"Reputation runs behind the current state of affairs." - Mason Cooley
8:00 P.M ; Precinct One, Savanna-Central
Mulling over the stack of paperwork at his office's desk, Chief Bogo couldn't escape the distracting thoughts that ailed his mind.
Bogo had hoped that sending Nick and Judy off to the Zootopia Police Academy would be a blessing in disguise: A way to allow them both to at least temporarily escape the wrath of their most potentially dangerous critics - some of the other city police chiefs - and to subsequently prove themselves to their persistent detractors once and for all.
After all, if anyone could show the next generation of ZPD recruits how to be good cops, it would be those two. Plain and simple.
But still, the thought of the spy trying to undermine their good work at the academy was a discomforting one. When the water-buffalo had first came to the realization that there was a mole at the academy, he admittedly had had trouble believing it himself. Yet still, all the evidence recovered from the archive was about as compelling as it got.
Bogo could only hope that his two best officers would stay one step ahead of their enemies, and deliver justice to those in need.
A slew of knocks at the door severed the buffalo's train of thought. Glancing up from his paperwork, Bogo stared down the door in front of him before calling out;
"Come in."
The door swung open, revealing a gruff-looking old coyote standing in the hallway just outside. His lean body was wrapped in a beige-colored police officer's uniform, and he sported a thin bullet-vest on his torso for extra protection. A red bandana was tied around his neck, and the top of his head was capped off with a dusty brown cowboy hat.
"Chief Latran." Bogo stated flatly. "What an unexpected surprise."
The coyote's eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his hat as he tipped it down in a gesture of greeting. "Chief Bogo." He simply acknowledged as he walked into the room.
Compared to Bogo, the coyote was downright small. Yet still, he held his head high and back straight, and carried himself into Bogo's office with an astute aura of confidence.
"I hope you don't mind the surprise visit, Thelonious, but I came here to address some important matters with you. Precinct Three needs your collaboration."
"On what accounts?" Bogo inquired.
Jesse shut the large door behind him before locking eyes with the water-buffalo. "The academy's." He claimed ominously as he approached Bogo's office desk.
"This is the first time in half a decade that you've visited me personally rather than phoning in." Chief Bogo noted. "What could be so important at the ZPA to have gotten y-?"
"The spy, for one thing." Chief Latran interjected, causing Bogo to cease his speaking for a few seconds of tense silence between the two high-ranking officers.
"I wasn't aware that you knew." He muttered quietly.
"Of course I knew." The coyote spat. "Precinct One isn't the only branch of the ZPD tied in to academy intelligence briefs. All of the district chiefs received word about the spy."
"Yes, I know, but I just figured that you would have... Brought it up sooner."
"Why, because I've been gunnin' for yer two best officers, and you think that I'd jump at the idea of a spy in the academy because it puts the blame on them?" Latran guessed.
Bogo nodded in confirmation, causing the coyote to sigh bitterly. He then continued;
"I don't like officer Hopps, or Wilde, and think that they're a danger to the peace of this city, but even I recognize that this excursion is beyond their own influence: That they weren't the ones that up an' started it. The true blame falls on whoever sent that darn double-agent in the first place. And as a matter of fact, that's why I came to you tonight."
The coyote tugged on his bullet vest before reaching into the space between it and his button-up ZPD uniform. He then pulled out a slightly wrinkled manilla envelope, twisting it around in his wrist before leaning forward and dropping it on Bogo's desk for him to see. The water-buffalo slid the item closer to his side of the desk, and examined it carefully. The dark-yellow envelope had a large stamp in bold red letters on it that read 'CLASSIFIED INTEL', and had been packaged in a discreet way, suggesting something risky inside.
"What is this?" Bogo rumbled.
"Documented evidence from Precinct Three. We may have unintentionally got our paws on some info relating to the spy. The other night, a routine patrol over in Sahara-Square nabbed a shipment of narcotics that was being smuggled in from the Rainforest-District's border. But these weren't just any usual old street drugs... They were Night-Howlers."
Bogo's eyes widened. "Night-Howlers? That's preposterous!" He thundered. "There haven't been any sightings of those drugs since the crisis ended nearly four years ago."
Latran scoffed. "Well, clearly, someone's been makin' 'em again, and it ain't hard to guess who." He growled irritably.
The water-buffalo nodded. "Al Catpone."
"That lily-livered jungle-cat's been shippin' whole packages a' these things into my district right under my nose. Disgraceful." Chief Latran spat.
"How much was there?"
"Not a lot: Just a few of those little blue orbs that were used as bullets back in the day, but there were enough to turn at least a dozen mammals savage. The truck that was carryin' 'em got pulled over on a broken tail light. Dumb driver couldn't keep his cool, and tried to get away. My officers made short work a' him. When we busted open his backseat, a whole bag a' Night-Howlers just slipped right out. The driver was a low-rankin' street smuggler, so we couldn't get much info out a' him, but the fact that he was ferryin' around Night-Howlers, of all things, across district borders doesn't exactly spell luck for us. Like you said, this is the first time we've seen any Night-Howlers in years."
"And you think that this is somehow connected to the spy at the Zootopia police academy?" Bogo asked.
Chief Latran nodded grimly. "Thas' right. Can't be much else. This whole thing reeks of conspiracy, an' I don't like it one bit. Somethin' big is comin' our way."
