Chapter 10

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Kris closed his eyes and breathed slowly as the door was unlocked. A lion officer stood ahead of him, his expression firm and unyielding. "Paws out," he said, the young fox complying. He watched as the cuffs were placed on him and were tightened, before a heavy paw on his shoulder pushed him along. He couldn't help but think that he wanted to ask some questions, yet at the same time he couldn't really think of any. In any case, his read of the situation was that it was best to keep quiet and go along with it. Endure it until those on the outside could help him. It had been the same when his father had been ill, when he'd had to put his faith in the vets. Those terrible little thoughts and worries that had dogged him, telling him that they might fail, had been false. Today, he had Nick and Judy and his families on his side and they would get him out of here, he was sure of it. Until then, he could endure it silently and proudly like a mature mammal.

Turning a corner, he was faced with what the alternative was, and it was not pretty. Another guard was handling another prisoner, a small wolf pup who wasn't that much taller than Kris was himself. He must have only been ten, as that was the minimum, but he looked like he was eight or so and was acting like he was half that age. Howling and crying, shaking left to right with tears streaming from his eyes, he tried to yank himself away from the escorting guard. "I DON'T WANNA GO!"

"-Stand still!"

"I DON'T WANNA GO!"

"Right then," the guard hissed, "final warning before I get to scruff you."

"CUSS OFF!" He yelled, flailing his cuffed arms at him and diving in to take a bite of his arm. The officer backed off, barely missing the bite, as the pup made a break for it. He only made it a few steps before Kris' guard charged out and tackled him to the floor, one paw pushing down on the centre of his back and the other gripped his scruff, pulling it up tight. Kris cringed back from the action while the pup went limp, his free legs and cuffed arms only able to jiggle weakly, like a caught fish flopping around on the ground.

But oh, how he flopped, still crying and murmuring out, saying he did nothing wrong or he was sorry or it wasn't his fault. The guards just distanced themselves from him, not really looking as one grabbed a muzzle and lifted it over his snout. "You're lucky you didn't try that where you're going, murderer," one spoke, as he pulled the straps tight and began doing them up so he couldn't take the thing off.

"I'm not…" he sniffled. "I'm not…"

"Now listen pup," they said as they began hauling him to his feet again, struggling as he kicked and fought this way and that. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Make your mind up now."

They let go and he stumbled to the floor before getting up. He shook and cried, his tail dropped between his legs, but he stood still. "Good," the other said. "Maybe you should be more like your new friends here. They know how to behave."

Kris suddenly realised two things. The first was that the officer was looking at him, the second was that there was another prisoner in front of the scared pup. Unlike the two of them, he was a prey mammal, a tapir that Kris guessed was a few years older than he was and had decidedly had enough of the young pup's antics.

"-For criminals," the other guard muttered, before reaching over and grabbing a long chain. He threaded it through the tapir's cuffs, then the wolf pup's, then Kris's own before giving the order for them to walk forward. One of them stood by the crying pup, guiding if not pushing him along as they exited the room and walked down a cold corridor. Left here, right there, and then they stepped out of a door and right up into the back of a waiting minibus. Were it not for the small hanging chains on the back of the seats and the metal grating on the windows and behind the front seat, Kris could swear that it was just like the ones various schools had ferried him around in all his life.

Up the centre they went until reaching the last full row before the side door, where they were guided to their seats. The tapir had the solo window seat on the right hand side, sighing with relief as he got the isolation and leg room. The guard took a chain from the window pillar and locked him up before turning to the two canines. Kris realised they'd be sitting together, their double seat already wound up to a safe height for them, and he sat down in his window seat while the fretful pup was ordered up next to him. A guard ended up guiding him into place before doing up their binding chains. He moved back to a different seat in their compartment, knocked on the screen in front of them and together they waited.

Kris just had a brick wall to look at him on his left and the muzzled up pup on his right; he couldn't help but notice how messy his fur was or how threadbare some of his clothes were. Their gaze met for a second or two before he scowled, before elbowing Kris hard in the ribs.

