In the Eyes of a Fox

by DarthPeezy

Nick is thirty-two when he graduates from the Academy. In thirteen years he will destroy Zootopia, betray everything that accepting the Blue meant, and not regret it. This is the story of those thirteen years and all the years before. This is why Nick stands on the bloody ashes of a society that betrayed him. This city will be remade in the eyes of a fox.

Year 45

Nick has yet to win but he is close. Smoke and ash clog his lungs, and he relishes every strained gasp because it means he's one breath closer to winning. He finishes securing the knife around his left wrist with a blood-stained cloth scavenged from a fallen officer. He tenses from the pain, hating that he let his guard down long enough for Wolford to break it. A glance to the broken body of the wolf reminds him that all of this is worth it.

The ground shakes. An explosion across the city made by the mammals he calls his allies. He doesn't trust most of them, but they have value. Without them, this would not have been possible. For that, if nothing else, he is grateful for them.

He steps over a puddle of blood as he descends to the vaults. The last officials of the Republic are held in the vaults, the most secure area in the city. And yet, planning would always win against static defences.

Those that don't take shelter are dead by his paw, be it spears pinning them to the wall or claws spilling crimson. Those closest to his betrayal are testaments to his rage. Bogo will forever be remembered as the art of a killer long gone mad.

They call him the Butcher in some circles.

A quick inhale and Nick stills. That scent is familiar, evoking regret, rage and sorrow in the same instant. He forces some of the tension out of his body through a slow exhale. This day was coming, he knew. It always was ever since their betrayal set him down this path.

Nick steps around the corner. There is one objective before he heads to the vault. A promise must be upheld. And Nick will die before he breaks his oath.

A dark corridor separates him from the door. Not that it mattered. Day and night make no difference to him anymore. Everything is within his sight.

So, he sees the rabbit standing between the door in crisp detail. He can make out each individual strand of fur and knows them better than he knows himself. Even now he can tell apart those grey by nature and those grey from stress.

"Hello, Carrots," Nick says, tilting his head and giving her a feral grin. "I wondered where they hid you. Makes sense."

"You don't have to do this, Nick."

He chuckles grimly. "There's no turning back. I've come too far and had my soul stained black to be stopped by a few words."

"There's always forgiveness," she tries even as she shifts her weight, ready for the coming fight.

Nick raises his hand, matted thickly with blood. "I doubt Wolford would forgive me. This was always inevitable, Judy. After all that you monsters did to me," he snarls, losing control for a moment. All he sees is red and fire and blood before he forces the madness down. "This society is sick and twisted to the core. Only blood will purge its sins. Now, come fight."

He smiles as she raises her gun. They christen the new year with blood and gunfire.

My sly bunny.

Year 11

Nick is eleven when he finally understands a fundamental fact: no matter what he does he will always be a second-class citizen. He can protest and moan but he will always have to struggle to earn a shred of respect that others receive without thought.

He learns this after the mammals who tried to muzzle him get away with it, not even a demerit on their records. After all, they were just afraid the fox had lost control and had acted to defend themselves. That was all the justification they needed.

(In the future they will attribute his accomplishments to Judy. That is what it means to be a fox.)

Year 19

Nick is still a youth in most respects. He's seen bad things and done some questionable things. But he's never experienced the soul-shattering grief that comes from taking a life. In a few minutes, he will.

Back before Mr Big controlled all of Tundratown, he was nothing more than a low-level player. But he had ambition and both the cunning and intelligence to match. Which was why he saw some of what Nick could become—a thief and saboteur without equal.

(No one foresees the monster he will become.)

Another gang ruled the tundra and parts of Savannah. They called themselves the Immortal Sons, a pretentious name for jumped up mobsters. But they are cunning and they have the brawn to match their boasts. Even the police avoid their territory.

Nick is nineteen when he burns them to the ground.

Without his father to guide his way, Nick had fallen in with a bad crowd as his mother would say. Mr Big is something of a father figure and how could he not be when he was so charismatic and ambitious. So willing to nurture Nick's talents and protect him from those who would harm him.

But all of that is context that matters very little to the teenager on the verge of becoming his own fox. In the future, Nick will be able to see all the little mistakes he made in infiltrating the Sons' vault like not having used a scent mask. He will be able to see how taking that detour to avoid the flames consuming the compound was a foolish idea.

Nick will see all of that when he is older. For now, he fears for his life. The mammal he fights is larger and better trained—you didn't survive long in the Sons if you weren't the most dangerous around—and Nick is certain he's going to die.

The fight is disjointed, scenes in a badly edited movie. A flash of light reflecting off a gun. A frantic jump forward. The whoosh of claws slicing through the air. Blood, some belonging to the other mammal, most from the wound in his shoulder. Threats and hate-filled words traded in equal measure.

All of this happens in a few seconds unlike what the media would have you believe. Fights are usually decided in the first three exchanges. Usually. If it weren't then this would be the story of another fox.

But Nick survives.

It is called the Sons Burning for a reason. Tundratown and Savannah burn in equal measure, streets and building scorched in conflagrations of homebrew explosives. Its luck that an explosive goes off behind Nick.

In the dead of night, a sudden light will blind you.

Nick sees his opportunity and takes it, slamming into the larger mammal. He does not press the assault, instead diving for the discarded gun.

They say that taking a life is difficult. It is not in the moment of the act. Right then and there, Nick knows what will happen if he doesn't pull the trigger. The mammal will follow him until Nick lies dead on the floor.

The decision is simple: kill or be killed.

You know what Nick chooses. One's life is more valuable than anything else.

But in the days following the event Nick... 'shatters' is perhaps an accurate word to describe it. Grief and horror shadow him in everything that he does. He never once expected to care for someone who hated him more than the world.

(In the future, Nick fights a Judy that hates him even though he will always love her. Even as she breaks his leg again, he can never hate her.)

For his actions, both the act of sabotage and killing the mammal, Nick becomes a made-man of Mr Big. He could have become one of the most powerful members of the criminal underground had he chosen so.

Instead, he chooses a life of petty, but legal, cons.

Mr Big allows it.

Year 44

Nick is forty-four, betrayed and halfway down the path to damnation. He understands that history repeats as he watches Tundratown burn once again. A part of him is revolted by what he has done.

(He's had a long time to learn how to ignore that voice.)

There are choices in life that once made cannot be undone no matter how we may wish it. One such choice is currently being crushed in his fist. Fru Fru and her daughter scream and sob, hating Nick for killing Mr Big. Oh, his body is somewhere on the floor, likely near his protector Koslov, also afflicted with this insidious condition known as death.

Nick shrugs. What is one more death when much worse is to come? This is the final stretch. The new year dawns soon and that dawn will be fire and death.

(You may have chosen to willfully misunderstand. Let it be phrased simply and without ambiguity: Nick kills the mother and daughter.)

Year 38

"My soul hath corrupted by vengeance

Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey

In my own salvation

And your eternal slumber.

"Legend shall speak

Of sacrifice at world's end

The wind sails over the water's surface

Quietly, but surely."

Nick closes the book and looks to Judy. She is as beautiful as the day he met her.

(Even as she shoots him in the leg, she is beautiful.)

Sunlight is a pale imitation of Judy, Nick believes and always will. He loves her as the moon loves the sun—and perhaps that is their relationship; only by reflecting Judy's light will Nick ever shine. He doesn't mind as she is fire and lightning given form, the warmth of a lover's embrace found in every word, and the biting humour of a best friend never far behind.

Love does not begin to describe what Nick feels for Judy. It will never fully describe how he feels.

"I was expecting something more..." Judy trails off, biting her bottom lip as he floppy ears twitch.

Nick chuckles lightly. "Crass. Vulgar. Irreverent. I think you're looking for something along those lines my dumbstruck bunny."

She punches him for that. "But really," she says after letting silence descend, "I didn't ever think you'd practice poetry."

"My dad was a poet when he wasn't a soldier." He looks away. "I guess we do become our parents in the end."

(You are not the sum of those who came before. But Nick believes it, so it must be true for the sake of his story, for our beliefs shape the roads we walk.)

