A/N: So my dad recommended I get a hobby. I thought about it and decided to write stories to help spark my imagination. Recently, I read a prompt which sparked an idea of "what if a character with "Wolverine" like abilities appeared in the world of Zootopia?". I found this idea too good to pass up. Also, this is good practice for creative writing anyway. Here is my take on how things would go down.

Cover art by Bosstwin

Disclaimer: I see a lot of stories with this so I'm just gonna add it to be safe. I don't own anything related to the characters or concepts of Zootopia.

Chapter 1: "Humble" Beginnings

John burst through surface, gasping for much needed oxygen. Shivering from the extremely cold water, his relief at escaping his watery grave quickly turned into extreme anger. 'That fucker is going to pay for this!' He thought to himself. How was he supposed to know that jackass Garrett had a brother who works with the mafia? 'Whatever' he thought to himself, 'that dumbass got what he deserved'. The biting cold from the water he was currently swimming in snapped him back to reality, and he began to look around the moonlight surroundings before confusion crossed his features. 'Why is this water so damn cold'. He began to recall the events leading up to his current predicament.

The thugs that knocked him out as he was leaving 7-Eleven bound his hands and legs with zip-ties before tossing him into the backseat of a truck and driving off. The thugs, not realizing he had already woken up, ignored John as he pretended to still be unconscious while he listened in on their conversation:

"So Mikey, why are we doing this again? This punk kid don't look older than 23 man!"

"Shut up, this shit-stain beat up my little brother" Mikey spat back.

The other thug replied "So what, I've met your little brother and if you ask me he had it coming man. The little dudes a prick"

Mikey turned to him with a hateful glare and slowly stated "You think he deserved to have both his arms broken and be put into a coma?"

The other thug clicked his tongue and sighed "Ok man, I get it…"

"Besides", Mikey interrupted, "He messed with my family, and he is gonna pay for it"

John lay silent in the back trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing. Yea, he did beat the shit outa Garrett, but that was only because the dude was talking shit about his parents as if the dude understood anything about his family. He began to genuinely feel fear for the first time when he imagined these guys going after his family next. He needed to get back to them, but first things first, he had to escape.

Being as silent as possible while tied up, he scrunched his body together in order to get his hands near the zip-ties at his feet. When his hands were nearly touching his feet, he winced as he began to painfully unsheathe the middle of the three sharp 'claws' in his right hand and began working on the bindings. John smiled internally as he thought to himself 'good thing these bastards don't know about my little trump card'. After about fifteen minutes of quietly cutting, the zip-tie strap was severed and his legs were free, but he didn't dare move too much to avoid drawing the attention of the two thugs quietly chatting in the front. He knew to wait for the perfect moment to try to escape.

Minutes ticked by as the truck rumbled along. John sat in the back quietly listening to his captor's pointless chatter. It wasn't long before John smelled salt in the air which would have been a nice realization if wasn't for his current circumstances. He loved the ocean, but the fact that they were driving him towards it gave him a VERY bad feeling. A very morbid thought crossed his mind involving him tied to a cinderblock floating at the bottom of the ocean, the thought causing him to silently panic. 'Oh please lord let this be one of those "beat him senseless and leave him in an alley" scenarios', which he became quite used to over the years.

He learned to enjoy those "precious memories" due to his "blessed" (more like cursed John began to believe) ability to heal from all(?) injuries. John wasn't quite sure himself, mostly due to the fact that while he could heal, he still felt pain which would explain why he didn't go experimenting there. The truck came to a sudden stop, which almost caused John to roll onto the floor. He tensed up hoping his earlier prayer had been heard.

"Well, lets get this over with" said Mikey as he opened the door of the truck and stepped out. "I'm gonna go lock the gate and get the boat started, you carry the bastard" John heard Mikey say to thug number two.

