Author Note: I disclaim Zootopia and it characters besides.

Prologue: (chapter 1)

crash course

It was a cold winter morning at the hidden Gideon Airforce base lying within the northern mountains of Zootopia. Snow fell onto the buildings, while the crossed runways were covered in a blanket of white frost. Several animals of different species - mostly wolves and snow leopards - worked along the cold temperatures, moving large crates and containers, storing them onto cargo planes or the hangers. Helicopters and jets lined together all having their own individual hangers, but less small than the main ones. An outer fence that surrounded the base was scouted by snow leopards wearing blue and white heavy coats, their black mittens keeping their paws warm. All but their feet was warm, where they were only lacking that only component. They weren't bothered by the cold as much for their fur gave them an extra coating of insulation. Goggles sat against their foreheads, the leopards prepared for if a snowstorm came, they weren't blinded by the heavy blizzard. Fortunately only mammals with fur were on the base. Any other animal would have trouble trying to stay warm.

The flight control tower buzzed with radio activity, a leopard manning his post at his seat received a transmission from an inbound cargo plane dubbed Oprius. "Gideon Air Force base, this is Oprius prepping final approach to runway two as requested, Estimated time of arrival is three mikes."

"Roger that Oprius, runway two is still cleared and u have light weather," the white leopard responded with his headset, glancing at the radar screen watching the small arrowhead icon of Oprius nearing the base. "Just on time too, Oprius. Convoy Raven is behind schedule but will arrive shortly after landing. Upon landing, proceed to runway one and prep for takeoff upon refueling" He turned his attention to the window of the tower as the sound of roaring thunder caused by Oprius' engines drew closer and closer to the base. Others also watched as the shape of the twin engine plane materialized from the snow covered skies from a distance and edged towards them over the colossal peaks of the northern mountains.

"Copy control," Oprius acknowledged, "beginning landing procedures." The silver lined plane slowly began its decent using the light of the runway as its guide. The plane softly raised the nose of it and squealed as soon as the wheels made touchdown onto the blacktop. Reducing torque and turning the plane around onto the second runway. They ceased moment once one of the airfield marshallers in his lit fluorescent orange signaled them. The propellers of the plane kicked up snowflakes and a freezing wind chill to any that were near.

The rear of the plane's cargo hatch opened and lowered onto the ground. Three animals wearing black suits paused as the sudden warmth of the plane dissipated and were hit by the unsettling cold temperature. Two of the suited animals that were tigers immediately flinched, while a black fox in his mid-twenties wearing a white and black checkered tie and tinted sunglasses merely shrugged it off. The fox pulled his sleeve back, revealing a gold-tone stainless steel watch. His time marked nine-forty. He cleared his throat and placed his paws behind his back and grasped them with each, his ears twitching at the sound of the plane's engine and the two tigers muttering to each other.

He adjusted his glasses and watched from his side as the ground personnel began refueling the plane at a quick pace and stepped off the plane, waiting five minutes in the open, growing impatient. The cold was getting to him. After another minute, his ears perked and raised an eyebrow as three vehicles exited the tunnel south of the base, rubber grinding against the snow covered asphalt. Two black SUVs and one armored truck transport in between them maneuvered around the slick slopes and arrived at the checkpoint where it was inspected. Ground personnel assembled near the plane armed with semi-automatic tranquilizer rifles and pistols. There headset gargled with static from the radio channel being frequently used.

A large grey wolf walked towards the fox, a large scar scraped across his blind eye that was covered by an eyepatch and his other deepened with hatred. He wore a black sweater and grey pants matching his fur. His underjaw was pure white along with the underside of his arms and legs. From the looks of the muscular wolf, he had seen his share of fighting. He gave a growl at the presence of the fox, capturing the attention of the two tigers behind him. The fox slightly turned his head eying the taller creature that stood a foot taller than him through his glasses. "Well…if it isn't Agent Lock," the wolf began, crossing his arms and holding his head high if he were on top of the food chain. The fox scoffed quietly, turning his full attention to the beast and said bitterly, "Major Shepard...nice of you to join us this fine morning…" The fox turned his face away from the wolf for a moment and whispered to himself, "If u have any that is…" Despite the sound of the plane and cold wind blowing into their faces muffling the smallest noises, the wolf caught on and gave a threatening growl, inching closer to the puny animal in front of him.

