Dance with the Night Howlers Chapter 2: Prologue the Eighth: Anderson, a zootopia fanfic

The rain fell over the Asitkan Wilderness with the ferocity of the Cascaribou Falls, drenching the towering pine trees that made up sixty-five percent of Lake Woodfrog National Park. It swelled the rivers and streams that flowed down from the mountains, liquified the soil into muddy soup, and made the ferns glitter like natural chrysoberyl.

A caribou sat alone on his deck chair on the porch, sheltered by the wooden canopy, nursing a beer as he watched the relentless rain pound the plants that he had allowed to grow on his property. Brandon Anderson knew he shouldn't still be up at eleven o'clock at night, having a ten-hour shift at Jerry's gas station to attend to tomorrow, but he had a bad feeling about tonight.

He blamed his nerves on the gossip he'd heard at the station earlier that afternoon. Gossip about him, the flannel-shirted grumpy guts who got so fed up with his nosy neighbours that he moved all the way out to the Asitkan Wilderness about two years ago. Much of the gossip about him consisted of guesses of where he'd first moved from. Deerbrooke? New Guinea Pig? Zootopia? A few had asked, and Anderson told them he'd come from Los Fangeles, which wasn't even close to the truth.

As he sat on his porch, sipping his beer like it was fresh coffee, Anderson began to develop a couple of theories as to why he was feeling so uneasy. First, his distant, crotchety attitude was beginning to work against him. He had his reasons. He'd been forced to leave his hometown. He didn't know anyone in Asitka. He was still on physical therapy for his arm. But the locals may be starting to get suspicious of him. For all they know he could be a fugitive from the law.

The other theory he had was that his feelings had a lot to do with tonight. Tonight was the two-year anniversary of his gruesome brush with death. Too often he'd thought of seeking revenge, but the pragmatic part of him had always talked him out of it. Even if he knew where to find the bastard who did this to him, he only had one fully functional arm. Payback time was out of the question, for now.

Anderson put his beer down, the base fitting perfectly on an eye in the floorboard, and picked up the rifle leaning against the wall beside his front door.

He eyed his target, another beer can that he'd left and forgotten on a tree stump twenty feet from the porch steps. He hefted the Timber Classic rifle and aimed, his blue eye staring down the barrel at the brand logo that adorned the can. The rifle kicked fiercely into his shoulder as he fired. The bullet cleaved a bright silver gash through the right side of the beer can, and it toppled off the stump out of sight.

Close, but no cigar. Anderson thought as much.

He picked up his other beer can, stood up and took one last look at the darkness beyond his front yard. He didn't feel like he was being watched. All the same he held the rifle in his arm as he retreated into his house.

He stayed awake, two more hours, watching the entirety of Carnosaur 3 before he finally fell asleep with the rifle by his side.

The chainsaw roared.

"Get the hell out of the way!"

"No."

"Move, or else I'll put a bullet between your eyes."

"I'd love to see you try, bitch."

The chainsaw roared, its rusted, jagged teeth spinning into a deadly blur.

"Well, I admit you're not a bad fighter, asshole. I'll be seeing you again."

"Sir! Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, but… well, Slothfeld isn't going to be happy about this. Neither will Swinton… I want all of you to find those two cats and bring them back to the lab. You three will stay with me. You saw him. He dismantled my gun like it was nothing. He is armed, smart, and very dangerous."

The chainsaw roared, its rusted, jagged teeth spinning into a deadly blur. The caribou did the only thing he could do in the split second before it hit him.

"What is taking so long? Why isn't the cub here, yet?"

"We have a major problem. Subject Fourteen is still alive. He intercepted us and made off with the kid."

"Impossible!"

"It's true, Doc. I've already ordered my men to retrieve the two felines. They won't get far."

"He must have faked his seizure. Clever, very clever..."

"I'll see you in a few hours. Damnit, that hybrid is as persistent as his mother once was."

The chainsaw roared, its rusted, jagged teeth spinning into a deadly blur. The caribou did the only thing he could do in the split second before it hit him. He raised his arm to protect his face.

"Don't you show up in the damndest places. Tell us where the cub is and I'll take you back in one piece."

"Over my dead body, bitch."

"You were wanted, pelt. Kill him."

The chainsaw roared, its rusted, jagged teeth spinning into a deadly blur. The caribou did the only thing he could do in the split second before it hit him. He raised his arm to protect his face.

In an instant the pain was so intense that he couldn't process enough thought to regret it.

"All troops, pull back! Initiate Plan B!"

"You can't hurt me, asshole!"

"As you can see, this one won't go down so easily. You should give up while you still can."

