It's important to look out for your friends.
"Been living here going on several months now," I reply, hoofing through my wallet for a ten and a five. "Sure doesn't feel like it, though. I guess I just don't really get out much."
Well, if I'm being honest, it's probably more like I haven't wanted to get out much.
For months, most of my nights consisted of getting up and going to either work, Bug Burga, or both, and then coming straight home. That is, right up till the scandal broke. What the stations are alternately calling the Savage Crisis, the Savage Hoax, the Savage Conspiracy, or the Bellwether Conspiracy, depending on who you're listening to.
A lot changed that night. I've been trying to take Betty's advice about 'getting my face out there', but the truth is I just can't keep to myself anymore. In a way I wonder if I ever really could.
Anyway, that's why I've been spending most days out and about lately. And so far, I can see it's already starting to pay off, even if only in small ways. I'm finding all sorts of places I didn't know about. For instance: who'd have expected this hole-in-the-wall convenience store to have jumbo bags of chips for just a buck and a quarter each? Sure, they may not be name brands like Hay's, but Root Beer, Pickle Party, and Cool Mayo don't sound bad to me. They've got some carnivore-friendly flavors I've never seen like Tangy Gravy and Grasshoppers. Hell, despite the area, they even have a few herbivorous specials like Leaf Medley, Flamin' Hot! Tubers, and Roots & Vinegar -- though I wouldn't trust the expiry dates, given how long they've probably been sitting on those shelves.
"...Son?"
"Sorry, I got distracted by the chips," I confess, sheepishly.
"I was just askin', if you don't mind, where abouts you live?" he inquires with polite interest.
"You know The Crowns?" I jab a hoof in the sort-of direction of home.
"Oh, yeah, that's Al's building! Always a darling little pup, that one. Even if he couldn't resist getting into it with that wee grass-eating goat. Ohh, or was that an antelope...?" Trailing off, he opens the cash drawer of the old-fashioned till, layers my money on top of a neat stack, and begins counting out my change.
"Deer," I blurt out. He must mean Velvet Roe. Guess she and Al really have been together since childhood.
"Always trouble, mixing across lines like that," he mutters absently. "You know, I've been around long enough to remember the Crowns when it was just a slum. They sure made it into a nice place."
A 'nice place'? It wasn't long ago that I would've laughed in his face for even suggesting it isn't a slum. Or isn't still a slum. Now, I don't know. Maybe he's got a point. The apartments are rough at first glance, sure, but like Packer's Gym and this store, there's plenty of good stuff to be found on the inside. You just gotta be willing to look for it.
"So, you stocking up for the big game?"
"Sure am. The whole building's probably going to have a watch party, and everyone usually brings something." I take my change from him and drop the coins in the 'give a penny' dish on the counter. "I can't cook, so I figured, you know, play it safe and bring junk food."
"Can't go wrong with chips and pop," he smiles and nods like it's the wisest thing he's heard all day. "Enjoy the game, and come back anytime."
"I will!" I reply with a smile of my own, hefting both grocery sacks and making my way out onto the street.
What a nice guy.
We've got a couple of hours before the game starts, so I'm on my way back to my apartment to stash the soda bottles in my fridge. Lobby's quiet today, which makes sense. Hoofball's broadcast schedule isn't really convenient for a nocturnal lifestyle.
As I make my way inside, I catch sight of Al resting in his chair. The great white wolf looks like he's been working hard. Thick, weary bags hang heavy under the Alpha's bloodshot eyes, and the bridge of his nose has a bandage wrapped around it. Rather than wearing his usual work clothes, though, he's dressed up nicely. A crimson button-up shirt I haven't seen him wear before, and a pair of black pressed slacks. Velvet must be coming by later. Straightening up as much as I can, I give him a respectful nod as I make my way upstairs, and he lifts a paw halfway off his armrest in what I'm guessing is a tired wave back. I think I even saw him smile a little.
I'd call that progress.
I head upstairs to my apartment, juggling the overstuffed paper sacks in my arms while trying to remember which of my pockets I stashed my keys in. I could get one of those retractable key holder things you hook on your belt loop, but I probably look like a big enough dork in my cargo shorts as it is.
On my way past the apartment next to mine -- the one Charlie and Marty share -- I notice something in my peripheral vision: a little wrapped box sitting at their door. I glance around to make sure nobody's coming before leaning over and giving it a quick skim.
Look, I'm not nosey, it's just really rare to see mail -- especially a parcel -- uncollected around here. I mean, Pack Street's not the best neighborhood. I'm sure mail gets swiped from doorsteps all the time.
