Do Not Disturb: The Skyline

Apparently, bats can’t wear dresses.

Makes sense enough, yeah, despite how adamant certain Fuzzfeed articles are on modes of dress not being contained to certain species. Bats fly everywhere. Don’t want mammals looking under your skirt, because that’s definitely gonna happen. Especially if you’re gonna be roosting at all. Especially if you’re sat at a hole in the wall with drunk teenagers either from or freshly out of the local high school, like I am now.

Every perk appealing to irresponsible kids that can’t buy booze is offered here: None of the bartenders care for real ID, as long as you have a plastic card with your picture on it, and the location of this place is stupidly hard to find without local knowledge. Most importantly, though: any funny stuff goes down in here, the staff don't talk about it.

Perfect place for a Timber meetup.

Tonights date is a tiger! Real exotic. His name’s Tyler...last name. Zootopian. Main city, obviously. His accent makes me laugh. Hobbies include: karaoke, taking care of pups, and sunbathing. His profile forgot to mention his warm, comfy shoulder and his ability to chat up a storm. An interesting storm. One that I really don’t mind raining on me, if you know what I mean.

Seems like that part’s over, though. He’s poised to ask me something for once. I just know it.

“So,” I hear him growl playfully, Kangqueray still heavy in his breath. “You got a job?”

Geez.

“That’s a loaded question.” is the only response he gets from me before I take another drink.

There’s a displacement in the air as his ears twitch. I’ve been offering zero bait all night (not on purpose, I swear), so I suppose it makes sense if he’s a little more curious now that there’s something for him to play with.

“Try me,” he begs.

“Define ‘job’.”

His fur scritches as he makes the universal gesture for money with his fingers.

“No, then,” I tell him. “Don’t have a job.”

“What DO you have, in that case?”

A moment passes. I look to the side, feeling bashful even though we’re both faced the same way. “I help around my dad’s hotel. Safety inspections. Aesthetic inspections. There’s a lot of inspecting. I’m certified and all that, and I have free time that dad doesn’t have.”

“That’s really cool, actually. What, you get free room service and stuff too?”

“Why would I need to? I have a house here.”

“Yeah, but it’s still different. Ever heard of a staycation?”

“If you ever use that word again I’m going to fly out of here and never come back.”

He laughs, and my heart melts. If we’d met anywhere but a stupid hookup site...

“Well, if you’re a hotelier––“

“Not a hotelier.”

“Could you maybe get us a room?”

My purr comes out of me before I can recognize it as one. “Rowr.”

I feel his face fluff brush against me as he smiles.

“Hey,” I pipe up. “Tiger tongues are supposed to be rough, aren’t they? And strong? Strong is kind of a given, given your genes are all that, but still. You think you could make me bleed? From licking. Not claws. Just out of curiosity.”

Before Tyler can answer me, my phone rings.

I get up. “Hold that thought?”

Before he nods (and he does), I fly into the top corner of the bar and push the bathroom door open. BATroom door, according to the cheeky label on the front. The lights shine half as bright as they do in the main area, but at least the mirrors are nice. From what I can see of the black cocktail dress I picked out for tonight, I look cute as. The shine of the fabric is perfect. Blends in with my fur, but just barely catches the light so it doesn’t look like I’m naked after a second glance. Oh, and it guarantees a second glance.

I flick the softly beeping Zootooth headseat on my left ear, miniaturized so it looks like an earring. The call connects, and I put on my best 'business' voice. “This is Mia.”

“Mia Alecton.”

“Mia Alecton. Yes,” I ruffle my dress, adjusting the way that it drapes around my body. “I don’t recognize your voice. Do you need me?”

Despite all the evidence pointing towards the very reasonable conclusion that I am a prostitute, I promise that I’m not.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” the voice in my ear laughs. “We only spent three years in the same english class together back in high school.”

And not in the ‘whatever happens, happens, and I’m only paid for the time that we meet up’ bullshit that escorts use when they claim that they aren’t hookers. I am -- without a shadow of a doubt -- not a hooker.

My memory comes back to me in a flash. “Oh, hey! Juno! No, totally, I know you. Makes sense why you have my number. What’s up, mate?”

