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The Magic Box, Saturday

"Do you mind?" Jenkins made a third attempt to get the front door to the Magic Box open, shoving it against the rump of a truly massive rabbit that had taken up residence on the sidewalk. "Look, I'm certain it's a perfectly nice spot to have a nap, but you're blocking my customers and I have truly had quite enough of being blocked today." His back door back to the Library, for instance, was cut off. It simply opened to the shop's broom closet, as it had before he'd taken over. And he couldn't reach Colonel Baird or Flynn or even — god help him — Ezekiel Jones on any of his various phones. "So —" He leaned his shoulder into the door and heaved. "— excuse —" The rabbit shifted its weight to its other hind leg, giving him no more than a handspan of extra space. "— ME!"

The rabbit hopped forward, clearing the door, and Jenkins went stumbling out into the street. He straightened, spent a precious moment adjusting his tie, and turned to face the rabbit with a faint, sarcastic bow. "Thank you."

The rabbit barreled into him, knocking him flat. When he sat back up, cracking his vertebrae back into place, it sat a few feet away, twitching its nose at him.

"Right," he said. "That's how it's going to be, is it?"

The rabbit charged him again. He sidestepped it like a matador, whipping his short sword from his jacket and neatly slicing through its carotid artery and nearly managing to get out of the spray fast enough not to ruin one of his favorite suits.

When it stopped twitching, he wiped his sword clean on its enormous fluffy tail and tucked it away again.

"I wonder if anyone on this island has a taste for a truly tremendous amount of rabbit stew. . . ."

[ooc: Open!]

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Peter, his own Byzantine sword in his hand, had run up when he saw the rabbit charging, then changed it to a stroll when he saw Jenkins had it well in hand.

He nodded as he walked up. "That's the third I've seen so far. Any idea where they came from?"

"An extremely large country meadow," Jenkins said. "I suppose I could try selling the feet. . . ."

He poked one of the rabbit's toes with his shoe. Bit big for a key chain, really.

"Or the meat?" Peter guessed. "If it's not contaminated by whatever magic this is." He gave Jenkins a crooked smile. "And if you know how to butcher a rabbit this big. I don't think I have a knife sharp enough and big enough."

"It has been rather a long time since I've field dressed anything," Jenkins said. "Though as I recall it was not the size of the blade that counted."

Peter snorted at the size comment. "Not the most important thing, but do you really want to try a fillet knife on that?"

"I wouldn't, no, but as I just said, I haven't field dressed anything in ages." Quite literal ages. "You have noticed you're carrying a sword, haven't you?"

"So are you," Peter pointed out. "For this, though?" He shook his head. "It's sharp for a sword, but it's not exactly made for carving."

"I'm not the one proposing to butcher the thing," Jenkins pointed out right back. "In cases such as these, one must simply make do with the tools one has available. I have seen a man cut the gullet open on a wolf this size with a six inch hacksaw, and pull out fair maiden entirely intact."

Only about three years ago, even.

"...Now you've got me wondering if anyone's inside this thing," Peter said, eyeing the rabbit dubiously. "Do we know if they eat meat or just like attacking?"

"At the moment all I know is that they like to take naps in front of doors and get mean if you make them move."

"They're pretty much mean if they notice you," Peter said. "There was some lady being attacked by one when I went out this morning. I got the sword out to help her, then found another one when it tried to jump me from behind."

"And did you see if she had any expertise at large animal butchery?"

Sometimes Peter wondered about you, Jenkins.

"No, I just made sure she got home safely. You want me to ask at the diner?"

What? No one wanted giant rabbit carcasses rotting in the streets all weekend. It was going to be more than 80 degrees tomorrow.

"I'm not particularly concerned if you ask anywhere at all." He sighed down at the rabbit. "You know, some magical monsters have the class to simply . . ." He puffed out his cheeks and gave an extra pop to his p: "poof once they've been dispatched."

"Huge rabbits are probably still better than any of the demons or things that poof," Peter pointed out. "Although..." He stared, unfocused, for a minute. "I think I know a disintegration spell."

He raised his hands to start, giving Jenkins time to stop him if he didn't want the rabbit corpse turned to dust.

Jenkins was of the opinion that using magic to accomplish something that was just more work the non-magical way was foolishness, but he merely stepped aside and raised an eyebrow.

"I will be put out if you should accidentally disintegrate any part of myself or my store while you're at it."

There was "more work" and then there was "ridiculous amounts of complex work".

Peter tried not to sigh at the lack of faith; he did have better control of his magic than that. Instead, he smirked. "Just stand still and don't move the building."

The proper gestures and incantations, and the rabbit began disintegrating from the inside out, falling into itself until only dust was left.

"Lovely," Jenkins said, not sounding impressed. "Now can you summon a broom?"

"Picky, picky." Another gesture, and the wind picked up the dust and swept it out to sea.

"Better?"

"Peachy."

"Sorry, I don't do food." Peter nodded toward the store. "Think you'd like any help, or have you got it taken care of?"

