[A/N] This short little story takes place midsummer near the end of part one of my main story, Loves Blind. It covers how Finnick manages to fix his van after the wreck. I also wanted to do some more character exploration for the next chapter in part two. It is much longer than the usual chapters in this compilation but I decided against breaking it into three separate parts, so here is the whole thing for you to enjoy.
Chapter 6 - Shakedown
Carla strolled out the backdoor of the quiet laundromat and into a narrow alley. She stepped up to a beat up old van whose orange paint was so chipped and faded that she was surprised it still managed to cling to the metal siding. Sticking out from under the front bumper was a long skateboard with two tan paws resting on the well worn wood. One of the paws was wrapped in a thick layer of white plaster.
Walking up to the skateboard she pulled it out from under the van to reveal a small brown fox who's fur patterns nearly matched her own summer coat. "Oh my god, I thought the doctors told you to like, stay off your paws and stuff," she yelled down at the smaller mammal.
With a small wrench in one paw and a greasy rag in the other, Finnick glared back up at the gray fox that loomed above him. "I am off my paws," he declared waving the cast in the air and wiggling his toes.
The vixen snorted hard through her long snout, "Fixing this broken hunk of junk is like not resting at all. Which is what you were told to do." She looked away from the little fox and through the shattered windshield. The driver's seat still had traces of Finnick's blood smeared across the cushions. In the very back of the van was a jumbled mess of loose bedding, a large blue ice chest and scattered articles of clothing.
What really convinced her that the vehicle was unrepairable was the huge dent in the wall, directly behind the driver's seat. It honestly looked like a rhino had rammed the side of the van and had kept right on going. That must have been one hell of an accident, yet Finnick swore up and down that he could fix it. Not only was it his only transportation, it was also his home. Without his van he would be forced back to living on the streets.
Laying back on the board, he continued to speak, "I just need to get the engine running again, then a little paint here and a little primer there and she will be as good as new again."
"This thing is like never gonna be as good as new and you know it, Fin," she waved a gray paw at the heavily damaged van.
Patting the van's front bumper, Finnick bared his teeth in a snarl, "She is not just some 'thing!' This old girl and I have been through a lot together, and I am not about to give up on her."
"Sorry, I didn't mean, like I'm totally, ugh, ya know." Admonished, she lowered her muzzle and let her tail droop while she patted the front of the van, "I am sorry. I hope you can, like fix her up and stuff."
With his good foot, he pushed on the ground and rolled the board back under the van while Carla kept talking, "I'm, like really grateful for everything you've done for me ya know. Like this job and the apartment. Like, I wouldn't be able to have any of these things without you."
The only response to her heartfelt words was a soft grunt and the scraping of steel from under the van, "Oh my god, are you like even listening to me at all?" She pulled on the skateboard again revealing an irate fennec fox.
"What?" He snarled up at her, "Can't you see I'm working."
She placed a soft finger on the end of his muzzle, barely missing his tiny sharp teeth, "Like, I'm trying to say, thank you, Mr. Grumpy Tail."
"For what," he spoke through the corner of his muzzle since her finger held it gently shut.
Pulling back from the smaller fox, she waved her paws down the front of her torso, "For, like everything, Silly." She made a little twirl in the alley while giggling, "And this new outfit is just so divine. Living on the streets I would like, never wear something so delicate and fancy."
"Gotta look the part, Darlin," Finnick replied gruffly as he once again rolled back under the van, wrench at the ready.
"If you say so," Carla said with a wink before she skipped back inside the building.
Roughly two hours later she returned with two small sub sandwiches in her paws. The sandwiches looked like they were identical halves of the same sub. Various meats and vegetables filled the long, whole grain bread while a thick creamy sauce dribbled from one end.
Finnick was sitting on the stone steps trying to wipe the grease from his paws and his old bowling shirt. He looked up at her and spoke when she pawed him one of the sandwiches, "Engine won't start and I don't know what the problem is. It's not the starter, or the fuel line. The Trouble might be in the carburetor, or maybe the distributor."
