Fox Point

by MaveriKat

Those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it but so are those who cannot let the past go. With the rise of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, one vixen is going to be uprooted from what she knew to live and breath the tenants of the ZPD: Trust, Integrity, and Bravery. Even if the city doesn't believe she can. Rated M for Violence, Adult Language, and Adult Situations.

1. Mammal Inclusion Initiative

Disclaimer: "Zootopia" is owned by the Magical World of Walt Disney Pictures and Walt Disney Animation Studios. The "Sly Cooper" videogame series is owned by Sony, Sucker-Punch Productions, and Sanzaru Games. There are also aspects that will be borrowed from or directly inspired from Zootopia's pre-production works and concepts from Nicolaswilde's "Zistopia" Tumblr blog. Said story itself is a fan-based non-profit work of fiction written strictly for entertainment purposes only. Please support the official releases. Thank you.

Fox Point

By MaveriKat
Beta Read By Innortal

Chapter 1: Mammal Inclusion Initiative

Built along the Western coast of the Zoonited States of America was the great city-state of Zootopia. Founded and built during the, 'Roaring 20's' with architectural cues taken from the Big Apple and London to inspire awe in both inhabitants and visitors, it was often described as the city where, 'anyone can be anything'... although it was also known by the nickname of, 'that damned hippy Liberal dumping ground' by the rest of the country. Built upon the site of an ancient mammal watering-hole, today it was the jewel of modern animal civilization and envy of the rest of the world. Zootopia was a city built by animals for animals and boy, did it show! It was the current melting pot of the country, even more so than New York on the East coast had been once upon a time.

Such was thanks to how the city was specially built to accommodate the various species that made up the residents with Zootopia; the land being divvied up into specialized districts that catered to the needs of their international guests' environmental requirements. It was a miracle of modern technology that allowed for artificial climate zones amongst other things. Even when districts with opposing climate zones such as Tundratown and Sahara Square were pressed up together, they had massive walls separating them that would ventilate the air temperatures between the two environments–similar to air conditioners and space heaters–to maximize an authentic environmental effect. In the end, Zootopia was practically a series of nations within a nation: a microcosm of the world in the space of one large city.

In the center of it all was the district known as Savanna Central. The central hub of the city was the home to many residential areas and key communal buildings, including the Central Train Station that served as the primary public transport system for the entirety of the city, the Zootopia Police Department which kept the peace, the natural history museum to remember their origins so that mistakes of the past were not repeated, the tiny gated community district of Little Rodentia to protect those mammals of a far smaller stature, and most importantly for both historical importance and for successfully running the place, was city hall. The seat of Zootopia's government was built atop the watering hole that became the founding site of the City-State itself; the lake still present within a recreational area stationed in the center of the municipal building's ground floor.

Still, while built upon their past, it was at the top floor of the government building where the course of history would change. Sitting at an expensive, intricately carved mahogany desk within his finely furnished mayoral office decorated with plaques and awards was Zootopia's Fifty-Second Mayor, Leodore Lionheart. With a pair of Zootopian banners set on flagstaffs at either side of the lion and a prominent view of the city prevalent in the wall-sized window behind him, the effect added to the feline politician's majesty. To gaze upon the leonine bureaucrat was as to get the sensation of someone having flipped the script, taking the man from being the King of the Jungle to the King of the Board Room.

The blue silk suit was cut precisely, tailored to fit his impressive frame, showing that he still maintained the strength and grace of a predator underneath the display of sophistication and political genius. A tie clasp of solid gold and a pin on his lapel from his old fraternity days at the prestigious Zootopia U's Kappa Epsilon Gamma house topped it off rather nicely.

Hell, the jacket had been cut so his massive paws could more easily grasp the tie, allowing him to maintain the appearance of not only being the city's regal mayor but that of a relaxed individual as well.

And if his attire didn't cost as much as his assistant's monthly salary, he'd eat... well... whatever the most disgusting of vegetables was! Not like he partook of that yucky green stuff all that often. He much preferred indulging in Tundratown's thriving fishing industry of the Fishtown Market or dining out at the prestigious Clark Halibut's for his dietary needs. Let the plebeian predators eat those nasty, 'Bug Burgas'! He had real protein to enjoy, thank you very much!

However, the proud lion's mind wasn't focused on what he was going to have for lunch–for once–but instead on the information he had at hand. The mayor of Zootopia sat hunched over his desk, positively fuming as he looked over the newspaper firmly gripped between his impressive paws. He was glaring at the information it parlayed to him, as if somehow his angry stare would make it alter what was printed there. When nothing changed, he knew it was time to take action. His right hand went to the bright red button on his desk console. There was a fritz of static as the intercom system went on. "SMELLWETHER!" he shouted.

He took his finger off the button and another crackle of static came over the line. When it cleared, a rather quiet, timid-sounding female voice came over the system. "Y-yes, Mayor Lionheart?" There was a tiny squeak of surprise. "What can I do for you?"

His right index finger immediately pressed down on the red button again. "Get your wooly tail up here, Smellwether! Pronto!"

The irritable feline's finger came up from the button, allowing the woman to reply, "But Mayor Lionheart! I still haven't finish the—"

The lion's entire hand clenched into a fist and he firmly slammed it down on the button. "NOW, SMELLWETHER!" he roared, interrupting whatever feeble excuse she had for falling behind in her work. "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR LITTLE PROBLEMS! WE GOT A BIG ONE RIGHT HERE THAT NEEDS ADDRESSING THIS INSTANT!"

His massive paw slid off the button, revealing he'd put a crack in the plastic shell that covered the red light fixture within. Static crackled over the intercom again, a very fearful reply, "Y-y-yuh-yes, Mayor Lionheart! B-b-buh-be right there!"

The man turned towards his door, glaring at it over the length of his muzzle with intense, golden-brown eyes, as if daring his secretary... er... that is... daring his, 'Assistant Mayor' to make him wait more than the proper and customary thirty second ETA. He hadn't drilled promptness into her so he would be forced to wait more than a minute, that was for damn certain!

Finally, just as it was about to hit thirty seconds on the clock–he had one hanging by the door at the front of his office for that very reason, mind you–the thick slab of expensive wood that served as the barrier to his office's entrance opened, swinging inwards with force. Standing in the frame was the small, heavily panting petite form of a sheep. She was barely standing at four feet in height and that was including the puff of wooly head fur on her scalp. Her white wool pelt was decked in a dark blue jacket and black polka-dotted white blouse combo while her lower half was covered in an old-fashioned pale green dress that was adorned in brick red and forest green leaf patterns. She did have some taste though, having a large gold bracelet on her right wrist and a sensible gold chain necklace with a small bell, but in Lionheart's eyes, she lost a lot of points in terms of fashion thanks to the Coke bottle-thick glasses she wore that were housed in a pair of cheap tortoise-shell style plastic frames, the kind that were common in the 1970's.

She stood there, breathing heavily as she tried her darnedest to catch her breath, green eyes staring fearfully up at her boss. "Y-yes, Mayor Lionheart?" The beleaguered sheep managed to gasp out finally. "Wuh-what can I d-do for you?"

Frowning, the mayor of Zootopia drummed his fingers atop his desk in irritation. "Damn it, Smellwether! Step inside and close the door! You know we don't talk important business if people can eavesdrop!" Honestly, how many times did he have to yell and holler at the darn lamb before he got it through that thick, fluffy-wool skull of hers?

Letting out a little squeak of surprise, the woman of short stature turned about in place; hooved hands grasping the edge of the door and tugging tightly. She jumped back as she threw her arms forward, giving the wooden barrier enough of a push that it closed shut. Bringing her hands up to either side of her head to adjust her glasses back into place, the short sheep known as Assistant Mayor Dawn Bellwether–and Secretary Smellwether to her boss–quickly rushed over to the front of the leonine male's desk. "What is it, Mayor Lionheart? Is the Internal Revenue Service trying to bring you in for an audit again?"

"Worse!" The lion snapped as he threw the newspaper down atop his desk with an audible slap that caused the sheep flinch in response. "Take a look at this!" He shouted as he firmly pressed his right index finger down on the front page before he flicked it forward, sending the stack of ink-pressed papers sliding over to her.

Jumping up, Bellwether was just able to catch it in time so it wouldn't go flying past her and scatter all over the floor. Coming back down to her feet, the woman held it in her hands and took a good look. She frowned, quickly turning the paper upside down so she could actually read the darn thing. "Let's see... Organization of Petroleum Exporting Camels' Embargo at an End..." she murmured as she saw the headline. "Wow! That is big news!" Hearing the growl reverberate in the man's throat, she cringed. "But... erm... I don't see how that's a bad thing, Mayor Lionheart. Oil dropping down to under fifty dollars a barrel will help the economy."

"Correct, the oil situation is not a bad thing," the lion agreed. He took a deep breath before roaring, "BUT YOU'RE LOOKING AT THE WRONG THING!"

The poor woman shrieked, nearly throwing the copy of the Zootopai Daily up into the air. "I... I don't understand, Mayor Lionheart!" She squeaked out as she took a step back from the desk. She held the newspaper with trembling hands, wide green eyes darting about the front, trying to look for anything of possible importance. Finally, the optical organs zoned in on a semi-opinion piece printed towards the bottom of the page. "Oh! You're talking about this little blurb about your standing in the city."

