Chapter 37

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"Question, Fluff. What was on that second scroll?"

"Second scroll?"

"The one you were going to deploy when I said we had to stand up, stand up for our rights."

"Some tweet by the person who wrote that song pointing out it wasn't to be used for that."

"Um, Carrots… I think you'll find Bob Margay died half a century ago or something?"

"...My point still stands Slick."

Sitting back and chewing some of the bread from the hamper Judy's mother had provided, Carm made sure that both of the other officers were occupied before bringing up her phone. A few cautious looks this way and that, even behind in the off chance a bat was flying out there for some reason.

A silly notion, yes. But natural paranoia. Rattigan's assistant 'Fidget' could be spying again; also wasn't Zootopia's most wanted a fugitive vampire bat?

"-The point, Nick. is that it wouldn't be for 'medical freedom' or anything. He wouldn't even be interested or care about that, I… -Why are you looking so infuriatingly smug right now?"

Well, Carm didn't know why she'd be interested in her stuff, but still. So, she burrowed herself up in the corner of her seat as inconspicuously as possible before bringing out her phone and opening up the newly installed communication app.

A call button and a message button were present, Carmelita pressing the latter. 'On the train now with comrades. Texts only.'

Relaxing back, letting her eyes drift to out of the window, she watched the landscape sail past as they roared along the tracks, the train gently rocking her as the sun slowly drifted down to the west.

A quick vibration perked her ears and, looking over, she saw a reply.

'Understandable. I am sure you want this communication to remain unnoticed by those unfamiliar with our highly complicated relationship for the time being at least.'

Paw pads out, Carmelita typed in her reply. 'Ideally they will never have to know. I do not like burdening them like that.'

'From what I gather the bear you are looking for is of the same opinion with his burdens.'

'Sí,' she typed back. 'Most ironic.'

'Though it seems that another round of happenstance has struck quite in our favour. It seems that the bear in his panic stumbled into the care of an old friend.'

Carm's ears shot right up. 'What, he is with this protein roo?'

'Protein and the Guru messaged us, saying that it was safe, with someone whose trust is entirely ensured.'

'Okay, and that is…'

'Here is the slight bit that worries me. They state they want to study the item using their methods. And, while I am never one to condemn scientific endeavour, I have the hearty sense that they do not know what they are dealing with.'

Her ears falling back, Carm typed back in. 'I mean, if my theories are true they'd need something quite extreme to pose any real risk.'

'Don't talk to me about your theories, I was the mammal who in secret practically peer reviewed and supplied many a revisions to them.'

'Don't remind me,' she typed, shivering. Suffice to say, academia would not be a favoured career choice going forward if that was the bread and butter of the work.

'But it's not something that catastrophic I'm worried about. I have been trying to impress on them that there are very dangerous and quite ruthless mammals out there willing and ready to do anything to get at it, and then potentially jump into the catastrophe with reckless abandon. They just state that 'they'd like to see them try''

Carm rubbed her chin, concerned. 'You mentioned the ability to summon a crowd of biker wolves on short notice?'

'I suppose that if they are confident enough in their ability to hold fort, I can pass them that line.'

Carm smiled. 'So they hold them off until the cavalry arrive. But still, I'd far rather them just give it to Interpol for safe keeping.'

'Didn't the last big catastrophe spark off due to a corrupt Interpol agent?'

"Uh Carm?" Nick asked. "Did you just suck on a lemon grove?"

The vixen blinked, looking up. "No, sorry. Just dumb thing. Mammals adding X's to the end of nouns."

And going down, she typed back in. 'Point annoyingly taken, annoying tortuga.'

'I like to use the term prescient for matters like this. But drawing back from my knowledge of social etiquette, my apologies for that low blow.'

'No,' she typed back in. 'Sauce for the goose. I suppose these spiritual mammals have their arguments. What's Murray's opinion on all this?'

'THE MURRAY IS BROADLY CONCERNED BUT OVERALL TRUSTS THOSE EXPERIENCED IN THESE MATTERS. THEY HAVE THEIR REASONS, I GUESS.'

