Chapter Text
The fluorescent lights buzzed endlessly like a swarm of lazy bees as they shone their sterile luminescence over the room, reflecting off the dull green concrete walls, tinting the morose koala’s fur with a sickly pallor.
“I’m going to die in here,” Melvin Qantas croaked from the other side of the wired glass window, cradling a black phone handset by his head.
“You don’t know that,” Seth sat on the opposite side, holding his own handset. It had been a while since he last visited his former colleague, and the harshness of prison life was clearly taking its toll on him. The friendly and affable police officer he once knew was now an emotional wreck; the fur around his eyes were wet and matted; his movements were small and trembling. And while he didn’t resemble the mammal he knew, there was still something uncomfortably familiar that weighed on Seth’s mind. “Have you talked to your lawyer about the plea--”
“They’re all dead, Seth,” Qantas cut him off. “The plea is off the table.”
“What?”
“Got the news yesterday. Cherry, the last of them, she, ah…” Qantas’ mouth shifted and yawed wordlessly for a moment, trying to recollect his voice. “She was stabbed by a bunch of prey supremacists over in the female ward.” His eyes darted briefly away from their fixation on the floor to glance at Seth. “During lunch. Apparently.”
“Christ,” Seth rubbed his brow in disbelief. “First Codler, then Maria… There isn’t anything else you could give them? Anything at all?”
No reply came back from the other side; he just sat there in his prison jumpsuit, looking lifeless and lost.
“Well maybe we can get you a better lawyer. Someone from my dad’s parish. If they can convince the court you were coerced--”
“No,” Qantas finally spoke up. “There’s nothing left to try. Just… Just forget about me.” Without another word, he hung up the handset and mouthed to the guard that he was finished with his visitation. Seth just helplessly sat there; watching as Qantas was slowly escorted away and disappeared behind a green metal door.
As he walked back through the prison’s halls the chain of events that followed the drug bust rumbled around in his mind like indigestible thoughts. It had felt like things should have been simpler; Qantas would have given the District Attorney any evidence and testimony necessary to put away Codler and the remaining two sisters, and he’d walk away a free mammal. Sure, his career would have been over, but he’d still get to be with his family.
So how did things go so wrong?
“Excuse me sir, but you need to sign out.”
He stopped in his tracks and turned to see a badger prison guard standing behind a counter, holding up a pen with an impassively dour look on his face. Seth had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly walked past the visitor’s desk without marking his departure in the ledger. Uttering a quick apology, he trotted up to retrieve the pen that was aloofly offered to him and proceeded to sign his name and time of exit next to where he had clocked in earlier. Glancing over the preceding names on the page, he noticed that a Matilda Qantas had visited a few hours earlier.
Melvin’s wife.
Seth sucked on his teeth, now understanding just how shook up the poor koala really was. It must’ve been painful to tell her the news; to say that he may never see their child outside these concrete walls. Handing back the pen, Seth cursed himself internally for coming here and rubbing salt in an open wound with his weak optimism.
It wasn’t fair. Codler should’ve been the one locked away here, not Qantas. Instead they found the coyote dangling in his holding cell, wearing a noose made from his own shirt. It didn’t matter if he did it out of shame or fear; he took the coward’s way out and left Qantas high and dry.
When he finally made his way out the prison doors and stepped back into the open air, he took a long, deep breath, clearing out the stale oxygen that had filled his lungs. To his right was the prison yard, where various mammals in orange jumpsuits casually played catch behind tall wire fencing. In front of him was an expansive parking lot, barely filled with the few cars that the prison staff took to work. Past the desolate blacktop was the sheltered bus stop that he had arrived at earlier. Seth’s visit was cut shorter than he had expected, and there wasn’t any rush to meet the next bus, so he just casually strolled along the path that ran parallel to the gated yard, allowing himself to retreat back to his contemplation as the chatter of the inmates blended together into a white noise of voices. Like oil, the news of Cherry’s death continued to sit on the surface of his thoughts.
Cherry Capek. Last of the Capek sisters.
It was strange. He hadn’t known they were sisters, let alone named Capek, until it came up during a conversation with Detective Atkins a week after the incident at the warehouse. That fateful evening he had crossed paths with them for the first and last time made such an impact on their lives, and yet he barely knew a thing about them. How can you sign someone’s death warrant without even knowing their full name?
