A/N: Guess who's back! Back again! Bring it back! Bring it back! Bring it back! Bring it back! Bring it back!
Cover art by WastedTimeEE! Shout it to the stars, baby!
CA$H ONLY
Chapter 2: ¢OUNT€RF€IT
By: I Write Big
The aptly named Big Mansion stood at the edge of Tundratown. Not the warm edge near the Rainforest District but rather the far edge near the ice generators that kept this part of Zootopia frigid. The structure was more akin to a castle than a family dwelling, standing at the pinnacle of a fenced-off hill of ice. Great halls, thousand times taller than necessary for the shrew residents, mazed through the home in such intricate fashion that most guests easily became lost. At 1:51 pm that afternoon, a scream ripped through those halls, "No! Please don't ice me!"
Nomammal heard that cry as it was drowned out by a more powerful wail, "WHERE'S MY BABY?!"
It was now several hours later.
"Koslov ran me here, immediately. We found my baby girl cryin' over the empty crib with no trace of my granddaughter," Mr. Big explained. The ZPD were trying to keep their shivering to a minimum as they searched the baby's room. Judy watched the investigation from the doorway. Her foot thumped as her trained eye took in every minute detail, formulating theories and scenarios. She could already tell this was a clean kitnapping. No signs of forced entry or stolen valuables. Only thing amiss was the cracked window.
"They leave a ransom note?" Nick asked.
"Nothin'," Big said with a heavy sigh from his perch in Koslov's giant paws.
"Whoever did this will try to get in contact with you, sir," Judy stepped away from the crime scene and addressed the shrew, "We must ask, for the safety of your granddaughter, you don't take things into your own paws and cooperate with us."
Mr. Big solemnly shook his head, "I trust you and Nicky more than anymammal in the ZPD. If it were that simple, I would allow the two of you to handle this. But the truth is—"
"Daddy! Where's Fredo?" another giant polar bear entered with a distraught Fru Fru in its paws. The mother's eyes were bloodshot from crying. Probably why her polar bear needed those earplugs Judy guessed. "Don't you dare tell me you locked him in the basement!"
"Sweetie, I had to," Big tried to calm her, "Fredo is a good boy. He knows it's only business."
"Someone just kitnapped our child and your first reaction is to kitnap my husband?! What is wrong with you, daddy?!"
Nick and Judy exchanged looks.
Nick cleared his throat, "Sir, do you think your son-in-law is behind this?"
"Absolutely not!" Big stated firmly. He waved his paw like it was no big deal, "This is just insurance so that the Clawleones don't try and stir anything up."
"You're a monster!" roared Fru Fru and a new wave of tears poured. "Leave, dammit!" she shouted at her polar bear.
"Hmm?" the bear pulled out an earplug and raised an eyebrow.
"I said leave! Storm out like you're angry!"
The bear nodded, replugged his ear and took her out of the room. Fru Fru resumed her woeful wails.
Judy leaned back into her seat, letting the car heater warm her up. More unlucky officers from the Tundratown precinct were outside, combing the snow-covered yard. She tried to process what she had learned, "A peace baby?"
"Pretty much," Nick shrugged next to her.
"A baby born from the secret love between the children of the Big family and the Clawleone family? The biggest rival crime families in Zootopia?" Judy's voice hitched towards the end.
"Straight out of a fairytale."
"A baby whose very existence is keeping these families from shooting each other in the streets?"
"For now."
"...Both of those families are gonna turn this city upside down looking for that baby, aren't they?"
"Y'up."
Judy had no more questions. Nick handed her a blanket. As Judy wrapped herself tightly in the thick cotton, her mind trembled to think what an all out street war would do to Zootopia. They would have to find her goddaughter. Quick. It wouldn't be easy, though. Whoever was behind this clearly wanted violence and they were smart. Judy had the sinking feeling that she and Nick were dealing with a truly hardened criminal, who knew exactly what he was doing.
Duke had no idea what he was doing. A baby shrew was in his passenger seat, having finally fallen asleep after hours of incessantly gurgling its new favorite word, "Ffubt! Flcukd! Fuck it!" A baby shrew that, until those hours ago, was locked in a small wooden box. Why was that baby shrew in a box? Duke didn't care. He needed to get rid of it! He was starting fresh, which meant absolutely zero babies!
He had tried the closest daycare center, but not only did they want his ID and contact info, they also required a down payment! Those greedy bastards!
Next, he had searched for the nearest orphanage. They don't charge for babies, Duke had reasoned. Hell, they might even pay him. Orphanages need babies to stay in business. He'd be doing them a favor. It was better not to risk them asking questions, though. He planned on leaving the brat on the doorstep. Just like in the movies. Unfortunately, the Open Arms Orphanarium had burned down nearly a decade ago, leaving nothing but, ironically, the doorstep.