Chuckling, Carm typed back her response. 'In that case then, can you make sure they know my private number, as well as that of these biker wolves. And I'd like you to move into a point where you can spring on them should they come under any threat. Or reveal themselves to be such.'

'Will do. As said, for matters like this I can completely understand the draw of scientific curiosity. Indeed, I find it ironic I'm now on the side of panicked anti-scientific fearmongering. Who knows though, maybe we'll be able to discover some new truths because of this.'

Carm nodded. 'And I suppose it'd be a bit hypocritical to say we have the sole jurisdiction over matters like this.'

'Only being the most qualified in it. After all, who knows more than The Cooper Gang.'

And with that, Carmelita found an opening she'd long be waiting for. 'What about 'The New Cooper Gang'.'

Her eyes opened at his response. 'It seems you've heard of them too?'

'Only barely, I was hoping you could fill them in. After all, you've certainly heard of them.'

'Only by proxy and monitoring on the dark webs, never by direct interaction. Like Neptune was discovered due to its influence on Uranus' orbit, we were able to gain a pretty good idea of these mammals. Who they are, what they stand for, and so on.'

'And…?'

'From what I gather they started off as a bunch of so called rebels, in reality highway mammals come benevolent terrorists slash resistance fighters, who banded together with the idea of helping to finance the poorer citizens of a particularly corrupt local mayoralty and helping them to band together to overthrow their corrupt leader. Something that took far longer and far more effort than I expected they assumed at the beginning. And, indeed, it also put them on the wrong side of the law, something that doesn't really go away once the whole mission was completed.'

'Couldn't they just lay low and wait out the statutes like you did?'

'One supposes. Then again, I assume that in the end they came to the conclusion they were in this for good, and so rolled with it.'

'And then what?'

'Well, it seems that they decided to focus on their redistribution efforts. Steal from those who could afford it, give out to those who needed it. With the caveat that if the governments of the world functioned correctly, the whole procedure would be entirely unnecessary.'

Carm's ears folded back. 'I've already dealt with a bunch of those today.'

'Mind expanding on that?'

Something Carm did, filling her in on the day's discoveries. Sending the last text off she waited for Bentley's reply. 'Maybe not quite one of those. From what I gather they've learnt that politically they can get much further by targeting those who gained their wealth through truly illegitimate means. Hence, the reputation of robbing criminals earned them their new moniker.'

Carm's eyes widened. 'Thus: The New Cooper Gang.'

'Something I am not entirely comfortable with. I don't like their openness to prey on rich non-criminals and the pairing of their political messages against our long standing creed and modus operandi.'

'You mean stealing from criminals not for some grand ulterior method of helping mammals, but for funsies.'

'Exactly. We're thieves, we don't live action role play being these great forces for societal change that in reality inevitably backfire and just make people suffer.'

'And any times society has benefited from your actions, that's just an unintended side effect, right?'

'The point is we don't go around using that as a justification or excuse or higher mea culpa or something. We're thieves in for the fun of it. We may steal, but at least we're honest.'

'And these mammals aren't? Or are you just jealous?'

'I will not be dignifying that with a response.'

Carmelita imagined Sly sitting back there with Bentley, reading the text and just leaning back, a stupid muzzle splitting grin going across his muzzle.

'Anyway,' she typed. 'They seemed to be opposed to one of Rattigan's allies…'

'We understand that for years much of their focus has been directed on a certain con-mammal they encountered once. After defeating their evil mayor, he evolved into their next grand target.'

'Any specific reason why?'

'Not sure. The only thing I remember was someone mentioning the con-mammal took their leaders name in vain or something like that. Highly irritating and in my view karma in the event that they chose to make 'The New Cooper Gang' title official, though from what I gather the moniker was externally dubbed so take from that what you will. Regardless, all I know is that they believe him to be a threat, one who can evade the powers of the police and thus needs underhanded tactics to tackle and bring down. Indeed, for instance, intercepting one of their mammals delivering a key piece of intel. Ever heard of Don Karnage and the Iron Vulture?'

