Friday, October 23rd, 20W9

Morning

Polminy Goruchka forest, Schevo Republic, near the border of North Eastern Grazia

43 hours into Operation Night Runner

His arm bled, the once sizzling hot metal that had implanted itself in his arm after breaching his kevlar shoulder pad had now cooled. He gripped higher up his arm to stop the bleeding as the blood clotted in his sneaking suit.

He cursed the sharp, pulsing pain as he leaned himself against a tree, slumping over the snowy ground. The wind was picking up. The shrill, frigid air cut through his thermal layers.

Shivering, losing energy, he carefully clicked the button on his blood-soaked finger. The radio transceiver hidden in his ear beeped.

"C, I got the photographs." He said. "There was… there was no time to wait for the cruise missile, I had… I had to…" He gasped, he was running out of breath, he struggled to stay awake. A figure approached slowly. White fur. Black nose. The silhouette of a sniper rifle slung across their back, and reaching out, offering… something… help? Aid?

A side arm came into focus, aimed right for his chest. Not help.

"Runner… evac is inbound." The tinny radio voice called back. "Stay awake! We've got coordinates— location— medical—"

The voice on the radio drowned out to little more than background noise. He was unable to process the words. The figure continued approaching, blurry.

His arm fell, unable to keep the pressure on his wound. So far away… So tired…

I want to go home. At least… at least I know that I still have a home to go to. Even if I'm not alive when I get there.

?

A dampness, a warm and welcome dampness on his forehead. The smell of a crackling fire and a delicious meal being cooked.

Runner groaned, trying to open his eyes. The only thing he could see was a flickering orange blur. He tried to sit up, but quickly found he lacked the energy.

"You're awake," A female voice said with a hint of relief. She had a light yet noticeable Schevite accent, even to his foggy perception, "Try not to move."

Warm paws reached his shoulders to calm him. He tried to perceive their source, but only the orange glow filled his vision.

"Who are…" Runner said faintly, almost slurred, "who are you?"

"I'm not your enemy… at least not right now," The voice said, "Just rest, you need it."

"Huh." Was all Runner could manage.

"Stay alive and maybe I'll explain it all to you. I'll feed you and then you should go back to sleep."

The strength was not there for Runner to protest, nor could he think to remember what lead him to current state. Only the thoughts of appreciation, that this someone had kept him from the cold darkness of death.

He drifted in and out of consciousness while he felt the mysterious mammal lifting him, feeding him…

"You lost a lot of blood." The voice in the darkness said. It was a sweet voice, one that Runner longed to reach out for. The same he remembered that was tending to him before.

"You're lucky. I managed to find some artificial blood." The accent of the voice was so strange. So otherworldly.

"Let's hope your body doesn't reject it." The voice kept talking, despite no response from Runner. Was she talking to him?

"I had to walk for a few kilometers before I found a suitable supply to patch you up." The voice echoed in the darkness. Runner wanted to speak, wanted to open his eyes, but the slightest movement was impossible.

"When I first brought you here, I wasn't sure if you'd make it, honestly."

Some time passed. Runner would hear the soft voice, but he was powerless to find its source. Until at last, he found his mouth.

"How…" Was all he managed; his lips were dry, odd tastes in his mouth.

"Runner?" The voice became curious. "Runner, are you there? Say something more."

"Who are you?" Runner couldn't be sure what exactly he said. As soon as the words left his mouth, his mind released memory of them. He asked again, just to be sure. "Who are you?"

"So you are alive." She said, her relief was apparent, even to Runner.

"Didn't…" He started, but stopped after his tongue suddenly became heavy, falling to the back of his mouth.

"Hmm? Didn't what?"

He regained control of his tongue, "I didn't ask what I was… I asked who you were, darling."

"Hmm, ever so charming, even as you lay there half dead."

Runner tried to laugh, but instead, a cough came, a light one.

"Easy." The voice chided. She wasn't near him, that much he could tell. "If you choke to death I can't tell you who I am."

"Well? I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Just think of me as… a friend. For now. While you're in need of caring."

