When a new threat emerges in Zootopia, both Nick and Judy are faced with unforeseen challenges; challenges that require them to muster courage, take chances, and face the past... whether they want to or not. (May contain mild language and violence.)
Wassup, guys.
This isn't my first go-around with fanfiction; I've delved pretty deep before, writing-wise. I got out of it for a couple years, but then I got hooked on Zootopia and just couldn't help myself! Lord help me…
Fair Warning: I am a college student with homework to do and rent to pay, so I won't be able to update super-often. (I wish I had the time to, writing this was so fun.) I also, admittedly, procrastinate. Sorry… it's true… I know, I'm horrible. But this stuff is the only thing that keeps me sane, so I'll eventually come around to it.
So, I've noticed a bit of negativity towards OCs. Not sure why? Is the act of creating OCs bad? Maybe I'm just perceiving it wrong or something? I never thought OCs were bad (as long as you handle them well), but whatever. I made plenty of OCs in this fic, haha. :):):)
I just want to let you guys know that, while this fic may or may not contain some WildeHopps stuff, I intend to try my best to make this story enjoyable for those who aren't okay with Nick-and-Judy stuff. :)
WARNING: Light language.
Hope ya'll like it.
*is wondering if the moon thing is too corny*
*decides corny is a good thing*
(Edited for some small typos. They were bugging me...)
CHAPTER ONE: And So, Bogo Did
... ... ...
"There have been fifteen prey deaths caused by this drug," Bogo was yelling, shaking the large yellow file folder in his hoof to reemphasize the severity of the situation. "Fifteen, Director Wraqune! And you're going to tell me that it's just…" the water buffalo struggled to find the words. "…ripples of the disaster that Bellwether left behind after her whole Nighthowler incident?!"
"With all due respect, Chief, I cannot give you my services upon a theory," the raccoon replied, his dark eyes peering across the desk that he sat behind. His emerald-green silk tie glinted in the light of the setting sun, which was stretching his pink fingers into the tall window of the office ZIA Director Emerson D. Wraqune occupied. "Maybe Furboario would have, but I cannot. My agents' services are more valuable elsewhere."
"Director," Bogo chided, slapping the files onto the desk with rage. "You just came into this position. You have to realize, you cannot—the ZIA cannot—let something like this slip through your fingers! It's inexcusable." Bogo gestured to the pictures that had fallen from the folder with a quick jab of his hoof.
The raccoon glanced down at them, his brows furrowing. A teenage deer, female, still in her orange-and-blue cheerleading uniform, which was now drenched in red. A ram, male, slightly pudgy and dressed in a nice brown suit, mangled and distorted. A mouse, male. An elephant…
Wraqune waved it off with a flick of his hand. "It will die away, just as the Nighthowler incident did." He abruptly turned away from Bogo, as if to say, This conversation is over.
Bogo gave a loud scoff. He wasn't going to give up on his city that easily. "The incident didn't die away, Director. My officers put an end to it! It would never have ended if Officer Hopps and Wilde had not—"
"Enough about that stupid fox and foolish bunny!" Wraqune suddenly snapped, his black lips curling up in a slight snarl. "I'm tired of hearing about them. They're old news, Bogo."
The anger that was erupting in Bogo's chest grew ten times hotter- not only at Wraqune's aggression, but the direct insult at his officers. Bogo took a deep breath, oxygenating his blood calls and willing himself to calm down. "The impact of Bellwether's incident is continuing to shake Zootopia, Director. You are correct… and this drug may have been a product of that. But I believe that this is a whole different incident, a drug ring that predators are getting involved in out of their own free will. It's endangering prey's lives, as well as their own."
"They are predators who are druggies, who want to get a high, Bogo! Open your eyes," Wraqune countered, leaning across the desk; he pushed the images of the murdered prey to the side as if they were nothing, just garbage that was in his way. "If your officers can solve the Bellwether case, they can solve this drug problem; besides, what's saying that it is not some of Bellwether's old goons trying to finish what she started?"
The water buffalo was struggling to not punch the raccoon in his snide little snout. Calm down, bud. He is your superior, and socking him won't convince him to help. "Because, Director, the effects of the drug are temporary," Bogo answered, trying to battle with facts instead of empty words. "How would that benefit Bellwether's cause? And currently, it's causing more harm to prey than to preds. We still haven't found most of these victims' attackers, and who we have won't talk."
Wraqune leaned back in his seat, folding his arms. He adjusted his green tie. "Well then," he said, his voice lower, gruffer, calmer than before. "Your fantastically clever officers better get to it."
Bogo clawed the recesses of his strategic brain to think of a way to get to Wraqune, to convince him to provide the ZPD some assistance in the case. "You… have a son, don't you, Director?"
Wraqune cocked a brow. "Yes, I do. I have two."
"One is adopted, is he not?"
Wraqune shrugged and nodded in reply.
Sending the raccoon a somber glare, Bogo took a small step back. "What's his species, if you don't mind me asking?"
The ZIA Director scoffed. "He's a hare, Bogo. What are you getting at?"
"A hare," Bogo repeated, putting heavy emphasis on the word. "A prey. Just like these victims." He motioned to the pictures that had been pushed to the side, all grey and red and deadly black. "What if it had been your son that had been mauled by these drug-induced acts of savagery?"
Bogo let this question hang in the air for a moment. Judging from the slightly shocked expression and the tensed shoulders of the raccoon, he thought he had the Director hooked.
For a second, but only a second, Bogo was flooded with relief and triumph—until Wraqune's face had morphed into a physical representation of genuine hate. He bore his sharp teeth, and they glinted with saliva and rage.
"You do not know anything about my son." His voice was lined with a growl. The raccoon pointed aggressively at the door. "Get the hell out of my office."
And so, after gathering up the pictures of the murder victims, Bogo did.
... ... ... ... ...
Two Weeks Later
Judy loved the night, and it was because of the moon.
To any assuming mammal, Judy would have preferred daytime—it made sense, with her optimistic attitude and upbeat personality. But, the truth was, Judy was too busy during the daytime to befriend the sun; in return, the sun was too busy to befriend her. They were acquaintances who enjoyed each other's company, and nothing more.
But the moon? For the longest time, the moon was Judy's closest friend.
Mr. Moon, she called him.
