Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Carefully placing everything on the tray, a breakfast consisting of eggs, turkey meat, and toast, a fresh cup of coffee, utensils, and a napkin, Allison hummed a tune she did not quite remember where she had heard it to suppress her nerves, twitching her tall, pointed ears. The contents of the tray were neatly arranged in hopes of making a good impression at her new job. She was now the assistant to their small country’s president. Her workplace was the same building she had live in all her life, the country’s capital building. Her boss was the man she considered her father, Ozzy Boarman. He had been the president for over twenty years and the only leader the young country, Exposia, has ever had. Her mother, Scout Thatcher, Boarman’s vice president, was the one who got her the job after months worth of begging her mom for the position. She picked up the tray and strolled through the halls she was told to stay clear of as a child. 

When she arrived at the door she gripped the tray tightly,  her claws scraping the bottom. She looked down at the tray making a mental checklist of items she could have possibly forgotten. After the quick confirmation, she opened and stepped through the door into Boarman’s office. She had only been allowed in his office a few times in the past, it looked the same every time. The room was dark with a sliver of light only peeking out of one window and dull walls caked with dust killed any sense of warmth or comfort. Paintings lined the walls, some torn and tattered and others with rusty, old frames. The lack of change and dreariness made these rare occasions very underwhelming. The room had three doors connected to it, she knew one was Boarman’s room, the other was the entrance, but she was not sure of the last room. She had never seen anyone use that door. On the far end of the room facing the door was Boarman and his desk. As his name implied, he was a large boar with yellowish, upward-facing tusks. His large, wide body made her canine frame look tiny by comparison. His ears pointed outward with tears and scars. There was a long-since closed gash going down his face between his right eye and snout. His suit was torn at the ends of every hole. 

His narrow, yellow eyes glared at her, “Took you long enough,” he grunted, lacking any of the familiarity she had expected. She did not think she took long at all to get there. 

“Sorry sir!” Allison blurted. She thought maybe she should have walked faster and was sure to keep that in mind for tomorrow.  She brought the tray over and sat it on his desk. Without turning his head, he looked at the tray then at her then back at the tray before grabbing the cup of coffee. As he sipped his drink, Allison tried desperately to read his expression. His face always looked disappointed, making his expressions almost unreadable. When he sat the cup down and looked towards her, she noticed the look of disapproval she was all too familiar with. 

“The coffee’s a bit cold,” he stated. His ear flicked in annoyance and he turned to her.  It can't be! It was the last thing I made for that reason! she thought.

“But I just made it, it’s still steami-” she desperately tried to explain before getting cut off.  

“You can't do one thing right, can you? Now you're talking back?” he angrily remarked, whose hooved hand moved over the cup, covering the steam still coming off the top. 

“Sorry da- sir.” She corrected herself, her miswording earning her a quick, harsh glance,  “Won’t happen again. I can make you anoth-”

“Don't bother, my day’s already ruined.” he interrupted again, even harsher than before.

“Sorry sir.”

Satisfied with her defeated tone, his voice perked up, “Good, now if you're done with the ‘sorry sir’s you can clean my office. It looks disgusting.” 

“On it sir. Anything else?” she offered, hoping to take advantage of his sudden attitude change and get on his good side.

“Remind your mother she has a job to do, she’s late,” he said dismissively, picking up his coffee and drinking from it, seemingly forgetting about his previous complaint.  

“Yes sir,” she replied meekly with a mix of embarrassment and defeat. This was her chance to prove to him she was suited for a professional setting and she was already onto a bad start.

She quickly paced down the endless halls toward the spots she thought her mother would be. Scout liked to keep to herself in a few select rooms. Her favorite spots were her own room and the storage room Boarman allowed her to turn into her own space for painting and other projects. Allison was never told the room was off-limits but she had never been invited in. She knocked on the door lightly to be safe but softly pushed it open for the sake of time. The room was a mess littered with both used and unused canvases and stacks of paper and art supplies scattered across the room. The state of the room surprised Allison as her mother was typically the organized type. She had raised her daughter to have the same manner and tidiness. Her mother, a red fox, was sitting at her desk facing away from the door looking towards an empty canvas on the easel, fur raised but still. She did not seem to have heard her knocking.

“Hey Mom,” she whispered softly. Scout perked her pointed ears and turned her head toward her daughter, being snapped out of whatever she had been thinking. For a split second, she caught a look of concern and worry on her mother’s face that quickly shifted into a more composed expression with a slight smile as she corrected her posture. 

“Allison, I wasn't expecting you. Do you need something?” She looked around the room with a slight twitch of her tail before adding, “Sorry, I haven't had time to clean lately.” After looking around the room herself it was clear she had not cleaned the room in a very long time; there were both old and new paint spills that showed no signs of even the slightest attempt to clean them and no evidence she ever intended to. 

