Ok, I finished with the latest chapter and the rewrite, time to post after... 2 MONTHS?!

Damn, this took way longer then I intended. Not nearly as much time as I would've liked was spent writing on this, what can I say? Video Games are fun. Add to that is a rewrite of the prologue (which should be online now, go back and read it) that I really wanted to be ready by the time I posted this ensured that I just delayed the whole damn chapter.

But now its finished and you all can enjoy, hopefully.

3/9/2017: Some minor edits to fix a few mistakes pointed out to me in a PM.

Clawhauser and I sat at the table, both with bowls of cereal filled with milk. Finnick had said it would take some time to arrange a meeting with this 'Kozlov' guy, so I found myself with nothing else to do but to get some breakfast and talk with the cheetah.

"Why'd you come to Zootopia anyway?" He asked before shoving a spoonful in his mouth.

I shrugged. "I don't know, I just go wherever life takes me." I answered, thinking back to my teenage years and how little I had planned my life before joining the Protectorate.

The Human government gave out subsidies to 'endangered races' like my own. During my teenage years I would use this money to run off and explore all of human space without the need to ever work for a living. During those years, I had never even considered the heart I broke when I left.

Hindsight is a real bitch.

"Doesn't that get… Lonely?" Said Clawhauser, frowning in concern.

"What do you mean?"

"Leaving everyone behind when you move." He clarified, before taking another bite of food.

"Not really, no. I enjoy traveling the world more than anything." I answered, being completely truthful at that moment. Modern technology made it easy to keep in touch across the galaxy, and the galaxy was full of beautiful sites and incredible experiences.

Made it hard to sit in one place your whole life.

Swallowing his food, Clawhauser wasn't done yet. "What about family? Don't they miss you?"

"I don't have one… Never knew my father and my mother died a long time ago." I said, voice going soft as I remembered all the good times I had as a kit.

Those were the days.

"Oh. My. Gosh." He started, looking horrified at my reaction. "I am SO sorry, I didn't know-"

"Ben." I interrupted, stopping him before he could continue his apology. "You don't need to apologize. I'm not some traumatized kit that breaks down the moment someone mentions my dead mother."

"Yeah, but…" Started Clawhauser, still looking ashamed. "...I can't imagine you like someone bringing up the death of someone you loved."

"You're right, I don't." I admitted. "But it's not your fault for not knowing."

As I finished speaking, I saw Honey walk in from the kitchen. Carrying a mug full of coffee and wearing her tinfoil hat as she took a seat at the table.

"Besides…" I continued. "It may have been the darkest moment of my life, but I like to think I came out of it a better I was" I finished, reminding myself of the promises I made that day.

Silence reigned in the room, Clawhauser looking like he was both inspired by my words, and ashamed that he brought the topic up. While Honey looked rather indifferent, having just joined in on the conversation.

"So, Honey…" I suddenly stated, almost startling the other two. "...You said you were a doctor yesterday?" I asked, looking to know more about the badger.

"Yeah, used to work at the hospital in Happytown." She answered, taking a sip of coffee as she did.

"Happytown is the predator district." Clawhauser explained, answering my question before I could ask it. But there was still one other question I had.

"Used to?"

Honey frowned. "The Sheep decided to close that one down and just put all the patients in other hospitals." She answered in disgust.

"Do they… Get worse treatment?" I asked, hesitant at her agitation.

"No…" She admitted, voice losing its spite for just a moment. "...But with a staff terrified of you, it's not exactly better."

"I'm guessing the Happytown one didn't get much money from City Hall."

"The Sheep…" Honey corrected. "...Barely gave us enough to keep the lights on, but we made it work."

I hummed at the answer. I imagined it looked similar to the hospitals you saw in active war zones in pre-unification Earth.

"You keep mentioning 'The Sheep,' Honey. Mind explaining that to me?" I asked, genuinely confused about what she means by that.

Clawhauser immediately started waving his arms and shaking his head no, while Honey had her full attention on me

"You don't know about The Sheep?" She asked incredulously. Clawhauser's reaction was starting to make me question the wisdom of my words.

"Well if you want to know about The Sheep then you've come to the right badger!" Honey exclaimed, seeming happy that I had taken an interest.

"You see, I've figured out everything." She said.

