Chapter 1—We Don't Disappear

A/N: This is probably the first of several multi-chapter Zootopia fan fictions that I plan to write eventually, but the only one in this alternate universe. I'm enjoying the crap out of it, though.

Special thanks to my awesome friends Camoss (a.k.a. Sir Dumbness Finder) and The StarsShadow15 for encouraging me and reviewing my work to make sure that I wouldn't embarrass myself before posting it. You should definitely check out their fan fictions "A Ray of Hope" and "The Faded Line" respectively. I also highly recommend them as friend material, so you should probably talk to them, too.

Every chapter has certain lyrics from a song associated with it. In the last chapter, I'll make a list of the story's "soundtrack." If you'd like to know what specific lyrics I use for each chapter, I invite you to check out my account at AO3, where they don't have rules that make no sense whatsoever.

Updates will occur every weekend.

Enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: Zootopia isn't mine. Don't remind me. *sigh*

Day 1: Monday, June 16th, 2016, 4:42 a.m.

"Nick!" Finnick's voice yelled into Nick's earpiece. "Time's up! Get out o' there!"

Sure enough, Nick heard the metallic sound of a canister hitting the floor, followed by the click of a door slamming shut. He straightened from where he was bent over the computer on the far wall and cursed. After snatching the USB drive from its port, he glanced quickly around the City Hall record room in which he stood, breathing heavily into his gas mask. Is there anything I'm forgetting?

When his eyes fell on the blank white wall several feet to his right, he smirked.

Of course.

He whipped out a pen from his utility belt and hurriedly scribbled on the blank surface. "Courtesy of the Hustler," it read, along with a stick drawing of a fox face.

Nodding approvingly at his handiwork, he prayed that it wouldn't be too marred by the fire that would soon erupt.

"Nick!" It was Finnick's voice again, sounding even more urgent.

Near Nick's feet, a small yellow light on the canister was rapidly blinking. Just a few seconds left. He stepped smoothly over it, flicking it playfully with his bushy tail while shoving his paws into the pockets of his ebony-colored slacks, his equally black button-up shirt flapping breezily with the movement. "Finnick, if I didn't know better, I'd say you cared about me," he said casually.

"I care about the flash drive in your filthy pocket, Wilde," the smaller foxed growled into Nick's earpiece. "If you don't have it, stay there and burn. I won't lose any sleep over it."

With a melodramatic sigh, Nick opened the door and slipped out of it, closing it just in time to hear and feel the canister's modest explosion inside. The scent of burning paper, melting plastics, and hot metal filled his nostrils, even through his gas mask. "And here I thought we really had something special, Finnick."

His friend only grunted.

Nick nodded in greeting at the darkly clad weasel leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed. Despite the gas mask covering the weasel's ugly face, Nick somehow knew that he was sneering. "What happened, Duke?" he asked. "Thought I still had another five minutes."

"Turns out one o' the guards managed to call the cops before the gas knocked 'im out," Duke explained nasally in his typical annoyed tone. "Heard 'em start poundin' the lobby doors, but Finnick's security deadlock is holdin' on for now. Only a matter o' time before they have a rhino charge through 'em."

Nick hummed. "Ah, well, thank you," he said as they took off running down the hall and toward the window at the far end. "You do remember that I carry my own explosives, though, right?"

"Wanted to make sure ya felt rushed," Duke replied matter-of-factly.

As they approached the window, Nick slipped a broken sparkplug from one of the pockets on his belt and chucked it at the glass, which shattered instantly and with a satisfying cleanliness that brought a smile to his face. He and Duke leapt out of it at the same moment, landing safely on the black van just a few feet below and then dropping themselves inside by way of the open sun roof. Finnick glowered at them from where he sat gripping the steering wheel and slammed his foot on the gas pedal the moment they plopped down in the three-mammal seat beside him. Nick had to admire the way his friend urged the vehicle to a high speed so rapidly without making the tires screech. It was handy, since the police wouldn't be able to find out anything about the tires from the marks that would have been left on the ground. Not that it would've been a big lead, but Nick preferred to err on the side of caution.

He and Duke removed their gas masks and tossed them into the open area in the back. Duke immediately took to watching the city pass them by outside the window, his face set in its default glaring expression. Nick, on the other hand, leaned back and stretched against his part of the seat—which happened to be the middle, situated between Duke and Finnick—with a wide yawn.

"Well, that one's done," he drawled.

"Where's the flash drive, Wilde?" Finnick demanded tersely.

Sighing, Nick bent himself at an awkward angle in order to rummage around in his pocket without elbowing the smaller fox. Soon, he produced the USB that he had taken from the records room. "It's all here, buddy. Justice is served," he said, not bothering to hide his self-congratulatory grin.

Finnick glanced briefly at the USB to confirm its existence but otherwise kept his eyes on the road. "Good," he said gruffly. "Keep it on ya for now."

"Will do," Nick said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes and make a sarcastic remark at the obvious advice.

