Chapter Text
It was dark… dark and warm with the humidity in the air sticking to your skin and body hair. The sky, peeking through the thick green canopy up above, was host to thousands upon thousands of stars whose light, unobstructed by the harsh glare of artificial competition, glistened through the verdant overgrowth in a million colours like spilt glitter on the inkwell-purple night sky canvas. The Moon, a bright cream crescent, hung in the air like a lantern. The sounds… a cacophony of competing bugs and guttural, primeval calls pricked all ears in attendance, sending them swivelling curiously back and forth as they tried to hone in on the source.
"Thousands of years ago," came a calm and soothing voice. Soft and maternal, it spoke as it gently pulled those who followed it forward, "the world… was a very different place…" There was a pause, the voice pulling the listeners forward as if about to reveal a fantastic surprise. "A place, where…"
"EVERYBODY WAS NAKED!"
In a flash, the night time scene was torn aside as a train shot along its tracks, slicing through the air as it began travelling around a great bend in the line. Barrelling past brown stone cliffs and swaying conifers, the bright blue sky and warm sun reflecting off its tinted windows, a side window shook before sliding down to reveal a small face, its fur russet red and dirty cream, poking out. .
"This is my town," narrated a voice. It was loud, deep(ish), clear and spoke proudly as it charismatically extolled the virtues of the place it called home. The train was finally back on land, passing through a wide sandy plain and shooting by a great range of buildings that were all built up around the massive palm hotel tower; its decorative fronds casting welcome shadows across the township below as they blocked out the harsh sun. On the streets below, thousands of mammals could be seen living their own unique lives, working and playing next to each other in complete harmony. Carrying on, past the restaurants and bars which eagerly waited for the cool of the night to open, the train weaved through a set of great canyons. Their steep cliffs ranged in hue from red to yellow to brown, with homes and businesses built into great towers or carved into the rocks themselves. Leaving even these, the train was painted in a hot orange as it closed in on a great bank of heaters, before it dove through a tunnel at its base.
"Zootopia…"
The train exited the tunnel and was met with the snow-scape of Tundratown. Moving away from the climate wall, the world's largest air conditioner and marvel of mammal engineering, its wake swept up the flurries of snow being sprayed by the numerous snow cannons into a twirling mist that was carried away by the wind.
"Land of opportunity."
The orange train stood out like a sore thumb against the rich greens and browns of the rainforest district. Passing beneath the elevated bridges and walkways, it was just in time to see the thousands of rain emitters turn on. Weaving through the giant trees, or huge buildings, the train was cleaned of the dust and grime from the earlier parts of its trip all while the glass of its observation dome reflected the hundreds of rainbows forming in the morning mist. Entering the last tunnel, burrowing through the rolling hills that separated the rainforest district from downtown, it finally emerged into the warmth of Savannah central in all its glory.
"Where any mammal can achieve their dreams!"
In the distance, a glitzy elevator began descending, passing window after window to the lives of the well-endowed. With a keen eye, you could spot a smartly dressed pair of squirrels, effortlessly polishing the horn of a distinguished Rhino as he checked the cuffs on his fine suit. Further down was a family of possums, hanging by their tails as they settled in for a movie night/day, with popcorn and all. Evidently tired by a hard night's work, a Hippopotamus put on a pair of soft, silk pyjamas before relaxing through the decorative lilies and into the warm, moisturising embrace of his jumbo-sized water bed. The elevator, if you were still following it, reached the ground level and opened. Stepping out was a stunning Gazelle, who just so happened to take that as a stage name when she sang for the city, who was soon laid upon by the paparazzi.
On the other side of the street walked three scruffy figures, slowly plodding along. Their workman overalls were stained and grubby, the sticky gunk covering them also gluing to the mammals' fur. Their leader, a red fox in a worn out green anorak, walked with the same world-weary slouch and disinterested eyes as his two companions, each foot being pulled in front of the other and falling to the floor as they carried on. Looking forward, he sighed and glanced sideways.
"Unless you're a chomper!" Nick Wilde's internal voice continued, using up the last of his enthusiasm for a final flourish, laced in sarcasm. The tone dropped, becoming bitter and weary. "AKA, you descend from a line of mammals that, like thousands of years ago, ate other mammals. Something which no one's done in several millennia… 'cause eating your neighbor would be totally disgusting… "
The trio continued walking down the road, before turning towards a grimy factory where they clocked in, their movements robotic and without thought.
"But they still call us chompers… and that's fine! 'Cause I got plenty of names for them, too."
The inside of the factory was hot and humid, the noise unbearable. In certain areas came the incessant chirping of crickets, freshly raised in the outer districts and surrounding country. The crickets were carried in and, in an instant, their chirps and sounds were painlessly stopped. Warm, mushy and free of disease or parasites, the food to be was rolled out and split into several conveyors, sending it towards half a dozen industrial mashers that were all hard at work. As the metal crushers rose and fell and burgers were spurted out, the three mammals unenthusiastically attended to the operation in their worn-out work uniforms.
