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Part 7 of T3 Shadowbun stories
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2016-12-24
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Shadowbun: Unto the Least of my Brethren

Summary:

A cold winter night, a cruel and demanding boss, a fox with no where to go. What can Freddi Wulff do to help her, and what will the price be?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

It was another cold winter night in the Canal District, real icicles were starting to grow in between the plastic ones along the front windows, and the slip-proof rubber mat in front of the door was loaded with slowly melting slush. Gonna have to vacuum that again before long Freddi thought to himself as he finished bagging the elderly armadillo's purchases and wished her a safe trip home. She glared at him and tottered out the front door of the Stuffer Shack, Freddi Wulff's one hundred and fifty square meters of retail hell.

"Fine, slip and fall, break your neck for all I care," he muttered "so long as you don't do it in here." He took a quick look around the store, making sure that Mister Bucksworth was still in the back room, before taking a quick sip of the fountain soda he had stashed below the counter. A few nights before Christmas, and he was working doubles to help cover his holiday bills. The extra money wasn't bad, but eighteen hours straight without more than a quick bathroom break or two left him exhausted and starving.

One of the neighborhood regulars came up to his register with his arms full. "Another late night, Freddi?" asked the elk buck, as he set down his purchases at the front counter of the Stuffer Shack. Corn chips, jar of salsa, and a twelve pack of Corona.

"Hey, Mister Kuyala." Freddi replied, as he began to run the items past the barcode scanner. "Looks like you're getting ready for a party?"

"Nothing so interesting, I'm afraid." he replied, one hoof leaning on the counter. "My sister in law dropped in unexpectedly, and the missus sent me out for snacks." The big cervid paused, looking at the lottery display, before pointing at the brightly colored case and asking "Who thought that one up? Santa Bucks?"

"Uhhh, not following you here." Freddi said, with a puzzled tilt of his head. "Twenty two-fifty three please."

The elk swiped his credchip and replied "Santa Bucks? And they put a dang lion on the front of it? Why didn't they go for an actual buck?" He paused, looking at Freddi where he stood in his uniform polo, thick leonine mane flowing over the collar and almost covering the embroidered nametag below. "Looks a little bit like you, yanno?"

Freddi shrugged in noncommittal acceptance, then pushed the two grocery bags toward his customer. "Thanks, Mister Kuyala. You sure you don't want some of those tickets too?"

"Hey, not me. Tax on mammals that are bad at math..." the big elk snorted, before taking his goodies and starting for home again. Alone in the store, Freddi leaned out over the counter and examined the lottery case more closely. 'He's nuts, doesn't look anything like me. Mane's a lot shorter, and I'm not wearing the hat.'

----

The night was pitch black outside the store windows, and the wind had started to blow through the streets, driving a half-melted snow along with it. Freddi shivered sympathetically, as he loaded the coffee maker with a packet of fresh grounds.

"Real pisser of a night out 'dere, ain't it Frank?" Bill Bucksworth called over to him from behind the register, where he was working on the crossword puzzle with a badly gnawed pencil. "Glad I ain't the one takin' out all of 'dat garbage tonight, no frakking lie."

Freddi's ears pitched back in barely concealed anger, but he bit his tongue on the retort. Bucksworth was an angry little beaver, and Freddi didn't relish the disgusting chore that he would almost certainly earn if he mouthed off. Idly, he wondered if all that pencil lead was starting to make his boss go even crazier than he had been when he had started working here. He finished setting the coffee maker to brew, swiped a rag across the counter to clean up the spills from earlier. "Sure is, Mister B. You want me to bring anything out of the back, maybe some more cigarettes?"

"I told you before, you stay outta 'dem cigarettes!" Bucksworth shouted back, scowling from the barstool he was standing on. "Any more of 'dem things go missing and you're out of here, you hear me?!?"

