Zootopia belongs to Disney. Spider-Man belongs to Sony.
The sound of vibrating polycarbonate against polished wood woke Judy from a peaceful sleep.
Looking up through one eye into the near-pitch darkness, she brushed an ear out of the way and saw the light reflecting off of the polished wood from the phone, face-down on the surface. Picking up the phone, she squinted at the screen to see the sliding button with a green phone symbol. Above it was a notification.
File #72. This was important.
Wishing she could go back to sleep, but knowing that a 10-35 was always a serious issue, she carefully climbed down off of Nick's chest and slid off the bed. Nick immediately curled into a ball and began to twitch and whimper. She stifled at laugh at her husband's sudden unconscious awareness of her absence.
Slipping on her robe and tying the belt on, she took her laptop before walking into the living room to seat herself on the couch. Her new screensaver popped up - a selfie of a dismayed Nick after he'd gotten all wet. The bright screen forced her to squint and blink the excess sleep from her eyes. Her thumb tapped the notification, which opened up a private messaging app used only by Precinct 1 officers. On it was a list of her coworkers. And at the very top was a thumbnail that read, File #72, which was in itself a misnomer. This was a cryptic file used to send different coded messages to all of the officers when the need arose. It made for greater efficiency.
She opened the thumbnail and sent the message to her email on her laptop, which she then opened. She pulled up her email and opened the file to send it through a decrypting service website designed by a computer wiz at Precinct 6 she's never met. She clicked on the finished product.
"Warning: If you see two individuals wearing black body suits with black mask - one has light-blue eyes, between three and four feet tall; the other is about five feet; both are feline - do not, repeat, do not engage alone. Extremely dangerous. If anyone sees either of them, call for backup immediately. More detail will be provided upon further investigation."
"Two felines," she mouthed. "Two felines in black..." If that wasn't what she saw earlier, she was prepared to buy prescription glasses. That was what she'd seen! Oh she could hardly wait to get back to work and... wait, she's still on the Lukagi case. Ok, she'd continue with this case, and do some research on this one as well. Hopefully Chief would allow her to do that, given she'd taken multiple cases before. Though Nick had to sit those side projects out; he could only do so much.
Ugh, she was so tired, she realized. Apparently that list of capabilities was beginning to shrink for her as well. She wasn't as young as she used to be. Thirty-three wasn't old, but it was rolling over the peak of her prime.
She got up and headed back to hers and Nick's room. She honestly couldn't care less that she'd wake Nick by getting back into bed; she was cold. She disrobed and hopped right on up.
He yelped with a start when the bed shifted from the bunny's weight and he looked at her. He hummed before pulling the covers up to allow her to shimmy back into place. She was immediately back in her happy place, resting her cheek on such a soft, cream-colored pillow that moves up and down and vibrates periodically. She had discovered, to her delight, that red foxes purr immediately after she and Nick began sharing the same bed following their marriage. This prompted her to immediately abandoned her pillow to climb up onto Nick's fluffy thorax. He gladly obliged and that's the way they've enjoyed sleep for the past five years.
"Everything ok?" he whispered as he drew her up under his chin and massaged her back.
She settled her head on his shoulder. Oh, she could not be more comfortable if she tried. "Mm-hm," she answered. I was checking a 10-38.
"Oh, please don't tell me we're going back to work tomorrow," he whined.
"No, don't worry, Honey, we're not."
"Oh, good," he exhaled. "You had me worried there."
"You know I wouldn't waste a perfectly good day off with my husband."
"Mm, sounds like a lucky guy. Be sure to tell him that when you see him."
She snickered. "Hush up, Nick!"
"By the way, what did the message say? 'When nature calls, it calls'?"
This time she laughed. "I-I think you mean, 'When duty calls,' Nick!" she said, struggling to talk over her laughter.
"You know I don't," he answered.
Judy couldn't see it, but she knew he was wearing his half-lidded smirk. She lifted her head to look at him. "Night, Sweetheart."