Bogo narrowed his eyes as he opened up the manilla envelop with his hooves and extracted the paper documents from within. He briefly scanned them over before saying;
"You were wise to bring this to my attention, Jesse. Thank you."
Latran's gaze flitted to the side. "Since the whole spy situation down at the academy is real hush-hush, I decided to drop this off to you personally." He claimed.
"A good choice. I appreciate your assistance, and I'll be sure to notify Major Friedkin, and tell her to keep on the lookout for anything suspicious at the ZPA."
"She's been doin' that already, though, hasn't she?"
"Indeed. So far, there hasn't been anything worth looking in to. Whoever the spy is, they're playing their cards slowly and deliberately."
"Smart a' them to do so." The coyote added. "Whatever they're plannin' must be dangerous."
"That's putting it lightly. The first Night-Howler sighting in nearly four years, and coming just off the back of the news on the spy. You were right to be suspicious."
Shaking his head slightly from side to side, the coyote chief of police gestured to the envelop with his left paw. "You take good care a' that evidence."
"I will." Bogo declared. "I'll ensure that from now on, everything relating to these state of affairs are treated with the utmost amount of care and precision."
"Well said. I have faith in your abilities. With that all taken care of, I best get back to Precinct Three, now."
At that, Chief Bogo watched as his desert counterpart turned tail and began to pace off towards the nearby door. He unlocked it before pulling on its weight, and then halting.
"Oh, and one more thing, Thelonious," Chief Latran added. "Your two precious pupils may not be the cause of this whole spy situation down at the academy..."
The coyote opened the door to the office before glancing over his shoulder and locking eyes with Chief Bogo.
"But if they don't keep said situation in check, as ordered, and let chaos strike at the ZPA; then we may just have to seek further retribution for their inadequacy."
Straightening his back and furrowing his brow, the water-buffalo leaned forward in his desk as he directed his coming words with unbreakable pride and conviction;
"I'm sure my officers will keep the situation under control. Hopps and Wilde are the best that the ZPD has to offer. If anyone can handle it, it's them. I promise you."
Chief Latran blew a stream of air out through his nostrils. "I hope so." He muttered bitterly before turning towards the exit. "Goodnight, Thelonious."
Bogo could have sworn that he saw true optimism in his counterpart's eyes.
"Goodnight, Jesse." Chief Bogo stated, all the while watching as the coyote officer vacated his office and closed the door behind him in his wake.
Sighing deep, the water-buffalo leaned back in his chair. It had been a long enough day already, but this latest new development was definitely the icing on top of the proverbial cake. Sparing another weary glance down at the classified manilla envelop that Chief Latran had delivered, Chief Bogo could only wonder in silence what this meant for his city.
1:00 A.M ; Somewhere in the Rainforest-District...
For near of five hours straight, the ram labored over his hard work, stopping only to take short breaks for water and momentary rest every half hour or so.
With a blue blanket wrapped around his wool-free body and a yellow hazmat suit around even that, Doug silently mixed two flasks of colored chemicals together, intentfully watching over their immediate reactions. Satisfied with the new concoction, he then turned his attention to the sack of slimy blue mushrooms sitting on the table before him.
When Pazzo had returned with the mushrooms needed for the new formula, all the while ranting about their rancid scent, Doug had allowed himself to take a small amount of gratification in knowing that their horrible smell had caused discomfort to the tayra and his fellow mobsters. He figured it was the very least that vile creature deserved for shaving off all of his beloved wool. At the thought of his once illustrious fleecy coat, the ram couldn't help but sigh and tenderly rub at the cold skin hidden beneath the layer of hazmat fabric on his neck. The blanket helped, but it was a far cry to what he once had. Being able to watch his criminal captors squirm was his way of biting back at them, however small, even if he was still helping them in their efforts to make a new and improved version of his own old Night-Howler formula. That much he couldn't help.
Still, knowing that his good work wouldn't go without reward was all the motivation that he needed to continue it.
A scream of pained rage echoed from somewhere behind Doug, effectively derailing his train of thought. He would have thought that he'd get used to the test-subject's cries of protest by now, but each time that poor hyena let loose a bellowing roar of anger or torment, the ram couldn't help but cringe with distaste at the ramifications of his work.
The hyena test-subject had been used continually as an experimental base for each new concoction of the ram's formula, and so far, each one had ended in failure, with the test-subject simply turning savage over and over. Al's mobsters had somehow managed to get their paws on a hefty supply of Night-Howler vaccines, and so, after each new setback, they would convert the hyena back to his normal state before prepping him to relive the experience again and again until they got it right. Admittedly, even for a mammal like Doug, who hated predators with a passion, the whole ordeal was disturbing to him. He hoped to be able to make the new formula work each new time, if only to prevent the hyena from suffering any further. It was almost ironic that Doug, the same racist individual who had helped to ignite the Night-Howler pandemic all those years ago, was starting to sympathize with a predator in distress. He didn't like what Catpone was doing here, but if it meant ending the torment, then he was willing to cooperate.
Besides, the promise of both freedom from the mob and financial compensation after his formula was complete definitely didn't keep the ram from stalling with his work.
