Harvested

One week later, a sleek black sedan seemingly made of angles pulled up to the curb in front of a grand plaza in Grand Concentra City’s revered Discovery District, a section of the city to the northwest where each building was spread out in a grand campus surrounded by lush trees. A long stone pathway led towards a massive building made of sweeping steel beams and glass—the Astral Park Convention Center. Its design had been inspired by Concentra itself, with two halls of interlocking rings meeting at the center where a massive dome sat. Enormous spotlights led the way inside, where all manner of elite gathered for the Future of the City Tech Gala.

The driver’s door to the sedan opened, Hunter stepping out, dressed in a gleaming gold suit with buttoned cuffs over a white undershirt. Beside him Vert followed, wearing an identical suit in forest green. From the back emerged Rosa, Lavender, and Cerulean, Rosa in a flowing violet-maroon dress, Lavender in a sparkling cyan gown, and Cerulean in a hybrid royal blue tuxedo which transitioned to a loose-fitting skirt. Rosa took a deep breath, her bright magenta eyes glittering in amazement. Hunter gave the keys to a valet, who soon drove the car towards the guest parking garage.

“I told you we would need Scarlet’s help,” Hunter said. “We’d never look the part without her.”

“If Vert hadn’t shot her with an arrow she’d be here to help a lot more,” Lavender chimed.

“I don’t get why you let her set you up with that suit,” Vert said to Hunter, folding his arms. “You look like an oil tycoon’s son.”

“Well I think you look classy,” Rosa said, her eyes crinkling.

“And you, Ceru,” Vert added, gesturing to the fox. “You couldn’t have picked a normal suit instead of whatever that is?”

“This isn’t even close to the strangest outfit you’ll see tonight,” he retorted. “Plus it’s way more comfy than the pants you got.”

“Can we get inside already?” Lavender asked. “I don’t want to wear this any longer than I have to.”

“I just hate leaving my weapons behind,” Vert said, glancing at a passing ferret couple.

“If all goes well we won’t need them,” Rosa said. “But if it makes you feel better you can borrow one of my stars.” Reaching into a hidden pouch in her dress, she revealed a small silver shuriken with a pink crystal at its center. Discreetly, Vert took the star and tucked it inside his tuxedo.

“I didn’t know you had miniature ones,” he said. She shrugged at him. Hunter gestured for them to follow him as they made their way towards the front entrance, where a bronze-furred donkey stood. Vert revealed his invitation, the donkey scrutinizing it beneath half-rimmed reading glasses.

“The invitation is for you and three extra guests,” he said. Hunter puffed out his chest and put on his best upper class clipped accent.

“We were invited personally by the CEO of Harvest, Brighton Shade II. Mr. Greene here is showing off potential investors and it is essential that they all be included in the panel.” The usher took a glance at Lavender, Rosa, and Cerulean, and a deathly glare from the skunk convinced him.

“Very well, enjoy the convention.”

Inside, the group was met with a grand view of the gala. A long atrium with patterned gray carpeting stretched the outer length of the inner dome, dozens of tech companies arranged in a system of stages decorated with monitors, equipment, and merchandise as potential clients and investors gathered around. Despite their mission, Vert and the others couldn’t help but gaze in awe at the presentation.

“Alright,” Vert began, “we’ve all got our roles to play here. If all these investors see the drone as a useless malfunctioning piece of crap, we won’t have to worry about them roaming the city.”

“The convention brochure says Harvest’s panel is around the bend just beyond the gardens,” Cerulean explained. As he and Hunter began making their way down the hall, Vert pulled Rosa aside, keeping his paws on her shoulders and his voice lowered.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright with her?” he asked, cocking his head slightly behind him towards Lavender, who’d just been offered a piece of cubed chicken on a platter. “I don’t know if we should trust her just yet.” Rosa’s eyes narrowed into a pout.

“I think you’re making her out to be worse than she is.”

“I looked her up before we left, do you know she killed like 25 crime bosses in Cydisc?”