Clawhauser looked a little annoyed of all things as Honey continued. "The Sheep want to a world where they are the only remaining species. They've pigeonholed every other race into specific roles with the government roles filled by them."

I blinked as I digested the information.

She wasn't done. "Its why they started the war, and put these collars on us…" She said, gesturing to both our collars. "...And push anti-pred propaganda on prey."

"Its why I built a bunker under my kitchen…" She continued, pointing to said kitchen as she did. "...So I could escape their endless tyranny and hatred!"

"It wasn't easy, but I did it!" She added, sounding quite proud of herself in that statement.

...Honestly, that's not nearly as farfetched as I thought it would be. This theory was not somthing I would put past some of the governments and organizations that inhabit the galaxy. And the Apex government was admittedly far more brutal in the suppression of its people then a digital age society ever could be.

Still though, it is a conspiracy theory. Though like them as much as the next guy, I should remain skeptical until I get in touch with Avian and have her verify what she could.

"Well Honey, that was enlightening." I said, with a sincerity in my words that surprised Clawhauser.

Said cheetah took this moment to cough, getting our attention. "Didn't you want to keep your bunker a secret, Honey?"

"Normally, yes. But if John is gonna live with us, he should know about it." Honey stated.

A moment passed before I did a double take. "Wait… What?! You want me to live here?!"

"What? You thought we'd toss you out onto the street as soon as your leg's better?" Asked Honey, curious at my surprise.

"Yes." I bluntly stated. expecting anything more and you would get called entitled in human space.

Honey rolled her eyes. "Like I said yesterday, us preds gotta stick together. Now I don't know much about you, but I know enough that you don't have anywhere else to go."

I frowned, she was right. I had not talked much with Honey yesterday, but I told her enough in between eating for her to piece together just how moneyless I was. If I left here, I would right back to square one. Sure, the risk of my true nature getting discovered was higher, but that was a risk worth taking for now.

On a related note, I wasn't sure to admire or mock her faith in my trustworthiness. I may be in a similar boat as her with this collar, but that does not suddenly make me an ally.

"Okay…" I conceded, pushing my thoughts away. "...But I'm not going to freeload off you guys."

"Who said you were?" Responded Honey, implying she already had something in mind. "But as your doctor, I'm not allowing you to repay us until that leg is healed."

Her words were firm, and I knew there was no arguing this point.

"Fine…" I mumbled, as Finnick came out of the living room, putting his phone in his pocket as he did. Giving me a look, as he nodded his head towards the exit.

The meeting is happening already? That was fast.

"Taking John to get some things, be back later." Lied Finnick, surprising me as I got up from my seat.

"You're taking John with you?" Asked a confused Honey.

"He's gonna need some new clothes." Finnick responded as I limped over to the doorway he was waiting by. Honey seemed to accept the explanation as she did not immediately respond as I followed Finnick out of the room.

"Stay safe you two, stay awake!" She called out to our retreating forms.

"Bye Finnick! Bye John!" Said Clawhauser.

Finnick didn't respond as I turned to wave before leaving, coming up to the front door of the house. Next to the door were coat hangers that held a variety of raincoats for the lightly slashing rain outside. Finnick grumbled, walking over to the sole hanger that was low enough for him to reach, looking like it had been installed solely for him.

I felt sympathy for the little guy, it really sucks being reminded your short stature, and being a fox among humans meant you always got a reminder.

I was about to open the door when Finnick interrupted. "Take Nick's coat, closest thing to your size."

"I don't need a coat though." I responded, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah you do. Unless you want to advertise your old collar." Said Finnick, making my eyes widen as I realized just how lucky I am for not running into any cops so far.

All things considered, I would probably get arrested for having this old collar.

I pushed those thoughts away as I followed Finnick's advice, taking a raincoat that I assumed was Nick's. The coat itself was a simple design, carrying some pockets, a zipper, and a hoodie, covered in a dark green.

Putting the coat on, and pulling up the hoodie, I watched as Finnick in his own black coloured coat reach up for the door knob. The door had to be big enough for someone like Clawhauser to get in, so Finnick found himself having to jump up to reach the knob.

Managing to grab and turn the mechanism, the door popped inward ever so slightly, allowing Finnick to grab the edge and pull it open. Some rain from fell through the entrance as Finnick and I walked outside, closing the door behind us.

