05
live & let die
A reminder to everyone that this work is under 'T or PG-13' rating as it contains situation that would require some form of 'trigger warning' (like assault, blood, suicide, violence, etc.) which the author (yours truly) wants to reiterate with an imperative sentence: PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
There was a knock on the door and a Zoomer's Delivery mammal stopped by with Jack's dinner. He was glad to put the dreadful plan Roxanne has conceived, aside. But it took him hours to forget, heavy with terror and apprehension that had surrounded him, when he initially listened to her.
With the takeout came another parcel, expensive looking and about a foot square, which the jackrabbit put on the sideboard. Undoubtedly an afterthought of the ZBI or the ZCIA, he supposed. He ate his meal with enjoyment, looking out the window and reflecting on what he had just agreed to in between mouthfuls.
It was only when he swallowed the last piece of his spring rolls and had lit his last cigarette of the day that he became suddenly aware of the faint noise in the room behind him. A soft, muffled, unhurried, ticking — and it was coming from the direction of the sideboard.
Tick-tock. . .tick-tock. . .tick-tock.
Without hesitation, nor without caring that he acted like a fool, Jack dove to the floor behind his chair and crouched. All his senses on haywire as he focused on the noise from the parcel. 'It's probably a clock of sorts.' He said to himself. But why? Why should he be given it? And by whom?
Tick-tock. . .tick-tock. . .tick-tock.
The silence of the room turned its low noise into a deafening one; as though keeping time with the thumping of the jackrabbit's heart. 'You're being an idiot. And 009's ridiculous plan has put your nerves on edge. It's not—'
Tick-tock. . .tick-tock. . .tick—
And like that, the alarm went off with a melodiously urgent summon. The agent's muscles relaxed whilst his cigarette has burned a hole in the carpet. He picked it up and crushed it on an ashtray. Alarm clocks with bombs go off when the hammer first comes down on it, hitting a pin in the detonator which fires the explosive and-
'C-R-A-C-K'
It was not louder than a 12-bore cartridge, but with the confined space it was an impressive explosion. The parcel had fallen to the ground, now in tatters. Everything on the sideboard were smashed and there was a black smudge of smoke on the wall behind it. Pieces of glass tinkled on the floor and strong smell of gunpowder wafted in the room.
Jack slowly got to his feet — opening another window and dialing Roxanne's number. He skirted the debris, walked through the door, and spoke levelly.
'Time check: small one. . .only some glasses. . .of course not. . .thanks Muttler, 'bye.'
Not a minute after, the Welsh Springer spaniel hustled in, followed by a male mouse in a white shirt and black tie carrying a miniature black box under his arm.
'Vince Mousawitz, from ZPD's Rodentia extension.' announced Roxanne.
The smallest mammal in the room nodded curtly and went beside the charred remnants of the parcel. He opened his box and took out some rubber gloves and a handful of tiny forceps. With his tools he painstakingly extracted bits and pieces then delicately pulled a small aluminum container similar to those used for exposed film.
Helding up the base of the cartridge. 'Black powder. Blank. No shot. You're lucky it wasn't a grenade, or you'd have been damaged. Now let's have a look at this.' He picked up the cylinder, unscrewed it, and carefully took out a roll of paper — unravelling it with his forceps.
Officer Mousawitz flattened it out on the carpet, its corners held down with four tools from his box. And both ZMI6 agents didn't have to bent forward to peruse the typewritten sentences.
'The beats of your own fragile heart are numbered,' the mouse read aloud. 'As the heart of this clock has been counted and forced to stop ticking. Watch your six more, Jack Savage.'
(-from Chapter 5, Live Let Die, Book 3 of The Savage Seas series, by J. L. Hopps.)
Officer Fangmeyer whipped the vixen's phone back out and dialed one Nicholas Wilde, before turning around to go back to the desk she previously occupied.
Ten minutes after, she returned, crouching down in front of the arctic fox who still hasn't moved from her spot. "He says he'll be here first thing in the morning." she informed her softly. "Now, I need to hang on to your phone. . .just for protocol and stuff, don't worry."