Sure, it was easy to say he didn’t kill them personally; that it was Codler who killed Pris, Cherry who killed Maria, and convicts who killed Cherry. But there was still this sour pit in his gut that said the three of them would have been alive today if he didn’t climb that pipe. If he had only walked away and reported his suspicions to Atkins, maybe he wouldn’t have had all this collateral damage weighing on his mind. But maybe Atkins wouldn’t have listened, and Marlon Atria’s murder would have gone unsolved. How could he feel like he did both the right thing and the wrong? Still walking along the fence, Seth shook his head, wondering if this was the sort of Catholic guilt that Father Sekakwa warned him about when he was young.
“Hey Trevor, over here!”
The sound of the name cut through the air, severing Seth from his introspective trance and stopping him dead in his tracks.
Trevor.
It was only a name, but he already felt his stomach turning and his body trembling, just from hearing it.
Trevor.
Seth found himself gripping his left forearm; his paw tightly wrapped around the scar tissue. He knew there was a chance that— No, it must’ve just been a coincidence. Another inmate with the same name. Not him.
Not Trevor.
Air went in and out of his nose in fits as he struggled to face the prison yard. Every fibre of his instincts told him to look away and run, but he had to know, he had to prove that it wasn’t him. That it was some other mammal.
And there he was.
Standing at the far end of the yard, with his back to Seth, was a fox in an orange jumpsuit. His fur was red like fire. Seth could feel those flames burning the bare marks that littered his body. But still he kept his feet firm on the ground, insisting that it was all in his head. Just another fox. Not him.
Not him.
Stoutwell deeply wished it was true, but that hope was all for naught when the fox turned his head. He wasn’t looking in Seth’s direction, but he didn’t have to for him to see his eyes.
His cruel yellow eyes.
They sat in his skull like two amber orbs, and glimmered as he grinned at some joke one of the inmates was telling. His thin black lips peeled back, revealing a row of jagged teeth, and his jaw hinged open, unleashing a burst of piercing laughter. Every little shrill chortle that erupted from his mouth dug deep into Seth, and wrenched out painful memories that tore at his resolve.
Everything was spinning, and he couldn’t take another moment of it. His feet loosened from the concrete path, as if some great magnet finally lost its grip on him, and he dashed as quickly as he could across the parking lot, heading towards the bus stop. Towards an escape.
He was barely halfway there when his legs buckled and wobbled out of control, sending him teetering from side to side like some terrified drunk running for his life. The panic attack was immeasurable; the entire city felt like it was rolling over him, and his insides tumbled with it. His lumbering sprint came to a sudden halt when his shoulder collided with the sign post that marked the bus stop, but the contents of his stomach still stampeded onwards and upwards. Bile and undigested food flooded his mouth and burst out, splattering an indescribable pigment onto the pavement.
He hadn’t experienced an attack this strong in almost a year, and it felt like none of his safety nets could help.
Not his verbal exercises.
Not even his pills.
He just clutched to the post like a crutch, with his tail wrapped around his body and his eyes held tight; trying to wish away this spectre from his past, but instead his prayers were answered by the approaching rumble of a car. His cracked an eye open and saw a taxi idling in front of him; the pig behind the wheel gave him an impatient look.
“Hey buddy, you need to get somewhere, or what?”
Seth loosened his hold on the post and nodded as he wiped the remaining sick from his muzzle with the back of his paw. “Yeah, uh… Riverside station.”
The cabbie seemed to consider it for a moment and then jerked his head to the side, beckoning him over. “Alright, hop in. But don’t think you can go making a mess in my cab, comprende?” The last part was punctuated by an accusatory jab of a hoofed finger.
So Stoutwell did as he was told, and hopped in, not looking back at the prison, content in knowing that it was growing ever more distant from him as the cab drove away, leaving behind a fox that he’d rather not know.
Later that evening, Seth found himself standing on the stoop of a brownstone townhouse, knocking on the door for the second time, hoping to be heard over the loud music that was thumping through the walls and out onto the street. As he waited, he blew hot breath into his cupped paws, trying to stay warm in the cold Tundratown breeze.