"Night, Hon."
"John!" He turned to see the ocelot running toward him on all fours through the factory. She was out of breath, which meant she had run a long way. "I called you like four or five times!" she said angrily. "Where's your phone!"
"It broke," he responded drily. Clearly, he was not in the mood. He was hard at work and business... was... booming. "What's the problem?"
"John what happened during the run?" she asked seriously. John's nerves tingled with anxiety at her tone. When Sarah Kityarn was serious, she showed it plainly.
"Why, what's the problem?"
"Boss is absolutely furious. John, he's blaming Danny."
"Blaming him for what, what happened?"
"You seriously don't know? Oh right, your phone's broken!"
John walked up to her and grabbed her shoulders to square them, looking her in the eyes. "Told. Me. What."
"John. The money... it was all counterfeit. All of it. And... Boss knows the police know that Danny gave away your name..."
Danny crossed the street toward the taller panther in the blue gym shorts and white shirt, dribbling a basketball around a court. He came here often with Duane to shoot hoops and hang out. Since neither of them have a place they could really call home besides the compound, it was always somewhat nice to be among their own kind here. Canine District, or as it's colloquially referred to, Happytown, is home to the impoverished and hell to everyone else who doesn't know the way around the back alleys of society.
"Hey, bro!" called out the albino jaguar to Danny as he approached him. He dribbled the ball before shooting a perfect swish into the basket. He pumped his fist and caught the ball before it made it past him. "Didja see that! I love that sound! How was your run today?"
"Great!" he lied, causing Duane to scoff.
"'Great'. Yeah, why do you sound like the typical preteen? 'How you doin'?' 'Good.' 'Where you goin?' 'Out'. 'You hungry?' 'Mm-hm'. 'Whatcha want?' 'Food'. You and I both know that it went horribly 'cause everyone's did. So don't hide the fact you're a failure 'cause you're among good company. Why don't we see that cool dunk a'yours then we can talk about it, huh?"
He passed the ball to Danny, who immediately drove it into a fast spin and balanced it perfectly on the end of the claw of his index finger. "Outta the way."
Duane moved in front of him. "Ah-ah. You gotta earn it." He raised one of his eyebrows, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes in a stance designed to provoke. It was a challenge.
Danny flashed a lopsided grin before slapping the ball off oh his claw and dribbling the ball between his legs as he weaved, trying to make it past the taller cat. "You picked the wrong guy to play ball with!" he said as he continued fighting for an opening.
"You jokin'? You're warm-up, little man."
Danny tried to lay up the ball into the hoop but missed. He barely managed to catch the rebound before Duane caught it. Danny slowed down and stood dribbling the ball at the top of the key. Duane stood right in front of him.
"Come on, little kitten. You know better than to take that shot." He stepped closer to him, ready to block him. "You got legs, why dontcha use 'em?"
Danny smiled. "Oh yeah, I do got legs." He bent them as if he were taking a shot from where he stood. Duane - the big doofus - fell for it and jumped high, coming back down. He realized his mistake too late. Tossing the ball high, Danny jumped and performed a front flip over Duane's head before catching the ball midair. He landed and jumped once more to slam the ball through the ten-foot hoop. He hung onto it before letting himself fall to the ground. Duane turned around, squinting with a proud smile. Danny dusted off his hands. "Thanks for the advice."
"Man, what I would give to do some'm like that. I'd definitely give my legs up."
"Well then how would you do that without 'em?"
"Hey, I'd still have my arms."
Danny passed the ball back to him. "Touché. Your ball. Play to thirty?"
"Let's do it."
Well, Danny played fair and lost. It was fine, though. He preferred to not know how the game was going to go anyway. It was getting dark. They had to head back to the compound soon. As they crossed a bridge, Duane climbed up on the cement guard rail, walking slowly atop it while Danny stayed low. A few mammals passed them as they walked, but not many. It was getting late.
