The menu screen appeared, rising from the grassy mound in the field behind the Costco. It was an 8-bit title screen reminiscent of the type of shit nostalgic boomers consume.

  Welcome to the warren.

  Please choose a class: Wompit

  Hare or Rabbit: Rabbit

  Color: Silver

  Clan: The Tarnished

  Begin

  Pip blinked, looked down at his body. Had he always been a three-foot-tall anthropomorphic rabbit in a cowl and hunting boots? He didn’t think so, but then again, what else would he be?

  “Achievement Unlocked:”

  The words flashed before him in the sky.

  “First day in Enderwood.”

  He pawed the fannypack clipped to his waist. Inside, a pair of slimy, bloody goat eyes, a human finger with a silver ring on it, and six red circular pills–the red coloration likely a byproduct of living beside a severed finger and goat’s eyes.

  Now, what would a three-foot rabbit in a cowl be needing these for?

  A voice, shrill but determined, bellowed: “Prepare to die!”

  Pip spun around. Amidst the vast, grassy field, there appeared a human child, no older than ten, charging towards him.

  “For the king!” the boy shouted. He wore baggy, torn jeans and a grimy, Sleep Token hoodie. Held above his head was a crude mace of rebar and welded nail ends.

  A line of text in the air simply stated, “Run!”

  Pip ran. He ran fast, much faster than he’d anticipated. Still, he could hear the shouts of the boy not far behind him, “Come back, you coward!” “Fight me and die!”

  Up ahead, Pip noticed a shallow furrowed mound, some rocky fissure with a hole just wide enough to fit his scrawny body.

  Pip dove, his furry body crashing against the rocky walls of his compact escape route. Suddenly, the act of crawling gave way to the sensation of falling, plummeting, down down down, until the path met him at his face and chest. He was tumbling down deeper and deeper, the sound of loose earth whistling beside him.

  When his body had finally stopped moving, it was cold, dark, and smelled like mud. He rose slowly, not sure how high he’d be able to stand in this unexpected, though perhaps fortunate, tunnel. To his surprise, he was certainly able to stand. Not only that, but upon raising his paws, he realised that he now had quite a bit of space to stretch and breath. He turned around. Far off, a small circle of white indicated the opening he’d leapt through. He thought he could even make out a voice, shouting, “Come back here and fight, you dirty bastard! I’ll cleave you in two!”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Achievement Unlocked:”

  Again, the strange words appeared above him, cutting sharply through the black expanse.

  “Run like hell.”

  What the fuck am I supposed to do now, he wondered. Turning back from whence he came was out of the question, but what sort of terrain lay before him? And it occurred to him: perhaps he wasn’t the only thing hiding down here.

  “Use your eyes to see in the dark!”

  It was that line of text again.

  “I’m trying, asshole, I can’t see shit.”

  Pip scratched his chin. What to do? Surely the text wasn’t referring to those…eyes in his fannypack–those eyes he would have immediately chucked, along with that finger, had it not been for the angry child in the hooded sweatshirt.

  He felt the contents of his pack. Something was pulling at him, urging him to remove those ghastly eyes and stick them onto his own–

  Yeah, he did it. The eyes slid into his own sockets effortlessly. There was mild discomfort as they pushed his regular eyes back and down somewhere. Still, on reopening his lids, he was treated to an indigo-tinted world of interconnected tunnels and strange plants, and–and–a box of Maverick Menthol Cigarettes?

  Well, why not? Despite having just outrun a small child and implanting goat eyes into his own face, a quick smoke certainly wouldn’t hurt. He pulled off the cellophane like he’d been doing it his entire life, and tapped out a single, indigo-tinted stick.

  Now he was really jonesing for a puff–but how was he to–

  “Use your finger to light your delicious menthol cigarette!”

  The line of text again. Well, last time the text had told him to “use his eyes,” now it was asking him to use his finger–obviously it was referring to the severed human finger in his fannypack. He pulled it out, instinctively began to rub the silver ring, until a pop of ovaline light emitted from its tip. He held the finger to his cigarette, which graciously received the small, indigo flame.

  He sucked in the smoke, cool and refreshing. He suddenly felt a little lighter, a little less sore from the fall.

  “Cigarettes heal you!” the line of text assured him.

  “They sure do!” Pip said, enjoying his sudden reprieve.

  “That’ll be eight dollars, pal.”

  The voice, scratchy and flat, came from the pig man to his right. Funny, he hadn’t noticed him before. The pig man puffed a large cigar, and held a pole, at the tip of which was an open box full of differently labeled cigarette boxes.

  Judging by the poorly fitting, sweat stained t-shirt, which didn’t even cover the hog’s belly, and trashy camo cargo shorts, the pig man was no aristocrat.

  “Umm, yeah, let me check…”

  Pip unzipped his fannypack. It was empty, save for the six pills.

  “Sorry, buddy, I just ain’t got it.”

  The pig snorted.

  “Let me look in that gay purse around your waist.”

  The pig moved in close to Pip.

  “Hey, you got Pops? I’ll trade yuh three more packs of Mavericks for two of them pops.”

  Pops? He must be referring to the pills. Pip wondered whether or not this was a good trade, how much were “pops” worth anyway?

  “Make it six packs,” Pip said.

  “I ain’t got six. Tell ya what, I’ll give you the three packs of Mavs, plus two Pall Mall blues, best deal you’ll ever get in the tunnels.”

  “Three Pall Mall blues,” Pip replied.

  “Fuck off. Give me a pop, and I’ll give ya one more pack of Mavs; otherwise, we got a problem on our hands,” the pig said.

  “Just kill him, rob him blind!” came the text.

  “Okay, uh, here.” Pip fished out two pills and handed them over.

  “Alright, that a boy.” The pig man pulled out the Mavericks and Pall Malls from his pole box. “Yeah, actually, I just got one more box of blues, and only two more of the Mavs. Still a good deal, plus I won't tell no one you got them pops, ok?”

  Pip bristled. Even as an anthropomorphic rabbit with a fannypack full of pills and organs, he knew he was getting hosed. He accepted the packs, stuffing them into his fannypack, and the pig man chuckled.

  “Pleasure doin business with ya, Womp.”

  With that, the pig moved slowly through one of the tunnel openings until he was completely out of sight.

  “Pussy.” The line of text above him read.