My dad noted, "Your writing style is this odd juxtaposing mix of brutal tear-jerking emotion and over the top absurdity."
"Yeah," I nodded, "I call it the Marvel Cinematic Universe Method."
CA$H ONLY
Chapter 10: Clo$er
By: I Write Big
Travis Picklle idly rolled his tongue along his loose fang. His thoughts on when the baby fang would finally fall out and he'd get his grown-up fang were overshadowed by the chalk full moon surrounded by starry night sky designs on the adobe walls. That was the word ma called them. Adobe. Meant some kind of mud brick. Good for hot places like here down South. Travis had been kinda wary to cross the border. When those little booklets with their faces on the inside arrived, ma had packed everything within minutes and told him to get in the truck.
"But ma, I have school tomorrow."
"I'll call and tell 'em you're sick or somethin', Travis. Now come on!"
They drove until the sun went down and kept going. When Travis woke, his ma was parking at what looked like a school twice as big as the one back in Bunnyburrow. His ma went into the front office, while Travis wandered through the open air halls that led out to a central courtyard. The dusty square was littered with broken toys and unfinished puzzles and rusty swing sets. Travis had a slight fear that they were going to move again like they had suddenly moved to Bunnyburrow after ma lost her housekeeping job. Maybe his ma was going to transfer him to this awful place. Was it because of the clawing incident? He swore to ma that Gideon was the one who scratched Judy, not him. Did she not believe him? More importantly, where were the other kits? He'd need to size them up if he was going to survive here.
"You're too old," said a squeaky voice by his foot.
It was a shrew. Travis had never met a shrew before. He was stunned by how small the mammal was, probably small enough to fit in the palm of his paw. He was also amused by the light jacket the shrew wore with the hood framed around the shrew's face.
"No one's gonna take you," the shrew continued.
"Take me?"
The shrew shrugged, "I don't make the rules, but no family wants to adopt a kit after they hit 7."
That's when Travis figured out this wasn't a school. His ma had driven him to an orphanage. Horrific ideas that the clawing incident had been the final straw and his ma was going to abandon him nearly stopped Travis' heart. In a panic, Travis ran back through the courtyard to the office. As he reached for the doorknob, the door swung open and his ma stepped out. The lifeless look she held froze Travis' questions in his throat. She glanced briefly past him and when Travis followed her gaze, he saw she was staring at the young shrew who now peeked around the corner. She let out a choking laugh and a sniffle before slowly going to the kit. His ma kneeled and tenderly pulled back the hood, freeing a pair of strange floppy ears that didn't seem to fit the shrew.
It was with some confusion that Travis noticed the shrew had his ma's ears.
He had Travis' ears.
They left without the shrew.
When Travis asked why, his ma said they couldn't. When Travis asked if it was because they were poor, his ma said it wasn't. When Travis asked if the shrew was his brother or something, she cried.
For a while, they'd visit that orphanage, slowly filling their booklets with stamps. Ma would always bring gifts—homemade food, fresh clothes, brand new toys—and Travis would play with Michael. He found having a little half-brother to be exciting. Every time he came down, Michael would have a new delicious drink for him to try. The shrew really loved to experiment with mixing fruit juices and sodas together.
"I wanna make a drink for every mammal. Pred or prey," he'd brag, "Something that has a little of everything."
Plus, unlike Gideon, Michael was willing to listen to what Travis had to say, would play games Travis wanted to play. When Travis asked why, Michael said he was happy to hang out with someone who wouldn't make fun of his ears. Neither really understood why Michael wasn't allowed to go with them but Michael said it didn't matter. He was too old for any family to want to adopt him and in a few years Michael would be 16. At 16, the orphanage couldn't keep him anymore and he'd be allowed to go with Travis and ma back across the border. That seemed to be what his ma was waiting for. With each visit, she grew brighter and as a family they grew closer.
Then one day, Michael wasn't there.
They were told he'd been adopted and, legally, the orphanage couldn't say by whom. His ma didn't talk much after that. The only words Travis heard from her were muttered curses directed always at the same name.
"Clawleone… Clawleone, ya fuckin' bastard..."
Her curses didn't end until a couple months later when she drew her last breath.
'57 bushels of carrots on the wall, 57 bushels of carrots! You take one down, pass it around! 55 bushels of—No! Wait! 56! Agh!' Judy's headache inducing humms were brought to a frustrating halt when she saw Weaselton yet again astonishedly gasp in response to the cow she wasn't allowed to listen to. It had felt like she'd spent an eternity with her ears plugged while politely watching Weaselton react to what appeared to be the most fascinating conversation in the world. If only she hadn't lost her favorite carrot pen microphone in the Tundratown sewage. "Cheese and crackers, Weaselton! If you want me to not care, you have to stop making that face!"
"I told ya! Ya don't need ta know dis!" he shouted back.
"Huh?" Judy uncovered an ear.
