Fanfic: The Call: Night Hunter
Sep. 22nd, 2016 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalCatching up with the chapters already posted to Fanfction.net
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"Hi Volkov, I'm Nick," he replied, switching gears from utter terror to well-honed glibness, mouth operating on automatic pilot while he tried to figure out what to do next. "Sorry if I'm looking surprised. It's just with a name like yours I was expecting a wolf, not to mention a guy. I don't know much Russian, but wouldn't the feminine version of Volkov be 'Volkova'?"
"Yes, and it is usually a wolf's name," she said, looking amused. "But, as the bumper sticker says, in Zootopia anyone can be anything. Here I am a wolf, a hunter, like in the old days when prey were a food source, not a bunch of nasty, clever creatures with horns and spears. " Her fingers stroked the fur of woven tails draping her shoulders. "Do you like my coat?"
"Can't take my eyes off it," Nick admitted with complete honesty.
"I made from the tails of a rival organization in Moscow. They thought they could negotiate a truce, work together with me." She bared her fangs. "I killed them all. After that, no one negotiated with me, they simply did as they were told."
"Wow," Nick said after a moment. "I knew you had to have a pair of brass ones, what with popping into the city and deliberately ticking off Mr. Big by going after Judy, but it turns out you're actually bugfuck crazy."
"Do you think so?" Volkov asked, raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Big is old, and lazy. He rules Little Rodentia and believes himself to be the sole power there, just because the police don't have officers small enough to patrol it. I will crush him, and eat him, after I show him just how small and helpless he truly is!" She gestured to the two wolves. "Secure him!"
One of the wolves dragged a chair out from a corner, and Volkov's polar bear goon pushed Nick down onto it, holding him there as his arms were wrenched around the chair's back and cuffed tight. "Ow! Not on the first date!" he chided. She must want to talk, he thought. If she'd spent her entire time in Zootopia stuck in this nice, secure bunker, she had to have been going out of her mind (well more out her mind) with boredom just talking to her minions. She wants an audience to show off how great she is.
"If we were dating, I'd be leaving marks deeper than a few bruises on your wrists," Volkov said with a grin.
"Yeah, I'll bet," he agreed. Gotta keep her monologing, Nick thought. The longer she talked, the better chance he had to figure out a way out of this. "So what brings you here, anyway? If you were so on top of things back in Mother Russia, why bother moving your operations? Heck, given the politics over there, you might have actually qualified as legit if you'd stayed."
"Ignoring that insult to my homeland, my main difficulty was access to resources," she answered. "Spring and summer are too short there to support production of what I needed, even supplemented by hydroponics."
"What you needed?" Nick asked. The hairs rose on the ruff of his neck, as he realized what she was talking about. It's not possible. All the remaining samples were destroyed after Bellwether's trial.
Volkov opened one of the crates, pulling out a smaller plastic container. Flipping the top up, she extracted a small ball the size of a blueberry, though the color was much lighter, the shade of the sky on a clear day.
"That is not what you think it is," Nick said, his voice almost trembling in relief. "Real Night Howler rounds are dark blue. Somebody gave you a line about the formula you bought from them."
"Oh, the formula was quite legitimate. One of my hackers pulled it out of the Zootopia District Attorney's own files," she replied. Volkov tossed the bright blue paintball round in the palm of her paw. "This is a… variation… you could say. Your Mayor Bellwether was short-sighted in her ambitions. A drug like Night Howler would be so profitable, in the right circumstances."
She motioned to one of the wolves, who pulled out an air pistol from under his jacket and handed to her. At another gesture, the wolf stepped forward and pulled open Nick's shirt. Then Volkov loaded the round into the pistol, raised it, and fired the round directly at Nick's exposed chest.
Nick flinched at the sting of the round, remembering when Bellwether had fired a dose of what she'd though was pure Night Howler poison into him. It had been a moment of sheer terror, as he'd thought What if we got it wrong? What if she saw it was just a blueberry and replaced it with a real round? He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, waiting for the red haze of anger to settle over him like the Night Howler victims had reported, the unstoppable rage to lash out at a world that no longer made sense. After a few moments he opened them, a slow smile rising to his face.
"Hey, whaddya you know? It didn't work," he said, giving Volkov a shrug. "Like I said, it's the wrong color."
A moue of disappointment crossed Volkov's face. "So it would seem," she said, shrugging herself. "Perhaps the formula does need some tweaking. I shall have to discuss the matter with my chemists." She spoke to polar bear in Russian, and he reached into the pocket of his pants and tossed a set of keys onto the floor. "I think I will leave you and your bunny friends for now. You are free to go."
Nick's ears cocked up in surprise. "You serious?"
Volkov smiled again. "Of course. I will admit I was looking forward to watching you tear those little prey apart, but it seems I will have to wait for that pleasure. I will let you go, with the knowledge that I could have you all killed at any time. Let's see how well you sleep after that." With that she snapped her fingers at her goons, and they all walked together out the door she'd entered. The clang of metal as it shut echoed throughout the room.
"Well, that was anti-climactic," Nick said to Bonnie and Stu, after a moment.
"Fine by me," Stu said. "You sure you're all right, Nick?"
"I think so. I don't feel any different," he replied. Well, a bit hungry, but that was likely because the only thing he'd eaten in over a day was one tasteless fish patty. Nick leaned forward, balancing uncertainly as he got to his feet. His paws had been cuffed behind the back of the chair, but the handcuff chain hadn't been wrapped around the rails of the chair back, so it was simple to slip free. A few more moments of maneuvering and he managed to slip his legs though the loop of his arms, bringing his paws in front of himself. Then it was a simple matter of grabbing the handcuff keys off the floor, working a key somewhat awkwardly into the keyhole of the left cuff, and giving it a turn. It opened easily, and soon he had the right free as well. He tossed both key and cuffs to the floor, kneeling down in front of Bonnie and Stu's kennel.
"You guys sure you're okay?" he asked, swallowing back the nervous spit that was filling his mouth. There were two latches keeping the kennel door shut, but no padlocks had been put in place to secure them. With the interior of the kennel lined with wire behind the bars, it would have been impossible for Judy's parents to free themselves.
"We're fine, Nick. Just got got tossed around and growled at by that crazy fox and her wolves," Bonnie assured him. "Let's get out of here before she changes her mind and comes back."
