Disclaimer I: Zootopia and its characters are owned by their wonderful creators at Disney this a fanfiction meant to be entirely nonprofit
Disclaimer II: There will be violence and blood in this story
Chapter ?
November 7, 1880
The watery sunrise slowly brought light to the town, a town which, no matter where you looked, had no predators on the streets. It did however, have a militia that manned the stockade surrounding several of the stores and the mayor's house. Both were the result of two years of planning and five years of slow action, all orchestrated by single seemingly harmless ewe.
It was this ewe, named Dawn Bellwether, who had expelled most of the predators from the town of Respite. It was this ewe who made sure that only information she approved of left the town. She didn't need the military, specifically the Marshalls, coming and squashing her private little empire. She wasn't stupid. Crazy perhaps, but not stupid.
A smaller town would not have given the satisfaction that ruling over Respite did, but if she had tried her scheme in one of the larger cities she likely would have been killed. She giggled as she thought of how easy it was to manipulate those who came through town via her agents. Get any mammal drunk enough and they become surprisingly easy to manipulate. After all, waking up in a jail cell being told you had murdered a father was rather disconcerting to most. As far as word spreading about the suspicious lack of predators, that was even easier. Some light hypnosis, slight of hand, and saying particular things at particular times were enough to manipulate any mammal when done properly. And despite how easy one thing was, the combination of those things was not so easy. But in Dawn's eyes it was worth it, a rare sanctuary for prey away from predators who merely pretended to be civilized. It was quite exhausting.
This line of thinking led her to remember the fox Marshall who had served as a quasi-sheriff here seven years ago. He had taken the fifty lashes from the nine tails, which impressively still saw use. He hadn't screamed once, but instead simply glared at the townspeople and those who delivered the lashes. That had been the only part of her mini coup d'etat that had her concerned. The fox had apparently been a Marshall for seven years, and spent all seven years based here in Respite. But it had turned out to be relatively simple. Money in the right paws and muzzles over the right mouths worked wonders. Still the fox hadn't even died when she had her original group throw the fox in the river. He had showed up several months later looking like a Tribesmammal trader. He sold the goods he carried, bought some guns, and left. That had been the last time anyone in town had seen of the red fox.
A knock at the door to Dawn's parlour interrupted her thoughts and caused her to frown. Her lackies knew better than to bother her this early in the morning. Someone was getting a thrashing.
"What is it?!"
"There's a visitor here to see you Mayor Bellwether, he insists it's important, something about a particular fox you both know." The doormammal peeking his head into the room was nervous Bellwethers temper was well known throughout the town.
"Let him in." Dawn sighed, no self-ego-stroking today.
Harold walked in and it seemed as though the admittedly limited life in the room was drained. 'Room' being a parlour that was larger than any other house in town all by its lonesome. Harold tried not to gag at the display of 'power', something this sheep likely knew nothing of. True power was the ability to make an entire civilization fear your name, or much as Harold was loathe to admit it, the ability to become a walking, living legend and disappear like dust on the wind. Which was why Harold was here talking to this petty dictator. There was no solid information on Nicholas Wilde, which infuriated Harold to no end. The only existing information was that something had happened here in Respite, which resulted in Wilde making himself scarce. And it was quite obvious that the only way to get information regarding anything that had happened in the town over the past several years was to talk to the 'Glorious Leader'.
The display of 'power' in the room was wolf who was muzzled and chained to one of the two beds in the room. And judging from how the wolf was positioned and clothed the poor wretch was a slave of a more personal nature. Harold looked around some more and saw a fish skeleton on a platter that he doubted Dawn would let the wolf eat off of. Harold hated hypocrites. Oh, he wasn't above eating meat. Amusingly enough he didn't eat mammals for the meat but more to kill those he disliked in one of the most grotesque manners possible. That was the real difference between the rabbit and the sheep. Dawn was a petty dictator, Harold was just plain evil.
"Harold Hopps, a rabbit I'd never thought I'd meet in person. What brings you here?"
"Nicholas Wilde. Respite was the last place he was confirmed to be. Where is he?"
Dawn walked over to one of the seats and sat, gesturing for Harold to do the same. He remained standing.
"I don't know, he showed up six and a half years ago, after I thought he was dead. Most mammals don't survive a whipping and being thrown in the Lost River."
Dawn pointed to the Cat-o-Nine-Tails hanging from the wall, that was conspicuously placed directly in front of the chained wolf.
"How many lashes?"