A moment of companionable silence passed among the three predators before Duke spoke. "That was too close. We gotta be more careful. We're gaining a reputation now, which means they'll be watchin' for us everywhere."

"Let them watch," Nick replied. "Makes it easier to get our message across if they're paying close attention."

"I ain't goin' to jail for this, Wilde," Duke said snidely. "My life ain't that bad yet."

This was a conversation Nick didn't particularly feel like having, so he merely shrugged and let it drop.

The only sound for the rest of the trip was that of the van tearing through the air on its way to an alley between a bank and a bakery located in Sahara Square. It was a perfect fit for the van—almost a tight one—and it certainly provided welcome concealment from the few searching eyes that were open and awake at this time of day. Or night? Nick was never sure what to call it. It was still dark outside, but the light of dawn was starting to creep its way into the sky.

Wait, sunlight?

Eyes widening, Nick scrambled out of the van after Duke, retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, and glanced at the time. He muttered a curse when he saw that it read 5:15 a.m.

"I've got to get going," he stated, handing the USB to Finnick, who scowled but didn't appear surprised. "I'll be late for work."

"Duke and I will start lookin' it over," Finnick said. "Come over after you're done so we can discuss it."

Nick acknowledged his friend's words with a wave of his paw before scurrying away. His apartment wasn't very far away—just a few blocks, really—but he hadn't expected the hustle to take as long as it did, and he knew he'd be lucky to get to work any sooner than five minutes after the start of his shift.

By the time he had burst into his apartment, thrown on his uniform, rushed back out, and sprinted to the two-star restaurant called Pike's Place, it was 5:41 a.m.—eleven minutes after he was supposed to have clocked in.

There weren't a lot of mammals sitting at the tables yet, but there were enough to suggest that things would get busy quickly. Most of them were probably just getting off night shifts, or were about to begin early-morning ones, or they might have just been nocturnal mammals catching a nice meal before going to sleep. Hoping that it didn't make him look too unprofessional, Nick jogged lightly around the rim of the dining area—a posh, maroon-themed room dotted with ionic columns, generously cushioned chairs, and elaborately woven rugs—to reach the kitchen in the far back. He pushed through the doors as quietly as possible in an effort to draw minimal attention to himself and punched his employee code into the time clock just inside the entrance. The moment he turned to the apron rack, however, he was faced with a glowering zebra in a white chef's jacket and toque, arms crossed over his chest.

"You're late," the zebra said flatly. "Again."

"I know, I know," Nick admitted, ears folding back. "Sorry, Harold. My alarm didn't go off when it was supposed to—"

"There's always a reason with you, Wilde," Harold interrupted. "One day, you're going to run out of them." He gestured irritably at Nick's form. "In addition to inconveniencing your co-workers with your tardiness, your uniform clearly hasn't been washed recently, and your fur is unkempt. You're practically a walking health code violation."

Nick grimaced. "Well, I'm here now, and I'll do better—"

"Don't bother," Harold waved a hoof, and Nick's gut twisted. "I know you're a fox, but I still expect better from my employees. You don't seem interested in meeting Pike's Place's standards, so I've decided to find someone else who is."

Of course. Squeezing his eyes shut and hanging his head, Nick sighed. "All right, I get it." Harold said nothing more, so Nick just jabbed his employee code into the time clock again to signal the end of his short-lived shift. "I'll see myself out, then."

Without glancing back, Nick exited the kitchen and trudged through the dining area. None of the patrons studying the menus at their tables even seemed to notice him. He pushed against the restaurant's front doors, which felt heavier than usual, requiring more of his effort.

Once outside, Nick allowed himself a second to take a deep breath and admire the grayish-blue color of the sky as the sun continued slowly ambling upward. He rested his paws in his pockets and debated his next step. Now that he was unexpectedly free for the day, he could head back to Finnick's van and check out the contents of the flash drive with him and Duke. However, rent was due in a couple of weeks, he would need to buy more groceries soon, and finding a new job was always especially difficult for a fox—even one who was only looking for a position as a lowly cook.

His secret life of crime was a labor of love. He still needed to pay the bills. Also, having a legitimate job helped keep him off the police's radar. The sooner he got started finding new work, the better.

Mind made up, Nick headed home to properly clean himself up and check out open cook positions online. Then he dressed in a green Hawaiian-print button-up shirt with a striped tie and sand-colored slacks—the sort of fashion choice that often earned him some teasing or even scorn, but hey, he'd landed jobs dressed this way before.

He was in out within a couple of hours. With a list of hiring restaurants and a few copies of his résumé, he started off down the street outside his apartment complex toward the nearest prospective employer, whistling merrily to himself.

Day 1: Monday, June 16th, 2016, 11:35 a.m.

No longer whistling, Nick heaved an exhausted sigh as he walked toward the doors of Basic Instinct, a quaint diner known for catering to both prey and predators using simple meals with simple recipes made from quality ingredients. He'd eaten here a couple times himself and found the food to be pretty decent, which meant it was delicious by the standards of most mammals. This would be a nice place to work.

