Chapter 7:
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The female bear glared across the metal interview table, paws cuffed in front of her and a scowl etched on her face. Sitting by her, her lawyer, a giant anteater, was slumped over, taking a deep breath in and out as the door opened and Detective Oates walked in, Detectives Basil and Dave Dawson on his shoulder. He handed them down, letting them arrange themselves on the desk as he pulled his chair back, sat down, and looked over at the bear.
She turned her face away, folded paws pulled back as far as she could before the chain attaching them to the desk was pulled taught.
"Good afternoon, Melissa," Basil began.
"-That is Mrs Krovstoit, mouse," she said, raising up her own name and brushing away their species.
Basil shrugged. "Very well. Mrs Krovstoit, I'd like to apologise for what must have been a very traumatic day for you…"
She cut him off with a snort of a laugh, carrying on aloof and proud as ever. "Ha, so you are going to let me go? Grovel at my feet and wipe clean my claws with your own tails and spit?" She turned down, leaning forward and looming over him, shallow breaths billowing out warm and moist over his fur. "Nyet, I think this is just the same old weasel words of you and your cop friends, enjoying your little power trip."
"We're not quite that generous," Dave chuckled, "but if you hear us out."
She spat down, the mice skittering back as the gob of saliva crashed down where they'd been, spray thrown up into their eyes and fur.
"Alright lady," Oates yelled, his chair clattering back as he stood up, a hoof out and pointing at the bear. She looked up at him, her scowl fading away. "I think we can slip on another little charge for that somewhere, can't we? It's making for quite a fine list that you've picked up, isn't it?"
She shrugged, sitting back. "You tell me."
"Insurance fraud, conspiracy, resisting arrest, multiple assaults on an officer."
"I suppose they are so small I could have drowned the rodents, though maybe they should accept that as occupational hazard. Honestly they're asking for it."
"Bold words for a mammal in chains," Basil huffed.
"Bold words for police force relying on mice to do mammals work." Her eyes narrowed. "My husband and his mammals really did scare you. Didn't they? Showed you what real mammals could do. Showed you what the strong could do. And here you are, thinking you can scare me with them."
"Well, maybe I can scare you with the years of prison you have lined up right now," Oates said, shaking his head. "And what we can do with your boy."
Melissa smirked.
"Out after serving his sentence, for his overzealous defence of the shop you helped burn down, tragic really," the horse carried on. "Lost his father, his mother taken from him, nothing to show for anything. Though I suppose we can ensure he gets a good placement in the foster system. Some bears far away from you and what's left of the rotting whale carcass of the mafia. Drill into him right from wrong, cleave him away from your dead end path, make him learn and resent every part of how you've raised him. He'll be an entirely different cub altogether."
"Nyet," she said, trying to bring up a claw to study it. "He is a real mammal, as I am too. Honour, respect, things you'd already proven today so very well that you and your scum friends do not have. After arresting grieving widow on the day of her husband's funeral, you are already at the stage where horse like you who has whored himself out to stallions would be step up, but go on, entertain me. Just how sordid and scummy can you truly reach?"
"Ah, well," Oates smirked, leaning in. "We have uh, backchannels. And word of mouth can get around. Word in the force is that your boy handled that traumatic experience we caused rather well, it'd be a mark in his favour when he comes up for parole. Anger management and all that. Alas, retellings and all can change, bit of chinese whispers and all…"
Finally, the lawyer spoke up. "-And I will personally bear witness to this attempted intimidation and threat both in my clients defence, and at any parole hearing for the young Mr Krovstoit."
Basil looked on as he spoke, glancing up at Melissa as she idly stared in the other direction, rolling her eyes and miming some of the words he was saying. Finally, as he finished, she turned to Oates. "As if you think my boy would not take it on his chin, hmmmm?"
"-You don't care?" Dave cut in, catching the attention of all in the room.
"Things are the way they are, at least I have the grace to know that and not play pretend little one."
"I…" the portly mouse began, before his husband took over.
"So you won't even listen to our carrot against his stick?"
"What use does a bear like me have for a carrot? While for real mammals like us, sticks… -They build character."
"Right then," the lithe mouse said. "So, just throw away an early release for your boy. Throw away us looking the other way at some of the charges, all of them maybe, throw away us even letting you go back out, to the end of the wake. -They still think you're just in for questioning over a suspect in your husband's death. You could even go away with the truth to that, hmmmm…? And I'm sure you think your pride is important bu…"
"-Da," she said, "unlike you." She leant forward again, her white mass looming like a brooding supercell over him. "It seems past analogy with your horse friend was adept. You and rest of the ZPD really have no dignity." She smirked. "I think you lot enjoy taking it up under the tail."
"Oh more than you would ever know," Basil smirked back.
She gave him a disgusted look. "So tell me, are you this eager to whore yourselves out to me? Or is there something you want from me? Something equally pathetic, weak, or…"
"-Information," Basil said. "That's all. Everything you know about Rattigan, your husband's dealings with him, the whole list going down. Everything you can give, that we can filter through for puzzle pieces, scraps. So we can find him, and make him pay for what he did to this city, our mammals, your husband."
She looked at them, her face slowly curdling before she raised her nose away. "So you really do wish to whore yourself out. And you expect me to climb all in? Nyet, I would not even touch that. I feel for your mothers, I really do."
Oates chuckled. "Here, I'm guessing you're gonna want to look at these." He pulled his lips back, revealing his teeth on full display. "Better yet," he spoke through them. "Punch them out, though I can thank that chain there for stopping that."
"Are you going to lift your tail up for me too?" she snorted. "Though I'd then grab a furbrush and do what your mother should have done. By end I could hold you up at street junction and stop traffic."
"Mrs Krovstoit," Dave said, walking forward. "I understand you and your people take honour, duty, respect seriously. In many ways I admire that. I honestly do. But the key thing is, it goes both ways. If this was Big we were trying to get you to turn on I truly would understand it as, for all his evil faults, he took those tenets seriously. But Rattigan doesn't. He never has, he never will, and quite frankly by doing this for him you have your tail higher up than…"
Melissa growled, the sound echoing out like low slung thunder, the fur on all mammals in the room spiking up at the shock. Her breath huffed in and out, short and deep, teeth starting to peak out and jaw trembling like a spring snare ready to snap. She swallowed it down, paws moving up to straighten up her fur and clothes only to jolt far short at the end of their chain. She let them settle down and looked away with almost shut eyes. "Let me tell you how this goes. You ask me to whore myself out, say everything I know. I do, I give you all I know and it is a fragment of what you want. And then?" She shrugged. "You leave me inside to rot, nothing changed. And all I have done is debase myself." She stared down at them and shook her head back and forth.
"-We could arrange a set of standards," her lawyer suggested, "you give a rough idea of what you might know and we bargain something. For instance, dropping the assault charge and…"
"I know nothing," she spoke, firm and with confidence.
"Ah," Oates cut in, "says the lady who was a key part of a money laundering operation at one time, now you're telling me…"
"-In our world, the men are ones in 'the business'. Do 'the business'. And women like I? It is not in our business to get involved in that of our fathers, sons and husbands. It is not in ours to ask, to question, to sit idly by while they discuss it and to fuss or worry over it. It is their's to do. Ours to not know about. That is how it is, though I would not expect police force relying on mice to do a mammal's job to get that."