"As if! I know what Slothfeld's up to! I will not stand by and watch him massacre millions of innocent lives!"

"Damn, you really do have your parents' courage."

The chainsaw roared, its rusted, jagged teeth spinning into a deadly blur. The caribou did the only thing he could do in the split second before it hit him. He raised his arm to protect his face.

"You won this time, but next time you won't be so lucky!"

"I've just about had enough of him, sir."

"There's a cable car connected from here to the Rainforest District. Can we reach it from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you take point and lead us there?"
"Affirmative, sir."

The chainsaw roared, its rusted, jagged teeth spinning into a deadly blur. The caribou did the only thing he could do in the split second before it hit him. He raised his arm to protect his face.

"There he is!"

"He's going toward the rope bridges! Be ready for him!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Alright, move in! Corner that bastard!"

"Get him! Come back here, you piece of shit!"

"We got him, sir! We got him!"

"Damn, you're just as persistent as your goddamn mother! Why don't you just give up?!"

"Screw you…"

"That was my strongest mammal you killed. For that, I'll leave your fate up to the good doctor."

The chainsaw roared, its rusted, jagged teeth spinning into a deadly blur. The caribou did the only thing he could do in the split second before it hit him. He raised his arm to protect his face.

In an instant the pain was so intense that he couldn't process enough thought to regret it. Blood and pulp exploded from his forearm like a fountain, blinding his eyes, drenching his shirt, filling his mouth with the taste of his own flesh. It splattered the bared fangs of the hybrid feline, darkened his spotted face and brought out the white and blue of his staring eyes. The caribou screamed and screamed and screamed, but through the pain and panic his leg managed to prop itself against the hybrid's chest. It thrust with all its might.

"Dr. Slothfeld, we've secured Subject Fourteen. What's the status of Gamma Team and Subject Zero? Slothfeld, are you there? Goddamn signal… What the hell was that? Damn… where did he go?"

"… Found… you!"

"Shit!"

"What's wrong, too fast for you?"

"Damn you!"

"Sherry… Kill Slothfeld… Find… Starlight… Must… stop… Swinton… Must… tear it all dowwwwn!"

"It's Twilight! Snap out of it, you psycho!"

"My mother is dead! Now you have to die, too!"

"Oh shit…"

The chainsaw roared, its rusted, jagged teeth spinning into a deadly blur. The caribou did the only thing he could do in the split second before it hit him. He raised his arm to protect his face.

Gabriel Mossberg flew back and hit the back of his skull on a log, dropping the gory chainsaw to the floor.

Anderson woke with a start, and then he was startled again by the sound of his rifle hitting the floor. The tv was still playing, at that moment advertising a new variant of the IPaw.

The caribou sat silently in his couch, staring into space, before he gathered his thoughts and realised that he had his hoof wrapped around his bad arm. He peeled the hoof away and picked up his rifle, checking that it hadn't misfired when it fell. He hadn't heard any blasts, and there were no holes in his wall or furniture. He reminded himself to be more damn careful in the future and returned the rifle to his bedroom.

One glance at the clock beside his bed assured him that he hadn't overslept; he still had over an hour to freshen up and get to work. He got in the shower, changed his clothes, and procured a bran muffin from the corner cupboard. He tried not to think about the dream as he ate. There was no point in thinking about it. It wasn't anything he hadn't dreamt before.

He finished his muffin and poured his coffee into a travel mug. He had half an hour to get in his truck and get to town. More than enough time. He grabbed his keys with his other hoof and walked out the front door.

He realised something was wrong the instant he stepped onto his porch. Parked on the wet dirt that was the road beyond his driveway was not one, but two state trooper cars. Anderson stayed calm as two troopers, a ram and a hippo, strode up the path and stopped at the bottom of the steps.

"Brandon Anderson?" The hippo asked, his expression grim.

"Yes?" Anderson asked coolly.

"Anderson, have you ever been to Zootopia?"

Anderson nodded, feeling only a sudden sting in his chest. He'd known deep down that this scenario had only been a question of time. He'd known it ever since he'd heard the fate of Dr. Slothfeld, Mayor Swinton and the conspiracy involving Project Twilight.
"Well, they've had an outstanding warrant for your arrest for at least two years." The hippo said. "Hopefully this is just a misunderstanding, but for the time being we have to take you in."

Boris Antlerson nodded again and eyed the ram's hoof, which hovered over his holstered handgun. Even with a bad arm he could still take them. Stab them both with the swiss army knife in his pocket before they could draw their weapons.

But what was the point? A life of constantly looking over his shoulder? The only mammals who could protect him were in jail or dead.

He made his decision and followed the ram's orders to turn around so the cuffs could be applied.