“It was 21,” Lavender said suddenly, hovering just over his shoulder. He turned to glare at her, but she was unimpressed. “21 crime bosses,” she added. “But I’d say the world is a better place without them, don’t you think?” She popped a cube of cheese in her mouth. Not saying anything, Vert began making his way towards the direction Hunter and Cerulean had gone. Looking over his shoulder, he called back to Rosa one last time.

“Keep an eye out.”

---

Twenty minutes later, Vert, Hunter, and Cerulean stood in the crowd before the Harvest Tech, Inc presentation stage. Eventually, Brighton Shade II greeted everyone, dressed in another similar silver suit as he’d worn in the bank, though Vert couldn’t help noticing it was even more obnoxiously reflective than he remembered. The screen behind the deer displayed his visage in full view as the camera trained on him.

“Welcome, welcome all!” he boomed, his voice amplified through thin speakers. “I hope after tonight you will all be familiar with the name Harvest. It is my ambition that someday in the near future we will become a staple of households and organizations all throughout the Empire.”

Hunter nudged Cerulean, bending down next to his ear. “He’s going to have a lot to say before he reveals the drone, I need you to remember the important points, okay? We need to know what we’ll be up against.” The fox nodded in understanding as Hunter and Vert inconspicuously backed out of the crowd, searching around the panels for a door to the backstage.

“Rosa and Lavender shouldn’t be too far from the electrical room,” Hunter commented as they eventually came to a doorway down the hall marked ‘Employees Only’. But Vert didn’t respond, a sharp pang rising in his stomach.

---

Deeper into the dome of the convention center, Rosa and Lavender walked alone down a polished white hallway, the welcoming carpet of the main atrium replaced with cool tiles and fluorescent lights. Rosa checked her phone, not looking ahead of her.

“According to the fire escape layout of the convention center, the electrical room is just down this hall.”

“I’m just glad to be away from that crowd,” Lavender replied, tugging at the shoulder strap of her dress.

“I know you don’t like the dress too much,” Rosa began, “but you’re remarkably pretty.” Beside her, the skunk chuckled slightly.

“I don’t get too many compliments,” she said in earnest, her ears going back. “I’m kind of a monster.”

“You shouldn’t say that about yourself.” The two turned a corner. Lavender cocked her head at the leopard, a sly smile on her face.

“Oh it’s true, I assure you. I’m a mess.”

“Well you clean up nice for a mess.”

“Stop there!” a raccoon security guard called in front of them. “This is a restricted area.” Rosa straightened her posture.

“Sincere apologies, sir,” she began. “My friend here is having some unfavorable reactions to the party food, and we were looking for a restroom.” Picking up on her cue, Lavender suddenly clutched her stomach, her tail swishing sporadically.

“I wouldn’t stick around too much,” she said, putting strain in her voice. “As a skunk our stomach aches can have, let’s say, adverse side effects.” Lavender doubled over, faking a strong cramp, her tail sweeping up into the air behind her. “I’d hate for you to be caught downwind of anything.” The raccoon guard began to sweat, nervousness in his voice as he struggled to retain his composure.

“Yes well, we can’t have that. The restroom is that way,” he gestured further down the hall, “to the right, and please hurry.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rosa nodded, “thank you, sir.” The guard tipped his hat and rushed down the hall in the opposite direction. As he passed by, Lavender threw herself towards him, faking another cramp. In his haste, she unclipped the keys from his belt and quickly hid them under her arm. Moments later, they were alone once again.

“You’re a quick thinker,” Lavender said to Rosa.

“You’re a good actor,” Rosa responded. “Though I imagine he won’t be gone for long.” And with that, Lavender unlocked the door to the electrical room, the two slipping in undetected.

---

Vert and Hunter had successfully made their way backstage, a darker room lined with crates and spare chairs. The entire Harvest staff was busy with the panel, leaving their remaining props and supplies unguarded. Carefully, Hunter activated one of the larger crates, sliding the metal covering off. Inside was a mechanical construction neither of them had ever seen. Its head resembled that of a canine, its torso and arms heavily reinforced with titanium plating. At its waist was a flexible carbon and rubber support system, allowing its legs to rotate, ending in two large treads that magnetically locked together. Despite being relatively similar in height to the machine, its imposing design caused Hunter’s eyes to widen, suddenly remembering the goat he’d discovered dead only a week earlier.

