The Algonquin Indians, now part of the Wabanaki tribe, were a people
known throughout the east for the strength and subtlety of their shamans
and magic. Even after their homeland was conquered by the Iriquois, and
then by the European settlers, the reputation of these mysterious people
and their beautiful land remained. Never properly settled by man, it
was years later before another, more industrialized species saw the
strength of the granite cliffs and the clear blue lakes, and built their
warrens there in the sandy deposits of a long-vanished glacial river.
As the warren grew into a lapine city, they built their tunnels into
the granite cliffs, leaving the rock exposed as a natural asset and artform.
So early one morning, when a mover pulled into the expansive Algonquin
Bunnymover station, it was met by nothing more than somber granite walls
veined with quartz and gold, and a stationkeeper who was used to being awed
by the world around him.
And the first rabbit out of the mover, a purple and yellow dyed rabbit
in sunglasses, scratched herself, yawned, and fixed her gaze on the
stationkeeper in front of her.
"Tour's in the house, redneck. Call up Billy Bob Bunny and tell him the
The stationkeeper's mouth hung open. "Uh..."
"Put 'em over there, boyz," the doe instructed, and the stagebuns behind
her began lugging heavy equipment out of the mover's storage bay. More
bunnies and more boxes followed, quickly forming a small horde that
revolved around the mover.
"PB? Want us to cordon off the entrances?"
"Definite. Do it before Rocker wakes up."
"Mi-miss?", stammered the stationkeeper.
"We're already up, Chick!" PB looked up to see FluffyRocker and his
latest doefriend waving from halfway across the platform. "We're just
going to hop out for a nibble, okay?"
"Rocker, come back here!"
"Can't! Almost time for brunch!", he called back. Giggling, the pair
of them ducked down the first side corridor, quickly disappearing into
the glittering granite tunnels.
She began to chase after them, growling. "Spud, you are gonna pay! And
your chickie is *dead*, dig?"
"PB, you can't kill her!", Elmer Blues said, hopping to intercept the
doe. Nose to nose with him, she bared her fangs. "Why not?"
"'Cause that's *Wynn*."
As PB blinked in astonishment, Jack Blues tapped the doe's haunch and
pointed. "Ah, PunkBunny? Maybe you oughta look at dat station sign."
// Welcome to Algonquin Main Warren! Have a fluffy day, eh? //
"What? ...where the fluff are we?!?"
"Canada!", Elmer smiled, looking around the station. "I always wanted
to visit Canada! Where's the moose?"
"PB, you're in charge now, right?"
"Do we unload or not, PB?"
"Need directions to the arena! PB, you got them?"
"PB, mind if we go looking fer moose?"
"Anyone know when the show is tonight?"
"Have we even booked a concert here?"
"Everybun, chill," the doe growled menacingly. "Or chick will start
carving her initials. In you."
"Miss? A-are you 'punk bunny'?"
The stationkeeper gulped as PB stared down her muzzle at him, slivers of
her red eyes peeking out over the black shades. "Natch. And you want?"
"Th-there's a message for you." Shaking, he dug it out from under his
cap. "Faxed early this morning."
// Nice job zigging to Algonquin, Chick. We didn't expect you to do
that. But hey, we'll get there by concert time tonight. Save a backstage
pass for us? We really just want to meet the boy. -- Your Friends in
PunkBunny read the note slowly as the crowd milled around her, paws
clenching until her claws extended through the paper. "Jack, Elmer," she
growled, "Get me something to kill."
Wynn and Punk Bunny!!