Chapter Twenty-Four
Acrimonious Anchorage
A gentle tide lapped against the carbonized metal of Zootopia's port. A thick mist had settled upon the water — drifting down from the mountains after the heavy rainfall of the day. The mist had not extended to within the city however, but had settled heavily upon the water and shrouded all sight beyond a few feet on that most hydrous of surfaces.
A wave splashed up over the side of the port, sloshing against a few of the great many mammal-high crates which were piled atop one another, and soaking the already glistening concrete ground. A large crane was close by, its arm reaching out to the dock that extended out into the open waters, large enough for even the biggest of ships to take anchor there.
The only sign of life in this lonely dock was a small shack close to the edge of the harbour. The shack was old and slanting and looked as though it was held together by hope alone, leaning up against the strong brickwork of the discontinued boatbuilder's yard.
A dim light glowed from within the old shack. The warm light faded as the door opened and a figure stepped out. The harbormaster — an elderly male dog with shaggy black fur which was thick and rugged — left the comparatively warm respite of his shack, carrying an old-fashioned oil lantern at arm's length, level with his head, up close to his only eye which glinted red in the lantern clarity.
The harbormaster was old — his eye strained, his back bent slightly with years of servitude — but he had the deep-bound strength of all mammals who had spent a life of physical labor. He walked with the distinctive 'sailor's swagger' — rocking from side to side constantly, like the to-and-fro of a swaying boat — as he wounded about the shipping container yard.
Shining his torch into all the shadows and labyrinthine pathways created between the stacks of crates, the harbormaster checked the empty yard for any intruders, squatters or other kinds of unwanted guests.
He took out a match as he walked and struck it against the edge of one of the large crates. Lighting his pipe, the old dog came to the point where dock met port. He set down his lantern upon one of the smaller crates and then sat himself on a bollard to enjoy his smoke, mumbling the words to some old shanty under his breath, his voice cracked and low.
"My truelove she is beautiful, and my truelove she is young,
Her eyes as bright as the stars at night, and silvery sounds her tongue."
"And silvery sounds her tongue, my boys, but while I sing this lay,
She is doing it grand in a distant land, ten thousand miles away."
"It was a dark and a dismal morn when last she left the strand.
She bid good-by with a tear-dimmed eye, and waved her lily-white paw."
"And waved her lily-white paw, my boys, as the big ship left the bay,
Adieu, said she, and remember me ten thousand miles away."
He sat there for a time, upon the bollard, with slow plumes of smoke rising from his wooden pipe. Then, something went crack behind him. The hound stood sharply, one paw reaching for his lantern, the other to his pocket, feeling the reassuring coldness of that which laid within — an item all sailors worth their salt carried.
He squinted into the darkness, his lantern doing little to penetrate the gloom beyond a few feet. His concern mounding, he started to focus — really focus — on the atmosphere around him.
And it was then he noticed it.
Lantern held high, the harbormaster stepped out onto the dock. He didn't know what it was, but it sent his every nerve on edge. He sucked in a lungful of air, listened to the sounds of the water and felt the stillness that surrounded — it all spoke of trouble. The dog had been a sailor for many years before old age had forced him to settle on solid ground — and he knew the calm before the storm when he felt it.
He had experienced something like this a few times before out in the open ocean — this hot, itchy calm; this claustrophobic stillness — but it had never been this bad. Looking upon the river, stood on the edge of the dock, the retired shiphand's thick eyebrows furrowed. All of a sudden, the booming blare of a ship foghorn ripped through the silence. The sound started the hound back, his lantern flying from his grip and into the river with a hiss as it extinguished.
From the fog emerged the bow of a vast tanker-vessel. Its massive, iron fans cutting into the water, it ploughed on through the river, drifting to a stop in line with the dock. The iron craft which towered over the dock let out a second booming, earsplitting racket, and then fell silent. The dog picked himself up off the ground, panting, stunned, beneath the massive bulk of the vast ship. Only the bow was visible — the ship so large and the fog so thick that the stern could not be comprehended.
Overshadowed by its enormous bow, he gazed slowly up upon the two hundred thousand ton tanker, loaded with stacks of metal crates. It sat, looming over the port, in complete silence in the darkness for a moment… and then, with a heavy clank, the seven foot anchor…
Dropped.
...
"Now... which paw am I holding your present in?"
"Are you really doing this, Nick?"
"That I am, Hopps. Now, which one?