"I hear you," Freddi said, as he returned to the register, letting the diminutive mammal climb down from the perch before resuming his place standing in front of it. Not sitting, he had learned that lesson on his first day here, definitely not a good idea to be caught sitting down on the job by Bucksworth. Maybe he would leave a little earlier than usual tonight, and Freddi could have a seat on it in between chores, but for now he was on his feet.

The doorbell tinkled, and both mammals turned to see a thin and tired-looking vixen enter the shop. A threadbare canvas coat; a faded and stained Zootopia Predators sweater; ZDF-surplus camouflage pants, cut down to fit her short frame. Bucksworth's gaze locked onto her, and he made a quick and none-too-subtle 'Watch Her' gesture to Freddi before moving off to wander around the store, pretending to straighten the shelves while keeping one eye fixed on her at all times.

If she noticed this treatment, the vixen didn't say anything about it, but went about her shopping with a resigned dignity. Two bug-dogs with as much soya-based nacho cheese as the flimsy buns would hold, and a large cup of coffee, double sweet and double creamer. Freddi was inwardly impressed; she was getting twice the calories for the same money, although he wasn't sure what that much nacho cheese would do to your digestion. Bringing her haul up to the front counter, she paid him in change taken from an inner pocket of the coat, then asked "Can I fill out an employment application?"

"Ummm, sure, let me just..." Freddi trailed off as he searched around the register desk, looking for any kind of paperwork that he could find. He hadn't filled anything out when he asked for the job six weeks ago, just caught Bucksworth in one of his rare good moods and asked him. He looked beneath the register computer, and in the storage cupboard before giving up and asking his boss. "Umm, Mister Bucksworth? This lady wants an employment app, do you--"

"Lemme stop you right there, girlie," the beaver interrupted his question, speaking to the vixen from the corner of the cookie aisle. "You don't look like ideal Stuffer Shack material, if you know what I mean. I'm not even sure I want you as a customer, but I guess you gotta shop somewhere..." The vixen was scowling right back at him, through clenched teeth she quietly said "All I did was come in out of the cold, and buy some food. I don’t deserve—“

"So you thought you'd come in to my store, bum around for a few hours? Maybe try to steal something on the way out, is 'dat it?" Bucksworth was really shouting now, his long incisors flashing and one finger jabbed out towards the cowering girl. "Alright, you got your stuff, now beat it! And don't let me catch you around here again tonight!" With a furious growl, she snatched up the dogs and the coffee cup and headed for the door, disappearing into the night with a flash of her ratty looking tail.

"Jeez, Mister B, that was a little harsh, wasn't it?" Freddi asked, before he had thought better of it. Bucksworth whirled and fixed him with an angry glare, "Oh so I guess you're 'da boss around here now, is that it? You gonna tell me how to keep riff-raff out of my shop now Frankie boy?"

"It's Freddi, sir..." Freddi shot back, not caring any more about avoiding trouble with the psychotic little rodent. "And no, I'm not telling you how to run this place, just saying that was pretty rough. She didn't steal anything, you were watching--"

"ENOUGH! You got so much expertise on running a Stuffer Shack, I wanna see you cleaning out 'dat roller grill! And 'den you can rotate 'dose new chips back into stock, sweep out 'da back room, and mop the floors. Before you leave tonight, Frank, or so help me, you're out on your ass!" Bucksworth turned and stomped back to his office, slamming the door behind him hard enough to knock several two liter bottles of soda off a nearby shelf. One tumbled awkwardly and cracked, shooting off down the aisle on a spray of root beer. Freddi sighed, and went to go get the mop bucket.

----

Freddi groaned, struggling to carry the heavy garbage bags to the giant dumpster. His back was on fire, his paws were greasy and exhausted from the night's hard labor, and his feet were wet and frozen. To make things a bit more interesting, there was only a meter of clearance between the building and the fence that surrounded the big dumpster, so if he wasn't careful then he would be wearing the contents of the plastic bags.

