"Could you... please inform me the transfer code... sir?" The lemur had deep baggy eyes. He dozed, here and there, while handling the transaction.
"It's on this piece of paper, take your time." Finnick handed the slip of paper towards the lemur attendant.
The gray mammal picked up the slip and stared at it for a moment. He seemed to force himself to type each letter on his computer, slowly checking each information he input on his screen. Why would they make a lemur work this early in the morning? Finnick asked himself, it was only noon.
The attendant widened his eyes, finally alert. "Mr…" He started.
"Call me Finnick." Finnick interrupted him.
"Could I… see your ID Mr... Finnick?" The lemur extended his hand to Finnick behind the bulletproof glass.
"Sure." Finnick slid his document through a small opening at the bottom of the glass.
"I'll be right back, just give me a sec." The lemur vanished behind a red door. A few minutes passed before a different lemur came out of it, this one wearing a suit. "Mr Finnick, a pleasure to meet you, I'm Garry Catta, manager of this branch of L&L. It seems that you are here to withdraw a sum of five thousand dollars transferred to your name and we at L&L International Transfers always like to care for our clients. Given that this is the fifth transaction of this kind to your name this year we would like to offer you an account in your name, as to guarantee your own safety."
"Oh." Finnick had not realized that Nick had been using this bank so much. Wilde is getting sloppy. He thought. "I'm good Mr Catta. Just here to grab my cash."
"I see Mr Finnick…" Mr Catta scratched his chin. "How do you intend to transport such huge sum of money, Mr Finnick? You are aware that we can't, as a way to guarantee your safety, have you walk out of here just… carrying it in a bag or something."
Finnick lifted an eyebrow. "Look… it's just fifty notes of one hundred. You want me to sign a waiver or something?"
"Actually… yes." Mr Catta slid a term through the small opening. "Please put your sign down and fill the blanks with your info."
Finnick sighed. It took a bit more of nagging from the bank's manager before he could, finally, cash his pay. He slid some of the notes inside his wallet and the other bunch he hid in a safe pocket, inside his black jacket.
He got out of the bank branch and was hit by the intense heat of Sahara Square. He should be ok with it, but he never liked the intense heat. Finnick pulled his jacket up and panted to vent out the heat, he walked to a bus stop and climbed up a bench where he could wait. Zootopia bus service wasn't a modern marvel as the rest of the city, but it worked. Well… as everything else, it sort of works.
Half an hour went by in the intense heat, he craved for a water bottle. Finally the bus appeared around the corner and he signaled for it, the bus stopping a bit too far from the stop and a bit too far from the curb.
He jumped down the bench and walked towards the bus. It's door opened with a hiss and with a hop Finnick got into the bus. The bison driver took only a glance at him before closing back the door and taking off.
Finnick paid his fare and walked down the corridor, tall gazelle, camel and lion legs towered in his path so midway to the back he hanged to a bench's leg. He was accustomed to this drill, so he turned his back against it and hid his tail under the seat, safe from distracted paws.
The air got milder, the sun got higher and the start-and-stop of the bus became a rhythm, minutes went by as he recalled the tasks of the day. Go to the docks, check with my supplier for friday's delivery, pay my bills, … a light bump to his head and a mumbled "Sorry." broke his focus, as he saw a purse dangling past him. He looked around and saw an empty seat by the window side on the bench he held himself, a pig by the corridor side, fanning himself.
He went under the bench and walked towards his seat, going under the pig without him noticing. When he got to the front of it, a large hoof accompanied by a brown leg and a red skirt almost stepped on him, while taking the seat. Like a curtain, the red skirt covered the exit from under the bench. Finnick grunted.
"Hey lady!" Finnick pulled the skirt out of his way and faced the moose. "I'm down here! I was taking this seat first!"
"Oh!" She looked confused for a moment and then faced down, towards the small fennec. "What in the world are you doing down there?" Then a wave of realization turned her expression of surprise in one of disgust. "You pulled my skirt! You sick and perverted fo…" She stopped herself, covering her mouth.
Finnick bared his teeth. "What?" He said. "What?!" He exclaimed. "WHAT?!" He shouted, clenching his fists.
"I-I-I…" Babbled the moose, looking around. "Just get out of there you perv!" She tried to shoo him away with her hind left hoof, but she didn't realize the difference of strength between them two. What was supposed to be a push turned into a small kick, going straight to Finnick's lips.
Maybe he was dumbfounded by what was happening, maybe his experience failed him, but he took it. He fell to his side, a light thump being swallowed by the gasp of the pig. The moose instantly realized her mistake, but froze, not knowing what action to take.
A lioness wearing a tailleur dropped her cellphone, her ears stood sideways, her expression became an angry frown. The bus went silent, no one dared to move nor speak, the air thick with tension. Mammals glanced at one another, prey looking for someone to take charge, predator looking for a threat. Finally the pig stood up and knelt to the ground, at the side of the small fennec.
"Hey buddy, are you ok?" The pig spoke, whilst turning him.
Finnick shook his head, recovering his consciousness. What a punch. He thought, while tasting iron inside his mouth, his front teeth feeling numb. He took a spit to his side, a small spot of red staining the black rubberized floor of the bus. He rubbed his mouth with his jacket sleeve, but noticed that it turned into a shining black with blood. Now he understood the numbness. He took his paw pads to his mouth and felt the cut on his lip. It wasn't deep, but it stung.
He now realized that he was being held by someone. He looked up to the startled pig and pushed him away, standing up by himself. The dizziness became worse, so he leaned back against his bench. Mammals moved away from him, except for one. A lioness knelt by his side.
"Sir, I'm a lawyer and if you want we can sue this stupid mammal into the gutter! I saw everything and…" Spoke the lioness.