When all her siblings were asleep and her mother and father were getting ready for the night, Judy would sneak to her window and whisper all her desires and secrets up into the sky, watching them float upward like paper in the wind. Even after she grew too sleepy to express her feelings aloud, she dreamed. She knew Mr. Moon listened to those as well—her dreams. He was a fat, wise old monk, with a gentle soul that expressed a certain serenity that Judy could scarcely find in BunnyBurrow with all the hustle-and-bustle of hundreds of hyperactive rabbits. No one ever stopped to listen or relax, always doing, always going…it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if that someone was just a floating mass in the sky.
As she got older, she talked with Mr. Moon less and less, but only because her dreams were coming to fruition. At fifteen, she got a job filing paperwork and bookkeeping for the BunnyBurrow Police Department; it was boring, but it got her a little taste of the job, right? Better than nothing. At eighteen, she got a full-on internship with the department—also boring, mostly since much of her job was still filing paperwork, but it was a step. She also got into a nearby university, where she majored in Law Enforcement with a minor in Investigative Principles. After graduating, she worked hard to pay off what her academic scholarships didn't pay for; once in a comfortable financial position, she hauled tail to the Zootopia Police Academy and didn't look back.
She never stopped being friends with the moon, though. Occasionally, she would talk to him about how fantastic everything was going and how her dreams were becoming real—and he would listen, just as he always did. Always patiently lazing away in his hammock of stars, waiting for the next spiel of pent-up-Judy-excitement.
Judy was very upset when she moved to Zootopia and discovered that the light and smog of the city blanked out her dear old friend. Nonetheless, every time she accomplished something, every time something good happened, she would send the same thought up to the sky: See? I told you so.
Not that he had never believed her.
She still talked to him, when she didn't feel like it was too crazy.
Was that weird, to talk to the moon? Probably. But Judy was a weird bunny. Despite her knowledge of her weirdness, she never told anybody about her late-night conversations with the kind old spirit.
Not even Nick, who took his place on top of her Best Friend List all in a matter of days, right next to Mr. Moon. More likely above Mr. Moon, if Judy was being honest, but only because Nick actually talked back to her—and, truth be told, he was just as patient and willing to listen as Mr. Moon was. When he felt like it, of course.
But Mr. Moon was the only one Judy felt she could turn to when she arrived back at her apartment, 12:43 am, September 2nd, 2016. When she opened her creaky door very slowly, as to not wake the easily-disturbed-and-equally-disturbing Bucky and Pronk. When she rubbed her eyes and closed the door behind her, grumbling about tiny mice robbers in tiny mice cities. When she stepped on an envelope on the floor that was most likely pushed through the crack under her door, stuck to a Pawst-It note that said: "Check your mail now and again, bunny -Mrs. Armadillo."
When she inspected the envelope, which had a BunnyBurrow Bank & Trust logo on the top right corner.
When she messily opened it and read the contents.
...
Judith Laverne Hopps,
We are writing to inform you of your payment due date in regards to your loan taken out in the amount of $6,254.78 on January 7th, 2015, which is under file described as: Zootopia Police Academy funds.
The full amount is due on October 12th, 2016, and is to be paid directly at our BunnyBurrow Bank & Trust location. Failure to do so will result in the repossession of the money directly from your paycheck, starting on Oct. 13th, 2016.
With any further questions, please contact us at (867)473-9274, or email us at .com.
Regards,
Francesca R Thistle
Francesca R. Thistle
BunnyBurrow Bank & Trust President
...
Judy was dumbfounded.
She let the letter still clasped in her paw fall to her side. Her heart had dropped, and was currently rolling around somewhere amongst her small intestine.
Repossession of money directly from her paycheck?
Was that even legal?
After hurriedly looking up regulations from some of her law books through the sleep in her eyes, she soon found that it was, after a certain length of time.
But she had paid back most of her student loans, and by the established due dates. Doesn't that give her at least a little wiggle room to pay for her training at the Academy? Six thousand dollars was more than she currently had in her savings account—there was no way she could fork over that much money and still make rent. And, on top of that, that day was September 2nd—she had only a little over a month to scrape the money together.
Judy reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, quickly swiping to unlock it and punching in Nick's number. She needed to talk to somebody.
But something stopped her right before she pressed the call button. She swallowed as she eyed Nick's contact picture, a photo of him grumpily sporting a Gazelle t-shirt; he had his usual half-lidded impassive gaze that he directed at the camera, all a cover-up for the fun Judy insisted he was having. Judy was beside him in mid-jump, ears perked and arms spread wide, wearing an enthusiastic smile and a shirt to match Nick's.
She couldn't tell Nick about this… not yet, anyway. He would probably insist on giving her some of his money that he had saved up to help pay it off in time, and she definitely didn't want that. Nick had his own rent to pay. Not only that, Judy was an independent bunny—a prideful bunny. If she was going to make it in Zootopia, she was going to do it on her own.
No, she couldn't tell Nick. She couldn't worry him. With a sigh, she shoved her phone back in her pocket.
That was when, for the first time in quite a long time, Judy turned to Mr. Moon and cried. She sat on her bed and looked out the window, imagining he was there, still relaxing in his star-woven hammock. But through her tears and the lights of the city and the smog that hung in the air, she had a hard time envisioning him.
That was also the first time in a long time—forever, in fact—that Judy wasn't sure he was listening.
... ... ... ... ...
Nick Wilde flicked his claw against the lid of his coffee cup impatiently.
Flick. Flick.
He was leaned back against the front desk of the ZPD, trying his best to ignore the sound of Clawhauser shoving the second of many chocolate doughnuts into his mouth. He watched the front entrance coolly but diligently—the ZPD was relatively busy, albeit a bit more sluggish than usual, more than likely due to the steady rain that had pressed its way across Zootopia that day. Storm clouds brewed outside, and light thunder growled throatily in irritation. Nick's fur was still damp from his walk from the bus stop.
Flick. Flick.
Judy was late.
Judy was never late.
Flick. Flick.
Normally, Nick wouldn't have been too freaked out, even with the state of the weather—he knew Judy could handle herself- but it was a grand total of eleven minutes before the 7:00 lineup in the Bullpen. On-time for Judy was thirty- to forty-five minutes early; late was fifteen to twenty. Anything later was unacceptable. Nick couldn't count how many times Judy nagged Nick for arriving only ten minutes before roll call ("It's not professional!"), or how many times she insisted on him getting at least coffee the next morning for inconveniencing her so.
Hence, Nick's worry.
Flick, flick, flick.
"Nicky, chill out, she'll come," Clawhauser insisted through his fourth doughnut. Nick could hear his swallow. "A little rain wouldn't stop Judy."
It's not the rain I'm worried about. Flashes of Judy stranded somewhere in a muddy ditch appeared in his mind, and he quickly pushed them out. "I'm so going to make her pay for coffee tomorrow."