With the sun disappearing behind the horizon, Duke raced his car down the highway. He scanned each road sign for an answer. He would need to sleep. Today had been too exhausting. But he, a weasel, couldn't check into a motel with this baby, a shrew. That would catch attention and possibly tip off the coppers. This baby needed to go somewhere. Anywhere!
His eyes widened and a smile graced his lips as he read the next exit sign: 'Dump.'
The Skoll Canyon Landfill had the distinct honor of being the only landfill within half a day drive south of Zootopia, receiving most of its waste from the iconic city. It also accepts soil and cement, provided they are clean enough in accordance to the standards of the Quality Control Board. It was also home to one of the largest electromagnets in the tri-county area. The locals lovingly called the two-story machine 'Maggie.' Other than that, there was nothing remarkable about the Skoll Canyon Landfill. The place was quiet and low maintenance with a single 5,000 yard-long wire fence wrapped around its perimeter.
Duke hopped down from the fence, retrieved the sleeping shrew from his pocket and searched for the best place to abandon the tiny life sentence, grumbling all the way. "Da hell is Horn thinkin'? Stickin' me with a kid? 'Sure, Duke my boy, ya can most certainly take my car South. Just remember ta grab da kitnapping charges along da way.' Screw you, Horn. Triple ain't worth dis shit."
His ramblings came to a pause at the sight of a small security shack up ahead. The lights were still on. Perfect! Lying nearby, at the edge of a trash heap, was a plastic baby carrier! Even more perfect! Without making a sound, he deftly carried the baby accessory to the shack and placed the infant in it. The carrier was made for a much bigger mammal, probably a lion cub or something. The ½ inch shrew looked ridiculous but, hey, beggars can't be choosers.
Holding his breath, Duke tiptoed backwards. He kept his eyeballs trained on the sleeping shrew, praying to whoever was listening it would stay asleep.
Then… his ankle touched something. Duke stiffened and twirled around to come face to face with… himself!
Duke blinked.
The other Duke blinked a second later.
"What..." said one.
"...the..." continued the other.
"...fuck?" finished the first.
This other Duke was a spitting image of him. Same height, head, nose and everything. Except this Duke was wearing a greasy garbagemammal jumpsuit. The nightmarish idea that he had stumbled into an episode of 'The Twilight Zone' briefly wormed its way into his head.
"Uh… I was just…" he pathetically motioned towards the baby carrier, racking his brain for a believable lie.
As soon as the stranger spotted the child, though, he was suddenly overcome with excitement, "Oh! You're here for the tour!"
"Sure," Duke agreed before he could process what was said.
"Oh boy, this here's gonna be a hootenanny!" the garbagemammal did a little dance before throwing a tight arm around Duke's shoulder and walking him towards the shack. "I can't tell you how excited I am to be finally showin' some folks around. You know, I modeled the tour after the hayrides they used to give in Bunnyburrow back when I was a little ferret."
Now, that they were more in the shack's light, Duke could see that this mammal was in fact not a weasel but a ferret. He made out the subtle differences: browner fur, mask around the eyes. Funny how with a little darkness, the two of them were practically twins.
"Name's Travis Picklle. That's Picklle with 2 L's," he took out a rag that carried more grease than his jumpsuit, wiped his paws on it and shook Duke's with a bone-crushing grip. "I'm the night watch here at the proud Skoll Canyon Landfill, one of the few prestigious landfills to take care of Zootopia." Travis then leaned over the baby carrier, "And who's this little—" Travis stopped when he saw the shrew.
Duke backed up, seeking an exit, "Yeah… dat's not… mine..."
"Clearly," Travis whispered. Both of his paws landed on Duke's shoulders and held him in place. Duke nearly shit his pants. Somehow this guy had figured it all out! Travis' stare was so intense Duke felt like he was peering back at his own death. "I am shocked at how so few mammals adopt."
"...Huh?"
Travis' stare was replaced by a glowing, toothy smile, "It's a selfless undertakin' and I applaud you, sir, for giving a family to this youngin. One smaller than your thumb, no less."
"Right, adopted," Duke quickly agreed again, amazed at how lucky he must be to land such a sucker. If this idiot kept making his story up for him, he might get through this.
"So what'cha call the tyke?"
Crap!
Duke scooped up the carrier, "Hey-y-y, come on, pal, let's not wake da bundle of joy. A growin' boy needs his rest."
"Boy? Could've sworn he was a girl."
