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Sunderance: Chapter 17 - Enoch and the Watcher

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    The guards that patted him down even after a pass through the metal detector quickly noticed that he still wore his holsters. The lion, who had been forced to get down on one knee to easily reach the smaller mammals, subjected Nick to what he considered a very intrusive paw presses over every inch of his body. Including between his legs as if they didn’t believe his sheath was really his sheath. It was the nervous glance that the predator gave the other guards in the room when his fingers fell on the empty holsters that almost had the otherwise stoic fox releasing an annoyed sigh.

    “I wasn’t told that you turned any arms over to the steward,” the guard said evenly, looking about as uncomfortable but wary as a lion standing in front of a fox one fifth his size would look.

    “My weapons are not city property,” Nick stated firmly, ignoring the slanted glance that Judy shot him out of the corner of her eyes as she was similarly patted down by a far more feminine and less intrusive pig with a nametag that read Swineton. “And in the interest of not giving your steward the chance to lose them, I didn’t bring them with me.”

    “But you’re still wearing your shoulder holsters?” the guard commented, taking up the clipboard and writing notes as he drew himself to his full height. Nick imagined that this little move might have worked wonders at making most mammals nervous, maybe even slip up a bit in their attempts to slip contraband into the prison.

    “It is a considerable pain in the ass to take off,” he said without the slightest change in tone. “Is there a regulation against carrying empty holsters?”

    “Not as such,” the guard commented, giving a nod to the pig as she backed away from Judy without comment. “As long as you don’t try to strangle someone with the straps, I think you’re good to go.”

    “Should the need to strangle someone arise,” Nick said as they were waved through, his tail gently swaying in time with his steps as they were escorted down a short hallway that ended with a glass door, “my tie would be easier to take off.”

    “Nick, don’t tease the guards of this maximum-security prison while I’m working, please,” Judy commented, her voice as smooth and calm as she tended to be when she applied her lawyer face in full force.

    He followed the bunny, who herself followed the lion through the bullet resistant glass doors leading into the private visitation rooms. Rooms meant for lawyers and representatives, where paperwork was allowed without paperclips and everything was monitored by the watchful red eye of the cameras that covered every brightly lit corner of the hallway. Unsurprisingly, the air was kept sterile and scent neutral to the best of their ability. It would have been hard enough to manage so many mammals crammed into a tight space without the option to leave but allowing the territorial scents of hundreds of males to linger would only increase aggression. Mildly surprised when he realized he was wondering what the ventilation system in a building this size cost the city to run 365 days a year cost the taxpayers, he decided he must have been bored and dismissed it when the lion stopped at one solid white, unimpressive door out of five.

    When the door was opened by a loud mechanical buzz, he could see the otter. Wearing the typical orange jumpsuit as he sat at the solid metal table with his paws folded and cuffed to the table top. His expression was what Nick would have called forced equanimity, one that was made hard to believe given the haggard look of the small male. He had bags under his eyes that were so dark that it would be seen even under his fur and thick glasses, his fur was ruffled and unkempt, and his eyes occasionally darted from one side of the room to the next. He had the looks of a male who was somewhere and didn’t fully comprehend where he was yet. As if, reality has he knew it had shifted far too quickly, by no action of his own.

    It was an expression Nick knew all too well.

    “The prisoner is to remain seated at all times,” the guard began, speaking as though this was something he said every day. Which is likely was. Judy herself also seemed familiar with the process, standing at the door without a complaint as the rules were spelled out. “Nothing aside from paper is to be passed to the prisoner, in which case you will slide the paper across the table rather than handing it to him directly.  Making direct contact with the prisoner is prohibited for your own safety. Do not accept anything from the prisoner that you did not bring into the room yourself. In such cases, the prisoner is expected to slide the item across the table. The prisoner is restrained. If the prisoner becomes aggressive, simply move away from the table and a guard will arrive to let you out. The room is visually monitored. The guards monitoring cannot hear your conversation, but it is being recorded. This recording is kept at a separate security company. A copy of this recording can be requested if desired.”

    “I understand,” she said simply, and he followed her as they stepped past the guard when he waved them into the room.

    “You have thirty minutes,” he finished, before drawing the door closed behind them. Nick’s ear twitched slightly, a little tingle sliding down the back of his neck for a moment before it faded at the unconcerned look on Judy’s face.