However, his task did not come without challenge. Not only was it difficult to work with the gas, as it was surprisingly volatile, but the airy nature of the substance made containing it both a prominent and arduous priority. Doug was all too used to the liquid attributes of the original Night-Howler formula, and so, working to properly exploit a gaseous substance, especially one as potentially dangerous as this one, proved a slow and difficult endeavor. Directing the bright-blue gas through different curled tubes and enclosed plastic sacks, he carefully extracted a new dosage of the stuff before siphoning it into a small consumable bag of air no bigger than an apple, of which was tightly connected to a rubber gas mask, in order to allow whoever consumed the gas to keep it to themselves. The process was similar to how he used to extract the liquid residue from the Night-Howler flowers in his old savage formula before putting it into the orbs that he used as bullets, the biggest difference being that this new stuff was gaseous, and instead of orb-shaped bullets being used to administer the drug, gas masks would provide all the same applications of consumption and usage for his brand new formula.
Apparently, the mobsters believed that the new formula would work better in a gaseous form rather than a liquid one, which Doug could understand. A gaseous form would allow for its consumer to feel the effects of the drug much faster than a liquid one. Even though the gas was more difficult to work with in the lab, the advantages couldn't be denied. Besides, Doug had no intention on altering what the mobbies had made too much, if only to prevent them from getting upset with him. All that he was supposed to do was to make the new formula work by getting rid of the leftover components in it that had turned Al's test subjects completely savage, rather than into an apex predator.
Once he had all of the ingredients down, it was a surprisingly simple process: Add the mushroom extractions that Al had acquired from the Nocturnal-District into the new gas formula bit by bit, and let the natural counter-agents in them work their magic to subdue the leftover savage chemicals. Once that was done, all that was left to do was to quarantine the new and improved gas, extract it into a clean environment, and then test it out. Staring over the final product of his work, Doug couldn't help but feel proud.
Even if he was helping a bunch of sleazy mobsters, that was.
Now all that was left was to test it out. Holding the bag and gas mask in his hoof, Doug sighed before unseating himself and making his way out of the lab and to the nearby testing room, which was positioned just a few yards down from the connecting hallway. At the far end of the corridor, he locked eyes with a burly ocelot mobster, watching over him with a sneer on his face as he unlatched the metal door from its bolts before swinging it open and entering the testing room. Doug tried his very best to ignore the ocelot. He knew that Al had ordered armed guards to constantly keep watch over this section of the underground facility, if only to prevent Doug from trying anything tricky. He had no intentions on escape, for he knew that it was impossible. His best strategy was to simply follow orders as best he could, and to await the judgement of his captors.
Still, the idea of so much security just for someone like himself was unnerving. It was clear that the Rainforest-Outfit and its mobsters really didn't want him to leave.
Inside the testing room, Doug came to sight with the instigator behind the experiments that the mob had been conducting here in the secret compound: A pure-black panther who simply went by Doctor Schwarz. As Doug recalled, it was he who had first brought the hyena test-subject to the room for experimentation, and was also the one that had prepped him for the experience by performing a medical examination beforehand. The doctor was tall and startlingly thin, especially for his species, and adorned himself with a long and billowing white labcoat, completely clean and spotless, and standing out in stark contrast to his midnight-black fur. His paws were wrapped in black rubber gloves, his eyes were obscured with laboratory goggles, and his mouth was covered by a light-blue facemask, exactly like the ones that surgeons and nurses used in real hospitals.
Unlike a professional doctor, Schwarz seemed to take nothing but delight in his torturous experiments with the hyena test-subject. From what Doug had gathered, he was a full-fledged member of the mob's syndicate, and one of Al Catpone's trusted lieutenants, along with Pazzo the tayra and Donnie the tapir. Doug did his best to memorize all he could about the Rainforest-Outfit's most prominent members, for he knew that if he was ever to see the light of day again, and were to report to the ZPD, then he'd need all the information he could spare. Doctor Schwarz was almost as sadistic and cruel as Pazzo himself, but seemed to be able to keep himself cool and controlled much better.
That wasn't to say that Doug liked him, though. The doctor gave off a cold sense of authority that never failed to give Doug the shivers in his spine.
"I've got good news, doc." The ram began slowly, ignoring his instincts of trepidation. "The formula is finally done."
Doug eyed the doctor as he turned around and stared him down with eerie silence. His gaunt face was featureless and impossible to read, thanks to the mask and goggles. The ram couldn't help but notice that he held a disturbingly large syringe in one paw, and as the panther looked over his shoulder, a tiny amount of fluid squirted out from it.
Gulping hard, Doug nervously held out the gas mask for the doctor to see for himself. His goggled eyes seemed to lower themselves ever so slightly as he analyzed the item. It was difficult to tell what the panther was thinking, but Doug still noticed a slight smile pushing past his blue facemask, which he figured was a good sign. Schwarz laughed.
"Ja, you have done well, little sheep." He stated in a crisp and throaty accent. "I cannot wait to see what this formula of yours can do."
At that, the freaky panther set down his syringe before pacing past Doug and to the nearby window that connected the testing room to the viewing room. He knocked on it a few times with his knuckles. Past the glass, Doug watched as a number of other mobsters nodded and lept up from their couches, beginning to pace around and shout out orders.
Doctor Schwarz then leered down at Doug with a grin. "It is time to begin the experiment. I will be taking that now." He claimed, gesturing to the gas mask full of blue air.
Nodding, the ram walked forward slowly, closing the distance between himself and the panther, who stood with open arms just a few feet away. Doug momentarily faltered.