"Sure," Nick said. He unlatched the cage and let the two prey animals out. They stood up, noses twitching in distress, holding each others paws. Tiny things, no larger than Judy. So very small, barely a meal back in the bad old days. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, running his tongue over his fangs briefly.
"You sure sure you're all right, Nick?" Stu asked, straightening his cap on his head. "Your eyes look all funny."
"I'm fine," Nick said sharply. "Never felt better." He felt his lips pull back from his fangs in a vulpine grin. "I'm just really hungry."
Chapter 10: Underworld
The two prey both backed up a step, ears drooped down and noses twitching hard, looking up at him in fear. He could smell their fear, even with three feet separating them. Everything around him seemed so much sharper, clearer, and simpler. There was a hunger deep in his belly, and prey in front of him, problem and solution all neatly together.
"You say you're hungry?" the male said nervously, patting the front of his overalls. "I think I got a candy carrot in my pocket somewhere for you."
"Stu, that won't help," the female said irritably. She took a step forward. "Nick, this isn't funny. You're scaring us."
"So?" he breathed.
I, Nicholas Wilde…
"That isn't you talking," the prey went on, "it's that nasty Night Howler drug that crazy vixen hit you with."
…promise to be brave, loyal…
"Stop talking," he said, either to the prey or the voice niggling in the back of his head, he couldn't be sure. "I'm hungry. Food doesn't talk."
...helpful, and trustworthy!
"That's right," the prey said. "You know the First Rule as well as we do; If It Talks, It is Not Food."
"So… stop… talking!" he roared, charging. The two prey leaped away, splitting up to either side of the room. He skidded across a dried oil stain on the floor, fetching up against the makeshift dais. "Come back here!" He turned and headed to the right, where the male had scampered off into the shadows of the piled boxes. No matter, to his eyes it was as bright as a cloudy dawn, while the prey would be nearly blind.
I, Officer Nicholas Wilde…
"Where arrrrrrre you?" he called out, dropping to all fours to creep around the corner of a crate pile. No sign of them… yet.
…upon my honor…
"Shut up," he growled.
…swear to uphold the laws of Zootopia…
A shadow of movement from above. He glanced up, to see the male hopping along the top of a pile of crates. He leaped, claws trying to find purchase in the rough pinewood, scrabbling up, growling in frustration as the prey leaped to another pile, deeper into the shadows.
…to act with bravery, and with integrity.
"Stop running."
…and to always uphold the public trust.
He leaped in pursuit of the male prey, claws scrambling for a hold on a wooden crate as he struck the side of the next pile, rolling into a ball as he fell to the concrete instead, arms clutched around his head.
"Nrgh, what's wrong with me?" Nick howled. "What did you do to me?"
Volkov's voice came over some hidden speaker in the ceiling. "I've opened your eyes, Nick. Night Hunter is an improvement upon Night Howler. Instead of dropping its victim into snarling madness, it merely helps strip away all the useless inhibitions we predators are forced to adopt to fit into civilized society. Isn't it wonderful?"
"You're not a crook," he panted, kneeling on all fours, head pounding. "You're a pred supremacist!"
"This is Zootopia, Nick. Why can't I be both?" Volkov purred. "Predators were at the top of the food chain, before Prey developed technology like spears, the bow and arrow, and the gun. So we made the Great Compromise with them, promised not to hunt and eat them. We were reduced to eating plants and fish to sustain ourselves, giving up our heritage for the sake of peace. Night Hunter erases millennia of developed self-control in mere minutes, allowing us to return to a life that we abandoned for mere Civilization."
"You're crazy!"
"Is it crazy to believe that the strong should rule over the weak? To believe we should be permitted to take what we deserve? Eat what we deserve? Tell me, officer, have you ever tasted meat, real meat, in your entire life?"
"Of course not!" He raised his head, sniffing the air. The prey was near, he knew it was. He could feel himself being torn in two, one part of him so hungry, wanting to taste fur in his mouth again, like when he'd been so close to consuming Carrots, his teeth at her throat, just a few more ounces of pressure…
"Red meat, Officer Wilde. I have tasted it, felt the hot blood of my enemies in my mouth, gorged upon it. You have so much to look forward to!"
"Stop talking!"
There! There was the female, right out in the open, at the intersection of two corridors made with the piles of crates. Her nose twitched, looking around blindly, unable to see him in the dark room. He dropped down to his haunches again, tail waving in anticipation. Then he sprang towards her, mouth agape, ready to bite and tear open the meal that was rightfully his!
The female suddenly jumped straight up in the air as he landed almost atop her, missing his prey by mere inches. Then he was struck by a hard blow on the side of his head, as the male leaped feet first from the side corridor. Stars flashed in front of his eyes, then the female came right back down, landing between his ears, and everything went black.
Chapter 11, Under Control
"Nick? You still with us, Nick?"
He folded his ears back, muffling the sound. He and Finnick must have really scored on whatever yesterday's hustle was, his head was absolutely pounding from the aftereffects of the celebration. Well, it was too early to start dealing with the morning after just yet. What was the point of being an independent business entrepreneur if you couldn't set your own hours? Go away, world.
"Nick, wake up now. We can't do all of this by ourselves." The voice was female, insistent, and familiar.
He groaned. "It's Saturday, Mom." He had lived for Saturdays. School had bored him. The teachers had always wanted him to learn things about history, and mathematics, not anything useful. Then after the muzzling incident when he'd tried to join the Junior Ranger Scouts he'd dreaded each school day, fearing to meet the scouts in the eye.
"I'm not your mother, and its Wednesday anyway, Nick. Now wake up!"
Nick opened his eyes reluctantly, and then quickly closed them again as a light shined in his face. He squinted. Stu had taken Nick's phone and set it on flashlight mode, shining it in his face, while Bonnie crouched beside her husband. All three of them were in a narrow, slimy drain pipe, barely wider than Nick's shoulders. He was lying on his stomach, arms twisted uncomfortably behind him, and a few quick tugs confirmed that he was back in the handcuffs. Someone had removed his tie and looped it under his shoulders in a makeshift harness, evidentially the way Bonnie and Stu had dragged him in here. Strong farmer bunnies, he figured. "I'm awake," he said softly, head still pounding. "Where are we?"
"Floor drain, underneath the warehouse. We managed to drag you in here before that crazy vixen and her wolves charged in, once they figured out we'd knocked you out," Stu whispered. "Are ya yourself, Nick?"
