9 October 2025 – Devil's Side
The smell of burnt toast filled the room before he noticed it.
Bunnyman — or rather, the man beneath the mask — quickly pulled the blackened slice from the rusted toaster, sighing as he scraped it against the sink. Across the room, his sister sat at the small table, legs folded under her, wrapped in a baggy hoodie and blinking away sleep.
"You're really not good at this breakfast thing," she mumbled, nursing a hot cup of cheap coffee.
He grunted. "Eat it before it turns to charcoal."
Their apartment was small, the kind of space that didn't echo because there just wasn't room for silence to stretch. It was warm in its own broken way—water stains on the ceiling, creaky fan, secondhand furniture. But it was safe.
And for him, that was enough.
Later that day, he walked into the part-time store where he stocked shelves and fixed busted electronics. The manager barked at him for being three minutes late — again — but he just nodded, apron already tied.
He moved through the motions. Fix. Stack. Clean. Smile. Numbness came easily when you needed it to.
During his break, he scrolled through public posts on a cracked phone screen. Car thefts. More disappearances. Names that blurred together. But a pattern was forming. He saw it. He felt it.
One post caught his eye:
"I just bought a car. Gone in two days. Dealer stopped responding. Don't trust anything in Devil's Side."
Another name. Another clue.
Another crack in the mask.
When evening rolled in, he picked up groceries — instant noodles, two apples, some milk. It was all he could afford that week. When he got home, his sister was on the couch with a book she'd read a dozen times. She looked up and smiled.
"You're late."
"Didn't think you'd notice," he replied, dropping the bag gently on the table.
She watched him for a second, like she wanted to say something deeper. But then she asked, "Did you get strawberry this time?"
He nodded and tossed her the milk carton. She caught it, grinning.
Later, when the world outside went black and the city lights made Devil's Side glow like a neon wound, he stood in front of the mirror again.
He pulled on the suit.
The gloves.
The boots.
And finally, the bunny mask.
The eyes behind it changed.
He wasn't the brother anymore.
Not the employee.
Not the leftover of someone else's life.
He was Bunnyman now.
The rooftops were colder tonight. The wind carried whispers and engine growls in the distance. He crouched on the ledge, looking down at the address Tape Girl gave him.
A car warehouse.
Quiet. Clean. Too clean.
He didn't move yet. He just watched.
Waiting.
The hunt had begun.