They exchanged glares at each other, tension between them becoming hostile. They weren't the friendliest types towards each other, but then again, neither were they nice to other animals. At least they can relate on one thing. The fox remembered him from previous missions; he always knew the wolf was a problem, seeming to rely on pure brute strength to get through any problems that came at him, especially during operations requiring a little less head on with teeth and claws ripping everything in sight. They were effective at the least, but tactics like those don't come without sacrifices. Explaining the reason of why his one eye is blind and covered by the patch. Not to mention Shepard was unstable at times.

Shepard had to refrain from ripping the animal apart and turning him into his personal rug as his paws formed into fists, teeth bared and his eyes bloodshot. If it was one thing that ticked him off, it was that damn fox, but there already was an animal that took the number one place on his who-to-kill-slowly list. Unfortunately he was unable to lay a paw on that one animal unless he was told too. But he hungered for the day he could rip both the fox and his tormenter apart. Shepard inhaled the icy air cold air through his nose, attempting to calm and control himself, capturing the scents of the comrades around him, including the foreign scent of Lock. Despite the invading scent that originated from him, Shepard only grumbled casting his face towards the ground, eyes closed. He said softly yet intimidatingly, "Let's just get this over with."

The fox was surprised by his change in attitude, expecting some sort of revolting retort. He questioned it, several theories going through his mind, guessing he didn't want to cause issues right at this time. He didn't respond to the large wolf and only nodded. Perhaps he wanted a day of peace. He turned his attention towards the oncoming vehicles that begun moving from the checkpoint and moved onto the surface of the airfield, tires squealing as they progressed towards them and slowed as the two SUVs diverted from the armored truck and parked several feet from it. The truck turned around as soon as it was close enough to the group and backed in slowly. The skies thickened with grey clouds and the lights of the vehicle were lit. Lock felt the atmosphere become tense, everyone becoming serious than anything they encountered in their life. His eyes narrowed at the end of the truck, hearing the only sound of his heart race. Behind those doors were a captive - the animal responsible for countless mission failures, and the waste of millions of dollars of research development. Besides that he only knew that they called the subject zero-one and not much information was given out on the subject. As soon as it stopped, the ground personnel converged onto the truck, forming two separate lines opposite from each other and guns pointed to the ground, eyes daggering the doors.

The driver of the truck got out and advanced towards the doors. His partner hurried from the passenger's side of the vehicle. They both gripped the doors handles, staring at the commanding officer, which of course was none other than Shepard himself. He signaled them to open the doors. The air became still, everything around Lock became silent his heartbeat the only thing audible. As the doors opened wide, Lock took note of the creature within the inside of the vehicle, a frown forming onto his face and an eyebrow rose. Illuminated within the interior the vehicle by one sole lamp light casted down onto the shape of a fox just like him. He not that the fox was male, age between mid-thirties to early forties, color orange all over, tip of the ears; forearms to paws, forelegs to feet were brown. His tail that lay against the ground was orange midway towards the tail and brown the rest of the way. The underside of the fox's jaw was just as white as the snow. The fox had his paws handcuffed behind him, his fleet chained with shackles. He also wore an orange jumpsuit with blacks numbers triple zero seven. He was positioned with his knees hugging the ground and back titled forward in a suppression stance. The fox slowly raised his head at the sound of the doors opening, his green eyes capturing everything around him and ears twitching at the sound around him.

The worst part about his eyes is that the second Lock looked at them, his throat became dry and he swallowed his saliva hoping to moisten it. He pondered at what he was feeling at this moment, but fear was the last thing on his mind. In spite of that, he mused over the fact that the so called subject zero-one was none other than a small fox. Other than him, he had a hard time believing that a fox of this nature could cause so much damage. He thought this was a mere joke, until he heard Shepard snarled at the presence of the fox. "Matthews" the wolf said intensely.