Assuming they could get past his species, of course. Unlike every other restaurant he'd visited so far that day.

Steeling himself, Nick pasted his most charming smile onto his face, pushed the door open, and sauntered inside.

He studied his surroundings. The diner was several decades old but in good shape and tastefully decorated, featuring a clean black-and-white checkered floor and artificial flower vines artfully hung along the rims of the white walls. It took him a moment to realize that the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling were shaped like open upside-down tulips with shining lightbulbs set in the middle, which he rather liked. Light, cheerful music played over the speakers, but it was a song Nick didn't recognize.

The kitchen was situated close to the dining area, lined with faux leather booths and small tables with faux leather chairs, an open serving counter allowing the patrons to see the cooks working busily behind it. Nick wondered which one was the manager, if any of them. He took a step forward to ask but noticed a sign reading "PLEASE WAIT HERE" directly in front of him. He looked around, but no host was waiting next to it.

Although it wasn't quite time for the lunch rush, there was still a respectable crowd of mammals sitting in the various booths, chatting and enjoying their food. The servers were easy to find; the males all wore white polo shirts with tan slacks while the females were donned in cute, knee-length, short-sleeved white dresses. All of them had black pocketed aprons and notepads. They scurried from table to table, and he tried to catch their eyes by craning and waving half-heartedly, but they were all too focused on their customers to look his way.

Nick waited awkwardly for a moment, trying to decide what to do, when a gray bunny waitress—a very pretty one, he couldn't help thinking—glanced up from her notepad as she was shuffling by the diner's entrance on her way toward the kitchen. She smiled genially at him, and Nick grinned back, but only because he noticed that the pen she was using was shaped like a gigantic carrot. Her nametag read "Judy."

"Have you been helped, sir?" Judy asked brightly, and Nick admitted to himself that her warm violet eyes were quite striking.

"No, but I'm actually just here to see a manager," he explained, indicating the résumé in his paw.

"Oh, sure!" Judy chirped. "Follow me." As she led him toward the kitchen door—down a hall off the dining area and opposite another door that read "OFFICE"—she smiled over her shoulder at him, but he noticed how her nose twitched a bit anxiously. "It's great that you're applying! We could really use the help."

Nick only nodded, maintaining his easy smile. Judy left the kitchen door open after she went inside, but Nick decided to wait just outside of it while she spoke with a surly-looking middle-aged goat who was stirring something in a pot of the industrial stove. They exchanged a few words—Judy's tone remaining amiable while the goat's was rather terse—until they both turned around to look at him. The goat narrowed his eyes and dropped his ladle in the pot to walk toward the door. His nametag sported the name "Yannis."

"You want to apply?" he queried gruffly.

"Yes, sir," Nick replied, handing over his résumé. The goat began perusing it immediately. "As you can see, I've had extensive experience cooking for numerous restaurants—"

"Most of your stints are rather short-lived," Yannis commented as he peered at Nick's work history. "Makes you look like a typical unreliable fox." He raised a skeptical brow at Nick. "Are you unreliable, Mr. Wilde?"

A conversation similar to this one had already happened several times that day. Resisting the urge to sigh and just leave right then and there, Nick shook his head. "Not at all, sir. Unexpected circumstances forced me to leave each of those jobs, but I'm good at what I do."

Yannis only glared suspiciously at him for a moment. Finally, he shoved the résumé at Nick's chest.

"I'm afraid we don't have any room on our team for a fox," he stated coolly. "Sorry things didn't work out."

Well, at least the rejection came quickly this time. Unable to stop his shoulders from slumping forward a little, Nick fought to keep smiling as he nodded. "Well, thanks for your—"

"Yannis!" a voice inside the kitchen exclaimed. "Are you serious?"

The goat half-turned to regard Judy, who stood with her fists propped on her cocked hips and a stern look on her face. Nick had actually forgotten that she was still there.

"What are you talking about?" Yannis queried.

"I'm talking about you turning him away just because he's a fox," the bunny answered. "That's specieist, and I will report you for it."

"Quite a threat coming from someone who hasn't even worked here for a week," Yannis sneered. "No one answers to you, bunny. Leave this to management, or you may be leaving this diner with him."

"Ah, now you're threatening my job for calling you out?" Judy shifted her weight onto her other leg. "I'm sure Brady and Lila will be a bit disturbed to hear that."

At that, Yannis fully faced her and crossed his arms. "Look here, bunny, I've been here for close to ten years. You've been here for six days. Who do you think they're going to listen to?"

"Good question," Judy said as she tapped her lip with an exaggerated look of thought on her face. "Let's ask my old friend, Yannis-from-eight-seconds-ago."

Then, with half-lidded, self-satisfied smirk, she pulled her carrot pen out of the pocket of her apron and pressed a little button that played back Yannis's voice. "Leave this to management, or you may be leaving this diner with him," he was saying.

The goat's mouth fell open, and Nick's own eyes widened. He had to fight the temptation to grin. This was an interesting little bunny.

