-Chapter 9-
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Lying back on the couch with his tie back on, Nick stared aimlessly at the ceiling, twiddling his thumbs to pass the time. A brief noise caught his ear and, looking over, he spotted the psychiatrist wander in, slowly flicking through his clipboard.
"I've heard you're hear instead of my usual, Mr…?" the Guinee pig mumbled, not making eye contact as he turned to shut the door.
"Mr Wilde," Nick clarified.
"Aah yes…" he replied, before turning and spotting Nick on the couch. Stepping back a bit with shock, and with a slight "Oh", he regained his composure as he wandered up to a nearby seat. Scrambling up onto it, and grabbing a new block of paper to write notes on, he flicked open the top of a lectern in order to expose a large red button. Nick merely sighed, before moving his hands above his chest.
"Mr Wilde, could you just glance through the cards to your right and tell me what you see?"
Nick silently obliged, grabbing a stack of white cards and idly scanning through them.
"Vampire bat… vampire bat… vampire bat… vampire bat… vampire bat…" he said, bored as he flicked through. His eyes widened as he saw the final card, and his voice reflected his surprised nature, "the Spanish Inquisition!"
The Psychologist stood bolt upright and looked over at Nick, "really? I didn't expect them!"
"Too bad then, it's actually a vampire bat," Nick replied smugly, turning over his final card to reveal the picture of a bat, standing up in a red T-shirt, before dropping it down to join the five identical cards on the floor.
The Guinee pig was evidently unimpressed and merely groaned as silence permeated the room for a moment or so, until he restarted the conversation. "So, Mr Wilde, what issues have been troubling you lately?"
"Well," Nick began unenthusiastically, gently grabbing his tie and beginning to fumble it through his fingers as he spoke, "I've had a really bad day… I feel like my life is one whole pointless, miserable slog from cradle to grave… I feel bitter and depressed and, well, always nervous that something will get worse... which it then always does."
"What do you mean by worse?"
"What do you think?" Nick harrumphed back, "some stupid new law or tax that the prey brings in on us preds, which we can't do anything about."
The Guinea pig pulled back slightly, flicking the plastic casing on top of the button up.
"So, you don't like prey mammals?" he asked curiously.
"Nope, no offense."
"You feel like, being denied your 'right' to push them around is an insult? It's frustrating you that you can't take out your grievances on them."
Nick's collar shone orange as he growled slightly, turning his head over to look the psychiatrist in the eye. "Of course not… My grievances are because of the prey animals, not on to them. I mean there you are, saying that I'm violent scum who wants to treat people bad! I just… want to be treated… equal," Nick said, sighing sadly as he spoke the last word.
"Can you explain what you mean by equal?"
"Like… I want people who meet me to have a complete blank slate, rather than always assume I'm out to hurt them or scam them. I want to be treated with respect, rather than denied service or shouted at. I want… I want to be free."
"What do you mean by free?"
"Free to enjoy life," Nick replied back with conviction. "Free to be happy, free of all the weight around my neck that's holding me down."
"Free, from your collar?"
Nick paused, taking in a large breath and gulping, before speaking out firmly. "Yes."
"Any reason why?"
Nick's voice hardened, "Have you ever worn one, even once?"
The Guinea pig chuckled, "Why would I ever need to wear one?"
"Because you can never understand what it's like," Nick spoke back with an angry tone, his hackles raised and collar amber. "You can mumble on about this and that, but you'll never understand! All I can say, is that my best experience in life was a few days ago, when I had my collar off for a few minutes at the doctors." He paused, relaxing slightly and speaking in a happy tone, "I fell into a fantastic daydream… and I was free."
The Psychiatrist nodded slightly and began jotting down notes. Silence filled the air in the room, leaving Nick alone and, pulling his tie up to his face, he sniffed the fabric slightly for comfort (disappointed to still smell chilli and garlic sauces) before gently rubbing it on his sensitive nose.
"You seemed very attached to that tie Mr Wilde," the Guinea pig cheerfully pointed out.
Nick's eyes opened wide and his collar briefly flashed orange, before he quickly thrust the tie down onto his chest, barking out a quick "NO" while he was at it. The Psychiatrist merely chuckled and went back to his notes while Nick's eyes nervously darted around.
