As Bellwether entered the huge glass doors of ZPD headquarters, she was still shaking off the frustration of the drive over. Four red lights in a row! Unprecedented. This was supposed to be a short visit; she didn't have much time to spare. Lionheart was working her to the bone, as usual. The curator of the Natural History Museum was asking for more renovation funding, as usual. The new freezing units for Tundra Town were causing unexpected problems, as usual. And the subway system was in terrible shape, as it had been every year since it was first established.
There was also her secret crusade to plunge the city into a state of racially-charged fear, ruining Lionheart's ability to function as a leader and sweeping in to take his place. But that was a personal project. She didn't do that during work hours.
She passed through the front lobby, past a despondent otter. She gave the woman a sympathetic smile, but didn't break her stride. She was late already. In and out.
Clawhauser, the usual receptionist, was manning the front desk. Unusually, however, he wasn't eating – he was slumped in his chair, sucking in breath. He looked up and saw her. "Oh! Hey... Assistamay'r... Bell... wether!" he managed between wheezes. He flapped a hand at her in a rough approximation of a wave.
"What's got this fat idiot so out of breath? Did he finally get off his butt and do some actual work?" thought Bellwether. She gave Clawhauser a big smile and chirped "Hey, great to see you, Ben!"
"You... too...!"
After conquering the mountainous trek up to Bogo's office, she knocked delicately on the door. "What now?" came his voice from inside. Bellwether paused for a second. Bogo was perpetually angry, but in a focused way. This kind of tone was rare.
But she was late. In and out.
She pushed the door open. "Hello, Chief!" she sang. "Just sticking my head in. How are things?"
Bogo was viciously scribbling on some paperwork. He barely glanced up. "Bellwether. Not a good time."
"Oh, I hear that! I'm swamped too, so I won't be here long." She smiled up at him. "So...! I'm curious about our latest recruit! How's she doing?"
Bogo didn't look up. "Fired."
It took a moment for Bellwether to process the word. She didn't usually mishear things – effective interpersonal communication was a vital skill for any politician – but there was no possible way he had just said what she thought he had said. "I'm sorry, come again?"
"She's. Fired." He dropped his pen, glaring at the nameplate on his desk. "I fired her. She is currently in the process of being fired."
Bellwether's eyes widened. "You what?! How could – you – she's been here less than a week! You fired her?!"
"She gave me no choice!" roared Bogo suddenly, slamming a fist on the desk. He glowered at Bellwether for a moment, his huge chest heaving. Then the moment passed and he was back to his usual precise anger. "You can read the report for yourself. She was unfit for duty, and insubordinate. Your little initiative failed."
Bellwether was at a loss. Fury swirled inside her, but it was too soon, and right now that fury was aimless, dangerous. She got where she was today by applying her anger correctly.
With few other options, Bellwether simply drew herself to her full, unimpressive height, looked Bogo in the eye, and said "Mayor Lionheart will hear of this."
"See that he does," said Bogo. "In fact, the sooner the better. Get out of my office." He turned back to his work. "I've got a precinct to run. Not a daycare," he muttered.
Bellwether turned on her heel and marched out of the room, not bothering to hide her sneer.
Dammit.
Zootopia may be the city where anyone can be anything, but it is still, nonetheless, a city. While news of the first rabbit cop's abrupt and unceremonious firing raised a few eyebrows and caused a few murmurs and prompted a few daytime television talk segments, life continued.
Life continued for Lionheart, who faced mounting pressure from the demands of his office, both public and secret; for Bogo, who grew steadily more stubborn about his decision while Precinct One's officers began to whisper to each other about the fate of the new girl; for Bellwether, who threw herself at her work, furious that a useful pawn like Hopps could be knocked off the board for such an asinine reason; and for Nick Wilde, who found himself sipping a soda in a dark and noisy bar.
It was flat.
"So buy another one," grumbled Finnick, who was on his third drink. None of them had been sodas. "Don't just... sit there and complain. Do something."