Can I really do this? He asked himself. If I give this thing over to the mob, there's no turning back. There will be no one on the inside to stop them from enacting their plans.
Doug's gaze flitted off to the ground. If he wanted to, he could have ended it all right there: Dropped the gas mask onto the ground before stomping on it and breaking the container, destroying what he had worked so hard to create. The ram swallowed, tossing that rash idea from his mind. He knew that it would get him nowhere but dead in a grave. These mobsters were expecting him to finish what they had started, and there was nothing he could do. The formula was already complete, and there was no way out.
It was too late. There was already no turning back.
With an exhale of baited breath, the ram handed the gas mask and container over to Doctor Schwarz, whose twisted smile grew even wider by the second.
"Good lad." He said. "Now, please vacate the testing room while I summon the test-subject for our next experiment. The capo will be expecting your presence in the lounge."
Sighing once more, Doug turned away from the panther before exiting the room, hoping that his decision was for the best. He closed the metal door shut behind him before making his way over to the nearby viewing room, or the lounge, as the doctor had so casually described it. Over his many days of working with the Rainforest-Outfit, Doug was still just beginning to pick up on mobster-speak. Still, he knew that the word capo referred to the leader of the crime syndicate, or in this case, Al Catpone himself, whom Doug was dreading to meet up with once again. The ram hated that jaguar for forcing him into this whole ridiculous turn of events, and for what he planned on using his new creation for. Doug couldn't deny that he was terrified of the potential repercussions of Al Catpone's master plan, and what could mean for the city of Zootopia in its entirety.
But past it all, the ram could understand his captor's motivations, and could even appreciate his leniency: Catpone had claimed that he simply planned on striking back at the city government as a message against their pastime of malpractice, and that he had no intentions on hurting any prey along the way, even if their own continued subjugation against predators was the reason behind this scheme in the first place. Doug could tell that Catpone meant no harm to prey, but was still wary as to the plan's ramifications.
Knowing that brooding over it would get him nowhere, the ram breathed in deep as he cleared his mind once and for all, and entered the viewing room without hesitation.
Inside, his eyes flickered over the forms of over a dozen mobsters milling about the area, with some lounging on the couches, playing cards, a few skulking in the shadows at the back of the room, and some quietly watching the window as the awaited the results of the latest experiment. Standing beside the window, Al Catpone, Donnie, and Pazzo were quietly discussing something amongst themselves. As he approached them, Doug took sight of the scene through the window just behind them: The hyena test-subject being forced into the hospital bed by a band of burly ocelots, while Doctor Schwarz stood silently nearby with the gas mask ready and at his disposal. Doug averted his gaze.
Stepping up to the trio of mobsters at the front of the room, Doug caught wind of a choice piece of information just as it left the mouth of Donnie the tapir;
"-Over at the academy. Our spy is still reporting in, and it sounds like the place will be the perfect opportunity for us to send a message, boss."
"Quiet, you idiot!" Pazzo hissed as he thwacked Donnie on the shoulder with his paw before glaring daggers at Doug. "The sheep is here."
All three of the mobsters stared down Doug as he set foot beside them.
"Glad you could make it, my friend." Catpone started, stepping forward and patting Doug on the head. "We wouldn't want you to miss out on this, would we?"
Pazzo snickered beneath his breath, and even Donnie gave his best attempt at a villainous grin. Ignoring them, Doug glared up at his jaguar captor with renewed confidence.
"Don't flatter yourself, cat. I'm not your friend." He growled. "Let's just get this over with."
Narrowing his forest-green eyes, Al then shrugged to himself before turning around and staring through the window before him. He explained;
"Your ambition does you well, Doug. I'll have you know that this latest test of ours is lookin' up to be quite the spectacle, especially if your new formula does you credit. But not all is well: Since our test-subject nearly broke a cuff when we last experimented on 'im, the doc made sure to triple the restraints, just in case he manages to break free, this time around. I'm tired of experimentin' on this hyena. We've had too many failures for my tastes, and I'm growin' impatient. Your new formula better be the real deal."
Al then leaned over and placed one of his paws on Doug's shoulder. He gripped it like a vice between his thick fingers as he uttered one last ominous warning to the ram;
"But... If this latest trial doesn't work... If we don't get the results that we've been lookin' for, this time 'round... Then you're going to be the next test subject. Capisce?"
Doug was half-tempted to remind Al that hurting him would only make fulfilling his evil plans more difficult, if not impossible, but the ram ultimately decided not to stretch his captor's patience. He could tell that Al Catpone was getting even more irritated with each new setback, and that if he didn't produce results quickly, then he might get hurt.
Angry mammals didn't think rationally, after all.
"Okay, relax. Don't worry." Doug said before breathing in steadily. "You can trust me, Al. The tests have been showing progress! Something tells me that this will be the one."
"It better." Al growled. "For your sake."
The sheep had a bad feeling that he wasn't bluffing.
A sudden knock on the nearby glass window caught the attentions of all four of the conversing mammals. Each one turned towards the pane and silently watched over Doctor Schwarz as he gave a thumbs in a gesture of good fortune before calmly walking over to the side of the medical bed where the hyena test-subject lay prone and unmoving. It seemed that he wasn't even trying to resist the efforts of his captors, by now. The panther doctor fastened the gas mask to his muzzle before squeezing its bag, forcing the bright blue gas up the length of the connecting tube, where it poured into the mask itself and was promptly inhaled by the hyena, who let out a whimper of uneasy anxiety.