His shoulder stings as she punches him again. "If that was true I'd be running a farm in the middle of nowhere." The pause is important so he looks at her, holds her gaze until there is nothing left in the world but them. "I'd never have met you."

The moment matters too much for him to treat it irreverently. This is a moment mammals imagine but never occur, the closest to a declaration of love. He should treat it tenderly, with the care you would give a crystal flower.

"Shucks, Carrots, I didn't know you cared." He looks away for a second. "But thank you."

The hours pass by sleepily. The sun streaming in through the windows dances across the floor of their apartment, reflecting off the screen of their TV which shows an insipid law series that Judy enjoys. Nick mostly focused on her reactions.

"You never told me what it means," Judy says suddenly.

He blinks lazily. "Does there have to be a meaning to everything?" Her gaze is heavy and Nick sighs. "It can mean a lot of things. That's the point. Some of the best poetry I've ever read was a story connecting each individual couplet, each stanza and each third line. I think there were a dozen meaning in the first two stanzas alone."

"Yeah, but what does this mean to you. When you wrote it," she adds after a moment.

"The lengths we could go for revenge," he says slowly. "We're all animals deep down as Mr Big said and that's true. But an animal doesn't think, doesn't plan. An animal reacts on instinct. But the thinking animal is more terrifying. Imagine all the cruel plots we come up with our spare time but throw away because we're basically decent mammals. Now remove that social filter and you have something without restraint and without morals."

She lays her head on his shoulder. "And somehow it seems like the story of a mammal who lost their path but made a hard sacrifice at the end, finding redemption through their actions. It sounds like the story of a hero."

"Salvation can be anything, Judy, even the corpses left in the wake of someone's rage. The sacrifice could have been his morals. In the end, Judy, the story of the villain and the hero require sacrifice."

(You believe you know which role Nick will play in the future. Perhaps it is true that he is the villain. What hero murders a child? But then, what if the heroes protect an evil system?)

Year 36

You know what Nick is to become, a fox whose name will be synonymous with bloodshed, but you do not know what led to him becoming that. Listen carefully.

Nick is thirty-six when the investigation of a murder in his apartment building changes his life. The last four years as an officer of ZPD had been spent successfully with few incidents to damage his reputation. He knew a single slip up, no matter how small, would be treated harshly because of what he was. A fox. So, everything was done by the book.

He follows the trail of non-existent clues down a very dark and slippery road. He fights and nearly dies many times, not truly understanding what he follows. It's like trying to complete a word puzzle in another language. But Nick is relentless in his drive to uphold his oath to the Blue.

Only in the aftermath of a fight with a kudu that moves like lightning does Nick finally notice how different he is. He's stronger, faster, more dangerous than a fox could be. As he follows the dark tangle of secrets and lies he realises that the bitter blueberry was a capsule containing a serum that did more than perfect. It enhanced beyond sanity.

Even as the city is attacked by other mammals enhanced by the same serum, Nick fights to uncover the source. In the depths of a forgotten mountain, he fights to the death, alone and without Judy for she lays in a hospital. It is here that Nick learns how sharp his claws now are as he slashes through muscle and bone, here he remembers why foxes have excellent night vision as he stalks enemies through dark hallways and twisting labs.

(That is how history will remember it. History will not mention the mercenary group that accompanied him. Nick is dangerous, yes, but he has no experience with this new level of lethality. It is only by their grace and sacrifice that Nick lives. He will not forget Larry and Garry who held the line against all odds.)

The city awards him a medal, one that he accepts proudly. For a single moment foxes aren't sly creatures of the night, but mammals who can be as amazing as the very best of them.

Were this a story of hope it would continue like that. Other foxes, in schools and businesses, the army and the workforce, all those myriad mammals would rise and use the positive effect of one moment to leverage themselves out of the bottom social strata.

This is not that story, this is an account of how the very brightest burnt hot enough that everyone else came out with third-degree burns. Greatness is never won without casting a long shadow.

(As he fights Judy, his body weakens. Every step to this place had been one engagement barely survived. It makes him consider giving up and letting her—and by extension, those she protects—win. The thought passes as he remembers everything sacrificed to reach this point)

Nothing changes in truth. A new social class of wealthy foxes rises to rule over the rest. In many ways, they make things worse. In few ways do things improve for the fox simply trying to pay her bills on time and make sure her kits don't end up falling prey to a gang war going on in the next building.

Year 37

Nick manages to keep his change hidden from all but Judy—how could he ever hide anything from her? —for the better part of a year. A simple arrest blows his secret out to Bogo and Francine who accompany him. But he couldn't let innocents die for his secrets when the rhino went feral.

Fact: following the Night Howler incident, gang-related police arrests have had a twenty-one percent increase in casualties as mammals will often use the Night Howler to escape, or perhaps take down the police arresting them.

Bogo manages to push Francine away and rolls out of the bear's way. Leaving the bear with a clear path to the civilians.

Judy had spent hours training Nick not to react faster than other mammals, had gained many bruises to teach him how to restrain his monstrous strength.

Nick moves without thought. He imposes himself between the rhino and the civilians faster than they can react. He leaps forward, higher than a fox is physically capable of from a stationary position, and slams his knee across the rhino's snout.

A sequence of events follows.

Bone and muscles enhanced to impossible levels make contact with bear hide.

A shockwave of forces radiates outward in all directions from that point of impact.

The knee sinks deeper past layers of flesh and reaches bone. The point of contact shatters instantly, breaking the jaw in two distinct pieces.

Cracks form all along the cranium as Nick finally puts all his raw strength to redirecting the bear.

Understand that a fully grown red fox weighs less than twenty kilograms. This bear weighs over ten times Nick's weight.

Regardless, Nick's strength is enough to shove it aside and it collapses to the ground safely away from the civilians.

(In the future Nick will only become stronger. After all, he did manage to collapse Koslov's rib cage with one punch.)

Year 38

The government hides his secret, doing whatever it is that shady bureaucracies do to keep thing hidden. Nick knows what is coming and isn't shocked when they transfer him to a military unit.

This comes mere weeks after he tells Judy that the hero and the villain aren't so different.

They make him fight, slowly at first to make certain he won't break from the strain. Instead, he thrives on the battlefield. With each battle, he reacts just the slightest bit faster whilst his strength improves in leaps and bounds.

(In another universe Nick might have reacted differently, taking lightning speed and precision over raw strength and durability. Maybe in that universe, Judy would have loved him.)

The missions become more and more morally reprehensible and Nick starts to notice certain things like how his subordinates are pack predators whilst the leader is always a prey mammal. He starts to notice how he has stopped caring about every life he has taken despite knowing he should have spent weeks screaming in horror.

It takes him just too long to realise that the scent of the supplements the prey mammals are given lack the sharp, acrid scent that Nick's has. He learns to swap his out with theirs and slowly, lucidity returns. He can see the glazed look in his fellow predator's eyes and knows what they have done to him.

Drugs are powerful and when administered correctly they can completely suppress certain facets of a mammal's psyche. In this case, they took away his empathy. It is why he can kill the young children of a warlord without remorse despite that they are innocent of their parent's crime.

(You know he is to become a monster. He will use this to justify why he has no remorse. It is not true.)

His latest mission is a simple assault on an enemy outpost past the southern border where warlords roam free, gaining power only through bloodshed and domination. They are the enemy but Nick wonders some days how true that is. After all, the winners write history. Zootopia has won often.

He stands slightly apart from his fellow predators. Their eyes are glazed and they shift together in time to the swaying of the helicopter. Nick mimics the motions carefully, always doing his best to avoid his commander's attention.

He doesn't want to know what will happen if they ever find out that the drugs aren't affecting him anymore.

The crack of thunder is faint even to his enhanced ears but Nick still flinches. The pack does not. He glances at the commander and their eyes meet for a moment. Nick can see the loathing and the dawning horror of the realisation that Nick is awake, aware of what he is, unlike the predators.