Lock could have sworn that the fox smirked at the sound of Shepard voice the instant he heard him. Death glares persisted over them and Lock questioned the hostility. Does Shepard…perhaps know him? Lock closed his eyes attempting to remember anything else about the subject. But he rarely got information on such topics. He was disgusted with the lack of information besides the rumors he heard. Matthews…

Another leopard who was the guard was present behind the fox, and grabbed his arms to help him up. Of course the guard didn't show any sympathy for him for once the fox stood up; he was pushed out of the door of the vehicle and tossed onto the ground. The impact had to hurt, but the fox showed no tolerance for pain. Instead he was just reminded that he was being held captive as a prisoner his eyes becoming lifeless as if he no longer cared for himself. The fox just stared blankly at the ground. Shepard grinned. If he couldn't rip the animal apart at least he could just show him who he is messing with. The guard leaped onto the ground from the vehicle and grabbed the fox by the back of his shirts neck and dragged him towards Shepard and Lock.

Once he was inches from them, Shepard grabbed the helpless fox by the neck and leaned in close to his face, teeth bared. "Not so fierce when you're tapped like prey, Matthew." He punched the fox on the side of the muzzle, giving him a clear bruise even if it was unnoticeable through his fur. "So small and fragile you're a joke Matthew" He grabbed him by the throat again squeezing it to void himself of needed oxygen.

The fox strained to breathe, and then chuckled. "Am I, Shepard?" He leaned in closer to the wolf. "How's that eye doing? Hope I didn't hurt you that bad," he said mockingly acting concerned and made sure everyone around him heard him. The wolves and leopards started to whisper among each other, but Shepard snarled at them, causing their snouts to instantly shut and straighten themselves avoiding looking into Shepard's eyes. Lock was motionless and quiet, quite curious of the two's history.

Shepard returned his attention to the fox and lifted him into the air, leveling his face with his. "Where you're going Matthews… you will regret being involved." He tossed the fox in front of Locke, leaving his face scrape against the cold blacktop. The guard picked him up and ordered him into the plane. Locke locked eyes with the orange fox and he did as well, despite Locke wearing his shades. Shepard caught Locke's attention as he walked up him. He stopped in front of him and pulled a key from his pocket and held it out to him. "I can trust that u can deliver him to Etheran in Zootopia?"

Locke started at the key, guessing it was the component that released the subject's restraints. "If no problems are encountered consider it done," Locke answered grabbing the key, but Shepard refused to let go. Locke glanced up at him whose face was more serious than before.

"Listen, Locke," he began, "The subject isn't what you expect he is." He bared his teeth. "Don't let your guard down… or you will die." He let go of the key and walked away from Locke signaling the armed guards to follow him back towards the control center. The guards that arrived in their vehicles returned to them and began to drive away from the runway. Locke scoffed at his words of advice, but a sense of caution followed into his mind.

He nodded his head, weighing the key in his hand and tightly gripped it. "Alright, Shepard… I'll listen to you." He gazed around at the mountains, the moving figures and the structures around him before turning around and entering the back of the plane. He noticed that the subject had a chained collar that prevented him from moving his neck as effectively. He seemed perfectly immobile, having only a foot to move freely. The subject was in the same position as before when he was in the armored truck, knees hugging the ground and back slightly bent forward. A single lamp light illuminated the fox in the plane, while dimmer lights cleared sections of the darkness.

A pilot called down from the top of a platform that lead into the cockpit and had stairways of either side of it that led up to it. The two tigers took their positions on either of the staircases guarding it closely. Locke signaled the pilot to take off and turned his eye at the fox that seemed to be eying him again. Locke raised an eyebrow and stowed the key into his pocket on the inside of his coat. The ramp of the plane closed giving the tigers relief from the cool. Locke hated to admit it, but he was also glad that they were finally leaving the cold weather. The plane buckled as it left the runway and began its journey to a warmer location. He expects himself to be somewhere warmer within the Zootopia's different types of weather divisions. Perhaps a stroll in the streets of the city would be a relaxing day with… He stopped for a moment as his mood fell into despair.

