Chapter Text
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The fire crackled beside him, the young Lynx’s eyes resting upon it. The incandescent glow of coals, the rising smoke drawn up to be blasted out of the chimney, the ever faint wispy scent of sulfur in the air.
He stood there, twiddling his toes on the floor, ears twitching slightly as the seconds slowly crept on.
The thinnest hand of the clock shuddering down one sixtieth of its orbit, then again, then again.
With a sigh Pawbert sat down. -The furniture had been removed from his father’s study, that was the first thing he’d noticed when the purser had led him there to discuss important business.
Whatever it could be, the young lynx couldn’t quite figure it out. Sure, he’d failed badly, not passing the exams and getting into the same academy that Cattrick and Kitty had, but the last pawful of months of his primary education had not been bad bad. Nothing raised up, nothing he could think of that had got him into trouble, or been a disappointment. -Any more than usual. He knew his grades weren’t as good as his elder siblings, he knew he’d been slipping into fewer and fewer roles or opportunities, not ‘making an impression of himself’ as his father had said was his duty.
A twitch of his mouth and he glanced back towards the flames, stepping back a little just to help take the edge off the wall of heat it cast upon him.
Seconds passed.
Finally, sighing, his legs starting to ache a little he sat down, resting himself on the patterned carpet, wondering if it’d be worth lying down. Sure, the heat was an assault on his face, but right now, lying down in front of the fire, letting his back take it…
A heavy click and his head snapped around, the door behind him swinging open and his father walking in, turning to close it behind him. With a solid thump it latched, his father glancing down at him for a second before making his way to the window. All as the young lynx watched. Claws flicking the latches on the shutters, pulling them closed, then the curtains for good measure. The pale blue creep of the dying day outside was snuffed out, only the dominion of the fire lighting the room, painting the elder lynx’s grey fur orange and red, glinting in his eyes.
His father stood up, towering over him, and then… “Are you going to stand up? Or keep sitting like a kitnergardener at story time?”
“I…” With a jerk, the younger lynx stood up, coming up far closer to his father, if still a way off. Something the elder feline did nothing to correct.
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…
“Is… -Did I do something wrong?”
With a sigh, his father reached into his pocket, bringing out something small. Wrapped up. Pawbert couldn’t help but step back, a rise of excitement as he looked at it.
“Seeing as Cattrick and Kitty will be returning shortly, I thought it was time or some level of bonding between us, son. While I have my responsibilities to the family, especially after your mother’s disgraceful decision to leave in pursuit of that piece of tail, I do keep an eye on you. On your interests. So, I thought, while I had a lull in my calendar…”
“I…” The young Lynx stammered a little, reaching out and letting his gloved paws hold the small gift, cradling it as he brought it close, claws coming in to undo the ribbons and slowly, surely…
Eyes lit up as he saw the sepia printed paint on the small box, the stencilled in picture of a motorbike cutting through the desert, saddlebag on back and the chisselled jawed indomitable rider on top. Already his brain was flickering, scanning through articles and pieces from the magazines past he’d read, picking out what he knew. Yakaha XT500, the winning two-wheeler of the first Dakcat rally, maybe not a classic but certainly a champion… -Was the model a classic, could he take it out of its box, could he…
“Do you like it, son?”
“I…” Pawbert stuttered a few times, tongue tripping over, before he walked forward and wrapped his paws around his father, tight. “Thanks dad.”
He slowly slipped down, not really thinking as his father’s paw came up, slipping the small box back from him and examining it. The young lynx just waited for its return, watching on as the elder lynx turned to the fire. “I suppose it’s fitting you’re interested in a desert bike, Pawbert.”
Turning to it also, not glinting the same knowledge his father was, the young lynx waited.
“We’re mammals of ice. Cold, but preserving. Sapping life from many, but blissful to us. And here, in the midst of our kingdom, in the shadow of our family's greatest triumph, in the wake of her frigid breath, we keep the fires burning. Fire is the opposite of ice, but we too would be nothing without it. And so we keep the flames stoked, revelling in our conquest of the cold.” He paused. “Pawbert?”
