The Hatter & The Hare

I. Tea Time

It probably wasn’t the best time for tea.

            “Helping with the nerves?”

            The tea was soothing, warm as it touched The Hatter’s lips.  For the briefest of moments, everything else around him didn’t matter.  Not his accomplice driving the car.  Not the top hat resting in his lap.  Not the submachine gun in his hand.  There was only his tea cup and the comfort it provided.

His partner in crime sat beside him, his hands on the steering wheel, giggling excitedly under his breath.  He was a short and stocky young man, a growing scruff glazing his cheeks.  He wore a red hooded sweatshirt and like The Hatter, had a weapon close-by, a machine gun resting in between him and his door.  A keychain with a rabbit’s food dangled from the rearview mirror.   

“I get it.  I’m a little jumpy too.”

“You’re always a little jumpy, Hare.” 

“Hm,” The Hare nodded in agreement.  “Very true.”

The car rolled along through the city streets, the lampposts filling the windows with a dim glow as it passed each one.  The shops along this particular stretch of road were almost all adorned with shattered windows, busted down doors, and, worst of all, complete emptiness.  A few moments of driving later, the empty shops were replaced by completely torn down buildings, construction equipment  dispersed throughout the rubble.  An enormous wrecking ball hung overhead one of the cranes, a logo of a large red heart painted across it. 

“You get a hold of Mouse?  Tell her we’ll be needing more ammunition after tonight?”  Hare asked.

“Didn’t pick up,” Hatter replied, brushing some dirt off of the top hat in his lap.  “She’s probably sleeping.”

“No surprise there, yeah?”  The Hare chuckled, scratching his stubbly brown beard.

The Hatter smiled to himself, staring at the window once more.

The car creaked to a stop on the curb.  Just across the sidewalk was a small building with a sign hanging out front reading Rose Red Industries.  The sign was identical to so many that hung over business doors in the city, more being put up by the day.  As with the others like it, The Hatter found it to be rather ugly…like a Valentine’s Day card puked all over it.

The Hare caught his gaze and looked at him with his wide, frantic eyes.    

“So you ready?”  The Hare asked, clicking his tongue.

The Hatter turned away from his friend, taking a gander at the Rose Red Industries building.  It was a small old building; definitely renovated to appear newer but underneath the heart sign and beneath that Rose Red name was an empty shack, that had no control over what had become of it.

“I said, you ready, Hatter?”

The Hatter turned to face The Hare and his lips twisted into a thin smile.

“Yep.”

They each swung their car doors open, stepping out onto the cold and dimly lit street.  The Hatter instinctively tightened the scarf that hung from his neck over his trench coat; his gun in one hand and his hat in the other.  Stepping onto the sidewalk, they stood side by side, facing the Rose Red Industries building.

The Hatter put his hat atop his head, allowing him to put both hands on his machine gun.  There was always something comforting about wearing his hat.  An indescribable small security that ensured him that he was ready for whatever came his way.  It was a tiny bit too big for him, as The Hare loved to point out but for him, it was a perfect fit.