"I'd just like to clear up a few things," Bo Briar had told the Knotash aeronauts, "What we're about to do is not sanctioned by any global institution, foreign or domestic, but it's also not illegal. It's not safe, not sane, not glorious, and quite frankly… not fully planned out. But I'll tell you what it is: it's the right thing to do. When King Richard began his Crusades to emancipate the slaves of the world, it wasn't the war banner he first flew… he first flew scouts to not only his kingdom but to allies both neighboring and afar; he learned that he was lied to by what was said and by what wasn't said about mammals in subjugation. So I won't sugarcoat it. Reino del Sol is filled with slaves imprisoned in their deepest jungles and kept far from any help; the ruling Supai family controls everything going in or out of their country. We and King Richard have one huge thing in common: we can't save them all… but we can give hope of rescue to one species. Our mission is to extract every large fox from the Rivera Valley to make landfall onto Bunnyburrow soil. This will free them from their shackles. Luckily for us, we've already got someone on the inside making our task that much easier, so all you need to do is pass along that we'll have things ready on our end as soon as we get the intel from her. As Rescuers did in centuries past, you will deliver a message of hope to the enslaved."
The faint smell of burning bay leaves enticed Esther one balmy summer eve, dredging from her memories the funeral of a friend's grandparent; a fox's pyre. As it was the dead of night, she knew no cloven-hoof royal or wolf apple alchemist watched her but rather, it was coyotes who prowled the halls, the Supais' deathly loyal Hounds. Keen blue eyes peeked through the shutters to follow that curious scent, ears flicking at who guarded the courtyard below; she knew better than to push her luck but the smoke was clearer than it'd ever been. And then she saw the dim ember of a cigarette hidden behind the bough of a tall and leafy tree and more curiously, distinguished who held it. A shadow had paid her a visit.
Not a word was shared between them as the stranger puffed a wispy ribbon and then snuffed out the cigarette. He flicked a bony finger at the window to invite himself in.
She checked once more and then nodded, preparing to unbar the path just long enough for the stranger to swoop inside during a momentary lull in the patrol. The mysterious visitor was a bat, his wings secured about himself as he hung from the window's curtain rod to peek out both ear and eye before inching from the ajar shutter.
Esther's law firm of Bagh & Little acted as a prosecutor only for singular circumstances. One such class-action lawsuit was against the House of Blessings and several "Tenets" (or superstitions) involving bats… which involved their killing (or otherwise removal) to stave off the misfortune of their presence. Religions and mythos the world over upheld the bird as divine, for their wings defied the mortal realm; bats, as mammals who could fly and navigate absolute darkness (along with their distinct anatomy), joined buzzards and ravens on that end of the spectrum. If ever there was a species more reviled than the fox or the wolf, it was the bat, even if their ability to simply fly away prevented the same degree of persecution. Esther always rued that she was only an intern at the time of such a landmark case for Zootopia that allowed for bats to live in the sunlight without concern (those that opted to, anyway, most stayed in Subterraria).
Either waited with scanning ears to the windows and hallway, speaking only when absolutely certain that their voices would not alert the guards.
"Tamaya Rivera?" he whispered.
"Sí, but 'Esther', if you please," she answered, sitting at her writing desk.
The bat stole one more glimpse outside before gracefully tumbling onto the desk below, for he was no larger than a rabbit. He was young, perhaps younger than Esther, but his bearing was that of a mammal who'd lived many lifetimes as a scavenger and a thief whose only prospect was to survive to the next good meal or haven. As with most bats, his attire was sleeveless to not disturb the furless webbing attached to his arms; several bats approximate naturalists in their wardrobes, a necessity for flight, which clothing can easily impede. A long, slender arm kept him upright as the bony digits of his thumbs pulled out a scrap of cloth from beneath his wing. "My name is Rafael," he tersely greeted, "and I come with a message from Wayna. He said you would know what it means."
"Wayne…" Esther whispered, longing for his company ever since he was taken from the palace, short though their acquaintanceship was, and so solemnly accepted the missive in hope of whatever he wanted to tell her, "This is… a Fourth-Leaf Cloven."
Rafael had leaned forward in anticipation - if the expression on his face relayed anything about his curiosity as to his parcel - only to eye her and it suspiciously. "A what?"
"An archaic symbol of rebellion, or so I've heard. It's professionally made, too," she explained, turning it over and feeling the cloth, "someone didn't just print it out, they wove the imagery into the very fabric, probably to extend its life in this humid climate. Grav used this symbol if I recall correctly (though Judy prefers I call him Graham) but if that's the case…" Esther gasped, eyes brighter with each passing second, "Nick must have found a way into Reino del Sol!"
The bat blinked his disbelief. "Who is this 'Nick'?" he aloud wondered.