“Y-yes?” He asked, looking up.
“How far are you willing to go… To conquer…”
And then, with a deft flick of the wrist the small box went flying, careening through the air and directly into the jaws of the hearth, landing in its midst.
“DAD!” The scream rose out, a step and then another went towards the flames and then…
Collapsing onto his knees, caving into the carved out hole inside of him, his head twitched as his eyes recorded the horror in front of them. A flick, then another, and the cardboard wicked, flames ripping up it as a brown and then ashen front claimed the delicate art, the bike, the rider, all vanishing as a roar of flames ripped up, ecstatically devouring the outside… What was inside revealed within.
All as the young cat watched, a passive witness as the little model was revealed, paint shining off the light around it, glorious and lit for a second or two before the heat turned its attention onto it. Blisters began forming, buboes of black, cracks surging out as the colours rotted and blackened, the details blotted out. Black, then starting to glow red, the whole thing even starting to twist and bend, warped by the blaze around it…
All as Pawbert just watched.
Trying to work out why.
How could…
Why…?
“Do you have any questions for me?” his father finally asked.
“I…” Head tilting up, body starting to slink away, “I… What did I do wrong, Dad? What did I do…”
“-Do you want the list?” His father cut in.
Pawbert couldn’t help but let his ears fall back as he tried to think, tried to grasp, not just one thing but many, what could he have…
“It started when I walked into the room,” his father said, gesturing to the now cremated remains of the model. Turning back to Pawbert, he gave a sigh at his offspring’s tharn’d up expression, his expression turning harsher.
“I… -You did that because I didn’t stand up?”
“Listen closely, son,” his father spoke. “Mammals, legacies, empires, are not built on kindness. And while ingenuity and genius and creativity may play a part, they will always lose against the true weapon we possess. A will to act, to do, to conquer, to take! For the family, for the Lynxley legacy! Knowing that we, are, better! That we can, and we will, tread over lesser mammals that refuse to stand up for themselves, or animals who are naive enough to not know the true elixir for glory. If you do not take, you will be taken from… Just ask the true inventor of the weather walls that.”
“I… Great Grandfather Ebenezer, what…”
“The inventor of the weather walls, not because he possessed the genius to create the designs, but because he had the will, he had the cunning, he saw the opportunity and had the predator’s driver to take it!”
Pawbert could only blink. “He… He didn’t… He stole…”
“He took, and look what it built,” his father spoke, raising his paws. “That is what it means to be a Lynxley…” He paused, a look of weary disappointment on his muzzle as he glanced over at the fire. “You could have saved that toy. Cattrick did his. Kitty did hers…”
“Y-you did that to…”
“As my father did to me, and his to him,” his father spoke, walking over. “Unlike my elder sister…”
“Aunt Catterine?”
“Supposedly she just broke down crying, hit my father and tried to claw him, screamed, which I appreciate was something,” Milton growled, his face snapping back and now crushing down on the younger lynx. A step back, two… “Sure, when I raced forward, catching it before it even had a chance to be licked by the flames, I showed myself as more of a Lynxley than her. But she, at least, did something…” The growl grew. “Better than just standing there, gormless like a bumkin bunny blasted by light, just watching. Watching when you could have been racing in. Watching as the box caught but could still be rescued and patted out. Watching as the true gift within revealed itself, unharmed, then recoverable, and then, lick by lick, dead, lost, all thanks to your innaction!”
“I… -I didn’t realise, I… I didn’t know how to get it out or…”
“Amongst other things, clearing out the office should have drawn your attention to the one thing I left in here,” his father spoke, paw out and claw outstretched, the conspicuous set of fire tools: shovel, stoker, brush and tongs standing sentinel in inconspicuous conspicuousness.
His blindness reflecting on him, sharpening the disappointment in his father’s face, Pawbert looked forward. “I…” He felt the tears welling up. “I… I, okay, I learnt my lesson, I…”
“Have you?” his father asked, walking to the door.