    “Mr. Otterton, as I’m sure you know, I’m Judy Hopps,” she began as she crossed the room towards him. The instant reflex to offer her hand to her client was seen in the jerk of her arm before he relaxed at her side again as she took her seat at the small table. Nick took this moment to stand off to the side of the table, something that drew an uneasy glance from the smaller predator. “I have been assigned to handle your final appeal in… Your case.”

    “You can say it,” the long-whiskered mammal said after her hesitation. He looked across the table with about as much emotion as the table itself, with brown eyes that seemed dulled by months in prison. “The murder of my wife.”

    “Yes,” she continued, reaching into her jacket pocket to withdraw her notepad and carrot pen. He wasn’t sure which of these amused him more. One, because he had been sure that she would be walking around the city with more than a simple notepad. And two, because the carrot pen looked very unusual in the paw of such a sharp-tongued and obviously intelligent bunny. “The murder of your wife. I have made some progress in finding discrepancies in the official reports but not enough at this point to ensure that the appeal would be a success. I have some more information that I need to go through before I can decide how to proceed and I need you to clear some things up for me.”

    There was a long moment of silence. Silence broken only by the light sound of her fingers moving over paper as she flipped through the notepad to review her notes. He could see the curious look in the eyes of the otter, though that curiosity was focused on Judy rather than the notebook itself.

    “You’re not going to offer sympathy or claim to understand the death of my mate, Mrs. Hopps?” Otterton asked suddenly, causing Judy to glance up from the page she had been focused on for a moment. “Ask me how I am doing? How prison is treating me?”

    “Given your popularity in Zootopia before the murder,” she began, turning another page in the notebook before she set it in front of her and raised her eyes to focus on him, “I am sure you’ve received your share of both empty or sincere well wishes and platitudes. I doubt you really want me to add to them.”

    “A fair assumption,” he replied, the first ghost of a smile coming to his muzzle. Though it was only a ghost before the haunted expression returned just before he turned his eyes to his paws. Paws that were currently cuffed and chained to the bolt on the table. “And a correct one. You say you have more information to go through?”

    “Yes, but it is not something that I am willing to get into until I have reviewed it,” she explained, allowing the otherwise silence fox to understand exactly what information she was referring to. “Once it has been reviewed, if anything of value comes from it, I will be sure to bring it to your attention.”

    “If not to review something new, why are you here? And who is your silent friend?”

    “Nick,” he replied before she could, his gaze hardly wavering from the otter as he stood with his arms folded over his chest.

    “He’s my bodyguard while I’m in Zootopia,” Judy explained and looked ready to continue on before the next question had her pausing.

    “The Administrator sent someone to guard you?”

    “He doesn’t work for the Administrator any more than I do,” she replied, keeping her eyes level on the male across the table. “He works for me. No one else.”

    Being mostly sure that she believed that now, it was still good to hear her express it to someone else aloud. It caused his ears to flick slightly as he watched the otter really relax for the first time since they had come into the room.

    “I don’t know how much help you expect me to be,” he said, his tone sullen but no longer as reserved. “I gave my statement and my statement was ignored. Having it again certainly isn’t going to change the minds of the courts that put me in here to begin with. If I could even blame the courts for that.”

    “You think someone else was involved?” Judy asked, her pen poised above the paper. When it was obvious that no answer was forthcoming, she leaned forward slightly until the otter met her gaze. “You’re not the only one who thinks that. The basis of my case is the fact that you were arrested, tried, and convicted with minimal evidence. Given your activities in the city prior to the murder, it goes without saying that you had to have some enemies.”

    “And now you’re looking for something to tip the scales in the appeal,” he said, a statement rather than a question as he spread his paws outward. “That is no small task, given the time that has passed, Mrs. Hopps. And the fact that, yes, I believe someone else was involved.”

    “Do you have any suspicion of who that ‘someone’ might be?”

    “None,” was his simple reply, though it was followed by a sigh as he tilted his head back to look at the bare white ceiling. “But that you would ask also means that you have no idea yourself. That is unfortunate.”

    “But not something I intend to dismiss,” she assured him, causing his bushy brows to raise as he returned his gaze to her. “But right now, I want to focus on making sure that the facts of this case come to the surface. Once we have answers, once you are a free mammal, then I will do everything in my power to make sure the case is reopened.”