Sitting in the driveway was a van, with small bits of rust and various dents hinting at a long life on the road. The whole vehicle was painted, a simple orange covered most of the hull, while on the side there was a painting of a brown furred fox carrying a sleeping arctic vixen in his arms. I assumed the painting was fresh, as the paint didnt look like it had been scratched from the damage or peeled from age.

"You coming?" Yelled Finnick, forcing my eye away from the loud artwork.

I looked over and saw that the fennec was waiting next to the driver side door, having made his way over while I took it all in. I limped as fast as I could over to the passenger side to catch up.

The car door wasn't painted, it's the dull metal clashing with the rest of the car. Opening said door, I climbed into the seat, using some steps carved into the hull. Pulling the seatbelt down and hearing click with lock, I looked over to see Finnick climbing into his own seat, pulling himself up with a surprising amount of ease for his smaller size.

Getting on top of the box placed on the seat, Finnick didn't bother with a seatbelt as he pulled a keychain out of his pocket and placed it in the ignition. Turning the key, I heard the engine roar to life. He disengaged the parking brake and shifted the vehicle into drive, pushing a button on the steering wheel to accelerate out of the driveway and into the road. A smile grew on Finnick's face, looking proud of himself. For what, I wasn't certain.

With the road empty of traffic for now, I figured now was a good time to ask what I'd been wondering about.

"So…" I started, not quite sure how to word my question. "...Why'd you lie to them?"

Instantly, Finnick's smile was replaced by a frown while a small growl arose out of him.

"'Cause they're all being bitches with this." He answered, making me raise an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"They won't help me do this. Would've given us shit before we left." He growled out, collar turning yellow as he did.

"You're mad at them for not helping you kill someone?" I asked incredulously.

Finnick snarled, collar turning red before yelling; "That's not the po-!" He went, before being interrupted by the shock. His whole body spasmed, and he lost control of the van as his arms refused to obey him, sending us careening into the wrong lane.

My heart rate spiked at the danger, hearing a beep sound off from my own collar, I grabbed onto anything solid and braced for a crash. I heard things smashing behind me as the vehicle drove wherever it pleased.

After just a second of spasms, the shock subsided and Finnick the van, pulling the wheel into a hard right to the curb and engaged the brake, opening the door and slamming it as he jumped out. Watching his large ears walk around the front, I saw Finnick emerge to my right and sit down on the sidewalk, taking a breather in an attempt to calm himself.

Deciding to join him, I opened my own door. Sliding out of the vehicle and landing on my feet, I looked back at the van, with its back end sticking out into the road.

That's a ticket waiting to happen, we shouldn't spend too time much here.

With that knowledge in mind, I walked over to Finnick and sat down next to him. The fennec taking in deep breaths as I watched the road. The road was thankfully still empty, which I was happy for, I would've hated to see what happened if we had crashing into someone.

About half a minute passed before I heard Finnick give a massive sigh as he got up from his position, scratching some fur under his collar as he looked over to me.

"Let's go, Kozlov won't like it if we're late." He mumbled, sounding more depressed than anything else at the possibly fatal joy ride just now.

I didn't respond as we both got back in the vehicle. Finnick only having to disengage the brake before we were back on the road towards our destination. Despite the sound of the van's engine pushing us along, the silence between us was deafening, neither of us really wanting to continue the conversation.

Looking over to Finnick, I really had to wonder how his temper could survive. With these collars on us, just getting even a little agitated is enough for the collar to go yellow. Yet despite getting shocked three times in just the short period I had known him, he still keeps letting his anger get the better of him.

As Finnick turned a corner, I let out a small sigh. The day I get off this planet can't come fast enough.

"You ever killed before?" Finnick suddenly asked, shaking me from my thoughts.

"Uh, what?" I went, startled by the question.

"Have you killed a mammal?" He asked, his normal baritone carrying a somberness I didn't expect.

A moment passed before I responded.

"Yeah."

Finnick sighed. "You do what you need to do to survive, no matter how much you don't want to do it." He muttered, I imagine speaking from some past experience.

I understood where he was coming from. Killing someone, and then living with the fact that a whole life full of emotions and relationships ended because of you, is not an easy thing.

I should know.

