Author's Note:
Buckle in and brace something sturdy because here we go!
According to the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, as drawn up by Leodore Lionheart and Buckley Stagmire before their mayoral campaign, the Species/Culture Affirming Rules of Exception (or "S/CARE", pronounced "ess-care") apply only to situations where the city's charter and the nation's Constitution does not, namely what affects certain mammals over others. Such restrictions and permissions have begun - but have a long way still - to placate the conflicts of so diverse a city as Zootopia, wherein hundreds of intermingling species coexist on not only a daily but constant basis. Common examples are the public growing of catnip or the use of halogen headlights in certain ungulate communities, as well as simple misunderstandings of a dingo snapping their fangs in play or a rhino rubbing their horn against a telephone pole. Society, as a whole, does not practice such habits outside of private venues or interactions but they are still important enough to a mammal's identity to warrant protection.
The MII and S/CARE promote species-spanning behaviors, as well, most notably the relationship between alphas, betas, and omegas. Whether consciously or not, most assignments of the "alpha", "beta", and "omega" roles in any given group (i.e., packs, herds, etc.) has less to do with an established hierarchy than the context of those present. In this and most ways, an "alpha" is a fluid title and descriptor, as in, "higher than" and dependent on whomever present is the largest and/or loudest, a position held alongside their mate (if the alpha has a mate); likewise, "beta" would be "lower than the alpha but higher than everyone else", who acts as a gatekeeper or go-between for the alpha and the rest of the group. While some groups operate with further alphabetical designations, the general catch-all term "omega" sits at the end or bottom, a spot reserved either for the youngest, smallest, or newest members who still enjoy the protection of being in the group. The term "runt" is commonly a term of endearment for any newborn or child of the group (the alpha's included), or if an adolescent or adult member of the same group is considered a child by the way they behave.
There are some alphas whose influence shifts or even extends beyond their immediate group, a tangible presence which, in many cases, defies their size, volume, or even species; such individuals gravitate towards positions of power, some more ambitiously than others. Interactions between alphas and their group, as well as alphas and those outside their group, is paradoxically subtle and complex, as touched upon in Yolanda Gerbilski's "The Waiter's Guide to Serving Alphas":
1.) Don't. Find someone more experienced.
2.) If you absolutely must serve an alpha, let them talk first and be very attentive of their wants but do not dote, you are not their beta; you are a professional.
3.) If an alpha is seated with their mate, instead serve their mate and do so as you would any other customer. This is true even if more than one alpha is seated at a table, as the two alphas will engage each other while their mate(s) handle everything else going on.
4.) If there are two or more alphas but no mates or more experienced waiters are present, grab enough fellow waiters so that each alpha gets one and only one. Alphas will not abide another alpha getting more attention than them. In the event that there are not enough waiters, let your manager handle them since they are far more abiding of whomever's in charge.
5.) Never look an alpha in the eye. Ever. This is considered a challenge and if you want the generous tip and increased business that alphas are prolific for, then you will not posture. If you do posture, then you might want to reconsider your choice of employment because alphas make terrible waiters.
Gerbilski continues to detail the precarious status held by alphas who lack the strength of conviction or loyalty of their group to maintain their own ego, thus collapsing under its weight and blowing away like chaff. Such "would-be alphas" (who are betas, more frequently than not) inevitably cede to the facetiously dubbed "alpha's alpha" or "prime alpha", a name which eventually caught on but rarely spoken aloud since it attracts would-be alphas like moths to a flame (an apt simile, indeed). It is not widely believed that alphas are born, per se, as even the children of alphas are considered betas at best until they are otherwise proven (a staunch difference between alphas and monarchs, even if all of history's recorded monarchs have been alphas). Rather, an alpha either formed their own group or challenged an existing alpha for their group, however, modern instances of the latter rarely result in the shift of loyalty as in the past unless the challenger entered as an omega and worked their way up into the betas. As a rule, only betas interact with alphas and vice versa. And as with every rule, there are exceptions.
The "alpha's omega" is an individual in a group whose status is, in fact, equal to the runts by everyone except the alpha themselves; they are rarely if ever the same species and have no direct ties to the group as a whole except by the alpha's say-so. An alpha's omega is considered by some a begrudging role since they do not follow the group's contextual hierarchy, and as far as anyone is concerned, are not obliged to the same degree of loyalty. In this way, an alpha puts their necks on the line by bringing such a mammal into their group (and if some of their group are particularly salty about the decision, will refer to them as the "alpha's pet" or "favorite") but there are cases in which it proved fruitful for all. One specific example is the inclusion of Nick Wilde into the Canine Unit pack of Precinct 1 under Captain Alphonse Kela (a decision initially scoffed at but defended as "a fox is a canine, after all").
So, after Nick decrypted and decoded the howlxidecimal message sent to him by Kela saying to stay in Bunnyburrow rather than return to the city ASAP, he was conflicted only as to what flavor of snark his response should be. I could go with 'I told you so' or 'Make up your blooming mind' but Alphie wouldn't rescind his orders so immediately like this without the best reason in the world. This is actually a bit concerning, now that I think about it… if it's more MacGrim business I'd be rather inclined to tell Dad about it, he pondered, Let's go with 'flippant but grateful relief' and 'just a twist of sarcasm'; that usually gives the big kahuna a chuckle.
"Is that all of them, Wilde?" asked a voice high, high, high overhead, just returned from a train car specified to the transport of criminals to and from the city in security and expedience. It was not modified except for its passenger identification system to disallow any civilians to enter, thus locking it down digitally.
"Every last curl of wool, Pennington," said Nick, stowing his phone before bending his spine to address the officer elephant, "The rams are the decided problem of you and Johnson, now," he reported, looking up to the officer lion leaning his maned head around the train door.
"It's weird that Kela made a last minute change like that; he's more likely to 'curse the torpedoes, full speed ahead'," said Johnson, "I'd bet it was Bogo that convinced him."
"Between watering his plants," Pennington tacked on, "I mean… you weren't even supposed to be here, Bob, but apparently, it's a good thing you were."
"I owed a favor," the lion responded with a shrug.
Nick loosed a hearty laugh, "Whatever the reason, Captain Kela needs me out here for the time being. Can't say what about, though."
"More super-secret Canine Unit business, no doubt," she teased with a flick of her trunk.
Nick smirked and shrugged, if with amusement, "Literally, I can't say because he didn't tell me."
Johnson groaned empathetically, "One of those 'hurry up and await instructions' scenarios. Typical. Alright, let's get this train rolling; I've got a cub with an ear infection at home that I need to return to."
"Said as if he actually has pull with the conductor," the elephant commented under her breath, and then spoke behind her trunk, "We'll be here for a bit longer, what with the other top priority passengers still unloading."
Vulpine ears pricked before their owner's keen eyes glanced around her obstructing physique and down the platform at the sleekest train car he'd ever seen and the unmistakable bunnies guiding something out. I knew I could count on her to overhear something about that, Nick thought and then slyly raised on tip-toes to, likewise, speak behind a paw, "Don't hold out on me, Francine, you can't just drop a nugget like that without follow-up."
Billowing ears flapped in response, "Alright, Nick, but only because I like you. A bunch of Knotash bunnies connected a private car at the train station piled with heavy equipment. Can you imagine if the ZPD had that kind of budget? I tell ya', private security is paydirt."
"It all looks like giant vacuums and stuff."
"You've been out here all weekend. Any news about it?"
"A bunch of visiting, uptight city-bunnies wanted the full country experience and I think they're bringing in the big guns to clean up everything," the fox whispered back.