“I can explain. Meet me at your hotel?”

I bite my lip. “Uh, kind of in the middle of something. I’d need you to pay premium.”

“Deal.”

“What.”

“I’ll meet you in 15 minutes. Please”

“Wait––“

He hangs up before I can finish, and now I have no other option but to open my doors for business.

When I fly down, Tyler’s face makes it look like he was expecting this to happen. Do I really give off that vibe? I pace back and forth on the scratched up bar table, hoping that I don’t step in old beer and get my feet all sticky.

“Look,” My wings curl up and unfurl nervously. “You’re really sweet.”

The smile he gives me only helps the building urge to fly into a power line. “I get it. ’Not a job’, huh?”

I shrug. “Call me? Or don’t. Sorry. I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

He stops me and proceeds to stroke a few fingers over my head and down my back. I shiver in response. God, if only Juno wasn’t willing to pay premium. He’s not even that rich! From what I remember. How could he even afford my prices?

“It’s fine, Mia. No stress over here. Lets do Saturday?”

“Bring your face here.”

Big, and orange, and black and white and stripey. I walk up and kiss his velvety nose. “I’ll remember to turn my phone off, next time.”

“Can’t wait.”

I almost fly off, but he stops me again, stuttering on his words before taking a breath. “Tell me if you need anything, alright? Literally anything.”

“Will do.”

I’m off before I can change my mind about going.



The view of Bearron Bay from two hundred feet above the ground is stupid amazing. I can see why we haven’t been torn down yet. On my left sits the town and its tiny houses, and on my right is a giant beach, along with the longest successive line of hotels in the Zootopian area curled around it. The sun shines radiantly across the water, creating a glowing sheen that trails back to the main city’s landscape painting of a skyline.

Tourists are right to come here for vacation. Outback Island in general’s always been a nice blend of Sahara Square and the Nocturnal District, for those who like ocean waves and good beer with their casinos and nightclubs. Bearron Bay is a little prudish on that second part, but most that end up coming by end up partying by the water anyway. Nothing like a bonfire in the summer.

That’s my inner sales coordinator talking, though. There are bad parts to this town. Mostly the mammals. Lots of stir-crazy kids dreaming about skipping town. Plenty of kids that’re just plain crazy, too. We have a nice variety of everything, I think.

I tuck my wings in and drop, shooting towards the Hospitality Strip. The last hotel is my destination -- has been for most days of my life.

It takes me a few more minutes of flying before I can actually see it, but when I finally get to the front I stop and admire it a little. The best (and second most expensive) hotel on the strip. The Lighthouse.

My family's hotel sits wide where the other resorts stand tall. It’s cut sharp and clean, like the pristine white that dominates its color scheme. There’s a distinctly futurist vibe carved into every pearly divot of the building’s structure. Everything you could want from a hotel sits inside. Dad wanted it so the outside looked way cooler than the average mammal’s home, but the inside every room felt like it genuinely could be.

Smiling to myself as I fly through the automatic doors, wondering if Juno's at all as impressed as I always am.

I find him waiting in the lobby, sitting away from me and completely changed from his lanky high school self.

Curving up and landing on the table in front of him, I spy what may be the ideal alpha male kangaroo. Rippling muscles, perfect definition (though his shoulders could stand some more work) and a vibe about him that tells everyone in the room that he’s ready to fight. The only major criticism I have is the stupid shades he has on, inside of a building.

His nose wiggles, and he tilts his head. “Mia?”

“That’s me,” I give him an unenthusiastic wave. “Let’s get up to the room. Elevator’s just to the right.”

Juno blinks. Or, I think he does, behind his shades. No other explanation for the awkward silence he’s dragging us into right now. He scratches his head and looks off to the side. “I, uh, I can’t see.”

“Oh, that’s because its off in a hall behind the main desk. Don’t worry about it.”

“Mia, no. I cannot see. Out of my eyes. I’m blind. Gone blind since we last knew each other.”

Well, I’m a cunt. “What?” My balance takes a moment to teeter too far forward as I hop up to him and nearly fall off the table. “The hell happened? No, wait. You don’t have to talk about it. C’mon.”

