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The Family Vulpes

Chapter One:

Light up the Night

The rumble of the old motorcycle's white-hot engine thrummed steadily beneath the young vixen as she sped through the eerily lit service tunnel leading out of the Nocturnal District. The soft, iridescent lighting periodically bathing her form in brief flickers of pink and cyan as she hugged tightly against the body of her bike, her sky blue eyes fixed on what little sliver of road she could see in the flickering vein of light being provided by her faulty headlamp. The service tunnel hadn't exactly been designed for the benefit of mammals like her. The low, weak lighting, funneled through strategically distanced outcroppings of faux crystalline geodes had been designed to coincide with the bare legal minimum required by the Nocturnal District to accommodate more mammals than just the native moles, bats and other subterranean mammals who called the District home. To those mammals who could barely make out any form of illumination as little more than a blip in their peripheral vision, such lighting was perceived as 'good enough' for the rare surface dweller that might have poked their head in for an inspection.

Of course, as a fox, the young vixen was nocturnal herself. But unlike the mammals who never left the district, her eyes had a harder time adjusting to the pitch blackness that pervaded throughout the areas not meant to be accessed by the general public or visiting tourists. With Zootopia, and even the heart of the Nocturnal District lit up to what some would argue was a blinding degree, even on the darkest nights, her eyes were still struggling to transition to the recent change in intensity. Even with her visor up, and the coif of hair that usually sat draped lazily over her right eye tucked neatly back into the cap of her helmet in order to give her perfect visual clarity, it did little to help better her overall perception.

But the lighting was the least of her problems at present. Despite her faulty headlamp and the dull glow of the crystal sconces, she could still make out enough of what lay ahead of her to account for it at her speed. No, the primary issue was just how tight the tunnel actually was. Again, not being made with mammals like her in mind, nor made to have vehicles driven through it at all, the size of the service tunnel that whizzed past the young vixen filled her with a looming sense of claustrophobia. The roughly cut, natural stone walls provided her with only one rather impromptu motorcycle lane, and just barely. It was a tunnel carved for the barest minimum of use, the rare appearance of a small door or light fixture the only thing setting it apart from a natural formation, and it forced the vixen to keep a close eye for unexpected sharp turns and jutting bits of stone around the edges of the space lest she end up plastered against one of the nondescript cavern walls.

A rough eyeballing of the rather low ceiling that zipped by above told her that it had to be at least four feet, and that was being generous. The low, roughly hewn stone cut roof had forced the vixen to press snugly into the body of her motorcycle. And despite practically being fused with her bike, the vixen could feel the occasional snag of a loose piece of stone chewing at the back of her coat as it flew by. Each tear and shred presumably left a small trail of pale green military issue fabric in her wake as she held her breath to squeeze her body that much more tightly against her bike.

Yet despite the claustrophobia, despite the pain in her chest and the mild anxiety forming a knot in the well of her gut, Valerie Madison "Val" Vulpes smirked to herself in quiet pride as she tightened her grip on Ol' Red's clutch.

The motorcycle let out a snarl as the vixen cranked up her top speed to even more reckless levels, the pale lights now flickering over her in an almost strobing fashion. This is what she lived for after all. Those other, more unpleasant feelings couldn't withstand the deluge of adrenaline and excitement that had swallowed them like a raging whirlpool. The overwhelming pleasurable sensations caused every follicle of fur in her pelt to tingle with electricity, as though each were made of microscopic lightning bolts. It was all for the thrill of the ride. Well that, and the thrill of competition. That same competition that had forced her paw in terms of taking such a dangerous route out of the Nocturnal District in the first place. She was going to win this race, and she was going to beat that smug, self-righteous flying rat that robbed her of first place for the past six street races she had participated in.

The race was a semi free-for-all. Starting from Falicer's Market in the back allies of the Nocturnal District. All they had to do was make it down to a squalid little misplaced apartment complex called Seaside Towers at the coastline of Savanna Central faster than anyone else. As to how you get there, that was up to the racer so long as it was by bike and the route didn't involve harming other racers along the way. Of course, Val knew that in reality there were precious few routes that led out of the Nocturnal District for average-sized mammals. It was a commonly accepted fact that there was only one road that directed traffic out of the district toward Savanna Central, but only by way of diverting up an underground ramp through Sahara Square before exiting on Vornoy Plaza. But Val, she knew better. Multiple visits to the Nocturnal District with her friend had made her aware of the "Acacia Street'' service tunnel. They had ridden through it before, albeit at much less _'life-threatening'_speeds by Ellie's request, and Val had come to know it fairly well. It was a risky maneuver to take it now, sure. Especially with Red's temporary headlamp acting up even more since that dumb suck-up of a hyena had kicked it. But it was bound to get her at least a solid ten to fifteen second lead on the rest of the pack who'd be forced to take the Vornoy on-ramp. And that precious ten to fifteen second was something she desperately needed if she was going to finally snag the top cash prize for once. She owed it to Ol' Red.