Or rather trying to. The silver fox saw it coming and jolted forward, letting the elbow glide behind him before pinning it to the seat with his back. One foot out front and raised high, pressing him back into the limb, he looked back at the pup as he tried to jostle, seemingly forgetting the state of his paws. "Please don't," Kris said, keeping calm.

The pup growled a bit, his teeth baring.

"-I know karate," Kris warned, quietly and blanky. "I don't want to have to use it." First part was the truth, the second part a lie given that he'd already used a little bit of it to stop the pup's attack. He'd give himself a pass there, these were pretty exceptional circumstances, and if he could avoid a fight with the highly emotional pup then that would be in everyone's favour. It did have an effect, the wolf's furious face turning into one of gutterral fear. "I don't want to harm you. I don't want to be here, neither do you. Let's not make it so we don't want to be here even less," Kris said calmly, trying to get him to back down. He made the first big move and released the elbow, the wolf immediately withdrawing it. He kept a wary look on him as he shuffled away and ducked down, trying to bury his muzzled face in his cuffed paws.

As that happened the bus started up and, with a jolt, off they went. Kris looked out of the side window as they pulled out into the traffic, slowly making their way through the city centre. He found himself drawn to all the mammals out there, just walking around and minding their own lives, oblivious. A few glanced at the bus and then looked away. The bus windows were dark on the inside, and he was guessing that they were heavily tinted outside. Still, the few times that his eyes and those of a stranger seemed to meet sent a chill down his spine.

Slowly, their pace began to pick up, and it was the buildings that Kris found himself looking at instead. All so big and tall compared to where he grew up, monolithic yet vibrant in their own way. Many of the newer buildings had balconies jutting out, some holding kids toys or planting material or even wrapped up into little private shelters.

They left them all behind before diving through the sliver of green belt between Savannah Central and the Rainforest District; he peered out to see if he could spot his house or even Ash's. Nothing came from it, and soon they were winding through the rainforest, the visibility crashing as they hit one of the main downpour periods, scheduled in the fifteen minutes before five o'clock and the start of the evening rush hour. With nothing much to see, especially as they began to hit the growing traffic, he looked back to his two companions. The wolf had just been trying to curl up and was sniffing, the whimpers coming from him pitiable.

"You okay?" he asked, moving his paws over.

The pup snapped his head over to him, glaring angrily as he scooted further away, growling as he did so. There was a shout from the guard in front and he shut up, but not before giving Kris a warning glare. The warning glare of a scared child who was going to stand up to the undefeatable grown up in front of him, but a warning glare nonetheless.

"I'm not okay too," Kris said, looking down. "But keep calm and stay nice, things will get better."

His head tilted a little. "W-w-will they…"

"-No they won't," came a voice from the other side. Kris looked up to see the tapir looking at them, a tired look on his face. "Listen pup, we're criminals, we're going to prison. Suck it up and do your time."

The pup began sniffing again as Kris gave the prey mammal a cold look. "I'm trying to make him feel better."

The tapir blew some air. "Little bits of charity ain't gonna help you anymore. You've done what you've done and you have to do what you have to do. He doesn't need to feel better, he needs to mam up and not cry like a baby."

Kris' eyes narrowed a bit in annoyance. "You do see that he's a young pup."

"Yeah," he said indignantly. "You do know where we're going, right? You think you're trying to help him? I'm helping him too, and everyone else who doesn't want to deal with a screamer for the next two years."

"T-two years?" the pup asked, jumping up and looking at him. "I-I-I get out in two years, not ten?"

The tapir groaned. "No, you idiot, I get out in two years as I did a bad thing. You get out in ten as you did a badder thing. Now suck it up and grow up, criminal, if you want to make it out the other side at all."

The pup wavered for a second or two before sniffing, then breaking down into full on sobs. Kris couldn't help but think how they were the cries of a young child desperate for his mother, mouth (trying to be) wide open and tears streaming. He shifted his paws over and held them on his leg as they drove on.