We manage to get to the elevator once I fly up and guide him to it from his shoulder. He lets me press the call button, and as soon as the bell chimes, we step in.

Suddenly, everything is leagues more awkward than they would have been.

I press the penthouse button and close the doors. A quiet piano plays us up the four floors of the hotel, carrying us into the only open room tonight. No one’ll be disturbing us here. I’m just supposed to be taking note of any mistakes left by the last cleaning shift.

“How was your day?” I ask, fidgeting a little.

“Fine. You smell like tiger.”

“Nice nose. I was on a Timber date. Tyler. He had a Zootopian accent.”

“So do we.”

“City.”

“We’re apart of the city.”

“It’s not the same.”

A moment goes by, and I know that he’s contemplating saying something from the slight twitch of his mouth. Like he’s testing out how the words are going to sound out loud before he actually says them.

“Sorry about interrupting your night.” he mutters.

I wait another second before telling him that it’s okay, but the ding of the elevator reaching its destination interrupts me.

We step out, and I guide Juno the the giant door to our left. I spring from his shoulder to the doorknob and type in the correct number sequence on the keypad above it. 8-8-5-4-3-2-8-0-6. The light at the top of the keypad turns yellow, and I hear the crackle of static as it waits for my voice.

“Please open the door, Mr. Keypad.” I sing.

The light turns green, and the buzzing that follows it makes me smile gratefully. I come back to Juno’s shoulder, and he leads us into what we fittingly call the Green Light Apartment.

Pure luxury greets me, spanning the length of 9000 square feet lined with two huge glass floor-to-ceiling windows. We make our way into the living room, passing the TV and the giant couch surrounding it in a U shape, over to the lonely coffee table in front of one of the best views of Zootopia in existence.

Juno takes a seat and lets me off his shoulder, where I scramble to the small mammal seat placed on the other side of the table. If I was a wolf right now, my tail would be threatening to thrash itself off. “So, what do you think? I mean, I know I can’t really ask you that but oh my god, I love this room! We got a lot of space in here for anything you need, so just tell me if you need anything, alright?”

Now that I think about it... “Why are we here, anyway? Forgot to ask for that explanation earlier. Landlord kick you out? Ah, but then you wouldn’t be able to pay me seventeen hundred dollars. Fight with your ex-girlfriend, then? Apartment haunted by ghosts? Whoever gave you my number -- sorry if it was me and I don’t remember -- told you that I don’t do law stuff, yeah? One hint of illegal shit and I call the cops.”

Leaning back in his seat, he sighs. “Does the city look nice?”

“Okay, nothing to do with my question, but it does,” I admit, nearly commenting on how that is a really big fucking understatement.

The blue-black night sky serves as a perfect backdrop to the smattering of yellow lights across the strait, illuminating the city’s odd-but-beautiful buildings from behind and giving them an almost ethereal glow. One of the bigger towers’ lights change color occasionally -- The Palm Hotel, I assume.  Several other buildings do the same, though I’m not sure what their purpose is for.

Zootopia is a marvel of a modern metropolis. Mammals around here tend to talk about it like it’s heaven and we’re in purgatory, and looking at it now, I completely understand the hype.

“Heaven, isn’t it?”

My head snaps from the city to the kangaroo. “How did you––“

“We all get that look when we look at it. Sometimes I feel like I can hear when someone else is getting it. Was I right?”

“Not bad, Beardevil.”

He laughs. The sweetness that it brings to my ears reminds me of a certain tiger I left behind at a bar. “It’s not gonna last.”

I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”

“The skyline. It’s gonna go out tonight.” Oh god. Oh, god damn it. It’s a blessing that he’s completely oblivious to the horror on my face. “There’s a lot going on right now, Mia. I couldn’t be at home. Too much evidence. I had to be somewhere easy and private. Then I remembered: I knew the perfect flying fox for that.”

“S-So,” I stutter. “Some storm I hadn’t heard about?”

Unfortunately, Juno shakes his head. He sits up straighter and starts to tap on the table with a claw. “End of the world, Mia. You probably don’t want a full explanation. No one does. No one should have to know. But look at that skyline -- that little slice of heaven that the children of the Bay worship. The lights will go within the hour, and then we’ll all be dead.”

