(AN: Made for a competition with a 2,500 word limit. Full length (and far better) fic on A03)
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"Carrots, ever heard the legend? What happens to destroyers of wolf packs?"
"What…! The terminal howl? Nick…? Where did that come from?"
"I….. -I don't know."
"Urghhh. It's just a dumb ghost story. Just switch the blueberries and let's go!"
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It was three weeks after the incident with ex-officer Hopps and her fox that she first heard the howl.
Tired, worn, looking forwards to the rest the night would bring, Dawn had been pulled back to her desk by the pressures of her work. A burner phone rang, she answered. "How's the situation?"
"Listen, I can't keep him in much longer," he spoke grimly.
Dawn's brow furrowed. "He abducted fourteen mammals, mammals won't…"
"Some are," he interrupted. "Between savage attacks and lynch mobs, preds are rallying around him... Then there's his theory…"
Dawn nodded. Lionheart suggested the cause was contaminated bugmeat or something, many preds agreeing. "We need to disprove or discredit him. Keep them fearing until they jump in joy at our segregation and collar laws."
"Then we have a little 'system bug'," came the sickly gleeful response.
Dawn silently looked away, slowly gripping her leg. Even for her, that felt…
"…Dawn?"
"-AH," she yipped. "Could I get Doug to," she began, a quick double whistle following, making her intentions clear. "It worked so well for that honey badger."
"While the irony was beautiful," he said, remembering how she'd finally been given her wish of returning to the labs, only to be used to annihilate chunks of research and team. "It would raise suspicion, wouldn't it?"
"…Hitmammal!?"
"Alas," he sighed, "tonight we deal with those wolf mobs."
'Drat,' she thought. Made up of the crew that Lionheart had hired, they'd defended predator communities from the riots that her savage fox incident caused. Hailed as heroes, the security they provided was entirely counterproductive to the master plan. A hit and run on them by a truck however... "When is that?"
…
"Kurt?"
She heard some mumbling and echoes from the other end, and wondere... "–AAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…."
She jumped back screaming, the phone releasing a dreadful howl. Thrown onto the floor, she stumbled back up, covering her ears as she approached it. The little item shook and jittered on the ground as its speakers tore themselves apart. Still it went on. Continuous, painful, mournful and anguished. Occasionally there was a faint waiver, it got quieter, before carrying on.
She raced over to her real phone.
"-Wolf attacking Mr Wassermaim," she shouted out, panting. The howling still continued, and it seemed to burrow beneath her skin like maggots. Flashes of pain hit her mind and she felt dizzy and sick, tumbling down. Seeing the phone, she crawled forwards, painfully and slowly as if she were caught in a burning sandstorm. Her hoof reached out to touch it, but she couldn't. There was no pain, but there might as well have been, her arm flinching back as it approached.
The howl trailed off, transitioning straight into a croak that turned her insides in and out. It sounded like someone's larynx was being grated, and she gagged as it continued, curling and cutting in on itself.
It ended, trailing off into nothing, but she still couldn't bear to look or touch the phone.
She only rose up when the security team burst into her office.
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"Ma'am," the chief of police asked. "Are you…"
"-I must," she responded, breathing in and out.
Opening the door, she stopped.
There he was.
He'd collapsed forwards, cracking his heavy desk in two and twisting up, his arms still clutching his thinly parted mouth while his eyes were open.
Open, aghast, red… The fear and terror still in them, framed by purple skin.
The room was a shower of wooden debris, papers and knickknacks that he'd tossed about. The floor behind him was torn up, the carpet peeled away and a hole punched in the wood beneath.
.
There was no blood.
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Not a single drop.
"How…" she gasped. "How… -How did a wolf strangle a hippo?"
"Certain it's a wolf?" he asked, kneeling down comfort her.
"He howled. He howled a most dreadful howl and…" she paused as she realised something, suddenly shivering with fear. "The 'voice' sounded like…" She paused, shaking her head. '-No. That's a dumb myth!'
"-This must be hard on you," Bogo glumly replied. "First seeing poor Hopps die… -and now…"
"I'm… -I'm okay."