She gave a short harrumph and turned down to her lawyer. "I think we are done here. I expect they have new clothes and accommodations for me. Let what must be done, be done."
"I…" the lawyer began, only for Oates to cut in.
"You really don't like these guys, do you?" the horse asked, smirking as he gestured at the two mice detectives.
"Nyet, I just accept them as the irrelevances they are."
"Irre…!" Basil began, only to be hushed off by Dave as Oates leant in.
"Not so irrelevant given that it was their plan that got you into this mess."
Her lawyer advised her to stay quiet but Melissa spoke back. "And is it fitting that tiny mammals like them resort to something as pathetic as all this. You ZPD, you bring in simple bunnies and tricky foxes and mammals like them so small and useless they have to resort to most revulsive of tricks… And you expect me to respect that."
"Yes," Oates said, a smile growing on his face. "Just like you respected Big."
She glanced away.
"Oh, you don't like that do you? The awkward truth, huh? For all your talk about how pathetic these two mice are, how something so small is beneath your station, how you don't even owe them their weight in respect. You gave that shrew, that lil' old shrew half or less the size of these guys mountains of it, didn't you?"
"He earned it."
"Hah, say that to yourself, say that to yourself. All as you remember how it used to eat at you. Gnaw at your flesh, bones, body, your own poor little heart, here you are the largest carnivore on the planet at the beck and heel of the smallest. The weakest. Acting as if he were the one who could crush you with a single motion of the wrist."
"He earned it," she hissed.
"Ah and those two did not?" Oates asked.
"He's…" the lawyer began, only for Melissa to speak straight over him.
"-Nyet," she scoffed. "And if you think you can just, take the piss like that, be so disingenuous…"
"-And what about Rattigan, hmmm?"
"Same as Big."
"Oh really huh?" Oates asked. "I mean, you do realise that it was Rattigan who brought down Big?"
She barked out a laugh.
"No really, made counterfeit tax documents, the inspectors went in and by the time they realised that was false we'd uncovered enough dirt to make you look like one of your black cousins from the Yukon."
She mimed out a few mocking yaps, not that it stopped Oates.
"Either way, he just walked in and you all clung to that rat like a liferaft. Didn't you? All the bears who had anything going for them, skills, intelligence, those the Bigs actually respected, they were safe. But you, your husband, your family were just the crud settled down at the bottom of the barrel. And don't you know it."
"Fru Fru betray…"
"-Oh you can say anything you like about what she did," Oates scoffed. "Don't change what you did. Put all your faith in a rat."
"He earned our respect…"
Oates let out a braying laugh. "Oh really, huh! Did he respect you bears, your husband, when he sent them on a car chase that crashed up the whole downtown of Tundratown. You great bears not even able to catch a mother cussing real-life Laika!"
Her muzzle twitched. "They don't build cars like…"
"Nah, they don't thank god and you know it," Oates smirked. "What was it you said? If you think you can take the piss like that. Be so disingenuous like that… -Though I'll give Rattigan credit, that was all on you. Unlike the Kung Fu Temple. The one known for its famous firework displays. Maybe not so much the kung fu mammals but… -Honestly, anyone not half blind could see that coming. Rattigan sent your husband there expecting them to use their fists, right? Against mammals with the biggest store of gunpowder in the city and a lifetime of martial arts training? It was a slaughter. He knew what was going to happen, he…"
"He sent them in with all they needed," she hissed.
"Ah, fair enough, it was just your husband's incompetence then…"
"Shut up!"
"-Ratty had guns! Guns he didn't give them until after!"
"He was saving them for the time!"
"What time?"
"You know!" She growled, banging the table so hard the mice toppled down onto their tails. Her lawyer reached out, tried to tell her to calm down, only to get forcefully brushed aside.
"-Yeah, the big one," he smirked. "You know he stole hundreds of millions in gold bullion? Have you seen any of that huh? A sliver cut off, enough to last your family a lifetime. You lost your husband for three or four years worth of insurance money! That's it!"
"My husband died fighting like a real mammal!"
"What, against real mammals?"
"Yes, against the ruthless merciless agents your ZPD could send against him! Against the elite, sent to hunt down and slaughter as revenge after you lost. After you couldn't bear how we showed you up!"
"-You mean the jackrabbit, right?"
"What, your token bunny did not…"
"No, no!" Oates said, jumping up with a flourish. "A hare! A civilian hare! -Your great hero husband and real mammal was sent to fight by Rattigan! Sent to fight against a family of foxes with three kits, one of who'm didn't exist last year, and died trying to kill a civilian bunny!"
"DON'T YOU LIE!"
"A bunny who used to work in a theatre!"
"My husband would never let bunny shoot…!"
"-Well he didn't shoot to kill your husband!" the horse said, dropping to the floor and rifling through some files. "He died from a dropped grenade!" He jumped up and threw down a mortician's report. "His own grenade!"
"MY HUSBAND WOULD NEVER DIE LIKE THAT!"
"Tough luck, he did!" Oates yelled, slamming the paper with his hood. "Look at it!"
"I don't deba…"
"LOOK AT IT!"
She shook her head viciously, Oates laughing in response. "You don't need to, you know it's true. You just hate that I'm piercing through your pathetic curtain of denial and getting to the painful golden nugget of truth."
"Shut… Up!"
"Your husband was pathetic!"
She roared, lunging for him. The mice jumped clean off the table as the horse held up a hoof to stop anyone outside coming in.
"He was led to his death by a rat who thinks he's a mouse… -Yeah, how degenerate is that, huh? And who didn't even give him guns when he needed them. And when he did they were so bad he was killed by his own weapons while failing to kill a tiny hare!"
On she roared and bellowed, in between screaming about how Oates was a little bitch, a pathetic wimp, a coward, a piece of cuss.
"And all this time you know, you know that Rattigan is laughing on his golden throne! In his palace in the rainforest, with golden spider silk robes and jewels and…"
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP! PIECE OF WHORE'S SON! YOUR MOTHER WAS A WHORE YOU GELDED TRASH! AND WE AND RATTIGAN ARE GONNA CUSS YOU UP! HE'S GONNA MAKE YOU BEG IN FRONT OF HIS MACHINE THRONE FOR MERCY. HE'S… HE'S GONNA CRUSH YOUR HEAD ON THAT COLD METAL FLOOR! HE WILL TAKE THOSE METAL TILES OUT AND SHOVE …" She broke out into a pant.
"Metal tiles huh?" Oates asked. "What, that's what he's using the gold for…"
"They are iron, strong iron hexagons that he would take up and push down your tailhole if you did not enjoy that sort of thing! You are trash, worst trash in world, my son is ten thousand time a man than you are, your mother cries in shame every night at what a pathetic thing her son is. You… You…"
She let out another roar, then a few set more lines of curses, insults, on and on.
Eventually, she calmed down enough for Oates to ask a question. "So you do know some stuff about Rattigan, huh?"
She glared up at him. "Maybe I overhear discussion? That is all. Husband and friends discuss what or where Rattigan might be. -In fact, I tell you everything. He sat on edge of some big yellow pipe thing with lots of little pipes and valves on it, all over floor made of big metal hexagons. You see, you see all I know? You feel like big cops now?" She let out a sneering laugh. "Is your mother gonna put this up on fridge door? Chief gonna put star on star chart?"
"Nah," Oates said, stepping up and waving her away. "But I think you're going to be spending the foreseeable future, in time out." He turned to the window, winked, flashed a smirk… And a speaker up in the corner of the room fizzled a little.