It’s been some time since I’ve had someone like this, but it was bound to happen.

“Oh!” he seems to remember something. “While the offer’s still up, you think you could get me a root beer real quick?”



Sixty or so minutes until the end of the world, and I’m sitting with a kangaroo whom I barely remembered that I knew until half an hour ago.

Once in a little bit the silence will be broken by one of us taking a sip of our root beer, but those delicate moments of noise don’t ever last.

Actual crazy people take refuge with me sometimes. It’s not unheard of.

None of them I’ve tackled alone. A friend or a caretaker (always someone I knew)’s usually there to help me out. I merely provide some privacy, out and away from...well, everyone.

Most of my clients are teens who can’t go home after getting too drunk, or nineteen year olds walking out on their parents before catching the next bus to Zootopia. People I can talk to without necessarily indulging in a delusion about the apocalypse.

Juno, though. Juno will be a first.

At the very least this is going to make for a good story to tell a friend. That, or a nice second or third date story. All depending on if Tyler actually calls me back or not.

Speaking of, the reason for my night gone awry clears his throat. “So, what is there to do in here?”

“Dad had a private gym installed in one of the side pockets of this place,” I reply, sarcastic. “You could work out.”

“Alright.” he nods and stands up, completely up for it. Even a little...excited?

“What, seriously?” I take an accusatory slurp from my bottle of root beer. “It’s the end of the world, is it not? I could hardly think that someone would actually want to spend their last hour sweaty and exhausted.”

“Says the girl who’s obviously mad that she isn’t currently sweaty and exhausted.”

My ears burn hotly as I jump up from my seat. “Hey! Piss off!”

“Sorry,” he snickers, struggling to stuff his cheeky smirk. “You’re very cute. You know that?”

He’s not wrong, but I cross my wings anyway. “So you really want to work out?”

“Afraid you’ll get all hot and bothered?”

“Hardly. And if I do you won’t be able to see it.” I flutter my wings a bit. “Sorry. That was mean.”

“It’s alright.” Juno stands and takes a full step in the wrong direction before turning back to me. “Where is this gym, again?”



A click comes out of Juno’s mouth, in the same direction of the sandbag lion standing static in the middle of the boxing ring. I had to help set it up -- always a pain in the ass. What I get in exchange is pretty sweet, though. Juno’s been making a show of it ever since we stepped into the gym.

He clicks again, for safety. When he’s sure he knows where the lion is, he runs full speed to the side of the ropes, jumps up and into them perfectly. The plastic groans as the ropes absorb his weight, curving slowly before slingshotting him towards his target. At the very last moment he stretches out, slamming his two feet perfectly onto the lion’s chest. It rebounds backwards, bending backwards at an angle only to bounce right back up.

The dummy’s momentum stops before it can lean forward and headbutt a now ducking Juno, and it leans back into its original position.

What I’m seeing now is something I’ve only seen on TV, on those semi-documentary shows about mammals with disabilities that actually have super cool talents that let them function in life anyway: A perfect sync of echolocation and spatial awareness. I take back the sarcasm from my earlier remark. Juno is literally Beardevil, apart from not being a bear.

Once he’s taken a break from beating the poor inanimate lion, I speak up. “So, where did you even, like, LEARN to do that? Hell, why even bother with being guided around?”

“The—–hff,––the clicking’s obnoxious. Impractical, too. Things quickly passing by are hard to avoid.”

“But you have superpowers! Kind of.”

The kangaroo doesn’t answer me, stretching before snagging a stray bottle of water off the floor.

“You’ve probably seen Ratatouille. Probably, right? That’s not a speciest thing to assume?” he pants before taking a drink.

I raise an eyebrow in response, before hastily remembering that he can’t see in the first place. “A film about a small rodent who aspires to be something more, lets an anteater borrow his talent, and ends up becoming the first rat to work in a five star restaurant? I could hardly find that relatable. Stayed home while it was still at the movies.”

“So you have. Seen it, I mean.”

“Yes!” I groan. “I’ve seen Ratatouille.”

He turns his back to me, crouching ever so slightly. “Get on.”