"Mr Wilde, the way you fumble with that tie. The way you reacted when I mentioned it eliciting such a strong response: verbally, behaviourally and emotionally… I mean look at your collar. That tie must have very high sentimental value. Was it a gift? Did it belong to a family member?"
Nick sighed as he fell silent, closing his eyes as he deeply inhaled, his ears flattening themselves tightly to the back of his head as his collar beeped up to orange and stayed there. After five or so empty seconds had slowly ticked by, he finally shrugged slightly before coming out with his answer. "Both," he said straight, before his voice cracked up very slightly, "It was Dad's…"
The Psychiatrists eyes opened wide, and he wandered over to Nick. Cautiously, he placed a reassuring hand on Nick's shoulder and rubbed gently. "Whatever you say is confidential, just tell me."
Nick turned away, avoiding gaze with the smaller mammal, as he fixed his eyes on the room's wall instead.
"Was he bad? Did he hurt you? Your mum?"
Nick's collar flicked to red, a tiny Zip… causing him to grimace before he gave a sudden, firm reply, "Never!"
"Pardon Mr Wilde?"
"My Dad…" Nick began to reminisce in a soft and fond, but sad voice; its mellow tone filling the room as he turned to gaze at the ceiling while speaking. "He loved me and he loved my mum. He never hurt me or her… and he always dreamed. He always dreamed of a better life for all of us, but the prey always crushed it. Because they hate us for who they think we are."
"Could you… give me an example?"
Nick was silent for a few moments, his eyes darting about as he thought, before he spoke up. "One comes up off the top of my head. I suppose it's relevant given some issues I've been having."
"Go on."
Nick deeply breathed in and out, before closing his eyes and talking. "We never had much money, living in an old part of the city called Happytown. It was still struggling after the fishing industry was killed off, mostly dead right now. My family owned a little suit store, just by the third junction of the Z12 expressway, and my dad would tailor, rent and sell suits to the locals. But he always dreamed of going bigger…"
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-25 Years ago-
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The sun was shining brightly down on the busy plaza outside of Zootopia central station from up above. Thousands of mammals intermingled, enjoying the warm afternoon or heading home from the day's work. In one corner of the square lay the entrance to the proud natural history museum, and out of it a large bunch of schoolchildren were pouring out in a line. Somewhere in the middle, two Fox kits, one small and tan with giant ears and one larger with red fur, strolled out with wide eyes as they chatted to each other.
"Nick…" came a familiar dignified shout that pricked the ears of the larger kit. "Nicky," it came again with an element of fondness in the tone. Peering around to see the source of the voice, big fluffy ears raised and scanning, the larger Kit's face (and collar) lit up as he ran straight out of the line and raced towards his caller.
"Daddy, Daddy," little Nick happily shouted back, voice full of excitement as he skipped along the pavement and then jumped straight into waiting arms of a larger, adult Fox. Dressed in a fine dark charcoal suit, with freshly ironed black trousers, a blue checked shirt and a blue and purple tie; Nick's Dad was tall (although a bit shorter than adult Nick) and dignified. His build was burlier than adult Nick's lanky form, with slightly smaller ears, broader shoulders and thicker limbs, snout and, in particular, neck. His dense chest fur was cream coloured rather than white while his red fur was closer to maroon, rather than Nick's scarlet, with the dark tips on the end of his limbs and tail small and barely noticeable. Looking down at his son with his warm amber eyes and, cradling him lovingly into a tight hug, Nick's Dad discretely checked the now green light around his son's neck with concern. Relaxing slightly at the sight, a wide grin grew on the larger fox as he smiled proudly and cradled his son in his arms. He fussed up the little Kit's head fur, sending his tail into an excited wag and voice into a giggle, before giving his nose a quick kiss.
"Paps… not in front of the others," the Kit carefully whispered, looking up into his father's eyes.
Chuckling, the older Fox said back in his deep, loving voice, "You're only five Nick. No reason to be embarrassed at Daddy at this age, you're growing up quite to fast as it is."
The little fox smiled back, proudly running his fingers along his collar, "Well, I am a grown up now that I've got this. As grown up as you."
The older fox's grin vanished, his perked up ears and eyes sagging as he diverted his gaze away. He was still racked with guilt and shame from putting on his sons collar that morning, taking away his freedom while his little boy thanked him for it. It seemed that Nick had been lucky so far, not triggering his collar. But it would come soon enough, along with all the inconveniences and hate, and then his son would never be the same again.
