Before I start this chapter off, I'd like to make it clear that the way I'm portraying a coma in this is completely unrealistic. I'm simply using it as a plot device, as it is commonly used in television and movies, to write the story the way I want to write it. If I was going for a more realistic depiction of a coma, Nick would practically be a vegetable once he woke up. A coma will almost never reach 3 years, and if the patient survives, speaking and skeletal coordination is near impossible.
With that out of the way, enjoy!
Physical therapy fucking sucked.
Trying to move around felt kind of like attempting to run away from something in a nightmare. All movement was utterly slow and uncomfortable, there was a fair amount of falling down, and my resemblance to a sloth was near identical.
Honey estimated I'd be fully functional in the next thirty days, which of course sounded great, but it sure as hell didn't make time go by any faster. We engaged in hours of muscle exercises every day, ranging from wiggling my fingers, to being assisted to my feet so I could walk.
Honey and I were really able to develop our relationship over this period of time. She showed some movies (Kill Bill coincidentally happened to be about someone waking up from a several year long coma after a shot to the head), and I told funny stories from my life on the streets. We listened to some music together; apparently I missed a Radoehead album release, 'A Raccoon Shaped Pool', while I was in the coma. She spent a lot of her time off hanging out in my room with me, leading to some very entertaining conversations.
Eventually, she started to show up without her doctors outfit on, showing off a surprising display of camouflage clothing. This was obviously an easy target for some of my lame jokes. When we became considerably comfortable talking to each other, she let her true personality shine. Away from a professional environment, she talks and acts extremely like a tomboy, letting her voice drop down and farting whenever she so pleased.
I opened up a little more, but as always, never fully showed my true emotions. No matter how close I got to someone, I decided to avoid any signs of hurt or sadness. Doing so with Judy only resulted in consequence, and I didn't want anything like that to happen to me again.
It'd been awhile since someone voluntarily wanted to be around me, but I welcomed the new experience with open arms. Having someone to talk to about things besides business ventures was relieving to say the least.
There were still questions I never got to ask, however. Once I was recovered enough to move my arms freely and almost walk on my own, I decided to revisit what wasn't brought up before.
...
Honey came in at seven in the morning, as usual, to feed me and get me started on my physical therapy.
"Mornin'," she greeted as she walked into the room with my breakfast in hand.
"Ah, Honey, what a pleasant surprise! I wasn't expecting company today, but I figure I could make the time for a bit of chit chat," I joked.
She gave me an unimpressed look and threateningly held my food over a nearby trash can.
"Don't make me throw out your food, Wilde."
"Oh no! What ever will I do without my daily dose of oatmeal? The lack of fiber will surely be the death of me!" I continued to pester.
The badger let out a sigh. "Why do I even bother…" She took back her empty threat and handed me my tray of food. A bowl of blueberries accompanied the larger bowl or flaky paste.
"Blueberries!" I exclaimed happily. "Oh Honey, you treat me so well."
"What can I say, I'm a good babysitter," she replied, smiling.
"Ya know, if you'd visited any more often, I'd begin to think you got the hots for me," I teased, raising my eyebrows and flashing a signature smirk.
"Yeah right. I have a whole ward of burn victims that I'd rather date before going for your red-furred ass."
I mockingly winced. "Oooo, burn." I burst out laughing, resulting in Honey struggling to hide a smile to pretend what I said didn't amuse her.
"Nick, you really should put on a standup act. I heard Tundra Town's humor is pretty cold and dead, so you'll fit in there like a glove."
"Oh come on! I really am flattered that the Madge Badger, medical extraordinaire and licensed killer of comedy, wants to get with a fox like me."
"Nah. You ain't really my type. Besides, I'm a lesbian."
My smirk dropped. "Oh shit, you serious?"
"Born and raised."
"Well I guess the whole camouflage style makes a bit more sense now…"
"Shut it!"
After a few more hours of playful quips and muscle exercises, I decided to ask about the otter that questioned me when I woke up a few weeks ago.