My wings guide me to the back of his head before I make them. Something in his voice. I try to grip his ears best I can, feet slightly digging into both his shoulders.

“That’s good.” his voice rumbles from below me. “Exactly what I needed you to do.”

“And we are...?”

“Together,” he starts to explain as he strides over to the punching bag. “We’re going to beat the shit out of that lion without echolocation.”

“You’re kidding.” I try and sneak a peek at his face, but from an angle like this it’s barely discernible. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Push my ear.” Juno whispers, an undertone of giddiness coming into his voice.

This is dumb. I apply pressure to his ear, moving it forward.

I’m nearly thrown off as he throws a jab at the sandbag lion, first landing with a perfectly satisfying smack.

“Shut. Up,” I gasp excitedly. “This is stupid. We look stupid.”

I move his other ear, living vicariously through the hard cross he lands against the lion’s cheek.

“No. No way.” I shake my head. “Absolutely no way I’m going to play pretend with you for any longer.”

His left foot steps back when I tap mine, switching stances. Moving his ear sideways and forwards causes him to throw a hook, and the punch crashes violently through the lion’s chin. I have to hold on for dear life as he twists.

I scuff my right foot sideways, and we move laterally, launching punches as we arrive at the lion’s side.

We’re in sync, now, and we both giggle madly.

“Okay,” I admit. “This is amazing.”

We throw another punch.

And another.

Wailing on the expressionless lion with all I can think to do and all he can listen.

Time passes fast, and before I can even process how much has gone by we’re both exhausted. More him than me, of course. I’m barely sweating, just a bit overloaded from the adrenaline.

“Have fun?” Juno exhales shakily, making for his water bottle.

“Fun? You turn yourself into a mammal equivalent of a giant robot and let me knock around a lion sized punching bag and you even need to ask?” I rattle off at him, talking at a mile a minute.

“Good, good.” he sighs, content. “And now you can see. That’s why I’ve been alright with being guided.”

“Cause you can crush whoever’s guiding you?”

Swallowing a mouthful of water, he shakes his head. “Because it feels good to help whoever’s guiding feel better, and the way I can do that is to let them help me. Not a one to one analogy, I know, but it was fun. But I guess I don’t need to tell you about what making others feel good is like, do I?”

"No," I respond. "You don't."

Juno ducks under the ropes, and we walk towards the gym door.



What appears to be five minutes left of existence, and we’re both back where we started. On a normal night, I would have left after introducing the client to the room. We would have chatted a little, maybe, but its rare that I get anyone who doesn’t want complete privacy for at least some of their stay.

The skyline as it is now is even better than it was during sunset. Later in the night equals brighter light, I think. The Palm’s ceased its color changing, opting for a nice true blue glow that I assume will stay until sunrise. It blends nicely with the gold of some of the other buildings. The reflection of the lights on the water is harder to see now, but that’s only because it has to compete with the moon and the stars.

If only I could be here every night. Honestly. Can’t get tired of this view.

A surge of pity wells up in my chest, and I turn to Juno.

The kangaroo’s sitting perfectly in his seat, idly stroking the arm of his chair. He’s turned towards the view outside, wearing what I can only call a pensive expression.

“I remember what they called you, now.” he says abruptly, making me jump. “All night I’ve been trying to remember, but  now I know. You’ve been at this for a while, huh? Softwater High’s Angel On Your Shoulder.”

The nickname makes my fur tingle and my ears twitch.

Somehow picking up on my slight agitation, Juno laughs. “Don’t be so sensitive. It’s a good name.”

“It’s too much.” I tell him. His smile shows me all I need to know about his disagreement, but he doesn’t press any further.

“Won’t be long now.”

“Until?”

Juno gestures at the window. Past the window. Towards Zootopia and all its promises.

I hum, starting to wonder if maybe I’ve been the crazy one the whole time. Would I be okay if I was?

I walk over and sit at the edge of Juno’s side of the table. “Any last words? Regrets? Things you wish that you did?”

“Really?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“Well,” the kangaroo muses. “I guess the only thing is that I wish I took more chances when I could see. Can’t really do that nowadays. You should do anything you want, Mia. Grab anything you want. When they tell you that you can do anything while you're young, they're not lying. You can have all of it. You could have had all of it. I could have, too.”