The elephant laughed and bumped his shoulder with her trunk. "Stay nutty, Nick," Pennington joked as she stood and returned to the train car.
"You nose it," Wilde joked right back, giving her a double-shot of finger-guns. Dang… I wish I got that text maybe a few minutes earlier, otherwise, I wouldn't have given Gabe the 'okay' to head back to Preds' Corner without me… Guess I'll go snoop on those Knotash bunnies or something; make sure those are only industrial-strength rug-cleaners that they're shipping out.
When Officer Pennington turned to step onto the train, Nick snuck in after her at his most casual gait, utilizing the elephant's size to hide from anyone else inside as he headed towards the opposite end and its connecting door. I guess I should also find out what that clown Mr. Never wants to do with anyone out here, Nick resolved, cracking open the door during an uptick in the conversation to cover its noise after turning off his phone's GPS to spoof the train's identifier. Once between cars, he then slipped up the roof-access ladder to take advantage of the shadow cast by the aesthetic, skyward arch and hide on the train's darker side. According to Kela, something out here grabbed Mack's interest, and from what Finnick told me, it's got to be something connected to Mr. Never, since he just had a peek inside his treasure trove of secrets, the fox pondered while skulking along the train cars' tops.
Mr. Never was among the many, many names - like Mr. Snatch and the Gravedigger - whose activities earned them a place in Underland's mythos; an icy death splashed down Nick's spine as he considered how many of them were popping up so recently (and who he can say he'd actually met, even if Chester Vandersnatch was long retired from the unclaimed moniker of "Mr. Snatch" while Doug "The Gravedigger" Ramses was due to face punishment for his crimes). And there was, of course, "Dr. Cleopatra Lapis" or as some from the predator community of yesteryear called her, "The Red Queen of Spades". It was a complicated name that Nick needed spelling out for him and, honestly, felt like it snowballed from what might have been an inspired bit of imagery.
As it stood, the Queen of Spades was worth thirteen points in the card game of Hearts (an unlucky number) and the color red signified blood while the spade represented a sword. As to why this was so appropriate, it was a grotesque exaggeration of all the predators who "lost their heads" after seeing her. Nick abided the macabre pun when he heard it the first time and decided to never again ask why someone marked up playing cards to be used for secret messages; time was money, after all, and a hustler doesn't get paid to stand around listening to homeless old coots ramble on about urban legends. A cop, however, does get paid to follow orders, so Nick shook the shiver out of his system to continue his professional prying.
So, I just need to bug the Mallupes as to why Mack wants to come home so badly for the first time in over a decade… the fox thought unironically… and maybe I'll be able to spend some time with my own family before we head back in the morning. It's a shame Gid's probably still out cold, I could really use the lift… I wouldn't be surprised if he just slept for a few days. There are others that could drive me back, though, so nothing to worry about.
Jeez, look at the size of those things… these bunnies aren't planning to sweep the streets too, are they? Some do look like transport, though. That particularly fancy one looks more like an armored car; VIP stuff. Is someone else from Knotash paying a visit? It's probably not Saint Felix; I think his helicopter went back to the city again. And Magnus wouldn't dare make another appearance, the case against him is tighter than a drum, it'd be a huge risk…
It wouldn't be the first, last, or even the worst time that Nick was reminded of his love-hate relationship with irony as his dark, pointed ears directed at a voice of chilling familiarity. A rabbit of ivory white fur speckled with coffee brown spots up the back of his head and ears strode into view, looking and acting like any other rabbit present. Even the suit he wore was rather mundane in its dark-gray fabric, rather like he was hardly up to anything except tagging along to see how things went.
"Really, Magnus," said another familiar yet unidentifiable voice, an albino rabbit following with a tablet that he never actually looked up from or stopped tapping on, "there's hardly any reason to have made the trip out here. You should be keeping an eye on Grav if you must be anywhere except the Manor."
"Rest assured, Nivins, I come out here out of duty to the rest of Knotash. The server maintenance is nearly complete and the technicians don't need me breathing down their necks. Besides…" sighed Magnus, "Grav's stable and Clea already tagged me out. Most of all, it's important that I be here when it happens."
"Knotash has these systems in place to protect us, what little good they do if you step outside of them," McTwisp rebuked, "That said, I can hardly deny your integrity, even with the entire ordeal that you and your family is going through," he commended, looking up from the brilliant screen, "Not to mention your injury."
Magnus's paw raised to his eye and he winced, "Well, I only have my clumsy self to blame for that. And we'll get through this, somehow."
"We've known each other a long time and I will defend you as I would any rabbit of Knotash regardless, but it is because of our friendship that I want nothing more than to settle this outrageous debacle," he said.
The coffee-spotted rabbit genuinely smiled and nodded, "Thank you. A legal battle with Oswald is the last thing I or anybunny of Knotash needs. The Lapises and the Hoppses have always been excellent warren-mates, so I must do what is in my power to resolve this quietly and with dignity. How's our schedule looking?" he then asked.
Despite the digital clock of his tablet, McTwisp clicked open his golden pocket watch. "My fur and whiskers, we are late!" he nearly shrieked, grabbing his briefcase from a nearby assistant to secure the tablet inside as he announced to the crew of rabbits, "We'll move out with the first cleaner, the rest of you will follow at the soonest. You all have the address in the GPS so stick to the main roads and be sure to respect the local speed limits!"
Magnus's face fell to a concerned grimace as he quick-hopped behind the scampering albino rabbit… His ears then flicked as he stopped on a dime and turned to glare at the spot where Nick's head was a split second prior, a shiner mostly hidden beneath his fur despite the swelling. Dark eyes traced the roof's edge and ears scanned minutely; his knuckles clenched beneath pelt stretched by a fist.
"What's wrong?" asked Nivins, noticing that quite a few rabbits had joined in scanning the area.
"Thought I heard something…" Magnus distantly answered.
"As much as I admire a state of hypervigilance, Magnus, I must confess that you are not your steady self tonight, what with your muttering about whomever this… 'Johnson' is. Don't think I haven't noticed," Nivins said, "Are you sure you're up for tonight?"
"Yes, of course," he assured, "It's been a long day, I'll admit, but this is important and I would rather handle it myself; promptly. And 'Johnson' is just… an aside, don't worry about him," he then affirmed with a smile, "We've not a minute to lose, old friend."
"Too true," Nivins agreed, cracking only the barest grin as they both hopped into the fancier of the vehicles, "We should thank our lucky stars that the ZPD is on the same train as us. I felt myself entirely at ease knowing that they were nearby."
"I wholeheartedly agree," Magnus chuckled.
Nick gawked down the length of the train towards where he left Pennington. 'Johnson'…? That Johnson? Officer Bob Johnson? he reeled and clambered to his feet but before he could break into a sprint on silent paw-pads, a beam shot up from that car's roof-access ladder.
"Hold the light steady," said a voice as the telltale shadow of long ears was cast into the air.
"Remember, just a quick look to make sure it's not a raptor," said another voice.
Shoot! Nick cursed and turned on a heel to find that another set of long-ears spread their shadows just off the roof's edge with similar vocal precautions. Well, at least the train isn't exploding this time, he determined and arched his spine into a taut spring to launch himself into the countryside grass opposite the platform, The worst thing right now would be getting caught eavesdropping in my blues. How did Magnus even hear me? Why is he even here? And isn't that McTwisp guy the Felix's number one assistant? I think Judy said that once… maybe Esther said it.
The fox scurried through the grass with all his speed to disappear amongst its tall blades, not stopping until he saw the sweep of flashlights blanket the overhead tips. He spun about and curled into a ball, tail tucked under him as he covered his face with both arms. The dark fur on his paws and ears, along with the dark blue of his uniform, hid the otherwise bright red fur and brilliant green eyes.
