There they were.  The three of them poised to take each other's lives as quickly as one of them pulled the trigger or made a slash.  The Cheshire Cat was finally cornered where his tricks wouldn't help him.  But he was positioned with two daggers hidden in his hands, which were inside of his vest, ready to let fly in a second.  The March Hare stood with a sniper rifle pointed at the Mad Hatter and a footblade evenly pointed at the Cheshire Cat.  The Mad Hatter stood with a sword pointed at the exposed stomach of the March Hare and a pistol pointed straight at the Cheshire Cat.  Any one of them could start a chain reaction ending all three of their lives.  The strongest members of three warring factions:  The Spades, the Clubs, and the Diamonds, ready to brutally murder each other in an instant.
	The clans had been fueding for their different reasons for years.  The Diamond clan for wealth, the Club clan for power, and the Spade clan for revenge.  But within the past month, it had reached its bloodiest point in recent years.  The war moved from being political for most, to being completely for the bloodshed.  It moved from throwing words at each other, to throwing daggers.

---

	"Hey, mom, I'm going to pick up some food.  I'll be back later." Said the Mad Hatter as he walked past his mother's room, where she was laying lazily on some antique red couch she had purchased off the internet.  She was watching some old soap opera while taking another drink of whiskey from an expensive silver flask.  She was an alcoholic, and the Hatter knew it.  In fact, that was the reason he was about to leave to go get some food.  She had forgotten to get the groceries, just as she forgot every other task given to her.  All she did was lay down and watch soap operas, drink, sleep, and every once in a while screamed at someone for interrupting her.
	"Okay"  She said as she took another drink.
	The Hatter walked by towards the downstairs garage door.  He was a young man of nineteen, and was tall and skinny.  His height was accented, though, by the overly large green and black checkered hat he wore, which bent at about a third of the way up (or two thirds of the way down, if you prefer).  He had black hair, with a black shirt, and almost excessively baggy black jeans, with green shoes and a green trench coat.  He wore a belt to hold up his jeans, and to put his keychain on, which consisted of his keys, his small MP3 player, and a chain leading to his pocket that held his pocket watch.
	He valued that pocket watch with his life, not because it was extremely valuable monetarily, but because it was extremely valuable sentimentally.  It was from his father, who, unlike his mother, he respected deeply.  He respected everything about the man, from the way he handled his family, to how he handled the wars.
	As he drew closer to the garage door, he passed the family room where the Dormouse was sitting, sipping a soda, and watching TV.  He noticed the Hatter leaving, and spun over the arm of the couch to catch up to the Hatter.
	"Where're you goin'?"  Asked the Dormouse, who had developed an almost brotherly relation with the Mad Hatter.  At the age of sixteen, he was quite a bit smaller than the Hatter, as his height only reached the Hatter's chest (he looked exceedingly smaller, though, once again due to the Hatter's oversized hat).  He had black hair resembling that of the Beatles, though slightly longer and scruffier.  He had a young face (it looked younger than that of most sixteen year olds), and slightly more innocent.  He wore a long blue sweatshirt that normally stretched past his hands and quite a bit below his waist.  He wore black jeans, much like the Mad Hatter, though not quite as baggy.  All-in-all, he was quite plain in appearance, but the thing that made him stand out the most was the fact that he had two human-sized mouse ears protruding from his head.
	"To get some food, wanna come?"  Replied the Hatter as he stopped by the garage door to throw on his shoes and remove a key from his keychain.
	The Dormouse nodded as he threw on his shoes as well.  "So, where're you plannin' on going?"  He asked, as the Mad Hatter entered the garage and he followed.
	"Probably to that place down by the arcade.  I'm probably going to stop by the arcade afterwards, see if they've got any new games."  the Hatter replied as he grabbed a helmet and handed it to the Dormouse.  The Dormouse took the helmet and went over to the large garage door leading to their driveway, and pushed a button to open it.  The Hatter climbed on his black and green (or green and black, if you so prefer) motorcycle and walked it out of his garage slowly.  The Dormouse pushed the button again when the Hatter was clear of the door and stepped out over the sensor.
	The garage door shut with a clang behind the Dormouse as he put on his helmet.  He climbed onto the motorcycle behind the Mad Hatter, and after starting the engine, they took off slowly out of the driveway.  They headed towards the expressway, since it was the fastest way of getting to their destination.  Once on the expressway, the Hatter pointed out a couple different motorcycles and cars.
	"See that one we've been following?"  Asked the Hatter just barely loud enough for the Dormouse behind him to hear at the speed they were going.  "I've seen him at the arcade before.  That's probably where he's headed now.  He acts kind of messed up in the head, has a strange obsession with gummy bears.  But he's a good guy to have on your team when you go to play the shooting games there."
	"Cool."  Replied the Dormouse, rather simply.  Suddenly, on the other side of the expressway, two motorcycles, one red and white, and the other black and gray, riding side by side caught his eye.  The riders had outfits and helmets to match, so he didn't know who they were.  He pointed to them and asked "What about those two motorcycles?"
	"Those are some nice bikes, probably paid quite a pretty penny for those.  I haven't seen them before though."  Replied the Hatter, as he continued on the expressway.  He made a mental note of what they looked like, though, because even though they had no distinct insignia, it was a possibility that they could have belonged to one of the other clans.  After he made sure he could remember what they looked like, he took an exit into a rather large town and went to eat.