Past the outskirts, past the Meadowlands and into the surrounding timber forests. The wolf went silent and Kris watched as they rose up and up, racing along the freeway, past a massive ship lift and huge electrical equipment, up through a tunnel and then along the edge of a long and narrow reservoir. They pulled back in and skirted around the edge of a nice looking town on its shores, before turning off the freeway and rolling down the country roads. A left here, a right there, and they slowed, slowly rolling up to a security checkpoint. Kris took a breath in and out and, feeling like he was about to dive off of the tallest board into the pool, braced himself. There were multiple lines of fencing, topped with razor wire, with guard posts and officers with guns walking about. Behind them were sets of cold, grey blocks, the only thing breaking off the monotony being a low slung building to one side, its small courtyard filled with nursery style play equipment. It didn't make much difference though. He was here, prison.

The bus jolted a little and in they went, through the wires and gates and then along the internal roads, finally pulling up into a small pen area. To his other side, he glanced out and spotted a bunch of mammals tending to the grounds, clad in black and white striped uniforms as if they were prisoners out of a cartoon.

"Welcome to your new home boys," the guard at the front of the bus spoke, before telling them what was going to happen next and how bad it would be if they caused any funny business. He kept an eye on the wolf pup as he said it, the kid shaking slightly and glancing around fretfully. The chains fastening them to the seats in front were undone, the one to the tapir held tightly, and then they were led off and out through the side door. Kris stepped onto the warm, coarse tarmac and glanced around, looking at the surrounding enclosures as he was taken inside. He crossed the threshold, the air seemed cooler, and they were led into a blank looking holding cell and uncuffed. "Now I'm going to unmuzzle you," he spoke to the pup. "But I can have it put right onto you. Understand, boy?"

He weakly nodded and the device was removed. The guard left, the bullet proof screen was slid back in place, and the three of them were just left to sit down. Alone. The quiet was palpable, as if nobody wanted to break the dreadful tension in case something terrible was about to happen. All they knew was that they were in here for orientation and that they should wait and stay quiet.

Or else.

…

"Cuss it," the tapir spoke, before standing up decisively. Kris looked at him, gauging his face. He didn't seem angry or mad, or even that determined. Rather, his mood seemed to be dominated by a non-chalantness to the whole occasion, as if it were something that just had to be done, whatever it was. Kris moved his paws into a position where they could spring into action, just in case, while also glancing to the pup. He also seemed to think that something bad was about to go down, so Kris added putting himself between the two into things that he might have to do. He didn't like the kid, not by a long shot, but he didn't like bullies or senseless violence either.

The tapir paused, their eyes meeting, and his narrowed. "What you looking at, fox?"

The tone that was said in; Kris had only begun to hear it about a year ago, when he'd moved to this city, and it was something quite unique in terms of how much he didn't like it. It took what was normal and everyday for him, what was him, and told him that it was filth, that it made him lesser, that he was so many things he was not, that his species was not, and that all that should be seen instead were some idiotic lies. Lies that would be championed by bigots as an excuse to try and bully him, or believed by idiots and taken as a reason to hurt him. It was nonsense all the way through and could be ignored, he knew that, but it hurt nonetheless. The unavoidable truth was that they looked down on him not due to how he was or what he did, but because he was born a fox and they despised that.

So, was this it? Was this tapir an actual mad as hell fox hater and about to do it? He probably expected to be able to blame Kris for it all, whatever happened, so the silver fox reasoned that he might have to play this smart. Keep on the defensive and deflective, making sure that whenever a guard might show up they could see who was leading this. "Just wondering what you're planning to do," he spoke, his eyes locked on and his body ready.

The tapir scowled. "Taking a dump, perv. So look away."

Kris immediately felt the tension leave his body and had to actively stop himself laughing from the release. "Sorry," he said, sliding to the edge of his bench and turning away as the mammal sat down on the open toilet. After all, it had been a long journey, hadn't it. Made sense for him to need the toilet, especially seeing as the processing was taking a while.