"Moment of truth." Catpone muttered lowly.
From behind him, the large crowd of mobsters quickly quieted and stilled themselves in anticipation for the results of the experiment.
The effects were almost immediate: The hyena's breaths became more labored as he flexed against the restraints and let out a snarl of pain from beneath clenched teeth. His pupils dilated into minute pinpricks, and the veins on the thinner parts of his fur seemed to push through the skin. Doctor Schwarz then backed away and out of sight from the glass window that the other mobsters watched through. With jaws agape, they took in the sight of the hyena's muscles twisting and convulsing, pushing the limits of the restraints. Thankfully, they held him down tightly, and as the hyena's eyes darted around the room, Doug noticed that something was different about them, this time around.
His eyes were no longer glazed over, and filled with primal fury. They were laced with a sense of confusion and concern, as though the hyena himself too had realized that something was different about this new transformation. Unlike all of the other times, he had kept his sense of awareness, conscience, and reason. He had not turned savage.
"No way." Donnie murmured.
"It... It worked!" Pazzo exclaimed. "It actually worked!"
Sensing his bolstered strength, the hyena must've realized that he had a shot, however slim, at breaking free from his prison. He roared with anger and pulled so hard on his restraints that Doug thought that he was going to dislocate an arm. The doctor's extra medical restraints, however, held him fast, even if he continually tried to break them.
"Good thing we tripled the restraints." Donnie the tapir muttered timidly just as one of the restrains popped off, causing him to seize up and whimper with fear.
"This is it, my friends!" Al Catpone then exclaimed triumphantly. "Behold, your new apex predator!"
The crowd of mobsters cheered at their success. Doctor Schwarz popped back out from his hiding place in the other room and clapped politely. Doug allowed himself a grin, for his hard work had proven itself to be effective, but still, deep down, he wondered if the consequences of his actions would be worth the short-term satisfaction of all this.
"It's about time." The jaguar crime-lord continued. "This new formula will be the instrument of our liberation!"
More cheers ensued. This time, Doug didn't even smile. His ears detected Catpone's coming words;
"But no great new discovery is complete without a name! Every new planet, every new disease, and every new drug deserves a good name. Ours will be no different."
This prospect admittedly piqued the ram's interests. It was Dawn Bellwether herself who had taken the privilege of dubbing Doug's previous creation as Night-Howlers, so the idea of being able to provide a name, and therefore a higher meaning to this new drug was something that he took some pride in. He was about to step forward when Al said;
"So, does anyone have any good ideas?"
Clasping his paws together, Al Catpone watched as his underlings began scratching at their chins and rubbing at the backs of their necks in thought.
"Ooo, ooo! I got one, boss!" Donnie piped out. "Feral-Dream!" The tapir suggested.
"Pretty sure that one's already taken. Drug company on Outback-Island." Al retorted before sighing. "Ugh, and it's such a good one, too."
"How about, uh... How about Midnight-Roar?" An unseen mobster somewhere at the back of the crowd offered.
"Those words are just synonyms for Night-Howler!" Catpone shouted back.
Donnie kneaded his hoofed fingertips together.
"S-Sorry, boss." He stifled. "It's difficult to come up with catchy names! A-And I'm not seeing you offer any!"
The jaguar blinked a single time before glancing off to the side and scratching at his chin irritably.
"Yes, you're right... Hmm." He admitted. "Maybe, um, Ultra-Instinct?"
"Fitting, but that's probably already trademarked, boss." Donnie replied, causing Al to curse bitterly beneath his breath.
"Well, then what should we call it?"
"I have an idea," Doug interjected, unamused with his captor's bickering. "Since I was the one that created it, well, mostly created it, anyways, how about I get to name it?"
Al just waved his paw at the sheep. "Fine. Whatever. It's not like we've came up with anything better." He then leaned forward with interest. "So, what would you call it?"
The sheep tapped thoughtfully on his chin for a few seconds. He then smiled, having been struck with a brand new suggestion. "Apex-Affluent." He offered confidently.
Catpone seemed consider this.
"Not bad. With the side effects we've tapped in to, that name makes sense, but it's too tacky." Catpone stated. "Creative, but tacky. What about... The Savage Serum?"
Doug pursed his lips in distaste. His flabby snout quivered on end. "That's kinda boring." He claimed.
"Oh shut your trap, sheep, we're callin' it the Savage-Serum." Al growled impatiently before turning around and beginning to walk off. Donnie then called out with insistence;
"I dunno, boss, savage just isn't the right word for it. The drug doesn't make ya go savage, like Night-Howlers. Those ones did. Ours gives you the extra boost without the side effects of, ya know, goin' crazy and tryin' to kill everything in sight. That's the whole sellin' point, ain't it? I just don't think that the Savage-Serum is a good name for it."
Al stood in place silently, thinking over his right-hand mammal's previous statement. "Alright, fine, fine! Apex-Affluent it is." He grumbled.
"Oh, bravo, now we can start selling merchandise!" Doug muttered sarcastically. "What I'm most concerned about is knowing just how long the effects are going to last."
"What do you mean?" Al questioned, turning around and facing his hostage.