I set my bags down on the floor and quickly pick the box up. It's heavily marked with 'fragile' and 'urgent' stamps all over the cardboard, and sealed up tight with bright red 'express mail' tape. The return address doesn't include a name, but it looks like it's addressed to Charlie specifically.
Frowning, I turn the thing over in my hooves, studying it. It's weird to see something like this just left lying here. Makes sense Marty would be gone from home this time of day. The hothead of a stoat's probably still at his library job. For someone like Charlie to miss a parcel, though? She's not the kind of vixen who'd order something important and then miss the delivery. She'd absolutely be here.
I know it's probably none of my business, but some part of me wonders if something isn't wrong.
Well, no sense in not at least being neighborly. If I was expecting an important delivery and I missed it, I wouldn't want it left sitting out to where anyone could steal it. Maybe she was in the shower, or was listening to music or something. Raising my hoof, I knock politely at their door, then wait for a reply.
A full minute later, I'm still waiting.
Okay, that is weird.
The safest thing to do would be to hold onto it for her till I can figure out what's up. Make sure nobody snags it. Unlocking my own apartment door, I drop the snacks off, shoving the sodas into my fridge without even unloading them from the bags. I snatch a marker and a scrap of paper from my junk drawer to scribble out a hasty note.
Charlie - Something arrived for you. I'm holding onto it so it won't get stolen. Come knock when you get this. - Remmy Cormo (West-001)
There. I guess once this is done I'd better jog downstairs and ask Al if he knows of a way to contact her. I'm sure I'll probably catch shit for snooping, but this box could have something important in it, like medication. I'm willing to take that risk.
Heading outside into the hallway with the note in-hoof and the box under my arm, I almost run face-first into Ozzy, who's pacing around outside Charlie's and Marty's door. The hulking hyena looks up at me with a troubled expression, his usual smile nowhere to be found.
"Hey, Rem," he mumbles half-heartedly, paws in his pockets. "You ain't seen Charlie around, have you?"
"No. No, I haven't." I hold up the box, which he looks over with a furrowed brow. "Just found this on their doorstep. Looks like you're not the only one having trouble getting in touch with her."
"...huh," Ozzy finally mumbles once he's finished, scratching the back of his broad, shaggy neck. "This really ain't like her."
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Why don't we go ask Al if he knows of a way to get a hold of her? If there's even a chance something's wrong, we better get on it sooner rather than later."
Raising his paws, Ozzy shakes his head, forcing his smile back into place.
"Hey, whoa, I dunno about all that. I never said nothin' about getting the Alpha involved. Look, Charlie's got her own way of doin' things. Her bein' gone a couple days ain't that big a deal. I mean, she's taken off before. She's probably fine, y'know?"
"A couple days?" Now I've got an even worse feeling. "And she didn't tell anyone?"
"...not that I know of, no."
"I get that you know her better than I do, Ozzy, but she seems way too careful to leave when she's got a mail delivery coming in. I figure she'd at least have let someone know she was gonna be gone."
The hyena stares back at me, not immediately responding. He looks like he's torn, trying to decide between going with his own gut feeling and staying out of it. I can't blame him -- I'm not any more thrilled than he is to have to ask Al anything, especially now that it seems we're just starting to get on good terms again. But this is also a Packmate we're talking about here. This is Charlie. I'm not going to just hang her out to dry if she's in danger.
I attach the note to Charlie and Marty's door, then tuck the parcel carefully into my shirt. It's fragile, so at least my wool will keep it well padded. "I'm going to ask him--"
"C'mon, Woolly B. Al's got a big evenin' planned. And so do we, right?" Ozzy interrupts. "I don't wanna cause problems for him an' Ms. Roe, s'all. Let's just stay here, watch the game, y'know? Charlie'll turn up. She always does."
Rubbing my chin, I almost concede -- but I just can't shake the weird feeling gnawing at me. And based on how unconvinced Ozzy sounds, I think it's eating away at him, too.
"At least just let me bring it to Al's attention. Make sure he knows about it." He starts to cut me off, but I raise a hoof. "It's okay, man. You don't have to come if you don't want to. I'd just feel better if he's at least aware of the situation. Just in case."
He sighs, taps his foot for a moment, and nods, stepping aside as I make my way downstairs. To my surprise, though, I can hear his heavy footsteps trailing me. Guess he didn't want to hang me out to dry either.
Entering the lobby, I can see Al's since migrated from his chair to looking out the window, one paw in his pocket, the other idly twirling a keyring as he watches the cars pass by. He glances over his shoulder as we walk in, a half-smile on his muzzle.
"Evenin'."
"Evenin', boss," Ozzy offers.