The motorcycle's headlamp flickered out once more, leaving Val to the mercy of the faded cave lighting. Reluctantly, the vixen reduced her speed just a hair as she reached paw over her handlebars and swatted at the malfunctioning lamp. The light lamely flickered a few times, but ultimately failed to restart as the vixen grit her teeth.

"Rut me..." Val grumbled, stabbing her lip with one of her fanged teeth as she squinted into the dimly lit tunnel ahead of her.

The headlamp was a real clunker, but Val had known as much when she strapped it to Ol' Red in the first place. Like most of Ol' Red's replacement parts, at least in the beginning, it had been scavenged from the old Cactus Grove Auto Dump. She could still recall the many trips she and a reluctant Ellie had made to the place, spending the hot summer afternoons fishing through piles of rusted metal to find semi-usable or modifiable parts that could get the old boy back on the road. It took weeks of digging through scrap and having to regularly reassure the possum that she more than likely wouldn't get stung by a scorpion or catch tetanus, but eventually Val had been able to cobble together a working motorcycle from the garbage she had accrued, and most importantly, at least at the time, she had gotten all the parts for a song from the old boar that owned the place.

And while all the work had resulted in what looked like a mobile junk pile, her efforts had finally managed to bring the beast that lived under Ol' Red's hood back from the dead. And with its awakening, so stirred a beast within the vixen's own heart. A creature that craved the freedom Red permitted her, the swelling sense of pride that had come from getting the old machine snarling again all by herself, the feel of the wind whipping through her fur as Ol' Red screamed beneath her thighs. It was an intoxicating mixture of senses, an overwhelming exhilaration that the vixen became immediately addicted to, and that much hungrier for. What was once her grandmother's old motorcycle had become the vixen's spirit machine, a reflection of her soul emblazoned in cherry red paint. And she owed it not only to herself, but her grandmother who had been the first to own Red, and to her mother who had always intended to get it working again to restore him to his former glory; a task that she and her mother had meant to do together.

Of course, such a feat would require pristine parts that were made specifically for the old machine. But genuine parts for a 57' Snarly Davidson that were in good shape for a low price were extremely hard to come by. And when her father had reluctantly allowed her to take the old motorcycle from the family storage locker, even the original parts that had still been usable were in pretty rough shape to begin with. Thus, the road to resurrecting Ol' Red as Grandma Viv' had known him had been a long and difficult one. Especially because her father refused to foot the bill for even the parts she had scrounged from the Junkyard.

In what Val would argue was a cruel tease, Cameron had reluctantly allowed her to take the bike, but if she wanted to restore that_'death machine_', she was going to have to do it on her own. He had even gone as far as ending her allowance in order to wash his paws of the possibility of funding even the slightest portion of a part. As for how she was meant to fund the rest of the restoration on her own, her father's rebuttal was a simple one.

"Get a job."

"Get a job". The vixen could remember the feel of her muzzle curling in disgust at his suggestion. She could still taste the scoff rolling off her tongue. That was a non-option. Val knew from observation alone, especially from watching Ellie work at her own summer job as a waitress at the Dune Cafe in Sahara Square that such work required patience and a willingness to look the other way when it came to stupid, brain dead mammals who saw your service clothes as an invitation to treat you like trash. Val had no sense of patience, especially when it came to said idiots. In fact, she had gotten Ellie in trouble a few times merely for sticking up for her in the face of a particularly thoughtless customer. And while Val wasn't afraid to get her paws dirty doing some menial work, she knew her brand of_'customer service'_ would see her fired from most establishments before her name had been properly registered with payroll.

No, a traditional job was not in the cards for a vixen like her. Val only had two skills to her name. Her skills as a self-educated mechanic wouldn't be recognized by any legitimate auto shop without some fancy piece of paper to tell them she sat in a classroom long enough to be permitted to blow smoke up a tailpipe, and that would have still required waiting until she was _'old enough'_to apply. On top of that, it still would take years of slaving away just to make enough scratch for the parts she so desperately needed. She couldn't stand to wait that long. She needed a quick avenue to make some fast cash. Fortunately for her, she would find an easy hustle in the high risk, high reward world of street racing. An activity that made good use of her other, and yet most prominent skill: her intrinsic intuition for handling a motorcycle

.

