Right... I know, I know... haven't published for months. University. And unfortunately, I will most likely be unable to continue writing at a regular pace, due to me preparing for my future taking precedence over my hobbies.

He allowed the classical music to calm him and the perfectly set humidity and temperature to relax his Savannah pelt. He stared at the strange modern art piece that was in front of him. His hooves had to have left some sort of mark on the pristine carpet from how long he had been sitting in place motionless. The canvas amounted to a few differing shades of red on a grey background. As was common with modern paintings, it lacked any kind of frame. The red took all sorts of shapes from triangles, to squares, to simple, bloodspot-like circles, taking over the grey background.

All the other visitors of the gallery went about their business. The few that ventured to look at the peculiar red and grey painting didn't stay much due to the well-dressed zebra with a claw scar over his right eye staring at the piece of canvas as if it was some sort of mystery he was trying to untangle.

The gallery presenter, a zebra mare wearing a strikingly red dress, smiled as she approached the male. Despite not being very tall for his species, the way he stood straight, his expensive dark suit, his relaxed, yet straight and wide shoulders, his perfectly groomed hide and his expressionless, harsh dark eyes with a claw scar over one of them completed the portrait of an unwavering, powerful male.

She saw that many of the other clients were looking with slight fright at him, even a bear deciding to admire another painting as he saw who was eyeing the red and grey shapes on a canvas. However, there was something about him which drew her toward him. More than likely, it was the exact thing which turned away all the patrons away from him: the danger.

The mare had dated a couple of preds in her college years, something which she preferred to keep a secret.

He had a cold stare in his dark eyes that she had rarely seen even a predator have. A steely, deadly determination that transmitted to anyone that he wasn't willing to let anyone or anything get in his way, managing to do so even while doing something as simple as admiring a painting. Or was he even admiring it?

He was simply looking.

Yet he had looked for quite a long time. And judging by his suit, he had enough cash to buy out the entire gallery ten times over.

She approached him from behind. Although he didn't even blink, she knew that he had sensed her. Somehow, he transmitted that.

She suppressed what little emotion she had as she smiled and went straight aside him. This time, he gave her a sideways glance, yet not one lacking interest.

"You know, a lot of people ask," she began.

"How can we charge so much for what at the end of the day amounts to simply different shapes of colours arranged seemingly at random. That modern art is garbage," she continued in a slow, deliberate, almost professional tone which failed to mask her interest for the handsome, dangerous male.

"Yet, I always reply that it is not the image itself, not the artist, not even the skill required which matters in a painting." She smiled wider as the man turned completely from the painting toward her, his face just as unrecognizable.

"It's how it makes you feel that matters." She finished, gesturing her hooves toward the painting. While it didn't depict anything in particular, many people seeing it said that it made them feel a slight sense of unease, anger or even excitement. It was most likely the association of red and darker colours with the impure or the violent, or the way some of the shapes of red seemed to quite vividly resemble blood splatters.

"It's called 'Oppression'. Just that." The mare shrugged chuckling.

"Gotta love these modern artists. They work weeks and months on end to create something that only they can understand fully, and everyone else understands whatever the heck they want. And yet when they have to call it something. It's always some cliché." She finished.

"How does it make you feel? Most mammals coming here say it makes them feel uneasy." she said with a snort, rolling her eyes. It was obvious she disagreed with her patrons.

The male stared at the painting a bit more, analysing the splashes of red against the grey.

Looking at the painting, the male's scar seemed to twitch as he examined the coloured shapes more closely. No, the title was not at random. There were a few places in which the red was far less numerous than the dark shades of grey, yet the red shapes seemed to have ramifications leading into the large grey blobs, the ramifications eventually meeting to create a large, blood splatter like, red shape.

The red was less numerous, but it was able to enter the grey and kill it from the inside. Oppress it. His jaw twitched.

"Are you OK, sir?" the mare asked, looking into his twitching dark eyes.

"Yes. Sorry. I'll take it." He said, quickly smiling toward the mare. He only noticed now how beautiful she was. Her eyes were dark, like his, but she wore it differently. While his eyes struck fear into the hearts of anyone who dared cross him, she was able to even set him at ease. The realization that what he was fighting against was shown on that very painting was put in check.

The gallery presenter smiled and stamped a red "SOLD" sticker next to the painting.

"My associate will pay." He said stoically.

"Well, enjoy your purchase. Mister…?" She asked smiling.

"Uhm, Stripes. Sebastian Stripes." He said. Why had he hesitated?

Before he could think, the female's melodic chuckle pierced his thoughts. His chest tightened momentarily with an unfamiliar feeling as he watched her regain her composure.

She glanced at the grand clock hung up above a broad painting that wasn't even for sale. Despite it being a much more traditional painting, even having a wooden carved Victorian frame, it didn't seem to clash with the modern art gallery in the slightest. The grand clock read 8 PM sharp.

"Well, I guess it's time for me to close up." She said.

"My name is Irene, by the way." She said smiling. Before he could act, Sebastian found himself shaking her hoof with more tenderness than he had given anyone since he was in high school.

He also realized just now that he had given her his real name, yet for some reason he couldn't bring himself to view that as a mistake. He wasn't even worried in the slightest.

Well, maybe a little bit of companionship would serve him well. He seldom confided in to everyone except for Wesley, his stallion confidant. Maybe a female such as herself could prove to be a valuable asset later on.

"I was wondering if you would like to share dinner with me." Sebastian said quickly before he even fully considered the extent of what he was about to say. However, as usual, he felt sure of himself, despite not having considered the extent of what would follow.

