Author's Note:
Sorry, everyone. This took waaay longer than expected. Then my proofer fell out of sorts, and I decided to go over it one last time, myself, and get it out.
Hopefully, I got everything.
It's a long chapter. I hope you enjoy it. It's a little different.
4:50 PM
"Can you actually shoot that far?" Gret asked Zeke, sounding doubtful.
"Not using darts," Zeke denied with a sigh, reaching for his other, heavier rifle."I'll have to be careful to just wing'em. Keep your eyes open; don't let anyone sneak up on us." He peered through the high-power scope on the rifle, spotting an armed ferret creeping through the bushes. Gently squeezing the trigger, a faint pop was all that was heard from the electric rifle at its lowest setting, with no recoil to speak of.
Through the scope, Zeke saw the ferret fly back through the undergrowth, blood splattering from a coin-sized hole through his shoulder. "One ferret," he said. Gret noted it down in his notepad.
Zeke next spotted an armed deer coming to investigate where the ferret had just been, apparently close enough to have heard the rustling vegetation.
Pop.
"One deer," Zeke called out.
4:51 PM
Lecroy had barely taken a step when he realized something was wrong: No blood.
"Fan out!" He yelled. "Find them now!" Just to be sure, he approached one of the bullet-riddled mounds and kicked it. Nothing but leaves wrapped in a shirt. Swearing in frustration, the buck pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt and gave the signal to begin the assault on the burrow, then was tossed backwards over the shredded decoy to roll down the hill, blood splattering on his muzzle from a coin-sized hole in his arm.
4:53 PM
"One rabbit," Zeke called out. "This one had a walkie-talkie. Got his picture on the camera."
"Any sign of the ZIA guys?" Gret inquired.
"Nope," Zeke told him with a chuckle. "Their fieldcraft seems to have improved remarkably now that they know they're being hunted."
"How about the boss?"
"Too far away," Zeke told him, then laughed. "I'm not worried about him, anyway. He can take care of himself... just... fine…" Pop. "Another ferret. Quite popular today, for some reason."
4:55 PM
It always surprised Kataiahs how easily he could 'go feral' even after ten millennia of 'civilized' existence. The lynx was on all fours, tongue sticking out of his open muzzle to do its part enhancing his sense of smell to track the approaching foes. He had removed his clothes, away from the gazebo out of respect for others, his natural fur coloring blending in nicely with the berry bushes and drying ground—especially considering the approaching hostiles would not be expecting him.
His ears swiveled this way and that, trying to catch and identify various sounds. He couldn't pick up any traces of Nick or Skye, assuredly a result of their professional training, making him feel better about their prospects. A scuff on the ground nearby told him the stag he had scented was about to come into view.
Kataiahs was already airborne when the stag rounded the hedged row, the lynx's razor sharp claws easily slicing through the much larger mammal's throat as Kataiahs slammed into him. The impact knocked the stag over into the berry bushes, crushing several as his military-grade rifle went skidding across the ground. The rifle was not Commonwealth issue, to Kataiahs' surprise since those were readily available on the Black market.
They could sort that out later, he thought, looking for his next prey.
Skye huddled in terror as the coyote came at her viciously waving a blood-encrusted machete, the large male having put his gun away when first sighting the smaller female.
"You're a pretty one," he growled. "Be a good girl and I'll take you home instead of gutting you." He raised his muzzle quizzically, sniffing a delightful scent from the cowering vixen. An evil smile grew on his face. "So," he said, lecherously, "you like it a little scary, eh?"
The vixen whimpered, trying to make herself as small a target as possible, her eyes round with fear. The coyote stopped, holding the machete down at his side. He held out his other paw, palm up. "I'm not going to hurt you, my pretty," he said, calmly. "Be a good girl, now, and stand up for me."
The terrified vixen breathed hard, trembling as she slowly stood up, still almost crouching, the sun glistening off her belt buckle.
