It's a little longer than I previously envisioned, but . . . *shrugs* Oh well, better late than never!
Take that procrastination! 🍎🐤
Now, enjoy the tale~
"Sooo, the Ferocious Four? The most infamous, previous known lethal gang in the city, once led by the original "Big Bad Wolf" himself, huh? Gotta say, you really know how to pick 'em, Rick!," Gerald praised. He proudly clapped his cousin on the back.
Badger glared at him till Gerald reluctantly pulled his hand away.
It was early morning, two days after The Ferocious Four broke out of prison with the help of Badger's cousins, who are a group of human hippies.
On the first day, the gang purposely crashed the helicopter into the middle of the ocean, thus destroying its GSP tracking software system so it couldn't be tracked. After Seth drowned the pilot, they all stole whatever emergency life rafts they could attach themselves too, and—within a matter of God knows how many hours—managed to locate shore. They had made it to shore on a beach underneath a formation of rocks and moss that were linked to a lonely road above them. Exhausted, they took a precious moment to rest. Probably longer than they should've (Cory wanted to build a sandcastle) since they were fugitives now. It wouldn't be long until their break out story bombed the media—and the police stations . . .
After a moment of lounging (and Ryder rating Cory's small castle), they spent the rest of the day walking alongside the beach towards the direction that'd (hopefully) lead back to Los Angeles.
On the second day, the Ferocious Four and the hippies repeated the exact same thing as the day before during the first four hours: Walking.
From the largest, lugging crocodile, to the smallest, slowest human, they each grew more sluggish, hungry, and thirsty, the further their weary legs begrudgingly propelled forward.
Earlier, after having enough of using their legs and feet, the hippies and The Ferocious Four decide to steal a large car by using Tim (the youngest hippy) to play a hitchhiker while the rest of the group hid amongst the rocks and moss.
When an unsuspecting driver pulled over to what he thought was a young man in need of help, the window to his driver's side door was quickly shattered by Ryder Landry's powerful paw, shards of glass scattered about. He then dragged the screaming man out of his car, and mauled him to death before the punctured, bloody shards in his neck, could finish him off first.
Cory suggested they'd save his corpse as an ingredient for his bean soup in the future while it's still fresh, but Seth demanded they should just dismantle his body parts, and dump them in the ocean to get rid of evidence.
Neither of the four hippies were disturbed, or perturbed by all this. Except Badger, who had no say throughout the whole thing.
////
Now, Seth drove their stolen, family-sized car with pride while Ryder sat in the passenger seat, Cory and Badger sat cramped in the back, and the four hippies smushed together in the far back that didn't have car doors or automatic windows.
"Okay, I'm confused . . . ," Ryder scratched his snout. He peeked through the review mirror to look at Badger. "these ponytail bitches are you cousins...?"
"Hey!," Dan yelped, offended, since he actually had a ponytail.
"Yes," Badger answered plainly. "Well, only one of them to be exact."
"So which one?"
Gerald raised his hand.
"How the hell are you all related anyway?," the brown bear gruffly asked, his sharp claws searched through the glove compartment. He mutters, "Does this thing have any cocaine—?"
"That's the same shit we keep asking!" Dan turned to the head of his friend group. "Gerald, is this like some beauty and the beast type shit, or does your dad have a kink for bestiality—?"
"Yo, Dan, shut the hell up! This is why we should've left you to go down with the pilot," Tom, who wore a bandanna, jokingly rebuked his younger friend.
"We're not," Badger gritted his teeth, annoyed anytime somebody would ask about his odd relations. "My grandma fell in love with his grandpa, somehow, our parents have a lot of siblings, and those siblings had a lot of adult kids, and me and Gerald happened to be one of them." He explained thoroughly.
Mr. Bear (aka Ryder) stared at him. "So, you're basically step-cousins related by marriage...?" He clarified. "No, freaky human-badger hybrid shit goin' on—?"
"Nah, don't kid yourself, we don't have any of that." Badger darted his eyes around the car, his muzzle itched for a smoke pipe, a lighter, or a cigarette. Anything to help ease his escalating anxiety with the help of nicotine since they just broke out of prison . . . and spilled blood along the way. "An interspecies romance is weird enough as it is."
"Yo, speaking of bitches though, how about we stop at a nearby town to get some blonde babes~?"
"Tom! Do you not remember the last time we tried to hit on a blonde chick at CricketLeap Park?," Gerald scowled. "Then it backfired because she decided to be a cunt, and fucking Mr. Wolf showed up?"
From the front of the car, Seth's ears perked up.
"Oh, yeah, we should probably just stick with brunettes next time—."
Seth's clawed fingers twitched over the wheel. Ryder glanced over.
"Nah, fuck that!," Gerald exclaimed. "The real question should be when are these fuckers gonna pay us?" He boldly gestured to the violent convicts. "You know, since we just risked our soft asses for those—?"
