I keep thinking that I can't run into something that I haven't seen already, and then I keep finding that the universe seems to get a sick pleasure out of throwing me yet another curveball. For freak's sake, I ran the hundred-meter dash in track, I didn't play baseball, can't I catch a break that's not a mental one?
Seeing as we all have mammals threatening our lives again (again, woo, this is so much fun and I love it sooo much, I could totally do this again!), for my sake, for everyone's sake, I'll use myself as bait. Won't be the first time, won't be the last time. I don't want to die, and I don't know what I'd do if anyone here got hurt…
I do, on the other paw, know how to play along even when I'm terrified, and having what feels like a real-life weapon pressed to the back of my skull is definitely going to get me to behave and-
If you know what's good for you, Mister Hopps, you'll go along with this, says the voice behind me. It's harsh and rough, like it's inhaled hay for years. Definitely a ram's.
Frick.
"Turn around, Nicholas," the voice commands, and I do, feeling ice wedge its way up into my throat. It's Doug and Jesse. Both of them, both of them aiming real weapons, weapons the likes of this city hasn't seen in years.
"How'd you find us?"
The ram laughs and I'd go for him, except, well-
"You weren't that hard to track Nicholas. Never noticed the microchip, did you?"
"What? I have no idea what you're talking about…"
"Feel under your collarbone," the sheep commands, and I do what I'm told, "otherwise, well, lead doesn't care about your feelings… nor does howler, for that matter…"
I have a pistol aimed at my face. I have a pistol aimed at my face and all I can do is scream internally, knowing that that's not a normal pistol. All I can do is shake and try and warn all of the other mammals here and then I hear the thwick and feel the cold gel seep into my skin and feel the rage rise, overwhelming my senses… I can see everything… and is that blood?
Someone's hurt… I want some. I want some so badly, so so so so so badly- but that's wrong, right?
I JUST WANT A TASTE! My senses scream at me, give me some give me some, where's the blood I want blood...
That's wrong, I know it's wrong but the smell is in my nose and why can't I fight it? My skin is crawling, let me out of here I don't want to hurt anyone… I'm definitely going to hurt someone at this rate please stop, Nick, please, I plead with myself-
...but my paws are down and my teeth are bared and my claws are out and my muscles are just dragging my body along- and the screams, the pleas from everyone as they scatter- who's wounded, where's the blood, sniff sniff sniff-
And everything is so sharp, so sharp, so pointy, like my teeth, my teeth are pointy who's going to get them?
Oh sweet Celestials no! but I'm leaping and bounding and the drugs in me make me feel sick pleasure in this and I'm going for them and then I hear another pop and then-
Black.
When I wake up everything hurts and I'm still furious… this isn't good, let me go!
I'm tied to a chair, wrists bound behind me… and I hate the ewe that walks into the room with a passion that burns hotter than the sun…
And the drugs in my system wear on my mind, but I won't give into it, I can't give into it, I know what they'd do to me… and then I'd get taken care of more quickly than I could blink…
"He still looks coherent, Dawn," one of the other mammals says, an enormous ram with a patch over one eye, and blood…
He's bleeding, was that me?
"-And he got me fecking good, too, ma'am."
Apparently it was. Good for me. This is probably going to be the end of me, hopefully I'll take care of that scathead. I haven't brushed my teeth in forever, I pray he gets sepsis and dies a miserable death.
That would be a fitting end for a nasty mammal...
And then I realize what I just thought and- that's nothing like me what the hell is wrong with you Nicholas?
"You'll survive, Jesse, get another dose in the piece of scat and let's get this over with… Go on, untie him…," one ram, his gray wool blackened with soot, says, grumbling and spitting out a steaming wad of grass.
"You sure that's a good idea?" the other, leather eyepatch covering half of his face, reddened bandages wrapped around his face and wrists.
Scat, I could've done him in and all I did was ding him up a little? Lemme at him!
"He looks tame enough to me, the mayor needs a new pet anyways. This little guy looks like a nice one!"
Oh no they fecking don't! I've been biting back the anger that won't go away, my tail thrashing behind me. Anger, that's all I feel right now… and as much as I'm managing to hold back the red sea, the dam's gonna fall soon. I don't want to lose myself to it but I can feel that I'm losing my grip on my sanity… and then I'll just be another effing savage pred and that's gonna be a hell of a way to die… I don't want to go like this but I guess that's what I'm about to come to
"Hit him with another round and then we'll see…"
"So untie him first or-"
"No, you freaking idiot, gods, you're even dumber than I thought. For hell's sake, Jesse, can you at least try to pretend that you have some sense left in those brains of yours?"
"I'm doing my best, Woolter… hang on, cut him loose, then let me get him again-"
Flock me I'm dead, if my heart doesn't burst… I'll get shot. So this was life? Fricking awful, one of five stars.
Thwick~! Thwick~!
Red, anger- blood, give it to me NOW!
Screams, sheep screams, mammal screams…
'-someone knock the fecking thing out'
Needle?
Good night, me.
When I regain consciousness all I can taste is salt and iron. I'm shackled, muzzled, and bound… and my muzzle is all over the screens, plastered everywhere. Across the bottom is a blood-red banner scrolling that reads "SAVAGE FOX MURDERS MAYOR…"-
-and now my fate is sealed, now I'm apparently a murderer? But I wouldn't, even like that I still had control…
This is all a setup, hell, even the blood isn't right, I've cut myself before- and it tastes like my blood… and I'm freaking covered in it…
This.
Isn't.
Good.
This is bad, this is very very very bad…
And if I can't get out of wherever here is, this cold concrete bunker, it's going to go from bad to Nick Hopps is ash in the wind very, very, VERY quickly.
Crap.