Nodding his head, the feline politician commanded her to, "Check out my Approval Rating."

Her eyes moving left to right as she quickly read the first page portion of the article, the wool-coated woman smiled brightly. "Hey! You have a seventy-nine percent approval rating! That's great, Mayor! Congratula—"

"IDIOT!" The lion snapped, interrupting his assistant trying to offer him empty accolades. He looked over the small bovidae, before more calmly querying, "Do you realize what that means, Smellwether?" Before she could answer, he continued with, "I'll tell you! It means nearly one in four animals of the voting populace do not like me! That means practically every fourth vote will go to some up and coming incumbent or... God forbid..." he shuddered. "A Republican!"

"But the elephants are such nice people," the small herbivore said in defense of the tusked members of Zootopian society. Then, after a moment of thought, she admitted, "With possibly the exception of that guy who runs the Jumbeaux Café." Jerry Jr. was a bit of a hot-headed meanie. Not that she blamed him for wanting to refuse service to predators but he really needed to have a bit more tact when he did so. It was a lawsuit waiting to happen with how blunt and coarse he was when evicting them from his business' premises!

His eyes narrowing, the leonine politician stared down at the Assistant Mayor. "I don't care if they're nice! Statistics shows that nearly one in four of those peanut-brained peons is poised to vote against me!" He growled while internally cursing the fact that he lost the rights for Zootopia to host the Animalympics to London back in 2012. If he had locked that event down, he wouldn't be having this current problem as everyone would have still been so enthralled with the spectacles he could have brought them and been thanking him for it! "We have to do something about that."

Blinking her eyes once, twice, thrice, the petite sheep couldn't help but query, "But Mayor Lionheart, sir... weren't you the one who told me there are three types of lies in this world? That there are lies, damn lies, and statistics."

Nodding his head slowly, the elected leader of Zootopia replied, "I'm glad to see you're paying attention, Smellwether. However, bad publicity can still sway the rubes! If they think one-in-four won't vote for me, then they too might vote for someone else as well! It will be a snowball effect that could ruin me in an avalanche of electoral admissions for some other candidate!" He slammed both his hands down on his desk again. "We cannot let that come to pass!"

Considering that for a moment, the small woman asked, "What do you want me to do, Mayor Lionheart?" Not that she could do much about him at the moment. He was great at putting on a wonderful façade for the public but behind closed doors he was a real, 'Lionfart'.

His hands came together atop his desk. As clawed fingers entwined, the man leaned over, getting his face a bit closer to the sheep. "Smellwether," the lion said her nickname with a surprisingly somber tone. "I believe it's time I finally started pushing to make the Mammal Inclusion Initiative a reality. These stupid animals want to see that I'm all for keeping my word? Well fine!" He snapped. "I'll show them! I'll see to it that they all have the chance to make something of themselves in Zootopia! And when they do, they'll have me to thank for it!"

That statement made Dawn perk up considerably. On the surface, the Mammal Inclusion Initiative was an act which would provide all animals with high-ranking opportunities to ensure equality among the predator and prey citizens. However, with how she had helped design the original bill, it was a policy that would also favor members of disadvantaged groups who had historically or even currently suffered from discrimination within Zootopian culture.

Oh, not any of the predator species! God no! This would give a leg up to the much smaller herbivores, such as mice, squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits... sheep. A more genuine smile crossed Bellwether's face as she chimed in with, "That's an incredible idea, Mayor Lionheart! I'll go set up a Police Academy scouting drive at Bunnyburrows! I'm certain we'll find at least one of the fairer farming folk out there who wants to become a police officer! We might get a pig, a sheep, or even a rabbit!" Although it would be nice to see sheep officer besides the occasional rams that remained on the force from earlier times, it would most likely be a rabbit, considering how many of them were living in the farming community... and multiplying!

Considering that, the mayor of Zootopia nodded his head. "That sounds doable... show that prey can rise up and join their predator comrades in arms in defending the city." He leaned back into his leather chair, chuckling in relief. "So how long should it take to train an officer?"

The woman considered that for a moment. "Let's see... after classes in criminal law, physical fitness, firearms, first aid, emergency vehicle operations, defensive tactics, and report writing..." she murmured to herself almost inaudibly, as she did some mental math. When the lamb had an answer, she raised her head and replied, "On average, it takes around twenty-one weeks to train an officer of the law in Zootopia. That's a little over five months."

Mayor Lionheart stared at the woman with a gaze that made Dawn feel incredibly small–even more so than she really was. "Five... months?" He asked with a sharp tone.

Cringing, the poor sheep knew he wasn't going to like hearing this. "And even then, there's still a cool-down period to allow the trainees to decompress before graduation and assignment to active duty so it's really more along the line of six months."

"SIX MONTHS!?" the leonine politician snapped. "Oh no! No, no, no, no, NO!" He roared out that last bit of denial. "That won't do, that simply won't do! The elections are in eight! I can't just throw some bit of fluff out there for a measly two months in advance! I need that fair citizen to gain some reputation! Good reputation! A prey species that will do right by this city and make the people say, 'Gee! Mayor Lionheart sure is a swell guy, making sure people like me can go somewhere in this city and be something! I better make sure he gets my vote and keep the status quo'!" He pushed his seat back and stood up. "I can't do that if some stupid... I don't know... some dumb bunny doesn't have enough time to establish themselves!"

Despite how she felt, Bellwether managed to keep from rolling her eyes. It wouldn't do to antagonize the man when he was in one of his moods. After all, he had a lot of sharp teeth. "Then what do you suggest, Mayor Lionheart? You can't just pick someone off the street, pin a badge on them, and throw them back out on the beat! They need proper training!"

The feline was silent for a moment, settling for crossing his arms over his chest and thinking things over. The frown on his face said a lot more than words did at the moment. A growl was rumbling within his chest as his eyes followed the motion of the hand of his clock that counted down the seconds. Finally, he spoke up. "Bellwether," he began firmly, startling the woman as he used her proper name for once. "You go handle that scouting drive at Bunnyburrows like you suggested, see if we can find any volunteers amongst the prey population. It's still a good backup plan to build up some goodwill that I can cash in later. For the moment, however..." he trailed off, chuckling.

The female bovidae blinked her bright green eyes once, twice, thrice. "However...?" she queried with a soft tone, wanting to know where the mayor was going with this.

A smile soon spread across the lion's muzzle, showing off his meticulous, pearly white fangs. "We outsource. We make some inquiries and find an already established officer from a minority or oppressed background and get them transferred. We get to immediately show that I offer a better chance to animals of all walks of life and then we get to compound it later with Zootopia's own homegrown officer. A win-win all around!"

Bellwether's smile faltered slightly. "Where do you plan to find one?"

Letting his arms drop to his sides, the feline bureaucrat told his assistant, "Cancel my afternoon appointments, Smellwether!" He walked around her and made his way to the door, telling her, "I first need to go talk to a few of the board members of the city council to get their approval!" And by that he certainly meant cashing in the favors they owed him. "Then, once I have the permission required to get the Mammal Inclusion Initiative instituted, I need to go meet with our fine Chief of Police and make arrangements with him."

Needless to say, this surprised the petite sheep. She'd never seen Mayor Lionheart... well... actually do his own work! "I... I see..." she murmured, not sure what to make of this turn of events. It was so much easier to get her own ends taken care of when the big cat didn't have an active hand in things but it had been a long time since she could actually take things easy–or at the very least slightly easier. So taking a deep breath, the woman straightened herself up and offered, "Anything else I should know?" She would need to, in case he ended up making a mess of things that she needed to fix.

His hand on the door handle, the lion stopped in his tracks. "As a matter of fact, yes." He turned to look over his right shoulder and snapped, "Find out what's taking so long for my subscription to the Spider-Ham comics to come in! I NEED MY SPIDER-HAM PICTURES!" he roared aloud.

The sheep squeaked as she jumped back at the roar. She never understood what the mayor's fascination with those Spider-Ham comics was about but he sure seemed to have a lot of memorabilia... particularly photographs from the movies that Pony Entertainment put out.

Watching as the leonine asshole walked out of the office, Dawn couldn't help but become a little worried. Where would he find an officer? It wasn't like the odds of finding one willing to pick up everything they knew and leave for Zootopia, even if only for a temporary position, would be in their favor...

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While the crescent moon hung high in the sky and the stars twinkled around it, a vulpine woman piloted a police boat along the water. The vixen was clad in a pelt of brownish-orange fur, with chocolate brown eyes–a mole under her left one–and waist-length navy blue hair tied in a braid at her shoulder level, a pair of triangular ears standing tall above the mass of dark cerulean locks, with a lone gold loop earring on her left ear. She was feminine but physically fit; possessing an athletic yet decidedly curvaceous hourglass build. Her outfit was comprised of a dark blue tube-top with matching dark miniskirt and choker which a gold police badge hung from along with a worn light brown leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up, which was complimented by how her hands were adorned in yellow gloves... one of which was grasping tightly onto the steering wheel of the boat. And finally, her feet were clad in long brown leather boots with a dual set of side buckles on each one; her right foot pressing down on the boat's acceleration pedal, forcing the motor in the back to go full tilt.

