Normally, it would take about a week before Bo was well enough for any kind of strenuous labor but thanks to the medical experts at Knotash and Hexward, he was back on his feet in half the time. All that remained was to wait for the verdict on whether or not he knowingly "juiced-up" before the fight. Patience was never one of his defining virtues, though, and with Judy patrolling the streets alongside Nick, Bo was left by his lonesome at their apartment of Underyard. He'd already fixed the vacuum cleaner, the leaky faucet, the squeaky cabinet door, the flickering light in the linen closet, and that one outlet the plugs kept sliding out of… and with all his exercises completed pre-dawn, Bo was at a loss as to what to do with the rest of his morning…
Should I have told Judy about the phone? he wondered, slumped upsidedown on the couch while watching the weather channel, and waited for a response from his not-Dawson (which was probably just a manifestation of his own slyness, awoken from the bonds of trust and friendship forged with foxes), who was oddly quiet since that night in the hospital, I should have told Judy about the phone…
A phone then buzzed, so Bo and his ears sprung from the couch in an instant, checking first the one in his pocket before directing his attention to the muffled drone from the bedroom.
Did I set it to vibrate? he doubted, No… it did that itself. He scampered over to his duffel bag wherein it hid and fished it out, flipping it open to find an address, a date, and a time. Bo gulped to steady his nerves. I hope this is the right thing…
Bo continued to doubt himself over the next few days but assured Judy he was just nervous about the results from the investigation (true). He breathed a sigh of relief that, luckily, she and Nick would be on a multi-day sting operation during the very same night as detailed on the phone. Considering he was no longer subject to Underland's prohibitory curfew for new tenants, Bo ventured into the graying dusk with impunity. I'll just check it out, make sure things are on the up-and-up, he decided, and bolt at the first sign of trouble. Sound like a good plan? he asked of that quiet voice in the back of his head and then chuckled, Maybe my not-Dawson was just the manifested dread of fighting in the MMA.
This is kind of exciting, like that time when Captain Warren infiltrated an international ring of war profiteers trafficking MOABs, he continued, hustling through the less urban outskirts of Downtown Zootopia. The address sent him to Pack Street and while it was on the same Inner Loop with Grass Street (the nearest to Underyard), the winding and doubling-back track resulted in the two stops being closer by foot than by train. The shadows grew long and noises of nightlife increased as nocturnal mammals stirred from their abodes. The Captain Warren theme song played in Bo's mind as he trekked the border between Downtown and the Rainforest District, whereat Pack Street awaited him.
Looks fairly nondescript, Bo observed, peeking around a brick-building corner, his twitching ears casting shade around his eyes from a streetlamp, just a warehouse that isn't owned but… isn't necessarily abandoned, either. He could just make out the FOR SALE sign and the insignia for the city's zoning commission, and then checked the address again with a shrug, If I can't get in then there's nothing for me here. Oh, shoot, did I leave my own phone at home? Typical, too excited for the adventurer that I forgot to take pictures of it… oh well, I still have this burner that I can give to Judy for processing. Probably should have done that from the get-go… I really need to stop shouldering responsibility for everything; I'm not alone anymore. The phone was pocketed as he turned to leave, or would have if every fight-or-flight instinct hadn't triggered simultaneously from a sharp whine behind him and a sharp prick in the shoulder.
"…found him sneaking about the south end of Pack Street," someone said, "wouldn't have spotted him without the GPS in the burner."
"Didn't think he'd come," someone else said, "can't wait to see him go at it for real."
"Octaves always had an eye for the best," someone… very much in charge said, sounding like an undertaker inspecting his latest client, "shame he would never sign onto the cause but perhaps better he was never approached. Lucky me he trained one more 'goo-goo-eyed' rookie, ripe for the picking."
The world graciously refocused, first in Bo's ears and then in his senses both balance and tactile, Flat on the ground… All the needed muscles contracted and released like high-tensile springs to vault the rabbit onto his feet and away from the voices. His sense of smell identified them as some kind of predator, and then canines, and then wolves but that wasn't until he collided with metal mesh. A cage? Finally, his eyes blinked at the blinding overhead lights, digger's mitts clapping at the resilient wall before gazing up at his trio of captors.
"Ever a rabbit," the wolf-in-charge stated, sharing in none of the leers of the smaller ones flanking him; his grimy grays contrasted strictly by the yellows of his eyes. He then stooped in an almost welcoming fashion (those flanking him followed suit), "Don't worry, Briar, you're not here to die. Apologies for the mistreatment but you understand; we had to make sure you didn't… run off on us," he said after a beat's pause, and then snapped his fingers for the key to unlock the cage, sliding its door up, "I'm Ferris MacGrim."
My ear has a clip in it… a tracker? Bo figured, hazel eyes not leaving the Captain of the Secret Police but neither did he respond, doing all he could to steady his breath, We used them for birds and gators in the Watch but they're meant for psychotic criminals.
"So you have heard of me," MacGrim inferred, standing (those flanking him followed suit), and leaning on the top of the rather spacious cage, "Then you must think defiance a wise course of action."
It's the right course of action, Bo declared with glare alone.
