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Aaron Dixon was never one for creature comforts. When he had... acquired his current residence, the idea of putting a bunch of expensive furniture inside never crossed his mind. The most he needed was a place to eat, a place to sleep, and a good heating system to help battle with his cold-blooded ancestry. It was one of the reasons he drank as much as he did, in fact. Whatever he could do for warmth.

Although, that wasn't the only reason for his habit of keeping a flask in his pocket or a liquor bottle by the couch. It was near impossible for the hybrid to fall asleep sober. Not something most would expect of a man who blended two species known for spending large stretches of their day happily snoozing away while meals digested, but such was the curse of being a crossbreed.

The itch. That god damned itch. Every single feather along his body had to battle with hardened scales for space, and each one of them fought with all their might. It wasn't fair. If any of those gods they kept talking about at the orphanage were real, they would have made him so feathers and scales coexisted peacefully, making room for one another. Unfortunately, like the animals themselves, it was impossible for Aaron's two halves to occupy the same space without waging war.

In his younger days, Aaron's fledgling feathers sprouted awkwardly from between scales, less of a physical irritation and more of an aesthetic annoyance. As far as he knew, his mother had been the viper, and at first Aaron's mixed heritage wasn't even realized. It wasn't until those cotton-like puffs began to stretch through his scales that his mother realized what was happening. As Aaron saw it, she was too cowardly to put him out of his misery when she had the chance, dumping him at the orphanage instead to let them deal with him.

As he aged, those feathers grew stiffer, thicker, and as each one pierced their way out, they tore and peeled scales back. Aaron learned in history class of a torture method wherein the victim would be tied down on the ground while bamboo seeds sprouted beneath them, gradually stabbing through flesh over the course of days or weeks. He liked history class. It was the only one he excelled in. It also fed him fantasies of taking everyone who mocked him and forcing them to experience that torture, and telling them that it was just a fraction of what he felt every day of his wretched existence.

There was no respite from it. The itch never went away, and there was no scratch to tame it. In moments of weakness, Aaron tore the feathers out in handfuls, leaving bloody patches behind that would scab over and the agony would begin anew as his body "healed" and sent a fresh volley of feathers to replace the last. As the years went by, his plumage didn't have the graceful cascade that his pure vulture forebears did, instead coming out at angles, chaotic and angry like the hybrid they partially coated.

And so, Aaron Dixon began to drink himself to sleep, to make his nerves dull enough for him to get at least some rest. When he slept, it had to be on his stomach to avoid friction and pressure along his back. Even sleep failed to give him proper respite, dreams of the orphanage, or the man who "rescued" him often filling his thoughts. Dreams where he was legless like the ancient snakes he partially descended from, frantically trying to dodge the steps of other creatures who neither noticed nor cared about his plight.

For once, though, Aaron went to bed feeling nearly peaceful. Giddy, almost. Or at least as close to the idea as he was capable. The look on that kid's face when he pulled the trigger was... delicious. He wished he could have gotten a picture of it. So many emotions happening at once. The purebred jackrabbit pissing himself in fear. Oh, that fear. That was what drove him. Robbing them was just a nice bonus.

In an odd way, Aaron really was proud of Marcus. Even jealous. He got to have his taste of taking a life without needing to suffer any consequences of it. No, the jackalope hadn't actually shot that guy, but when he pulled that trigger and felt the hammer click, he had completely given himself to believing he was going to. He'd crossed that line, within himself. Aaron knew the kid was too soft to see a dead body just yet, vomiting his dinner up on the walk back proved that, but there was plenty of time to work their way up to that later.

The feathered viper woke up feeling damn near refreshed, bending his neck around to pop the vertebrae back into place and pick up his bottle of breakfast. There wasn't much that could be considered a "morning routine" for Aaron, but unlocking his bedroom door, then standing in the bathroom, pissing into the tub while taking a slug of bourbon had turned into his usual way of kickstarting the day. It helped that his bathroom had a window that overlooked the cemetery across the street, the sunrise turning it into a rather idyllic scene.

"Almost gave you another one last night," he chuckled to himself, his voice scratchy and low.

Aaron made his way downstairs, wondering where he'd find Marcus this time. He suspected the kid would have had a hard time going to sleep, maybe he stayed up watching TV to distract himself. Or maybe he'd find a passed out jackalope who'd slugged all the rest of the beer to force himself unconscious. It made him look back on his own first time with a hint of nostalgia. Even if he'd spent his night afterwards in a jail cell after the old bastard had enough time to call 911 before the venom did its job.