"Hey Al, I'm sorry to bother you," I begin, tapping my hooves together to steady my nerves. "Is there any chance you've seen Charlie lately?"
"Not lately," he replies, leaning down a bit and peering at something outside.
"Not even in the last few days? Like... she hasn't called, or anything?"
He stops jingling his keyring, and something in his stance changes.
"...no," he repeats more slowly, but there's a different weight to it.
This all feels too familiar. Ozzy right beside me, Al staring me down in a nice suit. I've been here before and it ended with something foul coming out of my mouth and a whole lot of trouble. I gulp, trying to bury the unpleasant memory. The situation itself was way different then. For one thing, I was definitely in the wrong. And I may be now, but if worrying about the welfare of a fellow Pack member is wrong, then fuck it, I'll be wrong the rest of my days.
I'm kind of fumbling around for verbal footing as I glance over to Ozzy, who, despite everything still gives me an encouraging nod.
"Well, I'll get right to it," I begin plaintively, going for the 'softly softly' tone. Show deference, humility. I'm the Omega, after all. I pull the little box from my natural woolly padding. "We haven't heard from her, she doesn't seem to be at home, and there was a parcel delivered on her doorstep."
He tilts his head to one side. Almost curiously, like the toy truck-wielding pup that lives around here. "You sure it was for her?"
"Yeah. I figure if she's getting something in the mail it means she had to have ordered it, and Charlie w--"
"Yeah," Al interrupts, nodding quickly. "I get it. When's the last time either a'you did hear from her?"
"Been a couple days, at least," Ozzy says quietly. "Maybe longer."
"I haven't seen her in a while either," I add. Now that I think about it, I haven't talked to her at all since she gave me my tee shirt -- along with that cryptic advice.
If you're going through hell, keep going.
What if she's going through a hell of her own right now?
Straightening out his collar, Al reaches his free paw toward me for the box, which I immediately hand over. He looks it over, shakes it slightly, gives it a sniff.
"It ain't like Charlie not to at least check in if she's plannin' on being away a while." He passes the box back to me, his brow knotted. "She knows the rules."
"There's a rule for letting the Pack know if you're going on vacation?" I ask with a nervous laugh.
"Yeah, it's called common sense," Ozzy bark-laughs, cocking his head as his ears flop to one side. "Y'know, like if your plants need waterin', or your mail needs collectin'? Like this exact kinda thing, for example. Didn't you just say somethin' like that like, two minutes ago?"
Oh. Well yeah, I guess that makes sense, after all. Here I was thinking it was some kind of violation of ancient wolf code.
"Look, do you have her cell phone number or anything?" I ask.
"I can call her beeper," Al mutters as he breaks out his own cell and punches in a few numbers. "Pager, whatever. She uses burners mostly, but this way she can call me back on whatever she's got. I've told her to get somethin' more reliable in case shit like this ever happens, but she's stubborn."
Al replaces his cell, then picks one claw at the cuffs of his sleeves.
"Right, done. We'll hear from her soon."
Despite Al's assurance, none of the three of us seem particularly relieved. We all just stand there awkwardly for a while.
Maybe a minute passes, before I break the uncomfortable silence. "How fast does she usually get back to you?"
"Fast," the Alpha grumbles.
"That ain't good, man," Ozzy murmurs. "Maybe she can't get to her phone?"
"Like what, lockup or something? Oh fuck, you don't think the cops arrested her, do you?" I bleat.
Both of them give me a weird look, and I nervously clear my throat.
"I, uh -- whatever, I'm just saying, it's a possibility."
"...nah. If she got busted on one of her 'errands' she'd have called here for sure." Despite Al's calm voice, I can tell he's as troubled by it as Ozzy and I are. "Oz is probably right. My guess is she just can't get a call out for some reason. Out of service area somewhere, maybe."
"Any idea of where that 'somewhere' might be?"
He shakes his head. "Remmy, it's Charlie. She could be in any part of the city doing a job. Fuck, she could be in Bunnyburrow right now for all we know. There's no sense in runnin' all over creation looking for her."
"Maybe, but we can at least look around Pack." I gesture out the window, not quite sure what exactly I'm pointing at. "Someone has to have seen her, right? I know I'm just the Omega, and I probably haven't earned car privileges yet, but--"
"No," the white wolf returns immediately. "Absolutely not. Me and V are going out tonight. I'm treating her to a nice dinner."
"Al, if Charlie--"
"Remmy, you're putting me in a real bad spot here," he warns gruffly. "We made plans."