"That's it," the coyote crooned softly, "that's a good girl. I'll keep you safe from the others, my pretty." Skye stood a little straighter, the beginnings of a nervous smile on her muzzle. "How about we get a look at the pretty vixen?" he cajoled, eliciting a blush and downcast eyes from the vixen. Skye's trembling paws slowly unfastened the buttons of her summer blouse, baring her breasts to the coyote's near whimper as she let the garment fall behind her. She stood there, arms along her sides framing her breasts, paws crossed on her belly, downcast eyes avoiding the coyote's hungry gaze.
"Absolutely beautiful," the male declared, hotly. "The rest of you can't possibly be anything less perfect, can it? How about you show us the rest?"
The vixen timidly looked up, an almost relieved sigh escaping her muzzle. Her hands unfastened her belt, holding on to it as her shorts slid down her legs, the coyote groaning at seeing she wore no underwear. She stepped out of her crumpled shorts, hands behind her back, her long, fluffy tail up and draped over her shoulder, the tip running along the underside of her muzzle.
The coyote returned the machete to its sling on his back, murring as the Arctic vixen hesitantly approached him. His expression softened, his arms outstretched with paws up, letting the trembling female step right up to him.
He stumbled, the strength suddenly leaving his right leg, uncomprehending at first what had happened. Then, too late, pain caught up with events, the coyote dropping silently to his knees and turning pale. Skye stepped aside, her legs covered in his blood. Her 'trusty little knife', long since concealed as a fashionable belt buckle, had done its job again, so sharp it had cut through the coyote's thigh and femoral artery unnoticed by the distracted male. She stood over him, looking down dispassionately as the life left his body, kicking him over to make sure he was dead. Bending down to clean her knife on his clothes, the vixen sniffled once, the extent of her remorse for the assassin-would-be-rapist. She searched the body, grabbing his silenced pistol, plus extra ammunition, and smiled. Now she was armed. Picking up her clothes, careful not to get blood on them, she lamented her empty pheromone scent bottle before smiling again. Jack always enjoyed helping her harvest her scent.
Nick was crouched and ready to spring into action. The scent he'd picked up surprised him, but not for long: As a Police Officer, he'd been trained to expect even the meekest looking female to be dangerous. The approaching foe smelled like a bottle of perfume had been spilled on her, bringing back the words of his ZPD instructors: "When cornered, take all available information to make as many reasonable conclusions as possible. That lets you plan ahead and act rather than react. In a life or death situation, even that little time you save can mean the difference between going home on your feet or in a body bag."
One of the scenarios discussed involved a skunk doe bank robber, who tried to hide her identity by wearing perfume to cover the natural scent of a nervous skunk. The perfume he smelled now reminded him of that, and the soft, almost delicate sound of the approaching short strides, led him to conclude a female. If not a skunk, then some other naturally scent-armed mammal.
There. He wished he had picked a better spot, being unable to see under the hedged berry bushes. No use crying over spilt milk. The next pawstep would bring the mammal into view. He heard the soft slide of her paw lifting. One. Two. Pounce!
His nose smashed into something furry, hard, and reeking of perfume. The rest of his body followed, the fox crumpling against his target, then bouncing off into the bushes, ripe berries exploding all around him. The massive male black bear rumbled with mirth.
"Hehe, gets'em every time," he growled. "You'll make a nice glove, pelt."
Nick crawled out of the bushes, covered in berry juice and leaves, panting hard. He gathered himself up unsteadily, raising his paws in a boxer's stance. He spat blood out of his muzzle.
"Bring it on, little missy," he taunted, weaving his paws in a beckoning motion.
The bear lunged at the fox just an arm's length away, but the smaller mammal was too quick, slipping away at the last moment to jab hard at the bear's thigh.
"Ow!" Nick yelped, shaking his paw. The bear laughed grimly.
"I understand," he rumbled. "It makes you feel better to fight. It's only natural. Go on. One should always try their best." A backhand from the bear's huge paw brushed over Nick's ear. The fox leaped back, nearly catching a kick to the head.