---

	Back at the Spade clan mansion,  two motorcycles rolled into the driveway.  One grey and black motorcycle, the other red and black.  They slowed to a stop in front of the garage and the riders simultaneously got off their bikes and kicked out the kickstand.  Still in time with each other, they both opened and reached into a compartment on their bikes, pulling out pistols with a bouquet of flowers strapped to the barrel and extending off of the back end, as if to hide the barrel of the gun.  They looked at each other through their helmets and began walking towards the door.
	Meanwhile, about half an hour down the expressway the Hatter and the Dormouse, highest and lowest ranking spades enjoyed a couple of burgers while discussing their valiant battles... in the arcade.
	"I'm mean with my grenades, I can work wonders with them.  You should've seen this one trick I did."  Continued the Mad Hatter as he took another sip of his soda.  "This guy practically had me cornered with the sword.  Nasty little son of a monkey, that sword.  Anyways, I noticed an escape route.  That hole... you know, the one leading to the shotgun?  I dropped down that and ran a little ways away from it.  Well, I knew I wasn't getting rid of him anytime soon by running, and my little submachine gun wasn't going to kill him quickly enough.  So I turn around and chuck a grenade.  What happens?  It hits the slanted part of the wall, bouncing up the hole and blowing him to bits, leaving me with the sword at the bottom of the hole."
	Back at the mansion, the two bicyclists wandered towards the door, in perfect synchronization, stepping and all.  They approached the door with pistols in hand, and knocked politely.  After maybe two seconds, before one of the two doormen could finish their approach on the door, they both raised a leg and kicked the door to the ground with a crash.  Almost immediately, they leveled their guns on the approaching doorman's head, who was reaching for his gun, and fired with no more noise than a fly shooting past (not to say it truly mattered, for the door crashing to the ground had been enough to alert the mansion anyways).  The doorman dropped to the ground with a large mist of red and a bullethole about an inch above each eye.
	"Oh yeah?  We were playing random weapons to start... I'd been getting horrible weapons this whole time, so I'd been relying on my sticky grenades.  Well, I spawn with the sniper rifle, and after wasting all my grenades, wander into this room where two people were fighting one of my guys.  My guy dies, and one of the guys leaves."  Explained the Dormouse as he finished off his burger. "So the other guy left in the room turns to me to throw a grenade, and I instinctively just pull the trigger.  Figures I took one shot and shot him in the face.  I see something out of the corner of my eye, and swing my sniper rifle around to see the other guy in mid jump to a ledge throwing a grenade at me.  I jump back and fire again, and much to my surprise, find it was yet another headshot."
	The two bikers walked down the hall some, stepping over the dead body that was now pooling blood.  They both looked at each other and nodded as the gray one pulled something off of his belt looking to be a grenade and banked it off of the wall in front of them and left around the corner, where the other doorman was standing.  Before he could react, the grenade burst into zooming shrapnel, sticking into the walls and shredding the doorman in various places, spraying blood along the walls.  The doorman dropped to the floor as someone came around from the hall on the right.  The person arriving looked up to meet four bullets:  two up his chest, one in his neck, and one directly in between the eyes, leaving a spray of blood on the wall behind him.
	"Remember that time when you were chasing me around that bend, and I bounced a grenade around the corner and blew you clear off the ledge?"  Said the Hatter as he finished his burger as well. "That was awesome.  Figures I turned around to find some ugly punk about to shoot at me, and I spray him straight up his body.  Man, some of the kills you can get in that game are amazing."
	The bikers continued down the hall the opposite way the Hatter walked to get to his bike.  They met up with two people who came running out of a room, each got a bullet to the head without hesitation on the part of the bikers.  Without missing a beat, the bikers walked over the dead bodies towards the room that the Hatter's mother was in.  They kicked the door in and lifted their guns to her.
	"Come on, lets head over to the arcade.  Before it closes."  Said the Mad Hatter as he wiped his hands with his napkin and took their tray to the trashcan.  The Dormouse followed him out and onto his bike, and they left.
	"Who in the hell do you think you are?!"  She questioned, only to have a bullet fired through her windpipe, and another through her mouth.  The blood drenched into the couch, barely noticable, as the bikers left and advanced further down the hall.
	While the Hatter was stopped at a red light, he decided to check the time, and pulled out his father's pocketwatch.  He flipped it open and looked at it.
	The bikers walked down the hall a little further, kicking open the very end door and raising their guns at the Ace of Spades, Hatter's father.  "Well, I didn't figure I'd get flowers for my funeral before I was even dead."  He said as he stared down two gun barrels with flowers sticking off the ends.
	The bikers didn't so much as flinch as they said, "So true."  It was simultaneous, as were the shots ending the life of the leader of the Spade clan not a second later.
	"The hell?"  Wondered the Hatter as he tapped his watch.  "The thing stopped.  Hey, we're going to head back home, I'm going to get dad to take a look at his watch.  I'll take you to the arcade tomorrow."  As the light turned green, the Hatter cut a lane of traffic and merged onto the expressway heading home.
	And at the mansion, the bikers pulled the flowers off their guns and progressed towards the door.