"Exactly what I said. This drug of yours, like my original Night-Howler formula, targets the adrenal glands for maximum energy efficiency. It's what gives its user the sudden boost of strength, you see. However, unlike becoming a savage, I have a feeling that becoming an apex is only temporary. The adrenal glands aren't bottomless, after all, and with this new drug of ours putting them into overdrive, I have to wonder exactly just how long that you would be able to maintain the effects of being an apex before it wares off completely. This isn't the same as a Night-Howler, folks: It won't last forever. Once it runs out of power, its user would likely be severely drained, and lightheaded-"
"That doesn't matter right now." The jaguar crime-lord insisted, interrupting Doug. "We'll find that out once our test-subject here runs out of juice, won't we?"
Doug had to admit that Catpone was right about that: Having a test-subject to experiment with would be of great assistance to determining the limits of this new drug. They would be able to fully document and study the effects that the serum had on the mammalian physique, and also, just how long it would last before the host's body fizzled out.
Together, Doug and Al, along with all of his henchmen, watched their hyena hostage closely for another eight minutes before he finally began to show signs of exhaustion. His eyelids drooped, and his muscles began to twitch erratically, as they had when he was first ascending into an apex. Within half a minute's time, the hyena's renewed strength and aggression had completely vanished, and he was fast asleep in his restraints, back to normal. Apparently, Doug had been right about the test-subject losing their energy.
The ram tried to look at his watch to note the time, but then remembered that it had been confiscated when he was abducted by the mob.
Al Catpone beat him to it. "One-twenty." He announced to his associates.
"Just over ten minutes. That's the limit." Doug said.
Al Catpone scratched at his chin. "Given the resources we've had to work with, I'd say that's pretty darn good."
"But not what you're hoping for?" The ram concluded in question, to which his captor nodded.
"That's right. It's not enough." He admitted. "We need the drug's effects to last even longer. It seems your work has only just begun, Doug."
"If you want the formula's effects to last longer, then I'll need more time to work. Strengthening it even more could prove tedious."
"And I'm sure you'll manage." Catpone added. "I'll make certain that you have all the supplies and materials you need to make it happen."
"Good. So now, I should probably start synthesizing the-" Doug began, but was cut short when Catpone coughed into his fist.
"Actually, before you resume work on the Apex-Affluent, I have another, different task for you to take care of."
Doug raised an eyebrow curiously. "And what would that be?" He asked.
"Do you think you could turn your original Night-Howlers into a gas form too? I just caught wind that one of my shipments was intercepted by the ZPD, so we gotta be creative."
The ram pursed his lips. "It's possible. Might take a few hours, but I think I can get a sample of a gaseous Night-Howler dose ready for use. Why?"
Catpone smiled. "I guess you could call it a social experiment. As gasses, we're takin' both the savage and apex formulas, and then we're gonna drop 'em off at the-"
A loud bang echoed through the room as one of the nearby metal doors swung open and rattled hard against the concrete wall behind it. One of the muscular ocelot guards had stumbled through, winded, and had a horrified expression on his face. It looked as though he had just sprinted in a race, with his tongue hanging out and breaths heavy.
The ocelot then cried out to the room full of mobsters;
"Boss! Boss! It's Albert... He's here!"
For the first time since meeting Alphonse Catpone, Doug noticed a new expression of emotion overtake the jaguar's facial features: Shock.
"You kiddin' me? Right now?" He hissed in question, to which his underling nodded, causing the crime-lord to growl beneath his breath. "He's earlier than usual."
"Should I send him back outside, or-" The ocelot began, but was cut off when his boss growled once again.
"No, of course not! I'll take care of him." Catpone claimed. "Just keep workin' down here. Try not to make too much noise..."
He then pointed to Doug with one of his clawed fingertips.
"And make sure he doesn't slack off!" The jaguar ordered. "I want that formula - the old savage one - processed, extracted, and ready to be packaged by sunrise! Capisce?"
All of the mobsters nodded their heads in agreement. "Yes sir!" They stated.
"And what of the new formula, boss?" Donnie the tapir questioned for clarification.
"Keep experimenting with it, to see if we can get it to last any longer. I'll be back in an hour's time. Keep the facility on lock-down until my return."
Doug simply rolled his eyes. "And where do you think you're going?" He asked Al lazily. "Who's Albert, anyways?"
Catpone ignored his hostage's questions as he took up a light jog and exited the room, not even bothering to close the door shut behind him in his wake. Quickly hustling down the grimy corridor, Al eventually reached a staircase that led up to the ground level of the Rainforest-District. Taking it with haste, the jaguar soon exited his compound from one of its many passageways, walking out from beneath the trunk of a massive metal tree that towered high above. Around him, dim lights filtered through the dense vegetation, and the sound of insects chirping into the night filled his eardrums. This part of the Rainforest-District was a dark and dangerous area, no thanks to his own work.
Parked before him was a sleek black limousine. Its opaque windows glistened with droplets of water, and the sound of raindrops trickling down from above and plipping lightly against the roof of the vehicle occupied the jaguar's sense of sound as he approached the limo, briefly halting as he reached down to unlock its door. With this momentary hesitation, Catpone took the time to exhale steadily from his maw. He closed his green eyes shut and swallowed hard, preparing himself for the pivotal experience to come.