"Easy enough to remember." He grinned. Were Runner in a better state, he would have minded being so dependent on some unknown mammal. But for now, he was appreciative; he would hold his reservations for after his recovery. Someone was willing to provide him with care, then so be it. Pride could wait for another day.

Runner willed his eyes to open, but all he could see was a blur: a mix of orange, white and grey.

"I can't see… I can't… am I blind?" He groaned, the thought of losing his vision was the final insult to his current condition.

"No, no you're not blind," The voice assured, "You lost a lot of blood by the time I was able to tend to you. And you almost caught hypothermia while I found a place for us to hide."

"Hide… hide from what?" Runner asked, trying hard to remember what had happened before he lost consciousness. The memories where there, just as blurry as his vision.

"The fallout." She reminded. He heard a tearing sound, the crinkling of a foil wrap in her direction. Something being poured out in one slop, then scraped out bit by bit. Rations, if he had to guess. He wasn't hungry but it would probably be best to eat.

"The fallout." He repeated in acknowledgement, the full weight and memory of what he had done was settling on him. It was a vague memory, but foreboding nonetheless. "What… what have I done?"

"What you had to." She said, her voice becoming flat. "The question you should be asking is why did you do it?"

He could hear her move about in the room, his ears following her. While his eyes were useless, his ears seemed to function just fine.

"Why?" He asked, the answer was clear, "Those weapons could have destroyed so many lives. I had to. For Zootopia. No— for the world. Everyone deserves to live in a world without those Schevite weapons."

"Hmm," she pondered, "Maybe you're right. Everyone does deserve to live without fear."

What was she trying to say? Runner pondered on her words as he tried to focus on the blurry shapes around the small, cramped room. Those weapons should have been destroyed, there was no doubt in his mind.

"But is that really why you did it?" She asked.

Runner didn't respond. It was his mission to protect the world, it was his duty. Of course he did it for the good of all mammals.

"The soup is almost ready," She said, the edge dropping out of her voice. "You're a hare, so you need to keep your blood sugar up, especially in the cold. You had a seizure a few nights ago, I don't want that to happen again."

A few nights ago? How long could Runner have possibly been out? Although that wasn't quite the most pertinent question on his mind. Who was this girl? Why was she so concerned for his well being that she would risk rescuing him and finding artificial blood to infuse him with? Caring for him for several days… didn't she have anything better to do?

"Why is a Schevite trying to keep me alive?" He asked, his eyes starting to come into focus.

She laughed lightly, busying herself with the soup.

His rescuer, and captor, was a pure white fox. She wore a white tank top and red fatigue pants. Those pants cemented her as a Schevite soldier.

"You said you'd explain if I stayed alive. I'd say you owe me," He was confused, yet he didn't want to admit that to her. "After all, you're the one who shot me."

"I said maybe."

Runner took in a sudden breath, awakening to a dark and empty room. The only light came in from a single window.

He looked around the room, trying to shake the fog from his mind. Sight came to him quicker this time, revealing the interior of a log cabin, small, old. There was a fireplace not far from the makeshift bed he laid in.

He tried to sit up.

"Ahh!" He shouted in pain as his left arm failed to support his weight, a sharp spasm causing him to fall back to the bed.

He carefully inspected his shoulder. It seemed to be wrapped in a well-dressed bandage, the memory of the bullet in his arm slowly returning to him. How long had he been out? Was the bullet still in his arm?

A more important question suddenly made itself apparent; Who brought him here? If he was medevacked by the agency, he wouldn't be in some old log cabin. Furthermore, why was he still alive?

After utterly destroying the Schevite's weapons depot, the fallout of the fractured cobalt warheads undoubtedly littered the area, dangerously interfering with any attempts to rescue him.

Runner quickly shook himself from his confusion and looked around the room for his weapon. He was naked, his only clothing was the bandage on his all but useless arm. Lifting himself out of bed, he found himself to be lightheaded, and stricken with a terrible vertigo. Just how long was he lying there?

He spotted his equipment, sitting in the corner was a sneaking suit and tactical belt, both neatly folded. Doing his best to maneuver himself towards it, he kept an eye out for his caretaker. His captor.