"...so anyway, I think it's high time we changed our tactics. Police'r catching up with us."
"That's why I don't feel like this is a good thing for me to do. I like doing it; you shoulda seen this guy's face today." Danny laughed out loud. "I think his office chair became his toilet for tonight... but I still... I messed up. I just can't seem to get it right all the way through."
Duane lowered himself down and patted him on the back. "You know what I think the problem is? You think too much. You're a thinker. A nervous thinker. Like, remember when I got in that fight with my neighbor Jared and you tried to break it up and he ended up kicking you in the-"
"Please don't remind me."
"Ha! Well, anyway, I could tell your gears were grinding overtime. You gotta stop thinking so much; it'll shorted your lifespan. I mean, look a'me. I don't think about nothing. I don't got any anxiety."
Danny chuckled. "That may be why you keep getting into trouble."
"Yeah, but I won't be too concerned about it, will I? I just do what I wanna do and don't regret it. You feel me?"
"Yeah, I-I feel you," Danny said quietly.
"I'm heading toward that dance at the park here in a bit. Why don't you come with?" asked Duane.
"Ah, I think I'm gonna go home."
Duane turned to look at him as they walked. "Dude, come on. Seven years, I've never seen you do anything with anyone besides me or Sarah. You gotta get out and live a little."
"Ok, maybe one day."
"Uh-uh, no, you're going even if I have to drag you." Duane proceeded to grab Danny's arm and pull with a loud grunt, but he wouldn't budge. Literally.
"Come on, at least pretend you ain't as strong as you are!"
"Oh, sorry," he said before allowing himself to be pulled sideways by the larger jaguar.
"Waaa!" Duane cried as they fell over. Both landed on their backs. Duane groaned, holding his head up for a moment before letting it fall back to the street.
"Happy?" asked Danny, positioned with his head on his perched hand, his leg angled upward in a relaxed position. He gave the older jaguar a smug smile.
"Elated," he answered sarcastically. "Look, come on, come with me. You'll have fun. I mean, you have got to get out of that compound sometime."
"I just don't really like crowds, man. Maybe one day. But not now."
"You do know 'one day' is only another way to say 'Never', right?"
"Well, you never know."
"See?!"
Danny snorted before standing up and helping Duane up.
"Well look, if you ain't gonna come, could you at least do one thing for me?"
"What?"
Half an hour or so later
"Ok, he's going on break. Go get 'em."
Danny stepped out of the bushes and crept up to the building. The SeaWell gas station on the corner between Dune Sea Blvd and Cactus Spine Dr. had become infamous for the strict laziness of its nighttime employee, some mink who cared more about his smoke break than the actual store. Danny didn't know his name, and frankly didn't care. He wasn't here to make friend-friends. He was here for a few treats taboo for the underage. Looking around to make sure no one saw him - especially Duane, he lay his hands on the hot brick wall and hoisted himself upward, allowing his fingertips to hold him aloft. He crawled upward until he reached an open window and peeked through. There was the mink, lazily smoking inside the building. Ugh, no wonder only the desperate came here.
The mink sat behind the counter, reading some magazine and carrying the smoking stick between his lips, unmoving. I think he's dead, he thought as he grew more bored. Duane had probably left by now, given Danny up for lost. There was a passage leading to the back right next to the counter. If he would just go back there for like twenty seconds the world could start turning again before everyone died of abject boredom!
After waiting several long minutes for this guy to go to the back or something, Danny was just about to give it up. Until... he turned. Almost instinctively, he reached his hand through and flexed his middle finger, keeping his other fingers straightened.
The mink whipped back around. "Hello?" He looked around the corner where the sound came from. "Who's back there!" Tepidly, he leaned over the counter, trying to see in the back. He left the counter and slowly made his way toward the source of the noise.
"I have a gun!" he yelled as he walked around the corner toward the back.
No you don't, thought Danny with an eyeroll.
