(AN: Hello everyone. Sir_RedFox here with a new installment of the Long Hustle: vol. 2.

I know right now things are a bit concerning with the outbreak of the coron-19. Where I live has become a ghost town. I say all this to remind people to be safe and cautious as we all go through this pandemic. One good thing that keeps me going this that I can put out new installments even fast.

Quick Recap: We were brought up to speed from the Volume 1 and we got a horrifying glimpse into Shere Khan's past.

As always please leave a review and comments, good or bad, if you can. Thank you.

- Sir_RedSkin)

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Last Day:

"Nick!" one of the prison inmates shouted. Nick was a sleep, only to be woken up by the loud yell. He tossed and turned in his cot, trying to block out the call of his name, only wanting to sleep. "Hey Nick," the voice shouted again. "Your twenty-four hour countdown has finally started. What are you going to do to celebrate your last day?"

Nick tossed over on his back to shout out his response. "Like what?" Nick asked. "Are you guys planning on throwing me a big going away party for me? Well, the gesture is appreciated, even though I'm sure most of you jack-offs have tried killing me sometime or another." The predator inmates down his row of cells burst out in laughter hearing his comment.

"Hey you can't hang that over our heads forever," came another inmate's voice with a burst of laughter. In truth, Nick wished he could simply sleep the next twenty-four hours away.

A small rectangular ray of light from Nick's cell window blinded him. He held up his hand to shield his eyes from the light, not that it was any use. Sleep did not look good in his favor and forced himself out of the bed.

Nick stretched and sat up straight in the tiny cell that has been home for the past two years. In those two years, he had come to decorate the prison cell to his style and liking. It wasn't much, but he was able to obtain some books, a few comic strips Wilford always recommended, and sun reflectors to help give his red fur a shiny golden aura. One thing he got in return for his two year stay at The Jungle, was how his skinny fox form had morphed into muscle from head to toe. What he liked most were the abs he built up on his core. He had no idea he had abs before being sent to The Jungle.

Looking around at all the things he had come to accumulate over the past two years, made him realize something. He would never come to miss this place. The uncomfortable cot, the smell of mold, his tiny slit of a window. There was also the time when he first arrived dealing with cruel prison guards and the insufferable Warden Pierce; who he last heard got locked up at another prison and had to replace seventy percent of his teeth with false ones. Warden Pierce never got his awful smile back, but it did give Nick a smile knowing all his doing. And lastly, his unfortunate time spent in what was referred to as 'The Hole' to punish out of line prisoners. Turned out he was the last inmate to be sentenced to 'The Hole.' Since then it has turned into a storage room for all the prison's junk.

There were two items that rested on his shelf. One was the pair of aviator glasses that he had made himself. With the use of two cut out pieces of transparent black gel, mix in a little bit of glue and string, and two plastic straws, he was able to make his very own Prison brand aviator glasses.

The second was a red bandana that used to belong to his good friend, Jay the jackal. He would wear it more often than not to remember him by. It was hard not to think of Jay dying, because in a way, it was all Nick's fault. The riot that day was to try and kill him and Flynn, but Jay was the one who took the price of it all.

He could not dwell on what he could not change. He tied the bandana around his head and his 'make it yourself' aviator glasses in his left shoulder pocket. He was ready to face his last day in The Jungle.

Thankfully, there was not a lot going on in the Jungle. He heard whispers and little gossips as he walked by, nothing to concern himself with. His main job was to train new convicts on how to work in the mailroom and deliver mail to the inmates. He was teaching them how to do the job he's been doing for the last two years.

When there was free time, he did not know what to do. Since Flynn was gone, he usualy would go back to his cell and run out the clock. Before he would visit with Flynn and play cards or chat up some stupid stories from the outside, but Flynn had been released into society a few weeks earlier. He hated going out on the prison courtyard now. Every time he did, his mind would replay how Jay died over and over.

Skye no longer visited him, now so close to being released. There were times he would sit in the rec room, a chess board and an empty chair in front of him with no one to fill the spot. He had become quite good at the game, but has yet to win a match against Skye, who taught him everything about the game. All Nick could really do is wait for time to run out.

And Wilford, or rather prison officer Kale L. Krypto, did not stick around after blowing the whistle on the entire prison. There was no one for Nick to call. The last time he talked to someone on the outside was with Flynn, and how his boss would give a shot at being part of something big in Zootopia. Flynn also spoke that once Nick would be released, he would provide a ride and all that was needed. From now till mid afternoon, it would be Nick with his lonesome self and no one else.

At dinner time, Nick waited in line with all the other inmates. He grabbed his tray and moved along the line, stopping every two feet to have some resemblance of food be plopped down on his tray.

"Hey," Nick shouted to the kitchen staff. Ever since Nick had taken Skitter out of the prison gang life, new inmates had to work in the kitchen. "It's my last night here, don't I get a special treat? Like, a piece of cake or cup cake with one of those sparklers lit on top of the dessert to give it that special festive flair?"