Chomping down on the end of her sub, the gray fox nodded with faux interest and her gaze drifted into the distance, "Is that like a problem and stuff?"
"Will have to drop the engine to get to them," he explained, his muzzle filled with a sandwich that was half as large as his own head. "I don't have the equipment to do it though."
"Oh," she looked around the alley and saw only broken crates and a large gray dumpster sitting nearby.
"There is also the problem of the hole in the side," he swallowed a large chunk of the sandwich before continuing. "The siding probably has to be replaced, and that's a whole 'nother set of tools I don't have."
Between slow delicate bites of her lunch, Carla stared at the van and asked, "So, like what are you gonna do?"
Jaws wide open, Finnick pulled the sandwich away from his muzzle and looked down at the cracked and worn pavement. He wiggled one toe at a weed that had sprouted in one of the cracks, hesitant to speak, "I know a mammal who owns a fully equipped auto and body shop."
"Yet you don't look so thrilled about it, like you're totally afraid of this mammal or something," she tore off a piece of her small sub and tossed it into her muzzle.
Shaking his head, he looked thoughtfully at the huge sub in his paws, "Yeah, his mechanics can work miracles with a car, but the rumor is that he is a very dangerous mammal."
Carla tilted her head slightly to one side, "Oh? Like what kind of danger are you like talking about here?"
The small desert fox took another large bite from his sandwich before answering in a hushed tone, "I heard that the last mammal that refused to pay him simply disappeared the next day."
"Well, what if they like, took a vacation, or left town or something?"
Finnick swallowed, shook his head and added coldly, "Rumor has it that a month later his head was found in the city dump."
Coughing loudly, Carla spit out a chunk of her lunch, "Eww gross, that's like totally disgusting!" She gave the small fox a hard shove, "Oh my god, why would you like, say something like that while I'm so like, eating and stuff?"
The larger gray smacked the remains of her sandwich across the back of his head, "I'm like, so never sharing lunch with you again." She tossed the bits across the alley at the dumpster sitting there but missed by several feet.
"If you're done, we should probably get going," he dusted off his pants as he stood with the help of a small crutch. "With the engine dead, we're going to have to take the train."
"Fine, I'll get like the pram and stuff," she started to head up the steps back into the laundromat when he stopped her.
"No," the terror in his voice was apparent. "Not with this guy! We will take the crutches and hope we don't have to make a break for it. Running would just be futile anyways."
An hour and three train rides later the two foxes found themselves standing in front of a large mechanic shop. The lot that surrounded the building had more vehicles in it than a used car lot, but every single one of them was smashed or broken in some way. Inside the building, every bay was occupied by all varieties of cars, trucks, or SUVs. There was everything from tiny mouse sportcars to enormous family vans built for a whole herd of elephants.
The large shop sat on the edge of a great grassy plain where it snuggled against the base of a large snow capped mountain. Even though the grass seemed to stretch for miles, it still sat smack in the middle of the city. Only slightly south of the mountain, the grasses turned into the giant towers of Zootopia's Downtown District, while slightly to the west of those were the enormous trees that covered the Rainforest District.
In front of one of the larger bays stood a large, round bobcat whose fur was pure silver. He wore a loose black shirt with hundreds of colored squares randomly printed into the expensive cloth. With an angry glare that covered his muzzle and the three tough looking lynx that shadowed him made it quite obvious that he was the boss in these parts.
As the foxes approached the large bobcat a twisted grin replaced the scowl that seemed permanently stuck to his muzzle. Arms held out in greeting, he called to the smaller fox in an oddly rolling dialect, "Finnick, me old friend, how have you been all these years?" He leaned down and gave the small fox a warm hug, while being mindful of the fennec's crutches.
"Been better, that's for sure, Lewis," Finnick said with a shrug, lifting the crutches slightly.
"Ah, that's too bad me friend," the bobcat replied with a cheerful pat to the fox's shoulder. "And the boys around here call me, Greasy Luey, now."
"He seems friendly enough," Carla noted with half a whisper.
Greasy Luey turned to the gray vixen like she had suddenly materialized out of thin air, "And who is this charming young lady?"