It was a late at night but it was only then the woman had time to work on her personal investigation. She was travelling along the Seine River, the most important commercial waterway within the Paris Basin in Northern France, which flowed through the capital city of Paris and out to the country's coastline into the English Channel. It was here the remains of Cyrille Le Paradox's mobile air fortress came crashing down in a mass of wreckage after a madman caused a rip in the fabric of time and space he created destabilized, tearing the grandiose blimp apart like so much cheap paper tissue.

And it was here that one Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox's life had changed.

With the end of the malicious memphite's attempts to alter history by falsifying both riches and documents to make himself royalty as well as destroy her boyfriend Sly's legacy, the red fox had thrown herself into her work as an international police officer. She spent her time busting criminals at a record pace, waging a one-woman-war on crime to the point where street crime in Paris dropped a sheer ninety-two percent in three weeks and stayed there! She was being praised by her fellow officers and even her boss and former mentor James Barkley was talking of putting her in command of her department by bumping her rank up from Inspector to Superintendent!

However, as much as the vixen appreciated the Commissioner's sentiments, the policewoman knew she would never accept it if the badger made the offer. Yes, the vulpine woman was coming down hard on the city's criminal element and quite successfully too... but in truth, that was because she was trying to cope with her situation more than anything else. It had already been a solid two months since the time travel incident and one former Interpol Sargent and self-proclaimed master thief Sylvester "Sly" Cooper was still missing in action. But she wasn't about to give up. He had to have survived the air fortress coming apart! He was Sly Cooper for crying out loud! There was no way she could have lost the man she loved!

Not that I could even get the words out the last time I saw him, the vulpine woman thought bitterly. She knew he understood what she wanted to say but it wasn't enough. All that time they'd been arguing and when the Inspector had a chance to apologize and tell him she loved him, she couldn't spit out the damn words to save her life! All she could do was watch from the ground while Le Paradox's blimp slowly began to descend as it was engulfed in flames before the aircraft came apart at the seams. It was a wondrous sight that would have made any physicist scream at the impossibility of a simultaneous explosion and implosion–God knows Bentley sure did–but that was what she witnessed. The exterior of the air ship blasted apart while an the unstable spatial tear in its interior clamped everything down within like a black hole collapsing, forces of both inward and outward propulsion working in concert as one.

It was a long shot, but Carmelita had seen him survive such circumstances before. Like the time he'd not only managed to survive the collapsing sky fortresses of the Late Arpeggio but had done so while fighting the frame of Clockwerk that had been possessed by the crazed psyche of that backstabbing tigress, Neyla by jumping from piece of wreckage to piece of wreckage while in a free-fall! That was MUCH worse in the policewoman's opinion; it only made sense he should have survived coming down from Le Paradox's blimp when he didn't have to fight for his life atop of everything else! That was why she hadn't given up, even when Commissioner Barkley closed the case. It wasn't over until she had proof of what happened to Sly...

One way or the other.

Eventually, the Interpol Inspector came across a sight of wreckage in the water; the materials were pressed up along one of the stone support struts of Pont Neuf, the oldest standing bridge that crossed over the Seine River. Taking her foot off the accelerator, she allowed the motor to die down, the police boat coming to a drift. As her aquatic transport came closer to the debris, the vulpine woman pulled forth a flashlight and flipped the switch on it, shining light over the wreckage and illuminating it. She took in the visage of steel infrastructure beams that had been fused together and warped from intense heat, a pair of wall paneling segments that were twisted and mangled as well as being discolored from a large dose of ionization, and one large nut missing its bolt–one that she could have fit her arm through at that!

"Definitely blimp wreckage," she murmured as she moved her wrist, making the shadows the flashlight cast shift and expose other parts of the mess. The vixen blinked her eyes as she caught the sight of movement atop the seared beams and raised her flashlight higher. She frowned a little bit as she realized it was just a small bit of paper... only to soon smirk as she also caught sight of a familiar sparkling of orange lights upon it. While Sly referred to such phenomena as the, 'Stealth Aura'–as he saw blue sparkles whenever there was an opportunity to be sneaky–Miss Fox preferred to think of it as an, 'Inspector's Intuition'. The bright twinkle of orange illumination often helped her pick up on clues that even her fellow officers might miss.

God knows I would have dismissed it otherwise, the vixen admitted silently to herself. When her boat came close enough, the Hispanic vulpine reached out for the scrap of paper and took hold with her right hand. She then brought it before her, letting the flashlight in her left hand shine on it. The policewoman looked it over for a moment, only to go stock-still in shock; her heart thundering in her chest as her throat tightened up, silencing the cry the red fox anthro wanted to give off. She looked over the photograph and felt as if she were going to be sick. Despite the worn edges, the discoloration, the tears, the stains, and even the burns... there was no denying what she was looking at.

This was a photograph of her and Sly: the raccoon giving her a kiss on the cheek as she looked utterly surprised while holding the rose he'd given her, the two of them near a window to show off the Eiffel Tower in the background. A memento from happier times when they had their first date; a picture taken during a spring evening with her decked up for a ball of all things! She had told Cooper how much she enjoyed formal dancing and he went ahead and gotten them invited to a fancy Ballroom Party. But he didn't let her go in her favored black dress, oh no! The sneaky rascal had bought her a golden bodice-style ball gown with shoulder-straps, a wide-hemmed floor-length skirt made of triangular panels, a multiple-layered white petticoat with a scalloped edging on the hemline, and a matching pair of elbow length gloves.

The raccoon said he had wanted her to feel like the princess he saw her as...

The flashlight fell from now nerveless fingers and rolled onto the floor of the boat. The vixen felt as though a ball of lead had dropped into her stomach, a wave of nausea threatening to overcome her. She brought her left hand to the photo as well now, holding onto it in tightly with both hands, afraid to lose the faded photograph. "Sly..." she whispered his name. The only thing she could manage to say. The Inspector's mind was running a mile a minute and she realized that this had to have been on her raccoon at the time of the blimp's destruction. There was no way he would have let go of this memento, no way he'd willingly lose this precious memory...

...Unless he wasn't able to anymore. Not unless he was...

Was...

Clenching her eyes shut, the woman tried to banish such dark and traitorous thoughts from her mind. The vulpine woman brought the photo to her chest and held it there, keeping it close as if it were some sort of lifeline. Carmelita lowered her head, unable to fight the immense guilt she felt as sat there. The last couple of days they were together had been nothing but fighting and her being angry at him. Even as they worked together across time to set things right, the red fox chose to hold a grudge and make things difficult for him almost on principle. It wasn't until the very end that she had a chance to apologize for how she'd been treating him, to tell Sly just how much she loved him, how he was her everything... and she failed.

And now it appeared she'd never get the chance again.

Inspector Fox was glad that she was in the dark. No one would see her break down, the woman unable to fight the tears she could feel streaming down her face as she silently wept.

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Down in Savanna Central, the most temperate district of Zootopia, there lay the City-State's primary police department of Precinct One. Stationed atop the original quarry where their mammalian ancestors first dug into the earth to gather the resources needed to build their society, the base of operation for the ZPD was situated adjacent to City Hall... making it easy for the Mayor or one of his cronies to come down whenever they so darned pleased.

The man in charge was the cape buffalo Idriis M'Bogo... or as he was better known to the city: Chief Bogo. As the Zootopia Police Department's Chief of Police, the muscle-bound, horn-headed, ebony-skinned herbivore was someone who took his job seriously and expected others on the force to do the same. No one would dare argue with the man's commanding presence. Some would say it was the clean lines in his uniform. For others, it was the golden stars on his lapel. For the vast majority, it the fact he could tell a person what each and every item was on his belt–and oddly, when was the last time he used them.

The less said about the history of his Taser, the better... for everyone's peace of mind.

But it was the eyes that told a person the most about the African bovidae. The harshness of his stare was said to reduce rookies to a quivering mess–assuming that wasn't their natural state to begin with. However, it was the intensity of those eyes that told everyone that, yes, he had seen a lot, been through a lot, knew what he was doing, and had absolutely, positively, no time for any bullshit one might try and pull!

And if someone didn't pull their weight on the force, if they were somehow a disgrace to the golden badge that demanded trust, bravery and above all integrity...

Well, he had a pouch on his belt for that... and a story he'd never talk about for that item as well.

However, even though he had the city-state's police force running as smoothly as a well-oiled machine, Chief Bogo still operated directly under the authority of Mayor Lionheart and his council–although the muscle-bound slab of beef often doubted there was a council outside of Assistant Mayor Bellwether that the feline would consult with when it came to launching these hair-brained schemes of his. So sitting at his desk with the leonine politician before him, the man took a deep breath. "Now, let me get this straight..." the cape buffalo said in a deep baritone voice. "For the past twenty-five years, ever since the end of the segregation period, the Zootopia Police Department has been an efficient system run by professional heavy-weight mammals, such as rhinoceroses, hippos, elephants and predators such as wolves, lions, tigers, and bears... and you want to change all that!?"