"Ben and Honey think that we can just hide in her bunker…" Finnick continued. "...While Nick thinks he can just con his way outta this." He finished, spitting Nick's name like a slur.

At the same time, I understood why the others refused to help. The mere thought of killing someone else is terrifying for most people.

Luckily for me, and for him, we were no strangers to what we're doing.

"That's why you and I are doing this, so they don't have to."

"And we'd be fucked if you didn't come along."

I hummed, didn't really have anything else to add to that.

With the conversation over, a silence descended once more as we continued towards our meeting.

It had been a pretty long drive, traffic and environmental hazards kept us from gaining any speed, especially when we got into the 'Tundratown' district.

The area certainly earned it's name, as the artificial climate kept the temperatures below freezing and turned the rain into snow. The cool air and falling snow bringing back pleasant memories of the winter holidays back on Earth.

This winter wonderland held a dark underbelly though, Finnick tells me this area was where Kozlov, or 'Mr. Cold' did most of his business. And nearly half of the people here work for him one way or another.

Our business with him brought us to an out of the way alley to have our meeting. Finnick backed up his van into the spot. Engaging the brake and pulling the key out of the ignition, Finnick put on some Aviators Sunglasses as he gave a tiny sigh, betraying his nervousness.

Given his situation, I could understand why. He and the others owed a lot of money, and he was about to meet with the crime boss they owed it to. Even if they were on good terms, it had to be nerve wracking. Like him, a part of me was nervous as well. I didn't owe any money, and while 'Mr. Cold' needed my skills, if the worse happened, I couldn't hope to fight back with this limp.

Finnick looked at me, his eyes hidden by the shades. "Let's go." He said, before opening the door and hopping out.

I did the same, sliding out of the van as I landed on a thin layer of snow as the cool air surrounded me. Limping to the back of the van, I met up with Finnick as I looked to the other end of the alley.

At the other end of the alley, in front of a black van, was a polar bear. He looked about six times my size, wearing a unbuttoned black suit and tie, with the undershirt being just as black with the rest of his clothing. Around the eyes, white fur turned to black skin, giving the eyes a sunken in look that suggested a long life of less than legal work.

A more primal part of me was intimidated.

He wasn't intimidating like Florans were, with the conscious knowledge of their aggressive nature and usual lack of empathy for other races. He was intimidating a different way, his large size triggering all sorts of buried instincts that all told me to run my stupid ass away.

I suppressed those feelings easily enough, humans triggered those same instincts as well. And I lived among them all my life.

Still payed to be cautious though, I had no idea what he was hiding behind that unbuttoned suit jacket of his.

"Where's Mr. Cold?" Asked Finnick, shaking me from my thoughts.

"He thought it best that he doesn't meet the hitman before the job." Replied the white furred ursine, his voice booming in my ears.

I couldn't help but wince at the bear's voice, his large size ensuring the mere act of speaking felt like someone had shoved a megaphone in my ear. A megaphone you could get used to, as Finnick's much larger ears just twitched at the bear's words.

"You have the rifle?" Finnick asked, bringing me from my thoughts.

The bear didn't respond as he reached into his jacket, fishing for something before pulling out a black briefcase. As he did, I noticed a pistol hanging from a hip mounted holster, hidden underneath the suit and available to see for just a moment. Seeing it, I felt my ears flatten against my skull, damn thing was the size of a shotgun to me!

My thoughts on the bear's weapon were interrupted when he opened the briefcase and showed the interior to Finnick and I. My vulpine eyes more then capable of observing the inside from our distance.

Inside the briefcase was a disassembled sniper rifle, its parts all placed in neat pockets of foam to prevent any noise from being made. Everything I needed was there, the stock, the scope, the barrel, even a single magazine of ammo was inside. And from would I could tell, the design was bolt action, an old design by modern standards, but I could work with this.

"Alright, Let's talk about payment." Said Finnick.

I gulped, moment of truth here.

The bear looked over at me. "Zerdan claimed that forgiving his debt was suitable payment…" The bear gestured to Finnick. "Is this true?"

I nodded.

"Then our business here is finished." Said the bear, walking forward with arm outstretched and paw open.

Realizing what he wanted, I walked forward as well, meeting in the center of the alley. With his paw so much larger than mine, all I could do is just place mine in his palm and let him shake my whole arm, after which he gave me the briefcase.