The mare simply smiled up at her new client , drawing slightly closer to him. Eventually, her muzzle was mere inches away from his ear.

"I quite like Italian." She whispered.

Sebastian felt a wave of joy not felt before wash over him

"We agree on more than art!" he chuckled.

"Yes, Zack, sure, take the day off, my boy. I'll have a job for you tomorrow." Spoke Carnivore into the phone just as his second-in-command and quartermaster, Gage knocked on the door and entered the gang leader's luxurious room.

Gage was a dark orange timber wolf, his fur looking almost grey in the right light. He was twirling his ever-present cheap cigarette in between his lips as he entered his boss's and friend's room.

Gage had had a long history in the criminal underworld as a gunrunner, his time in the military netting him plenty of contacts to get top-of-the-line equipment for all sorts of scum throughout the city, fueling gang wars, assassinations and bank robbers.

He was the reason Carnivore's gang had silenced weapons, sniper rifles and submachine guns, all stockpiled, maintained and ready to use. While the majority of his gang were young junkies who could somewhat hold his own in a fistfight and sling drugs, but were somewhat dull-witted, his inner circle grew each week. Every week, he would select a few members who had proven themselves to be a cut above the rest when it came to loyalty and ability to commit whatever orders he may have, and they made the most of their equipment.

And most importantly, Gage had the loyalty and determination to his cause to get his kind back at the top of the food-chain, to break free of the chains of prey, to be proud of their nature-granted weapons that could end any prey's life in seconds.

"Hey, boss." said Gage casually as he puffed out a cloud of bluish smoke, scattering a few ashes into Carnivore's ashtray as he sat down on a chair opposite the desk.

The gang leader smiled as he saw his friend and instantly excused himself and hung up on Zack quickly, not noticing that the youngster breathed a sigh of relief as he dismissed him.

The coal-furred wolf smiled at Gage, a genuine smile, not the one he always used to terrify prey into submission just before he fulfilled his primal desires granted to him by nature. He poured the ex-soldier three fingers of bourbon without asking him, knowing that this was his friend's customary drink whenever they had short meetings, and especially when he had a cigarette to pair it with.

Gage nodded and drank half of the pint-sized glass just before he took another long drag of his half-spent cigarette.

"So what's the deal now, Carl? You need my contact to get us a few extra guns?" asked Gage, using his boss's real name.

"No, brother. You know Zack, right?" asked Carnivore rhetorically. He knew Gage's clockwork mind was the sharpest in the criminal underworld. He had a computer-like memory of every single member and gun in the gang, where they are, what they did, and whether or not they were a liability.

"Sure. The kid who offed the ram trainer a couple of months back." he answered nonchalantly.

"I think he still has the silenced USP 45. I gave him back then, but he hasn't used it since. Vilkas said he had been keeping it locked in his nightstand ever since he blew that bastard's brains out." Gage said quickly and stoically, recalling every last important detail about one of their newest members.

"Yes, Gage. You see, I know I usually don't let anyone who has served less than two years enter our ranks within the True Pack, yet for him I will make an exception. He has proven to be a true predator, ready to remove the ruling prey and stand by our side for justice. To put prey back in their place. He is ready for the Initiation into our inner circle." said Carl Carnivore, pouring himself a glass of bourbon.

Gage broke his mask of non-emotion and raised an eyebrow.

"Boss, I don't doubt the kid's combat abilities, he's a damn good fighter and he's brave. But have you actually looked at him while you were giving your lectures on how prey have been oppressing us and how we need to get ourselves back on top of the food chain? His eyes are glassy and downcast, his ears down while all of his homies cheer and add their own opinions. That doesn't seem like someone who's ready to join The Pack." analysed Gage.

At this, Carnivore frowned at his friend, a rare thing for him. However, his blood-red eyes failed to faze his friend, Gage being the only mammal who didn't even blink at the predator's blood-fueled gaze.

"You think I haven't noticed that, Gabriel?" said Carnivore lowly.

"You are as observant as ever, yet I think you drew the wrong deduction. You see, he is not like the other boys there. He doesn't know the full extent at which prey have imposed their restrictions on the very essence of what it is to be a predator. He is analysing what I am preaching, while the rest are merely hearing what they already knew. And let me tell you, the meeting with Dodge Woolerston has shaken any doubt he may have had of what wolves and predators are truly supposed to be. When he fought that prey, something happened in his brain. It happened to me, it happened to you, it happened to everyone fortunate enough to have slain a meek prey oppressor today. It's a chemical reaction in which our ancestral memory is returned to us, the instinct of the pack and the hunt given back. I am writing on it." Carnivore said, lifting up a manuscript, his own writings on pred supremacy, which he planned to publish "once the Revolution was over".

Gage opened his mouth to say something else, yet closed it back up. He knew that his friend's stubbornness would keep this debate exactly where it was. But that didn't mean he wouldn't offer advice.

"Alright, boss. But please remember this: his mom's death has left him shaken. If I were you, I'd be extra careful with how I'd show him our... other rooms. He might panic and it might be the last straw for him. It would be a shame to have to off him." said Gage.

Carnivore pressed his paws together as he narrowed his eyes in deep thought. Zack had proven himself to be a remarkable asset, loyal and dedicated to the job at paw, yet he still was very green in many ways. But then again, Carnivore's gut feeling had never betrayed him, and he had a damned good feeling about the young former kickboxer.