He pulled out his wallet and opened it. Searching the contents, he pulled out a folded picture and extended it. He stroked a segment of the picture and sighed with anxiety. In the picture there was a beautiful, blue-eyed ebony colored fox just like him that was cuddled in front of Locke with his arms extended around her. His head lay atop of hers and they smiled in content. Just… hang in there. Locke said to himself, squeezing the picture slightly. He swallowed his saliva in his dry throat attempting to moisten it. He closed his eyes, pausing for a moment, taking in the stress and hoping to dissipate it until a voice broke through the silence that caused him to freeze.

"Wife?" the voice asked. Locke turned around and brought his gaze down upon the fox known as Matthews who eyes laid glued to the ground.

"It's none of your business prisoner." Locke warned, but was ignored as the subject continued.

"I used to have a wife… and a kid. They were the most important things in my world." Locke switched his gaze back to his picture and after a few moments of burning the image into his mind, he folded the picture and placed back into his wallet. After safely depositing his wallet back into his pants pocket, he then focused on what the subject said to him. Used too? He glanced at the two tigers finding that they emerged at the top of the platform and were in the process of exchanging conversations. Seeing how they were busy, he decided to extract a bit more information from the prisoner. Though, he was also quite disturbed that the prisoner bugged onto his private life. He ignored the question and pondered onto what the prisoner said.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing produced from his mouth and he closed it, wondering if there were consequences with talking with the prisoner, but seeing how it was going to be a long ride, he decided at his own terms to figure out how the subject got into this situation in the first place. "Used too?" Locke asked curiously walking closer to the prisoner. He took off his shades, and slid them into a front pocket on his suit; finally meeting his vulnerable orange eyes with Matthews green ones.

The prisoner glared at Locke seeming offended and scoffed, his brows lowered in anger. "You don't know? You're the bastards that got them killed in the first place!" He shouted, turning his knees and took an aggressive stance. If not for the chained collar limited distance, the prisoner would have been in biting distance. Locke stared at the fox, seeing how he was as nearly as tall as him. Locke was silent. He wasn't surprised, there was many deaths throughout the years of combat, but what caught him off guard was that his child was involved in the deaths. He shuddered at the thought of it, feeling guilty that a young life was taken.

He wished he could relate, but he wasn't even sure that it was true and if the prisoner was tricking him. He thought of reverse psychology, and decided how far he could go to gather information from the subject before he would have to be put down. He would also want to test his interrogation tactics without using brute force to squeeze whatever secrets he had out of him. "Was their deaths caused by you?" he asked, putting his plan into motion, deciding on a different approach. Certainly this creature was not going to live long. If he heard Shepard correctly, he was regret even being in the mess he is in. He figured the prisoner would be executed… or worse considering where they are going to deliver him. So might as well make the subject miserable while he lives. Has he anything to confess it would be the right time to do so. And he is hoping to slither whatever words the subject might slip, even if means becoming close and personal. He was humored by the subject as he was held by the collar. For now he'll play the game.

The prisoner stopped struggling to reach Locke and paused for moment. Locke instantly knew he poked a sensible point. The fox lowered his gaze onto the ground, his ears slowly lowering and his face softening. "Oh, so it is your fault." Locke admitted for the prisoner. His mind was all too curious, and his demeanor darkening every moment as every inch of progress he spoke would lead to even worse matters.

The subject whimpered under the voice of his words. "It's… It's not like that," he said miserably, his voice breaking.

Locke chuckled. Despite Locke's tormenting, he felt himself feeling sorry, but not for the prisoner, but for the family – a family that could not even exist - perish in the crossfire because of a certain father took a step that would cause the future to be deprived of his own family. Locke stopped for a moment and eased his mind. He knows and can relate about something that occurred in his past but he doesn't want to even consider looking back at it, nor would he trust a simple criminal that would be dead the next day.

Locke couldn't tell what to believe, but he wasn't afraid to discover it. Locke experienced suffering throughout his entire life, and he could care less of what the prisoner is experiencing. If this was an elaborate plot at something, at least the prisoner or he hopes would be dead. A dark smirk appeared on his face and disappeared just as quick.

