Sunderance Chapter 28 Part 1: The Scales and The Sword (Patreon)

    No cameras had been allowed into the courtroom, something that Judy had known before the trial had started. It had been a decision by the Chief Justice, to prevent what she described as the media circus outside from coming into the courtroom. Fairness in the ruling demanded that the people of Zootopia not be involved in the case directly since public opinion had long ago turned in favor of the innocence of Mr. Otterton. As a lawyer, she had faced public scrutiny before, though, in her defense of Gideon Grey, the opinion of those in the Commonwealth and Bunnyburrow had been far less kindly towards the predator. This also Judy understood, making it easier when she rose from her seat next to the otter and made her way towards the front of the courtroom. Made it easier, but no less vital. No matter the opinion of the population, what was important to her was getting to the truth and from what she had gathered, she had enough of the truth to do what needed to be done here, today.

    The rest of the truth? Well, that could come later.

    “Your Honor,” she began after drawing in a slow, deep breath while facing the bench, then turned to face the courtroom, “mammals of Zootopia. I know that the case of the murder of Mrs. Otterton galvanized the city, not only because of the unexpected nature of the victim – a well-liked member of her community, free with her kindness and good nature with anyone who came into contact with her – but also because of the mammal accused of killing her. According to everyone who knew them personally, Emmitt Otterton was nothing if not a devoted, loving husband. I won’t go into details about that, because you will be hearing testimony and reports from their friends and family later today, but suffice it to say that his accusation, arrest, and shotgun trial sent shockwaves through all of Zootopia. The shock of it stretched so far that it reached The Common Wealth, and even there – outside of the reach of Zootopian law – there were protests and petitions flying around about the injustice of what happened that day. The end of two innocent lives: one in cold blood, with violence, and one through a brutal manipulation of the system to imprison one otter.

    “The reasons behind this? I will not go into detail about today. Not because I think it is unimportant, but because it is not the reason we are here. Why I am here, at this moment, is to give to this court the reasonable doubt that was so obviously ignored in the rush to sweep the murder and Mr. Otterton himself under the rug and out of the public eye.”

    She paused for a moment, just long enough to take a breath before sweeping one arm towards the otter who watched her with a calm expression and tired eyes.

    “What I am going to prove to you is three things. First: I will bring to light the character of the male that was so easily tried and convicted of murder. I will show this court why many, including myself, believe that he is incapable of such a crime against someone he loved very much. Second: that Emmitt Otterton was physically incapable of the murder, both in the precise way it was carried out and because of his location at the time of the murder. And last, perhaps most important: I will show how the investigation into the murder was carried out with something other than the truth in mind, leading to a court case that could only be called an attack on justice.

    “With these three things alone,” she continued while holding up three fingers as she paced over the floor in front of the prosecution’s table, feeling nausea and worry of being in front of so many mammals vanish as she felt herself falling into the role she had found she was best at, “I could easily bring reasonable doubt into the case. I believe this would be more than enough to prove that something in the justice system of Zootopia went wrong and set an innocent otter free. But like many, I will not be content to just take a token victory. So, I have evidence proving that the statements of one of the arresting officers was a lie.”

    These words caused a startled murmur to pass through those seated behind Otterton, who himself sat up a little straighter in his seat as he met her gaze with a soft nod. Her gaze then passed behind him, to Neveen, who had a small smile playing over her lips though she didn’t seem nearly as surprised as those around her. The murmuring lasted long enough that Chief Justice Bellwether banged her gavel twice sharply.

    “Order,” she demanded, then banged again and repeated her call for order before the murmuring finally died down. Once quiet had returned, she fixed her gaze on Judy with a sharp sort of warning. “I do not allow hearsay in my courtroom, Miss Hopps. I expect this evidence to be compelling at the very least.”

    “I would not have brought it to the attention of the court otherwise, Your Honor,” Judy replied, giving a slight incline of her head while keeping her ears high. This certainty seemed to both intrigue and mollify the sheep, who gave a short nod in reply before waving for her to continue even as Judy made her way back towards her seat at the defense table. “By the end of the day, my hope is to see this otter walk out of this courtroom, knowing that he is the free mammal he always should have been. Also, I hope to see the case of the murder of Mrs. Otterton reopened and investigated with open eyes and with the intent of finding real justice. While we cannot undo the damage that has been done, we can at least see that it stops here and make mammals everywhere see that justice still has meaning. Thank you, Your Honor.”