"Leave that to me, Gage. Have you ever known me to be wrong?" said Carl smugly.

Gage shrugged as he snorted with laughter.

"True, but I still saved your ass a dozen times." said the weapon dealer even smugger, but with a friendly tone.

Carnivore snorted himself, his friend's banter always getting through his stone-cold mask which he reserved for everyone else.

"Right, boss, I'll get back to my duties. Gotta check out a new shipment of MP5s I got from Hoxton. It's due for delivery in a few hours in the sewers." said Gage, getting up.

"Hold on." said Carnivore, causing the veteran to turn around. Gage finished off his cigarette and crushed it into Carl's ashtray.

"I need you to cut a deal with someone," the red-eyed wolf said, his snout churning in disgust as he said this. Gage was able to pick up subtle visual cues. The way his eyes narrowed like he saw him do only when dealing with smug, condescending prey whom he was forced to tolerate for the sake of a deal. No way the "deal" was to be made with Mr. Big. Carnivore respected the shrew and his small army of polar bears, despite them not being nearly as focused on bringing predators back on their deserved spot.

No, this was something he was forced to tolerate.

"Remember that zebra?" asked the gang leader with the disgust which was accompanied whenever he recalled that rich prick prey.

Gage himself, as stoic as he was, couldn't suppress a grimace as he recalled the bastard.

"How could I forget," the veteran mumbled.

Gage remembered how he prayed that his boss would just claw the bastard's throat out and serve him up like any other disrespecting pray. But that scum made him sick as it was without eating him.

The zebra had offered half a million dollars just for them to clear out a warehouse for a day. Who the hell does that? Carnivore had tried sending spies out, but the bastard had placed horses, rams, bulls and other prey bruisers-for-hire on all surrounding buildings. And their deal clearly stated that the zebra had access to the entire block and could do as he pleased for a day.

When Carnivore heard the sirens around the warehouse, he had thought that the prey bastard had sold him out and was ready to run for his contact to get a new identity and flee Zootopia.

However, the cops all left almost as soon as they came. Whoever the zebra was, he had friends in high places. None of Carnivore's contacts within the ZPD had said anything when he questioned them about what had happened there, no matter how much money he threatened to pull from their "retirement fund".

"You are a mammal of war, Gage. But you are also far more diplomatic than me or anyone else here. If there is anyone who can get that stuck-up grass-muncher to strike another deal with us, it's you. His payment to us gave me enough money to become a full time partner with Mr. Big and get more contacts within the police. And I know his type: they act smart to throw you off, but they have nothing to back it up. He is some pencil-pusher who learned how to glare. I can get him scared into becoming a full-time partner with us. Imagine getting paid half a million each week and having the connections that he does. We'd have the city within a year! And then the first steps to putting filthy prey back into their place will be achievable," analysed Carnivore.

Gage considered his friend's words carefully. He had seldom known his boss to be wrong in his judge of character, but that damn zebra gave him chills. And he knew how to spot a fake glare.

But then again, Gage knew how to get under someone's fur. He could intimidate someone into doing the gang's bidding without them even knowing it. Interrogating enemy spies in the military had granted him that. He had even been chosen for some Black Ops thanks to his talent of "persuasion".

"Alright, boss. If he's still in town, I'll find him." he said calmly, gulping down the rest of his drink.

He shook paws warmly with Carnivore and he motioned to the guards at the door to follow him. The large veteran members did so without question, each checking the weapons beneath their heavy coats.

He pulled out his phone as he exited the derelict building. He sent a text with machine-like efficiency to informants from various other gangs, stalking the streets of Zootopia as ordinary citizens, waiting for a job to pop up.

"This guy. 10K for location" the text simply read, with a picture of the zebra which Gage had taken of him without anyone noticing. He had taken it as soon as he saw the male enter their headquarters months ago. He always did so.

He entered his expensive sports sedan, the two bodyguards going in the backseat. Gage's keen instinct and deduction had already narrowed down where the zebra was.

If he was still in Zootopia, no way he was in the area of Rainforest district. He had overheard him commenting to his horse bodyguard about hating humidity and how he was grateful that he could chose where he lived.

He already set off in the direction of greater Zootopia.

Not surprisingly, his phone chirped soon enough. Gage smirked as he saw that it was one of the many informants he had sent the text to.

"He's here. Send the dough." read the text from one of Mr. Big's polar bears, alongside a hastily taken picture of the zebra alongside a rather gorgeous mare entering one of the many restaurants owned by the kingpin.

"Gotcha, fucker!" laughed out one of the two bodyguards from behind.

Gage lifted a paw to calm them both down just as he sent the fee to Mr. Big's polar bear through PawPal.

"Guys, remember, we're there to get him to work with us, not start a war with Mr. Big. If you wanna get rough with this prey and his broad to get him to cooperate with us, so be it, but do it once we're on our own turf." said Gage wisely, turning onto the road that led to Tundratown, the frozen domes visible in the distance.

Gage turned on the heater in anticipation for the stabbing cold that was sure to get even through his well-insulated luxury car.

-

The zebra sipped once at the wine, letting it swirl in his mouth for a second before swallowing slowly. The dry burn of the 30 year old Red went down his throat, ending with a pleasant warm tingle in his stomach.

"Yes, this one." he said to the polar bear waiter. The bear nodded and poured into the mare's glass and then filling up Stripes' own glass.