"As am I," he said. "We need to be, for our city and its people."
"For the citizens of Zootopia."
He stood up and she saw how tired he looked. "Can you keep the wolf thing quiet for now?" he asked. "Last night someone drove a truck through a dozen wolf guards. An entire pack… wiped out."
"Understood," Bellwether replied, certainly not lying.
"You can feel it in my wolves," he commented, shaking his head. "Preds are doubly on edge, and if Prey mobs learn… -I think you can put two and two together."
"Indeed," she replied, before making her way out. Maths was always a strong subject for her. As was politics. As was journalism, and the concept of a leak.
She didn't hear him say "it's just a myth…"
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Her security team had raced her out of the next press conference when Prey supremacists began marching onto the stage. They wanted blood, and she was playing too nice. Out a back door, into an alley. She noted with a grim smile that they didn't know who was actually doing the playing.
The alley was tight, pipes and sickly vines covering both walls. While it was dusk outside, it looked like night here.
…
"Which way now?" she asked, before pausing.
She looked around and gulped, not one of her team there. "Hello?"
…
"Hello!" She screamed, panting as she scanned around. Down the alley she went, everything getting darker. She passed under a low passageway between two buildings, squealing as waterlogged moss-covered ropes slapped against her. She pushed through, feeling them rake up her cloths and claw at her wool. The tarmac beneath her became bare earth, and she picked her way between stones and puddles, finally reaching cobbles.
Moving forwards, she slipped and swayed as the loose surface moved beneath her.
Around a sharp left-hand corner the passageway carried on forwards. There was a turn to her right, but she ignored it. Down further her path turned right anyway.
Graffiti was lit by a flickering light, a cartoon sheep watching a fox tear a bunny apart.
She flinched, remembering the screams, sobs, and the tart taste of blueberry. She gagged, shaking her head. She'd never felt that way about then before! That was business!
Up ahead the path forked.
Left or right?
Left!
Quickly having to turn left again, she inched past a steam jet and reached a high wall, a door inset.
She heard the ominous ticking of an invisible clock…
The door was open.
She stepped through, her heart pounding.
She entered a tiny courtyard, no windows overlooking and no light coming in bar the setting sun. In front of her she saw a passageway out towards a busy street.
She collapsed slightly, panting and sighing with relief.
One step forwards, then another, before she felt the ice-grip claw clamp around her leg.
…
She couldn't move.
She couldn't even formulate the order to move, let alone send it to her body, let alone respond….
She couldn't look around, only feel as filthy claws began making their way up her, exploring.
Each touch was like a pinprick with an ice needle.
She felt them go, before her head-poof was ruffled up, a claw gripping it and letting go again and again…
"Like cotton candy!" came a cackling old voice.
Dawn felt queasy, both from it and her words. How did she…
"I know a lot of things," she noted, and Dawn turned around to see an ancient looking she-wolf lying underneath a pile of filthy rags. Only her face showed, and even that was bedraggled and patchy, but the eyes… they were alive. "Old wolfie like me…" she laughed, before shaking her head.
Dawn let out a nervous laugh. "Right you are," she smiled, glancing back at the way out.
"-Ever heard the legend of the terminal howl?"
…
"No…" Dawn muttered, before leaving.
"A curse… A curse on those that dare destroy a wolfpack whole," she mumbled. "They will howl no more, but you will girl! You will! Howl your last breath, until there's nothing left!"
Dawn raced away, plunging into the light and away from the cackles. Hoof's on knees, she panted to catch her breath, before spotting her team up ahead. She trotted off to meet them, but as she did so she realised something.
She didn't remember seeing the wolf when she entered that courtyard.
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Months past, the plans progressing nicely. Fear grew, rage grew, and many mammals had ideas that she very much liked. So, today, she stood up on stage to announce the latest.
"Every day, we citizens live in fear," she began. "Fear that a former citizen will tear us apart. Fear that our countrymen will go savage. Fear that this day might be our last. Together, we have seen predator and prey separated to keep us safe. But this doesn't help to address many of the issues, does it?"
There was a faint murmur, before she carried on.