Nick, in that moment, concludes that his commander must die if he wants to live. And this time he doesn't have to worry about morals like he did when he was nineteen.

So maybe Nick draws his squad further away from his commander during the battle, ostensibly for a flanking manoeuvre—which is true technically—but leaves the prey mammal vulnerable to a frontal assault. Nick is just a bit too slow to save his commander.

(Kill or be killed. You know what Nick will always choose.)

Year 42

The first target he chooses is Bellwether. She walks free after ten years in prison. Nick will come to do many things that damn his soul but killing Bellwether is the only killing he will bear proudly. What just system would let a mammal free after committing a crime that would have enslaved an entire section of the population, all because of bigotry and fear? The moment he hears that her sentence is to be concluded, Nick destroys a room in his rage. Claw tear through plaster and concrete with ease. He destroys every piece of furniture with a cold, calculating rage.

Jack, who waits for Nick's rage to abate, offers him a drink of something harsh and burning. Vile swill by the rabbit's standards, but something Nick drank often. It is only after the sixth shot that he considers slowing down. And not because the rabbit—hare, whatever he really was—stares at him in silence, judging his moment of weakness.

"Security will be high," Jack says, taking a sip of his drink. "They know you'll come after her. She stood for everything we're fighting against."

Nick snarls. Shatters his glass. Slams his paw against the table. "She dies the moment she leaves that prison," he roars. He doesn't care that his composure has long ago shattered. His iron control is corroded away by memories of that dark, dark cavern where every battle was one to live.

"We can't be reckless." Jack is ever calm.

"No," Nick agrees.

They plan, then, each day without compromise. They steal personnel information, guard manifests, patrol routes and armoury reviews. The floor plans of the prison itself are dissected until Nick could walk through it with his eyes closed. Then they begin on the grounds surrounding the prison: what approaches could be made; which areas were elevated and would be the centre point of patrol routes; analysing depression to see if they could bury weapons in the cover of night.

His dedication to this single death never falters. Even if it means he should die and be unmasked, Nick is prepared to make that sacrifice.

In the month before Bellwether's release date they begin the physical preparations. The night wind bites through Nick's layers of clothes and fur, chilling his despite his resilience to the cold. Maybe he's falling ill with something? Nick ignores the thought and scoops out another layer of dirt.

"You would make a good landscaper," Jack says. The rabbit is dirty, his fur matted with grime and soil and metal shavings from making explosive devices. Nick watches his muscles ripple with every movement, and tears away before his thoughts can wander into dangerous territory.

Nick kneels, gently placing the rifle, wrapped, bagged and vacuum sealed within the hole. "All I cause is destruction."

He hears Jack approach, silent to any other mammal but not to Nick whose senses have long since left the realm of nature and encroached upon mad science and chance.

"Look at me." Nick doesn't because he knows what he'll see. But he doesn't resist when Jack turns him around. The fire in those eyes is molten, nothing like Judy's wildfire but the intensity is similar. And he can't help but find those slate blue eyes captivating.

"Doctors used to burn and saw off infected limbs," Jack says. "They destroyed to save."

"You're comparing us to mammals that had no idea what a germ was. They were savages back then."

He isn't startled when Jack fists Nick's shirt in his grip, pulling them closer. He wonders if Jack can feel his heart pounding in his chest and what the hare makes of it.

"And yet," Jack whispers harshly, "they built some of the greatest empires this world has ever seen. And we haven't changed. Our methods are more sophisticated but how many false flag operations did you commit in the government's name? You know this country is monstrous."

"I do," Nick says softly. He places a hand on Jack's paw. "And what we plan on doing is equally monstrous."

"Peace. Honour. Enlightenment. Kindness. Forgiveness. None of those have worked. Only blood and bone will be enough."

"Perhaps."

They continue work till dawn breaks and then retreat to their lair where preparations continue to be made. As time runs thin, their pace becomes more frantic. They have no allies Nick is willing to trust with this. His persona is plastered on the news with exorbitant bounties being offered for any information leading to an arrest. And whilst the gangs Jack controls hold no love for law or order, money had a way of persuading many.

Twenty-four hours before Bellwether is to walk free they stop preparing. Everything that can be done has already been done. Anything more would be unnecessary. They sit in a sedan, beaten up and disposable, and eat a quick meal of something Nick doesn't taste. He hasn't tasted much since his betrayal.

"This is it," Jack says. "Come back to me."

Nick drinks his coffee to hide reaction. "I don't plan on dying."

"I don't think they can kill you. I have faith in your abilities." Nick nearly chokes. "But don't forget why we're doing this. Vengeance isn't our only motivation."

He looks to the rabbit. His thoughts jumble and stutter at the uncompromising conviction in those blue depths.

"Justice. Peace. Sanity."

Jack smiles. Nick's heart falters. "Don't forget, my brilliant fox."

And with that Jack leaves Nick alone.

Nick finds a spot in the parking lot of a nearby park. He lies in the back, a blanket covering much of his features. It makes the police doing random checks ignore him—vulpine harassment allegations were not something any officer wanted to deal with.

(After his betrayal, they will bury an empty casket. Nick will become a martyr, a rallying call towards equality and enlightenment.)

Three hours before daybreak, Nick awakens. He covers himself in scent mask, dyes his fur black, and then wears a dark bodysuit. He sneaks past patrols, weaving his way past the many checkpoints and vehicles.

He checks one of the inclines he hid a set of equipment. Good, there was a vehicle above it. Nick lets the guard join the patrol before darting under the vehicle. He digs frantically and retrieves the weapons and equipment there. He places an explosive under the car.

Nick spends the next two hours setting explosives to ensure maximum damage. When he is done he latches onto the underside of a vehicle he expects will form the convoy to escort Bellwether.

At ten the vehicle lurches forward, awakening Nick from his meditative state. He pays attention to the sounds of the engines. There, one larger than the rest but not in as good condition as the police cars. He waits patiently for his opportunity. It comes when his vehicle passes next to a bus. Nick tenses his muscles and then in a burst of speed spans the distance and attaches himself to the underside of the bus.

He waits a few frantic seconds for an alarm.

It doesn't come. The bus moves before Nick has the luxury of sighing. He counts the seconds and then the minutes until they're on a quiet road near the woods. Then he palms the detonator in his pocket. He smirks then pushes the button.

Four explosions occur simultaneously around the bus. The shockwave threatens to blow Nick away so he shoves his claws deep within the underbelly of the bus. His instincts prove right when the bus tips over.

Nick leaps away and lets the bus skid across the ground. Time is of the essence now. He predicts maybe three minutes at most before the first of the response units arrive. That isn't the issue. Nick can kill them all. The issue comes when his exit routes are all cut off and a team of SRUs are sent his way.

Still, he takes half a moment to savour the burning cars and the mammals dead or dying. Most of them wear the Blue. Once Nick wore that uniform with pride. He shoots the first living mammal, an ox of truly prodigious size, with the high calibre pistol. The recoil doesn't so much as make his arm twitch.

He trots to the bus. The doors are locked and the glasses rated against ballistic weaponry. Not a concern. Nick grips the handles of the door and sets his feet. Then he pulls. Every muscle in his body seems to awaken and he feels their strength as the handles start warping beneath his palms. The hinges squeak first then creaks. Hairline fractures form all along the face of the door.

The door flies away from the hinges. Nick pants, his arms and legs burning. But he doesn't waste time. He walks on the sides of chairs, knowing exactly where she is—the scent of cowards and sheep are distinct.

She's cowering, attempting to hide beneath a dead prisoner. Nick throws the bear carcass away carelessly. Bellwether screams and scrambles back.

Nick grabs her angle and pulls her closer. She kicks and curses but Nick doesn't feel the blows. He wraps a hand around her neck delicately. After all, he wants her to know.

"I want you to understand," Nick whispers. With his free hand, he removes the mask hiding his identity.

Her eyes widen. "You died you piece of shit. I fucking saw them bury you."

"A decoy, I assure you. Now, die for me."

(You know Nick is to escape and lead a war of terror against Zootopia. This murder means nothing compared to the dozens more he will commit. Long after this he will look back and wonder why he cared so much.)