The cage slid shut and was locked again, the key tossed to one of his betas. "You'll find out what happens here soon enough," he warned, "whether you want to or not." It was then kicked by one of those other wolves before they departed.
What did I get myself into…? he worried, chancing as good a look around as he could (and a much better listen), finding himself surrounded by other cages, It's just like how Captain Warren described a prisoner camp, where he first saw Bucky Barkes in issue #2 of 'The Winter Wolf', except they were forced to fight to the death, no holds bar. Bo sighed and stood on his toes to spot an open area - an arena surrounded by a half-stone-wall, half-fence barrier- with two cages wheeled to either side and extendable tasers forcing the occupants into the ring together; a leopard and an ibex, each with an ear-clip. One was starved half-to-death and the other scared half-to-death.
Bo nearly wretched when it was all over and MacGrim, who sat upon what looked to be a mangled, industrial throne, looked on with curious disappointment as neither combatant could do anything but groan their agony afterward. The rabbit then looked down to his shorts, for he had been stripped before waking up and assumed them some type of prison garb, realizing his truly dreadful situation, This is an underground fight ring… and I was conscripted…
Round 1
Okay… okay… the 'Winter Wolf' arc had a terrible truth about real life that was meant to be kept hidden, and for Captain Warren, it was that even young, healthy rabbits could be scared-to-death under unique circumstances, Bo contemplated while pacing his cage, Something of a moot point nowadays, as there have been documented cases elsewhere in the world, but what was the Winter Wolf supposed to symbolize?
"Thirty seconds," a wolf said.
Soon, the cage rolled up and connected with the side of the arena, a mechanism unlocking and sliding the door open. Bo gulped but approached the dirt-packed pit, hurried along by the crackle of the tasers outside his cage. He gazed up and up and up at the rhino who joined him in the arena. They shared one thing in common, aside from their predicament: incredulity.
"I don't think he's in my weight class!" Bo worried to MacGrim.
"Is this a joke?" the rhino demanded, also to MacGrim.
MacGrim casually unholstered a revolver from his hip and cocked it, likewise, a retinue of his nearest onlooking wolves cocked their firearms in near unity.
No problem, Judy beat a rhino before, Bo worried, but internally, raising his dukes to lower the guns, and facing his opponent, who faced him in turn, except she had time, multiple chances, and protective padding. I don't even have a mouthguard!
"Sorry, li'l bunny," the rhino quietly offered, "no hard feelings."
"Same to you," the bunny quietly agreed.
The rhino charged and Bo scampered, bounding off on all fours to avoid the stomps and kicks, coughing at the cloud of dust it caused. A great, gray, leathery mitt then eclipsed the overhead lights.
"Drop!"
Bo fell prone, the tips of the gnarly fingers brushing his whiskers. Dad?
"Grab on!"
The rhino pulled his hand back but Bo had latched onto his pinky if only long enough to ride the force of the retraction up to vault off his stomach. A lucky foot braced on his collarbone to double-jab the rhino's temple, all the time he had before another grab was attempted.
"Horn!"
Got it!
Bo lept, just dodging the swipe to hook around the ivory spike and swing a kick at the rhino's other temple.
This guy's built like a rock!
"But you're quicker!" that voice inside his head assured, sounding more and more like his father, Bertie Briar.
The rhino grunted, staggered but stabilizing as his head whipped to buck the bunny off his noggin. A fist finally made contact with Bo as he arched through the air, spiking him into the dirt.
Both fighters collected themselves and groaned their discombobulation before remembering their shared predicament.
"I'll kill ya'!" the rhino warned and charged again but with his horn much lower.
"No hard feelings!" Bo called back as he once more scampered, He definitely wants to kill me, he means it this time! What do I do? he dreaded, only having enough time to elude the rhino's megaton strikes, the ground shaking around him, I can maybe drop him with a groin-shot but his stance is too tight; I'll be stomped if I go anywhere near there.
"Sly up, fox right," echoed his Dad's voice. Nothing he ever said but Bo heard it all the same.
Short (for a bunny) chocolate ears flicked and directed Bo's movement. Okay, I got it. He scurried about and steered the rhino, even taunting him until his horn dropped again for another blind charge. Bingo. He ran for the stone-wall-and-fence of the arena, aiming the ivory spike to cleave through… right in front of MacGrim. The nimble bunny had scaled the fence and launched himself off, over the rhino's head and down his back, kicking off his haunches and landing to check the damage of things.
The high-powered air-rifles the wolves earlier cocked were leveled in an instant, riddling the breaching rhino with tranq darts, slumping him over the stone wall at the feet of the mangled throne. The rhino groaned and drooled into unconsciousness. MacGrim seemed nonplussed as he set his revolver on the arm of his chair… and locked eyes with the heaving bunny.
The Dark Alpha was intrigued.
Round 2
Bo was given water and a protein bar.
There's still another fight… he recalled, letting it sink in as he heard violence alive in the arena anew after the fence was welded and secured, The MMA puts a week between bouts for recovery but here, I've got maybe a half-an-hour before I have to fight for my life again. His ears folded back as he focused on calming himself, chewing as loudly as he could so that he wouldn't hear the struggle between two mammals pitted against one another.
"So, the White Wolf…" 'Dad' said.
It's such a relief to hear you. Why didn't you say anything sooner?