Nick lay his fingertips on his coaster and gently pushed his drink away. "I think I'll pass," he declared. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the thumping music. "It's been a long day. I'd only stay here to shake some idiots down for cash, and it's too loud to crank out the charm."
"Speak for yourself," replied Finnick, looking over Nick's shoulder to a trio of vixens giggling by the bar. "I'm spending my hard-earned money here."
"Knock yourself out." Nick slid out of their booth, shrugging on his coat. "But don't have too much fun. Tonight's a schoolnight, young man. We got work in the morning."
Finnick just grunted.
With a brief nod, Nick pushed through the crowd and out into the street. It was cold but blessedly quiet. Finnick's taste in bars was terrible. Nick couldn't fathom how someone with ears that large could stomach a place that loud. Maybe the alcohol helped.
Paws in the pockets of his thick, dark green coat, he set off. This part of town was badly lit, and shadows loomed everywhere. Nick didn't care. He was more concerned about the temperature. It was an unusually cold night for June. The wind was blowing in from Tundra Town. He'd almost expect to see –
"Well look who it is!"
Nick started, but forced himself to keep calm. He looked down the alleyway the voice had come from. Two polar bears emerged from the darkness.
Nick bared his teeth in a vague approximation of a smile. "Kevin! Raymond! What brings you two out to... not-Mr Big's territory...?"
"An errand," Raymond said, and Nick was quietly thankful he stopped there. "We didn't expect to run into you. What a pleasant surprise." He stepped towards Nick, while Kevin moved to the side, trying to block the way Nick had been walking.
Nick shuffled backwards slowly – he knew better than to turn his back before he had to. "Well it's always a real pleasure to see you guys – wereallygottacatchupsometime – but it's late and I'm late and my mom is waiting for me to get home, so..."
His attempt to appeal to the sacred image of family was unsuccessful. "'My mom is waiting for me'..." chuckled Kevin. "God, Wilde. You sound like a baby."
"He is a baby," rumbled Raymond. "Only a baby would think it'd be funny to sell the boss a rug like that."
Nick's eyes widened while his smile desperately stayed in place. It wasn't a great look. "T-the rug, huh? The skunk rug? The rug that I feel really, really, really bad about selling Mr Big and that's why I never came back into his territory and honestly I feel like that's a system that's working for everybody? That rug?"
"Yeah," said Kevin. "That rug." They advanced.
"Guys, guys," said Nick, as smoothly as he could. "Mr Big wouldn't want you to do anything rash. It's not his style to just... beat a guy up on the street for something that happened a long time ago."
"Yeah," said Raymond. "But y'know whose style that does sound like?"
"Our style," said Kevin.
"Yeah. Our style."
Nick abandoned his crooked smile. Not enough energy. Instead he threw his paws up. "Please, if he's mad about the rug –!"
"We're all mad about the damn rug!" shouted Raymond. Then he broke into a sprint.
Nick turned and ran.
He had fled plenty of tight spots in his life, but apparently he was out of practice. He only made it a short distance down the darkened street before a meaty paw closed around his tail.
Nick had just enough time to say "Waitwaitno!" before lurching backwards. There was a sharp pain at the base of his spine, but then Raymond grabbed him by shoulder and flung Nick against a brick wall and suddenly the first pain didn't seem like such a concern.
Nick exhaled shakily as the two bears loomed over him. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. Suddenly he was eight years old again.
He hated it. He always hated it.
"What do you think, Kevin?" said Raymond, cracking his knuckles. "Start with the face?"
"Yeah. The face. I'd like to see him try to con somebody with half his teeth missing."
Nick closed his eyes, curling himself inward more out of instinct than any hope of –
"Hey!"
Nick forced his eyes open, looking upwards. The voice had come from above. He and the two bears craned their necks.
And stared.
Standing above them, balanced on a rusty fire escape, was a figure dressed entirely in black. She wore a black bodysuit with a black balaclava and a black belt with black pouches. She glowered down at them, her stance firm.
The problem with this image was that she was a tiny bunny. Her ski-mask had two holes cut in the top for her tall ears.