"I sed, ya don't need ta know da big multi-layered backstory of somebody ta get what deir doin'. Sometimes, it's betta ta keep it simple."
"Actually, I feel like I'd be way more emotionally invested if I was made aware of the intricacies of the mistakes made in the past and the moral quandaries those said mistakes have created in the present."
The weasel ground his teeth at her and, for a moment, Judy was reminded of the good old days when she'd get Weaselton riled up in that Precinct 1 interrogation room. "Justice! Okay? Dey're out fer justice! Or revenge, depending on how ya look at it... Christ Almighty, not every criminal is as complex as Thanos or Keyser Soze!"
"Who?"
"WHO?!... Fuck you." He turned back to the poor cow who seemed to be confused by the spat between the two, "I'm guessin' ya got nothin' else?"
"Uh… After his mozer dies—"
"Whose mother died?" asked Judy.
"Hey!" The bunny rolled her eyes at Weaselton's glare and covered her ears again. Only this time, she decided to fake it a little. She loosened a paw ever so slightly until she could catch Weaselton's words as he turned back to the cow and asked, "Ya was sayin'?"
"After his mozer dies, I do not hear from him for years." Judy's foot thumped. There was something off about that statement. While Weaselton had been making faces, the cow had up to now kept a steady somber gaze on the weasel throughout this tale. But for that one sentence, her tired eyes shifted to the side. A lie. Most likely pertaining to the photo crinkling in the cow's grip. Judy would have to listen carefully to learn more. "And zat is all. I only know what ozers tell. Understand, I was not zere."
Judy felt like she was going to have an aneurysm! Did she miss everything?!
"Don't worry `bout it," assured Weaselton, "I'm an expert when it comes ta family tragedies. Trust me, I've seen too many movies not ta be. I dink I gotta pretty good idea what happened next. Not dat it's important. Alright, Cottontail, we're done. Ya can lissen again."
Y'up, definitely an aneurysm.
Travis Picklle ran his tongue along his now grown-up fang. The brownish tinge to the once white tooth was due to a dead nerve, according to his dentist. No rush, but the fang would eventually have to come out or he'd risk infection. He pushed away the thoughts on when to schedule the operation and instead mentally compared the moonlit starry night sky design on the Phull Muun office walls to the chalk starry night sky from the adobe so long ago. It had been lonely making that trip down South without his ma. The Picklles who had taken him in wouldn't have crossed the border with him even if he asked. Well, Mama Pikel might have. A downside of having a huge widespread family was the lack of personal attention. But Travis had found there was also an advantage to this. He was free to pursue what he wanted, including selling almost everything ma left him so he could bribe the orphanage's record keeper. His entire inheritance gone and the only thing he got was Michael's adopted name.
When he looked it up, Travis had to double check. It could've been coincidence. Michael Hornesto sounded like a common name for down South. However, this was the only shrew who had that exact name and was also the right age. Plus, those ears… It couldn't be any other mammal. After convincing the secretary by using his fancy voice that mammals seemed to respect more, Travis was let into the starry night sky marble office and hugged his half-brother for the first time in almost ten years.
"And here I was thinking I would never see you again. How the hell have you been, Travis?"
"Too much hogwash to complain about. Ya done mighty fine for yourself. Shucks, I can't believe Phull Muun was you."
"Eh, it's not for every mammal yet, but I'm getting close."
Michael offered him a job at the brewery but Travis had to decline. He wasn't exactly raring to go through the mess of learning a new language and swapping citizenships. Instead, he got work at a landfill less than a day's drive from the border. Travis truly believed he could spend the rest of his life there as long as he knew his half-brother was safe and happy. That'd be enough. And for while, it was.
Then the letter came.
It was laying unassumingly on Michael's counter when he pointed it out to Travis. Paw-written on shrew-sized paper which meant no bigger than a postage stamp. The scratchy lettering only added to the reading difficulty. Signed by some asshole who went by Donny Clawleone.
'Clawleone… Clawleone, ya fuckin' bastard...'
"Says he's my brother from papa's side."
Travis resisted the urge to tear the letter to shreds, "So, these here are the snakes, huh."
"More than that. Familia. Mafia. One of the most powerful in Zootopia."
Frigid dread iced Travis' veins at the revelation. Where his half-brother came from never mattered to Travis. It shouldn't matter. That's what it meant to be a Picklle or a Pickle or a Pikel. And despite his raising, for an instant, Travis was scared of Michael.
"In the letter he apologizes for the whole orphan trouble and then says I shouldn't come looking for him. Turns out, my papa leaving me in that orphanage was a compromise he made with mama. As long as I don't exist up there, I can exist down here." Michael pressed a claw under the counter and a hidden panel popped open. Inside, on a velvet cushion, sat a shrew-sized strip of clear plastic.
"What's that?"