Everyone suddenly held on to their seatbelts like it was their only source to breathe as Seth made an unexpected wide-u turn on the empty road, and came to a full stop without ease. The whole vehicle jerked forward, then back. The hippies whined as the back of their skulls smacked against the window behind them.
Seth turned over his shoulder, his looming gaze falling over to the hippies. He smiled, creepily. The darkness in his saw-edged smile criminally reflected the evil look lingering behind his yellow, sclera eyes.
"I'm sorry . . . what was that?"
The four young men winced in their seats.
"Uhhh . . ." Gerald hesitated, but the other three desperately egged him to respond. He stutters as he repeated, ""The-The real question s-should be when are th-these fu-fuckers gonna pa-pay us"?"
"No. Before that . . ."
Gerald nudged Tom to reply next. ""We-We should probably just s-stick with b-b-brunettes"—?"
"No . . ." Seth kept on his dark smile, enjoying every bit of slowly gaining back the control he had once over the humans that weren't guards, cops, animal control, or the SWAT team.
Gerald unwilling sputtered again, ""f-fucking M-Mr. Wolf s-showed up"?"
"Bingo."
After a split second without word, the huge wolf put the pedal to the metal, made a wide-u turn again (not once caring about the possibility of accidentally crashing the car head first into the ocean), and sped back down the road.
"Interesting. Very interesting . . . ," Seth grinned hauntingly. He secretly winked to Badger.
The smaller mammal shook his head, suppressing any emotion that tried to claw its way to his frigid face.
Badger knew what had to be done, but his brain couldn't dare finish any thought about what his psychotic boss might have in store.
Gerald, wide-eyed and frightened, mouthed the words—The fuck was that?!?!—to Badger in front of him. The rest of Gerald's friends still trembled in their seats. They kept their petrified stares glued to the large wolf, who now started slowing down on the road.
Too slow for their own liking.
"It's a long story," Badger only hinted, knowing he wouldn't be able to do anything to prevent his boss's future procedure, whatever that might be.
"Gerald," Seth said, like a strict military general about to give an order. The human man looked back at him, relieved to see and hear his daunting smile no longer present.
"Ye-Yes . . . ?"
"You asked when are we gonna pay you guys, correct?"
Gerald nodded slowly.
"I'll tell ya what: I can offer you fifty million more dollars than you guys bargained for, if . . . you four gentlemen tell me when was the last time you saw this man by the name of, "Mr. Wolf"," he bribed.
Back when they were in prison, Seth ordered Badger to call his cousin through the phone holder, holding out an offer any young and dumb human couldn't refuse: 20 million dollars that was hidden under their "old hideout", back in the city, as part of their escape plan. It was the sole reason they were rescued in the first place.
But now, Gerald is beginning to buy less into the fugitive wolf's other end of the deal. " . . . I-Is the money really legit?"
"Of course!," Cory Croc beamed. "After all, we may have use to be chased around by our dear old friend, Officer Malarkey, nineteen years ago before this guy's son even ratted us out—." he pointed to Seth. "—but here's the catch . . ."
The hippies shrink back as Mr. Croc moved his immense snout closer to their tiny heads (well, tiny to him).
"The police never actually found our place." The enormous croc winked.
The hippies squinted their eyes, giving both he, the wolf, and the bear, skeptical looks.
"Hey, you'll be fine . . . ," Badger lied, reassuringly patting his cousin's shoulder.
Gerald looked at him, then back at the wolf. "Okay . . ." He took a deep breath. "the last time we saw Mr. Wolf, was when we were hanging out at CricketLeap Park."
"Gerald's sister wouldn't let us smoke drugs in her backyard, so we went to a parking lot instead while it was nearly dark," Dan explained.
"The freaky wolf dude kinda looked like you, but more skinnier, and smaller," Tim described.
"Yeah," Tom agreed. "And he has these, like, thick black eyebrows, along with a small notch."
"He also wears a white suit everywhere he goes."
"Bro always looks like he's from the 1860's!," Tom added with a chuckle.
"And other people say they see him hang out with a creepy python named, Mr. Snake, most of the time—."
As the four hippies continued explaining what limited information they knew about the current infamous gang, Seth's eye catches the attention of a gravel spot up ahead that is convenient for wide parking spaces . . . and a breathtaking view of the horizon line from a high cliff.
He smirked as he accelerated towards it.
"Hmm, I see. And the blonde?," Seth asked. "Earlier, you boys mentioned something about trying to hit on a blonde chick, but then it backfired because he appeared . . . was she with him?"
The hippies glanced among one another, as if they could try to search for an answer by simply reading each other's minds, but failed. They look back at the muscular wolf.
"Umm . . I dunno, maybe," Gerald said, uncertain.