He didn't find a passed out drunk Marcus, though. He didn't find Marcus curled up watching whatever random bullshit the channels showed in the early mornings.

He didn't find Marcus at all.

Aaron felt something was off as soon as he got downstairs. The air was too still. Too silent. Aaron quickly shifted himself to the walls, carefully making his way from room to room. He couldn't imagine Marcus having the balls to ambush him, but the viper hadn't gotten this far in life by taking chances. He edged along to the living room, the kitchen, the hallway. Nothing.

"Marcusss? You up?" he called out, making his voice as friendly as he could.

Still no response.

The viper grew more bold, doing a full sweep of the house and finding no Marcus within it. Aaron yelled angrily, punching the bathroom door hard enough to crack the wood.

"That little shit... if he thinksss he's gonna turn me in..."

Aaron threw on his hoodie and ran back downstairs. He had no idea how long ago Marcus had snuck out, and no idea how much time he might have. Part of him was expecting to hear the police knocking on his door at any moment. He went straight to the table by his front door to get his gun and go jackalope hunting.

"Oh you fucking..."

Marcus had stolen his gun, and there was an empty box of ammunition next to it.

The jackalope himself had fled as soon as the sun came up. He wasn't comfortable running around in unfamiliar territory in the middle of the night by himself, even if he was armed now. He'd fired that gun once already, or at least attempted to, so he knew that he could do it again. Even still, he wanted to play it as safely as he could.

He wasn't going to the cops, though. Not yet, anyway. He had business to take care of.

The night before had been, in some ways, a blessing. Maybe even for that poor jackrabbit. Marcus had a feeling the guy would be pretty appreciative of his life now. Whether it helped his outlook on hybrids, he didn't know. Probably not. As for his half-blood brethren, Marcus learned more about himself over the span of a few minutes than in the seventeen years prior. He knew how far he was willing to go, and he felt that rush of power.

Now all he had to do was put it to use.

Chinatown was, to put it mildly, a fascinating place for a sheltered teen. His only exposure back home to Chinese culture was either through restaurants that seemed closer to a theater version than anything, or what teachers attempted to get him to learn in school. Marcus hated history class. He didn't understand why he needed to give a shit about dead people doing whatever they did hundreds of years ago, so he spent most of his time pretending to follow along while playing around on his tablet or drawing in his notebook.

So, Marcus Lewis found himself experiencing quite the culture shock. All around him were foreign writings, bright lights, decorative storefronts, everything crammed into such a small space, every inch of real estate put to use. It really was like walking into a different world, with nothing familiar he could grab onto. He knew where he was going, but didn't have any way of knowing how to find it. All he had was a vague description.

It took some searching, but eventually the young hybrid found his goal. The overpowering smell of herbs and spices. The array of little knicknacks. There was no one inside, though, so Marcus uneasily stepped further inside the small shop, looking for the owner.

"Um... hi? Is anyone here?" he said aloud, with an additional "who speaks English?" added to the question in his mind.

A few moments passed before a rather gangly looking bird emerged from the back, dusting off his feathered hands. He was elegant in his own way, incredibly slender and wearing a pair of slacks and a polo shirt. Marcus assumed this was the owner.

"Yes? What you want?" came the reply in an oddly lilted, staccato cadence.

"I uh... I think maybe I have something you want," Marcus said, leaning in to catch the bird's attention.

Catch the attention he did. The bird's eyes narrowed at Marcus, looking upwards at the antlers emerging from his skull. It was a glare that Marcus had seen a dozen times, but not quite like this. There wasn't judgment in him, there wasn't confusion. He was being examined like a product on display.

"You serious? You not police?"

Marcus shook his head. "No police."

The bird wasn't entirely convinced. "Why you want to sell?"

Marcus swallowed. It was a hard question to answer. "I need to hide."

His response seemed to impress the bird, and a small grin quirked at the corner of his mouth just behind his beak. "Come in back. Shouldn't take long."

It didn't take long, but that didn't mean it was easy. At least the concrete walls meant no one could hear him screaming.