Year 39

Nick has witnessed much death in his life, many of them a result of his own hand. Nineteen seems so long ago but not many will personally kill as many in twenty years as Nick does. But today isn't a day of murder though it is a day of death.

At thirty-nine, Nick buries his mother.

The funeral is a small affair. His mother had few acquaintances she had not outlived, and the few that remained wanted nothing to do with her. Oh, there are mammals from the retirement neighbourhood that chose to attend, but Nick knew his mother would curse their presence.

The heat is stifling beneath his dark suit. It won't do anything for his skin or fur. He checked earlier today and found more grey fur than yesterday.

Nick watches as the casket is lowered. He remembers her days before she died: eyes the same shade of green and burning with malice, recessed deeply in her sallow skin; much of her fur long having fallen out, and what remained was a sickly off-white; chipped claws on too thin digits. They hadn't said much when Nick visited. He looked too much like his long-gone father. He hardly recognised the woman he called mother.

He feels little, watching dirt shovelled over her casket.

(He'll claim the numbness the providence of the drugs the military gave him, drugs he stopped taking. Perhaps, the emotions are too much to process, and he buries them deeper than six feet. Or maybe he was tired of acting the loving son.)

Judy waits for him in the shade of an old willow tree. He doesn't like the shadows that play on her fur. There should never be anything lonely or dark about Judy. She's a wildfire and Nick wants her passion to engulf him as well. Because maybe then he'll have a true smile for her.

Right now, he can't force a smile. His face is blank and his body still. If he stops breathing you could mistake him for a statue.

"Nick. We don't…" she trails off and Nick wonders just what she would have said. "What was she like?"

And just like that, he's undone.

"She was fierce," he says slowly, testing the words. "And she did her best to raise three children alone. But she wasn't a good mother. I don't know if you can be when you're in that situation? She had to be hard and things only got worse. My brother fought and argued and never respected her. But my mother could never accept her eldest son would never be attracted to a vixen."

He waits for the realisation. Judy's eyes widen and she takes a half-step back. "Oh."

"Yes. She hated gays and marched at rallies. She never could control what she said around Noah. Eventually, he just packed up his bags and left. I know where he is. It's not fair that he's living a peaceful life with his husband and playing cranky grandparent."

And it isn't fair. Noah ran, lived a mediocre life, and did nothing to his credit. And yet Nick knew he was happy, had seen the absolute joy when he looked at his husband. Faithful for decades and never once had that loyalty been betrayed.

"Mum lost it after that. She was more… controlling and monitored what Nicole did. I feel sorry for her. It was my fault mum pushed her away. The more time I spent a criminal, the more time she pressured Nicole to live a life for her. I think maybe that was her greatest crime. Mum could never accept that her life had been stolen by an unwanted pregnancy, a missing husband, and ungrateful kids. So, all our achievements became a result of her direction, and not because of our own actions. I became a police officer because of you, Judy. My mother believed to her dying breath that it was all because of her actions."

His heart cracks. All that was good in him now was because of Judy. And not even his mother could take that away from him.

"I don't know if she loved us. I hope that she did. But I don't…"

Nick doesn't say the words. He can't find it in him to admit his greatest failing as a son.

Judy steps forward. She places her paws around his muzzle gently. "I think you did love her. I've never seen you cry before."

(History books won't note this day as significant. It will always be the day his estranged mother died. In the face of all that Nick will do, this woman, whose only importance was in conceiving Nick, will be forgotten.)

Year 7

There was a time once when Nick was still innocent. Three decades will strip away the naivety of youth and leave behind a bitter old man whose compassion has been torn to shreds. But there are moments in his youth that define who he is to become.

It had rained that day. Nick hid in his room, music turned up so he could ignore the arguing of his siblings and his mother. He's not sure why Noah came back home stumbling and incoherent. Drugs, he guesses, but he doesn't want to put much thought to it. Whatever made his sister cry was not worth understanding.

He lies on his bed, looking out at the rain soaking the city. He imagines the pitter-patter of raindrops on umbrellas, pretends that his friend a floor down probably isn't being beaten by his father, and dreams that he's watching the cityscape from a penthouse suite.

Engrossed as he is, Nick doesn't hear the door open. But he does startle at the sudden weight on his bed. He flips over, thinking for a second that it might be his mother—and praying it isn't, not when she's in one of her moods. It's not.

His father—not Noah's and not Nicole's—is ageing though Nick will never be able to remember it. To him, his father will always be in the prime of his life, dignified and respected. He'll never notice the grey fur, the age lines or the pockmarked skin. He won't remember that his father's glasses are ancient in design. No, instead they will always look classy.

He's a cannon as he latches his arms around his father's waist. "Hey, dad."

His father places a hand on his head and strokes his fur softly. "Wanna get out of here, Nicky?"

It's stopped raining by the time they reach the shop. His father works at this store as a tailor and Nick knows he hates every moment of it. His dad's boss is an elderly wolf and very kind, but he doesn't appreciate new ways of doing things. Those restrictions chafe at his father. Nick knows one day his father will leave and build something beautiful.

(One day his father will answer a call from an old friend. Perhaps a friend is too generous, but what do you call the mammal that frees you from the crushing bonds of duty and obligation. He will answer this call and never return because Nick's father is loyal above all.)

His dad leaves him outside as he runs in to grab the bag he always keeps hidden there. Nick wonders what home is like right now. Have his siblings and mum stopped arguing? He knows that it doesn't matter. They never stop arguing. They merely have long pauses to breathe.

A light tap on his ear breaks him from his thoughts. His dad is there with a brilliant smile. Nick's heart swells and he takes the proffered hand.

It takes them another ten minutes till they reach their destination. It's an empty lot in an expansion of an older shopping centre. Construction is partway through. He hasn't been here often. His dad is too busy to bring him and you don't walk around alone in the neighbourhood Nick lives in.

"How long?" Nick asks the question he will always ask.

His dad chuckles and squeezes his hand tighter. "A few years yet," his father responds as he always has.

His father lets go of his hand and opens his bag, mindful of the water. He pulls out a hat that long ago became Nick's favourite. Nick grabs it and wears it, regardless that it doesn't fit him well and never will. Papers appear in his father's hands and he unrolls them.

There are blueprints and schematics and bills of material, Nick knows, but always the first paper is his father's vision. One day, this store will belong to his father. And on that day it will bear the name 'Wilde and Sons' Suitopia'.

"All of this will belong to us someday, Nicky."

"Just us?"

"You and me, all the way to the end."

(That building will never bear that name. His father will vanish before construction finishes. And that will mark the start of everything.)

Year 40

Nick is forty when he takes the first step down a dark path to blood and revolution. This is their fault, understand, and this is their betrayal.

It is in Zootopia, the crowning city of the Republic, where thousands of cruel acts occur every day, that the decision is made. It is in the highest seat of power that the directions that guide the country flow from. It is in the gleaming buildings that cater to every mammal that the kill order is made.

Understand that Nick Wilde, the fox who broke all barriers, is polarising. Many are aware but choose to ignore that because of Nick's actions that the Sons burnt and lost their holdings. All know the story of the fox that stopped the Night Howler incident and graduated top of his class in the academy. Some, though many will speculate, are aware of how Nick stopped the greatest threat Zootopia had ever seen. His accomplishments in the military are no secret and many respect him for it. Even his greatest detractors cannot deny that his accomplishments have worth, have merit, and deserve respect. And yet his body-count cannot be forgotten. Each of his achievements is tarnished with copper.

(Blood will always taint Nick's achievements.)

But when Nick speaks, mammals listen. When he speaks out against the corruption of a manufacturing company providing substandard equipment to the military the outrage is palpable. Riots and protests rack the company and their stock plummets until they are forced to shut down.

When Nick calls out against the indifference shown to the mammals at the border, mammals made homeless by Zootopia's actions, millions provide aid in any way that they can. In his spare time before deployments, Nick advocates for rights, for civil liberties, and for equality to all who have been forgotten and cast aside. He becomes a leader of a political movement completely unaware. This isn't a movement made by politicians, but one made and supported by mammals sick and tired of the indifference of their leaders.