"Oh, I think she was, definitely!," Tim spoke aloud. "A few seconds after we talked to her, that furry fucker came up from behind her like he was some big tough guy!"
"So do you presume she knows him?"
"Like I said earlier, sir, I dunno," Gerald shrugged. "I'm pretty sure she does somehow though, because I didn't see her run away by the time we drove off."
"He probably already ate her when he had the chance," Dan mockingly concludes. "like in Little Red Riding Hood when she had the little brown basket, hehe."
"Or ate her out first while no one's looking, then just dumped her used-up pussy into the river to leave no bloody evidence behind," Tom laughed contemptibly. The three other hippies laughed along with him. The three huge anthropomorphic animals couldn't care less.
However, Badger shot his step-cousin with a hardened glare.
"Nah, but for real, we don't even know her name," Gerald clarified, as if what he and his friends were laughing about earlier, didn't meant anything. "or if whether or not she might be an accomplice to him."
"Or if she might be his bitch! Hahaha!" The boys snickered again.
"Tom! Dan!," Badger finally put his foot down.
"Whaaat?"
"Shut the fuck up . . . "
Tim whistled a long, flat tune. Tom jerked his thumb at him, looking the other way. "Pff, you're fun . . ."
"Ignore him—Anyway, do any of you remember what her scent was like—Oh wait, human noses are weak, never mind—Do you guys remember what she looked like that night at least? Or, what clothes she wore...?," Seth asked, hoping to dig for any more details about his son's "accomplice" as possible, if there's a chance he'd have more to deal with than just his son's gang.
"Umm, well for starters, she kinda got the pretty 'blonde hair, blue eyes' thing going on, but from what I remember, her hair was also very long, and platinum," Gerald recounted. "In fact, it looked almost too white than her actual skin itself—."
"She was also wearing blue jeans with a thinned-strapped black shirt," Tim said. "And she was carrying a big brown purse."
"She looked real skinny too," Dan joined in as he gestured with his hands. "Kinda slim, but also curvy at the waist. Plus, she had a bit of a fiery attitude." He then smirked as he added, "I'm not gonna lie, it did turned me on a little bit, especially that sweet ass of hers—."
"Dammit, Dan! Now you're making me wanna fuck her brains out again—Ow! The fuck man?!," Tom cried, he rubbed the stinging pain on his cheek when he felt Badger pimp-slap him across the face.
"You boys speak about a stranger like a free prostitute again, then expect to be treated like one . . . ," Badger asserted.
He smiled to himself, a rush of pride showered him like a tidal wave. For once, he was able to declare his statement without needing to fear any kind of backlash for once. He knew Seth didn't give two shits about the lives of humans anyway.
////
Seth maneuvered his stolen vehicle in the gravel parking lot that broke away from the empty highway. He set the car on park.
The four hippies uncomfortably stood five feet from the well-muscled wolf next to them as each of their backs were lined up against the car. Though the young men were average height at best, they'd be lying if they said they weren't insecure about the fact their heads could barely reach up to Seth's muscular chest.
Meanwhile, Ryder, Croc, and Badger did their own thing nearby.
Croc sat on the gravel by himself playing tic tac toe with a stick, Ryder had a "oh, I feel so good" smile with his tongue lazily hanging out as he scratched his back against a tree, and Badger managed to create a small spark of fire by rubbing two quartz rocks together. He used it to his advantage by lighting up a free cigarette he miraculously found underneath his car seat.
The other end of the cancer stick burned as Badger breathed in the enticing nicotine, then let out a puff of smoke through his nostrils. He leaned his upper torso against the small fence as he gazed at the far ocean horizon. The roaring wind made his worn-out orange jumpsuit flap violently. The rough white-caps rammed into the rocks thirty feet below from where he and the crew stood.
Gerald snuck glances at the man-sized anthropomorphic wolf, who had his hefty arms crossed firm in front of his chest. Seth's poker-faced gaze fixated on the never-ending blue water as if he were a devoted security guard.
"If you got something to say, then just spit it out," Seth ordered abruptly, noting how Gerald kept looking at him like he wanted to ask him something, but couldn't properly get the words out.
"Oh, right! Sorry—." He awkwardly cleared his throat. "—So, about our pay, how long until we get back to the city so we can receive our reward?"
Seth stopped staring at the ocean.
With his arms still crossed, he slowly, steadily, turned his head to look at the curious hippy humans. He gave them each a bombastic side-eye as he carefully said, " . . . Your reward?"
"Yeah," he answered meekly. "You know, our, fifty million dollars...?"
"Oh," Seth paused . . . for an uncomfortable amount of time. "Well, don't you see, Mister Gerald hipster? You four already have your reward . . ."
An unsafe, unsettling feeling suddenly crept to churn back into his stomach as he watched the towering, grey wolf's evil smile, creepily return to his black lips.