"A drink for every mammal. Pred or prey," Michael held the plastic to the light and Travis saw almost microscopic strings of text hidden in the strip, "A recipe that has a little of everything. And maybe..." a glint of hope passed Michael's face, "...enough for papa."
Travis couldn't really comprehend that, "W-What're you blabberin' on `bout?"
His half-brother talked like he was grasping for an answer, "Maybe if I give this to him, it would fix things. Maybe if he saw how much money I make, I can... prove myself to him."
"You ain't gotta prove nothin', Michael! This ain't about the money!" Whatever unfounded fear Travis had was overtaken by the urge to protect Michael from his own foolishness. "I'm your family! Me and ma raised you! These monsters threw you away like trash! If anythin' they should be here beggin' for your forgiveness instead of hidin' like yellow-bellies behind letters! Don't give 'em your life's work! They don't deserve you!"
A plane buzzed through the sky for an agonizingly long time with neither brother saying a word. Travis waited for some kind of acknowledgement, a sign that would ease his worry. Then he felt the small strip of plastic being pushed into his paw.
"Put this where I won't find it. I don't think I'll be able to stop myself."
Michael left the room and didn't say goodbye. Travis clenched the goddamn recipe to his chest, the sting of failure burning.
'Clawleone… Clawleone, ya fuckin' bastard...'
Travis poured through every public record he could to find out more about this Donny Clawleone. The search wasn't that straightforward. Newspapers skirted the details. Evidence just happened to vanish. What few details Travis managed to dig up painted a picture of a crime family who only existed to ruin lives. And for some reason, Michael was compelled to impress them.
It wasn't long after that Travis concluded he couldn't stand to be near the piece of plastic. The sight of it reminded him of Michael's sudden radio silence. He wouldn't respond to anymore of Travis' emails, texts, voicemails. Nothing. Even when Travis personally came across the border he was told Mr. Hornesto was too busy to take visitors. He grew sick of having the recipe in his shack and gave it to Mama Pikel, the only mammal he could trust. He made sure to only inform her enough of the recipe's significance to ensure that she'd always keep it safe. And yet, somehow, word eventually got out to the rest of the Pickles, Picklles, and Pikels. The three families began to schmooze up to the aging cow; trying to win her favor.
For years, Travis watched this in disgust. His own family degraded to heartless scavengers, waiting for their elder to drop dead. More lives ruined by Clawleone.
'Clawleone… Clawleone, ya fuckin' bastard...'
And then, finally, a letter from down South.
An invitation to the reading of the Last Will and Testament of Michael Hornesto.
"It's kinda funny when you think about it," smirked Donny.
"Funny? This ain't funny at all," grumbled Fredo, "He's dead."
Donny agreed with his middle brother, but he didn't say it out loud. Donny just wanted to sound tough instead of showing his shame. He swiped again through the obituary that had mysteriously appeared in both of their emails a couple minutes ago. Almost two months. He had been completely clueless that his little brother had been buried in a graveyard out by Podunk for almost two months. Probably ran right past the place when he was chasing that dumb weasel. Guess he shouldn't have expected a notice about the funeral. It wasn't like the two of them talked beyond that one letter. Still, though, it hurt.
The photo of Michael on his phone matched the photo on the many flyers speared through the clocktower that stood over the main entrance of Little Rodentia. They had a clear view of the tower from Sunset Park as well as the multiple polar bears patrolling the wrought iron fencing that surrounded the entire district whose tallest building was barely two feet high. They looked like giant suit wearing sentinels. With how tightly Little Rodentia was built, only two polar bears could squeeze in past the fence. Koslov with Big at Sunset Daycare and the selectively deaf polar bear who always carried Fredo's wife. The broad was over by Sunset Store, scanning the district from the polar bear's raised paw. All sixteen empty blocks of Sunset Court were being watched by polar bears over the fence. The usually rodent filled district had been cleared thanks to the flyers.
Despite their numbers and vigilance, Donny couldn't help feeling trapped. They were out in the open, in the heart of Sahara Square with exits in every direction, but there remained this instinctual foreboding. Like hearing that first rumble of the approaching storm and wondering if he was fast enough to escape its path.
"Hey, don't look so scared. Can't have you start playin' dead on me again," he got a friendly shove from Fredo.
Donny growled at the one embarrassing thing that Fredo always brought up. Since they were kits, Fredo had rubbed the fact in his face that he constantly had to save his fainting older brother. Now, Fru Fru was probably gonna join that teasing since she pulled him from the snow.
Hold on a minute… Hold on one fucking minute…
"Fredo..." That storm's rumble got a little louder. "You said Fru Fru found me and the weasel, right?"
"Yeah, under a bridge."
ZPD cruisers and ZNN news vans began parking on the corners. Cops and news reporters with the same size problems as the polar bears took positions around the perimeter. The blues weren't here to arrest, only to prevent any possible violence from breaking out. The cameras were here to broadcast every second of violence they could. Fredo was concerned by their arrival, but Donny was only focused on how the bolts of that storm's lightning seemed to be growing stronger.
