York had to admit, life in Zootopia had been nothing but a string of frustrations ever since he arrived.
He’d been robbed.
He’d been caught by wolves.
Then caught by wolves again.
And again.
But that didn’t mean he was weak.
Old Master Panda back in the village had always called him a once-in-a-century martial arts prodigy, someone whose talent came around maybe twice in a hundred years.
So when York saw that truck packed with drugged, unconscious children, something inside him snapped.
And when he spotted the tiny, terrified animals locked in cages in the corner of the room, that flicker of anger exploded into a blazing inferno.
These animals, these monsters.
They were worse than scum.
The kangaroo was the first to move.
He shot to his feet at York’s approach, cracking his knuckles with a sound like snapping twigs.
“You got a death wish, or what?” The horse and the antelope didn’t bother getting up.
They just leaned back in their chairs, watching York with lazy, amused smirks.
They had total faith in the kangaroo.
The guy was a professional boxer, after all.
York rolled his shoulders, working out the stiffness, then crooked a single finger at the kangaroo.
“Come on, then.
I’ll give you three free shots.” That flippant, almost bored expression was the last straw.
The kangaroo’s face twisted with rage.
He dropped into a low crouch, coiling every muscle in his powerful legs, and let out a guttural roar… Then he launched himself forward like a human cannonball.
His fist tore through the air, whistling with lethal force.
‘Fast!’ York’s mind barely had time to register the surprise, but his body had already moved on pure instinct.
He pivoted sideways in a fluid motion, and the kangaroo’s punch screamed past his ear, close enough to ruffle his fur.
“One.” The kangaroo stumbled, caught off guard.
But when he saw York’s expression, still calm, still unbothered, the veins in his forehead bulged.
“BASTARD!
Stop looking down on me!” He swung again, faster this time.
York tilted his head back, the fist grazing his chin by a hair’s breadth.
“Two.” With another enraged bellow, the kangaroo whipped around into a brutal sweeping kick aimed at York’s skull.
York launched into a backflip, the tip of the kangaroo’s foot passing so close it nearly brushed the bridge of his nose.
“Three.” The instant the word left his mouth, York’s carefree attitude vanished.
In its place was something cold, predatory, a glint of crimson flickering deep in his pupils.
“Now.
It’s my turn.” The kangaroo never even saw it coming.
All he caught was a blur, a streak of motion that crossed the distance between them in the span of a heartbeat.
York spun into a devastating roundhouse kick, his heel connecting with the kangaroo’s ribs with a CRACK.
The impact sent the kangaroo flying sideways like a ragdoll.
He slammed into the steel door with a BOOM that rattled the entire room.
The door, surprisingly, didn’t even dent.
The kangaroo, however, slid down its surface like melted butter, crumpling to the floor in a heap.
His face was contorted in agony, every breath escaping as a sharp, hissing wheeze.
He curled into a tight ball, clutching his side, and didn’t get back up.
The horse and the antelope’s smug grins froze solid.
They scrambled for the table, yanking out pistols from underneath, and leveled the black muzzles at York.
York dove behind a wooden cabinet just as the first shots rang out.
Bullets shredded through the air, tearing into the cabinet with reckless abandon.
Splinters exploded in all directions, and glass shattered into a thousand glittering fragments across the floor.
Crouched low, York grabbed a shard of broken glass from the debris.
He measured the rhythm of their gunfire with a predator’s patience, his eyes narrowed to slits.
The moment they paused to reload, he burst from cover in a rolling dive and hurled the glass shard with deadly precision.
“AAAGH!” The horse screamed, the glass had embedded itself deep into his gun hand, blood spurting out and soaking his sleeve.
His pistol clattered to the floor as he clutched his wrist, howling in agony.
The antelope panicked, firing wildly in York’s direction.
But York was a ghost, weaving left, ducking right, every bullet punched through empty air.
“You’re done, scumbag.” York closed the distance in a flash, and his fist, carrying every ounce of righteous fury he possessed, smashed into the antelope’s face with brutal finality.