She kept her voice low and harsh. "Step away from the fox. I won't tell you again."
Kevin and Raymond shared a look. Then they both looked to Nick. Nick opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I don't know either," he said finally.
Raymond turned his attention back to the rabbit. "Just who the hell are you?"
"A concerned citizen," she replied. "Now are you going to leave this man in peace, or do we have a problem?"
The bear's eyes narrowed. "No, we don't have a problem. A rabbit playing dress-up is not 'a problem'." He tapped Kevin's arm. "Get her down from there. She needs to be taught respect."
"Mmh." Kevin moved towards the fire escape, intending to shake the entire structure. "Alright, you dumb bunny, you'd –"
Like a bullet the rabbit shot down from the railing and kicked him in the face.
"What the h–" yelled Kevin but she was already moving, jumping to the wall and kicking off and sinking her foot in his chest. He wheezed and she rolled under him and grabbed his ankle and twisted it. Then she slammed her shoulder against him with as much force as she could muster and he fell.
Raymond stared, but managed to push past his shock. He darted forward with surprising speed and grabbed the rabbit by the neck. With a brutal motion he slashed his claws into her face. The rabbit let out a gasp as the fabric of her mask tore. Nick, who had been watching in silent awe, suddenly felt himself tense.
Raymond straightened up, glaring at the rabbit struggling in his grip. He glanced down at his own claws. "See that?" he sneered as his eyes picked out red against his white fur. "You bleed like everyone else, girl. Something you should remember the next time you –"
She sank her teeth into his hand.
"Agh! What is wrong with...?!" He reflexively loosened his hold and the rabbit fell, tucking into a crouch. She unclipped a taser from her belt and stabbed it into his knee.
Raymond's cry of agony cut through the night air.
He lost his balance, leaning against the wall while heaving in breath. She clipped the taser back into place, and turned back to Kevin just in time to get kicked in the chest.
Kevin punted the rabbit into the wall and she bounced. Nick saw how her torso hit the brick and he felt a pang of concern. He winced, berating himself for his inaction. He should have fled by now. But he couldn't to force himself to stand.
Kevin stomped towards the rabbit, furious. She was curled on the ground, unmoving. Kevin snarled. "I'm gonna tear you limb from limb, you hear me?!" He leaned down, his bringing his head, his face, his gleaming teeth in close. "You're never gonna–"
As soon as he was close the rabbit sprung up, but now she was holding a small bottle of something. Something she sprayed directly into his eyes.
Kevin roared, clutching his face. The rabbit got to her feet, glancing between him and Raymond, who was still huffing in pain.
No time like the present.
Nick felt a brief chill of fear when her eyes landed on him. It was completely ridiculous, a snide voice in his head declared. But it happened nonetheless.
She moved over to him, touched his paw, looked him in the eye, and said "Run."
Nick nodded.
Then he ran.
She ran with him, and together they escaped, leaving the polar bears behind. Neither spoke. Nick almost felt like he was in a dream. None of this seemed quite real.
After a few minutes his lungs were heaving and his legs were wobbling so Nick veered into an alleyway and laid a hand against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The rabbit followed him.
She jogged to a stop. She didn't seem even slightly winded. "Is this far enough? Can you get home okay?" She spoke with gentle authority, apparently at ease with the blood trickling down her cheek.
"Yeah," wheezed Nick. He swallowed, then took a deep breath. "Yeah," he said, more firmly. "This is fine. I'll be fine." He wasn't just saying it because of his desperate need to stop moving. That was, admittedly, a factor. But his house was close.
She nodded slowly. "Glad to hear it. Be careful, sir, alright?"
"Sure. Sure." He let out a shaky breath. He turned away from the wall, looking at her feet. "Thank you... for that. Really."
"Don't worry about it," she smiled. "I like helping folks out." She turned and began to walk away.
Nick watched her for a few seconds. Part of him wanted to just let her have her moment. But he couldn't resist the temptation.
"Even jerks like me? That's admirable, Hopps."
The rabbit froze.