Opening his eyelids and refocusing his gaze on the black metal door before him, Al tossed away whatever reluctance he still carried with him, and opened it before entering.
The crime-lord seated himself on the soft texture of the seat just behind the driver's compartment. A wall separated the front and back rows, as customary with most limos, with the only method of interaction between the two planes being the small, black-tinted window in the middle of the barrier. Catpone didn't see the driver, but didn't bother looking for him, as he knew that the truest mammal of importance was sitting directly beside him, in the other passenger seat at the limo's rear: A small, young jaguar cub, no more than ten years old. He was dressed in an equally miniature baby-blue suit, outfitted for his own diminutive size. He stared up at the older jaguar with curious eyes.
"Hey, Albert." Al Catpone started slowly, almost uneasily, though not without a minute grin. "It's been a while."
The crime-lord watched as the smaller jaguar broke out a smile of his own before rummaging forward from his side of the limousine and embracing Catpone in a hug.
"Daddy!" Albert cried out as he wrapped his little arms as far as he could around the older jaguar's broad torso. "You came!"
Catpone allowed his grin to grow as he wrapped his own arms around his son's shoulders, pulling him into a slightly tighter hold.
"A'course I did. I couldn't just leave you hanging."
Truth was, Catpone hadn't been expecting his son to visit him so late in the night. Still, he was glad to make the occasion, all the same.
Releasing his grip on the younger jaguar, Catpone allowed Albert to pull away and shift himself back into his own seat.
"I missed you." The cub whined.
Chuckling softly, Al removed his fedora before placing it on Albert's head. The young cub laughed in delight as the vine-wrapped bowl of the hat sank over his eyes, obscuring his vision. Using one of his meaty paws, Catpone ruffled his son's head with the hat between his thick fingers, causing the younger jaguar to giggle as he tried to push back.
"Oh, I know you did, my boy." Al claimed before retracting his arm and leaving his cap to his son. "I missed you too."
Lifting his tiny paws up and pushing the brim of the hat back, Albert's innocent eyes peered out from beneath, locking with those of his father.
"So, how's your mother been holdin' up?" Al asked with an iota of both interest and disappointment lacing his words, although, Albert failed to notice his father's bitterness.
"Mom's been great! She's getting married next week, and they asked me to be the ring-bearer! I'm gonna walk down the aisle after her!"
Catpone nodded, all the while doing his best to keep smiling for Albert. "That's great, buddy." He muttered. "Is her fiance treatin' you right?"
"Yeah! He brings me candy every time he visits!"
The older jaguar grunted in acknowledgement, but otherwise didn't reply. He was pleased to know that his old wife's new squeeze wasn't some deadbeat. Otherwise, Catpone might have had to pay him a visit with Pazzo in tow. He couldn't say that he completely approved of the thought, but it relieved him to know that his ex had moved on in life.
But now, the most important product of their old marriage was sitting right in front of him, excitedly bouncing up and down in the seats. Albert was all that mattered, now.
"Are you going to make it?" He asked his dad, who had admittedly begun to space out.
"Hm?" Catpone grunted, now focusing his full attention towards Albert.
"The wedding." The young cub clarified. "Are you going to make it?"
Al pursed his lips and lowered his head. "I'll... I'll try to be there." He promised.
"Thanks, daddy! I can't wait to see you then!"
"Heh... Yeah, I'm sure you'll make a fine ring-bearer."
"Me too!" Albert exclaimed. "They also want me to play the piano at the wedding, too. I've been practicing for two hours every day for the past four months!"
"That's awesome, buddy. I..." Al momentarily stammered. "I forgot you could play the piano."
"Mom's been paying for lessons. Didn't you get the invite to my school recital, last month?" The cub asked curiously.
The older jaguar averted his gaze in shame. He recalled receiving the invitation to Albert's performance, but never following through on showing up, because he had been busy working with his fellow mobsters on reinventing the Night-Howler formula for their agenda. By the time their work had finished for the night, the recital had been over.
"I did." Catpone spoke truthfully. "I've just been... Busy."
Staring down at his progeny, the crime-lord felt a swelling of warm guilt build-up in his chest as he took note of Albert's seemingly disappointed expression.
"That's okay... You're always busy." Albert sighed before his expression lit up. "But you can make it to the wedding, right? You can come and see me play the piano there?"
Nodding, Al leaned forward and picked up his fedora before fastening it to his head. "I will. I promise."
"Yay!" The cub squealed before throwing his father another hug. "Thanks!"
Catpone sighed, and pat his son on the back a few times before he pulled away and reclined in his seat once again.
"Do you think that after the wedding, I can maybe take some piano lessons from your friend from work?" Albert inquired. "The vampire bat?"
The older jaguar chuckled to himself. "You mean Vlad?" He asked.
"Yeah! Last time we met, you told me a story about Vlad, and how he plays the organ. You said he was really good! Do you think I can take some lessons from him?"
Al shook his head from side to side, though not without a smile of amusement over his son's naivety.
"I don't think so. He probably doesn't give piano lessons, and uh, he's probably not the kinda mammal you'd want to be friends with, either."
"Oh, that's too bad. So, he's not very nice?"
Catpone snorted through his nostrils. "Somethin' like that." He mumbled aloud.
"Is he a bully? Like the ones at school?"