Illegal? Check. Dangerous? Check. It would give her father a heart attack if he ever found out about it. And if it weren't for the fact that Ellie often covered for her sneaking out, albeit it very reluctantly, the vixen probably would have been caught by now. There was a part of her that felt guilty for lying to the old tod, the same guilt that had her promising to herself that despite the thrill and excitement each race brought her, she'd quit the practice altogether as soon as she had enough cash to finish Ol' Red's repair. She could still picture in her mind's eye the original vintage rear fender, seat, and headlamp listings on Furbay, mere days away from closing. The last original pieces she needed to replace her custom junk fill-ins that had been keeping their spots warm. They would soon be shipped out to their rightful owner: her. All she had to do was win this race.

"Come on!" Val hissed through her tightly grit teeth. "Just hang on a little longer you piece of-!"

With another swat, the darkened headlamp fizzled back to life just in time to make Val aware of the sudden hard corner jutting out of the right side of the tunnel wall that was approaching at breakneck speed.

Val bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, the vixen gripping her handlebars even tighter as she tried to swerve around the surprise curve. A narrow miss, but not quite narrow enough as the vixen's right hip suddenly screamed with a searing hot pain. She had managed to make it around the edge without it costing her any speed, but she hadn't cleared the edifice well enough to keep her hip from grazing it.

Val let out a hiss, glancing back at the small tear in her jeans. She only had the blink of an eye to analyze the wound, to assess just how much damage she had done to herself before she could delay her focus from the road ahead any longer. She was bleeding, that much she could tell. Thankfully the wound seemed rather superficial, and in a place her father would never see and therefore question exactly how she got it in the first place. Worst case scenario she could have Ellie help her stitch it when she got back home provided it was deep enough to warrant it. The possum had always been good with a first aid kit.

Turning her attention to the tunnel ahead, Val's grimace was quickly replaced with a confident smirk. She could see the tunnel mouth, the light from the moonlit sky outside fast approaching as she sailed through the final leg of the service road.

Giving the throttle a firm twist, the vixen let out a dull chuckle as she ramped out of the exit, Ol' Red letting out a powerful snarl as she gained a bit of air before landing on the smooth, even pavement of Acacia Street.

"Let's see that dumb bat get one up on me no-."

Before the vixen could even finish the thought, a cool, sleek machine colored in deep purple with blue under-lighting zipped past her with all the silence and grace of a whispering wind. The chrome accents reflecting the city lights in spectacular fashion as its diminishing tail lights seemed to mock Val. To most mammals on the street, such a sight would have been entrancing, almost awe-inspiring. Like some sort of amazing futuristic device that had escaped the pages of a science-fiction series such as Star Trot in order to grace primitive mammality with its presence. But to Val, the only emotions that painfully familiar sight drew out of her was pure, white-hot ire.

"Nice try Valley-Girl!" Val heard the annoyingly chipper voice crackle through the commlink in her helmet. The vixen's tail frayed at the sound of that familiar voice. Even if the tone of the flying-foxes words didn't seem to carry any hint of condescension or smugness, Val could feel it in her bones.

"But unfortunately for you, I know the Nocturnal District like the back of my wing." The bat chuckled.

"How!?" Was all Val could stammer, flipping her visor down with a sharp and frustrated snap before squeezing the throttle that much harder as she began to tail the bat.

"I was born in the Nocturnal District." The bat chuckled. "Molded by it." She added in a playful tone. Her coy reply only drew a quiet hiss from the vixen.

"And my bike is better suited for cave navigation." She continued, the comm link sputtering as the bat continued to gain distance from Val, albeit it ever so slightly.

"Actually, It's probably better-suited for...well pretty much anything over that old junker of yours Valley."

Val winced as she heard a loud, spastic cackle cut into the headset. A cackle that belonged to a mammal she hated almost as much as Amelia Pterotopolis.

"That's a g-great one Ames! What a trash bike!" An annoying voice cackled. The same hyena that had kicked her headlamp before the race. Eddie Cuta, a scrawny shrimp of a spotted hyena who wore far too much pleather and chains for his own good, and a clear second in command in terms of Amelia's little fan club.

"How's that headlight treating you by the way Valsy!?"

Val rolled her eyes.

"Just fine." Val replied confidently. "The minor scratch was worth watching you howl like a kit while clasping your sore foot for a good five minutes."

It wasn't surprising that yet another attempt to earn social circle points had blown up in Eddie's face. The hyena had made a big show of mocking her bike while playing to Amelia and the other racers. Of course, Val wouldn't admit the whole incident would have been funnier if the whole failed attempt at debasing her hadn't actually rutted up her headlamp worse than it was. If not for the flickering alone, then for the fact that it had begun to jiggle slightly with each slight bump in the road.

