Before he knew it, a crowd of onlookers had gathered around him.
Windows along the street swung open one after another.
The bolder ones pressed closer, craning their necks, eyes gleaming with the thrill of an impending spectacle.
Seeing the crowd, Hank seemed to find a second wind.
He planted his hands on his hips, swept his gaze across the onlookers, and raised his voice another few notches, the victor in his own mind.
“You know what I hate most?” he declared.
“Apologizing!” He thrust his chin high, as if he’d just won a great victory.
My parents are right here.
Who wants to touch me?
But someone did.
Nick huddled in his mother’s arms, his eyes locked on Kevin.
Blood poured from Kevin’s nose and mouth.
He looked to be in terrible pain.
Nick’s pupils constricted sharply.
His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out, then shyly withdrew.
His chest felt as if something vicious were wringing it from the inside.
If Kevin hadn’t come to his house today, would any of this have happened?
Kevin felt a burning knot of fire lodged deep inside his nose, throbbing with a pain that shook his entire body.
He forced one eye open, peering through the swollen slit, and fixed his eyes on that hippo.
‘The brat’s got nerve… I gave you an inch, and you try to take a mile?
You actually think I’m some pushover?’ Raymond scooped Kevin into his arms and, in three quick strides, bundled him into the car.
One polar bear turned the key in the ignition; the other two remained behind.
The two who stayed knew well that Raymond was Mr.
Big’s right-hand man, they didn’t have that kind of protection.
With Kevin assaulted right under their watch, there was no way they could dodge the blame.
Hank was about to turn his fury on Nick when he saw one of the polar bears reach into his pocket and pull out a long, thin object.
Click.
A soft metallic sound, and the blade snapped out.
In the polar bear’s massive palm, it didn’t seem like much.
But to the animals crowded nearby, it glinted like a machete.
Hank’s legs went weak with fear, and he collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud.
The crowd of onlookers didn’t scatter, instead, they grew even more excited.
Hank’s parents tried to pull their son behind them, but the other polar bear had already lunged forward, his fist slamming squarely into Hank’s face.
Hank let out a muffled grunt, toppled backward, and lay still, knocked out cold.
“Who do you think you are to hit my son…” “Are you saying I wouldn’t hit you?” The polar bear pivoted and charged at Hank’s father.
It all comes down to presence.
Once you believe you’ve lost, you truly have.
Hank’s father went down with a single punch.
His wife collapsed on the ground, shrieking, her lips trembling uncontrollably.
The polar bear with the knife was on her in an instant, pinning her down and pressing the cold blade against her neck.
All her earlier ferocity seemed to drain away.
She shook so violently that she didn’t even bother to wipe the tears and snot streaming down her face.
Only ragged, broken sobs escaped her throat.
Hank’s father staggered to his feet, wiping the dirt from his face.
Hippos were, after all, large animals, he wanted to fight back.
But then something dark and hollow pressed against his forehead.
Click.
The crisp, metallic sound silenced everyone present.
It was a gun.
The cold steel barrel, the heavy weight of it, the sound of the mechanism locking into place as it was cocked, it all hit Hank’s father like a sledgehammer.
His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground, his hands trembling as he raised them above his head.
The animals who had been waiting for a show scattered the moment they saw the gun.
Screams overlapped, footsteps pounded, and in the blink of an eye, the street was empty.
Nick’s mother had already pulled her son back into their shop and bolted the door from the inside.
Nick lay on the second-floor windowsill, watching the chaos unfold below, unable to speak a word.
His mother grabbed him from behind, pulled him back from the window, and slammed it shut.
“Don’t look, Nick,” she said, her voice shaking.
She held him close, patting his back rhythmically.
“It’s okay…
it’s okay…” —— Raymond took Kevin to the nearest pharmacy and had his wounds treated.
Fortunately, nothing was broken.
But when they got home, the sight of him made Grandmama burst into tears.
She wept as she applied medicine to Kevin’s wounds.
His nose had begun to swell slightly, and a layer of salve covered it, gleaming with a cool sheen.
“How could someone lay a hand on you?
You’re so young, having to suffer like this…” She paused mid-sentence to wipe her eyes again.
Mr.
Big stood to the side, silent the whole time, his face as dark as iron.
Kevin winced in pain, but forced a smile and tried to comfort her: “Grandmama, don’t cry.
It doesn’t hurt.” Fru Fru, almost a year old, wobbled beside Grandmama’s leg.
Seeing her grandmother crying, the little one imitated the adults, standing on her tiptoes and gently patting Grandmama’s cheek, blowing on it softly as if to soothe the pain away.
Two small figures, one tiny and one slightly larger, fussed over Grandmama until her tears finally stopped.
Mr.
Big remained grim-faced.
Only after the sobbing ceased did he speak in a low voice: “Raymond.” “They’re in custody.” “Good.” Mr.
Big waved a hand and looked at Kevin.
“You don’t have to go to school starting tomorrow.
I’ll have tutors come here.” Kevin understood the gravity of the statement and nodded obediently.
“Whatever you say, Father.” The word “Father” made Mr.
Big pause for a moment.
He looked down at his daughter by his feet, his fingers gripping the armrest as if weighing something, then slowly relaxed.
After a long moment, he patted the edge of his chair.
“Kevin, come here.” He motioned for Koslov to take Fru Fru and Grandmama out first.
Koslov scooped up Mr.
Big with one arm and wrapped the other around Kevin.