"Paps?" came a concerned voice. Nick was looking up and, worried at his father's mood, he gently extended his hand before beginning to tenderly stroke the big Fox's muzzle with his paw. The older Fox snapped out of his bad mood, and put on a wide grin.
"I've got something to show you. Come with me."
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They had travelled away from the city centre, through clean streets and past smart apartments to the junction of five roads. Shops lined the street level, the pavements over brimming with the various wares of greengrocers, bakeries, sweetshops, café's and bookstores. The two foxes wandered past them all and towards a large building wedged between two of the roads, it's windows dusty and a large for sale sign hanging outside. Nick pulled back slightly as his father walked on, climbing the steps up to the door.
"What's this?" came the voice of Nick, very confused as to why he was here or what his father had planned.
"This," replied Nick's dad, voice proud and firm, "used to be…" He turned and, drawing out the words as he spoke, wiped off the dust and grime on the glass to reveal the letters beneath, embossed on the window in gold. 'Tailoring'.
"Like… our shop?" Nick asked, head tilting to almost ninety degrees as his large ears flopped about above him. Chuckling at the overwhelming cuteness of the classic expression of canine curiosity, the large fox turned back to the window.
"Yes, but soon it won't just have been like our shop…" came the enthusiastic voice as words were drawn onto the pane of glass via squeaking paw pads, "soon it will be our own shop! For everyone, from the smallest mouse!... to the largest elephant!"
The large Fox grinned back, radiating with pride, as he showed off his handiwork. Beneath the golden letters, the words 'Wilde & Son' could be made out.
"We'll do this together," he announced proudly, as he ran back towards his son and pulled him up into a tight hug. They both giggled at each other, rubbing their noses together playfully and all the while oblivious to their orange collars. Nick's dad hoisted the little Kit onto his shoulder and then they walked off. They began wandering back down through the downtown area, its streets thronging with mammals leaving work, all the while both glowing with excitement. Mouth in a wide open grin with pride, the elder Fox walked on while little Nick's head shot around, taking in every sight and scene of the buzzing metropolis.
"We just needed a loan to make it happen," came the voice of adult Nick, sadly permeating the memory as the two Fox's walked up the marble steps of the imposing main city bank. "My Dad had his presentation ready, he'd dressed me up smart in some clothes he'd brought and we'd practice, and I was so proud. Because this was Zootopia, where anyone could be anything, and my gosh we were going to make this happen. Together."
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The heavy wood door creaked opened, and the two Foxes walked into the bank manager's musty old office room. Little Nick trotted in behind his father, dressed in smart white shirt, black trousers and a tie, and a giant grin plastered on his face. Ears pricking at a sound behind him, he glanced back to see a Rhino security guard stomp past the open door and glance in with concern, before muttering something and stepping to the side. The stomps stopped, and little Nick paused, curious about why the Rhino wasn't carrying on, before the confused bank manager called to them, snapping out of the odd expression he had held when they first walked in.
"Mr Wilde?" he asked, half shocked and half confused.
"Yes sir, pleasure to meet you," replied Nick's Dad, smiling as he held out his paw towards the large Deer on the other side of the desk.
"Mr… John Wilde?" he asked again, with the same tone.
"Yes… Is it the voice? I've heard friends commenting that our phone was a bit dodgy."
"'Honest John', you said that that was what some people called you?"
"Well, friends, family and satisfied customers mostly…" John Wilde chuckled.
The Deer was less impressed, audibly groaning and rolling his eyes as he muttered out "Honest John…" with utter disdain. While doing so, John remained standing proud while little Nick took up a position beside him. They were both smiling as the deer snapped out of his self-admonishment and looked at them like they were a pair of bad stains.
"Just get on with it…" he grunted, as he began to watch apathetically.
"There are close to a hundred suit store across Zootopia and the neighbouring districts, including my own back in the Happy town area, but they all serve one size or mammal type," John Wilde began, eagerly selling his idea with an excited voice and enthusiastic hand motions. "Which is great, unless you're a mouse who lives in tundra town and doesn't want to go all the way to Little Rodentia to hire some clothes for prom. Or what if you're an Elephant who doesn't like the existing Elephant run store. Note the lack of a plural there." With that little joke, John paused to catch his breath while Nick grinned and winked at the manager, his two thumbs eagerly sticking up. Standing back to normal, he looked up as his father began the home straight.