---

	The Hatter knew there was something wrong when he saw that the door was down.  He thought (or more or less hoped) that it might have needed replacing, but he knew in his mind that it didn't.  He rolled his bike up to the garage and hopped off right after the Dormouse.  He kicked the kickstand down and walked towards the door, praying for the best.  
	But when he got to the door, he realized he had gotten the worst.  There were dead bodies littering the end of the entryway.  How many, he didn't bother to count.  He jumped over them in a mad dash towards his dad's office.  How he prayed for him to be alive.  He ran past his mother's room, looking into his dad's office.  The door was swinging slightly because of the breeze from the open windows, and his dad was sitting in his chair.  He dashed down and jumped over another dead body, and by the time he had reached the doorway, knew that there was no hope.  His dad a single bullet hole between his eyes.  He was dead.
	The Dormouse had taken his helmet off, and was at the front door covering his mouth and nose with his oversized sleeve by the time the Hatter returned.  He walked slowly, head hanging lower than usual.
	"Listen to me closely now.  I need you to-- In fact, it's imperative that you follow these instructions to the word."  Said the Hatter slowly, looking over the dead bodies.  "I want you to go to your room and grab a day or two's worth of clothing.  Take whatever's important to you, and put it all in a black plastic bag.  Take it outside and put it next to the trash so it doesn't look suspicious."
	"Why--"
	"Just listen."  Snapped the Hatter, cutting the Dormouse's questioning short.  "Then, I want you to go to one of our bars.  One of the ones we control.  Namely, I'd try the one about two miles away from here, down by that small strip mall."  Continued the Hatter slowly, trying to make sure he squeezed in all the detail he could.  "Talk to the bartender, and ask him who the regulars there are.  Ask him to take them out into the back alley, but be wary of anyone who's decorated in jewels or expensive clothing.  They're no good.  I'll bring your stuff with me when I go to meet you."
	There was a long pause before the Dormouse questioned again.  "Are you going to be okay?"  He asked
 	"Yeah."  Replied the Hatter, before getting a confused look on his face.  "You're only sixteen, aren't you."
	The Dormouse nodded slowly.
	"You'll need proper identification to get in."  Continued the Hatter as he reached down, flipping over a body and reaching into his back pocket.  He pulled out his wallet, opened it, and looked inside of it.  "Here, take the Jack from in here and stick it in your wallet.  Might as well take the money, too, considering there's quite a good amount."  He threw the wallet to the Dormouse after closing it.
	The Dormouse caught it, and opened it up.  The wallet was leather, and on the inside rested a Jack of Spades, some credit cards, and about a thousand dollars.  He slowly removed his wallet from his front pocket, and flipped that open as well.  Inside of that rested a two of spades and some old reciepts.  Holding them both in one hand, he carefully swapped out the cards and took the money.  After he had finished, he closed them both up, sticking his back in his pocket, and tossing the other back to the Hatter.
	The Dormouse was still quite shocked, because just a minute ago, nothing was wrong.  And then he walked into his own house to find everyone dead, orders barked at him, and had been promoted from the lowest officer, to the Ace's right-hand man.  That was quite a jump for him, and quite suddenly.  Most people, even those born into something high like a six or seven, couldn't find their way to Jack in their lifetime.  He had just made it there from a two.
	The Mad Hatter put the former Jack's wallet back in his pocket and rolled him back over to how he layed.  "Okay, you've got you're instructions.  That Jack symbolizes you as my most trusted man.  Get going, and don't let me down."  He said, harshly, as he stood up again.
	The Dormouse nodded as he walked briskly towards his room to gather his possessions.  The Hatter leaned against the wall at the end of the entryway, and stood there staring at the pictures hung on the wall leading to his dad's office.  He saw his family.  Him and his dad, him and his uncles.. Even one with him as a young child with his grandpa, who was once the Ace.  He looked in the reflection of the glass in one of the pictures to see his mother laying in her sofa, a bullet hole in her neck, a flask of booze in her hand.  He hadn't bothered to check on her earlier.  She had always been dead to him.
	He heard the garage door open, and his car rev off down the long driveway.  He looked down at the dead bodies and sighed unsteadily.  He had no experience in running the clan, there were always his uncles that it'd be passed on to.  He wasn't old enough to drink yet, and he was caught up in a system that involved all the dirty corners of life, the dirt under your nails.  And then he heard sirens and a car in his driveway.
	"How in the hell did someone call the police on a mansion in the backwoods?"  He questioned softly of himself.

