FFoZ S1E7 (The Bin and the Badge.)

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AN: Welcome back everyone. I've been travelling through France and Belgium these last few days, and had great fun meeting up with both the members of Zieg's server group and, even better, the great Cimar himself. It was a very fun short break, we were able to see the sights, enjoy good food, and bounce ideas between ourselves. Cimar's upcoming fic is continually sounding better and better, and I'll be sure to give it a shout out when it's released.

Another shout out I'd like to give is for the fic L'EDgendary, which some of you may have seen on the Zootopia A03 server. I decided to check it out, given the lack of comments, and found an amazingly written crossover featuring a stunning take on Robin Hood, Little John… -and the Ed, Edd and Eddy crew (all of them in Disney/furry form).

Seriously, this fic deserves far more love and attention than what it's got.

But back to my work, and I'm pleased to publish a long teased episode, indeed being the one with Amy mentioned all the way back at the end of 'Different.' One other notable thing about it is that, on A03, it is the first fic billed solely as a Zootopia fic. No crossovers! Not that there won't be lots of crossovering cameo's, he-he-he… I wonder if you guys can find them.

Also feel free to checkout the brilliantly funny artwork done by Giftheck, up on the A03 version.

Originally three chapter long, I've split each one in two and will release them bi-weekly instead. So, shorter waits, hip-hip horray.

Anyhow, on with the show!

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Chapter 1

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Dr Amy Lupuleli sat in her office, noting things down as her patient talked. The reports were all pretty consistent, as they always were for him, much to her disappointment. It was a sad case of affairs for this horse. It was always one hoof forwards, one hoof back, and all she'd been able to do in their long years of practice was to keep his head above the water.

Then again, for some mammals who'd been through terrible things like this one had, who'd seen things then been used and abandoned as he had, who'd then heard of the terror he'd missed, but had struck so many of his friends...

Sometimes, keeping their head out of the water was all you could do.

The really sad thing was that he was such a sweetie, which was the tragic root of all his problems.

"I mean, then three more turned up," he carried on, talking about homeless mammals. In an act of charity, he'd seen a homeless mammal and given him a generous donation. He'd then come back again, and the same donation was provided. Then he began bringing his friends, which meant more money had to be given. "I had to give more, didn't I?" He asked, before shaking his head. "It was unfair on the newcomers, and they were all in a rough way, they didn't have homes or such. It was a slow week, so I had to cut into my food bill; after all, I was still better fed than them. I had a roof over my head, whereas they needed to raise money for a shelter and…"

Amy's ears perked up. "Money for the shelter?"

"Yes, money to get into the homeless shelter. They…"

"Mr Boxmoor," she said, leaning in as she used his full surname. She put her paw on his hoof, holding it to steady him before she told him the truth. "None of the city shelters charge for entry. They were lying to you; taking advantage of you."

He paused, his ears going back, before he looked away in shame. "There were probably other things they needed it for."

"Most likely…"

"-Things they needed more than I did," he said, his voice raised. It seemed aggressive, but Amy could tell it was actually defensive. She was striking closer to the truth, and that was cutting painfully for him. Striking at the heart of his issues, making him put his guard up and shy away from those trying to help, so he could keep the narrative he clung to like a raft safe. This was the point where she had to make him uncomfortable, to push through to the core of the issue.

"Like drugs?" she asked. "Or alcohol? Or cigarettes?" It was a bit of a petty move and she knew it. Things were far more complicated. However, in cases like this she had to use her big stick first. The soft talking could come after. "I've had experience with these kind of mammals before. If you, or I, were made homeless, forced out onto the streets, we could find a shelter, get a room, start a job and save enough for a rental deposit and then, in three months or less, we'd be back on our feet. At the very worst, we might spend one day, maybe two without a roof over our heads. Those mammals out there need help, yes, but not money. They need psychiatric help more often than not, help that you can't provide them. That money you were giving them wasn't helping them, it was enabling them."

Another half-truth. It wouldn't have helped them. It wouldn't have harmed them either. The repeat homeless mammals she'd met were an odd mix. Prideful, stubborn, self-hating, paranoid or just without the skills or faculties to live normally. Many would put up the exact same barriers that her patient did when help came. She cringed slightly, as the only way to help many of them would be to straight-up yank them off the street. Sober them up by force, shove treatment down their throats, and try and get them into a state where they could live by themselves.