"My mate," the vixen explained in something of a swoon, "he's in Zootopia and working on a way to get me and all the large foxes out. From whom did Wayne get this missive, was it a rabbit?" she asked, if rhetorically, for she was already sneaking to the hidden cache of research material and notes that she kept beneath a floor tile (ever careful of her unborn kit), "Time is of the essence, I need to get a message to the Rivera Valley about what forms they'll need from both Zootopia and Reino del Sol-"
A derisive snort interjected his opinion (perhaps a bit louder than he intended). "We fruit bats have tried for generations to rally the aguará guazú, one of the last to still hold out hope for our ancestral allies," he ranted and paced, "We who begged the alebrijes to free us from bloodlust and were gifted fruit to eat… but there's no saving a broken species; a species of pets. You can glare all you like," Rafael continued unabashed, "They've kept me and mine hidden but my life debt is paid to Wayna by infiltrating this… cuchitril," he spat and swatted his wing at the entirety of the Supai palace, "We would have flown to freedom long ago if it were possible… La Revolución cannot wait for their dreams of a savior, not while others are hunted for sport in this prison of a country."
Esther's features softened but did not falter, re-addressing her papers a moment before standing with a thoughtful hum. It was not the first time that the defense attorney needed to turn opinion in a hurry. "Run of the palace though I might have, Rafael, I am no 'pet'," she coolly corrected, tiptoeing to her vanity to retrieve what sat on the mirror's frame, "'La Revolución' is something I've heard bandied about; the Supais laugh uproariously whenever it's mentioned. You saw the firepower those Hounds carry, and that's just in the guardhouses. Here," she then said and tossed one of the examined items to Rafael, whose spanning wing was a net to deftly catch whatever it was that glinted in the dim light.
"Pepita ten piedad…" he awed, letting dangle from his clawed thumb a thing of such intricate beauty that he could spend hours admiring it.
"That," the expectant mother suavely explained, "is an emerald earring from the gem mine of a warlord on another continent, available to only a very select clientele. An older daughter of Zevon's purchased them to go with a tiara but they were discarded when she discovered that the greens did not exactly match; I just happened to be ogling them at the time because they remind me of Nick's eyes, so she gifted them to me, as though I were some… well, never mind. One earring should be enough to feed a family for a year or a village for a month… or fund a true revolución."
It seemed that Rafael finally grasped just how much wealth he held. "And with both…"
"To the right buyer?" Esther coyly considered, "Triple."
Wonder gave way to intrigue, for he was a worldly bat, holding the precious jewelry as though it were a poisonous bug. "Why give it to me?"
Esther sat at her vanity, one leg crossed over the other. "Payment in advance for delivering my message to Wayne and the Rivera Valley," she said, "Whoever came from Zootopia will need to know how to legally liberate the large foxes from their bondage and I know just the way to do it. All I need is time… and help." The second earring dangled off her pinky claw. "Interested?"
"Why risk so precious a thing that reminds you of your mate's eyes?" he probed.
Esther smugly scoffed. "I'll have the real things when this is all over."
"It would be rude of me to wait until you fall asleep to steal that other earring," he insinuated.
"You also wouldn't get any spicy Supai secrets… like where the munitions are stored."
The suspicion shifted into a wry smirk as Rafael secured the earring into a pouch beneath his wing. "You talk a good game… Esther. You said 'rabbit', though… that's not who they were."
The large fox was genuinely shocked. "Who was it?"
"Bats."
"Bats?"
Rafael nodded. "From 'Zootopia', so the rumor goes. They were not fruit bats, what with their smell of bugs, but they could traverse the seas and mountain, flying in with the morning mist. I heard tell that they claimed so wonderful a thing as soaring above the heavens in what they called a… what was it, a 'HALO jump'? So high that they could see the planet's arc… I admit," he chuckled, "I've not dreamt so grand as that in… ever. If you are willing to act with such a passion…" he decided, smirking, "Tell me, Señora, what do you need Wayne to know?"
Esther took a moment to think, using hairpins to secure her bangs. "If you're willing to wait until the next shift in the guards, I can prepare a list of Zootopian immigration forms and emigration forms for Rei-" she said, standing up only to sit back down with a heavy huff, bracing her vanity and her belly. "I'm okay," she then insisted.
Rafael cocked his eyebrows. "You are coming along, I suppose, though you hide it well."
"Thanks. Second trimester, almost third… this little guy is as hungry as his daddy, luckily, I still have dancing to keep me from blowing up like a beach ball," Esther mused and eased herself up again to return to her legal paperwork, "I know it is a risk for you to sneak in again, Rafael."
"I have my ways," he smoothly boasted, "I can come and go on moonless nights, use the bay leaf smoke to mask my scent, common as it is to burn to help the llamas clear their lungs. Worry not about Rafael, chula."
She cooed and batted her eyes over a shoulder. "Good to hear. So, one of the first things I need you to do for me is to locate a male llama of the upper nobility: black wool, brown face, likes to wear red and gold."
His eyebrows cocked the other way. "He sounds… vaguely familiar. Who is he and why is he important?"