"Life-or-death situation. You already came to terms with what you were doing, chasing after that obvious bait."
I'm such an idiot. Judy's gonna kill me if I survive this. I just felt so bad for what I happened, I just had to make it right-
"Bo, focus. What's up with the White Wolf?"
What's there to figure out? Wolves are running a bloodsport under the streets of Zootopia. Mystery solved. Now I'm going to die because-
"Except MacGrim said you weren't 'here to die'."
Big whoop, like I'm supposed to believe that.
"You felt the hunger in him, right?"
Yeah, so?
"Why would he say that, then?"
I dunno… luring me into a false sense of security, I guess.
"Who else had that same hunger, regarding you? Not with the MMA, either."
Well… Magnus was like that, said I would be a great asset, all I needed was steel. Bo then stood up and paced, still munching his protein bar. That could just be a coincidence with Magnus and MacGrim, both wanting the same thing - me. Why would MacGrim even want me? Magnus wanted me. Magnus also wanted Judy. He then stopped walking and chewing.
"Feels like you got that tingle in the back of your brain."
If MacGrim did want me, it could be because he and Magnus are at odds, or something. But this kind of trap wasn't laid out for only me, I just happened to be the type of mammal who would fall into it. He did call himself 'lucky'. Bo continued to pace. It's been going on for as long as Phil's been coaching, at least, but why? Is MacGrim diversifying his forces? I only see wolves with guns, though, so it can't be that. Are Magnus and MacGrim rivals, reaching for the same thing? Could this… Bo swallowed hard.
"At your own pace."
Could this… could it have had something to do with PredaTherp? There's still so much that's unknown about it, even after the scandal twelve years ago; mammals who escaped justice, how it perpetuated for so long without anyone knowing. It must have had something to do with Them, the ones who let Forestdwell burn under the wrath of Bag-o'-Bones… It would line up with torturing animals to see how they react, and I'll bet that MacGrim could get some benefit from it.
"I'll ask again. What about the White Wolf?"
Bo then gazed up and over his shoulder as though addressing someone behind him. Dad… did you find out something about this? It always confused me why the Tweedle Bros. made Bucky a wolf instead of a hare but… maybe they figured something out, too. Maybe that's why Magnus went through the effort to besmirch you… to hide that I was still alive. Being scared-to-death by Amelia Dunesworth was just a tragedy that he exploited.
"Wish I knew," the disembodied voice confessed, "but there's no evidence of that, only a gut feeling… even if it does explain a lot."
The Winter Wolf had the Scarlet Clover on his shoulder… the Fourth-Leaf Cloven… Could this be connected with that? Does it have anything to do with it being a symbol of rebellion or solidarity? I… I don't have any answers! I have to find out!
"You've got that off your mind now, though, right?"
Yeah… I think I do… Thanks, Dad.
"Anytime… son."
Bo chuckled and finished his snack.
"Okay, how are you going to get out of this? You've still got a scolding from Judy coming your way."
He laughed. Simple. If MacGrim wants me then I best put on a good show and wait for the right moment to make my escape. Time to sly up and fox right. Bo chugged more water and then used it to wash off his head and shoulders, shaking himself about and taking a long, deep breath.
The cage was then shaken by a gruff-looking wolf. "Thirty seconds."
Let's kick some tail.
As what happened before, the cage was rolled and attached to the arena, its door sliding up but Bo didn't wait for the taser to zap him forward, instead he marched out with a sweep of his ears and a set jaw. The opponent was a fossa, looking half-starved and jittery, unkempt, and utterly pathetic.
She lowered her head and looked to grovel, even though she wasn't too much taller than the bunny was, cowering at the lights and the ringing bell.
Bo's heart sunk and fists unfurled with a heavy sigh, he was about to look at MacGrim to wonder what he was thinking.
"How did she make it past the first round?" the voice in Bo's head then asked but it was too late, the rabbit's head snapped to his opponent only for a great cloud of sand to blind him.
Bo groaned, already watering up as he raised his arms to protect his face.
"You're more than just your eyes," the advice repeated.
Keen ears swiveled as a prey's survival instinct immediately triggered, bringing one arm down in a last-minute block so the fossa's claws dragged over his flank instead of into it, she continuing with what could only have been a lunge. Bo's body then pivoted into her attack, hearing the high gasp and surprised growl to best aim his fist and connect an uppercut into her chin. The dull thud of her body hitting the ground triggered cheering howls. He took a few seconds to wipe his eyes as best he can, coughing and blinking and crying until he could probably see again, recognizing that the howling was for him.
The Dark Alpha was impressed.
Round 3
Maybe it was day.
Maybe it was night.
All Bo knew was that he was tired but still had to fight.
"Thirty seconds," said the wolf outside his cage, if perhaps less gruffly, "Do you need a shot?"
"N-No… thank you," Bo declined as politely as he could.
His mind played through the Captain Warren theme song and then thought about the song his parents danced to at their wedding. It was much more calming.
The cage rolled to the arena and the door slid up. Bo stepped out, his fur matted with dirt and sweat (and a little bit of blood). His opponent was a charcoal fox. A farm-fox… he noticed, unmistakable from that thicker build and scruffier pelt, older-looking, with a burn-scar on his chest, He's seen trouble before… might even have caused it. Is he from Bunnyburrow or Preds Corner? Maybe I know a cousin of his. But he just flinched, like he's surprised to see me. Does he know me?
