As Gazelle followed Symba out the front door of Club Für, she noticed that he was glancing around in all directions, as though the world was watching over his shoulder. His brown eyes darted in all directions, animate spheres that were equipped with minds of their own. His tail flicked back and forth like he was agitated, the stripes appearing to become elongated as it cut quickly through the air.
As the two began to walk down the street, Symba, his eyes flared with excitement and tension, turned into an alleyway next to the building.
At first, Gazelle didn't know what exactly to think, but then, she caught that same anxious look in Symba's eyes. That same sort of fear.
Unsure of what she would find waiting for her; Gazelle followed Symba down the alleyway and through a wooden door in the side of the building. At first, it was totally dark.
"Symba? What's going on?" Gazelle asked as she looked around, wide-eyed. She was beginning to get nervous when she heard a "bzzt" and saw a hanging light bulb that flickered twice and then glowed dimly, casting an orangey-yellow light across the entire space. Symba smiled sheepishly as he looked around the room.
"Sorry about the mess," he chuckled.
He wasn't exaggerating.
The room really was a total and complete mess.
On three walls were pinned dozens upon dozens of newspaper clippings and flyers and photographs, organized in a totally chaotic manner. Books, photo albums and computer discs were scattered all over the place, with notepads filled with scribblings. On his multi-sized, beat-up desk resided a silver-plated Aper laptop, which flashed several random floral designs as a screensaver. The music coming from behind another door across the room told Gazelle that they were just near the main floor of Club Für. The remaining wall, opened up by one small window, was painted an ugly shade of dark taupe. The only object on the wall was a pinned-up copy of the Capital City Sun.
On the cover of the newspaper was a horrifying photo of Jonathan Flanell, the very same hideously-scarred monstrous ram from the riot and that night at the theater. He was being held down by two rams dressed in police uniforms as he seemed to struggle for his freedom, his one good eye lit up in hatred. A frighteningly dramatic headline hovered above the ram's visage of pure hatred: "PSL BOMBS BUS STOP; FLANELL SUSPECTED OF HIGH TREASON."
Symba noticed Gazelle was staring at the massive headline.
"Yeah," he explained, "that's the ugly kingpin ram himself. Although, as you already told me, you've met him before."
"What is all of this?" Gazelle asked, incredulous as she looked around the chaotic room once more.
Symba placed his paw on the desk, and stood with a grave expression.
"This," Symba explained, "is all the evidence I can muster against the Prey Supremacy League."
Gazelle seemed a bit shocked.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, aghast that her now closest friend was doing something of this nature.
"Well," Symba began, "to start with, I remember you asking why the prey seem to hate the preds in Capital City. Well, believe it or not, your idea of prey and preds not hating each other is actually not that farfetched. It's been on the verge of happening for several years now. Certain prey are finally trying to connect with predators. Prey kids are helping pred kids in their schools avoid bullies. My guess is that animals all over the city are finally getting sick of the lingering hate that's been around since the '40s."
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Zootopia: Runaway: Gazelle's Story
General FictionShe's the most beautiful, talented and wealthiest animal Zootopia has ever known. She rose from tragedy and ashes on more than one occasion to change the course of history forever. She loved once and has suffered ever since then. She became an overn...