"Uhhh . . . what-what do you mean...?"
"Because you and your friends have just reached the end of your road."
////
Pleasant screams of terror soothed Seth's canine ears as he and his fellow crew, quietly stood behind the safety of the fence, watching the four hippies fall into the beckoning ocean thirty feet below the cliff side.
Each of the hippie's wrists were bound to heavy stone with thick rope made from the Ferocious Four's orange jumpsuits.
Seth watched in anticipation as the outline of Dan's tiny figure, plunged into the ocean head first. Then Tim. Then Tom. And finally, Gerald. Within a matter of seconds, each of them disappeared beneath the black, merciless waters. The ponderous stones, each the size of overweight bean bag chairs, dragged the young men down with them.
All the while, Seth smiled wickedly as he imagined them drowning into the unknown abyss, knowing they'd never be found for a long time. No bodies, no crime.
He held his fist up to the grizzly bear who stood shoulder to shoulder to him.
"Go mad?," Seth smiled smugly.
"Or go fuck yourself," Ryder finished as he fist-bumped his partner, a sickening smile of delight twisting his black lips.
////
Freedom, sung by Pharrell Williams, played on the radio. For the Ferocious Four gang, (well, for the three members at least) this was a comfort song for them.
Ryder drummed his paw to the optimistic, La la la, parts of the song, Cory Croc bobbed his head to the upbeat music. Seth had one arm control the motion of the car while his other arm rested itself on top of the rolled down window, letting the constant wind brush over his fur. His blank face, and calm posture in the thick muscle areas beneath his fur, showed nothing but his relaxed state.
The car still reeked of human flesh and sweat, but it didn't bother him anymore now that they were probably making friends with the deep sea merpeople.
Badger, on the other paw, could only stare out the window, his face now depressed and solemn. He ignored the gorgeous, glistening view of the bright blue ocean next to the road, as he couldn't bear the thought of looking at the very thing that took his family. Sure, he might've never been real close to them on a personal level all throughout his life (or anybody really), and not to mention they're not the nicest folks at heart, but . . . deep down, it still took Badger's hardened feelings to account.
He inhaled a fresh breath of nicotine, and blew out a puff of smoke that would temporarily evict his sky-rocketed stress levels.
He could briefly see his reflection through the glass window, and took a moment to look at himself. Large bags hung carelessly under his eyes, wrinkly ruffled fur, visible wax in his ears, a lack of hygiene, possible flees in his fur, and overall, just . . . how he always upheld the same image of himself for years: A dirty, good for nothing badger, that never had any real purpose to began with.
He forcefully teared his eyes from the window. He suddenly became interested at the bottom of the scratch-marked car floor.
Seth drove on a lone road. If the car had carried any more substances besides one cigarette Badger stole, he'd probably use them up right about now . . . to taste the sweet release of long awaited freedom he had attained. Plus, he had the updated information about his son and accomplice he needed to drag out of the dumbass friend group. Sure, it may be little, but hey, less is more, and more is less, right?
As Seth casually continued cruising through the empty, non-confrontational highway next to rows and rows of trees they were now heading too, the four criminals catch sight of a strange figure that loomed in the far distance, just on the right side of the road.
A lone, unmoving, human figure.
A lonely, silhouetted outline of a man, seemed to be staring at what used to be a two-story house—now a demolished, old, wrecked, pile of nothing . . . and long burned to the ground.
"What the . . . ?," Seth breathed. His eyes squinted at the man in the distance, deeply enthralled. Not even a moment later, his eyes widened. "Hold on a damn minute..."
Determined to cement his inner questions, the anthro wolf began to slow down his car, and pull over to the right. The man's physical features became more noticeable as Seth drove near him.
"Seth, the hell are you doing—?"
"That fucker looks familiar, shut up," he cut off Ryder.
Once Seth was able to close the large gap between the mystery figure and himself, Seth slowed the car down, then stopped.
He parked eight feet next to the human man, but, somehow, for some reason, he didn't seem to hint his approach. The only thing Seth could see was his back.
Cory, Ryder, and Badger, exchanged confused glances as their boss visually examined the man.
He was average height, wore muddy cameo boots, and a thick belt that held up his rusty jeans in place. A hem of his red-patterned shirt poked from underneath a light grey jacket he had on. He looked like one of those lumberjack men you'd see online when the media tries to portray a man that lived far from civilization, but what really gave out the fact he was an old man though, was a smooth balding spot that peeked through amongst the gray hair at the back of his head.
His appearance didn't mean anything to him though, because the moment Seth caught a whiff of that old man's prickly, stony scent, thanks to a blissful breeze, his tail spiked up. His jaw widened.
"No, fucking way . . ."
Alarmed by an unexpected, but yet, familiar voice, the old man turned around.