Val could hear Amelia laugh through her commlink.

"Yeah, brilliant work Ed, you sure showed her..." Amelia added with a sarcastic tone.

"Seriously though, maybe if you manage to win this race, you should buy yourself something from this century Valley?" The bat chuckled. "At least something younger than your grandma?"

Val growled to herself switching gears as she followed Amelia's tail lights around the corner and on to a one-way street. She had to close that gap. She had to pass her.

"And buy one of those new, sissy bikes? Something that barely makes a sound even at top speed?" Val laughed. "I'll have you know this bad boy is a North Mammalian classic! This bad boy has soul in its growl!" Val retorted. "They don't make them like this anymore!"

"For good reason." Amelia replied with a laugh."The only value something that old has is as a museum piece."

Ed let out another of his Tourette-induced hyena cackles. "Please! That hunk of junk isn't even good enough for some mammal's private collection!" Eddie laughed.

"Funny coming from a mammal who rides a cheap bamboo burner from Japanda." Val snapped back. "Seriously, you get that thing out of a cereal box or what?"

Amelia let out another laugh, earning what sounded like a forced weak chuckle coming from Eddie's side of the comm channel.

"C'mon now Ames...I-It's...I mean it's not that bad, right?" The hyena asked.

"Well..." Amelia replied. "It does look a little like a Trot Wheels toy." The flying fox giggled. "So much neon green paint..."

Amelia's iridescent violet tail lights were growing closer now, and Val began to lean back into her bike as she cranked up her speed. The vixen twisted the throttle sharply, forcing another loud snarl from the throat of Ol' Red as their pursuit continued.

"Neon Green is cool!" Eddie rebutted.

"Not if it's almost all neon green." Amelia replied with a dull chuckle. "Seriously, color theory much Ed?"

Eddie let out an irritated huff loud enough to hear through her earpiece As Val watched Amelia's tail lights swerve onto the next street, one which Val recognized right away as Walnut. It was a significantly wider road, and it gave the vixen a much better shot at actually overtaking the bat once she had caught up to her.

"W-Well!" Eddie seemed to be struggling for words, seemingly buckling under the pressure now that the quips were coming at him from all sides. "A-At least my bike isn't absolute trash! Right Valsy?" The hyena let out a nervous chuckle. As usual, Ed had run out of steam in terms of creative insults and had switched back to his _'greatest hits'_out of desperation.

"Great one..." Val rolled her eyes. "Then again, I suppose a mammal like you would know your trash, right Eddie? After all, you see it in the mirror every day."

Val's retort earned a snorting giggle from Amelia.

"Aw, take it easy on him Valley girl, we can't all be as quip-witted as me." Amelia spoke with a laugh. "Though I do appreciate a mammal that can keep up with me...even if that's all you ever seem to be able to do..." The flying-fox's tone began to drip with a more palpable smugness than before. "Just keep up, and nothing more."

"We'll see about that..." Val grumbled as she continued to close in on Amelia's chrome nightmare of a bike. By now she was close enough to be able to barely make out Amelia's form gripped tightly around the body of her highly modified beast. She could see the edges of Amelia's wing membranes whipping along with the wind as the flying fox struggled to keep them as tight against the bike as possible. Had Val been willing to ever compliment Amelia, she would have had to hand it to the bat for somehow managing to find a way to race as well as she did with such a massive drag hazard, but Val supposed that's at least what some of Amelia's bike mods had been designed to combat.

Eddie let out another dorky cackle.

"T-That's a good one Ames!" The hyena replied, having quickly shifted back into _'kiss-up'_mode.

"Yeah....thanks Ed..." Amelia replied in a dull, disinterested tone.

Val watched as the flying-fox to her front made a sudden, hard turn. Her under-lit chrome beast swiveling into a nearby alleyway and bathing the adjacent brickwork in a bright purple hue as she began to dart down the lane with a deceptively quiet hum. The sudden swivel had caught the vixen off guard, and Val was barely able to follow in Amelia's wake as the weight of her older, bulkier machine nearly skid passed the mouth of the alley. The vixen had been forced to momentarily stop altogether, planting a foot down to keep Ol' Red from spilling over before pushing off the pavement and cranking the bike back up to maximum speed. Still, the misstep had managed to cost her some of what she had gained as Amelia's form was once again indiscernible from her machine.