When he emerged from the shop, Marcus's breathing was haggard, his eyes were puffy, but he was also doing something he'd never done in his life before. With a baseball cap atop his head, Marcus was completely blending in with the crowd. The jackalope that entered had been replaced by the jackrabbit who exited. As long as he kept his head covered, no one would have a clue. It also kept the wind from his fresh wounds. Gods, the smell. He'd happily snort the shop's entire stock if it meant getting the stench of his own seared flesh out of his nose.

There was no turning back, now. Marcus had made his decision. He had to see this through.

He wondered how much his antlers would sell for. He wondered what they'd tell whatever dumbass bought them about their "magical properties." Maybe it was all bullshit, maybe it wasn't. Either way, he got paid, and they'd probably enjoy having his antlers more than he did.

Walking through Boston was a surreal experience. Marcus felt like he'd put on some clever disguise that helped him pass as one of the "normal people." When he bumped into someone, they didn't react. There were no eyes on him. Nobody saw him, nobody cared. He was just another purebed among an ocean of many. One who kept accidentally cracking his neck by turning his head too fast, admittedly. Ten fewer pounds on the skull would take some time to get used to.

Now that he was essentially invisible, Marcus was able to breathe a bit more easily. He was also in dire need of food. It had been... a lot of day already. The sun hadn't hit its apex yet, and he still had quite a bit ahead of him.

The jackalope thought a moment, and decided to conduct a little experiment. He went over to the deli he'd visited a few times in the past week, getting in line to order what was either a late breakfast or an early lunch. Gypsy's was a busy little spot, but the giraffe up front had recognized him before. This would be a good test.

"Welcome to Gypsy's!" she said with that same bright tone he'd heard before. There was no familiarity to it, though. No indication she had a clue that they'd met before.

Marcus took a breath, deciding to push a bit further. "Yeah, I was just wondering if I could get a seat out on the patio?"

The giraffe nodded, still all smiles. "Of course! Place your order up at the counter, pick it up at the end, sit wherever you'd like!"

Marcus grinned broadly. "Awesome. Thank you."

He got his order, and took his seat out on that patio. Somethow it tasted even better than ever. The first meal he was eating at a whole new Marcus. He let his mind just wander about, pondering new names he could use, starting this whole fresh chapter of his life. He looked at the crowds milling about, thinking about how many of them had turned their noses up at him before, or glared at him as they crossed paths. Now they had no idea he was among them.

He wondered if the Exo Club would still accept him.

He'd only been gone for two days, and Dylan was the one who gave him the idea, so it wasn't like they could get too upset with him. Maybe once he took care of things, he could rebuild those bridges. They'd be proud of him, he was sure of it. He was taking a stand for hybrids. Maybe he'd be in jail for a little while, but he could worry about that later. This mattered.

This was important.

What Marcus needed, more than anything, was a plan. He couldn't afford to run into this blindly. There was only one shot at Adrian Lucas, and if he missed, then he was going to be in a whole heap of shit.

The faux-purebred hare tossed his trash and decided to take a stroll to the waterfront. If he was planning on getting out to that address, the middle of the day probably wasn't the best time. That gave him a few hours to prepare, and that meant seeing if he could find a bit of assistance, and as luck would have it, he happened upon some assistance wandering around near the harbor.

"Morning, Jacob!"

The crossbreed avian's head whipped around, those black eyes staring back at him.

"Don't know you. How do you know my name?" he snapped back, looking ready to run in the other direction.

Marcus grinned once more, taking a quick look around before leaning forward, lifting his cap just enough to show the remnants of his visit to the doctor earlier.

"It's me. Going undercover."

Jacob's head tilted, turned again, his abyssal eyes pulling Marcus's new appearance down into their depths.

"Bad idea. Won't work. Still track you. The chips aren't in your antlers."

Marcus snickered. "I don't need to stay hidden forever. Just long enough so no one recognizes me. Looks like it worked. Was wondering if you could give me a little help, though."

The bird's face was always hard to read, and with him clearly in a bit of confusion, that owlish visage was even more so. His head spun one way and then another, visibly uneasy at the request. His feathered fingers pressed together, anxiously tapping and fidgeting.

"Help?" he replied. "What help? Gave you all I have. Address, coordinates."

Marcus nodded, holding his phone up. "You did. All good information. I don't think that's all you have, though."

Jacob stared at the phone. "Bad idea! So easy to track. Easy to find you. Should throw that away! Can't talk to you with that."

Marcus had to run quick interference, hopping around in front of Jacob as the paranoid avian turned to walk away. The phone was back in his pocket, and the jackalope's hands were up defensively.