“Boarman told me to come get you, he said you're late,” she shifted awkwardly as she spoke. It felt like an invasion of privacy seeing the room in such a state like she was seeing a side of her mother she would not have shown on her own. Her mother always acted calm and composed, stoic even, around her. Her mother stood up swiftly, making her way toward the door. Before Scout could leave Allison asked looking at the blank canvas, “What are you going to paint?” She loved hearing about her mother’s hobby and her mother seemed to appreciate the conversions. 

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted with bits of tiredness showing through, “would you want me to make you something? Whatever you want, you could hang it on your wall.” Allison's mood brightened instantly, not expecting the offer but pleased it was given. 

“Maybe something simple and peaceful, like a farm and a sunset,” she requested as her mother shut the door with a nod. They started walking down the halls together. Scout’s ears slowly shifted downwards before being jolted back into their upright position. Although they did not talk to each other, Allison adored this moment of peace with her mother. That moment was cut short as they reached Boarman’s office. Allison stepped back to allow her mother to enter the room first.

The moment a single hair of Scout entered the room Boarman snorted, “Hope you have a good excuse for being late, Scout.” Allison noticed her mother’s ear flick in irritation when her name was spoken. Boarman, however, either did not notice or simply did not care as he continued, “You've been an awful influence lately, the kid was late too. At least I didn't have to send someone to go get her!” He paused for a moment, staring at Scout and her lack of reaction. After flicking one of his tattered ears in frustration he added, “Whatever your excuse is, it clearly wasn’t to take care of your recent weight problem,” pointing a medial claw toward Scout’s abdomen region. Scout remained unmoved; she had worse thrown at her. She pushed her way to the desk and pulled a chair to his desk to start working, presumably paperwork. Boarman was very outspoken about his hatred for paperwork and had a habit of shoveling his work onto Scout, even letting the work pile up before handing it off when he was angry at her. 

“Allison, please get me a tea,” Scout asked, then turned back to Boarman who let out a grunt. 

“Hope you like it cold,” he sneered, catching a glance from Scout. He chuckled to himself. Not sure what to say, Allison simply nodded and walked out to complete her new task. 

Walking up to the office door, fresh, warm tea in hand, Allison halted outside the door, hearing a hushed argument beyond the door she could not quite make out. Trying to listen to the details of the conversation she leaned in closer to the door. As she leaned in, she accidentally pushed the door just barely enough to be seen but evidently enough to be heard as the room went silent. Damn it! In a panic she pushed the door open the whole way in hopes of making it less obvious she was eavesdropping. Her eyes caught her mother’s ears snap upward and her raised fur flattened. Boarman’s sneer turned to a grin as he stared at her mother’s sudden stillness.

Unable to read the room, Allison apologized, “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something? I can drop this off and leave,” motioning toward the tea. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Boarman in the most pleased tone Allison had heard him use toward her in a long while, “Maybe next time you should knock to be safe.” 

She walked up to the desk and gently sat the tea down in front of her mother, “Thank you, Alli.” Her words were defeated and just barely audible.

Chapter Text

Allison, Scout, and Boarman sat in their respective chairs at their dining table. Boarman and Scout sat on opposite-facing ends of the table while Allison sat on the side between them, close to her mother. Tonight’s dinner was fresh chicken from a local poultry farm. Her mother and Boarman were discussing business matters. The two were rarely found talking about anything other than business. It was such a common occurrence, so much so that Allison learned to tone them out. With her new job as Boarman’s assistant, she decided to push through the feeling of boredom and pay attention to the conversation. 

“I heard there was some sort of protest today,” she paused for a moment until Boarman looked at her, “I think we should look into it and address it before things get out of hand,” Scout advised. Boarman's gaze turned back to his food and he continued eating his dinner with less interest than he had a moment ago.

“We can just send a few soldiers next time,” he dismissed her input, “it’s their job to take care of these kinds of things.” 

Scout’s left fox ear twitched before she added, “This group seemed pretty determined to get their point across and their protest was peaceful. Using force too soon could provoke them and could cause this situation to be more trouble than it needs to be.”

Boarman looked up from his plate and stared at Scout. “You’re not scared of these mongrels , are you?” Allison did not know what that word meant but his emphasis on the word made it clear it was some sort of insult. Her mother gave her a quick glance before turning back to him as Boarman continued, “These people are barely smart enough to read let alone be able to know what is good for them.”

“I think we should at least look at what they want and see if we can find a compromise.”