The arctic fox nodded, still staring blankly ahead. It was a quarter past midnight, and generally, it's uncommon for Zootopia's precincts to allow visitors after specific hours (even if the reason behind them were necessary) — and especially not, if it's for the (alleged) suspect on the attempted murder of the city's most beloved action star.
"I also called Tundratown Medical Center just in case," the tigress cop said, making the smaller female's eyes snapped up to her. "There's no word from anyone else, except for Dr. Bianca Stoutheart, who wanted me to inform you that Jack Savage is still unconscious but would eventually wake up soon."
"Oh, okay. That's. . .nice." a trembling Skye said. "Thank you, officer." With that the ZPD officer nodded, backing away from the cell then disappearing into the hallways.
With her head spinning, everything else in the jailhouse were merely background noise to her. All she knew, and give a damn about, in that moment, was how she had just crossed another off the list of things she never imagined trying or doing at all. And sure, she had certainly been accused of other crimes before, mostly within unfair grounds too, but nothing compared to the gravity of being held accountable for attempting to murder one's life.
Sleep evaded her for hours, then completely left the room, when around (what the arctic fox could only assumed was) the first light of day, she heard a familiar voice snarked at a mammal. "I'm not loitering around, Sir. I'm here for my cousin, Miss Winters."
The vixen's heart swelled when she saw Nick's crimson red fur in his atrocious green Pawaiian shirt and blue tie sprinting from the entrance and through the building. "That's right, Skye Winters! Where is she?" In clear distress, he scanned the rows of holding cells until his emerald eyes landed on her.
"Oh, my God," the todd breathed out, falling to the ground on the other side of the iron bars where she was slumped at. "You alright? What the hell happened, Snowflake? Every mammal in Happy Town said your muzzle is all over the news."
A dam of tears immediately burst from Skye again as he gripped her paw in his russet ones through the gaps. The two of them weren't usually like that (never had, if they're being honest) and it showed when he deflected this display of emotion through his unique sense of humor. "Uh, there, there. Oh, you arctic foxes, always so emotional." He yipped as her other paw socked him in the side. "Ah, now I see why they thought you'd ever harm a fur on Mr. Stripes body."
"I didn't do shit Nicky!" Skye exasperated, her voice high and shrill.
"We know, Skye," the todd stated in full confidence. "Finn and I are on your side. Well, not literally - although, I am, actually, and he isn't, 'cause the big diaper baby is too scared to even stand in a hundred radius mile near the fuzz - eh'm the point is, we believe you."
Nick listened intently and waited patiently as the vixen cried out all her frustrations about the entire ordeal. It took a while, but she was finally able to collect herself enough to explain. She recounted everything — from the mongoose's stabbing, to performing first aid on Jack, to meeting the J. L. Hopps, then coming along with the ZEMTs to the hospital, and finally being arrested by the ZPD officers because of her neighbors' useless street camera and the testimony of a key witness.
"— she couldn't even look at me in the damn eye when I was being dragged out." The arctic fox was visibly disheartened about the author's cold reaction.
The todd let out a low whistle. "Guess that's why some folks came up with the phrase: 'Never meet your heroes'."
"Ugh. Tell me about it." She mumbled with no real heat. "Still, a part of me, kind of get where she's coming from though."
"Hah! That makes half of us then."
"I mean, obviously she's in distraught because her partner almost died, got confused about the police bringing in shitty evidence, then felt guilty for even defending me, and finally got overwhelmed from everything else. I'm telling you Nicky, it was exactly like how Aunt Viv reacted when Uncle Rob—"
"Woah, woah, woah Snowflake. . .let's just rewind the tape to yesterday and not twelve years further, okay? Besides all this talk about author Fluff and her Agent 007 actor being romantically involved, is far more—"
"Winters," A stoic tigress cop walked up towards the holding cell again, where instead of one, a pair of vulpine were crouching down the floor. "You need to sign some papers for me." The smaller mammal got to her feet and was about to take the pen if not for Nick glowering at the officer suspiciously.
"Uh, no. I don't think so." He pulled his cousin to sit back down with a scoff.
Mirroring his expression, Officer Fangmeyer inquired again. "What did you just say, Mr. Wilde?"
"Oh sorry, officer. What I said was, No!" he retorted firmly this time. "She will not be signing anything without her lawyer," his emphasis was final as he stood up in frustration.
