…
Day 1
…
A passing cargo barge on the water outside blasted a fog horn. It woke Nick, but not as suddenly as he would have thought. The startling shock of the noise had no chance of matching the heaviness that directed his attention. Sleep had not lessened the pain from last night but he was expectant that it would give him the strength to deal with the situation more properly today. He felt damp sheets and smelled his own musk filling the room and took comfort in the fact that he could not remember any of the dreams he must have had.
The smallest sliver of sun could be seen at the top of the window. He figured it must be late in the morning but the time was not important. He had nothing to do today. He never had anything to do on any day. His life consisted of no obligations, no responsibility, and, as he remembered last night, no purpose. He had his hustles, but those were freelance. No one was going to fire him if he didn't show up. It was likely no one would even notice; one less fox clogging the sidewalks was hardly anyone's concern.
It was more a result of the time that had passed than the sleep, but he felt his constitution was strengthening back to something that could at least maintain an impression of his mask to the world. This is how it had been at the beginning; feeling the pain, but never showing it. He would have to re-learn how to not feel it again, but only more time could do that.
He knew he should call Finnick, let him know that he was still alive; at the very least, he was still that. He didn't have his phone on him, though; it was at his apartment. It was dead and he had left it on the charger when he had stopped by after…I was going to be part of a pack…you are so much more than that…It didn't matter, the phone was at his apartment.
His body, and especially his chest, were sore from the heaving spasms of labored breathing and his inability to deal with it last night. He rolled out of bed and stretched his aching form.
His eyes looked down to see his tie on the floor in front of him. He bent to pick it up and brushed off the dust that clung to it. He ran his pads over the dark navy fabric and the blue and red stripes.
That tie had come from this room. When he was still far too short to wear one, he had found several in the wardrobe at the edge of this space. Later in his teens, when he had grown to a size more fitting of them, he was relieved to find that no moths had taken an interest before he finally had. At that time he had taken them all to be kept safe with his own things.
Every tie he owned was from John. He once had the malformed intention of wearing them to remind himself of what his father wanted him to be, but as he moved further and further from that destination, the tie became more habit than reminder. He actually hadn't even thought of the ties as being anything more than what they were in quite some time. I'm sorry dad.
He went to the profoundly tarnished mirror on the front of the wardrobe. His intention was to retie his tie but he wasn't prepared for the reflection that copied him. His weary ears framed a messy, matted face. Seeing in his own eyes the despair that he felt was threatening a feedback loop of dismay. His shirt was visibly dirty with dust from the previous days' adventures but a spot on the top left was still bright as though it alone had been freshly laundered. The spot had a crisp outline and was the shape of a…look at you junior detective…It didn't matter, the shirt needed to be washed.
He looked away and rolled up the tie. It wasn't right for him to wear it, anyways; John had meant for that to belong to a different fox, a better fox, not him. He went to stuff it in his pocket when he felt…in case you needed something to write with…It didn't matter, he put it in his other pocket. Not much better there as his pad-tipped digits found the red Ranger Scout neckerchief, but that was an article he had properly come to terms with long ago.
He had never thought of himself as nostalgic but he realized what a bad lie that was; he literally carried around the physical evidence of his life's greatest tragedies. Whether they were reminders of times he had tried to be something more or reminders of the consequences that trying had, he did not know.
He spread the damp blanket over a chair and walked to the window to open it. He let the place air out a little as he watched the boats cross the harbor. It was another beautiful day outside and the contrast with how he still felt was disconcerting. The warm sun on his face and the fresh breeze off the water slowly eased that distress.
He locked up his redoubt and began the journey back to his apartment. Cypress Grove was by no means close to here but he still had no schedule to keep. He knew that public transit would put him in proximity with more mammals than he could handle right now so walking was the only option.
…
It was another few hours before he reached his apartment. 'The Groves' wasn't exactly the best part of the Rainforest District but it was relatively inexpensive. He enjoyed lavish things when they found him but his actual desires never really expanded beyond the things he knew he could hold onto: simple things. This apartment was simple and so were its furnishings.
As he opened the door he heard a small voice call after him. He knew what the voice wanted but he had no interest in conversing with it. Nick quickly shut the door before his tiny mouse landlord, Mr. Victor Pruitt, could catch up to him.