Nick circled the bear cautiously, dodging the occasional kick or swipe. He considered running away, briefly. Unlike at the Academy sparring rink, there were no poles or ropes to use against his foe. The berry bushes either bent or snapped, leaving nothing he could use as a force multiplier. The voice of his Academy self-defense instructor came to mind:
"When fighting for your life, there are no dirty tricks."
Time for new tactics.
One advantage Nick suddenly realized he had was not having to kill the bear. He just needed him out of action. An almost feral grin sprouted on his muzzle. He feigned going one way, waited for the bear to react, then dove between the larger mammal's legs, earning a graze from the bear's claws across his ribs. But he found his target. His muzzle locked onto the bear's Achilles tendon, his fangs barely long enough to get a grip when his body's momentum spun him around, making his neck feel like it would twist off. Then it was his jaw that felt like it would come off until a sickening, ripping sound announced the bear's Achilles tendon was no more, the torn flesh slipping out of Nick's mouth and sending the fox tumbling across the ground.
The bear let out a tremendous roar of pain, crumpling to the ground and grabbing his useless foot. Nick felt a twinge of pity until he remembered the bear had meant to kill him—and more than likely Judy, as well. He stood up, brushed himself off, then went looking for the next bad guy.
4:56 PM
Matilda was at her desk when one of the junior agents came running breathlessly across the bullpen towards her.
"We have a panic alert from Director Epew!" The female gazelle blurted out. Matilda nodded.
"Response team on the way?" She asked calmly. The gazelle nodded, catching her breath. "ZPD and ZBI have been notified?" Another nod. "Did you call the senior active agent on duty?" The gazelle blinked, then looked down embarrassed. "Next time," Matilda said, gently, "use the phone. It's why we have them. They're faster than you running across the building and up two floors."
"Y-yes, ma'am," came the subdued reply. Just then, Matilda's phone rang. She picked it up.
"Comms desk," came the impassive voice. "We just intercepted a police call. There's been an attempt on the Mayor and Chief Bogo at a downto… What? When? Get a location on Director Lamorphe and contact Director Savage's team. Now! Sorry, ma'am. ZFD is responding to an explosion at Director Eastmore's house. I am implementing Decapitation Protocol based on Director Epew's panic alert."
"Good thinking," Matilda acknowledged, waving the gazelle away. "Ping everyone. Initiate Lockdown."
"Yes, ma'am," came the response. "Glad you're here today."
"Yeah, yeah," Matilda said. "I'd rather be at the beach." She hung up the phone and dialed Marcus on her secure handphone. Before he could answer, her desk phone rang again.
"Comms," came the voice, not calm at all this time. "ZDF is at Condition Red. All units mobilized. All personnel recalled. All airships have all been directed to their Fail-Safe points and all troop ships are leaving dock fully loaded. An explosion at ZDF Central Command has taken out the CINCs. No other details yet. Apparently, General Quill is among the fatalities along with his senior staff. All ZDF facilities are on automatic wartime alert."
Matilda took a deep breath. "Understood," she said, hanging up the phone. On her handphone, Marcus was on the line.
"I was about to call you," he said, softly. "Did you just get the same report about the ZDF that I did?"
"Yes," she told him, feeling better just hearing his voice. "Have you heard about the Mayor?"
"That's why I was about to call," he admitted. "We've also have several other disturbing reports coming in. I'm glad you are at the office. It's still covert, right?"
"Yeah," Matilda said. "Been here less than a year."
"Commonwealth facilities are being hit all over," he said quietly. "Started about an hour ago, gauging from the reports coming in. Also, senior Commonwealth officials have been targeted at their homes."
"I can affirm that," she said. "Directors Epew and Eastmore have been attacked. Eastmore's likely dead and a reaction force is responding to Epew's panic code at his residence, which you'll probably hear about soon. We're trying to locate Lamorphe and Jack. I'm scared, Big Guy. This came out of nowhere, is too big, too well organized, and the timing is too suspicious."
