For Tomorrow We Die

**"For Tomorrow We Die"** is the twelfth episode of *Revolution* and the 87th episode overall.

The episode was released on April 17, 2022.

In the episode, the Doe of Cervidium attempts to extract Slate Oldman's power from him. In Toontown, the Toons prepare for their uprising.

## The Episode

—Fliess, Vulpus—

—April 27, 1051—

—4 Days to Revolution—

Plotting and scheming at Talonclaw Castle was a fantasy. It felt fanciful, like kids playing with toy soldiers, or students reenacting parts of the War for history class. But once they left, once the Free and the Big Four and the Scuridian pirates and the Toons departed the ruined seat of Felexa’s monarchy, the air changed. There was a distinct pressure in the air of a brewing revolution.

Eileen Irenic was exhilarated by this energy. The first of May was days away, and their revolution was so far undetected.

*Their revolution.* What did that mean? Theirs the Cartonians? Or theirs including hers? Did she now feel like she had a stake in this?

Of course she did. They all did. If the revolution was unsuccessful, Toontown would most assuredly be lost. Eileen wanted Vella Vixen dead as much as the rest of them.

The Scuridian pirates, led by Chequer Alvo, left Talonclaw in the other direction. They were to return west to Scuridiae and the Vixen Sea, ready to wage naval warfare on the unsuspecting foxes. Cale Metfin went with them too.

Shea Ernestevara and Pyotr Osvoboda parted ways near the exit of the Death Fields, taking their groups with them. Usa Uhuru, Culper Tallmadge, and the Toons pressed south for Vulpus.

They were sheltered in different places over the nights, and tonight they were staying in a sleepy village called Fliess. It was located on the Vulpus-controlled Cartonian River and was thus an unlikely place for a safehouse. Nonetheless, with nothing else visible in the valley, it felt safe to Eileen.

Usa and Culper were old friends with the village’s *de facto* leader, and so they were given lodging in his home. Alice, Mickey, and Piggy went with the innkeeper, who only had three rooms available and all three conveniently vacant. Mickey’s personal nurse, Flo accompanied him.

The group was dwindling in size. It was a bit worrisome, as there was safety in numbers. But Eileen had come to trust Usa and the others. They clearly had their best interests at heart. Way more so than the foxes or the bandits on the road.

As for Eileen’s shelter arrangements, two elderly spinsters named Caro and Dot offered a place in their dwelling.

“You can sleep in Caro’s room,” Dot said sweetly, turning on the light in a modest bedroom. The bed was pristinely made despite the short notice that company was coming. Eileen glanced across the hall into Dot’s bedroom, which was conversely adorned in tasteful and sentimental decorations. Eileen wasn’t sure Caro even slept in the bland room.

Both of Eileen’s hosts, and indeed the entire village, were foxes. It was alarming to her when they first arrived. All the safehouses thus far, including the previous ones inside Vulpus, were home to species familiar to Eileen. Or at least species that Eileen knew not to be evil.

Caro and Dot prepared dinner. Eileen offered to help, though she did not want to, and thankfully her hosts insisted she sit calmly in the living room and wait. She did not make small talk, because she didn’t know what to talk about. She hadn’t met a fox she liked yet. Alice and Piggy had their grand tale of rescue from the Eusuchian death camp by a fox, but Eileen had no such story. The foxes she knew were like Vella Vixen, evil to the core.

“Dinner is served,” Dot said with saccharine delight. The three sat around a table bedecked with food. It all looked amazing. Too amazing? Eileen poked at the carrots, wondering if they were laced with arsenic. Dot caught her staring, and reached out for her paw.

“Shall we say thanks, little mouse?”

“Thanks for what?” Eileen asked, drawing back her paw.

“Thanks for you,” Caro grinned. Eileen looked her up and down.

“What the hell are you talking about? Am I some sort of sacrifice?”

Dot and Caro glanced at each other with sad expressions. Dot turned back to Eileen and folded her paws over her lap.

“Thank you to the world and to the circles of destiny for bringing Eileen Irenic safely to our home. Thank you for the Free, whose mission is just and righteous.”

“Well said,” Caro said with a familiar look toward Dot. Eileen pondered what had been said. They were a trusted safehouse, and now Eileen was being rude.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t know any good foxes.”

Caro chuckled.

“Neither do we. Just the ones here in the village, and a few that have come through. I’m afraid you won’t find many good foxes in Vista. Certainly not anywhere near the Rook of Vulpus.”

They began eating, so Eileen followed suit. The soup was exquisite.

“Are you both in the Free?”

Caro nodded.

“Dot has dedicated her entire life to the cause.”

Dot blushed.

“Indeed. Ninety-five years.”

Eileen gaped. *95 years*? That was more than just a lifetime. It was unfathomable. The fight against the Cogs was just a couple of years. That was draining to Eileen. She couldn’t imagine constantly fighting against a world that was so oppressive and horrible, and inflicted by your own kind.