With the wave of a free paw, Finnick motioned towards his companion, "Lewis, I would like you to meet my associate, Carla. And Carla this is ..."
"Lewis Gatolli," the bobcat declared with a slight flourish as he took her paw in his own and gave it a slight kiss.
Carla could not control the slight giggle that escaped, "Like, oh my god. He really is like an actual gentlemammal and everything."
"Interesting choice in partners you had made me compagno," the large feline said, slipping back into his native tongue for a second. "Other than the leg, what seems to be troubling you today?"
"It's my van."
"The Orange Beast?" Lewis looked down at the smaller mammal perplexed, "You're still driving around in that road terror?"
"I live out of the back now."
Shaking his head, the silver feline shrugged, "Times have changed I guess. I made a few good investments when I was younger and now look where I'm at."
"Smart mammal," Finnick agreed shortly.
"Smart?" A puzzle look crossed Lewis' muzzle, "Oh, right. I guess it was a smart decision to relieve the previous owner of his heavy burden, wasn't it boys?"
The three burly lynxes chuckled in unison, "Right, Boss."
"So what is the trouble with the Orange Beast, and why did you bring it to me after all these years?"
Hopping on one paw, Finnick leaned closer to the large predator, "We kind of got into a bit of a scrap. Now the engine won't start and the driver's side wall has a huge dent."
"That's terrible me compagno," his expression quickly turned from cheerful to dour. "But as you can see the shop is booked up for the next several months." He waved his paw around the lot and across the filled mechanical bays. "What kind of scrap are we talking about?" Lewis asked, rubbing his chin.
"It was nothing much, just got sideswiped by a couple of drunk rams," Finnick started to explain but Carla snorted and interjected.
"He got rammed by some rams!"
Ignoring the vixen's comment, the small fox continued, "Now I was hoping to use that favor you owe me to help me pull the engine so I can look into replacing the carburetor and ..."
Once again Finnick was cut off, but by the much larger, and rounder feline, "A couple of rams you say?"
"Yeah," the small fox nodded. "Two dumb sheep in a big pickup truck with too much chrome and far more headlights than is safe to drive in the city."
The silver bobcat's fangs slowly began to appear under his lips as a wicked snarl formed on his muzzle, "Bring the ole girl over and I'll have the boys take a look at it for ya. Can't allow these dirty sheep to think they can just take advantage of an old buddy of mine."
"Thanks, Lewis. I will really owe you for this one."
"Favor's won't pay for the parts and labor tho, old pal," Greasy Luey said flatly. "Get her here before dinner and I'll have them look her over tonight. Oh, that's right, you said she won't start. Well I will do you one favor, for old times sake." He motioned to the roundests of his three shadows, "Curly here can give you a tow. Show him where the ole girl is parked and he'll bring her straight back. And even if it's in Sahara Square, I won't charge you for the gas, this time."
"Thanks pal," Finnick waved as he hobbled towards the edge of the lot while Carla followed.
Later that evening, Finnick woke when something sharp stabbed him in the ear. Eyes flew open in the dark but all he saw was a wall barely a few feet from him. He was laying on the floor of some strange, and very tiny room. Barely any light shone through the drapes that covered the window and a small microwave sat in one corner of the room.
The rumbling sound of an off balance laundry machine on the first floor brought back the memories of earlier that evening. After cleaning out his van, and relocating the stash of cash he kept hidden behind the firewall, the lynx named Curry hooked it up to his tow hitch and took off. With nowhere else to go he accepted Carla's offer to stay with her until his van could be fixed.
Her apartment was barely more than a supply closet sitting above an old run down laundromat, but at least it was a roof over her head. After Nick left to chase that rabbit's tail and become her partner on the force, Finnick was forced to find a replacement for his numerous scams. The father son gig had worked pretty well but there weren't any red todds looking to play his dad. Then as winter was about to turn into spring he found Carla begging for scraps in the busy Hill Street subway station.
Walking up to her in his elephant suit, he let her think he was a baby for several minutes. She found it curious that such a young kit would be lost in such a busy station and eventually tried to find his parents. He let her search for about ten minutes before pulling out the binkie and asking her in his deep voice, if she would be his mommy.
