The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.
All language is either through Google Translate, or the site 'Bits'n'Bob-stones'
The Sons of Efrafa
Five years I ran with the Sons of Efrafa, serving on their Owsla; I defied my marli and for what? To be left bleeding in the streets of Vulpington Commons the moment the cops show up to our rumble with the Lapin Kings? Hrair-tharnhlessil! And then Timo-Rah has the gall to send Eva, my jill-friend, to threaten my Marli-fa if I talk to the police! No one threatens my family!
'If you love me, you won't talk to the cops!' Hah! Where's the Nurse-Call button? Ah! Here we go.
"Can I help you mister Raibert?"
Wow, she's one hot vixen…Focus Jacob!
"Hombo-fa, hli u Ni-pfeffa Owsla?"
-sigh- Stupid painkillers! "The big cat officer who brought me in, Officer DuPrey, is he still in the building?"
"I think he's still out in the lobby; would you like me to get him for you?"
"Vao! Yes please; tell him I'm more than ready to make a deal."
Jacob didn't wait long before a near jet-black mountain lion and a very tired looking hippopotamus, both in ZPD blues entered the room. Though he seemed short for his species, barely coming up to his compatriots' hip, something about the little big cat demanded respect; he would warrant watching.
The hippo led off. "I'm Sergeant Waters, this is Officer DuPrey. Now, Mr. Rabbit, I…"
"It's Raibert; not Rabbit, Ribbit or Robot. Raibert."
The water-horse grit his jaw and continued. "We have you on disturbing the peace, aggravated assault, and inciting to riot. Just because Happytown is…"
"Foxburough Parish." Jacob mulishly interrupted.
"Look, I don't care…"
"Obviously," Jacob replied hotly, "…but I'm about to put my extended family in harm's way by talking to you, and if you can't be bothered to get simple details like my name or where I live right then I'm certainly not going to trust their safety to you. This conversation is over, good day."
"Why you little…"
"Bill." There was neither anger nor power behind the calmly spoken name, and yet the command was more than implicit. As the frustrated sergeant stepped back, Jacob could only chuckle to himself; DuPrey would definitely warrant watching.
"Perhaps we should start over; would you, for the record, state your full name and date of birth"
"Jacob Emanuel Raibert; August 23, 1994. You may call me Emanuel."
"That isn't at all pretentious," snorted Waters.
"I had a platoon sergeant in the Aragonese Foreign Legion from Cyprus named Antonio Speranza Lleprevani. He insisted everyone call him Speranza, though I never understood why; most everyone called him Sperry or March Hare."
"Lot of inle on that one?" queried Jacob, ears and interest peaked.
DuPrey paused in his writing and glanced up. "Inle?"
"Means a lot of things, though right now it means the color black like you and me." Jacob leaned back in his bed with a fond expression on his muzzle and started to talk. "Efrafans and Lapinos have what we call 'Honor names'; it's always our middle name, and it's usually the name of an ancestor. My grandfather's is Abelard, who was his grandfather who fought in the Great War." The hare shook his head. "Anyway, it's something you're supposed to live up to; but if you're Inle-rooliti like myself, you're sort of a bad omen. So instead, you get named something positive, like Speranza or Emanuel; it's to, I don't know, drive off the bad luck or something."
If Waters had an ankle, he would have been tapping his foot with impatience. "Enough with the rutting street slang and tell us what you know about the SoE!"
Jacob was equally tired of the pretense at civility towards the bigoted megafauna. "It's not street slang, it's efrafan, a language thousands of years older than this city! Why is Hungry-Hungry-Hypocrite here anyway?"
At this Officer DuPrey lowered his pad and paper and locked eyes with Jacob, and for the first time since his earliest fights as the SoE Owsla he felt genuinely afraid.
"Sergeant William Waters is here as the lead officer for the Gangland taskforce investigating the recent rash of violence between the Sons of Efrafa and the Lapin Kings, and I would ask that you show him the respect his position is due." DuPrey coolly warned.
"Vahl-ni Owsla." Jacob demurred, knowing he had crossed a line.
"I will take that as understood. Shall we continue?" DuPrey replied, and the interview began in earnest. Jacob held nothing back. He told how his father leaving when he was seven left him without a strong father figure, how Timo Andraste, a somewhat runty but charismatic brown hare recruited him into the SoE at the age of twelve. He spoke of his growing into the position of Gang Champion or Owsla, with the accolade's associated with it, and finally the street fight where he was stabbed and left in the street, only for Timo to send Jacob's jill-friend into his hospital room and threaten his mother and five siblings if he talked to the cop's.
"Now look…" Jacob tiredly said, "I don't care about me; you can hang me by my ears from the Horace Plaza clock tower as long as you keep Timo away from my family."
Officer DuPrey handed his notebook and a small digital recorder to Sergeant Waters who stormed out without a backward glance or word of thanks.
"I can't make any official promises, but personally I will see to your family's safety until a formal agreement can be made with the DA. I don't see any real problem with that at this point. I can say with a decent amount of confidence that for your cooperation you will receive a fairly light sentence, maybe finishing out the year in Juvie. The issue will be after. Did you have any plans post high school?"
"What you mean; like getting into the booming job market here in the Commons? All the factories except the Castorman Logging Mill and the Adame Textile factory on Lower Canal Street have been closed down and the only Zootopian Transportation Authority asset the city is still funding is the Green-line terminal at J Street, and that only swings through at two in the morning and two in the afternoon. Inle-rah zorn Crixa." Jacob said with a defeated air.
As DuPrey stood to leave, he looked at Jacob with an appraising eye. "I know it seems bleak, but there are some good things on the way. They're a little way off yet, but I was thinking of something a little more near term. Tell me, have you ever considered joining the military?"