Now was his chance.
Danny crawled through the window and down the wall until he reached the fridge. He opened it and pulled out two packs of booze before carefully closing it back and crawling back up to the window with one arm and the two packs tucked up under his arm. His alarm grew. He resisted the temptation to stop and look back until he was out. Once he reached the ground, he let go of the breath he had been holding and ran back toward the bushes.
"Ha ha," Duane quietly laughed triumphantly. "You got 'em!"
Danny sighed inwardly. He'd seen nothing. "Yeah, you owe me one."
"No, actually you owed me one. From last week. Remember? I took your second job - what was supposed to be your second job?"
"I'm pretty sure that doesn't count..."
"There's one way to settle this, Danny... with DANCE!" he cried as he struck a pose.
"Ok, I owed you one."
"Good that. Well, I'm heading there now," he said as he stuffed the cases into his bag and zipped it up. "Message me when you get back so I know you're all right."
"Right. See ya, buddy."
Danny could understand why he would avoid going back for a long time. Danny got lucky, having John as a caretaker. Nigel, Duane's caregiver was a total D-bag. He always looked for more ways to care less about the poor kid.
He started off in the direction of home. He wasn't feeling hungry just yet; he didn't feel any urge to hurry. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he was even going to eat anything tonight before bed. He was still rattled from the day's events. Walking in Sahara Square, in the extra crispy breeze is always helpful to alleviate some of his stress. He didn't know why. Most of the animals he knew preferred cold temperatures. Or, well, cooler temperatures. He figured he's just hot-natured.
There was no one on the streets. It was around 10:30, 10:45 when he'd asked Duane the time. But everyone knew he would be hanging with him so they had no reason to worry.
Hands in his pockets, he again turned away the thought of the job he'd very nearly botched today. Self-attack was a rabbit hole he very easily fell into. Mostly because the place he called home was also his place of torment. His home, because he depended on it - and the mammals there - for survival, and his torment, because every day there could be his last. He was always one mistake away from exile. All because of his boss's pedantry and perfectionism - rabbit hole, Danny! Stop falling into it!
Hmph. Good enforcer, right John? He'd been the one to vouch for him in the first place when he was brought to the compound at four years old; it wasn't hard to see that the boss didn't really like him all that much. He had to pull himself up by his bootstraps while trying not to stomp on the eggshells under his feet to keep him happy. He had thought that with his strength, working in the shark syndicate would be easy. So he took it in stride despite his apprehension. And look how well that went, at least up to now. He'd nearly gotten himself and John caught twice in a row; he had no means to support himself; he couldn't even do anything at the factory, technically speaking - he was legally too young, not quite out of the kitten stage yet. He hadn't even hit puberty. He wished he could fast-forward to the teen phase rather than having to get through eleven, then twelve, THEN, finally, the big thirteen. Then he'd be only three years from legal working age. But still...
How much longer would he be aloud to stay there? Where would he go if... who was he kidding... once he was kicked out? He couldn't leave the city; Zootopia was his best bet, and even then... it didn't look too good. An orphan usually didn't do well in urban metropoles, especially in the criminal underbelly of Zootopia. But what other choice did he have? Predators didn't have anywhere else to turn. This place has gotten darker over the past few years. And there's only one mammal he can blame. A bunny. A bunny he'd love to meet and introduce his paws to. It was a great pastime, imagining what he'd do once he found him... how he would do it, the screams that would fill his ears...
Yeah, that's much better than attacking himself. There was no cubed inch within his entire volume of being that looked upon the memory of that bunny without the highest hate and vengeful desire imaginable. He'd taken everything away from him, and he was going to kill him when he got the chance.
Suddenly, he realized he'd missed the turn. He'd meant to turn at the dune sea back about thirty feet. He hadn't been here in forever, not since his dad took him here. The bus always went around it. Man, it was a long walk home, like six or seven miles. He had to be back at the compound by 11:15; now he figured it was around 11. He had to get home fast. Looking around to make sure there was no one to see him, he hurdled into a slight jog toward the sandy plain until his feet pattered on granite covered with a thin sandy layer.