"Boss, c'mon, Remmy's right," Ozzy nods enthusiastically, slapping me on the shoulder with a firm paw. "An' you know he wouldn't be askin' if it weren't important. I'm sure he ain't here for shits and giggles. Besides, you an' Ms. Roe can stay here, catch the game with everyone! Hey, that sounds like a great time, right Rem?"
Despite the Alpha's glare, I find myself pointing at Ozzy in agreement, like he's just struck some great idea. "Oh yeah, yeah. Sounds like a blast."
Al lets out a heavy sigh through his nostrils, seemingly weighing it out in his mind -- but only for a moment.
"If you can't find her, let me know before leaving the area and I'll put some calls in. Let's not make this a bigger deal than it has to be just yet." With a reluctant nod, he extends his keys to Ozzy.
The hyena shakes his head apologetically at the gesture, paws raised. "You know I can't drive, Al."
"...oh, right. Sorry," Al shakes his head, instead turning and half-dropping, half-tossing them at me. "Don't fuck this up, and don't fuck up my car, Omega."
I barely manage to catch the keychain before it hits the floor. Straightening up, I nod to him. "You got my word, Al. I won't fuck this up."
Climbing into the driver's side of Al's sedan, I'm immediately struck by how small I feel in comparison to the rest of the car. The only time I've ever even been in here was when I was a passenger. No wonder Wolt had to ratchet the driver's seat all the way up on our trip to Bunnyburrow; I'm taller than he is, and I still feel like I'm sitting on the floor!
"You okay with drivin', Rem?" Ozzy asks with a worried smile.
"I'd better be," I quip, familiarizing myself with the placement of the controls. "Thank god it's an automatic, at least. I never learned how to drive stick."
He stares back. "That ain't really reassuring!"
"Sorry. No, yeah, I got this."
As I merge onto the street, I can see my passenger fretting and staring out the window, even shifting in his seat. I'm not sure the last time I've seen Ozzy so uncomfortable. I guess I didn't realize he and Charlie were this close. Then again, seems like Ozzy's close with just about everyone.
"So, places she could be," I offer to keep him focused, motioning for a tiny fox on a dinky moped to pass as I pull up to a red light. "Could she be at the library? Marty is her roommate, after all."
"Nah. If Marty'd seen her, he would'a texted me something back."
"Right, scratch that off the list then." Though I realize it'd probably help if we had a list to begin with. Scratching my head, I try to think of other locations our resident troublemaker of a vixen could be. "Maybe Bug Burga?"
"We lookin' for Charlie or pickin' up your dinner?" He punctuates his joke with a chuckle, and I roll my eyes, snickering in spite of myself.
"You got me. Chalk it up to wishful thinking," I reply as the light turns green and we take off again. "How about you, any thoughts?"
"Man, if I knew I'd have run over there myself," he admits, fidgeting with his seat belt. "Sometimes there's no tellin' with her."
For now, I just nod and focus on driving and keeping an eye out for places Charlie might be. I'm not exactly scared behind the wheel, even if Ozzy seems nervous. After all, I operate a forklift for a living. That said, driving around Downtown Zootopia is different from driving a slow-moving forklift through a warehouse. Pedestrians, cyclists, nighttime traffic, keeping an eye out for small rodent-sized vehicles... it's a lot more than I'm used to. At least we're not trying to drive through the Rainforest district. All those twisty back roads are fucking brutal, even for an experienced driver. There's always some story or another about an overturned semi or some other kind of accident down there.
"Y'know, I know she can take care of herself," I grumble. "It's just that in a bad neighborhood, my mind always goes to the worst case scenario."
Ozzy turns to look at me, head cocked so hard to one side it's almost horizontal. "'Bad neighborhood?' Man, Pack ain't a bad neighborhood!"
I scoff. "What? You kiddin' me?"
"Dude, what?! You gotta be pullin' my tail here!" He laughs, but it's incredulous, dry. "You can't just call every place with bars on the windows a 'bad neighborhood'! Everybody knows everybody, folks here is nice as hell. You don't get jumped for walkin' down the street, you can go out any time of day or night, we got low crime..."
"Dude," I fire back, "Some guy got killed like a block from us just last weekend!"
"People get killed all over the city, man!" Ozzy sits back hard, rattling the seat. "Besides, guy was a dealer. It's not like random folks are gettin' got on the street."
I shake my head. "Marty thinks Pack's a bad neighborhood."
"Yeah well, Marty's got his head up his butt sometimes," Ozzy grins. "Plus, little dude likes being dramatic."
"That's for sure," I grin back, eager to change the subject.
It seems to work. For a while we just cruise wordlessly, Ozzy watching the windows as I try to plot a course.