Bo glanced at MacGrim and he watched intently.
The bell struck.
The fox shifted from foot to foot but was mostly unmoving from his stance.
He knows not to lunge.
His tail wheeled behind him.
He's up to some kind of trickery. Nothing I haven't seen before. Bo's eyes and ears tracked the unnervingly nimble movements, the tail wheeling in the direction the fox wasn't, playing at an illusion that he was dashing in the opposite direction. The rabbit was up on his toes and dodging around the fierce punch to his head, his own fist aiming for the fox's solar plexus. They both sprung back after their fists brushed air and fur.
Either studied the other.
They both charged, the fox spinning by the leverage of his tail to first swipe at the rabbit's ears (folding back at the last second) and as the fox continued into the full rotation, Bo raised his arm to block the follow-up blow; it was the bushy tail, whipping around his wrist to smack him square in the face. Then the fox's kick snapped at Bo's chest, shoving him as the tod skipped away, never breaking his stance.
Bo breathed. That kick could have collapsed my ribcage or crushed my throat, he (warily) marveled, studying the agile predator, He just got a point on me, he's keeping score! And if a fox is bantering, even physically… then that means we have to know each other! But I've never seen him before in my life, I'm certain of it.
The fox's ears flicked as he snarled, launching into another flurry of attacks and blocks, some of them actually landing on Bo as some of Bo's actually hit him.
He could have killed me a dozen times by now… but there's no 'hunger' or 'fear' in him, not that I can tell. He's definitely toying with me, but why? A headbutt was repaid with a solid blow to the temple, sending the tod for a loop as the two of them backed off, Bo waiting to see what sort of trickery was next. Stars above! The tod glanced up and blinked as though something was caught in his eye, and Bo spotted that the dark brown color was actually a contact lens… behind which hid a vibrant, Savage green (quickly slipped back into hiding). They shared a single, surprising instant of understanding.
The tod lunged again, his claws wrapping around Bo's throat faster than the rabbit could blink, pinning him to the ground with a wicked snarl, hot breath on his face. "Thirty seconds," he whispered, arching his stomach in such a way to provide an opening.
I know this voice…! Bo was very sure of it, even if he couldn't exactly recognize it. He kicked up into the offered gut to be free of the grapple, rolling to his feet as his opponent rolled to his. MacGrim's eyes were still on them both, so for the remaining twenty-six seconds, they dueled and sparred with all the ferocity that was in them give, only just avoiding any fatal blows - whether they be snapping fangs, rock-crushing kicks, slashing claws, or neck-breaking headlocks. So long as it looked like they meant it, they might still make it out alive. And then darkness engulfed everyone. Even the keen night vision of predators needed some light.
The Dark Alpha was livid.
Orders were barked for lights and some did have flashlights available, even trying to use their phones but there was a panic brewing amongst the Secret Police for every time a light blinked on, it was immediately snuffed. Bo's ears heard it all, the whisper of belaying cable, the muffling of a wolf, a swift blow knocking them out, and best of all, the surrounding din covered everything.
"Bo," the fox whispered, "it's Corbin, Nick's uncle."
"…!" Bo said before a paw clapped over his mouth, I met you at Gid's house! You eat honey on your pancakes instead of syrup!
"I'll explain later, follow me."
A soft chirp echoed in the rabbit's ear as he felt the tracker clip fall away… along with a sudden pitter-patter of chirps and falling tracker clips. Bo had no idea where he was going especially since Corbin had hoisted him onto a shoulder and ran, not stopping until they were through a door. And then the lights came back on. They were in an industrial basement of a subterranean warehouse with tight corridors and concrete walls.
"Blast, we should have had more time…" the fox said, setting Bo down and lifting his headgear.
"When did you get those?" Bo asked, nearly hysteric.
"My nephew, Jericho, dropped them a few seconds after the lights went out, he's been watching from the rafters for some time now. Quite a few Knottedwood Scouts are in the city, as it so happens, and have been lying in wait until we could deactivate those tracker clips. Now hurry, we're not out of trouble yet," the fox explained and dashed down the hall, avoiding any burgeoning sounds of approach, "The exits are being cut off… this is going to get tricky."
"This way!" Bo then said and pointed through a door.
"How can you be sure?"
"It's quiet," he explained with a flick of his ears.
The fox smirked. "Grand," he commended as they both glanced down the way they came, "Let's not be caught again," Corbin suggested. The passaged proved empty as they turned another corner only to run into a once-blasted-through wall and floor, exposing a repaired bricked wall and surrounding dirt, "That would explain why it was quiet…"
Bo pushed against the brick but it was solid; his ears flicked at their pursuers… and then thumped his feet on the bare dirt. "Can you dig?" he suddenly asked.
"What?" Corbin responded, "Can I dig? Yes, I can dig, why?" A hole in the ground was all that remained of the rabbit… so the fox followed in burrowing his way through, appearing with Bo on the other side of the brick wall and an abandoned subway tunnel.
