AN: First of all, yes, this is a sequel to The Case of Butcher's Den.

Second of all, no, you do not have to know the events of my previous story in order to read this one (though you obviously can read it if you want to, in case you haven't already).

I am in a rather dark mood right now, so this story is going to be dark as well. I mean, really dark. Much darker than the movie, and even darker than my first story. And more twisted. It will be more like the real world than a Disney fairytale, actually. I'll try to avoid being too scandalous, but you will definitely encounter serious and mature themes like death, cruelty, violence, substance abuse, coarse language, difficult romance, and possibly even religion. I am writing this as a form of catharsis, so the more lighthearted moments I usually put in my stories are going to be rather scarce this time.

Now, to those who have not read The Case of Butcher's Den. In that story, four years after the events of the movie, Nick and Judy were tasked with investigating an 'urban legend' about supposed carnivores living in Zootopia (carnivorism is the whole theme of this series). To their shock, they found out that this horrible rumor was indeed true, and that the flesh-eaters have gathered under the lead of a fanatical fox, Oscar 'Butcher' Fangley, and created a secret society with the appearance of a legal industry, known as Butcher's Den. In short, the two officers were caught by the carnivores, and held captive for over two weeks. During that time, they were indoctrinated by the organization's leader, who was trying to force Nick to join his cause by starving him so that he would eat Judy (Spoilers ahead. An Aftertaste of Blood follows the original ending of the first story). The cunning fox pretends to hunt his rabbit partner, but his hustle fails. When both officers are wounded, desperate and caged again, Judy convinces one of the more remorseful carnivores to give her his phone. She calls 911, the police come to her and her partner's rescue, and Butcher is shot dead. On Chief Bogo's request, Nick takes the cake for stopping the predators, becoming Zootopia's hero, and the remaining carnivores are judged and sentenced.

Not all of them, however. Having been promoted to the rank of lieutenants, Nick and Judy now have to struggle with not only the scars left in them by the tragic time of their captivity, but also with trying to find those flesh-eaters who've managed to fly and hide. Because the hunger for meat has not yet been extinguished amongst the predators of Zootopia, its society is in great peril, and our duo of cops can't rest just yet.

This is where our story begins- a couple of months after the end of the first one. It is now late fall in Zootopia, so you can expect rain, cold, and an overall noir ambiance.

Zootopia:

An Aftertaste of Blood

'… if, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.'

- Galatians 5, 15

Chapter 1

"All rise. This court is now in session."

After the clerk delivered the customary formula, the courtroom was filled with the sound of shuffling chairs. The judge, whose black gown flapped in the air as he walked toward his seat, was a badger, a male of about fifty years. When he sat and the camera zoomed in on his passionless face, he readjusted the glasses which hung low on his snout, right above his nose, and cleared his throat.

"Will the Jury foreperson please stand?" he said, and the image of a brown cow appeared on screen.

"Has the Jury reached a unanimous verdict?" asked the judge.

"Yes, Your Honor," the female bovine announced on behalf of her colleagues, half of whom were predators, and the other- prey animals.

"Please recite it."

"Your Honor, Ladies and Gentlemales of the Jury. The defendant, Rufus Links", the camera zoomed out to show a calm, well-dressed bobcat in his thirties, "stands before the Horne County Criminal Court accused of five charges. The first one of them being a premeditated, first-degree murder, for the reason of practicing carnivorism, of at least one unknown prey animal in the summer of this year. The second charge is the habitual practice of carnivorism, that is the unlawful consumption of the flesh of prey animals, for at least two years before the defendant's arrest on October 18th. The third charge is the participation of the defendant in the criminal syndicate known as Butcher's Den. The fourth- his participation in crimes against the animal kingdom, committed by said syndicate. And finally, the fifth- speciesist hatred, in the first degree."

A whole crowd of auditors was then shown, prey and predators alike, all of them astir in anticipation.