"Look, you dragged her here for a crime she didn't even do, based all your groundings on a poor excuse of a street camera that didn't even record anything useful, and now you won't give her the right to have a legal counsel?" He paused and locked eyes with Skye again. "Where's that boyfriend of yours anyway? Doesn't he have a sister who represents pro bono? "
If she were not so broken already, the vixen's heart would have probably sunk again as she tried to change the subject — painting the timber wolf in a (fake, yet) better light.
"He. . .turned me down."
Nick closed his eyes and said through gritted teeth, "I swear to God, Skye, I told you Wolford's nothing but a howling dumb-dumb!"
'Tell me something I don't know,' she thought, smiling abashedly at the red fox.
Pinching the bridge of his muzzle, he exhaled. "Too bad the only lawyer that I know of and owed me a favor once - has already helped in bailing Finn for his seventh DUI last month."
The ZPD officer sighed. "Alright, I just need your parents to sign them for you." Glancing at the extended paw of a red fox, she added. "Or whoever is your legal guardian."
"We, uh, we don't have. . .any mammal relatives left," The arctic fox's heart clenched as an image of an older vixen, with the exact same fur as the todd glaring at the floor, appeared in her mind's eye. "Our, uh, last family member. . . died two years ago." She couldn't see his face, but she could feel her cousin shifted uncomfortably.
There was a beat of silence before Officer Fangmeyer finally conceded. "Alright," she huffed. "These are just waivers stating your profile anyway, but we can wait until a court provided lawyer is present."
At an accepted loss, the numb vixen gave her a curt nod. As any vulpine in the world instinctively knew, a bottom feeder like them would not enjoy any amount of jail time. Finnick had told her all about it — everyday some mammal would attack the likes of them for fun, whether it's with their paws, hooves, claws, or even non-threating objects. Even if they aren't legally convicted, in the eyes of the inmates they're fair game. No wonder why foxes have a very low survival rate in the Zootopia prison systems.
To make matters worse, the kangaroo court would undoubtedly give Skye a shitty lawyer — who would only defend her because they have to. As a result, she would then end up being imprisoned in one of the precinct's holding cells, until they set a trial date perhaps in a week or so. And she already knew what's going to happen if Jack will not open his cerulean eyes any time soon. 'Even if I don't jinx it, I'm still going to lose.'
"Hey now, Snowflake, it's going to be fine." Nick assured her. "You didn't do nothing! You're not saying nothing! And once your jackrabbit wakes up, your name will be cleared, and you'll be known as the fox fetale who saved his insured tail, you got that?"
"If you say so, Nicky." She let out a stifled chuckle and wiped her tears. "I really hope Dr. Stoutheart was right, and Jack would wake up by the end of the week — so all this misunderstanding could finally be resolved."
'But Karma was the female mouse doctor wrong.'
For her instilled sense of (false) hope was no better than the amount of despair that came for Skye weeks later, as the only mammal who could prove her innocence was still lying in his hospital bed, unable to wake up from a comatose state.
The characters, miscellaneous, and settings are owned and trademarked by Disney, and in no way, shape, or form do I claim ownership over them nor the world of Zootopia (aside, of course, from my original characters and some fictional places that I added) - though I would never not thank Byron Howard and Richard Moore for giving us these anthropomorphic mammals that we love to hate (I don't know, Jack and Skye are growing on me...particularly in this work) or hate to love (still a Nick and Judy shipper...if you have an issue - there's the door!) because without them, this retelling would not have existed.
Part 1/3 (featuring Chapters 5 — 7)
Jump to or Wait for Chapter 7 for the full version of the Author's Notice.
P. S. Chapter 5 had me on my wits end because (dare I say it) reconstructing Nicholas Wilde's character (in this alternative universe) was more the crux of the matter than that of Skye's or Jack's themselves.
And I think it might have something to do with my other Zootopia related work which involves (yet) another version of Nick that was completely, if not almost, different from how he was introduced in the films — which (now) leaves me in a Catch-22 situation that I'm afraid would impact the overall tone of the plot (especially) since my update schedule for both stories are so close with each other — point is, I hope that this version of Nick still resembled the 'original' him in some way whilst attempting to show another interpretation of him (if you get what I mean).