Nick doesn't care. His mother's death and the catharsis of finally stepping away from her influence, motivate him to change anything and everything for the better. He attends interviews and gives speeches. His words are heard by billions across the nation. The first time he sees the sign 'Wilde for Mayor' he almost cries. When asked on his thoughts, he says simply, "I don't care for politics."

Judy is always there. She works as Bogo's second these days, and when Bogo finally decides to move on to higher positions, Judy will take his position. She is loved by her fellow officers and Nick understands why. She will always be his guiding light.

They're in a park, away from the cameras and snoopers. He watches her eat her cone of carrot flavoured ice-cream. Even doing something so mundane, she is beautiful.

"I don't think I would have ever expected you to do this, Nick," Judy says. Her gesture is wide and all-encompassing. Nick understands.

"Neither did I." He smooths out a messy patch of fur, pauses at the sight of grey furs, and forces a smile. "But maybe this was always what I was meant for."

"Running for mayor?" she asks coyly and Nick almost falters. "Maybe if you're there we'll get better funding."

He chuckles, caught off guard. She smiles and he can tell from the warmth in her eyes that she knew the earlier smile was fake.

"Sly bunny. If I'm mayor you'll have to work instead of sitting around at your desk and getting fat on all that ice-cream."

She laughs softly. He wonders if one day she will understand what all her casual actions do to him. But it will never happen.

"I think I'm proud of you," Judy says.

"Think? Being proud of me should be a natural state." He swallows. "I wonder if dad would be proud of me?"

"Of course, he would, my dumb fox. He loved you more than you love yourself."

That is the last conversation he will have with her for a very long time.

The deployment order comes quickly. Nick and his unit are called to the air force base outside the city. They are briefed on the threat, a group of foreign nationals and bioterrorists. Intel claims they have a working version of the same formula that enhanced Nick. He freezes at that because an army of mammals even a tenth as strong as he is will overrun the republic in a matter of weeks.

The plan is simple. Go in, extract the kidnapped scientists, destroy the data and eliminate the nationals. A simple kill order.

(He doesn't understand everything yet. You have the benefit of foresight. This is the day.)

Nocturnal District is a tactical nightmare of hallways and dead-ends that seem to constantly shift. Every map they have is wrong and the enemies are in greater numbers than Nick expected. He does everything in his power to protect his squad. Len, a fox and the youngest amongst them, is always placed at the safest locations. Nick is dead centre, drawing attention and praying that his armour doesn't fail. He fires and fires long after his assault rifle has run dry and he has resorted to his pistol.

He's blood-soaked when they finally reach the base of operations. Half his unit is dead: Amelia, Frank, Dour John and Happy John, and all the rest are dead. They were the ones he cared for the most, the ones who had been there since the very beginning.

(It is no coincidence that they are the ones who dies.)

Once they are secure, Nick leans against a wall and removes his damaged tactical vest. The armour plating is torn to shreds and there is little point to something that will only slow him down. Len finds the scientists and Nick heads to the upper level with him whilst the rest of his squad prepares for the next fight.

There are six of them but none show any signs of injury, no indication of brutality. But all are clearly terrified. Of Nick.

(That should be his first clue.)

"We're here to extract you," he says and raises his paws to show that they hold no weapon. "Are there any more of you?"

One, a fellow fox spits. Nick startles and steps back. "We'd never go back to your tyranny. Go fuck yourself."

He blinks, confused. "What are you—"

Much happens in the space of two seconds. He senses the danger but makes the mistake of thinking it the scientists. He scans them all in a quarter of a second—uniformly unfit and none carrying a weapon—and scans the space ahead. Nothing. That means someone has infiltrated silently and likely has a weapon aimed at either him or Len.

Ah, he hears the signature cock of a gun and whirls around faster than any mammal alive. He sees Len, looks past him to the stairs where he expects the attacker. He doesn't pay much attention to the gun Len is holding—he hadn't let go of it for the past ten minutes—so he isn't prepared for its deafening bang.

Time slows and he traces the path of the bullet through the air. It moves faster than he can possibly move though he tries anyway. But what he focuses on is Len. And all he sees is satisfaction.

The first bullet stuns him. The second bullet staggers him. The third forces him back.

He doesn't register the pain as he collapses to the ground. He is powerful with strength disproportionate to his body. His bones are hard as metal but much lighter. Every organ is more efficient and his muscles show properties only theorised by scientists. He is adaptive evolution given form.

But he's never once had to adapt to shock. His body floods adrenaline through his system, sets his heart beating faster, and goes through the rest of the steps to enter a battle high. It is this that works against him. His body enters shock faster due to the increased bleeding rate.

Nick is too weak to do anything but watch. He sees Len fire his gun at the scientists, killing them with pinpoint precision. Nick gasps. He's felt pain but never this sort of betrayal.

Len walks over his dying body and heads upstairs. Nick hear him order the rest of the squad to set the detonation charges. They don't ever once ask why shots were fired.

Len returns and places explosives in the room. Orders the squad to evacuate. Promises to meet up with them once he's certain Nick's dead.

Nick forces his eyes open. He wants to snarl but no, that's a waste of energy. Instead, he meets the eyes of his subordinate and asks, "Why?"

Len shrugs. "Orders."

Nick doesn't ask whose. It's obvious. And that above all is what drives him mad. There's a knife he keeps strapped to his arm always. He waits till Len is bored with him. With his remaining strength, he removes it and throws it. It sings as it flies and embeds itself in the base of Len's spine. Nick crawls to the corpse, grunting and hissing at the pain. It's all-encompassing at this point.

The detonator is in Len's hand. Nick pries it away and crawls over a dead scientist to the stairs. He won't make it to the top, he knows, and even if he could the traitors are still waiting for Len. Nick curls up under the stairs. He's dying and knows it. Everything that he had ever wanted will end now.

He triggers the explosives and wonders how Judy will feel.

(In five years, Judy will stab him in the gut. It will only make him smile.)

What happens after is blurry. He lives for days though it passes in quick flashes. He hallucinates an entirely new world, one where Judy loved him and none of this had ever happened. At some point, he drowns in a puddle. It forces him awake long enough to tilt his head with the final vestiges of his strength. Nick fully expects to die alone in this dark place.

He doesn't expect to wake up in a bed. For a moment he thinks he's dreaming again but then he feels the pain, hears the voices telling him to stay down. He sees grey fur and smells rabbit scent and for a moment he thinks it Judy. But she doesn't have eyes of blue steel.

This is the first time he meets Jack Savage.

Year 39

His mother's death changes something in Nick. He still feels cold and detached from everyone but Judy. And yet, he's never truly felt free until now. A heavy weight he hadn't known were dragging him down vanish.

Every time he thinks of his mother he almost cries and it soon interferes with his duties. He takes time off from the military. When he tells his squad that he'll be gone for a bit, the oddest of things happens, Dour John hugs him.

It catches them all off guard. Still, Nick accepts the comfort and makes jokes all the while. Amelia and Frank joke that maybe he and Dour John will finally get a room and stop making Happy John awkward. Nick loves them—he realises this when he looks at them for a single moment, all of them bound by duty and drugs to serve a higher order—fiercely and hopes that one day that these children, all of them young and jaded, will walk away.

(None shall live longer than two years. Betrayal must always be paid in blood and sacrifice. That sacrifice will plunge Nick to the deepest depths of madness.)

Days without responsibility pass slowly. He tries to process his memories of his mother. The good memories—there are few—and the bad are known to Judy. She is the only one he trusts with the memories that will define him. One morning, a week into his leave, a thought strikes him in the early hours. It electrifies him and refuses to leave regardless of what he does.

In the evening, Judy returns. She's tired but smiles at him, unsure perhaps. Maybe she senses his energy and is pleased. And maybe she also senses how nervous he truly is.

They eat dinner quietly. Nick doesn't taste it. Finishes quickly. His leg twitches as he waits for her to finish.