"After a thorough examination, we the Jury find you, Rufus Links, on account of charge number one…"

A moment of total silence followed, during which the camera shifted from the face of the bobcat, which exhibited way more emotion than just a few seconds ago, to that of the cow, which was completely blank.

"… not guilty."

The TV's speakers then basically exploded with a cacophony of various sounds. The screen showed the grinning, overjoyed defendant embracing his attorney, and immediately afterwards, an utterly divided audience. Some of the animals present were outraged, some were in tears, while others clapped and screamed out in joy.

"Order! Order!" yelled the judge angrily, hammering with his gavel.

"What a scandal!" a tearful mare, the widow of one of the victims of Butcher's Den, cried back at him at once.

"This is a sham, not a court! A circus!" roared a furious lion.

"PREDATOR PRIDE! PREDATOR PRIDE!" a group of standing canids chanted in response.

"YOU SPECIESIST SCUM!" an answer came from someone.

As the badger kept on banging, threatening to terminate the hearing, the head juror kept speaking in a low, monotone voice. The camera had to zoom in on her lips so that the viewers could read them.

"… on account of charge number two… not guilty. On account of charge number three…"

"An outrage!"

"… on account of charge number five, not guilty," concluded the cow, putting away the file she was holding.

"Court is adjourned!" the judge finally cast his gavel on the desk and stood up to leave. The shouting intensified.

Lieutenant Nicholas Wilde turned the TV off, placed the remote down on the couch by his side, and sighed.

Sticking the butt of his cigarette in a nearby ash tray along with the rest of them, which formed something akin to a miniature porcupine, he thought to himself:

Innocent my rump… that damn jury must have been really corrupt!

Standing up, he stretched and yawned widely. Taking a gander at the clock, he noticed that it showed five-till-nine AM. He was off duty that day, so he still wore nothing but his boxer shorts and an undershirt.

Scratching his belly, he went over to one of the walls of his apartment. A big whiteboard hung there, with the words 'MEAT SHEET' written on top in large letters with a red sharpie. Underneath were five columns:

Tot. Carnies Found Guilty: 61 (incl. executed: 22)

Found N. Guilty: 15

Cases Due: 7

Dead: 8

Carnies On The Run: 2

Erasing the number '5' in 'Found Not Guilty' with the fur of his paw, he bent over to pick up a black marker from the floor and wrote in the number '6', boosting the total number of supposedly innocent predators to 16. He'd been closely following the development of Rufus Links' case for the past weeks… for nothing.

He then took another look at his statistics.

Throughout the past three months since the exposition of Butcher's Den, the ZPD, along with Judy and him, managed to catch a total of 91 animals. Some of them have been released by the courts due to what was called a 'lack of evidence' (although Nick found the fact that many of those predators were influential, rich citizens of Zootopia to be highly suspicious). 8 have died by means of lynch or suicide, either before or after being convicted. 7 were still only about to be judged. 39 of the ones who have been found guilty, were serving time in prison.

Carnies. Carnivores. Flesh-eaters… 22 of them, who have hunted and slain prey themselves, have already been put down for murder.

There were also the two who were known to be hiding… (actually, he knew exactly who those two carnivores were, but exposing their names would be the last thing he would do). How many more flesh-eaters were still walking the streets freely, disguising their dark secret, however?

His feelings about all of this were mixed. He felt bad for those who had been sentenced, as well as for those who were acquitted. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

Truth be told, he was terribly hung-over. The most recent events of his life have really taken their toll on his state of mind… and the state of his apartment, as well. The place stank of cigarette smoke, there was a whole mountain of dirty dishes in the sink, leftover fishburger boxes and other trash lying around…

Nick couldn't remember what exactly he did last night, after he came back from another unsuccessful late-autumn day of hunting for carnivores. He knew one thing, however- that he felt two burning desires that right now needed to be satisfied. His aching head, shaking paws, and a ravenous hunger made it clear to him.