Thinking for a second, her eyes went wide. 'I believe so. Went missing over Kamchyakta not long before our journey there. I presume there's one real explanation for what happened there.'

'One which the audio recording from that black box confirmed to me.'

Leaning down, Carm just rubbed her face. "Niños estúpidos"

"Huh?" Judy asked.

Blinking, the vixen looked up at her and shook her head. "Little cousin getting up to stupid stuff. Graffiti and all that, telling the world his bully had plastic horns."

"Oooh," Judy said.

"On his bullies birthday."

"Ah."

"His bully being the principal's son."

Closing her eyes, Judy shook her head. "Poor kit."

"Does he need any pranking lessons?" Nick asked, getting a jab in the side.

Carm waved off. "They're moving anyway," she said. "It was meant to be a parting gift, or…" With a wave, she turned back to her text messages. Bentley hadn't said anything back, so she wrote in.

'Can you get in contact with that gang?'

'We can certainly try, though I have a very strong instinct to hesitate and avoid it.'

'Swallow your pride then,' she wrote. 'We need all assets available to us to tackle this. We're on the backpaw, the stakes are too high, we can't afford to lose.'

'Are you going to tell your comrades about the truth?'

A snarl grew on her muzzle. 'That won't make any of this easier. All they need to know is that the bear is being hunted. The why won't change what happens on this side. Unlike with you and this other gang, you might have information or they might that you can share.'

There was a long pause. 'We'll see. Speaking of such, you are aware that a certain group of arms dealers are also operating close to the city, with a small military intelligence taskforce keeping an eye on them.'

'I know,' Carm huffed. 'There was an incident last night, we presume the bad guys made a move on the bear, having learned their position somehow.'

'Did the military force come in and pick them up?'

The vixen paused, chewing her lips. That wasn't something she'd considered. And she had odd feelings about it. 'If they did, they didn't get the most important bear, obviously. Had they, I suppose that is technically a good outcome. The worst good outcome, but still better than either these arm dealers or Rattigan's group getting it.'

'I'm assuming there's a high level of interdepartmental rivalry here.'

Carmelita frowned, about to type in a response, only to see a new text pop in.

'Sauce for the goose Carm. Sauce for the goose.'

'Ha-Ha.' She pressed enter, before relaxing, slowly typing in one last response. 'And it is good to talk to you again.'

'Likewise. We'll keep on fighting, and searching for Sly.'

'I gave up hope long ago. I feel nervous about rekindling it. But you managed to send some sparks my way.'

'Wait and hope,' Bentley texted. 'Wait and hope.'

Carm nodded, smiling and closed down the app. Looking down at Nick and Judy, laying back on their seats, scrolling through his phone and cuddling together, she smiled.

And with that she looked out of her window once more. Letting the scenery fly past, an ever so slight but still there hope in her heart.

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Pacing his way around his lounge, Mr Fox turned this way and that, his speed slowly increasing with each turn back and forth. The only mammal present to see him, his younger son, was currently sleeping away on a mat on the ground, leaving his father practically alone to deal with his frustrations. The only other item of note was a pair of newly delivered flowers from a florist who'd gifted them some while they'd been working on Kris' case, but flowers weren't the best in terms of reducing interpersonal isolation or helping to deal with frustrations and issues.

That didn't matter though as, finally, with a hard click Mr Fox turned and walked with purpose straight towards a table.

Towards a certain thing that had been vexing him remorselessly, uncaringly, cruelly and mercilessly with no end in sight other than an inevitable descent into existential dread if he did not get over this one, seemingly inescapable, demon.

His pencil touched the lined paper and it froze there.

Mr Fox stared down.

The paper did not stare up.

It was paper.

Paper could not stare up, unless it had a face drawn on it.

A few scribbles and Mr Fox gave it just that, hoping that making it more personal would help him get over the inescapable writer's block he was suffering.

He glared back, angrily.

A hint of a growl forming in his throat.

His pencil tip slowly starting to flake and chip as it was pushed into the paper.