“”It was just one mistake…”
“-Was it one mistake when you sat down like a toddler far sooner than your siblings?” He asked, turning his head, fire-lit eyes burning into the young feline. “Staying so as I walked in? Not raising a question, not standing up for yourself, coming to the conclusion, first and foremost, that you must have done something to earn this. What about the bars before, academic, social, sport, whatever, where you consistently, repeatedly, failed to achieve what your brother and sister could. From the day you were born you were a runt, slow, weak, taking your time even at that, it wasn’t just physical, you let it seep into your soul. And right now, giving me that pathetic, awful, snivelling little look, not even raising your voice in anger?” He gave a snort. “To be a Lynxley is a state of mind, Pawbert. A glorious, magnificent, state of mind. An honour. Even if I knew better, as this day approached I let in some silly little sliver of hope.” He let a look of disgust grow on his face. “Still, seems my gut feeling was right, and from that sorry look on your face it always will be right.” He gave a snort. “Myself, your brother, your sister. We’ve always been better than you. We always will be. And nothing you can do will change that.”
And with that, with a creak of the door, his father left, closing it behind him.
Should he run after him?
Should he yell.
Turning back, seeing the remains of the toy flowing like melted wax, Pawbert finally ran to the tools, grabbing the tongs and fishing it out. It dropped on the hearth, resting there, an amorphous blob of failure.
All as he collapsed to his knees.
He knew the one thing he shouldn’t do was cry.
Yet he did.
Because he guessed he was weak, he had failed, his father had said it himself, hadn’t he? And he knew, he knew how different he was from his brother, his sister, the gulf ever widening before they set off for months at a time to their school. The clawing emptiness opened into him, his face wincing up, tears evaporating from the blazing heat. A paw slap against his head, then another, forcing himself trembling up as he looked down.
It wasn’t that he was too small. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart enough.
A state of mind.
Being a predator…
Taking.
If, one day, he could do that, he could show…
Prove that he had what it took to be a Lynxley.
He was going to be the mammal who did that. He grit his teeth and made himself promise. One day, he would be the one who took, not the one who was taken from, and he would earn his place in his family.
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…
The racks of heat emitters, towering up in front of him, blazed out like a furnace, his body starting to boil beneath his thick sweater. But he kept running, towards the control room, towards his destiny. His bike gone, the ZPD in fast pursuit… -If they caught them now, this early, he wasn’t going to be able to get himself out of this was he?
Talking his way out, explaining, that would destroy his family even if it did work.
He felt his teeth clench harder, despite his desperate breaths. Why… Why did everything have to go so wrong? Antony’s arrest, Gary going after his father, the book taken, bringing Judy along knowing what he’d have to do. Were these trials? All building up to the biggest one, still looming ahead and dreadful on his shoulders as it ran and slithered beside him.
They were good animals, great ones, and he wished, he wished it wouldn’t have to be this way, but…
No!
Focus.
He was a Lynxley… And that meant he was one who took. From foe, or as it turned out, friend, for family.
He steeled himself, claws digging into his palms even though they were sheathed.
He could see the door.
The control room beyond.
And beyond that lay a bridge. A bridge that, no matter his doubts, his fears, the knot tightening in his stomach, he was going to cross…
He hoped.
He dreaded.
He just shut it out of his mind, it was coming no matter what, and when it came he would finally know if he was a Lynxley, or a coward.
Please, let him not be a coward
“Get down!” He pivoted as he heard the yell, turning to see Hopps leap up, trying to block… -He dove forward as it missed her, ducking and covering only for a prick to sting against his arm. Paw shooting over, he yanked his jumper out, even as he knew the truth, punching into his heart.
He’d seen how quickly Judy had dropped when she’d been tranq’d…
He, -NO! He’d got it out, he could make it! He. Was. A. Lynxley!
The scream of Judy behind him cut through as he felt the first tremble, the bunny kicking up sand as she turned and leapt up, grabbing the dart and holding it at the ends of her paws, all as another stumble came through his legs.
Keep at it, keep at it, it was all the lynx could tell himself as he felt his balance waver and his legs start to stumble, this…
“-Wrap around his arm!”