Approaching the dirty table in his tiny kitchenette, he grabbed an open bottle of Johnny Stalker Red Label, which was less than a quarter-full.

"Hair of the dog that bit me," he mumbled to himself in his raspy voice before taking a hefty swig.

And then, he reached for his pills.

The label on the bottle read 'CARNISOL: Artificial Muscular Tissue Protein Substitute'. The drug was usually used by doping athletes, and wasn't exactly legal. But none of the nutrients he could buy at a regular drug store were enough for him anymore.

Grabbing a pawful of pills, he popped them in his mouth and washed them down with another drink from the bottle. He then coughed, grimaced, and said:

"Nothing like the breakfast o' champs to kick off your day…"

Panting, he felt as his hunger began to subside. His heartbeat also slowed down, and his paws eventally ceased to shake.

The fox was then able to prepare a regular breakfast for himself, consisting of toast and a triple espresso. Having finished eating, he added another dirty plate to his collection.

Walking over to the bathroom next, he stood in front of the mirror. As usual, he could barely recognize himself… but it wasn't because of his drinking.

Judy and him were working undercover most of the time right now, and, in order to not be recognized by the citizens of Zootopia who knew his face from TV, he had to result to radical measures… and dye all of his fur. Which meant that, at least temporarily, he was no longer a red fox. He was now a silver fox, going by the name 'Robin Gekker'.

After turning the water on, 'Mr. Gekker' wet his paw and combed the messy ashen-black hair on top of his head back. He then put on his contact lenses, disguising the blood-shot, natural green of his iris with brownish-red, the color in which the eyes of the melanistic members of his species usually were. Afterward, he also brushed his tail, which was now pitch-black, with the exception of its tip. That part kept its natural whiteness.

Looking at his reflection again, he shared a grin with himself, crossing his paws on his chest.

"Ah! The Vixen Vizier, ready for duty!"

But then, as he continued to look at himself and remembering everything that had happened, the smile on his face melted away as his heart felt a prick of loneliness...

"… not really," he mumbled, turning away from the mirror.

As he walked toward his closet, the sound of rain beating on the windows echoed within the empty home. Even though he was not going to work today, he still had to put his cop outfit on, however. This day was a special occasion… although he wished that it could have been a more happy one. And that he could deck himself out in his dress uniform for someone he liked more, and remembered better.

After putting on his pants and shirt, Nick began fixing his tie. The clothes still looked pretty good. He just wished that nobody would notice that he had not ironed them since the day of his graduation from the Zootopia Police Academy.

His throat still felt very dry, so before leaving, he decided to take another drink. Grabbing the bottle of Johnny Stalker, he lifted it up to his lips…

… and then, a tragedy happened.

Accidently choking on the whiskey, he let some of it spill.

"EKH EKH!" he gasped for air, putting the bottle back on the table. "GodDAMN!"

To his undescribable exasperation, he noticed that not only did the alcohol stain his shirt, but it also caused the dye on his fur to dissolve, creating a nasty black stain on the blue fabric.

"Yiff it!" cursed the fox, ripping his shirt off. Unfortunately, the dye had also stained his undershirt. Another result of the accident was a reddish patch on his chest where the pigment melted away.

"Cheap crap! I swear I'm never dying my own fur again!" he continued to growl. "I hope no carnie notices this damn red spot while I'm working…"

It was now five-till-ten. Dressed in the regular clothes he usually wore while on an undercover mission, which were black slacks, a white shirt and a black tie, he rolled down the window on the driver's side of the rented metallic-grey Wolfswagen Nocturne, and threw his half-finished cigarette out into the rain. He normally wouldn't have cared, but he was about to enter hallowed ground. Before the bumper of his car was the front gate of Pet Str. Cemetery in the town of Horne, the capital of Horne County. He had driven here in order to attend the funeral of Vargo Batter- the Horne County sheriff.