---

	"Hello, I'm detective Roberts."  Said the man as he walked in, flashing his badge and looking at the pile of dead bodies.  "Oof, I got called out on a few gunshots... This is a massacre!"
	The Mad Hatter nodded slowly, examining the man's badge carefully.  "Two shots to every body."
	"Two  perfect shots..." Replied the man, walking over some of the dead bodies, but still staring at them as he talked to the Hatter.  "Are there any more dead?"
	"Three more down the hall."  Replied the Hatter simply.  "Here, I'll show you.  Follow me."  The Hatter walked down the hall and pointed out his mother and the other dead body.  There was something that wasn't right about the officer, and the Hatter knew it.  He just couldn't quite place his finger on what.
	How did he get called in from this far away on repeated gunshots?  And why aren't there ambulances following him?  And how did I manage to get home before anyone responded to the call?  The Hatter thought to himself.  Then he looked at the man's hand.  He had a ring on each finger; a simple gold band on one, but the other was what caught his eye.  It was a silver band with a pink diamond in it, in the shape of a diamond.
	He led him down the hall to his dad's office, where his dad was in the same position he was just earlier.  The detective walked up to the desk and leaned on it, looking over it, as the Hatter walked over to the wall near his dad's weapon plaques and leaned against it.
	"Well, what happened to two bullets per body?"  Asked the detective.
	He's going to try and kill you.  He's going to play nice, and wait for you to turn your back.  You're the last in the line of Spades.
	"Hm?"  Questioned the detective again.
	"If you'll notice his wound, it's wider than normal.  I'm guessing they were simultaneous gunshots to the same place."  Replied the Hatter as he slid his hands around the grips of the two pistols behind him.
	Skill shots.  Make him match the other bodies.  Thought the Hatter to himself.
	"True.  Did you know this man?"  The detective continued questioning.
	"He was my father."  Replied the Hatter as he slowly started to slide the guns out of the plaque.
	"Really now?"  Asked the Detective, turning suddenly to face the Hatter.
	The Hatter nodded slowly as he stared into the eyes of the detective.
	"Here, let me call in some investigators and we'll get all this checked out.  We'll find out who did it.  But you might want to leave the area, this is a crime scene."  The Hatter watched him reach for his waist.  His hand reached behind his coat, exposing the handle of a well-taped gun.
	The Hatter didn't waste time at this sight and flung his arms around from behind his back, pointing his newly acquired pistols at the detective.  At the same time, the detective flung his arm out and pointed his pistol at the Hatter.
	Bang.
	Time stood still in that very moment for the Hatter.  He didn't know if he had been hit or not.  Adrenaline pumped through his veins.  He didn't remember if he had pulled the triggers or not.  His ears rang.  His vision was blurred.  He attempted to focus on the detective again, but he didn't need to.  He could see the blood slowly dripping from his eyesockets, even if he couldn't make out where he had hit him.  The detective was dead; was he hit himself?  He couldn't quite tell yet.  He didn't feel any pain.  He dropped his arms to his sides and looked at his chest.  No blood.  But he was wearing a black shirt, so it wouldn't have shown anyways.
	The adrenaline slowly deteriorated from his veins and things came back into focus.  He was shaking all over, so he sat against the wall to try and calm his nerves.  He looked at the detective, whos body must have toppled while the Hatter was checking himself for injuries.  A shot through each eye.  Quite a bit more gruesome than what he had seen earlier when walking into his house.  Definately not as clean as the previous kills.
	He slowly droned out of the building, staggering.  When he got out the front door, he looked down at his hands and noticed that he was holding the pistols with a death grip.  He sat there staring at the pistols for some time.
	After what must have felt like an hour of decisions, he walked slowly back into the house, still shaking slightly.  He had business to do, and a family line to keep.