Honey was relaxing in a chair, leaning back with her eyes on the ceiling and hind paws crossed over each other on my bed. We were silent for a while, taking a break from our session friendly insults to recuperate. I had my back leaned up against two pillows, keeping my body in an upright position, with my paws folded behind my head. I looked over at the tranquil badger.
"Hey Honey?"
"Hm?" she answered, not moving her eye position.
"Can we...talk about that otter? Daniel?" I asked.
She broke her eye contact with the ceiling above us and took her hind paws off of my bed, allowing all four legs of the chair she was on to meet the ground. She wrapped her paws together and leaned towards me, a more serious expression now etched on her face.
"What about him?"
"Why did he want to know about Judy? What's so important about her?" The badger pursed her lips and looked away in thought.
"Judy's a
bit of a...target for him at the moment." My ears perked up at this, begging to hear more. "Daniel and several other predators, myself included, are part of a resistance group to try and fight back against all of the oppression we've been facing the past few years. I was probably gonna tell you about it once you were well enough to get out of here, but I guess we can talk about it now instead."
"Wait, so what does all of this have to do with Carrots?"
Honey looked back into my eyes. "After the tensions between pred and prey increased due to the fear of savage attacks, the ZPD and city hall formed a plan to make the prey specifically feel a bit more safe. They put Judy on a pedestal and promoted her as the face of the ZPD; the face of the entire prey population. She's used as propaganda to demonstrate that no matter how weak you feel, you don't have to let predators scare you. This made almost everybody jump on board with the segregation of us from the rest of Zootopia, and she's still a large reason why things are staying the way they are. To make matters worse, it's been speculated that Bellwether has taken her in to help handle with everything related to 'keeping us under control'."
I looked down, horrified at what that little rabbit has been doing.
She stood aside and let herself be sold as some sort of role model to put shock collars on innocent mammals...I thought that what she said at that press conference was bad but this...this really is something else.
All hope to forgive her for what she's done left my mind.
"What's Daniel planning to do?"
Honey raised her arm and scratched the back of her neck, appearing nervous to reveal what the otter's been up to.
"Kidnap her, blackmail her, anything that can be used to shift her public image to make preds appear less dangerous. It won't solve anything, but it gets rid a huge problem.
"And if she doesn't cooperate?" I said, moving my gaze back to her. She immediately attempted to avoid it, staying silent as she did.
"Honey?"
The badger took a deep breath. "We um...take her out."
This was a lot to take in. I was still recovering from what Judy said about my biology, and despite what she's supposedly done to further separate predators from prey, I could never imagine ending her life. Some part of me, although unable to forgive, still saw a shred of genuine good in the bunny.
"B-but it's last resort!" Honey stuttered. "The main thing we're trying to avoid is stooping down to their level. There's no way to end violence with violence, but some things just have to be done." She looked back in my eyes, a determined expression replacing the look of panic. "That's why he needed you. He's trying to find a way get through to her without the use of anything drastic."
I simply nodded my head in agreement, looking down at my paws that were unknowingly clenching the blankets on top of me.
She sat there for a few more seconds before collecting herself and getting out of her seat. "I should probably leave you alone for a bit…"
I let her get halfway to the door before attempting to ask one final question.
"Wait." She turned around and looked at me, her eyes filled with a sadness I haven't seen since she talked about the collars.
"The night that I was...shot...there were these people. They were wearing these blank, white masks, and I think they were after me because I'm a predator." Honey's collar flashed yellow at the mention of the group, but I continued. "Are they still around?"
She lowered her eyes, suddenly finding great interest in her intertwined paws.
"Yes," she finally said. "They call themselves 'The Purifiers', and they're not gonna be too happy if they find out they let one of their victims live…"
Slowly but surely I reached the point where I was able to walk around without any sort of assistance. Honey crushed my spirits by pointing out my similarities to a toddler on their legs for the first time, but all criticism aside I felt great. The only problem was figuring out what I'd do once I left the hospital.
