In Darkness I Hide: A Zootopia Story

Friday - Terror to the Max - The Fifth Afternoon

Downtown - Tail Hollow Orphanage – Happytown District – Corner of Deluge Ave and 34th St.
Friday – 1:30 PM – Sunny, Clear Skies / Variable Winds

Max weakly crawled up the embankment, having been slushed out of the piping at the base level of the Rainforest District. He had lost track of all time as he was swept with the current, the rock sidings transitioning to concrete and metal and finally ending up in a tributary of the overall riverway that led him here.

He collapsed onto the muddy ground and rolled over to gaze up at the canopy rising high above him, with criss-crossing walkways and platforms interspersed by tram cars carrying their passengers to their various destinations. The air was so humid and stifling that even the murky water he was in felt refreshing and cool to him. While most other mammals would be repulsed by mud in their fur, Max didn't mind it at all. It was a stark, yet comforting reminder that this was his home and the place he belonged.

His breathing now returning to normal, he rolled over onto his paws and knees and worked his way up to standing. He looked around and tried to figure out where he was. He wasn't that far from the Tinderspire apartments. Using that Kopok tree as reference, he managed to work his way up to street level and began heading in a southerly direction that would take him back to the place he was more familiar with: Happytown.

Most civilians didn't give Max a second glance and swept right past him. It was as if he was invisible. Max was used to this, having dealt with it most of his life as an orphan. He was dirty, muddy and wretched-looking, resembling the trash panda slur that he hated so much. It didn't faze him at this very moment, so he kept trudging along. The few that did notice him had looks of pity, but still did nothing to assist him in his plight.

The pungent odor of soot and decay began to funnel into his nostrils as the familiar sights and sounds of Happytown filled his awareness. Max wasn't really paying attention where he was going, his muscle memory directing his feet on where to go. However, he did begin to notice several things that were different about his neighborhood that he had grown accustomed to. There was a lot more police tape, and scorched houses dotted his street because of the fire originating from Tail Hollow.

Max was so preoccupied staring at the glaring changes to the environment that he didn't realize the bum laying on the street next to him until he coughed loudly. Shaken a bit by the sudden sound, Max set off down the sidewalk again and could see his orphanage on the left a few blocks down. The debris sprawled out on the street was more visible than the front façade of the structure.

His focus on the building ahead, his paw kicked over a drum that rattled vociferously across the pavement before coming to a loud rest in the street gutter. His eyes were drawn to the makeshift drum set he had forgotten was there. Tucked away behind a trash dumpster were remnants of a series of metal buckets and trash can lids complete with a pair of metal rods he used as drumsticks.

Max had always loved music. It was one of the few things that brought him solace and comfort during his days being beaten and bullied in the orphanage. He would sneak out oftentimes and set up his venue just down the street to begin making some sweet beats to the rhythmic tune in his head. He would sometimes get the occasional ZBuck or coin for his work, but he really did it for the music. His cares would just fade away whenever he was at his drums.

Shrugging as he figured those days were long since gone, he padded on, his own mind deep in thought as he tried to recall the last song he had played on those broken cans. He didn't notice the maned wolf in his path until he literally bumped into him, almost knocking the tawny wolf off his paws. He struggled to regain balance on one crutch. He had on a loose-fitting pair of camo pants and white tank-top, red arms bare to the elements.