"Mr. Wilde!" the mouse was actually rocking the door pretty hard with his knocking despite his small size. "Mr. Wilde, I know you're in there!" Nick walked to the cabinet over his stove and pulled down a jar. "Mr. Wilde, we had an agreement!" Nick pulled out five twenty dollar notes along with a single ten dollar note and returned the jar. "You are a whole day late with payment, Mr. Wilde!" As Nick strode back to the door he contemplated the absurdity of the arrangement; part of the conditions of his tenancy was that rent was to be paid every week instead of every month and while the reasoning was because of what type of mammal he was, it had nothing to do with him being a predator. "I am in my rights to call…" the mouse did not finish as Nick slid the hundred buck charge and the ten buck late fee under the door. "Be on time next week, Mr. Wilde!"
He stood and stared at the door for a few moments as he contemplated his next move. He hadn't thought of anything specific and it had been a mistake to turn around before he had. He saw how small and cramped this dark place was.
It had never bothered him before, but now it was a concrete metaphor of what he knew his life to be. It was suffocating him in the literal sense again. The null potentials of the future and the stark seclusion of the past met again in the present to crush him once more…I think you'd actually make a pretty good cop…it would be nice to have a partner…He barely made it to the sink as he heaved up what little his stomach contained.
When the brutal lurching finally stopped he was left hanging onto the edge of the counter panting as his eyes watered and he tried to catch his breath. His claws dug deep marks in the wood where he gripped. He hit the faucet and let the ice-cold water run over the back of his injured paw. The chill gave his body a contrast to focus on and established a foundation where he might reground himself. He completed his return to the moment with several deep and shaky breaths.
He needed to pull himself together. As dangerous as it apparently was to be left alone with his own thoughts, it was more dangerous to be seen in this state by others. The only thing he had left was his old life and the Nick that fit into it had a reputation to uphold. If he ruined that, then he really would have nothing.
Just start going through the motions, it will make sense eventually. He turned off the water and dried off his paws. He removed his shirt and threw it in the hamper. He cleared his pockets; first the tie, which he placed in a drawer next to its companions; then the neckerchief and his keys, which he placed on top of the dresser; and after that…he closed his eyes tight as he stifled a surging memory. He placed the object next to the others and walked, eyes still shut tight, to the bathroom. These reminders of a lost time were going to keep happening. He was going to need to learn to deal with it, to not let it get to him. He avoided the mirror as he entered the shower.
While he let the warm water roll over him he realized he needed to parse out which parts of his life were still important so he could start moving forward again. The emotional roar-a-coaster he had been on these past few days had really thrown off his ability to accurately measure reality. There was no benefit in keeping those outliers on the chart since they made everything else look like a flat sameness of despondent lost causes. In order to get a more focused perspective on what was actually relevant, he needed to omit those from his thinking. It would not be easy, but it would be necessary.
I am still just a fox. It's all I am. It's all I ever was. It's all I can ever be. Those remnant thoughts from a childhood trauma had now been thoroughly confirmed. There was no doubt about it. As much as he wanted that to be wrong, it just wasn't the reality of the situation. He had pushed that theory to the absolute limit and the result came back proof positive...you are so much more than that…No, that was not a productive thought, and it was not the truth. I am just a fox. I have always been a fox. I will always be a fox.
Survival had pretty much been the underlying theme of Nick's entire life. It had been basically autonomic the past ten years as he and Finnick had fallen into a nice groove, but it was still always there, always running in the background. So while Nick was busy reestablishing bulkheads in his conscious mind, his survival instinct started picking over some of the particulars of the last few days, looking for anything of value. A purely subconscious action, it was careful pan out only the facts and leave any emotional entanglements where they were. A few of these details stood out among the rest and relationships between them started to form. There were gaps in the connections, to be sure, but an inescapable conclusion began to emerge.
Something deep in the foxy part of Nick's mind panged with fear. It was in response to an idea he was having, a revelation of sorts. It scared him badly. It frightened him enough to make him forget about the other agony he was in. The logic of the situation started to bubble forth and take shape.