"Did you see anything?" someone asked.
"Nope, probably flew off into those trees," another decided.
"Keep an eye out, I don't want anybunny plucked off by an owl."
"Roger that."
Crud, Nick again cursed as he practiced all manner of caution in inching backward to the aforementioned trees, sparse though they were, This just put a damper on my night… Several minutes of the flashlights sweeping the grass passed, counting off the seconds as the cleaning engines revved and departed. Breathing was kept to a steady beat and movement even further restricted until the lights, finally, disappeared as the train lurched into motion. There are not nearly enough trees out here… he critiqued, On top of everything else my tail is cramping and I'm getting a headache. In retrospect, I could've just walked up and asked them what was going on, I suppose, it's not like they could've done anything to me, not with the police nearby… Unless Johnson really is on Magnus's payroll, which I would never have found out if I hadn't spied on them. I can't believe that he is, though, he's honest to a fault, even his own cubs don't buy his baloney dad-stories. But who else could 'Johnson' be?
"And that's the long and short of it," said Lory Mallupe, next door neighbor to the Grey family and current visitor to their abode, seated on the couch with a cup of tea on the coffee table and her phone held out for the Wildes to see the marked playing card image sent to her, "Mack found a video of Mr. Wilde over there dancing a chair about, so told me here's where I'd find you."
Ruth calmly blanched beneath her fur as Goliath vocalized a single, affirming grunt in the back of his throat. Esther had her face in both palms and muttered something about her foot and Mack's teeth (namely the back of them and going up his tail). Both John and Jackie sat on the other side of the coffee table as though Lory were a client of theirs.
"I told you Mack was 'The Sparrow," Jackie said to her mate.
"Yes, that you did," John ceded.
The wolf flinched with a low whimper of denial and a shake of her head, some of the shaggier fur thereabouts shaking along with it, "'Sparrow'?" she said with an awkward laugh, "We Mallupes only train ravens, not… not sparrows."
"It's really the only way he could've seen that video; I'd bet even Rocky would be impressed by that bit of hackery," the Wilde tod speculated, "And I was so sure I found an antelope from Ficus Grove that fit the description perfectly."
"Chess told me who he was," she then pondered, "Well… more like he let slip…"
"When was this?"
"Several years back. Apparently that whole… event at Grizzly Falls was Mack and Chess."
"Yeesh, no wonder he never said anything."
"Don't worry, dear," Jackie assured to a fretting Lory, "We both have history with Mack, one way or another. Actually, I'm surprised he told you; The Sparrow's misdeeds would be enough to land him in federal prison if they were ever pinned on him."
Lory anxiously twirled some especially long fur in the unkempt mane around her neck with a single finger, "He's not a bad wolf, he just… draws attention from the wrong mammals, is all, which is especially bad for us Mallupes, you know."
Esther explained the situation as she best knew it to John and Jackie's piqued curiosity, "The Mallupes's ancestor was exiled as a traitor to the Lionheart Crown centuries ago to an unclaimed wilderness that had a single known settlement over two hundred miles away, a wilderness which eventually grew into Horseshire and Bunnyburrow," said the local law grad, "When Zootopia's territory expanded to include those regions, the long forgotten Mallupe pack was naturalized as citizenry. Liondon found out and demanded their exiles returned but at that point, they were already protected under the city-state's - thus, the nation's - asylum laws."
"Liondon can't touch us so long as we keep our noses clean," Lory added, if meekly, "and… stay in Preds' Corner. I've had a few relatives in the city that played loosey-goosey with the rules and were sent back here with a warning… others pushed their luck and were let gotten by Liondon… it's why this Caribouan Cruise was such a big deal for us because we'd never see the open ocean and come back otherwise. I wanted to go but… I'm the youngest, so I didn't get to. Pappy stayed behind, too - you prob'ly know him as Ed - so I wasn't alone."
"We met them on the cruise," Ruth said and then smirked, "A lot of them got seasick."
Lory giggled, "That's kind of you, Mrs. Grey."
"Please, call me 'Ruth'. Goodness, I've known you since a pup and even nursed you when your parents weren't around; doesn't sound right that I be referred to with such formality," she said in good humor.
"A number of them wished you could've come along," Goliath added.
"Really?" Lory said hopefully but then casually dismissed the notion, "Well, if I had then no one would've looked after the ravens, it's better that someone was responsible in the last week."
John clapped and rubbed his paws together, "Alright, I do declare I'm quite curious about this job of The Sparrow's. Who is so lost that only 'Jacks Wilde' can find them?"
Lory shook her head again, "He didn't say, exactly, but I know there's one mammal he'd look so hard for, even to come out to Preds' Corner to meet you. Y'see, us Mallupes were raised on the story that our ancestor never did what he was accused of, and Pappy will swear to his dyin' breath that that's the case. Ev'ry alpha of the family was given the same deal to end the exile, to accept that our ancestor was a traitor to the crown and atone for it."
"Ed, and every alpha of the Mallupe pack before him, refused and so stayed 'exiled' all these centuries," Goliath said, "I heard that one of his sons was willing to accept the deal once he became alpha, except Ed's a hundred years old and doesn't look ready to give up on life yet."
The wolf nodded in remorse, "The pack is on Pappy's side in defending our ancestor's honor… almost all of them, anyway. It's why Mack left in the first place, to find out how to clear the Mallupe name. Was always good with fiddly-bits, kinda like me, even built his own HAM radio from scraps when he was eight, the way I heard it. Then he up and went to the city, poked the wrong mammals, stuck his nose where it weren't wanted… it's how he became The Sparrow. But he always trusted me and even sent me stuff for safekeeping. Well, he found something that he says could set everything right and that I was to get you both in on it."
John's paws wrung together, "Exquisite."
"Uh oh, he's getting that crazy spark in his eye again," Jackie said.
"As grand a story as ever there was , stretching as far back as known, continuous history can go…" John narrated, "But do stop teasing, Lory, who is this singular mammal that Mack would risk all and more for?"
She rubbed her arm with a groan most awkward, "You won't believe me when I say it… I hardly believe it m'self…"
"Try me," John challenged using his slyest grin.
Lanny Wild was bent over, blood dripping with each shallow breath. He didn't react fast enough, it seemed, and so all he could do was call upon his medical training to stymie the flow, stars still in his eyes from the front-on collision which caused it. Gideon was in a right panic for his error in judgment and Judy, as was her way, did all she could to lend aid… sadly, she just couldn't reach him too well. Bo, meanwhile, was sifting through the bed of Lanny's truck and the pile of luggage bundled in a blanket, looking for the bag of comic books he stashed there before lending his aid as a member of the Burrow Watch earlier in the evening.
"I'm so sorry!" Gideon repeated for the umpteenth time, paws trembling.
"Gid, relax, it's just a nosebleed," Lanny nasally repeated, pinching the bridge of his snout while keeping a paper towel under his still dripping nostrils. Judy, short as she was, opted to hold the roll for the lion's convenience, and having just moved his truck safely behind the clinic, were able to grab some extra cleaning supplies from the utility closet, from which Bo was fleet-of-foot to fetch what they needed.
Judy tore off another sheet in exchange for one splattered red, which she stuffed into a plastic bag, "What did we learn, Gid?"
The fox's fingers twiddled, "Be careful when unstucking car doors…" he muttered.
"I'm gonna be clogged up all night…" Lanny rued and then turned to Gideon before he could apologize anew, "But it'll clear up in the morning so that I can smell those delicious pastries you'll make me before I head back home tomorrow, right?" he implied amicably.