"Oh my, yes!" The lion chirruped as he sat across from the police chief, his hands folded atop his lap as he saw with his legs stretched out and ankles crossed, trying to portray the image of relaxed. "There is only one constant in life, Bogo... and that is change! That said, the council and I believe it's high time for the police to get with the times and modernize as well."

Nostrils flared wide as the police chief snorted. "We are modernized!" Bogo stated firmly. "We have the largest assortment of non-lethal defense in the nation: tear gas, riot control animal repellant agents, riot control muzzles, riot shields, composite batons, water cannons, and the greatest variety of electroshock weapons on the face of God's green earth!" He pushed his chair back and stood up. "And that's only the gear we have on hand! Precinct One is home to the most extensive communications network in the city! Whether on the officer, set in a vehicle dashboard, or installed on one of the many computer stations we have here, everyone is capable of being in touch and updated in real time for the most comprehensive coordination imaginable!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Modernize? The world should be following our example!"

As the bovine's tirade came to an end, a smile soon spread across the feline individual's muzzle, an aggravating smirk that made the hairs stand up on the back of the cape buffalo's neck in irritation. "You misunderstand me, my dear police chief... although I think that's more from you trying to change the subject than anything else." He said haughtily as he brought his hands up, tapping the padded tips of his index fingers together. "The ZPD is as well-equipped as it's going to get; we're better off than a number of third world countries' militaries! However, if we're to remain on top, then we must institute the Mammal Inclusion Initiative to ensure that all applicable applicants are employed and treated fairly during their employment in the force, without regard to their species, creed, or nationality!" His massive paws separated apart and came down on the armrests of the chair before Leodore pushed himself out of the chair. Standing before the police chief and matching him in height and muscle mass, the lion continued in a holier-than-thou voice, "It is our duty to promote diversity! To address the past wrongs, harms, and hindrances that had been used to keep down our fine fellow mammals."

Bogo wasn't convinced. He was far too used to the Mayor's shenanigans by now and could smell his bullshit from a mile away even when upwind. So reading between the lines, he bluntly translated, "You mean you're getting ahead when it comes to buttering up the public to make sure their votes put you back into office come the next election." He then smirked back at the feline politician, meeting the predator's stare with his own. "If you really want to help, how about you get those public works projects you always talked about finally up and running? The Outback Island, Canyonlands, and Nocturnal districts have been facing major poverty issues for over a decade now. They need that gentrification you promised more than ever, Lionheart."

Although he maintained eye contact with his cape buffalo, the lion's lip curled back in a snarl; that little reminder of something else the public had been pestering him about having gotten under his skin. "Don't remind me, Bogo. The budgets have been tighter than ever with the Rainforest District biting into the funds more and more with each passing year. One can simply heat up the air or freeze water but it takes a lot of effort to maintain the plant-life of a jungle ecosystem. I intend to get to those problem districts in due time, the citizens there just need be patient. In the meanwhile, all the fair people of Zootopia need proof that I intend to keep my word that things will get better and means the Mammal Inclusion Initiative has been authorized to proceed! Effective immediately." He narrowed his eyes, staring into the other man's glare, as if daring the chief of police to defy him.

As the herbivore's features scrunched up in obvious irritation, the cape buffalo could only groan in his throat for a moment in response. Even with his arms crossed over his chest, the burly officer was reflexively clenching the hoof-like digits of his hands into fists. Whenever Mayor Lionheart starting putting on the smarmy, schmaltzy act of faux-piousness, Bogo wanted nothing more than to remind the bastardly bureaucrat that it was never a good idea to aggravate someone that was born with what was the equivalent of a pair of brass knuckles for hands!

As if sensing what the bovidae was thinking, Leodore calmly told him, "Remember your badge, Bogo. You represent this fine city and its ideals."

And that ended the stalemate, the African buffalo letting off an aggravated snort as he broke eye contact with the jungle cat. "Just what do you want from me, Mayor Lionheart?" He asked in a gruff voice. "Do you want me to hold a press conference or something? Let the people know we're looking for a few good mammals or something along those lines and that, quote-unquote, 'anyone can be anything'?"

The lion released a loud, hearty laugh. "Oh please! I've got Smellwether handling that aspect for me. I plan to have the Assistant Mayor head over at Bunnyburrows outside of the city proper to start scouting. Hopefully she'll be able to drum up some attention from the local hicks. I'm certain one of those tiny prey animals has big dreams they'll want to see through," he said confidently before tilting his head, considering something. Finally, he added, "And please, take no offense when I say this, Bogo... but anyone who sees you demanding something of them is likely to either run away in terror or faint dead on the spot..." he smirked. "Not that such skill doesn't have its uses now and then!"

"...I'll choose to take that as a compliment," the bovine policeman grumbled irritably. Coming around the desk, the man stared at his boss with a gaze that could have rusted iron at ten paces. "Now to the point, Your Honor. What do you need of me?"

"Ah yes, the point of my visit," the leonine politician smiled. "I need you to make some calls and give the Mammal Inclusion Initiative a jumpstart. I know if anyone can find us a cop we can put on the streets as soon as possible, it would be you," the elected official practically crooned. "I'm certain you have connections, Chief." He then smiled in a very facetious manner. "Or were all those war stories you're so proud just fabricated bits of bant—AH!?" The Mayor gasped as he found himself picked up by the collar of his shirt and held aloft high enough that his feet couldn't touch the floor.

Glaring into the mayor's eyes, the herbivore's chest heaved as he was breathing heavily through his nostrils, making them flare wide. "Listen here, Lionarse," the cape buffalo stated firmly. "There are many things I am willing to put up with from you. But you daring to call my qualifications into question, to doubt the horrors I've seen that made me the man that I am today, to effectively spit on the brave men I served with who gave their lives for this country..." he growled out, sounding much more like a predator than the Mayor was capable of being.

Bringing his hands up in a non-threatening defensive manner, the leonine bureaucrat was quick to apologize, "Sorry! Sorry! I tend to forget that such is a sore spot for you! I meant no disrespect real~EEK!" he squeaked out as the African buffalo dropped him harshly, letting the man crash down into the chair set before the desk. He couldn't help but tremble a little as the immense herbivore glared down at him, the prey animal's muscular chest rising and falling with every labored breath, threatening to pop the buttons of his finely pressed police shirt.

Finally, Bogo attempted to calm himself so he didn't slaughter his boss–there was still the specter of segregation that hung over the city and he didn't want to be accused of a Hate Crime of all things. At first, the cape buffalo closed his eyes, breathing slowly, causing the rise and fall of his chest to become less prominent. Finally opening his eyes, the bovidae turned away from the leonine politician, making his way back around his desk. "All right, Mister Mayor... since you seem to want to do this, I'm going to tell you a story..." he sat down into his seat, hands firmly atop the piece of work furniture. "You can stay silent long enough to listen, can't you?"

The lion nodded his head, making the now frazzled fur of his mane bob erratically with the motion.

Seeing the Mayor was cowed for the moment, the African buffalo told him, "Good. Now listen and just try to understand what I tell you." He took a deep breath, going silent as he collected his thoughts... the silence also serving as a chance to make the mayor stew in his own juices. Finally though, the man began with, "It seems like a lifetime ago at this point, Lionheart. In fact, it has been a solid generation now." He leaned forward, elbows on his desk as he clasped his hands together before the front of his muzzle. "It was December, 1990... the Gulf War was in effect. I was a fresh cadet out of the Military Academy... a mere eighteen-years-old and I was drafted to be part of Operation Desert Shield, just one of the many good lives sent to defend Saddle Arabia. It was the largest military alliance since Zoo War II."

Leaning over his desk a bit more, the dark-skinned buffalo brought one of his cloven hoof hands to his face, rubbing his eyes, as if trying to dredge up the memories caused him physical pain. "Iraq's government made no secret that it would attack if invaded, hence the government sending troops to protect our Camel allies as merely a defensive measure. However, we knew we were in trouble when the ZSA–Iraq peace talks in Geneva broke down. Within five hours, the first attacks were launched. Explosives rained down on us like a siren's cry of death. Those missile attacks continued throughout the war... got so bad that ZS and British special operations forces had to be covertly inserted into Western Iraq to aid in the search for and destruction of scud missiles so we wouldn't be killed waiting there like sitting ducks." The police chief closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "Those of us who survived had done so despite those roe deer and wild goat bastards dropping a total of eighty-eight scuds atop our heads over the course of seven weeks. Only then were we finally allowed to go on the offensive."

"When we did though, that wasn't the end of our troubles. They fought us tooth and claw." He lowered his hands, the mayor genuinely surprised by just how old Bogo looked. "For months, while me and the rest of my unit were stationed in Saddle Arabia, we were under almost constant Iraqi artillery fire, as well as threats from not only more scud missiles but chemical attacks as well. Needless to say, we lost a lot of good mammals. I think that was our superiors' plans to begin with because when we finally got underway, we were mad as hell and ready to give them as good as they had been putting us through. To do that though, we needed to get through the Iraqi mine-fields: a large and complex trench network that was part of the heavily fortified the fabled, 'Saddam Hoofsein Line'."