"Oh, really?" he began, "But given your current situation, I find it very hard to believe that it wasn't anyone else fault. Getting involved into things you shouldn't be in always has deadly consequences. Physical and emotionally, and seeing you here, hearing what you did, you probably most likely deserved it." Locke crossed the line upon saying the last few words and the fox growled, baring his teeth.

"Whisper that to me… one last time."

Locke leaned in close to the prisoner's head feeling dominate and whispered into his ear, "You deserved it… Matthews…"

Before Locke knew it, a loud snarl echoed into his ear, and felt his arm scream in pain, the fur and the tissue bring penetrated from Matthews teeth. In a quick secession, Locke was pulled onto the ground along with the prisoner as Locke's body was being slammed against his. Despite the prisoner being handcuffed behind his back, he was still able to deliver an elbow blow beneath Locke's chest. The blow caused Locke to gasp as his body was deprived of precious oxygen and then felt his arm collapse against his neck. Locke struggled to breathe as he gripped onto the arm attempting to release the pressure off of him. His lungs cried for oxygen. He felt a soft object tickle the inside of his suit, but was too focused on not dying of suffocation to care.

"Maybe you deserve to die!" The subject bellowed. Locke eyes were locked into the subjects, sensing an overwhelming feeling of fear flood into him. He fell from predator to prey. He was relieved when the pressure disappeared and the subject was pulled off of him. He coughed, breathing heavily as he gripped his throat and turned onto his stomach, struggling to stand up. He saw a red warm liquid trickle down his arm where he was bitten, the blood dripping onto the ground. He took his tie and wrapped the fabric around the injured arm, hissing as it burned and tingled with pain. It had to due until he found a first-aid kit.

He shot a cold glance at the prisoner, who was being held by the two tigers his face smirking in amusement. Locke growled in anger and kicked the subject across the face with his foot striking the underside of his jaw. The subject went limp, falling unconscious from the brutal blow. The guards tossed him onto the ground and gave concern to their injured officer. "Muzzle him," Locke spoke coldly. The guards didn't waste time muzzling the prisoner and as they did Locke paced himself to the cockpit, gripping the rails of the staircase hoping the pilots had a kit lying around somewhere. He got cocky…

Two hours have passed through the flight and all Locke heard was the creaking of the plane and a low hum echoing through the corridor. Locke rested his arms and head against the railing of the platform, mumbling as his eyes were half closed. Temptation to sleep dawned onto him. It was nearing afternoon, and yet through the grey clouds of the sky and its snowy presence it looked as if the day accelerated into the night cycle. They were below the cloud layer of course, but Locke was just hoping for an inch of sunshine, something to warm his depressed mood. He rubbed his bandaged covered arm slightly, finding it itchy from the wound. He appreciated that they had medical supplies on the plane, despite the looks on his bandage. It was reddened from the blood that soaked into the surface and dried, but comforted Locke that he didn't have to use his tie, which was folded and discarded into his packet after the blood dried on it.

The tigers took the task of watching the prisoner who hasn't budged in hours besides a slight moment of tossing and turning. He guessed they didn't want to get in trouble for not watching the prisoner as ordered. Locke didn't care as much and had hoped the prisoner was dead but he knows a single kick to the jaw wouldn't cause much damage besides trauma to the face. His eyes blinked slowly. Watching the prisoner from afar caused his body to give in to the comfort of relaxation on the flight. He yawned slightly attempting to muffle the sound. He was eventually enveloped into darkness. It was only moments later that when he heard a yelp and a loud banging that his eyes snapped open immediately. He eyes first came to bear onto the prisoners restraints. One thing was missing: the prisoner. Locke eyes jerked across the ground floor searching for the escaped subject. His mind wanted to ask how he escaped, but he had more disturbing matters to attend too.

His eyes crossed the slight of the two guards that were motionless, possibly unconscious. Fear grasped him as he heard a creaking of the metal surface near him. His head swiftly turned to see a fist pound to meet his face followed by the prisoner. Locke's face was grazed as he barely escaped the punch. The world became slow and his breathing intensified.

