Mr. Bart's Last Stand
Finnick pulled his van up to a large gray building. It stretched on into the distance looking more like condos for old people than an actual prison. If it wouldn't have been for the tall electrified fence, the guard towers, and the bars on every window, Nick wouldn't have known it was a prison at all.
Nick frisked and signed in before he was escorted inside from the front gate. It was cold and quiet more like a tomb than anything else. It made the fur on the back of his neck stand up. He scratched at his collar to stop his heckle from tingling. Nick didn't see any of the prisoners on his way in and once he made it to the visitor's room. He was left alone with his thoughts.
He lit a cigarette, his hands trembling with nervous tension. It had been years since he'd seen Mr. Bart but the things the man did were still fresh wounds in his mind. He took a long puff from the cigarette letting the smoke settle in his lungs before exhaling through his nostrils.
“Those things will kill ya.”
The voice was so close it caused Nick to jump. When he turned around he expected to see the smooth fox standing there with his million dollar smile, except he wasn't so smooth anymore. Age caught up to him, the sickness was taken everything that the aging had left behind. The smooth fox, oddly enough, was just that. Furless over most of his body and when he moved he was permanently accompanied by a new friend. An IV stand, dripping life-sustaining liquid into his veins. Mr. Bart used it as a cane to move around the room. When he slunk down in his seat he stared at Nick with eyes that no longer saw straight. The cataract making it difficult to tell if the fox was looking at him at all. The guard that accompanied him moved to stand behind the withered fox.
Nick leaned forward to put the cigarette out in the ashtray but stopped when Mr. Bart waved his hand. “Don't. I like the smell. Plus putting it out won't buy me any more time on this fun amusement park ride we call life.”
“You look good,” Nick smirked.
Mr. Bart's cackling broke down into a coughing fit forcing him to grab the table for extra stability. “That's my Nick, always good for a laugh.”
“You wanted to see me?”
“I did.” The fox looked at the ram guard that was standing behind him. “You can leave, Jesse.”
“You know I can't do that, Bart.” The guard grunted, resting a hoofed hand on his frail shoulder.
“I just want some time alone with my boy here. Look at me, there's nothing I can do to this guy that would get me stomped. Come on, talk to him for me, Nicky.”
“Are you alright with this, sir.” The ram pushed hat back on his head.
“Rest assured, if he tries anything, I can take care of myself.” Nick rolled his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other.
“If you're sure.”
The guard gave a sharp nod before stepping out of the room leaving Nick alone with the not so smooth fox. Bart reached across the table for Nick's cigarette. He was sure the old fox would be pleading with his eyebrows if he had them left.
“Please.”
Nick sighed, putting it between the fox's dry lips. A smile graced his lips as he took a long drag from the cigarette. His eyes rolling back in his head as he held the puff for as long as he could. Which wasn't long. When he breathed it out it came with a rattling cough that quickly turned into a laugh. Nick gritted his teeth feeling a heated anger coming to his face, his patience was running thin.
“What did you want, Mr. Bart?”
The fox took another drag from the cigarette, before looking at Nick. There was an odd sincerity to his wrinkled naked face. Nick was repulsed by the fox's face. It was impossible to believe that the mammal could be any more disgusted than he already was.
“There are things I've done that I'm not proud of.” Bart's words road on a wisp of azure smoke.
“I should say so.”
Mr. Bart slammed his hand on the edge of the table. The loud noise caused Nick to jump. A flash of the younger smooth fox slapping Nick hard across the face, hard enough to throw him to the ground filled his vision. The gravelly voice that followed sounded like something from the grave, something from a nightmare.
“Shut up for a god damned second. I'm not proud of what I did but it's in the past. I did them and now I'm suffering for every last one of them.”
“I'm not sure you are, old man.” There was venom in the younger fox's words.
“Nick, I called you here to tell you something very important. I've always regarded you as the son I never had.”
“Well, that's good. I can only imagine what you would have done to the son you did have.”
“You're funny but now's not the time for jokes. I need you to listen to me.”
Nick leaned over the table, his teeth bared. “You should have thought about that before you tortured me.”
“You know why I did it?”
“Why?”
“Because...I couldn't treat you any differently than any of those other kids. You were too soft, they would have eaten you alive.”
“So what, it would have been a vacation? You made me miserable all the time. The beatings, the electric shock. You took me away from my mother.”
A bright light filled Nick's vision. The sting across his muzzle left him tasting blood. Mr. Bart had slapped Nick hard across the face. The surprise right hand hit hard enough to break the bones in the smooth fox's ring and pinkie finger. They hung limp and mangled as Mr. Bart took the cigarette from his mouth. The smooth fox wheezed and fell back into his seat again.
“I gave you a goddamn life. I gave you the skills to take what you want, whenever you fucking wanted it. I taught you how to be strong, to be a fighter. I taught you how to be ruthless and you did not disappoint me. I was more of a father to you than your own worthless dad, he was a fuckin' coward!” Mr. Bart yelled until he was hoarse.
