the fashion policePablo’s hooves skittered across the rough concrete sidewalks as he ran through the back alleys of Centropolis. He was making too much noise, perhaps, but speed was more important right now. They were after him, and he needed to put as much distance between him and them as he could manage.
The Fashion Police. The most fabulous policing force on Subeta. The ones in charge of making sure that everyone stayed within the status quo. The ones that detested Pablo, and had finally decided his fashion was so heinous that he needed to be detained for the good of all Subeta.
‘Well good luck to them,’ he thought to himself, as he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. ‘I’ve got all my fabric, I’ve got my tools and I have my ideas. They may have taken my shop, but they can’t stop me from creating. From making Subeta beautiful.’
He was snapped out of his reverie by the clacking of what were most likely gorgeous but completely impractical high heels coming from near him. How had they found him again? But there was no time. No time at all.
The secret door had to be around here somewhere. He looked carefully until he saw the mark- a sewing needle crossed with shears- on a brick near him. He tapped it twice, and a small door opened, just large enough for him to crawl through.
Pablo looked down in disgust at his now dirt-covered fur. That would take a week to wash out.
He looked around at the small workshop he was hidden in. It was cramped but had all of necessities, all looking well used. The Fashion Police had been cracking down recently, coming after all of Centropolis’... alternative designers. But rescue was coming. He had been promised.
He sighed and sat on the edge of the cot that was shoved in the corner of the room. Perhaps just a quick nap... that would be nice.
What was probably hours, but felt like minutes later, he was awoken by a rough shake. He looked up, and a masked figure was looming over him. A very fashionable figure. The figure held a finger to it’s lips and gestured for Pablo to follow him. Pablo shrugged and followed the figure around a corner, where a cabinet had opened into a secret passageway.
They followed the passage for what seemed like years, in complete silence, only the flashlight of the mysterious figure bobbing ahead of him. Eventually, a sliver of daylight appeared, eventually opening up to the sound of seabirds and the ocean.
Pablo was ushered through the port quickly, having no time to stop and admire the outfits of those around him. He was unceremoniously deposited aboard a cargo ship, bound for who knows where.
He looked over the side of the ship, staring at his home of Centropolis for what could be the last time. He had no reason to return to a place that couldn’t accept his genius. Perhaps, though... perhaps Saherimos? Maybe they would appreciate him.