"There's no light down here…" Bo lamented, taking a step forward but was pulled back.
"Careful!" Corbin warned, donning his headgear again, "that third rail is still active. We should be safe for now, we just need to find the surface. Hold onto my tail and I'll lead you true."
"Yes sir," the rabbit obeyed, keeping a secure grip around the fluffy tail, "Thank you for saving me, Mr. Savage. I'll admit, I didn't think too far ahead with my plan… or much at all, I kind of just acted on a gut feeling. By the way, I thought you were a red fox?"
"I am. I dyed my fur to sneak into MacGrim's bloodsport arena and have been there for just under a week, now."
"A week? I've been missing a week?"
"No no, young buck, you've been gone a few hours."
"Then… how…?"
"You can thank Nick for that," he chuckled, "My clever nephew told us that you'd be kidnapped, killed, or 'otherwise inconvenienced' sometime around the MMA finals - turns out all of Phil's rookies met with an unfortunate fate and he connected the dots. That was Magnus's skullduggery to conscript them for MacGrim's 'Secret Police'; not as part of his inner circle, of course, but under his command all the same. Hunger and fear are excellent ways to reshape a mammal until they are but hollow shells of their former selves… those who survive the process, at any rate."
"So it was like PredaTherp…"
"Indeed, except meant for innocent mammals who avoided PredaTherp's cherrypicking of the criminal justice system." Light gradually returned as they found a sewer cover with a street lamp nearby, to which Corbin pointed and they began to ascend. "Word was, you were to be Magnus's 'special project' but MacGrim wanted to use that against him. Not sure why."
Bo stopped at a rung in the ladder and just kind of… swayed. "This is all a bit much. I mean, I thought I was going crazy when I guessed those same things but they were… right?"
Corbin chuckled again, smiling over his shoulder. "Crazy as a fox." He pushed the sewer cover to check the street and then slide it aside, closing it when Bo hopped out.
"So… MacGrim's been kidnapping Zootopians for a secret army?" Bo disbelieved.
"Not just Zootopians," the fox lamented, "but mammals from all over the seaboard, smuggled across state lines to arrive here for reprogramming."
The rabbit gawked some more. "And Nick knew I was going to be kidnapped? Did Judy know?"
"Nick 'figured as much'. His little friend Finnick is a fan of Octaves and he started doing some research about that old goat's history as a 'cursed coach', based on what you said of him," Corbin explained, looking around and directing the rabbit through the pre-dawn morning, "Judy didn't believe him, to my understanding, so she will have quite a lot of scolding for you when you get home, what with you getting caught and not telling her about that burner phone."
Bo rubbed his ears to wrap his brain around it. "So why did you get in so early?"
"I wasn't there for you, necessarily. I positioned outside city limits for abduction, infiltrating blind as a vanguard to prepare the other mammals for a rescue attempt," the fox said, "It was one of the many things that the Knottedwood Scouts observed in this city and now that we're no longer ducking death on a daily basis, thanks to these delightful lenses that Rocky made us, we can do something about it. You were the cherry on top and how the ZPD was able to track the above-ground location of MacGrim's operations. I hear Judy is on that end of the raid, extracting and recovering the traumatized mammals."
"I've been so stupid…" Bo realized, stifling snickers.
"And what's so funny?"
The rabbit took a moment to laugh as they jogged. "I don't know! I'm just thinking about some of the things Nick said over the past few days… he was suspiciously sure that I'd 'make it out alive'. I thought he meant the MMA investigation but he must have meant what just happened!"
The old tod huffed hood-naturedly. "One of the first lessons youngs foxes learn by bantering is that they are often told more than what is said to them. It's something of a 'loophole' for the 'foxes don't lie or keep secrets' and an unfortunate misunderstanding when dealing outside the family."
"But then… why let me be captured? You'd think they would have stopped me before getting too close, especially since you were already in there."
"Apparently, you left your phone at home along with your GPS coordinates," Corbin kindly criticized, "You're quite stealthy for a bunny, it took a good deal of tracking to pinpoint where they nabbed you."
The rabbit groaned and shook his head (at a brisk pace). "Jeez, of course… I really shot myself in the foot there. Thank you again for rescuing me, Mr. Savage… I really messed this up, didn't I?"
Corbin shrugged while jogging. "I wouldn't say that… Were it not for you, I would have had a much stickier escape. On top of that, you certainly gave MacGrim quite a start by throwing a rhino at him," he laughed, "I've been there a week, as you know, and haven't seen him express anything beyond 'disgruntled' and 'impatient'. With any luck, he might just do something extraordinarily stupid."
The light into Mack's cell was eclipsed by none other than Ferris MacGrim himself but before any manner of ingratiation could commence, the Dark Alpha's revolver was emptied into the Sparrow's workstation. Considering the chain around Mack's neck allowed him to dive under the bed, he could just cover his face and ears at the echoing bombshells and flying splinters of circuitry and chassis.