"And breakfast!" Clawhauser piped up, waving the second-half of number four in the air. Sprinkles skittered across the countertop; some lightly hit the uniformed elbow Nick was using to support his weight. "I want cinnamon rolls tomorrow."
Nick chuckled, and glanced back at his rotund feline friend. "I got you, Spots."
"Thanks, Nicky," Clawhauser cheerfully replied. "Oh, you heard that the pred that mauled the elk yesterday was caught, right?"
Nick raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? That's great."
"Pfft, yeah. It would be even greater if they found the other thirteen that are out there." Clawhauser licked a sprinkle off his finger.
"Any positive drug test?"
Clawhauser shrugged. "I dunno, I think it's still in the lab. They're pretty sure he was on something."
Nick gave a small sigh, and sipped his coffee. "How strange. Normally I would say it had something to do with Lambchop, but it's not looking that way now."
Squeaking out a happy giggle, Clawhauser poked Nick's shoulder. "I'm sure everything will just dandy here soon, Nick! Especially with you and Judy around."
Nick chuckled, brushing off his sleeve in case Clawhauser's finger had donut residue. "You know it, Spots." There was chocolate smeared on the right corner of Clawhauser's mouth, but Nick didn't say anything. He just smiled his signature coy smile and focused his attention back toward the double-doors.
Flick. Flick.
A small, bunny-shaped figure appeared on the other side of the rain-spattered glass door; Nick felt his ears perk up slightly at the sight of it. Was it Judy?
But the animal that quickly pressed though the door and onto the marble floor was not Judy. This rabbit was not a rabbit, but in fact a hare; a male hare, with a shade of fur that was slightly lighter than Judy's, broader shoulders, and a much calmer demeanor. He was also quite a bit taller, but that was expected of a hare.
Nick also noticed a nicely-tailored dark grey suit beneath a damp black trench coat, and a flat-brim trilby hat that folded down the hare's black-tipped ears and hid most of his face.
Nick appreciated a well-tailored suit.
Flick, flick, flick.
The hare casually walked toward the elevators, as if his presence at the ZPD was a common occurrence; although, in fact, it wasn't. Nick had never seen him before. Nick spent eighty percent of his time here; surely if this hare came around often, Nick would've caught a glimpse of him.
A new lawyer, maybe?
Nick took a gulp of his coffee, which was more sugar and cream than coffee, but provided an equal amount of rejuvenation from the lack of sleep the night before. He watched the hare press the elevator button over the brim of his coffee lid.
"Eight minutes until roll call!" Clawhauser exclaimed, and Nick could hear him stressfully stuff another doughnut in his mouth.
"Hey, Spots, slow down, wontcha? Save one for Judy," Nick jived, glancing back at the cheetah. He chuckled. "What is that, number seven?"
"Number six!" Clawhauser whined, his cheeks full of pastry.
"Yeah, whatever. I'm glad you like them, big guy."
Flick. Flick.
Nick focused his attention back on the hare, who was now entering the elevator between a deer and a lion, who were exiting. The hare turned in place and pressed one of the top buttons to take him to his desired floor.
"Y'know, Nick, I really think you should call Judy, I know I said she would be fine but it's seven minutes 'til roll call and…"
Nick tuned out Clawhauser's rambles for a moment and watched (mostly with curiosity, with just a little bit of street-induced suspicion) this hare wait for the doors to close. No other mammal entered the elevator; a small ferret passed by, obviously thinking about slipping inside, but the hare was intimidating and the ferret was small and meek. She hunched past the elevator and opted for the one next to it.
There was a small ding! and the elevator doors began to close.
Nick sniffed, and took another sip of his cream-with-some-coffee.
What a strange hare.
But just as the elevator doors were about to shut and cut off Nick's view of the mammal, the flat-brim trilby hat tilted slightly upward to reveal a face. This face, marked with black fur and intensity, possessed a set of hardened grey-blue eyes that, to Nick's shock, immediately set their glare directly on him. The message was clear: I know you've been watching me.
The elevator doors closed, and Nick scratched his neck uncomfortably. Uh. Well. That was… awkward. He flicked his cup again. I guess not all bunnies look cute in hats.
Or, hares. Whatever, same difference.
Clawhauser hadn't ceased his ranting. "…Nick, it's five minutes to roll call, and I don't see—"
"Sorry I'm late!" a familiar voice called out, and both predators turned to find Judy Hopps, her fur damp and her breathing heavy, running up to the front desk. "I'm here, I'm here."
"Four minutes to roll call, my dears!" Clawhauser announced.
Judy sighed and nodded without replying, thrusting one hip generously outward as she motioned to Nick for morning sustenance. Her tail vibrated furiously to rid itself of rain droplets that had accumulated on the fur there.
Nick thought about playing keep-away with Judy's now-lukewarm coffee for a moment, but then decided against it due to their time constraint. He handed the bunny her beverage. "Cutting it a bit close, don't you think, Carrots?"
Judy swiped the coffee from his paw and scoffed, rapidly shaking one of her feet to dry it off a bit. "Yeah, yeah. I got the coffee tomorrow, I know." She sighed, deeper this time, as she took an offered doughnut from Clawhauser. The feline gave a small coo of sympathy.
"I'm good, I'm good." A deep, long drink of coffee, a sleeve-wipe of the mouth. "Let's just… get to roll call or the Chief will probably have our heads."
That was when Nick noticed: she had deep purplish-grey circles under her eyes. Her normally well-groomed fur was matted, her ears were droopy, and she was not nearly as peppy as usual. And a bit irritable, too, Nick observed, and Judy was never irritable.
Nick then decided that something was up, and immediately withdrew his guns.
"You're right, Carrots. You know, it's funny how much he says I don't care to everything, but he suddenly cares if we're thirty seconds late to roll call." Nick chuckled as they fast walked toward the Bullpen, giving a doughnut-occupied Clawhauser a quick farewell nod. "But, you never know with Bongo-Buns."
That nickname was more of an inside joke than a play on words; it involved a Pawaiian-themed birthday party for an officer, a set of bongos, and a Bogo who had a little too much of the party punch. Long-story short, Bogo thought the bongos were a chair, ended up breaking through the membrane, and getting them stuck on his rear end.
That nickname always made Judy laugh, but this time, it only enticed a small chuckle. "Yeah…" she replied unenthusiastically, and took another long gulp of her coffee.
Nick cocked one eyebrow, but didn't press her any further. Something was definitely wrong.