Thug number two with an almost sad sigh stated simply "Alright, just let me get ready"

John felt his heart hammering in his chest, that VERY bad feeling resurfacing with a vengeance as he held on to the faint hope that they were just gonna beat him to a pulp and leave him in some alley like what normally happens. Instead, he heard a sound which made all his hopes disappear and confirmed his terrible premonition, the audible *click* of a gun being loaded. "Ah", he thought silently to himself "Guess I haven't got a choice…fuck"

Big Henry, or as John thought of him, thug number two, pulled out his 9mm Beretta 92FS out of the glove compartment of his truck. It was a gift from Mikey for his fortieth birthday and he took good care of it since it had saved his ass many times. He pulled out two small pistol magazines already loaded with bullets and pocketed one while sliding the other into the pistol producing a satisfying *click*. He slid the pistol into his back pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter before lighting himself a smoke. As he breathed it in, the nicotine filling his system, be sighed sadly as he began to think hard.

He had been best friends with Mikey since they were in middle school, due to their propensity for trouble, and he knew Mikey was smart. As kids, Henry always thought Mikey would make something more of himself using those smarts, and he did, just not in the way Henry expected. Mikey somehow got himself involved with the mafia making more money than either of them ever imagined as kids. Being his friend brought Henry many benefits, but at a cost that Henry wasn't sure he was able to stomach anymore.

Henry had killed people, more than a few for not paying Mikey back from their "loans". He was Mikey's "enforcer" and his enormous stature helped him fit the image hence the nickname Big Henry. But what he was doing now just didn't sit right with him, regardless of his past ruthlessness. The punk in the back seat beat up his best friend's little brother, who he honestly believed deserved it, but the punk hurt him too bad. The kid didn't look older than twenty-two twenty-three ish and Henry had reservations about killing anyone less than half his age. 'Well, too late to stop now' he thought to himself.

Henry made a *tsk* sound as he dipped his cigarette into the ash tray and opened the car door to step outside. "This is the last time I help him with shit like this" he told himself as he walked to the side door of the truck to get the "unconscious" punk. As he opened the door, he saw the bottom of two shoes flying towards him. He only had time to think a quick 'WHAT…' before his face and chest were slammed into by a force that Henry couldn't even believe a kid of his size was capable of producing. Henry flew about three feet backwards and skidded along the gravel ground before coming to a stop.

Henry had always been a good fighter and he knew how to take a hit, but that little shit's kick hurt like hell and knocked the wind out of him. Recovering from the initial shock, he reached for his nose which he found broken. Cursing loudly, he quickly stood up holding his nose with his left hand and reaching for his gun with his right. As he looked back at the truck, he scanned the kid that knocked him senseless who was now standing on the gravel road facing him. "You fucker!", he stuttered still holding his nose "I'm gonna enjoy kil…" his voice caught in his throat as he saw something that his brain couldn't quite process.

The punk's hands, still zip-tied together, each had three long white claws extending straight out of them about seven inches from between his knuckles. As he tried to process what he was seeing he looked up to see the boy was smiling at him in an almost playful way. The combined playful smile along with the sharp, evil looking claws sent a shiver down Henry's spine that chilled him to his core. Unnerved, he pulled out his gun as the kid charged him. He only managed to get one shot off into the kid's shoulder before the kid closed the distance.

Henry tried to dodge by jumping backwards, but the distance was too short and so in a last ditch attempt he pulled in both of his arms to cover his chest. The effort was in vain however as the kid slammed into him, sending both sets of his claws through Henry's arms and straight into his chest. Henry crashed to the ground as the kid's momentum drove him backward, the pain overriding any rational thought. As the kid kneeled over Henry staring into his eyes, his face now masked with indifference, the last thing coherent thought that went through Henry's head before he closed his eyes for the last time was 'Man that kid's got beautiful eyes'.

John kneeled over Henry's body, a storm of emotions surging inside of him as he slowly retracted his claws back into his forearms. "It's just like last time" he muttered to himself, last time referring to the only other time he had ever killed someone. Just like that one night, he felt the same emotions of disgust, self-doubt and regret. But there was a more powerful emotion stirring inside him, satisfaction. This man had dared to try to harm him, to threaten him, and in the end they fought and he had claimed victory. At least, that what he felt anyway, it wasn't much of a fight.