"Fifty and he didn't scream once, just glared at us." Dawn sounded so proud of herself Harold couldn't help but snort.
"Amateur, should've just put a bullet in his head. You're lucky he thinks the town betrayed him."
"I figured, he did bring you in. Is that why you're going after him? 'Twelve years of your life gone,' Good motivation to kill if I've ever heard any. And if you don't mind my asking, what do you intend to do?"
Dawn's little spiel was a mistake, Harold wasn't fond of mammals nosing into his business, yet saw no reason to not tell her. He had no intention of letting her live long after this.
"I'm going to take everything he has and make him watch."
=8=
Despite the fact that it was a deep night with no moon the horizon, the sky was alight with an angry red glow. A red-eyed rabbit simply watched as the inferno consumed the building that had been the Mayor's mansion of the town. While the rest of the town was trying to keep the wall of flame from spreading and eating the entire town. The rabbit nursed a bottle of whiskey, with a look a smug satisfaction on his face.
Come morning, the rabbit was nowhere to be found, which didn't matter as only three mammals knew he had been there, all three of whom were dead. The first was the mayor's doormammal, the second was the mayor's 'personal servant', and the third and perhaps most heartbreakingly for the town was the mayor herself.
The mammals who first heard the screams and saw the smoke described the account as though the mammals had been set on fire, not the building itself.
=8=
November 11, 1880
Judy considered herself to be a generous mammal. Her reserves of patience were astonishingly large for a hyperactive rabbit. However she was not so generous when she had to carry her partner Fangmeyer up two sets of stairs because the dumbass had decided that he could outdrink the bartender. Who happened to be rhino. A rhino who currently held a record of twenty-two shots in a night. To Fangmeyer's credit he did manage to get up fourteen shots before he took a step to go relieve himself and instantly face-planted. He was out cold before he even hit the floor. He had also spent most of his money on liquor, meaning Judy now had to share a room with him. It wasn't awkward as the two had acknowledged they were essentially brother and sister but it was still damn annoying to Judy.
Judy had a plan for payback however. The big cat's ears were almost as sensitive as her own. Unlike the rest of the saloon and Judy he didn't have prior warning/cotton stuffed ears. Judy smiled not unlike a predator, as she twirled the beater for the saloons dinner bell.
To Fangmeyer the clanging was like having a pickaxe dipped in acid driven through his skull. The sound of the bell's deadly cry caused the big cat to jump so high he actually hit his head on the ceiling, even though the room was his size and not Judy's. He looked over and saw who his attacker was, and as he was about to go on a rant about he was hungover, he noticed that her eyes were anything but pleasant.
"Mind explaining why you decided to waste all of your money on liquor and a bet you knew you couldn't win?"
Judy was standing on the edge of the bed Fangmeyer was in, and briefly considered just blowing her off. Then Judy started thumping her foot so fast it was almost a blur. To those who didn't know her, it was adorable. To those who did know Judy, it was like looking at the reaper.
"Can you ask this question when I'm not hungover?"
"NO. I can handle paying for your room, but humiliating myself simply by associating with your dumbass is NOT OKAY."
The last two words were shouted at a volume that made Fangmeyer's vision spin. It would've made Bogo proud. He held up a paw to try and placate Judy.
"OH I'M SORRY IS MY YELLING HURTING YOU? GOOD! MAYBE YOU WON'T BE SO EAGER TO TRY AND OUT DRINK A RHINO NEXT TIME!"
Judy knew how to muster up her voice when she wanted, and each subsequent word simply doubled in both volume and pain for Fangmeyer. Judy did, however, relent, mostly because the pain from her yelling caused Fangmeyer to pass out again.
=8=
It took another two hours of coffee, water, aspirin, and three omelettes to clear Fangmeyers hangover, much to Judy's dismay. The two weren't tracking a criminal at the moment as the Frontier was experiencing a period of relative peace, and so they were working on what was considered a personal project, even though every Marshall on the Frontier knew of and contributed to it. The not-official project's goal was simple; find Nicholas Wilde... or at least figure out what happened to him. It had started up around four years ago, after he had simply dropped off the face of the earth. And while it sounded simple in theory, searching an area that was estimated to around one point three million square miles with fifty-seven mammals, all of whom were traveling on foot, it was a task that wasn't expected to be done for at least a decade.