“Have you noticed any change in all that time?” Eileen asked. Dot shrugged, head down.

“Some. Not enough.”

“May I ask you something?” Eileen said, leaning over the table. “Why are either of you in the Free? I don’t understand why you would support an organization that seeks to bring down your species’ government.”

Dot seemed tickled by the question. Caro had a more serious answer.

“The Vixen Queen is deranged. Any logical person can see that.”

“Carrie, let me.”

Dot smiled again at Eileen. She was an absurdly cheerful person for someone about to enter a revolution.

“Our species has been afforded every privilege, and every opportunity. But to Caro’s point, it is plain that these privileges are the result of injustice. The Vixen Queens have sought to break down other species so that the foxes will become a dominant species. The thing is, there can be no dominant species. It is not the Cartonian way. Foxes benefit from the injustice inflicted by the Vixen Queens, and so each of us must choose whether we will blindly arch our backs and shoulder this world, or chip away at the pillars holding it up. We both chose the latter.”

It was touching sentiment, but a little too highfalutin for Eileen’s taste.

“Aren’t you afraid of what will happen if the revolution is successful? Won’t foxes be turned on? Winners of war are not forgiving.”

Dot was perplexed. She thought about it for a second.

“I think that if the world on the other side of this revolution is as bad or worse, I would not want to live in it.”

Caro gave a firm nod of assent.

“So,” Eileen said, switching subjects, “do the Free know about your relationship?”

Caro raised her eyebrows and Dot smirked.

“Our living arrangement? Many old women like us have roommates. Helps with the rent.”

“I meant your romantic relationship,” Eileen grinned. Both women were completely taken aback. As they both denied it, flustered as ever, Eileen got her answer.

“No, then. I know the Free is progressive but I daresay not as progressive as Toontown, my home.”

Caro and Dot were staring at her openmouthed.

“How…how did you…know?” Dot gasped. Eileen could almost laugh. To her, the signs were obvious. She pointed out to them the two bedrooms—one clearly underused—their chemistry and innate understanding of one another, and the way they kept looking at each other.

“We will appreciate your discretion,” Caro murmured. “The Free has not pushed for gay rights as part of their revolution. But we hope in the new world that we can achieve acceptance.”

“Does the village know?”

“Oh, yes,” Dot smiled. “This is a good place. Much like the Toontown we’ve heard about, I’d think.”

“Really?” Eileen said. “Are there interspecies relationships too?”

Caro leaned back, recalling a fond memory.

“Once,” she said. “Years back. My sister fell in love with a deer. He was in the military, of course, and he died of the plague. Poor thing. My sister was devastated.”

“And nobody in the village thought she was a heathen like Victoria Vixen?”

Dot’s paws fluttered up to her mouth.

“Goodness, no! My, Eileen, you are well-versed in Cartonian lore. That specific tale no longer holds water in this town. It is clear to us, and to our neighbors, that Victoria Vixen was the victim of that long winter leading up to the War.”

This was music to Eileen’s ears. She was suddenly very grateful to know them.

*Thanks to the world*, she said to herself, *for bringing me into this home*.

“Well, look at that,” Eileen mused aloud. “I now know two good foxes.”

Caro and Dot were positively tickled with glee.

—Toontown—

—April 28, 1051—

—The Next Day—

—3 Days to Revolution—

“They’re in there,” Aleck Harding reported back to Constance Miller and Drema Yawn. “The children are still in Hans’s office.”

The three stood in the plaza of Toontown Central. It was lunch hour, and most of the Vulpine officials in the building once known as Toon Hall had gone out for their midday meal. Hans was inside, with the children.

“Ready, Drema?” Constance asked.

“I think so,” she whispered. Her paws were shaking. “I’ve just never done anything this large before…I hope it works.”

“Do it for the babies,” Constance urged. “Think of your daughter, if she was the one in there. I know your power is strong enough.”

Drema adjusted her glasses over her whiskered nose and ascended the steps of the plaza toward Toon Hall. She paused in the center of the plaza between the bank, the library, and Toon Hall. The Vulpine guards out front stared at her. She outstretched her paw.

Constance had never seen Drema’s BioFreak affliction used in person. She hardly ever used it, by her own accord. Whereas Slate Oldman openly embraced his ability, she had always harbored shame about it.

Drema’s paw tilted back and forth. Her eyes were closed, deep in concentration.

“Oy! What are you doing?” the guard at the door shouted. Drema’s paw continued to move back and forth, until she suddenly turned it so her palm was facing the building. Her wrist flapped as her paw formed a dome, as if encasing the building. Then, she snapped.

At once, the guards fell to the ground. Constance could hear one of them snoring from where she stood. Drema turned around, looking exhausted.

“They’re asleep. But you don’t have long. Minutes at most.”

Aleck and Constance raced into Toon Hall. The receptionist was asleep at her desk, and four soldiers were lying in the hallway, having fallen where they stood. Constance marched directly toward Hans’s office. Kilo’s triplets were snoozing peacefully in an oversized bassinet. They were unattended; Hans must be elsewhere in the building.