By this point John had gotten up and was standing beside thug number two's body trying to calm the storm inside himself. He almost cried out in pain as the adrenaline wore off and he felt the bullet lodged in his left shoulder. 'Why does it always got to hurt so fricking bad' he exclaimed internally as he waited for his body to expel the bullet. Sure enough, he felt the familiar itching sensation as the wound in his shoulder began to close and just before it did, the bullet harmlessly fell out of the bullet hole in the blue hoodie he was wearing. 'Why can't it dull the pain as well dammit'

Looking up, he took a quick view of his surroundings. The truck had parked in a gravel parking lot surrounded on three sides by a gated fence which went right up to the shore line. It was dark, but he could just make out the outline of a couple of boats tied up to the two piers that extended into the ocean. The only light, besides the tiny bit of afterglow from the sun, was the lamppost hanging over the small gravel parking lot. The sea breeze blew across John's features as he began to contemplate his next moves: 'Ok, clearly this guy now knows who I am. I can't just run away because he knows how to find me, and by extension, my parents which I can't allow. Also, I just killed his buddy which means there is no way he is gonna let me get away with this…' He strengthened his resolve as the reality of what he needed to do dawned on him.

'Gotta kill him, no choice, but first, I need a knife or something to cut this stupid zip…' The crunch of a boots on the gravel behind him snapped his attention back to reality and John instinctively ducked. The whooshing sound of something passing where his head was just at reminded him that he still wasn't alone. John jumped forward to create some distance and spun around to face his attacker. Mikey cursed as he missed his first swing with his crowbar and quickly advanced towards John, readying his weapon for another swing. John smiled, 'This is gonna be too easy' and he crouched low preparing to jump straight at him in the same way he did with thug number two.

Unfortunately, luck was not on John's side. As Mikey got close and was about to start his downswing, John leapt, or at least attempted to leap, at him. The gravel below Johns feet did not grant him as much purchase as he assumed it would and his feet slipped. Instead of being propelled forward, he found himself stumbling and he instinctively brought his hands down to brace for his fall. He realized his mistake too late as Mikey corrected the angle of his swing towards the now stumbling John. Time seemed to slow down for John as fell. He quickly glanced at the face of Mikey who was giving him the most hateful look he had ever seen. 'Guess he knows I killed his friend, bummer'. As he watched the crowbar descend towards his face, John felt resigned to this stupid predicament before the crowbar connected and John felt a sharp flash of pain before everything went dark.

Recovering quickly, like he always did, John woke to the sound of waves lapping against a boat. The ocean breeze and the smell of salt only confirmed his suspicions. He tried to move his legs, but found they were tied together again and when he lifted his head to look at the cause, he froze.

He was tied to a cinderblock, a cinderblock that was sitting on the edge of the boat just a push away from going over the side. He realized that he was also laying on the edge of the boat against a railing which is why he hadn't rolled off. Although John never experimented with his ability to heal, he didn't think that it extended to things like drowning, which is why it became one of his biggest fears. He still needed to eat, still needed to sleep, and naturally, still needed to BREATH. He looked around and the first thing he noticed was Mikey sitting across from him cradling the 9mm pistol that thug number two shot him with. His expression was one of such deep sadness and regret, that it almost made John pity him, then he spoke, already aware that John was awake.

"Henry was my best friend."

'Hmm, so that's what his name was' thought John.

"We always had each other's backs and we would help each other when either of us needed help. He didn't deserve this…" John didn't dare interrupt, but he knew that wherever this was going wasn't going to end well for him. "HE DIDN'T DESERVE TO DIE TO SOME FUCKING KID" Mikey screamed in rage. If hate had a physical force, John felt that he would have been obliterated. Mikey seemed to calm down, but John knew that it was only skin deep. He then continued speaking: "Kid, you know I was only going to kill you and then leave it at that, but you went and did… this!" He spat at John and pointed at the body of Henry which was further up the boat which John only just noticed.

John finally decided to speak "What, was I supposed to just accept the fact that you two were tryin to kill me? All I did was beat up your brother for talking shit about things he doesn't understand. Not like I did any permanent damage." Mikey glared hatefully at him and said

"You messed with my family, and I don't let anyone mess with my family. Now you've gone and done something that I can't forgive. I considered Henry to be family, and I intend to get even." Mikey then smiled evilly and John had a horrible premonition. "I looked you up kid. Apparently your parents are struggling right now financially. Gosh!" He exclaimed mockingly "I can see it now! Kid goes missing, parents of kid do everything they can to find him, unsuccessfully of course. Good Samaritan I am, I offer my assistance in the form of a loan and connections. They agree out of desperation and hire me to help find you… you can see where I am going with this, kid" he said smugly.