"I said girl," Duke made a mental note to double check that, "and ya said somethin' about a tour?" Duke hated the thought of spending another second in this crapshoot but maybe he could slip away while the idiot was distracted.
Travis lit up with eagerness again. The ferret pulled a high-powered flashlight out of his pants and took a professional pose, "Ahem, welcome, one and all, to the Skoll Canyon Landfill After Hours Family Tour with amazin' sights for the children..." Travis reached into the shack and produced a clinking twelve pack, "...and refreshments for the parents."
...Or maybe Duke could stick around for a bit.
Donny Clawleone was pissed. Not only was his baby niece missing, presumably being held up somewhere in that giant Big mansion, but his middle brother Fredo actually was being held up somewhere in that giant Big mansion. On top of that, instead of doing the smart thing like breaking down the front doors and tearing that eyesore apart, his pops wanted everymammal to work with the Bigs. Now, Donny respected Pops, but the old shrew was going soft. The way he took the insults made his blood boil. So much so that Donny ran off to the nearest bar and picked a fight with the first mammal he saw. Things got a touch out of control and Donny was stuck with the clean up. So, here he was, looking over his usual dumping ground, ignoring the groans of the bleeding mouse in the trunk of his car.
"Consider yourself lucky, asshole," Donny grimaced down at the mountains of forgotten filth. A fitting grave. "You ain't gonna live to see the bloodbath in this city."
His musings were cut short by a thunderous earthquake. Some great obelisk struck Donny's car and launched the vehicle straight at him. A crushing blow was dealt to the shrew's spine that sent bolts of pain through his limbs as he tumbled down the hill of scrap. An abrupt stop knocked the wind from his lungs and Donny found himself staring back up the cliffside, blinded by a light. At the top, two shadowy figures stood.
"AH! I stubbed my toe on somethin'," groaned one.
"Mind your step. This here's where we keep the junk cars for the shorter mammals," warned the other. "We can carry several hundred of 'em at once with Maggie the Electromagnet up there."
Donny couldn't make out the strangers' faces but they seemed to be mid-size mammals. Maybe twenty times his height. He was going to give them a piece of his mind… once the feeling in his legs came back. Then a scent crossed his nose. A familiar scent. He followed the smell to a basket in the left one's paw. 'It couldn't be...'
"Ugh, I hate rats."
Clack! A shadow blocked the blinding light and Donny recognized the silhouette of his car coming straight for him faster than he could move.
"Always gettin' in da way with their tiny bikes and tiny skateboards," the miniscule smash from whatever Duke had kicked into the pile wasn't satisfying and he took another swig from his bottle, "How can things so tiny be such a big problem?!"
Travis snickered, "Like what my old school buddy used to say, 'it's in their DNR.'"
"Don'tcha mean DNA?"
"That's what I said!" Travis shouted, going into a round of hoots. As unfunny as the 'joke' was Duke ended up laughing along with him. The ferret was clingy, loud, and had an annoying way of talking but he gave Duke free beer and that made all the difference in the world. Speaking of which, his third bottle was empty.
He tossed it and grabbed another, swinging the baby carrier without care, "Jeez, Travis, whoever dis Gideon fella is, he don't sound dat smart."
"Yeah, he was a right jackass," Travis scratched his head, "but the two of us looked out for each other, you know. We was the family that neither of us had. I mean, I had a family but they kept to themselves." Travis' joyful demeanor took a more somber tone, "To be honest with ya, I thought I'd have a family of my own by now. As a child, I never thought I'd want li'l tykes bouncin' around. But the more days that pass..." The baby huffed and started making whining noises. Seems their ruckus was bothering the girl. Duke feared he would have to suffer through more gurgling until Travis reached a furry finger in and gently rubbed the shrew's cheek, "Hey, it's okay. We'll be quiet, don't worry. You sleep now. Your pa and I will keep ourselves to whispers." Miraculously, the infant who had tortured Duke with endless noise all day went back to slumberland.
Until then, Duke had long forgotten about the annoying band tied around his ankle. He felt uncomfortable watching Travis and picked at the film, again being reminded of that perfect image of the mother holding her new son.
Before he could stop himself Duke muttered, "Nobody wants a kit." Travis gave him a questioning grunt, signaling he hadn't quite heard him. Duke shook off the haze, "I said, nobody wants a kit… I'll sell her to you," he offered sincerely.
Travis smirked, "Good one, hehehe."