He hadn't really heard it at the time, he had only felt it. She had said it was 'a biological component' and 'something in their DNA', and how he felt about that aside, it was the mere fact that she had said it. Predators were going savage, he had seen it with his own eyes and the whole city had seen it on TV. He had no idea what was causing it and neither did she. No one did, but she said it was 'biology' in front of two dozen cameras and a herd of reporters.
It was just speculation but what would the public do with that information? She had been so quick to jump to that conclusion and, how he felt about that aside again, others would be quick to do the same. He knew they would. The public mentality that forced him to lead this life would accept those conjectures as facts without question; it may even demand that they be true.
What would that do to the city? What was the logical conclusion to all this? If there were more attacks, how would the public respond? She had singled them out specifically as 'all members of the predator family'. How he felt about that aside once more, what was that going to mean for predators? …'Have you considered a mandatory quarantine on predators?'… Did a reporter really ask that? Had he really heard that? If he did, would they really consider that as a viable strategy? What would a mandatory quarantine involve?...are you gonna' cry?...A flashed memory that escaped his suppression showed him what mandatory quarantine was, at least in part.
He was getting worked up again and he needed to calm down. He flipped the shower to cold and let the shock re-stabilize his mind. Regardless of what he felt happen to him yesterday, that event could very well pose a real and lasting physical danger to himself and others. If he was going to keep himself free he need to stay focused.
'Free'… Why would I use that word? They wouldn't really…would they?
Maybe even staying alive was at stake.
I am a fox. I have always been a fox. I will always be a fox. I am a survivor. I am a predator. I am not going to let them get me. I am a fox.
Nick turned off the shower and took several very deep breaths; in through the snout and out through the muzzle.
To get rid of the excess water he started a shake that began in his head and worked its way through his body to end in his foot; it made a hell of a mess but he loved the feel of it, and today he would take anything he could get. He got a towel and used it to finish the job and to make sure his fur would be fluffy when it finally dried.
He had a mission now and his schemester persona busied his mind with making a list of tasks that would need to be completed; a plan, if you will. As with all his plans, he needed to consult his partner in crime: Finnick.
He found his phone for the first time since he'd been back. It had been dead when he plugged it in and while it now showed '100%' he still had to wait for it to run through the boot-up sequence. It was unusable for the first minute as it pinged and vibrated spasmodically with updates, emails, notifications, and text messages. When it finally started giving minimal response to his gestures he opened the text messages first.
Five messages, all from Finnick. He scrolled up in an attempt to read them chronologically:
[u in cuffs yet? haha]
[meet at regular place?]
[u can at least call if u gonna bail]
[was that fucking bitch on news the rabbit u ran off with?]
[srsly fox, she put u in a zoo or what?]
Nick took a deep breath and summoned his old facade. He hit the call icon.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Finnick answered angrily.
"Aww, you miss daddy?" Nick asked in mocking response.
"Fuck you, Nick. Seriously, you can't return a text message?" Finnick questioned irately.
"Oh Fin, I never realized how sentimental you were!" Nick swooned back.
"You're such a bastard, Wilde," Finnick grumbled.
"Hey now, John was a good fox," Nick said in a hurt tone.
"If you're calling from the zoo, I decided I'm gonna' let you stew in there a few days for being such an idiot," Finnick stated decisively.
"Sheesh, with friends like you, Fin. Well, lucky me, I guess, not in the zoo," Nick said with some actual genuine relief in his voice.
"Too bad," Finnick muttered.
"Yeah? And how'd the elephant thing go without dad around?" Nick asked jokily.
Finnick remained silent on the other side of the line.
"Did services try to pick you up again?" Nick probed.
"Was there actually a reason you called, Wilde?" Finnick yelled.
"I haven't eaten all day, wanna grab drinks?" Nick inquired.
"Yeah, where ya' thinking?" Finnick responded in a more relenting tone.
"Haven't been to Dusky's in a while," Nick stated.
"Thought you said you were hungry, too," Finnick spoke with confusion.
"They have food there," Nick replied candidly.
"Yeah, but I thought you…" Finnick sounded puzzled as Nick cut him off.
"We're still preds, right?" Nick said slyly.
"Well, I'm out three days take, so you're payin'," Finnick growled.
"Fine. Meet you there in two hours?" Nick asked expectantly.
"Yeah, whatever," Finnick groused curtly before ending the call.