Eyes bulging, looking down, he was not going to break contact even if blood started coming out of them.

Seconds passed by.

Then minutes.

What seemed like hours.

Until, finally…

'You know, the funny thing is this.'

He scribbled it out fast, panting with relief, before pausing to see that he'd practically pressed his pencil down into a flat nub. And, with that, he brought it up, deftly sharpened it, and then turned back down. "Okay," he said. "Now, what's the funny thing?"

"I don't know," came a new voice, Mr Fox looking up to see his older son walk in. "This?"

"What's this?" Mr Fox asked, pausing as Ash reached up and held his father's pinky with a two fingered grip.

The older fox looked down, eyes widening. "Is that the fabled wuxi finger hold?"

"You know about it!?"

"I may have heard about it in my long and winded travels, yes."

"Cool," Ash said, still holding on.

Muzzle tweaking a bit, Mr Fox pulled his paw out. "It doesn't seem to be working, you know?"

"I can see that," Ash grumbled, before shrugging. "I'll get it one of these days."

"Uh-hu," Mr Fox said, "practice makes perfect."

"How's your practice going?"

Mr Fox clammed up, before thinking for a second. "Question, given the changing demographics and culture of the next generation, is it true or false to say that being honest and talking about your creative, artistic or life struggles and actual failure to live up to something more than ones fallible self is actually a highly desirable trait and a steadfast way to get praise, appreciation and by seen as a wiser, more fulfilled individual?"

"I... Guess?" Ash shrugged..

"Are you able to firm that down into a strong yes or no binary?"

"I mean, if you're talking about what my generation is into… I'm not really the one to ask."

"Well, okay," Mr Fox nodded.

"Does that make me worthy of praise, appreciation and lets me be seen as a wiser, more fulfilled individual?"

Mr Fox smiled. "It does make me happier that you're still close to your roots and home, rather than trying to pander to others and change into something scary and confusing, certainly."

"Okay, thanks," Ash said, smiling. "And for the record, I'm not sure how they'd take that either. I think those a few years younger and a few years older than me would appreciate it as self-deprecating classic dad-ness. Those directly next to my age group would despise it as self-deprecating classic dad-ness."

"And you take it as…"

"You being you," the younger fox replied. "Just like how you're obviously suffering creatively, and trying to work out how the best way to get that across is without making mammals look down on you negatively."

Mr Fox looked at him for a second, tail swishing a few times, before he shrugged. "You know what, you're right. Excellently perceptive." Ash gave a little smile at the praise, before letting his father carry on. "Suffice to say, after years of writing these newspaper columns of mostly made up and semi-nonsense fluff, I have found myself at what you might call… an impasse."

"You have no idea what to write about anymore."

"Indeed," he said, rubbing the underside of his muzzle and tapping the paper. "Though a little more complex than that. For sure, I have concepts, images, scenes and ideas all scattered around in my head. Ones that I know I could certainly put down and fluff up in a regular manner. Only, and here is the slight issue, I'm struggling with the words."

"In what way?"

"They're not coming out," he said, pencil down on the paper. "'You know what's funny'?"

"No," Ash said.

"Exactly! And neither do I. I've written myself into a corner, but I'm too far invested to go back now."

"Why don't you write about this?"

Mr Fox looked down, confused. "What do you mean, 'this'?"

"Not being able to write."

"Ash, Ash, Ash…" Mr Fox said. "While the maxim tends to be 'write what you want' and 'write what you know', at the same time, being a professional writer under contract, there is another, rather more important, rule to play by. 'Write what other people will actually want to read in order to actually get paid and keep a roof over your head. I'm honestly amazed that mammals even read the nonsense you put out but it brings them in, so it's not like I'm going to can you now, but watch your footing. This paper is losing money don't you know, it's the internet age!'" He breathed in, turned down, and shrugged. "Sage words there. Sage words. And I don't think that many of my readers will be interested in reading about my own creative struggles."

"Well I don't know," Ash said. "They might find it… relatable, if you pair it with something else. Use it to liaise into a bigger story."

