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Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, our hero moves silently through the shadows. The thick scent of his prey hangs in the air. Sweet honey mixed with ham.

He’s getting close.

That morning, Piglet was a friend. Now, the only friend our hero needs is a swarm of loyal bees with a taste for vengeance.

With the target in sight, the assassin positions himself directly over Piglet. His muscles relaxed, loose, yet primed to spring into action at any moment. Below, the small pig nervously fidgets in front of a dilapidated door, trying desperately to knock without making too much noise and giving away his position.

It’s too late. He should have never touched the honey.

The signal is given, and a bee buzzes past Piglet's ear, distracting him. In a flash, our hero’s blade finds an unwilling sheath. Crimson life drains from Piglet, mixing with ill begotten honey, sliding into grimy cracks of the cobblestone alley.

The deed is done.

"Don’t mess with my mead, pig. When you get to hell, tell them Pooh sent you.”