Grumbling about the poor weather, Petunia had found herself traveling to the park. She hated the cold. Hated it because well, it was cold, duhhh! Her thin membrane, dragonfly wings, strong as they were, did nothing to hold the heat in her body. Rather acted as portable air conditioning. Good in the summer, a royal pain in the winter.

So today, she covered them with a long coat. That didn’t mean she would settle for looking completely normal. Normal was boring. Her long black hair was pulled back into a pony tail with the tips colored like her own personal rainbow. Sitting on top of her head, clinging to her, one because she told it to, and two for her heat, was a large black scorpion. Poised and sitting as if it were a barrette. In fact, that’s what most people thought as well. If it was warmer she’d subject more insects to becoming her fashion accessories. The large scorpion would have to do.

A sudden wind kicked up, and she pulled the collar of her coat harder around her neck to keep the chill out. Her eyes crossed looking up at her little friend with the whip like tail. She gave a nod, and the king scorpion, much to a random street walker’s surprise, crawled down the side of Petunia’s face and came to rest just above her collar bone where it curled it’s tail against it’s body, pulling it’s claws close under it’s head in an attempt to trap even more heat.

“Just a little longer, Boogy.” Petunia reminded her new little pet.

Now. To find that burger join.

There was a pocket watch under the white paw that Calley now wore. It crick-crick-ticked along, its second hand going precisely two backwards and one forwards. Its batteries weren't dying: a dying watch battery did not tick so steadily. He tilted his head to the side, whiskers shivering forward tentatively then darting back to the side of his face. Two stout black-tipped ears swiveled at every sound. The sound of cars passing on the street. New Yorkers welcoming Jersey drivers to their state with blares of their horns. Jersey drivers graciously stepping on their brakes with inches to spare from the bumpers of New Yorkers. Professional-minded high-heels clicking on concrete and lazy teenage sneakers scuffing their trends off. The crick-crick-tick of the pocket watch (borrowed from Doc Jimmy, and probably ticking strangely for some nefarious reason) under his winter-furred paw. Calley was feeling a little disjoint from reality, today. He had decided to share that feeling of surreality with New York City as a whole. On a related note, he was feeling awfully suicidal as of late. Oddly, the longer Hunter left him alone, the stronger the urge to do incredibly stupid things grew. Seven plus weeks without seeing the man and, well...

There was a snowshoe hare was sitting with serene pride in its upright spine, one paw on a pocket watch, just next to the doorway of a burger joint. It had full intentions to lead someone down a rabbit hole. It would rather prefer if its chosen follower was a human, but a mutant would be good practice. As to its goal: suffice it to say that Calley had seen his fair share of Monty Python. It was aiming for the top. It had to see if it could take on the bottom.

Now. Who would he choose? Or rather, who would choose him?

As she strolled, Petunia brought a hand up to stroke the large black scorpion that sat on her collar bone. Pulling her scarf tighter about her shoulders and then pulling the warmth around a hooked tail and claw, that took that part of her garments and held them tight, making a perfect stylish pin.

Now where was she headed again? Her stomach growled and she suddenly remember. To the fast food restaurant with that insane, red haired clown. *Shivers.* That clown gave her the best nightmares. And the chicken McNuggets in the happy means were to die for. Best of all, THEY CAME WITH TOYS!

She was just about to push the door open, striding happily, when something even more interesting then a plastic wrapped toy, caught her eye.

…. The pocket watch!

She stopped and glanced down spying the rabbit looking to guard the watch but owe the watch. It was small, sounded cool and most awesome of all, it was shiny. She bent down grabbing for the watch.

That was approximately when the snowshoe hare leapt into action. What it attempted was silly, but just the sort of rush Cally had set out for: he tried to run up the woman's reaching arm, to her shoulder. Once there... he would very much like to give a friendly kick to the back of her head, than bolt off down that nice alleyway over there. The first few feet on the way to the rabbit hole.

If he didn't succeed... well, he intended to play this one by his black-tipped ears.

Now you wouldn’t think a rabbit would have that strong of a hit, let alone a kick. However winter hares are quite strong, and if you know anything about pet rabbits, you know you need to hold the back legs for the fact that if they are uncomfortable and kick out without connecting with anything, their legs are strong enough to pop their own hips out of place. That said a wild hares back legs coming in contact with one’s own head can really surprise someone.

Petunia could feet the cold, shiny, watch in her fingers. Naturally not paying attention to the hare standing before her, when she felt the thing scurry up her arm and… WTF?

Her head turned just as two unlucky rabbit’s feet connected with her face. Again… WTF! She stumbled sideways on the icy sidewalk, uncrossed her eyes, and glared at the offending bunny. The offending bunny that would be dinner. Mmmmm Rabbit hunting. And a bonus she’s get four rabbit’s feet from that little thing. Now to catch it. Naturally she ran after the white rabbit.

