Officer Judy Wilde wakes to the impatient rattling of her husband's phone. Its vibrating tantrum wanders over the wooden surface of his nightstand until it collides with a glass of water, ringing violently against it. A fragile tune fills the room. Judy lets her eyes adjust to the darkness, squinting at the predatory glare of the analog clock that squats above the refrigerator. 1:34 AM. She decides whoever it is can wait. The rumbling dies after seven more repetitions. Judy turns over to face her partner before falling back asleep.
She admires the mathematical precision of his head, the way it seems to be built out of different geometries. She loves the conical ears that lay flat against his skull, and the isosceles snout that protrudes like a monument from his face. She likes the line of his lips, how they run parallel on either side of his mouth until they meet perfectly under his trapezoid nose. Judy thinks that if she measured these features, they would come out to be whole numbers—no decimal points, no fractions of a thousandth—just precise sizes. Even his eyes seem to carry pinpoint qualities when open, giving the impression that there is an analytical sharpness that calculates behind his pupils. Judy closes her eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing. It is a smooth transfer, soundless and calm.
The phone sitrs again, resuming its clinking against the glass. Judy watches his face for signs of consciousness. His eyes remain motionless, but it is the slight twitch of his ears that betrays him. Lazy, orange son of a bitch, she thinks, still trying to make me do your work? Judy paws at his sides with rude, tender force.
"Phone's ringing… Nick."
His head barely nods in slumbering acknowledgment. Judy persists.
"C'mon fox. Up. It'll go to voicemail again if you don't pick up."
Nick's eyebrows point in mock surprise, his lids still shut. His voice is groggy and soft.
"You've foiled me again, Officer Obvious. But, please, before you take me away, you must tell me how you discovered my master plan."
Her foot thumps against his thigh. She smiles.
"Asshole."
"Mhmm," he mutters.
"Chief'll have your pelt if that's him."
He points a limp finger towards her side of the bed where their radios stand in the dual charging station on her dresser, the antenna stiff and alert.
"Not on the radios, not important," he says, draping an arm over her hip. The vibrations continue, demanding attention. Judy is almost impressed with his lackadaisical commitment. She plays her trump card.
Judy takes his muzzle in her paws, kissing just below the nose. His whiskers flicker at the contact. His ears twitch, animated by the possibility of sex. She strokes the underside of his chin with her knuckles, tracing the hard lines of his jawbone, confirming his suspicions. The paw on her hip stalks down towards the line of her underwear, dipping just below the cloth barrier. Her cottonball tail jerks as his finger traverses the elastic band, tugging with gentle anticipation. Her ears slide over her back as they stand erect over her head. Nick's tail skates under the covers until it reaches her knees, skimming over her sensitive thighs. The smell of his arousal is crisp as he tilts his muzzle close to her ears. A knot of pleasure builds in her stomach.
"You should take these off."
She almost forgets why she did this in the first place.
"Yeah, I should. Right after you answer the phone."
Nick's eyes open to see a smug grin on his wife's face. Judy watches with satisfaction as he scans her in disbelief, desperate to find any sign that she's joking. They challenge one another in silence, their eyes communicating with hard defiance and aggressive arousal. He curses her, ranting as he reaches blindly behind him for the phone.
"You know who I think that is?" he asks. Judy grins at his feverish antics. She plays along.
"Who?"
"That," he says, "is probably one of the hundreds of mistresses I have hidden in Zootopia, calling to tell me that she's won the lottery, and that I should leave my beautiful, gorgeous, cock-teasing wife."
They are giggling by the end of it, delirious in the early hours of the morning. Nick finds the rattling device, swinging the screen in front of his face, prepared to jam his finger into the small red button. The display makes him stop. Three missed calls from Leonard, Nick's partner at the ZPD. There are texts as well.
Where are you?Pick up your radio
Missed call from: Leonard S.
Missed call from: Leonard S.
Pick up your fucking radio
Are you and J ok?
Missed call from: Leonard S.
Judy watches Nick deflate, his wide grin compressing into a tight, anxious frown. His ears lurch back against his skull. The screen casts ghoulish light over his features, aging him under the harsh brightness. He taps the answer button as Leonard's picture comes up on the screen again, signaling for Judy to get dressed. She bolts from the bed towards her closet. The black panther on the other end sounds childish and afraid as he launches into a series of statements and questions.
"Jesus fuck, Nick. Are you guys alright? Where are you? Why haven't you been answering your fucking radio? Purrsia and I have been waiting for almost fifteen minutes. Please tell me you're on your way."
Nick digests his partner's questions. He turns towards the radio chargers, picking up one of the black boxes, hitting the PTT button. He is not treated to the usual bark of static. He drops it onto the sheets, dead. Scrambling over the bed, he reaches behind the nightstand for the power cord. It wiggles, loose in the socket. He curses as he flings himself off the bed, reassuring Leonard that he and Judy will be there in twenty minutes. Both rabbit and fox hurry through the darkness, thoughts of romance drowning in an ocean of panic and confusion.
Nick and Judy sit in silence as their old truck rumbles through the streets of Zootopia, its engine coughing and whining as the driver forces the grumpy machine to work. The tchotchke on the dashboard—a hippo with a jovial smile in a faded hula skirt—jitters wildly, flinging back and forth with the rough jerks of the truck. A long-dead air freshener dangles from the rearview mirror. A flurry of police cars passes, their lights and horns blaring into the darkness. The paranoid and the sleepless peek from behind their curtains. Nick glances at Judy as she texts Purrsia.
"Anything?" he asks.
She shakes her head, leaning against the window. Her words escape in a cloud of melancholy, fringing the glass with fogged sadness.
