Whooo.

Where should I start?

I can tell you that Zootopia is alright now. But it'll never be the same again. Yes, I live in Zootopia. Deal with it.

This is probably gonna go down in the history books, so yeah. But I'm not the best writer. I mean, I was sixteen when this started. So was Cottontail.

She assumed I was 32 when we met. That's harsh. But, yeah. We're only teenagers.

So I'm gonna tell you this.

[No, Flopsy, I'm not the worst either.] [Yes, I know I only got picked because I'm the co - mayor, or whatever you call it, Judy. Shut up, will you?]

So anyway, I'm supposed to relay the information to you as best as I can. The info about the one-sided war. We're on the peaceful side. Oh yeah, and Carrots is taking over afterwards.

What war? Well, it was really much more of an invasion.

The Hunter's Invasion.

Oh, yeah, I give thanks to my friend who helped write it all down.

Nick Wilde

Chapter 1

So Carrots and I were sitting in the office. The sky was blue, the clouds were drifting lazily across the sky, and she was holding my paw. Perfect day for something to go wrong. [Yeah, I KNOW I suck at writing. But I'm supposed to tell this part, so- Oww. Stop hitting me.]

So you can't blame my stomach from sinking when the doorbell rang, and a rhino policeman in tattered clothes ran in. [Oh, fine. I'll let you take over, Judy. I need a break.]

Hi! Judy Hopps here. Whatever Nick may tell you, I'm NOT a dumb bunny. (Or maybe just to him.)

But I digress.

So, typically, Nick launched into the story. Sorry, the recount.

Let me just start by saying that Zootopia is a real place. Whatever happened in the so called fictional movie is true. Zootopia is a place where animals wear clothes, (Yes, this is in the advertisement, but it's true.) and hunters and prey have learnt to live in not-exact-harmony. But we tolerate each other. Yeah, Nick and I are… an exception. [No, Nick, I'm not going to give the reader a roundhouse kick if… never mind.]

Whooo. Where should I start, then?

Okay. Nick and I had been promoted to the rank of deputy-heads of ZPD. Yes, it's ironic, isn't it? Nick - imagine that! A former lowlife scumbag [Ow! Okay, I'll lay off on the insults, but I don't see you denying them, either] being the deputy head of security!

Yeah. So, naturally, I get to work beside him, since I solved Zootopia's hardest case yet. And he helped. A lot.

Anyway, our office is nice - mahogany tables, one recliner, [No, it's not because I enjoy sitting on your lap] two grey cushy (fake) leather office chairs - you get the idea. Oh, and heat-proof glass. So it was a normal day, I guess, because the skies are clear. Nick was reclining on the sofa munching on Doritos.

And suddenly the door opens, because someone didn't tape a 'knock please before entering' sign on the door. [But I guess I can't blame you.]

Its our fellow colleague, Bob. He's a rhinoceros.

And as Nick has already told you, he looked bad.

Mown-over-with a-lawnmower-then-bathed-in-porcupine-quills-bad.

I should know. I've done that, what, say ten times to Nick in 'The Game of Life'.

But never with results as gruesome as this.

His face was dotted with red welts and bloodied, as if he'd been in a gang fight. His uniform was in shreds, leaving only his badge still intact. And even that was scratched - a long, deep mark bisecting the 'ZPD'.

"Arrgh - swords - guns - Sahara Square -" he managed to murmur before dropping to the ground.

I panicked.

"Someone! Get him to the medic! Quick!"

Two otters came and tried to get him on a stretcher. Then they called eight more.

As soon as they left the room, I slid the secret compartment of my desk open.

I grabbed the dart gun and the fox taser, stuffing them into my belt in a frenzy.

"Hey!" Nick called in mock amusement from the sofa. "I thought you trusted me!"

I sighed. "Finish those Doritos. We're going to Sahara Square. Arm yourself."

He grabbed my arm and waved it around. "Okay," he teased, "but shouldn't we be calling a meeting? To decide?"

"Nick!" I shouted in exasperation. "Meetings take hours! Didn't you HEAR what he said? Some creature terrorist is armed with swords and guns! If they did that to a rhino, what do you think they did to other, weaker creatures?!"

He quivered. I could tell he knew I was serious, because his mood changes. "Go go go," he says.

We grabbed our combat batons and riot shields, gear, and helmets, rushing out the door, hailing a cab for Sahara Square.

The Square was a gruesome sight to behold. The buildings were reduced to rubble. Animals - Desert hares and fennec foxes, snakes and the occasional shopper - ran rampant through the streets.

And the tall palm that once stood as the centrepiece of the district was chopped in half.

Nick freezes mid-step, his eyes fixated on a creature. The creature was lithe and small, about my size, and carried a gun. He wore a black robe so his species was undistinguishable. It was well built, for a murderer. But the strange thing was, he looked familiar, somehow.

I know all the creatures in Zootopia, mainly thanks to Nick.

Now Nick was frozen, ogling at the creature.

The creature fired, his gun pointed at a fennec fox.

A familiar fennec fox.