The baker was eager to agree to such terms, if not only by the shift of expression but the tone of his voice and gesturing of his paws, "Y-Yeah, definitely! Muffins, bagels, donuts, them little cream tarts… you name it, I'll bake a whole batch of 'em."
Down from the truck's bed did Bo then hop, his bag of purchased comic books slung over a shoulder as he alighted on the ground, holding one aloft so that he might show it to Judy, "Okay, so, remember that thing we were talking about today, Juju, the Scarlet Clover?" he said and then turned to the lion, "Also, your laundry is reeking through your suitcases."
"I don't smell anything," Lanny responded with as nasally a voice as he could.
An upright roll of paper towels served an ample post for the gray rabbit to lean her elbow on as she inclined to address the presented cover, "I do remember, and we'd head to the Honey Hills after all this was over to continue searching for it. Why?"
"Right, so, Captain Warren's got a long history, as you know; the tale of a war-time super-soldier that went through a slump in popularity about two decades back and was passed around by a few independent companies until he returned to the spotlight with his original creators. Additionally, there's been some debate as to what in that time frame was or wasn't canon."
"And the Winter Wolf was one of the more controversial arcs because everyone thought that the character 'Bucky' was a hare," Judy casually recalled, "You were up in arms about it."
Bo shrugged awkwardly, "He was the defining element of Cap's backstory and constantly referenced, if never shown," he continued, rather evasively, "I've been after it for so long because I was only able to read a single issue before it was pulled from the shelves, plus, what was supposed to be a bridge connecting rabbits and hares became a (sort of) bridge connecting predator and prey, instead."
"How dare they," Gideon wryly commented.
"It was later retconned and reprinted as 'The Winter Hare' but I would have been okay with either, I think," the brown rabbit reasoned, sidelong glancing at Gideon's next bit of brewing snark, "So anyway, before I go further off on a tangent, I couldn't help but notice something particularly interesting about the Winter Wolf's iconography." He held up the comic book cover to the outdoor light of the clinic, showing a rabbit dressed in reds, whites, and blues with a perfectly round shield of similar colors in concentric circles and a bright, white four-leaf clover in the very center. Captain Warren's stalwart grimace projected his determination and forthrightness to the audience as he charged towards the fourth wall. Behind him was a looming silhouette of the Winter Wolf, face partially obscured by a muzzle, through which bared fangs could be seen. A finger then drew attention to the Winter Wolf's cybernetic arm, namely the emphasized symbol on the shoulder.
Judy's eyes bugged and brows arched, "A red clover… and look! There's a scratch through a leaf…"
"As though cleaved," Bo agreed.
"No meager coincidence," she pointed out.
"I read a few issues on the drive here from the TBR but it didn't really strike me until I saw the blood splatter," the brown rabbit said, gesturing to the used paper towels.
"It certainly 'struck' me," Lanny quipped with a chuckle, "But okay, red clover. So?"
"Does this have something to do with that thing you showed Nick this morning?" Gideon asked, "What with that 'cleaved' bit and all."
Both rabbits nodded. "While it's widely known as a 'Fourth-Leaf Cloven', it also goes by another name, the 'Scarlet Clover'," said Bo, "I'd heard it called that back at the Honey Hills."
"And I've seen its progenitor artifact back at the Hopps Manor which, interestingly enough, was found on the body of a slain rabbit," Judy picked up.
"Thus, the blood and 'Scarlet' descriptor, so far as we can speculate, that is," Bo extrapolated, "I haven't had a chance to read through the entire arc but I suspect that whoever wrote and illustrated it might have more information. Now, I know what you're going to say about kicking up more dust and all that, but what if Graham was trying to tell us something more with that bauble?"
Lanny groaned skeptically, "By directing us to a comic book?"
Gideon quietly cleared his throat, "It ain't… unheard of…"
"Example?" he challenged.
"Oh, uhh…"
The lion's head canted to supply his own brand of a sidelong glance (while still applying pressure to the bridge of his nose), "Y'know, Gid, I don't know if it's just me but foxes seem to have this… 'caught knowing' look about them, at least, the ones I know beyond passing. Of which are really just you and Nick. Judy," he then asked of the bunny with considerably less suspicion, "Do you notice anything like that?"
Judy quite clearly played at indignation as she crossed her arms in a pout at no one present, "And here I thought he reserved that 'caught knowing' face for only me… Be it as it may," she then relaxed, "This could likely lead to something as simple as a connection of Graham's with historical information relevant to our circumstances. I'm not sure who the connection might be or what it has to do with wolves, whether the info or our circumstances, but perhaps our search for the Scarlet Clover is not actually in Honey Hills, but whoever wrote the Winter Wolf arc."
"Definitely not the original creator, I can tell you that much, they have a completely different style," Bo said, turning the comic over to reference the publishing credits, "And I can't be sure if they'd even be around anymore. This arc is almost as old as I am and 'The Tweedle Bros.' only had a P.O. box in Conifer District back then, so who knows if they're still around."
Gideon's 'caught knowing' expression worsened as his paws wrung. "'Tweedle Bros.', huh? Ya' don't say."
"Gid?" Lanny probed and then teased, "You're not holding out on fellow foxes, are you?"
His ears flicked and eyes glanced before swallowing the lump in his throat with a telling sweep of his tail. "Well, it's jus' that them 'Tweedle Bros.' are the same ones that make Mr. Foxglove, both old and new, so I know they's still around."
"And?" Judy joined in, approaching to lay a paw on the fidgeting arm and calmly explain, "If you don't feel comfortable saying it, Gid, that's okay but there could be more here that we'll need your help in figuring out. You've always been there for me before, right?"
"Yeah…" Gideon accepted and though he certainly knew what everyone else didn't, he seemed more willing to divulge, even if he took care in doing so, "It's jus' kinda silly, is all. Y'see, I wrote to them Tweedles when I was a kit - big fan of Mr. Foxglove as I was - and later learned that they get some of their ideas from news reports but made it all into big, awesome stories. Tha's when I learned that Old Mr. Foxglove was based off a real fox - or as I found out - a real vixen."
Bo's ear's sprung like sails in a tailwind, "Oh, that is so cool!" he exclaimed, "Does that mean that this Captain Warren could have also been based on a real rabbit, but his (or her) identity was hidden for…" his face then contorted in speculation, "Was their identity hidden for their protection or discretion?"
Judy rubbed her chin. "It really could go either way. Is the arc complete?"
"Let's see…" the brown bunny said as he flipped through the covers, "Ye-… Yep! This is the last issue and…" he groaned and sighed begrudgingly, "I'll take one for the team and get to the climax before the build-up (which I could read later in retrospect)." The pages flipped as he skimmed, mouthing dialog or biting his lip before reaching the end and nearly vaulting from his fur. "Okay, this just got blatant," he announced and handed it over to Judy.
Both Gideon and Lanny peered over to read the comic, the three each expressing their own special flavor of world-stopping shock. Gideon's tail erupted into a solid ball of brick-red fluff as his dark lips fell off his snout. Lanny's nose finally stopped bleeding on account of all the blood draining from his goggle-eyed face. Judy's ears folded back while her throat clenched dry and pained.
Captain Warren and the Winter Wolf were locked in mortal combat, the rabbit's shield far from his reach as he, instead, wrestled the foaming jaws straining to clamp around him. The muzzle, it seems, was not designed to keep his bite caged but to strengthen it which, judging by the predator's eyes, looked more than willing to do. What really caught everyone's attention was the smoky-black, tendril-like talon tightening around the rabbit's neck as he looked strained in not only fending off the gnashing jaws but to keep something inside his own mouth from escaping.