-He couldn’t help but think back to when they’d recovered the bunny, she was out like a light, but now… -He’d only been nipped, they’d got it out, the sweater, he could…
He felt a tight grip grab around his arm, Gary wrapping around and tightening into a vice like tourniquet right up next to his shoulder. Clever, but…
How would he be able to…
He had to, he…
The sand began coming up to him followed by a flash of blue, scaled coils wrapping fully around his body and tugging him on, hard, tight as he began slicing through the dunes. A paw up to his loose one, Judy was running beside him, crying, saying sorry… Why? And then he saw what was in her paw. The small dart, not collared in green and red like the one that had taken her out like a light. Instead, black, a skill and crossbones etched in.
No… Was all he thought, before screaming. Yelling out in a wail, Judy turning and coming up next to him. “We’ve got Gary slowing it down,” she said. “Come on, once we find the place, I can go ahead and get you help, we can still do this Pawbert! Keep going!”
“I…” he began, almost saying that Gary was doing that for him. But seeing the look in her eyes, blind false hope, it died. Like he was going to. It was coming, and as much as the dread began hitting him it was crushed as he realised with horror what was going to come after. The patent would be uncovered, his family destroyed, and the whole world would know him as the mammal who did it. The mountain of his failure crashed down upon him, drowning him more than the liquid death he could feel crawling through his body ever could.
And yet still they cut on, weaving through the sands, the heat of the climate walls rising up as they began to tower above them. Sand kicked up flicked into his eyes as he struggled to keep his eyes clear, -he thought he saw a car racing towards them. -Was it one of Cattrick’s? Kitty coming to give him a snide little remark about another one of his failures while bragging about one of her effortless successes. To give him a deserved kick for what he was doing to them? He knew that it wasn’t a rescue or anything, he didn’t deserve that.
The thought of them stuck in his mind as they raced through into his family’s gift to Zootopia, workers screaming as they fled in Gary’s wake… Useful, he had the energy to note, not fair for the snake, he was sweet… Kind… It was a shame he lay in the path of his family and their love. If it weren’t for that…
Though that was a moot point now, wasn’t it?
What was going to happen to them?
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
They were clever, they didn’t make mistakes, they had the Lynxley instinct. -They’d snap the gifts he’d tossed into the fire out of the air and probably slam them into his skull if it wasn’t a pointless gesture anymore.
None of them had done Ebenezer’s deed, they’d lived with the lie but that wasn’t a crime, Cattrick and Kitty were innocent… As far as he knew, he only worked in the mailroom, he wasn’t allowed to work on the family business, and he’d be a liar if he couldn’t guess what that included, he…
His heart panged.
No, they were going to lose everything because of him. Dragged hissing to jail, broken, every buck stripped from their accounts and all the while cursing the mammal who’d done it. That wasn’t the plan, that was never the plan. And his father…
If his heart panged before, it screamed with horror, flicking and burning as if it was the one cast on the fire. The towering might of the Lynxley’s, his empire of snow, his dynasty, his reputation, the promises he’d made to his grandfather in the fur. Everything stripped and stolen from him, and all the time knowing which mammal to blame, which eternal screw up… -No, Pawbert realised, as the scenes around him began to flicker, words cut up. Green screens, a hall with switches… He was going to die, and his father, his brother, his sister, ruined and torn down by him, would live the rest of their lives believing this was the plan. That he wasn’t a failure, but something somehow worse. He was a traitor, a betrayer, a spiteful conniving little lynx, who killed himself simply for the chance to ruin them all.
He felt tears trickle down from his eyes as he was pulled up, the white rolling hills of his home spread out in front of him. And his family’s mansion standing so close… The normally warm lit windows cold and dark, uninviting to the scumbag who’d engineered its ruin. And, behind it, a small bright light glinted out from the hills overlooking it.
His eyes closed and only managed to flicker open, he heard cut up words from Judy. “There it is… -We’re gonna do it…”
He tried to mutter out something, asking them to treat his family with mercy, nothing came from his limp tongue. Instead, he just felt liquid pooling in its back as he was pushed over, Judy and Gary doing their best, letting it drain out and trying to keep the inevitable from happening.
Fighting on and on for him, a friend…
Tears flowing from their eyes, their desperate holds somehow coming through.