In a few steps, he carried them through the hallway and pushed open a heavy door.
—— This was Mr.
Big’s study.
In the original movie, Nick and Judy nearly met their end here.
Kevin had been here twice before, but Aunty had always stopped him, saying it was too dangerous.
In the center of the room stood a large desk and a large chair.
The desk was spotless, with only an old-fashioned lamp sitting in one corner.
Three bulky figures knelt in the center of the room, their hands and feet bound with chains, their mouths sealed with tape, Hank’s family.
They struggled and thrashed, their throats emitting muffled screams, but they couldn’t break free.
Around them stood a ring of polar bears in black suits, like silent walls of ice, sealing the space tightly.
Koslov placed Mr.
Big on the desktop, and Kevin was seated at the corner of the desk.
Mr.
Big snapped his fingers.
Koslov took a wooden box from a drawer beneath the desk.
He lifted the lid.
A silver revolver lay on a bed of velvet, six bullets perfectly seated in their slots.
The barrel gleamed with a cold, polished sheen, and the wood grip was fine-textured, like a piece of art in a display case.
“Kevin, you’ve always been smart, sensible and more level-headed than other children.
You should understand what I’m about to say.” Mr.
Big’s voice was measured and calm.
“Zootopia is not a fairy tale.
We’ve evolved, but the rules of survival haven’t changed.
To live, you have to step on others.” He paused, giving a small wave of his paw.
“If someone tries to hurt us….” “Then…
take care of him.” As his words fell, the polar bears pulled back the rug and lifted a section of the floor.
Beneath it lay a huge vortex of ice, cold air blasting upward, rime frost clinging to its edges.
When Hank’s parents saw this, they struggled so hard they nearly overturned the polar bears holding them, but they were still dragged, one on each side, to the edge of the hole.
They barely had time to make a sound before they disappeared into the icy blue depths.
Hank curled into a tight ball, his pants wet again.
Tears and snot made the tape over his mouth gleam, and his muffled whimpers came one after another, like a trapped animal.
Mr.
Big didn’t look that way.
He simply tilted his chin toward Koslov.
The polar bear stepped forward and handed the revolver to Kevin.
“I was going to wait until you came of age.
But it seems we can’t wait that long.” Mr.
Big looked at Kevin.
“You’re a good boy.
Will you let him go, or w–” Before he could finish, Kevin had already reached out and taken the gun.
His movements were steadier than Mr.
Big expected.
Loading the bullets, raising the weapon, slowly turning the barrel, until it pointed at Hank.
The brat had collapsed, shaking violently, only his eyes still moving.
Kevin’s voice was a little unsteady: “I can’t hold it up very well.” Koslov understood.
He stepped forward, his large bear paw covering Kevin’s hand, helping him steady the aim.
Hank stared at the silver-glowing muzzle, his vision blurring.
All he could see was the black circle of the barrel growing larger in his pupils.
BANG!
Flame licked from the barrel.
Even with Koslov’s help, the recoil numbed Kevin’s forearm.
A dark red bloom spread across Hank’s chest.
The force of the shot threw him backward, and he tumbled into the ice pit behind him, not even a scream escaping his lips.
Kevin stared at the revolver in his hands, his cheeks puffing out slightly as a smile slowly crept across his face.
He was frozen for a long moment, his breathing short and ragged, as if he’d just run a great distance.
Mr.
Big watched his face carefully.
Finally, he nodded.
“This room…
you may come here whenever you like.” He then had Koslov take Kevin out.
The polar bears who stayed behind quickly wiped up the blood and urine from the floor, closed the floorboards, and laid the rug back down.
Only two remained at the door.
Kevin sat alone at the corner of the desk, holding the heavy silver revolver.
He looked down at the gun, then up at the direction where the ice pit had closed.
He let out a soft breath that fogged in the cold air.
‘A gun…
feels so satisfying.’ ‘Little punk.
He really thought I was one of the locals.’ The only pity was that he probably wouldn’t have the chance to go out freely anymore.
Grandmama and Aunty would definitely not let him out again.
In the hallway, Koslov carried Mr.
Big in front, followed by a few polar bears.
Their footsteps echoed back and forth in the empty corridor.
“Did you pull the trigger?” “No, Kevin pulled it himself.” “Good.
That’s good.” Mr.
Big nodded, satisfied.
—— Over the next few days, Nick came to school especially early every morning.
As soon as the bell rang between classes, he would run to the window of Kevin’s classroom, resting his paws on the sill and peering inside.
But that seat remained empty.
The desk was spotless, not a scrap of paper left behind, as if no one had ever sat there.
Sunlight streamed in from the window, bleaching the wooden surface.
The bell for the next class rang.
He didn’t move.
The teacher for the next period walked down the hall, spotting a little fox lying on the windowsill from afar, ears drooping, tail hanging low, staring motionless into the empty room.
“Why aren’t you back in class?” Nick snapped out of it, pulling his paws back from the sill.
He mumbled quietly: “I…
I’m looking for Kevin.
Hasn’t he come today?” The teacher bent down, her gaze soft and kind.
“Oh, Kevin?
He transferred schools a while ago.” “Ah?” Nick’s ear tips twitched, as if he hadn’t quite heard, frozen for a few seconds.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Finally, he gave a slight nod and squeezed out an “Oh” from his throat.
Nick didn’t ask why, nor where he had transferred.
He turned around and walked back to his classroom, his steps much slower than before.