Several moments passed in which the only sounds were the dulled din of conversation from the customers, sizzling grills, and chuckles of the other two cooks—a sheep and an otter—who, up until that point, had been trying to pretend that they weren't paying attention to what was happening.

Finally, Yannis turned back toward Nick, his scowl barely betraying his fury. "Well, can you cook, or can't you?"

"Yes, I can cook anything," Nick replied, now trying in vain to hide his amusement.

"Then prove it," the goat snarled, whirling to snatch an apron from a rack just inside the kitchen and tossing it at Nick. "I'll give you a trial run this afternoon. If you cook everything without a problem, you can stay. If you can't, don't show your face here again, you hear me?"

"Absolutely, sir," Nick nodded.

"Bunny!" Yannis snapped as he spun around. "Clock out. Time for your break before the lunch rush. You—" He pointed at Nick. "You'll start when she clocks back in."

"My name is Judy, you know, not bunny," Judy said dryly as she began untying her apron.

"I know," Yannis said simply yet snidely. The moment Judy left the kitchen, the goat slammed the door shut. A few of the customers jumped, but no one commented on it.

"Well," Judy grinned up at Nick as she slung her apron over her forearm. "Care to join me? I'm Judy Hopps, by the way," she added as she extended her paw, apparently forgetting that her nametag had already revealed half of that information to him.

He dipped his head graciously at her and accepted her paw, shaking it gently. "Nick Wilde."

Day 1: Monday, June 16th, 2016, 11:54 p.m.

"Sorry about Yannis's behavior," Judy was saying as she stirred her vegetable soup. She had offered Nick her sandwich, but he politely turned it down, and he was now sitting across from her in a booth at the far corner of the diner, his back pressed against the window and his legs sprawled across his seat as he watched her eat. "It's just—I can't believe some mammals still have such awful attitudes toward foxes. It's just inexcusable nowadays. We should know better by now, right?"

"Sure," Nick replied casually, but he noticed the twinge of nervousness that passed over her face when her eyes fell on his claws, and he could smell just a hint of fear coming from her small form. She wasn't as prejudiced as other mammals, but she clearly still had some issues, and it rankled him. Mammals who tried to pretend like they held no biases were sometimes more frustrating than the ones who were open about them. He was tempted to bare his teeth at her, just to knock her down a few pegs, but—well, she had helped him get a job, or at least a trial afternoon, so he decided to let it slide. For now. "I'm used to it, though," was all he said.

Judy's face fell into an expression of sympathy before she took sipped up a spoonful of soup. "That's a sad thing to be used to," she said quietly, and Nick was a bit surprised to find that she seemed sincere. She soon perked up, though. "I hope you do well this afternoon! You seem like a nice guy, and like I said, we could really use the help. The cooks have been struggling ever since Randol disappeared."

That caught Nick's attention. He raised an eyebrow. "Disappeared?"

"Yeah," Judy nodded, suddenly looking worried. "Randol had been a cook here for a few years, but he suddenly went missing just a couple days after I started working here. The police haven't had any luck finding leads."

"How surprising," Nick mumbled sarcastically. Judy shot him a look that was somewhere between questioning and irritated, but it soon passed, and she resumed eating. "So what kind of mammal is he?"

"He's a bobcat," Judy answered with a sigh. "And one of the sweetest mammals I've ever met. I hope he's okay."

Nick nodded, mentally filing the information away for later use. His gaze fell on a framed 8x10 photograph on the wall across from their booth. It displayed a dark-haired lion and modestly pretty antelope arm-in-arm, both middle-aged and smiling proudly. The caption on the plate at the bottom of the frame read, "Brady and Lila Maneford: Owners of Basic Instinct." He tilted his head curiously. They appeared to be married. A romantic relationship between a predator and a prey wasn't necessarily strange, at least not in Zootopia, but it was uncommon.

The sound of Judy's light slurping made Nick look at her again, and he watched her for a moment. "So what brought you to this little diner?" he asked conversationally. "Got a passion for waitressing?"

For just a second, Judy's ever-present smile faltered. "No, but it's a job, and I needed one, especially since I still haven't found a permanent place to stay. Actually," she said excitedly, "I wanted to become involved with some mammal rights groups. There are lots of great causes to get involved in, but I'm especially interested in helping convince Mayor Lionheart to pass the Mammal Inclusion Initiative. That way, I can become a police officer!"

It took all of Nick's years of experience as a criminal to keep his poker face from shattering into boisterous laughter. He stared at the bunny with a carefully neutral expression, although he allowed a tiny smirk to cross his lips. "Really? You want to be a police officer?"

"It's been my dream all my life," Judy sighed, resting her cheek in one paw. "I feel like that's the best way for me to make the world a better place."

Make the world a better place? Have I stepped into an after-school special? Nick snickered internally. After taking a moment to compose himself, he said, "But you do realize that even if the Mammal Inclusion Initiative passes, the chances of you actually becoming a police officer are still pretty slim, right?"