-Before playing out Roger Donkey's scream from the end of 'Won't get fooled again.' '-Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww…..'
Oates folded his arms and walked out the door, grooving to the tune, the mice following on behind. Outside, they quickly made their way to the observation room. Kii Catano and Chief Bogo stood there, the latter speaking out. "I want to make this clear. Despite my attempts to stop it, someone was fast enough to fulfil Oates' rather juvenile request."
Catano's mouth hung open as she glared up. "Oh really, I… -Says the one struggling to not smirk!"
His lips struggling to not curl upwards, he looked down at her. "We at the ZPD have an image to maintain. The higher up we go, the more we have to maintain it."
"By throwing the one who actually said it was juvenile and didn't want to do it under the bus?"
Now the Chief was unable to not smirk. "Kii, sometimes I feel you're too good to be a cop. -Regardless," he turned to Oates. "At the very least, we now know that Rattigan needs an internal decorator."
"If I may…" Basil began. "-By the sound of it, he was using an industrial site or facility as a base of operations. I'm not sure there are many places that align with what she described."
"And you know some places that do?" he asked.
"Alas… No, but by both researching, and using this information on leverage on the many other bears we've caught, we might peel away more information. It's a start, at least."
"-As for her?" Catano asked, glancing back in.
"If she wants us to throw the book at her," Oates said, "then I'm afraid I'm a sucker for a fine lady, as I'm inclined to more than fulfil her request."
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"Okay, okay everyone, twenty minutes left," Carmelita said, watching on as the goods and supplies were slowly being loaded up into the private jet that Barkley had managed to hire out for them. She worked her claws into her forearm, turning back to the video screen, the badger speaking back.
"We intend for a larger squad to be deployed to the area shortly, but what with all this paperwork and stuff and getting across the Atlantic, it'll be a few days before they arrive in."
The vixen nodded. "Are they trained in air drops? If we could direct them straight into the forest…"
He shook his head. "They'll have to make whatever long trek you made too. -Though we are arranging two bats to be in the squad as well, they could offload and rendezvous immediately, assisting with your cave exploration. -You say that army fox has spelunking experience?"
"She says she has 'some', enough to tackle anything 'not too crazy'. Still likely more than anything Rattigan has."
"I suppose that's all we can ask for. See what you can do to begin with, worst case you hit a roadblock and have to wait for our two professional cavers to make the full trek up." Carmelita almost interjected that there were plenty worser cases, but held back. "I also suppose we could arrange for a supply drop to be released onto your location as they fly past, though it'd be too big for those bats to guide down directly. Still, a short trek and you'll have more shock pistols, food, medical supplies, jetpack… -I want it back."
She rolled her eyes. "At least it would cut down on what we have to bring ourselves. -Though if something were to go wrong with the drop and Rattigan's forces were to…"
"-Well that's why I'll forward you a password to unlock the box, and not set off the jetpack autodestruct system."
Carm nodded. "Though we might find the job done before any of this becomes necessary. For better, or for worse."
"Well," the badger nodded. "If what you say is serious enough, that's the way it is. -And with the news of these contra mammals moving in as potential allies, I don't think we can risk contacting local law enforcement over the issue."
"It's that bad down there?" the fox asked.
"It only takes one," the badger huffed. "And as you said yourself, surprise is your biggest advantage."
"Sí," she agreed.
"Of course I have complete confidence in you, and that you and the Zootopia law enforcement volunteers will show those military pests who the real deal is."
The vixen managed a smile. "Yes, though I wouldn't go as far as asking for an attempt to play hero and save her life or anything like that."
He nodded. "Just the one going, eh?"
"Yes, and she has good field medic training and past experience in these kinds of conditions, so I'm not going to complain."
"Ha, well, as long as the military command isn't going to thrust any of those Delta Fox pests on us and what not, all the better. Best of luck, inspector."
"Indeed," she chirped, the pair saluting as the video link closed down. Carmelita turned off the computer and packed it up, making her way over to the waiting Learpard Jet, the mammals outside starting to assemble. Lt Vixen was already there, conversing with the pilot, and turned to the approaching interpol vixen.
"Anything to report?"
"Interpol will be supplying us with additional forces and resources, due to arrive a few days after ourselves. The former will have to make the same trek we do, but the latter, and a few bats, can be airdropped down. -Either helping us, or taking out any enemies if they try and break into it."
Lt Vixen smiled. "And the kits who might find it strung up a tree and abandoned a few years after the fact?"
Carm opened her mouth to protest, before turning back down to her phone. "Point… taken."
"It's nothing personal," she said. "As I've said before, I've had experience in these villages and mountains. Seen the people around, and admittedly only fought the wildlife, but… -Regardless, if the exploration of the caves proves difficult some bats we could trust would be ideal. I was thinking of trying to see if there were any local ones we could hire in, but I don't think we need to stress over that too much." She pulled out a clipboard, signing a few things off. "-Though if we hear of a few who've explored all around it for funsies, they can add as many zeroes to our cheque as they wish for all I care."
"For as much as they'd gripe, I'm certain both Barkley and Bogo would agree with that," the inspector vixen agreed. "Good thing you've offered to pay for it."
The army fox let out a little smirk. "I have to keep your mammals in your place, after all. Indeed, I'm rather happy to say that you can notch that up another level. Command have assigned a former colleague of mine to the mission."
"Who?" Judy asked, the vixen shrugging.
"I don't know which one, but I've put out a request to the various crew I've worked with before asking if any would come on. Short notice, which makes things difficult, but any help is welcome. They uh, have an unfortunate past with interpol…" The army fox couldn't help but let her tail circle around into her paws, fussing the end of it. "But I am certain by-gones can be by-gones."
"Well," Carm groaned. "Though I'd like anyone other than one of your Delta Fox operatives, I suppose as Winthorp isn't here, it doesn't matter too much." She looked up to see a slightly confused look on the bunny's face and carried on. "-Personal assistant of mine, excellent administrative mammal, though his field record… Leaves a few things to be desired." She glanced over at Lt Vixen. "In particular, an interaction with a bunch of mercenaries attempting to supply bugged weapons to rebels in the Congo… Who, from what we gathered, had their own extensive list of organisational errors."
"Let us just say it was a rather spectacular SNAFU," Lt Vixen carried on. "Which led to multiple injured interpol mammals, which in turn led to a very capable team getting rushed through the legal system and locked up… -Until I stepped in and quite legitimately overturned their convictions."
"And I presume it'll be one of them who's joining us, right?" Murray asked, walking up as he and Tigress carried in a crate of supplies.
"I presume so, yes," Lt Vixen filled in, bringing up her paw to list off. "We have one of the deadliest pistol shots in the army, a high speed explosive expert, a panda who could more than make up for the one we've dropped in a brawl and then patch anyone else up after, a drone pilot who could probably take down Rattigan's one by himself if he caught up with it, two french mice whose penchant for sabotage can make any boat owning environmentalist break out in cold sweats, a killer one-eyed weasel, an even killer fluffy white bunny, and Simon VanDal."
"Just… Simon VanDal?" Judy asked.
"You could have a one-legged grumpy 'too old for this stuff' lateral planning challenged raccoon instead?" she smiled. "-Either way, it's very short notice but we're not going to punch a gift giving horse in the mouth, right?"