He grabbed Fredo's collar, "Under a bridge? On the edge of Tundratown? In an hour? By herself?" That lightning cracked and rolled across the gray skies and from the way the whites of Fredo's eyes flashed, Donny thought Fredo could hear it too.
"Donny, what… fuck are you sayin'?"
There was the metal whine of brakes the Clawleone brothers had known since kithood. Flanked on both sides by several black Growlers, at the entrance of Little Rodentia, plastered with flyers, parked the black sedan. The backdoor opened and out came an army of raccoons…
...and Pops.
Travis Picklle slid his tongue across his lucky golden fang as he stared at the moonlit starry night sky design on his bottle of Phull Muun. He felt like he'd been chipping away at a wall of impenetrable diamond. Even with the near endless fortune Michael had left him, he couldn't find anything substantial to pin on Clawleone. He'd hired dozens of mammals: P.I.'s, gangsters, snitches, thieves and one by one they disappeared. Maybe they were left to rot in a field. Maybe they got a ticket down South. He didn't know. What he did know was this wasn't working.
Pops Clawleone was untouchable.
The police weren't anywhere near him. Most of the public didn't even know he existed. He had mastered running his business as a nobody!
Travis dragged his finger across his phone and found an update from the mammal he had on the inside of Big's mansion. They hardly ever had new information and was only really on the take because one of Clawleone's sons got hitched. Travis considered whether he should end the contract early before Big lost a mammal. The email had an attached photo of the Clawleone son and his wife dancing at some kind of fancy party. Between them they carried a baby shrew.
"Overheard Pops is NOT HAPPY with this kit," said the email.
Pops Clawleone having problems with an unexpected kit born from a rival family, what a shocker. Probably using what small restraint he had because this time it wasn't his kit.
But…
Gears started spinning in Travis' head.
But…
He tapped the beer bottle as a plan formed.
But… If an opportunity were to present itself, would Pops be able to resist?
No... No, he would not.
His mammal on the inside could easily arrange the removal of the kit. Their job required close proximity to the baby after all. Another would have to transport the baby out of the city. A mammal who wouldn't ask questions if they got enough cash would be ideal. Even better would be a mammal slippery enough to not get immediately caught but incompetent enough to not finish the job. Not another kit was being sent down South as far as Travis was concerned. Clawleone wouldn't hurt another mammal again. Not if Travis could help it. The ferret smiled, his lucky golden fang gleaming.
He knew the perfect weasel.
As Duke got out of the truck, he wondered if the stream they'd driven past was the same stream he bathed in to get the smell of dump out of his fur. That bath felt like a lifetime ago. He must reek at this point. Cottontail happily thanked Mama Pikel for the ride and then turned an annoyed face on Duke, "Seriously, Weaselton, this is getting ridiculous. Why did you drag me out to this graveyard in the middle of nowhere?"
"Nope, ya can't know dat neither." He marched past the first row of tombstones, trying not to show how much he was enjoying her frustration.
The copper was close behind, "For the love of—You need to give me something or else I'm going to be forced to—" A sudden look of recognition crossed her eyes as they saw the only other living mammal straight ahead. "...Is that...?"
"Stop talkin'!" ordered Duke.
Her fur bristled, "Really?!"
"Dis is da moment, Cottontail. When yer cue comes—not if, when—you'll know what ta do. Until den, not a peep."
"I barely know what's going on anymore!"
"Exactly."
The copper barely held herself back, "I swear, if this has all been some elaborate trick, I am putting you away forever!"
"Dat's da spirit, use dat energy!" He scurried forward before she could explode and the copper stomped after him. Normally, he wouldn't try to get on her bad side, but he needed Cottontail to be as on edge as possible. If this went tails up, he'd need her to act without a second thought. The vibrant green grass, which contrasted strikingly with the crunchy brown tall grass around the graveyard, cushioned Duke's feet as he came to a stop a few headstones short of the mammal who had set this entire nightmare into motion. The ferret who looked so similar to him that he could've been Duke's twin perked up from watching whatever was playing on his phone and stared at Duke… in shock.
"What..." croaked Travis.
"...da..." helped Duke.
"Tarnation?" finished Travis.
"Was lookin' for 'fuck,' but OH THANK CRAP!" Duke cried in celebration, "You're surprised! Ya didn't know I was comin'! Phew, I was like 50 percent sure I was dramatically walkin' ta me and Cottontail's graves. Dat woulda sucked!"
The bunny's ears flopped at the word graves.