Growing impatient, Seth raised his paw to give a third knock, but ended up batting at air, as the door finally swung open, basking him in a cacophony of noise. Holding open the door was a casually dressed brown wolf who didn’t seem to notice Seth standing there. He craned his head left and right before finally looking down to see the raccoon in front of him. The look on the wolf’s face was not very friendly, to say the least.
“H-hey, I’m--”
“Fuck off,” the wolf snarled, and slammed the door in his face. Seth was caught a little off guard by the poor reception and was still sorting out what he should do next, when his ears picked up a muffled conversation on the other side. It wasn’t easy to make it all out, but it sounded like someone asked the wolf who was at the door. He then heard the wolf say something dismissive and specist about raccoons, followed by a sharp, pained yelp. The door suddenly swung back open, this time by a grey wolf in a blue tracksuit.
“Hey! Seth! Kak dela?” The grey wolf had a mile wide grin and reeked of beer. “Yorgi said you were coming. Glad you could make it! Come. Come!” He ushered Seth inside, where other various wolves stood around, drinking and chatting with each other. Seth spotted the brown one among the party guests, looking embarrassed with his tail between his legs and a paw rubbing his sore snout. “Don’t mind Bartosz,” he said with a chuckle. “He’s new, and stupid. Hey, Bartosz, apologize to Seth!”
“Sorry Seth,” Bartosz mumbled.
“Heh. It’s okay,” Seth felt a little sorry for him; nothing worse than being the wolf who gets disciplined in front of the pack. “Hey, uh, Mikhail, where’s Yorgi?” he asked the grey wolf. He rarely visited Yorgi’s place without being immediately scooped up and molested by him, so his absence was unusual.
“Ehh… He’s, how you say, preoccupied at the moment.” As if on cue, a loud, feminine moan came from the second floor. “Speaking of which,” Mikhail guided Seth over to a few wolves who were loitering by the stairs, “Vladek was just telling us about a ewe he hooked up with.”
“Privyet, Seth,” Vladek, a black wolf, greeted Seth; the other members of the group also offered similar welcomes as he joined them. “Now, where’d I leave off..?” Vladek asked himself, taking a drag on a cigarette. “Oh, right. So I’m on my back, and this girl is riding me like no tomorrow. I mean, she was bouncing around like some manic pillow. Wool everywhere.” He took another drag. “And she’s saying all kinds of crazy shit, you know? Stuff like ‘gimmie your big red balloon, baby!’”
“Fuckin’ sweaterbrains,” one of the other wolves chuckled, shaking his head.
“Eh,” Vladek shrugged. “Don’t knock ‘em ‘til you tried ‘em. Anyways, it wasn’t long before I knotted. She felt that good. And when she finally calmed down, she looked right at me, all panting and smiling. Just a hot mess. And that’s when I notice her eyes.” He held a finger at each of his eyes for emphasis. “One still had a lovely, green, round iris, but the other…” He paused for dramatic effect. “The other had a creepy brown rectangle.” Several of the listeners openly shuddered at the mental image. “The girl wore cosmetic contacts, and one of them must’ve popped out when she was riding me. Spooked me so bad I tried to buck her right off my lap. But I couldn’t, you know? I was still tied right inside her, and she doesn’t know what’s going on, so she thinks I’m already going for round two. I’m trying to throw her off, and she’s holding on tight. It was so fucking crazy.”
“So what’d you end up doing about it?”
Vladek smirked and killed off the last bit of his cigarette. “What else? I gave her round two. And three. And four. Last I heard, she still can’t walk a straight line!”
The group burst into laughter, with some of them heartily patting Vladek on the back. Once they settled down and moved on to small talk, Seth broke off from them to get a beer from the kitchen. He was just passing the living room couch when he heard a familiar voice say “Little Bandit, no hellos for your old friend Georg? I’m hurt.”
He stopped and turned to see Georg relaxing on the couch, illuminated in the glow of the nearby television, calmly rolling a joint. Seth wasn’t sure how he missed him when he scanned the room earlier, considering Georg was the solitary cougar in a house full of wolves, but Georg had a knack for blending into a crowd.
“Sorry about that Georg,” Seth apologized, as he ambled over and climbed up onto the couch, taking a seat next to the cougar. “How’s it going?”