"Your special gift," one prisoner shouted from the back of the kitchen, "is that we didn't spit in your food as usual."

"That's it?" Nick said, sounding as if upset. "But I like to pretend that I get that everyday when you guys serve dinner."

"You will get whatever dessert is provided." One of the kitchen staff inmates said.

Nick moved down the line. He could see the bin where they usually display some kind of dessert. It looked as if they were to be served pudding for the night.

He reached in to take one of the sweet delights that were served. Before he could pull his arm away, it was quickly grabbed. He looked up to see some pitch black cat with yellow eyes working the kitchen staff and eager to talk to him.

"Hey," the cat said. "If you really want something sweet in the kitchen, I can get it for you. That is if you still have any Blue Sky left to give? You know, before you part for good."

Nick stared at the cat grabbing his arm in desperation. He pulled back with slow patience for the cat to let go of his arm. When finally released, Nick gave a cheered smile to the cat. "You know, I'm actually good with this dessert packet here. I think I'll be satisfied. But thanks for the offer." He held up the pudding pack for the cat to see. He even decided to be a little cocky by tossing the pudding-packet up in the air and catching the plastic container. "Hey, it has blueberries," he read off the label. "That's better than what I imagined."

Every inmate in The Jungle knew that Flynn and Nick were the two mammals to score top of the line Blue Sky, or tits as the inmates would at times call the drug. With Flynn gone, Nick was the only one still able to sling Blue Sky throughout the prison. Few weeks leading up to his release, he warned his clients, who were no more than a bunch of murdering, stealing, havoc wrecking inmates, that he would longer be in position to sell Blue Sky. He tried warning them, but they did not listen. Some of the inmates got cut off cold turkey and suffered from withdrawal effects. He was tired of all the looks he got, as if he was hoarding a batch of Blue Sky.

Nick sat at the table. None of the food on his tray looked appetizing. All except the pudding cup he acquired. Moe, a malnourished meerkat sat at the empty seat beside him and set his food tray by his own. He looked thin and bony, and had bald spots on his body from scratching himself too much. He had a habit of rapidly tapping on the top of the table. Moe was in jail for Breaking and Entering, along with possession of Blue Sky. He already looked to be in a paranoid state. Heavy and deep scratched scars on each side of his neck and ran his small meerkat hand over his bald head.

"Hey, N-N-N-Nick," said Moe. "I know you're on your way out of here, which is awesome and all, but before you leave us, do you think you can still sell us some Blue Sky? I'm good for it I swear."

Nick could not help but sigh at the little junkies request. It was the number one request he's been asked from nearly every inmate since being the drug runner of the prison. And now that he was leaving, the use of Blue Sky would quickly decline. Once he leaves, so does the steady supply of drugs coming into the prison.

"I'm not interested in your money, Moe. I've been telling all of you that I wouldn't be selling the closer my release date came. And it's been over a week since I've stopped selling completely. Sorry, Moe. You're going to have to find your high somewhere else." Nick could see Moe was not taking this news very well. He became fidgety in his seat and rapidly shook his head no. "Or you could attend one of the meetings they've set up here, try and get clean. Who knows? You might see having a clear mind and well enough control to not shit your britches to be something rewarding."

"No, no," Moe said as he rocked back and forth in his seat. His rapid taps on top the table became faster and louder. "That's Bullshit!" Moe shouted. A few inmates and guards turned to look their way. Moe quickly gained control of his voice and hunched down low to the table, as if not wanting to be seen. "That's Bullshit" he said again, in a quieter volume keeping the serious tone of voice. "I know you got to have some Blue Sky or something hiding in your cell. And you're going to give it to me."

Nick felt a sharp point poke and prod at his side. He looked down to see that Moe had pulled a shiv on him. It looked to be one that was made from one of the springs in the inmate's cots, broken out, stretched, and then rubbed hard on the cement walls to make it nice and sharp. The meerkat had it pressed against his side. His last day in this hell hole, there was no way he would let this little junkie ruin that for him.

"You know, you're right." Nick said. "I do have a small stash hidden in my cell." He could see the bright glee in Moe's eyes. Looking down at his tray, he picks up the pudding-pack and opens the sealed lid. "Let me finish my pudding and we'll go get it. Okay?"

"No, no," Moe said, shaking his head in wild disagreement as he pressed the blade's point a little harder against Nick's side, making Nick wince a little in discomfort. "Fuck that. We go now."

Nick held up the pack of pudding to eye level. "Moe look at this. It's blueberry vanilla pudding. Do you hear me? Blueberry, and vanilla, together." Nick said in a sarcastic tone, as if the pudding pack was something magical. He even conjured up fake tears of happiness to over sell his excitement of the simple dessert. "Those are two extreme flavors packed together in this small container. If scientists are able to create this in a lab, that means the possibilities in this world are endless. Blueberry and vanilla. God's gift to mammals. I mean, just look at it."