Judy sighs and sets her fork down. "You might as well tell me now."

"I'm leaving," Nick blurts out without thinking. And then, before Judy's expression can sink any further—and when have his desires ever done anything but harm Judy—he says, "Not permanently. I just I think I need to… It's important, I mean and…" he babbles because his thoughts won't stop racing.

Judy laughs. "I haven't seen you this flustered in a long time. Just say it slowly."

Nick takes a deep breath. "I want, no, I need to go see some people." She nods slowly. "I've made mistakes in my life and even if I think it's her fault, I need to stop blaming my mother for the relationships I don't have anymore."

"Your brother," she says. He loves her all the more for knowing him so intimately. "Do you want me to come?"

He almost cries past the haze of drug-induced apathy. And maybe, he starts to wonder, the drugs don't take away emotion but instead tear away empathy. Because he can care but he never understands how others feel.

"I would love you to. But I'd hide behind you."

"I'll be here when you get back." He wonders then if another would know him as only Judy does.

(Jack Savage will know a different Nick just as well.)

He rents a car for a few weeks. He could reach his destination in six days of hard driving. Instead, he takes his time driving: down highways under that blazing heat, speeding and pushing the car to its limit down desolate stretches of tarmac; he spends just as much time sleeping in his car as he does in motels; there are cities he spends the entire day in, marvelling at the beauty he hadn't known could exist outside of Zootopia; sometimes he has to fight, regardless of his wishes for foxes will never be more than they are—and maybe he should change that; he meets mammals down on their luck, their pleas ignored by those with the power to make change, and vows he will change what he can.

Nick has lived his entire life in Zootopia. His defining memories are all attached to that city. The distance away from it does something not even time can. It soothes his soul, files the jagged edges down till they don't hurt to poke at.

He spends a day listening to the story of an old lioness. Her story ignites a passion he's rarely felt before.

"My home's gone," she says after an hour of meaningless conversation. "Everything I ever loved was tied up in that house. My cubs lived there and their cubs knew it as a second home. The Republic couldn't protect us. If anything, they destroyed more than they saved. I don't have a family because of a stray mortar shell. My home is gone because a tank rolled through it. Everyone I cared for is gone. My memories died with that house. And now, I can't afford medication with my husband's military pension."

It's not the only story of its kind. The further he gets from Zootopia, the worse things get. Oh, there are stories filled with beauty and joy, grace and timelessness. But those stories are the few amongst the many.

He reaches his destination after what seems like an eternity, one he wouldn't mind reliving. The house is old but well-tended. He can see signs of many repairs over the decades.

It takes him twenty minutes to stop running a thousand scenarios through his head. He walks up the stairs and knocks hesitantly. Then he knocks more insistently. He's a grown fox on the far side of thirty, not a kit terrified of every shadow.

(Nick does not understand that the kit he was will always inform his actions.)

The footsteps are steady and spaced evenly. A fox with black fur he's only known in pictures opens the door. His name is Adrian, his brother's spouse. Everything Nick wanted to say dies on his lips.

"Well, out with it," Adrian says, not unkindly.

Nick takes a breath. "I'm here to see Noah."

"Why?" The question is hard, uncompromising. And Nick remembers that this far out, he's unimportant.

"Because our mother died and he never came to the funeral," he all but snarls. "So please, can I talk to my brother."

Adrian doesn't budge for a moment. Then sighs. "I told him you'd come." He opens the door fully and steps aside. "Come on, I'll take you to the lounge and get him."

Nick offers his thanks and waits impatiently. He can't focus on the furniture or decorations or the myriad photos decorating the walls. He's nervous as he has not been in years. Very deliberately, he ignores that hushed conversation the two have upstairs. Instead, he focuses on the footsteps coming down the stairs. He hears five legs and wonders why.

He stops wondering when he sees the crutch first before his brother. Noah Wilde takes after his father—unlike Nick who always saw his mother in the mirror—but he's not old yet. Aging yes, by the grey furs and dragging skin, but not yet old. His brother smells healthy but for the scent of mild painkillers.

They stare at each other for a pregnant moment. Then, "I'll leave you to it," Adrian says.

"What happened to your leg?" Nick asks because it's the only thing he can think of.

Noah is incredulous. "That's the first thing you ask?" Nick only shrugs. "Just a knee cap replacement. You've got… scars."

He touches the most prominent, a long winding scar from his muzzle that wraps around until the base of his neck. Only luck had saved him.

"Got that as an officer. I've lost a lot of friends in the line of duty." He takes a breath. "Why didn't you come."

Noah chooses to sit instead. He closes his eyes. "Because it hurt, Nicky. She hated me for who I loved. She hurt me for no reason."

"Not because of your drug habit?" Nick asks and he knows it's cruel. "Because I remember you arguing about that more than anything else."

Noah shakes his head. "How old were you? Eight? Ten? You only saw the worst fights, the ones we couldn't keep away from you. You know she sent me to a conversion camp. Yeah, like the one you're thinking off. I never did anything hard and everything I did was legal, but mum used it as an excuse to justify my unnatural behaviours. She was cruel, Nicky, and your father never did anything to stop her."

Nick sees red for a moment. When it clears his body is shaking. "He was your father as well. He took care of you just as much as he did me, and don't you dare deny it. Anyone else would have kicked you out."

"He did. He told me to leave so I did."

Nick snarls. "You're lying."

"He wasn't the saint you remember. You were just a kid."

Nick stands and reaches into his jacket pocket. "I know you're lying because he didn't kick you out." He throws the letter at Noah. "I got that the day he died. He wanted me to give it to you. I never read it until mum died. You know what it says? He's sorry that mum wasn't kinder, wasn't more willing to accept you. He's sorry he couldn't be the father you needed. But he isn't sorry he asked you to leave a toxic home a find a better life.

"My father wasn't a saint. I fucking know that. But he loved you as much as he could. You chose not to answer any of the other letters he sent you. I've read them all. All he ever wanted to know is if you were happy. So, don't you dare say he never loved you."

Nick lets Noah read the letter for himself. He sees the grief that lines Noah's face and feels vindicated on some primal level. But he isn't ready to see the tears that pool at his brother's eyes.

"Why didn't he say so?" Noah whispers hoarsely.

"He did. You just chose not to listen."

Nick moves to leave. "Wait."

"What?" he asks without looking back.

"We haven't seen each other in thirty years."

"I know."

Nick wonders if this was worth it. The peace he had found on the road is a fragile thing, and this confrontation smashes against the fragility for all it is worth.

"Do you want to stay for dinner? The kids are coming."

Almost, he is tempted to say no. But Nick is tired of running from his past.

He does stay and meets Alexis and Alexander, his brother's adopted children. Alex has two children, Caleb and Caley, with a third on the way. He finds their names hilarious because it reminds him of Nicole and the nickname they shared. They spend the evening talking about everything and nothing at all. He learns Alexander is an author and Alexis an engineer. He feels proud of them despite never having known them at all.

He spends a week with his brother. There's so much to say and never enough time, but they manage to reconcile. Three decades worth of silence and bitterness can't be destroyed in three weeks but they can work through it. Noah promises to visit mum's grave. Nick promises to visit again.

(Both will fulfil their promises. But Noah will also visit's Nick's grave in two years. And Noah is the first that Nick tells the truth to. And Noah will always open his doors to Nick.)

Year 40

Nick is forty, betrayed but not yet on the path of vengeance. He spends weeks recovering, rarely lucid and those few moments are overlaid by hallucinations. Nick dreams of Judy and the time they spent together, and all the things that could never be—he sees them married, happy and old, and sometimes he stands over her grave. He dreams of his brother and his sister who he never looked for. His feverish recollections often wind their way back to his father.

Most all, he dreams of Len and that betrayal. Why, why, why? His haunted mind asks as the bullets tear through his organs. Orders, Len's voice seems to echo above the sound of explosions and fire and drowning.