“Few complaints, Little Bandit.” He then gave a last lick on his spliff and reached into his rumpled tweed jacket, producing a zippo. “Few complaints. And you?”
“Same as always, I guess,” he shrugged. “Not much excitement in the world of paper-pushing, you know?”
“Still a desk jockey, eh? Don’t worry. Someday your prince will come.”
Seth snorted at Georg’s little wisecrack, and glanced at the TV. The sound was low and inaudible over the loud music, but it wasn’t hard to discern what was being discussed on the news program that was currently broadcasting, thanks to the helpful chyron at the bottom of the screen; ‘Mayor Swinton Discusses TAME Act with Community Leaders’. The video playback showed Zootopia’s porcine mayor shaking paws and hooves with various mammals in suits, and then cut to a close-up interview shot of a well-dressed elephant, with the caption changed to ‘Real Estate Mogul Tom Ivory Speaks in Support of Swinton’.
The news had switched over to a report on an electrical fire at a comedy club called Comics Anonymous, when Georg finally broke the brief silence between them. “I feel there is something else bothering you. Yes?”
Seth exhaled uncomfortably and rubbed his forearm. “Yeah… You know that guy who saved my tail at the drug bust?”
“Officer Koala?”
“Qantas,” Seth corrected him. “But yeah, him. I, ah… I visited him at prison today and- Well…” It was difficult to come out and say it, but he knew he had to get this off his shoulders. “I sorta…. Ran into Trevor.”
“Sokin syn,” Georg cursed bitterly. “What happened?! I swear, if that cyka blyat tried to--”
“Whoa, easy,” Seth raised his paws in an effort to calm his friend down. “He didn’t say or do anything. I don’t think he even knew I was there. It just- It just shook me up to see him again.” And then it occurred to him to add, “Uh, better not mention it to Yorgi. You know how he’d react.” Georg’s little outburst was minor in comparison to the tirade of swearing and thrown bottles that Yorgi would have broken into.
“Of course,” Georg knowingly nodded. “We wouldn’t want him to ruin his own party.”
“Yeah, what is he celebrating anyway?”
“Big things, Little Bandit.” Georg grinned and took a puff of his joint. “Very big. But I’m sure he’ll be dying to tell you. Our Yorgi loves to boast, after all.” Suddenly there was the loud bang of a door being kicked open on the second floor. “Speak of the devil…”
Seth pulled himself up the back cushion of the couch to get a better view of the stairwell, and saw Yorgi strutting down, still pulling a stained tank top over his head. The wolf’s white fur was all messed up; no doubt from rolling around with the lady friend Seth had heard moaning earlier. Almost every guest offered him a handshake or a pat on the back as he passed by them, but it was Mikhail who halted him and leaned in close to whisper something in his ear. A big toothy grin spread across his muzzle as he looked in Seth’s direction with a gleeful twinkle in his eyes.
“Here we go,” Seth sighed in resignation.
“Seth! You came! Hah ha!” Yorgi roared as he dashed across the room and snatched him up into a rough embrace, tousling his fur and vigorously nuzzling against him. Normally Seth would have objected to being treated like some newborn cub, but he knew that when it came to Yorgi’s overzealous affections, there was no stopping him. “Ahh! All my friends are here! I feel so loved!”
“It’s good to see you too,” Seth said, trying not to choke on the strong musk of sex that emanated from the wolf’s fur. “Georg was just telling me you have big news.”
“Oh yes! Very big,” Yorgi said brightly, still cradling Seth like a toddler. “Many good things for us Blizzard Street boys! You’ll be so proud of your big brother--”
“Hey, Yorg?” An aloof female voice piped up from behind them, and Yorgi spun around to face an emaciated she-wolf that stood unevenly by the stairs. “I’m taking off, kay? I gotta work early tomorrow and- Oh.” Her face shifted into a sultry, predatory smile as she slinked over. “Is that little Seth? Mmm… On second thought, maybe I’ll stick around if he wants to play with me.” She stuck out a claw to tickle his chin, but Seth sharply recoiled, avoiding her touch.
“I’m good, thanks,” he flatly rebuffed her.
“Go home, Anka,” Georg grumbled.
“Humph. Fine,” Anka snorted in a disappointed tone and turned to leave. “Bye boys,” she cooed, playfully swishing her tail against the other wolves as she sashayed out of the house.