"No clue, I chanced to see him leave the palace only once and never got a name," Esther admitted as she compiled the necessary documentation, "but the Supais hate him… yet from what I can gather, give him everything he asks for."
"Sounds like he might be blackmailing them," Rafael considered, sharing a smirk with his fellow conspirator.
"My thoughts, exactly. He doesn't live on the palace grounds but can't be too far off, and from what I can tell, wherever they have him is as big a palace like this one," she speculated, if in a huff, "There's an entire half of the city that I can't see with how restrictive they are of my movements, though. I thought there was mention of sunlight hitting hills-"
"I know of where he must be, the so-called 'presidential palace' but it is a farce, nothing but a playground with a water slide," he spat again, "The llamas bask in gold, wringing blood from the mammals of Reino del Sol."
"Here's the thing," Esther poised, "the large foxes are the linchpin of the Supais' fortune: the lobeira flower. When I get them out, this drug empire won't have a leg to stand on."
The revolutionary's perpetual cynicism was nonverbally insisted upon, but only at first. "I suppose a giant without legs is a little easier to topple… if there weren't rumors that the Supais were opening business with other countries, especially this 'Zootopia' you seem to love so much. But you'll just… know what your mate's rescue plan is, I suppose; that is how foxes are."
Esther could not help but laugh, keeping it as good-natured (and quiet) as she possibly could. "I can assure you that he doesn't know what his plan is, yet, but I'll know it when I see it… it'll be hard to miss."
"It will be that obvious?"
"No, it'll be subtle but… there won't be a doubt that it's him."
"There is no legal precedence against Reino del Sol," Buckley Stagmire had explained to Judy, "The world at large - our Federal Government included - recognizes them as a developing nation from centuries of isolation. This is, of course, a crock of the highest order… but Pleasure Island kept their true power a secret and no doubt intend to reveal it at their whim, regardless of whoever is hurt in this cruelly slow process. The Supais' global influence grew exponentially during my coma, but a secret for which I was surely silenced might still prove useful. When Leo and I worked abroad with Doctors Without Species - doubling as a cover for our investigations into the worldwide operation of Pleasure Island - I came across a most curious discrepancy implied in a jeweler's receipt of a vagabond prince's opals from nearly a century ago. It was dismissed as mere hearsay until my recent enlightenment but according to that offhanded observation, Emperor Zevon and his family might not be the rightful rulers of Reino del Sol. A moot point, perhaps, but if it can get the attention of the World Heraldry Society then it might call into question their legitimacy and progress this Exodus from 'possible' to 'probable'. More importantly, it would cripple the Supais before they can retaliate at the loss of their golden crop, thus sparing the citizenry from any resulting civil war from societal collapse."
The van's steering was looked at quick and easy, thanks to Lory, and Gideon could hardly believe he never realized how much effort it took to drive it before. Or maybe it was because he was just that much stronger from all the working out (his shirts didn't quite fit like they used to, but it wasn't so much tight around the tummy, as he figured it might be). In any case, he was tasked with delivering something really special since Lory was catching up with Mack (what with his recent rescue from all those evil wolves) and it gave him a chance to explore more of the great, expansive city that was Zootopia.
"There y'are," he said, smiling and turning into the service road towards Pride Rock, rolling along a side lane for smaller vehicles and soon arriving at a check-in station. "Hiya!" he then greeted, holding out his ID card for the stooping hyena guard to check, elbow slung out his window.
"A'ight, Mr. Grey, if you'll just wave your phone over this…" the guard said, presenting their tablet for the fox to elicit from it a cheery chime, "and there we are, that should direct you the rest of the way in," and then handed back his driver's license.
"Wow, tha's some really spiffy tech," Gideon remarked and then shared in the sentiment, "You have a great day". After re-mounting his phone on the dashboard, the GPS compiled a route through the maintenance lanes to his destination: the backyard pool of the King manor.
It was a grand, sprawling reconstruction of a desert oasis, with trees both natural and synthetic overlooking a crystal clear pool with steep, rocky edges at the deep end and a gently rolling shore at the shallows (some of the trees, it seemed, were moveable to alter how much sun shone down upon it). Towering overhead was a craggy waterfall-slide with various jumping points and rope-vines for swingers to be launched into the pool below. The surrounding poolside was a semi-malleable turf that mimicked real dirt and had waist-high grass that forever stood and swayed in any gentle breeze; for a fox, it was closer to neck-high, so Gideon held his delivery overhead as he traversed his way to the first lion he saw.
"Simon!" Gideon cheered, getting a full view of him as the double-box of pastries was lifted up and away by the string which held them together.
"Hey, Gid!" Simon cheered back as he offered, "Here, let me take care of these for you. I got the word that you arrived and so came over," and set the boxes down on a nearby table, "Now, c'mere!" he playfully growled, snatching up the flailing fox for a headlock hug to ruffle his bangs.
