Note: The following story takes place within the Zistopia universe.

Zootopia: where anyone can be anything.

I'm sure you've heard that before. Hell, how could you not? That saying is our city's bread and butter. A simple, five-word saying that reeks of optimism and hope. A saying that beckons any and all mammals to risk it all for the chance to become someone big, someone important.

I'll tell you what it really is: a scam.

Zootopia is nothing more than an extremely well-marketed hustle. I should know; I make my living off of hustling poor mammals for their cash, but my personal life isn't the thing in question.

That's a shocked expression I see on your face. I've seen that expression more times than I can count, and I can count pretty damn high. You're thinking, "That well-dressed, quick-speaking real estate agent lied to me? What is this fox talking about?"

Let me explain.

I know Zootopia. I was born here, raised here, and I've lived here for my entire thirty-three-year life.

I know every road, every back alley, and every business in this city - even the ones they don't tell you about. And trust me, from a city slicker to a potential city slicker - you, in this case - what the pamphlet, real estate agent, or commercial told you was most definitely a lie.

Well, kinda; it's complicated.

Zootopia can be everything advertised and more, don't get me wrong. However, I need to explain it for you to understand. And don't worry, I won't use big words.

First off, let me get something out of the way: If you're looking for that big city vibe, Zootopia will not disappoint you. Every cliched, annoying stereotype about big city life is very much a part of life here.

Decent, yet somehow overpriced public transport? Sure, the ZTA is usually on time, and you'll get used to the smell soon enough.

Insane rent? Oh, do we ever. Don't even get me started on this stupid gentrification crap.

Luxury shopping? Honey, this is Zootopia. Everything is luxury shopping; a four-dollar cup of coffee is cheap.

Nightlife? You got Vos Heights, 6th Street, The Ward, and The Savannah. All the same 'exclusive' places for you to get drunk on twenty-dollar drinks, fall down some stairs, and wake up hugging your toilet.

And now to the reason you're probably reading this: you're one of those naive mammals who managed to fall for our saying, and are coming here to make a name out of yourself. Well, you'll certainly have the chance to try. Every major company you can imagine, from Bitecoin to Lemming Brothers, has an office here. Giant, evil corporations not your style? Don't worry! We've got plenty of startups for you to join! Sure, half of them will be bankrupt within a year, but that doesn't really matter when you're famous, does it?

Like I said, Zootopia can be every bit as advertised; there's no denying that. However, before you jump on the first plane, train, or bus to move to this wonderful, completely innocent city, I need to explain what I meant by a 'lie'.

Zootopia, well, our saying, is a lie for one type of mammal.

If you happen to lack claws, fangs, slitted pupils, and anything else that identifies you as a predator, I've got some great news: You're probably a prey animal. If you are, congratulations! Feel free to move to Zootopia and enjoy all the sights, sounds, smells, and wonders our fair city has to offer.

Wait. You do have claws, fangs, slitted eyes, and you happen to be a predator.

Oh, honey.

From the bottom of my cynical heart, I'm sorry; truly. But, you need to listen to exactly what I'm about to say, and do exactly what I'm about to say:

If you're a predator, stay the hell away from Zootopia. Don't plan a vacation here, and don't even think about moving here. Want to know why? Of course you do; everyone loves a good sob-story, I suppose.

If you happen to be a predator, living in Zootopia isn't really living. At least, not in the same sense when compared to prey mammals. Some of the academic types might try to tell you that everyone in Zootopia is supposed to have equal rights and opportunity. They may even say it's a privilege to be a predator.

That's a crock of shit.

Remember that list I told you a bit ago? All of those big city tropes you'll get to enjoy? Yeah, those were from a prey point of view. For the sake of fairness, let me show you what Zootopia is like for us Chompers (expect to be called that from now on, no matter how annoying it may be):

Public Transport? Oh god, don't even get me started. You'll love being pushed around by everyone and anyone, that is, by the mammals who aren't scared to near tears by your very presence.

Rent? Hahaha; you're funny. You'll be lucky if you can find a place to rent. Those friendly apartments filled with smiling prey animals you saw online? Yeah, they don't let predators like you and me live in those. No, you'll be living in one of the fine, completely safe, predator only wards. Sure, you'll have water most of the time, and the power stays on most days. And believe me when I say that the crime is to die for!

Luxury shopping? If you even go near those stores, let alone inside of one, you'll be thrown out faster than you can say bullshit. Terrified customers make for bad business.

Nightlife? Don't make me laugh. The only way you're getting into those clubs is if you happen to get a job as a bouncer, and believe me, that's a fate worse than death.

And lastly, the main reason you thought about moving here: making a name for yourself, becoming that mammal your parents always wanted you to be.

Yeah, that's not happening, like, at all.

Thirty years ago? Sure, you had a chance. But now? You have a better shot of flying to the moon than being hired by one of those big corporations. To be brutally honest, the closest you'll ever get to working at one of those corporations is being the easily replaceable janitor.

And lastly, the pièce de résistance, the bullshit of the bullshit. You see this? This indestructible plastic collar that's locked just a bit too tight around my neck?

This is called a Tame Collar, or a shocker by most. By law, and I mean, by law, any predator entering Zootopia is forced to wear one of these chains of hell. It may look harmless, but believe me, it's not. What it does is simple: it's supposed to deliver a 'non-lethal' electric shock to any predator displaying 'savage' tendencies.

To be blunt: it's supposed to stop you from eating someone. At least, that's what the government tells you it's supposed to do.

What this little piece of shit really does is shockingly simple: anytime your heart rate goes over a 'normal' beat, the shocker will deliver a nice, little charge of electricity right into your neck.

Your favorite sports team just won? Zap. You just kissed the love of your life? Double zap. Anything exciting or stressful happen in your life? Zap, zap, zap!

And trust me, you won't get used to it.

So, yeah, that about covers it. Still, I didn't get into the massive amount of discrimination, prejudice, and flat out abuse you'll receive if you come to Zootopia. No, I'll let you experience that for yourself.

My name is Nicholas Wilde, and welcome to the wonderful city of Zootopia: where anyone can be anything.

Author's note: Thanks for reading the first chapter of A Predator's Plight. This is somewhat of a side-project of mine, so I can't say for certain how often Plight will be updated. If you enjoyed this, please leave a review.