Nick took a few moments to consider that one. "I'm… kinda of two minds at the moment," he admitted. "I'm looking at you, and I know you're Stu and Bonnie, one of my best friend's parents. But I'm also looking at you, and part of me is saying I'm really hungry, and that lunch is right in front of me."
Bonnie's nose twitched. "I think we'd better keep the cuffs on him, Stu."
"I… think that's a good idea," Nick agreed reluctantly. "Any way out of here?"
"Can't go up," Stu said. "We can hear 'em up in the warehouse. I think they're moving all those crates we saw earlier. There's the sound of water from up ahead though."
"This pipe probably leads to the municipal drainage system then," Nick guessed. "If we can make it there, we should be able to crawl along until we find a street grate, and we can either crawl out or yell for help."
"That sounds good," Bonnie agreed. "Come on, Stu, help me with Nick." The two bunnies grabbed the free end of Nick's tie and started pulling the fox along, careful to keep out of range of his jaws. Nick was able help push himself by digging his toe claws in the rough, rusty surface of the pipe's interior and shoving forward, careful not to let himself get too close to the Hopps. The nagging part of his brain that still insisted they were a food source was hard to ignore. He had the horrible suspicion that if he hadn't known the two bunnies personally, then the instinct to pursue and eat them would have been a lot harder to fight.
"Almost there, hun-bun!" Stu said. The sound of rushing water grew louder, and they finally came to the end of the pipe, which opened up into a larger drain about a yard in diameter. "Just gotta give Nick here one last tug!"
"Wait!" Nick called out, as they dug their paw pads into edge of the pipe and got ready to heave. He worried his lip between his fangs briefly. "I think…" Nick swallowed, suddenly out of breath. "I think, before you pull me out to where there's more room, you'd better take my tie and…" Suddenly his throat went tight, forcing him to push the words past his teeth, "…and you'd better muzzle me."
"Oh, Nick! We can't do that to you!" Bonnie cried out.
"Sure can't!" Stu agreed. "We'd never be able to look you or Judy in the face again."
Nick shook his head. "I'm not eight anymore, and you've already seen how dangerous I am. I wouldn't be able to look at Judy either, if I had to tell her I ate her parents."
"Nicholas Wilde, we are not doing that to you, and that's final," Bonnie said firmly, and how a two foot tall bunny could sound just his mom was something Nick would never know.
He almost said "Your funeral" but was fortunately interrupted when a strong smell starting wafting down the pipe from the direction they'd came. Nick sniffed, and then started frantically pushing his toes against the walls of the pipe, trying to force his shoulders through. "Gasoline! They're pouring gasoline down the drain! Get out of here!" A wave of pungent liquid fuel washed over him, soaking his clothes and fur, pouring out of the drain and over Bonnie and Stu's feet as they grabbed hold his tie once again.
"Pull, Stuart!" Bonnie shouted. Together two heaved, falling into the larger drain pipe as Nick popped out.
"Grab onto me!" Nick shouted. The two bunnies grabbed the remains of his shirt, and he pinned them tightly between his body and his arms, as he dived under the filthy water, just as a wave of fire and heat went down the pipe and lit everything above the water in a massive fireball.
Nick kicked and swam with current, lungs burning as he tried to put distance between themselves and the fuel-air explosion. Finally, when he couldn't hold his breath any longer, he kicked up and burst to the surface, panting and coughing as he breathed in smoke and fumes, Judy's parents still hanging on for dear life.
"You guys alright?" he gasped. The two bunnies hopped up onto a little ledge, as they were pulled by the current into a cross junction under a ladder leading to an iron mammalhole cover.
"We're okay," Bonnie gasped, flopping down beside her husband.
"Don't think we needed that muzzle there, Nick," Stu noted, pushing himself up and gathering Bonnie in his arms.
"Guess not," Nick agreed. "You still got my mobile?"
"Right here," Stu said, pulling it from the front pocket of his overalls, "but ain't it soaked?"
"Shouldn't be. After Carrots and I took that tumble off the dam last year, it seemed like a good idea to get a waterproof model." He nodded to Stu. "Call Chief Bogo and tell him that we're in…" He looked up and checked the reference number stamped on the underside of the cover. "…drainage junction #326827."
While Stu brought up Bogo's number, Bonnie looked at Nick in concern. "You think we can let you out of those cuffs now?" she asked.
Nick ran his tongue over his fangs, and then lowered his head. "No. I'm still hungry." He closed his eyes wearily, and waited for the sound of approaching sirens.
Chapter 12, Headaches
Chief Bogo liked to think of himself as a reasonable mammal. The world wasn't perfect, his officers weren't perfect, and he knew he wasn't perfect. Nevertheless, he wished sometimes that the universe would kindly quit throwing situations at him that made want to give up policing and take up a nice, quiet job selling luxury ceramics. Example number one at the moment was Officer Wilde, who instead of staying off duty as requested had proceeded to stick his nose into a critical investigation, leading to him sitting in a chair in Bogo's office dressed in just a pair of pants and a set of handcuffs and leg irons, and smelling like a lawnmower that had been dragged through a sewer.
"Wilde, do you any idea of the gravity of your situation?" he asked, voice rumbling in displeasure.
"About 9.8 meters per second squared?" Wilde answered, ears perked up in amusement. He blinked. "Jeez, Mrs. Coon would be proud of me for remembering that. Wish I'd held onto the Periodic Table as well, she made us memorize the whole darned thing in 9th grade."
"Wilde…" he growled in warning.
"Sorry, Chief." He shrugged. "Look, I know perfectly well my ass, as well as my badge, is grass right now. However I would like to point out that I did manage to save the lives of two civilians…"
"After almost eating two civilians," Bogo interrupted.
"Well, there's that. But in the process of almost being eaten all three of us are able to give witness to Volkov's admission to aiding in the creation of a serious new drug threat in the city. By the way, were you able to track down the warehouse that we were being held in?"
"Yes, it was underneath a commercial building on the edge of the weather wall between Sahara Square and Tundra Town. The building itself is too unstable to investigate at the moment, since it just suffered a massive fire starting in the basement."
"Damn, she must have moved all of the crates out before she set fire to the building and almost us as well," Wilde said regretfully. "Not to mention torching any other evidence. Are you doing a search for other warehouses where she could move the stuff?"
