It's about this liquid substance and whoever drinks it becomes a mass murderer, but since it's about bunnies, they don't kill, no, they DESTROY! Haha!

When the console suddenly blared in RC 999, its inhabitants were caught completely off-guard. Agent Cameo had the chopsticks out of her bun and through the speakers before they got to the [—EEP], her eyes wide and almost rolling in their sockets. Agent Supernumerary, no less startled but vastly more composed, looked around warily from his seat on his cot.

"We aren't suddenly in medias res. Why?" he wondered aloud.

"Don't ask questions like that!" Cameo snapped. "Do you want an... an answer or something?"

[blizzpft?] the console volunteered. Cameo yanked out the chopsticks, which trailed a small spray of sparks, and stuck them back in her hair. She glared at the console. The console didn't speak again.

Supernumerary put down the book he was reading. "Well," he said, "there is the small matter of our job to consider. I suggest pushing the button below the flashing red light."

After a moment's hesitation (which, in Cameo's case, could only be put down to rapid calculations of how much she would regret it vs. how much someone else would bleed), she slapped the big red button and watched the incoming mission fill the monitor.

There was a silence.

" ... Nume, sweetie?"

Supernumerary swallowed the cold, hard lump of fear that had suddenly appeared in his throat. "Yes?"

"Do you know what I hate?"

"In order? Sues, disposing of bodies, tea, FicPsych, the color taupe, people who sneak up on you, people who touch your things, people who ignore you, people who think they're smarter than you, people who make long lists...."

"I really hate fluffy white rabbits, Nume."

"More or less than tea?"

"I don't want to go on a mission with fluffy white rabbits, Nume."

"More, then?"

Cameo was a master of moving around HQ. She could get across a small space without seeming to bother with the tedium of passing through said space. Supernumerary didn't even have time to blink before his partner was straddling his crossed legs, one hand fastened claw-like around a bundle of his collar, her breathing sending jets of steam across his glasses. He didn't blink after that because you just don't break eye contact with something that looks like it will rip your throat out the second you stop paying attention. The lump he had swallowed dissolved and migrated out in the form of an icy sweat.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, Nume-darling. I'd hate to see you get hurt. So when the fluffy white rabbits show up, I'm not going to watch. I'm going to be moving very, very quickly in the other direction. Mm-kay?"

"Swell."

"I knew you'd understand." All smiles, she patted his cheek and bounced to her feet, leaving him with only the strength that came from sheer relief at remaining intact. "Well! Shall we? You'll love this mission, Nume, it's got a bit of style in it."

"Oh joy. See how I dance about for joy. The joy, it is so joyous as to be practically joyful."

Cameo giggled as she opened the portal. "You're so funny. C'mon, let's go!"

Supernumerary got up and, leaning over to swipe up his shoulder bag, lurched through the portal after his partner.

It took him a moment to adjust to his new surroundings. The room was familiar, but he couldn't quite get a handle on it. Something was very, very strange—stranger than usual, even for badfic. The light was wrong. It was dim, as though lit by dying oil lamps, perhaps, but somehow too distant. And the textures... the textures were too soft...

"En't this a scream?"

"AAHH!" Supernumerary reeled backwards, arms windmilling wildly—or, as wildly as stop-action animation allowed.

Cameo was dressed in the costume of a late nineteenth century British maid. She grinned at him, plastic teeth making the expression unnaturally wide in her sculpted clay face. The bulging hemispherical eyes with the lifeless black dot in the center seemed to suit her. The accent didn't.

"I told ye it 'ad style," she said. "Get it? Styled?"

Nume shook his head. This was almost too much. He was a claymation figure. Clay-bloody-mation. With clay.

"It's supposed to be plasticine," he muttered.

"Yer gonna ask why." Cameo danced around him. "Go on, ask."

"All right... why in the name of canon are we in a Wallace and Gromit movie?"

"Because," Cameo explained gleefully, "it's a crossover."

"With what?"

The moment he asked, he wished he hadn't. The door to the room opened, and in came the fic's principle character. The agents ducked behind a shelf of beakers, test tubes, and other scientific paraphernalia, and watched the white-coated figure shuffle about the laboratory. This was not Wallace, the inventor. This, Supernumerary realized, was Jekyll, the doctor.

Nume's little black notebook was out before it consciously occurred to him to reach for it. He scribbled down charges (beginning with "Plasticine not clay dammit") as quickly as he could manage with his flat, over-sized hands. He could feel Cameo's delight in his agitation, but he didn't care about that now. No one messed with classic literary figures and got away with it when Supernumerary was on the job.

He forgot about the fluffy white rabbits until clay!Jekyll spilled a decanter of "liquid substance" in the vegetable garden. The liquid was quickly lapped up under the light of the full moon. The vegetables didn't last long, either. However, it was the string of murders by rabbit-bite that tipped off poor clay!Jekyll. Naturally, the only solution was Anti-Pesto.

"'Ere comes the Sue," Cameo said to her partner. "Guess wot kind."

"Doppelganger Sue."

"Right on! 'Ow'd ye know?"

"Because we're dealing with the kind of author who would think Wallace would be much better off with a talking dog as a sidekick, never mind that Gromit communicates quite eloquently with his facial expressions and that making him speak would quite take away the defining spark of the entire concept, not to mention that...." He kept talking. The rest of the universe stopped listening.

However, he was right. When the motorbike pulled up in front of Dr. Jekyll's house, Gromette jumped out of the sidecar. Words were exchanged. Charges were taken down. Night fell. And the fluffy white rabbits finally made their appearance.

The horde materialized from the alleys, the gutters, and the rooftops, mustering for a face-off with their creator and the one meant to be their destroyer. When Cameo saw them, she turned as white as... well, white clay.

"Gimme the charge list." Without waiting for a response, she snatched the black notebook from Supernumerary's hand and, as promised, ran away.

Suddenly, both agents were exposed to the fic. Hundreds of homicidal red rodent-eyes fixed on Nume. He was helpless. His fingers curled. His hands raised, palms forward. He bit his lip and shook.

The rabbits leapt, vorpal teeth bared for the kill.

"—and, last but not least, with being a bloody awful bloody fluffy bloody white bloody rabbit-spawning evil bloody Sue! Die!"

Nume didn't see how Gromette died. All he knew was that he had felt teeth on his throat before all the killer bunnies vanished in a puff of glitter and faux fur. Then he quite happily passed out.

He woke up on his back on a FicPsych cot and blinked up at Nurse Jennifer Robinson. Something was off... the light was wrong, and things were too soft....

Nurse Robinson calmly slid Supernumerary's glasses onto his face before he went into a panicked fit. "Bleepka?"

"Hook it to my veins."