The floor was cold against his bare fur as he gently placed himself down next to his belongings. He did a quick check to see what was missing from his gear, cradling his injured arm against his chest. Finding it all in order he quickly readied his pistol. It was a lethal weapon: silenced, accurate, hare-sized, and Runner's favorite.

On the lookout for any intruders, he attempted to dress himself. It proved impossible with only one functioning arm, however, and he tossed his sneaking suit back onto the floor with a groan.

Luckily, his radio seemed to still be intact. He clipped it onto his ear and slipped the buttoned ring around his finger with a click. The radio beeped, indicating it was on and directed to the correct frequency.

"C, C, come in." He said after clicking the button again.

Silence.

"C, this is Runner." He repeated, hoping for an answer. "The weapons facility is confirmed destroyed, I'm not sure how long I've been out. I'm in… in a log cabin, I'm not sure who brought me here."

Still no response.

"Great." he muttered, giving it up for now.

There were so many questions to ask, yet no answers to find. The cabin was nearly bare, only a small bed, a fireplace, and some evidence of food preparation. Who ever was in this cabin with him was long gone. Whatever rations, field kit, or equipment the stranger had with her were gone as well. There wasn't a trace of the caretaker left for him to investigate.

Feeling less dizzy, he took his pistol at the ready, and went back over to the bed. He was beginning to shiver. It must've been day outside, still early morning judging by the sunlight that came in through the only window.

Still naked, he wrapped himself in the soft blanket on the bed. The blanket itself was soft, yet thick, military-grade. More than enough to keep him warm, even without a fire.

Then, Runner's ears instinctively rose, there was a sound from outside the cabin. The subtle sound of footsteps on snow. He quietly let himself down from the cot and stuck the gun under his arm. Awkwardly, and with more noise than he would have liked, he turned the cot over to provide cover in case intruders came in through the entrance of the cabin. He kneeled down, readying the gun again in his good arm. A loose sheet of paper crinkled under his knee as he took aim at the door.

He ignored everything but the sounds outside, preparing himself for a possible firefight. The sounds were getting closer, until they eventually stopped. The cot wouldn't provide anything but an initial cover. Just a extra second to act as they searched the room for him. It would have to be enough.

His knee slipped along the ground with his shifting weight— the paper. He glanced down, seeing it had torn slightly. Something scrawled across it. A note? He dared not drop his weapon and reach for it. Nothing moved outside. He extended his left arm, feeling a shock of pain as a nerve turned over within. It was hard to control it as it shook towards the paper— just— a little more—

He flipped it over and withdrew his arm to his chest again. Still, nothing outdoors moved. Maybe it was just snow shifting, falling from the roof or trees. He chanced another look at the paper.

Indeed, it was a note:

I did everything I can for you. Sorry, couldn't be here to see you off. I radioed your unit with your coordinates.

When next we meet, I will again be your enemy and I will kill you or you will kill me.

I look forward to it.

Godspeed, Runner.

There was no time to reflect on the words as the sound of splintering wood broke the silence. He was jostled violently back to reality.

Runner raised his weapon over the cover of the cot, prepared to fire.

"Runner!" The deer intruder said, lowering his weapon and raising his arms in peace. "Runner it's OK, don't shoot!"

Runner couldn't shoot; his racing heart beat and adrenaline was too much. He quickly lost his grip on the pistol and fell to the floor.

"Crap," The soldier said, quickly making his way over to him. "C, this is Therma, I've found Runner, repeat, I found Runner."

So tired…

"Runner, stay with me. We'll get you out of here."

"Runner? How many hooves— holding—"

Sleep again? I'm so very tired of sleeping. At least I know that the next time I wake up… I'll wake up at home, the home I protected… Protected, if but one last time.

In the winter of 20W9, A Schevite weapon production facility in the Polminy mountains was destroyed, and with it, the designs for an experimental climate-altering weapon. Due to the black ops nature of the weapon, the only known copy of the weapon test data was lost. That same year, the CLOVEN 6 treaty was signed, banning all territories from developing weapons that permanently alter the climate.

20X1 - The Schevo Republic is dissolved. Its former member territories enter into a state of economic depression and instability.