"I suppose not," Nick said, walking up. "And if you trust them, I guess…"
He paused as Lt Vixen's phone rang, the fox bringing it up and speaking in. "Uh-hu, Uh-hu, thankyou." She tucked it away. "He's here, and they've stated that they've brought a large number of supplies, in particular medical ones, with them."
"So it's the panda?" Murray asked. "Better not tell Po about it, he might get seriously jealous."
"Ah, from what I've seen of him it'd be more fanboy central," Lt Vixen said, turning away to see a minibus driving up. "Gohin Jujigun: Marksmammal, brawler, combat medic, expert on the Yak-uza crime syndicates, slaughterer of the once dreaded Shisigumi mafia in one night. While all of those are certainly impressive, I'd say that his medical expertise is probably the most important part of all of this."
The other mammals gathered around as the bus pulled up, rear doors facing them and opening them to reveal…
Nick blinked before throwing his arms out into the air. "Hey, it's Dave!"
The sheep, wool trimmed down almost to his skin, turned to face him, smirking a little, before that smirk increased as he saw the shocked looks on various mammals there, in particular Lt Vixen. Turning away from Nick, she looked back at him, straightening out her clothing. "I… -I thought you'd uh, retired."
"Yeah," he shrugged, stepping down. "But I mean after seeing the cussed up cuss that Rattigan caused, such as mass cannibalism and slaughter and the destruction of much of the inner city, all so he could destroy any sense of authority and rob everyone blind… -I left a note to some of the higher ups handling my demobilisation saying that I'd be up for sniping that rat from a distance or something." He glanced over at Judy. "I think some of you can probably attest to my sharpshooting skills."
The bunny recoiled a little, shaking her head before a look of disgust grew over her face.
"-Anyway, on one of your superiors calling back and mentioning that there was going to be a hunt for that rat in the jungle of mexigato, I thought I might fight the good fight, you know what I mean… -Any chance we can buy a latte before we take off?" He glanced at the Learpard jet, humming. "That or an M16 and an ImbRam gun."
Skye nodded, before walking up to him. "Yeah, uh… -There's a snarlbucks about fifteen minutes walk that way," she said. "You can go get one, drink it on the way back."
He paused, nodding. "Sure. And that's totally not a plan to take off without me, is it?"
Skye let out a nervous laugh, glancing off to the side as Nick walked forward. "Well, Mr Dave, I must say. I've experienced some mammals with some highly negative views of sheep, -guess it makes some sense as I've had some encounters with some sheep with highly negative views. -But yeah, thanks for coming. The more mammals we have fighting this fight the better. Come aboard, I'll even order that latte for you."
He led Doug onto the plane, everyone else staring at him, before Tigress spoke up. "I'm assuming there's something I don't know going on."
"That would be putting it mildly," Judy said, glancing at Carmelita. "You just had to jinx it, didn't you."
"Sí," the vixen said flatly. "Seems I did." All as a goat who'd been driving the van walked up.
"He's down to three standard issue ankle mounted shock units, they'll trigger if he steps outside a very broadly defined area. -Feel free to call command to adjust it, he's got a basic microphone monitoring him as before, and here are three emergency triggers if he plans to act up." He passed one each to Carmelita, Lt Vixen and Judy.
…
"So, uh…" Tigress began, as Lt Vixen turned to the others, looking just a little bit flustered.
"Not what I had planned, but still… An extra medic come experienced sharpshooter isn't the worst thing, correct?" She gave a long gaze at Carmelita, then Tigress. "And you have all had experiences with collaborating with morally questionable individuals -with vastly fewer safeguards, am I correct?"
"What exactly did Dave do?" Tigress asked again.
"Do you want the list now, or in the air?" Carmelita asked.
"Now…"
The interpol vixen nodded, turning to Lt Vixen. "And for the record, this delay to the mission is on you."
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Dr Silverfox looked out into the blackness of the room, waiting.
Waiting for that humming cat to make a move. Interact with them. Try to freak them out or something. Instead, she'd just sat on her couch, face illuminated by the bright screen of her laptop, as she'd typed and researched. On and on.
More recently she'd been laughing.
Purring.
He could almost swear she was giving him more aside glances, though he didn't rise to it.
Instead he just sat back and meditated. Knowing full well that she couldn't touch him, because she needed him. And she couldn't touch his family, as they'd be safe. Secure. Out of their reach.
"I've been making friends," she said, as he turned over to see her right next to the bars of the cell, looking at him.
"Do you think I care. If anything, I feel sorry for them. After all, look what happened to your last friends." He gestured out to the other cells, the pallas cat giggling.
"Ah, that's just a bit of tough love. Something only the best friends can give. Anyway, it's interesting to me, that you would call yourself friends with this mammal…"
She turned the screen around and his eyes widened, a shiver of fear running down him before he cut it off, at first with a rising tide of anger and then a smothering cover of calm rational thought. "Whatever your plans are with here, it's a moot point. Meaningless. My family are under protection, out of your touch. You can't harm them. You can't harm me."
"Ah, police protection. Like what you were under?"
He scoffed. "And they'll be under exactly that level of protection, and you'll be able to pull off the exact same trick you did twice in a row. You really think mammals are that stupid?"
She smiled, shaking her head. "No. I think enough of them are though," she giggled, turning and walking off, phone out as she watched the latest dik-dok video.
.
.
"So I think a lot of this criticism of this new ruling can be traced back to…" The lynx held for a moment, sharing a look with the spectacled bear sitting across from him for a second, a slight grin growing across their muzzles before the ursidae offered an answer.
Leaning forward, she gave a sneaky look as she spoke into the shared microphone. "Good old fashioned speciesism?"
They both burst into a chuckle, the lynx nodding a few times, paws twirling over each other before he carried on. "-I mean, the facts are that predators have a harder time in school, we're held to much higher standards, and we are discriminated against. And the most simple but often most painful way is when we're accused of 'threatening behaviour'." He held his paws up giving air quotes.
A flashing after effect 'THEORY' title came up over him before vanishing.
"Not that they call it that anymore," the bear said. She rolled her eyes. "It's just 'common etiquette'…"
"Uh-hu, 'being considerate'," the lynx nodded. "Though that's…"
"-When they're not being subtle?" the bear asked, the two breaking into a chuckle.
"No, no," the lynx carried on. He shuffled forward in his chair, glancing into the camera. "I think most prey mammals will just think 'hey, we're not being mean, we just don't want a pred bully going around saying they're gonna eat our children.'"
"Uh-hu," the bear said. "And I know we…" She shook her paws between the two of them. "-We all remember the first time when a prey kid got scared of us or said 'I don't wanna play, she's gonna eat me.'"
"Bunny?" the lynx asked.
"God…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "No, a… Hmmm, I think it was a porcupine…"
"Not very tasty."
She broke out into a chuckle. "Ha, ha, yeah. I mean come ooonnnnnn… -You think anyone would want to get past those spikes?"
The lynx nodded along. "Yeah, and I've heard city bunnies come up to me and say things along the lines of 'oh, well we all remember when a predator said they used to eat us'. -So, maybe there is some commonality there. But to say we just wanna let pred kits free to do that is just stupid. What we're talking about is how a predator might just 'show his teeth too much', or a teacher might say they're flashing their claws around, or making threatening sounds." He sighed a little, brow furrowing. "And I remember being told…"
"-You can't go around scaring prey mammals. Doesn't matter if you don't mean to, you have to be responsible. It's just common courtesy."