She nearly dropped him right on the concrete platform and ran, but he managed to convince her that he was looking for an employee of sorts. Someone who could pose as his mother and had the charisma to sell popsicles. It didn't take long to convince her when he explained how much the take was each day. With a little extra work it was five to ten times what she got from begging alone.
Another painful stab in his ear brought the small desert fox back to the present. Someone was chewing on his large, bat-like ears, and snoring at the same time. It had not been since he was a small kit, that anyone had dared to chew on him. After another chop something wet ran up the back of his head and across his other ear.
This was why he avoided spending the nights with larger predators. They all seemed to want to use him as a chew toy, how awkward.
Carla's apartment was larger than his van, but with the few pieces of furniture in the room and the larger fox sprawled across the floor, there was hardly any room to move. For the gray, it was barely a place to sleep, and not much more. There wasn't even a proper bed, it wasn't much more than a poorly stuffed mat on the floor. Finnick would have preferred to be more of a proper gentlemammal and sleep on the floor, but there really wasn't much difference anyways.
Somehow she had managed to cuddle up with him in the middle of the night, like a plush doll and started chewing on him in her sleep. At least he thought she was asleep. He could not tell if her loud snores were genuine or faked.
Since the day he had brought her on as his new partner he suspected that she had a crush on him. Even if the vixen did like him, she was far too young and he would never consider anything serious with her. She was also working for him, and getting involved with an employee never turned out well in his experience. It could not work between them, so he did his best to maintain a polite distance.
The wet tongue continued to bath the top of his head accompanied by blissfully ignorant snores. He decided it would be far less awkward if he let her sleep than trying to explain the situation to a half sleepy vixen. Besides her arms were wrapped too tightly around his small form to easily escape.
He began to slowly drift off again. The late night bathing had an oddly calming effect as long as she didn't bite his ears again. Within minutes he was also snoring quite loudly.
After the small fox was sound asleep, the vixen pulled him close to her chest and planted a warm kiss on the top of his head before falling back to sleep.
The next morning Finnick and Carla were standing in one of the medium sized repair bays looking at the orange van that had been raised up on one of the lifts. They stared at the large dent in the side that spanned from roof to floor and obscured most of the work of art that used to be there.
"This is a complete wreck," the silver bobcat yelled down at the tiny fox. "I thought you said it was a minor scrape."
Finnick shook his head and let his tail fall to the greasy floor as the large predator ranted.
"If it was only the engine that wouldn't be so bad," Lewis motioned to the large block of steel sitting on the floor below the vehicle. "A new distributor cap and a good tune up should have her running again in no time, but the rest of her," he shook his head like it was his home that had been destroyed. "The frame is cracked and the entire body is twisted, you might as well get a new van instead of trying to fix this one."
"I am not giving up on the old girl," Finnick nearly snarled with both paws clenched into tiny balls of steel. "I thought your boys could work miracles."
Nodding, the sick grin slowly returned to the bobcat's muzzle, "Oh, that they can. But favors are not going to cut it this time, not even for an old friend. I hope you're able to afford a miracle."
The small fox's head shook once again but before he could open his jaws the bobcat spoke instead, "Don't be too hasty me compagno. Why don't we have a little chat in my office first?"
Lewis motioned to a set of rusty metal stairs near the back of the shop. Leading the way he allowed Finnick to hobble up the steps first before following closely behind. He motioned to the three lynx to stay behind at the bottom of the stairs while the two old friends climbed to the upper floor."
Reaching the top of the stairs, Finnick saw that Lewis' private office was quite comfortable in a creepy predator sort of way. The furniture was covered in the tanned hides of dead animals and the rug that covered the floor looked like it had been made from the thick white fur of a polar bear. It almost reminded him of Mr. Bigs office, and the small fox avoided standing on any of the rugs for too long.
"What is going on, Lewis," Finnick started before the bobcat even sat in a comfortable leather chair. "You know I can't even afford a new van right now, and without a vehicle I'm pretty much out of business."