"Calm down, dude," he said, doing his best to sound soothing. "It's not turned on. The FBI isn't after me, they aren't trying to trace my phone just yet, and all I need is a little bit of time. Just a few questions and I'll head out, okay?"

Jacob's entire body seemed to be gently bouncing, all of his limbs attempting to pull him in different directions but all agreeing he needed to be anywhere but here. Still, he remained, letting out a sharp breath.

"Must be important for you to risk it."

Marcus nodded. "It is, yeah."

Another pause before Jacob finally relented. "Okay. Ten minutes. No more. What do you need to know?"

The teenage runaway pulled in a slow breath, doing his best to keep himself calm. The plan was in motion. Jacob hadn't led him astray before.

"When could I get him alone? What times is he there? Does he have security? Just tell me everything I'd need to know if I want to get in that house."

Jacob's jet black eyes locked on Marcus again. It was the first time the jackalope had seen his reflection since he'd left the old Chinese shop. It was hard to imagine that was his face. Not just the lack of antlers, but everything about him. Like he'd turned into that fantasy he'd always had about being the badass vigilante. The little doodle he used to draw in class of himself going around kicking ass and being the hero to hybrids everywhere. He looked like that. He was doing it.

"I don't know what your plan is," Jacob said to him, his voice low. "But it better be good."

Marcus nodded again, sharply. Serious. "It is. But I need you to get me in there, when it'll just be him and me..."

When it came to talking with Jacob, there was a lot of sifting through the noise to find the bits he needed. The half-owl was more than a little scatterbrained, going off on tangents and needing to be brought back home to stay on topic. He couldn't just say when Adrian would be home, he had to detail where he would be all day and what he was doing there. Jacob had to explain his entire schedule, or at least what Jacob believed it was. Like everything else, there was government involvement, eugenics, the mafia. Everyone was a part of everything.

Eventually, Marcus got everything he needed, and the two parted ways once more. As he walked off, the jackalope hoped Jacob could get the help he needed. In another timeline, he could give him Mrs Lewis's number or something. Set up some appointments. Assuming he wasn't too far gone already.

According to Jacob, Adrian wouldn't be back at home until the evening. That was good. Marcus had time. The chimera's house was a ways off, and he had a feeling the buses didn't go out down those roads. The buses did go back to that hotel he'd stopped at when he arrived, though.

"Holy shit, it's still there," Marcus chuckled to himself, hopping off the bus (and knowing to hit the button for his stop). He edged his way to the parking lot, looking around to see if there was any kind of ambush waiting for him. Feeling confident the coast was clear, he swiftly crept over to his Land Rover, reaching into his reacquired bag and fishing the keys out from a tiny pouch on its inside. One push of a button later, and a familiar beep greeted him, a cheery hello after so much time apart.

"Hey babe, hope you're ready for an adventure," he chuckled, climbing in.

Marcus plugged his phone in and powered it on, quickly getting his path set. He had no idea if anyone was actively looking for him or if he had to just hope that he could get a map up quickly enough to be back offline before anyone caught him. He was getting too close to fuck it all up now.

The Boston traffic was, to put it lightly, a disaster. At times it went slowly enough that Marcus was pretty sure it actually wasn't any faster than going on foot. Unlike the furious faces he could see in the cars around him, Marcus wasn't stressed out by the crawl. He wasn't in a hurry. In a way, it gave him more time to think, to go over his plan.

His plan.

Despite his assurances to Jacob, Marcus didn't exactly have a plan. Not a full one, anyway. Get into the chimera's house, confront him, get answers, and then... he wasn't quite sure. Lay low for a while, make contact with Melody, Dylan, and Karl again. Or maybe just bite the bullet and take a jail sentence. At least that way he'd have his meals and housing taken care of. There might be a couple issues with getting shanked in the yard, but he could worry about that later. Then there was what the hell he'd do afterwards...

Marcus laughed darkly, shaking his head. "Okay. Focus. Gotta focus," he said, plugging in his phone and getting his pump-up playlist going. The heavy rock music pounded out of his car's speakers, and the jackalope gradually made his way out of Boston proper.

Traffic turned to easy driving turned to rural roads in surprisingly short order. The map took Marcus along winding roads that met with emerging treelines. It was a peculiar oasis of nature, and Marcus couldn't tell if he was looking at the last piece of a much larger forest that had been gradually encroached upon by society or if it had been planted later in an attempt to add a splash of nature to urban development.