The antelope flew backward like a sack of potatoes, crashed into a wooden cabinet, and collapsed in an unmoving heap.
York didn’t spare him a second glance.
He turned to the transfusion tubes running from the children’s cages and ripped them all out in one violent motion.
Blood still inside the lines splattered across his fur and clothes.
He grimaced briefly, then ignored it.
Walking over to the horse, he bent down and picked up the fallen pistol.
Crouching beside the whimpering animal, he forced his voice into something almost gentle.
“I need to ask you something.” The horse looked up at York with a face contorted by fear and hatred.
His lips trembled, and after a long, shuddering pause, he managed to choke out: “Y-you’re…
you’re finished!
The Boss won’t, won’t let you get away with this!” BANG!
York didn’t even blink.
He fired a single round straight into the horse’s leg.
The horse shrieked, thrashing on the ground, clutching his thigh as fresh blood pooled beneath him.
York settled onto the sofa like he had all the time in the world, crossing his legs with an air of chilling calm.
His eyes were cold as frozen tundra.
“Alright, alright.
Let’s make this fun.
How about a little game?” He fired two more shots into the ceiling for emphasis, each one punctuating his words like a death knell.
“I ask.
You answer.
The one who gives me the most correct responses gets to walk out of here alive.” His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“How does that sound?” —— Outside the club, Nana listened to the gunfire echoing from the top floor, and her heart twisted with dread.
She hadn’t known York all that long, but she could already tell, he was a good person.
And her sister had always told her that good people never lived long.
That thought sent ice water through her veins.
Just then, a sleek black sedan pulled up in front of the club’s entrance.
Four massive polar bears stepped out, their broad shoulders filling the doorway.
“This is the place.” “Spread out.
Search every corner.” Nana shrank back into the shadows, pressing herself flat against the side of a nearby truck.
She held her breath, barely daring to move.
But one of the polar bears had already spotted her.
He elbowed his companions and jerked his chin toward the truck.
“Hey.
There’s something in that van.” They exchanged knowing glances and crept forward, closing in on Nana’s hiding spot.
Silence fell.
Nana thought, hoped, she’d gone unnoticed.
She was just about to let out a shaky sigh of relief… SLAM!
The truck door was ripped open.
Nana turned her head with excruciating slowness, coming face-to-face with four polar bears who were doing their absolute best to look terrifying.
She plastered on the most awkward smile she could muster, then reached out and gently pulled the door shut again.
Click.
The polar bear on the other side blinked in confusion.
He tried the handle again.
Locked.
But a lock wasn’t about to stop a full-grown polar bear.
With one mighty heave, he wrenched the entire door off its hinges, Nana still clinging to the handle, and sent both of them tumbling out into the soft snow.
She hit the ground with a yelp, scrambled to her feet, and bolted.
A massive paw reached for her, and she launched herself forward, panic overriding every other instinct.
“HELP!
SOMEBODY HELP!
A POLAR BEAR’S TRYING TO EAT A KID!” The polar bears finally got a clear look at her face, and their hostile expressions softened.
“Wait… that might be one of the kids they took!” “Hey!
Don’t run, little one!
We’re here to rescue you!” “I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!
YOU GUYS LOOK LIKE BAD GUYS!” And so, a chaotic chase erupted across the snowy lot outside the club, four polar bears huffing and puffing after a single, screaming fox.
—— When York finally stepped out through the club’s front entrance, he was greeted by a sight so absurd he nearly did a double take.
Four polar bears stood in the middle of the lot, backs pressed together, panting like they’d just run a marathon.
And not far from them, Nana was still hopping around, pulling the most obnoxious faces she could muster.
“Big and slow!
Come catch me if you can!
Nyah nyah~!” York just…
stared.
What in the world had happened while he was inside?!
The polar bears spotted him first.
The moment they took in his club uniform, and the unmistakable bloodstains splattered across it, their bodies went rigid with tension.
“One of the club’s men!” ————•★•————★ Author Note: Thanks for reading!
🪻🪻 P@treaon: Blueduck14 (20+ chapters) Free members get access to one bonus chapter.