"Nick, I am not—"
"Okay, you need it explaining—"
"Nooo!"
"— so, held behind my back is a very expensive gift. One of my paws holds the gift, the other holds nothing."
"— Nick—"
"For you to win the prize, you have to guess which paw the present is held in—"
"— Nick!—"
"— and then, if you chose right, I give it to you. We clear now?"
"I am not a child, Nick, I—"
"That's not an answer, Judy, it's left or right."
"Don't push it."
"Which will it be," he sang, "which will it be?"
"I, don't, care. If you're gonna give it, then give it." They held gazes for a moment — Judy's stern, Nick's playful — and then the two started talking simultaneously.
"C'mon, Hopps, it's just a bit of a joke."
"Nick, Look, this may be fun for a—"
"It won't take a second and think of—"
"— three year old, but it isn't for me. I'm—"
"— all the fun we'll have! I know you want—"
"— not trying to be harsh or insensitive and I—"
"— to do it really; stop playing hard to get and—"
"— do thank you for getting me a gift, but—"
"— open up your—"
"Nick!" Judy called over the volume of the conversation, looking pleadingly up to him. "Nick, I'm tired, alright? I just want to eat and go to sleep. So much has happened today, us for one thing… And I just want to eat and go to bed. Okay?"
"The left one then?"
"Nick, can't you just fu— The left one."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Are you, suurrrrre?"
"Yes!"
"Because, it's not too late to change your—"
"Damn it! Yes, alright, the right one."
"Nope! Guess again."
"Seriously?" The fox's grin made Judy groan. Her shoulders slumped and her head fell into the paw she brought up to rub her forehead. Her ears fell, her spirits dulled and a number of 'choice' words escaped her lips in a mumble as she looked back to Nick — who was stood, grinning, with both his paws holding something behind his back.
Then the rabbit's paw shot out into the fox's gut; the fox spluttered, bent double; the rabbit reached around to Nick's back, picked the present from the fox's slackened grip and returned to her natural position, present in paw. "Thank you," she said, honestly.
"Y-y-you're— you're welcome." Checking behind herself, the rabbit sat down upon the sofa. Nick — having recovered from the blow — remained stood, speaking as though trying to make amends for something as Judy turned her gift, a foot wide and high, and a few inches thick and made from a flimsy, possibly fabric material, over and over in her paws.
"Hey-erm— Judy, I hope you like it," he said, carefully, "and it's definitely your size and color, but, it's just, be, kinda, cautious when you open it. It's safe, just, don't take it too literally that I bought it. It's, err— it's sort of a bit, you know..." The rabbit gave him a sideways glance as she turned the present over and ran a small claw through the metallic foil wrappings, a questioning expression on her face.
"Well, it's like buying your mom red knickers."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean it's sort of like— I don't know… slutty?"
Her gaze shot to his face, her words lined with cautious, warning anger, "Nick... what the fluff have you bought me?"
"No, NO! I-I didn't mean you would look slutty in it, it's just—" the fox fumbled in his words, trying all he could to convey what he meant without giving away what it was "— it's just, like, 'not the kind of thing a friend buys a friend'... usually." The fox crossed his arms over his chest as Judy's gaze slowly returned back to the present. "Just... just open it," he muttered, his voice hot with concern, as he shifted unsurely from foot to foot. Slitting another side of the gift, she gently tore the metallic violet wrapping paper open, revealing a pile of folded cloth upon a cloths hook. She lifted the item by the cloths hanger and held it up to the light.
It was an oriental dressing gown — purple — with a multitude of patterned spirals, swirls and shapes all across it in a diverse range of crimsons, golds, emeralds, azures, ambers and hazels.
Judy gawped at it — mesmerized by its colorful — yet not overcrowded — colors and patterns. She reached out a paw and touched the delicate lilac material. It was light, thin, made from fine silk which shone — almost glowed — in the light.
"Nick," managed Judy, in a light breath, "it's—"
"I know! I know. I'm sorry."
"No, Nick… it's beautiful." Nick started slightly, hope returning to his jades as Judy briskly got herself up off the couch, crossed the room and put her arms warmly around Nick's waist. A sense of pride at buying the right thing filled him and his expression softened at her next words, "I love it."
Nick grinned — then grinned yet more as Judy kissed him in thanks — as he spoke, "You mean, you'll try it on?"
