A/N: Pretty much my first piece of writing in 5 years. I saw Zootopia, and instantly fell madly in love with it (and its fandom). During one of my perusals of the interwebs, I stumbled across a picture of Nick that made me think "Hey, he looks like he'd fit right in in Rapture in this! ...waaaaiit a minute..." And thus this story was born.
As I said, it's been roughly 5 years since I last properly wrote, so please, if it feels too fast, too slow, too out of character, too (insert critique here), let me know, I'd appreciate the help.
Admittedly, this chapter was kinda cut in half - it already felt like it was dragging on too long, just in case you're all wondering about the strange shift halfway down.
I hope to update this thing on a weekly basis. I expect to update this thing on a monthly basis. I would not be surprised if I updated this thing on a yearly basis (very, very disappointed in myself, but not surprised. I'm the King of Procrastination! I'm making a throne and everything! I've been working on it since I graduated highschool! I have the sheet of paper ready to begin sketches for it and everything! Any day now!)
And now, without further ado, let the story... Begin!
Sailing on the ocean can be a calming experience.
If one were to be traveling on a top of the line cruise liner, one would have all the luxuries that they could find on land, and likely several more. Sun decks for basking in the warm glow of the bright summer sun, top chefs from around the world cooking up delicacies in state of the art kitchens, served in some of the finest restaurants that outrageous amounts money could buy, fantastical company from around the world dancing the evening away to the crooning of a top rate singer in front of a live, world class orchestra... Truly, ocean travel could be one of the greatest experiences any mammal could ask for.
None of this passed through Judy Hopp's mind as she desperately clutched at the ladder of the Jackalope, the small sailing vessel she was on, struggling to keep her lunch down as the ship struggled to stay above water.
The last few steps of the ladder were a struggle, the ship bucking violently as it crested a particularly large swell, but Judy heaved a sigh as her feet finally touched down on the deck. Her paws' grip tightened on the ladders railing as the deck rolled underneath her, the vessel gaining speed as it cascaded down the face of the wave. As a sickening sense of losing gravity washed over her small frame, Judy's lunch desperately wanted to make a repeat appearance. Feeling her feet begin to leave their tenuous purchase on the deck, Judy clung to the railing, clamping her eyes shut as the trough of the wave quickly approached the bow of the ship. Faintly, she thought she heard one of the crew-members shout something, but the words were torn away from the bunny's ears by the fury of the storm.
Gravity regained it's hold on the tiny mammal as the ship hit the bottom of the trough, much to her relief. Said relief was short lived, however, as the bow of the ship plowed headlong into the oncoming storm, drenching what little parts of her had remained dry with a wall of icy salt-water, almost knocking her back down the open hatch. Judy sputtered as the vessel once more climbed the next wave, gasping from the shock of the cold, and immediately regretting it as she inhaled a lungful of the brine.
Judy was blinking in rapid succession, trying to clear the ocean water from her eyes, when she felt a pair of calloused paws grab her by her shoulders. One of the ships crewmembers, a wolf with thoroughly sodden salt-and-pepper fur, was glaring down at her with an expression mixed with anger, fear, and determination.
"Are you crazy, or just suicidal?" Even with Judy's powerful hearing, the wolf's rough voice was almost swallowed by the storm. "Get back below decks, and keep that hatch closed, or we'll all be at the bottom of the ocean a-" Whatever else the wolf had been about to say was cut off as the Jackalope met another wave head on; the ensuing wave washed Judy back down the hatch, and swept the crewmember out of her sight.
Ignoring the slight wooziness from her head colliding with the lower deck, Judy bounded back up the ladder, desperately hoping against all hope that the wolf was safe. Casting her gaze across the deck, she heaved a sigh of relief – there was a couple of ropes running the entire length of the ship, set up when the storm had first been spotted, that the crew were clipped onto, attached at harnesses issued for just such an occasion. Had it not been for said harness, the wolf- and half of the crew- would undoubtedly have been cast overboard, but as it was, the worst he would likely suffer from would be a couple of uncomfortable bruises in the morning. Looking out to the front of the ship, Judy blanched – the giant waves that had been pounding the small sailing vessel for the past who-knows-how-long showed no signs of stopping. If anything, the storm was getting worse.
Without a second thought, Judy slammed the hatch above her shut, dropping back below decks to brace herself against the next tumultuous battering coming their way.