"Shut up." Said Finnick. He spat again, talking made his mouth drip blood.
The lioness handed him a handkerchief. "Sir, you have to realize that not allowing this sort of…"
"It won't matter." He took the handkerchief to his mouth, staining it red. "Thanks for the rag, could you request the stop?"
The lioness stood up a pressed the stop button, the bus quickly stopped. "Sir, I have to insist that you…"
"Just…" Finnick pushed her tall legs away from him. "Get out of my way…" He drunkenly walked along the corridor, mammals giving way for him. He sort of jumped, sort of fell from the bus on his way out and sat on the curb.
He saw, as the bus left, that animals stared at him from inside, still baffled with what they had seen. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. That's what happens when you are a cheap bastard and don't take a cab. He thought.
Finnick took another spit, cleaning his mouth from the remaining blood. He started his walk to the docks, luckily he wasn't that far. After a short ten minutes stroll he saw himself at the doors of the World's End again in less than twelve hours. He knew that the bar would be closed at this time of the day, so he walked around it, to the small and hidden backdoor. He wasn't there as a patron today, but for business.
He knocked and quickly the door started to be unlocked, but it opened only for an inch, revealing Mike's suspicious left eye.
"You are late." Said the polecat. His clean white shirt contrasted deeply with his dark brown fur.
"Yeah, I ran into some trouble. Are you letting me in or what?" Finnick gave a light push to the door with his foot.
The door fully opened and Mike's annoyed expression gave place to a startled one.
"What the hell happened to you? Are you ok?" Michael reached to Finnick's face and turned his snout to his left, taking a good look on the cut. "We have to clean and stitch this. Come." Michael went inside, signalling him to follow.
"Mike… I'm ok, it's just…" Finnick followed him inside the kitchen, an assortment of pans, cups and plates were piled here and there in the messy kitchen. He looked as Mike started to pick up a few bowels and clean rags.
"Lucy!" Shouted Mike towards a staircase in the back of the kitchen. "Grab my sewing kit!"
"What?! Where?" Shouted back Lucy from upstairs.
"It's in my room, first drawer on my wardrobe!" Shouted again Mike. He then turned back to Finnick. "Whiskey or vodka?" Mike offered a small stool to Finnick, who gladly accepted it.
"Whiskey." Answered Finnick.
"Bite this." Mike gave Finnick a wooden spoon, which Finnick bit hard on. He then proceeded to soak a clean rag with whiskey and to clean Finnick's wound.
It burnt. The taste of iron came back to his mouth, now mixed with cheap whiskey and the smell of alcohol. He felt as the rag pushed against his skin and flesh, cleaning and hurting at the same time.
"Shit." Said Mike, a big red stain formed on the right wrist of his shirt. He threw away the now blood soaked rag and folded his sleeves up to his shoulders.
"Michael is this what you…" Lucy walked down the stairs and jumped upon seeing the bloody mess. "Holy crap! What the hell happened to you?" She rushed now, her pink dress pressing against her body, and gave Mike his sewing kit.
"A -oose -icked me." Grunted Finnick, between his teeth and spoon.
Mike took a small needle and some thread. He threw it all in a small bowl and soaked it in whiskey.
"Fucking preys…" Muttered Mike, without taking his eyes from his work.
Lucy leaned against the wall and watched as her brother worked. Bit by bit he stitched Finnick's cut close, here and there cleaning it with a new rag. After some stitches he took a step back and marveled at his work, practice really makes perfection.
"Well… you are going to be a huge success with the kids now." He smiled and crossed his arms.
Finnick took the spoon out of his mouth and threw it at the kitchen sink. "Yeah… that sure will help sales…"
"Is… this normal around here?" Inquired Lucy with a worried expression.
"No." Answered Finnick. Talking hurt, a lot.
"Yes." Answered Mike, at the same time.
Lucy looked at them both in doubt for a moment. "What do you mean?"
"Recently it got worse, things used to be more…" Started Finnick.
"Bullshit. Tell me, does the cops show up at any other bar in the region as frequently as they do here? Or did you ever see a freaking antelope be frisked at night because he looked 'sketchy'?" Mike washed his hands in the sink. "Lucy, clean this mess. We've got work to do."
"Work? With him?" She asked without moving an inch. "What are…"
"None of your business sis'. Just take care of the kitchen." Mike got close to Finnick and offered his arm as support. "Do you need help?"
"No." Finnick stood up and accompanied him to his office. Once there, Michael closed the door and pushed a file wardrobe, revealing a small opening in the wall behind it. He squeezed inside it and Finnick followed, entering a very small room filled to the brim with monitors and computers. The room felt cold and a dim red light was the only thing that illuminated the dark room.
Mike sat on a wheeled office chair and started to type on his computer. One of the computers then ejected a small blue tape, which he quickly swooped and replaced with a new one. He laid the tape on the office desk he worked on and leaned on his elbows.
Finnick put at his side a small stack of notes. He saw as Mike laid a single claw at the edge of the stack and discreetly counted them. "It's all there." Finnick said.
Mike sighed. "How long are we going to keep doing this?"
"As long as it helps." Finnick reached for the tape, but Mike held his paw.
"People are starting to ask questions Finn… They know someone is snitching…" Mike stared Finnick deep into his eyes.
"Did they accuse you of anything?" Asked Finnick, with a worried expression.
Mike seemed to think for a moment. He then let go of Finnick's paw. "No… they've been just… you know, asking around. Three guys got arrested last week, the ZPD guys gotta be more careful."
"Hm…" Finnick paced for a moment. "I'll talk to Nick, he does seem to be getting sloppy."
"He can't fuck this up Finn, it's our necks on the noose here, not his." Mike picked the notes and shoved them into his back pocket. "Let's go back."