"Don't laugh, I'm serious," Duke took a deep gulp of his beer, "Everymammal at some point thinks ta themselves, 'My life sucks. Hey, ya know what'll fix dat? A baby.' Guess what, it don't. They eat ya food, give ya attitude, and cost ya almost every penny ya got. Babies are nothin' more than cryin', shittin' parasites." His ranting had turn to shouts. He jabbed a claw at the child, "I didn't want her. Some shithead I've never met dropped her in my stupid lap and now I'm stuck with her!"
The alcohol finally made its way to Duke's leg muscles and he fell over. He stared up at the stars from his bed of trash. Travis entered his vision. Rather than the disappointment, confusion or rage he expected, Duke heard empathy. "I can't pretend to know why her parents abandoned her, but the fact remains: they did, you didn't." Duke thought that bunny copper was unbearable, but this guy... "You could've easily done what they did and have her be someone else's problem—"
"Christ almighty, I kitnapped her! Abducted! Snatched!" He jumped back onto his feet and growled in Travis' face, "I ain't no saint lookin' after no kid! I'm da bad mammal in 'Taken!'"
Echoes of the confession tolled across the landfill.
Duke stared at Travis.
Travis stared at Duke.
Duke calmly picked up the baby carrier and whacked it across Travis' head.
Donny crawled out from under his car. Thanks to the pliable heap of Bugga Burger boxes he was standing in, the initial fall had buried him to his chin. While this was demeaning, it had kept him so low to the ground that his barreling car had barely grazed the top of his head. The frightful sight had unfortunately triggered his instincts and his body played dead for an unknown amount of time. When he came to, the first thing he noticed was that his trunk was empty. Crap. Then he witnessed one of the strangers up above attacking the other with the basket and run away. Moron dropped like a ton of bricks.
The scent was much stronger now. There was no mistaking it. He owed Pops and Big an apology.
'So much for slipping away quietly,' Duke rolled his eyes as he fled through the pitch black night between the cavernous mountains of used tissues. Night vision always came in handy. He knew he needed to work on being more patient, but there's only so much damn optimism one mammal can take. When Travis woke up, he was no doubt gonna call the cops. Duke had managed the whole conversation without dropping his name, that'll buy him some miles. Screw getting rid of the kid. Horn wants this brat South, then she's going South and he's getting paid!
The revv of an engine was heard. However, it was so pathetic Duke was reminded of one of those RC race cars he never got for his birthday. Inches from his head, parked on the lip of a broken toilet was a rumbling sedan no bigger than a matchbox. At the wheel was a very angry shrew, "Fork over the baby."
Duke looked at the toilet, then at the white, crumbled, cottony paper all around them, "Dose ain't nose tissues," he groaned.
Rubber peeled against porcelain and the ⅓ of a one horsepower engine fired the car into the weasel's nose. "Shit!" Duke cried as he tumbled back into the… paper. The windshield cracked and the ferocious rodent finished the job, leaping full body through the glass. Its claws were like tiny needles to Duke, but their scratches were like the worst papers cuts.
"Off! Get off!" Duke swiped his arm in attempt to push the shrew away. It only clung to his paw and started biting. "Fuck!" The shrew used its tiny form to its advantage and crawled all over Duke, inflicting cuts, bites, punches, scratches, kicks wherever it could. In their tumble, they knocked open a black case, revealing an almost brand new saxophone. Duke grabbed the instrument and swiped at his attacker… and missed. Instead, he conked his own head.
Duke, helpless and most likely suffering from a concussion, curled into a ball and yelped, "I give up! Please, I give!" The torture halted and Duke laid on his back, his head propped against the toilet.
The shrew spat on the ground and marched towards him, using Duke's chest as a walkway, "Normally, I wouldn't give two shits 'bout why a lowlife like you would be dumb enough to steal from the Big family."
Duke went cold. His eyes flashed towards the baby carrier nearby, "B-B-Big? Dat's—"
The shrew grabbed his scruff, "But Big would love to hear your excuse before he ices ya. Which means I only need you to be able to talk, not walk." He popped his neck in preparation of the fun limb breaking.
The toilet, ever so slowly, fell on its side. Without its solid base, the summit of used paper swayed like a tree in the wind. Both mammals looked up and held their breath.
The first sheet fell.
"Move!" ordered the shrew. Too scared to disobey, Duke scrambled to his feet and ran to get out of the paper canyon. "Basket!" the shrew dug his tiny needle claws into Duke's neck. The weasel grabbed the baby carrier and kept going. An avalanche of biblical proportion careened behind them. The edges of the disaster nipped at Duke's heels. In his night vision he could make out a second wall of paper already falling down directly ahead. They were gonna be sealed in! They'll never make it!
"Dive for it!" the shrew twisted Duke's fur, forcefully aiming Duke for the last narrow opening. Duke jumped. The soft, velvety crush of three metric tons of toilet paper slammed behind him!