Constance wasted no time. She grabbed the bassinet and ran out. As they crossed the hall and the lobby, the foxes started to rouse.

Drema was standing outside the old Toon Headquarters, now the base of the foxes. Another sleeping curse was being enacted. This time, for Kilo.

“Take the kids,” Aleck called to Constance. “Run!”

Drema snapped her fingers again, which was Aleck’s cue to enter. Constance lifted two of the triplets out of the bassinet, and Drema took the other. Together, they ran.

—The Rook of Vulpus—

—Vista, Vulpus—

“Things are falling apart,” Vella said aloud to Rook and Tick. She was angrily throwing darts at a board affixed with a picture of Macaw Kitt, her chosen target of the day. “This wasn’t how my reign was supposed to go. I totally believe Kitt helped those Toons try to escape Antlerstag. He wants them alive so that I’m weaker.”

She hit a bullseye. Rook winced.

“I need to remind him that the power in Cartonia rests with the Vixen Queen. I may not have chosen the name Queen Vixen, but I *am* the Vixen Queen!”

“Of course you are, your Majesty,” Tick adulated.

Vella took her time throwing her next dart, which ultimately ended up missing the bullseye by an inch.

“I’m taking Psittancyna from him,” she stated. “Skulksmarshall Hunter, start shipments of parrots to Eusuchia. Have a leak of that information reach Psittancynesian sources to see how the Macaw reacts. He may have information to trade for the safety of his citizens.”

Rook stood from his chair, staring at Vella.

“Majesty,” he said gently, “what do you mean…that you’re going to ship parrots to Eusuchia?”

Vella turned to him, startled, as if she forgot he was there.

“Oh,” she said, “to the labor camps.”

Rook was confused.

“Labor camps?”

“Labor camps,” she repeated. It was a lie. She was lying to him. Her attitude toward him had not shifted at all, despite the obvious threat. Every time Rook confronted her about his experience on the island, she acted as if she had no idea what he was talking about. Why would she act like that if she sent him to Eusuchia to watch the extinction practices carried out?

In that moment, it hit him like a jolt of lightning.

*Vella did not send me to Eusuchia*.

The boat captain, the Commandant, everyone on the island. Not a soul knew he was coming, because he hadn’t been invited by the Vixen Queen at all. Somebody wanted him to see what was happening to his species. Somebody wrote him that invitation in Vella’s hand. There was only one viable candidate, an entity so dastardly they’d stop at nothing to get their way.

The Free.

—Antlerstag, Lyme, Cervidium—

Over the past month, Slate Oldman had been subjected to hell on earth. His body had been ripped apart, sliced and slashed by Doe Halley and her team of nefarious pseudo-doctors. Most of it he couldn’t even remember, whether that be due to unconsciousness or trauma repression. His power had weakened significantly since coming to Antlerstag.

There was not much time left in Slate’s life. Though it had been long, his life was meant to end peacefully at his home in Toontown’s Brrrgh. Now, he feared the reality of a painful termination in the birthplace of the BioFreak experimentations. Many had perished here in the dungeons where he was imprisoned. He would join the list of the dead.

Doctor and Bradley were imprisoned down here too, in the cell opposite him. They were always shouting at him, trying to get him to wake up or communicate. Slate had lost all ability to do either. He couldn’t move, not even his lips. He could only lie motionless on the hard, metal floor in his cell and await the next surgery. One of the doctors propped him up agains the wall after the last one, so he was able to see his friends across the way. They looked terrible. Both of their furs were blanched, falling out. Slate was in no better shape. He had hardly any fur left.

It no longer flurried around him, as it once did when he was scared or nervous. Any snow he conjured turned to ash. He was also cold, a sensation he had never experienced. The curse of his affliction was that he was never able to get cool. He was always hot, even in the snowiest neighborhood in Toontown. Perpetual winter was not enough to sate his temperature.

Someone began whistling beyond the cell bars. Slate’s eyes, one of the few functioning parts of his body, moved slowly to the source. Doe Halley came into view, pushing a cart. Slate didn’t recognize the song she was humming and whistling along to. She used her key to open his cell. The cart followed her inside. Slate took one quick look and saw a host of horrible contraptions. Doctor and Bradley were shouting at her, but she ignored them.

“Hello, Slatey, dearest. Missed me?”

She could be the only other person on the continent and Slate would never be in a position to miss her.

“Let me introduce you to some friends. This is Barrow.”

She held up a long carving knife caked with rusted blood. Its handle had a sturdy grip.

“And this is Fawn. Isn’t she beautiful?”

This one was something like a wrench with spiked ends. “It’s for snapping bones.”

*Lovely*.

“This one is my favorite. I’ve named him Ellis.”

It looked like a regular pair of kitchen tongs, but sharper. She leaned over him, right up to his ear.

“I’m going to use this to split open your chest. I’ve always wanted to rip out the heart of a BioFreak!”