---

	About half an hour later, after the sun had set, the Hatter walked out of the building.  He had taken the time to collect every card from the bodies, from the Two to the Ten, the Queen and the Ace.  He had also grabbed a holster to go on the inside lining of his jacket to hold his guns, and had nabbed his father's prized sword.  The sword had something of a rapier handle to it, with small, but sharp, spikes on it, with a Japanese straightsword blade.  The handle was silver, and the blade was steel.  The sheath was jet-black, and polished, with an ornate design made of emerald.
	It was night by the time he stepped away from the porch.  He slowly walked towards the garage and opened it.  He knew he couldn't take his bike because of the sheer fact that he had to transport the bags.  After opening the garage, he stopped suddenly.  He stood there for a while before reaching into his pocket and pulling his wallet out slowly.  He calmly opened it up and looked solemnly at the King of Spades that was sitting behind his driver's license.  That one little card showed the fact that he was the Ace of Spade's son.  But anyone who believed strongly in fate could say that it had also predetermined his life since he had been handed the card.
	He slowly reached in and pulled it out.  He reached into the pocket that would normally hold his money, if there weren't so much of it from the dead bodies, and if it weren't for the fact that he was holding all but two cards in there.  He stuck the King of Spades in there, and pulled out the Ace card.  He knew what it meant if he were to take over the head of the family.  He'd have to deal with the business of gambling, crooked cops, drugs, war, death, revenge.  A system that involved all the dirty corners of life, the dirt under your nails.
	But despite it all, he continued to slide the Ace into the spot that the King of Spades had occupied for so many years.  And in that little motion, was officially one of the three highest powers in that large city, and the cities surrounding.  His power extended more miles than he had probably even traveled, but none of that mattered.  His focus was on living.  And after that, his focus would be on revenge.
	He quickly closed his wallet back up and put it in his pocket, moving to grab the lone black bag by the trash can.  He picked it up in the same hand he was carrying his in, moved to the driver's side door of his green Acura.  He popped it open and tossed the two bags at the foot of the passenger seat, and tossed his hat on the seat.  He sat down and closed the door, pulled down his seat belt, and pulled the key off of his keyring.  A little while later, his car revved to life and rolled out of the driveway and towards the bar in which he was to meet the Dormouse.
	"What the hell are we here for again?"  Asked a man in the back alley of the bar, which was filled with eight other men, the bartender, and the Dormouse.  The alley was closed off with three walls and a fence, the only entrance or exit being through the bar or over the fence.
	"Because, damnit, this is the Jack of Spades.  This bar is owned by the spade clan.  See how this system is working yet, or do I have to spell it out any more?"  Replied the bartender angrily, for he had been dealing with them for half an hour in the Hatter's absence.
	"This kid doesn't look important.  He's a fricking runt!  A runt with mouse ears!  I'm not going to obey someone like that because he holds a card.  Are you kidding me?  I'm out of here."  Replied the man as he began walking towards the door.  But before he could advance more than a few steps, a soft thud was heard behind him, a hand was pulling his forehead back, and something sharp was being pressed against his throat.
	"You know, right now I don't have much respect for you.  I'm going to ask if know who I am, since you don't seem to get who my friend there is."  Said a voice from behind him slowly.
	The man gulped, and slowly squeezed out an answer as he stared at the sky, focusing on the touch of the blade pressed against his neck.  "T-The Ace of Spades, I presume?"
	"That's right.  You seem to have more respect for me than my friend here.  Now why is that?"  Asked the voice, slowly still.
	The man opened his mouth to speak, but found no words coming out.
	"I'll tell you why."  Said the Hatter simply.  "It's because at this point in time, I own you.  I hold your life in my hands.  And I can take it away."  The blade pushed closer to his neck.  "And unless you'd rather lose your life than respect me, that's exactly what you're going to do.  Respect me.  And for that very same reason, you are going to respect my little mouse friend there."
	The Hatter released the man and kicked him to the ground.  "Because if I find you've shown anything but the utmost respect for him, you better hope you can collect a hundred rings before I can find you."
	At the last comment, a couple people that caught the joke had a short chuckle as the Hatter sheathed his sword.