Flick flick flick flick.
... ... ... ... ...
Chief Bogo, with his clipboard in hoof and his glasses shoved back into his shirt pocket, fumbled to take hold of the correct key to the door of his office, which he currently stood in front of.
"Ugh," he mumbled to himself has he finally found the appropriate key, and slid it into the lock. "If I must do any more paperwork, it'll be the end to the Chief of Police. I'd rather do parking duty than more paperwork." After a pause, he grunted. "Who am I kidding? No, I wouldn't."
He started to turn the key when he realized, with a jiggle, that his door was already unlocked. Chief Bogo had a small habit of not locking up his office. He had been good about it recently, especially since Clawhauser's discovery of Bogo's interest in Gazelle; it had been one too many times that Bogo had walked in to neatly-wrapped gifts of Gazelle merchandise placed strategically around his office. Which would have been acceptable, had not one time Bogo come in with the mayor and a life-size cutout of Gazelle was found standing in the back corner with a note that read, "I thought you would enjoy this, Chief! -Clawhauser".
Bogo still brought the cutout home. He a had never necessarily been a sneaky mammal, but he certainly became one the night he snuck it out of the building.
Bogo felt troubled for only a moment at his forgetfulness, shrugged, and then opened his office door as he simultaneously peered at the markings on his clipboard. "I can't see a bloody thing without my glasses…" he mumbled, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
He glanced up, just about to make his way to his desk, and was taken aback at the small figure that sat in one of the two large guest chairs that occupied the room.
Bogo immediately grunted in disapproval. He did not like surprises. "Good morning, sir," he forced out, and glanced at the coat rack beside his bookshelf—a long coat and hat, raindrops still beaded on the fabric from the mammal's walk in the rain, hung lazily on one of its arms. "Did you have an appointment?"
The mammal, which Bogo now identified as a hare from his long ears and lean physique, only turned his head toward Bogo slightly. He could not yet see the mammal's face.
There was a short pause. Bogo was not a patient buffalo. He sniffed, trying to keep his impatience in check. He made himself a mental note to lecture Clawhauser for his failure to keep Bogo updated with his appointments.
"Is there some way I can help you, sir?" Bogo stood in his place. Until the hare identified himself, he would not get comfortable.
"Chief Bogo," the hare suddenly said, his voice rough with the hint of a British accent. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance properly."
The chief was done with all the nonsense. He folded his muscular arms, trying to convey to the hare his level of seriousness. "And you are…?"
"Oh, my apologies." All in one slow but precise motion, the hare slid off the large chair and into a slight bow. One paw was pressed tightly to his abdomen, the other held behind his back. Bogo had grown unfamiliar with this British formality since he moved to Zootopia. "Jack Savage, Chief."
Bogo scratched the underside of his chin. "I've heard that name before… I couldn't tell you where, though." Shrugging, he let his hoof fall back to his side. "I apologize."
The hare named Jack Savage chuckled, and lifted out of his bow. "Don't," he replied, shoving one paw into his pocket and cocking a brow. There were three streaks of dark fur that stretched across his cheekbones on each side of his face; along with his steely eyes, this gave him a certain hardened air that one would not normally find in his species. "That means that the MI6 have been doing their job well."
"The MI6." This was more of a statement than a question, but Bogo was not a trusting mammal; any creature could flaunt into his office with an accent, pretending to be someone from MI6.
Bogo's doubts were rebuked when the hare flashed him a MI6 ID, with Jack Savage printed right below the MI6 emblem. Bogo then fell into realization: this was the agent MI6 told him they would send. Their best agent, apparently. Who was, coincidentally, a rabbit—more technically, a hare.
What was with the universe wanting him to work with bunnies?
Bogo puffed a breath of air out his nose—he decided to begrudgingly accept the fact that, in order to do what had to be done, he would have to make room for yet another bunny hero.
Bogo reached out his hoof, and Jack took it. They exchanged a firm and fleeting handshake.
"Thanks for coming, Agent Savage," was all Bogo said.
"Anything for a friend of the MI6," was the reply. "And please, call me Jack."
Bogo just gave a gruff nod, and withdrew his hoof.
Jack peered up at the water buffalo, his gaze unreadable. "If you don't mind me saying so, Chief," he said, "you do not seem very surprised at my…" He sniffed. "…species."
Bogo thought about Officer Hopps and her annoying but admirable determination to show the ZPD time and time again that she was just as capable, if not more, than the rest of them. He also thought, more notably, about her success in that department.
Bogo said nothing for a moment, he just simply peered back down at the agent. Tucking his clipboard under his arm, he began to make his way around his desk to his comfy chair; he didn't want to spend the whole conversation towering over the mammal. "I've learned not to underestimate rabbits too much." Bogo settled into his seat.
Jack folded his arms in curiosity, with a facial expression that showed both his interest and his skepticism. Then, he chuckled; the expression melted. His shoulders relaxed. "Well, I can't say I'm not pleased."
"I would expect you run into that a lot," the buffalo mentioned, crossing his arms across the desk and leaning forward on his elbows. This rabbit was a weird combination of ruggedness and polish, Bogo noticed.
"You mean employers and coworkers dissatisfied at my species? Oh, yes." Jack glanced casually to the wall of bookshelves beside them and crossed his own arms. "Despite that, I try my best to earn their respect. Respect for one's teammates—or lack thereof—can affect a team's performance, as you know. Otherwise…"
He smirked coolly.
"…I wouldn't really care." A shrug. "To be completely honest."
Bogo immediately decided that he liked Agent Savage.
"However, I do apologize for my sudden appearance, Chief." Jack's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "I had assumed my superiors had informed you prior to this meeting."
"They hadn't informed me," Bogo replied, "but nevertheless, your presence is greatly appreciated and the speed of your arrival was most professional. Your superiors probably thought you coming in quietly without any notice was the best option, due to the circumstances."
"Well, Chief, I'm glad that you are satisfied."
Bogo offered a sincere nod, which was sort of his replacement for a smile. I'm just glad they sent someone to begin with. "Tell the MI6 that I am honored to receive help from them, especially from their best mammal."
Jack gave a small but genuine smile in return. "I am honored to be of help, sir." After a moment, his smile melted, and his mouth twisted in obvious concern. "Though, the question arises, Chief…"
"What would that be?"
Jack shifted from one foot to the other, and shoved his paws deep into his pockets. He focused his eyes seriously on Bogo, his expression solemn. "The problem you have must be dire if you ask for help from MI6 instead of the ZIA."