“I don’t know what you see in that mongrel,” muttered Georg, earning a swat to the back of his head from Yorgi.
“That’s because you have no appreciation for untamed ladies,” Yorgi snapped, placing Seth back down on the couch. “Now make yourself useful and get our little brother something to drink. Seth. You still drink bourbon, yes?”
“Sure.”
“Good. I got you a bottle of Tigr Krovi. Very nice brand from the old country. You’ll like it.”
“I thought Tundrastan was more known for its vodka…”
“They can make other things,” Yorgi objected with a slightly insulted whine. “Tundrastani corn not good enough for you?” He snatched the flask-sized bottle from Georg’s paws and thrust it at Seth. “Here. You try it and tell me it’s no good.”
Seth briefly looked at the label. ‘Tigr Krovi’ was written on it in that unusual Tundran alphabet, and it bore the hallmark of the Tundrastan flag; a yellow tooth and claw crossing each other over a red star. He unscrewed the bottle, sniffed the contents, and took a swig. It was actually not bad at all.
“You see? Never doubt your brothers!” Yorgi crowed.
“Fair enough,” Seth chuckled and tipped some more to his lips. “So, as you were saying?”
“Hm? Oh! Yes! Very exciting. Make room,” he shooed Georg aside and hopped onto an open spot on the couch between them. “Your big brother and his crew have been attracting attention ‘upstairs’, if you know what I mean.”
Seth scrunched up his snout in confusion for a moment before it hit him. “Ohh… When you said ‘big’, you meant ‘BIG’. As in--”
“As in Mister, yes,” Yorgi confirmed with childish joy.
“Yeah… I don’t think I should be hearing this.”
“No, no. It’s all good. Honest.”
“How?” Seth skeptically narrowed his eyes at his friend.
“You know how howler is on the rise?”
“Kinda. Yeah.”
“Well lately it’s starting to pop up in Tundratown. On Big’s turf. And not just that, but some of his protected businesses--”
“You mean racketeering victims,” Seth interjected.
“Potayto, potahto,” Yorgi countered. “Anyway. They’ve been getting hit like never before. Robberies, vandalism, you name it.”
“No one knows who’s behind it, and nobody is talking to Big’s men,” Georg chimed in.
“Let me guess.” Seth had a clearer idea of where this was going. “They’re looking for outside eyes and ears to help track down whoever’s moving in on them.”
“And we just got vetted and accepted by their underbosses,” Yorgi proudly clapped a paw to his chest.
Seth was not as impressed as they had expected. “You’re mob informants.”
“Community watch,” Yorgi corrected him. “Do I have to remind you again about potatoes?”
“Alright, well I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that this ‘community watch’ will also be reporting any police activity in Tundratown too. Am I right?”
Yorgi and Georg exchanged a glace with each other before sheepishly smiling and shrugging at Seth in mock innocence. “Maybe…”
“Yeah. No. I don’t want to hear another peep about it, because I know what’s coming next.”
“What?” Yorgi asked with feigned ignorance.
“You know darn well.”
“Come on.” Yorgi tried to wrap a paw around Seth’s shoulder, but he just squirmed away from the embrace. “There’s no shame in helping your brothers. One paw washes the other, as they say.”
“Yorgi…” Seth growled.
“Think about it. You let us know what you hear; we let you know what we hear. We move up in the family, and you,” he playfully patted Seth on the head, “you become top cop. Sounds pretty good. Yes?”
“No. It doesn’t.”
Yorgi held up his paws in defeat and sighed. “Okay. Okay. I’ll drop it.” He gave Seth’s head another pat and raised up from the couch. “But if you ever need your brother’s help, I’ll be happy to give it. Remember that.” And then he walked off to chat with his other guests, while Seth sat there, not sure if he should remain irritated over Yorgi’s scheming, or feel bad that he had turned him down.
“Don’t worry about him, Little Bandit,” Georg said as soon as Yorgi was out of earshot. “He knew you’d say no. After all, he thinks very highly of you.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely,” Georg replied with a smirk. “And I think maybe me too.”
Seth softly laughed to himself and took another pull on his drink. He had trouble holding the same level of esteem for himself, but it was nice to know that at least his friends did.