Val leaned her body closer against Red's own as she once again trained her gaze to Amelia's taillights. Her sky blue eyes brimming with determination and desperation as she sped through the darkened alley after the bat.

'Clink'

'Clunk'

Val's ears twitched at the rather odd noise. The vixen was uncertain as to just where it was coming from.

'Clink'

'Clink'

The noise level was consistent, even in tone and volume despite how quickly she was barreling down the cluttered alleyway. But the vixen didn't dare to stop now and check. She couldn't afford to lose a single second now that she was so close to Amelia.

It was then the vixen noticed the beam of light from her headlamp dipping that much more than before, seemingly in time with each 'clink' and 'clunk' that emanated from Red. The old, busted headlamp's slight wobbling had grown into a full bob and shift with each bump in the road.

"Rut me!" Val hissed. The sudden, sharp turn must have jostled it even looser than Eddie's foot, at least that was what the vixen could only assume. At the very least it seemed to remain lit despite the jostling and shaking that continued to rattle through Red's frame as the bike sped over the uneven pavement of the back alley. As long as it stayed on, and focused forward, it was something Val was more than happy to worry about after the race. They were already halfway through the District by now, and it would take a scant few minutes more to reach the finish line. She had to overtake Amelia, she had to win.

Ignoring the noise, Val's attention turned to the fast approaching end of the alley. Unlike before, she knew the bat would have to turn onto Elm, and only in one direction. There was no adjacent alley to cruise across to, and even had there been one, cutting across one of Zootopia's larger through ways without being mindful of the traffic was a death sentence.

As predicted, Amelia's tail lights swiveled right as she drifted out of the mouth of the alley, and Val followed in turn as she turned onto Elm, hot on Amelia's heels.

Val grinned broadly as she caught sight of Amelia glancing back her way. She could only imagine the look on the flying-foxes face behind the tinted plastic of her visor. Was she surprised? Maybe nervousness? Perhaps she was legitimately afraid, afraid that Val was finally going to break the flying-fox's win-streak? That the vixen would finally dethrone her as the champion of Zootopia's mean streets? The myriad of possibilities that played out in Val's mind filled her with an almost sadistic glee.

"Hey Val, your bi-!"

Whatever Amelia was going to say was cut off by the sudden intrusion of Eddie's spastic cackle.

"Heya Valsy! Think fast!" Eddie barked.

Val broke her laser-like focus on Amelia in response to Eddie's statement, turning just in time to catch sight of the hyena now cruising up alongside her. Somehow Eddie had managed to catch up to her and Amelia, closing the second place gap while Val's undivided attention had been fixed on the bat at the head of the pack. Now Eddie was close enough that the vixen could easily make out his face behind his visor, his wide, toothy grin showing off his rather prominent underbite as his deep orange eyes seemed to gleam with a hint of mischief.

Eddie let out a maniacal cackle, and before Val could even react the hyena had suddenly lurched toward her. Stabbing out a clawed finger, the scrawny hyena gave Val's headlamp a hard prod, causing the beam of light to skew off to the sidewalk before ultimately flickering out.

Seemingly satisfied with his handiwork, Eddie let out another loud cackle before his bike let out a whiny snarl of its own and began to pull ahead of her.

"You knothead!" Val hissed, reaching a paw over her handlebars to straighten her headlamp.

'Clink'

'Clink'

The noise was back. In truth, it had never really left, but with Val's tunnel vision in regards to Amelia now broken her awareness of the disconcerting sound had been renewed.

"Val, I thi-!"

"Funny right!?" Val spat as she struggled to straighten her headlamp while maintaining some degree of speed. The light flickered and fizzled as Val managed to shift it back into a straight position, holding it steady with her paw."I'm sure you're super proud of your little toady aren't you!?"

'Clink'

'Clunk'

She was holding the lamp steady, yet the sound continued. Val squinted slightly as her mind struggled to piece together the strange discordant discrepancy. If she was holding the light still, then it couldn't possibly be making the sound. And if that was the case, then what could possibly-?

'CLANK!'

Blurry. Everything seemed so hazy as Val tried to peer through the suddenly foggy air. The night had been so clear just moments ago, but it was suddenly as if she were back in that service tunnel as she squinted into the distance. The familiar feeling of the wind whipping through her fur had all but ceased, leaving Val feeling somewhat confused.

"I finished?" The vixen asked herself. Surely it was the only explanation. Val felt the rumble of a chuckle form in her throat, only to escape as a weak cough.

A light suddenly shone on the vixen, causing her to squint. It remained solid, but only for a moment before it began to dim and flicker sporadically. The lamp acted as though it were trying to send messages in Horse code as it flashed in Val's face repeatedly.