"It will probably make more sense if I read the previous chapters but Cap is using his own super-soldier immune system to neutralize some kind of virus or disease that turns mammals into living weapons; apparently, it was the only dosage or something and he's still developing the antibodies for it," Bo explained, "That's when the Winter Wolf attacked and - as you can see there - Cap keeps referring to it as the 'Death-Shriek'."
Judy turned the page. The dark manifestation of what was likely the illustrator's metaphor for the "Death-Shriek" tried to crawl out of Captain Warren's mouth (as well as memories of better times with Bucky Barkes scrolling in the background). The veins which bulged with his effort softly glowed from the super-serum coursing through them (as was narrated in the nearby textboxes) due to his fists locked into the muzzle's alloy grates, and in a single, mighty yank did he rend the device to pieces. It meant that whatever controlled Bucky Barkes was gone but… so was Cap's grip on the wolf's jaws.
"I could have killed him; killed us both…" Captain Warren's thoughts informed the reader, "I wanted to cry out to my friend, to tell him I was still there; to tell him I never forgot… but I knew even one word could unleash the Death-Shriek and then we'd both be goners. At least this way, one of us got to live."
"I think his body armor and super-toughness actually saves him in the end," Bo continued, noticing the page they were on, "Cap's gear is top-notch tech, after all, surely enough to withstand an unmodified wolf bite… unfortunately, there must've been an epilogue for this arc but… I don't have it. I don't even think the comic book vendor had it or that it was even published," he said with a weary shrug, "It would explain why the whole thing was pulled from the shelves, honestly."
The gray rabbit studied the page more as the two predators reading over her shoulders took a steadying step back. "Hey Gid," she then said, looking at the aglow veins, "What else do you know about these 'Tweedle Bros.' comics? Like, why do they use real life stories and fantasize them?"
The fox groaned rather evasively but could hardly deny Judy anything when she raised both her purple eyes to him. So, his fingers twiddled as his less-fluffed tail swayed behind him, "I happen to have heard that they hid messages in their comics, using symbols and stuff. Except don't ask me how I know, only that I do; it simply ain't my secret to tell, beyond that."
"Fair enough," Judy abided with a smile and held the page up to the light, "So, these comics are (loosely) based off real mammals and could be rife with symbolism, one might say," she speculated, to which Gideon indirectly agreed, "That actually makes some sense, considering that this could put a decisive end to a character who later resurged in popularity, and the 'Winter Hare' would probably be more widely received by their respective communities. Something I can't help but notice, though, are the design of these golden, glowing veins. Do they usually do that, Bobo?"
"Not usually," Bo answered, "Or… ever, before this issue. Maybe it happened midway in the arc but nothing I've seen."
"Drat," she said.
"Why?"
"Now I don't have any precedence to compare these to," Judy explained and then continued with a gathering gesture to the boy bunny before tracing the glowing lines, "Do they look necessarily… smooth to you?"
Bo groaned in thought.
Gideon hummed cynically.
"No, not as such," observed the local medical professional, crouching down (but not in the light) to do so, "They're rather… prickly, except they go against the grain of his fur, as best I can figure, so it's not just reflection."
"What could Graham be trying to tell us…?" Judy wondered while flipping between a few pages.
"Who's to say he's trying to tell us anything at all?" Lanny challenged, "He can't have known that Bo would get the Winter Wolf comics, so unless he's prescient or still manipulating things out here (which I am not at all comfortable with if he is), this whole thing might just be… fumbling in the dark."
Muted grumbling came from the gray rabbit. "Maybe…" she admitted.
"They do look like pricker bushes, though," Gideon pointed out and then snapped his fingers, "Or like brambles. Maybe the wolf is s'posed to be someone out here in Preds' Corner, like the Mallupes?"
"Again," Lanny retorted, standing up anew and balling up the paper towel to toss it into the nearby trash bag, "he couldn't have known that Bo would pick up these comics."
"I ain't talkin' about Graham, I'm jus' talkin' about the Tweedles, what this Cap'n Warren story is s'posed to mean, is all," the fox said, "I gotta admit, I'm a bit curious, too."
The lion softly sighed and rolled his eyes, "If you really want someone to bounce crazy ideas off of, I suggest Madge. She'll talk your ear off and then some."
"I dunno if I wanna go that far…"
Judy drooped the comic some as her eyes grew distant, "Briar…"
"Ayeup?" Bo responded.
"'Briar the Trier' was scared-to-death, like in that jump rope song Nick told us about, remember?" she said to Gideon.
The fox quirked his brow in confusion before his eyes brightened in a blink, "Oh! Yeah, the, umm… 'drops his jaw at what he saw' thing, with the screaming at the end."
"That sounds… vaguely familiar. The screaming bit after jumping rope, I mean," Lanny inputted.
Bo frowned and groaned, "The city's got a jump rope song about 'Briar the Trier'? I'm glad it never came out here…"
"But… how could I have known…?" Judy quietly asked no one, gently touching the page of the blonde-furred, blue-eyed depiction of Captain Warren, cleared her throat, and then closed the comic to return it to Bo and address the concerned faces. "Ever since I woke up from what that Night Howler drug did to me, I've had flashes like a waking dream, faces made from my memories as I tried to piece together everything I could about this case. An answer I came upon was 'Bertie Briar'."
"Thus, the death-shriek," Gideon tacked on.
"And 'Briar the Trier'," Bo added.
"Right, exactly," she said, "What was very clear to me was I couldn't have dreamt of anything that I didn't experience beforehand. Well… I dreamt of Bertie Briar and yet I cannot for the life of me remember where I saw him. He's similar to Captain Warren in some respects and very similar to you, Bo, except his fur was… like a metallic gold and eyes a deep brown." A significant pause lingered as Judy crossed her arms and tapped her foot, the conversation tangibly hanging on her. "It was critical to the case to find out who he was because he would've been a huge clue… but now we've figured everything out, yet he still plays on my mind because I can't figure him out."
Thoughtful humming trailed her statement before Bo spoke up again, "Have you ever been to Deerbrooke county since you went to the city?" he asked and then continued when she set to remember, "'Briar' has become something of an outlier name, as you know, and we tend to stick to the Honey Hills out here or Podunk in Deerbrooke (case in point, that's where I was born). Maybe you… came across the memorial to a 'Bertie Briar', even one that 'Briar the Trier' might be based on?"
"I have been to Deerbrooke but nothing's ringing a bell, even those 'Briar the Trier' books aren't cutting it," she admitted, if hinting her frustration, "Although… his stories did originate in Knotash, specifically the House of Blessings. I could always ask Nivins McTwisp, he acts as the House's representative for the Felix."
"Tha's one busy bunny," Gideon remarked.
"It's him and his team of assistants," Judy clarified, "He actually asked to meet me tonight at the Brambles Notary to get my testimony on what happened at the Hopps Manor."
"I thought that place was a crime scene," Lanny said and then snorted in some futile attempt to clear his coagulated sinuses, "Is it because Ramses was shipped off?"
The gray bunny nodded, "Jaguardo - he runs the place, a friend of mine from school - about blew a gasket when he saw the yellow tape and asked if I could do anything about it, so I called Rachel and she said it was cleared. I guess Mr. McTwisp heard about it, too."
"The Notary and Records was the first established building in Preds' Corner, so it makes sense that Mr. McTwisp would want to meet there," Bo added, "That message was marked 'urgent', wasn't it?"
Judy wrung her paws a bit, "It was marked 'official', so about the same."
