Chapter Text
Chance didn’t remember the exact moment everything had gone sideways. One minute he’d been in the fog, the next—he was sprawled in the middle of an empty parking lot, concrete biting his palms, streetlights humming overhead.
And he wasn’t alone.
Gubby, his original bunny, popped out of the shadows first, soft ears flopping as he made an excited little hop into Chance’s arms. Chance smiled, relief flooding through him. At least some things survived the transition.
Then came the other two.
One was a plain, twitchy little thing that Gubby immediately glared at, as if Chance had been caught red-handed cheating on him. The other… well. The other had a look in its beady little eyes that made Chance hesitate.
The small black-and-brown rabbit sat with his paws tucked neatly, watching him like a man might. Cold. Calculating. Like he could see right through Chance’s skin and down to his bones.
Chance bent down anyway. “Hey there, little guy.”
The rabbit’s whiskers twitched. Don’t you dare touch me.
Chance scooped him up. “Aww, you’re grumpy. I’ll call you… Mafiso.”
The bunny kicked wildly, thumping his tiny feet against Chance’s chest, but the blows did nothing but ruffle his shirt.
“Feisty!” Chance laughed. “You’ll fit right in.”
The first night was chaos.
Gubby curled happily on Chance’s pillow. The twitchy bunny claimed the blanket corner. Mafiso, however, sat upright on the dresser, unblinking.
Chance waved goodnight to him. “You don’t have to stand guard, you know. We’re safe here.”
Mafiso’s nose twitched. Safe? You idiot. I’m not protecting you. I’m figuring out how to strangle you with the phone charger.
Morning came with Chance humming in the kitchen. He poured pellets into three bowls.
Gubby dove in face-first. Twitchy followed. Mafiso just sat there, unimpressed.
Chance frowned. “Not hungry?”
Mafiso stared. You expect me to eat rabbit pellets? I still have a human stomach, fool. I need meat. Bread. Coffee.
Chance slid a carrot stick in front of him. Mafiso slapped it off the counter.
Chance laughed. “Picky eater, huh? Fine, I’ll try something else.”
Mafiso hopped onto the counter, seized a slice of bread in his teeth, and tore into it like it was a victory feast.
Chance blinked. “Oh. You want people food? That’s… weird, but okay.”
Mafiso chewed smugly, crumbs sticking to his fur. Finally. A shred of dignity.
Chance smiled fondly. “You’re such a little character, Mafiso.”
Mafiso narrowed his eyes, crumbs falling from his whiskers. I’ll kill you in your sleep.
And so it began: Chance, blissfully unaware that one of his three bunnies was not only human-minded but actively plotting his demise.
To Chance, Mafiso was just another pet with a funny personality. To Mafiso, Chance was the obstacle between him and freedom.
Three bunnies. One survivor. And only one of them knew how much danger Chance was really in.
Mafiso had had enough.
Two days. Two endless, humiliating days of being cradled like a child, spoken to in baby talk, and—worst of all—watched by that smug little fluffball Gubby.
Chance hummed happily in the kitchen again, stirring noodles in a pot. Mafiso crouched on the counter, eyes narrowed. Now. This is the chance. Boiling water. Sharp knives. Perfect weapons, wasted on an oblivious fool.
He waited. Chance reached for the cupboard. Mafiso darted, tiny paws grabbing the knife handle. The blade was nearly twice his size, but with effort he managed to tug it toward the edge.
Chance turned around just as the knife toppled—
Clang!
It bounced off the counter, harmless, and Chance gasped. “Mafiso! Oh no, sweetie, did that scare you?”
Before Mafiso could retreat, Chance scooped him up.
Mafiso kicked wildly, furious. LET ME GO, HUMAN. I WAS ABOUT TO END YOU.
Chance hugged him close, pressing his nose into the rabbit’s fur. “You could’ve hurt yourself, silly bunny. No climbing near sharp things, okay?”
SHARP THINGS ARE FOR HURTING YOU, NOT ME.