What did I do to be here?!
Growing up in a backwater town like BunnyBurrow, Judy Hopps had always dreamed of a different life. True, she had a loving, if overly large, family who she loved in return, fantastic friends whom she'd had since childhood, and a stable, guaranteed job working for her parents on their farm, a farm which she would undoubtedly inherit one day. All told, it was the foundations for a comfortable life.
The problem was, Judy Hopps didn't want a comfortable life.
Looking around, she saw a great many wrongs in the world; despite their modern, 'evolved' culture, many animals still held to their prehistoric predator-versus-prey mentality. Prey species were inherently viewed as weak, meek, and inferior, even when the opposite was undeniably proven the true time and time again. Some predators seemed predisposed to act more violently around prey, using brute force and intimidation to get their way – as a result, the prey species held to the mantra that all mammals of the predator species were out to take advantage of the little guys, and so viewed predators with distain, distrust, and fear.
"If living like that is a 'comfortable' life, then I want no part of it."
Even from early childhood, Judy had been a very vocal advocate for change. Seeking to be the change she wanted to see in the world, Judy worked her entire life to shake off the backwards views of those around her – she intended to prove to all that those labelled as 'prey' could hold positions of power and authority as capably as their 'predator' counterparts. The most visible and public way she could think to do this was to join the police – never before in history (as far as she could find), had there been a 'prey' police officer, let alone one seen as small and unintimidating as a bunny.
So, from as young an age as to still be in elementary school, Judy worked towards this goal, much to her parents' chagrin. She pushed herself in her studies, earning top grades and positions on the Honour Roll each year. Physically, she excelled in P.E., becoming the top runner in her schools many track and field events, as well as maintaining a high level of acrobatics through her gymnastics training outside of school. Extracurricular activities included Hall Monitor, Student Council, and Crossing Guard – even if she was far too young to join the police force just yet, she intended to set an example for her fellow students of how one should behave, and if they wouldn't learn from example, she'd use what little authority her positions granted her to make them learn.
And so, it came as no surprise to anyone when, upon graduation, Judy was selected as valedictorian of her class. True, while her unconventional opinions, attitude and strong sense of justice hadn't earned her many friends, her eternally optimistic and helpful mindset had. What did come as a surprise, to Judy at least, was her rejected application to the Police Academy. While officially the reason for her denied entry was stated as her having failed the physical requirements, it wasn't that far of a leap for Judy to read between the lines – she hadn't been accepted into the Police because she wasn't a predator.
Frustrated but undeterred, Judy was determined to provide justice and peace of mind to her fellow citizens, even if it had to be on a smaller scale. Managing to skirt the issues of her species, Judy enrolled in an online Private Investigators course, and passed with flying colours. She secured a position with a local agency, becoming a junior partner in 'R. Dunn & Associates Detective Agency' before the befuddled bobcat could fully grasp exactly what position in his office she'd applied for.
Working under the scrutinizing eyes of her superiors, Judy excelled at the business for two years, despite the limitations put upon her, and the lack of challenging cases she'd been given. Nevertheless, having worked the required number of years under an established Investigator, and having saved up enough money, Judy Hopps was proud to officially declare that less than four years after graduating high school, she had opened her own detective agency.
Less than five years after having graduated high school, 'J. Hopps, P.I.' closed its doors for the final time.
It wasn't that she was a bad detective on her own – no, in fact, Judy was sure that, given the chance, she'd be able to prove herself more than equal to others in her field. The problem was that she hadn't been given the chance, not really. When she first opened her practice, she'd felt a thrill every time the bell over her small office's door rang, as dozens of animals had come to see her. Not to hire her, as she'd quickly learned, just to see her, the upstart of a bunny who thought she could make it in a predator's world. After those first few weeks, the novelty had apparently worn off, and she was lucky if that tiny brass bell ding-ed at least three times a day – once when she arrived at the office, once when she left, and once when a passerby popped their head in to ask for directions.
She had received a few proper clients, mammals too desperate for help to go on their own, yet too terrified of the larger predators of other agencies to go to them. The cases were sadly few and far between, and far from challenging – a stolen wallet (found a few days later in the client's other jacket), a potentially adulterating husband (the only thing he'd been cheating on was his diet; the 'lipstick' on his collar turned out to be strawberry jam filling from doughnuts), and the unforgettable missing child (he'd climbed a tree and couldn't get down. Judy wasn't sure whether or not she could claim credit for solving that problem, or the fire department), just to list an entire month's worth of cases.