Travis didn't say a word. He continued to stare in shock.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Duke waved off the pride filling silence, "You're probably dinkin' ta yerself right now, 'how da fuck did dis dumbass figure it out?' Lemme tell ya, I may not be no copper, but you, Travis, ya made a huge mistake. Ya hired a mammal who wastes most of a his life watchin' crappy movies. I can spot da bad guys a mile away! Took me a li'l while wit ya, but dat changed afta' I saw ya brother's ears." Duke confidently pointed to the marker directly behind Travis with the name carved into the stone: Michael P. Hornesto. "Way back in Skoll Canyon, ya talked `bout how much family meant ta ya. If dat were da truth, den why did ya leave ya brother across da border as an orphan? `Cause some asshole wouldn't let ya take 'im. Classic dick move! `N all it takes is one dick move ta create 'nother dick! And so ya put dis whole shitstorm togetha, stuck me wit da kit, 'n waited til ya could get back at da mammal who fucked up ya life! `Cause, it's juss like ya sed. Dis was never `bout da cash. Dis was `bout family." Duke concluded his genius with a momentous clap and waited for Cottontail to take him away!
Nothing happened.
"Hey!" Duke nudged the oddly gaping bunny, "Dat was yer cue."
"You... are... so... stupid..." she whispered.
"What? Fuck ya mean?"
"Ahem!" Travis finally made a noise. Gone was the ferret's shock, in its place was unexpectedly calm understanding. "I'm afraid I don't quite grasp what he's talking about, Judy."
She groaned in agreement, "Pretty clear he doesn't either. Weaselton, did you actually make me not listen to possibly vital witness testimony so you could do this crazy Poirot reveal?"
"Ya can't act! If ya knew, ya woulda blabbed 'n ruined da moment! What are ya waitin' for?!" demanded Duke. "Why ain't ya bookin' him already?"
The bunny grabbed him by the wifebeater and pulled him down to her level, rage boiling over! "Because that's not how arresting a mammal works! This isn't one of your precious movies! This is reality! And in reality, you need evidence!"
"I juss explained what he did!"
"And where's your proof, Weaselton?! Did you see Mr. Picklle commit any crimes?!"
Duke thought long and hard about everything he knew, "...Is dat important?"
"CHEESE AND CRACKERS!" Her bellowing curse echoed across the field.
"If it helps," piped in Travis. "I'm actually here to visit my ma." He motioned to the grave next to them with the name: Josephine Picklle. "Can't say I ever met this Michael… Agresto was it?"
"Oh don't pretend ya can't remember his name! Da grave is right behind ya, ya sonuva—"
"He even has an explanation for being here. Amazing!"
Duke thought the copper was on the verge of blowing a second gasket as she tramped in small circles grumbling at herself for thinking Duke could handle this. Duke himself was similarly losing his fucking mind. Proof? Since when did cops need proof?! This was crime movies 101. Corner the criminal, accuse them with nothing to back you up but your own word, they unnecessarily confess to everything.
...
Okay, wait, nope, now it made sense. FUCK!
Tap-tappity-tappity-taptaptaptap!
Duke turned towards the taps to see Travis blankly staring straight at him as the ferret's fingers flew across his phone. He gave a final tap and they heard a message sent jingle.
"What was dat? What did ya juss do?"
The ferret smiled, "I'm actually flabbergasted to find a ZPD officer down here, considering the humdrum unfolding in Li'l Rodentia..." Travis turned his phone around to reveal a livestream of ZNN. The mini-district was packed with shrews, polar bears, raccoons and coppers, all staring each other down, waiting for the other to make a move. Almost at the same time, every shrew on screen pulled out their phones.
"Looks mighty serious if you ask me."
Donny looked to Fredo. His middle brother had the same 'what the fuck' look that he was pretty sure was on his damn face too. He spun around. The look was on Big's face, Fru Fru's face! The only shrew who looked differently was Pops. The old shrew stared at his phone as he might regard a challenge issued by a mammal not worth his time.
Defiant.
Angry.
That would be expected if he was reading the same message that Donny, Fredo, Big, and Fru Fru just received from that same mysterious email.
'Get Pops arrested or you'll never see li'l Judy again.'
Pops snarled at the other shrews, mutedly threatening them with a fate worse than death if any dared to move an inch. He waved to his raccoon and they turned back towards the sedan. News cameras focused their lenses on the departing group and cops reported the update to their superiors. With every step Pops took, the fear rooting Donny in place tightened its grip. This was the kitnapper's demand. To do what he nor any mammal never had the balls to do. This went beyond squealing. This was the impossible.
Almost…
Donny whipped back towards Fru Fru. If what he just figured out was right, then he needed time to get some answers. And to have that time, Pops couldn't get away. Donny clenched his teeth and screamed at the top of his lungs!
"Take out his wheels!"
"Oh no! It's too late!" cried the bunny. The feed went staticky after the polar bears tipped the sedan onto its roof and she bolted towards the dirt road.
"No no no!" Duke grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. "We're too far away ta help!"