Bucksworth was too cheap to pay for a regular dumpster, so they had a 30 cubic meter construction rolloff instead. Bucksworth was also not enthusiastic about the idea of mammals scavenging through it, so he had surrounded the thing with a concertina wire fence. You couldn't get too close to it, but instead you had to heave the bags through the air and into its open top. And, of course, try to not miss your throw, the fence loved to snag any errant shots and scatter their load down the alleyway. That was not what Freddi needed to deal with tonight.

Slushy snow was pouring down now, getting into his ears and clinging to his mane, where it would probably melt and run down into his shirt before too long. Better hurry it up, and get back inside then. With a grunted "One, two, sonovaBITCH!" he heaved the greasy bags, tossing them from across the alleyway to watch them plummet into the waste bin. They landed with a wet splat; he was already hurrying back towards the shop when he heard a sniffling noise coming from the darkness. His hackles rose, and he froze, scanning to find the source of this unknown noise.

"Who's there?" he softly called, but there was no response, just the eerie sound and the wind as it blew through the electrical lines overhead. The alleyway was dark, but Freddi thought that he could see a few puffs of mist coming from a little gap between two utility boxes. They were coming in time with the sniffling, quick puffs as if it were the breath of a mammal out here in the cold. Freddi inched closer, calling out again in a quiet voice "Hello? Is someone out here?"

The sniffling noise stopped, and he was about to go back into the store and call the ZPD hotline, when he saw the vixen earlier tonight peer out of the gap between the two steel boxes, eyes wide and fixed on him. Freddi wasn't sure what he should do now, but he temporized by giving her a friendly little wave with one paw. "Hi there. You're not gonna attack me, are you?" he asked.

She sniffled again, and gave a little shake of her head. One hand whipped up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, and she whispered "Sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't think anyone would find me here." She pulled her head back, then stood up from the sheltered little alcove where she had been squatting. Freddi was impressed, if she hadn't been crying then he wouldn't have even known she was there. "Good idea, sitting next to the electrical box like that. Bet it stays pretty warm all night."

She nodded, smiling a little at him. "I don't usually stay here unless it's really cold. I'm sorry, I'll go now, I don't want any trouble."

"Go?" Freddi asked, not understanding at first, then realizing what she was saying. "You're, umm, you don't have anywhere to stay tonight?" he asked, afraid that he was being rude. She shook her head, then replied "I usually have a couch somewhere, but there's nothing I could find before the snow started to fall. I'm not homeless, you know, I'm just..." She trailed off, hand making a little spinning gesture that reminded him of how his Aunt Lotje would say ‘It’s complicated.'

"Awww, jeez, that's rough." Freddi said. "Maybe you could, ummm, maybe you could come inside our store for a little while?" He grimaced, thinking of what Bucksworth would say if he caught them. On the other hand, it was nearly midnight, he couldn't stay for too much longer. And in any case, he was unlikely to go into the storeroom. He would probably never know what Freddi was planning to do.

He waved the vixen over, and when she got close enough he squatted down near her. "I'll open the door, you come in right behind me, if my boss is there in the backroom just run out again before it closes. If he's not there, on the left side there's a big crate, just get behind it and squat down low. He'll never notice you if you can stay quiet, his eyesight's for crap." She nodded, then whispered "Got it. Thanks, Freddi."

"How did you--" he demanded, she grinned in response and pointed to his chest, where the nametag was. "I could call you Frank, if you wanted." she offered with a grin. "My name's Pearl."

He straightened and pulled his employee ID from its place at his belt. "Right, Pearl, let's do this thing." Swiping it across the security lock, he opened the door and strode through, being sure to push it just a little bit more open than he usually would. The back of the store was dark, a good sign that Bucksworth wasn't back here. As he walked into the brighter lights of the shop, his ears flicked up, straining to hear any sign that she was behind him, there was nothing but the gentle hum of refrigeration units. She was pretty good at sneaking...

Bucksworth looked up from his newspaper as Freddi came to relieve him at the register. "You took your sweet time out there. Why didn't you come back in sooner?"