20X4 - A classified Particle Exciter Weapon prototype called the Rubrum is stolen. To date, its current whereabouts are unknown.

Six years after the Night Runner incident

Wednesday, April 29th, 20X5

Mid-Morning

Savanna Central, Zootopian Department of Home Territory Security

"Someone calling themselves 'C' is asking you to come down to the lobby." A female rabbit said, standing in front of his desk. Runner was taken from his daze. "Looks like the same horse lady from last week."

Runner sat at his small desk, in a large busy room full of other desks and important looking and well-dressed mammals.

He stared for a moment, debating. The rabbit standing at his desk was his partner, and a rookie counter-intelligence agent.

"Parker," He said, rubbing his temple, "Just tell them the same thing you did last week."

"Or!" She started, pulling up a nearby chair and taking a seat, putting her elbows on Runner's desk. "I could just make 'em sit down there and we could sneak out the back after your shift. Maybe they'll take the hint?"

"No, this 'C' person will just keep coming back every week."

"Well, what does she want?" Parker asked, knowing full well that Runner would never answer this often asked question.

"Doesn't matter," He grinned at her before turning back to his computer, not actually going to do anything with it. "She's someone I used to work with and that job didn't do it for me. Nothing complicated."

"OK…" She said, rolling her eyes. "I knew you were going to give me the same crap answer, so I did some digging—"

"Parker, don't get involved in this." Runner warned, leaning back in his chair. He tried to make the shutdown seem more casual by attempting to link his hands behind his head. A sharp spasm in his left arm rudely reminded him that simply wasn't an angle he could bend it at. He sat back up and flattened them out on the desk instead. A safe posture, he knew. "Trust me, you won't find anything. At least not anything interesting."

"Aha," Parker said, pointing a finger at him, her ears shot up, as she did when she got excited. "You think I'm just some crap agent that can't do their homework." She took out her phone and tapped away at it.

"What are you—"

"Look, see?" She said, pushing the phone in his face, a picture of Runner standing with a large female horse, among other mammals. Runner was smiling, saluting to the picture, with the horse placing her hoof on his back proudly. "This is the same horse that's coming every week to see you. Her name is Wendolyn Cudder. Looks like a few years ago, she was your commanding officer."

"Stop—"

"Ah, ah, I'm not finished," She giggled in excitement, "Dude, this Wendolyn Cudder was involved in some crazy black-ops shit. Her codename is 'C'! I don't see any record of you working with her, but here you are! In this picture!"

"Listen to me!" Runner said, raising his paws to try to keep her quiet. "That was a long time ago, I don't want anything to do with that life anymore."

"So you admit it," She grinned, talking through her teeth, looking around for eavesdroppers. "You used to be some 'behind-enemy-lines' super spy."

"No!" He hissed, "You know what? Wherever you get these stupid ideas or conspiracies or whatever, just keep me out of them, OK?"

"You used to be a spy and now you're just sitting at some desk? My partner is some international spy!"

Runner groaned, "Yep, you're not even listening anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you. It's all bullshit. I'm gonna find out what you used to do, trust me." She stood up and pushed the chair back to the desk it accompanied. "You don't fool me. Just because we've been partners for four years—"

"Three." He corrected.

"Huh?"

"We've been partners for three years."

"OK, whatever. I'll be back, and this picture I found of you? I'll find more."

"Uh-huh." He said dismissively as she walked away, probably off to do more research, or whatever it is she did when she wasn't doing her job.

"Think whatever you want." Runner said to himself, sighing. "That's not me anymore… or maybe it never was."

Two days later

Friday, May 1st, 20X5

Noon

DHTS, Lobby

The taste of coffee, very sweet: cinnamon with a dash of cocoa powder. Not stirred in, just sprinkled on top among the curds of the whipped milk.

It was a luxury he afforded himself every day at lunch. There are certain behaviors one develops when trying to stay sane at a desk job. Although he couldn't really consider it a desk job. He was constantly moving about the office, bringing paper work here, chatting with the occasional police officer or politician or even suspected terrorist there. It was truly a life of adventure.

