MOMMA!
With a flash of light and the loud drumming of rain pelting her windows, the vixen shot straight up, jerked violently from her sleep, but by what? A soft blinking yellow light joined her in an otherwise empty bedroom and she clasped her hands over her chest and tried to steady her breathing. Something was wrong, she could sense it, but she would be no use to anyone if she couldn't keep herself under control. The yellow light faded away as the thunder came rolling over the small two bedroom apartment.
MOMMA!
That was what had woken her, the sound of her only kit's anguished cries. The yellow blinking light returned as she untangled herself from her blankets. She rushed as calmly as she could out of her own bedroom and into another, deftly avoiding the toys that were scattered like landmines. In the middle of it all, a flashing red light guided the mother to her sobbing child. She heard a catch in the sobs and knew her baby was being unjustly punished by the cold and unfeeling machines strapped to his neck.
"Shh, shh. Hush my baby. Mommy's here, it's ok," she cooed as she scooped the child, now convulsing with tears, out of his bed and into her arms. She rocked him gently and whispered in his large ears comforting words as she sat herself into the small bed.
Her efforts had no effect as the hysterical little kit buried his face into his mother's chest, his small paws grasped at her nightgown so hard it threatened to tear. She could feel her gown soak up the large tears and she closed her eyes, blocking out the red glow that came more frequently than the lightning.
"Hush my little tod, you need to get control of yourself," she tried to sound soothing despite the fact that she could feel her own tears welling in her eyes. Her heart was breaking at the suffering of her child. A suffering she could do nothing about.
The kit's sobs turned to ragged breathing, but she knew it wouldn't be enough. Soon the little fox's taming collar, sensing the elevated heart rate of the small predator, would give him a violent shock. She hugged her child tightly as she felt his small body spasm with pain and heard him cry harder than before. Her own tears finally spilled from her eyes as the smell of burnt fur reached her keen nose.
"Nicky, sweety, you have to calm down. You're ok. It's just your big fox collar. You can't be crying and carrying on like a little kit anymore," she tried to sound soothing though she felt it came out more desperate as her heart ached at the unfairness that her child was no longer permitted to feel even the fear of what she could only guess was a simple nightmare. She felt the little fox nod his head on her chest as he tried once again to control his breathing.
Relief swept the vixen as the blinking red warning light from the collar turned to yellow. She stroked her son's ears back against his head in pride. At only 8 years old, he was far too young to bury his feelings. She sighed and looked down at her precious kit lovingly and as he looked up into hers they could both see the red and puffiness that rimmed their otherwise brilliant green eyes. She smiled down to the sniffling kit.
"I-I ha-had a dr-dream about, about daddy," once again her heart ached as the kit tried to explain what had happened.
"Shh, shh, baby. You don't have to tell me anything," she interrupted him as gently as she could. She couldn't let him explain. She couldn't let him experience his emotions. A predator had to learn early to bottle their feelings and hide them somewhere deep down.
"They took him away! He wasn't even doin' nothin' b-but they took him away!" the kit sobbed. It wasn't just a nightmare the kit feared, it was a memory.
Panic filled the vixen as she saw the blinking warning light change from yellow back to red. Her little fox was becoming emotional again. She tried to hush the kit but to no avail. She knew the shock was coming soon. Quickly, she slid her paw under the collar and caressed her son's neck.
The boy felt the pull on his neck and the gentle touch of his mother's hand before it tensed and her claws reached through his fur and grazed his skin. He looked up at her wide eyed and she returned his gaze with a warm smile that told him that she was there and that she loved him. He took two large breaths before he pulled the slender paw away.
"I'm ok now Momma. I have to be a big strong tod while daddy's gone right?" he said through the last of his sniffles. He rubbed his mother's paw, inspecting two crispy spots of burnt fur.
"That's right," she smiled, "you're the big tod around here. One who has earned some late-night ice cream." The little fox's ears perked up and his mouth hung open in a big smile as he wiped away the last of his tears before running off into the kitchen. The vixen stood slowly, the smile gone from her face as she thought, and in the morning I'm calling that damn pediatrician and getting that collar adjusted. Again.
"Nick, pst, Nick!"
A harsh whisper broke the young fox from his daydreams and he glanced sideways to the source of the whisper. A young weasel sat next to him, his eyes darting quickly between Nick and the large boar at the front of the classroom. The weasel gave the collar around his neck a few erratic tugs and Nick held his hand up to his own collar and saw a faint yellow light blink against the palm of his paw. Nick sighed, he was suddenly very aware of the beating of his heart and he forced himself to relax. He glanced back at the weasel and have him a grateful smile and a thumbs up. The weasel relaxed too, and they both looked back at the pig whose back, thankfully, remained facing the class, droning on about numbers and equations that held little meaning for the two predators in the back of the classroom.