"I agree," the ram huffed. "Packland hasn't mentioned anything I would have interpreted in my wildest fantasies as indications of an operation this large. Perhaps if she were simply a cell… but the implications of that…"
"I don't think we need to cross that bridge," Matilda comforted him. "But let's not rule it out, either. We need more information before we make any conclusions." She sighed. "We need Arthur, dammit. He was the best at this stuff."
"Hey, girl," Marcus said, encouragingly. "You've been doing pretty good, yourself." He grunted. "Much better than I've been."
"Don't beat yourself up too much about Packland," the sheep told him. "If Arthur had been clean, she would have been caught long ago. Ugghh! That's what frustrates me: He obviously knew what was going on, but didn't do anything about it."
"Well," Marcus said, sadly, "ZBI shot itself in the paw with Packland. A third of our senior staff is on suspension pending further investigation. That's far worse than ZIA from what I can tell so far."
Matilda thought about that. "You know," she reasoned, "that in itself tells us something."
"She was specifically building a network for Commonwealth internal affairs," Marcus said, following that train. "The ZIA operatives were incidental."
"Or simply the earliest cells of her network," Matilda proposed. "Her first contacts."
"We need to build a timeline," Marcus concluded.
"Has she let out who recruited her?"
"Not yet," the ram told her. "I don't think it was Belyiklyk, but she's been avoiding that subject, so far, by dropping names."
"Make sure she stays isolated," she said, frowning. "I have a feeling this is all linked."
"That makes two of us, Matty. How about we keep an open line?"
"Good thinking," she agreed. "I'll get Comms on it. You still coming over tonight?"
"I'm on the Express, leaving the station right now," he said confidently. "I can run this better from Zootopia, anyway."
4:58 PM
The bunnies had a distinct advantage over Reggie in this situation, their ears allowing them to track the skirmishes between the approaching foes and Kataiahs, Skye and Nick. Elena knelt on the tod's lap, her paw against his lips to keep him from continually asking what was going on. The one thing that Reggie knew for certain was their foes would be coming for the gazebo, the tall structure easily seen from the outer edges of the berry patches.
One scent that had quickly emerged was the scent of blood. And death. There were at least two dead bodies among the fields, the scent of loosened bowels coming from two different directions. The difficult part was, Reggie could not tell whose bodies were lying out there, so he kept that information to himself, although Jack must have picked up something from his face because the buck was scowling fiercely.
Elena suddenly gripped Reggie's muzzle, her eyes going wide. Jack nudged her down and Reggie wrapped his paws around her, pulling her close. Judy and Trina glanced at the buck, aiming their noses in the direction of the burrow, the one direction not covered by 'their' predators. Jack frowned, then motioned for Trina to go one way and Judy the other, the does scampering silently to either side of the truck-wide opening between the hedges. They were small enough to remain concealed from anyone coming through—unless that someone happened to look back.
That's when Reggie almost panicked: Jack motioned him to stand up. The fox shook his head vigorously in protest, but Elena understood what Jack was trying to do and wordlessly cajoled the tod to stand and look away from the crouching does. Jack patted the fox firmly on the back before going under the gazebo, aiming his gun in the direction of the opening. Elena stood up, hugging Reggie, her breathing fast and shallow. The tod wrapped his arms around her, half to keep himself steady.
Reggie smelled them first. Ferrets and rabbits. Strange combination by the fox's reckoning. They were very quiet but Reggie knew they were there, so he didn't mistake the soft falling of their footsteps for the rustling of berry laden branches. Elena trembled and Reggie pulled her close, fighting the urge to let his ears twitch or turn towards the approaching mammals, and hating himself now for accepting to be a target.