"Do not attempt to contact us after it is done, we shall contact you." The bear said before turning towards the parked van. Seeing no reason to stick around, I turned back to Finnick's van, and we both got back inside.

"So, that went well?" I asked, wondering just how well this whole thing had gone for the fennec.

Finnick smiled as he started the engine. "Pretty damn well." He answered, driving out into the road as he did.

"Just solved our biggest problem." He added, sounding quite happy as he navigated through the streets of Tundratown.

I didn't respond, not wanting to kill Finnick's mood with reminders as we travelled back to the house with nothing but the sound of the engine pushing us forward.

I had zoned out for a while, lost in my own little world where time passed in an instant. Which is why I was surprised when I heard Finnick parked at a place I didn't recognize. Looking around, I saw we were still in Tundratown, in a parking lot in front of some store called 'Snarlbucks.' A coffee shop, if the styrofoam cups the people had were anything to go by.

"You want anything?" Asked Finnick, shutting down the van as he did.

"No thanks." I replied, already well past the point of sleepiness. He gave me a weird look at that as he hopped out of the van, walking through what was knee high snow to him.

What was that look for?

...Oh! Right, we're nocturnal. I forgot about that.

Us vulpines always needed a coffee every few hours to function during the day on Earth, no reason for it to be different here. While I used to be like any other fox in that regard, I managed to free myself of that need after eight years of training at the Protectorate.

And a few genetic tweaks.

You can never go wrong with those.

With that reminder out of the way, I waiting for Finnick to return. Something that was probably going to take a while, as the shop looked to be swarming with people looking for a morning pick-me-up. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I got up and walked through the gap in the seats in search of something interesting to pass the time with. And there were a lot of things to choose from in the back of Finnick's van.

The whole area was a mess, with everything not bolted to the van strewn about during our uncontrolled ride earlier. There was an overturned box near the back door that had various tools spilling out of it, a surprising amount of coloured pencils and paper laying on the ground, and CD cases of all things scattered through the vehicle.

Seriously, even for digital age, those things are old.

Taking a few steps forward, I immediately picked up an overwhelming scent. I actually had to place a paw on my nose to shield myself from its strength. I recognized the scent though, It was a scent any fox would recognize, the scent of a den. The marked scent telling anyone that this belonged to someone, in this case Finnick, and they entered at their own risk.

Didn't explain why it was so overwhelming though, I had to breath through my mouth as I continued into the back. Ignoring all the instinctual warnings and checked out Finnick's set up here.

There was a small and unmade bed pushed up against the side of the van. Directly opposite to it was a small flat screen TV bolted to the wall, supported by four speakers on all corners to create a surround sound system. Wires for all of this stuck to the wall with tape and trailed all around the van before meeting between the seats and retreating under the floorboard. Finishing off the whole thing were some empty shelves that were bolted to the walls as well.

I hummed at what must've been a lot of work. I really had to hand it to the little guy, he has a pretty nice setup here. His own little mobile home, too small for most people, but large enough for the relatively small fennec.

Looking more closely at everything, I noticed much of the paper strewn about had something on them. Picking up the closest one, I found the page absolutely filled with pencil drawings, all of which were coloured.

They were all about a single red fox, walking on all fours while carrying a bow tied snugly around his torso, and a quiver of arrows that had a closed top. Some of the drawings had the fox mid jump, arrow in the bow and ready to let it fly. Others had him upright, walking towards some unseen destination. While others were just his face with various emotions displayed on him.

The colouring reminded me of Nick, minus the tacky clothing. As the drawing had no clothes but the quiver on his back, the fox himself had the same fur and eye colouration as the guy.

Noticing the artstyle of this was the same as the van, I gave a low whistle.

Between this and the painting outside, Finnick is quite the artist.

Looking out the windshield, I saw Finnick walk of the store, styrofoam cup in paw. Knowing he wouldn't like me sitting in his den, I walked back in my seat, paper with me.

Opening the door, I saw Finnick struggle to pull himself up to the seat, a paw occupied in carrying the coffee.

"Need help?" I asked.

"No."

"Well if you change-"

"Fuck off, I don't need help." He interrupted, managing to pull himself up to his box as he did. Smiling at his success, he took the cap of his cup off and took a sip. With the steam rising from the hot drink, I took a few sniffs before I recognized the drink, a cappuccino, if I remembered correctly.