For the first time since he'd met her twenty or thirty minutes ago, Nick saw Judy's face harden. "Excuse me?" she queried with just a hint of ice in her tone.

"I mean, large mammals make the best police officers for a reason," Nick continued. "Several reasons, in fact."

"So what are you saying?" Judy sat back and folded her arms tightly. "Are you an expert in what a bunny can or can't be?"

"Not exactly, but I'm an expert in understanding that everybody has limitations," Nick shrugged. "And I think police work is pretty far out of a bunny's league. You should stick to something realistic for you. Waitressing is a good start. There's also office work or farming."

The last idea seemed to strike a nerve. Judy visibly stiffened before leaning forward to point her finger sternly at him. "No one tells me what I can or can't be. I will become a police officer, and maybe you will actually have a steady cooking job by then."

It wasn't a bad jab, Nick thought, but she was clearly not accustomed to insulting other mammals. He smirked at her again. "Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"

They finished her break in silence—stony on Judy's part, apathetic on Nick's.

Day 1: Monday, June 16th, 2016, 12:30 p.m.

As Judy was clocking back in, Nick tied his cooking apron around his torso and washed his paws. When he entered the kitchen, the sheep and otter—Greg and Andy, respectively, according to their nametags, and both somewhere in their twenties—smiled amiably and nodded, but Yannis only deigned to glower at him for a moment. After Andy gave him a quick rundown of where to find everything, Nick was given charge of the grill, which was directly behind the service counter.

That happened to put him next to Greg, who was doing prep work. As Nick examined the order slips hanging above the service counter and slapped some bug burger patties onto the grill, Greg busied himself slicing one after another of the vegetables piled high at the side of his station. The two made small chit-chat for a little while before Judy came up to the counter to drop off another order slip. Nick couldn't help smirking at how determined she looked as she avoided eye contact with him.

He nodded toward her as she scampered over to a couple of her customers who had called her name. "How much you want to bet Carrots over there just moved here from Bunnyburrow?" he asked Greg.

Greg raised his eyebrows and stopped moving his knife. "Carrots?" he repeated. "Why Carrots?"

"Because she carries around a carrot pen bigger than her own arm, and because—like I said—she's from Bunnyburrow, which is full of carrot farmers," Nick explained confidently.

Shrugging, Greg turned back to slicing vegetables. "I haven't talked to her much, but I don't know if she's from Bunnyburrow. Why would you say that?"

"She's naïve, she talked about needing a place to stay, and she seemed upset when I suggested she become a farmer," Nick replied, holding up a finger for each piece of evidence.

"Maybe it upset her because she's not from Bunnyburrow and doesn't appreciate strangers making assumptions about her," Greg suggested.

"Well, we can find out," said Nick. "Want to bet on it?"

Greg gave him a sidelong glance. "I don't know."

"Aren't you a betting sheep?" Nick leaned toward him, grinning conspiratorially. "Or am I mistaken about the meaning of those poker chips on your keychain?"

Eyes widening, Greg glanced at his keys dangling from his back pocket. "Uh—that's not—it's not—I mean—" he stammered, then sighed and chuckled. "Okay, you got me. You want to encourage my bad habits?"

"It's just a small bet," Nick assured him. "Five bucks."

Greg nodded, amused. "You're on. Here's your chance."

Nick swiveled his head to find Judy approaching quickly, her face schooled with an indifferent expression. Nick leaned across the counter, laying his chin in one palm and offering her a suave smile.

"Hey, Nick, table four wants a side of beets," she said matter-of-factly.

"Carrots—"

"No, beets."

"No, I'm calling you Carrots."

"Why are you calling me Carrots?!"

"Because I can."

"No, you can't!"

"Carrots, can I ask you something?"

"Can you give me the beets?"

Rolling his eyes, Nick grabbed some sliced beets from Greg's station and dumped them into a small bowl, which he slid across the service counter.

"Thank you," Judy quipped primly as she snatched it up and hurried away before he could say anything else.

"Hey, wait!" Nick exclaimed, but she ignored him, and he scowled at her retreating form. The whole exchange had taken place in a matter of seconds.

Beside him, Greg was laughing quietly to himself. "Nice."

"This doesn't mean you win," Nick informed the sheep.

"I know, I know."

While grilling, Nick kept a careful eye on Judy, willing her to come back to the counter, but all of her tables already had food. She was busy cleaning off empty ones, setting out silverware, seating new customers, and chatting jovially with everyone. In the back of Nick's mind, he recognized that he liked how animated she was, but he was mostly focused on making sure that he was prepared for when she came back. It was inevitable, after all. In the meantime, he interacted as minimally as possible with the other servers when they came over with their order slips, though they didn't seem to care.

Finally, some of the new customers at one of her tables had decided on their orders, which she wrote down with that comically large carrot pen. As soon as she was within earshot, he called out, "Hey, Carrots!"

Judy shot him a quick glare, then looked away and lifted her chin proudly. Having left her order slip, she turned back to the dining area.

