He was second away from getting away from the kid for good and here he was acting like his real uncle…

Madness.

Pure mad-

“Here's your ice-cream.” the vendor said, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Try not to drop It.”

“Yippee!” Mortimer squealed, snatching the ice-cream from the vendor before turning his attention to Sylvester. “Wanna try some?”

“I'd rather save my lunc-” Sylvester trailed off, watching as Mortimer's smile turned into a little frown. “How about we play instead!” He quickly offered, feeling sweat gather on his forehead. “Will that make you happy?”

“Wait, I thought you wanted us to go straight home?” Mortimer pointed out, tilting his head.

“It's only a quick round kid, no harm, no foul.” Sylvester replied, setting his briefcase down on the ground.

“... Well, okay!” Mortimer chirped, nodding his head. “But I'm going to try my ice-cream first!”

“Again that is disgusting, kid.” Sylvester grunted, his snout crinkling.

“I don't care! I want to know what it tastes like!” Mortimer insisted, bouncing even more.

“It's your funeral.” Sylvester rolled his eyes, watching Mortimer take a bite out his sweet. “Did you ju-”

“Ewwww!” Mortimer spat out his ice-cream. “It tastes like farts!”

“What did you expect? The gateway to favor city?” Sylvester quipped, watching the boy toss the ice-cream on the ground.

“Wait, can I get another one?” Mortimer asked. “I need to wash the taste out of my mouth!”

“No, that'll only make the taste worse.” Sylvester reasoned.

"Aw mannn…” Mortimer coughed, spitting out more of the ice-cream. “...Can we still play catch?”

“Of coure kid, go find something round and we can pay a round.”

Mortimer beamed, rushing back to the golf course, picking up a goofball then running back to Sylvester. “Will this work?”

“It's a little small but we'll manage.” Sylvester said, taking the ball. “Now step back a bit.”

“Okay!” Mortimer jumped back, holding his hands high up in the air.

“Ready kid?” Sylvester asked, reading his arm to throw.

“Ready!” Mortimer chirped.

“Catch!” Sylvester throws the ball towards the boy who immediately caught it midair.

“I got it! Mortimer squealed, waving the ball in the air. “Did ya see Uncle Sylvester! I got it!”

“Yes Mortimer, I see! Now toss it back for one more round. ” Sylvester grinned, holding his hands out.

“Alright!”

With that, one round becomes two, then two become three, and so on. Until finally the sun begins to set upon the pair.

“That was so much fun, Uncle Sylvester!” Mortimer bubbled. “I hope we can play again someday!”

Sylvester went silent at that, simply nodding and picking up his briefcase. Oh the poor boy, but he couldn't pity him any longer, It was time for him to leave.

“Uncle Sylvester? Why aren't you talking?” Mortimer queried, grabbing his wrist.

“...Do you want a piggyback ride?” Sylvester offered, trying to change the subject.

“Oh yeah!” Mortimer exulted, twirling around.

“Alright, here we go.” Sylvester scooped up Mortimer, placing the boy on his back.

“Wooooah!” Mortimer gasped, his eyes widening. “I can see so much!!!”

Sylvester didn't respond, instead he began slowly walking forward, trying to ignore the little giggles from Mortimer.

Even if wanted to, he couldn’t keep the kid..

He was a cold-heart criminal and Mortimer…

Well, Mortimer was a goofball..

As useful as he can be, in the end he was more of a liability than a benefit…

“I see my house!” Mortimer suddenly exclaimed, snapping him back to reality. “...Can you tuck me into bed?”

“...Of course, sweet thing..” Sylvester hummed tiredly, the words sipping out his mouth before he stopped them.

“Thank you! You're so amazing!” Mortimer exclaimed, hugging his neck.

Sylvester sighed, stepping up to Mortimer’s home and knocking on the door.

The door immediately opened, revealing Mortimer’s father donned in a black silk nightgown and matching eyewear.

“Want the- what do you want?” He scoffed , shooting him a glare. “It's late, you know.”

“Pardon?” Sylvester sneered, rubbing his temples.

“It's late.” Mortimer’s dad repeated, resting his hand on his sides.