"Leggo!" he laughed, pushing away from the lion's chest to land and catch his footing, "Wow, lookit you! I don't remember you having all these tattoos; or them piercin's, for that matter. Looks pretty darn cool, though, jus' like that Corlione fella Uncle John talked about."
Simon laughed and examined himself, his tawny fur scrawled with tribal war paint from head-to-toe in intricate patterns and sunburst symbolism; surely, each track of drawings had a story to tell. "Thanks. The piercings were always there, I just don't wear anything when I'm working (it's way too risky); the tattoos are temporary, I only had them for… Wait, what am I doing? Please, sit, get a load off, make yourself comfy. Did you bring your swim trunks?" he then wryly asked as the fox sauntered beneath the canopy of where Simon sat but before he could have a chance to partake of the pool chair.
He nodded and smirked. "Yep, jus' as you asked; wearin' 'em under my clothes, is all. Seein' all these fine lookin' folk about jus' makes a fox a tad self-conscious," Gideon joked, eyeing those he could remember: Natalia, Ryan, his dad Sam, Sarah, Memphis (looking much healthier as he lounged in the shallows), Manuel and Rosa Delgato (siblings; he was a cop like Nick and she a close friend of Simon and Nat), plenty of hyenas (no one he could name), as well as Vanessa and Nuke, along with another cub who he didn't know, "Sure hope I brought enough pies for everyone… Say, ain't they Tycho's cubs?"
"Oh, these are mostly for me, there's plenty of other snacks," Simon explained as he reached into the box to pull out the special order of "Death-Shriek Pies", so named for the then infamous event avoided at the TBR (along with a generous tub of whipped cream).
"Careful, one of them's got a chili pepper," Gideon coyly warned.
The lion paused, a creamed pie half-way in his gob… and carefully chewed it whole. He quietly mewled at the taste, "Not that one," he mused and prepared another, "Vanessa and Nuke weren't involved in his crime - his mate Zoë, on the other paw, is an accomplice - but they're cooperating with the investigation and are a sort-of-not-really flight risk. I didn't want them to harbor resentment," Simon continued, munching another pie, "so I welcomed them to stay at Pride Rock."
Smiling attention directed out at everyone else while he kept his ears pointed at the larger lion. "Tha's awful sweet of ya'. So who's that little'un following Nuke by his tail?"
Simon chuckled stony amusement. "Zoë adopted an orphan before Tycho was arrested and the paperwork was already notarized so Dad said that he - the cub - will be a charge of the family; Vanessa became his big sister and he's really taken to Nuke (much to Nuke's chagrin)," he said, creaming another pie to munch it whole, "Pridelands has always been a home for those with nothing else; building character by juggling crates. That won't be for a few years, of course. Who knows, maybe he'll be dock alpha someday? Which reminds me, you asked about the tattoos…
"The hospital I was a nurse at sometimes held these historical recreations of when Zootopia was first built, namely the truce between the Lions and the Zebras," Simon continued, stretching himself out a bit to better display his tattoos, "The kids love it and it helped them learn our history, plus there's the message of 'unity despite differences', and so on. Well, I usually play Chief Lion opposite a zebra nurse and this time, I promised to do a more… traditional garb, which includes the warpaint. They actually brought in a professor of indigenous art history to ensure that they dyed my fur in just the right way."
The fox chuckled, being as discrete with his eyes as possible to still admire the bodily artistry. "Even when you're a big-shot honcho CEO, you still look out for the little guy, huh?" he shyly teased.
The lion also chuckled, licking whipped cream from his finger. "Well, I promised before the TBR, back when I was still 'Lanny Wild'."
Realization was expressed through a groan.
"I wanted to sneak out to the hospital and Nat was going to help me but…" he groaned, if with less sure inflection, paws juggling his intents, "I can still skulk about but not nearly as well as I used to. Fame is what it is, I guess. I couldn't go back on my promise, so… I made a whole production out of it; Pridelands hosted a day of historical appreciation for the kids at the hospital. I even brought them here to splash around, their own little waterpark."
"Wow, that sure sounded like fun."
"Sure was. Speaking of fun, how's about we get into that water?" Simon said, gently nudging the fox with a knuckle.
"Oh, I dunno… didn't think there'd be so many lions," he reasoned, "prob'ly better I stay off to the side."
"C'mon," he urged, "you didn't dance at the Luau, don't tell me you're not going to swim at the best pool in the city, too? And it's not like you're the only fox here, Gid, Brandy's right over th-…" Simon pointed, paused, and looked about, "Where'd she go, I just saw her…?"
"She's up there, talkin' with Rosa," he quietly pointed out, finger directing at the second tier soaking pool of the waterfall.
"Okay, yeah, there she is…"
"It's okay, Simon, I'm happy relaxin' here."
Simon quirked a brow and leaned in as the fox shied a bit more, letting the ambient noise fill the quiet. "Gid," he softly rumbled, "my Dawson's been gone ever since I remembered who I was, but I had a fox inside my head for a few weeks. I happen to know that you," he continued, gently patting his back to prevent any escape, "have a lion in your head. I recall his name is 'Lenny'." The fox gulped. "In fact… you're sitting here right now, aren't you, Lenny?"
