R/Zootopia Anthology Volume I: Gritty Zootopia

Through the Telescope, from atop Ivory Towers . . .

Written by: twocentnuisance

Proofread by: DrummerMax64

. . . The city of Zootopia never rests. At night, it changes. If you close your eyes and breath through your nose, you may smell the perfume of drugs, liquor, sweat, sex, spent bullets, blood. If you hold your breath and listen, you might hear the monsters doing deals in the dark. And if you dare open your eyes, you might even be unfortunate enough to witness it all.

~ The Information Broker ~

A male bull named Hector sat outside one of Zootopia's many watering holes, across from a far more dangerous locale. An establishment blithely named 'The Bar', one that was full of secrets and had only a neon sign out front that read OPEN DUSK TILL DAWN.

He felt his temper get dangerously hot thinking about the mammal inside he was going to have a 'talk' with. Hector cooled himself with another shot of tequila. The waitress walked back out to hand him another shot and lime wedge. The saltshaker sat dutifully on the coffee table next to the bull.

The waitress, a young wolf, noticed the bull's angered stare at The Bar across the street. She thought briefly about saying something, but refrained. Regarding the establishment and its owner in open discussion was never a wise course of action.

Mammals have been killed for far less, she thought, pouring the next shot for the bull.

Hector stood, grabbing the ingredients for his fourth and final shot. He opened his mouth, threw in a strong dash of salt, followed by the shot of tequila. Lastly, he popped in the whole lime wedge and began chewing as he walked across the street.

Inside The Bar, several patrons whipped their heads around from their seats and conversations at the loud Bang! of the doors being kicked open and seeing a male bull march in, nostrils flaring and eyes pinched in anger.

Asking no one in particular, Hector snarled, "Where is he?"

Behind the ornate bar counter and in front of shelves of expensive liquors, the barkeep, a large flying fox named Renfield, asked in a conversational and exceptionally baritone voice, "You must be Hector Williams." The flying fox ignored what every other mammal in the room was keenly focused on: the set of handguns hanging from Hector's shoulder straps.

Renfield summoned a pre-poured drink and slid the glass on the table towards the livid bull. "On the house, courtesy of Mr. Dracul –"

"Do you think I'm an idiot?!" Hector yelled back, feeling the heat radiate behind his eyes as he swiped the glass off the counter and into the wall. Like he was dumb enough to fall for accepting a likely laced drink, conveniently 'on the house.'

"I asked to see him! Where is that little parasite hiding!?"

Despite facing down a bull that was eagerly looking for a fight, the flying fox displayed neither panic nor distress. Instead, with one massive wing, he pointed to a door on the other side of the room. "He is expecting you. Go on ahead." The bull stormed off to meet the city's most infamous information broker.

Past the door and down a hall, Hector came to a stop in a small library and in front of a lawyers desk, where a tiny bat, dressed in a three-piece fitted suit, stared back. Off to the side was a female pig dressed in a nurse's uniform. She had no nametag. Hector exhaled heavily, trying to keep his intense rage under control.

The broker, a vampire bat named Vladimir Dracul, started the conversation in an unnaturally deep and collected tone. "Hector. You look a little angry."

Hector placed both hooves on either side of the bat and leaned in. "More like pissed beyond measure and disturbed that someone hadn't exterminated your kind years ago."