Normally, the zebra hated going into restaurants that also served predators. The smell of roast chicken and fish made his stomach churn and the sight of pieces of something which was once a living thing going into predators' maws made him want to end them right there and then. Yet the moment Irene proposed going to one of the restaurants owned by Mr. Big, he simply couldn't bring himself to say 'no'.

The polar bear bodyguards seemed to know her, and she was extremely casual and even cheery with them. If only she knew what those monsters were capable of…. But he was there for her. Wait, what?

"It's delicious. I've always preferred dries." she said chuckling melodically, causing the burn in his throat to be accompanied by another, equally pleasant warm tingle.

"It's one of my favourites. It's also Wesley's favourite. He's my associate." said the male, not mentioning how the black stallion was seated at a table away from them, pretending to be sipping a coffee and reading the evening paper.

"Hm. Guy has good tastes. You sure you won't let me date him afterwards?" she teased. The awkward silence was eventually broken as Sebastian forced a chuckle.

"Yes, I know, I know, it was a bad joke," she started.

"No, no," Sebastian began a bit too quickly.

"Yes it was. But a joke nonetheless." she chuckled.

The ordered mozzarella sticks and Savannah Herbivore Delight came and they both began to slowly eat, savouring the flavor which the talented chefs had blessed the dishes with.

Sebastian watched his date slowly eating the appetizer, washing it down with some more wine, a strange unfamiliar, yet pleasant feeling sinking into him as her face shifted slightly with pleasure and a barely audible hum of content reached his ears.

"Sooo you already know what I do for a living. It's only fair you also spill the beans." the mare said playfully.

Sebastian looked back at her, thinking of what he would say.

"I am in the business of... rebuilding. Changing. Renovating, you could say." he explained casually.

"Of taking things which seem beyond repair and turning them into something beautiful." he said, finding a far better description of his "job".

"Really? Sounds interesting. I suppose you don't limit yourself to just real estate, right?" the mare asked with a knowing smile.

Sebastian felt himself blush, something which he hadn't figured out that he was doing immediately, as he hadn't felt like that since he was a cub.

"You are quite perspective, Irene." he said with a short, sincere chuckle.

"Yes. I try to use my power to - I know it sounds cliche - to change the world. I believe I can build something out of it. I wish to sculpt something beautiful out of the block of wood our oppressors have been keeping." he began, his blood pressure suddenly rising as he was once again reminded what he was fighting for.

The mare snorted at his statement, but not maliciously so.

"If I had a zoobuck for every male I met who thought he could change the world. Listen, here's something I learned since I was a cub. The world is a stream. Always going in one direction, never stopping. Sometimes it's stormy. Sometimes there are boulders blocking the water. Sometimes there are savage crocodiles looking to devour anyone daring to cross it. You have to cross this water, but you can't change the tide or remove any of the obstacles. You just have to build your boat, load it with supplies and cross it." the mare said calmly as she swallowed down the last of her salad, washing it down with a gulp of wine.

The male was taken aback by her philosophy. He had never seen someone so quickly form a counter-argument to his own ideas. Now he was at ease, for he knew he wasn't just bitten by some idiotic, spur of the moment, love bug. His wits were still about him. She truly was something special.

"Forgive my saying so, but you seem to have quite a good opinion about yourself." she said, eyeing him knowingly.

He fiddled with his sleeves as he thought about her. Truly, he would finally have an asset that was on his level. Or perhaps something more?

"Those who have bloated opinions of themselves are called narcissists. They have nothing to hold onto, no family, no goals, no ambition, no energy. Nothing but the foolish thought that they are better than others. They repeat this lie to themselves to the grave, as a way of preventing themselves from falling into depression and madness. I am not that." he said lowly.

"Unlike them, I have done many things which I am proud of. I have goals not just for me, but for all mammal-kind. And that stream you talked about? Well, I can't stop it or change its course, but I can build a dam." he said, almost lecturing.

She eyed him, this time a little bit suspiciously. She seemed to be considering his words. Understandably so, as she had never heard anyone talk like this before.

"What are you, Sebastian?" she asked lowly, seriously and intimidating, yet his keen ears also captured a hint of fear. A hint of horror at what he might be. The thought of her finding out what he truly did before she had the power to comprehend that it was for the greater good horrified him.

However, he wanted to be completely honest to her.

"Well, I," he began, not even knowing himself what he was about to say.

"Please, gentlemen! The restaurant is booked up! And there is a dress code, you cannot enter dressed like this!" a sharp, angry Italian accent turned all the heads in the restaurant toward the entrance.

Sebastian turned even faster than the others. What he saw made his blood turn cold.

The second-in-command of that blasted wolf gang, together with two unwashed, flea-ridden thugs, calling at him.

He knew that getting together with preds, especially those who make up the dregs of society, would return to him someday.

For that he had been ready. He had perfected his hand-to-hand combat, had a state-of-the-art security system installed in his house which could withstand an army, held at least two different firearms in his car wherever he went, had Wesley and an army of mercenaries at a moment's notice to him with the push of a button on his PDA.

He was ready for an attack on his person of absolutely any kind. He could have held out against the ZPD or the Army for days, should the need have arisen.

What he was not ready for though, was the scum of the earth trying to get in contact with him, in a way which suggested almost as if he was with them on a regular basis, right when a mind and heart on his level was beginning to see the beauty on his new ideas for how to yank the world out of the cesspool it had dug itself into for centuries.

The mare's eyes widened as those punks futilely tried to wrestle with the bulk of the polar bear guards. Sebastian usually thought little of Mr. Big's thugs, as he did of any other meat-eaters, but this time, he was grateful for their presence.