Bing! Bing! Bing!
At the first sound of the period bell, every student gathered their belongings and shuffled out the door, the teacher still shouting out instructions for homework as they left.
"Hey buddy," the weasel nudged the fox in the hip with his elbow, "what's got you so hot under the collar?" Nick glared at the smaller predator who seemed way too proud of his joke than he should have.
"Nothing, I was just daydreaming I guess."
"Uh-huh," the weasel gave an evil smirk, "I bet I know who you were daydreaming of."
Nick's red fur hid the blush on his cheeks but his collar gave a single yellow flash, betraying his feelings to the weasel.
"I knew it!" the weasel declared proudly as the two friends walked to their next class. "Dude! You should just ask her out. She's the only other fox in our grade, it's almost expected."
"Hmm, ok. How's this, 'Hey, grk, Sheila. I was, grk, wondering if maybe, grk, you might like to, grk, hang out sometime? Grrrrrk!'" Nick scoffed pretending to be electrocuted.
"Yeah, do that! Chicks dig that whole suffering for love thing," the weasel smirked, "and, I might get to see you get zapped. Bonus points for me."
"Not happening, Marty" Nick insisted as they walked into the next class. His heart gave a loud thump and his paw shot up to his collar to hide the telltale flash of yellow when he saw the vixen, Sheila. There wasn't much red to the technically red fox's fur. She had an uncommon melanin disorder that stained nearly all her fur black but Nick thought she was all the more beautiful for it. When she moved, her white undercoat rippled through the coarse black outer coat and made it look like she shimmered. Nick wanted nothing more than to run his paws through her soft fur and just watch the colors change.
He took a deep breath and calmed himself as he entered the room. There was nothing more embarrassing than getting random shocks at school. Taming collars only shocked preds when their heart rate got too high, so unless you are fighting or crying, there was generally only one reason for getting a shock and there was no way to hide your reaction to the painful electric bite.
Nick went to his usual spot behind the vixen and as he passed she stopped speaking to her friend, a lynx named Gabby, for just a moment to acknowledge the fox with half smile and a nod before continuing her conversation. He gave a weak smile back and looked into her golden eyes before turning into his seat.
As Nick was pulling out his English binder Sheila had apparently finished her conversation and turned to face Nick with such quickness he was surprised to see her muzzle just inches away from his as he looked up.
"Are you coming to the meeting after school today?" she asked without any precursor.
"Meeting? We don't normally have meetings on a Tuesday?"
"Emergency meeting. Glad I asked, seeing as you didn't even know about it," she narrowed her eyes at him. He detected annoyance in her voice but he couldn't be sure if it was directed at him or elsewhere.
"The Taming Collar Support Group is petitioning to have the homecoming dance changed to a more casual 'homecoming party' in order to alleviate the stress on collar wearing preds and avoid any unnecessary shocks," Gabby explained very officially, "Predators become the victims of shock collars when our heart rates are elevated for non violent reasons, such as first romances and the stress of peer pressure that comes with preparing for formal dances."
"Tell us something we don't know,Gabby," Marty grumbled as he yanked at his own collar. The lynx glared at the weasel and was about to say something, probably rude, when the doe at the front of the classroom cleared her throat to begin class.
Nick was zoned out in less than five minutes of the teacher talking about authors that had been dead for centuries. He was slowly becoming hypnotized by the ever-changing fur of the vixen in front of him. It was no wonder he was barely passing English. He shook his head to clear it as he reached for a sheet of blank paper and a pencil. He tore off a little piece of the paper and scribbled a quick note before passing it to the vixen without the teacher noticing. Sheila read the note and, while the teacher was writing on the blackboard, Sheila got Gabby's attention and, with a quick glance over her shoulder and a nod, communicated Nick's confirmation that he too was going to the meeting. Gabby gave Nick a quick smile and turned back to the lecture.
Nick smiled. He ripped off another piece of paper, scribbled on another note and passed it to the black fox, this time intending it just for her.
Can we talk after the meeting?
Sheila shifted her weight in her chair as she read the note, and at her first opportunity, she scribbled her own note and passed it back to him.
Just you and me? Sure.
Nick smiled and pulled out a fresh piece of paper, the note writing had given him an idea.