Even if they were petty criminals.
A couple hours later, Seth had left the party and wandered out into the cold dark night, still carrying the bottle of bourbon that Yorgi gave him. He had only nursed his way through a quarter of it, but he still felt moderately tipsy, so he figured he’d take the long way to the next metro station, just past the Maritimus Bridge, and let himself sober up a little.
Alcohol has a strange effect on one’s mood. Sometimes it helps mammals forget their troubles, or, in Seth’s case, brings them back to the forefront. And not just the things that were bothering him back at the prison, but also what he had been dealing with every day at work since he transferred.
Sure, he had been making new strides in his recovery. He wasn’t ashamed to walk around with his visible scars. He had been getting well acquainted with Nick, something that he never imagined he could do with a fox again; trusting one.
And yet he was still just a filing clerk among cops. He was still viewed as a walking problem by Chief Bogo. He was still stagnating in his career.
And it didn’t feel like that could ever change.
Midway along the bridge, he stopped to lean over the guardrail meant for smaller mammals, and peered into the deep blue water that flowed below. Chunks of ice and snow drifted along with the current, leaving him to wonder where it all came from; where it was going.
Where he was going.
With a heavy sigh, he raised the bourbon to his mouth, and in a moment of carelessness the bottle slipped from his paw, and over the bridge. He instinctively lunged partway over the rail to catch it, but it was too late, and the bottle splashed into the water. He closed his eyes in frustration and cursed under his breath. His bad day just seemed to keep getting worse.
“Oh my gosh! Don’t do it!”
Seth hardly had a second to react to the shrill female voice when he was suddenly tackled by a white and grey blur, knocking him off the rail and onto the cold snow-covered pavement. The impact left him stunned and speechless. He tilted his head forward to see that he was assaulted by a rabbit, who was now clutching at his shirt, ranting hysterically about the preciousness of life, with her face buried into his chest.
“W-what?” Seth finally sputtered through his confusion.
And then she raised her face at him, and he saw her proper in the light of the lamps overhead. She was a white rabbit, with areas of dark ashen fur that covered her ears and surrounded her eyes and mouth. A pair of big round glasses hung low on her twitching nose, and behind those were a pair of brilliant rose-pink eyes, which welled up with tears as she cried out “You have so much to live for!”
“Ohmygawd, Carol!” Another female voice called out from further down the bridge. Seth cocked his head to the side to look past the bunny and saw that a trio of ladies were rushing over.
“Get off of him!” One of the girls, a marmot in a yellow toque, tugged the rabbit by the collar of her coat, yanking her off of Seth.
“We are sooo- SO sorry,” a weasel in a green parka apologized profusely as she tried to help him back to his feet.
“She really hit him hard. Even his wallet fell out,” a possum in a black wool coat observed, picking up Seth’s open wallet from the ground, only to abruptly jump in shock, tossing it in the air like she just realized she was actually holding a snake. “Oh geez! He’s a cop,” she yelped. “Carol just beat up a cop!”
The weasel quickly recovered Seth’s wallet, thrust it into his paws, and then proceeded to zip around him, brushing the snow off his fur and straightening his clothes in a servile panic.
“What were you thinking?!” The marmot was livid; pacing around the rabbit with her paws flailing and gesticulating wildly.
The rabbit seemed to shrink and wilt under her friend’s diatribe, offering only a soft reply of “I was only trying to help,” as her sole excuse for her behavior.
“Honestly,” the marmot grunted, roughly grabbing her friend by the arm to drag her away. “I swear this is the last time I invite you out for drinks…”
The other two girls looked back and forth between Seth and their friends, unsure if it was really okay to just take off like this. After uncomfortably shifting her feet, the possum broke off first, followed by the weasel, who was still chirping sorry over and over as she skittered away, leaving Seth standing there, dumbstruck, with his wallet still clutched between his paws.
“What?” he repeated as he watched them hurry off; taking their circus of confusion with them.
Even when he was sitting in the subway car going home, he was in a daze; unable to process what just transpired on that snowy bridge. It just seemed like such a random and bizarre incident, something to forget and move on from, that he didn’t realize at that time just how important this encounter would be for him. But in the coming days he would grow to appreciate it as a moment he could never forget.
It was the first time he met Carol.