"-Uh-hu," the feline nodded. "But it's not a case of 'common courtesy'. It's a case of equity," his voice hardened as he spoke. "It's not our fault if prey mammals are scared or find these threatening…" The bear nodded along, humming in agreement. "-And the fact remains it'll be predators who have to control natural expressions, far more than prey. A bunny isn't getting detention for a binky, or a bovid for scraping their hoofs across the floor or a goat lowering his horns. But a pred smiles too much? We all know it happens, and that's wrong. So this new ruling that several school districts have put in place, banning teachers from criticising or disciplining species specific expressions, will go a long way to help this."
"-Yeah, and you know what they will say," the bear chuckled, jigging a little in her seat. "Before, it was all 'free speech' and 'facts don't care about your feelings' or 'live with it snowflake'."
The lynx laughed a few times, nodding. "Hey, sauce for the goose, am I right?"
"Yeah," she agreed. "And soon enough I think we'll look back at telling an overexcited pred kit that he's scaring poor prey mammals the same way we look back at skulk busting today."
The lynx nodded in agreement, a large section of text appearing over them. 'Skulk busting: The illegal practice by persons of authority (in education, law enforcement, caregiving etc) of preventing foxes and members of other similarly stereotyped species from socialising with each other in order to supposedly prevent them plotting, hustling or performing other stereotypical behaviours. Either directly, with enforced rules, or indirectly, via scheduling to avoid interactions between them or encouraging the affected mammals to do activities apart from each other.'
"Exactly," the lynx agreed.
The bear nodded, leaning forward. "And I think it's also worth bearing in mind, for those who talk about civility and that this is good for education… What kind of education are you talking about?"
"And that speaks to me as I used to be so proud to be this smart little school kitten, neat and tidy," the lynx said, talking on. "And only as I read up in university did I consider how much it wasn't being proud at myself, rather how proud I was to be assimilating into a Prey Supremacist system."
"And this education system," the bear said, shaking her head and giving an exasperated sigh. "If you think about it, a whole bunch of children listening on, working together, having to stand there and listen to instructions, teacher down to students without question. It's a herd mentality. A herd pedology, and is that what we really want for our children? Is that going to be preparing them for our current world?"
The lynx nodded along. "And is it fair to force pack mammals, who work best collaborating together for a shared goal, or individual mammals who independently question authority, into this model?"
"Exactly, and the majority of prey aren't herd mammals," the bear chimed in. "Again, this is this toxic preyness hurting themselves."
"Yeah," he said. "Prey need to learn, there really is nothing to fear. If anything this is going to improve their children's educational experience."
"Right on…" the bear said, leaning forward and fist bumping him.
.
And then the screen went black.
.
A new title appeared.
.
'In Practice.'
.
And it flipped to a tired looking marmot filming herself in class, flipping forward to show a tired looking camel teacher, trying to write out the various themes of 'For Whom the Bellwether Toles' and narrating them.
Not that that was what the student was hearing.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO….."
"AWWWWOOOOWWOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"AWWWwwwoooOOOoowWWWwwwoooOOOOOWWWWooooWWWooowowowowow….!"
At which point the student filming it all turned her camera back to reveal four wolves sitting behind her, howling their tails off.
"AAAAAWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOO!"
"WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY!"
The wolves turned to see a squirrel student standing up and glaring at them, fur all spiked up.
They just looked at each other, giggling, and…
"AAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"
The squirrel collapsed forward, huffing in and out, as the camel teacher turned up. "I'm sorry, I know that… -Our learning environment has undergone some changes…"
"-Are you going to tell me to shut up?"
"Just…" the camel gestured her hoof down.
"They're making it impossible!" the squirrel yelled, jabbing her finger at the wolves as they went onto another round of howls. "Make them shut up! Get them out…"
"-Due to teaching rules, we're not allowed to discriminate against species speci…"
"-Discriminate? They're trying to deafen us!"
"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do," the teacher said, turning and leaving the squirrel before she could even give a reply. Instead, the small rodent turned and collapsed against her desk, the marmot filming it all turning the camera to her own face and rolling her eyes…
"-AHHH!"
The camera suddenly turned to show the squirrel leaping up, limbs spinning around in the air, as one of the wolves pulled himself back from his stealthy tooth and claw bearing lunge at her. The wolves jumped back and began howling with laughter, banging their desks as the teacher walked over. "Okay, that was pushing the…"
"WHAT THE CUSS IS WRONG WITH YOU YOU STUPID MUTTS! DO YOU ENJOY GIVING US HEART ATTACKS OR DO YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO EAT US OR…"
"-SANDRA!"
The room went quiet as the squirrel turned to look over at the camel in charge. The teacher looked more tired than anything. "We have a zero tolerance policy on predation accusations, can…"
"-WHAT?" the squirrel asked, her eyes beginning to water, all as the wolves began to laugh, giving celebration howls. "I…"
"If you just apologise…"
"-ME! APOLOGISE!" the squirrel began to yell.
"Just please…" the teacher began, sighing. "I…"
"NO!" the squirrel yelled, as the wolves began jeering and laughing. "I'm not…"
"-Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave the classroom…"
Excited celebration howls yelled out as the squirrel student began having a meltdown, yelling about how unfair it was and how she was the victim, the teacher saying that it was school policy and she needed to go outside and think about what she'd done…
-Finally, with a huff, the squirrel jumped off the desk, the wolf howling reaching a crescendo, and carrying on even as the other student left the room.
The dik-dok logo and tune played and two paws quickly worked away. Linking to an o(X) account, posting the video and adding a new title. 'School bans teachers from disciplining 'species specific behaviours' for equity. Then what everyone knew would happen happened.'
And woosh, it was off, paws looking through new links.
She soon found one, opening up Dik-Dok once more.
.
A group of foxes in a school were filming themselves, giggling as they walked up to a hedgehog. "Hey," one of them asked. "How was city hall?"
The student glanced up, then began walking away, the foxes starting to follow on. "-Just asking, I thought you guys tended to be flat."
"Squish…" one of the others said, the trio giggling.
"-Hey…" All eyes turned to a prefect, walking over. "Come on, leave him…"
"-You skulk busting us!" one of the foxes yelled.
"Yeah!" another added.
"That's illegal," the filming mammal said, the three walking towards the larger mammals.
"Speciesist!"
"We can get you expelled for that."
"Cuss head!"
The prefect mammal threw his paws up, slowly backing away, the foxes crowding around the camera and giggling. "-Works every time," one of them said, paw held up in a proud fist.
"Remember guys, don't let them skulk bust us!"
They cheered, before taking off against the hedgehog once more.
The Dik-Dok video stopped, paws quickly linking it to a new post, titled as 'Foxes advise others to use Skulk-Busting accusations to get away with bullying.'
The phone briefly went down, the mammal tapping her foot on the floor.
Waiting.
Waiting…
Before sighing, eagerly picking the phone up again and opening up a recommendation from one of her followers.
.