    There was a flicker of something in the otter’s eyes then. A spark that broke through what had been a dull, hopeless gaze from the moment they had walked into the room. Eagerness. A willingness to cooperate, Nick had no doubt. He had not seemed overly interested in being cleared of his wife’s murder, but the first mention of looking beyond that had his round ears perking towards Judy as he leaned across the table as far as he could.

    “Then ask me your questions, Mrs. Hopps,” Otterton said, obviously more focused and willing now that he saw the potential future.

________________________________________________________________

    She had asked these questions before, from a different angle. What had he done on the day of his wife’s murder? Typical day. Had anyone threatened them? No. Had he argued with her at any point before the murder? No. The answers were a basic corroboration of everything she had been told up to this point and matched the times on the police reports almost exactly. A little discrepancy was to be expected. The passage of time caused memories to fade, as did traumatic events. She still wrote all of it down as they spoke, the pen scribbling across the paper in largely shorthand text, save for specific times and names. Of course, she had expected everything to this point to match up.

    Now, she started to ask the questions about the events around the time of the murder.

    “What time did you return home?” she asked easily, keeping her tone calm and professional even knowing she was about to cross into the real trauma for the otter.

    “I started home at 9:30 pm, I think,” he murmured, answering the question automatically. He has likely been asked these questions a few dozen times by the ZPD alone. “Traffic is never heavy at that time of night, so it didn’t take me long.”

    “Did you make any stops along the way?”

    “I… Yes, yes. One stop,” he said, his brow creasing as he tried to remember this detail. “I stopped at the gas station down the road from our house, but I don’t know what time exactly. I didn’t look at the clock.”

    “How long does it normally take you to get home?” she asked, her ears perked high. This information was new and wasn’t in any of the reports.

    “Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty if I stop,” he said, starting to look weary. Not surprising. She knew he was already bracing himself for the events inside the house. “Which I did this time. The wife had me watching my sugar intake but I sometimes stopped on the way home for a little treat. Everyone needs a little treat now and then. Just a candy bar.”

    “Did you happen to see a police cruiser at the same gas station?” she asked as the new information perked her interest, pressing forward without pause when she saw blame coming over the older mammal’s expression. That sort of self-loathing that came from someone she knew still asked himself ‘If I hadn’t stopped for that candy bar.’

    “I don’t think so, but I wasn’t really paying attention at the time,” he admitted, folding his paws and wringing them in front of him. “I was asked that question before. The officers that were first on the scene were at the same gas station, it seems. I have no doubt that the detectives didn’t believe me. Didn’t believe that I had stopped at the gas station, that is.”

    “Did you get a receipt?” she asked, seeing him fiddling with his claws nervously. The motion didn’t go unnoticed, though she kept her gaze locked on his as he raised them pleadingly to her.

    “I always get receipts. I couldn’t tell them where it was, though. It’s not like I have a file for every receipt when I spend a buck fifty! I paid cash, the cashier didn’t remember my face, that station doesn’t have security cameras, and I still didn’t bother to check the clock when I left.” The laugh that escaped him was slightly manic before he dropped his head into his paws. “The stop that could prove so much doesn’t actually prove anything, do it?”

    “Go on,” she murmured after a moment, resisting the urge to reach over and touch his paw out of comfort. “Tell me what happened when you arrived home.”

    “Skipping the ‘I arrived and walked through the door details,’” he replied in a low tone, raising his head with a surprising look of steel coming over his otherwise friendly face. Bracing himself, she decided, to tell a story he had told many times before. “My wife was lying on the floor when I got there. It… Took a few seconds to register. For a moment, I convinced myself that she had simply decided to take a nap in the middle of the floor. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

    “Not really,” she soothed lightly now, trying not to glance at the fox who had stood unmoving for the majority of their questioning. She almost felt the desire to make sure he was still there, but remained focused on her client. “Go on, please.”

    “The moment passed. I’m not sure if it was because her eyes were wide open or because of the blood covering her. And the floor around her.” His voice dropped, so low that, if she hadn’t been a bunny she might have missed his words as he continued. “Even then I thought, it had to be a joke. I wasn’t laughing when I walked over to her, the smell of blood assaulting me, and the knife on the floor beside her. She was still warm when I knelt beside her. So warm I almost had hope that she was still alive. Except, I knew she wasn’t. I didn’t realize I was crying until I lost sight of her behind tears. Didn’t bother trying to look again. I just fell on top of her, sobbing.”