"Try it on? I'll wear it!" Turning excitedly back to the sofa, Judy quickly started undoing the knot of Nick's black gown she was wearing, when something sparked in the back of her mind and she turned her head towards Nick with a suppressed grin. "You just gonna sit there?"
His eyes shooting wide, Nick turned away hurriedly. A few seconds passed. Judy's voice then fluttered in the air, "Okay, you can look." He turned and — not for the last time that evening — Nick was struck by the sight. The color of the material complimented her lilacs perfectly — just as Nick knew they would — and the thinness and lightness of the material pronounced the smooth curves, the trimness, the shapeliness of her body like nothing the fox had seen could.
"Wow. Judy," said Nick, quietly in amazement, "you are really something, you know that?" Tenderly, he stepped towards her, reached out and held her body. "You look amazing."
A coy smile spread on her face. "Thanks. It feels amazing too. This silk—" the doe trailed off as the fox's touch wrapped further around her body. From looking down at herself Judy gazed up as the fox's muzzle neared hers — full of basic and simple need.
They kissed, deeply, but then the rabbit drew back with stars in her eyes and spoke, her paw resting upon Nick's as it slid slowly up and down across her waist. "Nick, why… why did you warn me before I opened it?"
"Well, it's just, you know... you wear it when you go to bed and it's just not something you buy for someone, most of the time. It's just, kinda, seedy that I would buy something like that for you."
"Awww," she breathed, "always the gentlemammle."
"For you, Judy, I have to be." The affection of mouths continued on for quite some time before the two mammals returned to their supper. Their meal was simple and somewhat without taste, but Nick and Judy both were too preoccupied with the fact that they were dinning together as a 'couple' for the first time to really notice the food or — to some extent — making conversation... until Judy started on her 'carrot' gravy, that is.
They were both full with the excitement of all the things that could now pass between them in their newfound 'status'... but the hour was late and they had one more day of work before the week's end, so the two mammals decided to retire for an early night. It had been a tiring day, with investigations, a city-chase, a lengthy report and then a suspected 'suicide' to deal with — not to mention the altogether draining recollection of Nick's past — so the two mammals decided that they should sleep now and leave 'developments' for their weekend off.
Nick offered Judy the master bed, while he'd sleep on the couch. Judy refused, dragged the fox into the master bedroom, ordered him to strip down into his boxers and to get into bed... and that she would be there to join his momentarily… And, so it came to pass that Judy was stood in the doorframe — wearing only the thin oriental gown. The living room light was still on, and so her body was but a black silhouette to the fox. Nick watched in silence and in anticipation as Judy stretched out, slid her paw up the wall just outside the bedroom, and flicked off the light — switching her from a featureless figure to being clearly illuminated against the soft light of the moon without.
Nick did what he could to keep his breathing steady as the beautifully illuminated bunny slowly crossed the room, standing on the other side of the bed and folding down a corner of the sheets — he couldn't do anything about his ridiculous heartbeat though, or, that... other problem his body was currently giving him.
Looking carefully at nothing by the side of the fox's bed which Nick was within — having something like a panic attack by the sound of it — Judy's paws slowly slipped down the fine smooth silk... and undid the knot which held the gown closed.
"Judy, what— what are you doing?"
Holding the thin layer of clothing about herself, the rabbit's hidden flush slowly rose to meet the fox. Judy suppressed the devilish grin that tried to form, held back the giggling and the blushing and, instead, allowed a coy smile to form on her face, keeping her voice completely and utterly innocent as she cooed, "Well, I can't wear it to bed. It'll get creased."
"Hey, err, why-why don't you let me grab one of my shirts to slip on?"
She shook her head, slightly; Nick gawked at the refusal. "No, it's okay, Nick. Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine just, like... this." She dropped the silken gown. It fell to the floor without noise. In her bareness — her nudity — Judy shied at Nick with something like fearful trepidation — and who could blame her — she had just exposed, quite literally, everything to the male of another species, a predator at that — how could she not be nervous?
For his part, Nick looked at Judy with nothing but stunned wonderment — unable, just, unable to think, move, anything. Struck absolutely — one hundred percent — by the vision before him.
Judy smiled softly — reassured by Nick's silent, gawping approval. It was a scene, once seen, never to be unseen. It only took Judy a couple of seconds to slip into bed beside the fox and the petrifyingly beautiful sight was lost — and yet, even years after, that sight and that moment would be as clear to him in memory as they were in that very bit of time. Judy started slipping into bed beside the fox. This knocked him from his paralysis and he blurted to her in a panic as she pulled the cover back over herself.
