He walked down the street with an even, calm step. Without any doubts, straight toward his goal.
Rufus was threatened with a humiliating end as someone's toy before ending up on a plate.
He was his friend. A good friend. He would not allow such a fate to befall him. He could not save him, so he would ensure him a dignified and honorable end.
He would prepare for him a magnificent feast commemorating his name.
"Only how should I do it?"
He looked at the notebook. At the beginning he had written one word: "Rufus."
"No, that's probably not it."
He erased it and wrote "rabbit." A moment later he erased that too.
"Definitely not. That's too objectifying."
He thought for a moment and wrote: "Rufus Lapin, athletic rabbit and true friend. An honorary farewell feast."
"Now it's perfect. Only how should I do it?"
He looked around the area as if searching for inspiration. He happened to be walking past a vegetable shop. In the window display were crates full of vegetables. One of them caught his attention. It held fresh, crunchy carrots.
"Right… how could I not have thought of that? Rufus loves carrots."
His thoughts returned to the day he had developed his beet burger with smokehouse smoke. It was thanks to Rufus that he had come up with that idea. He had decided it was good, but nothing beat carrots.
"What he likes should accompany him."
He smiled and added "theme: carrot." A moment later he began working out the menu.
"Carrot cream soup, glazed carrots, roasted carrots, carrot puree, carrot cake… So many ideas."
He wrote them all down for further consideration.
"Only what about Rufus himself?" He thought for a moment. "This should be dignified, hm… It will be harder, but he should remain whole at… his honorary feast."
A moment later he looked at his notes and was satisfied. A coherent menu was beginning to take shape. He was convinced Rufus would be proud, or at least content with such an end. When he began planning the next steps, he happened to glance into some shop window and saw his reflection.
He froze.
He knew perfectly well that the reflection was his, but he had the impression that someone else was reflected in the glass.
He looked at the notebook, then back at the glass, and so several times. After a moment he slowly put the notebook away and said in a very uncertain voice:
"Maybe I should talk about this with Master Arslan?"
At that moment his phone rang. An SMS had arrived. The sender was Rufus. The content was terrifyingly simple. It was a call for help.
"Evan! They almost got me. I hid, but I'm afraid to come out. Please help me get back to the dormitory."
Below was an address. Evan stared at the SMS for a moment. The text seemed as if it had been written by Rufus, but after the fake SMS sent by Albentine, he was not ready to believe the written word so easily. He did, however, know how to check it. He would call him. A moment later Rufus answered.
"Evan, I can't right now."
"Are you in trouble?" Something was off. There was no panic like during the hunt. More some dread or fear, but not terror over losing his life.
"I'm on the carpet with the director."
"How?!" Evan immediately opened his eyes wider.
"I brought self-defense equipment to school. I really can't!"
"Someone sent me a fake SMS from you!"
He shouted into the phone. He heard Arslan's voice.
"Evan, where are you?"
"Straight ahead from the school gate. I can see it. It's about 300 meters from me."
"Go straight to the school! So that you're visible on the cameras. Down the middle of the sidewalk. Without stopping next to anyone."
"Yes, sir."
He moved as Arslan had told him. Down the middle of the sidewalk and making sure he was seen by the cameras. He covered 100 meters and began approaching a pedestrian crossing. The light suddenly changed to red. To be safe he stopped two steps from the crossing. He watched. A camera above him. Another in front of him. The cars seemed to be driving normally. He waited for the light to change.
Then suddenly he heard the screech of tires.
From the left a van pulled up to him.
He jumped aside, but suddenly two masked types burst out from inside.
Before he could react, they dragged him in.
He felt pressure on his arms and a gag in his mouth.
One of the thugs shouted "Drive" and the van moved.
Evan tried to struggle free, but the thugs held him tightly.
"Give me the zip ties and someone turn on the jammer!"
"Already on," someone said as they attached something to his collar.
"Good, plates flipped?"
"Of course," came from somewhere up front.
"Good, drive to the point."
Evan was so restrained he couldn't move. After a few minutes he felt them stopping. The doors opened. The smell of detergents, something like laundry powder and bleach, hit his nose.
A moment later a type approached him with some contraption full of cables. It looked like it had been slapped together off the books in some shady workshop. He pressed several cables to Evan's neck and wrists, then removed the collar. Evan howled as they took it. Without it he had no protection. He was prey.
"Okay, done. Next."
They moved him to another truck. He managed to see the logo of some laundry. They put him inside. Evan howled through the gag. Before he had felt unease. Now he felt true terror. He felt as if he were in the maw of some predator.
After some time they arrived at another place.
There the next people placed him in some metal arm. It lifted him up and carried him farther into the depths of the building. He had unpleasant associations with the slaughter line from the processing plant. He trembled. He was certain it was already over for him.
The arm took him to a station where there was a group of some types with scissors. A moment later they began cutting off his clothes.
"Hurry up! The client is waiting."
The workers sped up and a moment later he was completely naked. Then he rolled into some chamber. Instantly he was sprayed with streams of water and soap, and a moment later a hot blast hit him.
"Clean. To packaging."
A moment later he found himself in another room.
He felt some stamp on his ass. Then they changed his gag. They put some harness on him and placed him in some white plastic box. He was lying on his back. He tried to sit up. Unsuccessfully. The harness restrained his movements too well and was too strong to break.
A moment later a lid appeared. Evan panicked. He was afraid he would suffocate, but strangely he could breathe calmly. He felt the box moving. It was being loaded into a car. He didn't know how long he traveled. Finally he felt the box moving at an angle. As if he were being transported with a hand truck.
It stopped. He heard a muffled sound.
"Please confirm receipt of the shipment."
Then some scratching.
Then the lid opened. He saw above him a tigress in an outfit straight out of a tale from One Thousand and One Nights.
"Mr. Smith," the tigress leaned over him and said gently, "I apologize for the inconveniences, but logistics is rarely beautiful, even when it is meant to serve a legend."