    His eyes were dry now, which did not change the fact of the sorrow in his voice. Months of tears, being forced to relive the events in testimony, being accused of her murder. Judy was not surprised that he had run out of tears, even for his mate.

    “I heard a sound then. The front door opening, the hum of voices. I thought the killer had come back for a moment, and I’m not sure if it was terror or blind fury that had me reaching for the knife. Because that is exactly what I should have done. Reach for the murder weapon without thinking.” He managed to release a light snort as he scrubbed his hands over his muzzle. “It was the ZPD. Officer Weaselton, standing there looking at me. I expect the rest is a part of record.”

    “You mean when you turned, Officer Weaselton was already standing there?” she asked, her gut knotting slightly as she finally took the chance to glance back at Nick. Still as he was, his ears were perked towards the otter, his interest peaked. “Meaning that he would have seen you pick up the knife?”

    “I think so, yes. Is that important?”

    “Maybe,” she murmured, scribbling on her pad. She would need to review Weaselton’s report again, cross it with Fangmeyer’s, and check forensics to see if it would lead to anything. “His report states that you were kneeling beside your Mrs. Otterton with the knife in your paw. If he saw you pick it up, that’s just another inconsistency to add to a pile of inconsistencies. Do you happen to remember his expression?”

    The rap on the door made the otter jump, though Judy had been expecting it.

    “Thirty minutes are up,” said the lion as he opened the door and stepped through. They were actually ten minutes over the thirty they had been allowed, so she would have to thank the guards for their patients.

    “I thought that he was the killer,” Otterton answered quickly, even as Judy stood from her chair. “For a moment, he almost looked pleased. Maybe a little manic. But once I realized he was a police officer, I realized that he looked angry.”

    “Or maybe you did see it and his expression changed,” Nick offered, taking his place beside Judy when she tucked her pad away.

    “Thank you, Mr. Otterton,” Judy said, keeping her mind focused on the otter in front of her to keep it from running off in the fifteen different directions it wanted to go already. “We will speak again once I have reviewed everything I’ve learned.”

    “Thank you, Mrs. Hopps,” he returned, eyes cautiously hopefully behind dark-rimmed glasses as he offered a faint smile. “I feel better now, knowing you’re putting real effort into…”

    The ‘whump’ behind her and the deep grunt from the guard had her ears twitching. She turned in time to see the guard twitching guard crumble to the floor just inside the door. Behind him were three coyotes in blazing orange jumpsuits like the one Otterton wore, sharp teeth exposed by snarling muzzles, and at least one long shiv.

    Nick’s reaction was instant when the three males spilled into the room with growls and raised weapons. One strong paw gripped her shoulder painfully as she was swept behind him, shoved towards the corner of the room without a word until she stood where he could box her in and keep the predators from reaching her. Two of the attackers moved towards them together, her heart jumping into her throat as she fell back to press tightly against the wall. The fox ducked the first blow, rose up with a vicious uppercut that had the like-sized predator’s head snapping back. Her eyes darted towards Otterton, who was struggling to hide under the table without success due to the cuffs on his paws, then towards the door as she prepared to scream for a guard.

    There she saw one of the only one of the three males who had not attacked Nick straight away, the paw around the shiv tightening as he nervously glanced at the fighting males. It was only when one of the two males fighting Nick was sent flying into the far wall by a well-placed kick that this male moved. Judy braced, ready to shout a warning to Nick of the coming attack, only to realize that Nick wasn’t the target. She wasn’t the target.

    The male ran straight towards Otterton.

    Fear fed adrenaline had her moving without thinking, watching the male leap onto the table as Otterton tried unsuccessfully to free himself from the cuffs that kept him chained to the table. She heard Nick call her name, his voice demanding, annoyed, and fearful. She didn’t have time to even decide to ignore him as the coyote jumped on the table just as she reached it herself. The shiv raised, Otterton cried out in fear, and she swung the metal chair into the predator’s legs with every ounce of strength she had. Later, she would be pleased with the results though she would gladly give the credit to the adrenal strength. A strength that allowed her to literally knock the legs out from under the larger mammal, sending him spilling gracelessly, and with a pained yelp, over the edge of the table. The pang of panic when he managed to draw himself to his feet was quickly replaced with relief when Nick appeared behind him. She winced when he kicked the other male’s legs out again and drove him muzzle-first into the tabletop before letting him slide bonelessly to the floor.