Silver eyes glimpsed up at the scarlet orbs and the accompanying smirk but looked away again. "Gid won't let me back in," he mumbled, rubbing his arm, "and he's having a jolly good laugh about it, too. How'd you know…?"
The tawny titan chuckled. "There's a certain way lions act when in a pride, I saw it all the time at the docks. I also saw it that night at the sheriff's office," he implicated, "Are you out now because you wanted to hang with other lions?"
"Y-… Yeah…"
"Well, how about you get into your swimmies and we'll see what we can do about introductions," Simon offered, clapping his back before sitting up again.
He gulped again. "Jus'… uhh… int-introduce me as 'Gideon', okay? I don't wanna… that is to say, I ain-ain-ain't too… umm…"
"Relax," Simon soothed, "I'm the most discrete lion there is, practically a fox ever since I was a cub, just ask Nick; in a way, you've been a lion walking around as a fox that no one knew about," he mused, "There's a long history between lions and foxes, it's just not talked about too much. King Richard had a vixen for a niece, remember?"
"Y-Yeah, he did at that, didn't he…" Silver eyes looked up again at the smoldering smirk, then he sighed and finally acquiesced. "I s'pose it'd be awful rude if I didn't." So he removed his shirts and then his jeans, down to a pair of simple yet tropical trunks (a much more modest choice than his host's… swimwear).
"Whoa!" Simon elated, leaning in a bit more to clap 'Gideon's back again, and then poked his shoulder to test its firmness, "I thought I felt muscle in there. Have you been working out? You look good." 'Gideon' shied all the more, paws hiding the blush of his ears. "Hey now, Lenny, you worked hard for that. C'mon, let's see it," he prompted, flexing with a bicep curl. The brick-red arms followed suit, weakly at first, and then with a bit more gusto at further urging and then congratulating, followed by a more… confident stride as he joined Simon in heading out towards the pool and the other lions.
At the end of the afternoon, Gideon was dried, dressed, and driving (with the emptied pastry boxes stashed behind him; Manuel found the pie with the chili pepper and recommended something actually spicy if Gid wanted to improve the recipe; Nat wanted Gid to make the cake for her upcoming wedding after tasting a few pies, which he was awful bashful about). Lenny was contented, resting in the back of the fox's mind, perhaps the happiest he'd ever known him to be. "That worked out real well," the baker decided, checking out with the security guard before returning to his own little slice of heaven, that fox community on Reynard Road.
Lory wouldn't be home until the evening but that was okay, Gid still had some business to attend to… like that envelope Brandy snuck under the lining of his pastry box (for her smell was quite clear to so acute a nose as his). He opened it, read it (like he was instructed), and about had a fit. "Dang it!" he cursed and threw the genealogical results onto the table with disgust and dismay, eyes cupped in a grimace that the favors someone else cashed in to investigate an obscure family lineage proved for naught; disparaged, even though he was only the messenger of the secret missive. "Sorry, Lory… Sorry, Nick…" he sighed, collecting himself and spreading out the paperwork to snap pictures for uploading to a secure server of Rocky's, before disposing of any evidence of such delicate research, "Ryan Wild ain't the Lionheart Heir. Guess we're back to square one…"
"I'll be blunt," Pro-Tem Mayor Wahlvin Foliage had told Nick, "the World Heraldry Society representative was avoiding you but not for any nefarious intent. This would be his first real case in months and if Liondon knew that there was still reason to keep a branch office here, they would advocate for its continuation at City Hall, thus keeping him in place. Cutting it was the best course of action for all parties involved until I learned of your plight from Leo - a fellow Watch member - so I pushed the WHS department as far down the audit as possible but I can buy no more time. I am not an elected official, at best a glorified desk clerk, but one dedicated to ensuring the efficacy of the Zootopian's hard-earned tax dollar and public trust. That is my purpose. Yours is to bring me a rock-solid case for the WHS; with it, I will get you to the Council of Ministers of the Liondon Parliament. Aslan's speed, Mr. Wilde; you'll need it."
It was never bright in Underland, not in the shadow hidden beneath Zootopia's glittering façade.
Everyone knew it as "Subterraria", where the sun could never reach and so was lit only with cultivated bioluminescence and lamps. It reached further than anyone on the surface could comprehend, though… beyond the city limits with interlocking cave systems that no one mammal truly controlled. There was one who monitored it, the so-called "Under-Mayor", an unelected cabinet position whose only purpose in life was to relay the seismic data and public communications between the surface world and its dark belly. If only that were all he did…
No Lionheart Heir, Nick rued, No WHS backing, no ZPD support, all to meet a guy who's probably waiting to kill me; plus, he has absolutely every secret I need. If I don't get at least two or three miracles out of this, it all implodes as such a catastrophic failure that I might as well stay down here for the rest of my stupid life. He sighed. Well… I did always want a Mr. Foxglove adventure of my own. He adjusted his hat and tucked his coat in tighter after rappelling down the classified elevator shaft, prying the doors open by his paws alone for a gap just big enough to permit his lanky self, and slinking into one of the corridors for the lower end of City Hall that no one discussed.