"That's our priority at the moment." Bogo added reluctantly, "Mr. Big is already compiling a list of his properties in Tundra Town whose renters he can personally vouch for. That should cut down our search a bit."
"Great. Judy okay?"
"Her condition hasn't changed." Bogo then asked, "How's your condition?"
Wilde shrugged, rattling his chains. "Chief, I'm looking at you and part of my brain is telling me I see my boss. I'm also looking at you, and part of my brain is telling me you'd probably be too big for me to take down by myself, and I should have gone after those two bunnies when I had the chance."
Bogo crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Wilde. "You're speaking very calmly for a homicidal maniac."
"I think it comes from being a hustler for so long," Wilde admitted. "I'm so used to spouting off one set of lines while intending to do something else, that being a little schizoid is second nature to me. That may be why, after I shook off the initial reaction, that I was able to keep it together enough not to attack Judy's parents." He swallowed, his usual glib expression suddenly disappearing, to be replaced by a look of utter terror. "I'm so afraid I'm going to mix it up, though."
"We won't let you hurt anyone, Nick," Bogo reassured him. "We've got a doctor on the way from Zootopia General with a dose of the Night Howler antidote. Hopefully it'll work."
The fox nodded, taking a deep breath to calm down. Then he made a very deliberate shake of his head. "Even if the Night Howler antidote works on me, that's not going to solve the problem. This Volkov, she's pred supremist. She doesn't want to just muscle in on the criminal action in Zootopia, she wants to throw us back to the stone age, like it was before the Great Compromise, predator hunting prey, predators eating meat.
"Bellwether almost brought the city to rioting with just a couple of dozen infected predators. But this Night Hunter variant is worse. Night Howler, it made predators go savage, but at least you could see that there was something wrong with the victims. With Hunter, it's like it shuts down all the morality and empathy in a predator. They could be acting perfectly reasonably on the outside, while figuring out when was the best moment to strike and get a meal, and Volkov has cases of that shit! Four goons with air pistols and plenty of ammo could make Zootopia go down in flames." He took in another breath, trying to control his panting. "She said she was going to make a profit off it though. For the life of me I don't see how."
Bogo leaned against his desk. "A drug that allows someone to kill, and not care about the consequences? You know how many governments, evil or not, would pay money for something like to use on their enemies, or even their own soldiers? I can take a guess at a few who might be potential buyers."
"And she can use all of Zootopia as a product demonstration," Nick noted glumly. "Great."
"That's not happening," Bogo said firmly. At a knock at the door, he called out, "Come in!"
Clawhauser stuck his head in through the door. "Hi, Chief! Oh, hi Nick! I just wanted to let you know Dr. Madge is here with the Night Howler antidote."
"Good. Send her in."
Dr. Madge waddled in, a refrigerated valise underneath one arm. She took in Wilde, sitting half-naked and cuffed in his chair, and looked at Bogo questioningly. "I was told you had an officer who had been poisoned with Night Howler."
"That's me," Wilde said, and gave her a cheery wave with a cuffed paw.
"He doesn't look like a Night Howler victim," she said, her tone dubious.
"It's a variation of the original formula, we believe." Bogo gave the doctor a quick summary of Night Hunter's apparent effects, and added, "We need to see if the original Night Howler antidote will be effective on Night Hunter's victims. If not, we've got a serious problem."
Dr. Madge, who'd taken a cautious step back from Wilde while she listened, shook her head in doubt. "I can't engage in an experimental procedure with a patient who is unable to provide informed consent. We have no idea what the actual effects will be on his system."
"Doc, if you don't inject me with the antidote, I'm gonna be sitting strapped to a gurney like Hannibal Lemur the rest of my life," Wilde told her. "I promise I'll sign any consent form you like, assuming you'll trust me with a pen."
"Consider it covered under the Zootopia Emergency Powers Act," Bogo added. "Or, if that doesn't help, try comparing it to performing tests on fourteen mammals who couldn't even talk, never mind never bothering to tell their families that they were still alive."
Dr. Madge gave him a glare, then opened her case on a nearby table to extract a gleaming syringe. "All right," she said reluctantly. "Ready, Officer Wilde?"
"Sock it to me, doc," Wilde said, grinning, belying the tight, tense curl of his tail.
Dr. Madge pressed the needle of the syringe into Wilde's arm, pressed the plunger home, then quickly withdrew it.
"Feel any different yet?" Bogo asked.
Wilde shook his head. "Nothing," he admitted. "How long before I start worrying, doc?"
"We only injected the antidote into the Night Howler victims after they'd been sedated," she said. "It was far too dangerous to get that close to them with a needle otherwise. We only knew it had worked once the sedation wore off."
"Can't take that long. Night Howler was almost instantaneous. Be kinda unfair if the antidote... Ohhhh..."
Bogo cocked his head, watching as the tension that Wilde had only been half concealing suddenly fled from his body, his posture relaxing so quickly he nearly slid out of his seat. Then the fox gasped, leaning forward, shoulders beginning to shake as he started to hyperventilate.
"He's starting to go into seizures!" Dr. Madge said urgently. "Call 911!"
"No, no, no... I'm... okay," Wilde panted. "I... oh, god... I almost killed them!" He began to sob uncontrollably, tears soaking his face fur. "I almost killed them! I almost killed Judy's parents!"
"Wilde!" Bogo stepped forward, grabbing the fox by the shoulders. "Nick, look at me! Look... at... me..."
Still gulping back sobs, Wilde looked up at Bogo's face. "Sir, I'm sorry... I should have stayed h-home. I'm so suh-sorry..."
"If you had stayed home, we might not have found either of her parents in time, Nick. Yeah, you screwed up, but you still saved their lives. Remember that!"
"Okay... okay... I'm okay... I'm okay..." Nick gasped. His breathing slowed down, and he wiped his face with his cuffed paws. "I'll... I'll be all right, I think."
"Good." Bogo quickly uncuffed Wilde, and helped the fox to his feet. "You think you can make it to the locker room on your own?"
"Yeah."
"Then get yourself cleaned up and into your spare uniform," Bogo ordered.
"Yes, Chief." Wilde started to salute, realized he was very much out of uniform just at the moment, and put his paw back down. "You sure you want me on duty?"
"Don't make any mistake about this. I'm still furious with you, but we need every officer that's available until we can catch this Volkov, before she starts darting every predator in the city."
"Right," Wilde agreed. "And, Chief?"
"What?"