"Wait, I just want to know if you're from Bunnyburrow!" Nick rushed out.

She pivoted to face him, a quizzical expression on her face. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Nick shrugged.

"'Just curious'? Is that why you're acting so desperate to know?" Judy arched her brow at him, one paw resting on her hip.

Nick smiled genuinely at her. He could appreciate an observant mammal. "I like getting to know my co-workers."

"Well, you're not officially my co-worker yet, Slick," she said, using her tongue to exaggerate the consonants of the nickname she had just given him. Nick's smile grew wider. "But if you must know, yes, I'm from Bunnyburrow."

"Oh, really," Nick replied casually, suppressing a triumphant grin as he heard Greg curse under his breath. "I've heard it's a nice place. Lots of carrot farmers."

Judy nodded curtly, but she didn't seem interested in continuing the conversation, so she turned and headed toward another table where she had just seated new customers a little while earlier.

Forcing his grin to remain casual, Nick moved away from the grill to lean on Greg's station with his elbow. He waited.

With an exasperated sigh, Greg reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, produced a five-dollar bill, and slapped it into Nick's open palm.

Behind them, Nick heard Andy snigger while Yannis grunted.

Day 1: Monday, June 16th, 2016, 5:32 p.m.

The sun was gradually descending behind the horizon, painting the sky in shades of azure and sherbet. It would still be several hours before darkness would fall, but the warm late spring air was already starting to cool.

Having stepped away from the grill and hung his apron, Nick stretched and yawned as the evening crew started taking over the duties.

Yannis was giving instructions to an ewe cook who kept exchanging flirty glances with Greg when the goat's back was turned. Nick amused himself watching from the back of the kitchen for a few moments before spotting Judy walk into the office across the hall from the kitchen door. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to follow her, but knowing that he had real reason to entertain it, he soon shook it off. Besides, most of their interactions that day had been short and a bit taciturn on her part; there was nothing to indicate that she'd welcome his company.

Soon, Yannis turned his attention to Nick, and he hurriedly pushed aside his thoughts of the bunny. Standing straighter and donning a pleasant but easygoing expression, he waited to hear the verdict.

The goat allowed several seconds of contemplative silence to pass between them as he eyed Nick from head to toe. Finally, he sighed. "Can you work the day shift Tuesday through Saturday?"

"Absolutely," Nick answered, his heartbeat picking up pace.

With a single firm nod, Yannis began removing his own apron. "Then you start tomorrow. We'll fill out the paperwork in the morning and make sure you get paid for the hours you put in today. Be here at eight-thirty. No later."

Internally pumping his fist, Nick held out a paw for Yannis to shake. "Sounds great, sir! Thank you so much for the opportunity."

Yannis sniffed and ignored Nick's paw, stepping away to hang up his apron wordlessly. Shrugging, Nick followed him out of the kitchen and started heading toward the front door. He glanced back when he heard the office door open and Judy apologize for being in Yannis's way. As she strode down the hall, her eyes were trained on her purse, searching for something as she dug around. Finally, she pulled out her phone, uttering a small "Aha!" Then she looked up and paused when she saw Nick staring.

He tried to make the situation feel less awkward by giving her a friendly smile. "Looks like we're officially co-workers now, so I can ask you all the personal questions I want to, right?" he teased.

"Congratulations," Judy said stiffly, shuffling past him and out the door.

Nick was right behind her, but just as he was turning in the opposite direction from where she was going, his sharp eyes noticed her thumbing through apartment rental ads and stopping on one featuring his own. He tilted his head curiously. "That one's mine," he said before he could think better of it.

Blinking in surprise, Judy glanced back at him over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Uh," Nick faltered, rubbed the back of his neck, then pointed at her phone. "That apartment. That's mine." Now to come up for a reason why he'd even bring it up. "It's not really that great a complex. Incompetent management, unresponsive maintenance crew—don't bother with it."

"Well, it's got to be better than…" She trailed off and suddenly started scrutinizing him closely, brows furrowed. "Wait, so you're looking for a roommate?"

"My landlady is looking for a roommate for me," Nick replied with a scowl. "She doesn't trust me to be able to pay the rent by myself." Then he sighed heavily and muttered, "Of course, I've never missed a payment, but hey, what can you do?"

Judy took a step toward him. "Can she actually force you to get a roommate?"

"She's hoping to strongly encourage me," Nick clarified. "But I'm—"

"Can I be your roommate?"

The question almost made Nick jump backward in shock. His eyes bulged as he stared at the bunny in front of him, whose face betrayed no hint of a joke.

"Why would you want to be my roommate?" Nick blurted.

"Well, I'm still looking for an apartment," Judy shrugged. "I only moved to Zootopia last week, and I've been staying in a hotel, but every night there costs almost as much as I make in a day here. I really need a place. And this way, we can split the cost, which is good for both of us, right?"

"I thought you didn't even like me," Nick responded, a bit surprised at himself for even mentioning it. Still, this sudden turnaround in her attitude toward him was a bit suspicious to his mind.