"If you see a fox or mink or something out hustling, I don't care if you think it's wrong or something," the coyote girl spoke, glancing down at her phone as she walked around. "The whole idea that 'hustling', or taking money from overconfident, wealth hoarding, mammals, is a bad thing… Is nothing but a social construct designed to discriminate against the legitimate ways of life of other species." She turned around the corner, raising her phone up high and looking up into it. "These species evolved these tactics to survive over millennia, taking leftovers from bigger pred kills and adapting that into new methods of survival in a world of capitalism, just as every other species has had to adapt to survive being forced into this. -You don't get to say this is any less legitimate than any other way of survival, or culture, because that's just speciesism. You hate the hustling as foxes do it, not foxes as they're hustlers. If you don't like it, maybe try and fight the system instead, not the legitimate culture of those who've been forced to adapt to it…" She made a twerky motion before flipping a peace sign, the video cutting off and the Dik-Dok logo flashing up.
"Seriously," the mammal watching it muttered, quickly pulling away from the messenger who'd sent her this gem. She quickly pulled up her main (o)X profile and got to work, first linking the video in. Then posting the title 'Coyote says you have to put up with foxes hustling as it's part of their culture, and you're a bigot if you think otherwise.'
.
And with that she turned the phone off, looking up and waiting. It shouldn't be taking that long to…
"Apologies," the red duiker spoke, walking in and sitting down. "I was just receiving some new news about a different case. Anyway, I'm certain you'd like to get on to your one, am I correct?"
"Yes I am," the serval spoke, putting her phone down and watching as the small antelope set everything out.
"First off," he said, looking up. "I must strongly advise you to limit your current output on social media…"
"-Why?" she asked. "I post under a pseudonym, don't I?"
"Yes," he said, glancing down. 'Dik-Dok Fox Watch' if I'm not mistaken."
"Yes, and not Sarah Sarrahson," the serval replied. "So I don't see what the point is here unless I get doxxed, in which case I would be the victim, would I not?"
He glanced at her, hooves coming together. "Question, what if on the stand the prosecution asks you if you are the author of this media account?"
"And how would they…"
"-Just…" he huffed, "-entertain me, for the moment, please."
She shrugged. "I would object. Are my (o)X posts on trial here?"
"I would back that up, the prosecution would say it is critical to establishing the defendant's character, the judge would agree with that notion, so… Are you the author of that social media account?"
"If by that do you mean I take things members and advocates of a certain set of species say and then repost them verbatim online for people to draw their own conclusions from, the answer would be correct. Yes."
He nodded. "At which point the defence would have established that you, someone accused of organising a prison attack on a member of such a species after they were ruled innocent of the crime they were suspected of, own a speciesist social media account that specifically targets that species in its title."
Sarrahson looked aghast for a second before her conviction firmed up. "Did you hear what I just said? Repost, verbatim. I merely take what they believe out of their echo chamber, so ordinary mammals can get a view of what they think of themselves and others behind closed doors. My only crime is showing a mirror to them and in turn, for showcasing the truth, I am accused of being a speciesist. No?"
He sighed. "Well, the jury won't see it like that."
"So I should lie to them? I thought that wasn't allowed. Isn't that called perjury, hmmmm? I thought we were here for truth and justice. Do they even matter any more?"
He sighed. "It's not that simple."
"Oh really?"
Looking up to her, he thought for a second. "Do you want the long version or the short?"
She tilted her head for a moment, thinking, before crossing her arms and leaning forward. "Well, with what I'm paying I'd like my money's worth. Long version. Please."
He looked up at her for a second before leaning back in his chair, glancing away. "Following the end of the Second World War and both witnessing its unequal horror and having the fact that, had they not fled their country, they would have almost certainly have been subjected to the very worst of it weighing heavily on their minds, a group of German philosophers who'd previously studied lines of thought descended from Kantichen and Barx strove to create a new philosophy. One engineered to prevent such horrors from ever occurring again. Previously, philosophy in the aftermath of 'The Death of God' had focussed on finding new meaning for mammality, mainly in the pursuit of a new ultimate truth or the perfection of mammal kind. However, believing this to be a central cause of the horrors the world had just witnessed, the Frankpferd school as they were known proposed the antithesis: There is no perfection, there is no ultimate truth. Rather, truth itself is subjective, with everyone having a valid viewpoint."
"-And what?" Sarrahson scoffed. "Let me guess, does this mean 'hustling' is a legitimate cultural expression and I'm a bigot for not approving of it?"
He sighed, raising a hoof. "The school of thought was designed to create an open house of ideas, though it soon formed a canon so to speak, a central thesis and direction that moulded it going forward. At first, if everything is a social construct, then all social norms are valid to be analysed, critiqued, deconstructed. Nothing is sacred be it the institution of marriage, the class system, species, legitimacy of work… -The age of consent. Many take this further, if everything is a social construct then surely someone must have created that social construct to put themselves at an advantage. Ergo, it becomes an inherent moral good to deconstruct and subvert them for deconstruction and subversions sake. There are many valid criticisms of this school of thought and its creators, in particular their either accidental or willful blindness of left-wing totalitarianism despite it controlling half the planet at that point in time, or their belief that their side would never be able to deconstruct too far, as it were. Maybe they believed that common sense would always win out and they didn't need to include a formalised backstop or devil's advocate, or maybe they simply didn't believe there was a 'too far'. Regardless, when all social constructs and unequal differences are viewed as methods or results of oppression by a small tyrannical minority, it follows that any defence of such, however logical and well thought out, is merely supporting oppression and ergo morally compromised and invalid from the start. And, ergo, so is whoever is doing the defending."
"So you're saying the answer is yes," Sarah said, rolling her eyes and glaring down. "Do you just want to give me the confession form here and skip the kangaroo court?"
He sighed. "The many knowing or unknowing followers of this school of thought, in many areas of academia and culture but also filtering down to many normal mammals, hold a simple view. Rather than truth being the highest ideal, and justice having to bend to it, justice is the highest ideal and truth must bend to it. While at first it sounds entirely wrong, in the field as it were it is entirely understandable and speaks to the sense of justice and empathy held within each and every mammal. Such as the critics of your account, who do not care that you highlight 'truthful' statements because to them that is a non-factor compared to the social injustice you are creating against foxes, a biased against species, at large."
"And why should I care what those mammals think?" she asked, scoffing.
"You shouldn't… In many cases it's a deeply flawed viewpoint and I would say that people should not be afraid to call it out or defy its advocates. -As long as you understand that to many mammals you naturally come across as a bigoted asshole, a high level cusswad, a total jerk, a piece of cuss, a thoroughly nasty irritable self righteous twat and a downright awful sadistic bullying specimen of non-mamamlity who the world would be vastly better off without."
She glared at him across the desk. "And does that include you?"
"Just legal advice," he said. "What mammals think of you."
She looked away, grumbling a little. "What was the short version."
"That you're a total cuss."
She recoiled back in shock, rage growing over her voice as the lawyer nudged his seat back a little, glancing between her and the door. Only for her rage to turn down, merely boiling away. "And why the cuss should I care what they think?"
"Again, you shouldn't, you should care what the fourteen mammals on the jury think," he pressed, leaning in.
"The ones there to find the truth?" she asked.
"The ones there judging you in the most important popularity contest of your life Mrs Sarrahson. Don't ever think that that's not what it is, and right now were you on the stand you would be losing it spectacularly, believe you me."
"What, for standing for the truth?" She crossed her paws. "Facts don't care about feelings."