It was a terrible balance she had to deal with; one without a definite answer. In general, the city was happy with mammals living in their own self-enforced squalor, putting their freedom to live in misery over the ability to force them into a better life. But was it the right choice?

Amy's duty was to care for and cure mammals, and also to effectively imprison them without their consent, so this paradox continually weighed heavily on her mind.

Thankfully, with Mr Boxmoor, she knew the answer.

"When you go home," she said, "tell them that you'll be taking them to a nearby shelter. Offer them a lift. You could even give them information about some of the care we give. Then…"

"Then I could volunteer there," he said, a feeling of strength rising in his voice. She saw it in his body too as he rose up.

Amy's ears went back in concern. "You don't have to."

"I have the time," he said. "In my budget."

She relaxed slightly. It was a very early exercise they'd done, and the most successful. Set a weekly budget for how much time and money he could donate, how many hours he could volunteer, and how much he had to spend on himself. Most of the time he succeeded, though these homeless mammals had pushed him over. "Just stick to it," she told him. "You come first. You have to look after yourself first if you're going to look after others." There was a pause. A smile. "Making yourself weaker helps no-one. If you're as strong as I know you can be first, it's better for everyone."

He sighed, before nodding. "I'll try, I'll work harder on it. Thanks, doc."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling. Progress, it seemed. "Hopefully things will work out peacefully, though there is a small chance that they might turn violent." She paused, before fishing out a very popular brand of recording pens, in particular the rather famous carrot model, and passed it to him. "It might be worth having this on and recording everything. If you feel the least bit threatened by any of them, I want you to walk away. If they keep it up, call the police or defend yourself. Whatever you do, you cannot let them rule over you."

He seemed a bit tense, but nodded. He was nervous, but he felt like he could do it. They'd be meeting up next week, same time, same place, and she looked forwards to seeing his progress. So, she let him go and wrote up her notes.

As she finished there was a tap on her door.

A wolf security guard was on the other side, fully armed with restraints and a tranquilizer gun. That was nothing out of the ordinary.

What was though were the numerous bruises and cuts on his face.

"Oh gosh. Are you alright?

"I can handle it," he said gruffly.

"What happened?"

"Our new guest happened," he snorted, his lacerated muzzle grimacing up, only for him to wince down from a sudden flash of pain. "I've had my fair share of angry mammals, but this one is something else!" he barked. "I got off lightly, apparently the officers who brought her in from her residence didn't."

Amy nodded, opening up her desk. "Do you want treatment, medical help?"

He huffed. "I'd like you to get down to her so we can get this over with. This one doesn't have an official diagnosis yet, so we can only keep her for two days or so."

"Forty-eight hours," Amy clarified, suddenly pretty sure she knew who he was talking about. "Of course, the assumption is that in that time we diagnose them and if need be take an emergency petition to a judge to get a longer-term hold. She's a ratel, correct?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "She's newly sectioned and in in the max-security padded cells."

Amy was taken aback. Those cells were hardly ever used, with only one permanent resident. She knew that the patient would certainly put up a fight when picked up, but just how much fight did she have in her? Shaking it off, she nodded, gathering her folders before going with him. She knew exactly who the wolf was talking about, given that she'd been in charge of assessing the notes and reports first presented to the hospital. She'd been the point of call for the raiser of the concerns, collating the evidence before handing it over to the appropriate judge with her recommendations. Recommendations which had just been fulfilled.

This was going to be a rather unusual case, with a rather unusual mammal, and one where she feared that the security guard's equipment and the severe provisions might just be necessary.

Still, though, that question rattled around in her mind. Was taking away this mammal's freedom the right choice?

Ask any mammal off the street, and given the context she was sure they'd say yes.

Still, could you ever be entirely certain?

She guessed that she'd soon see for herself.

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The prisoner couldn't help but struggle.

How long had it been?

Alone…

In this cell.

What did they want from her? What were they going to do?

She knew exactly why she was here and who it was who'd really taken her in.

Who'd locked her up.

She'd tried to resist when they came for her, tried to fight, only to be tranquilised. After a dreamless sleep she'd woken up again, strapped to a gurney as they took her into this place. Straps holding her down, white tiled ceiling panels and fluorescent lights rolling past, she'd tried to move her paws only to find that one was pawcuffed to the bed.

As if that was going to stop her.

They hadn't expected her to succeed in freeing herself. Their mistake. She would have made it if the sore losers hadn't struck again, this time shooting a taser into her gut.

She flinched at the painful memory, though thankfully it was a blurry one.