"It is 'Hopps', right?" he continued, straightening up. "Judy Hopps, the meter maid who got fired? I've got a pretty good memory when it comes to names. And voices. And faces, but oh, you're wearing a mask. Forget that last part, I guess."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said the rabbit stiffly. She didn't turn around.
"Sure you do. Remember, a couple weeks back? You wandered into one of my hustles and tried to shut me down... What was that fun little nickname I had for you? Was it 'Podunk'? Something like that... Then I gave you a very helpful pep-talk about how you'd never amount to anything." He cleared his throat. "I'm... I guess I better walk that one back, huh? Looks like you haven't gone home yet."
There was a pause. She still didn't face him.
Nick sighed. "Look. I owe you, rabbit. So come on. I'll patch you up."
"What?"
"You're hurt," said Nick slowly, "and I am offering to you, for a limited time only, completely pro bono medical care from a guy who has a rough idea of what he's doing. That guy being me."
"I'm fine," she said briskly.
"No, you're bleeding. You might even have a cracked rib. You don't want to get into any fights like that, and I don't want to owe you any longer than I have to. So just let me do this, and then we'll be even and we'll go our separate ways. Alright?"
She didn't reply, and after a moment Nick shrugged.
"No, good point. It'd probably be better for you to go see a real doctor. Howsabout I call for an ambulance and tell them Judy Hopps was just in a street fight, and–"
"Stop!" she snapped. She turned to glare at him – he could just about make out the purple of her eyes against the black mask. And the red wound. "Why are you being so weirdly insistent about this?"
"Because I don't like owing debts," said Nick darkly. "I get by without anybody's help, because if someone helps you, they inevitably want you to help them. So it'd be a big help if you helped me help you, so we can stop helping each other."
She watched him silently for a few seconds. "...You understand why I might have difficulty trusting you."
Nick shrugged. "That's fair. More than fair, really. Kind of a relief. Only an idiot would trust me. But that's all the more reason to rip this bandaid off quickly, huh? Proverbially speaking, of course. You're gonna need to put one on, first."
The rabbit hesitated for a few more moments, but then sighed, relenting. She glanced around, but the alleyway was empty. Slowly, she removed her mask, taking care not to rub the fabric against her bleeding cheek. Nick watched her. After a few seconds, her mask bunched in her paws, Judy Hopps looked up at him warily.
"Oh my god," said Nick flatly, "it's youuuuu."
She shoved him.
On the walk to Nick's house, her mask held against her bleeding cut, Judy explained her situation. Nick hadn't asked, but he didn't stop her.
Judy explained the disastrous day she chased Weaselton. She explained that Dawn Bellwether, the Assistant Mayor, had been very sympathetic and promised to support Judy any way she could. Bellwether had said that with Lionheart's support, they could be able to get Judy back on the force, maybe even in Precinct One. But days turned to weeks without progress.
Judy explained how she had sunk into depression for a while. This wasn't helped by her parents, who did their best to sound sad, but repeatedly reminded her that she could come home any time now that this whole police officer phase was finally, mercifully, over. Judy would spend long hours lying on the bed in her tiny apartment, staring at the ceiling. But to her own surprise, it wasn't self-pity. Not entirely, at least. Yes, she had ruined her lifelong dream, but that dream was to improve the world, to help people. People like Mr and Mrs Otterton.
People who needed help, and weren't getting it.
Judy explained how she kept coming back to the missing mammal epidemic that had hung over her brief career. She continued to keep an eye on it has closely as she could. The ZPD were making no progress. In fact, from what she could tell, more mammals went missing as time went by.
She realized she had to do something.
Nick kicked a pebble. "So naturally, you bought a ski-mask and a weird wetsuit thing and started wandering around at night, looking for crime."
"Well, actually, I only bought the mask," said Judy. "The suit is one of the special-made uniforms the ZPD gave me when I graduated. It's pretty tough – the belt's kevlar, and the rest is neoprene. I just dyed it black."
"Of course." Nick's eyes narrowed. "How do you dye neoprene?"