"But what if there was a suit store for all the mammals. Well, me and my son have a plan. We have a location; all we need is a loan to make it happen. It's not Zootopia, it's Wilde and Sons Suitopia!"
With the final flourish, John opened up his briefcase and a folded up cardboard model of a large suit store popped up, while Nick proudly gestured at it in all its glory. Clusters of fairy lights, cannibalised from an old Christmas tree, blinked on and off. They illuminated the numerous mouse sized suits, delicately made and hanging proud on their display racks and mannequins. The base of the diorama was painted to look like real wood flooring, clean and varnished, while the back wall contained numerous inset mirrors which all reflected the bank managers disinterred eyes.
"Need a suit?" John began, before both he and his Son finished, "Suitopia welcomes you!"
Thud…
There was quiet for a moment, as the two Foxes looked on and tried to register the flat out rejection. There had been no hesitation, no pondering, it had come the moment they had wrapped up their presentation. However, John, as he snapped back to the moment, realised that it had come the moment the manager had seen his red fur.
"Come on Nick, let's go," he said tiredly, as he grabbed his briefcase and left. His Son, however, stood on staring at what had happened. His head tilting with one ear up and one ear down, he tried to comprehend the situation that had occurred. Eyes glancing down at the table he noticed two Gerbil clerks march over with a large rubber stamp, ready to further deny the loan as if to rub salt in the wound and, in a brief spout of careless childlike curiosity, he grabbed the stamp and held it up. Merely wanting to observe it, it took a second to register that the gerbils were still clinging on with tight hands while their mouths screamed, "Security!"
Glancing around, John saw what his son was doing and ran over. "Put them down Nick," he urged, his authority easily gaining the Kits attention and making him place them down. But it was too late, as the burly Rhino guard that had been waiting outside barged past and tore Nick up with one arm.
"Hey… Hey!" John cried as he turned to plead with the guard, his collar shooting up to orange as he did so. Peering out backwards and struggling to breath in the vice like grip, Nick began to squirm with fear and desperation, his eyes desperately searching out for his father to plead for help.
"Daddy…" he cried, as his father ran through the door and around to the Rhino's front, pleading up to him while desperately trying to remain calm at the same time.
"He's only five, it was only a simple misunderstanding!"
The panicked shouts of the little Kit continued, desperately calling for his father's comfort as his body surged with adrenaline, preparing to fight of flight until the pleading calls were all silenced by a brutal three second BUZZ…. Electricity shot out of the collar, arcing through Nick's red fur and tearing down to his skin, the burning pain causing him to scream out in agony. The little Fox was quiet for a moment, his face slowly unlocking after viciously wincing up with the pain of his first shock, before he began to bawl and cry like a baby. Three seconds was long, very long, especially for a little Kit.
All this time, John had been frozen in horror, attempts to speak merely coming out as odd chokes as the Rhino passed him on the way down the corridor, his eyes and mouth wide open and trembling while his ears were plastered back. Suddenly, his teeth bared and face gritted with anger, John Wilde growled furiously as he charged forward and leapt up, desperately trying to haul his wailing son out of the Rhino's vice like grip. But all this time, he hadn't noticed the tell-tale beep and red light of his own collar, and then he noticed...
BUZZZZZZZ
Six seconds… that was how long Nick watched his father getting shocked for. His crying paused for the entire time, watching on silently as his father shook and screamed in agony on the floor. Every part of him was trembling, with his eyes welded shut and guttural moans and sounds escaping from his bared and gritted teeth. His entire body clenching up from the current, he dug into the carpet with his claws and somehow managed to stay on his hands and knees, rather than tumble and writhe on the floor, while a single arm was outstretched desperately towards his son. It was the first time Nick had ever seen his father shocked and to see his once proud Dad, who was always good and loving and never angry or mean, trembling on the floor and trying to catch his breath before struggling to slowly get up broke his heart more than his own first painful shock ever could.
.
After the event, finding his son squatting outside on the steps of the bank, John put his still twitching paw gently down onto Nick's shoulder. While still emotional, clear from the on and off twitching of his limbs along with his occasional sniffling and a still orange collar, Nick was by and large still and silent. Both Foxes twitched together, their once smart clothing was creased while their fur stuck up as if there were a lightning storm on outside. Feeling the comforting touch, the little Kit looked up at his tired, bedraggled and suddenly unkempt father and smiled with optimism in the way that only a child could.