She just about remembered getting injected with something before waking up here, where she'd been for the last who knows how long. Stuck in this damn padded cell with this damn straight jacket on. They were really being stereotypical there, weren't they? Suiting her up so she couldn't cause mischief, or fight back.

Mainly fight back.

As if they thought she wouldn't fight back, not when her freedom was on the line. Not when the fight against tyranny was on the line! They probably expected minor resistance, but she had no qualms about using her teeth and claws. On the other hand, that was probably why there was now a police muzzle strapped to her face.

There was no chin strap to it though, so…

A sound outside pricked her ears and she froze. Her eyes on the door, she tried to see if there was any movement at all behind it. Scanning for any hint of a moving shadow in the cracks, or maybe a slight change in the view point, she waited…

And waited…

Before sighing. It was all clear. Down on her knees, her bottom half covered by a simple grey tracksuit, she leant forwards and lay on the ground, trying to pull off the damned muzzle. She smiled, chuckling with a sudden sense of dark hope. Damn the mammals who threw her in here, thinking they could 'fix' her. Damn the courts or doctors or whoever for sending her here, just stupid proxies trying to cover the truth up. Damn the mammals who didn't accept her warnings about the true evil facing society. She'd get out. She'd keep on fighting. She'd do what had to be done.

And then, there was a certain duo.

Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps.

Nothing else really mattered anymore, she just had to get to them. Get in contact and get their help, because they were the key to this.

Hopps and Wilde took down the Nighthowler Plot, didn't they? With the enemies finally making their move, they could join together and then they'd be unstoppable!

She grinned wickedly as she began working and pulling her face against the padded floor. Just get the thing off. Pull. It. Off. She'd found a slight lip on the padding which she could hook the metal on and the straps stretched as she pulled back, feeling it release ever so slightly.

It snapped back in place, but she shook her head.

Never mind that. She would get it off. She'd get out of here before it was too late. Before they came.

Another try and she paused, only to flinch down as a knock came from the door.

"Hello?" a voice from outside called, sending a chill down her spine. She panicked, her face rubbing more and harder, nipping and tugging and trying to haul it off. She had to. She couldn't let them take her! "I'll be coming in now, is that okay?"

"No it's not!" she shouted back, her words causing her nose to press uncomfortable against the roof of the muzzle. "Nope. Can't come in. Nu-uh. Not now!"

"Listen, I'm here to help you."

"-That's what they all say!"

"It's because we mean it," she said softly, though the prisoner knew better. She began crying as she fought and pulled, trying to tug it off. Rip it off. Tear it off so she could fight back, or even try and rip through the straightjacket sleeves. Get her claws out, and… "-I'm coming in now," the soft voice said, and the sound of an unlocking door rattled out.

"Nu-uh! No you can't! YOU CAN'T! I JUST SAID YOU CAN'T COME IN!" she screamed. She'd said it, hadn't she? Told the intruder that she couldn't come in! Couldn't enter, to do all the terrible things she might be about to do. Rearrange her. Brainwash her. Burn out who she was. Assimilate. Turn. Control. Kill. She began crying, as another desperate tug failed to pull it off. It didn't matter that she'd told them not to come in. They didn't listen to the rules. They were evil and they'd come after her. They weren't going to stop.

This was it.

This was the end…

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Amy opened the door, her heart hurting for the mammal inside. She'd heard many different things about her, but that still hadn't prepared her for the sobs and tears. "I'm not givin' up!" she spat out through sobs. "The flock ain't gonna win! We'll win in the end!"

The binturong blinked. "So, it is real," she said. Sure, she'd read up about it, but seeing was believing.

"Of course it is," the patient said, as she turned and scooted herself into a corner, her free hindpaws out and ready to scratch and tear. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the binturong in front of her. "That's why I'm here, ain't it? I discovered the Cudspiracy, and now they've sent you here to shear me solid!" There was a pause, and a glint of hope. "But if you join me, get ridda that domestic sheepdog to your right, we can hightail it out of here! Haven't you heard the nighthowlers are back? We're all for the loom soon!"

Amy took a second to take it all in. "I'm Dr Amy Lupuleli," she greeted. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Honey Badger. I'm here to try and help you."

The eponymously named ratel looked back, her eyes narrowing as she gave another futile shuffle in her jacket. "Big whoop. Now, are you with me, or against me?"

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Honey didn't trust her.