Still, he kept his ears peeled, to his displeasure, as the tapir turned out to be entirely sincere in his words, before turning back on hearing the sound of a flush. They carried on sitting in awkward silence, the boredom getting to him. Kris couldn't help but think about how confrontational he'd been just then. He'd naturally heard a few things about prison in general discourse, about how violent or not violent it was, and it worried him a little that he'd automatically swung to the worst end of that scale. Something to keep an eye on, for sure, he had to make all the right decisions here to get through and couldn't afford to make mistakes like that. He closed his eyes and entered a light meditation, still thinking it best to stay a little alert, and tried to let the time slip by.

The pup was bored too, but to everyone's displeasure he made it known. Pacing and then verbalising how he felt in the most literal manner possible. "Bored… bored… bored…"

"Shut up," the tapir muttered, making the pup freeze. Kris wondered if something was about to go down again, wondering the best strategy to keep them apart, wondering if this was just another over reaction, only for a guard to arrive and solve any problem before it began.

"Okay prisoners," she spoke, walking into view. She was a middle aged serval with a bored looking expression on her muzzle. Kris noticed it twitch as she looked into the cell, only for her to carry on. "We're going to play you the orientation video. You'll then be taken one at a time through processing before being put into your cells. I want no talking, no fidgeting and no funny business. Let's make it easy on all of us here."

Kris nodded back along with the others as she walked off, returning with an old cart, a portable television sitting on top. It had an in-built VCR player, and he looked on as she put in a battered old tape and pressed play.

What followed was a video that was a decade and a half old and showing it, not least with all the little video and audio glitches that fizzled in and out as it went on. A menagerie of mammals, supposedly volunteering prisoners, were shown arriving and waiting in the holding cell before being picked out one by one. They were shown placing personal belongings, such as money, an old fashioned iPawd and a Noyakia brick phone into an envelope and then signing a form. Pictures of family members (Kris realised that he didn't have one with his father, why would he though, he was just going to school this morning) and other such valuable mementos were placed in a clear pack with their own form, the monotone narrator stating that they would be inspected and then returned if approved. If they didn't, they'd be stashed with the rest. Then the prisoner would go behind a curtain to undress, all clothes going into a tray while they emerged in a pair of prison briefs. The serval spoke up. "We don't give them out any more, keep your ones on." Then the prisoner sat down on a chair and was inspected. A few mammals went through this process: a ram was shown getting their wool shawn and the tips of their horns blunted; a tiger had their claw tips clipped off; a porcupine having the same thing done to their spines; an unkempt bear had the messy fur trimmed neatly while a platypus had the spurs on his feet sealed with a specialised rubber syringe.

"-Bet the last one was an actor," the tapir muttered, only for the guard to draw him to attention with a rap of her truncheon on the plastic wall.

The prisoner then walked through a full body scanner, was waved down with a metal detector and had a sniffer mammal inspect him, before heading to the showers (the guard stating that you handed over your underwear here). It cut to a surprisingly neat looking mammal coming out the other end (though the mention of a disposable fur brush being provided made him think that there was a fur dryer on the way through), a black bar put in place. He was then sprayed down with anti-flea medication, a large drip of powerful stuff placed on the nape of their neck for good measure. They were then given the uniform, the sizes noted down, before having their mugshot taken and being taken into a room where their details and medical history would be reviewed. Finally, a few guides and self help books were given out, then the mammals were taken to their cells and locked away.

Further instructions ran on, talking about how they were woken up early in the morning and sent straight to breakfast. A short recreation period was given, then it was an hour of physical exercise and then schooling (good grades mean higher privileges and more money in your commissary!), before lunch, more schooling, and a second round of physical exercise. Then you either had free time (including visits), chores (such as cleaning) or private counselling. Then dinner, then a 'cell block activity', then free time out of your cell and then in it. There was a brief mention about how many books you could have in there based on your privilege level, as well as bonuses such as a private TV or more access to the antiquated looking (though not so much given the time period) internet labs, before the whole video ended.

"Okay," the guard said. She paused for a second, then looked straight at Kris. "You there, following afternoon schooling what things might you be up to?"

