Hey, all! Just a little heads up about this fic.
For starters, this is, in its entirety, a copy+paste straight from AO3. Honestly, I like their site layout and format a helluva lot more, hence why I haven't uploaded this monstrosity here until now. But if I wansta' get that exposure, then I gotsta' upload to both, right?
Speaking of this monstrosity, this is my first fan-fic. Ever. Seriously. Not only just my first work in the fandom. It's also the first bit of creative writing I've put any serious time or effort into in YEARS. There is rust everywhere so don't expect this to be a masterpiece or anything.
Updates to this story are going to be pretty infrequent too, sad to say. I have a lot real world junk that unfortunately takes precedence over writing stories on the internet, so if by chance you do enjoy this and there's a long gap between chapters, don't act too surprised about it. Updates are also gonna appear on AO3 first due to my preference. Sorry/Not Sorry.
ANYWAYS, with all that crap out of the way, here's the story. Hope some of ya' enjoy it!
~OoskieDoosk
SIDENOTE: Just noticed you can't apply strikethrough to text on this site. Well... shit. If you see any text stuck between dashes, like -this for example- just pretend that there's a line going through it, 'kay? Not really a big deal right now, but in future chapters, it will be.
It Was Nice Knowing Us
Chapter 1
Lockdown.
The alarm blared. The dark, unlit hall of containment cells was now lit up by a flashing red light, doors to said cells locked shut on their own. Of course, all of the cells were locked anyways, what with them currently housing savage predators (the last thing the mayor needed was for them to escape after going through all the trouble to gather them), or at least all but one previously empty cell, which was now occupied by a female grey rabbit and a male red fox; both of whom trying desperately to pull the now locked door open after using the cell as a hiding spot. As the two noticed a pair of wolves that had made their way to the door they witnessed the mayor and what appeared to be a doctor scamper through moments ago, the rabbit couldn't help but think: Why?
Why was mayor Lionheart holding all of the missing mammals? Why are all of them savages? And for the love of God, why did her parents have to choose THAT moment of all times to call their daughter? Of course, it's not like they'd know it wasn't a good time. For all they knew, she was just a meter maid whose duty ended hours ago, and she certainly wouldn't be doing anything dangerous (i.e., being chased by a savage predator, or spying on the mayor of Zootopia in an abandoned hospital, or palling around with a fox, all for the sake of proving she -could be- is a "real cop"). Of course, she couldn't blame them. She instead blamed her phone, for not being on silent. After all, it was the phone that alerted the mayor and doctor to her presence. It was the phone that could have recorded more of their conversation instead of scaring them away. It was the phone that blew her and the fox's cover, even though they themselves still weren't caught directly afterward. Stupid friggin' phone.
Now wasn't the time for her to be thinking about that, she assured herself, as she was reminded of the predicament at large. By the fox, no less. In a brief moment of… panic, the fox she was trapped in with stopped trying to pull open the cell door and instead started raving about how dead he, she, and everyone else was. Perhaps 'panic' isn't the right word, she mused, but she had never seen the fox express much of his unrest, let alone any other genuine emotion. By choice, narcissistic-butthole was his default, and he'd be damned to let anyone else see him emote anything else.
"Never let them see that they get to you." His mantra. A mantra he's only ever dropped twice. Once after running for his life from a savage jaguar, expressing his gratitude to the rabbit cop who had just saved his life. Once again soon after, while riding a sky tram with the rabbit cop. He had just effectively saved her job by telling off her chief. (repaying the debt of saving his life, perhaps?) He then let her in on a piece of his past – the junior ranger scouts, and the muzzle, and the reason as to why he became a con-artist, and the reason why he'd rather choose to ignore his childhood trauma instead of choosing to acknowledge and fight against it, and the - hey is that traffic down there? Hot damn, look at all that traffic! Yessir, that is some fine-ass traffic if I've ever seen it! Evidently, he uses that mantra to mask all of his emotions – not just the hurt ones caused by the prejudices of other mammals. He was a fox, which meant he was shifty, untrustworthy, unethical, dangerous, godless, and depending on who you asked, just kind of a prick, really. And really, when it all boils down to it, who gives a damn about what a fox feels?
The rabbit cop. That's who. The rabbit cop who was still frantically pulling on the door until the fox helping her stopped and propped himself up against a comically oversized toilet while he ranted about death. Why there were even toilets this huge in the containment cells of an abandoned hospital was beyond her. A generous consideration, nonetheless. If they were in a better state of mind, the savage predators being held within would probably be thankful and use them for their intended purposes, as opposed to using them as another source of drinking water. The only other time she saw a toilet that large was at the police academy. It's quite the remarkable view; the inside of a toilet. Not an ideal place for a misshapen bath, though. Especially when you're easily a quarter of the size of the mammal it's use was intended for. Or even a quarter of the size of said mammal's… excrement.
And then, an idea. Knowing full well that the fox was going to friggin' hate it was irrelevant.
"Can you swim?", asked the rabbit.
"What?! 'Can I swim?' Yes, I can swim!", lied the fox, agitated by the seemingly meaningless question. Never in his life did he feel the need to learn how to swim. It wasn't like he was ever going to leave the city to live life as a pirate out in the seas, or some nonsense like that. "Why?!"
The rabbit pulled a plastic bag out of one of her pockets, dropped her phone into it, sealed it, and then grabbed the fox by his arm and jumped into the toilet, dragging him in as well. "I can't reach the handle; you're going to have to reach up and flush us."
"Carrots, you have got to be kidding me!"
"Do you have a better idea? Or would you rather just wait here for your quote-unquote 'death'?"
The fox's eyes were already wide. Somehow after hearing that, they managed to get wider. Yep - now he's panicking. Sighing loudly, the rabbit decided that maybe a joke would calm his nerves. Always worked when he did it for her (not that she'd ever admit it to him). "Come on, it'll be like a waterslide."
"Waterslide?! What?! Are you even listening to-"
The sound of a door slamming open preempted the fox from arguing further. Before any of the wolves barging in could get sight or scent of the oddball duo, the toilet had been flushed.
The plan was foolproof. They'd ride the current of the flushing toilet down into the sewers, find a ladder to climb up somewhere under Zootopia and report to the rabbit's police chief ASAP. Not exactly good on paper, but in the mind of a newbie rabbit cop on the verge of closing a two-week old case that would prove her worth, it was foolproof… at least, it would have been, if not for the sudden realization that they were now careening out of a pipe that led off a cliff. How could she have forgotten? The hospital they just escaped was several miles outside the metropolis' limits! There is no way the sewers reached out to this old place! The plan was supposed to be foolproof!
Needless to say, the ride was nothing like a waterslide. Waterslides are fun. Waterslides are safe. The screams one would hear coming from a waterslide are ones of joy and excitement. And above all else, waterslides do not throw their riders into a waterfall. The toilet flush was not fun, nor was it safe. And the screams coming from its participants? Blood-curdling terror. Not that anyone would be able to hear them over the rushing sound of vertically falling water crashing into the lake directly below it, though.
But there was a sound that did manage to overtake the waterfall: the sound of two bodies getting dunked into the lake in unison.
Splash.
…
…
…
Silence.
…
…
…
And then… after a deep breath, a voice belonging to a fox wearing a gaudy green Hawaiian print shirt and a striped off-color tie.
"Carrots?"
…
No response.
"Hopps?!"
…
No response.
"JUDY?!"
…
A deep breath, followed by a voice belonging to the rabbit cop, Judy, holding the plastic bag with her phone in it in her paw.
"We gotta' tell Bogo!"