Slate was terrified, but his face was immobile. All the fear was expressed solely in his gaze. Halley could tell, because she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“You can’t stop me either,” she taunted. “You’re useless now. The great and wise Slate Oldman, reduced to *nothing*. All these years, all those stories, of the powerful and unyielding heirs to Cartonia! What a waste…”

Slate was once furious with this little girl. Furious at her mother and father, who let her become so cruel. Irate at a world that would allow such evil to take a position of power and oppress others. That anger subsided as his life waned. Instead, he was sad. Solemn for the world he would leave behind, and frightened of his coming departure from it.

“But first,” the Doe said, smiling with girlish glee, “there’s something we have to do. Doctor!”

Slate looked over to Doctor in his cell, but the name was a coincidence. Halley had called for someone else. A fox that Slate had come to recognize all too well.

Dr. Czufran Monet opened the cell and brought in a gurney. Two burly guards lifted Slate—he was so gaunt that two were not necessary—and strapped him onto the gurney.

“What are you doing to him!” the voice of Bradley cried out.

“Something revolutionary,” Halley sang. “BioFreaks were born in this castle, you know. Right here, in these cells. The procedure is irreversible, or so we think. Slate here is going to be the first BioFreak to lose his power. Would either of you care to bear witness to the new process of extracting?”

Slate felt numb. Each word was like a sharp blow to his heart. His power was a central part of his identity. It was not just his, but a burden and a gift shared by his entire family. Generations and centuries of Oldmans stretching back to the War. To take that away…

The gurney started moving. Doctor and Bradley passed in his periphery. Despite the invitation, neither were let out of their cell.

Slate tried to move, tried to rebel, but his body betrayed him. He was broken completely, unable.

Dr. Monet and Doe Halley brought him to the lab on the ground floor of the castle, where he was brought on his first day here. The dungeons were for torture and Halley’s “play dates.” The lab was for proper medical procedures, such as this extracting.

Slate was moved from the gurney to the operating table. Halley stood on a stepping stool, looming over him. She was bouncing up and down with excitement. Dr. Monet changed into a surgical gown with goggles and gloves. Her fox features disappeared behind a mask.

“Now,” she said, approaching. “Your affliction runs in your blood. A blood transfusion will extract your power.”

She inserted a needle into his arm. A few flurries burst upward from the wound, but turned to ash and fell onto the floor.

*You’re wrong*, Slate silently said, since he couldn’t speak. His power wasn’t in his blood. It wasn’t anywhere. It was just *within*.

His father, Zaffre Oldman, once pointed at his heart and said that the snow came from there. Slate had never questioned the origin of his power, since no doctor in Toontown could ever contemplate how it was biologically so. Slate himself had no idea.

He only hoped that neither did Dr. Monet.

“Is it working?” Halley asked eagerly. Dr. Monet looked at the screen over Slate’s head.

“I’m not sure. His vitals are…”

She paused. “Strengthening.”

Slate did feel better. The blood transfusion was sucking out the poison instead of putting it in. Halley grabbed for the needle.

“Stop it! Take it out!”

Dr. Monet slapped her hoof away.

“No! It’ll work! I just need…”

She stabbed Slate with another needle. Pain ripped through him and he bellowed. The snow called to him, a familiar and enticing cry that had long eluded him. He reached out for it, and took hold. The snow came to his fingertips and his eyes snapped upward. Halley grabbed his arm, lifting it up to show Dr. Monet. His veins were turning blue.

“What’s happening to him?!”

Slate wrenched his arm away and grabbed the Doe’s throat. Ice crystals danced around her neck, freezing her skin. Fear bled into her bulging eyes.

“The Blizzard Wizard is back,” he gasped.

And then he exploded. His power erupted from within and skyrocketed into the ceiling, blasting a hole through the castle. Debris rained down through the gap, crushing the Doe and wounding Dr. Monet, who dove for cover under the operating table. Slate felt his energy returning, albeit waning, and he stumbled off the table. He crumpled to the floor. Dr. Monet made a grab for his ankle, but he wriggled away and hurried into the corridor. He tried to catch his bearings, running on adrenaline.

*Where are the dungeons*? he thought to himself as he searched for Bradley and Doctor. As if on autopilot, fueled by the many trips into and out of those horrible dungeons, he found them.

Both Doctor and Bradley were stunned when they saw him, up on his two feet and armed with his power. He blasted the cell with ice and the door opened.

“Come on!”

They got on either side of him, and helped him upstairs. Exhaustion was weighing down on him. This was the most movement he’d had in a month.

Upstairs, the corridor was on fire. The debris and explosion must have severed gas lines or something. Palace guards and Cervidian soldiers were racing about, trying to contain the destruction.

“What’s going on?” Doctor asked Slate. “What happened?”

He looked at Doctor pointedly.

“I killed the Doe.”

“Oh,” Bradley blurted. “Well done.”

A voice screamed from down the hall: “HEY!”