Dear Sheila,
I know I asked you to meet me, but I thought writing a letter would be best. I wanted to let you know that …
Know what? Know that I have the biggest crush on you? That I love everything about you, from your glowing eyes, to your magic fur, to your amazing smile? That I want to worship every curve of your face and body?
"Mister Wilde? Is everything ok?"
Nick froze in surprize at being addressed by the teacher. He slid his paper under his arm before he flashed a cheesy grin back at the teacher.
"Yeah, Ms. White, just thinking of the injustices Romeo and Juliet had to face for their love! Crazy story, that one!"
The doe nodded her head, clearly not buying his bullshit, "That's wonderful Nicholas, but we are discussing Gilgamesh today. If you could stay with us, I'd greatly appreciate it."
Nick could feel his ears get warm and he heard a snicker from the front of the room. Gabby signaled him and started pointing at her own collar which was completely dark. He nodded and took a deep breath. He didn't even notice his heart rate raise for the second time today and it was only second period. He lowered his head down on his desk and looked at his letter. He was going to have to write it very slowly if he wanted to remain undetected.
I wanted to let you know that everytime I think of you my heart starts to race.
He finished the sentence and then put the paper under his binder and focused on the teacher. Nick leafed through his copy of the book he hadn't even started reading yet. He was completely lost listening to the teacher and his mind wandered back to his letter. What else could he say? What else would he want? If he endangered himself just by thinking of the vixen in front of him, he couldn't imagine what he would do if they actually started dating. He knew that even a simple kiss would gain him a painful shock.
Nick slapped his hand to his neck, able to catch his heart this time. He gave a low growl thinking about the damn collar around his neck. Gabby was right, the collars, which 90% of the Zootopian population hailed as a peacemaker between predators and prey, was more like a ball and chain which prevented him, and all predators, from living their lives as anything more than emotionally dead zombies. He longed to grab the vixen in front of him by the shoulders and plant a big kiss on the end of her muzzle, to run his hardest through the yard just outside the window, to yell and scream at the teachers who gave him dirty looks whenever the collar lit up, to break down and cry at the injustice of being denied these basic rights.
A loud thump was heard throughout the classroom as Nick's knees jerked up and hit the underside of his desk. He reached one arm across the desk, fingers and claws flexed in pain while the other clenched at his neck. He tried to suppress a groan as a wave of pain radiated from his neck.
"Mr. Wilde, do you need to be excused?" Ms. White asked with concern.
Nick nodded as the last rolls of electricity ran through him. "Yes ma'am," he replied weakly as he packed his items and walked out of the room.
His friends exchanged worried glances and as he made his way to the door he heard a small squirrel whisper, "Preds are so unpredictable."
I'm not unpredictable! I'm just not a walking corpse! He wanted to shout, but instead he let it go and walked down the empty hall. He gave a silent prayer that that the pred room would be empty and threw his backpack down in relief when he saw that it was. The pred room was supposed to be a place where predators came to deal with their "urges" but nothing was ever dealt with in here. Instead, students came in, listened to one of the meditation CDs and were supposed to just relax until the "urges" simply went away.
Nick flopped onto one of the bean bags on the floor and reached into his bag. There was no way one of those stupid hippy CDs were going to calm him, in fact the opposite often held true. Instead he pulled out his own portable CD player, already loaded with one of his favorite CDs and curled up in the bean bag chair. Drums pounded rhythmically through the headphones and into his ears. They were soon accompanied by the overly distorted, deep rifts of an electric bass. The singer teased a few words before the lead guitar came in, trilling a quick series of notes meant to convey a sense of insanity. When the singer returned, his voice was full of rage and pain, all the things Nick wasn't allowed to feel. This was the sort of music that many older mammals blamed for aggression in today's youth, but Nick found a certain catharsis in the dark tones that put him at ease.
He wrapped the tip of his tail over his nose, intending only to relax when he felt a soft paw caress his shoulder. His music was no longer playing through the headphones and he looked up through sleepy eyes at two blurry golden disks shining in a black plane.
"I fell asleep," he muttered wearily as he rubbed his eyes.
"I can see that," Sheila replied in a soft voice. "I was starting to get worried when you didn't show up for science."
"What time is it?" Nick asked through a wide mawed yawn, which he didn't even bother covering up. Anyone who would have been frightened or offended by his toothy display had no business in the pred room.
"Lunch, I brought you this," she pulled out cellophane wrapped blueberry muffin and tossed it at his chest and then she grabbed a sheet of loose leaf paper, "and this."