“A compromise?!” Boarman almost leaped out of his seat as he continued, “What could they possibly even want? Free drinks on me? Can’t they afford their addictions anymore?” he huffed, “Those lazy bastards.” Allison had heard about the people’s drinking habits and how much they consume on a daily basis. She recalled a time Boarman had gone on a tirade about how their people were "good for nothing sloths.” He grunted in frustration before reaching for his wine glass.

“This group is asking for a more balanced government. They believe the two of us hold too much power by ourselves. New official titles with specific jobs would allow Exposia to progress much quicker. We could solve so many problems that way,” she paused before adding, “That’s what they claim, of course.”

Boarman let out a small grunt and then asked, “What problems? We don't have probl-”

Scout cut him off, “Our people are starving, there are many illegal dogfights, drugs are sold in masses to people who can barely afford to feed themselves, reports of our top officers abusing their powers, the court systems are hardly fair, and our medical advances, or lack thereof, leave our wounded workers out of a job,” Scout listed, never breaking eye contact from Boarman. The tension in the room was palpable. Boarman had not replied with his usual remark or grunt; he was stiff in his seat. Analyzing her mother, Allison noticed her mother’s breathing was staggered as she seemed to wrestle with herself to keep a calm composure. In addition to the breathing, the end of Scout’s tail had been wrapped around the leg of a chair.

  Finally, Boarman broke the silence, “If these ‘problems’ are such a big concern to our people, why haven't I heard of them until now? Let's be honest, our people are dimwitted at best. It's entirely possible someone made up these claims and others jumped onto that bandwagon and decided to make that my problem.” 

Scout pinned her ears back, “I’ve brought all of these up to you multiple times over the past few years, none of these are new issues!” This was the first time Allison had heard of these kinds of problems in Exposia. All the stories Boarman had told her led her to believe the country was thriving. She did not think Boarman would willingly neglect his responsibilities to his people considering he had such high criticisms for the lazy. She also did not believe her mother would lie about bringing up these issues and with Boarman’s lack of denial, she knew her mother was telling the truth. She figured Boarman must have simply forgotten these concerns over the piles of others that came with the job. 

“Well I’m sorry if we have other more important issues to address and I can't solve everyone's problems,” Boarman said sarcastically with a frown, his sharp tusks glinting from a nearby light.

“So you agree we need more people to take care of these issues?” Scout asked.

“Look I have enough on my plate without you of all people getting on my case about how to do my job. If you want to find solutions to these problems on your own time, be my guest.” 

Scout looked down at her half-eaten plate, the food had gone cold by now. Allison had finished her food earlier in the conversation but was too invested to get up and did not want to risk interrupting. Scout placed her silverware on her plate and stood up from her chair. 

As she made her way toward the dining room door, she turned back to Boarman, “They noticed your lack of action and concern for these issues lately. The number of people who question your abilities as a leader goes up by the day. They lost respect for you. Some are calling for a replacement leader whether you give it to them willingly or not. It sounds familiar, doesn't it?” 

Allison had no clue what her mother’s last sentence was referencing. Looking at Boarman for some sort of response she found him staring at Scout’s empty chair as she exited the room. His brow furrowed as he stared quietly. He was clearly contemplating Scout’s warning. As he grew deeper in thought he bared more teeth and his eyes narrowed.

Allison stood up from her chair grabbing her plate before moving over to Boarman’s side, “I can take your plate if you’re done,” she said with a smile. Boarman responded with a grunt followed by a nod. “more wine maybe?” she asked.

Boarman lifted his head and replied dryly, “Bring me the whole bottle and leave me alone for the rest of the night.” Allison nodded, she was more than happy to give him space while he was angry. When she was younger, she would try to cheer him up when he was in a mood. Her presence only seemed to agitate him more, which only made her want to comfort him more. When she was ten, she tried to hug him to calm him down. As soon as she touched him she was hit across the face with his large boar claws, the hard keratin of the claws made her nose and mouth bleed as he cursed her out. He had convinced her it was her fault and not to tell her mother but Scout knew what had happened as soon as she saw the blood. After cleaning her daughter up, Scout and Boarman had a screaming match in the next room. Since then, Allison knew to steer clear of him when he was grouchy.

She rushed into the kitchen, grabbing her mother’s plate on her way out. After placing the plates in the sink, she headed over to the special fridge that had exclusively wine. It was larger than the regular refrigerator and needed to be refilled more often. She could not recall a single time when Boarman did not have a glass readily available to him. She grabbed a bottle and hurried back to Boarman, who upon seeing her enter chugged the remaining contents of his glass and sat it down to be refilled again. Allison poured the wine until he signaled for her to stop. She set the bottle on the table and headed for the door. 