"Because you dragged me on this wild goosechase! Now fighting is breaking out in the middle of Zootopia! Innocent mammals are going to get hurt!"
"We can stop dat wit li'l Judy! 'N I'm tellin' ya, Cottontail, he's our guy!"
"And I'm telling you, I have no legal grounds to touch him! No warrant! No reasonable suspicion! At this point, without something short of a confession, I can't do anything!"
They heard shouts and roars come from Travis' phone. "Oh! Signal's back."
Dozens of unconscious raccoons and polar bears decorated with tranq darts littered the streets. ZPD officers wielding riot shields marched in a wall formation, slowly closing in on the almost fifty remaining clashing mammals. At the center of this turmoil, Donny pulled Fredo into Koslov's paw with Big.
"The fuck were you thinking giving that order, Donny?!" shouted Big as Koslov slowly bent an escape hole in the iron fence.
"It was the only way to keep Pops here! I'm gonna take care of this!" Donny shouted back as Fru Fru arrived. He looked towards his sister-in-law and growled, "Wait a second!" He leaped to the next polar bear's paw and got in Fru Fru's very confused face. "I am slightly pissed that you did not figure this out before me, Fru Fru. Woulda saved us all a whole lotta trouble."
"What? What the fuck are you—"
"Just go with Koslov and keep my middle brother safe, will ya!" He shoved her back across to where he came from and directed his furious sights up at the earplug wearing polar bear. "YOU!"
The polar bear pulled out a plug, "Hmm?"
"You're working for that ferret who has li'l Judy, ain't ya?"
Somehow the polar bear got even paler than his white fur. Donny felt the telltale twitch in the bear's palm and launched himself before the giant paw closed around him. He latched onto the bear and scaled at breakneck speed, slicing, biting, and clawing along the way! He climbed until he reached the ears and twisted the appendages till there was a pop! The polar bear yelped in pain, tripped on several small buildings, and bashed his head against the iron fence! Finally, he collapsed to the ground.
"I'll take that as a yes," smirked Donny, making sure the cracking of his knuckles could be heard over the chaos. "I'm also guessing that you got a direct line to that asshole."
The polar bear nodded quickly.
"Good, then let's give him what he wants."
"It has to be you."
Duke blinked, "Huh?"
The bunny massaged her head and hissed to herself, "Oooh my gosh, I can't believe I am saying this! No other options, Judy, just go for it. Go for it! Okay!" She turned back to Duke, "My paws are tied and there's nobody else here, Weaselton. If Mr. Picklle really is the mammal behind this, you need to get him to talk."
"Get him ta talk? Oh! Ya want me ta beat da shit outta him til da bastard sings? Wit pleasure!"
"Don't do that! When I say talk, I mean talk!"
"Talk? Actually talk? What happened ta all dat needin' evidence shit?"
"Forget the evidence, forget trying to solve the big mystery!" She shook his shoulders, "If there's anything I've learned about you after booking you seventeen times, Weaselton, it's that you know how to get under mammal's fur. You know how to push their buttons. You are the most insensitive, uncaring, jerk in Zootopia!"
"...Thanks?"
"See a therapist. What I'm getting at is you can spot what makes them tick. Right now, you need to use that skill not to insult but to appeal."
Again, Duke blinked, "...I don't get it."
Cottontail gritted her buckteeth, "Opposite! Just do the opposite of what you usually do!"
She pushed him towards Travis who watched his phone screen. The copper's instructions mulled around in Duke's head. Opposite… Do the opposite… The obvious option was the grating country bumpkin speak Travis used. So what, should he compliment his poor grammar? That didn't sound right. Oh wait, did she mean trick him, like Duke tricked Gideon? No, Gideon was an idiot. Travis had proven he was somewhat smart. Damn it! If only Duke had his phone. He could search for some 'appeal' movie scenes and copy those. Maybe he could borrow Travis' phone.
Wait...
Was Duke seeing things?
He knew he saw the endless mob brawl on the phone screen. He knew he saw Cottontail pacing back and forth in the corner of his vision. But did he just see what he think he just saw? He shifted his focus entirely to Travis' claw that hanged off the phone's side. There it was again! It couldn't be!
"You're… tremblin'."
Travis immediately grabbed his offending paw, but the shaking was already moving up his arm. Those shakes were so familiar…
'This ain't never gonna end...'
And then Duke thought he knew what appeal meant.
"Ya never wanted it ta get ta dis."
Travis didn't respond, only stared straight ahead, gripping his shaking arm. Instead, Cottontail responded, "Weaselton, the daughter of the two biggest rival crime families of Zootopia was kitnapped. The only thing keeping them from going at each other was that baby. Whoever did this has gotten exactly what they wanted."