Wilde smiled slightly. "Thanks."
* * *
"Hi Volkov, I'm Nick," he replied, switching gears from utter terror to well-honed glibness, mouth operating on automatic pilot while he tried to figure out what to do next. "Sorry if I'm looking surprised. It's just with a name like yours I was expecting a wolf, not to mention a guy. I don't know much Russian, but wouldn't the feminine version of Volkov be 'Volkova'?"
"Yes, and it is usually a wolf's name," she said, looking amused. "But, as the bumper sticker says, in Zootopia anyone can be anything. Here I am a wolf, a hunter, like in the old days when prey were a food source, not a bunch of nasty, clever creatures with horns and spears. " Her fingers stroked the fur of woven tails draping her shoulders. "Do you like my coat?"
"Can't take my eyes off it," Nick admitted with complete honesty.
"I made from the tails of a rival organization in Moscow. They thought they could negotiate a truce, work together with me." She bared her fangs. "I killed them all. After that, no one negotiated with me, they simply did as they were told."
"Wow," Nick said after a moment. "I knew you had to have a pair of brass ones, what with popping into the city and deliberately ticking off Mr. Big by going after Judy, but it turns out you're actually bugfuck crazy."
"Do you think so?" Volkov asked, raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Big is old, and lazy. He rules Little Rodentia and believes himself to be the sole power there, just because the police don't have officers small enough to patrol it. I will crush him, and eat him, after I show him just how small and helpless he truly is!" She gestured to the two wolves. "Secure him!"
One of the wolves dragged a chair out from a corner, and Volkov's polar bear goon pushed Nick down onto it, holding him there as his arms were wrenched around the chair's back and cuffed tight. "Ow! Not on the first date!" he chided. She must want to talk, he thought. If she'd spent her entire time in Zootopia stuck in this nice, secure bunker, she had to have been going out of her mind (well more out her mind) with boredom just talking to her minions. She wants an audience to show off how great she is.
"If we were dating, I'd be leaving marks deeper than a few bruises on your wrists," Volkov said with a grin.
"Yeah, I'll bet," he agreed. Gotta keep her monologing, Nick thought. The longer she talked, the better chance he had to figure out a way out of this. "So what brings you here, anyway? If you were so on top of things back in Mother Russia, why bother moving your operations? Heck, given the politics over there, you might have actually qualified as legit if you'd stayed."
"Ignoring that insult to my homeland, my main difficulty was access to resources," she answered. "Spring and summer are too short there to support production of what I needed, even supplemented by hydroponics."
"What you needed?" Nick asked. The hairs rose on the ruff of his neck, as he realized what she was talking about. It's not possible. All the remaining samples were destroyed after Bellwether's trial.
Volkov opened one of the crates, pulling out a smaller plastic container. Flipping the top up, she extracted a small ball the size of a blueberry, though the color was much lighter, the shade of the sky on a clear day.
"That is not what you think it is," Nick said, his voice almost trembling in relief. "Real Night Howler rounds are dark blue. Somebody gave you a line about the formula you bought from them."
"Oh, the formula was quite legitimate. One of my hackers pulled it out of the Zootopia District Attorney's own files," she replied. Volkov tossed the bright blue paintball round in the palm of her paw. "This is a… variation… you could say. Your Mayor Bellwether was short-sighted in her ambitions. A drug like Night Howler would be so profitable, in the right circumstances."
She motioned to one of the wolves, who pulled out an air pistol from under his jacket and handed to her. At another gesture, the wolf stepped forward and pulled open Nick's shirt. Then Volkov loaded the round into the pistol, raised it, and fired the round directly at Nick's exposed chest.
Nick flinched at the sting of the round, remembering when Bellwether had fired a dose of what she'd though was pure Night Howler poison into him. It had been a moment of sheer terror, as he'd thought What if we got it wrong? What if she saw it was just a blueberry and replaced it with a real round? He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, waiting for the red haze of anger to settle over him like the Night Howler victims had reported, the unstoppable rage to lash out at a world that no longer made sense. After a few moments he opened them, a slow smile rising to his face.
"Hey, whaddya you know? It didn't work," he said, giving Volkov a shrug. "Like I said, it's the wrong color."
A moue of disappointment crossed Volkov's face. "So it would seem," she said, shrugging herself. "Perhaps the formula does need some tweaking. I shall have to discuss the matter with my chemists." She spoke to polar bear in Russian, and he reached into the pocket of his pants and tossed a set of keys onto the floor. "I think I will leave you and your bunny friends for now. You are free to go."
Nick's ears cocked up in surprise. "You serious?"
Volkov smiled again. "Of course. I will admit I was looking forward to watching you tear those little prey apart, but it seems I will have to wait for that pleasure. I will let you go, with the knowledge that I could have you all killed at any time. Let's see how well you sleep after that." With that she snapped her fingers at her goons, and they all walked together out the door she'd entered. The clang of metal as it shut echoed throughout the room.
"Well, that was anti-climactic," Nick said to Bonnie and Stu, after a moment.
"Fine by me," Stu said. "You sure you're all right, Nick?"
"I think so. I don't feel any different," he replied. Well, a bit hungry, but that was likely because the only thing he'd eaten in over a day was one tasteless fish patty. Nick leaned forward, balancing uncertainly as he got to his feet. His paws had been cuffed behind the back of the chair, but the handcuff chain hadn't been wrapped around the rails of the chair back, so it was simple to slip free. A few more moments of maneuvering and he managed to slip his legs though the loop of his arms, bringing his paws in front of himself. Then it was a simple matter of grabbing the handcuff keys off the floor, working a key somewhat awkwardly into the keyhole of the left cuff, and giving it a turn. It opened easily, and soon he had the right free as well. He tossed both key and cuffs to the floor, kneeling down in front of Bonnie and Stu's kennel.
"You guys sure you're okay?" he asked, swallowing back the nervous spit that was filling his mouth. There were two latches keeping the kennel door shut, but no padlocks had been put in place to secure them. With the interior of the kennel lined with wire behind the bars, it would have been impossible for Judy's parents to free themselves.
"We're fine, Nick. Just got got tossed around and growled at by that crazy fox and her wolves," Bonnie assured him. "Let's get out of here before she changes her mind and comes back."
"Sure," Nick said. He unlatched the cage and let the two prey animals out. They stood up, noses twitching in distress, holding each others paws. Tiny things, no larger than Judy. So very small, barely a meal back in the bad old days. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, running his tongue over his fangs briefly.