Quiet as it was, the sound of Jack's gun loosening three darts in quick succession seemed to reverberate throughout the gazebo. Reggie used that as his cue to drag Elena under the table with him, covering her with his body as the clearing around the structure exploded into action. Two rabbits and one ferret went down, asleep, while two more ferrets and two rabbits scattered, Jack having taken out the mammals with ready weapons. Judy pounced on the largest rabbit, a furious exchange that quickly ended with Judy standing over an unconscious buck.
To everyone's astonishment, Trina took out the other three foes by herself. Her over-revealing miniskirt and sleeveless blouse allowed the black-furred doe unobstructed mobility. She leaped into the frey, arms and legs a blurr, sending first the remaining rabbit, followed by the two ferrets, crashing unconscious into the berry bushes. Then she was crouching completely still in a fighting stance, one ear straight up facing forward and the other horizontal, facing backwards, her breathing slow and calm.
"Wow," Reggie said, staring at the motionless bunny, whose miniskirt had rolled up around her waist. Elena tugged his whiskers.
"Keep your eyes on me, Reggie," she grumbled. The tod looked hurt at the reproach, but knew better than to protest innocence.
"Can you teach me that move you did when you tossed the ferrets into the bushes?" Judy asked, enthusiastically. Trina stood up, turning around.
"It would be my pleasure," she said with a slight bow and bringing her skirt back down. "You did well with that buck."
Jack came out from under the gazebo, reloading his dart gun. "There are more out there, ladies," he casually reminded the two bunnies. In the distance, towards the burrow, the sound of gunfire erupted.
5:00 PM
The Hopps burrow was a large hill located at one end of a farm surrounded by low, well-kept, grassy hills. Beyond those lower hills lay BurrowWood Forest, marking the end of the Hopps property. The only trees on the farm were located around and on the burrow itself, not counting the thick patch of woods separating the property from the main road.
This made it easier for Jethro's group. Anyone trying to approach from the surrounding forest would have to cross the low hills, revealing themselves in the process, or travel along a few well-guarded paths to avoid crossing over the hills. Guarding the closest of these paths to the burrow, Jethro and three rabbits lay concealed in reinforced firing positions on either side of the well-marked path.
A suspicious bird call made Jethro look up to see two half-naked mammals, a bobcat and a skunk, kneeling with their arms folded over their heads fifty yards away. Both wore heavy backpacks and the skunk also carried a long-range sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. When no one rose to meet them, the bobcat repeated the out-of-place bird call.
"Birds don't just fly," he also shouted, making Jethro smile.
"We must have picked a bad spot," the buck called out in return, standing up. The bobcat stared down at a white rock.
"Not really," Kurt said, smiling. "We just thought a white rock didn't belong out here unless it was being used as a range marker."
The rabbit laughed, approaching the two mammals. "You must be with Jack," he said, gesturing them to get up. "Judy said to expect you."
"I'm Kurt," the bobcat said. "I hope she didn't forget to mention there are fifteen bad guys after us and a lot more crawling around in the woods."
Kevin nodded. "Yep," he chuckled, shaking Kurt's paw. "We're the Reception Committee."
"I'm Blackwell," the skunk introduced himself. "There are supposed to be other friendlies in the woods."
Kevin shook Blackwell's paw. "I was told the other friendlies will be staying in the woods," he said, "thinning the herd for us." He looked at Blackwell's rifle. "You any good with that?" He asked. The skunk grinned.
"Any good places to shoot from?" he quipped.
5:03 PM
Forewarned about the danger, the Hopps burrow had already disconnected power from the street and never noticed Lecroy's crew's attempt to do the same. The kits in the main hall did, however, notice the loss of the 'net, grumbling loudly when games were suddenly interrupted.
"Everybody stay sharp," Kevin told his group. "We handle this just like another drill." All doors, windows, and hatches were securely locked and alarms activated. Any disturbance would show up on the buck's CarrotPad. His group was gathered by the armory, the highest level in the burrow and considered the likeliest point of a forced-entry. It was also faster and easier to run downstairs than up should a break-in be detected elsewhere.