"Packer's?" I ask after a while, breaking the silence.
"Charlie ain't really the workout type."
"Not really," I agree. "But maybe one of the guys there's seen her?"
"Worth a shot," Ozzy sighs, running a shaky paw through his headfur.
I suppose it's as good a lead to go on as anything else we've got, and conveniently, the Gym's only a block or two from where we're at. Besides, the regulars there are pretty chatty types, and as tight-knit as Pack Street is, maybe someone knows something.
And speaking of Packer's, it's overflowing tonight. The parking lot's packed -- uh, it's full. They must've finished the renovations and had some big reopening since I was here last. It dawns on me that they must have something set up inside for the game, because under the front lights I can see Martina's got a table set up outside, the tiny stoat all but floating in a pool of light in the middle of the nighttime darkness. Seems to be paying off for her, since her table's surrounded by a mix of predators and even a couple prey species as well.
"There's Marty's sister," Ozzy observes, pointing to her stand. "I think that's Neil at the table with her too?"
"Looks like it," I chuckle, spotting the back of the friendly lion's messy, frizzy mane poking out above the rest of the crowd. "I'll keep the car running if you wanna hop out and ask 'em if they've heard anything?"
"On it."
Since there's nowhere else to stop, I pull up to front of the building and let Ozzy quickly disembark. He jogs over to the stand, ducking and weaving past a few of the patrons to get Martina's attention. While he's busy chatting away, I shift into park and drum my hooftips on the wheel, scanning the mammals coming and going for anyone else I recognize. After a minute, I notice a familiar jackal standing next to an equally-familiar aardwolf just outside the entrance.
Rolling the driver's side window down, I wave to them. Avo catches sight of me first and waves back. Following her gaze, Anneke glances over, sees me waving, and she makes a face like she's just tasted curdled milk. Without missing a beat, she storms off into the building. My heart sinks a little as I lower my hoof.
Guess she's still mad at me.
Watching the aardwolf leave, Avo throws me an apologetic shrug before disappearing into the gym after her.
I'm still staring after them when Ozzy throws open the passenger side door and climbs in, bringing me back to the situation at hand.
"Anything?" I ask hopefully, shoving the unpleasant encounter from my mind for now.
"Neil said he definitely saw her pass by his truck just last night," Ozzy says excitedly. "Couldn't tell me where she was headed when he did, but still -- that's a good sign, right?"
"Yeah, I mean... it's not much to go on, but it's better than if he hadn't seen her at all," I reply. I already feel my own worry lifting. Ozzy's energy is contagious. "Where was Neil at the time?"
"At the lot down by the barber shop, where he's been setting up lately. You know it, right?"
"Clipperships, right? South of the row? Yeah, I know it," I reply, flashing him a thumbs-up as I pull out of the parking lot. "It's a start."
"...Don't cross the double yellow line," Ozzy murmurs quietly as we pass in the blackness between streetlights.
"I wasn't planning to," I return, glancing sideways at him.
He laughs, shaking his head. "Sorry. Song lyric. I sing when I'm nervous."
"You sing all the time," I smile.
He stretches a little in his seat, chuckling as he rolls his window up. "What can I say, I got music in my heart."
We keep on driving, down towards Clipperships, and he starts humming to himself, but only for a minute. In the silence that follows, he lets out a forlorn sigh, running his paws through the shaggy, sweaty fur on his head.
"This... ain't really helpful, though, is it?" Even though he's still smiling, I can tell he's beginning to fret. "I mean Clipperships is on the edge of the commercial row. There's so much down that way."
Ozzy's not wrong. I work in a warehouse, myself, so I'm plenty familiar with that area. If you've ever heard someone say 'it fell off the back of a truck', it was probably one bound for Pack Street. There are tons of distributors, storage facilities, importers, distribution centers, and so on. Even if we just skimmed the row, it'd still take us hours. Hours we may not have.
Enough of this needle-in-the-haystack shit. Where would I be if I were her? Why would I be there?
Ozzy scratches his broad shoulder with a quiet canine (or is it feline?) whine. "An' if she went down that way, she coulda been headed anywhere. Might not even be in Pack. Maybe Grass Street. Hell, she coulda kept on going straight out past Muddy for all we know."
"On foot?" I cut off his line of thought, shaking my head. "Nah, I think if she was headed that far she would've gotten wheels."
"Unless she was meeting someone, and taking a ride from there," he points out.
Fuck. I hadn't considered that. I don't know all of Charlie's 'business contacts', so she could be with anyone. Hell, the only one I do know, I met because--
Suddenly all the lights on the street come into a kind of sharp clarity, and everything goes real quiet in my ears. I can feel my wool tingling like it's electric.