Val raised a paw weakly, trying to shield her eyes as a form cut across the dying beam. The golden glow of the light source shimmering through what looked like a bat's wing. A wing that could only belong to one mammal.

"Ha, probably here to whine about how I cheated right?" The vixen tried to speak, but her words failed her. In fact, her jaw failed to even move to utter little more than a few slurred syllables.

"Wh-What?" Val thought, her mind trying to piece together what was going on. Something wasn't right. Where were the cheers of the crowd? Where were the other racers? The more the vixen struggled to piece together what was going on, the more aware she became of the growing ringing in her ears, of the shooting pain now wracking through her right leg and head. This wasn't the finish line. How did she even get here? Where was _'here'_anyway? The adrenaline was still pulsing through her veins, but the elation, the thrill, all of those other titillating sensations that had previously been flooding Val's body had been suddenly and completely stripped away, leaving her at the mercy of a growing sense of dread and terror.

Amelia's form became more clear as the bat knelt to Val's side, her skin tight chrome and purple colored bodysuit gleaming against the flickering light in the distance. The light from Red's faulty headlamp, still attached to a now upside down and battered bike that sat smashed through what looked like an outdoor patio table. Its flickering beam now seemed like that much more of a mockery as the realization was starting to set in.

Val's heart began to beat faster as she watched Amelia remove her helmet, the flying-fox's orange tuft of hair spilling out as her matching deep amber eyes came to meet Val's own.

"Val!" Amelia's voice was muffled, almost as if it were coming from someplace far away. The vixen tried to keep her gaze fixed on Amelia's own, but whatever strength she had managed to clutch on to was suddenly starting to slip away. It felt as though the vixen were sitting in an elevator that was lurching downward at an increasing speed, her head growing cloudier and lighter the deeper the descent grew. Against her will, Val felt her head began to slowly crane back, her eyelids growing increasingly heavy as her gaze began to tilt skyward. It was getting colder now, much colder than Val had remembered it being that night.

"Stay with me Valley girl! Stay with me!" Farther now, farther and farther away as Val's vision began to blur, giving way to a rapidly encroaching darkness.

"Teeth to Tails! Is that gal alright!?" A disembodied, unfamiliar voice, the last thing the vixen heard as her eyes settled on a brightly lit sign hanging against the starlit sky. Neon text reading "Bug Burga" hanging in her periphery for a brief moment before the world fell away.

The next few days remained a bit of a blur to the young vixen as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Fragments of familiar faces appearing only as fleeting images. Weak, hazy visions that would end just as abruptly as they began as she continually succumbed to the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion wracking her mind and body and slipped back into a realm of dreamless sleep.

In one scene, she could clearly recall seeing her father on the other side of a large glass window, the tod pleading with what appeared to be a pair of police officers, one a wolf, the other a rhino. The larger of the pair seemed to be thoroughly unamused by whatever her father seemed to be frantically explaining to them. His pale grayish-blue irises were glossy with tears, and the fur around his eyes was moist and swollen from what Val could only assume to be hours of crying. For what reason, Val couldn't be sure. And before she could attempt to apply any deeper range of thought on the matter, her eyelids slipped shut.

The next moment of clarity saw Ellie sitting in a chair next within reaching distance. The chubby possum sat balled up in her chair, her pink hairless tail curled around her legs like a security blanket. Her dark amethyst eyes seemingly struggling to read one of her dorky romance novels through a well of tears that seemed to match Val's fathers in terms of intensity. Val wanted to hug the possum, to tell her friend that she would help her get through whatever had brought the painful-looking tears to her eyes. But despite the desire to reach out, to grasp her friend's paw in her own, Val could scarcely muster the energy to move even a finger.

Then, Val saw the possum's ears suddenly perk up, her moist eyes widening in surprise as she darted out a desperate, furless paw toward the vixen. Again, Val tried to move her paw, straining through the haze that seemed to hang around the periphery of her vision to make some sort of contact. She tried to speak, to say something, anything, but she could feel that familiar sense of falling coming back to her. The elevator dropping down a bottomless shaft with her trapped inside as the shroud of exhaustion and tiredness ensnared her once more.

Another brief dance with consciousness and Val caught sight of her father, now looking significantly more emotionally composed, outside the glass partition once again. Unlike before, the tod was now speaking to a group of mammals. Not only the cops she had seen in her earlier, hazy recollection, but another two unfamiliar mammals. One appeared to be some sort of goat or sheep, male judging by the horns, even if one seemed to be missing. Missing or broken? It was too blurry for the vixen to figure out. The other she guessed was more than likely a wolf. No, it had to be a wolf. He looked just like the other officer, and both were significantly taller canines when compared to her father. The vixen tried to raise her paw, finding a minor degree of success as she felt it begin to rise from her side. But she had barely managed to raise it just shy of an inch before that familiar exhaustion overtook her again, her paw falling limp as she slipped back into darkness.