To that Mr Fox nodded, standing up and tapping his chin. "I suppose," he said. "But what to pair it with. After all, it has to justify itself in some way. And besides," his tail flagged. "While it may be something I know very much about, and could even write a whole lot on, is it something I'd really want to? It's not among the things that take my flights of fancy in my mind, I'm guessing it's just an errant idea I could start on and then just ramble about for… I don't know… Approximately one-thousand one hundred and eightty words at this point." He shrugged. "But I mean, where do I go now?"

"I mean, is there anything important you need to put in. Any obvious clear points you need to carry on. As if so, why don't you just list them all and make them obvious for everyone."

Mr Fox gave Ash a warm and knowing look. "Ah, my son, there are some things we just never do."

"Why not."

"Because that'd be too easy."

"I mean, I'd prefer easy over trying to make my eyes bleed while doing work," he said, pointing at the nearly blank piece of paper.

"You know, that's just because you're that word beginning with D you hate," Mr Fox joked, immediately getting his finger held between two of Ash's own, as the small fox raised and lowered his pinkie.

…

"Don't try that one again unless you're willing to clean up the mess my boy," Mr Fox smiled, pulling his paw away.

"Fine," he grumbled. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure," he said, shrugging and looking back at the paper. "I mean, it's not as if I can just keep this long thread running, weaving lots of meta jokes and other strange humour into it, all as part of something I've made up on the fly and am doing to bulk everything out, at mild amusement to myself but nothing really like the kind of utter passion and excitement I know some things will give me. Indeed, I'm pretty sure if I were typing this all out I'd be easily momentarily distracted, going over to play music or something or thinking about watching a random video instead, only keeping at it due to forced discipline and the knowledge I need to get through this so I can eventually get to things I will actually feel a gripping passion to write, or at least think I do because who knows with how this writers block is coming up. What if, dare I say it, I am 'quote-unquote' becoming creatively burnt out. Not even able to do something that will pass the Rowan test."

Ash's head tilted. "The Rowan test?"

"Yes," his father said, gesturing back to the sleeping kit on the floor. "Inevitably, in my state, if I do strike literary gold, something will naturally come up to distract me from it and break me from my flow. Consequently, unable to conjure up anything, I did the sensible and logical thing of moving my sleeping kit up here, so as to summon that spark of passion he can then immediately attempt to extinguish. Allowing me to at least have something I can try and revive later on."

"That sounds dumb. Just…" He shrugged. "What's the one thing you actually do really most want to write about right now?"

"Oh," he sighed. "Lots of things. Some potentially completely different projects, but no way I can start them because then how on earth am I going to finish this one." He pointed down at the paper. "And then, leaving any quote-unquote meta behind…"

"When did we pick it up?"

"I'm guessing somewhere near the start of this," Mr Fox said. "Anyway, completely independently on its own and itself, there is one very interesting thing I know about. But I can't write about it."

"Why not?"

"Because firstly," Mr Fox sighed, "seeking some kind of glory or external validation from it, it being something I decided to show I could survive off of internal validation from it alone, would make that entire first point moot."

"That's not clearing it up," Ash said. "Can you be more specific?"

"Not without ruining a whole character arc I went through yesterday, unseen by you or really anyone else for that matter, no. I mean, I'm really playing it close right here. In fact, I better stop now."

"Okay, then what's the second reason?"

"Vixens."

"Huh?"

"Angry vixens who want me to do things and get unhappy when I don't."

Ash shrugged. "Tell them you live your own life," he said, pausing as the door from the kitchen opened, his mother walking in to pick up Rowan.

"No he doesn't."

"Something I'm never going to forget."

"Exactly," she said, taking her younger son in her paws and carrying him up to his nursery. Before she did though, she gave a look at her older son. "You're back surprisingly early. Have a good day?"

"We saw an inevitable kung fu battle between two pandas and a tiger against a polar bear."

"That sounds great dear."

He nodded. "There was some kind of mysterious necklace, and debatable hints towards the existence of prescience."