"I know where she is," I blurt out.
Whirling his entire body to face me, Ozzy stares at me in startled confusion. "What? Where?!"
Without replying, I shift into gear and stomp on the gas pedal, roaring down the darkened strip.
Pandora's Box looms before us, imposing and quiet.
The awning and gutters are covered in leaves. The side of the building's covered in graffiti. After what happened to the alley court's mural, I don't bother reading it. Though the sirens and light bars are no more, the rubberneckers have long gone, and the once-shattered shop windows have since been replaced, all I can see is the scene from that night -- the night Pandora was attacked, and the last I saw of the nicest tigress on Pack was her being wheeled off, thrashing and strapped to a stretcher.
Something about the dusky storefront still clings to the feeling of that night. There's still that lingering air of dread. Of sadness.
I guess that's a pretty dramatic way to talk about an adult bookstore.
"You think she's here?" Ozzy asks curiously as we make our way up to the tinted windows at the front of the building.
Charlie once told me Pandora was one of the few people she thinks of as a friend. I can still hear the trembling fox's words in my ear from the night Pandora 'went savage'. "Call it a hunch, but... I get the feeling that she might be here to help out a friend. Just like us."
I look around inside the building, wondering if my hunch was correct. It has to be. But between the darkness inside and out, and the tinted glass, I can't see much.
"Oz, hyenas have good night vision, right? Can you...?" I jerk my hoof toward the murky shop windows, smudged with pawprints and grime from not being cleaned.
Without waiting, Ozzy smushes his face up to the window, mashing his broad snout in, before deciding to angle his head down for a more efficient way of pressing his face to the glass. All I can do now is wait and hope.
Fortunately, I don't have to wait long.
Ozzy jumps up in place, his shaggy little tail wagging suddenly. "There! Right there! Hey! Right there, right next to the cardboard bunny!"
I peer in again, straining against the dim light to focus on the spot Ozzy's indicating. And sure enough, there in the middle of the store, surrounded by empty drink bottles and a pile of discarded papers, is an orange-furred, sweater-clad vixen. Ozzy pounds excitedly on the glass and Charlie's ears prick. She looks up, squinting at us for a moment, then quickly hops to her feet, hurrying toward the window. In her paws is a half-eaten bag of crackers which are shaped like--
...well, it is a sex shop.
"Ah, I see my estimate was correct. Perfect timing," she calls through the glass, wiping crumbs off onto her sweater. Her already low and mumbly voice is hard to make out with the barrier separating us, but at least she sounds okay. "I trust I didn't put you through too much trouble."
"We've been looking everywhere for you! How long have you been here?" I ask. "Are you hurt?"
"Since last night, and no -- in that order."
As relieved as I am to see she's okay, Ozzy's beside himself. He's practically running up and down outside the building. You can tell he wants to grab her up in a big hug, but he's held back by the glass.
"I'm so glad to see you're okay!" he cheers.
"Yes, I'm quite well, apart from being locked in as you can surely discern."
Ozzy excitedly pounds his paws and face to the window like a little kid looking into an aquarium. "We've been worried sick about you!"
Charlie tilts her head slightly, the corners of her mouth turning up in (what is for her, anyway) quite the smile. "Just be careful of that glass. The alarms are still live on a separate system so mammals don't just cut the power before breaking in. Otherwise I would've cracked a window out hours ago."
I smile, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "Yeah, don't worry, I wasn't exactly planning on smashing up the storefront."
"How did you know I was here?"
"Oh man, Charlie, that's the best part! You hadda see it! We's lookin' all over town for you, and then Remmy just -- outta nowhere! He said to me, he says, 'Ozzy, I know exactly where she is'. And then he just punched it and drove straight here!"
"You make me sound like Sherlock Hound or something," I chuckle. "But yeah, that's more or less what happened. I just... had a hunch."
"Well, however you came to the conclusion, your 'hunch' was obviously the right one," she says, eyebrow raised. "I got your page, but my phone broke when I fell through the skylight, so I wasn't able to respond. The internal power and phone lines have been disconnected as well."
"If you're locked in, why didn't you just pick the lock and get out, then? I know these door locks wouldn't stand up to you."
"My skills with improvised picks aren't quite on par with Betty's yet," Charlie confesses, like she's admitting to something embarrassing. "But even if I had brought my tools, opening the door would have sounded the aforementioned alarm. That's why I came in through the roof. Unfortunately, after a mishap involving the wall-brackets, a shelf of erotic candy samples, and an unfortunately unpredictable skylight cover, I wasn't able to exit the way I entered."