Gatolli lifted a crystal decanter from a wooden shelf with several similar bottles and flasks. He poured a few ounces of the liquid into two glasses and pawed one to the fennec, "This me old friend is business."
"What kind of business are we talking about?" the smaller predator asked while swirling the strongly alcoholic drink around in the glass.
Taking a swig from his own glass, Lewis pointed it at Finnick, "You seem to be in a bit of a bind, and I am willing to negotiate an alternate form of payment for services rendered."
After taking a sniff from his glass, Finnick took a sip and then smiled, satisfied with the flavor of the strong, imported whiskey, "I'm listening. What do you want, Lewis?"
Another sip from the larger glass and the bobcat replied, "I've heard that you and your last partner had a very lucrative gig going for many years. So don't lie to me that you can't afford another van."
Finnick coughed as the alcohol burned the back of his throat but he remained silent.
"I will take that as a no," Lewis said, setting his glass down on a nearby table. "If you won't or can't cover the repairs in cash there is something else I might be interested in, up front of course."
Sputtering as his throat continued to burn, the small fox asked, "And what would that be?"
"How about that young vixen down stairs," the silver cat lifted the glass and downed the rest of its contents. "She seems quite interesting, and yet fragile at the same time." He stood up and strolled back to the liquor cabinet for a refill, "I have never had vixen before and I have heard they can be quite entertaining."
Without pausing to think about his answer, Finnick firmly replied, "She is not mine to sell, and I am certain her answer would also be no." He placed his half full glass on the end of the cat's desk with a grunt, "The name Greasy Luey really does suit you." Turning towards the door, he started to leave, "I think we're done here."
Lewis sat back in his leather chair and watched the small fox hobble towards the twisting flight of rusty iron stairs. He slowly sipped at his whiskey, savoring the rich flavors before speaking again, "There is one other thing you could do for me. It's a bit of a favor of sorts."
Finnick didn't stop, or turn around, but continued to limp slowly towards the exit.
"You see there is this sheep that has been bothering me lately, and since sheep broke your van I thought you might like some pay back."
"I'm listening," Finnick stated flatly, stopping a few steps from the door.
Taking another long sip from his glass, Lewis replied, "Me compagno, come, sit, finish your drink, and let's discuss the details."
With whiskey in paw, Finnick climbed into one of the dark leather chairs and faced the large cat, "Tell me about this sheep, that's bothering you."
Lewis leaned forward in his own chair and looked directly at the fox, "The boys around here call him Freddy The Ram, and he has been slowly moving in on my territory."
"I've heard the name," the brown fox nodded. "Apparently he's made a name for himself here in the Meadowlands. I'm not surprised you've crossed paths. What does this have to do with me?"
Chuckling, Lewis explained his idea, "I've heard that you've become quite adept at relieving mammals of their loose cash and I have need of your services."
Folding his arms, Finnick glared back at the larger predator, "You want me to steal something from this sheep."
"More of relieving him of a troublesome burden."
"What kind of burden are we talking about?"
"Only a small duffle bag," Lewis leaned back in the chair and crossed his paws. "Let me explain the situation. There are a pair of rams who are harassing some of my neighbor's businesses and demanding protection money, or they start breaking things and chasing away customers. Now I can't have that kind of thing going on in my territory."
"I completely understand," Finnick nodded and took another sip from his glass.
"Now these rams come around every Thursday, harassing my neighbors, stashing the take in a gray duffle bag. What I need from you is to kindly relieve them of the bag's contents and return it to me."
"So it's a simple shakedown then?" the small fox asked. "Can't the boys handle this for you?"
"Sure, of course they could. But this is a much more delicate job," the round cat leaned forward, planting his paws on his knees. "You see, this ram cannot know that I am involved. Which is why I need someone of your particular skills."
Finnick finished off the last few drops of whiskey and rolled the glass back and forth in his paws.
"Will you do this for me old friend?"
"It doesn't look like I have much of a choice."
"You always have a choice me compagno. But look at it this way, we will be paying back those filthy woolmongers for everything they have done to us." A wicked grin once again dominated the bobcat's muzzle. "Are you in?"
