Acknowledgement:
I would like to thank ADeadMissionary for helping me edit this chapter. You can check out his profile and stories at your own leisure.
www fanfiction net / u/ 1160012/
Disclaimer:
The following is a fan-based fiction. Zootopia and its characters are owned by Disney. The songs I reference here belong to their respective artist as well.
"Zootopia, a place where anyone can be anything." Whoever came up with that tagline is a genius. No doubt about it. It has a nice ring to it. It's a digestible soundbite. And of course, it can be put on everything imaginable. Banners, bumper stickers, buttons, postcards. Heck, I once saw it tattooed across a mammal's back.
However, those seven words could not convey the whole truth. The whole phrase should read something like: "Zootopia, a place where anyone can be anything, as long as no regulations stand in your way."
Why? Because Zootopia has one pain-in-the-neck regulation for predators. Pun very much intended. Although, most prey think that once you get zapped, you don't feel anything. Anyhow, the facts still stand. We, predators, got left out of the whole, 'anything' part, since we were born into the city.
A loud screeching and a shout snapped Nick out of his inner musing. He turned to see a truck's grill only a few inches away. "Hey fox, watch where you're going!"
The fox shook his head, dumbfounded. He quickly turned his head toward the signal lights. "What are you talking about?" He pointed at the signal, a green-lit outline of three ungulates walking. "The light says walk.".
The horse behind the wheel didn't care. "Get out of the way. I got things to do."
Nick gritted his teeth. "I was just-Agh!" The collar around his neck emitted a jolt of electricity. It essentially told him the same thing as the horse. Do not argue. MOVE! After a frustrated grunt, Nick obeyed. He quickly ran towards the sidewalk. His hands hugged his suitcase tight. The last thing he needed was for his ten-year-old hunk-a-junk to choose that moment to fall apart.
With the road clear, the horse was free to get his truck going. He stomped the gas pedal, hoping that would somehow prevent his boss from yelling at him.
Nick let out a sigh and pressed the button on the signal. The lights on the other end gave him permission to cross. He looked around, just to make sure that all the cars were actually stopped behind the thin, faded white line on the road. All the vehicles did as the system told, though a few of the drivers behind the wheels honked at Nick's hesitation.
As Nick was about to cross, a hamster convertible screeched to a stop before him. Reflex and the shock collar pulled his leg back. Well, that's one Mouse-slaughter charge averted, Nick thought. Then he noticed the tiny convertible had a passenger. Make that two charges. The little car moved forward, making way for Nick. The fox tried to put his foot down and, no surprise, the little convertible suddenly reversed, forcing him to jerk his foot back. "Hey!"
The car then moved forward, the two hamsters giving him taunting grins. Knowing their trick too well, Nick decided to take the high road. He ignored both of them and took the path that would lead him up a hill. Sure, it would take longer, but he would not take any chances with these strapping young lads. Seeing Nick turn away, the two hamsters proceeded to give each other a hi-five and let out high-pitched laughs. It seemed, making the day of this fox a little worse was somehow making their pointless youth that more fulfilling.
"Yup, I did feel something there." He thought as the small car drove off. "But hey, whatever, Dad wouldn't want to see me getting worked up like this."
(Clint Eastwood by the Gorillaz begins to play)
Chesterization proudly presents
A Zootopia fanfiction
Wild Times with Wilde: Renovated
(Song ends)
Chapter 1: Broken light
Nick walked along the sidewalk, taking in his surroundings. He was in a rather nice neighborhood, consisting mostly of townhouses pressed closely together. Spotting a mailbox with a name on it, he quickly turned and followed the path to the door. He put on his best PR grin and pressed the doorbell. It was less than a minute before a burly ram answered the door.
"Good afternoon, Mister Mutton, I'm Nick Wilde from-" The door slammed shut. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. "Okay, let's try again."
Nick was soon at another door. He pressed the doorbell and waited, his PR grin firmly in place.
Nick began as soon as the door opened. "I'm Nick Wilde from John Wilde and-" Slam! The door shut in his face.
Another door. "Ah, are you interested in-" *Slam*
Again, "I know what you are thinking, but I'm not a-" *Slam*
Later, "Do you want to hear the good words of the Lord? Ha, judging from your expression you must have been tired of listening to-"
"How dare you defile him!" The old sheep behind the door yelled, cutting him off. "Be gone you foul BEAST! Go before I call the police."
"I am terribly sorry." *Slam*
Hours passed with no results. Deciding to call it a day, Nick headed back to his place. He sighed as he thought about the nearly hour long walk ahead of him. He thought about taking a chance and cheating a ride out of the public transit. However, the possibility of being caught was too real to ignore. Losing 200 dollars and the risk of jail was not worth it. Besides, walking is good for your health, he told himself. Prey claimed it 'worked out the pent-up aggression that resided within everyone, but especially predators.'