"We're going to the hospital now, aren't we?" he asked cheerfully.
"Pardon Son?" John replied, eyebrows rising with surprise at the statement but voice surprisingly weary.
"To get new collars," Nick replied back eagerly, "they're only supposed to hurt us when we're super naughty, so our ones must be broken. We'll just get new…" His voice lost its happiness and hope, slowing down and then trailing off, confused and lost, into nothing. All the while, the smile on the little Kit faded as he looked up at his father's eyes. So alive and full of energy before, they looked old and tired now as a tear or two wept from them.
"I'm sorry son… lets go home" was all he could say, before he led his son off.
"The City looked very different that night…" came adult Nick's voice, as the little kit wandered through the crowds, led by his father's paw. "I saw that whenever people saw us, their eyes filled with worry, hate, anger or fear," it spoke again, as Little Nick glanced up at the mammals staring at him as they moved away, hands over their back pockets. Looking down, he saw a Mum and Dad rabbit, both pushing strollers containing four babies each. He smiled and tried to wave, but on making eye contact the mother took over both prams and pushed them rapidly away, while the father stood angrily in guard in front with a bottle of Fox repellent in his paws, primed for use. "I knew then why my Dad cried when he put my collar on, I knew how it felt to be unable to protect those you loved" he said, as they stepped on the train home, the carriage rumbling as the engines started and they left the station. Looking down at his feet as night fell, little Nick stood up and peeked out from the edge of his seat. Travelling across the bay he saw the beautiful city, lights glimmering, along with its shimmering reflection in the water. It was a sight that should have brought wonder, as seeing the city for the first time earlier that day had, but the only emotion on the little fox's face was one of complete and utter sadness and betrayal. "It was then I knew that Zootopia was a lie."
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-Present Day-
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"Anyone can be anything? Predators and Prey get along in harmony…?" Nick merely shook his head and made the most apathetic grunt he could muster.
The Psychiatrist look on in silence, studiously filling in his notes. Bar the sound of his collar ticking back down to green, the scratch of pen on paper was the only thing that Nick could hear as he fondled with his tie, rubbing it against his muzzle, for comfort.
"… Maybe…" the Psychiatrist cautiously began, "maybe your issues are because you think you're betraying your father's ideals?"
"Pardon…" Nick said, his eyes widening slightly with curiosity as they turned to stare of the Guinea Pig.
"Your father wanted to own a suit store that served all the mammals, right? He wanted to treat them all as equals?" Nick merely nodded as the speech continued, "by taking your anger and rage issues out on prey, you're betraying your father's ideals. This internal conflict is what makes you bitter while, I assume, your lack of closure with your father keeps it gnawing away inside of you."
Nick nodded his head slightly, a tiny smile even growing on his face. However, it was wiped away when the next question came in, "Was your last experience with your father divisive? Did you have a fight before he died?"
Nick turned away and sniffed, collar shooting back up to orange. "No. No fight," he said, his voice beginning to crack as he closed his eyes, "Paps is still alive, too. Not that it matters."
Pausing slightly, the Guinea Pig chose to continue, "Mind telling me about your last experience with him?"
Nick remained silent, bar the occasional sniff, as his head turned and faced away from the Guinee pig, beginning to breathe deeply while all the while kneading his tie vigorously into his muzzle. With no reply, the small mammal turned away and began to write down more notes, illuminated by the orange glow but, after a moment or so, His ears suddenly pricked from the shuffling sound in the corner. He looked up and saw Nick rest himself on his back, deep breath abating slightly while the tie fondling continued. Suddenly the Fox began talking, his voice full of fondness and nostalgia as he reminisced.