"You sure sure you're all right, Nick?" Stu asked, straightening his cap on his head. "Your eyes look all funny."
"I'm fine," Nick said sharply. "Never felt better." He felt his lips pull back from his fangs in a vulpine grin. "I'm just really hungry."
Chapter 10: Underworld
The two prey both backed up a step, ears drooped down and noses twitching hard, looking up at him in fear. He could smell their fear, even with three feet separating them. Everything around him seemed so much sharper, clearer, and simpler. There was a hunger deep in his belly, and prey in front of him, problem and solution all neatly together.
"You say you're hungry?" the male said nervously, patting the front of his overalls. "I think I got a candy carrot in my pocket somewhere for you."
"Stu, that won't help," the female said irritably. She took a step forward. "Nick, this isn't funny. You're scaring us."
"So?" he breathed.
I, Nicholas Wilde…
"That isn't you talking," the prey went on, "it's that nasty Night Howler drug that crazy vixen hit you with."
…promise to be brave, loyal…
"Stop talking," he said, either to the prey or the voice niggling in the back of his head, he couldn't be sure. "I'm hungry. Food doesn't talk."
...helpful, and trustworthy!
"That's right," the prey said. "You know the First Rule as well as we do; If It Talks, It is Not Food."
"So… stop… talking!" he roared, charging. The two prey leaped away, splitting up to either side of the room. He skidded across a dried oil stain on the floor, fetching up against the makeshift dais. "Come back here!" He turned and headed to the right, where the male had scampered off into the shadows of the piled boxes. No matter, to his eyes it was as bright as a cloudy dawn, while the prey would be nearly blind.
I, Officer Nicholas Wilde…
"Where arrrrrrre you?" he called out, dropping to all fours to creep around the corner of a crate pile. No sign of them… yet.
…upon my honor…
"Shut up," he growled.
…swear to uphold the laws of Zootopia…
A shadow of movement from above. He glanced up, to see the male hopping along the top of a pile of crates. He leaped, claws trying to find purchase in the rough pinewood, scrabbling up, growling in frustration as the prey leaped to another pile, deeper into the shadows.
…to act with bravery, and with integrity.
"Stop running."
…and to always uphold the public trust.
He leaped in pursuit of the male prey, claws scrambling for a hold on a wooden crate as he struck the side of the next pile, rolling into a ball as he fell to the concrete instead, arms clutched around his head.
"Nrgh, what's wrong with me?" Nick howled. "What did you do to me?"
Volkov's voice came over some hidden speaker in the ceiling. "I've opened your eyes, Nick. Night Hunter is an improvement upon Night Howler. Instead of dropping its victim into snarling madness, it merely helps strip away all the useless inhibitions we predators are forced to adopt to fit into civilized society. Isn't it wonderful?"
"You're not a crook," he panted, kneeling on all fours, head pounding. "You're a pred supremacist!"
"This is Zootopia, Nick. Why can't I be both?" Volkov purred. "Predators were at the top of the food chain, before Prey developed technology like spears, the bow and arrow, and the gun. So we made the Great Compromise with them, promised not to hunt and eat them. We were reduced to eating plants and fish to sustain ourselves, giving up our heritage for the sake of peace. Night Hunter erases millennia of developed self-control in mere minutes, allowing us to return to a life that we abandoned for mere Civilization."
"You're crazy!"
"Is it crazy to believe that the strong should rule over the weak? To believe we should be permitted to take what we deserve? Eat what we deserve? Tell me, officer, have you ever tasted meat, real meat, in your entire life?"
"Of course not!" He raised his head, sniffing the air. The prey was near, he knew it was. He could feel himself being torn in two, one part of him so hungry, wanting to taste fur in his mouth again, like when he'd been so close to consuming Carrots, his teeth at her throat, just a few more ounces of pressure…
"Red meat, Officer Wilde. I have tasted it, felt the hot blood of my enemies in my mouth, gorged upon it. You have so much to look forward to!"
"Stop talking!"
There! There was the female, right out in the open, at the intersection of two corridors made with the piles of crates. Her nose twitched, looking around blindly, unable to see him in the dark room. He dropped down to his haunches again, tail waving in anticipation. Then he sprang towards her, mouth agape, ready to bite and tear open the meal that was rightfully his!
The female suddenly jumped straight up in the air as he landed almost atop her, missing his prey by mere inches. Then he was struck by a hard blow on the side of his head, as the male leaped feet first from the side corridor. Stars flashed in front of his eyes, then the female came right back down, landing between his ears, and everything went black.
Chapter 11, Under Control
"Nick? You still with us, Nick?"
He folded his ears back, muffling the sound. He and Finnick must have really scored on whatever yesterday's hustle was, his head was absolutely pounding from the aftereffects of the celebration. Well, it was too early to start dealing with the morning after just yet. What was the point of being an independent business entrepreneur if you couldn't set your own hours? Go away, world.
"Nick, wake up now. We can't do all of this by ourselves." The voice was female, insistent, and familiar.
He groaned. "It's Saturday, Mom." He had lived for Saturdays. School had bored him. The teachers had always wanted him to learn things about history, and mathematics, not anything useful. Then after the muzzling incident when he'd tried to join the Junior Ranger Scouts he'd dreaded each school day, fearing to meet the scouts in the eye.
"I'm not your mother, and its Wednesday anyway, Nick. Now wake up!"
Nick opened his eyes reluctantly, and then quickly closed them again as a light shined in his face. He squinted. Stu had taken Nick's phone and set it on flashlight mode, shining it in his face, while Bonnie crouched beside her husband. All three of them were in a narrow, slimy drain pipe, barely wider than Nick's shoulders. He was lying on his stomach, arms twisted uncomfortably behind him, and a few quick tugs confirmed that he was back in the handcuffs. Someone had removed his tie and looped it under his shoulders in a makeshift harness, evidentially the way Bonnie and Stu had dragged him in here. Strong farmer bunnies, he figured. "I'm awake," he said softly, head still pounding. "Where are we?"
"Floor drain, underneath the warehouse. We managed to drag you in here before that crazy vixen and her wolves charged in, once they figured out we'd knocked you out," Stu whispered. "Are ya yourself, Nick?"