"Trash bag caught on the fence again." Freddi lied. "Had to get everything gathered up and throw it over the fence." He pantomimed making a free throw, Bucksworth snorted and turned back to his sports page. "Go wash up before you handle any of the merchandise..."

----

True to form, Bucksworth didn't spend too much more time at the store before calling it a night. He gave a list of chores to Freddi, then trundled out the door and got into his broken-down old Impala. As the engine whined and coughed, Freddi nervously wondered what would happen if the car wouldn't start. Thankfully, it gave a backfire and roared to life, and Bucksworth drove off to whatever it was that he did when he wasn't here. Probably had freelance gig foreclosing on widows and orphans, Freddi thought in disgust.

He eased himself down on the stool behind the register and called out "It's OK, he's gone now." No response. He grunted, got up again and wandered over to the doorway to the storeroom. Looking around, he couldn't see any sign of her, but when he peered behind the storage cube she was curled into a tiny ball, fast asleep. Between her claws, he spied the torn end of a Cricket Pops wrapper, she must have fished it out of one of the boxes for a quick dinner.

He smiled to himself, satisfied to have been able to give her a warm place to rest for the night. He would just void out the bag of snacks in the morning, say that it had arrived already torn open. He turned back and headed into the store once more, the list of chores was still where Bucksworth had left it on the counter. Better get started on those, the evil little bastard would flip in the morning if they weren't completed.

A few hours later, Freddi was hauling a new box of fur magazines over to the display rack; he braced it in place with one hip while he started to sort through this month’s issues. Fox Hunt, Uptown Does, Heat, Elephant Udders; the store stocked sleazy porno for any taste imaginable. He pulled out the slightly sticky copies of last month's issues, then slipped the new ones into their places, being sure to make sure that they went all the way down behind the black plastic privacy sheets.

Behind him, the doorbell chimed, and he whipped around to see if it was someone he had to hide the smut from. Thankfully it was a pack of five wolves, heading for the beer cooler. Freddi nodded to the first one through the door, spoke a quick word of greeting, and went back to his sleazy task. The alpha didn't acknowledge his greeting, but instead continued his own lewd conversation with his pack mates. All were bundled up in heavy pleather jackets, with matching armbands of bright green cloth. He wasn't sure what that was intended for, maybe these guys were all part of the same work crew, and those were some sort of safety insignia?

"Hey, if you wanna dream that Mary Mackenzie's going to bang you, be my guest!" the pack leader quipped, "We'll see who's got her tied at the end of the night!" Two of the others howled in laughter, the victim of his barb glowered in jealous anger. "Yo, fuck that, I'll have her singing soprano at the tip of my dick! The only Mackenzie that you're gonna tie it off in is Doug!" Jeering back and forth, they trooped into the cooler, leaving Freddi alone again.

He had finished dumping most of the old mags into a black plastic garbage bag, when there was a fresh burst of shouting, followed by a hissing roar. He whipped his head around, just in time to see the pack alpha shake up another beer and pop the seal towards his romantic rival. Torrents of foam gouted out, soaking the second wolf and the rest of the cooler. Outraged, the dripping wolf set his claws to another carton of bottles, clawing one open and returning fire. The pack howled in laughter at this new game, but Freddi just scowled and set the box of dirty magazines down, preparing to head to the register counter and hopefully get this mob of lunatics out of the shop before they caused too much more damage.

The wolf pack came back out of the cooler, each one carrying a case of cheap beer under each arm. Freddi started punching them into the register before they came up to the stand, hoping to speed things up, but the leader stopped him by putting one hand over the screen. "Whoa there, chief, what'cha doing that for?" He hoisted the case in his off hand, then said with a sly grin "Your boss said we could have these for free, so there's no need to ring them up."

"I doubt that he said ANYTHING like that." Freddi answered, with an irritated flick of his tail. "Come on guys, I’m not gonna say anything about the ones that accidentally came open in there, but that's like a hundred and fifty Nuyen worth of beer you have with you. There’s no way I can let you take it for free."