A chuckle reverberated in the bovidae's broad chest. "We eventually had a plan that would allow us to proceed forward. To get past the dangers the locals set up, our superiors devised what would become known as the, 'bulldozer assault'. They opted to forgo traditional soldier formations and instead used anti-mine plows mounted on tanks and combat earth-movers to simply plow over their mine fields... destroying the enemy's traps, defenses, and burying alive the defending Iraqi soldiers. For once, we had a plan where not a single American soldier was killed during the procedures... but many, many locals and their allies were." He frowned in a rather somberly. "And I was one of the plow drivers..." he sighed. "I didn't think much of it at then, I didn't have the time to. That would come back to bite me in the ass something wicked."

The disturbed cape buffalo's gaze was drawn to his entwined fingers. "Finally, on February twenty-fourth, American and British armed forces crossed the Iraq border en masse, taking hundreds of those attempting to hold the line as prisoners. Resistance was light, the destruction of all their defenses enough to crumble their spirits. We found out afterwards that a number were forcefully conscripted... some of those men we fought were as young as fourteen-years-old... the real adults and professionals soldiers were stationed in Baghdad or other cities of importance under the guise of home defense while they threw away the future of the next generation... threw them under our tank treads..."

A haunted look came across Bogo's eyes, adding to the intensity of them as he stared at the Mayor. "It was war. I had orders. But when it comes down to it, I was a driver for one of those plow-mounted tanks. I killed cervidae who weren't old enough to go to high school. I..." his words caught in his throat for a moment. "I killed children."

Lionheart didn't know what to say to that, his jaw flapping wordlessly. He may have been ready to have the police chief's head on a silver platter for handling him so roughly earlier... but now he was beginning to understand that he had pressed the man's buttons. Brought up issues he should never have even poked at. "Bogo... I..."

The African buffalo brought up a cloven-hooved hand, motioning for the feline to stay silent. "It was a short war, thank God... but I had committed atrocities I couldn't cope with. One night, while I was on one of my rotations for patrol duty, I deviated from my assigned perimeter and pulled my sidearm. The Beretta M9 pistol was standard issue for us soldiers and I was certain that despite my thick skin, a nine millimeter slug could punch through even my skull if I fired off point-blank." His eyes became unnervingly distant. "I don't know how long I stood there with the gun to my temple. I wanted to do it. I so desperately needed to pull the trigger, to end it... to give those kids some form of justice! But I was too much of a coward to go through with it."

A small, sad smile crossed the police chief's face. "Finally though, just as I was certain I could finally do the right thing and end it... a voice called out to stop me..." a deep chuckle reverberated in the large herbivore's chest and throat. "In fact, the guy did far more than scream. He probably intended to tackle me but with his smaller frame, it looked like he was trying to hump my leg. Needless to say, such a sight had me burst out laughing. The absurdity of it all was enough to break me out of the depression that engulfed me, at least for the moment."

Bogo leaned back into his chair. "His name was Captain Jameson "James" Barkley. He was a badger stationed with us as a representative of the British Secret Intelligence Service; one of the on-site organizers for Operation Granby. Many of the big-wigs of the allied front were there that night as part of a joint ZS-Britain staff meeting and he noticed that I wasn't at my post working security. Rather than inform one of the soldiers serving as military police and possibly getting someone in trouble over what could have been nothing at all, the inquisitive badger decided to check on things himself. He... he saved my life that night. He took the time to talk things out with me. Let me know that it wasn't my fault, helped me come to grips with the fact I was being a dutiful soldier and following my orders and that he understood how I felt all too well. He coined it rather poetically, saying the higher-ups forgot Winston Churchill's words of wisdom: "However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results"."

The cape buffalo's gaze settled on the lion before him. "Those simple words meant so much back then and they apply to us here and now. What you want to do, Mayor Lionheart, could have further reaching effects that even you might not anticipate. It might bring an end to the emotional segregation that still holds this city tight, even with the shock collars having been long-since abolished... or you might just instill prejudices even deeper in the populace and cause worse problems for generations down the road." He leaned forward, his thick brow furrowing as he stared at the feline politician with deadly seriousness. "In the end, I can't make you do anything except inform you of the facts and simple truths. So think, damn it. Think! Do you really intend to throw away a stable status quo for some harebrained scheme that could possibly go so far off the rails that it brings the city down to its knees in complete anarchy?"

Again, the mayor's jaw moved up and down in silence for a moment. "You... you make valid points, Chief Bogo," the lion begrudgingly replied. As he sat up in the chair he'd been pushed back into, the feline took a moment to straighten out his tie and his jacket, trying to make himself presentable once more. Once he felt more comfortable again, the leonine politician raised his head to meet the bovidae's gaze with his own. "You see, despite my desire to drum you out for your rough behavior, this is why I've kept you in your position. You're better-spoken than you let on. Behind that thick brow and angry glare lies a very intelligent, strategic mind... one that I need to help me." His lips pulled back in a frown. "Like I told you, the Mammal Inclusion Initiative has already gone into effect. If you want to keep it from going down this doomsday scenario you laid at my feet then you had better damn well help me see it through successfully!" He snapped at the burly man sitting behind the desk. "Help me make it work!"

Seeing there was no helping the mayor see any other alternative, the chief of the Zootopia Police Department exhaled deeply in an exasperated sigh. "If you really want to do this Mayor Lionheart, then we're going to do this my way."

Raising an eyebrow, the proverbial king of the jungle questioned, "Wait... your way?" The lion hissed through gritted fangs, his very stance as he sat up in the chair practically screaming aggression as he demanded an answer. "What do you mean your way?"

Despite having an angry alpha predator staring down at him, Bogo remained unperturbed. Instead, he firmly replied, "What I mean is we don't half-ass this, Lionheart." He didn't even flinch as the elected official stood up, trying to menace him. The cape buffalo knew he was a prey animal, but he certainly wasn't weak. If push came to shove, he would match the mayor. "If you want to make this work, you don't just make calls and grab someone from another city with promises of better wages or benefits. You don't just make inquiries searching for people who hit all your checkmarks but someone willing to come on their own merit. Because for better or worse, permanent or temporary, they will be representing the Zootopia Police Department! They reflect what we stand for and that, more than anything else, is what will prove to everyone if that damned Mammal Inclusion Initiative of yours has any basis in reality or not."

Settling back into his chair, the Mayor slowly calmed down. This made a lot of sense. He would have been willing to grab anyone he could who fit the criteria he wanted... but if they could find someone dependable? Someone who they could milk the media's goodwill with? "You're right," Lionheart finally agreed. "As always, you're right Chief Bogo..." he chuckled as he shook his head good-naturedly. "But therein lies the catch. Since you're not going to let me just make inquiries across the country looking for a specific species or background... where do you want me to go find a quality officer who IS what I need to be the first face of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, the cape buffalo was slowly smirking again. "And that, Mayor Lionheart is where my pal James comes in once again."

Blinking his eyes once, then twice, the leonine politician had to query, "Pardon? You mean the guy who was with the British SIS?"

"The same," Bogo replied. "However, he's not part of just Britain's security anymore. He switched fields and eventually enrolled with Interpol as an Inspector. Quickly rolled up the rank to Senior Superintendent and is currently one of their sixteen Commissioner-In-Chiefs, second only to executive officers President Mireille Gazellestrazzi and Secretary General Jürgen Stork in the chain of command. He may not be working the main Headquaters in Lyons, France but as the Commissioner-In-Chief for the French division, he's stationed in the heart of Paris. He has direct access to the best of the best... and with the less stringent and demanding hiring policies in place over there, you will find quality officers that come from more..." the African buffalo trailed off, thinking how to politely put this. "That come from more questionable backgrounds like you want for this Animal Inclusive Initiative of yours, Mayor Lioneheart."

"That's, 'Mammal Inclusion Initiative'. Mammal Inclusion..." the mayor corrected. However, he wasn't all that upset about the momentary lapse in misnaming, oh no. From what the chief of police was telling him, the cape buffalo had an in with one of the premiere law enforcement agencies in the world. If they could borrow, let alone poach an officer with that kind of pedigree, it would go a long way for making the Mammal Inclusion Initiative look especially promising. More importantly, when people felt a promise for a better future, they went out to the poles in droves to vote for the person that gave them that hope! "But this is otherwise astounding, Chief Bogo! Do you know how to get ahold of this Chief Barkley?"

Nodding his head, the African buffalo replied, "I do..." his eyes were drawn to the clock on the left wall. "However, I believe I need to wait for later to do such. There's at least an eight hour time difference and I'd HATE to bother him when he's likely asleep or on his way out."

The lion snorted. "Oh please! He's a chief of police! If it's anything like here in Zootopia, he's there to at least the wee hours of the morning! Surely he'll take a call from a friend!" He grinned as the cape buffalo glared at him. "Please? For me?" He cringed as the other man's glare intensified. "Okay, okay! I get the point." He took a deep breath to calm his nerves before trying another tactic to get what he wanted out of the belligerent herbivore. "But please, do it for our fair citizens of Zootopia?"

Staring at the asinine pearly-white smile the mayor was giving him, the Chief of the Zootopia Police Department inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling. "Fine. I'll give it a shot right now. But if he doesn't answer, don't push me to keep calling again and again. I'll wait for later tonight when he's likely starting a new day, all right?"