Moe's eyes shift over to the small pack of pudding. Nick saw his chance and rammed the blueberry and vanilla dessert hard into Moe's eyes. Nick reached down and grabbed the hand holding the sharp pointed blade and gave it a hard one-eighty degree twist backwards. Before Moe could not help but yelp in pain, he grabbed the collar on meerkat's jumpsuit, tight, and brought Moe's head close to the table. He heard the cling and clang of the metal shiv hitting the floor. He kicks the blade away and leans in to whisper in the meerkat's ear, not wanting to cause a scene.

"Now listen here." Nick said, keeping an eye out for any guards walking by. "I've been telling you and the rest of the junkies in here that I've stopped selling Blue Sky for more than a week now. I get out of here in less than twelve hours, so if you do anything to cause me an extended delay of getting out of this hell hole, I will carve you up with whatever is closest to my hands, that not even your own mother will be able to recognize your corpse. Hell, it could be a banana in my reach and I'll carve you up with that. I don't know how, I haven't gotten that far yet, but I'll think of a way. Got it?"

Moe does not utter a word as Nick tightens his grip on the meerkat's hand, he merely nodded his head in agreement as drops of blueberry and vanilla pudding fell from his face . "Good," Nick said and let go of the meerkat inmate who cuddled his abused hand.

Nick cleaned up his area of any trash or food and got up to leave the table. Before he left Moe to waddle back and forth in pain, Nick reached over and took the meerkat's own pudding packet. He gave the meerkat a fierce look that said, 'I'm taking this. It's mine now. This is mine.'

When Nick arrived back at his cell block, Cell Block B to be exact, most of the inmates were already in their cells, waiting for the day to be over. Nick hid the pudding pack in his pocket, making sure no one saw or it would be confiscated. He headed up the staircase to the top floor where his prison cell was. It wasn't until the guards called for lock up, that he felt safe to pull out the pudding packet.

Nick did not have any spoon to enjoy the delicious dessert treat with. He did have his fingers. Using two of his fingers, he uses them as a spoon to scoop out the blueberry and vanilla mixture. He did not stop till his fox claws scraped the bottom of the packet.

Nick could not imagine how he must have looked right about then. He would probably guess he looked like one of those pictures with the kit putting their entire face into a cake. His muzzle smeared with pudding and his fingers sticky from the delicious treat. He went to the sink to clean himself off.

Nick cupped water into his hands and splashed it across his muzzle. He did this a couple of times, wanting to make sure his face was clean. Next, he lathered his hands in soap to wash away any sticky feeling on his hands and fingers. Done, he wiped and cleaned his hands with the small towel the prison provided.

"Lights out!" he heard one of the guards yell. With the loud clunk! of a switch being flipped, the lights of the prison cells went out.

Nick found it hard to go to sleep. He simply laid there on his back staring at the ceiling. All day, all he wanted to do was think about was crawling in his cot and falling asleep, but finally laid in his cot, all thoughts flooded in at once. He could not help it, as his mind switched from one thought to another without warning or question.

Tomorrow, Flynn will be in front of the prison to pick him up from his release. Then the big things were to finally start. Meeting Flynn's boss and being accepted into this elite underground criminal organization. It was what the last two years have been built up for.

His mind then flipped to Judy and how she might be doing and handling all of this. Nick could feel himself rub his ring finger. The exact finger that once held his wedding ring. That felt forever ago. He would at times draw in a black line around his finger where the ring once rested upon, to help remind him of Judy. Unfortunately the black marking would be washed away the next day.

He turned on his side and looked at an etching that he had on his cell wall. It was supposed to be an etching of Judy and him, but due to Nick's lack of artistic skills the sketches came out looking two weirdly misshaped stick figures. Still, the image made Nick swipe a tear that rolled down his cheek.

"Never let them see that they get to you," Nick said in a whisper. Something that his mother taught him, and something he has lived his life by. Nick rolled onto his back to stare up at the dirty ceiling. He laid there oddly thinking of a play he's never once seen, but knew the popular song to the musical.

The musical was something about a poor orphan girl who gets adopted by a rich wealthy mammal, or something like that. Ha! If only life's problems could be solved so easily. Just let a rich millionaire adopt you and everything will be okay. Still, the popular song from the musical kept playing in his head on repeat.

"The sun'll come out, Tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar, Tomorrow" The song went on playing in his head, and if he didn't know any better, he would be humming and muttering some of the lyrics out. "The sun'll come out, Tomorrow. So ya got to hang on till tomorrow... Tomorrow, tomorrow! I love ya tomorrow! You're only a day away!" The song kept playing on repeat in his head till he was able to finally fall fast asleep.

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(AN: And that ends another installment of The Long Hustle: Volume 2. The next installment we will get to see what everyone outside The Jungle has been up to. Again if you can please leave a comment, good or bad, of what you think. Until next time, be careful and stay safe, I wish everyone the best of luck.

- Sir_RedFox)