Bogo tapped the desk with his hoof in thought, though his gaze never left the smaller mammal. He could feel his jaw tightening. "That wasn't a question, Agent Savage."
"Jack," the hare corrected.
"Yes, Jack. Right."
Jack smirked. "The question was implied, Chief. You know that."
Of course Bogo knew that, but the truth of the matter was, he knew Jack wouldn't like the reason for sending his request to the MI6 instead of the ZIA. He wasn't even sure Jack would agree to go through with the mission.
"Well, to answer, Ag—Jack," Bogo replied, sighing heavily and leaning his forehead tiredly into one of his hooves. "It is… quite complicated, to say the least."
Jack gave a good-humored scoff. "If I didn't want to deal with complication, Chief, I wouldn't have joined MI6. Complicated problems are my specialty."
"I do not doubt your abilities."
Jack cocked his head slightly, and replied with just a hint of teasing, "But you doubt the ZIA's abilities?"
Bogo exhaled. "That's just it…it's the ZIA that's the problem."
The beans were officially spilled.
Jack raised his eyebrows; all humor that had been in his expression vanished. Bogo could see that he was in the process of absorbing that statement. He remained silent while the agent gathered his thoughts, focusing his eyes on Bogo but focusing his mind on the weight of Bogo's words.
Bogo was ready to heave a sigh whenever Jack's eyebrows were brought together into a grim frown; his ears, which had been relaxed the entire conversation, were now stiff and pointed with attention.
"Go…" Jack's eyes flashed before he continued. "Go on."
And so, Bogo did.
... ... ... ... ...
Judy felt slightly less tired after her large cup of coffee that Nick had bought for her. With a new cup of lesser-quality coffee that the ZPD supplied in the breakroom, Judy was at her desk, her face three inches away from her computer screen in extreme concentration.
She had just finished paperwork for a fender-bender she and Nick had to attend to, and was now doing some serious research. Nose twitching, eyes focused, and finger clicking rapidly, she slurped her overly-sweetened drink with gusto as she surfed Hoogle, hopping from one site to the next with the type of speed only a bunny could possess.
No… let's see, what about this? No, I can't do that…
"That doesn't look like paperwork, Officer Hopps."
The low, gruff voice scared the daylights out of Judy; her heart leapt in her throat. When she turned in her swivel chair to see who was standing behind her, the heart in her throat immediately dropped to her feet, and then onto the floor somewhere.
"Captain Howlton!" she grimaced, peering sheepishly up at her superior. Gregor Howlton was a towering grey timberwolf with observant eyes and a scowl that never seemed to leave his face. A nice enough guy, but very strict and not afraid to tell Bogo about employees slacking off. Right then, he stood menacingly above the tiny officer, his arms folded and eyebrow quirked as if to say, I caught you- just give in.
"We didn't special-order you a tiny computer to browse on," Howlton chided.
The rabbit poked her two pointer fingers together awkwardly, her ears flat against her head. Fantastic, Judy. "I'm sorry, Captain. I was just…" She racked her brain for an excuse—she desperately wished Nick was there, he would have been able to wiggle her out of this predicament in an instant. "Er…"
Howlton didn't wait or her to reply; he just gave a small puff out of his nose and rolled his eyes. "Reassignment in the Bullpen in 30 minutes, Hopps."
Judy tried to give a convincing smile, and gestured a flimsy salute with one paw. "Yessir! Heh, heh…"
Howlton eyed her incredulously for a moment, studying her silently. It made Judy uncomfortable. What made her even more uncomfortable was when Howlton's grey eyes slid towards her computer screen, which she knew blazed the words: Restaurants Hiring Weekend Servers! Apply now.
She slowly (and hopefully discreetly) pushed her desk chair so her body was in front of the computer, cutting off Howlton's line of sight to the screen. She didn't want anybody to know that she was looking for a second job, especially not Captain Howlton, who would most likely report it to Chief Bogo if he found out.
But Howlton didn't say anything about her Hoogle searches, and didn't make it known if he had actually seen them. Instead, he simply paused; Judy felt a jolt of fear thud against her chest at the silence. She mentally began to prepare herself for a lecture.
Judy was surprised when Howlton turned away and lowly mumbled, "Get some sleep tonight, Hopps. You look exhausted," before walking off, his paws clasped firmly behind his back.
Judy only let herself breathe when Howlton turned the corner to another cubicle, wiping imaginary sweat from her forehead exaggeratedly. That might not be the end of it, but at least he didn't decide to punish me. Judy sighed in relief, allowing her ears and shoulders to relax.
Then she suddenly felt discouraged. Why did she even try? She couldn't possibly make time for another job, especially with the kind of hours she worked now. Maybe she and Bogo could work something out, concerning her schedule…?
Judy gave a low groan, and glanced towards the list of restaurants that she had pulled up on Hoogle. The Hoogle icon—a little owl—looked way too happy for the current situation he was assisting Judy in. "I don't know why I'm even trying…" she grumbled irritably, taking another long slurp of her coffee.
Ping!
Judy's ears perked up. That was her email notification on her computer. Sure enough, there was a New Message icon in the upper right hand corner. She opened it immediately; it might have been an email from Bogo. She always wanted to be updated on any important information.
It wasn't an email from Bogo; instead it was from Nick. Or, as his contact in her computer read, The Devilishly Handsome and Clever Officer Nicholas Wilde. Not her doing, obviously. He probably emailed her because he knew she didn't like the have her phone out while on the clock.
Judy smiled. She needed some comedic relief, especially then. After reading it, she had to hold back a bit of laughter; she covered her mouth with her paw.
...
CARROTSCARROTSCARROTSCARROTS
You finished that paperwork on the fender bender yet? Please say yes.
You better not be late to this meeting, too, or Blowgo might pop a baby buffalo out his butt. HURRY UP, Fuzz. I dunno about you, but the last thing I need is a Blowgo 2.0.
...
This nickname was new. Judy liked it; it was maybe a bit on the inappropriate side, but if anyone became friends with Nick expecting their friendship to be appropriate, they obviously didn't know Nick very well.
Judy didn't hesitate to type a sly response.
... ... ... ... ...
Nick heard his phone's pingaping! through the riff-raff of his fellow officers talking and moving around throughout the Bullpen. Nick smirked; he knew it was Judy. She was one of those mammals who always replied immediately.
He checked it, the screen lighting up to Judy's favorite selfie of the two—Nick looking quite surprised as his rabbit friend jumped up behind him and clicked the shutter button, her face wide with an enthusiastic smile.
