The lantern shown over the patch of wilderness, illuminating the rabbit and the frog. The frog standing in a shin deep hole in the ground, stabbing the shovel in his hands further, hefting the dirt out. He grunted under the strain, not quite used to such physical labor. “Why do I have to do this again?” he asked.
The rabbit curled his lips at the frog. The cigarette holder in his lips bobbing slightly with each word. “Because I saw him, Voodoo. Obolensky lives… Clockwork and unsightly. But the man lives and walks amoung us once again.” His ears twitched as he heard the thud of the shovel hitting something solid.
“So what’s that mean?” the frog asked, using the shovel to push away the dirt from their newfound tressure. The rabbit grinned. The ember of his cigarette showing in the brass of his eye. “It means…” he chuckled, dropping into the shallow hole and dusting off the top of the crate that had emerged, the insignia of the milita emerging from the dust and debris that covered it. “That there’s going to be work for us soon. One way, or another.”
Someone needs to write ‘Obolensky lives’ on the walls. *nods*
Except for the fact that he’s definitely dead.
And who might you be, Robolensky? A clone?
I am Doctor Obolensky, Evil Genius!
Or….am I? I admit, I’m having a bit of trouble on that point myself.
I thought I heard a t-ticking when I passed through the city walls, c-c-coming from the untamed lands surrounding the city… But maybe it’s just me.