Nick put his phone in his pocket. It felt good to talk to Finnick again. Well, maybe good wasn't the right word, but perhaps normal would suffice. Compared to the last twenty-four hours, though, normal felt pretty good. He had a plan and he had just taken the first step towards reintegrating with his old life. For now, at least, there was something other than the pain to focus on and that was progress.
…
Dusky's was actually a decent place but it was still located in a pretty shady area of the marshlands. The few times he and Finnick had been there they only had drinks, and while there was quite the selection, drinks wasn't exactly what the establishment was known for.
Modern science still didn't know much about the Simul Consurgant but that hadn't stopped them from naming the event. Whatever it was, it had seemingly graced the entire Mammal Kingdom with sentience, but had left all other life as technically, though not social acceptably, fair game.
Dusky's was one of only a few such institutions that took advantage of this distinction. Reptilian predators really actually were the unthinking savage beasts that prey so often liked to imagine their mammalian counterparts to be, and controlling reptile populations was one of those necessary facts of life that most mammals tried to ignore. Dusky's had carved out a niche in the thin space between tightly regulated hunting permits and a tenant of Zootopian culture to waste no resource.
Walking was going to help keep his head clear and give him time to continue planning. He had spent most of the day being beside himself and it was now early evening. The sun hadn't set yet, but it was no longer strong enough to overpower the near-perpetual overcast of the Rainforest District.
It was around this time every night that unknown meteorological phenomena forced frigid air from Tundra Town up over the climate wall. While it was quickly warmed by the moist air here, it still managed to provide a cool evening breeze for several hours nearly every day. It was relaxing to have it blow through his fur and it kept Nick calm as he made his way to the marshlands.
Finnick had arrived first and was waiting for him at a high-top in the corner of the diner. He had already ordered himself a drink and was browsing the menu. Nick made his way over and hopped up on the opposite seat. "Miss me?" he asked with pseudo excitement.
"My wallet did," Finnick said gruffly as he put the menu down.
"Yeah, well, I'll make it up to you tomorrow." Nick put on a sly half lidded grin that wasn't entirely a lie.
"Oh, so you're not going to be too busy fighting crime then?" Finnick asked sarcastically.
"You know foxes can't be cops, Fin," Nick's tone and smile didn't miss a beat. I am going to make it through this.
"Took you three whole days to figure that out?" Finnick was half jabbing, half probing now.
"Nah, just decided to take a few days off is all," Nick said casually.
"Uh-huh." Finnick was skeptical but if Nick didn't want to say, he wouldn't push too hard.
"So did services really come after you?" Nick was partially jabbing also but he was curious what the fennec had been up to.
"You're a real ass, Nick." Finnick had a disapproving scowl on his face.
Nick gave a chuckle as a cougar server interrupted them. "Anything to drink?"
"What are you havin'?" Nick asked Finnick.
"Great Rivers," he responded tersely.
Nick had some genuine excitement at hearing the name and looked back to the server, "Ooh, do you have their Azule on tap?"
"Yup. I'll bring it right out," the waiter replied.
Finnick chuckled at Nick and his ability to find anything and everything that had blueberry flavoring.
"Eh, I know what I like." Nick smiled as he gestured resignation with his paws.
"Damn, who got the other side of that?" Finnick asked, surprised, as he pointed to the paw that had a small bit of fur scuffed off the knuckles and was beginning to scab.
"Hmm?" Nick looked down at it quizzically. "Oh, you mean this?" he asked as he rolled his wrist around a bit. "Well… you know the first rule of Fox Club." Nick gave a half-lidded smirk as he let the statement hang.
"Yeah. Uh-huh. You in a cage match?" Finnick let out a hearty laugh.
The server came back and asked if they were having anything to eat as he handed Nick his drink. Nick took a gulp of his brew and it tasted pretty good but it also made him realize that he was actually very hungry. The last time he had eaten was a whole other lifetime ago.
The smells of the place had put him a little on edge, as they were meant to do. For predators that were so often limited to eggs, syn-tein, and plant-based powders, the smell of actual meat that had once been living, breathing, and walking around could give a spine-tingling high. He hadn't actually had anything like it in years, and even then it was always sparingly.