Jethro's group was responsible for securing the garage so, from the armory, Kevin's team could respond to any point in the burrow within one minute. Barring an attacker's use of high-explosives, that would be quick enough to meet any contingency.
A message popped up on Kevin's CarrotPad.
From: Jethro, 5:08 PM
Here we go.
5:10 PM
Outside the gates to the Hopps Farm, several news crews were still occupying positions alongside the road, hoping to catch a glimpse of Judy, Nick or Skye—preferably all at once—or at least get a statement from someone inside the grounds. Thankfully, the weather was nice after the previous day's storm, and the various news crews sat around a portable camping grill, snacking, comparing notes, and generally enjoying themselves on this 'forced' outdoors assignment.
The bunnies heard it first, their ears shooting up and instinctively pointing in the direction of the Hopps Farm.
"What was that?" Asked Gretchen Greyfur, the bunny reporter from 'Bunnyburrow 5.'
ZNN's Katman Dooh, a ZDF veteran, recognized the sound immediately. "Gunfire," he said, as the sound repeated, with increasing frequency. "Get set up!" the panther called out to his team. "And, someone, call the Sheriff!"
5:15 PM
"Comms, ma'am," said the voice on the other side of Matilda's phone. "ZNN reports gunfire at the Hopps Farm."
Matilda practically threw down the phone in her rush to get into Jack's office and turn on the wall mounted TV to ZNN.
"...at the Hopps Farm outside of Bunnyburrow," the jaguar reporter was saying, "where moments ago a fierce gun battle commenced between parties unknown." The sound of distant gunfire could be heard in the background. "Local authorities have been notified and are expected to arrive soon. It has been a disturbing day throughout the Commonwealth, with unconfirmed reports of multiple, violent attacks on government officials…OK," the jaguar had his paw over his earphone. "We return you now to ZNN News Desk for breaking developments. Peter?"
The moose anchormammal was nowhere near his typically calm self, paws trembling slightly as he looked through his notes. "Yes, Katman," Peter Moosebridge began. "We have now confirmed that an explosion at ZDF Headquarters on the Plainsville coast has taken the lives of the senior commanders of Commonwealth forces—"
Matilda turned off the TV. She already knew the rest of that story. She picked up the phone on Jack's desk. "Get me the Bunnyburrow Sheriff," she ordered. Within seconds, someone answered.
"Sheriff Harriman here," came the irritated voice with a heavy country accent. "This had better be good. Today is a bad day for trivialities."
"Good afternoon, Sheriff," Matilda said, calmly. "This is ZIA Operations Director Matilda Ewing. Are you aware there are senior ZIA staff staying at the Hopps Farm?"
"I watch the news, just like anyone else, ma'am," came the gruff reply. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm real busy. Lots of strange goings-on today."
"Can I take it you've already sent help to deal with the situation at the farm?" the ewe pushed.
"What situation," came the alarmed reply. "What else can go wrong today?"
"There's an open gun battle in progress," Matilda said, exasperatedly. "Tell me you've sent units to deal with it."
"Oh, that," the Sheriff dismissed with a relieved sigh. "I sent a car over to see what's going on."
"You sent a car?" Matilda nearly shouted. "Do you think that's an appropriate response to a shootout?"
"Ma'am," the Sheriff chuckled, "if someone took it upon themselves to start shooting at the Hopps Farm, there is little to nothing I can do but pick up the bodies afterwards."
Matilda ground her teeth. "Don't you think you're being a little blasè about the lives of some of your most prominent citizens?" she accused.
"Ma'am," the Sheriff explained, "I wasn't speaking about the Hoppses."
5:17 PM
Kataiahs and Skye came into the clearing jogging side by side, naked and splattered with blood, each carrying their clothes neatly folded and, somehow, still clean. Neither said anything, grim looks on their faces as they approached the gazebo under the cover of Jack's gun. Kataiahs carried three rifles slung over his shoulder. Skye, one slung rifle and one pistol in her bloody belt.