Smiling wide, the lion could only reply, "That's all I ask."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The International Criminal Police Organization or as it was better known as, 'Interpol' was a government agency that worked around the clock non-stop thanks to having one-hundred and ninety countries pulling their resources to combat crime in all its forms. Terrorism, organized crime, crimes against animality, animal trafficking, illicit traffic in works of art, illicit drug production and trafficking, environmental crime, corruption, and so much more were on the scope of Interpol as sometimes, the local law enforcement needed considerable backup. They were the courageous men and women who lived by–and in some cases, practically breathed–the motto, 'Connecting Police for a Safer World'.

Currently, one of the proud mammals who headed this organization was working late in his office at the Paris branch of the organization. James Barkley was heavy-set badger with a thick brown pelt with a tanned section that ran along his spine and the length of his arms up to the back of his hands. His scalp pelt was short but ruffled against his head, which only served to make his thick graying eyebrows and mustache appear all the more prominent. The police chief was decked out in a gray short-sleeved buttoned shirt which barely managed to hold the girth of the man's abdomen, the garment only held in place by the blue pants that were held up by a set of orange suspenders–his golden badge pinned to the one that went over his left pectoral. Still, said article of clothing meant to keep his trousers up did well to accent the red tie he had on... although even that couldn't pull one's attention away from the large cigar resting at the right corner of his mouth, something that was a common sight on the badger's lips.

Puffing away at his tightly-rolled bundle of dried and fermented tobacco, the man was hard at work while sitting behind a mahogany desk several times larger than him; furniture sized more comfortably for an elephant. While a comical sight to be certain, James had personally requested it as such was the only thing that could hold all his equipment and the paperwork that constantly came his way. A desk pad was set right in front of him to do his work on without scratching up the surface, but scattered all around was so much more in no particular pattern. A plaque with his name and rank, a computer, a phone with intercom, a lamp, a digital clock, a metal ashtray filled to overflowing with burnt out gray cinders, a pair of wire baskets for incoming and outgoing documents, a letter holder for mail, a business card holder, a cup filled with pens, pencils, highlighters, a pair of scissors, and a letter opener... and finally, all kinds of stationery items. Whether it was envelopes or papers of various lengths and widths, all free-flowing paper products cluttered nearly every bit of space of the mahogany desktop.

While most who gazed upon it would be horrified to see such horrendous clutter, James preferred to refer to it as an, 'organized mess'. He preferred it that way too. People were less inclined to put in their own two cents with suggestions when they couldn't make heads or tails or anything he was doing. Part of why I took a shining to Miss Fox. She's about the only other person besides myself who can find anything on my desk, he thought with a bit of mirth.

However, such musings were interrupted by the sudden knock on the door. Raising an eyebrow, the mustached musteloidea brought his head up from the case file in hand. "Who is it?" He called aloud. Although the man had a feeling who it was, the badger anthro found it was better to be safe than sorry. Ever since his wife of all people walked in on him while he was personally interrogating a high-class prostitute who had been found in bed with a dead Minister of State, she had been giving him the hairy eye.

The door slowly opened, and a head popped in, revealing the source of the voice to be a very spindly weasel with a pelt that was a surprising shade of purple fur. He smiled a tad nervously as he spoke up. "Sorry for the interruption, Sir. I just wanted you to know I have your coffee." His hands came forward beneath his head through the opening, showing off the beverage. "Black with five sugars, just the way you like it."

Nodding his head, the badger closed the manila envelope he was holding and dropped it down on the desk pad. He then raised his right hand to his mouth and carefully withdrew his cigar. Gently placing the still smoking piece of tightly wrapped tobacco into the ashtray, he motioned to the weasel to enter. "Good. At this rate, I'll be able to have the energy I need to finish this in another hour or two. If I'm lucky enough, I'll be able to catch a four hour nap on my couch before my next shift starts."

"Ah yes. It's as they say, Chief... no rest for the wicked!" The weasel chirruped as he opened the door fully and stepped into the room, revealing his appearance to be more of a stereotypical nerd. The combination of green slacks pulled up so high by the too-short set of suspenders that the waistband was meeting his chest and the huge red bow made it so one could barely see his overly starched white shirt or police badge pinned to it. He trembled a little as he came up to the desk before placing a white cup and plate down on the desk before his superior. "Will there be anything else, Chief Barkley?"

His eyes gazing down on his cup of steaming brown liquid, the man gave a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Not at the moment, thank you. That will be all for now, Detective Winthrop..."

The weasel winced. "Actually... it's, 'Winthorp' Chief Barkley. Winthorp." He corrected with a nervous tick. Sweet cheese and crackers! I've been here for half a decade and he still hasn't gotten my name right, the weasel thought before bowing out of the room; walking backwards until he was at the door frame. "Call me if you need anything, Sir," the mustelidae offered before leaving rather quietly, an ability that seemed to be a staple of his species' skillset.

When the weedy little man had left, the chief brought the steaming porcelain cup to his lips. Carefully, the older furry police officer sipped the dark contents within. He swirled the burning coffee around in his mouth for a moment, cringing as he swallowed–and no, not from pain. While the coffee the station had did the trick for a caffeine fix, that didn't account for the taste. "We work on a seventy-eight million Euro annual budget... and yet not a single cent is spent on some decent coffee..." the badger murmured irritably at the injustice of it all as he lowered his cup before placing it down atop his desk. Still, with the renewed burst of energy, the man reached over to his ashtray to retrieve his stogie. Settling it back into his mouth, he brought the envelope up once more to check over his work.

Or be more precise, Inspector Fox's work, he thought as he looked at the picture that was held in place atop the manila folder with a paperclip: a headshot of one Sargent Sylvester Cooper. While the case concerning Cyrille Le Paradox had been officially closed for over two months, the older musteloidea still knew the vulpine officer was still searching for her partner. In all honesty, on a personal level he couldn't blame her. While it had been a... chaotic relationship with Sly over the past eight years, he had to admit that the vixen made good on her promise to make the master thief into one of Interpol's greatest assets.

A smile slowly tugged at the corner of his lips. While not something James usually shared with others, such an expression was a small luxury he could afford himself. Oh yes... five years of putting all his best agents on the case and yet the damned raccoon had what was considered the most successful career of modern criminals. Yet it was Carmelita who never gave up. It was her who promised she would bring him to justice and he was more than pleased when he heard the news that she was successful... it just wasn't how the man had expected her to do it.

While there was certainly no such law as, 'Amnesia Amnesty' Inspector Fox had pleaded on behalf of the raccoon whole-heartedly. She saw it as a chance to reform the man and turn him into a contributing member of society. She even tried to justify a number of the crimes he committed in the past! Cases that James himself had set the Hispanic vulpine on! At that point, he was more than ready to throw the book at the damned Cooper and let the justice system see it through... and yet he held back. Carmelita Montoya Fox wasn't just a member of Interpol, she was his hand-chosen protégé, a by-the-books officer, and the woman he one day intended to replace him as the Commissioner-in-Chief for the Paris branch of Interpol. Could he really claim he wanted such for her if he couldn't trust her? So despite his better judgment, he federalized Cooper, made him a Constable, and set him up as Inspector Fox's partner.

Barkley couldn't have been happier with the results. Over the past three years, the pair proved themselves time and again to be an incredibly effective duo, proving the old idiom of, 'use a thief to catch a thief' had a basis in truth. Within months, the raccoon had netted himself a promotion to the rank of Sargent and truth be told? The badger had been planning on giving Cooper another promotion to the rank of Inspector. Not only because the former master thief deserved it, but it would also coincide nicely with his plans to promote Fox to the station of Senior Superintendent. God knew the woman had earned it and that such would help line her up to eventually take the role of Deputy Commissioner.

And yet, it seemed that it was not to be. Sly had been lost to–of all things–a blimp explosion! Carmelita refused to accept it but the facts remained. The poor woman was so in denial that she was making claims of time travel being involved! Still, even with such a hokey concept to try and pin Le Paradox with, there was more than enough evidence of his real crimes to put the owner of the air ship away for some time to come. A museum full of black market exhibits and forged documents to pose as royalty of all things had been the most serious case of fraud the badger had seen in his career... not to mention the added counts of kidnapping an officer of the law and murdering another! The man who was responsible for the death of Sargent Cooper was brought to justice and yet Inspector Fox wasn't able to get closure from it.

That was why he kept a close eye on her findings. Each and every day, a little bit more was added but it was at the point where she was grasping at straws now. After all, it's not like time travel is a real thing, he snorted. James knew that eventually, this personal investigation she was playing out on her off time was going to come to an end. She was fortunate it hadn't affected her real work negatively at all for the time being–in fact, she was doing incredibly well by herself! But the mustached badger knew that when the vixen came crashing back to reality that it was going to be hard.