"Open it," Ferris growled to one of the replacement guards, dumping out the empty shells and reloading. He waltzed right in and holstered his gun to, instead, flip the bed onto the bullethole-ridden desk and accompanying computer (what was left of it). Mack yelped as he was grabbed by the collar and hoisted up, only to be sat back down with a thick arm around his neck. "Do you have a moment? We need to talk," he said plainly, every word dripping cold vitriol, "Why is it that my three best guards just so happened to hop a train back to Preds' Corner within hours of it going public that Phil Octaves is leaving retirement for one last shot at the championship? Was it just a coincidence that his continued curating of their father's bar is the reason why I could get them into the city in the first place?"
"Those are some astronomical odds," Mack conceded and then choked as the arm around his neck tightened.
"That is a month, Sparrow, a full month that you've had unhindered access to the Underland servers and incompetent guards," he further growled (the current guard shrinking away), "So you can imagine my utter surprise to find out that Phil's newest rookie practically falls into my lap, and then… everything that I've kept hidden for years is discovered and raided… all in a single night? Tell me, Sparrow, what are the odds?"
"Truly astronomical," he repeated but with far less airflow than he'd like, legs kicking as he clawed at the resilient sleeve of MacGrim's jacket, only able to express how lacking he was in air by changing the color of his face. He eventually gasped when the Dark Alpha reached for his phone.
"You've worked so hard to do so many things to this pack, Sparrow," MacGrim seethed, "that I think you deserve a special reward. Not for you; this will be for your sister. You see, I found her the prettiest, reddest dress and just sent some of my worst wolves," he huffed, his implication not as to their prowess but their malice, "to that cute little fox community on Reynard Road to give it to her. And you will watch."
Before Mack could respond, however, his muzzle was held shut by a powerful paw, forcing him to face his phone live-streaming a pretty red dress in its new bag, on its new hanger slung over a wolf's shoulder. MacGrim pinned his leg over both of Mack's to prevent him from flailing as the wolves marched through the emptied hallways of an early morning apartment complex.
They knocked on the door to the studio apartment wherein Lory lived with Gideon Grey.
They discovered that the door was unlocked.
They found out that no one answered them as they walked in, sniffing about.
Suddenly, there was a struggle, the camera wrenched about and dropped to the floor, followed by the unmistakable sounds of police shouting their warnings, attempts to flee, tackling, guns cocking, tasers shocking, and finally surrender as barking maws were muzzled, paws cuffed, and rights read. MacGrim's paw trembled with rage as it gripped the phone… when a set of blue eyes and dark red bangs appeared onscreen, the particularly fierce-looking fox to whom they were attached quite clearly stooping.
"You best count yourself lucky there's a phone between me and you, 'cause if there weren't-" Gideon Grey proceeded to say, paw tightening around his shouldered shotgun.
"Mr. Grey, what have you got there?" said an authoritative, sincerely curious voice.
Gideon immediately disappeared. "Oh! Jus' some evidence, right where they dropped it. I didn't touch it or nuthin'-"
MacGrim hurled his phone at the wall, it busting on impact as he seethed, his claws raking Mack's neck as they sat on the cold cell floor. It seemed his entire compound remained quiet, waiting for his direction. "Sparrow, how is it there are no cops around Reynard Road and yet-"
"My turn for a question, mate, if you'd be so kind," he swiftly cut off, "Did you know that while Nick Wilde was the first fox cop, he is not the only one? In fact, some live in the area of that cute little fox community you are so enamored by, which is why your wolves didn't smell anything but foxes, savvy?"
"Indeed." The Dark Alpha gripped his claws into the Sparrow's neck and then stood to his full height, Mack's feet scrambling to touch the ground, but eventually, they were allowed to support his bodily weight. "I think… I will drown you in wet cement and put you on display at my new headquarters to make an example of you."
Mack gasped and heaved. "Yes, I'm sure you will but before you do, I have one more question…" he said, and then pointed the gun he snuck from MacGrim's holster and jammed it into his side, "Is this yours?"
Ferris MacGrim bellowed and staggered, paws releasing to clap the bloody hole in his flank as he collided with the wall, all of his effort dedicating to remain awake, upright, and from hemorrhaging down his leg. The shot went clean through, as evidenced by the scarlet spray and the bullet lodged in a far wall.
It was not only the firearm Mack had filched, it seemed, as his collar (and accompanying key) dropped to the floor amongst the shards of circuitry as he rose to his feet, pointing the still hot barrel at Ferris's head. "No further, mates," Mack warned of the wolves outside, stepping behind his headstone-colored meat-shield, "in fact, how about you cheery lot skip along and gather up my effects, chop-chop."
"Don't," Ferris then barked, snarling over his shoulder at the smaller, slenderer wolf, "this is only a flesh wound, he doesn't have the nerve to kill."
Mack flatly glared behind his glasses and withdrew the revolver… only to spin the chambers and cock the hammer, jamming it behind his ear to pull the trigger.
Click.
Ferris barely muted a whimper.
Mack grinned. "You lucky son of a… well, let's not play into stereotypes," he growled, directing his attention to the guards as he cocked the hammer again, chambers turning, "Chop-chop." A paw to the larger back pushed him along, always keeping the hunched-over Dark Alpha between him and the guards outside, daring any of them to approach as he backed himself and Ferris toward the reinforced elevator. "Just toss that over this way, there's a good lad," he called when another wolf showed up with a distinctive bundle, "keep it out of the blood."