Most of the underground, below even the subway system, had only a few yards distance between the buildings and the earthen wall encasing it, so any height afforded to said buildings were by the grace of a tightly-restricted cavern and its requirements for structural integrity. Most windows were false unless they faced that very same cavern (or one similarly large), something of a modern marvel of air circulation and temperature regulation technology to keep everything breathable (and comfortable for the suspended towns of the inverted bat population and their designated airspace).
I should have known that Foxy wouldn't scurry further under Pleasure Island's apron, he realized, nose and eyes sharp for any unseen guards… of which there were none, Old fox trick, send out trails of escape but just move to the side from where you were last seen. Classic. If only I'd figured that out before sending Scouts down those trails. The halls were a dim reflection of the City Hall up-top… though some insane architect got it in their minds to design everything as if it were literally upside-down. What the…? Nick disbelieved as he stepped onto a "floor" made to resemble the ceiling, No wonder you never hear about this place, it's equal parts dumb and rad. He glanced up at the rug and potted plants (obviously fake). Cool Wahly did warn me that it was weird… that's what I get for assuming I'd seen it all.
Nick kept to the archways as he avoided the "security cameras" to, instead, keep an eye on the overhead "floor" and anywhere that an actual camera might hide. At his first availability, he ducked into a broom closet (with accompanying ramp) and was relieved to see that some largely unused cleaning equipment and other such supplies were stored normally. Good, gravity is still functional, he determined and snuck into another vent, following the path that Finnick could compile from any available data on the underground City Hall.
He checked his phone to confirm the final leg of his infiltration before arriving at the backdoor escape of the Under-Mayor's office, the pads of his feet astonishingly silent against the (proper) floor on his approach. Not even light trickled beneath the door of his destination. He reached for the handle and prepared to wave the decryption program over the keypad… but it chimed green before he even touched it. I see… So, Nick pocketed his phone and straightened his coat, adjusted his hat, and entered the door with a confident but… cautious stride, examining from beneath the brim of his hat.
It was a spacious, tidy, well-furnished office that mimicked some billionaire's private study. The carpeting was lavish, the bookshelves tall and well-stocked, the windows even looked out over Subterraria. Foxy really scored big after everyone further up the ladder was knocked off, he observed.
And there sat the new, still-unelected Under-Mayor himself: Mr. Never.
"Hi, Nick," he stated, feet propped up on his gaudy, power-player desk as he cut a slice from a pear with a pocket knife and munched it. The room didn't stink of the iconic cigar smoke, per se, for its ventilation was superb and cleaning crews meticulous (just by the look of things); its atmosphere, however, suffocated in its sheer audacity of lording over whosoever sat in front of that desk; every bit was magnified by his three-piece foreign suit, harshly groomed fur, and ringed finger. The enormous fireplace crafted from granite reflected the embers within to shine on the back of a grotesquely imposing chair, a towering self-portrait deifying the fox himself, the cabinet of hard spirits directly behind him whose cost could bankrupt a small business, and the top-of-the-line desk with an integrated computer to resemble a command station… "Took you long enough."
The door was calmly closed behind him via his tail (reforming nearly seamless into the wall) as Nick opened his coat, tipped his hat back, and then slipped both paws into his pants pockets. The flickering light of the hearth danced off his cobalt ensemble as he strolled around the office, feeling the soft rug beneath his feet. "Got turned upside-down on my way here," he replied, examining some weird diddly-bob on an intricately designed cabinet, making whatever it was spin with a flick of his finger, "Doing pretty well for yourself, from the looks of it."
"Don't touch that, it's expensive," Mr. Never conversed as he cut another slice of pear.
I just need a read on him. "What in here isn't?"
"Just some bare essentials, you know, for work."
A face-to-face to figure him out. "A fox in power… who'd've thunk it."
The older tod scoffed a high chuckle. "Top of the world, Nick," he boasted, thought on it, and chuckled again, "in a manner of speaking (underground as we are)."
"Quote, 'If you got it, flaunt it', 'unquote'," Nick responded, still fiddling with things before examining the curtains and pulling them back just enough to peek out through the frosted glass, Bulletproof but maybe if I just loosen this latch here, in case things get dicey later on. That's still quite a drop…
"Let's see… No badge… hackneyed detective outfit… is that one of your dad's suits? With a Vandernsatch hat, I reckon," Mr. Never dismissed, munching the pear slice quite loudly before dropping the core into a wastebasket. He whipped out a handkerchief to clean the blade of his knife so that he might fold both in their own, unique ways and set them on his desk. "But no wee-bunny-lass attached to your hip? What's the matter, trouble in paradise?"
