I absolutely adored the movie, so I felt like I should show my appreciation for the movie through my writing. I really enjoyed the concept the film was making about stereotyping and discrimination, and I really do like how the lesson is portrayed loud and clear. This takes place after the movie, about a few days or so and will be focused on Emmitt Otterton and how he is adjusting after he was turned savage and cured.
I own nothing. Zootopia and all its content belong to Disney. I don't own the cover image either.
Enjoy the story!
Darkness. Pitch blackness. It was all around him. It clouded and dulled his senses, making it hard to breath, sense and even think. Even though he could move, he couldn't feel. The only thing he could feel was his body, arched down onto all fours, and his hot breath panting. He could hear something, like little tinks on a hard floors, as if someone was hitting metal objects likely against it.
All of a sudden he could see a trickle of light, coming from a crack in the wall. As he grew close, he could see the moon shining through the curtain in his living room. Upon further looking, he discovered the once smooth, flowing magenta cloth had been torn and ripped into a mangled mess, barely being lifted up off the floor. The window it had been covering was now shattered, letting in the night's breezes through the sharp, concave and jagged edges. Around the torn fabric were shards of reflective glass once belonging together in a mirror and in the window. His eyes trailed all around him, seeing that they were everywhere across the darkened floor.
Strange. The carpet seemed to be a darker color than before. Instead of the medium beige color he was accustomed to, it seemed much more deep in hue. And damp. Yes, he detected dampness under his paws.
His nose sniffed, then picking up a scent. A metallic tang pricked his nostrils, making him almost gag. He clasp a paw to his face, trying to cover his nose and mouth to avoid breathing in more of the revolting smell. He let out a cry of surprise and pain once he felt his appendage collide with his face. Instantly, he pulled off the pinchy, impaling tips of his fingers out from the fur of his face and stared at it in the pale light.
To his horror, on each of his digits a single, broad, yet razor-sharp claw stuck out. And also, even more to his paranoia and shock, a thin film of red, extending all around his paw in large splotches, covered his arm all the way up to his elbow. The coppery scent now seemed to come up more then ever. His felt his breathing become ragged, his heartbeat accelerate in his chest and his hair prick on the top of his back as a wave of fear came over him. Suddenly, a dark, morbid and horrific thought shot through his brain.
"Octavia!"
His voice was responded by silence. Desperately, although he felt his body growing even more numb, he searched all around the night-covered room. The shards of glass pressed painfully into his paw pads, but he hardly cared. He had to find them. His wife, his two sons, even just one. He had to make sure they were alright.
There then, in the midst of all the blackness, a sparkle of light hit his eye. He blinked, first ridding himself of the spot before his vision before looking in the direction it came. Through the deep shadows, he squinted and soon made out patches of midnight grey against the black.
"Octavia," he called out, but was stunned to hear nothing come out of his throat. He opened it and tried to let out a yelp of surprise, but a silence just came out past his lips. Ignoring so, he bounded over to the blobs, hoping that he would be able to see as he grew close.
He froze as a cold wetness leaked out of the carpet, soaking his moist paws even more. The metallic smell overwhelmed his nostrils, gagging him for a moment before tried breathing out of his mouth. He then perked up as something brushed against his whiskers, bending them to alert that there was something before him.
The wind then blew harder, screeching through the sharp edges of the broken window and driving back more of the curtain. A sliver more of light lit up the room just a few fractions more and Emmitt's heart froze right in his chest as his eyes fully adjusted to the graphic sight that laid leaning up against the walk before him.
"No," he screamed as he stared at their mangled, lifeless forms. His wife, his two boys, they all leaned against the stained wall like lifeless, broken dolls who had had their strings cut. Their eyes were open, but were filled with a deep blankness and greyness, void of life, that sent him reeling back in fearful horror. His legs tripped over one another, creating more impact points to get glass splinters in and sending him nearly falling off them all together.
He served until he found himself tilting right towards the side, now looking at the shattered mirror where he had first became aware of himself in this place. The cracks splintered his face into a thousand versions of himself, but in the largest piece, he could see himself clearly. And horrifically.
His amber eyes, once filled with gentleness, were nothing more then two blazing, hard orbs, glaring with a mad, fierce glint like those of a mad-mammal. His fur was stuck up all over the place, his clothes no longer there to conceal the untamed chaos inside him that had come out. Lastly, red liquid covered all over him, from head to tail. He knew what it was, but he didn't want to believe.
All of a sudden then, his reflection shot out of the mirror, smiling and growing wildly and psychotically as he attacked himself.
As he thrust forward with a feeling of nauseating dizziness and icy coldness chilling his sweat-filled body, he then felt something wrap around and constrict him tightly, blasting his shivering form with heat. He writhed and pawed at the bonds holding him, letting out a panicked as they only held harder.
"Emmitt! Wake up now! Emmitt!"
Paralysis shot straight through his form, stopping his frenzy as his brain attempted to register the sweet, concern sound that echoed through his ears. Spots and flashes of light faded from his eyes in the moonlit room, until he could focus his vision on the worried otter right beside him on the comforter.
"Emmitt," she said sadly as she cupped his face. He leaned instinctively into her warm touch, allowing the dams to break and tears to stream down his face in large rivers. The warm arms returning, holding him in a form embrace once more. His head went over her shoulder as fluid dripped off his nose and onto her nightgown. Her paw came up to rub his shaking back as his mother released sobs. He nuzzled her shoulder, still trying to reassure himself that she was still there.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he kept repeating as the mantra kept coming up more powerful in his mind. She simply grasped him tighter, letting her warm breath rush over his back.
"Shh, shh. It's okay, Emmitt. It was not your fault, you had nothing to do with it," she whispered softly.
"Yes it was," he replied, voice muffled against her pajamas.
"No it wasn't. It could never be your fault. It never existed. We're all still here," she reassured. His nightmares had been plaguing him ever since he had been admitted out of the hospital after being cured of his savagery.
"It was just so... s-so real," he cried out, hoping that she would not fade away like the fear beginning to dissipate inside him.
"Shh, I know. I know."
"Sorry," he muttered one last time, before the soft, calming strokes and gentle whispers lulled him back into sleep once more, hopefully now without any more fears for the rest of the night and the ones to come.
This was on my mind for quite awhile. I can't help but think that some exposure of the Night Howler serum must have left some sort of psychological effect on the victim's brains. Possibly not savagery of course, but may be the emotional/mental trauma of being savage. I figure just as much, it would be interesting if this was really a true thing, but either way I just wanted an excuse to do a Zootopia story.
Anyways, thanks for reading, please leave a review and feel free to check out some of my other stories. Sincerely, v.t.7