Crossing this desert was no problem for him, especially at night. It's common knowledge that the desert was specially designed for all species. Stretching across the sandy plain from one end to the other was a kind of stone bridge that allowed any mammal to cross. The rest of the plain was nothing but dunes. He started off with his regular pace, nothing more than a simple jog. The rock supported his footfalls perfectly despite the sandy layer covering the bridge.
Slowly, he picked up speed. The balmy air tossed his fur around and blew stray sand particles into his eyes, irritating his tear ducts. He wiped his eyes to get rid of the sand and moisture. He needed to consider getting a pair of wind goggles or something, whatever they're called. Still, he continued pushing. His rapid footfalls pounded loudly on the bridge, kicking up sediment with every step.
He pushed harder and harder until he couldn't push any further. How fast he was going, he couldn't tell. Even though he didn't want anyone to know about his abilities, running as fast as the wind was too exhilarating for words.
Suddenly, an idea came. He prepared himself, finding the right time. Then, he hopped forward off of one foot a couple dozen feet ahead and then leapt with all of his might into the air, upward and forward.
He closed his eyes and spread his arms out. The wind softly breezed at a downward angle onto his forehead, caressing the back of his neck and the tops of his ears. Oh, he was flying. The sensation of reaching the peak of his arc passed by, followed by the beginning of his descent. The wind changed as gravity altered his angle's steep. He opened his eyes to make sure he didn't plow face-first into the dust. He pulled himself into a ball and flipped forward to orient himself for a smooth landing. He leapt again and performed the same stunt. How many seconds is he in freefall? Four? Five? He wasn't sure. He landed once more to see that he had reached the end of the desert. He pushed to a stop and bounced forward a bit to catch some of his lingering momentum. He'd run across the dune sea in... what, five minutes? Now he was only about a mile from home. Oh, he felt so much better! He needed that. He really did.
His body tensed, however, at the memory that flashed through his mind. He froze in place as he forced it out. He hated how being as strong as he was was always a constant reminder of what happened to his father. How much pain he'd buried. He focused on the hunger pang that was gnawing at his stomach. Food. Good alternative.
He jogged around the block leading to the entrance to the massive front yard behind the fence and makes toward the warehouse that constitutes his living space. His legs were feeling a little sore. He hadn't exercised that much in a while.
He was ready for a good night's sleep. Walking into the warehouse, he took his jacket off to hang it up on the rack. He plodded up the stairs and opened the door to him room. Shutting it behind him, he jumped and latched onto the ceiling, stretching his whole body. He dropped and began to undress. He lay down on his cot and was asleep seconds later.
There's something I would like to point out. Being a Christian, I have certain standards. Not to say that I'm the only one with standards, or that I necessarily have better standards than someone else reading this. I simply want to make this standard known for the sake of my own conscience. I recognize that in reality, a fox and bunny relationship is technically impossible. But as we all know, this is a stor-ry. I support only one-man, one-woman relationships humanly speaking. But I feel many of us would agree that Nick and Judy, in a sense, would make an amazing couple. So I think of them not as a fox and bunny, who are biologically incompatible as far as I know, but anthropomorphically (meaning resembling humans in form or behavior) as a husband and wife who are unable to have their own children, which is a real struggle that real couples have. What this boils down to, in essence, is that I'm ignoring species with regards to their relationship. In fact, I'm only considering species at all when it matters to the actual story. Whether or not you agree with me is not the issue. I simply wanted to state that for my own conscience and the conscience of anyone else who may have struggled with the same thing so that any and all who are interested can freely enjoy the story.
Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in His holy habitation. God settles the solitary in a home; He leads out the prisoners to prosperity, but the rebellious live in a parched land. Psalm 68:5,6