"No! Dey didn't! Dey didn't want nobody hurt! Dink `bout it! Don'tcha find it a li'l unbelievable dat Fru Fru found me 'n Donny so quick?" The copper stopped. Her ears shot up and her foot began to thump. Duke hoped that was a good sign. "No mammal knew where we was, except da mammal who put us dere." Donny got in front of Travis and tried to look him in the eye, but Travis kept looking past him, "Dat mammal told someone. Dat mammal told Fru Fru's polar bear. Dat mammal didn't want me ta die. Dat mammal didn't want Donny ta die. Even if it meant he could be caught. Why?" Duke had sudden flashes of the old Clawleone shrew who nearly knocked him off back in Bunnyburrow. "`Cause dat mammal is better dan him. Dat mammal only wants ta hurt one: dat old Clawleone fuckin' bastard."
For the briefest moment, their gazes met and Duke was sure he was going to speak. But then Travis turned away. So Duke kept pressing.
"What `bout dat bunny pilot, huh? While I was stealin' gas, not givin' a fuck, ya was carryin' him `round. Probably took him straight to a hospital afta' I drove off."
"Course, I did!" nearly shouted the ferret, "Anyone with a lick of sense coulda seen he needed a doctor." Travis turned his attention to the bunny, "Also, Judy, I'm not pressing charges for the plane crash neither. Nothing of value was lost."
The copper refused to speak and only peered at Travis more intensely, her foot thumping to blurring speeds.
"Oh right, you probably don't know what I'm talking about. It's a sorta funny story—"
"Da night we met…" At Duke's mutter, Travis became a statue. "Ya could already tell, couldn't ya? Dis while fiasco was goin' too far. When ya told me ta apologize ta Donny and give him li'l Judy, ya meant it. Ya was tryin' to call it off. Ya was tryin' to end da whole kitnappin' `cause Donny and me showed ya… it was only gonna get worse." The shaking spread to Travis' shoulders and Duke questioned how such a meek looking mammal could still be the same Horn who had instilled him with terror. He could see now how well the ferret had worn that mask, hiding behind a voice on the phone, justifying villainous acts to catch a bigger villain. "And by da time I was cruisin' back ta Zootopia, it was too late. Ya was in too deep 'n had nothin' ta show fer it. Even if dere was da tiniest chance dat ya could take Clawleone down, ya had ta risk it. So ya took li'l Judy off my paws and did what I always do, assumed it would work itself out." Duke reached forward and pointed to the pandemonium, "But ya never wanted dis—"
His paw was shoved away and Travis gave him his most Horn-like scowl, "Haven't the faintest what you're on about."
"HEY!" a recognizable gruff voice crackled from the phone.
"Donny?" the copper snatched the device away and practically hogged the thing.
"You watching, jackass?"
"Uh sir..." the ZNN news donkey said to Donny. "You can't use that kind of language on television."
"Then censor me!" Donny pointed his claw at the camera and nearly scratched the lens, "You want Pops, I'm giving him to ya. Pay attention!"
With the camera following his every move, Donny took off like a rocket, easily dodging the massive polar bears and raccoons! Bouncing off a destroyed Growler's tires, Donny landed on the head of the earplug wearing polar bear! He steered the polar bear at a group of raccoons gathered under the clocktower and ordered, "Dive!"
The resulting tackle flung raccoons in an eruption of striped fur! Momentum carried Donny high into the air until he clumsily landed atop the clocktower, the timekeeper ticking just to his side! Moments later, a white polar bear paw held a clenched grey raccoon paw over the clocktower! A quick twist to the raccoon's wrist and Pops tumbled out, across from Donny! As polar bears fended off raccoons from interfering, Donny stared at his Pops. The mammal who had nearly made him—his oldest son—disappear. His entire life had been spent fearing this one shrew, praying he never slipped up, throwing punches at others he wished he had the guts to throw at this shrew.
Pops stood and stretched his elderly back. He sighed as if he were about to admonish a disobedient kit, "That's enough, Donny. You already squealed, don't make this more painful for yourself."
"Yeah, I squealed. And it felt great." Donny saw Pop's flinch. It made him smile. "I bet this will feel fuckin' fantastic!" Donny's fist buried itself in Pops' stomach! A gurgling wheeze came from Pops' hanging jaw! A single tear rolled down his normally desert dry face! Donny was right. That did feel fucking fantastic.
"That was for li'l Judy."
He grabbed Pops' collar and tossed him to the other end of the clocktower where he clung to the railing. He slowly approached the now cowering shrew, taking extra time to be as intimidating as possible. He needed to sell this for the camera.
"No! No, Donny, you need to stop!" the copper uselessly yelled at the phone.
Duke turned to Travis. The ferret was glued to the broadcast with wide-eyes of horror. The shaking was full body now. He'd become a perfect replica of his dad, hunched over his desk, hiding his tears.
Duke put a paw on his shoulder. "Dat idea in yer head, dat if ya juss wait a li'l longer, dis'll go away? It's wrong. Dis ain't never gonna end. Not until ya do somethin'. Travis, Donny was Michael's brother. Whether ya like it or not, dat makes him yer family." He got a look from Travis and there wasn't a trace of Horn in there. "Juss tell me where li'l Judy is, it's da only way."