Once out of the dining room, she wanted to find her mother and ask her some questions about the current state of Exposia. She found her mother in the living room, sitting on the couch while watching TV. She did not seem too interested in what was playing. Her tail hung off the couch and the fur poking out from her clothing was raised. 

When Scout noticed her daughter, her fur flattened and her head popped up, “Do you want to watch something with me?” Her voice was tired but much calmer than it had been at dinner.

“Oh um, sure,” I’ll just ask her while we watch something, she thought.

Scout handed her the remote, “pick whatever you want, I wasn't really watching this,” she said gesturing towards the TV.

After picking a random program that looked vaguely interesting, she turned to her mother and asked awkwardly, “So, is what you said true? With the whole protest thing and those problems, I mean.” She knew her mother did not like her getting involved with politics but she was the only person she could ask. 

Scout hesitated to answer but eventually said, “Well, of course, I wouldn't lie about that kind of thing.” 

“How long has that stuff been going on?” she asked, bringing her knees to her chest as she curled her short tail around her waist.

“I don't want you to worry about that. It's my job to deal with it, not yours,” Scout replied.

“But-”

“Look, I don't want to talk about work, not with you,” upon seeing her daughter’s face she placed a paw on Allison’s shoulder and added, “Besides, when was the last time we actually hung out? Let's just enjoy it. Please?” 

“Fine,” Allison replied with a smile, trying her best to not sound disappointed. She did not mind spending time with her mother, not in the slightest, but her mother’s answer made her feel like there was worse she was not being told.

Chapter Text

While cleaning Boarman’s office, Allison listened in on Boarman and Scout’s discussions. She hoped to gain more information on the affairs in Exposia. Boarman sat idly resting his jaw on his claws occasionally scratching his chin.

 “The directors are asking for a meeting,” Scout said, shuffling through a stack of letters. Allison had heard about the directors all her life in these conversations. From what she gathered, they are people Boarman granted authority over the different districts of the country. She could not recall their names as Boarman more often referred to them with various insults. “They have some complaints about your recent policies.”

“What's new? I’m guessing Barbara sent most of those,” Boarman rolled his eyes. 

Scout simply nodded before continuing, “Your upcoming schedule is pretty empty, I can send invites out today and-”

Boarman slammed his claws on the table, “Why the fuck would I want to schedule a meeting with them. Every meeting is just them bitching about their problems like I'm some therapist,” his sudden movement caused Allison to flinch. She shifted her weight onto the broom to catch her balance. Scout shifted her gaze to her daughter, who desperately tried to appear hard at work and avoided eye contact before Boarman spat, “Focus on your job for once, will you?”

Scout turned back with a scowl. Boarman held a smug look until she took on her typical neutral expression, “The directors have been asking for this meeting for a long time now. It may seem like petty disputes now but their bitterness regarding these issues will continue to pile up. They might get frustrated enough to fix the problem on their own.”

“A coup?” he laughed, “You think they’re dumb enough to try?”

“You've given them enough power to overthrow you,” her voice was quiet and solemn, “if you value keeping anyone’s opinion of you positive, it's them.”

 Boarman stared daggers at Scout as a deafening silence filled the room. Amplified by the silence, the sound of the broom seemed more like scraping than sweeping. The sound of the bristles raking across the floor made Allison cringe as she tried to sweep quieter. Allison wanted nothing more than for someone to break the unbearable silence.

With a huff and a grunt Boarman did just that, “Fine, you’ll send the invitations today and if one of them doesn't respond, the meeting is off,” he grumbled. 

A slight smile appeared on Scout’s face. The sight alone was refreshing to see. Allison felt her own smile begin to form, but both her and her mother’s moment of pride was shot down by Boarman’s additional statement, “While I'm at my meeting, I want you to finish up some paperwork.”

“I should be able to get most of the paperwork done before the meeting.”

“No, you won’t,” he said bluntly, “I’m not giving the work until the day of the meeting. I’m already expecting to get dogpiled by everyone else’s bullshit. I don't need you causing more problems.” As he spoke he slowly leaned over the desk closer to her, as if he was taunting her to start an argument. 

 Scout sighed, “Fine, for your sake, I hope you mention at least a few of the things I warned you about.” Allison could tell her mother was biting back a harsher response. The tip of her tail twitched behind the desk, just out of Boarman’s sight.

While Scout began writing out the invitations, Allison started formulating questions to ask Boarman when her mother left. Questions about the dogfighting and the drugs stuck out to her but the most important question was if they could be fixed. It did not make sense for Boarman to allow his country to suffer without reason. It’s possible he just hasn't found a solution yet, she thought, or what if fixing one solution leads to another problem? 

