A country lane, the southernmost part of the Domain, just North of the Magic Forrest.
1969.
The farmer wiped his brow and walked over to the fence that marked the boundary of his land. Leaning on the fence, he looked across the road beyond. Nothing yet.
He reached into his pack and brought out a bulky piece of cloth. Within the wrapped cloth, there was an apple, half a loaf, some chicken and a hunk of cheese. He set this on the top of the fence and reached back into the sack to retrieve two bottles of cider to accompany his lunch.
'Marnin!'
Across the road, another farmer was waving from behind his boundary fence. A dog could be seen between the slats.
'A good day to you,' called the first farmer.
'I got ale, cool from the stream, some peaches an an apple pie,' called the farmer with the dog. 'Which side today?'
The lone farmer considered. 'Best I come over to you. Save hitching ol Albert there over t'fence.' He started to climb over and stopped. 'You hear that?' He peered northward along the long winding roads, which travelled up on a slant. 'Looks like somethin's a comin. Ya can see the dust frum here, like.'
The second farmer grimaced. 'Bloody modernity.'
His friend scrambled over. 'It'll be that fool Toad no doubt, racin' around in that smoke belching monstrosity. Ain't natural.'
'Aye, big muck a muck e thinks e is, with his fancy mansion an time on his hands to do nowt but roar around botherin decent folk.'
The visiting farmer reached his friends side of the road and climbed on the fence. 'It's almost here ... that's fast even for Toad.'
'Gentlemen,' came a third voice. 'That does not appear to be Toad.'
They both looked at the dog. 'What'sat ye say Albert?'
'I merely observe that my eyesight is keener than your own, as is my hearing and if i'm not very much mistaken, I spy a six foot rabbit on a motorcycle.'
'Motor wot?'
'Tis like a bike. Best get over before e gets here!'
Seconds later a Harley Davidson and it's black biker jacket clad rider roared by, shaking the fence and almost knocking the farmer over to the other side. His friend steadied him and then shook a fist at the rapidly disappearing machine.
'Bloody Hare!!!'
'Aye,' said the other. 'That un's worse than Toad. Damned fool jumps on anything new from the realm of the mortals as soon as it shows up. Even dresses like em.'
'Bloody modernity,' said his friend.
***
Totally oblivious to this and already almost a mile down the road, The Hare was enjoying the feeling of the air in his face as he sped along, his long white-grey hair trailing behind him in his self created slipstream.
He revved his engines and sung along with the song that was playing on the part tech, part magic mini boom box he'd had his mage guy trick up for his bike.
'Get your motor runnin'
Head out on the highway
Lookin' for adventure
And whatever comes our way
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space
I like smoke and lightning
Heavy metal thunder
Racin' with the wind
And the feelin' that I'm under
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space
Like a true nature's child
We were born, born to be wild
We can climb so high
I never wanna die
Born to be wild
BOOOORNNNN TO BE WIIIIIII'IIIIIIILLLLDDDDDD.'
He was making good time - the road surrounded by fields and farmland was already giving way to the edge of the forrest. Another ten minutes at this rate and he'd have to slow down, as it went from road to track.
The Hare was energized. This was how to live life - he'd gotten away from the confines of the city and the overbearing hand of the damn Tortoise. 'Thinks he can tell me what to do and how to live,' muttered the Hare angrily. 'Just because he funds my lifestyle, bought my apartment, covers my debt and pays all my bills ... damn wrinkled green ... time I got a job eh? Well I'll show you ... get a job? I bloody well will you shell covered old ...'
His good mood evaporated, The Hare lapsed into silence. 20 minutes later he was thinking about his plans again, how he'd make money on his own terms, using his skills and not be beholden to his so called friend. He could make new friends ... or rather, look up an old one.
The harley roared into a clearing deep in the heart of the Magic Forrest and there was the rustic hut, just where Sam Spade had said it would be. He couldn't resist grinning from ear to ear when he remembered that he had paid the detective and set up the finances of this entire scheme using The Tortoise's own money!
A rounded figure wearing a white peasant smock emerged from the hut as he pulled up. Under one golden wing, a shotgun was clasped, attached to a string that connected to a small ring clamped to the bird's bill.
The Golden Goose waved his gun and shouted. 'Stop there, whoever you are. I don't know how you egg hunting bastards found me, but I swear I'll blast you full of holes!'
The Hare dismounted and dusted down his jeans. 'Hold up son, that's no way to welcome an old friend.'
GG squinted. 'Hare? What are you doing here? How did you find me?'
'Lower that gun and invite me in for a beer and I'll tell you.'
The Goose lowered his wing. 'I've only got ale ... I make it myself.'