After a lack of funds had driven her to close her beloved office (she'd kept the bell), Judy had attempted to return to her position at R. Dunn, only to be informed that her old position had been filled during her absence.
"I truly am sorry that I can't take you back on, Julie," the pudgy bobcat had dramatically furrowed his brows, heaving a sigh as he looked at the ground, jowls swinging back and forth as he shook his head. "You were a valued asset, and I would like nothing more than to hire you back on. I would as quick as that!" Making a show of snapping his perfectly manicured claws just a few inches in front of her face, Robert barely concealed his disappointment when Judy failed to flinch. Turning his back in an attempt to hide his petulant pout, Robert surveyed the brick building facades or the buildings across the road before continuing, a slight, stifled snort easily audible to Judy's hearing. "But saladly, I can't. You're a tough kit, I'm sure something'll turnip soon enough. Lettuce not dwell on the past – can't let some bad luck beet us down." Judy could clearly see her old boss's smirk in the glass panel's reflection, undoubtedly thinking himself inordinately clever for the farming puns that she'd heard countless times since arriving at the city.
Judy passed by her empty old desk on the way out of the old office.
"The worst part is, he knows that I know, but there's nothing I can do about it!" Releasing a frustrated 'Argh!', Judy's head thumped against the table top. A small part of her mind recoiled at the thought of what might've been causing the bars tabletop to be ever so slightly sticky, but that part was drowned out by her annoyance and alcohol.
Nodding absentmindedly, the female bobcat seated across from her idly toyed with her glass of milk, rocking the glass about its bottom edge. "I know, my uncle can be a bit of a jerk at times, but what can you do?"
Looking at the two seated across from one another, a casual passerby would never have expected such an unlikely pair of drinking buddies, let alone in a low-lit jazz club like "The Catmandu". The room, with an air that would never be completely cigarette-smoke free, tables polished by the elbows of countless drinkers, worn down rugs, and the stage tucked away in the corner that was barely big enough for the five-piece band that was currently playing, spoke more for a clientele of shady deals hidden beneath a thin layer of propriety, or crotchety old goats reminiscing about the better days of their youth – not two girls sharing a drink after work.
In all reality, it wasn't the type of establishment that Judy would traditionally inhabit, and neither was she in the company of which she would normally keep. The reason behind her current local and company was that she hadn't wanted to spend her last night in the big city alone, and Katherine had been bored and wanted a drink; Catmandu's was known to stay open late, and have decently priced drinks.
With a groan, Judy raised her head, wincing as she felt the table's surface resist her attempts to leave. "That's just the thing – there's nothing I can do, no matter how unethical it is!" Wearily looking at her drinking partner, Judy did her best to ignore the ermine looking at her, a couple tables away, undoubtedly shocked by her outburst. "It doesn't matter that I did well at my job, or that he still has the position available, or anything! I'm not currently employed by him, so he has no legal obligations to hire me! And now I get to go back home tomorrow, a failure, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing!" The small part of her mind cried out in protest as Judy's head once more fell to the table top.
Demurely lapping at her milk, the feline across from Judy sat silent for several seconds, before sighing. Setting down her glass, Katherine shrugged. "It's tough, but that's the world we live in."
"Then the world is wrong!" Bolting upright, Judy lurched across the table, grasping at the air. "Why should it matter what species I was born! Why doesn't it matter that I work just as hard, and get better results!" The ermine, and several other of the late-night patrons, were now looking over at Judy, but she was beyond caring at this point. She wasn't likely to see any of them ever again, so what did it matter that they saw an overly emotional bunny tonight. Instead, her focus was on her companion, and her companion's lack of reaction.
Katherine Dunn, niece of Robert Dunn, had worked as a secretary in her uncle's office ever since she had graduated from high school, and for all intents and purposes, appeared to be content staying in the same office, in the same position, until the day she retired. Several drinks in as she was, if Judy squinted, she could see how Katherine could be seen as attractive. Well groomed, pure-bred, and with luxurious fur which couldn't have come naturally, Judy had no doubt in her mind that Katherine would one day find some tomcat accountant, be courted, get married, have a litter of kittens, and eventually retire further out from the city. Such life plans disturbed Judy – it didn't seem like it had any drive, any passion, any meaningful goal. What disturbed her more, however, was how resigned to it Katherine seemed.