Adventure, an adventure in the wonderful world of bureaucracy. Did this life suit him? Who could really say? Runner definitely couldn't.

At the very least, Runner was alive. Beaten and bro—

A body bumped into him, someone walking quickly, possibly not watching where they were going, although Runner wasn't attentive either. His coffee tumbled to the floor, spilled.

So much for the luxury of cinnamon and cocoa.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" The fox said quickly. "I was just in such a hurry, I didn't—"

"My mistake, really," Runner was quick to assure. Checking himself for any spilled coffee. The preferred sweetness of his coffee was sure to leave a sticky stain.

Finding nothing, he knelt down to pick up the spilled cup. In his haste to clean up, he led with his left arm which protested with a sudden jolt. He quickly switched arms and picked the cup up with his right.

"What were you drinking?" The female fox said, her voice still thick with remorse, and a certain accent. "I'll be sure to buy you another."

"Oh, no, I—" Runner looked at her carefully for a moment. She was taller, but that wasn't what caught his attention. She was an arctic fox, pure white fur, black nose. She was wearing a business suit as pure white as she was. "Do I… Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Know me?" The fox said, puzzled. "Surely not, I don't really work here, I'm just a consultant."

Runner couldn't decide if he was just being delusional. The lobby they were in didn't have many mammals this time of day, and she was past the security check. Maybe he was just putting to much thought into it.

"Look, again, I'm really sorry," She reiterated, her accent apparent with every word. "I was in a hurry and I didn't notice you."

"Really, don't worry about it." He assured, tossing the empty cup into a nearby trashcan, "I need to get back to my office but— maybe you'd want to go out for coffee with me another day?"

Did he really just say that? Runner found himself surprised. Anything to keep her talking, to pinpoint that voice. The melody of her cadence, the way her vowels shifted slightly in her non-native language.

"Oh, sure!" She said, almost excitedly. Runner couldn't quite put his finger on why, but she seemed somewhat… in-genuine. "I'm Patrina. Patrina Sternfang."

"Patrina," He smiled, finding the answer he looked for all these years. The voice in the dark. Now the arctic fox in the light. "I'll remember that. I'm James."

"Hmm, nice to meet you, James." She grinned peculiarly.

There was something strange in her voice now. It all seemed so familiar, and yet off.

"I'm sorry, are you sure we've never met?" He pressed again, encouraging, "Because I'm sure I'd remember such a pretty voice as yours."

Patrina stared for a moment as if still confused by his insistence. But the stare quickly turned into a sour smile as she leaned forward to his height.

"So, you do remember me, James," She said sweetly, her accent seemingly dropped away. She leaned closer, whispering. "I waited for you, Runner. I waited for you and you never came."

"Who are you?" He asked quietly.

"Who am I?" She whispered, placing a claw underneath his chin. "Why, I'm disappointed."

With that, she straightened back up, an innocent smile on her muzzle. All the malice was washed away from her face with a single blink.

"Nice meeting you, James." She said, the accent back in full, walking around him. "Maybe I'll see you later for that coffee I owe you."

Runner watched as she walked away. What did all of that mean? Why was she here? She had waited for him… waited for what?

"Hey, buddy." Another female voice snapped him out of his daze. "Didn't think you were into preds."

It was Parker. She was leaning over the sofa's armrest to the side of the lobby. She hardly looked like she worked there at all, her sleeves rolled up unevenly and dress pants weren't even hemmed to her height.

"You're doing that thing again..." He said, looking back to the white fox to find she was no longer there.

"What thing?"

"Y'know. That thing you do where you think you know what's going on but you really don't."

"You ask that fox chick out?" She asked teasingly. "She's pretty hot, right?"

"Hmm." Was all he had to say. He started walking towards the elevators, gesturing his friend to follow.

"I mean, it's not like you couldn't use a date." Parker said, "How long this dry spell's been going? Three years? Or longer than I've known ya?"

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do." He pushed the button to call the elevator.

"Whoa, easy, easy… What's with this mammal-of-mystery 'tude all of a sudden?"

Runner snickered, "It's nothing. Maybe I'm just getting too old for the dating scene, you know?"