"Facts such as the fact your previous account told over ten-thousand mammals to take on the ZPD and march on city hall to fight the vulpine conspiracy, leading many mammals to their deaths," the lawyer spoke. "I don't care if you were duped, this city is angry and they want justice against the ones behind that, and many will count you in there. They're hungry for the criminal mastermind, and one of his useful idiots would be a very tasty appetiser. And that's certainly not helped by the fact you are still at it! Even now you've tried to cast doubt on the evidence that the whole uprising was a massive disinformation campaign run by a deadly mammal, and instead deliberately spread lies and misinformation that it's a plot by the ZPD and a group of foxes in powerful places…"
Sarah threw her paws into the air. "So I'm guilty for pointing out that one of the 'kits' shown in the expose video is clearly the same fox who helped bust Bellwether dressed up as a maned wolf cub!?"
"Oh for gods…" the lawyer said, facehoofing. "Stop lying…"
"I ran it through facial recognition technology," she said, switching to an overly exaggerated voice. "But noooo… It's something clearly proven to be dangerous disinformation. -It's dangerous alright, but it's just information. Just like the fact this whole thing wouldn't have occurred without ZNN, which is run by an arctic fox, and had a bunch of foxes burst through and interrupt a newscast earlier that day!"
"If you spout those lies in a courtroom…"
"They're not…"
"YES THEY ARE!"
Sarah scoffed. "Ah, of course they are, they go against 'justice' don't they?"
"No," the lawyer groaned, glaring at her. "Not in this case. Nick Wilde did not dress up as a kit, ZNN was not in on it, ZNN did not have a bunch of foxes burst into a newscast…"
"I've SEEN the video, do you want to see it?"
"Quite frankly I've seen enough," he hissed. "Mammals attacking the seat of our democracy in a coup, mass slaughter on the streets, chaos, death, things that make me feel sick. And mammals lying and profiting about it, so no. I'm not going to watch your latest video…"
"Because of course you can't," she smiled. "The truth? You can't handle the truth!"
"And what part of uncovering the truth did organising a bunch of convicts and teen sex criminals to perform a hate crime on a cleared and innocent fox, using a younger mammal as a hostage, reveal!? Huh, answer me that!? Give me an answer before you have to give the prosecutor one."
Sarah looked at him, blinking, before shrugging. "Well, maybe that's just a case where justice won out over truth, wasn't it. As you said, it's an entirely legitimate philosophical view."
The duiker sighed, shaking his head.
"Besides," she said. "What proof do they have, huh? They have to prove the truth, there's nothing…"
"Two mammals already convicted and having made a deal to provide testimony against you."
"-And what if they're lying, they're convicted criminals and wouldn't care about coming up with some made up story saying I was behind it all for a reduced sentence."
"Both were interviewed and recounted their stories separately, both lined up," the small antelope said.
"They conspired to come up with it together, beforepaw," Sarah said. "A conspiracy to cover their tails. For all you know it was a different guard or administrator, with something against both the fox and me. Two birds one stone, right? Heck, it makes sense. Correctional Officers usually never turn against each other, have each other's backs, how often have you heard it that they cover each other for crimes. Instead here you have them cut off any support for me, refuse any help or legal advice, send… -Send family members of other guards in to the cops with supposed 'confessions' that I made. For all you know it was an impersonator, or AI. I mean think about it, why would they not only drop me so completely, but send their own against me on behalf of an ex-con!"
The red duiker slammed his hooves against the desk. "Maybe because you decided to quit after leading the shivering traumatised youth to his father right after the event, and then made a whole 'I'm the real victim here' speech about it. I mean that's certainly going to come up in the trial. Why the hell did you do that, huh? You could have been on the other side of the prison, you could have just left him alone or just never seen it and then there'd be no connection, no nothing. But no, you wanted to see your handiwork and make some big, grand, statement about it. You wanted your hero moment, and everyone else saw it for what it really was."
"Do you want to know why I quit?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her. "Because I knew the way the wind was blowing. Because I knew, and I had my dignity and pride."
"Sure," he said, shrugging. "Sure. But I'd just like to say, again. Your social media posts haven't been discovered yet. But one mammal finding out, one question at witness stand, one judges warrant, and that could be the weight that breaks the very thin ice you're skating on. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," she said, as they moved on to other matters.
Over the next hour or so, they made limited progress, with Sarah asking on a number of occasions if he was actively opposing her and wanted her to get in trouble, and him replying that the best hope for least harm was to admit to some level of responsibility, take some punishment on the chin and grab a level of leniency by showing regret and remorse for her actions.
Something which she refused point blank to do for, even if she had done such actions, she had done nothing wrong with them.
Eventually, the meeting ended, Sarah Sarrahson leaving the office and making her way to her car. As she did so, her paw reached down to pick up her phone, pawpad gliding along as she looked at some of the replies and messages she'd received. Most were positive, applauding her for helping bring this to light. Others though were aggressive, angry, stating she was a hateful mammal, or a liar…
She bristled at that last one, especially as her eyes moved down and fixed on a small comment thread underneath the 'skulk-busting' video.
'How much is she getting for posting these lies day in day out?'
To which one of her own followers had replied. 'Lies as in posting the stuff your side is literally saying?'
'It's all lies you idiot. Made up. Maybe try showing a basic level of decency for once.'
To which another of her followers replied. 'They made videos of themselves and posted it online. You're just upset the people who weren't suppose to see it saw it.'
And then she smiled as the critic posted. 'Why would they make a video of themselves confessing to it! You're so stupid, I don't feel bad knowing you're not a real person. Do you know you're not a real person?'
She didn't bring up that last comment, or the posters blatant denial, or the insinuation that literally everything she posted was made up or staged and just part of this whole big bad conspiracy of his. She shook her head, that would be stupid. Stupid on the next level.
But, rather than typing out any long argument that they'd gloss over or ignore or just retort with 'of course you'd say that' or 'you don't get it' or anything else…
She linked in to a small Gif image, a subtitled scene from a decade or so old film that answered that question perfectly. Two deer bucks in their mid-twenties were smiling, antler tapping each other at what they thought was a sale well done, all as three mammals left the room. Their leader, a caracal, turned to the other two smaller mammals and asked a simple question. "I don't get it, why are they confessing?"
"They're not confessing," the first answered, shaking his head as his partner finished it off.
"They're bragging."
The camera turned to the caracal, the cross-armed feline looking at them and then silently clocking it, one last glance returned to the celebrating deer bucks.
And with that, she posted it, turning forward and walking on.
As she did so, she looked around at the city, the mammals. She thought on. All she was trying to do was defend them, bring to light what everyone knew, and yet so many were so wedded to this idea of justice that they would literally deny what they saw right in front of them.
It made her heart quiver just a bit, her paw pushing her phone back into her pocket as she focussed on her breathing. It didn't matter if she confessed or plead mercy, did it? She was a thorn in her side, a roadbump on the way to their brave new world. They wanted to rewrite everything, and because she didn't want that she was the enemy. Her fate would be the same if she submitted or fought to the end.
In which case it was win or lose, and she was going to keep on trying to win. For her family. For Zootopia. And nobody was going to convince her otherwise.
Close to an hour later she pulled up at her home outside the city. Her kittens were out at various social clubs and such, her husband at work, so she settled down in front of the television, relaxing back and trying to clear her head a little. Phone out, she began to scroll through dik-dok again, throwing her head back and groaning as they recommended shorts from this stupid predator comedy troupe again. As if she wanted to watch some insane foreign mink with terminal main character syndrome painting all predators with the worst brush possible and then others jumping in to say how insightful or…
With a start the phone buzzed to life, dancing in her paw as she struggled to catch it before answering it. "Hello?"