"With difficulty!" said Judy brightly.
"Uh huh." Nick came to a driveway and slunk through the gate. "Well, we're here."
Judy looked up at the house marked '1955'. It was small, but quite comfortable for only one occupant. The colours were muted by the night, but she could see how the dark green roof contrasted the faded orange brickwork of the external walls. The short stretch of lawn was unkempt and needed weeding.
"Nice place," murmured Judy.
"Thanks," said Nick briskly. "Admire it while you can; you'll never be here again."
As he unlocked the front door, Judy smiled up at him. "Listen, even if you're being weird about this, I appreciate your help."
"Hmm," said Nick. He opened the door and they both stepped into the narrow front hall.
"And as soon as this is done, I'll go back out on patrol, and" here she stopped, for a long time, as a yawn overtook her, and she put the back of her paw to her mouth, and it slowly passed, and Nick gave her an odd look, and then it was over, "I'll be out of your fur!"
Nick glared. "Podunk," he said sourly, "when was the last time you slept?"
"I'm usually too busy to sleep," said Judy easily, as though that was somehow an acceptable answer.
Nick rolled his eyes, sagging. "In there," he said, pointing to a door. "On the couch." He headed up the staircase. "I'll be back."
She watched him for a moment, but then caught herself. It would be rude to ignore him. She pushed open the door and came into his sitting room – a deep green couch, a small coffee table, an elderly television. There was a fireplace on the far wall, though it didn't look like it saw much use.
Judy's eyes were drawn to the mantelpiece, which was sparsely decorated with a few framed photographs. She walked closer, looking at one in the centre. It seemed like the photo was taken a few years ago; Nick looked younger, but not by much. He was quietly smiling, alongside an older vixen in a lilac sweater.
Judy realized she had sort of forgotten that people like Nick Wilde had mothers.
She heard him coming down the stairs. She quickly scrambled to the couch, fighting off a sudden feeling of guilt.
She sat on the couch and laid her mask next to her. He entered a moment later. In one hand, he was holding a small first-aid kit. Under his other arm was a pillow and some blankets, which he unceremoniously dumped next to the couch.
He sighed. "Because of your terrible decision making, I have extended my offer. If you want, I will allow you to sleep on this couch. Instead of... wandering around until you pass out and fall into a river or something. Just a hypothetical."
"Oh." She blinked. "You don't have to do that."
"Yes I do," he said resignedly. "Offer it, at least. You moron."
"How could I turn down such a pleasant host?" murmured Judy, raising an eyebrow. But once she actually entertained the idea, she found it was fairly tempting. Saving Nick hadn't been the first thing she had done that night. Besides, her apartment wasn't much more inviting than a stranger's surprisingly soft sofa. "Actually, I'd... like that. If you really don't mind."
"I don't," said Nick unenthusiastically. He looked away to turn on a nearby lamp. "Now, let's get this over with."
His eyes returned to Judy, and he stopped. She was watching him with a wary, vaguely nervous expression. "What's the matter?" said Nick, irritation creeping into his voice. "You worried I'm gonna eat you, or something?"
"No! Of course not."
"Well, I won't," he said calmly. "I try to vary what I have in a day, and I already devoured a rabbit for lunch."
Despite herself, Judy laughed; short, sharp, mostly borne from surprise. "Don't joke about stuff like that!"
"Mmh, that's what he said," grinned Nick. "Really, I gave him ample time to realize I wasn't kidding. Guess that's the thing about the gene pool, right? You could've ended up dating that guy. I did you a favour."
She shook her head, smiling. "Jeez, Nick..."
"Alright, hold still." He knelt next to her. After briefly examining her torso, he moved along her ribs, prodding each one in turn. "Does this hurt?"
"Yeah, it hurts," muttered Judy. "You're poking me."
Nick rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, since that was a sassy one-liner and not a blind scream of agony, I'm gonna say you don't have any cracked ribs. Lucky you. Now let's get a look at that cut."
He cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head to better catch the light. Judy blinked, awkwardly trying to keep her eyes on the wall. Nick's fur felt slightly wet; he must have washed his hands while upstairs.