"All she says is 'Too much to explain. Get here asap.'"
Nick watches the road, somber and nervous as the headlights swallow up the greying asphalt. He fiddles with the radio dials again, a futile attempt—it's been broken for months. The lack of chatter makes them fidget. It takes them fifteen minutes to get to the station in the dead of night.
The station is alive with officers filing in and out of the doors, some dressed in heavy, chitinous combat gear while others are only in basic blue uniforms. Nick parks the truck in its reserved spot, and the machine turns off with a grateful cough. They rush from the vehicle into the cold night, past officers who greet the late couple with curt nods, past the gleaming double doors to Clawhauser's desk, where the heavyset cheetah barely takes the time to nod in the direction of the meeting room as he listens to the phone. His eyes are red and glassy. His usual, buoyant cheeks sag with exhaustion. The coffee cup on his desk is full and cold. The pair dash towards the lockers, dressing with panicked haste. Meeting back outside, they catch each other's eyes before they enter "The Den." Chief Bogo's baritone voice reverberates through the door. Quick "I love you's" are exchanged as they push inside.
Purrsia and Leonard aren't the only officers in the meeting room, but they are the most noticeable. Leonard leans massively against the wall, going through his regular routine of nervous habits. The black panther flickers like a humongous, agitated shadow, running his claws over his head, lashing his tail in skittish, serpentine patterns. His claws scrape and tick against the white tile floor as he taps his footpaws, impatient and uptight. The deep blue of his uniform melds with indiscriminate smoothness into his sleek, midnight fur. Gear clings to his bulk, childish compared to his mass. The rookie compresses his head between his knuckles, squeezing his pale eyes shut under the relaxing pressure.
Purrsia stands in stark opposition to Leonard. Her wide face stares at the floor with blank concentration—blue eyes unblinking. The snow leopard's spotted alabaster coat juts from every available crevice in her uniform, concealing her taut, powerful muscles in deceiving fluff. Utterly still, her tail hangs between the columns of her legs like a hanged body.
Hulking over the wooden podium, the chief of police grips the minuscule stand with pronged, bovine fingers, tapping the stand with disciplined anxiety. Standing over eight feet tall, the stern water buffalo dwarfs all other presences. His horns branch out from the side of his head with commanding austerity, intimidating in their curvaceousness. Glinting in the light, his glasses balance over his bouldered snout as he finishes his briefing the remaining officers. The room echoes with his bravado, the baritone words commanding every square inch of "The Den."
"-and there will be people who are panicked and scared. As an officer it's your job not to lose your composure when you get swarmed by a hundred different species asking questions. The last thing these people need to see is the protectors of their city cracking under pressure. If you see instigators, pull them aside to confront them, and if that doesn't work—," Chief Bogo glowers from under his eyebrows, "—take them down."
A few ears and tails in the rows of officers flinch.
"Dismissed."
Officers file out of the rows, hustling out the doors towards squad cars and motorcycles. The chief heaves a sigh once the last uniform departs, the black pits of his nostrils flaring wide. His entire form sags as he steps from behind the podium, his short tail slapping against the back of his thighs like a dead limb. He signals for Nick and Judy, who are talking with their partners, too tired to care that they are late.
"Officer Hopps, Officer Wilde, glad you could make it to this shitshow."
Judy and Nick salute before sitting, training their eyes on the water buffalo. Bogo gestures towards Purrsia and Leonard.
"Your partners have been informed of the situation, and will give you the full rundown on your way out to patrol, but there's something that I'd like to ask of you four while I have you in private."
Bogo lifts his head to scan the doors before lowering himself down to an acceptable level, stabbing his trident fingers into the table. His attempt at a whisper still reverberates through Nick and Judy's large ears.
"Starting at 12:09 this morning, each of Zootopia's districts began to lose power, starting with the blizzard fans in Tundratown. By 12:50, all twelve sectors shut down completely except for the metropolis area. The only places supplied with running electricity directly outside the city are hospitals and anything else that has a backup generator. As of now, we've blamed it on a massive malfunction in the grid system, but the engineers who initially reported the incident said that the power was more so drained rather than shut off—siphoned off to somewhere that's not on the grid map."
Leonard's neck flexes as his head shakes with alarm. The rest of them sit still, silence blooming among the group. Bogo continues.
"Which is why we don't think that it's a terrorist attack. You four, along with Howllen and Rexly are the only ones who know about this—the only ones I can trust right now. Both your teams will be sent to patrol the metropolis to keep the people there under control—their safety is our main concern for tonight. But I want you to keep your eyes peeled. Wherever the power's gone, it's most likely ended up somewhere in the metropolis, seeing that it's the only part of Zootopia that has power. If you see anything suspicious call it in, and don't go in alone."
Leonard struggles to form words.
"Chief, I-, don't you think-don't these people deserve to know what's going on?"
Bogo cuts the rookie off before he can go further, holding up a segmented hoof.
"Yes, they do deserve to know, but not now. The amount of panic that would cause—the ZPD wouldn't be able to contain it. It would be disastrous."
Bogo eyes the four, cementing his words before giving the final orders.
"Nick and Leonard, you'll be heading north by The Spire. Judy and Purrsia, you two are stationed south of the Bamboo Quarter. Tonight, you are my eyes and ears. Good luck, officers."
AN: I do not own any of these character's and I never will. I hope you guys enjoyed the first real chapter of "Hunted." Any chapter that I put up here may be edited at any time, as I do not have a beta reader to bounce ideas off of or skim it for errors. This will probably get longer at some point, and I hope to make longer updates in the future.