"You'll pay for this," MacGrim warned, still backing up as he couldn't lift his paws away from his wound but neither could he disobey, eying the overhead numbers counting down the elevator's approach after Mack pushed to summon it.
"Already have," Mack stoically replied, "I've been your prisoner for the past few months, remember? This is payback… no," he then growled and dug the barrel into the Dark Alpha's skull, "Payback would be giving you an earful for all you did to my family. But we are wolves, after all, and there's the Code to consider." The elevator arrived. "Or Law, whichever you prefer." He kicked Ferris and ducked out of sight, frantically pressing the buttons to get him out of there.
"Shoot him!" MacGrim bellowed, landing hard on the ground and covering his head. A hail of bullets riddled the far wall until the doors slid closed.
Mack was already in cover as he was lifted away, digging through his coat to search for his phone in its specialized case. "Please be charged, please be charged… Hah! They kept you charged," he bragged and opened up a hacker program that tapped into the WiFi so to gain control of the elevator for the next minute and prevent anyone from stopping his daring escape. "Today is the day that you will always remember… ah, shove it," he laughed and reassembled his iconography with a brushing of dust off his sleeve and straightening his coat before he arrived on the top floor and hurried out.
It felt like years since he'd seen the open sky, tilting his hat back and removing his glasses… Mack turned to the moon still visible in the pale dawn, its fading white still reflecting the sun yet to arrive, and loosed such a howl that surprised even him. He was joined momentarily by a few other wolves, police officers from the ZPD's Canine Unit of Precinct 1. Mack then strolled over to meet the true alpha to whom all other alphas defer (along with his alpha's-omega, Nick Wilde).
"Captain Alphonse Kela," the Sparrow greeted, tipping his hat in a polite but unnecessary gentlemammal's bow and then tossed a thumb over his shoulder, "Mr. MacGrim will need patching up for his trial; he's down on the bottom floor, right outside the elevator. If you all hurry, you can still catch him. 'Allo, Nick."
"Hey, Mack," the fox replied, smiled, and then returned to an uncharacteristic quiet (but typical smugness).
Captain Kela (decked out in body armor) nodded as a squad of wolves in S.W.A.T. gear charged in. "Mack Mallupe, always a pleasure," he commended, holding out a paw to accept what the smaller wolf had pulled from his pocket, carefully examining a simple SD card, "What's this?"
"All the data you'd need to lock up the 'Secret Police' for good, mate," he said, grinning to show off a few charming capped teeth, "See he gets an extra big book thrown at him, for all us Mallupes forced to hide his dirty business."
Kela quirked a brow. "Does it grant access to a server, little thing like this?" he wondered.
"Little but powerful, savvy? That there's bleedin' edge tech, a rare gem I stumbled across in my travels," he explained with an easy gesture, "Data laser-engraved on crystal, could fit the National Archive and still have room left for all of Granny's secret recipes."
"MacGrim's entire operation…" Kela marveled and pulled out a plastic baggie to seal it up as evidence (Nick leaned in to inspect it).
"I don't doubt you'll find some federal felonies on there, too," he said, "Do me a favor and go easy on the Shady brothers, 'eh? They's good lads, got mixed up with the wrong pack, is all."
The wolf captain quirked a brow and a smirk. "I'll take that into consideration, more than a few good wolves have been corrupted by the 'Dark Alpha'," he admitted and then pointed his attention at whom was not so much led out but escorted into custody, "Speak of the devil."
A hurriedly patched-up MacGrim (notably without restraints of any kind) stood slightly hunched and glaring unmitigated animosity at both Mallupe and Kela (the former retreating a step as the two alphas squared off). "Alphonse," he stating, wincing at the pain in his side but hiding it superbly as every other wolf in the vicinity (Mack included) raptly watched them with averted gazes, "I'll expect you to treat me with the same decorum and respect as any other alpha of our standing. As the Law dictates, so passed down through our forebearers for centuries." And then proceeded to adjust the cuffs of his jacket quite casually.
Wordlessly, masterfully, Captain Kela snapped a zip-tie around those unsuspecting wrists without once breaking eye-contact. Only then did MacGrim drop his nose in rapt confusion and frustration at how things were transpiring (and every wolf could not help but gawk as some of the "Secret Police" resisted a little less), and as his snarling jaws rose again they were swiftly shoved into a muzzle, Kela sliding around to secure it behind his head. "How dare you-!"
"Ferris MacGrim, you have the right to remain silent-"
"I wave all rights except those bestowed on me by the Law!" he bellowed through the muzzle, struggling and stumbling a bit from the pain in his side, "The Law you are sworn to uphold!"
Kela growled low, as does a distant thunderstorm threaten a landscape. "Ferris, you've been very clever to avoid me these many years, never interacting directly, only ever letting your subordinates take the fall," he extrapolated, "Had I ever the privilege or you the misfortune to meet eye-to-eye during one of these raids, I would have dragged your sorry tail myself to the precinct… but my wolves could never touch you, out of respect for the Law."
"It is the Law that protects me-" Ferris tried.