They were through.
They were safe.
"Now… where were we?" chuckled the shrew.
On pure instinct, Duke did something he never thought he would. He threw the baby.
"Asshole!" the shrew let him go for half a second. It was all Duke needed. The weasel disappeared into the dump.
His legs carried him far, taking random turns, sticking to the smelliest of paths to throw off the shrew's nose. Finally, after sprinting for what could've been hours, Duke collapsed on a moldy mattress. As his breath caught up with him, so did his thoughts. He had stolen Big's kid. Horn had him steal Big's kid. What the hell?! He didn't wanna be a part of whatever Horn was planning! He just wanted triple! Well, screw Big, screw Horn and SCREW TRIPLE! All the cash he'd need was in the van!
Wherever that was…
It took time, but eventually Duke found a path he recognized and made his way back to the security shack. The lights were still shining. No sign of Travis. Maintaining caution, he snuck to the fence and climbed over. His feet hit the ground and, as if he had landed on a switch, the van's high-beams powered on. The engine howled to life.
The driver-side window slid down and the same angry shrew poked his head out, "Don't worry, buddy. I'm only gonna run over your legs." With a toothy smile he pushed a brick onto the gas pedal. Duke dodged. How he failed to dodge a tiny car but managed to get out of the way of family sized van, he didn't know. The van broke the fence and kept tearing the various trash like a bull in a china shop. It made a wide turn back towards Duke.
Duke had met a deer once. He made a passing joke about how his kind always end up getting paralyzed by the sight of cars in crosswalks. From his wallet, which Duke lifted, it was obvious the deer was a rich bastard who acted like he was better than everybody else, so he had it coming. Not until right then did Duke fully understand the sheer terror those poor deers experienced each time they crossed the street.
Donny gripped the steering column tight. He was gonna make weasel pancakes! A metal groan came from the van and the vehicle stopped. The wheels kept spinning, but they only kicked up dirt. Impossibly, the van lifted from the ground. With a heavy clang it stuck to a giant metal disk attached to a tall crane. The crane arm lifted the van past the name 'Maggie' spray painted into the crane's side until Donny was level with the control room.
Inside, operating the magnet, was the weasel's identical twin brother! Or was that a ferret? "As the licensed operator of this here beauty, I advise you to get out, sir, before you get hurt." Donny looked down. He was hanging over the gnashing teeth of a car compactor. Donny took the advice and dropped into the nearest pile of greasy pillows.
Travis tromped towards Duke with the baby carrier. The ferret was sporting a fresh black eye. Duke waited with a nervous smile. He would've been a hundred miles away from here by now, if his van wasn't still hanging thirty feet in the air. He asked, "So, uh, ya save my butt cuz ya forgive me or cuz ya wanted ta finish me off yourself?"
Travis didn't say anything and instead placed the baby carrier in front of Duke.
"Oh!" Duke gasped, "Dat hit gave ya amnesia! Ya still think she's my kid! Thank God!"
"I'm givin' you a chance to do the right thing," Travis then stood by his side and faced the dump. "That fightin' shrew is gonna come outta there soon and you're gonna give him back the baby and apologize."
Duke's eye twitched. "Ya nuts?!"
"Listen to me," he grabbed Duke's shoulders. "I see somethin' in you. You know what it is? Me. The me who was a bully in school. The me who was ordered around by an even bigger bully. The me who believed he could be nothin' but a dirty ferret." Duke had seen this passion before… in the eyes of a certain cottontail. "I'm here to show you you can be better! You will be better! You're not just a weasel!"
Maggie the Electromagnet shut off and dropped the van into the car compactor. The machine's teeth ground up the metal, easily spilling the oil and popping the tires.
"My cash!" screamed Duke as his life savings were consumed.
"Hey, Weasel!" shouted Donny's distant voice from the control room. "Better start hoofin' it. I'mma getcha." He dragged a claw across his own throat.
Every buck from every job Duke had ever pulled off... gone. Years of legitimate illegal work... shredded.
He had no cash.
He had nothing.
A single still intact bottle of Phull Muun rolled across the dirt and bumped into the baby carrier. The baby gurgled.
Travis cleared his throat, "'Kay, that did not go the way I—" Duke whacked him across the head with the baby carrier, grabbed the beer, and ran into the night with both.
END CHAPTER TWO
That saxophone seemed pretty random, huh? What was the point of pointing out an almost brand new saxophone in a dump? It's almost like it's a reference to another fic I wrote or something… Hmm… Nope, I don't get it, guys. I just don't get it.