It was Dr. Monet. She wielded a gun. Doctor and Bradley pulled Slate toward one of the exits. They didn’t have to sneak out this time, they just needed to *get out*.

The people of Antlerstag were preoccupied with the physical damage to the castle. Slate saw fire and smoke pouring out of multiple upstairs windows, billowing toward the clouds. He vaguely recalled seeing the sky after his eruption inside. Had his power really severed through seven or eight stories? Was he…capable of that? He had used his snow to bring blizzards, to freeze or halt, but never to destroy with such ferocity.

And yet…

“This way!” Doctor cried, hurrying for the maze. “We can lose them in there!”

“We’ll lose ourselves in there!” Bradley argued. Slate’s legs gave out and he fell. They were on the grand avenue of the Antlerstag estate, not far at all from the castle and too visible. Slate tried to get back up, but he was weak again. He gasped for breath.

“Slate?” Doctor uttered. “*Slate*? Are you okay?”

“Tired,” he managed. “Help me.”

Doctor and Bradley hooked their arms under his and began to literally drag him down the avenue toward an entrance to the hedge maze. Slate was facing the castle, where the deer were herding a group of ducks toward a ladder propped up against the castle. At gunpoint, they were forced to climb the ladder.

They were BioFreaks. Water-controlling BioFreaks, used as firefighting fodder. He watched them with sadness.

“Look out!” Doctor cried, pushing Bradley to the ground. Slate noticed a figure racing toward them. Dr. Monet and her gun. She fired off all six rounds in her pistol. Bradley cried out. Slate jerked his head toward his friend, who was holding his ear and howling with pain. Blood poured through his fingers. Dr. Monet continued to advance on them. Slate didn’t know who she was shooting at, but she clearly didn’t want them to escape. Slate just murdered the Doe of Cervidium. He’d be executed if captured.

His vision refocused on Antlerstag, still burning and smoldering. This castle, which sparked so much fear and horror for so many. This castle, which birthed the BioFreak experimentations and tortured countless innocents. This wretched place, which would continue to use BioFreaks and people like Slate to further its wicked agenda.

Slate was dying, but he seized all that was left. The remainder of his life’s energy channeled through his veins, amalgamating in his chest. He summoned all the strength he could muster, and rose to his feet. He positioned himself in front of his friends, shielding them. Just as Dr. Monet approached, Slate outstretched his arms and screamed.

An avalanche of ice and snow erupted from his appendages and through his mouth. The power blasted away from him in a tidal wave, lacerating the hedges and covering the garden in a thick barrage of snow. The castle was impacted with the force of a thousand bombs, and it froze from top to bottom. Slate himself began to freeze, his paws turning to ice and his veins running cold. His eyesight faded, crystals of ice cracking across his pupils.

In the blackness, the swirling purple sky of the Aurora returned to him. In that moment, he was back on *The Imperial Conqueror* with the Toons before they sailed into Cartonia. The dome of glittering stars shone down from above. His fellow Toons were gawking upward, seeing a host of images that eluded Slate.

“It’s them…” Mata Hairy whispered distantly.

“The founders,” Doctor exclaimed.

They all saw the same thing. They all saw the 500 Founders of Toontown. They saw their ancestors, but Slate saw nobody. He kept watching, waiting, searching. Until finally, two figures appeared to him. One he instantly recognized: his Leprolian ancestor, Azure Oldman. The original BioFreak in the Oldman family. He was accompanied by a female deer wearing a modest tiara.

*Who is that*? Slate wondered.

She responded in the sky,

“I am Deirdre, Doe of Cervidium.”

“She is a BioFreak too,” Azure said.

Snow encircled Azure’s head as a ring of fire swept around Deirdre.

“We are of a similar cut of the BioFreak affliction,” she said. “We both have powers that are as deadly as they are beautiful. You have been raised to use your power to protect others, but you must understand the destructive quality it has.”

“The early BioFreaks,” Azure jumped in, “recognized the fatality of their powers, but also saw them as tools that could be used against injustice.”

“BioFreaks silently stand to protect,” Deirdre said. Her eyes glowed orange.

“As you well know,” Azure smiled. “You have already protected Toontown from the Cogs using your gift.”

“And you will need to protect others again,” Deirdre warned. She reached out, flames trailing her movements. “Your snow will soon melt, and so you must be brave.”

“For you are not alone,” Azure finished.

A shadow broke through the pair of them, disintegrating the Aurora, and Slate was back at Antlerstag. Dr. Monet stood before him, covered in snow. Her fur was dripping with icicles. She had fallen over in the blast, but survived. When she stood, she was up to her thighs in deep snow. The labyrinth of hedges were stripped bare of their leaves, scattered across the blizzard. Antlerstag was frozen solid, engulfed in ice. Nothing moved.

Doctor and Bradley were behind him. He could sense them. But all around, circling him as a seance of spirits, were BioFreaks. Azure Oldman was there, as was Doe Deirdre. His father, Zaffre. All the Oldmans, wearing official Leprolian robes. There were others too, others that Slate did not recognize.