He took a lap around the whole thing once, slowly getting a feel for the layout. It didn't help. From the outside, the area looked no different from any other forest. He couldn't see anything through the trees, and it wasn't like Adrian Lucas was going to be putting up a big sign with an arrow pointing the way.

"There it is..." Marcus said, eyes finally locking on some confirmation.

Barely visible at the treeline, a small opening with tire tracks peeked out. Calling it a dirt road was even too much. More like just enough space for a car to slip through. Exactly what he was hoping to find. Someone was back there, and they didn't want it to be too obvious that they were. The crazy owl was right.

The jackalope went back onto the main road and parked his car behind an abandoned gas station, keeping it as hidden as he could manage while he made his way back to the woods. It wasn't a short walk, but he preferred that to taking a chance of Adrian seeing his car and suspecting something. Catching him by surprise was crucial.

"Fuck... I should have got boots," the teen grumbled to himself, his designer sneakers getting torn and scuffed as he tromped along. He'd entered the small forest off to the side from the car path, keeping himself obscured by the foliage and making sure there weren't footprints to give his presence away. He followed the treadmarks from as far away as he was able to, staying just close enough to keep an eye on them and not get lost.

Marcus Lewis was not a hiker. His legs were not used to going through untamed wilderness, even if that wilderness was only barely allowed to be called such. He kept getting his feet snagged on roots, catching his clothing on branches and bushes, stumbling and falling into the dirt and biting his tongue to avoid yelling out and giving himself away.

"I swear if it turns out this is just some offroad track and I end up coming out the other side of this fucking forest..."

After what felt like an hour, Marcus found it. The hidden pocket inside the trees. Adrian Lucas's hidden compound.

Well, it wasn't really much of a compound. Marcus had been expecting something more... sinister. Down a short hill from where he stood, the chimera's home was nestled in something of a bowl of the landscape, the tracks from before having gone down while Marcus went up, leading to the first appearance of asphalt that led to a garage nestled next to a two story house that, in all honesty, would have looked like the residence of a less well-off family back home. It wasn't run down like Aaron's by any means, but in the end it was a house. Pretty big, but just a house.

Marcus crept along the rim of the bowl, pulling his phone out again and zooming in to get a better look at the building. Jacob did him good yet again, his description was spot on. The front door looked heavy, and according to the owl was almost never used. Lucas himself only entered and exited through the garage. There were bay windows on the bottom floor, looking into a living room that felt like a scaled down version of the Lewises. Designer furniture, big television, a bar.

The second floor, though. That was what got his attention. The garage's roof gave a reach to a few windows up there, and that was where he was hoping to make his move. He just had to wait until it got dark.

Marcus checked his phone. He still had a few hours before Lucas would be arriving. His heart was beating rapidly. This was it. After the hell he'd been through in just over a week, Marcus Lewis made it to the home of the chimera. The skittery kid from Greenwood Academy was perched outside a criminal's house with a gun in his pocket ready to break in. He'd gotten robbed, stayed in a strip club, got revenge, pulled the trigger at someone, had his fucking antlers torched off of his skull, and now he was here. He was gonna do it.

Time stood still and passed all at once. Every second took an hour but Marcus had no idea how many there had been. The sun made its way to the horizon, casting red beams across the dark browns of Adrian's house that kept it mostly camouflaged. Slowly, the beams stretched out further and further as their aim turned horizontal, and the evening settled in. All the while, Marcus Lewis remained perched, waiting. His body fidgeted and bounced anxiously, but he never moved from his spot. He was focused.

The sound of a car driving over twigs and beams of headlights against the house brought Marcus to the present. The garage door opened, revealing a rather humble sedan inside that stood in contrast to the luxury vehicle that was pulling in next to it. Marcus pulled his phone out, zooming in once more to get a look.

For the third time, Jacob hadn't led him astray. Adrian Lucas emerged from the back seat of the car, while a purebred lion came out of the driver's side. The two appeared to exchange a few words before the lion climbed into the sedan and drove off, the garage door closing behind him and Adrian entering the house.

According to the owl, Adrian lived alone. The only visitors he allowed inside were his driver, occasionally a housekeeper, and a visit on Saturdays from a cook who prepared his meals for the week. He had no family, and didn't entertain company.