"The Law, or 'Code', you bandy about like a plaything does not apply to those who desecrate it," Kela snarled, causing Ferris to shrink (just a bit), "You do not respect Zootopia's laws or this nation's laws, and I doubt you even abide nature's laws about treating your fellow mammal… But if you want paragraph-and-verse of your transgressions, Ferris, you abducted the pup of an equal alpha; you should pay for what your brother did to Lory. And if you so desperately seek refuge in the Law, then know that I am duty-bound to open up your throat with my own jaws."
Ferris's ears were pinned flat to his skull and tail tucked futilely between his legs. He whimpered quietly in his march to the armored car awaiting him.
Mack huffed.
Nick grinned. "That was quite the howl, I almost joined in," he remarked, throwing a trauma blanket over the wolf's shoulders and handing him a cup of coffee as they took a seat on a low concrete wall, watching the Secret Police be rounded up.
"I'm not usually one to howl, Little Red, but it felt good; felt right," he said and sipped the dark brew, "Quite the welcome back topside. How'd you find me? Finnick and Rocky made their frustrations about pinpointing my exact location quite evident in their encryptions."
A high whistle summoned the flutter of two pairs of wings, ravens descending from a nearby building to alight upon Nick's outstretched paw and Mack's shoulder. "A little birdie told me."
"Mr. Gibbs," the wolf endeared, scratching through the plumage of the old, jovial raven.
"Mack," he cawed in an old, jovial voice.
"Nick," Baron cawed, preening behind the fox's ear as he moved to his shoulder.
"A Bambootown informant narrowed down a ballpark for us and then my raven found yours roosting nearby and it was pretty cut-and-dry from there," Nick explained, "With the help of an inside-guy, we got the other end of MacGrim's underground compound and smoked him out while safely extracting his victims. Judy and Bogo have that side of things handled."
Mack nodded, humming. "Sounds like I owe you a solid."
Nick leaned back on his arms. "I'll go ahead and cash that in now, then."
"Naturally." They shared a chuckle.
"You have the surname of the Lionheart Heir, as I recall," Nick implied.
They were quiet a moment.
"Not all of it," Mack admitted, "only enough time to catch the first three letters, for whatever good they'll do you."
"Just need a star to sail by," Nick quoted, "Dad's genuinely stumped without a bearing and I'm not any better."
"W-I-L," Mack then spelled out after another moment's pause, "Could be any of a dozen different last names… Wilson, for one."
"Williams," Nick suggested.
"Wilmore."
"Wilkerson."
"Wild," they said in unison.
"Only the most common name in the city," Mack stated matter-of-factly.
"Yes… but they'll be a lion, so that should narrow it down."
"Too bad you had a 'Wild' lion already, mate," the wolf said, smirking, "but he's already Simon King."
Nick then blinked, sitting up and smirking. "Luckily, Simon just so happens to know another one: Ryan Wild. He doesn't know much about his heritage on his father's side, so maybe we can get somewhere with his paternal grandmother," the fox speculated, "All sorts of interesting lineages are hidden on the mother's side of the family, you know." He then hopped up and clapped off his haunches. "Thanks, Mack."
"Then we square," he said, reclining a bit as he drank his coffee, "I hadn't the opportunity to search MacGrim's files but it's got plenty of Underland data in them, savvy?"
"Might dig up some clues to Never's new location, got it. Do you need a ride anywhere? I bet I could convince Alphie to give you a lift," Nick offered, "He might even let you turn the siren on."
"Me and police cruisers don't mix, mate," the Sparrow chuckled, standing and shrugging his trauma blanket, "I think I'll give Lory a visit and then finally head home. Wouldn't mind a rest."
The fox quirked a brow as he stood on the low wall, arms crossed. "You're retiring, just like that? That doesn't sound like you."
The wolf tipped his hat and wandered off with Mr. Gibbs. "I set out to find a way to free my pack. And as of today, we're freed from MacGrim," Mack explained, waving over his shoulder, "I'll take a victory and leave the rest to you, Little Red."
Author's Notes:
Captain Warren (or "Cap") is Zootopia's Captain America, first mentioned in Trustworthy but explored at the end of Loyal when Bo found the discontinued comic book story arc of "The Winter Wolf"; that is a portmanteau of "The Winter Soldier" and "The White Wolf", i.e., James Buchanan Barnes (or Bucky Barkes, in Zootopia). A MOAB is a "mother of all bombs", effectively a nuke without the radiation.
"Sly up, fox right" is something that Nick said to Bo when they really started knowing each other and while his dad, Bertie, likely never said the phrase himself, it's used here to represent that the "voice" Bo is hearing is his own experiences and lessons "talking" to him. The voice of his father was developed out of a longing to know him but also used to represent that while it is Bo's own mind, it's also… let's say it's apart from.
Magnus's assessment from Bo came from the last chapters of Loyal and was touched upon in recent chapters.
MacGrim's threat to drown Mack in cement is a reference to how the White Witch of Narnia petrified the animals MacGrim is a reference to Maugrim, her Captain of the Secret Police.
Most small mammals of Zootopia can burrow, it's just the purview of those whose professions require it of them (carrot-farming rabbits, construction gophers, etc) but largely considered impolite by the wider society. There are numerous safeguards to digging, for those who bother to implement them (which the limo service of Tundratown did not, as we saw in the movie).
["Is this yours?"] references Dr. Dilbert Doppler from Treasure Planet.
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