Nick took a few moments to consider that one. "I'm… kinda of two minds at the moment," he admitted. "I'm looking at you, and I know you're Stu and Bonnie, one of my best friend's parents. But I'm also looking at you, and part of me is saying I'm really hungry, and that lunch is right in front of me."
Bonnie's nose twitched. "I think we'd better keep the cuffs on him, Stu."
"I… think that's a good idea," Nick agreed reluctantly. "Any way out of here?"
"Can't go up," Stu said. "We can hear 'em up in the warehouse. I think they're moving all those crates we saw earlier. There's the sound of water from up ahead though."
"This pipe probably leads to the municipal drainage system then," Nick guessed. "If we can make it there, we should be able to crawl along until we find a street grate, and we can either crawl out or yell for help."
"That sounds good," Bonnie agreed. "Come on, Stu, help me with Nick." The two bunnies grabbed the free end of Nick's tie and started pulling the fox along, careful to keep out of range of his jaws. Nick was able help push himself by digging his toe claws in the rough, rusty surface of the pipe's interior and shoving forward, careful not to let himself get too close to the Hopps. The nagging part of his brain that still insisted they were a food source was hard to ignore. He had the horrible suspicion that if he hadn't known the two bunnies personally, then the instinct to pursue and eat them would have been a lot harder to fight.
"Almost there, hun-bun!" Stu said. The sound of rushing water grew louder, and they finally came to the end of the pipe, which opened up into a larger drain about a yard in diameter. "Just gotta give Nick here one last tug!"
"Wait!" Nick called out, as they dug their paw pads into edge of the pipe and got ready to heave. He worried his lip between his fangs briefly. "I think…" Nick swallowed, suddenly out of breath. "I think, before you pull me out to where there's more room, you'd better take my tie and…" Suddenly his throat went tight, forcing him to push the words past his teeth, "…and you'd better muzzle me."
"Oh, Nick! We can't do that to you!" Bonnie cried out.
"Sure can't!" Stu agreed. "We'd never be able to look you or Judy in the face again."
Nick shook his head. "I'm not eight anymore, and you've already seen how dangerous I am. I wouldn't be able to look at Judy either, if I had to tell her I ate her parents."
"Nicholas Wilde, we are not doing that to you, and that's final," Bonnie said firmly, and how a two foot tall bunny could sound just his mom was something Nick would never know.
He almost said "Your funeral" but was fortunately interrupted when a strong smell starting wafting down the pipe from the direction they'd came. Nick sniffed, and then started frantically pushing his toes against the walls of the pipe, trying to force his shoulders through. "Gasoline! They're pouring gasoline down the drain! Get out of here!" A wave of pungent liquid fuel washed over him, soaking his clothes and fur, pouring out of the drain and over Bonnie and Stu's feet as they grabbed hold his tie once again.
"Pull, Stuart!" Bonnie shouted. Together two heaved, falling into the larger drain pipe as Nick popped out.
"Grab onto me!" Nick shouted. The two bunnies grabbed the remains of his shirt, and he pinned them tightly between his body and his arms, as he dived under the filthy water, just as a wave of fire and heat went down the pipe and lit everything above the water in a massive fireball.
Nick kicked and swam with current, lungs burning as he tried to put distance between themselves and the fuel-air explosion. Finally, when he couldn't hold his breath any longer, he kicked up and burst to the surface, panting and coughing as he breathed in smoke and fumes, Judy's parents still hanging on for dear life.
"You guys alright?" he gasped. The two bunnies hopped up onto a little ledge, as they were pulled by the current into a cross junction under a ladder leading to an iron mammalhole cover.
"We're okay," Bonnie gasped, flopping down beside her husband.
"Don't think we needed that muzzle there, Nick," Stu noted, pushing himself up and gathering Bonnie in his arms.
"Guess not," Nick agreed. "You still got my mobile?"
"Right here," Stu said, pulling it from the front pocket of his overalls, "but ain't it soaked?"
"Shouldn't be. After Carrots and I took that tumble off the dam last year, it seemed like a good idea to get a waterproof model." He nodded to Stu. "Call Chief Bogo and tell him that we're in…" He looked up and checked the reference number stamped on the underside of the cover. "…drainage junction #326827."
While Stu brought up Bogo's number, Bonnie looked at Nick in concern. "You think we can let you out of those cuffs now?" she asked.
Nick ran his tongue over his fangs, and then lowered his head. "No. I'm still hungry." He closed his eyes wearily, and waited for the sound of approaching sirens.
Chapter 12, Headaches
Chief Bogo liked to think of himself as a reasonable mammal. The world wasn't perfect, his officers weren't perfect, and he knew he wasn't perfect. Nevertheless, he wished sometimes that the universe would kindly quit throwing situations at him that made want to give up policing and take up a nice, quiet job selling luxury ceramics. Example number one at the moment was Officer Wilde, who instead of staying off duty as requested had proceeded to stick his nose into a critical investigation, leading to him sitting in a chair in Bogo's office dressed in just a pair of pants and a set of handcuffs and leg irons, and smelling like a lawnmower that had been dragged through a sewer.
"Wilde, do you any idea of the gravity of your situation?" he asked, voice rumbling in displeasure.
"About 9.8 meters per second squared?" Wilde answered, ears perked up in amusement. He blinked. "Jeez, Mrs. Coon would be proud of me for remembering that. Wish I'd held onto the Periodic Table as well, she made us memorize the whole darned thing in 9th grade."
"Wilde…" he growled in warning.
"Sorry, Chief." He shrugged. "Look, I know perfectly well my ass, as well as my badge, is grass right now. However I would like to point out that I did manage to save the lives of two civilians…"
"After almost eating two civilians," Bogo interrupted.
"Well, there's that. But in the process of almost being eaten all three of us are able to give witness to Volkov's admission to aiding in the creation of a serious new drug threat in the city. By the way, were you able to track down the warehouse that we were being held in?"
"Yes, it was underneath a commercial building on the edge of the weather wall between Sahara Square and Tundra Town. The building itself is too unstable to investigate at the moment, since it just suffered a massive fire starting in the basement."
"Damn, she must have moved all of the crates out before she set fire to the building and almost us as well," Wilde said regretfully. "Not to mention torching any other evidence. Are you doing a search for other warehouses where she could move the stuff?"
"That's our priority at the moment." Bogo added reluctantly, "Mr. Big is already compiling a list of his properties in Tundra Town whose renters he can personally vouch for. That should cut down our search a bit."
