Mammal of Interest, Part Three
Dec. 7th, 2016 09:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalBellwether blinked, as the black cloth bag was pulled off her head. After she'd been grabbed, coughing and crying, out of the van by that huge wolf, she'd been stuffed, still pawcuffed, into the trunk of a sedan and driven around the city for almost an hour. Then the car had stopped and she'd been pulled out into a totally dark room, had the bag plopped over her head and moved up several flights of stairs to wherever she was now. She could smell comforting scent of old, dusty books, driving out the lingering smell of tear gas in her wool.
The world came into focus. She was in a library, or at least secure book depository, the shelves around her surrounded by a chain link cage. Standing in front of her on the other side of the cage was the tall wolf, mask removed, revealing penetrating gray eyes. Next to him was a shorter Persian leopardess and on his other side a small bespectacled marten leaning on a cane, and looming behind them a tall, furry bear. The leopard had a soy steak, or least Bellwether hoped it was soy, speared on a wicked looking combat knife, and was chewing on it idly. The bear, by contrast, seemed to be happily munching on a paperback copy of I, Robot.
“Hello, Miss Bellwether,” the marten greeted. “I'm very sorry about my associates bringing you here so abruptly, but it was our best opportunity to remove you to safety before you were placed in Federal custody.”
She drew in a breath, straightening her glasses and giving the marten an annoyed glare. “I'm in a cage with four predators in front of me, and you're saying I'm safe?”
“Relative safety,” the marten corrected, seemingly un-offended. “I can assure you that at worst we will place you back in ZPD custody when the situation has been clarified.”
“What situation?” Bellwether asked.
“Whether you are going to be the victim of a violent crime, or the perpetrator.”
The leopard smiled in an unsettling manner. “Personally, I'm hoping for perpetrator,” she said.
Bellwether did her best to ignore that smile, raising her cuffed hooves. “I'm not in much position to do violence at the moment.”
“Ah, yes. My apologies.” The marten turned towards the well dressed wolf. “Mr. Roofe, could you please uncuff Ms. Bellwether...” He spotted the bear chewing the paperback and let out an exasperated sigh. “Bear, please. I've told you to leave the Isaac Asisloth alone.” He grabbed a book at random from the shelf. “Here, take this Piers Antlery instead. No one will miss it.” The bear ducked his head sheepishly and exchanged books with the marten, muttering something apologetic in what sounded like Dutch.
Meanwhile the wolf, Roofe, opened the cage door briefly to unlock Bellwether's cuffs. She flinched as he approached to kneel down in front of her and release her ankle shackles. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft.
“Like you didn't hurt those two officers?” she demanded.
“I didn't. Why do you care?” he asked.
“Because if you murdered them, then I probably don't have much of a chance either.” Bellwether rubbed her wrists and she was freed. The wolf stepped back out of the cage and secured the door.
“I didn't have to kill them,” he said. “The tear gas did the job.”
“Heck, you even left their kneecaps intact,” the leopardess noted, as if kneecapping police officers was an everyday occurrence.
Bellwether glanced at the bizarre quartet of predators. “Who are you people?” she asked.
“Call us... an investigative group,” the marten replied, apparently the leader of the quartet. “We look into the affairs of individuals, and try to determine whether they are going to be the victim, or the perpetrator, of an act of violence. If the former, we protect them as best we can. If the latter, we stop them with every means we have available.”
“Which usually isn't much,” the wolf, Roofe, muttered.
“How could you not know whether they're one or the other?”
“I'll admit it's something of a self-imposed challenge. You'll forgive me if I don't bore you with the details as to why its necessary. Suffice it to say your number came up, and we took immediate steps. Now, of course, the entire ZPD is out looking for you, which is going to make our job perhaps a bit more interesting than it usually is.”
“So, either you think I'm going to murder someone,” she concluded, “or someone is going to try to murder me. Either way you want to stop it from happening.”
“Precisely,” the marten agreed.