"What, you calling me a liar?" the wolf snapped, all the humor gone from his expression and voice. "Hey Tony," he addresses his beta, the one who he had been so recently soaking with Tusksplitter Lite, "You hear this guy? Am I crazy or did he just call me a liar?"

"He called you a fucking liar Vince, I seen him do it right there!" the second wolf replied, with an outraged expression across his muzzle. "Hey yo Lionheart, who the FUCK you think you are calling him a liar, you're lucky we even come into this shitty little place." He slammed the beer case down onto the counter, then swiped with one paw, sending the lottery display rack crashing to the floor. Freddi winced, he spread his hands and asked "You think I want any trouble tonight, you're wrong. I just have to charge you for the--"

"There, you did it again!" the alpha wolf growled, "You called me a liar AGAIN." He took one step back, reaching into his jacket and producing the biggest handgun that Freddi had ever seen. The wolf leveled it at his face, pulling back the hammer as he growled "I don't LIKE it when mammals call me a liar. It makes me want to teach a LESSON to mammals who do that." Around him, the pack growled in response, fangs bared as they watched their leader put this counter jockey in his place.

Oh sweet Lion of Judah Freddi thought, his mind racing as he stared into the enormous black barrel of the weapon, don't let this be happening. I just wanted to go home without too much grease in my fur, no one ever said this was part of the job He slowly raised his paws, palms outwards, and slowly said “Please. Take whatever you want, just don’t hurt me. I’m sorry for everything I said before…”

It felt like they were standing there for hours. The five wolves, Freddi, and the handgun, all frozen into some hellish tableau of Zootopian city life. The scene was thrown into brilliant relief as the headlights of a car panned across the front windows, Freddi swore that he could see the glimmer of a drop of spittle as it fell from Vince's canine tooth, caught in its strobe. The terrible silence was, at last, broken by the screech of a car's tires, all heads swiveled to see a long black limousine slamming on its brakes, long body sidelong towards the entrance.

The doors of the limo flew outwards, and three dark shapes came speeding out of it, smashing the shop door aside with such force that it immediately shattered against the inside wall. The first leapt for the gunman; Freddi saw him being borne away in a streak of black panther fur and dark suit cloth, the gun flying out of his grip as the tackle smashed home.

The second form came that came through the door was a big tiger in another dark suit, he sprang to the left as he entered and then launched himself at the beta wolf, leveling a fierce kick at his kneecap. It landed with a sickening crunch, and was immediately followed up with an open-hand strike to the solar plexus. The crippled wolf collapsed into a breathless pile on the floor, but the big tiger didn't stop there. He flipped over the prone body and disappeared into the aisle where the panther had tackled Vince, and the heavy beating noises coming from that direction immediately doubled.

The third form, a little slower than the first but moving with a juggernaut's irresistible force was a big bull hippo, clad in yet another dark suit. In a boxer's crouch, he closed onto the remaining three wolves, which had started to recover their wits and were leaping to the aid of their fallen comrades. Freddi came to his senses and ducked behind the counter, he could hear the sounds of bodies impacting, grunts of pain and shouts of rage, and the constant refrain of smashing merchandise.

--

As the din slowly died, and Freddi started to wonder if they were going to start in on him next, his eyes were drawn to a flash of red fabric over red fur. Looking up, he saw that a nattily dressed fox was peering over the counter towards him. An electronic gizmo was clutched in one paw, and he was muttering softly to himself "Hmmm, no, not there. Signal's definitely getting stronger, but with the interference..." He tapped a few buttons on its console, then focused his attention onto Freddi. As terrible as the barrel of the gun had been, the focused gaze of the fox was worse. Somehow, Freddi knew that he wasn't being viewed as a mammal, but more like a bag of chips, something to be paid for and then consumed at the fox's leisure.