"Hopps! Hopps, I only have so much self-control, and—" she moved yet closer, her body warming his and her scent filling his air with her arms wrapping around his chest; her face nuzzling against his neck "— a, a, and—"
"Goodnight, Sweetheart," was all she said as the fox continued to twitch and stutter agitatedly beside her. Despite her excitement, Judy Hopps fell asleep easy. She had never felt anything like she did then. Never in all her years did she ever think something so simple as lying next to a lover could just feel so damn good. It wasn't even sexual — just wonderfully intimate and full of warmth — just Nick's smooth red fur which was softer and felt even more pleasant against her fur than the gown he bought her did. It made Judy feel safer and more comforted then she could ever remember feeling before.
I finally did it, she thought as she drifted off. I finally got the fox I love.
Judy's mind faded, slipping into perfectly blissful sleep, surrounded, and penetrated by Nick's warmth and Nick's love, as a single, delicate, uncertain maroon arm slipped slowly over her shoulders, across her arm and tucked in around her body and across her back bare.
Well Nick, you did it, he thought, quite unable to drift off, don't ask me how the heck you pulled it off, but you did it. He settled back in the bed as Judy sighed and tucked herself in a little closer to his body. Honestly... I didn't think you had a chance in hell.
...
The old harbormaster remained crouched behind a wooden crate, looking upon the vast black tanker as three more workers dismounted.
After appearing from the mist and docking, the massive tanker had remained motionless in the darkness for quite a time. Then, five workmammals had been dropped off. They went together to the large crane which was soon in operation, lifting container after container onto the backs of one of the procession of trucks which had appeared from nowhere.
It was clear to the harbormaster watching from the concealment of the shadows that something was up. Not only was the boat painted full black without markings or identification, not only were the workers keeping the area in complete darkness as though trying to keep the fact of their presence unknown, not only was there no sign that the proper authorities knew this was going on — but it all seemed just too organized, too practiced for this to be a legal activity.
The black, shaggy dog watched, looking for whoever was in charge and, at last, he had spotted him. He was a coyote, thin and lanky, whose face was in the shape of a constant smirch, which spoke of an overprinted upbringing and a lack of decency or respect. The harbormaster disliked him on sight. He stood among two other mammals, practically bathing in their attention like a needy kid.
The shiphand, harbormaster, great black dog set towards the small gathering, his mind free of trepidation with his paw upon the reassuring coldness of that which laid within his pocket. "Who be you who comes to my port at such an 'our?" The gathering turned to him, startled. There were only three of them that the one-eyed dog could see — the others preoccupied with the crane or the ship. The coyote took a drag leisurely from his cigarette and stepped towards the dog with one paw in his pocket.
"Well, my name's George. What's your name, old-timer?"
"Shuck," he shot back, "but that's Mister Black to you, boyo."
The coyote smiled, thinly. "Shuck Black— Mister Black, my employer is a wealthy mammal and letting us carry on with what we're doing would be of advantage to you. Otherwise, he's a powerful mammal too, and he could make life very difficult for you if you don't play along."
"You're not gonna get to me that way, mammals have tried bribes and threats before. I know your kind, bastad, and I don't deal with lackeys."
Taking his fag out and examining it carefully, George replied, "I don't much like being talked to like that, Mister Black, so why don't you just leave us be?"
"Any number of reasons. Not least the fact your importing here is completely illegal."
"Look, mongrel, me and my pals are just here to make a delivery. Once that delivery is made we can all go home. No one has to get hurt."
"If anyone here gets hurt, boyo, it'll be you. We clear?" The coyote shot him a dirty look. "Now, you just get on and tell me what you're hoarding, and I'll decide what I'll do with you."
The coyote looked at Shuck carefully for a moment, then spoke. "Me and my friends here are carrying four-thousand twenty-foot metal shipping containers. Inside each of these we are carrying twenty-two tons of a dry material for 'commercial sales'. We're loading them into these trucks — also friends of mine — and then we're deposing them at one of our 'sales deposits' scattered about the city. In ten minutes, we'd've emptied all our stock out into these trucks. In half an hour we'll be gone and far away from this city. You let us carry on, it'll be big cash for you. You try and stop us... it's concrete boots all the way down."
He flicked his cigarette away with a dry chuckle. "So what's it to be, flea bag," he said, reaching into his trouser pocket. "You beat it, or I beat you?"