---

	"What?!"  The scream was heard halfway throughout the house around the 'War Room,' where it originated.  "You mean that out of nowhere, these two random punks neutralized eleven out of thirteen Spade members?"  The White Rabbit laughed whole-heartedly at this.
	The White Rabbit was of average height, and slightly portly due to years of inactivity.  He wore a blood red dress shirt underneath a black and white pinstripe vest (with matching pants).  As his name might imply, he had rabbit ears that perked up, and then folded back down halfway up.  What also added to his rabbitish appearance was the fact that his hair had turned white, and he had two large tufts of hair on his face (one from each cheekbone) hanging down.  He had a monocle for reading that was stuck in his vest's chest pocket, on which was embroidered the Clubs symbol.
	He was previously a very highly praised militairy general.  He had served his country and faced death many a time doing so.  He had actually served as a private at the beginning of the war, and had moved his way up.  When a reporter got a hold of that story, the media at home couldn't have enough of it.  He made a decent amount of money off of the media, but unfortunately never realized that the war had to end sometime, and that the media would drop his story quicker than he could grasp it.
	"That's what I've gotten out of it so far."  Came a slightly gruff voice.  "Apparently, the only two Spade members left are the Mad Hatter, a kid of Nineteen, and the Dormouse, who's all of what?  Sixteen now?"  The person speaking was the March Hare, also known as the Jack of Clubs.  He had off-white hair, and was currently wearing a white t-shirt and a sand-colored, many-pocketed vest, along with khaki jeans.  As his name might also imply, he had rabbit ears, except his barely left his head before folding downward.  One of them covered his eye, and the other was normally pushed or perked out of the way.  On his vest were three small pockets, slightly wider than a pencil, all three holding a bullet.
	On his shoulder was a lizard no taller than the size of his head sat a chameleon lizard.  He was currently green for he had no reason to change color at the time, but was wearing a deep red coat along with black jeans.  His name was Bill, and he was the Ten of Clubs.  He was the Jack's right hand man, and though clumsy, was always good for a laugh or two.  That and his stealthiness was unrivaled.
	"So, should we move in, or wait longer to see what they do?"  Asked the March Hare of his higher-up, the White Rabbit.
	"Hm...  Move in.  This 'Mad Hatter' and his friend shouldn't be too hard to deal with.  They were just faced with a massacre that they barely missed.  I'll let you decide how many men to take.  After you take care of them, I want everyone on security to be twice as alert.  Whoever the people were mean business."  Replied the White Rabbit, obviously skilled in giving orders.
	"Right, sir, but I think Bill and myself will take care of it."  Said the March Hare.  "One, you need the security.  Two, the two people left alive will probably notice an army advancing more than they'll notice a sniper in the trees."
	"Very well then.  Should you choose to advance today, I recommend before daybreak.  The cops shouldn't be too far behind us in figuring this out."  Replied the White Rabbit as he walked to his window, looking out it.  "And don't forget," he mentioned mockingly before the March Hare started to get up to leave, "that if you get killed, I'll have to replace you."
	The March Hare chuckled, and said, "Very well then, I'll keep that in mind."  He then got up and left the room, walking towards the front door of the building.
	"So," questioned Bill the lizard with his slightly squeaky voice, "What's our plan of attack?"
	"I'll tell you when I find out."  Replied the Hare, simply.  "Until then, sit tight.  We're going to have to move fast to be able to get there before daybreak."  The March Hare exited the building, and walked across the seemingly boundless field to the gate.  All the cars were held in between two sets of gates, so that if one of them had a bomb, it'd go off away from everyone.  He motioned to the guards to open up as he approached, and to close them after walking through them.
	The Hare's car stuck out like a sore thumb, as did the White Rabbit's.  He drove a hummer, and the Rabbit drove a Jeep.  The Hare hopped in and turned it on, which was signal enough for the guards to open up the second set of gates.  He drove out of the second set of gates towards the Spade house, contemplating how he would take care of his job this time, and the gates shut with a slam behind him.