John felt his whole body tense as he listened to this dudes speal and anger coursed through him. John spoke, "So long story short, you are going to ruin my innocent parent's lives." Mikey smiled

"It's the only way to get even don't you think?"

Never had John felt more hate towards another person. This guy was talking about ruining his parents lives as if it were nothing. 'I have to kill him. He needs to die' he thought darkly to himself. Mikey began speaking again.

"But that comes later, for now…" *BANG**BANG* Mikey fired two shots into John's chest knocking the wind out of him while causing incredible pain "Gotta deal with loose ends first" He said with that same evil smile. Still smiling, he got up to go push the kids body into the water. Thinking the kid would be too hurt to fight back, which is a perfectly logical assumption for anyone else who had been shot twice in the chest, he proceeded to grab him by the shoulders so he could sit him up and roll him over the railing.

When he sat him up he found something unexpected, the kid was grinning. In a split second motion, John unsheathed his claws and punched them straight into Mikey's chest.

Mikey let a surprised "Ugh!" and stared shocked into the eyes of the kid who he had presumably shot dead.

"Enjoy hell you bastard" John said as he used his unnatural strength to lift the 200 lb man still stuck in his claws over his head to try and flip him over himself and into the ocean. That was John's mistake he decided looking back, he should have just dropped him back into the boat and casually thrown him over the side. As John lifted the man over his head, the boat lurched due to a wave breaking over it and John lost his balance.

Both John and Mikey went over the side into the cold water. Unfortunately for John, his hands were still bound and his feet were still tied to the cinderblock, which had fallen in with him. John had time to come up for air one last time before the cinderblock began pulling him down into the deep. John began to panic. He felt himself sinking faster and faster and he knew that if he passed out he was done for. As quick as he could, he began to cut through the rope using his claws, his eyes stinging from the saltwater.

When he was about halfway through, he felt a very weird sensation as he was sinking, as if the world inverted itself for a moment and up and down were switched. What was more strange was the fact that the cinderblock that was pulling him down started pulling him the other direction, as if it was taking him back to the surface. Only, his body could tell that he needed to go further down, or what WAS down. John had been working on cutting the rope while this was happening, and when he was finally through, the cinderblock fell freely down while John was using all his strength to propel himself to where his body was telling him the surface was. Opening his eyes, he could see the faint moonlight reflecting off the surface as he swam desperately upward and he broke through, gasping for breath.

Back to where he started, John still couldn't tell why the water was blisteringly cold. When he fell in he remembered the water being chilly, but not cold enough to cause him to uncontrollably shiver. He spun around in the water checking his immediate surroundings and became even more confused.

"Where the hell is the boat!" he exclaimed to himself. 'It couldn't have drifted that far from where he fell in and it had the lights on so it should be obvious in the dark' he reasoned with himself. Reality and John's reasoning were not aligned that night, as the boat was nowhere to be found, and John began to worry. Although his body could recover from just about anything, he did not like the prospect of possible hypothermia, and the water was freezing.

He began to look at the horizon, hoping to see lights or land or really anything he could swim towards to get out of the water. As his eyes adjusted to the moonlight, he saw something that made his jaw drop. There was an iceberg floating in the distance reflecting the moonlight which made it obvious. 'What the hell, how the hell is there an iceberg in the pacific?' he thought to himself. Continuing to scan the horizon, he saw the faint rise of a tree line in the distance. "Oh thank god!" he said out loud as he began to swim towards it as best as he could with his hands tied together.

It took John three hours to make it to the shoreline. He didn't know about how other people's bodies worked, but he assumed that any normal person would have frozen to death by this point. 'I feel like I could jump straight into a fire and I still wouldn't heat up' he thought as he dragged his freezing body up the beach, which happened to be filled with rocks instead of sand.