Chance rubbed Mafiso’s ears, completely oblivious to the murderous aura radiating from his tiny body. “You’re just acting out because you’re stressed. I get it. New world, new home, new diet…”
Mafiso thumped his foot against Chance’s arm. Chance only laughed. “See? You’re talking to me already.”
I’M THREATENING YOU, YOU IDIOT.
That night, Mafiso tried again.
Chance lay asleep, Gubby curled against his neck. The other bunny twitched at the foot of the bed. Mafiso climbed slowly up Chance’s chest, every movement calculated. He stopped just beneath the man’s chin, whiskers twitching.
One bite to the throat. Quick. Clean.
He bared his teeth—
And Chance, half-asleep, instinctively wrapped an arm around him. Mafiso was trapped against Chance’s chest, pressed firmly against his heartbeat.
Chance murmured groggily, “Mmm, Mafiso… you’re warm.”
Mafiso froze. He tried to wriggle free, but Chance only squeezed him tighter, smiling in his sleep.
This is not happening.
But the steady thump-thump of Chance’s heart beneath him, the warmth of the blankets, the gentle rise and fall of breath… it was disarming. Against his will, Mafiso’s eyes fluttered shut.
When morning came, Chance woke refreshed. “Look who cuddled me all night! You do love me!”
Mafiso glared, whiskers twitching. …You got lucky. Tonight, human. Tonight.
Three days in, and Mafiso still hadn’t managed to kill him. Worse—Chance now thought he was bonding.
Mafiso would fix that.
One way or another.
Mafiso was done with half-measures.
The knife attempt had failed. The throat-bite had ended in cuddles. Every second in this humiliating fluff-body was eroding his dignity. He needed a plan. A real plan.
And then he saw it. The toaster.
Chance hummed, scrolling on his phone at the kitchen table while slices of bread browned inside the silver machine. Mafiso sat nearby, watching intently.
Electricity. Simple. Efficient. Even in this pathetic body, I can weaponize it. All I need is the right distraction…
The toast popped up. Chance reached for it, burning his fingers. “Ow! Ha, too hot.” He set the slices down, oblivious.
Mafiso hopped closer. He stood on his hind legs, tiny paws gripping the edge of the toaster. All it would take was one little push—tip it over into the sink. Wet metal. Instant electrocution.
He shoved with all his might.
Nothing.
Damn this cursed rabbit body!
He hopped again, planting both feet against the side and pushing. The toaster wobbled dangerously, cords stretching.
Chance looked up. “Oh! Mafiso, you’re curious today.”
Mafiso thumped his foot. Not curious, you fool. Deadly.
Chance chuckled. “No, no. Toasters aren’t for bunnies. You could hurt yourself.” He reached out—just as Mafiso finally shoved the toaster hard enough.
The machine tipped, crashing into the sink with a splash. Sparks snapped and hissed. Chance yelped, leaping back.
The kitchen light flickered. Smoke curled. The circuit breaker popped.
Chance stared at the mess. “What the—? Did you just… short-circuit the whole apartment?”
Mafiso sat proudly on the counter, fur singed, whiskers sticking up like static. He glared, chest heaving. Yes. And next time, it will be you in the sink.
Chance scooped him up before he could hop away. “You could’ve been fried! Oh my god—you’re smoking. Hold still.”
He rubbed at Mafiso’s fur with a damp towel, fussing over him like a frantic mother.
Mafiso snarled internally. Stop. Coddling. Me.
But all Chance saw was a disgruntled, slightly crispy bunny.
“Good grief. You’re going to give me a heart attack one day.” Chance kissed the top of his head without thinking.
Mafiso froze, ears stiff, body trembling.
…Did you just…
Chance smiled warmly. “I really do love you, you know.”
Mafiso stared at him, horrified, then buried his face in Chance’s sleeve—whether to hide his fury or his confusion, even he couldn’t tell.
One thing was certain:
The next attempt had to succeed.