As Scout exited the room, Allison inched her sweeping closer and closer to Boarman’s desk. Despite her attempts at being sneaky, Boarman glanced at her as she moved, “What do you want?” he grumbled. 

 She jumped slightly as her mental script began to fall apart, “Um… nothing it’s just…I have a few questions,” her last few words fizzled out.

He glared at her for a second before sighing, “Ugh, go ahead. It better not be something stupid,” he grumbled. 

Allison exhaled as she tried to think of where to start, “So the other night Mom mentioned some… issues our country has. Are they true? I mean do we really have all these issues?” Her tail stiffened as she awaited a response. 

Boarman rolled his eyes, “Exposia is just fine. Your mother likes to bitch and moan about the small things. You know how she is, always stressed over something, even if it's nothing.” For a moment Allison was convinced by this answer as she could not remember a time when her mother was not noticeably distressed, but that bit of persuasion depleted as she thought, but it was never for nothing. She always had a good reason. The countless times her mother warned Boarman not to make public announcements while drunk crossed her mind. Ultimately, Scout had to deal with public criticism for days afterward. 

Allison continued, “So…what is dogfighting?”

 Boarman made a shooing gesture with his clawed hand and grunted, “Go bother your mother. I don't have time for these questions.” 

“I tried but Mom doesnt want to talk about these things with me,” she said.

“Well, neither do I.

Allison pulled back her ears and let her head fall as she peered down to the ground, suddenly losing hope of finding answers to any of her questions. “Ok, I finished cleaning here. Is there anything you need me to do?” Maybe I can try asking Mom again.  

 Boarman thought for a moment, “I actually do,” he opened a drawer and rummaged through some papers and pulled out two envelopes. While handing them to her, he said, “Deliver these letters, don't open them, and maybe don't let your mother know you went out.”

“Why not?” Allison asked as she read the address on the back of the envelopes.

“Oh nothing too important,” he reassured, “she doesn't think you're ready to go out on your own but you're nineteen, you’ll be fine. Maybe you’ll figure out some answers to your questions.” 

As long as I don't get into trouble, Mom shouldn't be too mad, Allison figured, “When should I come home?” She had already finished her other routine work. If Boarman or her mother did not have more requests for her, she could spend time in town for a while. 

“I don't care, just don’t come back with more questions,” he dismissed. Allison’s tail lifted and began to wag uncontrollably. She was grateful her tail was short enough to stay hidden behind her. Leaving the office, the thought of browsing through stores and trying food from local vendors filled her with excitement. 

After getting to her room, Allison grabbed a black bucket bag her mother had gifted her many years ago. She had never had a real reason to use it until now but as a child, she liked to fill it with random items and parade around with it. She put a random assortment of items that looked vaguely useful along with some money into the bag. 

 Allison quickly reached the gate of the country capitol building, trying to contain her excitement. The charlotte blue sky with pale orange clouds of the afternoon filled her with a sense of tranquility. She took a deep breath as she cracked the gate door. 

Chapter Text

As Allison strolled passed building after building, she took in the environment around her. The buildings were old with their assortments of missing and chipped bricks. Windows and doors were busted and fixed with flimsy, makeshift repairs. The sidewalks had large cracks and chunks missing, Allison had to catch herself several times from a misplaced step.

 The people were a large variety of creatures. Some tried to make themselves small and keep their heads down while others bumped shoulders and glared at anyone and everyone they passed. Everyone’s eyes had a hint of disdain no matter what they looked at. With each gaze that fell on her, Allison felt a sting of anxiousness burn inside her. 

In the alleyways, the occasional figure could be seen behind the heaps of trash piled up in and around the dumpsters. Sometimes the figures would be made visible by the light of their cigarettes and lighters, other times Allison only noticed them as they moved closer to the sidewalk she was walking on, but stopping and staring when it was clear they were spotted. 

Allison picked up her pace and hurried off to the nearest address of the letters. The only indicator of where she needed to go was the street signs, many of which were scratched and bent. As she and a few other people waited for a horse drawn cart to pass, a deer pushed through the crowd with his son. The stag dragged his son by the arm as the cart neared and halted to a stop. 

“Hey asshole! Out of the way,” the horse called out in a gruff voice. 

 The deer stopped and stamped his way back in front of the horse, “We’re pedestrians dipshit, you’re supported to stop for us.” The horse rolled his eyes and tried to move around the two deer with threatening stomps. With each move the horse made, the deer father blocked his path while spouting taunting insults. 

From the corner of her eye, Allison could see the person beside her step closer to the street. They nudged her hard then laughed, “Finally! I’ve been waiting all day for something interesting to happen.”