'I bet even Navy Seals training isn't this bad' he thought ruefully. He crawled his way towards the trees, doing anything he could to get away from the cold wetness that surrounded him. 'I NEED to get warm' he decided. 'Priority numero uno: Get WARM!'. Visibly shaking, he took off all his clothes and began rummaging through the small backpack he had on over his blue hoody.

The thought of 'Why didn't they ever bother taking my backpack?' had crossed his mind, but he just assumed that they didn't want to leave behind any evidence and it's not like he had anything worth stealing considering what they were planning to do to him. Thankful for small graces, he began pulling out various things searching for one item in particular. 'Ok, still got the food I purchased from 7-Eleven, my protective case that has my phone and iPod is not wet, my wallet still here surprisingly, and…' "THANK GOD it's still here!" he exclaimed out loud as he pulled out a blue propane lighter that his dad asked him to buy so he could grill some burgers.

He was very thankful that his back pack was a camping rated wet proof design which is why although it was submerged, only a little water soaked though. 'Not enough to damage anything' he thought happily. Using the lighter, he first melted the zip-tie strap that was still binding his hands together and relished in the relief of having his hands free again. He quickly gathered some dead pine needles and some dead branches in the vicinity and quickly started a fire using the lighter. As it started up he went to get more dead branches in order to keep the fire going.

Satisfied with his haul, he returned with a big bundle of wood which he began to slowly feed to the fire. As the fire grew, John began putting his clothes around it in an attempt to dry them off and he finally felt like he was warming up. All of the sudden, a wave of exhaustion overtook him, and he quickly made a pillow of dead debris as he curled himself around the fire. The last thought that passed through his head before he fell asleep was 'Man, today sucked'.

Meanwhile

"Sir, you need to take a look at this" a lab coat wearing stripped brown mongoose spoke while handing a folder containing files to a large lab coat wearing hippo.

"What is this supposed to be Charles?" The hippo asked his smaller companion as he took the folder.

Charles replied "Well, one of the twelve seismic detectors set in the Northern Ocean above the Northern Wilds detected something very strange a couple of hours ago. The ASRA (Animalia Scientific Research Association) have requested your opinion since you have previous experience with dealing with these seismic detectors."

It was true. The Hippo's name was Donovan Bastille and he was a successful scientist and licensed engineer pertaining to the use and repair of seismic equipment. He was part of the ASRA, Polar City division. The seismic equipment in question provided very helpful information to the scientific community which included things like seismic readings, sea composition readings and temperatures, gravity fluctuations pertaining to internal planet structure shifts, etc. He was in charge of categorizing and analyzing their findings to be sent to other specialists in other branches of the ASRA.

In short, these seismic detectors were incredibly useful pieces of equipment which meant they were also very expensive and it was his job to maintain their upkeep due to him being the closest and most experienced with said equipment. Dr. Bastille read through the report and then scanned the data before frowning "Ugh, looks like we're going to need to do some maintenance on the #7 seismic detector".

"Why do you say that?" Charles asked curiously.

"Because this data indicates that the scanner sensed a gravitational flux about three miles off the coast of the Northern Wilds" replied Dr. Bastille, "Which is impossible since we aren't doing any field tests" he continued.

"Very well, I will relay your professional opinion to the boys back home. Hopefully, it doesn't take too long this time to send out a repair team" replied Charles.

Bastille sighed softly, "It's because of all that damn paperwork, but please tell them that it needs to be done quickly. The fact that one aspect is malfunctioning probably means water is leaking inside and will eventually corrode and destroy the whole thing, and you know how expensive those sensors are."

Charles replied "Very well, you should get some sleep Donovan, pardon my language but you look like shit. When's the last time you had a full night's sleep?"

"It's been too long Charles" Donovan chuckled humorlessly. "And once they approve the maintenance request, I'll be getting even less"

"Alright then, see you tomorrow and GET SOME SLEEP" emphasized Charles.

"Will do!" laughed Donovan as Charles left the office. Dr. Bastille sat back in his chair, groaning audibly while rubbing his eyes. 'This week is going to suck'

A/N: If there are any typos or grammatical mistakes, just leave a comment. That is of course, if anyone reads this in the first place ahaha. Also, any suggestions for improving my storytelling abilities would be much appreciated. That is the point of this after all.