Gideon groaned with some degree of worry, "This sounds like something you should have Essy in on," and then paused at the shaking of a long-eared head, taken aback as he was, "Well, why not? Ain't she on the Felix's team now and weren't they buddying about the city earlier today? It only makes sense that 'official' business should include her, of all mammals."
A flat brow and smirk answered as Judy gently pushed the air about in front of her, "Don't worry, Gid, we can trust Nivins; he supports the Felix in this. I'll make a statement about what transpired and be out before too long."
"D'you want us to tag along, at least?" Gideon then offered.
"Honestly, it'll be so boring," Judy groaned, "I'll likely be scolded for not keeping an itinerary."
"Thanks for offering, Hoss, but Knotash has taken up enough of your time," Bo reasoned, "I'll just be reading comic books myself while she's doing that."
"They've got this handled," Lanny added, "We really shouldn't hover."
The fox hummed with both paws at his hips, "That would be awful rude of us."
Judy smiled as she twirled his skirt a bit, "You two could never be a bother, you've been a tremendous help today, tonight and just… all this week."
"Shucks, Jude, 'tweren't nothin'," Gideon abided with a smile.
"It's been a crazy couple of days, hasn't it?" Lanny agreed in a chuckle and then peered down at the attention-getting batting of his leg with the back of a fox's paw.
"I think I'll be walking back home while Jude and Bo here go about their bunny business. How 'bout you, Lan?"
The scarlet eyes of the lion blinked as he glanced at the aforementioned rabbits, letting his ears flick, "Yeah, I think I'll call it a night, too…"
"Could also come up to the Grey house and say 'Hi', give you and Essy a proper introduction?" Gideon offered.
Lanny declined as politely as he could with a rub of his nape, "I really should play it safe. Ramses was shipped off to the city, sure enough, but that doesn't mean I'm off the hook," he inwardly huffed.
"I guess it'd be awful dumb to go walkin' around in some shadowy place, like that there dark forest, huh…"
"It would," he concurred.
"Might even be a bit dang'rous for me to do that, since I had my face on the darknet, like, two days ago," Gideon considered, casually crossing his arms.
Lanny glanced at the quirked eyebrow of Judy. "Hey Gid, if you're not doing anything right now, would you help me reattach the camper shell on the bed of my truck? I stashed it right inside the clinic. After that, we can hang out and stuff."
Gideon grinned wide. "Yeah, you betcha!" he said and then turned to address a cordial Bo and a disapproving Judy, "So yeah, we'll just be inside the clinic if ya' need us, okay?"
"Hanging out, in the clinic, after re-attaching the camper shell," Lanny verified, "Good night, for now, I suppose, perhaps see you tomorrow?"
"G'night guys," said Bo.
"Stay out of trouble," Judy flatly said.
"Bye bye!" bid Gideon as he then walked to the back door with Lanny, "You said there were some video games in the break room, right?"
"A few, I think Madge got them for herself…" he explained, petering off behind the door.
Judy's foot thumped.
Bo's foot rubbed the back of his leg. "They're not staying in there."
"Of course not, they're going to sneak off into those spooky trees as soon as there's an opening," she griped, "No regard for their safety or how they might affect their loved ones. Foxes really are nexuses for trouble; lions, too."
"Ayeup."
"And you want to join them, don't you?" she then accused.
"Sure do," Bo answered unabashedly, gently bumping her with an elbow, "and so do you."
"But I can't because of this boring 'bunny business' thing I have to go to," she fumed, grabbing her boyfriend's paw to march around the front of the clinic and towards the designated meeting place of the Brambles Notary, mutedly grumbling in contrast to his smiling nonchalance, "Shouldn't even need my testimony," she scoffed, "City-bunnies, just can't let anything be…"
Silence hung indelibly around the Greys' coffee table, mixed with disbelief and shock in equal measure by those present.
"That's… not possible…" Esther declared.
"Not probable," John corrected.
"You can't be serious," Goliath denied.
Lory shrugged quite abashedly, "Tha's who Mack is searchin' for…"
"John, Jackie, you're not accepting this?" Ruth probed.
Jackie loosed a long and heavy sigh through her nostrils, "Logically, we shouldn't."
"As I said before," her mate conversed, "we don't have to take the job."
Lory raised her paws in assurance, "And I'd understand in totality if you didn't, considering the manner in which you got this fool's errand, not to mention the fool's errand itself…"
"But… I do like a challenge…" John considered.
"They could just as likely knock on our front door as be found with any wholehearted search," Esther rebutted.
"Jackie, please talk some sense into my brother!" Ruth beseeched.
Jackie calmly sighed and bounced the foot of her crossed leg, "Sweetheart, you were 'challenged' twice before, were you not?"
John thusly deflated and slumped against the arm of the couch, "I suppose if you're going to just bring those up, I can hardly argue with you…" He looked down at the paw squeezing his… and squeezed back, "You're right, of course, per the norm." So, John sat up and adjusted his glasses with all due professionalism, "Mallory Mallupe, we regrettably cannot accept your request."
The wolf shook her head with a sad smile, "No need for regrets, Mr. Wilde, I weren't expecting anything from it, truth be told, I'm just grateful you heard the whole thing out; not many would."
Goliath grunted in thought, "One of these 'challenges' was when you came back to Bunnyburrow, ain't that right?" he asked and immediately flinched when Ruth's tail swatted his leg.
"Hush now, there's no need to open old wounds, especially in front of guests," the maternal Grey rebuked.
"Actually, this wouldn't go amiss," John admitted, "You're right, Goliath, what happened thirty years ago was a wild goose chase, probably to get me out of the city but it was also high-profile, a daughter of the hyena family that worked directly under the Kings. It wasn't originally my case, but 'Jacks Wilde' were called in because no one else could find her," he explained to Lory's nodding, "That's the first time I met Mack, a teenaged wolf that stumbled on some errant communiqué using his homemade radio, unknowing that its sole design was to lead me out here. Mack was already bitten by the adventure bug at that point so I likely just exasperated it, and he obviously made his way to the city… The rest is history, as they say."
"Hold on…" Esther requested, her breath audibly shaken, "That hyena family… you're not talking about the Gévaudans?" Silence once again engulfed the room if much more uniformly and grim, as was the nod which answered the younger vixen's question. Esther cupped her mouth and muttered behind it, "Which means the daughter that went missing… she…?"
"Yes," Jackie reluctantly confirmed, "You've probably heard the story, perhaps more than anyone normally would, considering you're a defense lawyer that specializes in predator cases. Prima Gévaudan was kidnapped but thought lost forever… until she resurfaced years later."
"I know that name… She was the one that killed all those folk in the city, wasn't she?" Lory asked, just a bit frantic, "Bit their necks clean through, I heard tell, took the ZPD three years to catch her. One of the worst in the city's history-!"
"Lory," Jackie repeated for the third time, enunciating much more sternly so that the wolf could actually hear her. She then turned to his mate's sullen expression as he idly wiped his glasses with a handkerchief.
"I-I'm sorry…"
"It's alright," John said, "Now you know what happens when I fail. Some even believe that it was Gévaudan's murder spree that put pred-therapy back into public favor, because 'something needed to be done'."
"Not your fault," Jackie insisted, no less stern.
"As you've mentioned over the years," he dully said and put his glasses back on, "I suppose since we're on the subject, we could just segue into the other time I failed so cataclysmically."
"John, really…"
"Why not? The entire city already knows about it."
"Either tell it or don't," Goliath barked and then turned to Lory, "We're apologizing, Lory, this is kind of a weird time right now."
"I should prob'ly go… Thank you for the tea, Ruth," the wolf said.
John rubbed the side of his snout before he spoke a bit kindlier, "I get the impression you want to hear the story, though."