It took a moment for his blurry eyes to recognize the sheet of paper, but when he did he let out an embarrassed groan. "It, uh, it's not finished yet."
Sheila smiled, a blush hiding under her dark fur and her collar gave a single yellow flash. "I figured that. Is this why you got shocked in English?"
Nick nodded sheepishly. "I don't know how other predators do it. I just think about you and I get shocked, and yet somehow our parents were able to kiss and caress and make love to create us."
"Eww. Please never use the words 'parents' and 'make love' in the same sentence ever again," she laughed, "And I know how they do it. You don't know because you're still just an immature kit, but vixens mature faster so I already figured it out."
"Oh? Well then enlighten me, oh wise vixen," Nick inquired as he spread his hands in a wide, overly dramatic gesture.
She huffed out a small sad laugh as the smile melted from her face. She opened a bag of dried, teriyaki crickets and chewed one slowly as she searched for the right words to explain without sounding too mushy. A sigh left her muzzle as she swallowed her cricket. "Love without passion. I see it with my parents. I can tell they love each other, even after 20 years together, they snuggle on the couch, they help each other, they hold hands but one day I realised something. My parents have no passion. Not for each other, not for their jobs, not for their hobbies, not even for me. They just go through the motions." She looked sadly at Nick. "This is what we have to look forward to. Forget those passionate love scenes you see in the movies. Those are for the plant eaters, not us. You'll never be able to kiss another mammal with all your worth. You won't ever be able to take a lover and make that sweet, all night kind of love. We can't have that and the sooner we kill our passions, the better off we'll be."
Nick watched as her eyes grew watery and she shrugged off the last few words. Nick's next move came without thought as he reached around the vixens shoulders and pulled her down into a hug. He buried his nose in her fur and felt her body tremble as she fought to keep her tears from flowing.
"I don't think I can do that," Nick whispered. Maybe he was being an immature kit. Maybe he needed to let go of his desires to make passionate love, and run at full speed and yell and cry. Maybe he did need to let go of his heart to exsist in this world and doing otherwise would only cause him pain.
He ran his fingers through the fur on the back of the vixen's neck and inhaled her scent deeply. "I don't want to lose these feelings I have, what I feel for you," he sighed. He rubbed his cheek across hers and as he did this he felt her tense up and she let out a pained gasp.
He pulled away and saw the red flash of her collar and his heart broke. She was getting shocked and it was all his fault. Her paws shot up to her neck and as the electric pain rolled away she gave a small chuckle, "I guess I'm not as mature as I thought I was." She looked lovingly into Nick's eyes and spoke again, "You may be ok with getting shocked in the name of love, but I'm not. I'm sorry, Nick."
With that she got up and walked out of the pred room without turning to look back. Nick wanted to go after her but he knew a rejection when he heard it.
Rage boiled through his blood and he slammed his face into the nearest bean bag and screamed out his frustrations. He damned the collars and he damned the society that forced good preds, like Sheila, to wear them. Pain raced through him as the machine reacted to his heart rate. He twisted his body and bit into the bean bag chair cursing into it. As the waves of pain subsided he growled into the bag, no longer caring how uncivilized he looked. For these few moments he desired only to embrace his feral side, to actually feel something. Nick extended his claws into the bag and bit hard. He yanked his head back and heard the satisfying sound of fabric tearing as the foam beads flew into the air. He bit down again, this time pulling the bag over him. He gave his feet a violent kick against the bag and could feel his claws shred more fabric.
Another shockwave ran through his body but instead of cursing he let out a primal yelp before shaking his head vigorously, destroying what was left of the bag. He stood on all fours panting like the savage beast he felt like, satisfied with the death of the beanbag chair. Foam beads spread in all directions like fallen snow. He panted, his sense of mind slowly returning as his breathing and heart rate returned to normal. Nick stood slowly and smoothed out his fur. It felt good to let out his aggression despite the pain and mess it caused. He considered bolting from the room to continue to stretch his muscles and run while his adrenaline and endorphins were still high.
He considered many possible things to do next but the one the won out called forth from a physical and emotional exhaustion. He slid back to the ground and tears ran down his face. He didn't sob or cry out, he just accepted the empty feeling that entered his body before he got back up to clean his mess.
Author's notes:
This one shot was inspired by the deleted scene "Taming Party" which is crazy sad.
Nick's relationship with music here is based on my own relationship with music and if you're curious I was listening to "Down with the Sickness" by Disturbed for inspiration when Nick first entered the pred room and then when he started having his hissy fit at the end, "This Means War" by Avenged Sevenfold came on and I found it quite appropriate.