Sure enough, there was an email from Carrots. He opened it, his smirk never leaving his face.
...
Nick, I gotta admit: you are the king of Bogo-name puns. Don't let it get to your big head, though; I'll admit defeat once, and only once.
I did finish the paperwork. You're welcome, dumb fox.
Maybe it would be a good thing for us to have a Bogo 2.0. You'd probably stop taking naps in the breakroom, then!
Let me quickly finish something up, and I'll come. I won't be late this time, haha! Don't get your fluffy tail in a twist.
...
Nick gave a low tch. If she thought that would make him stop taking naps in there, she was dead wrong. Maybe make him get in trouble more, but not stop his naps; five Bogos couldn't do that. Silly bunny.
A shadow slid over the tabletop in front of Nick. "Wilde."
On slid Nick's trademark smile. He glanced up at the source of the voice. "'Sup, Cap?"
Captain Howlton gave a small, disapproving growl. "Captain, Wilde. You call me Captain."
Nick leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands as if he was about to tell a bit of juicy gossip. "Sure thing, Cap."
Howlton looked like, for a moment, he was going to argue further; Nick almost wanted Howlton to argue with him. Just so Nick could annoy him, mostly.
"Whatever," Howlton said instead, with an eyeroll. Then, the wolf's normally-hard features softened. "Listen, Wilde. I have to discuss something with you."
Wilde held up his hands in mock defense, never letting the coyness slip from his face- he had a reputation to uphold! "If it's about me taking naps in the breakroom, sir, I can explain." Nick spread his paws open, forcing an innocent wideness of his eyes. "You see, most mammals do not realize this about me, but I am actually a very religious fox."
Howlton glared at him incredulously. "Religious."
"Yes, sir. You see, in the breakroom, I was not sleeping. I was merely…" Nick pressed his paws together as if in reverent devotion. "…engaged in prayer." He emphasized the last few words softly, like he was a priest discussing religion with a member of his congregation.
"With drool dripping down your chin?" Howlton snapped back, folding his muscular arms.
Nick gave him a shrug. He allowed his smile to grow wider. "What can I say? I'm focused."
"You let an immense amount of complete and utter crap spill out of your mouth, Wilde." Howlton gave a small snort, rolling his eyes.
"Hey!" Nick interjected, holding up on pointer finger. "My religion in not crap, sir. I demand respect!"
"You're demanding to get written up."
"How awful, a Captain who has no respect for the religion of his officers." Nick shook his head and tutted, sniggering. "What will the department think of your discrimination?"
Howlton scooted forward to let a tall lion officer by. "It would be offensive if there was anything to discriminate against. Instead, you were just being lazy."
Nick faked an exaggerated gasp, holding a paw to his chest in surprise. "Now he's calling his officers lazy for engaging in prayer during their break!"
McHorn, who was beside Nick, had been thumbing through his phone and nonchalantly pretending not to listen to the conversation that was going on beside him. When Nick gave this snide comment, the rhino didn't bother to hold back his amused chuckle; he quickly covered it up with a cough when Howlton sent him a meaningful glare.
Nick leaned back in his chair, admiring his work. Nick one, Cap zero.
Howlton, instead of admitting defeat, rolled his eyes again. This was a common occurrence between the two; Howlton pretended not to like Nick, and Nick was not shy to give him a reason to.
These mammals' relationship with each other seemed, to any unobservant mammal, based on dislike for one another and butting heads constantly. However, Howlton and Nick seemed to have an understanding; there was an underlying layer that, once exposed, would reveal that the two had a mutual respect. Their back-and-forth bickering was simply their way of friendship.
For Nick, he appreciated Howlton's lack of façade. Nick liked Howlton for the mere reason that Howlton was a real mammal, not an officer that pretended to be okay with Nick's antics. Nick also suspected the reason why Howlton appreciated Nick in return was simply because Nick wasn't exactly a cooperative employee; he had a feeling that Howlton liked him because he wasn't like all the other officers.
Despite the basis of their relationship, Nick enjoyed these competitions of wit with the Captain.
Howlton shifted his gaze from the rhino, who now had his horned nose deep in the something-or-other on his phone, back to Nick. His face suddenly turned very solemn; Nick's didn't. He kept the smile plastered on. "Fortunately for you, Nick, I didn't come to lecture you about your…" He fingered air quotes. "…prayer."
Nick snickered. "First and last time I'll hear that," he replied, thinking about how Howlton's interactions with him were ninety-nine percent lectures. "What's up, Cap?"
"It's about your partner."
A wave of concern flooded over Nick. He thought of her baggy eyes, her lateness, her general...lack of Judy-ness. He thought about what she had been like that day; silent, impassive, worn-down and unenthusiastic. She even let him pick the music in the cruiser! She never willingly let him do that. And now Howlton was approaching him about her?
"Carrots?" Nick finally let his smile slip off his face. "What about her?"
Howlton glanced to McHorn, who was once again pretending not to listen. Howlton motioned his paw for Nick to follow him; the fox immediately jumped off his chair without arguing. This can't be good, Nick thought, adjusting his tie as he followed the towering wolf out of the Bullpen and into the hallway. He could feel McHorn's suspicious eyes following the pair out the door, along with a few more stares. Instead of ignoring it, he turned and winked at McHorn slyly.
Don't let them know that they get to you, Nick.
The rhino grumbled, and focused his attention back on his phone.
Once outside and in a relatively private spot, Nick turned to the wolf and crossed his arms. The perturbed look Howlton wore made Nick's stomach drop a bit. He still forced on a smile. "So, Cap. Did Judy choke on a carrot or something?"
Howlton awkwardly scratched his neck. His eyes shifted to the wall behind them. "Well… I know it's not my business, but you're a good friend of Judy's."
"I'm her best friend," Nick replied shortly; then, he remembered his act, and smiled. Offering his superior a shrug, he continued, "The fact of the matter is, anything you have to say to me I'll eventually find out. It's not like Carrots is a very secretive bunny."
Howlton nodded. "I don't come to you as your Captain to tell you this, I come as someone who is concerned for Judy's well-being."
Dread flooded Nick. "What is going on, Gregor?"
Howlton would have normally flinched at the familiar use of his first name, but he didn't. Instead, he scratched his neck again.
"I went to inform Judy about the meeting. I found her in her cubicle," he muttered, "and I happened to look at her computer screen."
"And it had current pictures of Gazelle? Or cute toddler videos?"
Howlton shook his head.
"Oookay, then was she on Furbook?"
