After The End (A Zootopia Fanfiction) Part 2

Chapter 5: Lost in a Blur

She wrapped her lips around the opening and downed another bottle at an unhealthy pace in the little dimly lit bar.

Skye slammed the bottle on the counter, demanding the bartender for another. Skye was a dangerous drinker. A nasty habit she must have received from her grandfather based off stories her dad used to tell her. Alcohol is a horrible coping mechanism, but it is her coping mechanism, nonetheless. At least when she was angry.

The bartender snapped open another beer with ease and gave it to the vixen. She grabbed it by the neck and gave another long swig. She preferred Buck Light. The same kind her father occasionally drank when she was little and at barbecues with constantly changing coworkers. Of course he did not drink nearly to the same extent his daughter does now. Even then, Skye does not drink that often. Only when she was truly angry or needed a distraction from all the crap in her life. Just like everything that was happening now.

Skye set the bottle on the counter for a moment. And she contemplated.

Why should she have expected anything more from that worthless Jack Savage? That rabbit never changed. He always did what he wanted, whenever he wanted, and without a thought of anyone around him; even her. What did she see in him again? Why did she ever think she was in love with such a jackass, and more than that, why the hell would she agree to marry him?

Her mind was in a blur. A fog that would not lift. A blindfold over her sky blue eyes. She was fighting with herself. She knew deep down that she did love him, but her anger was winning the conflict running circles around her mind, and the alcohol was assisting that train of thought. And that train was going into a dark tunnel with no lights to see what lied ahead. Her mind was blacking out from the anger, and whether she wanted to or not, or if she'll even remember it when the alcohol dies out of her system, she was along for the ride.

Skye's ear twitched. She looked in her peripheral vision to see a gang of lustful little thugs snickering and wooing at her from across the bar.

There was a lynx, an overweight warthog, and many other animals that she could see at the surrounding tables. She scoffed and took another big swig of her beer.

The lynx pulled his jacket forward and walked up to the drunken fox. He knelt on the counter next to her. "Hey there toots. How bought you let me buy your next round?" He said with the smell of hard whiskey on his breath.

"The only thing you're gonna buy is my foot up your rear." She replied between hiccups.

"You've got quite a mouth on you, fox. Why don't we find a better use for that?" He gave a mischievous smirk as he leaned in for a kiss.

Skye promptly replied by chopping him in the throat with her paw, making him stumble back to catch his breath. He grunted and snarled. "Dumb bitch!"

He lifted his paw up for a slap, but even in her drunken state, Skye managed to keep her reflexes. She grabbed his paw, and with her other one, smashed her beer bottle over his head, followed by kicking him in the chest, knocking him to the floor.

The other animals hopped from their seats, and the stereotypical bar fight commenced.

The regular old customers began running out of the bar. The warthog threw punches, but they only landed air as Skye dodged them. She gave a few return punches and kicked the warthog back. He fell into a bar stool, which broke under the pure weight and force of the hog. The other animals pulled knives, some brought their pool cues along with them for the fight. She continued to take down every mammal that came within range. Cues were splinted, glass flung through the air, alcohol was all over the floor along with the animals knocked out by the vixen.

Skye pulled out a knife. She grabbed the lynx and pressed the blade against his throat. He began breathing hard and gazed with horror into the vixen's malice filled eyes. "Still think I'm a dumb bitch, you perverted fuck?!" She screamed in his face.

Skye's ear caught movement behind her. She turned around to a fist in the side of her cheek. She dropped her knife and hit the bar counter. The lynx picked up the knife and went in for the kill. Skye couldn't react fast enough. All she could do was close her eyes, clench her muscles, and brace herself for what came next.

But nothing happened.

Skye slowly opened her eyes to the realization that she had not been stabbed. But why? She looked forward. She was not sure if what she was seeing in her drunken state was real or not.

It was Jack, gripping the lynx's knife with his new robotic paw; the blade was just inches from her snout.

Jack grabbed his wrist, breaking it like a dry twig. The lynx shrieked and he got his snout punched in with Jack's free paw, knocking him to the ground unconscious.

The brawl continued, and Skye fought side by side with Jack, dropping one animal after the other. A few minutes had gone by, and it was all over.

Blood, glass and alcohol covered the bar floor along with several animals. Skye was breathing hard. She looked up at Jack who was buttoning his cuffs and adjusting his tie.

He looked at her with an almost disappointed look. She snarled at him. She was stumbling, and she hiccuped. She had a shard in her paw. She miserably swung at the hare. He backed away with a single step. She swung again, but he grabbed her wrist and took the shard from her. She went for a wide punch, but he caught it with his other paw, his mechanical one. The grip was tight, and it made her wince briefly, but Jack couldn't feel a thing.

She stared into his eyes, but he could not see annoyance, or anger, or anything she normally caught in his gaze; instead, she was looking at deep blue with pitch black irises. All she could see was him.

She was still breathing hard, but she could feel her scowl whimper away into a normal gaze, and then into a look of sadness and disappointment; but they still held a sense of arrogance.

Skye limped to him.

Jack threw his arm over her shoulder and helped his drunken partner walk out of the bar. She didn't fight it anymore. She had worn herself out.

"Jack..." Skye muttered.

Her voice was slurred, stained with a strong aroma of beer. He was stone faced. Skye could feel her stomach giving out. She leaned over and retched. She fell to her knees as she continued to vomit. She never did. The Fox was normally able to hold her alcohol, but she must have surpassed her own limit this time. She couldn't help it. She loved the jackrabbit, but he drove her to the brink of madness.

Jack placed his paw on her back as she wiped the bile from her lips. He went in front and hoisted the fox onto his back.

He carried her away. He would carry her away forever, but for now, a hotel would do. Hopefully one with a bar so he could destress on a glass of whiskey himself. Skye could feel her heart pound on his chest. A year left her eye and she intertwined her fingers to hold on tighter to him, feeling the ring on her finger. The tear drop flowed along her snout and fell on his fancy suit. He could hear it splatter.

He just kept on carrying her.