I didn't question how such a drink could be on this planet, I assume it will just a be mystery I take to my grave. I did bring up the paper I had gotten from the back, filled with his drawings and question him about those.

Finnick nearly dropped his drink in surprise, before narrowing his eyes at me. "You been going through my stuff?" He accused, sounding angrier than his deep voice made usual.

"It got boring up here, and the mess was just begging someone to poke around." I deflected, gesturing to the back of the van.

Finnick looked behind the seat, and his anger quickly gave way to annoyance as he muttered something about a 'pain in the ass.'

Pain in the ass is right, it would probably take hours to reorganize it all.

Finnick took another sip before turning to me. "If I ever find you going through my shit again, I'll bite your face off!" He threatened.

I suppressed a chuckle, I'd like to see him try.

I really had to hand it to Finnick, he knew how to tell a story.

The fox in that drawing was apparently supposed to be from ancient times, a warrior for the tribe of foxes that was native to what would become Zootopia. With foxes being excellent archers during that time, they had to make a pact with other tribes when a massive war broke out between the various tribes.

At least, that was the story. As Finnick had explained, no history textbook would ever tell this story, as it was purely an oral one. A story that has been retold from generation to generation, with plenty of room for the truth to be muddled as various interpretations are told instead of what actually happened.

It did provide an interesting reason for why we flip the bird the way we do. Two fingers up with their backs to the person, in the story, it was a taunt to other tribes who would threaten to cut the fingers of the foxes, and said vulpines would use those fingers to say 'come and get em.'

However, the story did provide Finnick with inspiration for his drawings, about how history was shaped by the supposed events during those times. When he wasn't working with Nick or doing maintenance on his van, he was drawing and writing a whole comic about those times.

I thought it was pretty damn good, and the little guy was more then happy to accept the praise, but he was not so keen when I suggested getting a publisher.

"Those prey suits never accept a pred." He had said, dismissing my claims otherwise.

I couldn't convince him that there were those out there who would be interested. For Finnick, he was more then happy to just draw as a hobby rather than waste time asking some 'prey suits' to publish something by a predator.

If only he knew, human publishers would kill for the chance to get what Finnick has here. The history of other races has always sold well in human space.

Our talk about history, Finnick's art, and publishers died out when we got back to the house. It was time to inform the others about the deal with Kozlov.

Walking through the light rain and wiping our feet once inside, we hung our coats and continued on. Coming into the dining room, where Clawhauser still sat at the table reading his book, I could hear the sound of a TV from the living room, while someone else could be heard in the kitchen.

Upon noticing us, Clawhauser smiled, "Your back!" He happily said, before noticing the case I was carrying with me. "What's in the briefcase?"

Placing the case on the table, I undid the locks and swung it open, revealing the weapon parts inside.

"A sniper rifle." I bluntly answered, feeling no desire to beat around the bush here.

Clawhauser had a delayed reaction, staring at us blankly before he blinked, then gasped at my answer.

"Wha… Why do you have that?!" He asked in shock, which quickly turned to horror. "Do you know how illegal that is?! This could get us into so much trouble! What would you even do wi-"

There was a flash of realization in his eyes as he suddenly stopped his horrified questioning. Ben let out a quiet 'oh.'

"Yeah." Said Finnick, saying all that really needed to be said.

I pulled out various essential parts of the weapon from their spots, I was unfamiliar with the model, so I wanted to spend some time and get used to it. As I did, I heard the TV in the living room turn off, while whoever was in the kitchen start making their way over. Clawhauser having been heard from their respective rooms.

"What's going on?" Honey asked, coming out of the kitchen, while Nick came out of the living room. Honey herself had a concerned look on her face, while Nick had a mask of utter neutrality over his emotions.

"We're killing the snitch." Finnick stated.

Both of them looked like they got hit by a train, their shocked faces sticking around for a few moments before they recovered. Nick's eyes narrowed at Finnick, an unspoken accusation was made, and Finnick responded.

"Don't start with your shit Nick, At least we're doing something about it." He said, narrowing his own eyes at Nick.

"The hell he is!" Honey injected, turning to me as she did. "You still have that limp, you're not doing anything when you can't even walk right, let alone run your dumbass away."