Wilde was presumed dead at this point. No one thought he would simply leave the Marshalls. If he did, they all thought he would have done so officially. The only information that had been found until recently was that 'something' had happened to him, and no one knew what. Every Marshall who went to Respite found nothing what so ever, which was rather suspicious as it seemed the whole town was in on whatever had happened to Wilde. Even false sightings, something Marshalls commonly had to deal with when tracking the wanted, were non-existent.
But recently someone had found an old badger named Honey, who had remembered the Wildes. It wasn't Nick himself but it was at least something, a direction to go in. Fangmeyer and Judy were currently headed south to the town of Alparaso. It was Nick's aunt and uncle who lived there, and they hoped to get some answers, provided Nick is or was there. And if not, inform them that their nephew was likely dead. Judy preferred not to think about the second scenario.
She had caused and seen far too much death over the past seven years. She preferred not to kill but it was very rare that mammals actually listened to Judy and came quietly. Unbeknownst to Judy, she herself had become a walking legend on par with Wilde. Within the Marshals service. It was a silent consensus to protect the other Marshalls, especially ones of Judy's caliber, from the dangers of public reputations. No one wanted another Marshall disappearing.
Fangmeyer glanced over at the rabbit he considered his partner and sister. Thinking of how they considered each other led Fangmeyer to chuckle lightly as thoughts of mammals reactions to the two saying they were brother and sister appeared in his mind. He kept those thoughts in mind as long as he could as a distraction. He was worried about what they find at the Wilde Ranch. Would they find nothing, and have to break the news to Nick's aunt and uncle? Or would there be a thread of information that would leave them to Nick? Or would the most unlikely scenario of actually finding Nick come to fruition?
=8=
The actual answer was that Fangmeyer and Judy would find Nick, just not where they expected to find him. Nick and Finnick both had arrived in Alparaso around six and a half years ago. Finnick had in fact gotten the job at the ranch with Nick's aunt and uncle, Josephine and George, and was rather happy with it. Nick himself had worked the ranch for three years before he semi-stopped. He had been struck with wanderlust at that time and became a bit of a rogue. Bartering here and gambling there. Though he wasn't currently at a table.
No, he was currently at a bar where he was doing his best to ignore the speciest ass who didn't see to understand the concept of 'a peaceful drink'. Nick was on his third shot now and couldn't decide whether the whiskey was helping or hindering his efforts to stay calm. Things came to a head when the donkey, in the infinite wisdom of his kind, decided to call Nick a pelt and spit in Nick's fourth shot. An impressive feat for the drunken ass who had to lean on the counter and was several paces away . Nick simply turned to the donkey with a raised eyebrow.
"Wellls? Wha are yous gon do? -hic- shot me?"
Those competing to make the understatement of the year would say the donkey was sloshed.
Nick decided measured to his response. Enough was enough, but the donkey was leaning so heavily on the bar it was a wonder it didn't collapse. The fox sighed, and the sense that Death was now watching with what felt like mild bemusement struck every mammal in the room.
=8=
As Judy and Fangmeyer approached they could hear the rinky-tink piano that every saloon on the Frontier had. They walked up to the saloon and looked around. It was rather typical, with a downstairs bar area consisting of card and food tables, piano, and of course the actual bar. The stairs just past the bar had a keeper at their base taking payment for rooms. What struck the two Marshals was the trouble along the middle of the bar, where a donkey was harassing a fox. Judy's first reaction was to go intervene, until Fangmeyer stopped her with the barest of nods. Anything short of murder was probably well deserved on the donkeys part, he figured, so the two took a seat. It was about five minutes after they had ordered and received their drinks that the piano stopped, causing both Marshals to look around for whatever shit was about to go down.
It didn't take long for them to recognize the fox and donkey they had spied earlier, however this time Fangmeyer had a clear view of the fox.
"Oh my god, he's still alive."
Judy turned her head at His statement. "Who?" His implied message flying over her head.
Fangmeyer's paw was shaking as he pointed his finger at the fox causing Judy to turn. Both felt as though there was something more going on here than what was to be seen.
"Nicholas Wilde."
=8=
Nick was seated on a stool that was actually as tall as him, it was the only way he could reach the bar after all. The donkey was actually seated several seats over, and those at the bar who were seated decided to move away from the fox. Most small mammals like foxes would cower at the type of hostile attention that Nick was receiving from the donkey. However, Nick wasn't concerned in the slightest. The raised eyebrow had morphed into half-lidded smirk that was the physical embodiment of bemusement. But because of the height of the stools Nick simply hopped from stool to stool until he stood, albeit with some artificial assistance, at the same height as the donkey who then miraculously sobered up in what must have been record time. This didn't escape Nick's notice, though he wasn't concerned, it didn't affect what he was planning. In fact what he was planning counted on the donkey sobering up, and everyone else in the saloon noticed that fact.