She looked a little ashamed when he brought it up, hunching her shoulders and flicking her gaze away for a moment. "Well, I was mad at you for what you said about how I couldn't become a police officer, but…" Then she shrugged. "I still think that you seem nice enough. I'm sure we'd get along." Her eyes were huge and pleading, and Nick remembered admiring them when he first saw her. "Please?"

Scratching the fur on his neck, Nick looked to his side at the setting sun. He preferred living alone, honestly, and he had felt lucky that he got an affordable two-bedroom apartment all to himself, but she had a point—sharing the cost of rent would certainly be helpful. That way, he could put more money toward his work as the Hustler.

Ah, therein lay another complication. Could he keep his second life a secret from her? Well, he supposed he could. It wasn't like he went out every night, and he could always come up with some reason for it. Hiding his equipment wouldn't be difficult, either; he already used a compartment that he had carved out in his closet for that. Not that he thought there would ever be a reason for her to enter his room, but it was good to be prepared, just in case.

He also reluctantly reminded himself that she had been instrumental in helping him get a job, which meant he owed her.

Besides, she didn't seem so bad.

Letting his paw drop from his neck to his side, he turned his head back to Judy. Her eyes were still locked on him, sincere and full of hope. They made his chest feel uncomfortably soft.

But there was still one more thing Nick had to know.

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind living with a fox?" he queried, watching her intently.

She hesitated, and only when her scent became tainted with a tiny smattering of fear did Nick realize that she hadn't been afraid up until that point. "What does that have to do with anything?" she asked innocently.

Nick raised an eyebrow at her, but her fear gradually dissipated, and then all he could catch was her natural scent—something floral, fresh, and earthy, although he couldn't pick out all the separate components.

Well, maybe this could work.

"All right, then," he sighed. "Let's stop by your hotel and get your stuff."

He winced when Judy squealed and clapped her paws together. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Nick!" Soon, she was bouncing around excitedly, and Nick felt tired just observing her energy. It was especially remarkable considering she had just finished an eight-hour shift spent mostly on her feet.

As he stared in consternation, she started bounding away toward the nearest crosswalk, waving at him to follow. "Come on, let's go!"

Day 1: Monday, June 16th, 2016, 6:46 p.m.

"Oh, Nick, it's not nearly as bad as you made it sound," Judy said cheerily as she strode into Nick's apartment. "Actually, I think it's nice."

She was dragging a single piece of luggage behind her while carrying one small box, which she set down in the middle of the living room. Nick was balancing three boxes, and he stumbled after her, too busy trying to stay upright to respond immediately to her observation. Grunting with the effort, he bent to place them carefully next to the first one, Judy stepping in to steady them when it looked like they would fall.

Straightening and stretching, Nick stepped to the switch by the doorframe, turned it on, and took a hard look around himself. He supposed it was all right, when all was said and done. A long rectangular window directly to the left of the front door was letting in the first hints of moonlight as the day continued to ebb away. The spacious living room—which was modestly furnished with a couch against the wall adjacent to the front door, a coffee table in front of the couch, and a couple of standing lamps—opened to a small kitchen separated on one side by a wall. Between the wall where the living room ended and the kitchen began was a tiny hallway, where the doors to the two bedrooms could be found, the bathroom situated between them. The pale blue carpets were all a bit stained, and the tiles in the kitchen and bathroom were just boring crisscrossing squares, but everything was intact. An apartment like this would cost far beyond his means in most parts of the city, but as it happened, it was located in a dubious area, so he enjoyed having all the space at such a great rate.

Well, he had enjoyed it.

He looked toward Judy and returned her genial smile, hoping he was doing well at hiding his slight uneasiness. "Well, once the novelty wears off, I'm sure you'll get as tired of it as I am."

"Doubt it!" Judy chirped as she started rummaging through one of her boxes. In a moment, she produced some ceramic dinner plates trimmed with tiny depictions of vegetables and made her way to the kitchen, humming to herself.

Nick glanced down at the luggage and assumed that it was filled with more personal belongings. He grabbed the handle and pulled it across the kitchen floor. Judy looked up as he passed her; he gestured toward the bedroom to the left of the bathroom. "This one will be yours, Carrots."

It looked like she was about to thank him, but when he mentioned her nickname, she pinned him with a sardonic expression instead. "Are you really going to keep calling me that?"

"Oh, definitely," Nick grinned obnoxiously at her. She rolled her eyes, and he continued. "Anyway, it doesn't have a bed or anything, sorry. You'll have to buy whatever you need."

"No problem," Judy said.

As he set the luggage against the wall of her empty bedroom, Nick felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that he had a text from Finnick.

"You still comin?" it read.

The USB!

Nick smacked his own face before composing his reply. "Sorry, got held up. I'll be right there."

After going to his own room and quietly removing his duffle bag from the secret compartment in his closet, he stepped into the kitchen. Judy shot him another smile and pointed toward a cupboard that she had just opened. It was filled with random glass cups and plastic bowls. "Do you mind if I organize this and put some of my dishes in there?"