"Great. Judy okay?"
"Her condition hasn't changed." Bogo then asked, "How's your condition?"
Wilde shrugged, rattling his chains. "Chief, I'm looking at you and part of my brain is telling me I see my boss. I'm also looking at you, and part of my brain is telling me you'd probably be too big for me to take down by myself, and I should have gone after those two bunnies when I had the chance."
Bogo crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Wilde. "You're speaking very calmly for a homicidal maniac."
"I think it comes from being a hustler for so long," Wilde admitted. "I'm so used to spouting off one set of lines while intending to do something else, that being a little schizoid is second nature to me. That may be why, after I shook off the initial reaction, that I was able to keep it together enough not to attack Judy's parents." He swallowed, his usual glib expression suddenly disappearing, to be replaced by a look of utter terror. "I'm so afraid I'm going to mix it up, though."
"We won't let you hurt anyone, Nick," Bogo reassured him. "We've got a doctor on the way from Zootopia General with a dose of the Night Howler antidote. Hopefully it'll work."
The fox nodded, taking a deep breath to calm down. Then he made a very deliberate shake of his head. "Even if the Night Howler antidote works on me, that's not going to solve the problem. This Volkov, she's pred supremist. She doesn't want to just muscle in on the criminal action in Zootopia, she wants to throw us back to the stone age, like it was before the Great Compromise, predator hunting prey, predators eating meat.
"Bellwether almost brought the city to rioting with just a couple of dozen infected predators. But this Night Hunter variant is worse. Night Howler, it made predators go savage, but at least you could see that there was something wrong with the victims. With Hunter, it's like it shuts down all the morality and empathy in a predator. They could be acting perfectly reasonably on the outside, while figuring out when was the best moment to strike and get a meal, and Volkov has cases of that shit! Four goons with air pistols and plenty of ammo could make Zootopia go down in flames." He took in another breath, trying to control his panting. "She said she was going to make a profit off it though. For the life of me I don't see how."
Bogo leaned against his desk. "A drug that allows someone to kill, and not care about the consequences? You know how many governments, evil or not, would pay money for something like to use on their enemies, or even their own soldiers? I can take a guess at a few who might be potential buyers."
"And she can use all of Zootopia as a product demonstration," Nick noted glumly. "Great."
"That's not happening," Bogo said firmly. At a knock at the door, he called out, "Come in!"
Clawhauser stuck his head in through the door. "Hi, Chief! Oh, hi Nick! I just wanted to let you know Dr. Madge is here with the Night Howler antidote."
"Good. Send her in."
Dr. Madge waddled in, a refrigerated valise underneath one arm. She took in Wilde, sitting half-naked and cuffed in his chair, and looked at Bogo questioningly. "I was told you had an officer who had been poisoned with Night Howler."
"That's me," Wilde said, and gave her a cheery wave with a cuffed paw.
"He doesn't look like a Night Howler victim," she said, her tone dubious.
"It's a variation of the original formula, we believe." Bogo gave the doctor a quick summary of Night Hunter's apparent effects, and added, "We need to see if the original Night Howler antidote will be effective on Night Hunter's victims. If not, we've got a serious problem."
Dr. Madge, who'd taken a cautious step back from Wilde while she listened, shook her head in doubt. "I can't engage in an experimental procedure with a patient who is unable to provide informed consent. We have no idea what the actual effects will be on his system."
"Doc, if you don't inject me with the antidote, I'm gonna be sitting strapped to a gurney like Hannibal Lemur the rest of my life," Wilde told her. "I promise I'll sign any consent form you like, assuming you'll trust me with a pen."
"Consider it covered under the Zootopia Emergency Powers Act," Bogo added. "Or, if that doesn't help, try comparing it to performing tests on fourteen mammals who couldn't even talk, never mind never bothering to tell their families that they were still alive."
Dr. Madge gave him a glare, then opened her case on a nearby table to extract a gleaming syringe. "All right," she said reluctantly. "Ready, Officer Wilde?"
"Sock it to me, doc," Wilde said, grinning, belying the tight, tense curl of his tail.
Dr. Madge pressed the needle of the syringe into Wilde's arm, pressed the plunger home, then quickly withdrew it.
"Feel any different yet?" Bogo asked.
Wilde shook his head. "Nothing," he admitted. "How long before I start worrying, doc?"
"We only injected the antidote into the Night Howler victims after they'd been sedated," she said. "It was far too dangerous to get that close to them with a needle otherwise. We only knew it had worked once the sedation wore off."
"Can't take that long. Night Howler was almost instantaneous. Be kinda unfair if the antidote... Ohhhh..."
Bogo cocked his head, watching as the tension that Wilde had only been half concealing suddenly fled from his body, his posture relaxing so quickly he nearly slid out of his seat. Then the fox gasped, leaning forward, shoulders beginning to shake as he started to hyperventilate.
"He's starting to go into seizures!" Dr. Madge said urgently. "Call 911!"
"No, no, no... I'm... okay," Wilde panted. "I... oh, god... I almost killed them!" He began to sob uncontrollably, tears soaking his face fur. "I almost killed them! I almost killed Judy's parents!"
"Wilde!" Bogo stepped forward, grabbing the fox by the shoulders. "Nick, look at me! Look... at... me..."
Still gulping back sobs, Wilde looked up at Bogo's face. "Sir, I'm sorry... I should have stayed h-home. I'm so suh-sorry..."
"If you had stayed home, we might not have found either of her parents in time, Nick. Yeah, you screwed up, but you still saved their lives. Remember that!"
"Okay... okay... I'm okay... I'm okay..." Nick gasped. His breathing slowed down, and he wiped his face with his cuffed paws. "I'll... I'll be all right, I think."
"Good." Bogo quickly uncuffed Wilde, and helped the fox to his feet. "You think you can make it to the locker room on your own?"
"Yeah."
"Then get yourself cleaned up and into your spare uniform," Bogo ordered.
"Yes, Chief." Wilde started to salute, realized he was very much out of uniform just at the moment, and put his paw back down. "You sure you want me on duty?"
"Don't make any mistake about this. I'm still furious with you, but we need every officer that's available until we can catch this Volkov, before she starts darting every predator in the city."
"Right," Wilde agreed. "And, Chief?"
"What?"
Wilde smiled slightly. "Thanks."
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Date: 2016-10-05 01:00 pm (UTC)