Shuck Black approached rapidly, the coyote backed away, not expecting this move from the old dog and failing to mask his fear behind a veil of ease as the distance between them was closed. Shuck leaned close towards George's face, suddenly not looking quite so old as he did a moment before, looming up over him as he spoke in a voice gruff and dangerous, "Go sodemise yourself, basted."
Growling, the young coyote shoved Shuck back away from him and reached for the knuckle dusters in his pocket. In a flash, however, Shuck had drawn the cold, 'reassuring weight' — his flick-knife — from his pocket and had grabbed the coyote by the neck, forcing him back with both strength and speed, which didn't suit his age but very much suited his many years of physically strenuous servitude — pinning George against the crate and pressing the deadly sharp blade against his throat. The others lurched for him, but he turned his head with a ripping growl, his black and rugged fur rising and his single red eye glinting as he pressed the knife's edge slightly firmer against their boss' throat.
"No," shouted the coyote, "don't. Go get the others!" The two ran from the sight, leaving them alone. The one-eyed, black hound bared his barbed teeth at him.
"I said I knew your kind," he grunted. "You don't have the guts to take on real conflict. You'd rather hide behind your guards, barking orders and hoping trouble doesn't come too close. Now," he continued, turning his single eye towards him, "what the hell kind of operation are you running here?"
"When my boss finds out what's happened, you're in for a heap of s—"
"Who is your boss, boy? What's his name?"
The coyote was reluctant, but the press of steel against his neck opened him up. "His— his name's Nyilas. Victor Nyilas, okay?"
"What are you shipping here?"
"It-it's just stuff! I—"
"I will gut you. I've done it before. Now TELL ME!"
"Garrrgh! Cannabis, Cocaine, Amphetamine, Ecstasy, you want some? Take your pick!"
"I've told you before, stop trying to bribe me. Now, where's your base of operations?"
"If— if I tell you that I'm as good as dead!"
"You're as good as dead now." Shuck paused in thought for a moment. He could hear others close by. He didn't have long. "How about I give you a nice eye like mine." He turned his missing eye towards him. George cringed back from the sight.
"We... we have ten bases of operations in Zootopia. The first was Ladders and Ladders, but that's been compromised. The second is in the north of Precinct One, Erkin Enterprises. The third—"
Then he stopped. From behind, shouts arose as a number of various large mammals came running towards them armed with clubs and hammers. Shuck's reaction was instant — dropping the coyote and making to bolt.
Wanting revenge, George leaped for him, grabbing his arm and holding him in place. The black dog span and delivered a heavy punch to his gut. The coyote recovered quickly and went for his knuckleduster. He pulled it out, swung his paw back... and then yelped in pain as Shuck thrust his knife into George's paw against the wall. The coyote froze. He was trapped against the wooden crate — his paw pinned to the wood by the knife stuck within it.
Black Shuck's barbed teeth smeared a foul grin as he pulled the knife away and the coyote's body fell limp to the floor. He span on the balls of his feet, as the mob approached, and ran. He ran. He ran and he ran and he did not stop until he was far away.
...
"You okay, boss?" A large hog helped the coyote to his feet.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, fearing showing his anguish would jeopardize his authority. "Get in touch with Nyilas. Tell him we'll just have to carry on as planned. We still have time to unload half of our stock before the police arrive and that dog won't know where the ship is headed. We'll just have to accelerate our plan, move on to Step Two earlier than expected. No real harm can come of this."
"Very good, Sir. Would you like someone to look at that paw?"
George looked down at the bloody hole in his limb. He couldn't bend his fingers and he couldn't feel his arm — probably for the best. "Yeah, and get these crates moving, we've got about five minutes before the coppers get here."
With that, he set off back towards the boat with distaste in his mind.
…
Author's notes:
Hesitance jumps around your mind,
Grooms decision thus chosen blind.
Your thoughts most succulent of snack,
All delivered by luscious feedback.
So don't hide like a tiny shrew,
Thus share that belovable review!
- Anyway, what I wanted to say is that I would like some thoughts on what you thought of the character 'Shuck Black' — based on the old English myth 'Black Shuck', the ghostly black demon-dog, who Arthur Conan Doyle based the 'Hound of the Baskervilles' from. He is important to the story — in one way or another, for better or worse, in the short term or the long — and so I would appreciate it if I could have some feedback as to what you thought of his character — your first impressions of what he's like as a mammal, if you will.
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