Taking off his mirrored shades, the fox gazed up toward the rusty iron letters which hung over the entrance.

"Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish," he read aloud. "Puh! Whoever built this cemetery, wasn't without a sense of irony."

Hitting the gas, he entered the area of the large necropolis, carrying a smirk. That changed, however, as soon as he drove pass a huge monument, made entirely of black marble, which looked as if it had been chiseled just yesterday. When he noticed what the golden letters on the slab read, he immediately stopped the car.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF THE MANY UNKNOWN VICTIMS

OF BUTCHER'S DEN

AND THE MONSTROSITIES OF CARNIVORISM,

WHOSE FINAL RESTING PLACES REMAIN A MYSTERY,

THEIR UNCONSOLED FAMILIES AND FRIENDS.

For you, brethren, have been called unto liberty: only make not liberty an occasion to the flesh, but by charity of the spirit serve one another. For all the Law is fulfilled in one word: Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another (Galatians 5, 13-15)

After he finished reading those words, his memories returned and hit him like a speeding train. He felt some sort of a force constricting his throat, which almost made his sob…

Snapping out of this sudden attack of grief, he turned his face away and began driving again.

By the graveside, along with the goats from the sheriff's family, there stood two even rows of cops in dress uniforms- one consisting of Horne County police officers in black, and another of members of the ZPD in blue. After the service was over, they unfortunately had to walk out from under the canopy and into the pouring rain in order to fire the salvo of honor. Then, after the trumpeteer played a dreary melody, everyone began to disperse.

Nick soon noticed the image of a short figure, carrying an umbrella in one paw and a briefcase in the other, stuggling with the wind and wallowing around the graves while heading his way. He rolled down his window.

The face of a female rabbit then apppeared, red vessels of blood disfiguring the lavender of her eyes, indicating anger.

"Links was acquitted," the fox announced to his partner, not bothering to look her way.

Hearing the news, the female officer immediately ground her teeth, mouthing several curses. But, eventually, the only sound she let out was a growl of exasperation. Tapping the wet ground with her foot, she caused the rainwater to splash.

"Hop in, Carrots," Nick proposed. "You're wet enough already."

He closed the window, while lieutenant Judy Hopps made her way to the passenger's seat. Entering the car, she threw her wet umbrella as well as the case with her parade rifle to the back, and immediately sent her partner a scolding glare.

"You were supposed to attend the funeral, Nick! And why are you out of uniform?!"

The fox took his glasses off to look back at her. He then quickly crossed himself, and said:

"May he rest in peace. There. I attended."

"But why were you in the car all the time?!" the soaked cop continued, outraged by his neglectful behavior. "We didn't have to go to the station today, but that doesn't mean that you can just ignore your work!"

"Well, I wasn't in my car all the time..." he retorted, handing her some really small piece of plastic he pulled out from the pocket of his shirt. "... and I wasn't ignoring my work, either."

"What's this?" Judy asked, perplexed, taking the tiny item from him.

"This is a memory card from a rodent-sized digital camera," her partener responded with a smirk. "I confiscated it from a paparatzi. He wasn't too happy about it, but Bogo did say to keep the whole case confidential, didn't he?"

The dutiful rabbit seemed a little appeased with such an answer... but not completely.

"Uh... From what I was able to find out, this is more of a mess than we've thought," she announced to him, displeased.

"C'mon!" Nick snorted dismissively, knowing what her speculations were. "Ol' Batter's been the sheriff over here for, what? 20 years? I'm sure there's plenty of animals who had a bone to pick with him. And besides... no one knows about what he did to Fangley except for you and me..."

He looked at her with confidence, but the expression on her face made him lose some of it. Her eyes indicated that she had something to tell him... Something that would disprove the statement he just made.

"Carrots... What's wrong?" he asked, frowning.

The rabbit let out a deep sigh, hanging her head.

"The other officers told me what they found by Batter's body after he was shot..."

