Tigger awoke from a dream, his eyes readjusting to the moon-lit motel-room he was staying in. He preferred the dark, as it reminded him of his previous housing in Ashdown's Prison.
“Hey Tig,” said a soft voice. Tigger looked around, only to see a familiar silhouette, outlined by the fluorescent moon. Suddenly a flame erupted from a lighter, illuminating the figure's face: a once beautiful kangaroo.
Kanga smiled, as the flame left with the click of the cap. She put the lighter in her pouch, making her way to the broken tiger as she handled her dangling cigarette . “It's been a while, Tig. You look old. Tired.”
Tigger didn't move, his thoughts a cocktail of sadness and regret. “How'd you find me, K?”
Kanga continued to smoke, puffing it against the blue-lit window. “Owl told me you may need a friend to talk to. And we all know how much he loves to ramble, so I figured I'd come stop by and say hello.”
“You didn't come to say hello, K. Stop playing with me.” Tigger said, his tail slowly shifting back and forth. Kanga noticed, knowing of his uneasy temper.
“I came to ask what you plan to do? Are you...”
“Going to kill him? Yes.” Tigger said, quickly cutting her off.
Kanga's smile faded. “You can't bring him back, Tigger. Christopher is gone.”
Tigger looked away from her, still keeping his focus on the sickly-green painted wall ahead. It was battered, beaten by days of working his infamous tiger-tail on it. Drawn on the wall, a stencil of the monster responsible for his current predicament; The Bear.
“But there is someone you could bring back,” Kanga muttered, her voice cracking from being nervous. “Someone who still has time to grow and learn.”
Tigger raised his head to her, his battered face now more apparent. “What are you asking me?”
Kanga handed him an envelope, written on it: TIG. Holding his old head, Kanga kissed the top of it. “You won't see me for a while, so I'll leave the choice in your hands. I love you Tig,and I hope you can pull yourself together.”
Kanga bounced to the entrance of the motel. Before leaving, she turned once more, looking at an old love who had faded over the years. “Remind these son's of bitches why you're the only one.”
Kanga closed the door behind her—taking what history they had with her. Tigger looked down at the envelope, questioning if he should open it. The anticipation over-swept the best of him, and Tigger quickly tore the top off, revealing a single letter. Tigger opened the note, reading the tear-drop stained goodbye-letter.
After finishing it, Tigger dropped the letter on his table and begans to make his way over to his desk, on it, a folder given to him from Owl. Tigger tore through the folder until suddenly, his eyes caught a faint object out of his peripheral. Something else fell from the envelope. He made his way back over, picking up the item: a folded photograph. On the photo was Tigger, bouncing with ex-wife Kanga, and their child, the young joey named Roo.
Tigger knew at that very moment what kept him alive all those years in prison. Tigger sighed, placing the photo down on the table before making his way over to a manilla dossier given to him by Owl.
He opened the folder, revealing a plethora of information and photos of targets he once called friends: Pooh and his Pals. This information would be the key Tigger needed to help push him towards his only goal. The one he had since he entered the prison five years ago. For it was there that Tigger realized Christopher Robin was gone, and there was no way he could bring him back.
But Tigger would fight through Hell before he allowed Pooh to take his son Roo as well.