 Allison turned to the person. He was barely the same height as her with mostly grey fur. The distinct, mask-like black marking on his face and striped tail gave away the fact that he was a raccoon. He wore ripped brown trousers and a black raincoat with the hood down. He looked to be in his late twenties.

 The horse stomped his hooves harder, “I don’t give a damn what I'm supposed to do, you almost got yourselves ran over.” 

 The young deer pulled on his dad’s arm and said something too quiet for Allison to hear. The deer huffed, “Piss off,” then continued to drag his son across the street. 

 The man standing next to Allison groaned, “damn it, that's probably for the best, It’d be a shame for the kid to get hurt cause of his dad,” a hint of disappointment lingered in his voice. As they both walked off he added, “already a shame his dad’s an asshole.”

“Really? He didn’t seem too bad,” Allison replied, thinking about the times with Boarman and his moments of anger. At least the deer did not attempt to hit the horse or scream at his son for interrupting, “being angry kinda just seems like a dad thing.”

The man looked at her as they walked. He seemed stuck on her last statement, she could see a look of sympathy in his eyes. The longer he stared the more nervous she got and the more desperate she was to change the subject, “Anyways, my name’s Allison. Yours?” 

The man’s expression reverted back to the way it was before her last comment, he seemed suddenly aware of how long he had been staring, “Oh, I’m Gizmo or Giz for short.” His friendly expression was comforting and seemed authentic. Maybe he knows his way around the town. 

She pulled out the envelopes and pointed to the addresses, “do you know where any of these are?”

After a short while of inspecting them, Gizmo answered “Uh… yeah, but they're all in different districts. This one is to The Booze Bunker in District Two, this one’s to an orphanage in District One, a printing press in District Four, and a Casino in District Three,” he looked up from the envelopes, “Why are you the one delivering these? Why not just give these to the post office?”

“I don’t know, my boss told me to do it,” she grumbled, feeling her confidence of being able to finish her task in one afternoon diminish. A thought suddenly occurred to her, why doesn’t Boarman just use the post office? It’s his country. Even if it was something bad, who would he get in trouble with? 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Gizmo proudly announcing, “Don’t worry, I’ll take you to deliver them! I know my way around every part of this country,” he held his head high as he spoke, “we’re currently in District Four and the printing press is pretty close, like walking distance close. Come on!” He energetically picked up the pace and only noticed Allison lagging behind after hearing the sound of her jogging to keep up with him. Even as Gizmo tried to walk slower, Allison still struggled to keep up with him. 

As they walked Gizmo pointed out buildings, sharing their names and functions. His pride radiated more and more with each building he named. His striped tail bounced with each step. Occasionally, he would add a warning in his explanation, “Avoid that shop if you can, the owner came up to me rambling about how rodents aren’t allowed in his shop because they’re dirty. When I told him raccoons aren’t rodents he told me to go back to the trashcan I crawled out of.” 

“That’s awful!” Allison blurted, wondering where such a stereotype could have come from and how someone would be cruel enough to act on that belief.

Gizmo chuckled, “funny thing is he’s a beaver.” Allison could not help but laugh at the irony. She was glad Gizmo was able to find the humor despite the situation. 

After running out of notable buildings to point out Gizmo turned to her and asked, “So who’s your boss anyways?” 

Allison froze for a second. What if Giz thinks Boarman is a bad leader? Would that change the way he thought of her? She had not prepared to explain her relationship with the country's controversial president. However, she did not want to lie to him, “I’m the assistant to Mr. Boarman,” she sheepishly replied. 

Gizmo’s eyes widened and his pace slowed down, “The president?” She gave a small nod. “What’s that like? Is the pay good?”

“It’s fine, it’s mostly cleaning and running errands. I just got the job last week and he hasn’t mentioned my pay yet,” she replied.

 He picked his pace back up as he began to prod again, “Do you know what these letters are about?” His voice was much lower than before but with a hint of sterness that assured he would not let her ignore his question.

 Allison avoided eye contact with him and stammered awkwardly, “I-I don’t know,” she knew he would not be content with that answer, “but the last thing he was talking about was some meeting, I think.” 

 After unbearable silence, she turned to face him. His expression was hard to read, he just stared forward. Allison found no malice, but he was very clearly deep in thought. She finally decided to break the silence, “Are we soon there?”

 Gizmo jolted out of his train of thought, “Oh, yeah! It’s the building right there!” The friendly warmth returned to his voice as he ran ahead of her. Allison let out a breath of relief before bounding after him. 