---

	The March Hare pulled into one of the middle parking spaces in the parking lot for a 24-hour supermarket.  He shut off the engine, which died down with a slow hum.  He opened the door and climbed out with Bill sitting on his shoulder.  He left the door open and walked around to the back seat, opening the door for that side and slowly, very carefully slid a sniper rifle off of the back seat and into his hands.  He shut the back door with a shove from his foot.  He freed one hand by holding the sniper rifle by the barrel with the other, locked the doors from the inside of his Hummer, and shut the door with a slam.
	It was a few minutes away from being sundown and being barely light enough out to see.  Around the parking lot the March Hare was in, there were streets that led in in front of the store and to the left.  To the right and behind the store were two fair-sized, wooded hills at a steep slope.  Bill, still perched on the Hare's shoulder, pulled out a map and looked at it for a while.  The March Hare looked at him, and Bill put the map away, pointing at the hill to the right of the store.  The Hare nodded once, and ran quickly, yet silently, towards the hill.  His large, padded feet allowed for silent movement.
	After a few short moments, the March Hare had reached the hill, which was scattered with thin trees.  Without a pause, he shot upwards on the hill, placing his foot at the base of a young tree and shooting upwards again.  He continued to do this, making sure not to be struck by a branch or pick a tree that was too thin, along with making sure that his sniper rifle didn't get damaged.  He continued nimbly working his way up the hill, with the trees getting slightly wider, until he reached the top.  After placing foot on the top of the hill, he continued running forward, effortlessly jumping over short barb-wire spool fences and spools.  He wasn't quite as silent, due to the added weight of the sniper rifle and the noisy twigs and leaves that were on the ground, but anyone could have easily mistaken it for the wind.
	He continued running until he came to a point where the forest simply stopped and a large stone wall stood.  Once again, without stopping, he changed his angle slightly to the right, placed one foot on the wall, and catapulted back off of it and up into the air.  In about mid-jump he placed both feet on a tree behind him, and pushed off back towards the wall.  He reached the wall and one more time, pushed off of the wall and back towards the tree.  When he reached the tree this time, though, he latched onto the base of a branch (so as not to disturb the twigs and leaves on the end) by wrapping one arm around it (the other holding his rifle) and both legs (along with both ears, but they wouldn't save him if he were to fall).
	Okay.. assess the situation.. you don't think you attracted any attention, did any alarms go off?  The March Hare thought to himself.  He perked one ear away from the branch slightly to check.  None.  Good.  Now then, you've got your assets?  Sniper rifle in the right hand, Bill retreated into your pocket.. and good.  Your bullets didn't come loose.  Okay, slowly start to move your way up onto this branch, and we'll get a clear view of the situation.
	The March Hare swung his way around the branch untill he was on top of it, rather than on the bottom, and layed close to the branch.  He preferred dawn rather than dusk, due to the simple fact that at dusk, anything white or off-white stuck out like a sore thumb, whereas at dawn, the sun would decide what color everything was, and things that were white generally blended in.  Thusly, he thought it was a shame that this couldn't wait until dawn, due to the police.
	Once he was on top of the branch and laying across it, he brought the sniper rifle up with him.  He grabbed a bullet from his vest and loaded it in as quietly as he could, and looked through his scope towards the spade house that was a good fifty feet away.  He checked through the window, only to see an empty dining room with a large chandelier above the table.  He checked through another window to see the faint figures of a couch and a recliner (only seeable in the dark due to the flooding light from the kitchen, the two apparantly connected).  He had no more windows to check, so he slowly moved the sniper rifle towards the open lawn between the wall and the house.  He scanned it carefully, finding nothing.  He checked behind the house quickly, still only to find nothing but a couple of bushes that apparently lined the fence.  And finally, he checked the front of the house, only to find a big surprise.
	What the hell?  The March Hare thought to himself as he stared at the police car that had pulled up not long before sunset.  The police are here rather quickly...  We're heading back.  I'm not going to risk this one.  We'll find them another time.  With that, the March Hare kicked away from the tree branch, pivoting on his elbows, and swinging down.  His feet landed firmly onto the wall, and he let go of the branch and dropped down from the wall.  The instant his feet touched the ground again, he started running just like before towards the parking lot.  Besides...  It's more fun when the hunt's actually a challenge.