"As I said, my father always dreamed… If anything he dreamt more after that day. He began talking about the wide world… the vast forests and trees and plains. The other countries: Reptoslavia, the Kingdom of Avaria, republic of Primaiti… and how there were many unclaimed islands and lands and beaches and… all sorts of hidden places that no-one owned. He began to tell stories about buying a big abandoned fishing boat and inviting our friends, and we would sail off to a wooded island where a cold river from the mountains met the warm salty sea. Where the water brimmed with fish and crabs… the undergrowth with berries and fruit… the soil with vegetables and bugs, and the beaches with shellfish and seaweed. And we would have no collars so we could play without fear… and in the summer we would build log cabins and generators and stuff so more people could come and live without their collar… and in the warm evenings, after building and farming, we would come together by a bonfire and talk and play and laugh… and play music and dance and be happy…"
The Psychiatrist stared on and scribbled down notes after notes after notes. Nick, meanwhile, lay down with his eyes closed and a wide smile on his face, collar still a solid orange. His voice when describing his father's dream had been smooth with honey, and he now laid back savouring the sweetness, despite the few pained sobs that occasionally escaped his muzzle. But all that happiness went when the next question came.
"What… happened?"
.
-22 year ago-.
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Maroon feet ran across the creaking wooden floorboards as a loud and powerful pounding came from below. Nick Wilde, hunkered down scared in his little den (a wicker basket with a pillow at the bottom), peeked up nervously through his blanket to see his father burst into his bedroom. Collar orange and tears in his eyes, he knelt down to Nick and looked at his son's face, carefully taking in and savouring every precious feature: the big ears, the emerald eyes, the little purple nose, his cute short snout and the solitary right fang that goofily peeked out at the front. A particularly loud bang shook John Wilde to his senses, and he planted his paw tenderly around Nick's muzzle, cradling it gently while leaning forward.
"I'm sorry Son… I made a mistake," he blubbered out despondently between sobs, as a very confused Nick stepped up and hugged him in an attempt to comfort.
"Paps …" came the scared and worried reply from the little Kit, as the orange light illuminating him turned red. Zap… Flinching away as the shock painfully shook his father, Nick turned back to give comfort again but was stopped in his tracks.
"Nicholas, listen here," John interrupted sternly, as the pounding below was accompanied by a loud crack of wood. "I love you, mom loves you. When the police find you, ask if you can stay with your friend Finnick. His mum and dad are good mammals, they'll look after you, I promise."
"What's going on?" Nick nervously asked, terror and panic rising in his voice as there was a heavy crash below and footsteps began marching in.
"They found out about the boat… the island…tell them that you knew nothing. Promise me son?" came the frantic answer.
"… yes Daddy," Nick replied, burying himself back into his den and beginning to cry with worry as shouts rang out from below.
"One suspect with collar, Over! Marie-Anne Wilde, you are under arrest for planning the theft and illegal use of a collar key…."
"Take these," John suddenly urged as he thrust a photograph album and several framed pictures into Nick's arms, while the stomps began getting closer. "… and this," he continued as he began to cry again. He quickly pulled his tie off of his collar and hung it around his cowering son, gently tightening it before planting a kiss on the fabric. Now fully sobbing with grief, he planted a second kiss on his sniffling son's forehead and lunged forward to hug him, "…Don't stop dreaming… make me proud son… make me as proud as you've done already."
And with that, John Wilde let go of his son and stood up tall and proud. He turned and walked purposefully out of the door, closing it behind him. The stomping stopped, and some metallic clicks were heard, before a voice pierced the night.
"John Wilde, you are hereby under arrest…"
.
"I watched them get taken away," adult Nick said wearily, his voice permeating into the past as his eight-year-old self stood outside, huddled in the rain with an orange collar. Standing between two stoic police officers, he watched his parents led out silently via long neck poles, their hands cuffed tightly behind their backs. His mother was first, dressed in her lilac dress while the water ran down her light orange and white fur. She glanced back at him, her green eyes, bloodshot and blurry, making brief contact with the identical ones of her son, before the two massive officers pulling her forward yanked at their poles and forced her onwards. John came next, silent and head tipped down in shame as he was led on too. Stepping into the back of the van with his wife, the two loops around his neck were released and he glanced up to look at his son one last time, before the doors slammed shut. There was a bang as the driver's door closed and the van coughed to life. As it drove away, Nick saw it, and the two orange pinpricks in the black windows, vanish off into the darkness.
"I did as he asked and was adopted by my friend's family," adult Nick continued, as night turned to day and young Nick wandered past the store. The streets were dusty, with the odd spot of graffiti or stray weed, but the occasional car and pedestrian would wander past and give a concerned glance.