“And I have your child!” Sylvester hissed, setting Mortimer on the ground in front of him. “He hid… behind the bushes for weeks and you didn't know!”

“Oh.” Mortimer’s dad blinked, tilting his head. “Well, kids will be kids.”

Sylvester’s jaw dropped. Why that little-

“Dad, can Sylvester tuck me in?” Mortimer asked, lowering his head.

“Go ahead, I need my beauty sleep.” Mortimer’s dad replied dismissively, walking away and disappearing down a hall.

“What a nitwit.” Sylvester grumbled, letting out a sigh as he took Mortimer’s hand. “Come on kid, let's get you to bed.”

“Okie dokie.” Mortimer yawned, his little ears drooping.

Slowly Sylvester took Mortimer inside, trudging straight up to the boy's room, however when he opened the door, he hesitated for a moment.

“Are you going be okay kid?” He found himself asking the kid.

“Yeah, like you say we're still family even when we're apart.” Mortimer smiled, jumping into the bed. “Now tuck me in!”

With deep breath, Sylvester did so, walking over and gently tucking Mortimer under the blankets. “There you go..”

“Thank you.” Mortimer smiled softly for a second then frowned, letting out a whimper and hugging his arm tightly. “...Will I ever see you again?”

“...Maybe one faithful day.” Sylvester answered with a sigh.

“....Okay, goodnight.” Mortimer sniffled, pulling away.

“..Goodnight kid.” Sylvester turned away, ficking off the lights as he made his way out the room.

As he closed the door, another pang of guilt hit like a truck but as always he pushed down and raced downstairs.

Alas, as he reached the front door he couldn't help but take one last look at Mortimer’s door.

“Stay safe kid.” He whispered, then exited the mansion for good.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you want to help him? He has killed several gangs.” The police dog, a bloodhound, warned as she guided a dark hooded figure down the cold bleak hall of the prison.

“He will be mad but he won't hurt me.” The dark figure assured, holding their head tight.

“If you say so but be quick, there's no telling when the warden will pop his head in.” The bloodhound warned, handing him a silver key.

“Understood.” The dark figure nodded, taking the keys and shuffled over to one of the cells, opening it with the key and stepping inside.

Inside was a simple windowless concrete room with only a bed, a toilet and a sink. Sitting on the bed was older Conner Coonhound, his once rich red fur now slightly graying with age, his gloves drenched with blood and his long poncho now tattered and torn.

“Hello Conner.” The dark figure greeted, closing the door behind him.

“You!” Conner leaped off the bed, marching over to him with clenched fists. “Did ya foul magic do this to me and my mum? ”

“No, I told you your future and you choose to ignore It, nothing more nothing less.” The dark figure stated matter of factly.

“Then why are you here!” Conner huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Your friend Paige went missing looking for you.” The dark figure informed, drawing out a missing poster from his cloak. “And now you have a choice, go look for her and apologize or take the chance to get the justice you wanted for years..”

Conner froze in place, his mouth slightly agape then he asked. “...What do ya mean by the second one?”

“Remember the future with the mouse in red? The figure asked , earning a nod from Conner. “Well, now in that future Kregen sends you to take out a gang that has Sylvester in it, however, chasing after him will mean that Paige will grow to hate you.”

“Why didn't ya tell me this before!” Conner raged, punching the wall next to him, however the figure remained unflinching.

“The future in the past will never be quite the same as the future of the now.” The figure answered, setting the poster on the bed. “After all, you aren't exactly the same person now, are you?”

“That's a bunch of crap Mr…-”

“Call me Valdis. ”

“Well, Mr.Valdis, back then you acted like it was set in stone!”

“No Conner, I told you the most likely outcome at the time and you refused to even humor it.”

“BECAUSE IT AIN'T FAIR!” Conner screamed, tears swelling up in eyes. “I Did everythin’ right, everythin’ a hero should do but I still ended up in jail instead of Sylvester!” he sniffled, whipping his snout. “And now yer tellin’ me I have make an impossible choice!”