Kris thought back. Things… "Chores, free time and… -though before that you have physical exercise too, don't you?"

Her ears tilted back. "You might think yourself oh so smart and clever," she said, "but do not push your luck. Believe me, I can see right through you."

"I…" Kris began, not sure what that was about. "-yes Ma'am."

"That's Correctional Officer Sarrahson, inmate," she spoke harshly. She then turned to the wolf pup. "You there, you first."

He trembled, stepping up and weakly walking over to the door where he was led out.

Ten or twenty or thirty or sixty minutes passed in silence.

The tapir was taken.

Ten or twenty or thirty or sixty more, and it was Kris' turn. "Paws out in front of you," she said coldly, as Kris felt her tap him in the back with her stick, pressing it into the square of his back. She was watching him, her eyes boring in as he was led to the handover area. Then he was undressing and then he was in the inspection chair. A nurse was looking over him, and he complied as she peered into his ears with a light and checked his eyes. "Mind reading off of the board?" she asked, and he did so.

"This wasn't in the…" he began to say, only for Sarrahson to cut him off.

"-Quiet!"

The nurse inspecting him looked over. "Guess someone's run out of patience," she noted.

"Do not undermine our authority in front of the inmate."

"Yes," she said, getting back to Kris. "Just a basic medical check up," she explained. That made sense…

Then it was off, through the scanner, Sarrahson standing close throughout. Kris fully stripped and walked into the shower area, pressing the button.

He yelped back in shock.

The water was freezing.

"Just get through it," the serval ordered, "and if you don't clean properly you'll go through it again."

Kris looked back, his ears folding down, and took a deep breath. He could get through this… He could get through this…

He began whining the second he got under the cold water, quickly grabbing the shampoo and doing his best to clean him down. Why was the water so cold? Was it like this for all of them? He fumbled a bit with the bottle, his trembles almost making him lose his grip on it. No, he j-j-j-just had to get through with this. Pumping large amounts onto his pads, he ran it through his fur, even as the chill bored deeper inside of him. Okay, he wanted out now. He really wanted out, he did not like this. Finally, he was pretty sure that he'd got the suds out and he exited the shower, shaking himself down hard. Thankfully they did have a step-in fur dryer, the warmth a blessed relief as he took the disposable brush and worked through his fur.

Stepping out, paws over his groin, it was on to the next phase. The nurse held out a can and sprayed his whole body down with a noxious medication, occasionally asking him to lift an arm up. He'd thought he'd smelt bad stuff when a school had had to deal with a flea or mite problem, but this stuff was many times worse, making his throat itch and nose sting. "Trust me kit," the applying nurse said. "If you knew how fleas could spread through here, you wouldn't be complaining."

He didn't answer, just holding his breath until the spraying was over, though his nose still itched from the smell. He had a drip of longer lasting stuff put down onto his nape, before it was over to the uniforms.

From a design perspective, the universal uniform style that prisoners in Zootopia wore was both brilliant and terrible. It had to be something that could cover all the potential shapes, sizes and other factors that a city of innumerable species could throw at it, all with the lowest cost and least number of sizes possible. It actually did this very well, but for the same reasons they were an utter pain for the mammals that had to wear them, not that their opinions really mattered.

The first item was the underwear, a humble item yet one with a surprising amount of variety. After all, out in the city you might want to accommodate thin tails or thick tails, both in terms of the actual limb and the fur on top. Many would have a simple button, or a metal clip, or even velcro, with some others having a firm plastic 'U' put in on the back, the space open to accommodate a tail. Then there were the brands, the decorations, the styles that could be chosen. Boxers or briefs? Given that different mammals varied in regard to how well endowed they were and how much of that was internal or external, there was also the matter of whether a crotch was wanted or not.

Kris was provided with a pair of plain white Y-fronts with a surprising amount of tension in the elastic. However, it needed that as its solution for accommodating his tail was that it didn't. It went around his hips and front, and was then stretched below the base of his tail, making it permanently feel like it was about to fall off of him.