“This is just a hollow prototype!” Vert exclaimed in frustration. “No electronics whatsoever, Brighton only brought the shell!”

Hunter flashed a picture of the drone on his phone. “So call the mission off then?” he asked.

“I uh,” Vert began, but was interrupted as Hunter’s phone buzzed. It was from Cerulean, and after answering he was met with live footage of Harvest’s panel, Brighton standing off to the side as the screen displayed a concept of the drone they were standing over.

“It’s worse than we thought, Hunter,” Cerulean said off screen.

“An exclusive team of Harvest engineers have worked painstakingly over the past year to bring you our magnum opus,” Brighton announced. “the Complacency Drone.” Various murmurs resonated throughout the crowd, a few looked eagerly on while others remained skeptical.

“I know what you might be thinking,” Brighton continued, “the term ‘complacency’ is not often used with such positive connotations, but I aim to change that. Complacency is about being at peace with your existence, and these drones will be able to do just that. Our brave Authorities work tirelessly to keep this, the largest city in the entire world, safe from the harm that exists even within our own borders. But you cannot police millions of people without the proper resources. I myself was brutally attacked last week in the Carbon District, and it was only through the skilled actions of individuals that I stand here today. We need to give those who look out for us as much at their disposal as they can to do their jobs efficiently.” From behind the phone, Vert’s ears dropped. “I imagine a world where we no longer have to fear stepping outside. A world where this brutal conflict with the Sur Kingdoms is over, and a new era of security and peace reigns.”

Beside the kangaroo, Hunter grabbed Vert’s wrist. “Vert, we need to leave now.” But he was frozen, his eyes entranced by the stag’s speech.

“And that’s why I, Brighton Shade II,” he added, “am proud to announce Harvest’s running in the next election for the Council of Executives. I know we are a last-minute newcomer to this race, but I have faith our displays throughout the summer in what the Complacency Drone is capable of will rocket us to victory.” Cerulean suddenly cut the feed, and a quick follow up text told Hunter the convention security was ushering people away to the next panel. In the silence that followed, Vert could do nothing to keep himself from staring down into the crate where the dormant drone lay.

“We need to leave now, Vert,” Hunter repeated. “We’re not winning anything tonight. It’s time to call Rosa and Lavender off.”

“No!” Vert cried. “I’m not leaving this convention empty handed.” Behind them, they heard the door handle to the Harvest backstage begin to click as someone fumbled to unlock it. Vert’s gaze shot back to the drone crate.

“Get in,” he said.

“What?” Hunter stepped back, but Vert grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the crate on top of him. The roo was barely able to send a text to Rosa before the door opened, the lights to the backstage area suddenly shutting off. In the confusion Vert activated the crate’s sliding lid. But as the lid latched shut Hunter’s eyes widened in pain, Vert slapping a paw over his mouth to stifle his scream. In their rush to hide he hadn’t pulled his tail clear of the crate, the white tip caught in the latched area.

In the darkness they felt the crate lift onto a cart, the two keeping completely silent as the drone was rolled outside to one of Harvest’s delivery trucks, praying that no one noticed the very end of Hunter’s tail still outside. Eventually they heard the rumbling of the truck hatch falling shut, the only sound their heartbeats pounding in their ears.

“They were sure in a hurry to pack up,” Vert said from underneath Hunter. A moment later the truck started up, and soon they felt the methodic shaking of the trailer on pavement.

“I can’t believe you got me stuck in here,” Hunter grunted.

“At least with your tail like that we can get a little air in here.” Vert twisted in the crate to get his phone free, sending a quick message to Rosa, instructing her to reunite with Cerulean and get out of the gala.

“Oh, perfect!” the roo exclaimed. Hunter raised an eyebrow at him. “Rosa can track us with the throwing star she gave me. They can pick up the car and follow us.”

“Even so, we have no idea where this truck is going,” Hunter added.

“Hopefully, wherever it’s headed, we’ll find something big there.”