Judy's heart nearly stopped at the sight, not at the blood, nor nakedness, but the fact that Nick was conspicuously absent. Teary eyed, unable to speak, the doe stumbled down the steps of the gazebo, barely catching herself at the bottom, just to fall to her knees before the approaching duo.
"We lost track of him," Skye said, kneeling before the bunny, holding the doe's chin from drooping with her cleanest paw. "There's a large group coming this way, so we came back. Nick is very resourceful, Judy. I am certain he is OK."
"He comported himself very well," Kataiahs added, gently squeezing Judy's shoulder. "So do not jump hastily to unwarranted conclusions."
"How many?" Jack asked, coming up behind Judy, running his paw across Skye's blood-spattered forehead.
"At least ten," the lynx said, looking over the unconscious mammals captured by the bunnies. "I am afraid we killed their scouts, but I see you managed to take some prisoners. Excellent." He put the slung rifles against the stairs, Skye doing the same. The sounds of gunfire was still coming furiously from the direction of the burrow, now even mixed with louder sounds from RPGs and potentially a mortar.
"Well," Jack said. "We can either try to make it back to the burrow, or we can make a stand here. If we leave, we can't bring the prisoners with us."
Skye took out her knife, going to the nearest prisoner. "No!" Judy screamed, coming out of her funk and standing up. "We are not going to kill them in cold blood!'
Skye gave a sigh. "I am just going to hamstring them," she explained. "Not kill them."
"That's barbaric!" Judy protested.
"Compared to killing unarmed mammals?" Skye countered. "I am not leaving six healthy enemies behind to follow us."
"Sounds like we stay," Kataiahs said. Jack frowned, but nodded agreement. "Reggie, Elena, can you use a rifle?" The couple nodded. "Excellent! Under the gazebo should offer us fair cover. Trina, my dear, I know you can shoot, as I am sure you can, too, Judy. That makes four rifles. Jack, Skye, you both can use the pistols and extra ammunition. I shall remain outside," he said, flexing his claws, "harassing them from behind. My speed advantage will only last a few moments; it burns a tremendous amount of energy, and I have not eaten properly for this."
"What if they use grenades or something?" Reggie posed. "The gazebo won't last long against that."
"Well, Reggie," the lynx said with a smile. "They may have military weapons, but they are not soldiers. I do not think they will want to kill their own comrades. We tie the prisoners to the table, in plain view, and if they want to destroy the gazebo, it will cost them their comrades' lives. All we need to do is hold out until help arrives."
Jack chuckled. "First names?" he teased.
"Why, of course, my dear Jack," the lynx replied, slapping the rabbit 's back jovially. "Closer are brothers battle-forged than mother-born!"
"You mean, you wrote—" Jack began, but Kataiahs simply winked and disappeared into the berry bushes. Trina laughed at Jack's amazed look.
"You get used to it," she told him.
5:25 PM
Nick almost ran straight into the large group of mammals. Only at the last moment did he find refuge behind a particularly thick patch of berry bushes, squeezing himself as tightly as he could against the fruit-laden branches. He reeked of raspberries, for which he was silently grateful as the assorted mammals went by. They were not particularly vigilant, either, trusting their numbers for security, thus missing the scent of the fox mingled with that of berries.
They passed by without noticing the berry-stained fox, soon walking around a turn on their way towards the gazebo. Nick gave them a few extra moments before dashing out of the bushes—and crashing right into a wall.
Sliding across the ground on his back, Nick looked up into the eyes of an amused rhinoceros. "Oh, come on!" the fox let out with frustration.
"My, my," rumbled the rhino. "If it isn't Officer WildeHopps."
"Walk away," Nick growled from pure bravado, picking himself up into a wrestler's crouch, "and you won't get hurt." He knew he was out of time; he could hear rustling through the bushes behind him.
The rhino looked up at the sound, so Nick took his chance and launched himself with all his might at the towering mammal's crotch.