The smallest, a tan coloured fennec fox, his enormous ears folded down beneath the baggy blue factory scrubs which were at least two sizes larger than him, would wander from extruder to extruder waiting for the occasional fault. Every time the patties coming out of the outlets were misshapen or the tube itself clogged, straining his muscles to remove the blockage, he'd inevitably cover himself with muck in the process before turning the machine back on.
The largest, a chubby cheetah, swept up the continuous splatter and threw it back into the crushing vat. The mind-numbing tedium of his continuous job was at least sullied somewhat by the glitzy music that came out of his radio, permanently tuned to the pop station as evident from the out of tune lyrics he eagerly parroted.
The final worker, the red fox, overviewed the array of machines and checked that the level of meat in them never got too high or too low. With everything going fine at that moment he tapped his claws along a panel out of boredom, slouching as he did so. Looking up, he spotted an angry Beaver wander up and down an elevated gantry. Nick's eyes hardened as he looked on at his boss, who was busy barking incoherent orders to any unfortunate that he had decided to pick on.
"Wood-whacker," he thought, while his eyes narrowed further with contempt into a bitter scowl. "Look at him with his stupid flat tail. Looks like a steamroller ran over it. And those giant teeth… sod ancient mammals, those things can still go through trees! But here he is… running a family business making food he will never eat… for people he despises. At least I know that with that attitude, he's alone… hopefully. I suppose that's one tiny… insignificant… consolation…"
"WILDE!" shouted the screaming rodent. His eyes and index finger pointed like daggers at the fox.
"Yes sir," Nick tiredly replied as he stood up, before starting to wander from machine to machine.
"DON'T THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING! THIEVING, LYING… I KNOW YOUR KIND! I'LL CATCH YOU ONE DAY, RED HANDED AND THEN IT'S THE PARK BENCH FOR YOU!"
Nick, still doing his duties, merely looked up and smiled slightly before replying with as much sarcasm as he dared. "According to those mammals blessed with tricolor vision, my paws are more maroonish..."
"DON'T SLY TALK ME FOX!" Woodwacker furiously interrupted, his scream sending the fox's ears flying backwards, plastering themselves against his skull. "I'LL CATCH YOU WITH HARD EVIDENCE ONE DAY, JUST YOU WAIT!"
Nick merely shrugged and went back to work, "Red fur, bushy tail, pointy ears and snout… that's all the evidence you'll ever find or care about…"
The Beaver gripped the iron bars, hackles raised and prepared another angry tirade, before a loud metal crash far away caught his attention and pulled him away.
Twilight was approaching as the day shift left the Bugburga factory. On one side walked the executives and marketers, well dressed prey mammals and the odd predator, likely a union rep or token something or other. In a show of unity, the shop floor workers on the other side were all predators: big cats, small cats, canids, bears, mustelids, the odd civet and even an estranged member of the marsupial order or two, such as a Tasmanian devil. Dressed in their tatty overalls, they strolled out past the car park and out onto the streets, turning towards their home or a nearby bus or rail station.
"I'll pick up the van Slick, meet up by the station?" said the fennec fox
Nick nodded, and as his two friends went their own way he wandered down the sidewalk. His coat collar pulled up tight around his neck like all those around him, shielding themselves from the cold breeze coming in from Tundratown, the fox aimlessly looked around before his eyes widened slightly as he saw a middle-aged deer driving past in her car. It was a face that he hadn't seen for twenty-five odd years, and he knew just the name for her. "Liar."
-Twenty-five years ago-
"Thousands of years ago, the world was a very different place. A place, where…"
"EVERYBODY WAS NAKED!"
The sudden energetic response had resulted in the school group bursting out in giggles and laughter. The tour leader, a young female deer, looked on with an amused smirk as her gaze fixed itself on a cute red fox kit, dressed up smart in green cargo shorts and a green collared t-shirt with a tie, who stood at the front of the group.
"Yes Nicholas, everybody was naked. We didn't have electricity, or cars, or buildings either."
The group of young kids, ranging from a small rat to a large Rhino, began murmuring as they processed the unbelievable idea. The tour guide, enjoying every minute, turned back to the presentation. It was a wide display case, showing a recreation of the primal jungle within it.
"There were other things different too back then," she continued.
"Like what?" asked a young girl from the crowd.
"Well," began the guide, "back then, mammals were divided into two groups. Prey with the flat teeth, and predators with the sharp teeth."
The announcement was met with slurps and sucks as the children began exploring their mouths, surveying their teeth with a newly awoken curiosity. The Deer told them the most important part, the part that every kit, cub, kid and calf in Zootopia had to learn.
"And why didn't we get along?" she asked, before setting her gaze on a quieter member of the group. "Finnick?
One of the smallest Mammals in the group, a tiny fennec fox whose fur was still white in places and with ludicrous ears that were both larger than his actual head, concentrated intently for a moment before coming up with the most logical answer.
"Because we wouldn't share?"
"Close," replied the guide, as she stepped over towards a set of red curtains. "Because, predators… would eat us!"
The curtains were drawn open, showing the silhouette of a giraffe flee and panic as lions pounced and tore at it. Unified in their revulsion, the entire crowd made a chorus of ewes and other sounds of disgust.