"What're you doin' here anyway, Charlie?" Ozzy asks, stepping back and looking around the perimeter of the building. "Place's been quiet for a while."
There's a glint in her eyes as she opens them ever so slightly.
"Let's just say I'm tending to some sensitive inventory the owner can't see to personally, in her current state," she answers evasively, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.
Having personally delivered some 'sensitive inventory' here, I get where she's coming from. I nod once to let her know I understand.
Apparently her explanation's good enough for Ozzy too. "Oh, okay," he says, and leaves it at that.
"Mmm. I'll admit I'm relieved at your timing. I've almost run out of these barbecue-flavored phalluses," Charlie quips, shaking the foil package in our general direction, "and I wasn't eagerly anticipating making a meal of Gooey Gummies and Cool Mayo chips."
"Hey!" I interrupt. "What's wrong with Cool Mayo?"
She ignores me, finishing the last of the crackers. "These aren't terrible. I recommend pairing them with the Wet Dream Cream Soda."
Ozzy can't take it anymore, and promptly doubles over into a wheezing giggle-fit. If my own choice of chip flavors wasn't being so rudely insulted, I'd probably be doing the same.
"All right, well, let's see if we can't get you out of there," I propose, looking around for anything that might help us. "You said you went in through the roof, right? Maybe we can get you out the same way?"
"...hey, how'd you get up to the roof in the first place?" Ozzy asks. "I'm the tallest of all us and I don't think I could get up that high without somethin'."
"That was the simple part: I climbed up the fire escape of the neighboring building and jumped across."
I glance at Ozzy, jaw agape, but the hyena doesn't seem fazed by her answer, so I turn back to Charlie.
"You just -- you parkoured your way inside?" I choke.
"It's not as difficult as it sounds," she replies, clasping her paws behind herself.
Eyeing the gap between Pandora's and the surrounding buildings, I'm not sure a flying squirrel would feel comfortable trying to make it across. Talk about a literal leap of faith -- what'd she do, slingshot herself? And what if she'd missed the jump? Fuck, I don't even want to think about it. All I can say is she must really consider Pandora to be a good friend.
Then again, I guess after what she and I both went through to get that Tiger Oil for her, it's not that surprising.
"Say, is that Al's car?" Charlie asks, pointing to the sedan behind us.
I'm still kind of stunned, so I just nod dumbly.
"Hmm. That gives me an idea." She sprints over to gather her papers off the ground from the little 'nest' she was sitting in earlier, before returning with them and a marker from her pocket. "If you back the car up and around the alley, then -- based on your combined heights -- you should be able to climb up onto the roof of the building if you stand on the hood."
She flattens the paper to the window for us to see: a sketch of the building that she mapped herself -- complete with labels for all the product aisles like 'Tool World' and 'Pussy Paradise'. Over the back storeroom is the small skylight -- easily large enough for a mammal Charlie's size to breach through.
"I know Al keeps a coil of cable in his trunk, for something work-related. Find something sturdy to anchor it to, lower one end down to me through the opening in the roof, and I can climb up and leave through the way I came without tripping the alarm."
I study the map, figuring out mentally where I'll have to park for the easiest way up onto the roof, while Ozzy runs back to the car.
"Hey, Charlie," I cough, taking advantage of the moment of privacy.
She clasps her hands. "Cormo."
I fumble with my hooves, but we may not have much time so I settle for just blurting it out. "Look, I-- I hope you're not still mad at me."
She blinks in response. "For what?"
I just look down at the ground.
"...ah," she softly returns. "Yes, that's right. Our last encounter was not... particularly pleasant. For that, I apologize."
I glance up suddenly, and this time I find I'm cocking my head to the side. "You apologize?"
"I'll maintain you were being a bit unreasonable, and I did try to offer some assistance, but I..." Charlie takes a breath. "Well, I was emotional at the time. A lot had been happening. I was unnecessarily cruel with some of the things I'd said."
"I-- no, I don't-- I accept your apology, of course, I just didn't expect--" I'm falling over my words here. "But, 'emotional'? Since when are you emotional?"
Her fuzzy orange brow scrunches up and she peers curiously through the glass at me. From behind me, I can hear Ozzy cursing idly at the trunk of Al's car.
"I may not always express it in more typical modes," Charlie sniffs, matter-of-factly, "but I assure you, I have emotions the same as anyone else. I'm not some machine."
I sigh, stroking my pompadour with a hoof as a relieved smile creeps over my face. "No, no I wasn't trying to say you were. Sorry. I'm just-- I'm glad to hear things are okay between us. I thought, I mean-- I thought maybe you didn't want to see me."