*For you are not alone*.

Many were looking at Slate, but many more were looking at Antlerstag with sorrow. Toward the castle that incarcerated and transmogrified them. Where they died.

“Never in my life,” Dr. Monet was saying with wonder, “in all my years of research, have I ever seen such strength from a BioFreak.”

She was inspecting his face, which was freezing. His eyesight was still splintered by crystals.

“Leave him alone,” Doctor whimpered from behind. Dr. Monet ignored him.

“You’re not just a curiosity. You are a threat, as I have long maintained that all BioFreaks are. And this proves it.”

There was hatred in her eyes, a look Slate was accustomed to.

“*You’re dying*,” Azure said from afar.

“*I said your power was deadly*,” Deirdre cautioned, gesturing backward at the castle, at the people frozen in place. She turned back to him, gazing at his freezing limbs. “*I also meant for yourself*.”

Dr. Monet reached for her bag.

“Let me examine you,” she murmured.

Zaffre appeared at once. Slate felt himself de-age decades, back to when he was a boy. Zaffre leaned down to him.

“*Son, don’t let her touch you*.”

The doctor got closer.

“*Son*…”

Slate shoved Dr. Monet. Ice and snow burst from his fingertips, and she flew backward. His arms froze, and his whole body went rigid. Dr. Monet’s body shot like a bullet across the avenue, hurtling through the air. She slammed into the castle walls. Instantly, they shattered like ice. The force of impact was monumental. The two antler towers wavered, then collapsed unto themselves. The entire castle caved and crumbled. Antlerstag was destroyed.

Slate’s arms began to fracture, his fingers breaking off one by one. He was an ice sculpture now, immobile and fracturing. Yet he was still a boy, young and youthful again. Zaffre came back to his side. The others had dissipated.

“*Never has there been a more perfect blizzard*,” his father whispered. He reached out and caressed Slate’s cheek.

He shattered.

—The Outskirts of Vista, Vulpus—

—April 29, 1051—

—The Next Day—

—2 Days to Revolution—

Usa left the Toons alone to reckon with what she had just learned from one of Culper Tallmadge’s spies, who scampered off. It was just the four of them—Usa, Alice, Eileen, and Piggy—hiding in this abandoned railroad station a few miles north of the city center. Mickey was with Flo, his healer. The plan was coming together, and the four women were slated to enter Vista tomorrow.

But yesterday, out of nowhere, Antlerstag was destroyed in an apparent BioFreak attack of *snow and ice*. Alice was certain that was Slate’s doing, but it was shocking. Slate’s power was frequently used against the Cogs, usually in one-on-one combat. It was always minor. The largest use had been during the climate shift before the Exodus. Alice had been in captivity at the time, but she had heard from others how Slate single-handedly preserved the Brrrgh’s cool temperatures and precarious glacier by summoning a blizzard large enough and sustainable enough to encompass the whole neighborhood. It must have been an incredible sight, to see him bend the elements like that…

Whatever happened in Antlerstag, it was destructive. The reports—from afar; there were no surviving witnesses—described a sudden explosive blast from the vicinity of the castle. The entire structure turned to ice, then shattered. The whole castle was gone, flattened. No survivors.

Bradley, Doctor, and Slate were unaccounted for. There was a glimmer of hope that Slate had brought about the attack in an act of escape, but where would they have gone? Cervidian forces surrounded the city and were actively hunting for Slate and any other known BioFreak. They were suddenly far more dangerous than anyone had ever thought.

Alice was worried about Bradley, and worried he was no longer alive. She wanted more than anything to give up on the Free’s plan and take off on foot to find him, but that was futile. The revolution was days away. Her best chance of reuniting with him was to see this plan through. Tomorrow, they would enter the catacombs of Vista and lie in wait until Sunday, when they’d strike at the Vixen Queen on the day of revolution.

“I’m sorry,” Usa said, coming over to the three Toons after their period of silent reflection. “I’m sorry the Free was unable to save your friends. May they rest in peace.”

“They’re not dead,” Alice retorted. “Have they located their bodies?”

Usa sighed.

“No, Alice.”

“Then they’re not dead,” Alice insisted. “Bradley isn’t dead. I’d feel it.”

Usa did not argue, though Alice could tell she disagreed.

“I can’t imagine Slate doing something like that…” Eileen muttered. “Unless he was provoked so badly that…”

She lowered her head into her paws. “If they did survive…they’ll be killed.”

A feeling of loneliness crept over Alice. Even when she was imprisoned on Eusuchia, she could sense beacons of light across Cartonia in the form of the Toons she had come here with. Some in Vannastadt, some in Mallardia, some elsewhere, wherever. But as the darkness consumed them one by one, the beacons went out. For a moment, Alice felt as if the remaining Toons were right here, plus Mickey. Could Bradley, Doctor, and Slate be dead? Leaving only Alice, Piggy, Eileen, and Mickey alive? It was a lonely thought.