"She needs to realize that it's not enough that we do our best; sometimes we have to do what's required," the old badger murmured. And he knew that above all, if he was to salvage this situation, he needed to separate the vixen from it. As much as Barkley appreciated and tried to accommodate Inspector Fox, doing so at this point would only lead to her ruin. The vulpine needed to realize what was required of her was to let it go. They were all going to miss him but Sargent Cooper was no longer among them. He had earned his funeral with military honors and would be remembered fondly amongst the men and women he had running around trying to catch him once upon a time. "A fitting end to the Cooper legacy, really. A long line of master thieves receives a quiet and respectable conclusion because the last of them chose to follow the law and a life of right in the end."

Bringing his hand up to his face so he could firmly grasp his stogie so it wouldn't move from his lips, the Commissioner-in-Chief puffed on his cigar, trying to ease his worries and take strength from his personal vice. He was not going to look forward to seeing the vixen the next time he called her into his office but James had to harden his heart. He knew Carmelita would be a credit to upper management one day but he needed to let her know that going down this path would tear down everything she had worked so hard for! But how would he get her to understand? "It's too bad she's not a fan of Churchill's words of wisdom," he murmured softly, before inhaling deeply. He then began exhaling the smoke from his lungs in a pattern of rings as he puffed it through his lips. Such a silly little thing but it did help to steady his nerves.

As he smoked, the red light on his phone began flickering. He sighed as he removed his cigar with his right hand, holding it between his index and middle fingers while his left hand reached for the phone's base. Pressing the button, he replied, "What is it, Detective Winthrop?"

"It's, 'Winthorp' Chief Barkley. Winthorp," the whiny voice on the line replied. "But I digress, Sir. You have a call on line one from America. Shall I patch them through?"

That statement made the old badger raise an eyebrow, the gray hairs of his mustache fluttering as he exhaled through his nose a bit faster than he meant to. "From the States?" Well now, that was curious. While the Zoonited States allowed Interpol jurisdiction within their borders, the ZSA had not been one of the original members and had no branch office. So when the Americans were the first to make contact with them, it often meant something big was going down on the international scene. Pressing the red button again, Barkley asked, "Who is it? Is it the FBI, the CIA, or the NSA?" If it was that last one, he could probably ignore it.

As he removed his hand, the weasel replied, "Actually, none of the above. This is coming out of Zootopia, Chief."

Again, the old badger had to blink his eyes. He pressed his left index finger on the button once more as he queried, "Zootopia? You mean the hippy liberal City-State that's straddling the border between Washington and Canada? What do they want with us?"

Again, Winthorp was quick to respond as the musteloidea's finger left the call button. "Yes, Sir. That Zootopia. It's their police chief, one Idriis Bogo. He says you would know him better as, 'Big Driis'."

"Big Driis!" The badger chimed out almost merrily. Ah yes, he remembered the African buffalo quite well. Back when they were both stationed in Saddle Arabia and weighed considerably lighter, although his case had more to do with body fat in comparison to the herbivore's gain in muscle. "I haven't heard from him in a while. It's had to be, oh... four years now?" Although he was audible, the man said that more to himself than his subordinate. Shaking his head to clear it of the jumbled onslaught of thoughts that came to him all at once, the man eventually told the weasel, "Patch him through."

Removing his hand from the phone's base, he awaited for line one's button to flash. Within mere seconds, the red light of the intercom system turned off and the switch of line one began to glow a blue. The mustached badger pressed the button, allowing the phone to start ringing. He wrapped his fingers around the wireless handset and brought it to the side of his head. "Hello?" He chimed into the receiver in a firm tone. "Commissioner-in-Chief Jameson Barkley of Interpol, speaking. M'Bogo?"

"Yeah," a gruff voice replied over the receiver. "It's me, Barkley. I... apologize for not keeping in touch as well as I should have. The past few years have been incredibly busy."

A chortle sounded in the badger's throat. "Becoming Chief of Police will do that to you. Take it from someone with experience. The longer you're there, the more work that's going to fall into your lap. The SRD principle at work."

"SRD?" The deep baritone voice of the herbivore queried.

Smirking, James explained, "Shit Rolls Downhill. We're the first to get it from our bosses and meddling politicians. Fortunately, we're high enough that we're not at the bottom where it all gathers into a steaming pile."

His only answer for a moment was silence. However, before the badger could speak up again, the cape buffalo's voice began once more. "Actually, that's part of why I'm contacting you. You know of Zootopia's rich history, don't you?"

A frown crossed the badger's features. "If you're referring to how Zootopia was neck deep in specism and segregation to the point where you people were still using shock collars on the predator populace less than thirty years ago... then yes, I am."

A groan came over the line. "Yes, I was referring to the predator-prey interspecies relations but I was trying to be more polite about it."

The badger snorted. "Please, Big Driis. You know you don't have to be polite with me. I'm not some politician. I work for a living." He placed his cigar back into the ashtray as before his then freed right hand reached for his cup of coffee. Taking a sip from it, the Interpol Commissioner-in-Chief continued, "So tell me, why bring up the old wounds of your city to me? What's going on, M'Bogo?"

"Straight to the point as always, aren't you James? All right," the voice of the African buffalo seemed pleased. "Mayor Lionheart is trying to push something he's calling the Animal Exclusive Initiative where—"

"It's called the Mammal Inclusion Initiative!" Another voice yelled from the ZPD Chief's end of the line, breaking off what the bovidae was going to say.

Blinking his eyes once, twice, thrice... the badger pulled the phone away from his head to look at it curiously. "What the bloody hoo-ha-hey?" He then pulled it to the left side of his face again and demanded to know, "M'Bogo! What the devil is going on over there?"

"I am deeply sorry about that interruption, Chief Barkley," the cape buffalo apologized. "The mayor is sitting here with me and he doesn't know better." James could hear the bovine policeman growling. "But back to topic, this..." he paused for a moment. When he spoke again, it sounded like he bit down on a lemon. "Mammal Inclusion Initiative of his is something that's supposed to break down more of the species barriers and offer equal opportunity for employment in all fields. The Zootopia City Council is pushing it and they expect immediate results, no matter how unrealistic the time frame."

Nodding his head, the older badger had to admit, "With the exception of believing you can make a difference overnight, I'll be honest: that doesn't sound too bad. Quite reasonable actually..." he sighed a little sadly. "The segregation had been terrible over there and I'll be glad to hear the people in charge are finally offering predators more chances to integrate themselves into society. Your little City-State might actually live up to that, 'hippy liberal' stereotype at this rate!" He chuckled at his own joke.

"...Yeah..." Bogo began, sounding really uncomfortable. "Things have been getting better in that regard. In fact the majority of the police force is currently comprised of predator officers," he said rather proudly. "But that isn't what the council's new initiative is about. They want to get certain species out of their stereotypical niches and roles in society. To get the ball rolling, they are hoping to hire, exchange, or even simply borrow one of your officers. They want the ZPD to establish a positive minority presence within the ranks of its police force... someone from a species that has historically been oppressed. And they want that transfer immediately." He sighed, sounding very displeased about all this. "I was hoping you would be willing to help out an old friend before the bureaucrats do something incredibly stupid."

The badger blinked his eyes once, twice, thrice. He inhaled deeply as a thought occurred to him. "You know... I wish you had called me about this initiative thing two or three months ago. I would have had the perfect agent for you. Raccoon... orphaned at a young age... an ex-convict. But he really shaped himself up in the past three years. He defied all expectations concerning his past and became an upstanding member of society and a pride of Interpol."

"He sounds like just the person we need!" The voice Chief Barkley now realized was that of Mayor Lionheart cried out excitedly. "When can you send him?"

Now the badger was seeing red. "Oh? You want me to send Sargent Cooper over? Sure... I'll do that right now! Just give me an e-mail and I'll forward you his goddamn obituary!" James roared into the mouthpiece of the phone. "What part of me wishing you had called earlier did you not pick up on, asshole!?"

As he breathed heavily, only silence answered him. James was ready to slam the phone on the cradle then and there–reminded of just why he hated politicians so much. However, the mustached musteloidea stayed his hand, despite his desire to reduce his phone to a mess of broken plastic. A realization had come to him in his fury... a thought that this actually might be the best thing for another one of his officers.

So, taking another deep breath to calm himself enough to talk civilly, the badger began speaking once more. "M'Bogo. Are you there?"

"I am," the voice replied almost immediately. "Look James, I am terribly sorry about that. Mayor Lionheart tends to speak before his brain catches up with whatever comes out of his fool mouth. It won't happen again."

"It won't," the badger agreed. "Because I am only talking to you on this," he stated firmly, hoping that idiot mayor caught the hint to keep his trap shut. "You need to establish a police presence that will tug at the heartstrings of the populace? Get them questioning their own preconceived notions and prejudices? I have one for you: Cooper's widow."

"...His... widow?" the voice of the cape buffalo queried.

"In all but legal definition," the badger replied. "They weren't married but it was obvious to anyone even half blind how in love they were; lived together, worked together, ate together, everything. That canid's been throwing herself into her work with his death but I can see she's going to burn out soon. The Inspector has done and still is doing so much good for us... heck, the fact that Paris' crime rate is currently at the lowest it's been in ten years is all thanks to her and her alone." Inhaling deeply, the small predator sighed. Bringing his right hand to his face, he rubbed his eyes as he continued, "It would be a shame if she lets this ruin her... and sooner or later, something is going to give. So I hope we can make this Mammal Inclusion Initiative mutually beneficial."

