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Turns out Justin had been following me at some point, and he managed to capture a photo of me in the middle of a wardrobe change.
I feel more violated than I did when the Vipers groped me.
Not that it isn’t a flattering photo. I mean, he must’ve used a fancy zoom lens to get that good of a picture without losing any detail. No graininess, no fuzz. Full-on tits and ass. It looks like a fancy boudoir photo, minus the romantic bedroom setting. Still, the dead freak snapped it without my knowledge or consent, and that’s just gross.
Once I get over my initial burst of rage, I calmly ask Keys if there are any other photos on Justin’s computer.
Turns out he’s got a whole fucking folder of ‘em.
With every click as Keys scrolls through the files, my anger burns hotter. He’s got photos of me in action as the Hare, photos of me through cracks in the boarded-up windows of the Burrow, photos of Kendrick shaking down CEOs and Doc stealing meds.
He’s got more dirt on us than he had on Ramsey.
Why was this guy obsessed with me? As far as I know, I’d never met him before the other night when I kidnapped him from his apartment.
“Is there anything else?” Kendrick asks as Keys scrolls past a pic of him taking a piss in a back alley.
Neil pipes up first. “This is just the photo gallery. He’s got a whole written log of every encounter he’s had with Keys or Bunny, online or, as he puts it, in person.” He points to a different folder on the desktop, labeled REVENGE. All caps. “He wasn’t the most ingenuous about naming his shit. Everything’s so blatantly obvious. Anyway, from what we’ve read so far, after Keys revealed he’s a guy and that the whole flirting thing was a joke, Justin met Bunny’s avatar in-game. He thought it was another setup, so he started tracking IP addresses. That’s when he learned that Keys and Bunny lived in the same place. He stalked her and subsequently the rest of you.”
“So that’s where the Cobra got so much information from,” Doc says. “I wonder why Justin picked the Cobra to sic on us.”
“That’s in the journal, too,” Keys says. “He apparently saw my Bunnyluv avatar on the screen when he was at Neil’s place, and he thought Neil was connected to all this—to us. That tipped him over the edge, and he used the only person he could think of that would be a threat to Bunny.”
I scowl and point to one of the open documents. “He seriously started a pseudo-gang war because he was butthurt?”
“Basically.” Keys rolls his lolli in his mouth and runs his hands through his hair. “He’s the one who hired the reporter to dig into the Cobra and his operations. That poor girl got killed because Justin wanted to get back at me.”
I scan the screen, reading file dates and names. Neil’s right about Justin’s lack of ingenuity; everything is labeled with file names like HARE KILLS DRUG DEALER and TATTOOED GUY ROUGHS UP CORPORATE ASS and BUNNYLUV OUTSIDE. I steal the mouse from Keys and open that last one, which is a detailed account of Keys leaving the Burrow—a rare occasion—to go procure some lollipops. I recognize the date from a time when I was laid up from a fight with some low-level Vipers who were dealing to kids. Since Kendrick would never go buy lollis for Keys and since Doc was usually busy with the clinic, Keys ventured out on his own.
Then I go back to the photo folder and dig through those. Names like HARE IN ACTION and TATTOOED GUY DRIVING flit by, but one in particular catches my attention:
SPANK BANK.
I shouldn’t open that. It could be something innocuous, a folder of hentai or porn images or something. I’m already beyond pissed off, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
They’re all pictures of me. Some are duplicates from other photos, some are new, and some are sick Photoshops of my face on porn stills. I know because the bodies in those don’t match mine. No scars from street fights, no blue-and-pink hair … and the women in these are in sexual situations that I’ve onlydreamedof being in.
And I’ve got four boyfriends.
The mouse cracks in my grip, and I toss the fucking thing across the room with a scream.
Everyone backs up, Kendrick included. Doc holds his hands out, palms out, and speaks in his calm, clinical voice that he usually reserves for jacked-up addicts or psychotics having violent episodes.
“He’s already dead, Bunny. You can’t kill him again, so there’s no point getting worked up.”
“That’s the fucking frustrating part!” I screech. I reach for the monitor, but Neil dives in and wraps his arms around me, pinning me and preventing me from doing more destruction … or so he thinks. I manage to kick the screen hard enough to crack it before Kendrick grabs my legs.
“Bunny, calm down!”
“That fucker! He was fucking following me—followingus—and that’s bad enough on its own, but then the sicko did thiswith my face!”
Doc comes up behind me and gets me in a loose sleeper hold. I know him well enough to know he’s seconds away from making me take a nap whether I want one or not. Since I don’t particularly want a forcedsiesta, I stop thrashing. I’m not necessarily calm, but I’m not fighting anymore, either.
“Are you going to behave?” Kendrick asks, his grip still iron tight.
“Define behave,” I say through gritted teeth, and Doc’s forearm presses tighter against my windpipe. “Fine, fine! I’ll fucking stop.”
The three of them wait a solid minute before they let go, probably trying to decide if they believe me. Can’t say that I blame them; I’d doubt my sincerity, too, if I was in their shoes. The dogpile disperses, and I’m left to my own devices.