"Now, no one's eaten anyone for thousands of years, but just to be extra safe, we have… The Tame Collar!"
The deer gestured over to a plinth in which a collar was suspended. The grey fabric, reinforced by metal rivets, held a box the size of a pack of cards in its centre. A warm green light glowed from it, contrasting sharply with the holographic lion that now appeared. With the collar around his neck, he held his head high and wore a sharp suit while carrying a jet-black briefcase. Looking up were the predators and prey, Finnick and Nick at the front. Their eyes were glazed with awe, hands reaching up around their necks… to touch the shiny new collars strapped around them. Both smiled as they stood up straight, so happy that they were now grown up; so proud that they were big kits now.
The tour guide pressed a button and a film began, showing a cartoon lion. Standing up, with a coffee in hand, he looked as grown up and mature as the hologram one everyone had seen earlier.
"When a predator gets agitated," she began to explain, as a cartoon zebra walked onto stage and bumped into the lion. Knocking the coffee onto his shirt, the lion looked up before unleashing his fury. His face grew ugly with rage, a fearsome roar that made the poor Zebra cower shot out from his mouth, while his collar beeped three times in warning before activating.
"…The tame collar reminds them to be good…"
The short sharp buzz lit the screen blue for a few seconds before leaving a slightly stunned lion with a frizzy mane. After a quick pause to regain his composure, he smiled and shook hands with the Zebra in a mutual apology.
"So now, all mammals can be together!" finished the guide, as the cohort of school children began intermingling. Many of the prey began crowding around the occasional predator, stroking and feeling his or her collar while its owner beamed on with pride.
"Don't worry," she reassured him, "the collar just warns you. I promise, it will only hurt you if you're super naughty and besides, wearing it means you can live in Zootopia! Where anyone can be anything… even you". She smiled as she gently hoofed Nick on his nose, eliciting a smile and perked up ears..
-Present day-
“Only hurt you if you're 'super naughty'" adult Nick grumbled as he walked along the pavement. His hand reached up and pulled down the high collar on his anorak, exposing the same old collar. It was scuffed a bit here and there from twenty years of wear and tear but the same orange light shone out, before dropping to green. Nick merely grumbled some more, his words incoherent as several smaller prey families who happened to glance up pulled their children back as he approached. Nick gave a bored wave and smile, which merely sent some of them flying into their parents' arms in fear as the 'dangerous pred' shrugged before walking on by. Hoping to distract himself, he handed over a dollar at a nearby stand and grabbed a newspaper, before scanning through the headlines. He certainly distracted himself, but not in a good way. His mouth parted slightly and eyes widened in shock, his pupils taking in the big bold headline: 'Wolf goes savage, innocent sheep family saved by tame collar.'
His ears fell back with resignation as he read through the article. Up until now, savagery had always been a political buzzword or an adjective in scary children's stories. The article was brief, and didn't mention anything about the poor wolf's present state or illness or family, merely how terrifying he was and how scared the sheep were. After reading through the article, Nick pulls out a tie from underneath his anorak and cradles it in one paw, methodically stroking it for comfort with his thumb. As he ran his black pawpad along the soft, worn fabric, Nick relaxed somewhat as he finally reached his destination. Standing near the drop off point of the central station, however, it didn't take long to spot the fact that many mammals had started to give him a wide berth, while a hulking police officer fixed his accusing gaze on him.
"Of course… of course…" Nick muttered as his eyes rolled and hands went up in mock surrender. Nick wasn't just the recipient of the one in ten chance of being born a lowly chomper. Nope, he had the one in a thousand chance of being a red fox. More aggressive than wolves; more kleptomaniacal than racoons; slipperier than weasels… with a good dollop of greed, cunning and slyness added on top. That's what everyone saw him as. A no good, double dealing, back stabbing, untrustworthy, worst of the worst piece of conniving mammalian trash.
Flicking through his paper, a short set of honks and a loud backfire awoke Nick to the sound of Finnick's van arriving. Nick folded up his paper and began to step forward, before wincing in horror at the sound of a squeaky horn and roaring engine.
Beep… Beep…
Before he could pull it up, his tail was painfully run over by a set of trust fund gerbils in their sports car, the shock sending his collar up to yellow. All happening before he could think, Nick yelped in pain, his snout wrinkled and teeth bared, just as his collar bleeped for the second time… its light going orange.
ZAP…
The short sharp shock, similar in pain to a hornet sting, stung Nick's neck and sent him falling to the ground, landing hard on his tail. Limbs trembling slightly and right hand firmly plastered to his still buzzing neck, Nick stood up and surveyed the surroundings. Looking up past the scattered pages of his newspaper, he saw the harsh glare of mammals who hadn't seen the provocation judging him. Those who had seen it either didn't care or, like the police officer and gerbil jerks, were laughing out loud at his misfortune and pointing at him. A few other preds looked on with sympathetic eyes and small waves of their paws.
"Jerk shock, two hundred and seventy-one." Nick muttered, as he put his pain and humiliation behind him. He walked off towards the van, massaging his neck with one hand and straightening his tie with the other. "Still no sign of them getting bored."