With the distinct element of surprise on its side, and a healthy dose of sprinting, the snowshoe hare reached its alleyway goal first. Three vertical hops--to a black trash bag's top; to a clattering, unsteady metal can's lid; and finally, to the top of a green dumpster--brought it exactly where it wanted to be. That first hit had worked so well, it would be a shame to not follow up. And indeed, he should make sure the woman had proper incentive to follow him. Especially now that they were off the main street, and away from most prying eyes.

Two liquor bottles, half-empty, one filled with a reddish liquid and one in blue glass, had been abandoned on the dumpster's top. The unimpressive rabbit of purest white quickly positioned itself just behind them, its back legs facing the bottles. It watched the woman giving chase with a sweetly innocent look, visions of broken glass and winter-chilled splatter dancing in its head as it took aim and kicked out. It felt its legs connect with one of the bottles, but it didn't see which. It didn't see if the bottle connected, either; one downward hop, and it was running to the alleyway's open end for its impish little cotton-tailed life.

Red or blue, little lady?

As she was chasing that rabbit on foot, Stupid feet didn’t move fast enouh, she could get a good view of those feet that she would soon make hers. Good luck would follow her every where if she had a set of rabbit’s feet. Right? And with the white color she could dye the feet what ever color she really wanted. Like lime green or hot pink! Something with a good day-glow hue.

Petunia grinned to herself.

The rabbit had stopped on the other side of two bottles, then kicking one right at petunia. Nice aim but not something she was going to compliment out loud. At least not to a stupid rabbit, no matter how much higher his intelligence seemed compared to other bunnies.

Her wings flicked out to the sides and with a clattering buzz, they lifted her into the air and to the right as the bottle flew by her. Red catching her eye and she darted back a foot to catch the pretty color. Now there was precisely the color she wanted her rabbits feet to be!

Her wings went silent for a second as they fell into a soft hovering hum. Then clapped again as she zoomed off after that bunny

Were rabbit ears luch to have on key rings too?

There was something very, very wrong with this situation. Namely: the buzzing-clapping-silent noise combined with two distinctly lacking sounds--running footsteps and the a bottle breaking--were combining with Calley's wild imagination and ability to make leaps of logic without concern for truth to make him suspect something. Namely, that the woman was flying after him. That was wrong. There should be a caterpillar, not a butterfly. Or a dragonfly, a slight glance to the side and back corrected him. So. A mutant after all. So silly of her, to be showing off like that in the city.

Not that the snowshoe hare was in much of a position to call the kettle black. She was moving faster now: faster than he was, in fact. He wasn't going to make the other end of the alleyway in time to bury himself amidst the oblivious feet of New York's largely human--and largely Stalker-protected--population. Well then.

The rabbit swiveled to a stop, turning its paws on a dime to face the woman. His rabbit face carried a true Cheshire grin. He shifted then and there, but it was not a shift that anyone besides himself could know of: it made no sound, it carried no smell, it changed no sight. It was a little something he and Slate had spent the past week working towards perfection on. If the woman laid a single finger on him, she would be in for a rather--how to put it?--jolting surprise.

Calley had quite merrily replaced the greater part of his muscle mass with the specialized cells of an electric eel, courtesy of a local aquarium. It was a risk on two fronts: he was far less maneuverable now, and he hadn't quite ironed out the subtleties of not shocking himself, as well. The woman would get the far greater effect of the discharge, though. Several very dead pigeons and one nosy dog had convinced him of that. The snowshoe hare had always been bored by training room practices. There was nothing quite like the field, eh?

It held its position, grinning as only an electric rabbit can grin. Come come, Alice. Wouldn't want to be late for such a very important date.

Petunia smiled as she watched her quarry come to a stop. Then turn and oh was that a grin. A Cheshire grin at that. She thought only cats could do that grin… Maybe a grinning rabbit’s head that looked like that and was dyed lime green would be more lucky then red four red rabbit’s feet? Only one way to find out!

Petunia lunged to grab a hold of those extra, super, cool ears and…. “Youchie!”

She raised in the air, unsure if she was still holding those delightful rabbit ears that were attached to that gorgeous grinning face. Her hand was instantly numb from the shock and she flung the same arm out to the side shaking off the pain.

She was still holding those delightful rabbit ears, all right. And that gorgeous grinning face didn't appreciate being shaken around at the end of her arm. The shock hadn't been as big as Calley had hoped for: Slate had a few ideas about that, concerning grounding mostly, but Calley wasn't in the mood to listen. What he was in the mood for?

Mind games, of course! Delicious, delicious mind-games. Calley had once met a talking parrot. Really, there was no better way to disguise your voice than to use someone else's vocal chords. The snowshoe hare stared directly into the dragonfly woman's eyes, crossed its forepaws over its chest and its hind paws in a mid-air Indian posture, and spoke.

"What," it crackled and crawed, "is your favorite color? How much," it continued delightfully, "did you have to drink? I," it introduced itself with a sage paw-tap over its heart, "am a sentient manifestation of the inner figment called 'your conscience' and you," it twitched an accusing hind paw her way, "have been a very bad girl." For most New York gals, that was a fair accusation to make.

