“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

​

Brad leaned back against the bench, side-eyeing his best friend. The golden bunny had been against this from the beginning. The “gypsies” Trigger had bought the little bottle from had claimed it worked. And the hybrid believed them.

 

Passing the bottle back and forth between his paws, Trigger grinned and Brad. “Oh, have a little faith, Braddy. At worst, it’ll give me a stomach ache.”

 

“Or kill you.” Ears flattening against his skull, Brad grimace. “And don’t call me Braddy.”

 

Trigger chuckled. Looking over at his best friend, the werewolf/dingo hybrid sighed. Slight of frame, Brad looked like a strong breeze would knock him over. With his whiskey-gold fur he looked like any other bunny. Until you got to the hair. Brad had let it grow long down his back, the dark reds shining like lava in the sun. Top that with the vibrant purple tips on his ears, and Brad was a real beauty.

 

“So,” Brad’s soft tone broke Trigger’s train, bringing him back to the present. “What’s this brew supposed to do?”

 

Trigger settled back on the bench. He looked down at the little bottle. “Meant to increase strength, and lower negative morals,” he said.

 

Brad blinked, his one good eye narrowing. “Sounds like a load of bull to me.”

 

“Perhaps,” Trigger grinned. “But it’ll make for an interesting afternoon.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Brad leaned back. “Trig, I think—”

 

“Well, well. What have we here, boys?”

 

Trigger and Brad froze, the canine hybrid snarling as Brad shrunk in on himself. Coming towards them, smirking the whole time, was several large bears. The leader, a black bear names Neal, stopped before them, massive arms crossed, showing off his muscles. Trigger went to stand, but was shoved back by one of the others.

 

“Where’d you think you’re going?” that bear snarled.

 

Ever one to react first, think last, Trigger snapped back, “To see your mum.”

 

That earned him a punch in the gut. He doubled over, groaning in pain, the small bottle toppling onto the ground.

 

Neal chuckled, smirking down at Trigger. “What’s wrong, puppy? Can’t play with the big boys?”

 

Trigger only groaned in pain.

 

“Leave him alone!” Brad demanded, rising from the bench.

 

This time, Neal shoved him back down.

 

“Aw!” he mocked, cooing with poisoned sweetness. “Is the little bun-bun feeling left out? Maybe last week’s “lesson” didn’t stick?”

 

Brad groaned in pain a Neal grabbed him by his ears. Trigger was snarling, struggling against the other bear’s grips. Neal chuckled, pulling on Brad’s ears, forcing him to his feet.

 

“Hey, Neal! Make him drink this!”

 

Trigger’s blood ran cold as one of the two holding him passed over his small bottle. He increased his struggles, trying and failing to reach it.

 

“Hmm?” Neal hummed, taking the bottle. “Now what’s this?” he asked, directing the question towards Trigger.

 

The hybrid snarled. “None of your business.”

 

Neal’s smile darkened. “Well now,” he growled, dragging Brad against him. “Why don’t we find out?”

 

“No!”

 

Neal’s fist came down into Brad’s gut. The bunny doubled over, gasping. Neal thumbed the cork, freeing it and shoving the vile into Brad’s mouth. The bear even covered his mouth, forcing him to swallow the formula.

 

Brad’s eyes watered as the liquid flowed down his throat, splashing into his stomach. The organ squirmed, clenching up on itself. Heat and pain away from Neal’s grip. He gasped, falling to the ground withering about.

 

Trigger and his captors stared as the bunny began to froth at the mouth, his thrashing increasing.

 

“Let’s go,” Neal’s voice snapped the others out of their shock. “He’s not going to be a problem again.”

 

“No!” Trigger struggled against their hold on him, his eyes never leaving his best friend. They ignored him, dragging him with them away.

 

 

—

 

 

“Ohh… My head…”

​

Groaning, brad rubbed at his head, slowly pushing himself up. His eye remained clenched, trying to block out the light. His head throbbed. His body ached. There were several small stones digging into him. blindly, he groped and grabbed one.

 

Cracking one eye, he stared down at it.

 

Huh, not stones. Some kind of twig. But, since when were twigs held together with metal…

 

Eyes snapped open, Brad’s body snapped upright. He stared down at his hand in horror.

 

Lying broken in his palm was the remains of a bench. The wood lay cracked and splintered, the mental warped. It was tiny, about the size of a small toy from a doll house.

 

A faint buzzing reached him, his massive ears twitched and turning towards it. his gaze fell to the ground. Tiny humans and furs were scattering in every direction, running away from him. Cries of “Kaiju” and “Macro” floated back to him. his heart clenched and even as angre rose. His gaze rose, taking in the buildings now as tall as him. Wait until Trig—

 

Trigger!

 

Brad whirled around, eye scanning the area he had last seen his best friend. With no idea of the time that had past. Brad swivelled his eye as he thought.

 

Everything was louder. He could head the ones running. The sirens on the distance coming closer. Random conversation.

 

“There’s a monster…”

 

“He thought I was cute…”

 

“…do I keep trying…”

 

“Fucking bastard! You killed—”

Brad’s eyes snapped open. Trigger’s voice was so distinctive. He focused on the sounds around his friend’s voice. Water crashing against stone. A train moving past. The sound of a fog horn.

 

The docks. Neal’s family warehouse.

 

Brad’s fist clenched, furrowing the hill beside him. The fist opened, planting firmly. With a heave, he pushed himself upright. His legs shook, but held beneath him. He looked around, the buildings were the same height as him, with only a few towering over him. But they were familiar. He could find the way.

 

“Hang on, Trig,” Brad muttered, looking down as he took his first step. He was careful about the tiny beings beneath him. “I’m coming.”