“They’re not dead,” Piggy Pie agreed. “Once the Vixen Queen is dead, we’ll go look for them.”

“Yes,” Alice said, gazing through the frosted window at the desolate railway tracks, wondering where they went. “Bradley…I’ll find you.”

—Toontown—

Constance’s little sleeping spell plot had immediate and drastic consequences. She was dethroned as Colonial Governor, and the office was abolished. It was a nominal posting anyway, but Commandant Hans Einfach thought the move was more than symbolic. A sudden eviction order for all Toons was implemented. The marshes and Chipper Acres were the only two viable options for Toons to live now, but even that was marketed as temporary.

All of this was met with mild disregard by the Toons, as tomorrow was their uprising. It may not even matter.

Kilo’s triplets and Kilo himself were safely hidden in the tent villages in the marshes. Constance was in hiding as well, and had taken refuge in the hollow elevator shaft of the Cogs’ destroyed factory. As ever, the foxes remained wary of the old Sellbot Headquarters, fearing its ruins and characteristic darkness. The same could not be said for Aleck Harding, who pried open the elevator doors and stuck his head over the edge. He shone a flashlight down at Constance, who was trying to sleep.

“Care for an end-of-the-world nightcap?”

He shook a bottle of something. Most Toons didn’t drink, but Constance was not among that number. She clambered out of the shaft. They went to the cliff’s edge where the uprising was first planned. Of course, they had banked on Kilo’s Tooncogs then. It was only a few weeks ago and it felt like years.

The sky was clouded, but some stars still poked through. Aleck poured two glasses, one leg dangling over the ledge.

“Cheers to the end of the world.”

“Stop saying that,” Constance rebuked. “Manifest a victory.”

Aleck snorted.

“Now you sound like Drema Yawn.”

Constance didn’t reply, but finished her glass. She savored the taste, wondering if they’d have an opportunity to celebrate anything tomorrow, or ever again. She knew their attempt was not futile, for they were doing it. If the Toons truly believed they stood no chance of beating the foxes, they wouldn’t do anything at all.

“Once the clocks strike twelve,” Aleck said suddenly, “we attack.”

“Is that final?” Constance asked. The time had changed numerous times in planning.

“It is. Where will you be?”

“Toontown Central,” Constance replied. “Distracting Hans. You?”

Aleck poured another glass.

“The Docks.”

Constance looked away from him. They had been good friends for a while. He was her deputy when she was Chief of the Toon Patrol. Before that the two of them had been neighborhood deputies together. He was a reliable and trustworthy friend.

“I don’t want to talk about the uprising,” Constance stated. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Aleck wiped his mouth with the back of his paw.

“Like what?”

Constance shrugged.

“I don’t know. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone. You may  never get another chance.”

Aleck laughed.

“That’s a deep subject. But okay, I’ll bite. Let’s see…”

He mulled it over for a minute.

“So…did you know that Bradley and I are the same age?”

Constance scoffed.

“That’s your secret?”

“Hold on! Did you know we were the same age?”

“I did not.”

“Yeah, we went to school together. And do you know who was in the younger class?”

“Alice?”

“And Adam Avogadro.”

Constance exhaled.

“You knew Dr. Molecule as a kid?”

“I knew of him,” Aleck admitted, “though at that time he wasn’t going by Molecule. The thing is…Adam had an infatuation with me just like he did with Bradley. It wasn’t very long-lived, because I graduated soon after it started. But he would follow me around, invite me over to his house, offer to help me with my homework even though I was grades higher than him…I don’t know; it was weird.”

“But you never mentioned any of this during our investigation into him!” Constance decried. Aleck threw up his paws.

“It wasn’t pertinent. Besides, I was embarrassed. I should have seen the connection between Adam Molecule and the missing Adam Avogadro. I also…well, I didn’t want Bradley to know that there could have been a victim other than him. Maybe if I hadn’t graduated, and Adam’s obsession with me festered like it did for Alice and Bradley, then I would have been kidnapped. Bradley could have been spared all of that horror. I’ll always carry the guilt of failure with me. The failure to stop Adam before he ruined Alice and Bradley.”

He gave her a weak smile before downing his glass. “There’s my secret.”

Constance squirmed, realizing that by asking him to share that she would be expected to reciprocate. Part of her wanted to keep her secret hidden as she always had, but given the prospect of mortality tomorrow, she wanted to say it to someone. Who better than Aleck?

“I’m in love with Eileen. It’s unrequited.”

Aleck’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh.”

“She’s not…she wouldn’t, you know…”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

Constance nodded.

“Yup.”

Eileen never talked about love after the death of her husband and children. It was as if she was resigned to widowhood forever as penance for being unable to stop their demises. And even though she was as accepting and loving as all Toons were, Eileen was not attracted to women. Constance wondered if Eileen ever realized how deeply Constance loved her, or if she just thought they were friends and allies. For Constance, that was never enough, would never be enough.