Bellwether cocked her head. “You'd protect me, a sheep, a prey species? Why would you bother? You're all predators. Your job isn't to save anybody, it's to hunt and kill.” The leopardess just seemed to shrug the accusation off, but, curiously, the wolf nodded in agreement with her, his face sad.
The marten's expression, however clinical it was before, darkened considerably. “Some of our actions are morally ambiguous, I will admit, but you're hardly on the high ground. Your attacks with the Night Howler poison stripped over twenty predators of their reason and their free will, leaving them trapped in an atavistic state, some of them for over four months. Even though they have all recovered, the effects of their poisoning will leave deep psychological scars that they will be dealing with for the rest of their lives.”
“I'm crying for them, I really am,” Bellwether simpered mockingly. Then she snorted. “They deserved what they got. Zootopia needed to see them for what they really were, so prey species would never make the mistake of trusting anybody with fangs.”
The marten cocked his head in curiosity. “So, on at least some level, you thought you were protecting all the prey species?”
“Yeah, I suppose I was,” Bellwether admitted, though it was an angle she'd rarely considered. Mostly she had just enjoyed watching predator after predator lose their hairy minds, reduced to the savages they'd always been behind a veneer of civilization.
“Interesting. But even with that justification, was the price the prey paid worth it?”
Bellwether blinked. “What price?” she asked.
“Over twenty predators went savage, most of them darted in public areas to create the maximum amount of disruption possible,” the marten pointed out. “Public areas where ninety percent of the citizens are prey. Didn't you ever consider how many of them were hurt, or even killed, when the predators attacked those around them? Think of it. You're a sheep, or a giraffe, or a raccoon, and suddenly your friend the tiger, or the lion, falls to all fours and starts growling. Would you run, or would you come closer, trying to see what's wrong?”
“I... I never thought of it like that,” she said, the words seeming to leave an ugly taste in her mouth.
“Evidently not,” the marten said. He nodded to her, the clinical expression returning to his face. “You may as well relax, while we take care of things. If you get bored, you have plenty of reading material in there. Good day, for now.” He turned and began walking away, leaning on his cane, the other predators following him.
Bellwether sat on the bunk that had been set in the corner of the cage, staring at the locked door, trying to figure out why she suddenly felt so cold inside.
The world came into focus. She was in a library, or at least secure book depository, the shelves around her surrounded by a chain link cage. Standing in front of her on the other side of the cage was the tall wolf, mask removed, revealing penetrating gray eyes. Next to him was a shorter Persian leopardess and on his other side a small bespectacled marten leaning on a cane, and looming behind them a tall, furry bear. The leopard had a soy steak, or least Bellwether hoped it was soy, speared on a wicked looking combat knife, and was chewing on it idly. The bear, by contrast, seemed to be happily munching on a paperback copy of I, Robot.
“Hello, Miss Bellwether,” the marten greeted. “I'm very sorry about my associates bringing you here so abruptly, but it was our best opportunity to remove you to safety before you were placed in Federal custody.”
She drew in a breath, straightening her glasses and giving the marten an annoyed glare. “I'm in a cage with four predators in front of me, and you're saying I'm safe?”
“Relative safety,” the marten corrected, seemingly un-offended. “I can assure you that at worst we will place you back in ZPD custody when the situation has been clarified.”
“What situation?” Bellwether asked.
“Whether you are going to be the victim of a violent crime, or the perpetrator.”
The leopard smiled in an unsettling manner. “Personally, I'm hoping for perpetrator,” she said.
Bellwether did her best to ignore that smile, raising her cuffed hooves. “I'm not in much position to do violence at the moment.”
“Ah, yes. My apologies.” The marten turned towards the well dressed wolf. “Mr. Roofe, could you please uncuff Ms. Bellwether...” He spotted the bear chewing the paperback and let out an exasperated sigh. “Bear, please. I've told you to leave the Isaac Asisloth alone.” He grabbed a book at random from the shelf. “Here, take this Piers Antlery instead. No one will miss it.” The bear ducked his head sheepishly and exchanged books with the marten, muttering something apologetic in what sounded like Dutch.