"What's your name?"
"Wild-card Hendricks."
The slap that landed on Hendricks' muzzle was so fast the other mammals in the room could barely see it. It caused Hendricks to start a bit but before he could act Nick was off to the races. The pattern was simple….in theory. Nick would slap Hendricks and before Hendricks could respond Nick would have already drawn his gun, and pointed it at Hendricks. This happened three times before Nick stopped his gun still drawn.
"Think you'd like to see it again? It's kinda tough to catch the first time round."
Nick spun his gun and returned it to his holster, and waited. The half-instant Hendricks moved the slap-draw routine resumed, with Nick faking Hendricks out on the third hit with his left paw, slapping Hendricks with his right before drawing with his right. After the fifth hit Nick returned his gun to his holster and as Hendricks went to move again Nick drew and held again. Hendricks spoke after a moment of being held at gunpoint, the rage at being humiliated by this fox of all mammals clear to see.
"So you think this ends here?"
"Do I know this ends here? Yes, yes I do."
Nick's response caused the donkey to begin to storm his rage building. It built so much so fast that he attempted to turn and draw at the door to saloon. Only to be stopped by a bullet in his hoof causing him to drop the gun he had drawn; Nick had drawn and fired accurately without even looking, while pouring himself a drink with the other paw. The donkey then ran off screaming obscenities into the deep night. At first no one reacted, until the sound of clapping reached Nick's ears, causing him to turn and see a rather familiar tiger with a badge, sitting with an unfamiliar rabbit with a badge.
It was a bit of a start to see Fangmeyer, one of his close friends from the Marshals. Thoughts of the Marshals led to memories. Memories which caused a slight shudder, that all except the rabbit and tiger failed to notice. Memories that flashed through Nick's mind causing him to feel the sting and pain of being flogged all over again. The phantom pain caused Nick's ear to flick, something that was again ignored by all except the two Marshalls. Nick ignored the pain and walked over to their table a slightly strained smile on his face.
"Hello Fangs, who's the carrot muncher?"
"Judy Hopps, Marshall."
"Really, you're a Marshall? Gee, It's almost like you have a bright shiny badge pinned to your chest that's going to get you killed someday."
Nick's reply to Judy didn't come as a surprise to the rabbit who heard practical legends about the foxes sarcasm. But Fangmeyer heard the tint of bitterness in Nick's tone, he noticed then Nick's badge, or lack thereof.
"Mind telling me why?"
Fangmeyer noticed Judy's rapidly tapping paw, and couldn't help but wonder how one would go about defusing timed dynamite. Fortunately Nick did it for him.,
"Don't thump your paw at me, I'm trying to help. A shiny badge reflects the sun, causing a nice bright light to come off your chest. That bright light happens to be a good point to aim at."
Nick raised his eyebrows at that last bit and Judy's anger deflated like a popped balloon.
"Speaking of badges where's yours Nick?"
Fangmeyer had thought that was an innocent question. Then he saw Nick's face. He had maintained the half-lidded smirk, but his eyes had changed. Instead of being warm and caring, they had turned as hard as the stones they shared their color with.
"Don't have one, haven't for seven years. Room thirteen's mine. You're welcome to join me if you don't want to pay."
Nick turned and was going in the rented room before Fangmeyer could process what Nick had said. The realisation that Nick had been broken and remained so struck Fangmeyer like a ton of bricks.
"He wasn't always like that, was he?"
"No, he wasn't."
~=888=~
A/N: Sorry its been two and half weeks since last upload, but I HAVE BETAS, sort of...It'll buff out. As far as excuses go: I just didn't like what I kept coming up with(mainly due to a plot hole that Combat Engineer pointed out, hopefully this chapter at least addressed it somewhat). And There's an idea rattling around in my head that I'm posting shortly after this. That said this(The Wilde West) will take precedent. This is my first story and I intend to finish it. Even though it will likely by somewhat short, because this really isn't something I can turn into a multi-book epic, it's taking inspiration from old spaghetti westerns after all. Speaking of, who caught the reference in this chapter? If you didnt catch it look up "Gun-Slap scene" on YouTube, third video down. That's all for now, have a good one folk