"A lonely life for a rich guy..." Marcus thought to himself as he let his phone pass over the house again.

He observed the chimera inside, as well as he was able, anyway. The lights inside were on, and he could follow where Adrian Lucas was by seeing them go on and off, but he couldn't get a good look at what was happening inside beyond an occasional silhouette through one of the windows.

The downstairs lights were only on briefly before the illumination traveled to the second story. With the sun now fully set, lights were able to give a better picture of the home's interior. The window just over the garage was a bathroom, and Marcus was greeted to a vague image of the chimera washing up. Marcus was glad to see that was a bathroom. It would be easier to get in that way than if that had been the bedroom.

Lights turned off once again, finishing up at the opposite end of the house. A dim light sat in the window before going out. Marcus looked at the clock on his phone. Seven thirty. Cats and snakes did sleep a lot, he supposed. That just made it easier on him. If Adrian had been the kind to stay up late to catch talk showed, he would have been there a while.

Time to move. Marcus took a few hard breaths. His legs didn't want to pick him up. His chest was forgetting how to expand to get air into him. He was having second thoughts. Third thoughts. The jackalope's heart was in his throat, pounding in protest at this insanity, pleading with him to just pick everything up and leave.

It was too late for that.

Marcus rooted around in his bag. His pills had long been lost after he got robbed, but he had a bottle of liquor he'd grabbed from Aaron's place on his way out. The teen unscrewed the cap and swallowed as big of a mouthful as he could, feeling the burn go from his tongue to his stomach. He had to calm down.

Marcus chewed on his lip, pulling the gun out of his pocket and looking at it in his hand. It felt so out of place. It didn't belong there. He wasn't the right one to hold it. He looked back at the house, his vision struggling to focus. The static was coming back in, crowding his sight. Whatever was going to happen next, there was no turning back. Everything was leading to this moment, and he was terrified of what might be the one after it.

He took his phone out again.

He dialed.

One ring.

Another.

"Come on... pick up, pick up," he whispered, eyes closed.

"Marcus??" came a frantic voice on the other end.

Marcus froze, not sure how to respond.

"Marcus, if you're there, please say something, oh gods please say something..."

"Hi mom," he said, forcing the words out.

"Marcus!! Where are you? Are you okay?? Please tell me you're coming home, I swear I'll tell the police it was all just a misunderstanding, I don't want you in jail or dead or..."

"I'm okay, mom!" Marcus said back in a shouted whisper. "I'm okay. I swear. I'm just... doing something."

"Doing something? Marcus, come home, please!"

The jackalope's breathing was growing more ragged. "I can't, mom. Not yet, anyway. I just gotta do something. I just wanted to call and say... I'm sorry."

A pause.

"You're sorry? For what?" Barbara Lewis asked, her voice small, fearful.

Marcus sniffed, wiping his eyes. "For everything. Just... everything. For being hard on you and dad, for getting in trouble at school, for running away, going missing. All of it. I know, I've been really shitty to you both, and I'm sorry. I'm gonna be okay, though. I promise."

He could hear his adoptive mother swallow on the other end. "Marcus, you're scaring me. Tell me what's going on."

"I can't. I just... I'm feeling pretty fucked up right now and... could you just help talk me down? You know, the exercises?"

A few seconds passed. Marcus clenched his eyes, braced.

"Just breathe, honey. Okay? In, two, three, four. Hold. Now out. Slowly. Remember, smell the roses..."

"...blow out the candle," Marcus finished.

"You're calm..."

"...I'm in control."

"You're safe..."

"...I'm secure."

They repeated the small routine a few more times. Slowly, Marcus began to calm. Whether it was the mantras, hearing his mother's voice again, or the alcohol, he didn't know. Maybe they were all joining hands and helping settle his psyche for the task ahead.

"Marcus... I don't understand..."

"I know, and I'm sorry I can't explain," the young hybrid said, still consciously keeping his breaths steady. "I just need you to trust me. I'll explain later, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you, mom."

"I love you, honey."

Marcus Lewis hung up the phone, turned it off, and reached into his bag. He got out a small toolbox, the one Charles had bought him in case he ever found himself stuck on the side of the road. It wasn't too suited for that, having too many screwdrivers and not enough road flares, but it was perfect for breaking into a house.

The jackalope took another slug from his liquor bottle, tucked his gun into his waistband, and carefully slid down the hill towards the home of Adrian Lucas.