The wolf pursed his lips against his teeth sheepishly. "She was looking up weekend waitressing jobs."
Nick's breath caught in his throat. Waitressing jobs?
Howlton hurriedly shrugged, suggesting that he wasn't sure. "It may be nothing. I just noticed that she seemed pretty exhausted and out of it today, and on top of that, looking for a second job? I was just concerned."
Nick was baffled. Why in the world would Judy look for a second job? Judy wasn't by any means rich, but she wasn't poor either. Was she just looking for an extra buck?
"I figured you should know because if anyone could help her, it would be you," Howlton said. "I know it may not be appropriate for me to tell you, but I figured the happiness of my officers was more important than propriety."
Don't let them know that things get to you, Nick!
"I agree," Nick replied. "Thanks, Gregor. I owe you one."
"No problem," Howlton replied, and gave a small smile. "Maybe to repay me, you can stop having your little prayers in the breakroom." His left eyebrow slid up in amusement.
Nick forced a small chortle. "Fair enough. I'll try my best to hold back my religious practices." He was no longer in the mood to continue this battle of wit, however; he was racking his brain for a reason Carrots would do such a thing.
Howlton checked his watch. "Seven minutes till. I better get in there."
"I haven't seen Bogo," Nick commented, following the Captain back to the door of the Bullpen. He said this as more of a distraction for himself, to think about something else other than Judy.
"Chief Bogo," Howlton corrected. Nick didn't bother to hold back a roll of his eyes. "And he's in a last-minute meeting or something. He told me to fill in for him."
The fox nodded as if he understood, when in reality, he didn't. The chief hardly ever missed a roll call or a reassignment; it left Nick with a weird feeling. On top of that, Judy and her strange behavior weighed down on top of Nick like a twelve-ton boulder.
Nick would never say it out loud, but Judy was one of the most important mammals in his life. Any problem she had, he had; if she did have an issue that she thought waitressing might solve, he was hurt that he had to find out through Howlton instead of Judy. Did she not trust him like she's told him so many times before? Did Judy not feel the same way about their friendship as he did?
And more importantly, was Judy okay?
The bunny was already in their seat once Nick entered the Bullpen alongside the Captain. When Nick focused on her, the boulder he carried grew double what it was before; she looked so tired and worn down, her violet eyes dull and ungroomed ears droopy. She halfheartedly picked at the wood on top of their table, cheek leaning on paw.
Fishsticks, he inwardly cursed. Something is wrong.
Judy said nothing once Nick took his place beside her and Howlton began the meeting five minutes early. At one point, Nick gave her a classic grin and a wink, hoping it would cheer her up; she only returned a forced, weak smile.
Nick decided that this was not good, and that he would have to find out just why Judy wasn't Judy.
... ... ... ... ...
By the end of Bogo and Jack's discussion, three hours had already passed. Jack had shed his suitcoat and pushed the arms of his starched white shirt up to his elbows, the fur on the top of his head messy from his constant rubbing in stress; he was slowly pacing back and forth across the length of Bogo's office, studying the floor ahead of him with a concentration that bordered on unnecessary.
Bogo, who had already had his fair share of inward panic, silently watched the hare contemplate the depth of this issue. His glasses were perched crookedly at the end of his nose, and his hooves were relaxed upon the printed evidence of Bogo's suspicions.
Jack halted suddenly, and looked squarely at Bogo. "You do realize the gravity of your accusations."
"I am well aware," Bogo replied calmly, "And I hope with all of my being that they are not true."
Jack nodded, his sharp eyebrows furrowed. "As do I, Chief." He focused his gaze to nothing in particular, deep in thought. "I hate to admit, but the reasons for your suspicions are well-grounded."
"Your superiors thought so, as well." Bogo laid one hoof on top of the other. "Which is why they sent you, I assume."
"Indeed."
There was a brief few minutes of silence, both mammals simply weighing their discussion. Jack was obviously in a state of perplexity- not just with the complications of the case, but with the possibility that the ZIA was meddling in some things they shouldn't meddle in. If it were true, it would be almost betrayal to the MI6; the two organizations were sister groups, and they walked paw-in-paw throughout a lot of their history.
"Chief," Jack murmured, "if your suspicions are true…"
"…then it could mean a permanently corrupt Zootopia," Bogo finished, willing his voice to not waver. "Yes."
Jack swallowed. Bogo was sure he had faced worse situations before as far as the severity of the actual crimes, but the thought of the ZIA becoming so vulnerable and moldable was frightening, especially to an agent of MI6; it was proof that it could happen to their own organization, as well.
Which, in turn, was bad news for Animatropolis, the cultural center of the United Mammal Kingdom and the headquarters of MI6. Bogo was sure it was like a slap in the face to Jack.
"Okay," Jack suddenly said, rubbing the pads of his paws across his eyes. "Alright…"
"Would you like some water, Agent?"
Jack shook his head, but only slightly. His ears, which had been flattened against his head, perked up. "No, thank you, Chief. I appreciate it." He heaved a deep sigh, closing his eyes and inclining his face toward the ceiling. "So what all do we have?"
Bogo adjusted his glasses, and began to flip through the notes in front of him. "Too much to be comfortable with, but not nearly enough to make an arrest." Bogo heaved a sigh and scratched his neck, papers clutched tightly in one hoof. "So how do we confirm innocence…or guilt?"
Jack paused for a moment before piping in, "Infiltration."
Bogo cocked a brow. "Direct infiltration?"
"No, too obvious. Wraqune knows you're suspicious of him, and will be wary of any new face that approaches." Jack rubbed his chin in thought. "It will have to be the classic cloak-and-dagger."
"Sneaking into ZIA Headquarters?" Bogo took off his glasses so he could focus his vision on the hare, who was currently tapping his foot in concentration. "Is it even possible?"
"Of course it is. There's always a way," Jack answered. "We just have to figure it out."
"Do you have an idea of how it could be done?"
Jack twisted his mouth. "I might… but I won't be able to do it alone." He sighed. "I thought about flying in some fellow agents for a moment, but with the Director being aware of your suspicions, he's probably keeping tabs on all foreign agencies. Bringing in more MI6 agents to Zootopia would catch his eye."
Bogo cleared his throat. He was unsure of how the agent would react to what he was about to suggest, but decided to go ahead and say it anyway. "I have officers who are perfectly capable to assist you on your mission, Agent."
Jack cocked an eyebrow. "With all due respect, Chief, spying is a whole different face of law enforcement."