One day the world snaps to clarity. Nick blinks slowly. The room is relatively dark—with his senses nothing will ever be dark—and the walls smooth stone. Wires and tubes extend from his body to medical equipment on one side. He tries to raise one arm but it's sluggish, unresponsive, and painful.

He's trapped in this bed. Oh, he doesn't doubt that he could force the strength to get off and limp away but he's not certain what the tubes do. If they're keeping him alive then running is a quick way to die.

Nick settles in to wait. Not much of a choice. He hears the footsteps long before the vixen enters. She's young, or at least younger than Nick, and he fur is a shock of white. She flicks on the light and jolts back when she sees his eyes focused on her. She recovers admirably.

"Mr Wilde," she says, shocked. "I'm Doctor Skye. Do you know why you're here?"

He almost sighs. He knows this routine and has given it before. His throat isn't as dry as he expects.

"Injured. Explosion." He doesn't give any context, doesn't know who this vixen is or who's side she represents. He knows the military has reconditioning facilities and knows how complex and convoluted their scenarios can be.

"Yes," she agrees. "You were fighting and an explosive device left you in this state. Do you remember any of that?"

"I think we can stop there, Skye." The voice shocks Nick because he never once heard the steps or smelt any scent. What's more, he can't see the figure.

The doctor looks over her shoulder. "Don't push him," she warns.

"I promise I won't." Sky leaves and the figure enters.

Nick doesn't think he's ever seen a bunny like this. The blue eyes are the first thing he notices. They remind Nick of metal that's been heated, incandescent and almost shimmering purple in places. He notices the black fur stripes and the body that is nothing at all like a bunny—tall, angular, lean with no traces of fat. And that's despite the bunny being of a similar age to Nick.

The last thing he notices is the bottle of water he's carrying. "Skye forgets her manners when she's shocked," the not-bunny says as he slinks towards Nick. He uncaps the bottle. "I think you're pragmatic enough not to complain."

No, Nick thinks, I just can't move much. The not-bunny brings the bottle to his muzzle and helps Nick drink it all. It soothes his throat.

"Good. My name's Jack Savage." It doesn't ring any bells. "And the only reason I haven't shot you is because I've been where you are."

Nick blinks, terrified because there's nothing he can do. "What?" he rasps.

Jack tilts his head and points to a spot at the back of his neck. There's a ropy scar there, thick and ugly. Nick recognises the type.

"I was shot by my own squad. Back of the head. A killing blow. They missed." The rabbit's lips twist in a rictus smile.

"Why?"

"I was part of a black-ops group. Castle Team. We found proof that some officials high up were colluding with our enemies. I was too stupid to drop it. Other soldiers were starting to listen and doing investigations of their own. So, they put a kill order on me. Left me bleeding to death in a swamp."

Nick stills because the story is so similar. "Haven't shot me?"

Jack Savage sits on the bed. There's a gun hidden in the folds of his jacket, Nick can tell. A lower calibre one, probably suppressed.

"Those scientists and soldiers you killed? Those foreign nationals? They were mine." Jack leans forward. Nick wishes he had the strength to rip that throat apart. "Yes, we were doing the research. We wanted to recreate you. We wanted to destroy the Republic. It's sick to the core and needs to be purged."

"No," Nick croaks.

"You know how corrupt it is. I've been fighting against that corruption for fifteen years. They killed you because your words were turning the masses against the government. The only reason you still live is because I know you'll join my cause. And because you're worth an entire platoon."

Jack Savage reaches into his jacket and for a moment Nick wonders if the not-bunny plans on threatening him with force. Instead, Jack holds a data drive and places it on the bedside table.

"It has all the information I've collected over the years. It's all pure, raw data. None of its edited. You can verify that yourself." Jack stands. "Read it when you're ready."

Nick isn't ready for another week. When he finally has the strength to move, he steals a computer and holes himself in a hidden part of the base. He purges the computer and reads the data on it.

The files are massive and date back decades: files on assassinations, unsanctioned black-ops teams, false flag operations; data on the mammals that ordered the actions and the teams that carried it out—he finds a list of the actions he's committed and the lies they fed him. He sees the systematic oppression and subjugation of certain sectors of the population.

Nick tears through the computer with a swipe of his claws. He sneaks through the base and finds Jack's office. The rabbit is drinking something rich, dark, and very strongly alcoholic.

"Did you read it?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"They die."

(Now you know what drives Nick's to the heinous acts he will commit. Without Jack, Nick would have changed his identity, hidden away, and vanish in obscurity. In five years Nick will destroy everything.)

Year 10

The tenth year of his life will seem to stretch forever long after he is jaded and cynical. Ten is the age his father goes missing and Nick will mourn that day for decades. But the death of a father is not what matters. You already know this, know the fox that John Wilde is and how his death will affect Nick. But there is another event, one that Nick will forget though it is critically important.

Nick stares at the shopfront that would have one day held his name had John Wilde returned. He visits here often. It is the only concrete connection that he has to his father. It isn't the sort of place a lone fox should visit, not without some sort of protection. Nick is ten, weak, and scared.

He's lost in the dreams of what could be and never will be, and so doesn't notice the mammals that sneak up behind him. But he does feel the shove that leaves him on the floor. There are four of them, all jeering and all larger than Nick. He doesn't listen to their insult—whoreson, monster, sly fox—for he has heard them all.

Nick chooses to run. He can't win a fight so he avoids it outright. He's not paying attention because he can hear them chasing after him. They're older and fit, but Nick is nimble and sly. He weaves down tight back alleys and jumps over fences. But they never seem to stop. Eventually, he stumbles to the ground. He's not a fool, doesn't turn to look and waste valuable seconds. But they were already close.

Heavy paws land on his shoulders and drag him back to the ground. The snow bites through his fur. The first kick takes him by surprise and he calls out in pain.

"Fucking fox," one of them calls out and kicks again. The pain brings tears to his eyes.

He knows this story and his acted out the scene before. Better to stay silent and let them get bored. But one says, "You're the reason your dad left."

Nick is young and hurt. And yet he manages the strength to leap forward, his claws extended because they could say anything about him so long as they never involved his father.

He's restrained before he can go far.

"Just look at him," the one holding him says, "he's a rabid animal. What do we do with rabid animals?"

"Put 'em down," another shouts. Nick is shaking and thrashing but he can't escape.

Heavy footfalls silence the mob. The street shakes. Nick looks around wildly because anything that did that to the street was a heavyweight.

"Leave the boy alone," a deep voice rumbles. Nick's hairs stand on end. Everything about that voice says predator and he doesn't want to be on the wrong end of its ire.

They let go of him. Nick slumps to the ground, his side burning with pain. He looks behind and sees the largest bear he's ever seen, paws held together almost in prayer. He crawls back in fear.

"Kevin, stop scaring the child," a higher pitched voice says. It takes Nick a moment to see the mammal held in those paws, a rodent of some kind.

"Tell me, what is your name?"

He's still scared but not as much. "N-Nick," he stammers out.

"Nick. Can I call you Nicky." He nods slowly. "Good. Now, my boy, what brings you out here, Nicky."

He swallows. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"Who told you that? Your mother. You father? Ah, he was a smart fox. My name is Mr Big. Now you know my name and I know yours. We're not strangers anymore, are we?"

There's something wrong with that logic. But Nick is cold and in pain. "No," he says.

"Excellent. Now, your parents must be worried sick. How's about Kevin here makes sure you get home safely." Nick nods. "And if they ever bother you again, you come here and let me know, Nicky."

(Nick is too young to understand what it means to be known to one such as Mr Big. This single meeting will come to change Nick in ways he will hardly understand. And in nine years, Mr Big will assign him a 'special task' and he will execute it flawlessly. It will cost him his freedom but it will save his life later.)

Year 44

This is the year of their final preparations. Nick has since been unmasked and the media has destroyed his achievements. He is a criminal. He is mad. He is drenched in blood. All true but they do not understand. The violence he has shown is nothing compared to the near future.

Nick is forty-four when Jack Savage is captured. The rabbit is many things—a schemer, a chess master and a logistician where Nick is tactics, unpredictability, and response time—but he never once feared going out alone.