At best, Judy would call Katherine an acquaintance from work. The only reason she was spending time with her tonight was because Katherine was really the only mammal she knew in the city; the only mammal that she could tolerate, at any rate.
Appearing more bored than shocked by her drinking companion's outburst, Katherine picked up her drink, bringing it to her mouth, lapping at it before speaking. "Hush, now, you're causing a scene." Ignoring Judy's mumbled 'What does it matter?', Katherine lapped at her milk for a couple of seconds before continuing. "Why it does or doesn't matter doesn't concern us – we can't change it, so why bother worrying? That's just the way the world is."
The female wolf server had time to come to collect the ermine's empty glass, take it to the bussing station, and return with his bill before Judy finally wrapped her mind around what her drinking companion had said enough to formulate a response. "Then I don't want to live in this world anymore!"
Standing up in her seat so that she'd be on even eye level with the lynx, Judy became strangely aware of her surroundings, as though she were looking at a photograph of it rather than living it; there was a boar, a goat, and a coyote arguing about something in the back corner, next to the stage where the small five-piece band was packing up for the evening. The ermine a couple of tables over was pulling out his wallet from his inner pocket, seemingly unaware that an envelope had tagged along with it for the ride, while the wolf server struggled to keep a smile on her face. At the bar was seated an arctic fox, looking forlornly off into space, being ignored by the bear of a bartender as he wiped down the counter adjacent to the fox. Finally, there was herself, the small bunny in the bar late at night surrounded mostly by larger predators, glaring at the lynx sitting across from her. It was a strange scene, to be sure, one she wasn't sure she'd have believed to not be part of some comedy had she not been living it.
Shaking her head to try and clear off the effects of the alcohol she'd consumed, Judy leveled her unsteady gaze at the lynx opposite her. "What's the point of doing anything, if you can't do what you want to? Why should I bother getting up in the morning if the only thing I can do is something I have no interest in? I just… It doesn't make sense! Who says that… that I can't be good at something? Why-"
"Listen, hun, you're a good person, alright?" Judy looked shocked as Katherine cut her off, as though physically hurt as her tirade was silenced mid thought. "Yes, you've done some good work, but you're not the best thing since sliced bread." Katherine finished her drink, seemingly ignoring the effect that her words were having on Judy. "There are a lot of people out there who aren't happy with the lot they've been given in life, but you know what? That's just too bad. As much as I'd love to see the world through your emerald glasses-" Katherine's tone made it abundantly clear to Judy that she couldn't care less about how the world could be "-it just isn't going to change anything. It's been this way since my grandfather's time, and it's going to be this way through to my grandson's. It's time you grew up and stopped smelling the roses." Pushing back from the table, Katherine stood tall over Judy, any trace of comradery gone from her face. "Thanks for the drinks, but I have better things to do than listen to some jumped-up bunny complain about her lot in life. Excuse me."
Not entirely sure if the apology was directed at her, or the ermine who Katherine had almost knocked over as she stalked away from the table, Judy had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't for her. Barely realizing that her former co-worker had left her to pay the entire bill, Judy stared off into space. Am I really just some idealistic kit? She'd always believed that if she worked hard enough, she could change the world, even if only a little bit. I can't be the only one who's thought this way…
But if so, a dark little worming thought rose from the recesses of her mind, why is the world the way it is?
Before her thoughts could go down the dark path of the state of the world, something brought Judy back to her immediate surroundings – the envelope that the ermine's wallet had pulled out of his pocket was still on his table, although its owner had long since departed.
Without a second thought, Judy bound from her seat, still slightly tipsy, but fully capable enough to leap over to the nearby table, grab the envelope, and throw a handful of bills at the startled waitress as she sprinted past, rushing for the door.
Outside, night had fully fallen. The cool autumn air chilled Judy as she stood in the street, the streetlights providing the only illumination, as the overcast skies concealed the stars and moon above. Peering first one way then the other down the street, Judy could only faintly make out the figure of Katherine through the fog – the ermine, whichever way he had gone, had vanished.
Turning to head back inside, Judy had planned on asking the waitress if the ermine had been a regular at the Catmandu, until she examined the envelope further. Flipping it over, she saw that it had a name on the front, without an address, or return address.
The name read 'Judith Laverne Hopps'