As Nick got closer and closer to his home, the number of mammals around him gradually diminished, as did the number of warning signs hanging on the walls. A few blocks back, there was a jungle of signs like No Growling, No Snarling, and No Biting. As he walked towards where fewer signs were posted, the became less precise. Now, near a nearly empty crossroad, there was only one big sign that said No Visible Aggression.
He noticed as he walked up to his home/office/tailor shop that, for some reason, it took him longer to arrive than was usual. Maybe it was because he was hungry? Like always, he stopped about a few feet in front the place. John Wilde and Son were written across the door in cracked, peeling cursive. As he had a look around, the word 'rundown' came to mind. The ugly seven letter word described everything nearby, including the homeless raccoon that kept coming around, tapping the moss-stained glass of the shop and asking for John. Oh, speak of the devil, there he was now.
"Heeey, mammal. Is Ol' John around? Haven't seen him in a coon's age." The dirty old raccoon cracked up at his joke. Nick ignored him like he ignored the green moss eating the exterior of the shop and the rest of the neighborhood. He vaguely remembered how the mayor on the news had said, "Nature is taking back the South East of the First District." She went on to say that she would give it back to nature, as soon as whoever was left willingly relocated to another part of the city. The sheep's offer was becoming more tempting to Nick by the day.
As Nick unlocked the door, the key shrieked as it struggled to get through the rust. He twisted the knob and slammed the door with his shoulder. It took more effort every day, but the door did give way. A wave of hot, stale air rushed into Nick's face. He took a deep breath, taking in all that scents from the suits that he had and had yet to make. He tossed the suitcase on the floor and hung his striped tie on a coat rack. Nick kept the black suit on.
He loosened his collar a bit, trying to make sure that the sweat would not cause too big of a rash. "Another day without a paycheck." He whispered to himself. The fox made his way toward a metal filing cabinet. After a long sigh, he proceeded to open one drawer titled Whatever's left. The metal drawer creaked and stopped halfway. Nick breathed through his teeth and yanked it out. The sudden vibration caused the dead plant in a pot on top of the cabinet to fall. It shattered, scattering dry clumps of dirt across the floor. Nick made a mental note. Clean it up, later. He dug into the drawer and fished out a handful of wrinkled dollar bills. "Time for Linner!" he said cheerfully, trying to imitate his father.
He stepped out, closed the door and locked up. The five o'clock sun shone on the shop's sign. It highlighted the graffiti left by some vandal. The red painted obstructed the first two letters of his father's name. He would have gotten it off ages ago. Only if detergent were cheaper. With the rule of inflation in effect, the day he got it off was postponed until, well… never. Just like that, he walked off towards the nearest Bug Burger.
Around six o'clock
"What do you want?" the teenager rabbit behind the counter said. His eyes looked dead and droopy.
Nick said, "I'll take the single patty, without anything." He usually went for the double, but times had changed. The day before, he was a few dollars richer. Today was not the day before.
Later, he took his food and got to a seat near the window. Nick took a small bite from his unimpressive Linner. The crammed up hard-shell bugs always fall off from the patty, making it feel like he was eating sand. As if some kid in a playground sandbox. Someone who was playing make-pretend had given Nick whatever they had scooped up and called it a burger. He sucked it up and tried to swallow it down; just like a responsible father who did not want to disappoint his son.
Nick coughed and had a look through the window. He needed a little break before taking another bite. He watched all the animals walking by. When he was a kid, he used to make a game out of it. Just counting how many shock collars lights there were. Young Nick would do so while his father tried to figure out how to continue making clothes for animals when 90% of the customers took one look at his collar and walked right out the door. Nick tried not to think too much of the past and focused on counting the lights. As time went on, the green lights rhythmic bobbing hypnotized him, temporarily numbing him and freeing him from all the cares that he had for the world.
However, something was different that day. There was an error, a misstep, an off-key note in this otherwise perfectly repetitive melody. One collar was not on. Nick immediately trailed his eyes upward, trying to catch the face of whoever possessed the broken collar. The clothing suggested a small, male predator, maybe a little shorter than Nick. The hoody prevented Nick from knowing what kind of predator he was. Nick's collar let out a quick jolt, reminded him that he should not get too excited. That time, Nick was not bothered by it. His mind was on something else. Nick quickly wrapped up the burger and shoved in his suit's pocket. He ran out of the restaurant, bumping into a few predators in the process. The fox let out a sigh of relief when the hooded predator was still in his sight. It was easy to recognize him from the crowd, thanks to the orange backpack.
Nick followed the mysterious predator across three blocks until he suddenly ground to a halt. Nick's instinct kicked in.
The predator turned around, checking to see if anyone noticed him. Seeing the coast was clear, the predator punched the collar on his neck. The soft blow turned the light back on. Nick's ears perked up, expecting to hear the sound of the predator returning to his route. Nick had a peek, verified that it was safe to continue stalking. It was then Nick noticed this predator lacked a tail.