Valdis let out a deep sigh. He knew Conner wouldn't take this news well but it was still a sight to see the former sheriff ready to snap at any second.

“Conner, a hero can do everything right and still lose and have to make an impossible decision.” He told the Coonhound. “ For example, have you ever heard of the trolley problem?”

“That's hardly a problem, ye just shoot the one tiein’ people up!” Conner snorted, shaking his head.

“I think you miss the point-”

“The point is silly and so is your future!” Conner interrupted, pushing past him. “I'll get justice, save mum and find Pagie!”

“...There's no stopping you from this, is there?” Valdis groaned, watching him open the door.

“Nope and if ya try to stop me ya dead.” Conner threatened, drawing a finger across his neck.

Valdis shut his beak, watching helplessly as Conner marched out the cell and slammed the door behind him.

On one hand, he couldn’t blame the poor man, he been through hell and back and for his efforts to seemingly be in vain was a hard pill to swallow, but on the other hand, the shieff acted like he had a hand in this fate. Of course, this wasn't the first time someone lashed out at him but he hoped Conner might be able to understand but alas…

“Coonhound just punched me and ran for the hills.” The bloodhound officer from earlier said, poking her head inside, revealing a new black eye on her face. “I'm guessing your talk didn't go well.”

“Yes, sadly Conner is far too stubborn for his own good.” Valdis nodded, walking over to her. “ And for once in my life, I don't know what to do.”

“Erhh, how about helping with covering my tracks?” The bloodhound suggested. “Because I will get fried if anyone finds out about this.”

“...Sorry, I don’t help cops” Valdis said, pulling out a smoke bomb from his cloak and tossing it on the floor.

“H-ey-y!” The bloodhound shouted as smoke filled the room in an instant. “Oh! I'm going get you for this!”

Valdis didn't respond, simply bolting the same way Conner was heading.

Normally, he didn't like to interfere in other

people's affairs but this Coonhound was dooming himself to more unnecessary sorrow and pain….

Thus, he needed to do something , even if it killed him.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second Conner escaped the prison, he ran all the way back to the penthouse with a clenched jaw and a fire in his eyes.

The fortune teller may have been right last time but today his faith was his and his alone. No matter the cost, he will save his mother, find Pagie and kill Sylvester.

Reaching the penthouse, he immediately kicked open the front doors, revealing a newly refurbished lobby with white velvet couches, shining silver chandeliers and white stained glass windows displaying images of Kregen wearing kingwear.

On one of the couches sat Colt and Cody whose eyes went wide at the sight of Conner.

“How did you break ou-” Colt began, only for Conner to cut him off.

“Kregen has a mission for me, where are they?”

“In their office as usual but are you okay?” Cody asked, rising up from the couch. “You look…unwell..”

“I'm fine..” Conner groaned, marching straight over to the elevator and tapping the top button.

The elevator heaved open and Conner stepped inside, already feeling a chill going down his spine as the door closed behind him.

Nonetheless, he remained motionless, allowing the elevator to carry him all the way to the top of the penthouse.

When the door opens, the chill becomes intense causing Conner to wrap his arms around himself as entered Kragen's office.

Unlike the lobby, the office remained the same with the expectation of the floor which was now made out of pure white steel. As usual Kregen sat behind their desk, not even sparing Conner a glance as he walked up to them, instead drinking a glass of wine.

“Kregen, I hear you got a new mission for me.” Conner grunted, slowly approaching them.

“Yes and it's one you'll like.” Kregen grinned, setting down the wine and opening a drawer. “It's a gang in Mouseton and it seems like Sylvester is buddy-buddy with the leader and his girlfriend.” they explained, drawing out a photo and handing it to Conner. “I think you know what to do with them.”

Conner snatched the photo and examined it closely. It shows a smiling Sylvester clad in an olive green suit and crooked tophat walking side by side with a large black cat sporting a blue overall and brown bowler hat, and similarly sized orange tabby in a red sundress and straw sun hat adorned with matching flowers.

“I'm on it..” He sneered, crumbGoodling the photo in his hands and tossing it aside as he returned to the elevator.

At long last justice will finally be delivered and nothing, not even magic will stop him.