However, those wolves were well-trained and powerful, and even Mr. Big's hulking predators were gritting their teeth as they kept hold of the prey-eating, cultist thugs.

"Sir! Our boss wishes to speak with you once again! He has a proposal which will benefit the both of us greatly!" Gage yelled over the polar bears who had piled up on him, a few of them drawing their massive guns on them, a gesture which didn't faze any of the wolf thugs in the slightest.

"We have to go! Now!" Sebastian yelled, getting up so quickly the chair went backwards and his knees hit the table. He grabbed the mare's forearm and pulled her away quickly from the commotion, ignoring the pleas for an explanation from the mare, the wonderful evening starting from her gaze toward him in an exclusive art gallery, continuing with a wonderful dinner, the savage polar bears blocked out by her melodic giggle, and her little 'mmms' of pleasure at every bite of the wonderful food, ended by tactless, predatory, carnivorous punks who hadn't evolved with a single cell since the Stone Age.

"Put them in a car!" he whispered harshly to Wesley, as he led a now very irate Irene through the back door, where he passingly told a waiter to put their meal on his account.

The deafening screeching of tires, honking and loud conversations replaced the mellow classical music and faint clinking of cutlery. It made his ears ring even harder than the rage which began to take over his person as he saw the mare glaring back at the door and then at him, silently asking him what business someone of his status had with the dregs of society, the scum of the earth.

With cannibals.

He quickly hailed a cab and held the door for Irene, trying to salvage whatever he could from the trainwreck of a date which the carnivorous gang members had created.

But he'd get back at them.

Wesley knew very damn well how to persuade anyone to do anything. He'd put them in a car and drive them where they belonged.

Irene quickly told the hippo cab driver where she lived and the large mammal nodded, going along surprisingly quickly through the hellish traffic.

Both remained as silent as silent could be throughout the ride, and while the hippo kept an air of professionality and kept his mouth shut, he occasionally looked into the rear-view mirror back at the zebra couple.

He had driven countless couples like this throughout his career, back from a date gone sour. Judging by their outfits, they were both filthy rich, so he could only imagine what drove them to quickly hailing a regular cab off the street.

A tiny amount of rainfall began trickling down onto the windows, gone unnoticed by both passengers, both too far into their own thoughts to acknowledge anything from the outside world.

Irene tried to put two and two together. She was an excellent judge of character, far beyond mere "female's intuition", and this man seemed someone dogmatically determined to change the city and the world for the better, whatever that was in his mind. But those gangbangers barging in, beginning to talk to him as if he had been knowing them for years, and him, before that moment, an unyielding zebra man, the kind who would have kicked a pouncing lion into oblivion back in the days gone past. He was turned into a fearful, protective shadow, desperately trying to get her to safety, no doubt because he knew of how brutal those lowlifes could be.

Her instinct told her to get away from him, to leave him. He was far too dangerous. No matter how intelligent, brave, steadfast or noble he was, it was not worth the risk of meeting pred gang members on a regular basis.

The hippo arrived before either knew it, and Irene jumped out of the cab, going toward her apartment building at a heightened pace.

"Irene!" Sebastian yelled after her. He pulled two random banknotes out of his pocket and threw them at the driver, not even caring about the payment. Judging by the hippo's face, he had just received the tip of a lifetime.

He ran into the rain toward her, screaming her name. She stopped just before the gate to her rather imposing, luxurious apartment building. He could see even from behind that she was pursing her lips tightly, her hoof hovering above the door handle, not having the heart to just leave him out in the rain without as much as a goodbye.

"Irene, please, those were," he began.

"Savages." she replied without turning around.

"And you knew it. You dragged me away even as Big's goons were pinning those punks down." she explained calmly, despite the fact that the fire of rage and fear was blazing in her eyes.

"They're… they're a part of my life that is now over. I dealt with them in order to slowly destroy the likes of them. They don't even realize it." he bluffed.

"Well, clearly that 'part of your life' is not over if they know your exact location and go in as casually as if it were their mother's place." she said dryly.

"They will not bother me again. I promise. I will make sure of that personally," he sneered, imagining the way he would be punishing those stone age oppressors.

He instantly regretted that move, as the mare's eyes widened as she watched him relishing in his dark fantasies.

"Please, Irene," he began, his face instantly softening without him even meaning it. Seeing the tiniest hint that she was calming down steadied his heart beat, despite the fact that she was still obviously suspicious of him.

"You have already deduced so much about me. No doubt you've also deduced that in everything that I am doing, I am only doing what's good for all mammal kind. You need to swim into the bowels of this city, literally and figuratively, in order to find it's heart, and change it's blackness into something beautiful for the entire organism." he said.

Irene sighed deeply and looked around, pondering her decision. She bit the polish on her upper hooves, looking when at Sebastian, when at the apartment building.

"I…" she began, almost as if she was sorry for her outburst earlier.

"I don't know, Sebastian. Like you said, I went out with you because I realized you want to do something for this world, and that there's something different about you. I'm not sure if it's such a good thing now." she said, this time less coldly.

"I - I know it went sideways at the end. But I enjoyed our night very much, Irene. If you don't feel the same, then," Sebastian tripped over his words and felt his throat going dry as he thought of that possibility. "Then you will never see me again." he finished, looking down on the pavement as a completely foreign feeling washed over his chest.

Irene seemed speechless for a moment. She opened her mouth for a second as if she wanted to say something, but closed it back up. Now she also glanced at the pavement, each mirroring each other, even though neither of them knew it, as they were too busy replacing the pavement in their eyes with visions of what had happened what might happen next.