The sensation was more linked to a hunting instinct and was technically, though subtly, separate from the desire to consume. He could easily have a veggie substitute and the aromas around him would still leave him satisfied. He had once embraced being a fox because the world could not see him as anything else. He had forgotten that recently and it had dire consequences. He was something else too and maybe it was time to start embracing that, as well. I am a predator.
"Yeah, I'll have the D'ator burger," Nick said decisively.
Finnick cocked an eyebrow at him and then made his own order.
When the server left Nick leaned in and spoke a little quieter, "So you said you saw that report, then?"
"About how we're all liable to pop any second now? Yeah, I saw it."
"I haven't really been following it, have you seen anything else?" Nick queried.
"You mean you don't know about the two attacks?" Finnick asked with shocked seriousness.
That fear panged at Nick again. "What attacks?"
"There was another attack like an hour after the announcement. In the train station. Then another this morning at that clinic on Vine." Finnick looked more serious than he normally was. "You really didn't hear about it?"
Nick shook his head with a wide-eyed look of confusion and shrugged.
"It was a white wolf at the train station, there was some shaky cell vids of it. It was pretty bad, Nick." Finnick said gravely.
Nick could sense a little bit of fear coming off the fennec as he spoke which both relieved him to have agreement on the matter and terrified him as he thought of the types of things that scared Finnick, of all mammals.
"Did anyone…" Nick let the question trail off.
"I dunno, probably. One at the clinic I think did, it was a lion and in a confined space like that... How don't you know anything? Wasn't that bitch rabbit the one you went off with?"
Nick had a lot of conflicting emotions tied to that last question but they were evenly matched enough to force a stalemate and allow him to continue on. "She just wanted to know about Emmet. I took her to that Oasis place he likes to go to…"
Finnick interrupted with laughter, "Makers above, you and the whole naturalist thing!"
"Shuddup, you like it too. For more reasons than one, I might add," Nick returned the barb with a sly, knowing grin.
"Kiss my ass, Wilde," Finnick managed to choke out between bouts of laughter. He was just starting to get himself under control when he asked, "So what else did you do?"
"Well, it turns out that Emmet is Mr. Big's florist!" Nick finished with laughter of his own and a nearly genuine smile.
"You serious?" Finnick asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, serious. Who knew? So we went to his house to ask about him." It was only a partial lie.
"You took a cop to Mr. Big's?! You really are an idiot!" Finnick was still laughing under all his words.
"No, he was cool about it!" Nick said excitedly. He proceeded to describe some of the events of the evening; he played up parts that made him look good and left out parts that didn't. He hardly mentioned the rabbit that had been with him.
Nick had just finished describing the intricacies of shrew wedding receptions and the best ways to eat small cakes when their food arrived. He had not eaten meat in quite a few years now and he had rarely had it at all through most of the life he could remember. The vegetarian lifestyle was something that was important to his father and after his passing, his mother did her best to raise Nick with the habit. He had never really appreciated it outright but over the years he had heard stories about his father from others and the trait was often a fact brought forward as evidence of what a good fox John was.
One of the books that Nick had found in the warehouse office had some very compelling reasons for the lifestyle. On the surface they were nonsense philosophies and idealistic tropes, but he had read it not as informational material, but as if it was something that John, had he been alive, would have told Nick himself. This had made the lessons stick a little more and it was the only part of his entire life that he thought John might actually have been proud of.
But John wasn't here anymore. Nick had only done so well at surviving because he embraced what he was. He was the fox they expected him to be, and tonight he would be the predator they expected as well.
It smelled right. He picked up the alligator burger and took a bite as the juices from the rare slab dripped on his paws and ran down his chops. His canine teeth had been designed specifically for ripping apart meat and felt right for them to exercise that purpose. He really was starving; his body had been through quite the number of trials since he had last eaten.
"You want me to see if they can clear out the back room for you two?" Finnick was staring at Nick as he ravaged the sandwich.
Nick pulled himself away for a moment to look up at the fennec. He swallowed and wiped his muzzle. "Maybe," he said with a delighted groan. "I haven't had anything like this in years," he gushed before immediately taking another bite.
"Yeah, what's with that? Why the sudden change of heart?" Finnick asked.