"It is not just biology at the root of this, but culture as well. Foxes taught to be criminals, Lions taught to be tyrants and wolves taught to join glorified mobs and to create noise pollution via an old hunting call." She smiled as pictures of happy pred children came up on the screen behind her. "These little innocents will be turned bad by their parents, and we've let this go on for far too long. As a result, today I am proud to announce the new perspective schooling system. Taken away from bad influences, all pred children will learn proper and polite behaviour, and have the savagery taught out of them. Education, integration, and a better solution for us all."
She backed down as the applause came and wandered off smiling. It wasn't her idea originally, but she'd eagerly championed it. Two old jails had been converted, their locks and bars getting new use. The chain, shackles, muzzles, cells and black and white uniform would help teach these little five-year olds their place in the world. Without seeing their parents for the next thirteen years, prey teachers would mould them. There were paddles for when they gave toothy smiles, pepper spray for when they preened themselves with their tongue, the cane for misbehaviour… and shock collars that would pick up howls and painfully train them out of it.
If anything, by the end it had been a game, seeing how far she could get with it. Now the first busses were coming, kids torn away from their families and sent to a place that would rewrite their culture.
It was good.
She entered her dressing room and turned to close the door. But as she turned again her eyes widened.
She was in an alley.
"I could have sworn it was," she mumbled, turning to open the door.
It had locked behind her.
She turned forwards before squealing as something cold and horrible hit her. She rushed through it, flinching as many others lashed her. She fought about and stumbled backwards, leaving them behind.
She felt something on her ear.
She pulled it off and, in the darkness, saw a sodden piece of rope, covered in slimy moss.
That wasn't right.
She looked up to see a black sky above her. She'd just given her speech for the afternoon news.
Turning forwards, she began running. She screamed as her hoof hit a sharp rock before stumbling into a puddle, the ice water kicked up and lashing at her lower body. The road surface was unpaved, and she stumbled along it before her hoofs hit solid ground again.
They immediately slipped, a cobble going loose.
She felt herself fall and crash on the ground, her glasses shattering.
She didn't try and find them, instead racing on.
She went around a left-hand turn and froze in horror. The passageway carried on in front of her, a second branching off to her right.
"No…" she gasped. "That's impossible…!"
It was. Wrong time. Wrong side of town. She turned right, not wanting to go down the way she went before.
The new alley turned right, and she froze as she turned the corner. A flickering white light, that then burned a satanic red.
Graffiti…
The fox killing the bunny, but he was a puppet. Looking up, she saw the strings lead up to…
"-No," she gasped, turning and racing from her painted visage. She felt herself gag as the sickly taste of blueberries in her mouth became overbearing, and then threw up as it became horrible and coppery.
Blood…
Looking up from the red puddle she made, she saw herself at a fork in a road. Her head was beginning to hurt, and in defiance at the choice given she turned back the way she came.
Back towards the graffiti…
She felt herself get blasted to the side by a jet of scalding steam, and she tumbled painfully to the floor.
There was a ticking.
Thousands of ticks from hundreds of invisible clocks, and looking up she saw a wall rising up in front of her. An unlocked door inset.
"NO!" she wailed, crying. She didn't move, and as she began to pull herself together she resolved not to.
She wouldn't play this game!
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…
The clocks all went off. Alarms and chimes and beeps, like something from a Pig Floyd song, and the door opened.
She felt herself get up and walk to it, even as she screamed at her body to stop.
Into the courtyard and she looked around. No crone! Glancing forwards, she could see the outside and raced for it, her body suddenly under her control again.
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A corpse cold grip clamped around her leg, freezing her in place.
…
Icy claws began probing around her ruined fur and clothes.
She cried in pain as sharp teeth dug into her shoulder and tore off a chunk…
She could only sob, her body stuck like a statue, as she felt a muzzle up against her ear…
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"Awwoooooooooo…."
The tiny howl rang out, and Dawn howled in response. Head tilted to the sky, she bellowed the mournful cry as she began to go dizzy, her lungs and throat burned.
And whatever she did or tried to do…
She couldn't stop.