Except that Sebastian's visions involved what he would do to a particular few wolves once Wesley brought them around.

"I - I don't know how I feel. Goodnight, Sebastian." she said, finally entering her apartment building, disappearing into the darkness before he could reply.

He saw a brief glimpse of her once again as the elevator doors opened to welcome her into the well-lit elevator, but closed once again as she went up.

He was left breathing heavily into the rain, the cold rain doing a poor job of cooling off his growing anger. The only thing which kept him from going into that accursed wolf-controlled neighbourhood himself and killing every single last one of them was the fact that he knew that Wesley would soon bring them where he wanted them to be.

The few passersby who went along in the rain picked up their pace as soon as they saw the expression of pure murder on the zebra's face, his scar seeming to flare up and open as he grimaced and clenched his hooves.

-

"Where is he gonna meet us?" asked Gage as Wesley continued driving through the rain.

The stallion remained silent as he turned the luxury SUV onto a side road.

"He believes that it would be best that we discussed the details of the continuation of our partnership in a more secluded spot." said Wesley, knowing that with Gage's already suspicious attitude, it wasn't a very good idea to continue driving him to an unknown location without as much as an explanation.

"Sounds reasonable." said one of the two wolf bodyguards, propping up his feet on the back of the expensive leather seat in front of him. Wesley barely managed to hold back a scowl at the thug's rude gesture.

He had already long deduced that all of them were armed. They had tried to hide the bumps in their jackets by wearing large overcoats and opting for compact UZIs, but small details like the way the jacket was weighed down in only one side, the constant touching of the noticeable bump in the jacket, and the fact that they were fearless about being driven to an unknown location by a stallion ten times their size all gave it away.

But the former Army Stallion, noticed something else. The way they concealed their weapons with great care, the even smaller bumps of the ammo clips revealed they were placed in a way that they were concealed, yet also extremely easy to reach, should the need arise.

Gage himself wore himself in an absolutely professional manner. Wesley, merely through the use of the rear-view mirror, noticed something on his belt. A harness. For a combat knife. The kind only a military man would have access to.

All of them were obviously skilled combatants. And with Gage's obviously military background, he could be their leader, organizing them in a way that they might become formidable foes.

Eventually, the SUV screeched to a halt. The powerful headlights remained the only source of lighting, showing a rusted-out warehouse, much like the one in their neighbourhood where they kept their drugs.

However, it had something different about it. The sign of whatever company who had owned this place was rusted out to the point where Gage couldn't read anything on it. A couple of mouse hobos scurried back into their holes as they saw the massive car pulling up, ironically the only creatures who had the bravery to hole out in a place like this were the smallest of Zootopia's inhabitants.

There were no trucks or cars outside the warehouse, and the brown cranes continued swinging lightly thanks to the wind, creating an ear-piercing squeaking noise.

The entire neighborhood was not abandoned, or run-down or poor, it was simply non-existent. It seemed absolutely unfathomable that any mammals ever lived here.

Suddenly, Wesley turned the engine off, killing the last source of light into this abyss of darkness. If it weren't for the wolves' night vision, they wouldn't have been able to see their own paws.

"I really hope we can put the past behind us." said Gage more to give comfort to himself than anything else. Never before had darkness disturbed him this much. He had been in pitch-black darkness against savage rebels during his time in the Army, he even got slashed and shot by things he hadn't even seen in the darkness, his own night-vision proving to be nothing compared to true darkness.

Wesley sighed deeply as he sat straighter up in his seat.

"The past," he whispered, the icy words carving a cold path down the wolves' spine. How could mere words have such an effect? Despite him barely whispering them, they seemed to echo.

"The past, Mr. Gabriel - many say it is etched in stone, unable to change," the stallion began, this time in a full voice, but no less disturbing.

"However, it is, but not in the way those mammals who say it think. You see, something etched in stone can change. Storms and blights come over it and dim the message, the civilization who wrote it will store it away and replace it with another set of rules etched in stone. An invading army will come and may crumble that stone to pieces," the stallion continued to lecture, not once looking back at the wolves.

"But one thing which remains constant is that that writing had been once etched in stone, and it will remain in mammals' minds and hearts, no matter what said invading army tries. It can alter it, twist it, but never eliminate it," finished Wesley, and the wolves could swear they could hear a low growl coming from the herbivore.

Gage felt his coat once again, as if to reassure himself that his UZI and his knife were where they were supposed to be. He could see that his two fellow gang members were doing the same, taking advantage of the non-existent light, knowing there was no way the herbivore could see them.

But he could hear their coats getting ruffled, their breaths beginning to hitch, whispers to each other of what they'd do in case of something.

A faint beeping sound came from within the stallion's inside pocket. He picked up his smartphone, the faint glow from the screen offering a brief glimpse of light in this abyss, and answered it.

"Yes." he answered simply.

"They're here." he said after a short pause. That simple statement, undoubtedly to the Zebra, made the wolves' collective blood freeze.

"Of course." He said, finishing the call.

"Listen, you goddamn grass muncher," began Gage growling. His two companions nearly gasped in shock and tried to feel around him in the pitch darkness as if to pull him back from angering this towering behemoth of coldness.

Wesley didn't even blink as he continued looking at nothing in particular ahead of him.