"Hello," came the voice from the other end. "I'm a friend. Don't…"
Pulling the phone back, the serval gave it a suspicious look as she hung up, quickly opening a recording app and then phoning back. "Sorry there," she answered. "Just a loss of signal, it's not very good where I live."
"Uh-hu," the voice answered. "I don't blame you for wanting to record this, with how things are it makes perfect sense to defend yourself."
Sarah's ears pulled back.
"-You can say the literal truth and mammals will denounce you as the biggest liar there is, who knows what damage an out of context speech snippet or well isolated soundbite can do."
The cat stood up, looking around, before slowly moving away from the windows. Closer inside, ready to get up the stairs to higher ground. Just in case. "Who are you?"
"Someone who knows you are closer to the truth than anyone else. About the real fight going on behind this city." She paused. "Everyone acts as if the whole riot thing was a conspiracy by Rattigan, a distraction, and the elites and everyone are innocent. They've convinced mammals so hard that they don't even want to think about the things that don't make sense."
"Like how someone just today denied that that whole thing with the foxes breaking into the ZNN news room on the day of the riot even happened. To my face. While calling me a liar."
The line was quiet for a second before the voice returned, sounding…Happy? Proud? Relieved? "Hook line and sinker. It's amazing what some mammals can convince themselves of, isn't it."
Sarah nodded. "Oh yes, believe you me."
"Oh I most certainly do," the voice agreed. "You see… What Rattigan, the real Rattigan, had found was the truth. The same truth present in the Lotor case back in Vancouver. Given how they covered that up and slurred or vanished anyone following on, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know…"
"-Wait," the serval asked. "Wasn't that the beaver PI who…"
"-Discovered evidence of an illegal meat market, serving food to both pred and prey elites, as a status symbol? The one where he vanished, only to be discovered weeks later outside the city, dead, some kind of horrible tumour fused to his backbone. The one where they went after his friends, family, supporters, the widowed otter client whose husband had vanished, the owner of the nightclub it happened in, Lotor's fox girlfriend… -Species does not matter when you step outside the tribe, does it? The worst punishments are always reserved for those species traitors who dare act with their conscience."
Sarah nodded. "That's… that's what they're doing, it's illegal meat, cannibalism…"
"Always was," the voice answered back. "It's not a pred prey thing, as I said. And if anything it's worse for predators. From what we gather Bellwether discovered some of this and thought it was a pred only thing. Hence the howler crisis. Not that it'd have worked, those preds in the club were insulated from her actions, and all were ready to take her down if she started to get too close to the bone." She sighed. "It truly is in our best interest as carnivores to shut this down, to stop it creating new Bellwethers, yet the abuse I've received, that I'm some pet cat of these prey elites and hate myself… Well, as I said, the worst punishments are always reserved for species traitors… -I'd like to see the look on some of their faces when they're the ones in the cage, carried over to the chopping block as pred and prey look on, sharpening the axe."
"And Rattigan? You said there was a real one."
"There is," she sighed, "he was getting close. Enough evidence to go to the police, to the sites… He was hidden, so they couldn't go after him like they did Lotor. So they went after his reputation instead."
Sarah's eyes widened. "You mean, the one on the screen…"
"Of course it was a fake! How could a rat hiding out in the sewers and such hijack the ZNN PA system. I mean, they wanted you to think that, hence paying the uncle of the Anonymous Vulpine…"
"Kristofferson," she said. "His name is Kristofferson Silverfox."
"Right, of course," the voice said. "Hence paying him, some other actors, included the adopted skunk son of the owner of the company to make it look like that was when they hacked the system or whatever. All setting it up."
Sarah nodded intently. "So, wait… -Was that fox always in on the plan? Was that why they cussing mobilised the whole city to rescue a single fox kit who was caught purple cussing pawed!?"
"Yes and no," the voice sighed. "You have your pads on the pulse. That fox, Frederick Fox, by day was a lowtime newspaper writer and part-time pest controller slash hunter. Birds and stuff, only there was far more to it than that. In reality, he was one of their key meat suppliers."
Sarah's ears pulled back. "No way…"
"Yes. He had this historic house carved out of a tree, with a secret smuggling tunnel linking it with the Nocturnal District. That's how they moved the goods around. Go there if you want, Rattigan, the real one, was able to call a few allies and they tried to use the cover of the riots against those who'd set it up. Dig out the tree, capture them, only they escaped out of the tunnel." She sighed. "They're in witness protection, right now."
"So let me get this straight," the serval began, a finger in front of her tracing things out as she thought aloud. "Rattigan, the real one, was getting too close to the evidence. There were also plenty of mammals picking up on the leaks, getting organised. The powers that be knew that were it to come out, were those mammals and those in the ZPD to unite then the bad guys would have had it. -So they made their own fake exposee and released it early, trigger the uprising but send it against the ZPD, who they'd framed."
"Exactly," the voice said, Sarah imagining a paw clenching with excitement. "You've got it in one. Once they framed Bogo, and released a video setting him up, with help from Officers like Nick not a maned wolf…"
"-I knew it!"
"Of course you did," the mammal on the other end chuckled. "Regardless, they divided and conquered, made their potential enemies attack each other while they, and their fake actors and their supporters, laughed their tails off until to the end. And now? They've won, most mammals are so shaken up by the horror they saw they just shut down and accept the official narrative as it's easier. They've been trained to hate and feel disgust behind those who rose up to try and save innocent kids from being kept as sex slaves. All while mammals, adults and kids and pred and prey still go missing, still get taken away in the middle of the night, still find themselves auctioned off in front of predator and prey for millions, shivering in terror as a goat tests how firm their calves are and a wolf licks their skin and a lechwe jokes about living up to his species' reputation and trying their liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti."
Wiping her paw down her face, Sarrahson bared her teeth. "What can we do?"
"There is one ray of light," she continued. "There are plenty of other things such elite mammals are interested in, many of their beliefs trace back to secret societies spanning across thousands of years. Or rather, they like to piece and smash together whatever they can to create that impression. Evidence of ancient texts, records, etcetera. From Egypt to Babylon, the Mayan jungle to the heights of the Andes in Reino Del Sol… Building them together to create their own version of history, their own heritage. All to inflate their own ego's, and to become the official truth when the time is finally right."
"-They'd need mammals to do that. Silverfox's father was an academic, right?"
"Oh yes," the voice agreed. "Studying species specific languages, in particular in Asia Minor. Efrafan hares, a breed bred for war, battle, with their own language and culture, their own long tradition of supplementing their diet with meat, often rioting when laws were passed banning prey from eating pred food. -But even they had those who were too extreme for them. Who they warred to destroy, to burn off the face of the earth. The devil worshipers of Niedelienes. Guess where a lot of Dr William Silverfox's early work was based?"
"They're all in on it…"
"Indeed," the voice agreed. "We managed to catch him. We have him. But he's tight lipped. We think the only way we could get him to speak is with his son under threat. That son and the rest of the family are in witness protection as we speak. We need to bust them out, steal their prized meat smuggler, and use the other guilty family members as leverage to get their corrupt academic to speak."
"And you need me to help," she agreed. "To finally bring them to justice. I just have two questions."
"Which are?"
"What's your name?"
"Felicity. Felicity Pawker. The one who they've labelled as a cannibal. You can tell they're projecting, can't you?"
"Oh yes."
"And two?"
Sarah smiled. "Where do I start?