Hmmm. Were the heads of talking grinning bunnys dangling from key chains luckiest still? She shook the thought from her mind. Even she was getting tired of that though. Though luck was… enough, enough, enough about the lucky stuff!

Well it appeared that her hand had still held onto his ears so there he dangled and she held him out like one would hold a lamp to see in the dark. He certainly was talkative for a rabbit. Not that petunia had ever met a talking rabbit before.

"What,.. is your favorite color?

She had to choose?

How much,.. did you have to drink?

Of what?

I,.. am a sentient manifestation of the inner figment called 'your conscience'

Wow! Petunia didn’t know she had one of those! and it was a bunny,… that she could ware on a key chain! Didn’t she tell herself that was enough of that thinking?

and you,.. have been a very bad girl."

“Well DAHHHH! And you know who’s fault that is?” Petunia grinned as she lifted the rabbit higher into the air by it’s ears. “It’s all yours. For a conscience, you’ve been very neglectful. Or does the guilt only work one way. Because if the guilt only works one way I really don’t think I want you hanging around me.”

Was it possible for a conscience to have a conscience?

“you know what?” She grinned as she spoke. “You’re cute, You smell good.” The scorpion at Petunia’s collar bone dropped it’s hold on her scarf and began moving up her shoulder and on her arm. “We could just eat you all up.”

((ooc: Don't forget to put a link to your profile in your sig, Pix! )

Moving scorpion. Yep, that was enough of the playing around bit. The playing around, really, wasn't helping this woman get any deader. And Calley did indeed want to help her on that front: if he couldn't help her, then it would be very, very hard to help dear Mister Antonescu.

The snowshoe hare swung its legs up, and aimed a double-legged rabbit-clawed kick at the inside of Buggy's forearm. He was aiming to get dropped.

(I will soon. I was just hoping to have a proper siggy picture to go with it. Still need to get her brother approved as an NPC too. And a list of bugs she can use… Long to do list with this character. lol)

Well apparently her conscience didn’t like the fact that she said she didn’t want a conscience. Or maybe it was the fact she wanted to eat her conscience. Were conscience’s tasty? Mmmmmm deep fried rabbit conscience minuses the head, ears and feet…

The juices in Petunia’s mouth started to water. Oh my, was that drool? She pushed a sleeve across her face to smear it away, momentarily distracted while yet another rabbit kick came.

It took a few seconds as she tried to keep a hold of those brilliant rabbit ears but after a struggle with the screaming nerve endings in her arm, she did drop him. Immediately turning her body in the air so that she could dive right after him.

The snowshoe hare hit the ground with a roll and a long, bounding hop. They really weren't far from the alleyway's exit. Come along, Alice, and bring your little scorpion, too. There were better places to stage this fight. Ones that didn't risk a Stalker's inconvenient interruption. Ones generally known as Mondragon Labs, and the rather large chunk of land and buildings around it which Hunter Antonescu owned.

Calley wasn't planning on getting hit by a bus. But as he emerged out onto the sidewalk, the bus was going past on the street, and the bike rack at its front was right there. Suffice it to say that his will power was too weak. He made the jump, and caught the slim perch like a fly catches a windshield.

...Let us avoid outright suicide, shall we? Slate stated simply, annoyed to be drawn away from a rather meticulous self-study to heal some rather pressing internal injuries. He was trying to discover how he could lock Calley's mind away but Calley lacked the ability to lock his own away. A closer inspection of their recent memories lifted a mental eyebrow. Calley. What are you doing?[/color]

Nothing.[/i] The rabbit--after coughing out a pleasant wad of blood with somewhat more substantial bits in it--gave a cheeky grin back at its pursuer.

That's about the time the bus put on its brakes. Red light. Right.

Pix grabbed for the hare again, missing and pulled away from the ground as he made his escape. Fortunately for pix when you’re chasing someone you have a chance to see what the path a head could be like. She had just taken chase, dropping her wings under her coat when she reached the end of that alley way, when the bus came. And let me tell you, smeard rabbit on bike rack looked a lot better then insect.

And needless to say it was a lot more entertaining to watch then act. She strolled to the front of the buss when it came to a stop. “Oh My God!” She shrieked at the bus driver. “You hit Sir-tickle-bottom-fluffy-face you, you, you MONSTER!” she boarded the bus and grabbed the bus driver’s chin forcing him to lean forward at the bunny on the bike rack.

“Just look what you did!” She said shaking her finger at the bunny spitting the blood splatter gunk out of his mouth. “But miss. I didn’t see him. He just hopped right out in front of me! Honest.”

Petunia grabbed the bus driver by the collar and practically fell on his shoulder. “That’s what they said about Sir-lance-a-splot toooohoohoohoohoo.” She faked a few tears before straightening up. “Can you please help me untangle him from the bikes?” She asked dragging the surprised bus drover out with her to the front of the bus.