"I always hoped that they would come back, but they never did," he finished, as young Nick, looking a couple of years older, just stood on the pavement looking up. The roads and pavements lay infested with newly grown weeds while graffiti was scrawled on everything in sight: buildings in the background, the elevated highway, the burnt out cars and a streetcar that had all been abandoned. Even the once smart suit store, John Wilde's name still plastered on the front where it had once lived so proudly, had fallen to the decay and lay boarded up and abandoned.
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-Present day-
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"I never saw them again…" the hollow words lingered in the quiet room. Nick didn't cry, or weep, or display great grief. He just lay there looking aimlessly at the ceiling, with an orange collar on his neck and paws fondling his tie, before he sniffed slightly and then let silence take over the room.
The Guinea pig was quiet too, even his notetaking interrupted… until he muttered the first words that came to his mind, "You… don't seem very upset?"
"Grief is super naughty…" Nick weakly said as he reached up and rested a paw cautiously on the orange light around his neck, "don't you know? I do."
Still pausing, the doctor began to ask another question, but Nick cut him to the chase. "They're both serving life in solitary…" he said, in a tired and hopeless voice, "separate prisons… no visitation or communication rights… I'll only be able to see them again at their funerals…"
The faint beat of two hearts was all that could be heard in that moment, echoing mournfully around the empty room, before the Guinea Pig gathered his notes and looked up.
.
"Mr Wilde, I believe your issues stem from your fathers last words… along with the conflict discussed before… You're angry at society for what happened, and wish to take it out on prey animals. This inherent contradiction, is the problem."
Nick smiled and shrugged, his collar dropping down to green, "Maybe…"
"You still have your fathers tie? Anything else to remind you of them?"
"Some pictures, I still own the store even though it's worthless. Dad's music collection, I used to listen to that a lot to help me… So at least I got a good taste in music from this whole…"
Nick's words trailed off into a chuckle at his little joke, a small slice of humour to help with the wound. The Psychiatrist seemed to enjoy it too, and shuffled his notes before continuing.
"It seems you can't let go of your father's bad influence. So, I advise that firstly, you distance yourself from your parent's dangerous and extremist views… burn that tie maybe…"
Nick blinked a bit, shaking his head as his mouth gaped open in shock, before his collar went back to orange.
"And try to find a positive attitude to your collar, embrace its many benefits. Learn to love it…"
Beep…Zap…
It was a quick one, and Nick immediately stood up and marched over to the Guinea pig who was suddenly shaking with fear, his hand over the alarm button.
"You just don't get it? Do you?" Nick spoke out angrily, as he grabbed the session notes from under the Psychologists paw… "Let's see what else you don't get!" The tiny mammal cowered, tucking his limbs into himself and looking on, as Nick stormed out of the office.
.
Marching down the corridor with an orange collar, Nick tore through the pages of notes as he bitterly and sarcastically read them out: "Fox, take all comments with large pinch of salt… Evidently has too much time and hands and fills it with bad humour… Standard sympathy routine… Talks about Pred supremacy… Attempts to joke, fails miserably… Aggressive… Ludicrous notion that mammals should abandon reasonable assumptions about his species… Escapist fantasies… Dangerously disproportionate bitterness towards collar, RED LINE!… Attacks my professional ability… Had collar off for medical reasons in past, source of dangerous fantasies… creepy tie obsession… Abusive parent?... Attempts to whitewash families and own likely criminal past!... " Zap…
Nick flinched, before moving on, "In denial about scale of past attack on innocent rodents… Father has insane fantasies, should have been committed… Patient in denial about parents being potential terrorists!"
He tore up the notes as he exited the door, throwing them into the air and letting them blow away like snow. Collar shining orange, his breath was heavy as he straightened his tie and stood tall, ready to speak out to the entire city.
"I don't know where you are father, but I will make you proud!" he cried out in a loud voice, while holding a clenched fist up high. "I won't give up dreaming! I am Nicholas P Wilde, and I promise you that NO ONE CAN STEAL MY THUNDER!"
With a solid thump on his chest, Nick looked on at the world that hated him. The world that he vowed to hustle back tenfold. Steel eyed and determined, he wasn't going to be pushed down or humiliated any more. His face hardened with resolve, eyes sharp with confidence and all his past pain was thrown behind him.
Beep…Beep… Zoom. Nick's eyes blinked and then widened in horror, milliseconds before jerk encounter two hundred and seventy-three.