Then finally, light. Her eyes fell open as her vision seemed to narrow on pale, unremarkable ceiling tiles and a solitary sterile fluorescent light fixture. The vixen squinted slightly, her sky blue eyes fighting to remain open against the intensity of the sudden intrusion before a sudden wobbling shadow grew to overtake the glare. A shadow that the vixen quickly realized was her own paw.

The haze that hung over her mind was still thick, her thoughts weary and unfocused, but the pervasive sense of weariness that had continually dragged her back into that world of darkness seemed to have finally relinquished its unrelenting grip on her mind and body. She was awake, and now that she was, she quickly became aware of several things all at once.

She was in the hospital, that was immediately apparent. The bland white features and uncomfortable bedding, as well as the myriad of machines, made that much clear in an instant. Of course, that realization was immediately overshadowed by the pain in her leg and head. The latter of which was now throbbing so badly the vixen found herself overcome with nausea. She could feel the bile rapidly rising in her throat as her head began to swim, and the vixen's arms suddenly sprang into action as she desperately grasped at the nearby pallet of medical supplies laid out on her nightstand. Her arms felt oddly heavy as they clumsily reached out for what looked like a bedpan. Thankfully, despite the added weight, she managed to hastily snatch the container before emptying out what little bit of foul, substanceless acid her stomach contained into it.

She had only managed a few dry heaves before the gentle padding of pressure on her back made her aware of something else, and as a painfully tearful eye followed the source of the comforting weight, it came to rest on the familiarly tearful face of her father. The older tod now patting her back softly as he reached another paw out to push Val's hair aside. Cameron offered her a weak, tearful smile as he attempted to reassure her through the pain. It was something that normally should have comforted the vixen. But as her mind continued to scramble through the fog to piece together what had happened to her, the realization that her last clear memories involved illegally street racing behind her father's back meant that not only had the race ended in disaster, but her father was now aware of what she had been doing. Val knew that her father's current demeanor of tears and smiles would soon be followed up with chiding and more than likely a laundry list of restrictions and revoked privileges.

With a final, particularly acrid heave, Val managed to burp out her first words since returning to the land of the living.

"Oh rut..." The vixen belched weakly.

A mild concussion, along with a femur fracture the doctor would tell her. And on top of that, the cut on her hip had in fact needed stitches, along with several others fresh wounds the vixen hadn't recalled getting before blacking out. All of the injuries were the apparent end result of flipping end over end on her motorcycle before crashing into the outdoor dining area of a Bug Burga. As it had turned out, the _'sound'_Val had been hearing coming from Red had nothing to do with the faulty headlamp, and everything to do with the rear fender breaking free and being sucked into the back of the bike's internal parts. As soon as it had broken free of its moorings, the fender quickly lodged itself between the swingarm and the wheel, causing the bike to spin out from beneath the vixen and leaving her to tumble wildly into the nearby shrubbery as the Red crashed through several outdoor patio fixtures. Val had known the part was rusty, a mere stand-in for the fender she had planned to buy. But she had apparently underestimated just how quickly the metal around the cheap parts fasteners had eroded. Worse still, that had been the least egregious bit of damage on Red's 'autopsy' report as Val would come to find.

While Red hadn't been totaled according to the accident scene photos, much of her work to restore the old motorcycle to his former glory had been completely undone by the incident, promptly erasing all the vixen's time and effort, and setting her back to square one. And that was if, and only if she would even be allowed to see her precious bike again after all was said and done.

The doctor, an older stag, informed the vixen that considering the nature of the accident, she was lucky not to have ended up in some form of heavy traction, or even worse. All things considered, the deer considered Val's injuries minimal. However, her father had clearly been stuck on the words 'heavy traction, or worse'. His features had grown pallid and sickly, the fear in his eyes coupled with his unnerving silence only standing to make her feel that much worse. She felt guilty, for the most part. While it wasn't entirely her own stupidity that had landed her in this situation, she certainly took the lion's share of the blame. She had built a web of lies that had grown increasingly unstable with each new layer she had to add in her pursuit to salvage red. Each race had brought her closer to her goal, while making her increasingly blind to the risks she was taking in her desperation to finish the job. Well that, and crush Amelia.