She rubbed her wrist and tucked her tail a bit, "Well… maybe a little…"
"Then please forgive me for my uncouth behavior, not only in front of a guest but a friend of the family's. Telling this will better explain the situation you found us," John requested. When Lory nodded and relaxed where she sat, he then continued. "To get you up to speed (although a clever girl like you likely figured this much out already) Jackie and I specialized in finding lost mammals. We retired many years before the Pred-Scare happened and you could not imagine the fire under my tail to go out and search for them. But…"
"We both agreed to leave that life behind and let the police handle such matters," Jackie picked up, "A lot of good was done in our time and for it, a high price paid. We were just private citizens and taking the law into our own paws was not the right way to bring about justice… even if we felt backed into a corner to do so."
"That said," John continued, "We still aided the Borough Watch of our community whenever we could, in normal ways. Twenty years ago, one case swept the city and changed everything: Simon King's cubnapping. It brought everything into the light of day. The most protected cub in the entire city swiped off the most protected estate, in broad daylight and with his close friend, Ryan Wild. Three days later, Ryan was found curled in a ball inside a Pridelands shipping container but no sign of Simon. No ransom letter, no phone call, nothing. As far as anyone knew, Simon King disappeared into thin air.
"Jackie joined the Watch to search out in Bunnyburrow and Horseshire since that's where he was last seen. She knew how to find lost children and was one of the best at it. I, you might wonder, was not out here. You see, as soon as I heard that little Ryan was found at the shipyard extension on the other side of the river from Lionsgate, I knew Simon was nearby. I told no one, not even Jackie-"
"Because you're impetuous," she tacked on, "You were leaning back in a chair in the kitchen when I got that phone call but when I turned around, the chair had fallen over, the front door slammed, and your ugly, powder blue jacket was missing from the coat rack."
"Too true," John conceded, "That thing was hideous but also the style at the time. Anyway, as I had tailored a suit for young Simon a few months prior, I had a reasonable measurement of his inseam and height along with his demeanor and general reaction to things so I could track his stride and scent. Both of these I, indeed, found outside the shipping container where Ryan hid and it was clear to me that he was still running. I almost lost his trail several times in the Big Dune, considering it was at least two days cold and he was excellent at hiding… despite all that, I managed to track him to Sahara Square expanse.
"It was far less developed twenty years ago and the shifting sand dunes covered more of the area than it does today; more importantly, there was a sandstorm scheduled too soon for comfort. Now, Simon wasn't stupid enough to just run out into the desert… but was he desperate enough?" John sighed, "This I agonized over, knowing full well that he was still chased and that was when, by sheer luck, I spotted the Palm Hotel off in the distance. That's not where it was supposed to be, though; I have a keen sense of direction you see. I knew it was a mirage, but would Simon know that? Would he have the faculty to understand that if he ran out to it, he'd be lost amongst the sand dunes? More importantly, did he think he could make it? I felt in my gut that he was brave enough to try."
Esther sat up and leaned forward to ask as objectively as possible, "Uncle John, if you knew where Simon was last seen, why did you not tell anyone?"
"It would have been one of a hundred different Simon King sightings, even after only three days and they, at least, claimed to have seen him," he simply answered, "Not to put too fine a point on it, but who would believe a fox?" John partially reclined, an arm on the back of the couch behind his mate, heavy with the story he told, "I went to the Palm Hotel after that, hoping against hope, following a rumor that an 'old friend' of mine was there, Vinny Corlione - not a familiar name, Lory? Then don't worry about it, you can zoogle him later - I found out that he, also a lion, was seen with a male lion cub of Simon's age and build; his nephew, as it turned out. And that was that.
"I still tailored for Memphis King in the years to follow and it was clear to me that losing his son had broken him. Did every impulse in me surge to tell him that I was likely the last mammal in the city to know where Simon was? Without a doubt… Would it have mattered? Could it bring Simon back, living or dead? No."
"But… no body was found in the next dune-sweep, was there?" Esther then asked, "Otherwise, Simon would have had a funeral."
"Astutely observed, Essy," John sadly smiled, "However, it does mean that even I do not know where he is today. So… there you have it, Lory. More than you likely bargained for and for that I apologize, but your answer in full as to why Jacks Wilde cannot help you."
The wolf nodded solemnly, "That was an awful lot to take in, Mr. Wilde, and I get what you're saying about being retired from it and all…"
"I suspect a 'but' comin'," Goliath said.
"But… from what all you jus' told me… it sounds like there's no other mammal in the world that could find a missin' heir to the Lionheart Crown, be there one to find at all," the wolf said, "You were the closest on Simon King's tail in the whole city, weren't you? Like you said, 'hundreds' claimed to see him - which I'm darn sure is up at a million by now - but who actually got his trail? As for Gévaudan, well…" she began to say but then shook her head, "No, I'm sorry, it ain't right or fair to say that, so forget I even mentioned it."
John loosed a single chuckle to the rescinded implication that if he didn't, such terrible things would happen as to shift the city or the world for the worse. "Hearing it come from someone outside my circle of friends really does put it into perspective… maybe I am too hard on myself…" he quietly commented, earning a gentle bat on the chest from Jackie. "I'll tell you what, Lory, I'll do Mack the honor of hearing what he has to say, if anything to know what it was he found that would need a mammal who, by all historical records, doesn't even exist."
Esther groaned in thought, "If I remember my class on world heraldry law, any edict passed by a departed ruler (i.e., King Richard) can only be overwritten by a crowned heir or, in the case of the Liondon Parliament, a majority vote. The Parliament is comprised of the five Lionheart lines, but only four of them are Richard's since his youngest cub never mated before death… at least, not that anyone knows about. The fifth line is from Prince John himself and even though he usurped the throne, his descendants weren't held accountable after they… well… accepted what he did and atoned for it. Feel free to draw parallels," she then mentioned, "I suppose if the youngest of King Richard's cubs didn't officially agree to partake in the Parliament… they might still have claim to the crown, thus allowing them to circumvent the other lineages. I'll admit, I'm rather excited to see what Mack got from Mr. Never, it must be something monumental."
Not too long ago, Nick stretched his spine in the starlit darkness away from the train platform. Ow… it's nothing like the time I mailed myself across the city but still, ow… he grumbled, twisting his torso about to get the kinks out of it before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone, I need to warn Judy that Magnus is coming… and I've got myself a message, have I? From Esther, no less, Nick noted but squinted an eye to rub at his temple and the sharp pain therein, Hold on… my screen's all wonky…
The phone was given a light shake and smack but its distortion persisted, 'Mr.'… 'Never'? he attemptedto read, 'is'… 'Lo-'… 'Loxley'. Loxley… Foxy Loxley? But he died, I know he did, Nick doubted, That doesn't make any sense… and neither does this wacky stuff happening with my phone, he grumbled, for the headache was getting worse. Wait… this isn't new to me, Nick realized and examined the nearby tree, This arboreal bystander couldn't have ironroots, could it? We're nowhere near the Knottedwood but it - and I'm going to hate myself for saying this - is the only thing that makes sense.
His eyes climbed the tree's trunk, nose following a tangible absence of scent, as though a pencil eraser streaked across the page. Perched in the boughs were two shiny-eyed figures in long coats who… didn't seem to make any effort to conceal themselves.
"Oops, he spotted us," said one, notably male.
"Took long enough," said the other, notably female.
They each sported a grin before vaulting from the tree to alight some several feet on either side of Nick as moonlight revealed the deep red of their furs, the sleek material of their garbs, and the glinting contraption around their eyes. Nick, despite his headache, pocketed his phone to casually rest a paw on his holstered stun-gun (which his finger unbuckled ever-so-quietly) while gesticulating with the other in as cordial a smile as he could provide, "Evening, cousins. Something of a unique situation we find ourselves in, isn't it?"