"Don't worry, she'll drop in at the most opportune moment," Nick mused.
"Cute, I'd like to see how she gets past my ground security; upgraded since last time, of course, can't have a repeat of that debacle. So, 'Mr. Foxglove', what can I do for you?" he then asked, the glint of his gold-capped tooth almost unbearable as he leered, "Need a secret on an enemy? A friend? A lover? Or… yourself? Those are some of my most popular."
"'Eh," Nick groaned with a shrug, sauntering to the smaller chair and bracing the back of it as casually as he liked, crossing one leg over the other in a hunch, "There's nothing in your vaults about me that I don't already have in my back pocket. I like to keep all my skeletons in arm's reach."
Mr. Never's leer was then especially sharp. "Son, you're as arrogant as your old tod."
"Thanks~"
The Under-Mayor guffawed and clapped his desk. "You always did have a lot of spunk, I'll give you that, and potential, too," he said, standing and reaching into his pants pocket with an accompanying jingle of keys, "Loved you as my own son, I did, despite what John had you believe. Both 'Honest' and otherwise," he then jabbed, "I still have a secret or two about your daddy that'd curl your tail."
This guy's the tightest liar I've ever seen… Nick worried (but inwardly), ensuring that only a suspicious front expressed how ready he was to retaliate at any sort of trick. "Now now, I have plenty of my own experience to draw from."
"I'll bet." A desk drawer opened, slowly, to show that Mr. Never pulled out no manner of weapon but a poster tube, and what was inside was as secure as any nation's constitution. He stood it on the desk in plain view. "The Mallupe Pardon, signed by King Richard," he explained to Nick's stony surprise, "All it needs is an heir that didn't abdicate their power with the rest of the Lionheart lineages to sign it and poof!" he dramatized, "The end of an innocent family's six-century exile."
Crud, he was prepared for me. Nick narrowed his eyes, letting his claws rake at the back of the chair he braced against. "Does the Devil accept credit for such a deal? A pawn shop in Downtown already has my soul."
Mr. Never grinned with a cant of his head, teetering the tube on its edge with a single finger. "I'll get the Lionheart Heir to sign it, son, no fuss, no strings… I need you to do me a favor, first. One little favor and all your problems are blown away," he further dramatized with an airy, overhead gesture, much to Nick's gradually waning patience, "You see, my darling Fuchsia… she's forgotten that she's a fox and I need you to remind her of this important fact. I know I shouldn't dwell on the past," he sighed and picked up the tube to twiddle it between his paws, "but a dad worries. You understand, don't you? All kits put their parents through the wringer at some time in their lives, it's just part of growing up, but Fuchsia, she… she breaks my heart."
Nick stood upright to lean one arm on the chair, eyes narrower still as he repaid the request with a sidelong glance. You can't mean what I think you're meaning, he thought and then said, "She's happy, Foxy, happier than I'd ever known her. That should be enough for any 'dad'."
A cock-eyed glance defied such placation. "Perhaps I should reiterate," he said, "I want you to, quote, 'treat her like a proper vixen', unquote," and then arched his brows with as much significance as was in him to give, lightly wringing the tube in his grasp, "I hear you can be quite the tod."
You do mean what I think you're meaning. "She's mated."
"To a pig."
"I'm mated."
"And just what are you willing to do to save her, this mate of yours?" Mr. Never inquired, idly pacing around to the front of the desk with a general wheeling of his tail and wrist, the tube likewise gestured, "Because believe me, I know everything about what it took to get you here. Yet… you'd stop when this," he continued, tapping the tube with a claw, "is practically between your paws?"
This is Magnus's hustle, I've seen… something like it a thousand times before, Nick realized, eying that tube and crossing his arms, Just like Graham says, he punches a hole in your heart and then controls you like a puppet. Foxy could have me for life…
"Esther is so close, Nick… you can save her and her entire species from slavery; save the Mallupes from their unjust imprisonment. It's so easy," he explained, stepping closer and holding out the tube, practically baiting it under the younger tod's nose, "Don't you miss her? Haven't you woken up every day, reminded that a part of you isn't there… but she should be?"
Nick's face tightened, jaw locking as his claws gripped into the sleeves of his coat, sucking on his fangs. As obstinate as I know you are, there's literally no other way to convince you to give up that name, I just don't have the leverage after you cut all ties to your former life… I doubt even torture would get the truth out of you and you could just run me in circles to wait out the clock until Esther is gone forever. "And I'll save her by betraying her, I guess."
"She'll never know," Foxy cooed, "No one keeps a secret better than me. Here, it's yours," he said, laying the tube lengthwise on the desk and retreating a few steps, presenting his palms, "and the Lionheart Heir's signature, too, just as soon as you hold up your end of the bargain. You can sign for it if you like, make it official, or… we'll do it on our words as foxes."