"Where is Miss Makimoto Yukiyo?" the fox barked at him. "Wha? Who?" he blurted, before a massive hoof reached down behind the counter and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. The big hippo dragged him across the counter, then pinned him in place with a meaty hand on each shoulder. Freddi glanced around, saw the tiger and the panther adjusting their neckties and straightening their suits, surrounded by the unconscious and bleeding bodies of the wolf pack. Around them, the floor was awash in smashed food and drink, from the automotive aisle a puddle of motor oil was slowly spreading down the aisle.

"Boy!" the fox shouted, seizing Freddi's attention back to him, where he noticed that an irritated scowl had appeared on his muzzle. "I will not ask you again, where is Miss Yukiyo?" Freddi was about to deny everything, deny even that he had been at work this evening, when a sleepy voice called out from the back of the store "Enough, Reynard. Leave him alone." It was Pearl, the little homeless fox girl, rubbing her eyes with one hand as she shuffled forward.

Freddi started to shout "Pearl! Run!" but one of the hippo's big hooves clapped over his muzzle, rendering it a muffled grunt. The fox in the red suit was rapidly approaching the girl, running the scanner over her, then giving her a quick physical inspection. "Miss Yukiyo, you mustn't continue to do these things, your father--"

"My father," she interrupted, "should realize that I'm not going to stop running away until I want to. Even though he sends his goons out after me time and time again." She cocked her head at the other fox, and said "Thirteen days this time, Reynard, I'm getting better at it." She flashed a wicked grin at him, and he let out a weary sigh. "Just as you say, Miss. We will be returning you to your father now, regardless."

"As you will, Reynard." She turned to the hippo and said "Let him go, Eizan. He had nothing to do with my disappearance, he even let me sleep in the back room, instead of leaving me out in the cold." The hippo released his captive, who staggered and almost fell back down again. Freddi stared at her with disbelief, this night had to be some kind of terrible dream! Pearl smiled at him, then said "I'm sorry that your shop was made such a mess Freddi. Maybe I can make it up to you?"

She turned to Reynard, held out her hand and asked "Do you have a little money on you? I ate one of their bags of snacks in the back room, and it's not right that I walk away without paying for it." Reynard grimaced, but dutifully fished in his coat, pulling out a lacquered black credchip. Pearl plucked it from his fingers, turned to Freddi and pressed it into his nerveless paw. He goggled down at it, he had seen these before, but only ever on the Trideo. It was a certified credchip, bearing the logo of Hipponese Mercantile Bank. A softly glowing display showed the pre-loaded amount, a cool five thousand Nuyen.

"Well go on," she giggled, "take it! My thanks for your hospitality, if nothing else!" Turning, she started to walk towards the limo, the bodyguards and Reynard clustering around her until they were safely inside, and the heavy car was driving away.

Freddi picked up the chip, looking at its smooth ebony surface, the deep crimson of the bank's seal. For a second, he thought back to Vince's gun, the darkness in the barrel had been just the same color. He pocketed the chip, and pulled out his commlink, dialed a number.

"Hi, umm, Mister Bucksworth? It's Freddi." He reached into the cubby below the register, pulled out his old parka.

"Something happened at the store, and I can't work for you anymore. No, ummm, you really ought to come down here and check it out." Stepping carefully across the broken glass, he walked out into the pre-dawn light.

"Well, I don’t... No, it's just that... Look, I'm quitting! That's right, I quit, and I’m not working for you anymore! Well fine, merry fucking Christmas to you too!" He punched at the hang-up button with his thumb, and zipped up his coat with the other paw. Let's see, he thought as he walked away from the ruined shop how much peace on earth and goodwill to mammals that five grand will buy...

Notes:

This was written for the /trash/ TT event, this theme was Christmas and so I thought it would be a neat tale to tell of a lonely homeless fox looking for a warm place to sleep. But then, I realized that it's Shadowrun, and of COURSE she's got to be a chronic runaway Yakuza princess, and her father's goons are out trying to track her down and return her safely. Hope you enjoy it!

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