“Shall we drink to lost love and heavy regrets?” Aleck asked, lifting his glass. Constance chuckled.

“What, another? We’ll be drunk!”

Aleck cocked his eyes.

“There is no better night for it, for tomorrow we die.”

—Rook of Vulpus, Vista, Vulpus—

—April 30, 1051—

—The Next Morning—

—1 Day to Revolution—

“This better be good!” Vella scowled to Jewellia as she got out of bed early because the Macaw requested an urgent virtual audience. He must have gotten word that Vulpus was going to start shipping parrots to the extinction camps on Eusuchia. Ha! Word traveled fast.

Skulksmarshalls Tick Hunter and Rook James were already in the Command Room when Vella arrived. Tick and Rook had hardly slept since the attack in Lyme, which demolished the Cervidian government. The Doe and her mother, both dead. Dr. Czufran Monet: dead. Almost all high-level government officials were inside Antlerstag when Slate Oldman blasted it to kingdom come. An interim government of mid-level appointees had tried to take up the reins, but were failing spectacularly. The Free had risen to power in many Cervidian communities, including major cities. Lyme was the only bastion of true Cervidian power left.

The Toons were nowhere to be found, but then again they were probably inside the castle when Slate exploded, and all three were presumed dead.

“You look awful,” Vella remarked to Tick. “Need more coffee?”

“No, your Majesty,” Tick mumbled. “I am awake.”

He didn’t look it. She would probably have to permit him some sleep if he was going to function. The issue was that Cervidium was now vulnerable for the taking! The Vulpine army was being dispatched to “control” the situation in Lyme, which would eventually become a full conquest.

“How’s the Lyme initiative?” Vella asked Rook.

“Efficient. Our soldiers will have the city by day’s end.”

She turned to Tick.

“And the BioFreaks?”

“Rounding them up as we speak.”

Slate was proof that the BioFreaks were capable of destructive damage. It only took word of what Slate had done to show other BioFreaks that they had the potential and the power to use their affliction against Vulpus. That Vella could not allow.

Tick dialed the Macaw, who appeared on the big screen at the end of the room. Vella sat in the Queen’s chair, arms folded in front of her.

“Good morning, Kitt.”

“Good morning, your Majesty.”

The Macaw was in his breakfast robe. This was hardly the proper attire for a conversation with the Empress of the Vulpus Empire!

“Shouldn’t you—“ Vella began to reprimand, but the Macaw had the gall to cut her off.

“You can save your threats and your ultimatums, Vella. Your soldiers are coming nowhere near the Psittacorum. You’ll be too busy rebuilding the ruins of Cervidium. Majesty, I am not against you. ”

“Aren’t you?” Vella doubted. “Make me believe you.”

The Macaw grinned.

“I’m sure you already know this, given your extensive network of spies and agents, but on Sunday, the first of May, the Free are staging a revolution against you.”

Vella’s eyebrows fell. *What*?

“Can you clarify what you mean, Kitt?” she asked as plainly as possible.

The Macaw feigned shock.

“*Moy Psvixenne!* Do you not know? Your day of reckoning is approaching. The Free is coming to knock you off your throne.”

The line disconnected. Vella leapt to her paws, angrily slamming her fist against the table.

“He’s bluffing! Hold the Cervidian offensive!”

Rook and Tick glanced at each other.

“Majesty,” Tick said slowly, “I fear it is true. There are signs…the Scuridian pirates are retreating from the coast as if preparing to unite for something…and there is movement through the Death Fields. We still cannot find the other Toons, and there have been whispers of—“

“Damnit!” Vella screamed. “We’ve known, then. We’ve had ample warning that this shit would happen! You failed me, Tick. You too, Rook!”

Rook looked away. Tick cleared his throat.

“Majesty, please provide us with direction.”

Vella clenched her teeth.

“It’s war.”

## Production

### Continuity and Story Arcs

After his visit to Eusuchia in “All The Queen’s Men,” Rook finally realized that it was the Free who sent him to view the extinction of the crocodiles.

Doe Halley’s knives and torture devices are named after famous Stags of Cervidium, including Stag Ellis and Stag Barrow.

Slate Oldman relived the scene of the Aurora from “Aurora,” in which all the Toons saw the 500 Founders of Toontown. However, Slate instead saw Azure Oldman and Doe Deirdre, who warned him of his power and impending death.

Zaffre Oldman, Slate’s father, last appeared in the season 1 episode “The Blizzard Wizards.”

## Trivia

* The title of this episode comes from a well-known idiom: "Eat, drink, and be merry, **for** **tomorrow we die**." The idiom's origin is a combination of two phrases from the Bible.
	+ The line was quoted by Aleck Harding: “There is no better night for it, **for tomorrow we die**.”
* Fliess, the village where the Free shelters, is German for "river."
* After five seasons of speculation, Constance Miller was confirmed as a lesbian, in love with Eileen Irenic.
* The destruction of Antlerstag is one of the author's favorite scenes of the season.