It's right there… and with Bucky's insight about a 'rightful ruler', we might just convince Liondon to intervene in Reino del Sol… all I need to do is lob off my tail and I could have her back in my life… fulfill every promise I made… Nick's chin trembled. He's only doing this to control me, obviously, get his strings around my neck, and darn it… I hate to admit that I'm out of options… out of time… "You swear it, Esther will never know?"
"Never. So…" he crooned and bent over just far enough to extend his paw, "have we got ourselves a deal?"
Green eyes watched the offered paw… and then the pardon, turning full to face it. Can I swipe it but go back on my word? It sounded like Foxy could have targeted me at any point on my way here… But can I so brazenly hurt her again…? His clutches wavered as he slowly withdrew from that which he so desperately sought. Hold on a sec… "Why keep it a secret…?" Nick muttered, instead scratching his nape with one paw as the other braced his waist.
Mr. Never patiently cleared his throat, paw retracting to once more wheel about, the other reaching behind him. "Well, if you have an open relationship with Esther, that's hardly for me to judge-"
"No, I mean…" Nick continued, waggling a finger as he glanced his furrowed brow over a shoulder, if not yet directly addressing his host, "You. Why keep it a secret from Fuchsia?"
Click.
The barrel of a revolver pointed at Nick.
Mr. Never's nose was severely scrunched beneath his wide eyes and pinpoint pupils. "You had to make this difficult, just like your father… and just like Honest John, you'll do anything except get your paws dirty."
Nick's paw moved with such subtly as his head lowered and ears tilted the brim over his eyes just far enough, his forward foot inching back in a slow pivot. He smirked. "Fuchsia's the one heartstring you couldn't cut, that's why you can lie and keep secrets from everyone except her, so she, of all mammals, has to believe that you died… instead of becoming this thing parading around as a fox. Whose ashes does she have, anyway… are they Honest John's? I'll bet they're Honest John's, he went up in a fireball at around the same time. Not that I need to tell you that."
The gun trembled with his grip, finger threatening the trigger. "Don't think you've got leverage on me, kit," he warned, "I hold the secrets; it's my jaws on your throat."
The knife was steady in his grip, palmed from a secret pouch of his suit jacket. Nick's Dad learned a thing or two from what the Knottedwood Scouts developed during his absence, it seemed, and he was more than happy to incorporate a few quick-draw throwing knives into his sleeves; along with ballistic mesh into the torso (just in case). It didn't take long for Nick to pick up a few techniques with them, either, a few basics on disarming at a distance… nothing perfect, but enough to deflect a firearm from an assailant a few feet away…
It's just too bad that Foxy had a twitchy trigger finger.
It's just too bad that the gun went high before it went off.
It's just too bad that the bullet hit him in the head.
"No!" Foxy wailed, "Damn it, Nick!"
Author's Notes:
The Fourth-Leaf-Cloven was first introduced at the end of Brave, while Judy was in the Hopps Manor of Knotash, and further explained in Loyal, chapter 3, when Graham used it as a message approximating support for Judy. Its meaning was expounded on by Nick in chapter 4 (right after the situationally tangential steering issue with Gideon's van was mentioned).
The HALO-jump is military parachuting; High-Altitude, Low-Opening jump. The bats in this operation wore specialized suits that allowed them to drop from such a high altitude with minimal equipment.
"Cuchitril" is Spanish slang generally meaning "rundown shack" or "hellhole" while "chula" means "beautiful woman".
The mysterious noble llama with black wool, wearing red and gold, living in a palace with a waterslide references Kuzco from "The Emperor's New Groove".
The truce that Simon talks about is depicted in the Zootopia artbook and Natural History museum but the lion in that mural does not have the warpaint as described in this chapter.
The "Death-Shriek Pies" were a continuing theme throughout Trustworthy and Brave, culminating at the pie-eating contest (of which only a few pies were toxic).
Brandy references a character intended for "The Lion King", a young vixen named "Bhandi" who was a friend of Nala's. In this story, she was first alluded to in Loyal, chapter 8 (as a vixen kit who hung out with lions), and was referenced again when "Lanny Wild" came to Pride Rock earlier in Helpful.
The "night at the sheriff's office" references the confrontation between Gideon and Doug in Loyal, chapter 21, wherein Doug flicks a pellet of Night Howler serum into Gideon's mouth. What resulted was Lenny, his dissociative identity, coming to the forefront to force vomiting. In Chapter 22, Lanny's Dawson recalls that Gideon acted very lion-like during their interaction.
Mr. Never's eating of a pear with a knife reflects on the flashback in Loyal, chapter 15, when then Foxy Loxley greeted John Wilde in much the same way. Saying "both 'Honest' and not'" is a dig at his dad, John Wilde, and the third fox father figure in his life, "Honest John" Longfellow. His saying "Have we got ourselves a deal?" references Dr. Facilier in "The Princess and the Frog".
Nick learned how to disarm at a distance from his cousins, Jericho and Deborah, first introduced back in Loyal, chapter 25.
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