Nick swallowed another bite, the gator slab was almost gone now. "We're predators, Fin. We're supposed to eat meat, right?" Even as he said it his stomach gave a small gurgle of dissent. His senses of taste, smell, sight and the feeling of his teeth were all satisfied, but the part of him that actually had to do the work, his stomach, was used to plant matter and wasn't quite sold on the decision he'd made.
"Did something happen to you, Nick? I've never seen you like this," Finnick asked, a little concerned. They both, in their own way, cared for each other. It was more an unspoken understanding of the hardships of being a fox than anything else, but over the years they had become, more or less, comfortable constants in each other's life. There was a limit, though, and what ailed Nick was far more than what Finnick would be able to handle. Talking to him about it would accomplish nothing.
"Nothing happened. I'm fine. Honest," Nick said as he guiltily took another bite. His stomach was protesting more under the strain of processing so much meat and the question was beginning to put pressure on his thin mental defenses.
"Nothing happened, right. Okay, let's see here: last I see you, some cop has you dead to rights, you don't answer your phone for three days, you look like you haven't slept in a week, you show up with bloody knuckles, and now you have a craving for meat just because you suddenly realized you were a predator and not a vegetarian. So seriously, did somethin' happened? Did those cops do somethin' to you?" Finnick inquired with apprehension at the possible answer.
Nick put the rest of his food down; he was suddenly not hungry at all. He wiped his muzzle and tried to force himself to keep it together. It was getting warm in here and his stomach was starting to make up its mind about his menu choice while his nose was reconsidering its earlier excitement. "I told you Fin, after the wedding I went back home and took a few days off."
Finnick leaned back and shook his head in disappointment at the obvious lie. "Yeah, alright. Whatever you say, Officer Wilde," he said dismissively.
Nick's eyes would always be the first to betray him. This had been a mistake. He had miscalculated. He hadn't been ready to face the world yet…you'd actually make a pretty good cop…He only had seconds before this whole charade collapsed. Not here! Not here! You cannot do this here! He had to get out of here.He looked down to pull his phone out. "Hold on a sec, gotta' take this," but he said it just a little too frantically. He should not have eaten so much meat, he should not have eaten it at all.
The phone was up to his ear as he made his way to the door. There were too many mammals in the way, he wasn't going to make it. "Hello?" he faked to the inactive cell. He was close to the door now. "Yeah, yeah." Making it outside, the cool air helped, but it wasn't going to be enough. He made it around back…it would be nice to have a partner…The barrier finally fell and he convulsed as his stomach violently cleared itself.
His breath and heart were racing. I am a fox. I have always been a fox…you are so much more than that…I will always be a fox. I can't be anything else. I am a fox. He repeated to himself the truths of his life as he slowly came back from the brink. When his breathing returned to a more normal cadence he looked up to realize that the aluminum siding he was steadying himself against now had jagged indentations that matched his claws.
He hadn't been crying but the event had still made his eyes water. He tried to fluff up the fur under them the best he could and then made a careful effort to make sure his muzzle was free of any remnants. He turned to look at the bog and the freshly-risen full moon. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths; in through the snout, out through the muzzle.
I am a fox. I have always been a fox. I will always be a fox. I am not anything else. Never let them see that they get to you.
With his walls patched up, he put on a smile he didn't feel and went back inside.
"Important call, Nick?" Finnick asked mockingly.
"Oh yeah, that was my agent. Got a lot of big movies comin' up," Nick said sardonically.
"Yeah, right. Well, you might want to clean off that muzzle first, pal." Finnick touched his own face, just below his chops.
Nick wiped at his own and came away with a small bit of something he'd missed. Finnick was about as sharp as he was and they both knew the other had demons, but those topics had always been respectfully ignored. Finnick wouldn't ask why the nickname had done that to him and he wouldn't say it again.
Nick took a deep breath and collected himself once more. He looked around to see if anyone was listening and then leaned in with a lower voice, "Fin, I don't think these attacks are going to stop."
"What do you mean?" Finnick asked as he narrowed his eyes.
"I mean I think it's going to keep happening." Nick tried to keep the worry out of his voice.
"Do you know something?" Finnick asked earnestly.
"No, but they don't either," Nick said flatly.
"How do you know that?" Finnick questioned.
"It doesn't matter. But what they said on the news, that it was biological, they are just guessing, but that won't matter," Nick stated bluntly.