---

	"Now, would anyone else like to challenge the authority of the Spade clan, or would you like to keep your lives?"  Asked the Mad Hatter, his annoyance coming through in his voice.
	Everyone sat quiet for what seemed like several minutes, before the crowd slowly split down the center, gliding away like a door opening to someone.  From the middle of the crowd, a dark shadowy figure slowly walked out.  Even with the lack of light, a pair of cat ears were noticable, along with a tail that slowly whipped its way back and forth through the air.  As he took a step, his hand slowly motioned downward, sending a yo-yo downward, and as he took another step, he brought it back up.
	What faint light there was shined upon his face, exposing a smile, inhuman, literally stretching from ear to ear, teeth clenched together.  Through this smile came a voice smooth as butter, but with an edge like a knife.  "I'll take you up on that."
	The Hatter slowly drew his sword, and just as the sound of metal scraping against metal came to a close, the mysterious figure's yo-yo stopped in his hand.The Hatter tried to focus on his new opponent's eyes, to find some glimpse of his emotions going into this fight.
	But before he could catch a glimpse of light, the cat's yo-yo shot at the Hatter.  Between the darkness of night surrounding them and the Hatter being caught off guard, he had little time to react.  He raised his sword to try and block the projectile toy flying at him.  The yo-yo hit the rapier-like handle hard, denting it in and trapping his hand.  He could feel the blood running down his fingers already as the cat pulled his yo-yo back, but it was only some minor pain and could be fixed later.
	The Hatter charged at the cat before he could finish pulling his yo-yo back.  He swung, only to find the cat was quick enough to strike it back with the yo-yo.  Following and recovering from the block, he kicked at him, only to get his leg knocked away by what seemed to be a paw too big for its owner.  He swung again, only to find the yo-yo wrapped around it and pulling it down.  The Hatter reached in his jacket and slid one of his guns out with his free hand, and pointed it square to the cat's chest.  He found the gun knocked quickly out of his hand by that same paw, claws scratching him this time.  They were now standing face-to-face, the Hatter still only able to make out that obvnoxious, mocking smirk.  They were both lacking a weapon, the cat currently having the upper hand with his claws.  The Mad Hatter couldn't afford to lose his second gun yet, so he was running out of options.
	The Hatter spit square in the face of the cat.
	The cat hesitated for a little bit and as he started to lift up his paw to wipe it off, the Hatter sucker punched him dead in the stomach.  The cat leaned over a little, a desperate gasp for air.  The Hatter then brought his knee up to meet the cat's face, and as the cat shot back up, in the same motion, the Hatter kicked him square in the chest.  The cat flew back, the yo-yo cord being cut from the tension on the sword, and the Hatter regained his balance.
	The cat rolled against the ground just as the Hatter charged him.  As the Hatter ran at him, smoke slowly started rising from under the cat.  The Hatter continued charging, sword held ready to decapitate the cat.  He shot through the smoke and swung, only to emerge on the other side of the smoke still with no blood on his blade.  There was no cat.
	The smoke dissapated slowly, and the Hatter noticed that the bystanders in front of him had barely ducked enough not to be missing heads.  Everyone had the same look of confusion on their face, all questioning where the cat had gone.
	The Hatter then noticed the blood dripping from his fingers.  "Uh.. You," he pointed with his sword to the bartender, who flinched back slightly, "Go grab a pair of needlenosed pliers.. I need to detach myself from this hunk of metal."
	As the bartender left into the bar, the Hatter looked back at where the cat was last seen standing, small wisps of smoke rising from the ground yet.
	"Damn ninjas."