"You better stop the 'cold-eye' treatment. I got it from pukes twice your size and twice your balls. So don't you think you can leave us with a half-assed deal because you know how to speak in parables and give us a stink eye!" Gage snarled, his snow-white fangs somehow managing to shine in the rear-view mirror despite the lack of light.

Wesley did what he had done before, and remained speechless.

"He's inside." the stallion said, ignoring the rant from his passenger.

"It's no worse than the building we had to stay while you were the host." continued Wesley.

"Listen up! If I get the sense that you're trying to screw us over, you'll find out why your skin crawls every time you see claws!" snarled Gage once again.

"I'm convinced you'll do your best in that regard. Now please, don't keep him waiting. He's a rather busy mammal, and you also interrupted one of his more important meetings. I don't imagine he'll be very patient." he said almost boredly.

Gage sighed his anger out and took in one last deep breath in the already thin air of the luxury SUV.

"Let's go boys." he said. getting out and plopping on the ground. He instantly shivered from the cold, harsh rain whipping his face and he began rubbing his paws together, longing for the warmness of the SUV. His night vision allowed him to orient himself toward the abandoned warehouse.

The brown-rusted gates were widely opened and they entered without any welcome.

"I hope you guys all realized this is a trap." Gage said, pulling out his UZI and cocking it.

His companions instantly did the same, spreading out, kicking up decades worth of dust as they ran behind metal crates for cover.

Gage peeked out from behind his crate, searching for the Zebra, or whatever henchmen he had hired.

The warehouse had multiple rooms, most likely ones which had once served as offices. He struggled to see much ahead of himself. His night vision was helping, but it was almost as if the warehouse had been designed to allow as little star or moonlight inside.

Suddenly, all of their ears flared up as they heard something they only heard during their prey-punishing rituals.

The sound of a machete being scraped against a wall.

"You took her away from me," they heard a voice echoing. It was quiet, yet furious, venom and bloodlust seeping off of every word.

They all began looking around for the source of the voice, but the snake-like tone changed location constantly.

"You came in and took her away," the voice continued.

Gage's heartbeat grew with every word he said and sweat began pouring off his brow. He showed his face, he'd turn the prey bastard into swiss cheese. Yes, it would be easy.

"All your kind ever knew to do was maim and destroy… Everything we ever built, you destroyed. You use pathetic intimidation and violence to make up for your genetically inferior brains," he continued, only now, it was heard from above.

Gage continued remaining into hiding. He knew that with his hearing and night vision, he and his homies had the upper paw, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the Zebra knew every single thing he had already thought of and was watching his every move.

Suddenly, he thought he heard a faint sound to the right. Only a minute later, one of the doors swung open. The wolf that was watching their back got snatched by a cruel, powerful hoof and dragged inside the room. A bloodcurdling scream and gunshots followed.

He and his remaining companion rushed to his aid, trying the door, but it was tightly locked. The screams from the once fearless wolf warrior continued to increase in intensity as sounds of dull blows on flesh continued to be heard.

Suddenly, a blade being drawn was heard. The screams became animalistic as wet slashes and grunts of anger were also heard. Their keen noses smelled blood being drawn.

Both wolves began discharging their submachine guns into the door, but the 9mm bullets only left dents on the massive steel door.

They then grabbed an oil barrel and began ramming it into the door, the screams not stopping for a second, carving their way into the wolves' skull and leaving a trail of ice down their spine. They managed to do nothing but cause a few sparks to fly.

"Come on, come on! We can't let him die!" shouted Gage, putting all his weight in the swing as he struck the door with the barrel.

A low chuckle from above caused them to drop the barrel.

"Don't exert yourselves. I'll get the door for you," said the voice of the Zebra once again.

The massive steel door slowly creeped itself open, most likely through some electrical mechanism.

The sight of their maimed friend greeted them as some of the lights flickered above. He had been gutted with a machete, his face contorted and stuck into the most distorted face of horror one could imagine. Ruby red blood coated the filthy and cracked, yet surprisingly snow-white walls, which were also covered in desperately-fired bullet holes.

"I hope I managed to remind you of home - of a certain rabbit professor perhaps?" said the Zebra once again, the voice disappearing just as it had appeared. They couldn't even pin down his smell. Bastard was surely using some sort of scent-blocker.

Not that they could have smelled him in the overwhelming stench of the blood of their fallen comrade.

How did this bastard know of what they truly did? Of their plans? Well he knew one thing: this fucking zebra was going to die.

He outstretched his paw to his dead homie's eyelids and closed them.

"Rest now, brother. You shall be remembered when we finally take back the throne the prey have stolen from us," Gage whispered, almost like a prayer.

His remaining companion was hyperventilating, struggling to keep the SMG steady forward, the only direction the zebra could have came from. He struggled to keep the forming bitter bile in his throat.

The weapon was shaking insanely, making him unable to keep a steady aim. Like this, he had just as much chance of hitting Gage as he was the Zebra, should he appear in that moment.

Gage's heart drummed in his chest and his lungs stung from how much they were heaving, desperately trying to get as much oxygen as possible to his muscles.

Gage looked at his companion. The kid was not even 25 years old… the strength and vigor of youth was nothing compared to the atrocity he had just witnessed. Gage couldn't let him die - he could still be a true predator, and live to fight another day.

"You know what, Zebra?" Gage shouted. He removed the clip from his UZI and threw it aside. His young companion looked at him in shock as Gage continued to disassemble his gun, throwing the various pieces of it wherever they fell.

"Have it your way." sneered Gage, making sure to growl as well, the way only a true, reformed predator could. The way the predators of the days gone past did as they gloriously used their superiority to feed themselves.