"Mutually beneficial?" Bogo queried. "I take it you want us to enroll her into the program?"

"Quite," the older police commissioner replied. "Paris is where everything happened. It's here that she lost the most important person in her life. Carmelita isn't going to find closure if she remains in the city and she's refusing to take any cases outside of street level until she can come to grips with what happened, which is only serving to hurt her more in the meantime. I believe if the Inspector realizes the importance of what this initiative of your mayor's is capable of... she'll cave in and go... and hopefully find some peace of mind in the process."

The phone was silent again, although the Interpol official could hear murmurs in the background noise, the pair on the other end obviously arguing. Finally, the deep voice of the Zootopia Police Chief came on the receiver once more. "Are you certain this is a good idea, James? If she's really that broken up she might choke on the job or worse. I can't have her break down at a pivotal moment or another; it could put my other officers at risk."

"I'm positive," the badger answered. "I trust the Inspector with my life... even if I've failed to return that trust once or twice." He sighed, remembering how he took the word of that upstart officer Neyla and traitorous warden Contessa over his own hand-picked understudy. "I know she won't let you down, M'Bogo. I wouldn't have chosen her as my protégé otherwise."

"Your protégé!?" Was the surprised response. "Even if she's having issues right now, do you really want to send us one of your best?" Apparently, the fact that he considered her to be his eventual replacement did more to appease the ZPD Chief than the badger would have thought.

Barkley couldn't help but smile. "One of? Oh my dear, dear Big Driis... she isn't one of my best. She is my best. In her eight year career, she has collared more large scale criminals than any single officer in the history of this company. Pirates, Mafia dons, counterfeiters, narcotics dealers, warlords, black market racketeers, terrorists, the works! This one woman has done more for the world than–dare I say–the rest of her department combined during the same span of active service!" Although a bitter pill to swallow, he added, "Including me!"

However, left unsaid was that Inspector Fox did have a trio of failures on her record, not counting the charges of treason she was cleared of. Yes, losing the Firestone of India was a big deal and all... but really, it was her only true personal failure as far as he was concerned. The lost museum stamp that was eventually returned via the mail service and a stolen piece of chocolate wasn't the worst that could happen. Really, her record with Interpol was damn near perfect. "So what do you say, M'Bogo? You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours."

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled. "I'm willing to do it but is there anything else I should know about? Things the mayor's publicists can play up? Not that I give a crap but I can see the mayor getting antsy in his seat."

The badger rolled his eyes. "Damn politicians..." he took a deep breath to make sure his voice was steady before answering. "All right. My protégé is a canid from a Latin background and–no surprise–speaks Spanish as her first language but she also came into the service knowing sign language thanks to a deaf grandmother. She also learned fluency in English and French to be better acquainted with her job at Interpol; I was her personal teacher in the former and I must say I was impressed by how quickly she picked it up." James chuckled. "She's also been a major globetrotter, especially her first half decade of work. She went everywhere from heavily storming islands off of England, to trudging through the murky swampy of Haiti, climbing the snowy Mountains of China, delving into the deep jungles of India, had survived the frozen North of Canada with no back up whatsoever, lead a force of mercenaries through the rocky deserts of Australia... HELL! She even had the brass balls to fly into an active volcano in Russia for one of her cases!" He puffed his cigar firmly. "There is no one more adapt to transverse between all the districts of Zootopia than Inspector Carmelita Montoya—"

"She's perfect!" The voice that James now recognized as the Mayor Lionheart's interrupted... again. "A minority background in both species and race, strong family values, a multi-cultured linguist, a hard-working, experienced adaptive policewoman so she's got gender going for her as well... not to mention the civilians will just eat up the personal tragedy aspect. Please Chief Barkley, I beg of you! Send us your protégé! I promise we will treat her as if she were one of our own!"

A small twitched as at the corner of the mustached man's eye. "That's what I'm afraid of..." he murmured, knowing that even though Zootopia finally took down the barriers that segregated prey and predator, that prejudices could still run high. "I will be glad to talk her into going if she is what you want, Chief Bogo," he stated the buffalo's name firmly to point out to the bureaucrat that he only wanted to deal with the head of the ZPD.

There was a groan that came from the phone's receiver. Finally the deep voice began once more. "Again, I do apologize for that. Mayor Lionheart is a bit over-exuberant and can't seem to keep his voice down." James would have sworn he heard the African buffalo growling. "Still, you do portray her in a pretty positive light. I'd be glad to have her work with our department for a while if you're okay with it. How long would you be willing to loan her to us?"

Considering that for a moment, the badger puffed on his cigar... only to wince as he felt a burn. He quickly removed the little stub that's was left of the stogie with his right hand and tossed it onto the ashtray, causing a mess as a considerable amount of the piled up ash went falling over the metal edges of the tray. "Just tell me one thing. The city is also working on training people they want to join this initiative from within, right?"

"Yes," Bogo's firm voice replied. "We are already looking to enroll candidates within the Zootopia Police Academy."

"Good!" Barkley chirruped. "If you want, you can borrow the Inspector for... let's say, six-to-seven months. That will give her a chance to cover your bases and a bit of time to train with the newbies before she comes back to Interpol. Is that acceptable?"

"Very!" The cape buffalo replied with obvious relief. "Thank you again, James. We'll make preparations for housing and getting her settled within the Force. I owe you one, Barkley."

"Please, M'Bogo... there's no such thing as favors between friends. You'll be helping me out just as much as this will help you." His right hand came down to the top drawer at his right, revealing a cigar box within. The badger picked out one of the rolled tubes of dried fermented tobacco in his hand and rolled it about with his fingers, inspecting it. "However, I will do you something I consider a favor by offering some friendly advice: invest in a good set of ear-plugs. When she gets angry, she gets loud."

A chuckle came over the voice. "No surprise. That's just how chihuahuas are. You take a care now while we make preparations. I need to get back to work so I bid you a good night, Chief Barkley."

"Sure, you take care, Big Dri—wait!" the badger snapped... only to realize he only had the dial-tone greeting him. He looked at the handset in shock, not sure if he heard that or not. "Do... do they think Carmelita is some tiny, yappy dog!?"

Come to think of it, he had mentioned she was Latin and that she was canid a couple of times. However, he never did get to tell them the woman was a vulpine outright. They were making assumptions! The badger needed to call them back ASAP to fix this oversight.

However, just as he was about to reach over and press the button that would dial the number of the last incoming call, the mustached musteloidea stopped in his tracks... for he got an idea.

A wonderful idea.

An awful idea.

Chief Barkley got a wonderful, awful idea.

"Never assume, my dear M'Bogo..." the badger chuckled. "For assuming makes an ass out of you and me." And he would gladly accept looking like a jerk if he got people to see Mayor Lionheart as a buffoon.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Well, there we go people: new and different take on a Sly Cooper and Zootopia crossover fanfiction as of the time of this posting. While some of you dear readers might think this is a bit darker for Zootopia than was seen in the movie, I would like to point out that the original concepts were far, far worse. I will be using some of those original materials as history of Zootopia as well as for things to use in there here-and-now of the story. You can find a lot of the stuff on Nicolaswilde's "Zistopia" Tumblr blog...

Speaking of which, thank you Nicolaswilde for permission to use original aspects you came up with in your fan-work. While none have been used yet, it's appreciated.

For those curious as to the placing of Zootopia geographically in this fanfic, that is thanks to three things. First we have the character of Peter Moosbridge. Being both in the US and Canadian releases of the film, I figured Washington would be a good place to position it. Secondly, there is tthe Washington State Scenic and Recreational Highways program, and no one can tell me that Judy's trip to Zootopia wasn't scenic. For my third reason, some the craziest stuff came out of that state... like the Science-Fiction Museum and the George Kenny School of Chainsaw Carving. Yes, that IS a thing!

As for the whereabouts of Sly Cooper? He IS alive according to the secret ending of the game... however, most animals won't believe in Time Travel and so the public at large that knows the raccoon believes Cooper to have passed on. Carmelita knows the truth of course, and so is trying her darnedest to find him but it just makes people worry about her sanity otherwise. The, "No, there's a chance the rip in time and space sent him somewhere" excuse doesn't hold much merit for skeptics.

Chief Bogo's military potential comes from the notes of Nick Orsi, visual development artist who saw the cape buffalo as someone out of the marines but also at the point where as buff guys get older, all that muscle masses into one brick. Sine Zootopia takes place in Modern day, (in this case, 2014 for the benefit of the Sly Cooper game and development time of the Zootopia movie) Operation Desert Storm lined up best with when Bogo would have been prime military age. And I think that makes him badass–no offense to any donkeys out there.

Also on the top of Bogo, the name comes from his voice actor. The Chief just FEELS like he should have a more proper name and "Bogo" feels more Americanized... so why not give him a more proper name while the vast majority of the public at large refers to him as, 'Chief Bogo'?

And finally, for those wondering... yes, this story serves as a Sly Cooper Sequel and a Zootopia Prequel. It seemed like the best jumping point to combine the two series, as I wanted to come up with a story that was more original than just a retreading of the games or the movie. I do hope you'll all stay tuned and let me know what you think.