She paused before shrugging. "Well, there's something to talk about with my friends. I've lately heard an old one is back in Zootopia, so I'll have to get back in touch."

Ash's ears went askew a little. "Don't you have anything else to say?"

She nodded. "Keep your father in line." And with that, up the stairs she went, Ash looking over and grumbling. "Great, now it's gonna be my fault whatever happens."

"Hey, hey, kiddo," his father smiled. "That's just the way of life. It's what you get from vixens. You don't always get what you want, you have to trim down your expectations for life, you have to put them in order and compromise and slog through the unwelcome and irritating stuff you don't want to do but end up having to do."

"Kind of like your issues with writing then."

"I…" Mr Fox began, before clicking his fingers and giving a double whistle. "Son, you've just figured it out!" With that, he turned to his paper and began writing. "I have my through line."

"D-do you?" Ash asked.

"Yup, as I just said, and can now demonstrate as I'm writing out in free flow. Not even following a plan anymore, just making it all up as I go along, doing something I didn't even realise I was going to do until I had the idea and started writing."

"You're sounding like you're going 'quote-unquote' meta again."

"Why thank you," he said. "Of course, getting the important things that are needed in, of course." He looked down and sighed as he scribbled out. "I can see the end now. Some deviations to get in an important semi-tangent, but I've got it."

"Cool."

"It is," he said. "I'm happy. I may not be able to get big fame and celebrity status, up on television or something, but here, now, I'm making a small but dedicated group of followers happy."

"I mean," Ash said, "you could get big fame and celebrity status up on television if you really wanted…"

His father chuckled. "Ah, leaving the meta stuff behind I see. Well, it is fun to dream that, but it's a million in one chance, and it's not like we have some kind of in or…"

"We have a skunk."

Mr Fox paused. "Okay, rewind there, I think I missed something."

"Don't we know a skunk reporter from ZNN? We roped him in and he helped when dealing with Kris' troubles out of sympathy and a desire for sudden career progression."

"..."

"I mean, maybe he'd be happy to scratch our back back."

"I… Imagine a dial up tone for a second," Mr Fox said, before making some odd shapes with his face as he thought.

"What's a dial up tone?"

"Reminder of my advancing age not appreciated," Mr Fox said, before standing up and pulling his son into a big hug. "But everything else very much is. You have been one fantastic help here, do you know that?"

Pausing, thinking, Ash settled down, a smile growing on his face as his tail started wagging. "It was nothing. Really…"

"Ah, you say that to yourself," he said, sitting back down. "First, polish this off. Second, do that thing and maybe get my vixen tolerable external validation I've always wanted… Unless of course…" He turned back to Ash, shrugging. "You want me to make the second thing third and put in a new second thing, spending some time with you."

"I mean," Ash began, thinking. "If I could show you some of the things I've learnt recently. We could practice, and…"

"Then consider it settled," Mr Fox said. "After this, that comes second. Sound good?"

"Y-yeah! Yeah, it does. Thanks Dad."

"Oh, you're welcome," Mr Fox said, as he turned back down to write. "And no, thank you. You have set this all on the right track. Heck, it's so successful, it even needs a little trimming down or at the end or clever trickery to fully fit into the private pre-release review."

"I'm sure they'd allow you to be a little flexible."

Mr Fox paused. "Would they?"

"Well, don't tell them, how will they ever know until the end?"

The father smiled, looking down. "And wave it off at the end when they can't do a thing." He paused, thinking. "You know, most people won't get that reference."

"Hmmm?" Ash asked, head tilting. "About the private pre-release review?"

"Indeed. The general public don't really know about the stuff that goes on there or the level of amused indignation that reference would cause."

"Well why not just add an extra bit more at the end for the general public."

"Huh? About what?"

"I don't know, about how they won't get the first bit? You're doing 'meta' stuff right, double down or something.

"Doubling down you say," Mr Fox said, pausing before standing up, walking over, and placing a paw on Ash's shoulder. "Son, you really are my son. That's my boy."