 The building did not look like what Allison would have imagined a printing press would look like, the only giveaway was the words “Printing Press” messy painted in black above the front door. The building was grey and looked to be two stories tall. The windows to the first floor had dark tints but Allison could see through them if she squinted. The alleyway next to it was fenced off. Behind it there were little garden patches filled with small purplish pink poppies. Despite being only a few feet away from a main road, the surrounding area felt abandoned with little sign of movement or life. 

 Allison walked up to the mailbox on the door and dropped the first envelope in. When she turned to walk away, she noticed that Gizmo had stayed at the sideway as he shifted uncomfortably. She was unnerved by the eerie quietness of this section of the town. As she reached Gizmo, she felt compelled to look at the building one more time. Peering from partially parted curtains of the second story was a pair of eyes staring intently before disappearing entirely. 

 After catching a shabby wooden carriage drawn by a donkey, the two of them planned out their next destination routes. This carriage was only willing to take them to District Three’s border and no farther. After that, they would have to walk unless they could find another carriage. 

 As Gizmo’s rambling jumped from topic to topic, Allison zoned out thinking about Gizmo’s reaction earlier. His sudden change in tone played over and over in her mind, sounding harsher and accusatory with each time. “Do you know what these letters are about?” Did he? What does he think I know? Why does it matter? The last thing she wanted was to get in the middle of her new friend’s political opinion. 

 “Come on Allison! This is our stop,” Gizmo happily says, the sharp contrast stuns her. 

 After a few seconds of not moving, Gizmo turns to her and reaches out his right hand, “It’s time to go. Are you alright?” 

She takes his hand and pulls herself up, “Sorry, I was just thinking about something.” Allison let him guide her off the cart, still holding onto his hand like a child being dragged through a crowd by her father.

 Upon seeing the condense layout of the buildings, Allison began to feel claustrophobic. The building left little to no room for alleyways. The alleyways she found were filled with trash and people curled up on makeshift mats like cardboard or newspaper. Windows were busted with glass scattered on the narrow sidewalks. The hoards of people looked dour and stared with looks filled with hostility and distrust or simply avoided looking up at all. 

 Whatever Gizmo said during their walk fell on deaf ears. Allison could not help but take everything in, women holding onto their kids tightly, teens pickpocketing the elderly then running into stores only to come out with a few groceries, the luckiest of beggars being given pennies, a young couple getting robbed at knifepoint in broad daylight, business owners yelling and chasing loiterers off, and the people that passed by scratching themselves with tired, unfocused eyes. In an alleyway, she noticed three kids in ragged clothing dug through the dumpsters and garbage bags, with each scrap of food they found they celebrated. 

 “Allison, are you listening?” 

 “Oh, what? Sorry I was a little distracted,” she admitted. She did not know things were this bad. Allison turned back to the kids and thought back to her mother’s conversation to Boarman, she wasn’t lying, they’re starving.

“The Casino’s right there,” Gizmo pointed to a towering structure of many floors. The building was illuminated by countless lights from the windows, signs, and in-ground lights pointing up at the walls. The ground lights were alongside a lush array of shrubs, flowers, and a polished marble water fountain on each side. A tall metal fence surrounded about two acres of land. 

Allison slowly padded through the open gate and up the paved marble driveway with Gizmo following slowly behind. The grimy, cracked sidewalk under her feet was now pristine, shiny pavement. The weary-eyed strangers she walked next to were now shifty-eyed businessmen in suits. Looking back, the city looked more like an abandoned spectacle than the home of thousands of people. 

As she reached the entrance, a large martin stopped her, “You don’t like gamblers, what's your purpose here,” he demanded with a look of pure annoyance. 

“Oh, um, we’re just here to deliver a letter,” his daunting gaze followed her moments as she pulled out the letter and handed it to him. 

The man’s expression changed as he read the back of the letter, occasionally glancing back at her. The expression turned to a look of suspicion, “Who do you work for?”

“President Boarman, sir,” she stated, hoping formality would ease the tension, “I was sent to deliver a letter to all the directors.”

The man smiled and gave a boisterous laugh, ”Friend of the Belettes, eh? Start with that next time. Come in, deliver it yourself!” 

An apprehensive Gizmo pushed past Allison and spoke up, “We really need to get going. We still have two more letters to deliver and we’re travelling on foot.” Looking up, Allison noticed the navy blue hues in the sky. They still had half the country to travel. While it was not big compared to other countries, she still wanted to get done before midnight. 

“Not a problem, I’ll get this to Therman when I see him.”

 Gizmo remained quiet as they made their way to District Two’s border. Allison knew by his absent expression that he was thinking about something and decided not to bother him. As they passed rows of ramshackled buildings, Allison looked up at the sky again. The deep blue sky was comforting. 

The border was nothing more than a marker, just a red painted line on the ground and even scaling up walls of buildings. Faded marks overlapped each other, each with their own shades of red. 