At least he wasn’t going to die alone, like he deserved.
He wondered if he’d hold them back for long enough for the cops to get here. -To deal with them, give them a chance for his father to silence them… Maybe that was the better way; he idly realised there was no chance he could have gone through with the deed. Not a cat in hell’s chance, ironic given his fate. They were far too kind, he was too weak.
He wasn’t a Lynxley.
He was never a Lynxley.
Their voices faded, the world dimmed a last time, he felt his lungs start to burn as he sent signals to force his body to breath in and out only for nothing to happen.
He felt the world around him fade and his thoughts slur and, as it came, as he shivered in misery knowing he deserved hell for destroying so much… He just wished he could explain to them, to say sorry, so they at least knew he was only a failure…
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.
.
He felt the cuts to his chest, the punctures to his arms.
His body felt heavy, pushed down.
He wasn’t in control, it refused to move or moved on its own, something punching up and pulling in inside of him.
A soft beep cut through the air.
Was the fire going to come later?
He slowly shifted, noting it felt like a bed.
Maybe hell wasn’t bad, maybe he…
His eyes glinted open, a darkness around him, figures shifting, a bit of movement. He curled back, feeling the tubes and chains piercing him, holding him down tight, all as one of the figures caught his eye, turned, began moving in as it scented blood in the air, already leaning over, its horns on display as it loomed ready to…
“Mr Lynxley?”
His head turned to the figure as she leant in, quickly pulling out a small item and shining a bright light into his eyes. He hissed, blinking spots as she retreated, her features finally resolving themselves as a gemsbock. A… nurse?
“Ack…” he choked, the words caught by an intrusion in his throat. She immediately leant forward, doing her best to comfort him.
“-Stay calm, we had to intube you.” Her hooves hovered lightly on his chest, flashes of pain coming out from the feather’s touch. What the…
He felt a hiss come out as she glanced down, pulling her hoof back as another mammal ran in, giving her a scolding look and taking over. “My apologies. I understand this must be incredibly disorientating. However, you’ve largely come off the tranquilisers and, for now, just need to focus on rest and recovery.” He paused, looking down. “You’re on a ventilator and IV lines. You have some major cuts to your chest and two broken ribs, so please avoid severe movements and touch.”
Pawbert looked at him, confused, then down. Even through his choked out throat, he managed a single word. “Wha…” Then another. “How?”
The doctor smiled. “You owe your life to a certain snake, a certain bunny, and a lot of quick thinking,” he said. “Though it was probably the most brutal case of field surgery I’ve ever heard of. -Thankfully the cops listened to the explanations on the way up and we didn’t lose two Zootopian heroes at once. He had to…”
It was only with his silence that Pawbert could hear the choking and hissing as his body tried to take over breathing again, impatient at the restrictions of the machine plunging into him which refused to accommodate his rising panic.
“-keep your…” His expression changed. “Okay Mr Lynxley, close your eyes and focus on me, okay? Eyes forward, EYES FORWARD…”
-The yell cut through, he knew to listen when yelled at, he focussed his eyes forward as he was told to follow a moving finger, to focus on it, keep that his sole point of attention. “We’ll call a crew to get that thing out of you, it’ll be over soon. Do you understand?”
Pawbert gave a limp nod.
“Okay. For now, don’t worry. The worst is over, you’re going to be safe. You’re very lucky and very brave Mr Lynxley, -if you still wish to be called by that.” He added, pausing as a few other mammals arrived and took over.
Pawbert could only watch them go, eyes finally flicking around the leaning over medics ready to treat him like a game of Opawration, and beyond them to the hospital ward. He… He was alive, thanks to Judy and Gary? He…-Hero? He was a hero? He felt more like a puppet right now, Why was… And then his mind skipped forward. ‘If you still wish to be called by that?’
He didn’t realise that he’d realised what must have gone down.
It was almost as if he already knew.
It didn’t matter though. The result was still the same, and either way, as the nurses panicked and tried to hold his thrashes down, images of those he loved screamed into his mind as the tube down his throat turned into a knife against his rising scream.