    “Good,” the Chief Justice replied, turning her gaze from Judy to the fox who sat behind the prosecution’s desk. To Judy, it seemed for a moment that her eyes focused on the fact that there was not a single mammal sitting on that side of the isle, before she spoke. “Prosecution, would you like to make an opening statement?”

    “Uh,” the fox said, hastily getting to his feet with his paws resting flat against the table. He glanced towards Judy with no real animosity in his eyes, before that gaze flicked behind the bunny for a moment. While she didn’t dare turn herself to confirm that he had looked at The Administrator with that glance, she was almost certain that he had - even as he just as quickly returned his attention to the front of the courtroom. “No, your honor. I have nothing to add.”

    “Very well,” Bellwether said, pushing her glasses up with one finger as the fox returned to his seat without further comment. It seemed to Judy that Bellwether was either not surprised by his lack of a statement or was hiding it very well. And while this, the lack of an opening statement, and the glance towards Neveen had all been unusual occurrences, she didn’t have time to dwell on that fact when Bellwether spoke again.

    “Miss Hopps, you may call your first witness.”

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    They sent a single wolf first.

    It wasn’t unexpected. While they had no doubt been honest about having watched him, studied how he fought, they had never directly faced him before. With the space restricted by the walls of the alley and their understanding that anyone who tried to get past him would leave themselves vulnerable, he had known that they would not be charging him all at once either way. To do so would have allowed him, as the smaller mammal, to sow chaos by directing their limited attack ranges towards each other in the shuffle of limbs. Whether they would have followed this tactic without the guidance of the Alpha in their ranks? He had no way of knowing. So, instead, he took the advantage he was given, keeping his baton lowered at his side as green eyes focused on the grey wolf moving towards him. The others remained where they were, but two of them were tense and obviously ready to strike if the upper hand was gained. Likely, they hoped to prevent a death blow from being delivered. It was worth considering.

    “Never really thought I would have the chance to fight you,” the wolf said as the distance between them closed, his sword drawn, hilt held close to his chest by both paws with the tip of the straight blade pointed towards the fox. His stance moved towards one wall of the alley, which Nick saw immediately as an attempt to start the typical circling method of sizing up each other. It was a move that the fox refused, keeping his own stance forward-facing and relaxed as he moved in a way that mirrored the wolf’s.

    “You’re going to be disappointed in the end,” he replied simply, judging from the light steps but firmly planted feet and spaced legs that the other predator wasn’t a weekend warrior with his weapon.

    “I somehow doubt it,” was the reply, his lips curled in a silent snarl. Nick couldn’t decide if the snarl was because the attempt to get him to expose his back had failed, or simply an intimidation tactic to make him think a strike was coming. “We were all surprised when you exposed yourself to protect a bunny.”

    “Which is one reason you’re going to be disappointed,” Nick replied calmly, drawing in a slow breath as he kept his eyes focused on those of his opponent. “I am not who you all seem to think I am. But because it seems to be a common mistake, I’ll let it slide this time.”

    The other male’s expression never changed, never wavered. He didn’t even blink as he started to move towards the fox again. But his ear did flick, stayed back for a moment too long, telling Nick that the words were being considered. And that he used as an opening to strike. Dropping his stance, he took two steps towards the wolf before he launched himself forward, his baton drawn up to cross his chest as he saw the larger mammal’s arms tense and the sword flinch upward a fraction of an inch in response. Using the tiny opening, he dropped to one knee and twisted his body into a sweeping strike that would have his foot and then baton both striking low on the wolf. That was his plan, at any rate. However, his foot made no contact with the intended target when the wolf shifted his foot back half a pace and when he struck out with the baton, it struck the blade of the sword with a resounding echo of metal on metal.

    When he found himself facing the gray-furred predator, the speed of the other male caught him completely off guard. The sword easily batting aside the baton and the arm holding it swung upward in a quick strike that would not have been fatal if it had connected but would have been more than enough to wound had he not yanked his head back just in time. He felt the lethal whisper of air against the tip of his nose as it passed, but had no time to dwell on it when the fluid strike came around in a half-moon motion that had the blade slicing much closer to his chest that he would have liked. Much, much closer, he realized when he felt half of his tie flutter down his thigh and hit the ground even as he backstepped further away from his opponent. He wasn’t unaware of the appreciative murmurs from the rest of the pack as he put some space between them when he was not pursued. Eyes narrowed when he came to a stop, assessing that he had not been cut by the blade even if the front of his shirt at chest level had been cut through like paper. A moment’s pause made him roll his neck over his shoulders when he realized that he had miscalculated their intention, as they had known he would.

