Intermission

Trace Darrk was no ordinary rabbit. Part fur, part cyborg fused mechanoid killer, part carrot powered zen ninja, he was as close to the perfect pet sized killing machine as you could get. Cold as steel in a winter wonderland, and about as fluffy as a bag of grumpy sharks on a hot afternoon's trip to ikea.

He quietly opened the skylight, dropped his tibetan yaks hair rope through the hole and slinked down it into the darkness. Once inside, he surveyed the scene. Two guards patrolling directly below and two more at the door. They were all the same - Chicken assasins! They must be guarding something good. Where there are Chicken assasins, there is trouble. Who ever had hired him for this job was certain of something, the bounty was hot property and the trouble would be hotter. No questions asked - Trace was the rabbit for the job.

He slowly started to swing on the rope from left to right, his special order Tabi ninja shoes gripping it between his large toes. At the highest point of his arc he lept down onto the head of one of the unsuspecting Chicken assasins, cleaving its wobbly red thing in half with his katana. He landed, sprang against the other driving it clucking against the wall where it's beak embedded into a hanging picture, shattering the glass and slicing face, beak and brown feathers from its head. It fell in a bloody heap.

The two other Chicken assasins guarding the door clucked into action and came in a dual spinning attack mode towards Trace, flailing their nunchukkas in a deadly wooden arc of destruction. Katana at the ready Trace blocked the first attack and dodged down, sliding between the Chicken assasins two yellow feet. Skidding to a stop behind the unsuspecting assailant he unleashed a series of Jeet Do Kung Fu body blows that rendered it paralysed, the final killer blow extracting an un-laid egg from the rectum of his attacker. The Chicken turned and looked at the feces stained egg as Trace held it in front of him. That was the last thing it saw before it died.

"egg-cellent to meet you!" Trace grinned.

The other Chicken assassin looked at Trace, looked at his co-worker lying dead on the floor, and started to focus his attack by performing several nunchukka Kata sequences. Trace stood watching the series of moves, stances and animal attack styles - bemused. As the Chicken assasin stopped his Kata in the crane position, Trace leaped effortlessly over his head and landed with his back to the poised fowl, Katana stretched out by his side.

The Chicken assasin spun and faced Trace. He head slowly slipped from his shoulders and his body began to run wildy around the room banging into the walls and eventually tripping over the dead carcass of his colleague, before stopping in its final resting position.

Trace reached into his backpack and stepped towards the door they had been guarding. After attaching a selection of his finest Ninja C4 explosive and setting the Ninja fuse wires in place he retreated back up his rope for adequate cover. He pressed the remote detonator and a large, loud explosion ripped the door from it's hinges and sent it flying across the room.

Trace decended the rope into the smoke filled room and made his way to where the door had been. The bounty was now in sight. Payment would follow soon and he would be happier. Much happier.

"Shit" he murmured.

"I knew this was a set up......"

THE END

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"Fuck! Holy, fucking-shitty-fucky-fuck-flaps!"

"Comics are just wank! The story has just got to the best bit and I gotta freakin wait until next month for the next edition..... Wankers!"

WhiteBoyBob arose from the toilet, yanked his trousers up, kicked open the stall door and proceeded towards the exit when a large explosion somewhere on the ship knocked him off his feet, sending him crashing into the basins and knocking over the soap dish stolen from UberMilfs quarters, which smashed on the floor.

"Shit!"

An automated announcement crackled over his comm-link.

"Emergency... emergency... Hull beach in sectors 3 and 4, decks 11, 12, 13 and 14 compromised."
"Boarding party detected... defend... defend...!"
"Action stations"

"Oh well" He muttered, picking himself up from the floor wiping synthi-soap from his flak-jacket.

"wiping my arse is gonna have to wait until later...!"