Next came a simple white vest, baggy and oversized for more flexibility. There was a pause, the guard suggested he try the size below; that was just a little bit too small so the bigger one it was. And then it came time for the uniform itself.

For cost's sake, it needed to be a one-piece suit, and due to the need for flexibility it was overly baggy too. That didn't matter though as the one-piece nature meant that his shoulders would support it, even as extra folds crumpled above his feet and the overly generous size billowed a little in the breeze. Of course, the issue of tail accommodation came up again, and the answer to that was simple. The zip was on the back. Pulling up the shoulders, Kris had to feel for the zipper and the start of the line, taking a few goes to thread it in before pulling it down, bending his body and transferring from one paw to the other as he went. He got to the base of his tail and then lifted the back of the suit up, making sure he'd done it up as much as he could. The suit then folded over itself on top of his tail. The design was simple, cheap, highly flexible, helped to prevent skunks from spraying out at others and helped to impede back access for certain dangerous attackers.

From the perspective of an accountant or correctional officer, it was excellently designed. For Kris, it was ugly, baggy, oversized, uncomfortable, awkward to get on and off, and made him feel like a little kit trying on his parents clothes; the fabric was hanging off of his shoulders, requiring a few turn-ups so that his hand-paws weren't covered, while the trousers were quite simply pooling into a bunch of folds over his foot-paws.

Finally, just like the various prisoner classes in Zootopia's system, it was colour coded. The silver fox managed to see himself in the mirror, clad in thick black and white stripes like a prisoner in a cartoon. He wondered if they chose that style for the youth prisoners just to rub in their new status as much as they could.

He didn't ask. Instead he was taken over to get his second mugshot of the day taken. The serval was waiting there, and Kris paused as the feline handed him his board, containing a glaring error. "You misspelt…"

"-Shut up, stand for your picture," the serval ordered.

"It's just you made a…"

"Made a what?"

"-Mistake."

There was a brief pause as a nearby door opened, another prison officer walking in. He was a red deer buck, his fur greying while his uniform was pressed and freshly cleaned. Sarrahson briefly noted his entrance, then turned back to Kris, her tone hardening. "We don't have time for this, inmate, and you will find yourself in hot water if you carry on."

"My name is wrong," he tried to say plainly. It was, they'd spelt it Christopherson, not Kristofferson.

"No, you're wrong!" she responded, holding her stick up and jabbing it hard into Kris' chest. He flinched back, getting worried. "I will not have a lying time waster…"

"-Mrs Sarrahson…"

"Thinking he can get away with wasting our time…"

"-Mrs Sarrahson."

"And acting like he's above us!"

"-Officer Sarrahson!"

She paused, glancing back at the deer, an unimpressed look on his already generally unimpressed looking face.

"I've seen his file, that does seem to be a spelling error," he spoke, his voice quite formal.

She paused and shrugged. "Maybe it is? How do we tell, then?"

"We just took his ID cards, didn't we," he pointed out, before looking over to the nurse who'd been in charge of fumigation. "Can you go and check them please, dear?"

She nodded and walked off, leaving the three of them in the room in an awkward silence. Kris felt oddly relieved that the nervous tension in the air seemed to be between the two guards and not at him. Studying them, he could see that the feline was irritated but holding it in. The cervine, meanwhile, was keeping a fairly straight face, though Kris was pretty sure that there was some curiosity, directed down at her, in there too. Looking more closely at the taller guard, he seemed to have a question on the tip of his tongue, but also a resolute determination not to ask it in this setting.

The nurse came back in. "It is spelt wrong."

The serval put her paw out, took the board back, and amended it. The deer cleared his throat a few times, she ignored him and handed the board back.

Kris held it as his prison mugshot in prison clothes for prison was taken. It all felt daunting again. A little printer popped out a few ID cards, which Kris was instructed to slip into a clear plastic breast pocket on his uniform, his picture displayed alongside his name and inmate number.

Daunting in extremis.

"Right," the serval muttered, looking up at him. "Get a move on…"

"Not so fast," the deer spoke, making her pause. "Before he goes off to see a counselor, the warden wants a word with him."