Daffy folded his arms over his chest and scowled at Bugs. “You can look at me ath dithapprovingly ath you like. I’m not backing down on thith one. I did what I thought wath betht—”
“I’m not arguin’ with you, Daff,” Bugs interrupted. “You probably did yourself a lotta favors by gettin’ dat detective out of the Buried. I just don’t want you goin’ back down dere after Porky.”
“I can’t jutht leave him!”
“You can,” Bugs said calmly. “And you will. Dere’s more impoitant fish ta fry, you know.”
Daffy desperately wanted to keep arguing, but even if this wasn’t a cartoon, even if every other rule of the universe had changed from what he’d always known and experienced, he knew there was one rule that would always hold true, and that was that there was no winning an argument against Bugs Bunny. Any minute now he would turn that gun back around on him and he’d end up blowing his own beak off. Again. He tried to reassure himself there would be another chance later on.
“Fine,” he ground out. “Point me at thith fish, but you’d better give me a really big frying pan.”
“I knew you’d see t’ings my way.” Bugs folded his hands and leaned forward. “Have a seat.”
“Thankth, but no thankth. I’ll thtand.” Daffy had to draw the line somewhere.
“If you insist.” Bugs, damn him, didn’t look in the least flapped or bothered. He simply continued. “Right. So. You know dere are more rituals out dere, right?”
“Yeth, tho I’ve been told,” Daffy said tightly. “No thankth to you.”
Bugs sighed. “Daffy…”
“No!” Daffy shouted, surprising himself, but he had had it. “Don’t you Daffy me, Buthter! Ath everyone ith conthtantly reminding me, thith ith not a cartoon! Keeping me in ignoranthe tho I’ll…what, thtumble into thomething and get mythelf blown up? It’th not funny anymore, Bugth! It wath never funny to begin with, but now it’th theriouth! I know you want me to…develop my powerth on my own or whatever, but for Pete’th thake, there cometh a point when letting me figure it out on my own flat out ithn’t the betht option. I’m not athking you for the director’th noteth, but at leatht give me the thcript!”
“All right, all right,” Bugs said, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “You’re right, Daff. I shoulda told you sooner there was more to this than just the Unknowing. But at least you know now.” He reached for a folder and opened it up. “In fact, I’ve found out about one that’s getting ready to go off. We can’t risk another one like we just had, not so soon, so I need you to stop it.”
Daffy swallowed nervously. “Becauthe that worked out tho well for me latht time.”
Bugs shrugged. “Eh, you’ll be fine. Dis one ain’t dat difficult, really. Probably.”
“I’m not exthactly enthuthiathtic about probably.” Daffy sighed. “Fine. Whothe ith it?”
Bugs pushed the folder towards him. “Da Dark.”
Daffy stared down at the folder, which was opened to a picture that was…well, dark. It was a leaden grey sky backing a pitch black tree, the whole suffused with falling rain, and in the crook of the tree loomed a figure composed of shadows and a dark toned cloak. The only hit of light was the glint of glare on the monocle fixed in its eye.
“Oh,” he said in a small voice. “Yay.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of da dark,” Bugs said with a raised eyebrow.
Daffy swallowed. “I didn’t uthed to be.”
There were a lot of things that hadn’t scared him before that did now. Fire. Knives. Falling. Worms. Dying. Part of him wished he’d never come to London, that he’d ignored Bugs’ telegram and focused on stealing all the roles in Toon Town Bugs was clearly avoiding. Maybe things would have been better for Porky and Tweety—and poor, poor Wile E. Coyote—if he had. But he was here and he would have to live with that.
He had to live with it, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
“Tho what ith the Dark planning? And where?” he asked, resigned. Because there was no scenario where he didn’t go to stop it at this point. That was why he’d come back, after all.
“I don’t know,” Bugs said. He didn’t flinch in the face of Daffy’s glare. “No, seriously, I don’t have any notes on what dey have planned. Or even who.”
“You don’t think it’th him?” Daffy tapped the picture, directly over the monocle. He was slightly disconcerted by the fact that it seemed to break under his fingertip, a spray of cracks like a spider’s web scattering from the center to the rim.
“Daff, that’s a blank picture,” Bugs said patiently. “Believe me, I tried, it’s just empty. I know where they are, kinda, just not who. Been a lotta supplies an’ traffic headin’ up to the Nort’ York Moors lately. It looks like the Dark is tryin’ to bring their, eh, ‘Mister Pitch’ into the world.”
“Mithter Pitch,” Daffy repeated. “Ithn’t that the boogeyman?”
“Nah, dat was Pitch Black. Honestly, if an actor from a DreamWorks picture was actually the Dark, that movie wouldn’t ‘a gone nowhere,” Bugs pointed out.
Daffy raised an eyebrow. “Wathn’t it a boxth offithe failure? All right, all right, I know that’th not what you meant,” he added, forestalling Bugs’ rebuke. “Fine. Tho I need to get to…North York? That’th, what, a five-hour drive?”
“I thought perhaps you’d take the train.” Bugs flipped the picture over, revealing an envelope underneath it.
Daffy picked it up and opened it. “How many trainth am I thuppothed to be taking, anyway?”
“I assumed you’d take someone with you.”
“Thankth for volunteering, Bugthy old pal,” Daffy said dryly.
Bugs shook his head, not rising to the bait. “I can’t, Daff. My duty is here, at the Institute. Can you imagine what might happen if I was away for too long?”
Daffy snorted. “Well, Tweety won’t go with me. And Bathira needth to look after Daithy. She’th had the thtuffing knocked out of her for sure.”
“No. You can go with your friend Alex.”
“I can’t—” Daffy paused. “Why Alexth?”
Bugs shrugged. “Eh…mostly ‘cause he’s free. And he’s more knowledgeable about Toons than your friend Jonny. I already called him. He’ll meet you at King’s Cross.”
“And what am I thuppothed to do when I get there?” Daffy challenged. “You don’t know what’th going on, you don’t know what I’m walking into…”
“It’s the Dark’s stronghold, Daff. I can’t see into it. You’ve got a real tight connection to our master now. Once you get close enough, you’ll be able to See.” Bugs smiled. “I got fait’ in you. Better get a move on. Your train leaves from Platform Ten in an hour.”