Being captain of the ram fighting team, Desmond is always first to arrive for practice. This time however, he is surprised to see Leslie waiting at the locked entrance of the training room.

"You're here early." Desmond notes, less of a greeting and more of an accusation.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you before the other rams get here." The urial explains with a grin. "I assume you haven't told them about your little fling with the student council president."

The Jacob sheep stumbles. "Th-there is no fling! There never was. And I hope to god you didn't tell anyone, or I'm going to shove my horns so far up your—"

"Relax, Cap. I didn't tell anyone." Leslie chuckles, fighting off the huffy sheep. "But you should. We're all teammates here. I'm sure the others would have your back. They may not give any decent advice but we'd all support your saucy little intertrophic affair."

Desmond seethes in frustration. "I really don't think you get it. I don't need advice. I don't need support. Nothing is going to happen. I don't want anything to happen. She clearly doesn't want anything to happen. So the last thing I need is for you idiots to be hounding me about this. Just… drop it."

To this, Leslie's smile sobers into a look of concern. "You're really not gonna go for it?"

"Of fucking course not, Leslie!" Desmond bleats. "I'm a sheep and she's a serval! How is that gonna look for both of us? It just… wouldn't work. I've come to terms with it, so just let me move on."

The senior stays silent. He has never seen the ram look so helpless before. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to interfere after all…

Suddenly, a rumbling sound cause their ears to perk up. The sound gets louder and louder, echoing throughout the grimy walls of the underground hallway, until they recognize it as a cluster of descending footsteps. The rest of the team must be arriving. However, once the herd reaches the bottom of the stairs, they are not their usual boisterous selves. Instead of chatting and laughing, all of them are silent, their faces tinged with worry. Leslie and Desmond snap out of their previous conversation immediately.

"What's wrong?" Desmond demands.

"We don't know…" Peter explains feebly. "But there was a school-wide announcement just now. We're supposed to go to the auditorium. Some kind of urgent announcement."

Marcel chimes in. "We came to get you since we know this place doesn't have the PA system."

The urial narrows his eyes. "So you don't know what's going on?"

"No, they just said to go immediately." Elmer mumbles. "But it can't be good news, can it?"

"Let's go then." Desmond adjusts his backpack and strides past the other rams, who hasten to follow their leader.

Bovids have a knack for sniffing out danger. So it can't be a coincidence all of them have a sinking feeling something very bad is happening.

The overlapping murmurs of an entire auditorium becomes almost deafening. Both student's and staff seem to be at a complete loss as to why they were summoned here. The reverberating air is pressed with a sense of unease. As soon as they arrive, Desmond bids farewell to his ram fighting comrades and trots up to the backstage, where student council members are usually expected. Maybe now he'll understand what's going on.

He's the last one to arrive in gloomy, curtain-shrouded space. The other three members encircle the stout principal, who quietly relays something to them. The goose's neck stretches past Solomon's shoulders at the ram's arrival and his small, dark eyes widen.

"Good, that makes everyone."

Wordlessly, Desmond settles between Hafsa and Brian and awaits the briefing. He steals a glance at the serval. Her gaze remains fixed at Principal House, but her expression is nothing short of… horrified. Glancing at the other animals, they seem to mirror a similar astonishment. The pit in his stomach grows three sizes bigger.

"I'll re-explain now that Desmond is here…" Principal House begins in a grave voice. "For the next week, all classes in Noah's Arc Academy will be temporarily halted. All students are to return home in the mean time. We will reopen the school on September 20th."

"Huh?!" Desmond exclaims. "But the second semester just started! Why?"

House visibly swallows, the hardened lump slowly making its way down his lengthy neck. "There's been an incident. Again."

…What?

"Another sheep abduction..? But that can't be…" Desmond falters.

"No. This time it was a carnivorous student."

The student council members grimace.

"And," The goose continues. "It was not an abduction. It was a murder. Campus security already secured the… the remains."

The ram nearly drops to his knees. How can something like this even happen… When did this school become a place for murder? For once, he'd like nothing more than to follow his mother's advice and stay as far way from Noah's Arc as possible. Hafsa looks down at the quivering sheep, nearly reaching out towards him, but her brain stops her hand from doing anything but twitch.

"Who was the victim? Where did they find them?" Solomon pries with uncharacteristic impatience.

"It was a first year female. A wolverine named Jasmine. I won't disclose where she was discovered; it's best if the area remains undisturbed and unknown to students. While the school is closed, we plan to conduct a thorough investigation with the help of the police and strengthen our security."

Brian sniffles, wiping away at his eyes. "Why… why is this happening again…? Something so horrible…"

Demond weakly pats his back, though he can find no such encouragement for himself. The five animal remain in a festering despair, with only the sound of Brian's hiccups and sobs to fill the air.

"So… what do you need us to do?" Hafsa asks suddenly. Even now, presidential sense of responsibility overpowers whatever internal panic she may have.