He and the prisoner circled each other, not letting their eyes off one another. "How did you even escape?" Locke began. The prisoner gave a smirk, pulling out a silver key. Locke recognized it and patted his suit with his paw, clutching only fabric and air as he searched for it. And then a thought came to mind: he was fooled. He played close and personal realizing that the prisoner wanted him to close in, searching for the right moment to grab him and seize the key, planting blows to distract him from feeling his body being searched. That soft object he felt earlier. It must have been his tail. It was the only free able limb at the time, but he found it hard to imagine that such an object could grip something so tightly concealed and small. He guessed when it came to his race; they were truly sly at trickery and seizing like a person getting robbed of their wallet without even knowing when they bumped into the thief. Generations of evolution never discarded that one trait they possessed and instead gave it they key in their survival, both past and present.

"All too easy," the prisoner chuckled, tossing the key aside. The key clanked as it hit the bottom. Locke cursed himself. He should of avoided him… he should of thought of Shepard's advice more wisely.

In a quick pace, he and the prisoner exchanged blows, Locke discovering that the prisoner was well-trained in close combat… and noticing that he was also better trained and experienced. Locke had to rush him body to block the blows being tossed at him, finding not many opportunities. He only knew he was the only thing standing between him and the cockpit. Even if he was to be killed in the process, the subject couldn't access the door, for due to security of planes, only the pilots could open it from the inside. Locke thought fate was against him, jinxed by his own thoughts. The door of the cockpit opened up with an irritated tiger, expecting what was the cause of the noise. His eyes widened at the prisoner stood in front of him and instantly went to his sidearm. Pulling out the tranquilizer he pointed at the subject, but unfortunately the fox was faster than the tiger.

Despite evolving and progressing to where they stand, the predator and prey continuum changed dramatically. Animals that once were under the food chain became substantially better if properly trained, no matter the size or strength; it all came down to knowledge and skill. The prisoner reacted quickly, gripping the wrist of the tiger with his left paw and bringing his other paw onto the elbow and forced it into a position that wasn't possible. Locke heard a snap and the tiger screamed in pain, his arm becoming completely useless as the bone was disjointed or broken. He was surprised at the fox's strength

The prisoner seized his chance as the tiger dropped his gun, sliding his left paw along the surface of the arm and swiping the gun the tiger began dropping. Pushing the large animal away and then pointing the weapon at Locke and the tiger who whined in pain. Locke refused to raise his hands, but pilot beside him did with one arm. His other hanged limped against his body.

"Donney!" The other pilot yelled. He attempted to pull his sidearm, but the prisoner shot a tranquilizer which bounced off the surface of the planes controls. The tiger realized the shot was aimed at the communication module eliminating any chances of hailing their base. All that was left was the black box within the plane itself. The prisoner ran up and took his sidearm, then proceeded back towards Locke and the other pilot. He ejected the clip from one of the handguns and tossed it over the railing.

Locke glanced over watching the weapon fall and bounce against the ground. "There's nowhere to go, Matthew!" Locke pointed out. "It ends here!"

Matthew smiled. "No, Locke my friend…it's only the beginning." Locke watched in horror as the prisoner's eyes changed form, from being round to becoming slits. Matthew then fired the tranquilizer at the injured pilot twice and then fired a shot at the back of the other pilot's neck. The pilot gripped his neck and before he could remove the tranquilizer fell to the effects of it. Falling unconscious, the pilot fell forward and pushed the control yoke, causing the plane to tip down, Locke felt himself slide against the ground and crash against the wall, noticing that Matthew did as well and lost his gripped onto the gun. It slid across the ground and fell down into the cockpit somewhere. He attempted to reach the door to the cockpit until he heard a warning siren sound off. Hearing that, he knew that they were close to the ground.