Placing the glass back on the desk, and sliding out of the chair, Finnick shook his head, "This does not sound like a good idea, Lewis, but you can count me in."
"That is good news old friend." He clapped his paws together and stood. "I will let the boys know they can start work on the van once you return with the contents of that bag."
Lifting his free paw, the small fox turned back towards the bobcat, "Can I borrow a couple of the boys. I'm going to need a bit of a distraction while I do the relieving."
"Sure, why not. Larry and Mo won't be doing anything else next Thursday."
The evening sun began to set a few days later while Carla pushed the pram down a small city street. It was one of the few built up areas in the Meadowlands with short brick buildings lining each side of the street. Small family businesses occupied the quaint buildings. They were all owned by prey mammals and there were very few predators in sight.
Carla tried not so show how nervous she was around so much prey. She took a deep breath and continued to push the stroller along the sidewalk with a false sense of calm. Taking her mind off the other animals around she focused on the contents of the baby carriage.
She tried to think on how she was going to thank the fennec fox for all that he had done for her. The feelings she had for the older male kept getting in the way. He was no gentlemammal, but something about his gruff attitude checked all of her boxes and made her chest feel tight. Being able to cuddle with him the last few nights only fanned the flames, but she was still afraid to tell him how she really felt.
Turning a corner, Carla spotted a burly pair of rams walking down the sidewalk. One of the rams was dressed in a black and yellow jumpsuit, while the other had a plaid shirt and was chewing on a long piece of straw. Between them they held a large gray sports bag that seemed to take both their strength to carry.
"Mark in sight," Carla whispered and poked at the bonnet of the pram. She began to follow the pair, making sure to keep pace with them.
It wasn't long before two lynx in torn and ratty clothes jumped out of a bakery and bumped into the sheep. The sheep immediately became aggressive and started swinging at the cats, but the felines did not back off. Instead they struck back, and in a few short seconds the encounter turned into a full fledged brawl.
While the four thugs were duking it out, Carla made her move. She rolled the pram up beside the dropped duffle bag and opened the lid revealing a half naked Finnick. He had been waiting inside the baby carriage wearing only a large diaper while sucking on his favorite binkie.
Once the bonnet was opened the small fox sprang to action. He leapt out of the pram and onto the duffle bag, "This is much larger than he told us it would be." The bag was roughly three times the size of the small fox and when opened it was filled with perfectly wrapped stacks of bills. "What in the name of god is all this? There is no way we can carry it all."
"What about the pillows?" Carla whispered.
Finnick immediately began shoving the stacks of bills into the pram while Carla removed the pillowcases and blankets. She quickly shoved the stuffing into the duffle bag replacing the money as fast as the smaller fox removed it.
When the pram was nearly full of hidden cash, she whispered down to her tiny partner, "We can't stash anymore, we're going to have to leave the rest."
"No, we have to grab all of it. I have an idea, turn your head," he quietly yelled as Carla heard the sound of ripping tape.
The swapping of the cash for baby bedding only took a few seconds while the sheep and their two assailants struggled. Neither seemed to notice the exchange before Finnick returned to the pram with Carla pushing it down the sidewalk again. She had nearly traveled a single block before the two cats broke off the attack and ran across the street, disappearing into an alley.
Shouting and shaking their hooves at the fleeing felines, the two sheep retrieved their duffle bag and continued to stroll in the same direction Carla had just passed. "Hey fox," they called out to her, obviously intent on taking out their agressions on another predator.
Her sharp predatory ears could hear the sheep approaching and she decided to take a chance to throw them off her trail. She quickly sat down on a nearby bench and plucked Finnick out of the pram. As the two sheep approached she unbuttoned her shirt and promptly shoved the small fox's head inside and held him close to her chest. She then pulled a loose blanket from the pram and draped it across him to better disguise him as a feeding infant.
"Hey fox," one of the sheep called again as they walked up to her.
The blanket covered a fair amount of the fennec fox except for a portion his large diaper and a decent amount of her bare chest. "Sorry boys," Carla declared in a thick motherly tone, "I can't play right now. It's lunch time for the little one."
