A/N: The song is Ozzy Osbourne "Not going away".

Nick was now a part of the 63rd Infantry Corps Battalion, stationed on the eastern shore of Vu Qang, along with 117th Marines Corps Company, 78th Heavy Infantry Corps Platoon, 346th Armoured Corps Platoon and 84th Air Corps Squadron.

He was assigned to 4th platoon under 1st Company, known off the protocols as Sniffers. The platoon was comprised mostly from wolves and coyotes, several lynxes and now also included a fox. This was when the tod finally met Greg, sargent of the 4th.

- Nicky boy, I was starting getting nervous, thinking you might've tricked me into believing you applied. - The grey timberwolf was a typical representative of his species. Shockingly, grey and white coloured his fur while he was a full head higher than the fox tod. And a whole lot wider in the shoulders. Apparently, having all that extra muscle mass paid off more than the fox's slender build with all the hell they were hastily put through. A hell that his instructors apparently had for breakfast while drinking tea and discussing the properties of dirt under different conditions. Simultaneously leading "new meat" on a merry morning jog, full speed ahead, taking sips on the move and looking comfortable.

- You okay there man? - the wolf's question brought Nick back from his musings into the real world. He would need to remember that his quiet time was over. This was no playground. The fox could be killed because of spacing out. It was time to finally mammal up.

- Sorry sarge, got overwhelmed there for a sec. This is no promotion video they show you on a screen. So, yeah. I am fine though, Greg. Thanks for having me. Oh, by the way. - At this, the red fox stood straight, assuming his attention stand and threw right paw up to his forehead in a salute.

- Sir, Nicholas Wilde, reporting for duty, sir. - The fox was usually not a sticker for rules, looking for loopholes and grey zones in the letter of law, that he could exploit for his own benefit. But here, you first had to get on the good side by showing that you actually knew and could follow the rules before you were given the privilege of glassing over them.

- At ease, private. - Greg saluted back and the tod relaxed his stance. - I read your file, it says you are good at all this official staff, but save it for those uptight bureaucratic asses and parades. Here, we are just battle brothers, so the overall show of respect and executing orders will get you farther than all the stupid posing. - This got a chuckle out of Nick, since he actually met Greg at one of Manowar's concerts they gave in Zootopia. The wolf started leading Nick to where their division was located as of now.

- So, no wimps and posers in our squad, sarge? - Greg grinned, bearing all of his fangs, startling some deer, judging by his new uniform, a recent addition to garrison staff, or more commonly called "foodpackss". The deer was immediately being scolded by his supervisor, a goat in his forties, for "sissy behavior" and told to man up, since he was in the army now.

- Left the hall after our new lieutenant took command of the platoon. Introduced the doctrine of mentally screening out "unfit" elements for the line of duty the 4th specialises in.

- And that would be?

- Why, sniffing around, of course. - Greg turned around to face Nick, while continuing moving backwards. - We are the eyes, ears, though much more importantly, noses of our glorious battalion. The lowlives usually confuse us with the scouts.

- How dare they?

- Don't get me even started on this. Anyways, I guess you aced your sniper's specialisation test?

This didn't get an answer from the tod, just a raised brow. To get into Greg's squad, one had to meet several criteria: be a member of canidae species, have a uni degree, be good with a sniper rifle, meaning you had to be in the 10 percentile of your sniper class. Nick was not really one to humble himself or diminish his skills compared to others, but he was also not someone to brag. Especially, since he was the top of his sniper's class and set a new record for medium sized mammals in a three minute takedown simulation. That was mostly due to his and his partner's cooperation. Rupert, a raccoon in his training as a spotter, was really good. The record was a result of their joint effort and Nick regretted to have to part ways. He would not need a spotter soon though, he hoped.

- Okay, got it. You passed, otherwise you wouldn't be here. But, time for the introductions. - Greg stood in front of a door to simple barracks. - I asked the guys to gather now so we could get the thing away in one go. Ready?

- Nope. But you know, who ever is?

- A month later -

- First kill? - the casualness with which Greg asked him this question, made Nick want to hurl. He killed another mammal. No matter how much he hated some dipshits back at Zootopia, he knew he would have never killed anyone of them. And knew that no matter how bad they were in their hatred of him or his species, the worst he would ever get would be the slurs, glares and occasional refusal of service. Even exchanging blows was a rather rare occurrence between the civilized mammals in the streets, most happening during protests or similar happenings that the city have not seen in while.