    She glanced around quickly, not even realizing that she still held the back of the chair tightly in both paws, ready to swing again. Relief flooded her when she saw that the other two males were similarly spread over the floor, and even more when four more guards swarmed the room. She released a slow breath, drew another, and released it with a trembling sigh when Nick moved to her side and gently pried the chair from her grip.

    “You swing a mean chair, Carrots,” he murmured, causing her to release a short, humorous laugh. Deep green eyes that were both annoyed and concerned swept over her, making sure she had not been injured before he drew her to the side to allow a white-tailed buck to access the unconscious coyote. “Nice hit.”

    “Mrs. Hopps, if I was happy to have you as my lawyer a minute ago,” Otterton said in an unsteady voice even as Swinton unfastened his cuffs and ushered him towards the door. “I’m even more so now.”

    “All part of the job,” she said, running her paws over her ears. Paws that were shaking lightly as she turned to find the otter watching her from the door. She caught sight of the camera in the hallway, and frowning turned her gaze towards the one in the room with them. The red indicator told her that the camera was still active. She frowned slightly as she murmured, “There are cameras.”

    “It seems someone would rather see me dead than free,” he said, his tone as shaken as her paws when their gazes met.

    “And someone wanted it seen,” she said, the statement directed more at Nick than Otterton as she turned to face the fox. When his expression went from a sort of calm annoyance after the attack to curious, she continued, “Media cameras during the first attack, the cameras outside of the DMV, and now a prison with around the clock video surveillance. Why would someone want the attacks recorded?”

    “The moths,” Nick replied as he moved to stand beside her as they were motioned out by the guard kneeling beside the unconscious lion. "They might be trying to spread the flame."

Chapter finally...
Complete!

In Collaboration with TheWyvernsWeaver 
:iconthewyvernsweaver:


And Akiric 
(Sketch/Storyboards)

Read the Comic here!
Part 1
Sunderance - Chapter 17.1: Enoch and the Watcher by TheWyvernsWeaver
Part 2
Sunderance - Chapter 17.2: Enoch and the Watcher by TheWyvernsWeaver
Part 3
Sunderance - Chapter 17.3: Enoch and the Watcher by TheWyvernsWeaver

Next Chapter
Sunderance Chapter 18 - Conspiratio Part 1
    Watching him move around the office with the purpose of searching every room made her very aware of how quickly things could change in a life. In her first day in Zootopia, she had found the way he checked every corner of the tiny office to be ridiculous. Even after the encounter with the tiger, which some stubborn voice in her mind had quietly tried to convince her was an isolated incident, she had found his desire to keep the doors open simply overbearing. Bordering on creepy, if she was completely honest with herself. Now, as he reached the final step in his search and went down on one knee in front of her desk to check under it... If he had done that on the first day, she had no doubt she would have rolled her eyes and complained.
    Now, she simply stood and waited until he rose and gave her a quick nod. “All clear, Carrots.”
    “No wiretaps under the desk then?” she asked, though her tone wa

Previous Chapter
Sunderance Chapter 16 - An Actor's Life For Me!
    Why had they stopped themselves?
    It was the first coherent thought she had on waking. A thought that took a full five minutes to form as she lay on her back covered in sheets that felt too hot, wearing clothes that felt too tight. Even her fur itched. Every breath was filled with the phantom scent of… Him. Her body tingled where the dream lover, whom she had absolutely no problem identifying, had touched her with those large ruddy paws. Her tongue slipped out over lips that could still fell the heat of his against them, deepening her regret in those first few moments of full wakefulness. Her dream had lacked taste. She didn’t know the flavor of his lips, her mind had nothing to compare, so that left her feeling as empty as the ache between her thighs. Thighs that rubbed together as she squirmed over the sheets uncomfortably, long front teeth chewing on her lower lip as the scent from her dream refused to fade.



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rock paper scissor CHAIR motherfuckers, spoiler alert, chair beats everything.
Isn't the time he's with is lawyer a weird time for an attack though?