Narrowing his eyes in immediate reaction to his son's previous statement, the older jaguar locked his gaze onto Albert, staring him down with cold intent.
"What did you say?"
Silence filled the limousine for a few tense seconds.
"Is he a bully? Like the ones at school?" Albert repeated, this time in a much softer and more timid tone of voice.
Catpone grit his teeth together with anger. Trying to restrain his volume, he then questioned;
"Is someone givin' you trouble?"
The younger jaguar was silent to the count of five, his legs swinging steadily off the edge of his seat.
"There's a big mean rhino calf who always pushes me off the swing at recess." He finally confessed. "He called me a chomper... What's a chomper?"
Albert noticed his father's clenched paws shaking with anger, and he sank down into his seat with apprehension.
"Are you okay, daddy?"
Shadows encompassed the older jaguar's eyes beneath the brim of his fedora. When he looked up and locked vision with his son, Albert could tell that he was quite upset.
"I'm fine." Catpone growled before swallowing hard and attempting to quell his growing rage. "What's this rhino's name?"
Albert hesitated, not entirely wanting to answer his father's question. "Francis Hornsby." He finally stated in a soft voice.
Al nodded, pleased with his son's honesty. "Well then... Maybe I'll give this boy's family a visit, sometime. Remind them to teach him some manners."
The older jaguar then turned towards his son and clasped one of his paws on his shoulder, gripping it firmly in a gesture of reassurance.
"But in the meantime, if that boy ever bothers you again... If he ever calls you that again... Don't be afraid to stand up and show him what you're made of." He stated.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm tellin' you not to let this bully push you around like that. Don't let him beat you up. Stand up for yourself and show him your strength as a predator."
"I don't think the teachers would like that." Albert said, to which his father scoffed.
"The teachers? When I was your age, I got in a fight with one of my teachers. Slapped 'er right in the kisser! They'll try to tell you how to be someone you're not, but don't let them! Don't listen to them on stuff like that. They just want you to be soft and weak, like them. If that boy hurts you again, I want you to get back up and hit him back."
"Why?"
"Because all it takes is a little fear to make a paper mammal crumble, my boy. Never forget that. This bully o' yours isn't brave. He's just used to being the biggest, baddest calf on the block. If you show him that you won't put up with his threats, then he'll back down and leave you alone. I promise you. Show 'im that you're the bigger mammal."
Albert nodded. "O-Okay, daddy. I'll be strong for you."
Catpone tightened his jaw and nodded in approval. "Thatta' boy." He muttered as he ruffled his son's head, causing him to laugh out again, which in turn, caused Al to smile.
When the two jaguars locked eyes once more, a fatherly sense of peace settled upon them both. Catpone sighed one last time, and then spoke out;
"Sometimes, other mammals will hurt you just for bein' who you are. Don't let them. Show this world that you're more than what it wants you to be."
The cub nodded. "Okay, daddy." He agreed.
Al Catpone allowed himself another grin as he leaned in closer to his son.
"My boy... Albert..." He began. "I will make this world a better place. I promise."
The older jaguar then pulled his son into a hug. He clutched him tight against his broad shoulders, hoping deep down that one day, his promise would truly be fulfilled.
Hey everyone!
So, Al Catpone has a son! I figured it'd be neat to explore that idea, since we saw how Mr. Big has his own family, in the movie. Though, I reckon that Catpone prefers to keep his own son distant from his work as a crime-lord, as opposed to Big's daughter, who casually walked in on Nick and Judy as they were about to be iced, as we recall. Concurrently, I wouldn't call Catpone's own family completely ignorant of his work, but definitely not very approving of it, either, which is surprisingly typical of real-life mob families: They either don't know or don't care, because they know it benefits them in the long run.
Anyways, you can be sure to know that this whole premise will serve as a fairly decent point of motivation for Al Catpone in continuing his work.
Alongside that particular scene, we also got another scene with Bogo, too. There was a lot with the villain's perspective this chapter, yes, but a lot of it was important for driving the main plot forward, after all. This chapter gets its name and quote for a reason: Behind the scenes at the academy, there's a lot going on, and a lot at stake. It was neat seeing Chief Bogo again as he deals with his own problems while trying to piece together the mystery about the spy at the academy, and it was also neat to see a bit more dynamic given to Al Catpone's gang, since after all, they will be serving as the primary antagonists for the rest of the seventh arc. Fleshing them all out a bit more is a given.
And besides, for the next few chapters, it'll be nothing but the hero's perspectives, I'll have you know, so be ready for plenty of more fun content with our favorite dynamic duo, and perhaps even along with Chief Bogo and his own fellow colleagues, to arrive here real soon. That's one of the reasons why the last two chapters (this one included) have been very villain-focused: Because the coming ones will be exclusively hero-focused.
Rest assured, you lot will get your Nick/Judy in the next, and coming chapters. It'll be fun with more Nick and Judy shenanigans at the academy, you'll see!
In the meantime, do please lemme know your thoughts on this latest chapter! I'd adore seeing a review from you. What did you think of all the scenes, from the developments at Precinct One, to what happened in the rainforest with Al's gang, and son? I'd love to know what you all think of it!
Thank you all so much for reading this latest chapter update of ours. Do stay tuned for the next one, coming your way soon. :)
'Till next time...
Peace!
PS: Did you know that the real Al Capone had a son named Albert who was bullied at school? I didn't, until recently.