Gage pulled his military knife from his belt, taking a combat stance.

"Let my companion go." said Gage. "It's me you want," he said almost to himself.

"So come on! Stop hiding in the shadows like your ancestors! Come and fight me, but let him go free." yelled Gage.

"Very well," came the same echoing voice, from an unidentifiable source.

His partner didn't wait and he began running toward the exit. He was nearly back into the greater warehouse when another sickening slice pierced the air.

The wolf coughed and sputtered blood as the Zebra's blade pierced his stomach. This time, the bastard had finally showed himself and trapped himself in the same room with Gage. Or rather, trapped Gage in the same room with him.

"Yes. He's free now. Free from the wretched body of a bloodthirsty beast," chuckled Sebastian, approaching Gage slowly, stepping over the still coughing and begging wolf who had mere moments left to live.

Gage looked in shock at his partner as his paw was futilely trying to stop the bloodflow and his eyes were rolling up into his skull.

"Don't waste your air, Gage. Any lowly insult you may throw at me has already crossed my mind," said the Zebra stoically, walking slowly toward his prey.

"At least your kind had the common sense to stay away from us back in the Stone Age,"growled Gage, growling, swelling his mane and baring his teeth as he prepared himself to re-enter the state of Savagery, as taught by Carnivore.

"Ah, you believe you can get inside my head - force my ancestral memory to recall what usually follows when I see predator acting like that?" Asked Sebastian.

The Zebra continued walking, each step his hoof took clinging on the metal floor, sending ripples of sickness through Gage's stomach.

"You're not the first pred-eater I encountered. This?" the Zebra pointed to his slashed eye.

"The tiger who did that is now a rug in my living room," said the Zebra, sending out a combination of a neigh and a bone-chilling chuckle.

Gage tried using his army breathing techniques to get his lungs as full as possible for the upcoming battle with the murderous prey who towered over him. But the striped bastard horrified him more than any other insane rebel he had ever encountered.

The light seemed to dim even further as the Zebra approached.

How the hell was he playing these mind games?

How the hell did he make his chuckle echo? Or was he even chuckling? He wasn't moving his lips. Was his mind playing tricks on him?

Suddenly, the zebra was a mere 2 feet away from him. When had he gotten this close?

The blade smiled at him sadistically as it moved toward him.

Gage's brain suddenly sprang into action as the air wooshed close to him. He jumped back and blocked the blow with his combat knife, sparks flying out of the blades. He grunted as he felt his knife nearly being forced out of his paw. The Zebra was far stronger than he looked.

Gage rolled below the Zebra's legs, trying for a slash on his thigh as he did so. His heart swelled with relief as he heard the prey grunt, a far weaker grunt than an injury from his knife would warrant.

However, his own grunt soon followed as he felt pain exploding in his side.

The Zebra had kicked him in the ribs as he was rolling, the bones taking the full brunt of the hoof.

Gage screamed as he rolled away from the zebra, knowing that there was no way his ribs weren't broken. However, the old soldier managed to get back on his feet.

The zebra once again let the machete-like blade to fall onto him. The narrow corridor barely allowed Gage to move, but he did sidestep to the left.

The blade barely missed his neck, and instead, it went cleanly through his armour-like leather armour and sliced flesh off his shoulder.

Gage let go of a horrendous scream as white-hot pain instantly enveloped where six inches of his flesh used to be. A piece of the shoulder bone was also gone. The snow-white filthy wall was now also covered in blood, like crimson paint on a canvas, much like his friend splattered it mere moments ago.

"You know, one would think that you preds would have at least evolved in combat, if nothing else," the zebra sneered.

"You are all nothing but a bunch of wannabe savages. It is ingrained in your biologically inferior brains which demand you only to maim and slaughter. No different than the alligators who haven't evolved, but even less impressive," Sebastian lectured with a crooked smile.

Gage said nothing as he kept his knife with a white-knuckled grip as he kneeled down, cradling his ribs. He had had his ribs broken before. Even breathing caused him unmeasurable of pain of the broken bones shifting through his flesh and grazing his lungs.

The Zebra chuckled softly as he was finally only within paw's reach of the defeated wolf warrior.

The chuckle. A mockery of the predator - a celebration of the feeble prey's victory over their rightful rulers.

Blood began to rush to his bones, his brain overloading itself with adrenaline and natural painkillers.

He needed to be taught a lesson - that prey hid from predators for a reason, that Bellwether was scared of them for a reason, that all of the city's prey followed her on her road to near-dictatorship because of something hard-wired in their feeble brains.

Gage could hear his foe's blade whooshing through the air, looking to decapitate him.

With a roar which nearly deafened the prey, the wolf jumped over the blade and dug his claws into the back of the Zebra. His screams were music to the predator's ears. His fangs soon began looking for his throat. He had only managed to bite his shoulder, but it didn't matter as he bit down hard, feeling blood rushing into his mouth and the screams of the prey becoming desperate as he was swinging the machete wildly.

That was it: the prey would die. He would be victorious and Carnivore would find a way to secure his assets afterwards.

It was all in vain however, as Gage felt a cruel, cold and slim piece of steel going through his side. He let go of his bite, looking down, noticing his completely skewered torso and the worrying amounts of blood seeping on the floor. No, that had to be the zebra's blood... There was no way he had lost, there was no way-

Soon, however, Gage was no longer capable of feeling anything else. A demonic chuckle from his victorious opponent was his last memory.