The mysterious predator pulled out a cracked smartphone from his pocket. The way he looked around and back to the phone suggested that he was looking at a map. The predator made a sharp turn. Five minutes later, the predator seemed to find his destination. It was an apartment within the First District. The predator then stood beside the garage door that led down to a parkade. He crossed his arms, waiting for something. That prompted Nick to do the same, but a few meters away and out of the predator's sight.
Before long, the garage door began to open. A car was exiting. Once the car had left and the door was half way close, the predator quickly ran toward the door, ducked and rolled inside. Nick could not believe his eyes. He was watching a violation of the law in the process. His first reaction was to call the police. However, once the phone was in his hand, a voice screamed in the back of his head. What are you doing? Did you forget? Stalking someone is also a violation. A predator like you should know better.
Nick immediately shut off his phone's screen. That was true, he told himself. His rational mind determined that it is best to avoid this whole thing altogether. He did not see a predator with a broken T. A. M. E. collar was committing a crime. It would be best for him to continue his life as though nothing happened.
However, ask yourself this. How many times in your entire life did you actually listen to your rational mind? Nick's lifetime-rational-counter went down by one that day. He quickly ran toward the garage door. Then he waited for a car to open the door so he could do the same thing as the hooded predator. Thankfully, it was only a couple minutes before another car drove through, allowing the fox to slip inside.
Nick was in. Fortunately, no one seemed to have noticed him. He had a quick look at the corners around the ceiling. There was a distinct lack of cameras in this parkade. At least he was sure that he wasn't going to get in trouble for this (at least not yet). Nick walked casually around the rows of parked cars, all the while his eyes were scanning for the predator.
And there he was, inside the E-sized section. The predator was constantly yanking door handles of various cars sized from small to medium small. He did so one by one, hoping that one careless driver had forgotten to lock the door. He could always pick the lock, but that would be too messy, and of course, everyone would be aware of a random predator picking a car lock. Besides, he did not need the vehicle anyway.
Click. Finally, the cat found what he was looking for. He swung open the door and climbed into the grey SUV. He sat behind the wheel, then reached over and pulled the door closed just to be safe. The first thing he took was a bundle of electronic parking tags on the rear-view mirror. He checked each carefully, deciding what to shove in his pocket and what to toss on the coffee stained floor. He opened the glove compartment and clawed out whatever was inside. Rotten carrot granola bars, a few cheap CDs, and the all-important garage door controller. He took the controller and put it in his pocket.
He opened the compartment beside the gear and found a pair of shades. The predator took down the hood looked himself in the rearview mirror. A white cat stared back at him, wearing a pair of weathered glasses. The glasses' frame was supposed to be black, but time had turned it into a weird shade of gray. The fur on his face was surprisingly thin, especially under his eyes. He put on the shades and checked himself out. The cheap glued-on plastic sure did not make him look any better. He still looked like a thirty-something cat despite being twenty years of age.
The cat tossed the shades on the floor and put his glasses back on. He climbed on the back seat and looked back at the trunk. There were a few Elkea bags down there (empty of course), a few bottles of detergent and a shoebox. He shook the box and the sound it made put a smile on his face. He took the box and opened it. Inside, was a pair of brand new rabbit track shoes. He had a look at the number. If he had been a rabbit, they would fit him perfectly. Still, he took the shoes out with a big smile. As if he had dig up a hidden treasure. He forcefully shoved the shoes inside his backpack. The track shoes rested among the nest of wires, electronic devices, small tools, spray body paint, bobby pins, and two more smartphones, both of which were cracked severely.
He stepped out of the car and saw Nick looking at him. Nick's eyes were widening. It was not like you could see a cat every day in Zootopia. And not in a million years should you find one in this situation. The cat gave Nick a wide cheeky grin. His eyes kept looking away as he tried to think up some sort of an excuse. However, after seeing Nick just looking at him without saying much, the cat made a last resort move. He punched Nick in the face. The hit was rather weak, but that was all that the cat needed. While Nick was stunned, he pushed the fox to the side and ran toward the exit.
As soon as he was back to his senses, Nick followed him. Nick's heart began to pump harder, prompting the collar to put a shock on him. He did not falter. Instead, he bit through the shock and increased his speed. Nick got out of the parkade and chased after the cat in the guest parking lot. The white-furred mammal got on the road and jumped, preemptively avoiding an oncoming car. Nick was not as fast. As a result, the last things the fox could remember were a car horn and the pavement rushing up to meet him.
Author note:
To those who have been following me, yes, this is a revamp of the original Wild Times with Wilde. I was never quite satisfied with the original fic. With English as my second language, grammar has been a tall mountain that stands between me and peak quality. Now with ADeadMissionary, I can climb a little higher. I know it is far from perfect, but this is the best version I have to offer.
Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed what you have just read and wished to see more, please follow or leave a review. They would give me the motivation to write more for everyone. All feedbacks will be appreciated. If you find anything lacking or flawed in my story (grammar, word use, etc.), please tell me in the reviews as well. I shall do my best to update these chapters sooner and make them more polished. This is one of my first stories so please forgive possible mistakes in the future and help me fix them.
Thanks again and have a pleasant day.