"Well as of this moment, you can take my word for it that I'm quite pleased to see the both of you. Now, are we ready?"
With near perfect timing, a triumphant-looking Ozzy returns with the heavy metal cable.
"Al's not gonna like us jumping up and down on his car, but I don't think we have much choice," I finally admit. "All right, Ozzy. You ready?"
"Absolutely, Woolly B. Let's do this! A good old-fashioned breakout! I'm like, an action star!" he grins, heaving the cable with both paws to strike a dramatic pose.
...unfortunately, the gesture throws the metal-weighted lead at the end of the cable directly into the front display window. The three of us tense up and freeze in place as the sound of shattering glass fills the stillness of the night, followed by the loud, shrill wail of an alarm going off.
Looking over my shoulder, I see Charlie and Ozzy staring in wide-eyed disbelief at the destroyed barrier between them. The two of them glance for a moment at each other, then me, before suddenly springing into action and bolting for the car. Ozzy dives in through the back door, hauling in the cable, while Charlie vaults over the shattered glass window with her notes, hastily taking the passenger's seat and not even bothering to buckle in as she slams the door.
"Well, that's one way of making an escape," Ozzy groans a muffled groan, his face buried in shame in the seat cushions. "I'm such a fuckin' idiot!"
"Hey, it was an accident, man," I assure him over my shoulder. I've been in his shoes, and frankly, I'm just relieved it wasn't me this time. "Don't beat yourself up. At least we got Charlie--"
"I can't be seen here!" Slinking down in her seat like she's trying to hide, Charlie grabs my sleeve and shakes me by it. "Drive, Cormo!"
"Right. Don't have to tell me twice," I respond, shifting into drive and flooring it.
As we peel off down the street headed for the safety of The Crowns, one of Ozzy's burly paws reaches shakily forward, clutching a wrapped parcel -- the same wrapped parcel that started us off on this rescue mission.
"You dropped this," he murmurs sheepishly.
"Oh, hey, yeah. I almost forgot," I grin in spite of myself, taking it with my free hoof and quickly passing it over to the vixen. "Parcel came for you, Charlie. Here you go -- special delivery."
"Man, that's twice now so I gotta ask -- what the hell is a parcel?" Ozzy laughs.
"What do you call it?"
"It's a package, man! Parcel... lookit Mr. Fancy Pants over here!" The clouds seem to have passed quickly, and Ozzy's back to his usual giggling self. Guess having Charlie back makes it hard to dwell on the botched escape plan.
"Thank you, Cormo," she nods, accepting it gently.
"You mind me asking what it is? If you do, I ain't gonna pry," I cough, focusing on driving even while stealing glances at the 'package'. "It's just that's what kicked off this whole search, so I'm kinda curious."
Charlie rests the little box in her lap. She offers me a gentle, knowing smile. "It's something for our mutual friend."
Ah.
We drive in silence for a moment, heading for home.
"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," I finally return.
The lobby's full of light and sound, but as we step in, I realize there's only two people actually watching the game: Al and Velvet. A wolf and a deer leaning together in the empty lobby, watching a tiny TV from an old, worn sofa. Guess everyone's out watching somewhere else.
I hate to interrupt the moment, but...
"Hey Al," I greet. "Car's back where you left it. Even topped off the gas."
They turn in unison to see us, and Al's face lights up with visible relief on seeing Charlie is with us -- only to immediately shift when he spots what we're carrying. Charlie with a freshly opened bag of A Chip Off The Ol' Cock kettle chips, me with two hooffuls of Bunny-Buns Marshmallow Gummies, and Ozzy picking tiny bits of broken glass out of his scruff.
His glare hardens, and he looks like he's about to growl something at us when all of a sudden Ms. Roe breaks out laughing hard enough to match Ozzy's howls, slapping her leg with a polished hoof.
The great white wolf turns a little red and smiles in spite of himself.
I cough. "So uh, we--"
"Don't tell me," he interrupts, turning back to the game. "The less I know, the better. Long as the car's in one piece."
Charlie plods over to the couch, peering at the TV. "Mind if we join you, Chief? We've got snacks."
He turns back again to glare, and Velvet -- who was calming down a little and wiping a tear from her eye -- breaks out laughing anew.
"I've got like, actual chips upstairs," I offer quickly. "And soda. We can make a watch party of it?"
"Fine," he grumbles at last, relenting. "Just no weird deviant snacks, all right? And none of that Cool Mayo shit."
I can't believe this.
"It's hard being the only one with good taste around here," I sigh, popping a peach-flavored gummy shaped like a butt into my mouth.