The fox's eyes went wide, and his ears stood erect.

"What was that?" he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer...

The muscles on his partner's face flexed with anxiety. Biting her lip, she mumbled:

"They found something they think was a message from the murderer. A piece of paper they say looks like... a flyer. A flyer with the picture..."

"... of a food chain?" Nick guessed, cutting her off, his shaky voice indicating that he was stricken with concern.

"Yeah..." his partner admitted sadly.

Flyers with pictures of natural food chains had been used by the members of Butcher's Den as propaganda in order to scare the animals of Zootopia and attract new members to the carnivorist cause. Nick and Judy hoped that, after the organization's disbanding, this would stop completely. It appeared that they were wrong.

Vargo Batter was the one who shot the carnivorist's leader, Oscar Fangley, during a police raid at the Den. He did that while the fox was unarmed, executing judgement on his own because, as it appeared, the sheriff had been a prey supremacist. Vendetta in this case turned out to be a two-edged sword, however...

"There is one more thing," Judy announced, making her partner's mood become even worse.

"Uh! What?" he inquired with irritation.

"The Horne County cops also told me that there was something written on the back of the flyer..."

"Did they tell you what it was?"

"Yes..." she said grimly. "It was one word. War."

War. Now that could only have one meaning- a war between carnivores and non-carnivores... The very thing Zootopia feared most, and what the police had desperately tried to prevent for the past few months.

"The people can't find out about the real reason of the sheriff's death," Judy stated seriously. "It'll cause another crisis, maybe worse than the last one."

"Carrots, the press had already done their job..." the fox revealed to her gloomily. "Haven't you seen what's happening in the streets?"

The rabbit gazed at him, surprised.

"No! Chief Bogo drove me over here early in the morning to speak to Batter's widow. What's going on?"

"Oh, you'll see... I thought it was just some isolated incident, but I got a hunch there's going to be more commotion when we get back."

Nick then turned the car on.

"So where do you wanna go? Wanna grab some coffee and talk this over?"

"No, I can't..." she declined. "I promised Yasseck I'd spend the rest of the day with him. It's not too often do we get free time to be together."

"Yasseck? You mean Jack?" the fox inquired, confused about the name of Judy's boyfriend.

"Apparently, it's actually pronounced Yasseck. Or something like that. Anyway, he lives on Catson Avenue. You know where that is, right?"

"Yup. The hipster district. Alright, buckle up, Carrots. We'll be there in the blink of a sloth's eye."

They did not speak while driving, as both of them were in a lousy mood after what they'd found out at the funeral. In Judy's case, however, the negative feelings intensified when her partner began smoking as soon as they left the cemetery...

... but that was nothing compared to how she felt when they got back to Zootopia. For there, seemingly caused by the morning news and the speculations of the journalists about the possible causes of the Horne County Sheriff's mysterious murder, they encountered protests and counter-protests of animals who either accused predators of going savage all over again, or defended them...

Parts of her beloved city seemed to be on the brink of being engulfed in riots.

AN: A couple of things. Yes, 'speciesism' is a word. Yes, Nick is a silver fox in this fic. No, Nick and Judy are not a couple in this fic. And yes, there are also going to be chapters written from Judy's perspective this time, so don't worry.

The outbreak of carnivorism has had serious consequences on both of the main characters, as well as the whole of Zootopia. So don't be surprised if you will encounter a darker side of each- one which has never been showed to us. If you think, hey, Nick didn't drink whiskey in the movie!, think about this- maybe he did it off screen, when he was having a bad day? And now, there's animals eating other animals in Zootopia. So actually, everyone there has some pretty good reasons to complain. Especially Nick who, in his moment of weakness back in Butcher's Den, had himself become a carnivore. Now he's struggling with the consequences of all of those events also on a personal level.

The last words which the Butcher spoke to Nick shortly before his death were, you have won nothing. Indeed, it seems that the duo of cops' trouble has only begun.