This time, Travis didn't look away. His mouth opened… and then shut. Travis nabbed his phone from Cottontail and typed like mad. There was the message sent jingle again. He then switched back to the livestream and hysterically shouted, "Come on, come on, for land's sake, check your phone!"
Never had sore knuckles felt so good to Donny. He was beyond seeing red. The world had become a tunnel and the only way forward was through Pops. A satisfying crunch rippled up his arm as he smashed the old shrew's face through the clock's glass case! Shards rained around them. He wanted to make this last, but the blues were closing in. He knew he needed to up the ante, make Pops forget about the cameras and fight back. Just one punch, that's all it would take. One punch from Pops on the news and he'd be arrested for assault.
He took a pawful of Pops' head fur and pointed his nose at the flyers above. "See that face, Pops? That's the face of your biggest mistake. Not because he was born. Not because you let him live. No, Michael was your biggest mistake because you couldn't do the right thing and let him be your son."
Pops let out a wet cough, "That's what it takes to keep us going, Donny. A li'l mistake can take us all down."
"Don't give me that crap! You got rid of my li'l brother and went after my baby niece! They ain't mistakes, they're our family! The only mistake around here is YOU!"
The impact was much softer than he expected, almost like a childish poke. The patheticness of the retaliation made a sense of pity come over Donny for his Pops. Even more pathetic was that traumatized gape Pops showed, as if for the first time in the old shrew's life he wanted to take it back. As the fighting below him got fainter and his body got heavier, Donny collapsed on his back, using the last of his dwindling strength to show the cameras the long glass shard stabbed into his chest.
Cameras turned away and the on-scene reporters quickly apologized and tried to explain what was just seen, but it was too late. The image had been broadcasted across the land and beyond the city's limits.
None said a word.
The only sounds were those of the scrambling news anchors.
"I'm sorry," blubbered Travis. "I tried to stop it. I tried to tell him where I put li'l Judy, I tried. I really did! I didn't mean to make this happen! I'm so so sorry!" The ferret broke down, letting out those tears Duke had saw coming at the beginning.
Cottontail gave Duke the phone and put the cuffs on him, "Travis Picklle, you're under arrest for conspiracy of kitnapping Judy Clawleone Big. Anything you say can and will..." and she went on with that damn speech she always gave Duke, but unlike when she gave it to Duke, the words came out tired and defeated. Duke knew exactly how she felt. They'd gotten their guy, but this was no victory. The phone in his paw showed the neverending commentary on the 'tragedy' that had befallen an innocent shrew in Little Rodentia.
"NOT K.I.A.! NOT K.I.A.!" a sudden notification dropped from the top of the screen.
"Wait, what?" asked Duke.
And then there was a MuzzleTime request from the same number. Not knowing what else to do, Duke answered and saw…
"Donny?!"
"Donny?" the copper twirled on the spot and ran to him.
"Hold the phone still!" the amazingly still alive shrew growled at someone behind the screen. He then pointed to the clocktower in the background where Pops was getting arrested. "There you go, ferret. Attempted murder. Enough for ya? Wait a second… Weasel? You were the mastermind behind this the whole time?!"
"Huh?! What? No!"
The copper grabbed the phone out of his paws, "How are you alive?!"
"Oh wondercop, there you are. Pretty convincing, huh? Think I set a personal record for shortest time playing dead." He opened his cut shirt and pulled out a pair of pink rubber cylinders. In one of them was a deep slice. "Thankfully, Mr. I-Like-To-Pretend-I'm-Deaf here gave me his spare earplugs. Anyways, where are you guys? Where's that fucking ferret who nearly froze me and the weasel? He got what he wanted, now he has to tell where's li'l Judy."
"He already sent it! Her location is on your phone!" choked the bunny through tears of relief.
"What was that? You got cut off."
"I said, check your phone!"
"Hold on a sec, I just got an email." Donny opened his messages, "Holy shit... I don't fucking believe it... She's..."
"OH!" shouted Duke and grabbed his face in a huge epiphany moment. "Oh Christ Almighty!"
"What?" asked Cottontail, "Don't tell me you suddenly figure out where she is."
"You're gonna hate me for dis," Duke sheepishly admitted, "but Donny juss reminded me dat I did see Travis commit a crime. He tranqued me before he kitnapped li'l Judy from me so ya coulda arrested him from da very beginnin'..."
The bunny stared at him.
"Ta be fair, you're da copper. When I sed he was our guy, ya shoulda figured out dat's what I meant." Duke shrugged, "So, ya only got yerself ta blame."
"Fuck you," said Judith Laverne Hopps.
END CHAPTER TEN
There is an epilogue! If you don't see it, refresh!