- How… How can you talk about it so calmly? How do you even do it so calmly? - was his reply to the wolf sitting next to him and checking his boltgun. Lightweight, made from durable plastic, they came in lots of different variants. Greg's was as long as his forearm, with a grip at the back and a place for magazine in front of it. The body of the boltgun was square and rough, easy for mass producing. The key parts of a boltgun though were its barrel and ammunition. The barrel was made of a pressure resistant metal alloy, with a number of gas vents, placed so as not to disrupt the flight of bolts, ammunition fired by the boltguns. The bolts, to a certain extent, facilitated rocket launching technique, with several types of hard fuel located at its end for three stages of flight. At the first stage, the standard issued infantry bolt was pushed out of the barrel at around 50 m/s (~150 ft/s), then out of the barrel the second stage propellant accelerated it to around 780 m/s (~2100 ft/s) over the course of 17 milliseconds. The third stage took bullet at a much lower rate of acceleration to 850 m/s (~2550 ft/s) velocity over the course of half a second. This made optimal location of target at around 350-400 meters away from your firing position, and the weapon was rather lackluster against heavily armoured units at a distance less than 20 meters, while turning completely ineffective after the enemy got within five meters of your person. Which is why knives and axes were still employed by the army.

Nick knew the theory very well. He studied it while in training, tested in the training grounds and now in the real world. The tod stared at his personal issued boltgun, different from Greg's only due to installed snipescope, like he had seen it for the first time. It saved his life, yet taken the other's. The fox felt like throwing it away and not letting go of it ever. The conflict within him amplified by the terrible feeling of killing.

- Well, I am calm now. It takes a lot to get… not used to, but being able to switch off the ability to feel. You have a maxim "never let them see they get to you". If you do simple math, and cross out the "see" and the "they", you suddenly get the right formula. "Never let them get to you".

- Easy for you to say, you have been doing this for how long? - there was an edge to Nick's voice, something he was not used to dealing with, but he didn't care now. This was wrong, the way that the wolf he thought he knew was talking about something as abhorrent as taking a life.

- Easy? Saying things is always easy, is what you have been doing half of your life, fox, so don't get that tone with me. And if you interrupt my explanation one more time you can get to talking with the first psychologist after you are returned back home in a nice wooden suit. - His partner's bared fangs and aggressiveness quickly reminded Nick of where he was. This was no Zootopia where this kind of attitude would be tolerated or ignored. And he was not the first one and not the last one to make the first kill and have to face the consequences. Not trusting his own voice this time around, Nick just lowered his ears and nodded once, which seemed to satisfy the wolf.

- As I was saying, it is a sort of a switch to ward the unnecessary feelings off. You flip it on most of the times, yet flip it off during the hard times and while in an engagement. We are no ordinary mammals, Nick, we are soldiers. Most idiots think that we are simply some mammals ready to die to protect our country. We are not. Hail, kill and only then die. That is the truth, Nick. We are here to kill to keep our country safe. We are no innocents, true, but we are not killing here for pure fun. Like those bastards do. Have you not seen? Have you no understanding of what would have happened with those villagers would we not intervene? Those freak are hunting and killing just because they can. True, I have been doing this much longer than you have been, and I have witnessed some things I wish I might unsee. But you know what? If it would have meant that no one else would have to see those things, I would want to see all those horrors. This is why you are here, Nick. Because you can bear to do something others can't. We are no heroes here, but if we don't do what we do here and now, who will? If I am to suffer because of that, so be it. But, since I am no hero, I would rather not. So, I use a switch. I turn off my feelings. But only for the engagements, not for everything. It is unhealthy and leads to issues with other mammals later on. And yes, Nick, it IS simple. You just have to believe and accept it. And then use it. Many things our Creator gives us are simple. We, mammals, are just unable to comprehend it and want things to be complicated.

It was on that day that Nicholas Wilde learned two things. First one, was that the real way to not letting anyone see they got to him, was not to let anyone get to him in the first place. And the second one was that he was not going away. The fox would remain in the army, he would not be broken and would not be frightened by the goings and happenings of the life he now was leading. This small episode was shameful but the tod would put a lot of effort into proving himself. After all, he encountered Death today, and after that terrifying episode, he was still present.

A/N: Hey, USAPatriot, welcome back. That is why I got myself an account here in the first place, cause with those 183 stories I liked, I would never really be able to remember the titles of every feraking one. Or even one story name would be hard to keep in mind and then try and search through several pages of titles trying to see if I have missed an update... So yeah, I wont even ask how you still keep up with all of this.

On the other hand, from the marketing point of view, the name of the story is a disastorous one, not catchy, and there is a lot of competition flying around. Really, I tried searching it through google with the title, and oi lol, did I find a lot of other stories with the same exact title. Oh well, I don't really care, the point of it all was to get to tell a story from the song, seen by me in a familiar and lovable setting of Zootopia, but that go a biiiit out of control. Just that tiny freaking bit, where I did not plan everything beforehand and just went with the flow. A flow that changes within my head at least twice or thrice a day depending on what song I reallly listen to at the moment. I think this all goes as well as it can, but I am happy to anounce that we are now on a finishing line. I think two more chapter and I can finally start working on that wonderful little idea of a WH40k zootopia flawoured story. And that one with the pirate themed one with a lot of canonfire and ship sinking involved.

Well, looky teh time, gotta run and spare the keyboard. Not that I particularly care...