Once inside, The Hare looked around in distaste. 'Rustic living eh Goose? Very nice for the peasantry, but I prefer the noise and roar of the city. Give me a fast vehicle, nightlife and shops ... can't live without shops.'
The Goose set down his shotgun and looked around for his spectacles. 'Ah, that's better. Can hardly see a thing without these. Now, what brings a city slicker like you to the middle of nowhere?'
'Middle? That's being generous. Arse end more like,' snorted the visiting cony. 'How long have you been hiding away out here?'
'Five years I think ... it's hard to keep track.'
'Ah, then you won't have heard about what's going on in the desert.'
The Golden Goose hooked the ale jug with the solid tip of his wing and fetched two large mugs by their handles with the other. 'The desert? South of the forrest and the plains? That's the one place more desolate than here.'
Taking the ale jug and the mugs, The Hare spoke as he poured. 'That's where you're wrong my old chum. 'A few years back a whole city appeared there. Development since has been quite rapid.'
The Goose was incredulous. 'A city? What story was it from and why did it take all this time to appear?'
'A MORTAL city!' exclaimed his guest.
'What!? From the so called 'real world,' Has that ever happened before?'
'Not to my knowledge Goosey. Course, ol Tort had a study commissioned - those stuffed shirts on the board got all excited about its 'potential,' and the fact that it appeared in what they call 'no creature's land,' made em all the more anxious to have a stake in it. Anyway cutting a long story short, somehow a mortal city attained mythical status and now it's here in the Lands.'
'Ok. Still not sure what this has to do with me. What's this place called?'
'The original was named Las Vegas, but they call this one Myth Vegas and as for what it has to do with you my friend ... you're going to help me score a fortune!'
The Goose backed away warily. 'Whatever scheme you're cooking up, Hare, you can leave me out of it. You know the trouble my ... ability has brought me. I can't finance you and I won't let those damn egghunters find me.'
The Hare held out a placating hand. 'You don't need to worry about that. What I have in mind ... you'll be protected and we'll both make a killing.'
'I don't get it. So there's a city. So what?'
'So this ... remember the casino in Emerald City?'
'Yeah.'
'Pretty much the only big place to go for some gaming action, right?'
'If that kind of thing thrills you.'
'What if I told you that the major industry of Myth Vegas was gambling and entertainment? A whole city dedicated to casinos, leisure, shows and everything that comes with it. Emerald City Casino times a thousand. And ya know what ... every rich idiot with more money than sense is going to be making a beeline for Vegas as word on the development gets out. A whole city full of suckers, just waiting to be grifted out of their not hard earned cash. Think about it GG. Do you want to rot away in hiding forever or do you want to get rich and enjoy life?'
The Goose looked around the spartan one room hut. 'I'm still listening, but I still don't see ...'
'Exactly. Misconceptions, sleight of hand, misinformation and exaggeration. We're going to get the suckers lining up to hand us their money. Look, I know and you know that your eggs are ... well, more limited than legend has it, but ...'
GG cut in with an ironic laugh. 'Hah, you're not kidding. I can produce an egg a day and they're worth maybe 50, 60 in cash. If I wait a week, I can do a big one that's still worth much less than a grand and those idiots think I'm a money making machine. Even before I went away, all I could do was cover my rent.'
'Right, but the legend is different.'
'That legend had every egg hunter from here to Wonderland trying to lock me up in a cage crapping out eggs every day!'
'Well now's your chance to take them. The egg baiting is just one of a bunch of schemes I have in mind and you don't have to worry, we'll be sitting pretty soon and we'll be untouchable. That's the beauty of my plan ... the suckers will be begging us to take their 'investment' money and the more we grift them, the more they'll come back. In the meantime I'm putting together a crew. Jack's already on board.'
'Jack? My old buddy Jack?'
'The same. The ol giant killer himself. What do you say?'
'I'd be safe?'
'Jack will watch your back for you. You'll be the distraction ... the shiny golden distraction. They'll be wining and dining you my friend ... you'll be feted and schmoozed and you'll live the life of riley. If you're in, I'll tell you more.'
The Goose mused for several minutes and then ripped the white smock from his body. 'You can tell me more at the first decent restaurant we find on the way south. I take it we're heading south?'
'We are.'
'Good, because I'm done with hiding.'
The Hare grinned. 'You won't regret this.'
***
Present Day
'I'm not ... my eggs aren't worth much,' wailed the Goose.
Punchinello smiled at the bound waterfowl. 'Oh si, thees we know. You think the master ... you think Loki, he has need of gold? No mi amico, the God of Evil has no need for money, but your eggs ... they have a secondary property, yes? This we find out from someone who knows you long time back .... over forty years, yes?'
The Goose screwed his eyes shut. 'I should never have left my hut,' he moaned.