"Hmm," he said. "Like I thought. It's not too bad. Facial cuts are like that... they bleed a lot even when they aren't serious." He laid the first-aid kit on the table, opening it out. "It's a simple fix. I'll apply some disinfectant, then bandage it. Nothing fancy, but better than nothing. A lot better."
"Oh. Okay. Sounds good." She watched him produce a small tube of white gel. "Um, where did you learn this stuff?"
"Where did you learn to ask pointless, invasive questions?" he replied breezily. "Oh, right. Police academy. Of course."
He began to dab the cream into her cut. Judy winced, and he stopped, and she said "No no, it's fine. Just wasn't ready."
"Hmm." He continued.
Judy's eyes wandered to her balaclava. It was torn, and thoroughly caked with her own drying blood. "Guess I should've bought more than one mask. Don't think I can clean it..."
"You should just wear red," murmured Nick, almost sleepily.
"...You think so?"
"Sure," he said, though he didn't sound that interested. "You pick black for stealth? I don't think it matters that much. At your size, you can just hide in nooks and stuff. Camouflage is less of a concern."
"Maybe I picked black 'cause it's scary," said Judy, smirking.
Nick scoffed. "In that case, definitely switch to red. Again – I can't stress this enough – you are tiny. You aren't gonna convince anybody that you're the vengeful spirit of the night itself, or whatever." Judy frowned, but he kept his eyes on his work. "Red, though? Doesn't matter how small it is, if something red is flying right at you... that's scary. It's, y'know, instinctive. You're fast. Use that."
"Huh," said Judy. "Um... thanks. That actually sounds like good advice."
"Eh," said Nick.
He put away the cream and rifled through the kit for a bandage. Silence settled back in, but it wasn't comfortable. At least, not for Judy. Eager for more conversation, she remarked "I should probably upgrade while I'm at it. Get something a claw won't just cut through. Something more... armoury."
"That's not a word," Nick murmured. "Well, it is. But it doesn't mean what you apparently think it means."
"Seriously," she continued. "The best offence is a good defence. I'm pretty good at dodging, but I gotta be able to take a hit, right?"
Nick said nothing.
He produced a small adhesive bandage – small by fox standards. It was more than large enough for Judy's wound. He delicately applied it, smoothing the edges with his thumb. "All done. And the delicious scent of your raw blood didn't once drive me into biting your face off. Outstanding."
"Great job," said Judy, gently feeling the bandage on her cheek. She smiled at him. "Could I get a popiscle for being a good patient? I hear you're the guy to ask for that kinda stuff."
He smirked. "You heard right, but no. Don't have any on me. Besides, it's too close to your bedtime, bunny."
"Oh well. Thanks... for everything." She looked him in the eyes. "Really."
"You're welcome." Nick quickly glanced down at his watch. "For, let's say... six more hours. Then you are no longer welcome. This isn't a hotel, understand?"
"Sure." She glanced over at a clock on his mantelpiece. "Yeah. I can be gone by then. It'll be like I was never here."
"It better be." Nick glared at her for a second, but then his eyes wandered to the window. He coughed. "It'd... I don't want to have to explain to visitors why my sofa smells like rabbit blood, got it? I have a reputation to maintain."
She gave him a quiet smirk. "I thought you said you ate a rabbit earlier today. What's the problem?"
His mouth twitched with amusement, though he didn't look back. "You misunderstand, Podunk. It's not a murder thing, it's a cleanliness thing. We foxes keep our bloodlust very tidy. It'd be like leaving uneaten lettuce all around... where-ever it is bunnies live."
"Yeah, you've obviously never been a rabbit home. We don't leave anything uneaten."
"Of course." He stood, heading for the door. "Well, good night. Sleep well, you goddamn lunatic."
"You too!" chirped Judy. "And thanks again for all your help."
"Mmh." His hand rested on the doorknob. "We're even now, alright? This is the end of it."
"Sure thing, Nick," she said. "Whatever you say."