"It'll be gone by tomorrow." I replied. "Besides, I wouldn't have let Finnick talk me into this if I wasn't absolutely sure I could get away with it." I added.

Honey opened her mouth to retort, but found nothing to say, closing her mouth after a moment. However, Nick had plenty to say, to Finnick in particular.

"We're not killing a mammal just because we owe money." Stated Nick, anger at Finnick leaking into his words.

"When are you gonna get it through your thick skull?" Asked the fennec. "We have to."

"We don't have to!" Growled Nick. "I know exactly how we can-"

"Shut up!" Interrupted Finnick, growing agitated as his voice rose. "There is NO way you're shitting your way out of this Nick!"

"What happened to 'lines we won't cross?'" Asked Nick, lips pulled back as he snarled, his collar turning yellow.

Finnick slammed his fist on the table, collar beeping out a warning as it turned a dangerous orange. Finnick ignored the warning.

"It died when you took money from Kozlov!" Yelled Finnick, losing his patience at his larger friend.

Nick didn't have a chance to respond before Finnick continued. "I told you that taking money from Kozlov was a bad idea! I told you we could've gotten the money doing our usual thing! I told you that if shit happened, we'd be fucked!" He screamed, letting all his anger out as his collar gave one final beep, before turning red.

"But you didn't li- Ah!"

Finnick's collar went off, the shock burrowing into the fennec instantly as the electric charge arched across his body. Finnick yelped in pain as he fell to his knees, the anger fueled argument triggering a shock more powerful than I had seen before.

Despite getting hit with a shock that could tame a lion, Finnick's anger got the better of him. Letting out a vicious growl, the hot tempered fennec was replaced by an avatar of fury as he tried to tear the collar with his claws.

"Finnick! Stop!" Shouted Nick, but it was too late, as the collar beeped once more and administered another shock to the little guy. This one was far worse, putting down Finnick on the floor as he screamed in pain, limbs twitching, clenching, and writhing, leaving deep scratches on the floor.

Clawhauser shot up from his seat to come help the poor fennec, but Honey grabbed his retreating tail, pulling it back and tripping Ben. Getting on his back, pinned the portly cheetah to the floor with her smaller but solid form.

"You can't touch him, Ben." She said.

Clawhauser gave an uncharacteristic growl as he tried to roll out from under the badger, but Honey simply pinned his arm.

"You know how this goes, it'll only make it worse."

The cheetah gave the badger a look of worry for their friend, while Honey had a look of painful resignation. This look managed to convince Clawhauser of trying anything more, simply looking on as their friend suffered.

Having placed the partially assembled rifle on the table, I had been moving in to help Finnick as well, but Honey's words stopped me before I could take more than a few steps. The badger's warning forcing me to remain still against my raging desire to help, a desire to stop the horrific sight in front of me.

Finnick was laying on the floor has his chest heaved, the shocks having stopped as he tried to fight the tears the welled in the corners of his eyes. Curled into a fetal position, the hot tempered fennec looked broken, the rageaholic having been hit hard as a few whimpers emerge from his mouth.

I gulped at the sight, unconsciously pulling at my own collar.

Seeing that it was over, Honey let Clawhauser up as he rushed over to help the fennec. The cheetah pulling Finnick into the tightest hug I ever saw, the size difference ensuring the little guy almost disappeared under the overweight feline. Honey coming around just a moment later to make sure Ben didn't choke the little guy.

With Finnick in the care of Ben and Honey, I looked to Nick, who remained silent as the two helped the smaller fox.

The guy was stiff as a board, arms clenched, ears down, and eyes shut tightly in an attempt to save himself from the sight of his friend in pain. Even that was not enough it seemed, as just a few moments later, Nick walked out of the room, looking guilty as he ducked his head in shame.

I didn't have time to question Nick about that look before Clawhauser let Finnick back down on the ground. Finnick assured the three of us that he was fine, that he wasn't 'a weak bitch.'

Despite his tough guy act, he couldn't stop trembling.

So, that was Chapter 3, did you guys like it? Be sure to leave a review to tell me anything you did or didn't. I love hearing back from you guys and improving my writing.

Speaking of, there are still some dialogue that I'm not quite sure about, some word on if my dialogue writing (and how shit I imagine it is) would be nice.

Hopefully, next chapter wont take nearly as long.