"In a few minutes, I will inform the other students of the temporary close due to sudden vital construction work. That is all they will need to know. And I expect you to do what you know best: assure the student body of their safety and wellbeing. Come September 20th, this will all be resolved."

"Construction work? So you're gonna lie?" Desmond blurts.

"Those who need to be informed have already been. We have contacted Jasmine's parents and informed her teachers. Anything that affects the students' safety outside the school will be covered by the news if necessary. Needlessly causing an uproar now will only worsen things, young man." The principal's tone borders on conspiratorial.

"But..."

"It can't be helped…" Solomon sighs. "Right now, the school is counting on us. Especially the carnies."

If the situation were a fraction less grave, Desmond would have been a lot more stubborn on the matter. But something tells him that causing a ruckus right now isn't the right thing to do. So, he swallows his pride and his objections and follows the rest of the student council to the stage. After all, Hafsa didn't object to the lie. They arrange themselves in their usual positions, forming a line facing the audience like a curtain call behind the principal, who once again cranes his neck to reach the podium's mic. The murmurs elevate to a climax as they file in, but are silenced altogether once they stop in their final places.

"My dear students," Principal House says with a smile. "I have an important announcement to make."

"Man, what a relief!" Marcel chortles to his friends as they filter out of the auditorium. "For a sec I thought something bad happened! Turns out they just give us an extra week of holiday!"

Elmer nods his head. "We lucked out. No homework too. All hail construction work!"

"Let's do something this week, then!" Peter proposes.

"I just bought the new Superb Smash Sisters, come over and I can annihilate all of you clowns." Marcel slams into Peter, giving his torso a good pinch with his sinuous horns.

"Look it's Desmond." Leslie points at a piebald mass lurking around the auditorium. "He lucked out most of all. Imagine what a scare that must have been to the student council."

"Huh, he looks kind of bummed, though." Elmer notes.

Leslie runs his hands through his beard and chuckles internally. "Well, I'm sure he has some reasons for wanting to stay in school."

Desmond is indeed bummed; or rather, deeply unsettled. His instincts have been screaming danger since before the assembly, and now, it's louder than ever. There's no way this attack is unrelated to the first sheep abduction. The attacker has been here all year, lurking within their midst. That thought alone is enough to make his wool stand on edge. But why change from herbie to carnie, from kidnapping to killing? Maybe it has to be something else, something completely unrelated.

His mind goes back to that black market vulture's words… the cult, the Kin of Luca. If those psychotic herbivores were buying herbie meat, who's to say they can't switch over to carnie meat? Desmond doesn't want to wait for the death toll to get high enough to find out whether it's a new black market trend. By that time, Hafsa could be at risk, or even worse…

Argh, now's not the time for that! Oh, who is he kidding… it always seem to come back to her… But is this really okay? The school seems to be washing their hands of the matter. Even if they work with the police, nothing will be solved if it's actually some kind of conspiracy. The butcher herself said the cops are in on it too, so this may very well be a dead end from the start. As the Vice President, isn't it his moral duty to try to solve this, for the safety of the students? Jeez, what moral duty? He's a high school student, for wool's sake, and a herbie at that! How could he possibly fix this fucked up situation?!

A migraine flares up, squeezing his brain like a stress toy. He presses the heel of his palm against his forehead, hoping that at least that pain would distract him from the internal pain. He stays like this until all other students have completely abandoned the Noah building, instead heading to their dorms to pack up for the sudden week-long vacation.

And then he breathes.

He has seven days with nothing to do. He might as well try something, anything, to help. Even if it's just gathering a little more information.

And he unfortunately knows where to start looking.

Solomon walks up to the student council office, unsurprised to see that it's unlocked. He opens the door and turns to face the interior of the office.

"I hope you called me here for a good reason. I have a car coming to pick me up in ten minutes."

Desmond glares back at him from his desk chair, unfazed. He doesn't rise up, instead gesturing towards Solomon's usual spot.

"This will be quick."

The caracal's eyes narrow. He ignores the ram's offering and instead settles for leaning against Hafsa's large desk, closer and taller than his usual seat would allow.

"So… what is it you want?"

Now, the ram gets up, nearly at Solomon's eyeliner. For what seems like an eternity, neither of them move or break eye contact.

This is abruptly ended when Desmond suddenly doubles over in a deep bow, nearly grazing the cat's stomach with his horns. Solomon raises a brow.

"Please, I need your help." Desmond's voice is grave and raspy. "I wouldn't ask otherwise."

The caracal stays silent, waiting for elaboration.

"I'm going to the black market, and I need you to come with me."

AN: Thanks for reading! Enough filler, it's drama time. If things don't make sense now, good, that's probably how it's supposed to work. If it makes perfect sense, even better.

Here's a fun fact: I named Principal House (and yes, his first name is House) after the studio that developed Untitled Goose Game (House House).

Take it easy and stay safe.