"James, dude, are you for real? You're only like 34, right?"

The two stepped inside the elevator.

"Yeah, 34, I definitely feel older." He said, pressing the button for their floor.

"Hey, don't start talking like that, you're gonna make me feel old."

James thought for a moment, his eyes narrowed. "Aren't you like, twenty?"

"Twenty-one." She corrected.

"If you were really feeling old, you wouldn't correct your age to be older." He said, in a brash voice. She really was too young to be talking like that.

The two sat in a brief silence as the elevator rose ever higher.

"Hey," Parker said, "Before you go off in your own mind again, you didn't answer me. I saw you checkin' that fox chick out."

"Maybe I was," Runner grinned.

"Hmm, well, you be sure to let me know how that 'coffee' goes." She nudged him on the shoulder, laughing.

The doors to the elevator opened, revealing an open office area.

"If that 'coffee' works out the way she thinks it will," He said, giving her a side grin. "You might not need to hear it from me."

"What, she's gonna go around talking about what a hot date you are?" Parker scoffed. She shook her head in confusion, wondering if the innuendo was lost on James. He had said stranger things in the time she had known him.

And there were stranger things still yet to come.

Afternoon

His car sputtered before giving out its last gasp and dying.

"Oh, great. Perfect!" He said calmly, nodding. "Of course, this happens."

Being in the middle of summer, it was hot. Runner didn't take well to the heat. He much preferred the cool air of winter, or the year-round climate of Tundra Town. But it would seem that Runner much preferred a great many things to his current situation.

Grumbling in frustration, he popped open his hood and began investigating his engine. It was hot, steaming, and lifeless. Runner had only opened the hood so that he could stare unapprovingly at it, for he had no idea how to troubleshoot the engine of a car, much less the engine of anything.

He wasn't in the best of neighborhoods, nearby used car lots and empty warehouses. The hot asphalt burned against his feet. It wasn't exactly gang territory, but it also wasn't the safest place to be for a well-dressed hare like Runner. In truth, his clothes were worth close to nothing, he was just very savvy at thrift store shopping. He also found solace in that his car was not the best looking one on the road, even in this part of town.

Runner calmly closed the hood and took out his cell phone. He tapped at it and opened the app to request roadside assistance.

"Right, of course, I didn't." He said, slightly less calmly, finding that the app reported that he had not paid his insurance premium in over four months. Runner tried to keep his cool but, thanks in part to the blazing sun, he was quickly beginning to lose it.

He began dialing for a tow company. As he dialed the last number, the touchscreen flashed a battery indicator and then shut down.

Runner closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. He tossed the useless phone into the open window of his equally useless car.

He crouched down to sit on his haunches on the shady side of his vehicle, too overwhelmed to care about the heated asphalt beneath him. The sweat on the back of his neat dress shirt cooled against the shaded car door.

He sat for a moment. Thinking. How did things end up like this? What lead him to take such a different turn in his life? Was he happy? Was he ever happy?

The answers to all of those questions were unknown to him. All he knew was that he was still alive… Beaten, and broken, but alive.

Runner got to his feet, sighing heavily.

"Better get pushing," He said to no one but himself, "Hang in there… Jack."

A name he hadn't been called or used in a long time. He found himself saying it in his head, or when he was alone, as if to remember who he used to be. Jack. It was a life long gone, far away.

With that, he resigned himself to his fate: pushing his worthless car along the hot asphalt, pondering what lay ahead, if anything.

All those years ago, Runner had survived because of one mysterious mammal. For some unknown reason, she had found him again, and had declared her disapproval of his current life. Although, one could say that Runner wasn't exactly happy about the way his life turned out either. Who was this fox? Was she truly the one who had rescued and so tenderly cared for him?

Maybe she shouldn't have bothered. Maybe Jack was ready to die on that mission, ready to die for his territory, ready to die so the world could live without fear of Climate Destroying Weapons. Whatever Jack wanted, Runner knew now that he was afraid.

He had lived to die another day, or perhaps… he had died that day and kept on living.

What a shame it is for a mammal to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength for which their body is capable.

- Ewecrates