The mysterious tod straightened his jacket as he addressed the vixen from around Nick, "As sly as we figured."
"Naturally, considering whom he's from," agreed the mysterious vixen as she folded her paws in front of her.
So, they've been following me for some time now, have they? Nick speculated, "I must admit, I can usually spot a tail from a mile off but you've been on me for… I daresay ever since I came to Bunnyburrow. Credit where credit is due," he said, I'll take out the tod first since he's on my gun-arm, it should give me enough surprise to at least reload and stand-off with the vixen.
That vixen giggled, "Well, we've been following you since then but someone's always kept an eye on you."
"Creepy," Nick remarked.
"Don't get us wrong, you are an exceptionally difficult fox to track… Johnson," said the tod.
Nick's ears pinned back but then he rolled his eyes in boredom, masking as best he could the constant ache in his skull and the surprise in his face, 'Johnson'… Magnus was talking about me, "That's adorable, you gave me a codename."
"Oh no, not us," the tod corrected, "The Watch did that, we simply overheard it."
Nick's tail swept at the grass behind him, "Which 'Watch'?"
"All of them," said the vixen, "You've had the Watch looking over you ever since you struck the streets as a kit. You were quite the mammal of interest, cousin, as we also figured out."
And we're done here, Nick decided, paw gripping around his stun-gun… however paused he was when both of the other foxes discreetly reached for some surely secreted weapon of their own, They're both ready for combat, I guess. Nick relaxed his paw and so did they. "I'll admit, I've always been an interesting mammal but then it's nothing out of the ordinary for an entire neighborhood to keep an eye on a nearby fox."
"Your father asked them to," the tod corrected, "because he was afraid that you'd get into some manner of trouble; just like he always did." Green eyes narrowed in response. "It's true. The Watch kept an eye on you even before that and so did we - not us specifically, of course - watching how you found exactly where Pleasure Island would act next. It was uncanny."
Nick drew his stun-gun and leveled it on the tod in half-a-blink. "You just said the magic words, shifty, so let's drop this charade and talk brass tacks here," Nick warned, sliding a few steps to keep his ears and eyes trained on either of them in turn, "You've got the next two seconds to explain why I shouldn't take you both down."
The unknown tod raised both palms. "You stopped a lot of kidnappings from happening, Johnson, by bringing the Watch to young mammals targeted for abduction… and then escaping. Just like your mother. You did this independent of your parents, though, all the way up until you left home."
"That is completely insane," Nick snarled, "You want to know what I did as a kit? I sold popsicles, candy, and toys; made connections for future business, kids who could get their own money or weren't beholden to their parents. I was sure to find kids who - like me - spent most of their time outside the house…" he listed, feeling colder with each description, "Kids who… probably wouldn't be noticed if they disappeared for no reason…"
The other tod shrugged at the obvious parallels.
"'I've got eyes on John's son'," said the vixen, as though a distant echo behind Nick, and she continued, "'John's son spotted', 'Following John's son', 'John's son is in the wind'. 'John's son' was heard by the keenest of ears and from it came 'Johnson'. You helped a lot of families… and made some powerful enemies, even if they didn't know who you were at the time aside from 'Johnson, the Uncatchable Fox'."
This is some brilliant psyche-out material, I should compliment them after cuffing them, Nick decided, sparing a glance over his shoulder at her, "I have quite a few enemies indeed, one I'm sure you'll recognize, so how about I drop only one of you so that you can tell your boss, Magnus, that we've already got him dead to rights."
"What, him? No," the vixen denied, "Never."
"I guess you can say we're from the 'alpha-fox'," the tod mentioned.
'Never'…? Nick reeled, his relaxed arms dipping the stun-gun… Movement triggered his reaction as a high whistle and a flash of light shot from the tod's paw to strike the sidearm from the officer's grip, falling into the grass instead of directing at either adversary as Nick intended it to. His head rang, the world rang as the two mysterious foxes converged on him and with them, that burgeoning headache split his skull in twain, just as the ironroot trees nearly did back in that grotto on Sunday.
"That was a mistake," said the vixen, another distant echo before the night grew darker and the ground swelled to greet the falling fox.
In Nick's last moments of consciousness, he considered the possibility of Esther's text message, about how "Mr. Never was Foxy Loxley". Ridiculous, he thought, not doubting her but simply the information she provided. After all, Nick knew that Foxy was dead. He saw his body; kaput, expired, sleeping the big sleep. Well… Nick didn't see it but he knew Foxy was dead because… because he was; a pile of ash in a box that Fuchsia probably kept on her mantle or in a cupboard. He died shortly after Honest John went up in a fireball, also a pile of ash. Both of them. Ash.
"Honest John" Longfellow and Foxy Loxley, two tods Nick wanted to be his dad more than his own dad; two tods who, ultimately, showed him why the world hated foxes. Nick remembered how Foxy took him under his wing as a teenager when he wanted nothing more to do with his parents, and then moved on to Honest John as an adult when Foxy was far too casual with him. Nick remembered Dad's story about Foxy confronting him in the past, about having "his own foxes" and later cursing his name after being thrown into a sewer. Nick wondered if Foxy's revenge was manipulating adolescent psychology to engorge a familial spat into a wedge between him and his parents. Nick wondered about the time he overheard Foxy warning Honest John about "Who the alpha-fox was"; remembered what a ridiculous notion it was.
Nick then wondered what Mr. Never had to do with Magnus.
Nick hit the ground.
Author's Notes:
Aside from the gerbil pun, "Yolanda Gerbilski" is a name with no significance whatsoever and any reference to existing characters or personages is purely coincidental.
'Make up your blooming mind' is a reference to a line from Bird Brain Mary, a pirate in Treasure Planet.
Francine Pennington is the elephant officer near the beginning of the movie. It's assumed she was "Trunkaby" but it turns out her name is "Pennington". Officer Johnson is one of the lions at the Precinct in the movie and it turns out his name is "Bob".
Raptor = bird-of-prey
[Well, at least the train isn't exploding this time] is a reference to when Nick & Judy jumped off an exploding train in the movie.
The symbolism here between "Steve Rabbers" (Steve Rogers) and "James Buchanan Barkes" (Bucky Barnes) as "Captain Warren" (Captain America) and "The Winter Wolf" (The Winter Soldier), respectively, is linked by the white star on Cap's shield and the red star on Bucky's shoulder; in this case, it's a white clover and a red clover.
["'Briar the Trier' was scared-to-death, like in that jump rope song Nick told us about, remember?"] comes from Brave, chapter 8.
["Y'see, I wrote to them Tweedles when I was a kit…"] Gideon isn't lying here, technically. He did write to the "Tweedle Bros." (Dean & Duncan Vandersnatch) when he was young but never heard back from them. It wasn't until adulthood (as told in recent chapters) what it was they were really doing. It was an original idea that the Vandersnatch used news reports to create a number of the Mr. Foxglove stories, as part of their "get the message out" attempts.
Podunk in Deerbrooke is the "carrot-choked" place that Nick mentions in the movie.
Jaguardo Boi Chá (the jaguar cub from the movie's intro that grew up to be an actuary) runs the Brambles Notary. His name is a play on "jaguar" and "Eduardo" and the jaguar journalist from Brazilian version of the film, " Onçardo Boi Chá".
"King Richard" and "Prince John" are both references to Robin Hood (1973).
The "grotto on Sunday" that Nick is referring to happened back in Trustworthy, chapter 22.
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