"Do you what you've got to do," Nick waved a paw dismissively. "But, uh, I've got to head out. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sounds good," she replied before turning to face him fully and grasping both her paws in front of her chest. "And thank you again, so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

Chest warming, Nick nodded and smirked as casually as he could. "Don't mention it, Carrots." Then he paused and pretended to think hard for a moment. "Actually, please do mention it. Every day. It's good for my ego."

Judy laughed. Nick realized it was the first time he'd heard her do it, and he liked the way it sounded.

"I'll see what I can do," she promised when her mirth had subsided.

Then she turned back to making space for her dishes. With a final worried glance at her, Nick held his breath, walked out of the apartment, and let it out only when he was halfway down the hall.

Day 1: Monday, June 16th, 2016, 6:55 p.m.

When she heard the apartment door shut, Judy leaned around the kitchen wall to make sure that Nick was really gone. There was no sign of him. Admittedly, the fox was intriguing—if frustrating—and she was genuinely curious to know him better. For now, though, it could wait.

She hastily put away the remainder of her dishes and decided the rest of the boxes could just sit for a while. Whirling around and bouncing into her new bedroom, she glanced around quickly for her luggage and zipped it open eagerly. From it, she retrieved a full-body black spandex suit with a depiction of two bright red bullets crossing each other's paths squarely on the chest, leaving trails of fire behind them. Eyeing the right leg, she noted that she just needed to repair a popped seam, and then it should be good to go. With no one around to hear her, she squealed delightedly and hugged it against her chest.

After locating her sewing tools, she set to work putting the last touches on the costume, then undressed and pulled it over her body. Yanking the fabric over her fingers and feet was a bit tricky, but doable. Overall, the suit fit like a glove and wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as she'd feared.

Next, she dug in her luggage until she found her matching black spandex mask, which she had even designed with coverings for her ears. The expensive material that she had bought for this suit was supposed to hide any mammal's scent, but that would be pointless if her ears weren't covered. It might impair her hearing a bit, but she could deal with that.

All she had to do with this was attach the orange plastic eye guard over its single opening. It should protect her in addition to obscuring the color of her eyes, which were one of her unique features and would certainly make her too easy to identify to anyone who got close enough to her.

With more thread and a bit of glue, it didn't take her long to complete the mask. Gingerly, she tugged it over her head. It took a minute or two for her to get her ears comfortable, and as she suspected, the material did muffle her hearing a bit, but it wasn't enough to make a huge difference. The plastic eye guard worked like a charm, too. She could see just fine out of it, and when she looked into the mirror in the bathroom, she hardly recognized herself.

Just one problem—her tail. There just wasn't a practical way for her to cover it up. For that, though, she had a bottle of musk mask, which she sprayed copiously onto the little bit of fluff.

Now all that was left was her utility belt. Accessories make the outfit, after all, she thought to herself, snickering at her own corny joke.

She plucked the belt from her luggage and buckled it around her waist. Making sure every pocket was filled with the things that she needed—smoke pellets, fox repellent, tranquilizer darts (for which she had no gun but could still stab into someone), small pieces of rope, two pocket knives, some bandages and gauze, just in case—she nodded in satisfaction to herself. It would have to do until she could spend money on more and better equipment. Of course, that should be easier now that she finally had a home and didn't have to keep paying for a hotel.

It occurred to her then that she had no idea where Nick went and that he could come back at any moment. Better get out of here.

Heaving a sigh to steel her nerves, Judy went to her bedroom, opened her window, and noted with relief that the apartment wasn't so high up that jumping down would be too dangerous for her. She hadn't thought to check and make sure that there would be a safe way for her to leave before she asked to be Nick's roommate.

As she was surveying the distance between the window and the ground, she heard her phone ringing, half-buried in the pile of her clothes that she left on the floor. She recognized the song; it was her parents. Well, she knew what kind of conversation they wanted to have—how was she doing? Why was she in Zootopia? Was she safe? Couldn't she just accept that she would never be a cop? Couldn't she just live out her life like a normal bunny?

Clenching her jaw, she turned away. They could wait.

After bracing herself and swallowing her trepidation, she leaped down, tucking and rolling as soon as she hit the ground. Immediately, she turned her gaze around her surroundings to make sure no one had seen her. There wasn't a single soul or pair of eyes around.

Smiling proudly to herself, she set off down the street. Tonight marked the dawn of the age of Crossfire, who would make the world a better place—all alone, if necessary.

Random A/N: Because I suspect someone might ask, yes, Pike's Place is sort of a reference to Pike Place Market in Seattle, but no, I'm not from Seattle. I've visited it, but I've never lived there. I just thought Pike's Place sounded like a nice restaurant name.

Also, I modeled Nick's apartment after the first one I had when I returned to college after several years away. The only difference is that his has two bedrooms, whereas I had only one, which I shared with two roommates. Just an interesting tidbit.