Meanwhile the wolf, Roofe, opened the cage door briefly to unlock Bellwether's cuffs. She flinched as he approached to kneel down in front of her and release her ankle shackles. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft.
“Like you didn't hurt those two officers?” she demanded.
“I didn't. Why do you care?” he asked.
“Because if you murdered them, then I probably don't have much of a chance either.” Bellwether rubbed her wrists and she was freed. The wolf stepped back out of the cage and secured the door.
“I didn't have to kill them,” he said. “The tear gas did the job.”
“Heck, you even left their kneecaps intact,” the leopardess noted, as if kneecapping police officers was an everyday occurrence.
Bellwether glanced at the bizarre quartet of predators. “Who are you people?” she asked.
“Call us... an investigative group,” the marten replied, apparently the leader of the quartet. “We look into the affairs of individuals, and try to determine whether they are going to be the victim, or the perpetrator, of an act of violence. If the former, we protect them as best we can. If the latter, we stop them with every means we have available.”
“Which usually isn't much,” the wolf, Roofe, muttered.
“How could you not know whether they're one or the other?”
“I'll admit it's something of a self-imposed challenge. You'll forgive me if I don't bore you with the details as to why its necessary. Suffice it to say your number came up, and we took immediate steps. Now, of course, the entire ZPD is out looking for you, which is going to make our job perhaps a bit more interesting than it usually is.”
“So, either you think I'm going to murder someone,” she concluded, “or someone is going to try to murder me. Either way you want to stop it from happening.”
“Precisely,” the marten agreed.
Bellwether cocked her head. “You'd protect me, a sheep, a prey species? Why would you bother? You're all predators. Your job isn't to save anybody, it's to hunt and kill.” The leopardess just seemed to shrug the accusation off, but, curiously, the wolf nodded in agreement with her, his face sad.
The marten's expression, however clinical it was before, darkened considerably. “Some of our actions are morally ambiguous, I will admit, but you're hardly on the high ground. Your attacks with the Night Howler poison stripped over twenty predators of their reason and their free will, leaving them trapped in an atavistic state, some of them for over four months. Even though they have all recovered, the effects of their poisoning will leave deep psychological scars that they will be dealing with for the rest of their lives.”
“I'm crying for them, I really am,” Bellwether simpered mockingly. Then she snorted. “They deserved what they got. Zootopia needed to see them for what they really were, so prey species would never make the mistake of trusting anybody with fangs.”
The marten cocked his head in curiosity. “So, on at least some level, you thought you were protecting all the prey species?”
“Yeah, I suppose I was,” Bellwether admitted, though it was an angle she'd rarely considered. Mostly she had just enjoyed watching predator after predator lose their hairy minds, reduced to the savages they'd always been behind a veneer of civilization.
“Interesting. But even with that justification, was the price the prey paid worth it?”
Bellwether blinked. “What price?” she asked.
“Over twenty predators went savage, most of them darted in public areas to create the maximum amount of disruption possible,” the marten pointed out. “Public areas where ninety percent of the citizens are prey. Didn't you ever consider how many of them were hurt, or even killed, when the predators attacked those around them? Think of it. You're a sheep, or a giraffe, or a raccoon, and suddenly your friend the tiger, or the lion, falls to all fours and starts growling. Would you run, or would you come closer, trying to see what's wrong?”
“I... I never thought of it like that,” she said, the words seeming to leave an ugly taste in her mouth.
“Evidently not,” the marten said. He nodded to her, the clinical expression returning to his face. “You may as well relax, while we take care of things. If you get bored, you have plenty of reading material in there. Good day, for now.” He turned and began walking away, leaning on his cane, the other predators following him.
Bellwether sat on the bunk that had been set in the corner of the cage, staring at the locked door, trying to figure out why she suddenly felt so cold inside.
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Date: 2016-12-08 03:33 pm (UTC)Open grown-up galleries
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