"What are you talkin' about, Nick?" Finnick looked at him quizzically.
"What do you think is gonna' happen to preds if the attacks keep happening and the only reason they can come up with is that we are just wired to lose it every now and then?" Nick asked in an attempt to get him to follow the same logic trail he was on.
Finnick was quiet as he looked down at his plate and his face went through a series of scowls while he independently tried to reach the same conclusion. When he did, he looked up. "Seriously Nick, do you know something?"
"Nothing that can help, but I think I have a plan," Nick replied with a bit of dark hope in his voice.
Nick discussed the plan that had been brewing in his mind since earlier that afternoon. The long-term prospects were unknowable but in the short-term it was likely that the situation for predators in general was going to take a pretty quick turn for the worse.
Many years ago they had decided on the pawpsicle hustle for its safety and simplicity. With tensions likely to start running hot around the city, moving into other types of jobs would be even more risky, but if panic was going to start gripping the public, the days of selling pawpsicles might be coming to an end.
The solution was obvious; they needed to get more money out of what they were already doing and try to build up a stash to weather the storm. How long that storm was going to last was anyone's guess, but it was easy to conclude that it would hit predators the hardest, and there was every reason to believe foxes would be near the front of that line.
The plan was simple; they would just run the normal hustle, but this time cut the juice with water and increase the price. Nick calculated that with just three parts juice and one part water, along with a one buck increase in price, they could double their take. Maybe mammals would catch on, maybe some of the regulars wouldn't take the new price, but there were a lot of mammals in this city, and they had made a decent reputation for themselves. This could very well ruin that reputation, but Nick wagered they had enough to make it through what he, and now Finnick, believed was coming.
…
Finnick had driven him back home after their strategy session. He was feeling pretty weak as he entered his apartment. It was coming up on two days since he had last eaten and digested anything, and he wasn't sure he'd had many fluids since then, either. He drank several glasses from the sink and slowly ate a few crackers. It was all he was confident he could keep down. His abs were going to be sore in the morning; he could already feel them tightening uncomfortably.
As he lay in his bed he used his phone to browse to ZNN's website and check out the headlines. There was a new alert: [Savage Raccoon Still at Large in Savannah Central]. He locked the screen realizing what a mistake that had been.
He hadn't been afraid in a very long timebut his revelation of what the future might hold had his survival instinct kicked into high gear. He had always trusted it in the past and it had always served him well to do so.
I am a fox. I am a predator. I am a survivor. I always have been. I always will be.
He kept repeating those words in his head as sleep took him under. He wasn't sure he believed in them yet but they were his truth nonetheless, and his survival depended on accepting that.
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Notes:
Hey Preds! WildeNick here! Thank you for reading this far (or at least scrolling this far), it really means a lot to me!
'Simul Consurgant'. This is a Latin phrase that literally translates to English as 'The Rise' but its emotional connotation in the original Latin is supposed to imply a 'simultaneous togetherness' so I am meaning it here to be translated as "We rose together at the same time" (Am I a linguist? No. No I am not...). As we humans are fascinated with our own origins, the mammals of Zootopia are likely fascinated with theirs. We still are not positive what triggered sentience in us and we are just a single species. For the entire mammal kingdom to have achieved that at-the-same-time, their scientists would be faced with an infinitely greater mystery. Whether the Simul Consurgant was a natural event or something more, it still happened and this is their (my) name for it. This was just a passing reference to justify Nick's actions in that scene but I really do enjoy all the functional mechanics of Zootopia and I absolutely love pushing the Zootopian science topic to its limits in thought experiments and in the excessively profound conversations I have shared with my professor of Zootopian Studies, Dr. eng050599.
In the movie, Byron and Rich gave us a three minute montage of sad Judy between Nick walking out and her finding him at the bridge and apparently that was supposed to represent three months. That never sat well with me. I understand that the audience needed to see that she realized what a mistake she had made, but her hurt was just that; self-inflicted. Nick's hurt however, was not by his own paw and was far more intense than Judy's. In addition to the emotional pain I know he suffered, as Zootopia became 'the city griped by fear' he was likely in some pretty real danger as well. Both of these afflictions were (arguably) caused by her.
Like I said, we all know how this story ends, but like Nick, let's go through the logic of how it gets there.