She didn't trust many mammals. She looked on, her body poised and ready to fight, as the binturong walked in closer. Probably just another misled pred following orders, not knowing. Not caring. Or, maybe that guard was ready to put her in the cell next door if she refused to do whatever evil deed the sheep had ordered her to do.

No wonder she wasn't answering, she had no choice.

It was the sheep behind this.

The sheep were behind everything. Uniform, marching line in line, a hive mind, the singular and plural the same. They fought for each other, thought the exact same for each other, and one day planned to annihilate all other species', leaving just themselves. 'Perfect', each mammal the same as the next. Culture and history would go up in smoke, dissenters crushed like insects, to create a world where the past, present and future were one and the same. The ever-lasting Age of Wool.

Not long ago, Dawn Bellwether, the alpha sheep, had tried to put the first stage of their little plot into action. Hopps and Wilde had brought her down, but now the Cudspirators were regrouping for their next offensive. Bloodlines stretching back thousands of years, linking up so many mammals in higher places. Controlling the media, medicine, even food and water supplies.

Honey dreaded to think how much damage had been done to her own body before she'd set up a system to distill pure water for herself.

But she knew.

She knew, and she was willing to fight back, and that was why she was here. She'd screwed up somewhere, despite her best efforts, and now it would end. The binturong was closer now, and Honey grit her eyes and teeth and let loose with her feet. If this was where it ended, she'd die as she lived; fighting.

"LONG LIVE THE RESISTANCE! ARGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

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"-Would you like me to take the muzzle off?"

Honey paused, glancing over at the doctor.

"I'd like to speak to you. Learn about this Cudspiracy of yours. If you calm down and tell me about it, I can take that thing off of you."

Was this a trap?

A way out?

Honey didn't have anything to lose. But she still wouldn't get far.

"Things will be easier if you behave," she said, before pausing. "We wouldn't normally go all out like this, but I heard you caused a lot of damage to the mammals bringing you in. Now, if you help us out a little, we leave all that behind. If you promise not to hurt anyone, we could even take off that straightjacket and get you into a nice room, with an actual bed and a toilet. You can have a desk, with books, even a small TV. Don't you like the sound of that?"

It could just be a gilded cage, but it might actually be a chance to get ready and get out. She did like the sound of it.

"After all," Amy carried on, looking around. "If you have to stay in a cell like this, it's harder for everyone. It's boring for you, and messy for both of us."

"Messy?" Honey asked, sceptically.

Amy shrugged. "How do you think we can feed you, keep you clean, deal with your needs if you're locked up like this? There's a reason cells like these are a last resort."

The ratel's eyes narrowed. "This a trick question or anything?"

"No," Amy said. "I mean, few people on the outside actually think that stuff through, they just think you jacket up a mammal and put them in a cell like this and that's that. Anyway, if you are violent enough that we have to keep you in here, you have to be fed by us when we're able to, via spoon or bottle. You have no choice in when or where or even what. You rarely get a chance for a shower, or a wash, and they're not relaxing ones by any means. There's no entertainment or things to do. As for using the toilet, we can't have something you could knock yourself against or drown yourself in in here for safety reasons, not that you could clean yourself without your paws. You'd have to be in incontinence pads, and I can't think of anyone who likes that solution."

It took a little while for Honey to register what they were saying. It was all dirty sheep tricks, wasn't it, trying to make her play along. But what if she didn't play? Might they get suspicious? She could pretend to cooperate, but it'd be risky. On the other paw, she couldn't take down the Cudspiracy in a padded cell. She huffed, shaking her head. She'd play the binturong's game, at least until she found a way out.

To be honest though, she should have expected such dirty tricks from the sheep.

"So," Amy began. "Keep calm, help both of us, and why don't you tell me about this Cudspiracy?"

Honey blinked, before relaxing. She'd still keep herself just on edge, in case the shrink pulled some sheep dip syringe on her, but it was hard to deny that explaining the hidden truth behind the world to a fellow pred, one who was willing to listen, was gonna be a real buzz.

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Congratulations to Berserker88, who correctly guessed that Honey Badger, not Dawn Bellwether, would be the one being treated. I love writing Honeybun, and she's great fun in my collar stories, but in the real world…

Yeah, when you think about it, the anti-sheep stuff begins to ring a bit problematic. Especially with the very energetic/ hyper Honey I've always written.

But what next? Subscribe, follow, favourite and comment to find out. And, if you have spare time, make sure to check out L'EDgendary as well.

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