“You still can,” I insist. “Look, the––“

A chime goes off from Juno’s phone, and he silences it before another can ring.

“It’s time.”

I watch from the table as he stands to creep up against the window.

“Sixty seconds. I thought I was prepared, but my heart is racing.”

“You don’t need to be,” I tell him again, not getting a response back.

The both of us count the seconds down, in our heads. I can hear the two of us in my mind. The clock on Juno’s phone starts to beep with the last ten. I’m conflicted on whether to let it get to zero, but its too late now to stop this if I wanted. I would just be making things worse.

At the very last I can hear the two of us take a collective breath.



Nothing happens.

We both wait, until it’s undeniable that another minute has passed, and then another minute after that.

It occurs to me that I’ve heard what he thought were his last words.

I feel sick.

Wordlessly, he places a paw on the window, stroking the surface of the cold glass.

“I think,” he coughs. “Sorry. I think I might need to see a doctor.”

On his way out he pulls out a thick wad of cash and leaves it beside me. When the door closes behind him, the sound echoes across the room, bouncing from wall to wall until I suddenly can’t hear it anymore, dying abruptly like an old computer.

A long while passes by before I move again, flying over to the open bar, finding the small mammal section and taking a swig of whatever I can find. The fire in my mouth helps me think about anything but what just happened.

Juno's words come back to me.

Anything I want. Anything at all.

I double tap the headset on my ear, and I hear a hyper little bell indicating that voice recognition is on. “Phone, can you call a number for me?”



There’s a distinct scent of Musk Mask in the air of this bathroom, combined with an all too pleasant undertone of soap. I step into the washbasin, tiger cum almost clogging my nose, doing my best to think about the last hour and not a minute past that.

The calming stream of the tap’s water is like a sensual massage for my mind, and as the water pours down on my head I focus on its sound. After my body’s wet enough I step to the side and run a wing under the soft stream of water flowing from the tap, watching a combination of clear and translucent white liquid wash off of it and swirl down into the drain.

“Tell me if you need anything.” Direct quote, word by word. This is anything, isn’t it?

Halfway through my shower, I hear the wooden creak of the door.

In enters the source of my messy self. He’s got nothing on, save for a pair of ankle highs that he was too excited to get out of when I first swung by.

Nothing happens. I simply get on with my cleaning, and Tyler stands. He leans against the doorway, watching me closely. Oddly enough, I don’t mind. Never liked being watched in the first place, but the tiger’s eyes keep me safe. They don’t judge.

Eventually he clears his throat. “Should I shower too?”

“C’mere. Let’s find out.”

He prowls over to me, and I step out of the tap’s stream. A humongous paw is offered to me, nervous despite the carnal actions it was carrying out not minutes before. I take a sniff at its matted fur, letting his scent flood my nose again. It’s powerful, to say the least, but not overbearing. “You’re fine, hon.”

“Pet names, already? I think I can work with that.”

“Stop talking, right now.”

Fingers nudge me into the water again, and a claw scritches my back as I lather soap into my black fur. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“That’s too bad. I’m going to anyway.”

When I’m finally clean, Tyler picks me up and holds me close. I stare into the mirror, smiling at the sight of a giant kitten and his living ball of yarn. He offers me a small towel, and while I dry off in his hands, he walks out of the bathroom, sitting us on the corner of the couch.

Once I’m finished he tosses the towel to the floor for me, and curls us up under the covers. I end up nestled in the crook of his neck, where his fluff is the warmest and the most abundant.

“I smell,” he warns.

“Good. You smell good.” I add, turning his lie into the truth.

“You alright?”

“It's nothing,” I tell him. “End of the world. Standard stuff. Boring night. Well, mostly boring.”

Warmth lingers all around me, but there’s dark as well. My only tether to the world is my breath and this nose.

I stroke it more, gently drifting away with each motion of my hand. The possibility’s never occurred to me before, but it hits me that this could very well be my last moment alive.

I suppose there could be worse things to face the end with.

Completely serious though, I think it’d be really nice to wake up tomorrow.

I hope I do.