Her forceful tone and the bare chest fur confused the two thugs for a second, but one of them quickly came to his senses and reached out a hoof to open the lid of the pram. Before he could peek inside he lowered his head and tried to cover it with his other hoof.
At that moment a series of red and blue flashing lights flew down the street. Three police cars driving nearly bumper to bumper blew past Carla and the two sheep causing the blanket to nearly fly off the baby. She grabbed it before the sheep noticed that her child had a broken leg and a far too lumpy diaper.
Seconds after the cops passed the two sheep thugs strolled quickly away with lowered muzzles. After another cop flew past they ducked into an alley and never bothered Carla or Finnick again.
"Ouch," Carla cried after the sheep were gone. She firmly smacked Finnick's diaper with a large gray paw, "Watch those sharp teeth!"
"You know you enjoyed it," Finnick chuckled as he climbed out of the vixen's lap and back into the pram, now loaded with stacks of high denomination bills.
"Don't get any ideas, pal," she stated flatly, redoing the buttons on her shirt, while her back was turned to the smaller fox. "I only did that so they would leave us alone. Besides, I'm supposed to be your mother."
"I will have to admit that quick thinking worked," he muttered and then snapped his teeth in the air. "Just don't do it again or I'll bite more than those breasts."
Carla snorted in amusement at his aggressive display. She knew that his tough guy appearance was mostly just an act to intimidate larger mammals, but she actually found it sort of attractive. Her paws itched to grab the small guy and hold him tightly to her chest and cover his fur in kisses, but she knew he would never return those feelings. So she continued to play along, as if her flirting was nothing more than friendly banter.
As the sun set across the grassy plain, Finnick threw the large pillowcase, filled with fresh bills at the feet of a rotund silver bobcat dressed in a flashy silk suit, "What the hell is this, Lewis?" He had dropped the crutches and was limping forward in nothing more than a large diaper.
Finnick pulled out one of the perfectly wrapped stack of bills and waved it in front of the feline's muzzle, "This was not a simple shakedown. These guys had just robbed a bank!"
Feigning shock, Gatolli snatched the stack of money from the small predator's paws, "I guess you just got lucky then."
"How long did you know?" The small fox bared his teeth in an angry snarl. "How long were you planning this?"
The bobcat shrugged and tossed the bills to one of the lynx who had assaulted the sheep couriers earlier. He was now dressed in a muted business suit like his fellows instead of the rags from heist. With a nod from Lewis he walked over and retrieved the stuffed pillowcase and headed towards the bobcat's private office.
"What's in there should more than pay for all the repairs and then some," Finnick pointed at the bag filled with stolen cash. "This makes us even."
"Hardly, me friend," Lewis said with a chill that froze Carla's heart to the core. "It's going to be at least a month before your van is finished, and I intend to keep you busy until then."
"What!?" Finnick was so angry his eyes glowed red.
"If I let you go now, you're just going to drink yourself into a stupor," the bobcat declared with a wave of his paw like he was doing the small fox a favor. "You will get so drunk that your pretty new partner will be forced to kick you out on your tail like a week's old lump of trash. Consider this a favor. I'm giving you a month's worth of full time employment, and I might even pay you in the end."
"I'm not going to forget this, Lewis. You really are a greasy mammal."
"I should hope not, old pal," the bobcat replied sadly as he turned to leave. A new thought crossed his mind and he turned back to the fennec fox, "Oh, I've got another assignment for you. It seems a small friend of mine is in need of legitimate employment. He goes by the name, Lefty, and was just released from the slammer. I'd appreciate it if you could help him out."
The small desert fox was so irate he could barely speak and all that escaped his jaws were grunts and snarls.
Holding his nose, Lewis turned to Carla, "I believe this kit requires a changing. Would you kindly remove him from my presence before I do something we'll both regret?"
"Of course," Carla nodded and picked up the fuming fennec. When her back was turned to the bobcat, she tucked a loose piece of green cloth back under the elastic band in Finnick's diaper and patted his well cushioned bottom. It crunched and crinkled like it was stuffed full of newspaper.