FWOMPP!
The rhino tumbled backwards as Nick struck his target, smashing through the bushes to lay twitching on the ground. Nick rebounded, landing on his feet, howling victoriously.
"Yeah!" He shouted at the sprawled rhino, pumping his right arm. "That's how we do it, Police Style!"
"Uh, you OK there, Nicholas?" came Stu Hopps' voice, making Nick spin around to stare open-muzzled at the patriarch leaning out of the turret of a six-wheeled armored crowd control car, thin smoke drifting out of the car's three-inch gun barrel.
"You have a tank?" Nick stammered, incredulously.
"This?" Stu said, fondly patting the turret. "This is Betsy. Private citizens can't own tanks—but we can keep one of the CD crowd control cars if there are more than three hundred mammals living on the property. Shoots compressed rubber foam bullets."
"Gotta love large families," Nick muttered. "Can I get a ride back to the gazebo?"
"Sure thing, son," Stu said. "Know how to use a water cannon?"
5:37 PM
It was chaos at the gazebo. Several attackers lay moaning, injured, on the ground—as little cover as the gazebo offered, it was still better than than the berry bushes. Kataiahs had been correct; even though the attackers carried grenades, they didn't use them, unwilling to sacrifice their comrades.
Nor did they simply rush the gazebo and overwhelm the defenders. After their initial, failed attempt to take the gazebo, they hastily withdrew, splitting up into smaller groups, and ducked behind the berms that bordered the bushes, keeping low and taking pot shots at the defenders. There were enough of them to prevent anyone leaving, so a standoff ensued.
Kataiahs had waited until the attackers settled into their positions before starting to harass them. Screams from injured mammals sprang up from behind the bushes, the lynx inflicting the most painful injuries possible to demoralize them. That these injuries were invariably non-fatal did not occur to them, though it did make them put half their members nervously watching their backs. By the time Kataiahs had to stop, each of the small groups had one of their members writhing loudly in pain.
Judy, Trina, Reggie, and Elena took the occasional shot to remind the attackers the gazebo was occupied. Jack and Skye crawled around, adding their own shots to make it seem there were more mammals under the gazebo than there really were. What not none of them understood was the apparent total lack of a plan on the part of their enemy.
"What are they waiting for?" Jack wondered aloud.
"Whatever it is, I'm glad they are," Reggie quipped, loading his last magazine.
"It doesn't make sense," Judy agreed with Jack. "They have to know help will come soon."
"Unless they know for sure it won't," Skye said, letting off a round. "We are cut off from the rest of the world. We know there is fighting going on at the burrow. Maybe this is bigger than just the Hopps Farm."
*Let us not worry about it," Trina said, calmly, firing her rifle. "Let us focus on the situation at paw. We cannot control anything else at the moment."
"Is this what being a cop is like, Judy?" Elena murmured. "It's kind of exciting." Everyone stared at the doe. "Well, it is," she said, defensively, firing a shot.
"I hear something," Judy said, listening. "A truck."
"Not coming from the burrow," Jack said, adding his ears to the task.
"I guess we know what they were waiting for," Skye grumbled.
"Too late to run?" Reggie asked no one in particular.
"I love you, Reggie," Elena declared. Everybody stared at her. "What is wrong with you mammals?"
"Will you marry me, Elena?" Reggie proposed in response. Everyone stared at him.
Before anyone could say anything else, the sound of gunfire shooting away from the gazebo was followed by a loud whoosh. Mammals came tumbling across the ground into the clearing, tossed about like rag dolls by the powerful jet from the water cannon on a six-wheeled crowd control car.
"YEEEEE-HAAWWWW!" Blared Nick's voice from the car's high-power loudspeakers, in his worst country accent.
Author's Note:
Well, there it is. I hope it was worth the wait. I am already into chapter 7, so it should be out sooner than this one was. This one was more of a filler chapter, though there is information as well.
Until next time,
thanks for reading!