Parker had had plans this morning; plans that did not involve exploding eggs or violent rabbits. She was kind of offended on behalf of all bunny-kind by this stuff. She was making her way along the rooftops toward the diner, and decided to swing down and somersault into the Magic Box when she saw that it was open.

"Why are they trying to ruin bunnies for me?" She frowned at Jenkins. "This is a magic thing. Do you know what's going on?"

"Haven't the foggiest." Jenkins admitted. "No feathers, so it's not the Mother Goose Treaty of 1918. Perhaps Aesop's Lyre, though I would expect those bunnies to be . . . chattier." He shook his head. "I'm tempted to simply blame it all somehow on Beatrix Potter." A sigh. "I always hated that woman. Naming twins 'Flopsy' and 'Mopsy' — just cruel."

Mopsy was a really dumb name, Parker had to agree. "I could interrogate one and ask it what's going on," she offered, looking speculative. "I usually *like* rabbits. I have a stuffed rabbit. A toy, not a taxidermied one, because that's just ick." She made a face. "And, and, there's no internet, and Hardison is going to start freaking out about then pretty soon, I just know it." She'd left him a note not to turn on his computer. Like that would work. But at least she tried.

The abruptness and mention of Hardison might ping Jenkins' memory of the skinny guy he'd met on gender-swap day, if Parker's entire affect hadn't clued him in yet.

They certainly had similar enough mannerisms that Jenkins was beginning to pick up on, yes. "So the blockage is digital as well as magical, is it?" he asked. "I haven't managed to contact my people all morning, either."

"You have people?" Parker looked curious, picking up the same crystal ball she had before, spinning it between her hands. "And yeah. I was just gonna check the weather, but the internet was down. Then I tried to call someone, and that didn't work, so..." Yeah. Hardison was not going to be happy at all about that. "This is kinda more random than most invasions, though."

"I'm not some sort of mad genius shut in," Jenkins said. "Well. Not anymore." His annex had filled right up a couple years ago, and he'd had to relearn a few people skills. "And . . . how do most invasions go, then?"

She seemed rather young to have experienced more than about three, in Jenkins' opinion.

"Hmm, well, usually we get warnings earlier in the week? Stuff going strange, or people noticing crap disappearing or something. Or a new person comes to town and is obviously Up To Something." She looked up at the ceiling, remembering. "Weird weather. People getting sick about mid-week? This, just on a Saturday, boom! bunnies is bizarre. I don't like it," she complained, sounding about twelve.

"Bizarre," Jenkins echoed. "You know, it's simply fascinating. Two weeks ago, you were turned into a man and mostly just grumpy that your center of balance had changed. Today we have some connectivity issues and a giant rabbit or two, and you're put right out."

"Stuff I'm expecting I can account for and plan for. Stuff I don't expect, that can make my people unhappy, makes me unhappy," Parker said soberly. She took the Mastermind thing very seriously, okay? Although his comment was now getting her thinking about how to turn those minuses into pluses. "You're taking this all really well too, for someone who hasn't been here very long. Do you do this in your own world too?"

"Slaughter enormous bunnies? Not particularly." Jenkins shrugged. "Investigate magical mysteries, now. That I do a few times a week."

"Hunh." Parker studied him a moment, then nodded. "Do you need anything to keep looking, that I can help out with? I'm good at getting stuff." Absently, she put a tarot card that she'd picked up back on the counter.

Knight of Swords. Jenkins gave Parker a curious side eye, then tucked the card away. "Have you been out and about much on the island today?" he asked. "Perhaps you can tell me what you've noticed."

"I was on the roofs, so. From our place over on Godiva to here." Parker paused, thinking it through, what she'd seen so far. "Four really giant bunnies, I mean, bigger than houses. They don't really seem to be doing anything other than wandering around, though. I'm not even sure they noticed all the people. And a whole bunch of person-sized rabbits being violent and stupid. Plus eggs eggs-sploding." Ha!

"Really. From the rabbits?"

Parker kind of shrugged, and nodded, playing with some of the other items on the counter as she thought it over. "Yeah, from what I could see, they were throwing them. Easter eggs. Pretty, but seriously?" She made a face.

"Interesting. So perhaps it's something to do with Ēostre. Or Cadbury. . . ."

"Are they messing with chocolate?!" Parker was horrified. "That's just wrong. And what was that first thing you said?"

In some indefinable way, Jenkins kind of reminded her of Nate. She wasn't sure why. Maybe because they were both smart and thought out loud without explaining all the jumps in logic.

"Ēostre. Germanic fertility goddess. The original reason why rabbits are associated with the Christian festival of Easter."

"If these are her bunnies, she needs to get them into a pen," Parker said, looking stern.

"Indeed, though I'd rather someone else do the asking. I make it a rule to avoid interacting with gods."

Apep had been irritating enough.

Parker gave this due consideration, then said, "Not it."

Because that sort of thing sounded like one of those stories that only Nate would enjoy telling. Probably from a hospital bed.

Jenkins nodded at her. "Indeed."

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The Magic Box, Saturday

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