But the center could not hold. Things simply fell apart. It had all rapidly built up and up, intensifying with each race and every lie until it had exploded in the vixen's face. And where had it left her? It had put her life in danger and made not only a literal wreck out of her most prized possession but a nervous wreck out of her father. But she would have been lying if she didn't admit that she felt the doctor had laid it on a little thicker than he needed to. Had the stag not even mentioned worse outcomes for the vixen, had he not brought up how 'lucky' she was, it would have gone a long way in terrifying her poor old Dad that much less. If there was any mammal who didn't need to hear just how close a brush with death she had experienced, it was her overprotective father. And such unnecessary information would more than likely only serve to add fuel to Cameron's eventual list of demands and restrictions regarding her motorcycling habits.

Of course, Ellie's arrival after school let out just added to the heart-wrenching guilt the young vixen already felt. The chubby possum had practically wrapped herself around the vixen, drenching her patient's gown, as well as the fur underneath in a steady stream of tears. Of course, Val letting out an involuntary yelp from one of Ellie's tighter hugs only managed to send the possum into further hysterics, and made Val feel that much worse in the process.

It was Elanor's own admission of shame that hit Val like a punch it the gut. She apologized to the vixen again and again, as if this had all somehow been her fault. And despite Val's argument to the contrary, it was a point that Ellie would make over and over again throughout her sob choked conversation.

All the while, Cameron had remained oddly quiet. The worried-looking fox reassuring Ellie, but saying nothing in terms of corroborating Val's guiltiness in regards to the whole affair. It was something that worried Val increasingly as the hours went on.

Her father had always been a kind, soft-spoken mammal. But this? After what she had done? It was far too serious to let slide with nothing more than tearful elation over her recovery. Not after what had happened to Mom.

It was during her first physical therapy session, one meant to get her used to using her crutches, when she got a glimpse of the broiling unease and discomfort simmering under her father's pelt. The older tod had managed to avoid bringing up the accident, or any of the details during his time by Val's side. But when the vixen had dared to ask about Ol' Red during her physical therapy, it earned a glare from the tod so fierce that it sent a shiver down the vixen's spine. The simple action had made it clear in no uncertain terms that a very difficult and taxing discussion lay in her future, but Cameron wasn't ready to have it just yet.

It would be up to Ellie to deliver the arguably bad news, at least in terms of what had been done on Val's behest while she lay in a comatose slumber. As it turns out the vixen hadn't imagined the police presence, nor her father's tearful plea to the unamused rhino and a particularly hapless looking wolf. According to the diminutive possum, death hadn't been the only thing Val had a close brush with. Although much to Val's relief, the official story according to those on the scene was that she had been taking part in a joy ride when her front fender came loose and caused the accident. However, the property damage, the speeding, the _'fox'_factor, a phrase Ellie muttered with some unease, it painted a particularly grim picture. A picture that prominently featured a tiny, dimly lit, barred cell, along with all the creature comforts provided by a regimented schedule for sleeping, eating, and mandatory activities dedicated to putting her on the path to becoming a _'reformed'_citizen.

Much to the vixen's surprise however, her father's pleading hadn't entirely fallen on deaf ears, allowing the vixen to narrowly avoid juvenile detention by the skin of her teeth. As it just so happened, one of the officers had an in with the owner of the Bug Burga she had crashed her bike into. And it had just so happened that the goat who owned the place had been having trouble retaining an employee willing to work the restaurant's night shift. The location had already been earmarked in several rehabilitation programs, including a _'youth outreach'_initiative that Val's unique situation made her a perfect candidate for enrollment at the behest of the ZPD.

Three months, her entire upcoming summer gone in an instant. Devoured by the beast that was fast food wage slavery. Of course, they had granted her the kindness of allowing her six weeks to recover from her wounds before starting, most of which would be devoted to lugging around the cast on her leg.

For a moment the vixen was truly torn over the idea of what was a worse predicament. Would Juvenile hall have been that bad in comparison to slinging greasy burgers at some hole in the wall? Maybe if those cops were still around she could plead to overturn her father's efforts. After all, to her the only difference between both punishments was that one involved handling significantly less hot grease. But it was a fleeting, arguably childish thought. Something she had only lamented to Ellie jokingly before grimly accepting her fate as a future fry cook. At least in fast food prison she would still be able to come home to her best friend Ellie, and to her father. To properly apologize to both of them and to try her best to make amends for the pain she caused.

Even if that meant going without Red for a while, the vixen was willing to accept that. She knew that with a bit of patience there would come a day where she could broach the subject of the motorcycle without drawing the stink _'eye'_from her Ol' Mam'. But for the time being, she had one hell of a big screw up to make up for.