Nick rubbed his muzzle spitting a red blob onto the table. “What do you know about my dad?” Nick kept his voice even trying to control the rage building inside of him.
“I know him, I know a lot about him. He used to work for me! When you were born, all he talked about was how much he hated you, and your mother for trapping him. That's the only reason he married your mom. She was a one night stand that hung around.”
“He worked for you?”
“There's my bright boy, welcome back. Didn't ever wonder how I found you? How do you think I was able to sweet talk your mom into giving you up? I knew all the right things to say to her because of that douche bag.”
“Lies.”
“Truth, here's another truth for you, boyo. Those pills your mom OD on, those were his. Pill popping daddy took 'em so he didn't have to think about how much he hated the both of you. His other hobby consisted of sleeping on my couch because he didn't want to go home.”
“Shut up! You're lying out your devil ass.”
Nick lost his composure, getting up from the chair. In a haze, he found the strength he didn't know he had. He grabbed the edge of the table flipping it over to rest on the floor against the wall. The fury behind the fox's green eyes was enough to send the withered fox reeling. The guard burst through the door to see what the commotion was. Mr. Bart wheezed, holding up his hand as if to stop him.
“It's alright, I fell and knocked the table over. You can go.”
“Sir?”
Nick didn't say anything, he just nodded and watched as the guard left. When he looked back at Mr. Bart he finally saw the fox for what he was, nothing. Nick felt silly for letting the shadow of the mammal get the best of him, bringing him down to his level. Bart Deets was a distant memory now. He may at one point have been something to fear but now he was nothing.
“You're a liar, a thief, but more importantly, you're nothing.”
“Thief, yeah. Nothing...most definitely, but a liar. Never! Everything I've ever told you was the truth. Think about it...I didn't do that with any of those other kids, just you, Nicky. I taught you how to run the business. I was going to leave it all to you once you turned 21 but you were just a little too sly for me.” Bart laughed affectionately, a wheeze caught in his throat.
Nick opened his mouth to speak, but the old mammal was already at it again. “Shut up, I'm not done yet. You know why I asked you here?”
Nick knew the question was rhetorical so chose not to say anything. Instead, he watched the old fox reach into his gray jacket fishing out a paper from the inside chest pocket. His hand trembled as he held it out to the younger fox. Nick took it but didn't open it.
“What is it?”
“Read it.” The old fox settled back in his seat.
“Can't you just tell me what it says?”
“Just read it!”
Nick unfolded the paper and read aloud. “Last will and Testament of Mr. Bartholomew Johannson Deets, blah, blah, blah...” Nick's green eyes skimmed the page “...leave all of my worldly possession to one, Nicholas P. Wilde, to be handed over at the moment of my death. All legal fees and funeral expenses have been paid....” Nick skimmed a little further down, his voice strained. “...to the sum of 1.5 Million dollars...why?”
Mr. Bart smiled a familiar crooked smile. “Because you're the son I never had, that's why. You were the closest thing to family I ever had. And I know you're gonna put that money to good use on my, excuse me, your amusement park. You do good things for those kids, I envy you. Sometimes I wish I could go back and run things like you do. You're a good kid, your mother would have been proud.”
“Thanks.”
“Now go. Take that copy with you, so you'll always remember me. Now, go. I've gotta get busy dying.”
Nick chewed his bottom lip in contemplation. He pulled another cigarette from the pack lighting it. He walked over to Mr. Bart holding it out to him.
“Lemme help you with that.”
Mr. Bart cackled again, taking the cigarette. “Good boy, Nicky. Give my love to Finnick. Tell him to thank you for bringing you home to me.”
Nick nodded and walked out into the hall. Another guard was there ready to escort him back to the parking lot. Nick felt numb inside, more so than he imagined he would. Seeing the shell of the mammal who essentially raise him was a haunting experience. It all left a bad taste in his mouth. On the other hand, the paper tucked in his pants pocket caused an excited tingle in his stomach. Of course, it came at the cost of a mammal's life, but Nick couldn't think of a better mammal to pay that price.
When Nick stepped outside taking a deep breath of the fresh air. It smelled far cleaner than he thought possible. Finnick stood next to his van enjoying a rather large cigar. The moment he saw the other fox he retreated back into the van. It wasn't a surprise that the little fox didn't like the idea of hanging out outside a prison. Nick climbed into the van next to him. The little fox's amber eyes studying him.
“Well...”
Nick smiled and looked at his friend. “Well, I'm a millionaire.”
“What?” Finnick looked around for a mammal with a camera trying to catch him in a prank video before looking back at Nick, the same questioning expression on his face.
“When he dies, he's leaving everything to me.”
“So you get his bunk, his cell?”
Nick pulled the piece of paper from his pocket handing it to the smaller fox. Nick watched the reaction. The scrunched angry eyebrows growing softer and softer. He was waiting for the reaction and it didn't disappoint him. The small fox's eyes went wide, his mouth slipping open. When Finnick looked back at him, they bumped fists and both started laughing.
