Well, I hope that everyone enjoys this latest chapter, and that it's still up to snuff. It's been quite a while since I've written a chapter for this fic, seeing as I won NaNoWriMo in between.
~WP
Okay, so now I'm absolutely terrified, and I'm not quite sure what I should do about it. Of course, now is when I'm supposed to be going in to talk to the Senator, and although I've heard a little bit of what he's like, that means almost nothing to me, because I'm about as scared scatless as it's possible for a rabbit my age to be. I've been raised to respect authority, especially after living in Zootopia for the majority of my life, at least, up until recently. Of course, I know they think that they've managed to shield me from the terrors of life there, and of course, I've not let on that I'm any the wiser- any time the topic's been brought up, I've pretended to have been completely naive about it, and so far, it's seemed to have worked.
Of course, the whole 'my parents never told me anything spiel' that I spit out any time Ms. Hopps presses the issue- that's no lie, my parents never did tell me anything, but I saw enough, and, well, as much as my parents tried to keep me in the dark, there were plenty of times when they flocked that bit up and didn't manage it- the scorched fur, the smell of crackling electricity in the air...
But anyways, I'm getting distracted. To get back on track- Senator Bogo, while I've heard that he's a decent mammal, well, the guy works with Mayor Bellwether directly. Now, I know that that doesn't mean that she has him in her pocket, but what it does mean is that I'm going to have to be very, very careful about what I say to him, because, for all I know, he could be under orders from up on high to report about anything that he hears.
Scratch that, I know he is, and that just means that I don't quite trust him, but if I want to get anywhere in this podunk, well, I'm going to need to get through him, and that starts now, so I'd better say something, and say it fast.
"Sir," I begin, my tail flicking nervously behind my back, "we need your help, and both of us are really hoping that you'd be willing to give some to us."
"Oh?" the Senator laughs, his nostrils flaring. "And how, exactly, do a teenaged tod and rabbit doe want my help?"
"We recently got kicked out of our school here in Bunnyburrow for trying to teach the other students about diversity- we got most of the students together and held a demonstration of sorts against prejudices and stereotypes, and well, to put it simply sir," I say, feeling my cheeks heat up in an embarrassed flush, "the school didn't much care for that."
"Okay," Senator Bogo says, placing two manicured hooves flat on the top of his oak desk, "so what do you expect me to do about it?"
"Can't you file a civil rights suit against the school or something like that? I mean, the school did say that the only reason that they had for expelling us, instead of just giving us detention, like would be the normal punishment, was because we were predators."
"I don't quite see what you mean," he says, green eyes flicking back and forth between the two of us before finally settling on me. "As far as I can tell, only one of you is a predator."
Seeing the look Nick gives him, he looks back and forth between us again. "Would either of you mind explaining?" he asks. "I think you understand my confusion here, right?"
"Of course we do," I say, my smile showing off her fox-teeth in the back. "See, I was raised in Zootopia proper, and well, it was a rough time for everyone, to say the least. I was always in trouble, and I suppose that it goes without saying that I got into a lot of fights.
"So anyways, I got myself into this one fight with a group of prey kits that wanted to put a muzzle on me for being like I was- I see myself as more of a fox than a rabbit, on account of my parents being foxes. Here I am, and they try to shove this stupid muzzle on me- they said, and I quote: 'We don't want foxes in our school, freak. What makes you think we would trust a fox, eh?'
"Yeah, that was not a pretty day for anyone involved, to say the least. There were quite a lot of missing teeth, and unfortunately for me, most of those missing teeth were mine. To cover up the mess and prevent any potential for lots of lawsuits from angry parents, the school offered to pay for dental work for anyone involved. When it came my time to have my teeth fixed up, I asked the dentist to make me fox teeth to replace the missing ones- all save for my front four; I figured, I already mostly think of myself as a fox, I might as well look like one."
"I see," Senator Bogo says, sighing more deeply this time. "Look, I get it, it's a mess, but I have no power to bring lawsuits against schools, not without corroborating claims, and especially not without photographic proof. I'm sorry, but I can no nothing else for you. However, should you be able to provide those extra pieces of evidence for me, then I would have sufficient proof to take legal action on your behalf. Until then, I hope that you both have pleasant days, and I wish you both the best of luck. Good bye."
With that, he turns away from the desk and back to whatever scat he was working on before he was called for, and both of us, sighing in defeat and frustration, head back out of the office and down the stairs to where our parents are waiting.
"So?" Mom asks, "how did it go?" However, when she sees the looks that both of us have on our faces, she frowns. "I see. Not good, eh?"
"Not here, Mom," I say, tapping my foot impatiently. "Can we so not talk about this here? I just don't feel that that's safe, okay?"
"Okay," Dad says, draping an arm over my shoulder, and everyone follows as we walk out of the building.
Fifteen minutes of walking later, we reach our street, and choosing a house, end up in Judy's living room.
It's pleasant, with cream-colored walls and a large brick fireplace along the back wall opposite the couches where we now sit.
"So?" Mom asks. "Do tell, we want to know what happened in there."
Not one to deny my mother (a general word of caution- never say no to your mother, especially if your mother is a vixen who just so happens to be hyper-protective), I spill, and by the time we're done telling our tale, everyone, including Dad and Ms. Hopps, are visibly angry.
It's Ms. Hopps who explodes first, face going bright red in fury. "What the flock are they thinking, doing that to my child? To our children? Pardon my language, but if you're asking me, they can go flock themselves, and I think that I'll go take my case to the higher-ups."
"See, that's the thing," I say, feeling a wave of frustration come crashing over me like a tsunami, "they don't care. To them, we're just two lousy predators, and as far as I've managed to learn, to them, we're better off dead, so plain and simple, we're royally flocked."
"Judy!" Mom cries, shocked. "Didn't we ever teach you not to use that sort of language, and especially not around us?"
"Oh, you did, Mom, but right now, I'm kinda too angry to care about the consequences, okay?"
"I see," she says. "Okay, but what's your plan now, eh? You can't stop now, you just have to keep on pushing until you reach the end, and be willing to try everything."
"Nice song reference, Mom," I say. "But you're right, so seriously, what next?"
"I have an idea," Nick says, "but it involves a bit of planning, and a scat-ton more trouble."
"I'm listening," I say. "Go ahead, Nick."
"How's about we get ourselves some media coverage, eh? I think I know what'll work, but you have to be willing to go along with it all the way?"
"Oh, come on, just tell us already…"
"You know," he says, "I always wanted to be an actor, so let's start acting. I'm going to go to the news station tomorrow and see if they'll let me on for an impromptu skit, and I'm sure that the skit's going to need a lot of blood and death. (In other words, where's the ketchup?)
"Deal. Now, where can we get ourselves an agent?"
"I have no idea, but I don't think we're going to need one. Now, let's start writing up this skit. It needs lots of action, that I know. Who do you think that we can rope into this, eh?"
"I'm not quite sure, Nick," I say, smiling for the first time today. "Why don't we just write this thing first, okay?"
"Sound good to me," he says, returning my smile. "So let's think about it for a while. Deal?"
"Deal," I say, and we shake paws, then set to writing.