    They had not sent him one of their ranks as a sacrifice to see how he performed: they had sent him a master of individual combat.

    So, playing it as if he was slower than he really was from the start was not going to be as effective as he had hoped it would be. Growling slightly, he kept his eyes firmly on the wolf as he rolled his shoulders, shrugging out of the jacket and letting it drop to the ground behind him. Then he gripped the front of his shirt with both paws and tore it open, putting a scowl on his muzzle as he took a moment to unbutton the cuffs without dropping his baton. Once the shirt too was discarded, he moved towards the wolf again with the scowl still in place.

    This time when the two met, Nick had no intention of feinting in an attempt for a quick end to the fight. The quick double-handed forward jab from the wolf was met with the baton, deflecting the attack as he double-stepped closer in an attempt to close the distance. He was forced to fall back again when the wolf, rather than being unbalanced by the deflection, swept the sword around with a graceful underhand sweep that forced him to drop his baton lower to defend and take one step back to lower the power of the blow as he felt it vibrate through his paw when the two weapons connected. The wolf was using his size and the greater length of the sword to his full advantage; using long, penetrating strikes to drive him back every time he managed to even begin to close the distance. Combined with higher strength to go with the size and training, Nick was hard-pressed to find an opening that he could use. At the same time, he realized that he was facing mostly deflection and counterstrikes as the larger male made use of the length advantage to keep the distance between them. This proved that they had been watching him because larger predators were always easier to take down once he was able to close the distance. He attempted to defeat this distance, placing both paws on either end of the baton as he drove himself forward, hoping to slip past the blade of the sword and into striking range. The effort was wasted, and painful. The assassin, seeing the intention of the attack, backstepped quickly and slid his sword harmlessly to the side in a way that took all of Nick’s force with it and carried his arm into an overreach that allowed the larger male to slide the blade neatly over his shoulder just as he managed to regain control of himself. Even as he did, the bright flare of pain when the butt of the sword was driven into his muzzle had him stumbling back more steps than would have been necessary to put some distance between them again.

    The secondary pain from his arm was slow coming, as was the blood over the dull throbbing in his face. Both came at the same moment as his body seemed to understand that he had been cut, the aching burn combined with the feeling of a lazy but noticeable trickle of blood down his arm. With a throaty snarl of frustration, fury blazing in his eyes, the fox dropped to all fours and charged the wolf at full speed and with the intent of finally closing the distance even if that meant taking another blow in the process. The wolf dropped into a ready stance, lower to the ground to compensate for the lower stance of his opponent. As he reached striking distance, Nick saw the tip of the blade tip a fraction, the balance of the weapon readied for a low sweeping strike. That balance was why he was able to press off the ground with one leg, launching himself just high enough to get over the tip and slap his baton onto the blade. Then with the leg that was already raised, since he had not used it in the leap, he drove his foot down onto the baton and the blade at the same moment with enough momentum to strip the handle from the wolf’s paw.

    He saw the moment when the wolf realized he was done, his ears dropping and his eyes just starting to widen even as that same step was used to push the fox from the ground again and up enough to bring a flying reverse crescent kick slamming into the side of the larger male’s neck. The strike landed exactly where he needed it to and, even as he found his feet again, he saw the bulk of the wolf start to crumble to the ground as the strength left his body. Whether it was to be sure that the predator stayed down or to let the rest of the pack see clearly what had just happened, Nick lashed out with one paw before the male had fallen halfway, the flat of his palm thudding against the side of the wolf’s head. The effect was the same, whatever the case, as the limp muzzle snapped to the side before continuing to the floor of the alley where he lay, unconscious.

    Panting slightly, he drew himself away from his fallen opponent and stepped back towards his baton and the sword as he settled his eyes on the remaining wolves. The alpha, watching with a keen eye and seeming indifference on his muzzle, met his gaze for a long moment. They did not interfere as he calmly lowered himself to one knee to pick up the baton, though there was a moment of tension in the white wolf when he picked up the sword as well before drawing himself to his feet. A slight pause as he checked the balance, the weight, and the size of the weapon overall before he released a slow sigh. Too heavy. With a sigh, he drew his arm back and tossed the sword easily so that it stuck in the ground at the feet of the lead wolf.

    With a slight nod to the white wolf and another grey, the alpha obliged him as the two drew their swords and charged forward for a far more aggressive assault.