During my stay, Honey explained the conditions predators are forced to live in since segregation was enforced. We live in a main district by the name of 'Happytown', practically the equivalent of the slums that my mother lived in. There's near constant supervision from prey members of the ZPD, all of which have remote controls to activate the collars of the nearest threat. Preds aren't allowed outside past 10 at night unless if they have a special work permit, or they're being escorted by a licensed prey citizen. The type of work that predators are allowed to occupy, nighttime or day, is limited to public service and factory employment. Pay is kept to a bare minimum, and health coverage is near nonexistent.
Having lived under a bridge for the better half of my life, I figured I'd be able to survive without too much of a struggle. There were a few problems I had to consider, however. The main targets for most cons I pulled off were prey. It's not like I actively avoided cheating predators out of their hard earned cash, but considering the situation everybody was in, it didn't feel right to take away any of the little they had.
My next thought was to take my business back to the center of Zootopia, but I was informed by Honey that, although not illegal to go there, predators were highly frowned upon when mixed into the prey community. The only reasons any preds traveled there for was solely for work related, and even then, being seen the wrong way could result in a violent end.
Something else I had to plan ahead for was my lack of a collar. Being caught without wearing one could result in an array of different possible outcomes; ranging from jail time to physical punishment. That left me with the choice of turning myself in for an indelible collar, or living in hiding with the chances of much greater consequences. The former could take away my emotional freedom, and the latter could take away my physical freedom.
Honey offered to let me stay in her house, an offer of which I gladly accepted, until I had everything figured out. It was too dangerous to go back to my makeshift home and gather the few belongings I had, so I was out of money and out of luck. Honey really was a saint.
…
Just released from the hospital, Honey took the rest of her day off to walk me to her apartment and show me around. Due to the low pred population and lack of medical funds, Honey's job was left with much more free time than any ordinary doctor.
The sun rays beamed down on me ferociously, causing me to sweat and pant profusely. This only left me to wonder the extreme discomfort of all predators formerly living in Tundra Town. My recently acquired badger friend trudged along right by my side, standing nearly just as tall as me. I gazed along the apartments packed together like sardines in a crushed tin box. The image of unfilled potholes, garbage covered sidewalks, and the putrid smell of the neighborhood brought back awful memories of my unfortunate visit to my mother all those years ago.
I wonder how she's holding up...does she even know what happened to me?
To avoid my questions that I thought would never be answered, I decided to converse with Honey to clear the air.
"So you're apart of that predator the resistance group?" I asked.
Honey shrugged in response. "I'm not exactly an active member, per se, but I take time to attend meeting and communicate with Daniel and some others."
"Oh…"
…
…
…
"...any chance I could join in?"
The badger snuck a look in my direction to make sure it was actually me that asked the question. "Let's just worry about getting you inside without the cops busting your ass for not wearing a collar."
"Fair enough."
We walked in silence for a few more minutes before Honey led me into a small brick complex. We stayed on the first floor and took the first door on the right from the incoming hallway.
"Welcome to La Casa de Badger!" she said sarcastically.
There was a small bedroom and a smaller kitchen. Happytown wasn't really doing much to avoid reminding me of my broken maternal relationship. Worn out band posters were strung up against the walls, many covering up cracks in the drywall. Stained camouflage bedsheets covered a mattress that wasn't any more boast worthy than the bed I had under the bridge. A pile of similarly colored bras covered the floor, a sight I couldn't draw my eyes away from.
Honey clearly noticed my infatuation. "Yeah, wasn't exactly prepared for company, but ya know. Home sweet home and all that jazz. If you don't like it, the door's right there."
I gave the apartment another quick inspection before replying. "I think I can suffer your strange obsession with army-style clothing for a little while."
"Mmhm. That's what I thought. Well, I guess you can take the couch, unless you were eyeing my bras for sleeping purposes," she joked.
"Couch it is."
As Honey set up a blanket and pillow for me on my new bed, I decided to check out the small rest of the house I hadn't already seen. I cracked open the fridge to see if I could nab some food while the badger's back was turned. There was a lot of cheese.
"Fuck, Honey, got anything in here that isn't dairy?"
"Uh- ya just open up the first drawer from the bottom."
