There were plenty of reasons to be suspicious.
A single night of watching a stranger’s front gate, and they were offering five hundred Zootopia bucks?
Still.
York was tempted.
With that kind of money, he’d finally have the capital to get a real foothold in Zootopia.
He’d been talking about going home, sure, but slinking back now, tail between his legs, with nothing to show for it?
That would be humiliating.
Gideon would never let him forget it.
The ambition he thought he’d buried started to stir again.
One night.
That was all it took.
One night, and he’d have enough to survive in the city for ten full days.
He could find shelter, start looking for steady work, and actually build something for himself.
He hesitated for only a moment before giving a firm nod.
“I’m in.” It wasn’t that he doubted his ability.
He could take on four or five medium-sized animals without breaking a sweat.
This was just standing around, right?
Weselton’s face lit up the instant York agreed.
He let out an ear-splitting whistle, practically vibrating with excitement, like he’d just closed the deal of a lifetime.
“Smart!
The smartest call you could make!
I guarantee you, there’s no faster money in all of Zootopia than this gig.
And you know who the client is?
A big shot.
The kind of guy who throws cash around like it’s pocket change.” He leaned against York’s leg, swaying his head back and forth, looking like some kind of junkie riding a high.
“Come on, I’ll take you back to my place.
I’ve got an old suit stashed there, well, ‘stashed’ is one way to put it…
okay, I borrowed it, but the point is, I think it’ll fit you perfectly.” York rolled his eyes.
‘Borrowed.
Right.’ He knew exactly what kind of weasel Weselton was.
Still, a clean set of clothes was a necessity for a job interview.
He didn’t bother calling Weselton out and simply gave a curt nod.
“Lead the way.” Weselton’s place was in the small-rodent residential zone, right next to Little Rodentia, tucked into a pitch-black alleyway.
It barely qualified as a house, more like a tiny hovel patched together from scrap metal and discarded tin sheets, cramped and so low to the ground that York could only peer down at it.
Because of the size difference, York couldn’t go inside.
He had to wait outside.
Weselton leaned against his flimsy tin door, grinning smugly up at York.
“Welcome to my humble abode!
What do you think?
Built it with my own two paws.
Pretty sweet, right?” York rubbed his chin and nodded, genuinely sincere.
“Yeah.
Not bad.” Compared to being completely homeless, it really was a pretty decent place.
Weselton’s pride didn’t last long.
With a loud CRASH, the door buckled under his weight and collapsed in a heap.
York: “…” Weselton scrambled to his feet, dusted himself off, and let out an embarrassed little laugh.
“Uh…
guess the door’s due for an upgrade.
Just wait here a sec.” He hoisted the fallen door off to the side, rummaged around inside his shack like a tiny tornado, and finally emerged clutching a suit in his paws.
“Here!
Try it on.” York took it and changed.
The suit was a bit large and wrinkled all over.
York had to roll the pant legs and sleeves up carefully, layer by layer, to make them fit.
The wrinkles would have to settle on their own with time.
“Whoa~!” Weselton’s eyes went wide and he shot York a double thumbs-up.
“Perfect!
You look sharp, buddy!
If I were a lady, I’d be head over heels for you!” York snorted.
He couldn’t be bothered with Weselton’s over-the-top flattery.
He found a relatively clean spot at the end of the alley, spread out a few sheets of old newspaper, and plopped down onto the makeshift bedding.
“Save the flattery, Weselton.
If I get paid tonight, I’ll give you fifty Zootopia bucks.” “Really?
Bro?!” Weselton’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull.
“Of course.
I keep my word.
But only if we actually get that five hundred.” York lay back on his newspaper mattress, staring up at the narrow strip of sky between the buildings.
“I’m gonna crash for a bit.
Wake me when it’s time.” “You got it!
Sleep tight, leave everything to me!” Money sure made Weselton motivated.
York slept deeply.
The newspaper spread across hard, cold ground wasn’t exactly a five-star mattress.
When Weselton shook him awake right at six in the evening, York felt like every bone in his body had been rattled loose.
His back ached with a dull, throbbing pain.
“Time to go, buddy!
Let’s move!” Weselton urged.
York rubbed his stiff shoulders and sore lower back, grimacing as he forced himself upright.
“I am never sleeping in a place like that again.” “You get used to it, man.
And hey, at least my area’s clean.
I catch all the roaches and sell ’em to some specialty restaurants.” “Tell me which ones, so I know where to never eat.” “…” They caught a bus and rattled across the city to their destination, the Rainforest District.
The Rainforest District was one of Zootopia’s most unique landscapes.
Towering steam trees dominated the skyline, drawing melted runoff from the mountains of Tundratown and spraying it out as mist from their tops.
The result was a district perpetually draped in moisture, with rain falling at all hours of the day.
Residents usually lived high in the steam trees, connected by cable cars, wooden bridges, and elevated roadways.
Down on the ground, it was nothing but rivers and swamps.
York and Weselton’s destination was on the outskirts of the district, so they didn’t have to worry too much about their clothes getting soaked.
Umbrellas were a luxury York couldn’t afford right now.
Nestled in a grove of trees sat the Lindville family estate.
It wasn’t as ridiculously opulent or sprawling as Catherine’s mansion, but it was still impressive, all manicured hedges, wrought-iron gates, and imposing stonework.
A wild boar and a tiger stood guard at the front entrance, standing at rigid attention.
Even from outside, York could see patrols moving through the grounds.
Security was tight.
“Alright, buddy, you go tell the guards why you’re here.
I’m not coming with you.
The Lindvilles wouldn’t want a scruffy weasel loitering outside their door.” Weselton said, already backing into the bushes behind them.
His voice still carried back to York.
“Remember what I told you!
Chin up, shoulders back!
Don’t slouch!
The client’s not gonna want some scared-looking mutt as a guard!” York took a deep breath.
Those two guards definitely looked intimidating.
But he’d come this far.
He walked forward.
The tiger guard spotted him immediately.
“Halt!
Who goes there?!” York stopped about five meters from the guards and stated his purpose.
“I’m here to apply for the guard position.” “Apply for guard?” The tiger blinked in confusion.
Beside him, the boar let out a loud snort of laughter.
“Apply for guard?
With your height?
Maybe you’d be better off applying for janitor!
Ha!” York wasn’t short for a husky, but standing next to large animals like a tiger and a wild boar, he looked pretty small.
Even compared to the boar, he was half a head shorter.
York straightened his back, squaring his shoulders.
“Whether I’m qualified or not isn’t for you to decide.
Take me to your boss.” The two guards exchanged glances, muttering under their breath.
“What the hell?
Who keeps giving these small-timers the confidence to come try and scam the Lindvilles?” “Tch.
They’re desperate for manpower right now.
Let him in.
If he lives or dies, it’s not our problem.” “Fair enough.” York braced himself to be turned away, but to his surprise, the tiger guard gave him a curt nod.
“Lucky you.
Come on.” ————•★•————★ Author Note: Thanks for reading!
(And a review too.
Thanks 🪻🪻) P@treaon: Blueduck14