"Two of my officers solved one of the biggest cases in Zootopia history," Bogo immediately retorted; he had this part prepared. He was not afraid to brag about the competence of his men. "They befriended a mob boss, located and snuck into a top-secret laboratory and prison organized by our previous mayor, discovered fourteen missing mammals, uncovered the location of a drug manufacturer, and hustled the drug lord Bellwether into confessing and leading herself to arrest-all in a total of seventy-two hours…" he shrugged, "…give or take."
Bogo didn't include the fact that Officer Hopps had to go on a month of soul-searching before she discovered the Nighthowler effect; she wasn't actively engaged in the investigation, so he didn't count it. He also didn't bother to mention the fact that Officer Wilde was not an officer at the time… But Agent Savage didn't need to know that, either.
Jack looked genuinely impressed, and to Bogo's satisfaction, quite pleased as well. "Your officers accomplished all that?"
"Above and beyond," Bogo replied, incapable of holding back a triumphant smirk. He leaned back in his office chair. "One has personal experience in the criminal world. An ex-con mammal," he said. "An extreme asset to the force. He has connections all over the city, and knows the ins-and-outs better than most perps do."
"And the other?"
Bogo couldn't help but not reply immediately, stretching out the suspense. "She's strategic, clever, quick-witted. Also, a rabbit," he finally muttered, "not unlike yourself, Jack."
Jack's eyes widened.
There was silence, a kind of silence Bogo didn't know how to interpret.
After a moment, Jack gave a small cough, and loosened his black tie. "I won't say I'm not impressed."
"Certainly, they haven't seen or done as much as you have… but they are not incapable. They're…" Bogo cleared his throat. It was quite a feat for him to admit this. "…they're my best."
Jack cocked an eyebrow. "You're putting a lot of faith in your officers, Chief."
"If I couldn't, I wouldn't be suggesting this to you, Agent."
Jack considered this for a moment, then nodded. Bogo knew he had the agent hooked from the moment he pulled out the fact that Officer Hopps was a rabbit.
Jack rubbed his chin, and stared at Bogo with serious flashes of blue-grey. "I want to meet them."
"That can be done," Bogo agreed.
The hare sniffed in thought. "Normally, I would ask to see their abilities for myself, but it seems that we do not have the time to do such a thing." He gave a slight bow of his head in Bogo's direction. "Not that I doubt your word, Chief, but one can never be too careful."
"I understand, Jack. I don't blame you." Jack was being polite, Bogo knew, but the underlying message was clear: I would be staking the entire mission your word, so I hope your claims of these officers are true.
Bogo reached for the phone on his desk. "Do you want to meet them right now? I can call for them."
Jack shook his head abruptly, and Bogo withdrew his hoof. "No- let me do some research first. I'll get my tech guys back at MI6 to do some digging into this new Wraqune fellow, see if anything else can be found that we can tuck under our belts." He pulled out a cellular device from his well-pressed slack pocket and deftly punched in a number, his eyes glazed with the white reflection of his phone screen. "Excuse me for one moment."
Jack stepped to the back corner of the room, the cell firmly pressed to his ear. Bogo watched silently, leaning his forehead into his hooves. Just witnessing an MI6 agent organize a way to convict and stop the crimes of Zootopia's own ZIA made his stomach turn.
We may be in too deep for us to climb out of, Bogo realized, suppressing a groan.
"Hello? Yes, hi. I'm fine, Damon… No, this is a business call." A pause. "Does it matter? I just need you to dig as much info on a raccoon named Emerson Damario Wraqune. Do me a favor, Damon, and don't tell the others about this right now… Yes, of course let Regina know, but no one else." Jack scratched his nose. "Yes, I know it's the ZIA Director. Are you paid to ask questions?"
Bogo shifted uncomfortably.
"That's fine, just make sure you don't send off signals to the ZIA. It would be a surefire way to let Wraqune know that we're investigating him... We don't know what's going on, Damon, we're just considering every possibility. Okay, thanks. I owe you." Jack hung up, and turned back towards Bogo. He was studying the phone, holding it with both paws.
"Well?" Bogo asked.
"They should be finished in the next twelve hours," Jack replied, and proceeded to snap his cell phone in half. He removed the SD card and broke that, as well. "They have to get their way around the ZIA tech without sending red flags."
Bogo nodded, pretending not to be alarmed at the fact that the agent just purposefully broke what had to be at least an eight-hundred-dollar phone. "So, you'd like to meet my officers tomorrow?"
Jack nodded, slipping what remained of his cell phone into his pocket. "Yes. Five in the afternoon, if it suits you. My techies should be done by then."
"Do you want me to inform them on what's going on beforehand?"
"No, no. We'll do all of that during the meeting." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a stitched bi-fold wallet, flipping it open to reveal a Zootopian ID with his picture on it. He faced it towards Bogo. "To everyone else, apart from the two officers who I will meet tomorrow, my name is Jackson Russel. I'm an accountant, born in Britain, moved to Zootopia six years ago. I'm here for financial reasons concerning the department."
"Understood." The sickly feeling in Bogo's stomach was growing with every added precaution Agent Savage took to cover up his trail—the broken phone, the tech help, the fake ID. It made the situation seem even more real, more dangerous. While Chief Bogo was used to danger, this was different; it could totally alter the foundation of Zootopia.
Jack seemed to notice Bogo's anxiety, which surprised the buffalo. Not everyone could accurately read him; the agent was obviously good at what he did. "Chief," Jack uttered, taking a step toward him, "this stuff is my job. If I didn't think it was fixable, I wouldn't have agreed to be part of it."
"Yes, I know," Bogo answered. He wanted so badly to go buy a large bean-burger and a pack of beer, lean back in his recliner, and watch baseball all night.
Jack gave him a smile. "So you also know that we can figure out what the ZIA is meddling in… that there's hope for Zootopia."
"I sure as hell hope so."
Annnd, there ya go.
One thing that I found super-challenging with writing this was the godforsaken NAMES. For some reason, I had such trouble coming up with names for my OCs! Like, animal-themed names (Fangmeyer, Trunkaby, Hopps, etc). I must have gone through a hundred stupid wolf-themed names before I decided that "Howlton" wasn't that stupid. If anyone wants to PM me some name ideas, it would be awesome because with the way I'm planning on going with this story, I'm gonna need some. (I'll give credit to you if I use it, of course.)
I must admit, guys, I was super-nervous posting this without a beta. I need one, ya'll! D:
And criticism is welcome. I'll take any chance to improve.
Thank you, everyone, for being so lovely and giving my story a chance. :) I genuinely hope you all enjoyed it. Chau!