Crossing over into District Two, the buildings around them started to fizzle out. The paved paths became worn-down dirt trails lined with weeds. The brick and stone apartment buildings became wooden farmhouses with people tending to fields of crops behind fences. The farmlands stretched for what seemed like miles. 

As Allison starred in awe, Gizmo laughed, “Yeah, this place is a pretty sight for a walk, kinda peaceful when the farmers aren’t accusing you of stealing their apples,” Allison imagined a nice stroll in the summertime, basking in the sun and hiding in the shade of the apple trees for rests. “Don't get too hungry looking at all this, most of this isn't for eating.”

“What, why?” Allison’s stomach suddenly felt empty. A small part of her heart broke as her stomach growled.

“District Two’s director owns all this land, so everything they make is hers. She turns like eighty percent of the crops into alcohol and sells it.” 

“This country sure loves its alcohol,” Allison gave a disheartened chuckle. There must be a high demand for so much to be made. “I heard something about people not being able to afford food so why do people drink so much?”

Gizmo’s voice got low, “It's much cheaper to buy alcohol than fruit. It doesn’t fill your stomach but after enough you forget you ever even had one. I can’t blame the farmers for the high prices though, not their fault most of their work is taken from them.” Gizmo’s words felt rehearsed, like it was a truth he had known for all his life. 

Allison’s ears drooped as she searched for a solution to the farming problem but the obvious answer of “the director should not be so selfish” added nothing to the conversation. Turning to see Gizmo staring off into space, she saw no hatred or anger. She abandoned her idea of finding a solution. He just wants someone to talk to, she thought. 

Peering ahead, she saw the line of fencing end and brick buildings begin. “Are there any directors you like?” she asked. 

Gizmo lifted his head as he silently thought for a minute, “Well… Bulk is just an asshole to everyone he works with, never heard anything good about him. Barbara is iffy at best. If a resident in her district gets attacked or wronged in any way from someone from another district, she’ll fight to hold the director of that district countable. But, she’ll fuck over her own people with laws and taxes and pretend nothing ever happened.”

“Wait, the directors make the laws?” she interjected, “shouldn’t that be the president’s job?” 

“Yeah, all the districts have their own laws. The president can make laws, but he mostly lets the directors do whatever they want. Back to the directors, Dolly gets people hooked on drugs only to market a pricey cure later. Therman is pretty new to the job but if he’s anything like his father, the director before him, I’ll have to consider moving.” Gizmo’s tail swished back and forth as he spoke. Allison nodded, trying to figure out which names belonged to each director. 

 Allison was taken aback by the welcoming atmosphere of the town. The buildings were clean, without a single cracked brick. Barrels of foxglove, larkspur, and other pretty flower arrangements decorated the entrance of most buildings. Hanging wooden signs labeled every building from bookstores to flower shops. The town was enclosed by fences, which were also surrounded by tall corn stalks. Children blissfully played near the fences, some tried sneaking through the fence before getting called back by their parents. 

A small child waved at her, wagging his tail so much that his body moved along with it. She waved back before he ran off smiling. A sign labeled “The Booze Bunker” caught her eye. As they approached the building, she noticed a woman leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. She wore a red coat with a fur collar. She was just a bit taller than Allison. With a long, heavy tail and long legs, she looked like a kangaroo but smaller. 

As Allison got closer to the building and pulled out the letter, the woman suddenly shifted her gaze, “That for me?” By her voice, that cigarette clearly wasn’t her first. Her voice was like sandpaper and tone was just as rough. 

“Oh, uh… are you,” she searched the letter for a name, “Barbara?” 

The woman walked over, stumbling slightly before catching herself on her tail, “Yeah, that's me. You’re delivering for the pig?”

Allison glanced at Gizmo before replying, “If you mean Boarman then yes.”

Barbara stepped toward them and snatched the letter, “Fuckin finally! Tell that bastard to respond faster next time,” she tore opened the envelope with her claws and read it, “What the fuck is this? I’ve been sending letters for three months just for a meeting?” Allison took a few steps back. “Alright, if you two aren’t gonna buy anything, leave.”

 Despite her harsh tone, Allison was just glad to have an out. As Barbara entered the bar, Allison and Gizmo started walking towards one of the other town’s exits. 

They walked through more farmland but just past the pretty farmhouses were a large collection of small, dreary, and colorless buildings. They looked more like a pile of scrap metal than houses. She recognized some of the field workers dragging their exhausted bodies home.

Chapter Text

I'm going back through and rewriting parts of the story that need to be changed. The most notable change will be to Allison's character so there's something to actually go off of moving forward.