Rolland shifts in a dark blue chair with hard cushions. His aged joints creak with each movement. The manila folder in his lap remains unopened, its weight increasing with each passing second. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow across the room's occupants. The Administration of Federal Marshals office in Joy City smells of fresh paint and tropical breeze air freshener. Plain beige walls, generic landscape paintings, and a lone potted plant create a forgettable environment. The conference room's large window offers a view of the city’s glittering skyline and large billboards. The one Rolland can see the easiest is an oil painted picture of a loving couple biting down on the ends of a pill, touching noses and smiles on their perfect faces. “Gleelight: One Pill a Day Keeps the Misery Away!” is what the ad says.

  Rolland looks away from the billboard, huffing irritably and looking around the room, wishing the Marshals would hurry up. Beside Rolland, Cyrus quietly stares at his folder, his black-furred ears drooping slightly. The markings around his eyes look more pronounced against his aged face, giving him a perpetually tired expression. On Rolland's other side, Shae fidgets in his seat, his once-vibrant dyed hair now a faded gray, though his energy remains undiminished despite his aged body. The door opens, and a group enters the room

  "Gentlemen, I'm Sylvester Willis," says the tallest of the three handlers, a bulky rabbit with light gray fur and dark hair. "These are my colleagues, Arnold Reeves and Jackie Cruise."

  Arnold Reeves, an older rabbit with thick gray fur and a lot of muscle mass, gives a curt nod. His tailored suit stretches across his muscular frame as he crosses his arms. Jackie Cruise, a short and wiry rabbit with stubby ears with a perpetual half-smile, rocks on his heels, keys jingling in his pocket.

  "How long do we have to stay in this room?" asks Rolland.

  "Until you understand the gravity of your situation," replies Sylvester, placing both hands on his hips, partially revealing his sidearm. "Inside those folders are your new lives. New names, new backgrounds, new futures. Your old identities cease to exist as of today."

  Rolland finally opens his folder. Inside lies a driver's license with his aged face but a stranger's name, plus their new address in an isolated location. Birth certificate, social security card, bank statements, and certificate of home schooling are all fabricated to keep him hidden from the Mama Bear Syndicate.

  "This is bullshit," says Rolland, slapping the folder shut. "We risked everything to give you Mama Bear, and now we're being shipped off to some retirement community?"

  Arnold Reeves steps forward, his movements deliberate and threatening. "You can't return to your old lives. Because of you, we're hunting down Mama Bear associates. You show yourself within one hundred miles of Bliss County and you're dead. Be grateful we got you out before one of her crooked cops got to you."

  The door opens again, and a scrawny rabbit with oil black fur and beady dark eyes enters. The room's atmosphere immediately shifts, all three handlers straightening their postures. This is Wesley Norris, Regional Overseer of Witness Protection. He surveys the three aged rabbits with calculating eyes.

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  "Mr. Longstaff, Mr. Clarkson, Mr. Ray, your testimony has given us enough to start dismantling Mama Bear's empire. For that, you have the government's gratitude,” says Wesley.

  Shae beams, sitting up straighter in his chair. "So, we're heroes, right? Like, secret heroes?"

  Wesley's expression remains stony. "You're informants who managed to avoid prison time. Don't mistake this arrangement for absolution."

  Shae's posture drops with a pout, and Cyrus opens his folder, examining each document.

  "What's the catch? There's always a catch,” says Cyrus.

  "The catch is you play by our rules,” says Wesley. “No contact with anyone from your past. No returning to Bliss Town or Bliss County. In fact, don't even come back here or to Serenityville. No gambling, no drugs, no criminal activity of any kind. You will stay where we drop you for the rest of your lives unless we decide to move you. And most importantly, no One-Oh.”

  Shae gasps, his aged face contorting in horror. "What? No! You can't do that!"

  "We most certainly can. Your obsession with that card game is too distinctive. It's a recognizable pattern that could expose your identities."

  Rolland stares at his arthritic hands, remembering how they once shuffled cards with ease, how they counted Mama Bear's money, and how they pulled triggers. Now they can barely hold a pen without trembling.

  "What about our medical needs?" asks Cyrus.

  "All arranged,” says Arnold. “Jovial Beach has one of the finest medical facilities on the coast. You'll receive frequent check-ups and all necessary treatments."

  Shae's enthusiasm returns instantly. "This is going to be great! I've always wanted to live by the beach! Can we go fishing? Are there cute nurses? What about-"

  "Shae. Shut up," says Rolland, massaging his temples.

  Wesley places three sets of keys on the table. "One house, three bedrooms. Learn to coexist."

  “This witness protection is great and all, but what's stopping Mama Bear from finding us anyway?” says Cyrus.

  “If she does manage to find you, there is a panic room in your house, and we'll just kill everyone that goes after you, and then relocate you,” says Sylvester.

  Shae’s jaw hangs open, Cyrus’ eyes are wide, and Rolland leans back, lips tight and arms folded, crumpling his folder against his chest. As much as he tries, he can feel tears building in his eyes. A life of juvenile delinquency, plus an adulthood of being Mama Bear's stooge, all leading to Dacre’s death, fifty years cut away, and now his sharply shortened life will be in a retirement home, forever watched by the government and hunted by Mama Bear. If there ever is an opportunity to get a do ever, he'd take it in a heartbeat.

  "The car leaves in twenty minutes," says Wesley. "Pack your essentials. Everything else will be provided at your new residence."

  Wesley nods to Sylvester, Jackie, and Arnold, and as the three leave, he remains, fixing his eyes on Rolland's group with a final stare.

  "Gentlemen, I can't stress this enough: your old lives are over. Mama Bear, Bliss Town, your criminal careers, One-Oh, all of it ends today. Embrace your second chance and thank you for doing the right thing,” says Wesley.

  Wesley leaves after that, leaving the three aged rabbits alone with their folders and their thoughts.

  Shae breaks the silence first. "So... who's excited to retire?"

  Rolland doesn't answer and Cyrus simply reopens his folder, committing his new identity to memory, always the pragmatist.

  "I guess this is better than the alternative," says Cyrus.

  Rolland knows he's right, but that doesn't make it any easier to swallow. Twenty minutes to say goodbye to everything he's ever been. Twenty minutes before Rolland Longstaff disappears forever.