But he did know that there was no way they could have descended to the ground in less than a minute from their current altitude. He struggled to turn his head inside of the door, his eyes widening at the size of a mountain before them, seconds away from impact. Instead of directly crashing into it, the plane was enough away to miss the main body, But the plane jerked and screeched as metal collided with rock, he felt himself hit the ceiling, watching as the left of the plane was obliterated, the plates ripping away leaving a large hole in the side. Everything began to suck into it, including the handgun that was hidden in the cockpit. Locke fell back down and hit the railing hanging on tightly. Matthew unfortunately in the same position, while Locke watched in horror as the co-pilot fell into the suction and descended unto the earth.

The rocking and thundering roar of the engines and explosions caused the other pilot to fall out of his sleep, leaving the control yoke to shift left. The plane rotated as the engine was lost, but the belly crashed against the mountain, swirling around as it plunged downward. The hole of the plane clotted with snow, dropping Matthew and Locke. Before Locke could swear, the belly of the plane sparked as a rocked jagged into the heart of it, separating the main body. Locke felt the elements around him touch his body - heat from the fire and coldness from the low temperatures. The railing was the only thing keeping him and Matthew from being tossed off the plane.

He screamed as the right wing propeller was tossed upward and onto the top surface of the cockpit, completely destroying it, and cutting the metal floor between Locke and Matthew. The shredding of metal squealed as the propeller fell through and rolled against the ground, being tossed in a different direction engulfing in a furious explosion. Sparks danced along the scrapping of metal while glass tinkered onto the ground. Smoke and snow kicked up in their faces as they hunkered down, Matthew and Locke fell against the wall of door as the plane began rolling down the slope of the mountain, the ground quaking and the earth splitting. They both fell into the cockpit, before it ripped apart in half. Locke blacked out after hitting the snowy ground and rolled onto an embankment. Matthew fell with the rest of the plane, debris being casted everywhere and hit his head hard against the destroyed console of plane, instantly losing conscious.

Hours later…

Matthew coughed and hacked as he open his eyes staring into blackened sky, hearing the crackling sound of fire, sparks dancing along torn parts of plane wiring, and the explosions sounding off in the distance. It took a few moments of blinking to realize what happened. He screamed in pain as he felt a object impaled in his left top abdomen. A sharp yet small piece of metal was impaled in his body. Worst of all his head was pounding, blood dripping off from his fur. He breathed heavily, gasping for air. He controlled his breathing through his air and gripped the metal piece. In a painful and excruciating pull, he removed the object and casted it to the side. Ripping off pieces of his clothing he wrapped the surface of his abdomen and improvised a bandage. Blood seeped through the clothing and dripped onto the ground.

He face whitened as he discovered the torn remains of the pilot before him, nearly losing his lunch. He found himself in the barren ruins of the cockpit…or at least half of it. He stood up and limped around, hissing every time pain surged through his body and felt more blood trickle down his fur. Scavenging the wreckage, he discovered the remains of a first-aid kit and immediately searched it. Finding only pain killers, which he swallowed, and used the bandage and sterilized gauzes. He didn't remove the clothing, for the extra layers would clot the cut, but slid the gauzes under his fabric bandage until he felt it slide over his wound. He then wrapped the bandage around, twisting the soft fiber and then upon reaching the end wrapped it under the previous layer to secure it in place. He then focused on his wounded head. He softly rubbed the area of where it bled. He didn't bleed as bad, but his head was hurting as if someone hit him with a hammer. Taking a gauze and bandage, he treated his wound.

The painkillers were taking effect, but the pain was still there. He found a winter coat and some gloves and put them on. They were vastly much larger than him, but he welcomed the size for the warmth in the cold mountains. He stared over the horizon and spotted a town not too far, perhaps three to four miles away. It was barely visible from a far distance, but the odd shapes of the buildings and lights that shined greatly gave it away. He swallowed his own blood that lingered in his dry throat and began his journey off the mountain, hoping to make it in time before he bleeds out, stumbling every so often. Explosions sounded behind and he watched as smoke and fire poured into the air, fragments raining down against the mountain. Matthew gripped his wound as it cried in pain, his head once again aching. He almost forgot who he was at first and his eyes widened. Desperation and determination poured in. He has to make it there…no matter what.