My paw slipped under the the plastic handle and opened up the designated drawer. There were a lot of bags filled with some sort of yellow and black insect…
"Shit! Honey are these bees? How do you eat this?" I asked in disgust.
Honey had finished setting up my bed and had joined me in the kitchen. She slapped a paw on my shoulder, much harder than one would expect a small badger to slap.
"Well, Nick, you said it yourself. Honey badgers really don't give a shit…"
…
"I'm going to have such a good time living with you, Hun."
The badger practically pummeled me to the ground for calling her such a name.
…
Sitting around while Honey was at work was nearly as boring as lying immobile in a hospital bed. Her apartment had almost nothing to entertain me with, aside from some CD's I'd already overplayed before my gun-related accident, and I wasn't able to go outside without wearing a collar. Well, I was, it just probably wouldn't end too well for me if what Honey was saying about the prey law enforcement was true.
I leaned my head back on my couch/bed and blew out some separated bursts of air in boredom.
Okay, Honey gets back at...10 at night. It's currently…
I checked my watch.
9:30 in the morning…I have to live like this every day until I figure out my collar situation? And I only have bees and cheese to eat? Put me back in a fucking coma.
I tried the bees the night before. They still sting after they die. Pesky bastards…
Okay okay. You can make it through this. You survived the nagging of an annoying bunny for two days straight while in constant danger, so you can definitely survive this. Then again, I was kinda forced into that fiasco against my will.
I looked over at the door that brought me into the apartment.
Nothing too bad could happen if I go outside, right? I'm sly, I'm clever, I've avoided cops for the better half of my existence, I doubt that walking around would do much harm.
But then again, that was three years ago. If Honey's telling the truth, those cops won't hesitate to kill you if they find you to be a threat. It would be the safer choice to sit around till Honey gets home.
But I'm soooooooo boooooooored. And there's nothing good to eat! A fox can't survive like this!
You've just survived a gunshot to the head. Don't waste your second chance at life for the avoidance of a few hours of boredom?
Correction, 12 hours of boredom. Where'd you learn to do math, the streets?
I'm you, idiot, and we did learn math on the streets.
Oh yeah…
"Fuck, I'm hearing voices in my head now!" I'm complained aloud. "This is like those cliché angel and devil on the shoulders tropes…"
Hey! I'm just trying to get you to have some fun is all. Goodie-goodie over here would rather sit around and eat bumblebees.
I'm trying to avoid us getting killed, thank you very much. If Nick has any common sense, he'd listen to me.
You clearly don't know Nick then…
"Devil voice is right," I agreed. "I think I'll take the risk."
I started blocking out any signs of my religious insanity from my head and made my way to the door. My paw gripped the knob when I realized that I'd be detained the moment an officer sees me, and they were probably roaming the streets 24/7. I stood in thought for a moment before an idea came to mind…
I did my best to clearly picture what Honey's collar looked like, and I searched the tiny home to find any items that would at all resemble it. I found a small velcro strap on the ground, and although it was camoflauge, I figured it'd do for the time being. Now for the electric box…
I inspected every inch of Honey's bedroom before moving on to the kitchen. After looking on top of the counters and coming up with nothing, I decided to check under the sink. I opened the cabinet doors to be met with the smell of dust and mold. There was some cleaning detergent and the pipes from the sink above, but still, nothing that looked like the desired part of the collar. I leaned into the sink, suffering the dust particles attacking my sensitive nose. My eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, and I saw something rather interesting.
The latch to a steel door, something you'd find on top of a war bunker or something. Some of the dust that formed around the handle was cleared in the shape of paw prints. Someone had been in here quite recently.
The outside world can wait a little while longer, I guess.
I opened up the mysterious passage under the sink and climbed in.
'A Raccoon Shaped Pool' is 'A Moon Shaped Pool' (another great album, check it out). Also, I got a cover photo!
Things are starting to get busy now. I've managed to be quite consistent with these updates, but if there's a time that things start slowing down, it'll be now. #16YearOldLife #LifeIsHard #KillMeNow #ThisIsSarcasmPleaseDoNotHateMe