Nick's ex-partner-in-crime slumps to the floor, a bullet through his head, a look of surprise on his face, a look of fear. The creature picks up the mangled corpse.

Before it can do any more damage, I straddle him, zap him, and send a tranquilizer dart flying toward his rear. Grabbing the gun, I ran over to Finnick.

I confirmed my suspicions.

Finnick was dead, his corpse lying in his own pool of blood.

I didn't know whether to cry or to scream in horror.

Suddenly nauseated, I looked away. "Omgomgomgomg-"

The radio crackled to life as I dialed the ZTP.

"Hello?" I said, my voice shaky. "There's been a…a invasion over at Sahara Square."

I felt something clawing at my chest, threatening to rip it open.

Then I fainted, the smell of carnage overwhelming me.

And then the world went black.

They later informed me that I saved many lives.

That strange clawing desire came back.

I didn't care how many lives I saved. I hadn't been able to save them all.

So many innocents killed. So many lives lost.

They tell me that the creatures killed themselves before they were able to be captured, all except for one, who is going on a interrogation, then a death sentence.

I didn't care. I didn't want to see any more death. Seriously, I'm 16. Who puts a teen bunny - even if she is deputy head of ZTP - through these kind of experiences? I closed my eyes and waited for the day to end.

The scene of Finnick's death flashed through my mind, again and again. I saw the corpse, the bullets, the final look on his face.

And now he, along with so many others, were silenced for eternity.

"We've posted riot cops along the borders of every district," Chief Bogo promised, "So no more innocent civilians will get hurt. The survivors have been moved to the heart of Zootopia."

My heart ached. My breathing came fast and heavy. And then I couldn't take it anymore. The smell of the blood percolated my nose.

I banged a fist on the table in the meeting room. I couldn't.

Death - no, murder - is a concept a teenager can't handle.

"Leave me," I commanded them, and then broke down into sobs, the sickening feeling ripping my chest to shreds.

I stumbled into my room at the broken down hotel.

Nick was waiting for me on the bed, his eyes still glassy and traumatised.

"What's happening to me?" I sobbed into his arms. "Why? Why?"

Then I felt something warm on my back.

"I can't - oh… I- Nick?" I faltered, choking, my eyes red and puffy.

A single tear dripped down his cheek.

He sniffed, and more flooded down.

"I - can't - no…" he moaned, his voice raw and pained, suddenly writhing and kicking on the bed. "No! No! Don't! Please! AHHHH!" he screamed, holding the pillow over his head, squeezing his eyes shut, as if trying to block out some invisible noise. Tears still streamed down his muzzle.

I had never seen him so emotional before. 'Never let 'em see that they get to you.' He had said to me.

Something was wrong.

"Nick," I cried softly into his shoulder, "just stay with me."

We sat on the bed, weeping into each other's fur, hugging tightly.

I was a jumble of emotions - surprise, disgust, sadness, horror.

We cried ourselves to sleep in each other's arms.

I dreamt.

Not my usual dreams of smiles, laughter, of warmth.

No.

This one was a nightmare.

The familiar scene played in my mind, but this time, I was frozen in place. I watched in horror, disgust, as the creature killed Finnick over and over again. Blood splattered on my face, warm and repulsive, as Finnick fell to the floor, a gaping hole through his head.

The cocky fennec fox was gone.

I screamed at the creature words I didn't even knew I knew. [And I must have talked in my sleep because Nick somehow learnt every single one of those words by morning.] But the creature didn't hear me.

And Finnick kept dying again and again and again.

I woke up cold, Finnick's final look on his gaunt face seared into my mind.

To my surprise, Nick was already sitting up on the bed, his snout wet and ragged in the cold, unfeeling, unsympathetic gaze of the silvery moonlight.

"Leave me," he whispered.

I shuffled closer. "What's wrong?"

"I - I don't know," he said, pained, his face contorted, suffering from some invisible pain. "I -"

I put a paw on his shoulder. "Tell me," I commanded, "it's okay."

He frowned. "You- you won't like it," he sniffled. He bends over, holding his head.

"I-" he sits upright, and grasps my paw.

I get sucked into a world of memory.

Painful memory.

I wake up as Nick, my face bloody and torn.

I'm lying on the front porch.

A creature, familiar somehow, stands robed in black above me. He's masked, and holds a gun.

It's pointed at my face.

"No!" I cry as he shifts it closer.

"Yes," he leers, and tightens his grip on the trigger.

Then these creatures storm the house, and I hear screaming and begging. Two shots, and then all is silent.

The creature raises the pistol to my head.

He fires, and the memory ends.

"Now you see," Nick sobbed again, "now you see why I don't let them get to me."

"I-" I faltered.

"They killed my parents. Those creatures." He spat viciously. "And they wore their skins as they walked out. That black masked beast was the one who commandeered them. And now he's back."

I walked out of the room shakily.

As soon as the door is closed, I vomited.

"Watch the floor," the attendant snapped, and fetched a mop.

I donned my darkest clothes and pulled on a mask.

This murderer was going down.

I walked into the night.