Their forces are stretched thin and they can't call in their support from other nations, not yet before the time is right. When two conflicting operations come, Nick insists Jack take the safer one. Jack might argue that he is expendable compared to Nick who is enhanced, perfected, but Nick knows something critical in him will break if Jack dies.

He knows something is wrong the moment he returns. Blood splatters his fur from the last kill and clogs his nostrils but even then, he can feel the tightly bound tension of the base. The mammals he calls his own, his soldiers and comrades, all avoid meeting his eye. He ignores them and goes straight to Jack's office. Whatever has happened, Savage will have a plan.

Skye sits at her bosses table, eyes red and fur ruffled. She looks up when Nick enters. "They took him."

It hits him like a tonne of bricks. He doesn't ask whom. The answer will always be one of their enemies. He's turned and ready to leave when Sky shouts, "Stop!"

Nick cocks his head and assesses how long it would take to kill her—two point eight seconds—before discarding that thought. She might not love Jack but Jack will always care for her. Killing Skye wouldn't be worth Jack's grief and anger and betrayal.

"Why?"

"Because he left orders," she whispers. "If he ever was captured, you're to abandon him. And finish what he started."

Nick makes a twisted sound of grief. "I'm not leaving him to die. Not him."

He hears her stand and walks towards him. She's carrying something heavy, he can tell, by the way it changes her gait. He wonders what it is for a moment. He looks over his shoulder and sees a large combat knife, elegant and highly detailed with feathers and thick lines like those around Jack's ears. It isn't practical.

But it is beautiful.

"He meant to give you this." He grips the offered knife, feels its weight and knows there is nothing delicate about its construction. "He wanted you to use this when it was time. It was meant to be his final gift to you. So please, honour his wishes."

His breaths are harsh, ragged and he wishes he hadn't stopped when she commanded it. Because he can't dishonour the wishes of the mammal who gave him freedom and broke the chains holding him down.

(Nick is like his father, loyal to a fault. Only Nick has the strength to survive whatever the world brings to bear.)

"What will they do to him?" he asks though he knows the nature of the answer.

Tears pool at her eyes and Nick remembers that he is not the only who cares for Jack. Skye has been with him far longer. The things they must have seen.

"Execute him," she whispers. "In one month."

He lays his paw against her muzzle. Wipes away the tears threatening to spill. And says, "That gives us time. They want to force our hand and trap us. But they don't understand that nothing will stop me. Find the leak, Skye. And then call everyone who's an ally and tell them that anyone who doesn't come is an enemy. And that I'll hunt them down."

In three days they meet in the bunker. Nick doesn't trust any of them. Half of them are criminals of some sort, some run mercenary units, and others—the ones he truly fears—represent foreign powers. He notes Mr Big isn't here and promises the bastard will suffer before he dies. He never once thought the shrew would betray him. Nick is not shocked, not anymore. There have been too many betrayals already.

They're restless, tired and in many cases wary. The searches have expanded to include the military and the entire city is in lockdown. Spot checks are normal and the prisons are filled to the brim. They know the score. They either win or they die.

"Twenty-seven days from now they plan on killing Jack Savage. I don't plan on letting that happen."

An old wolf, who represents a southern state, grumbles lowly. "They keep him in the most secure facility Zootopia has. You do not have the forces."

"But you do," Nick says, thinking of the highly trained teams hiding all throughout boltholes and bunkers in Zootopia.

The wolf shakes his head. "Not enough to take fortress in time. If you go they will gun you down with artillery fire. No chance to get close. Savage is lost to us."

"No, he isn't," Nick says harshly. "He's the one who built this revolution. You do not get to ignore him for your own convenience."

"I see no tactical advantage to this," an antelope says. "If you attack now our revolution shall die stillborn. Wait. The coming year is when our forces will be strong enough."

Nick hates the logic she poses. "And Jack will be dead. When he dies, will you trust each other enough to continue with this? Will you trust me to lead you? Or will you pick a leader amongst yourselves?"

They glance around the table, assessing and evaluating the possibilities. Nick watches as they slowly realise they do not trust any enough to allow them to lead. Jack had brought them together, bound them with secrets and blood and promises of revolution. Only Jack had been charismatic enough to unify them.

"Wilde is right," a young buck says. Her crew had provided the intelligence Jack had thrived on and he had earned his place at the table, not bought it. "We attack now when we are still unified. Later, we will fracture."

The old wolf snaps. "Then give us plan and not platitudes."

Nick nods in thanks. "They hold Jack in the basement of the Mayor's office. Even a full-scale invasion would stall there."

The buck hums, coming to the conclusion quickly. "But not a small infiltration unit."

"There are too many for me to fight alone. But the government buildings are less defended." He looks to the wolf. "If I distract them and divert their forces, can you take it."

"Not fast enough to capture officials."

"That isn't important," Nick says. "Once it's assaulted they'll take them to the most secure building in the city. And it doesn't matter how many they have when we're in a tight corridor. Your country wants the Republic to fall. Tell them to attack the borders two days before."

"I can't order that," the wolf says.

The antelope chuckles. "He isn't leaving you a choice. Attack the borders and the soldiers closer to the city will be diverted to give support. Shoot at the government buildings and every target goes to the Mayor's office. If Wilde can take it, we win in a single stroke."

Nick stands. "You will know my signal when you see it."

He knows the name of the traitor, knows that Mr Big willingly—and Nick will never believe anyone can force the shrew to do anything—betrayed their cause. And for that, he will die. Even if it means Tundratown must burn.

(You know what Nick will do. You have already seen Koslov's broken body-cradling the still form of his master. You know that Nick will kill a mother and her child in revenge. Now you understand what drove him to the action. To win or die are the only options left to him.)

The attack begins shortly after. Soldiers and mercenaries and criminals seem to appear from air as they attack targets of importance—telecommunications, public transportation, and the electrical grid are their targets. The wolf's soldiers are trained well and push against Zootopia's assembled guard at the government buildings. They don't expect this, couldn't have expected fire and warfare in their city.

Nick watches the destruction from the top floor of an empty building. He and Skye are the only mammals of importance. She's worried, nervous. Nick takes her hand. She looks up.

"I'll bring him back to us. Trust in the fox he trusted."

She swallows and nods. She's staring at him with something passionate, something like the steady warmth of a lit hearth. Nick knows what she wants and feels a moment of grief. He leans forward and plants a chaste kiss at the corner of her muzzle.

"I'm sorry," he whispers only to her. "Rabbits have always been my weakness."

She smiles gently. "I know."

He nods in thanks. "They'll take you somewhere safe," he says of the wolf's three soldiers. "Stay safe, Skye. And thank you. For everything."

Nick watches her leave. When he is alone, he takes the knife Jack had intended as a gift for him. He tests its weight one last time before sheathing it. He dons his armour and turns to the Mayor's building.

He walks towards his fate.

Year 45

These are the final steps before the end. You know who Nick Wilde is. You know the memories that define him. Nick set the city ablaze in the final hours of the year. Now, as the dawn rises to greet them, Nick fights the hardest battle of his life. He fights against Judy.

And he is losing.

She punches and he bats aside her arm. He could follow through, step within her guard and let his claws run scarlet with her blood. He doesn't but that moment of hesitation is enough for Judy to kick him with her heel right below his stab wound. The world goes white for a moment and that is enough for Judy to swing her baton across his muzzle.

They chose well, he thinks as he backs away. I could beat anyone else.

(Bodies line every flaw of the building. Some had put up a fight. His wrist is broken and cuts are spread across his body. But he can't hurt Judy.)

They stare at each other across the hallway. Her breathing is steady though he can hear the pounding of her heart, can smell the grief and fear. She doesn't want this.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispers. "Please, step aside."

"You can still run, Nick." She shakes her head slowly. "I can't love the fox you'll become if you do this."

He chuckles bitterly. "You never loved the fox I was. I suppose we won't have a happy ending."

"I suppose not."

She attacks without hesitation. Nick barely dodges the bullet before she's upon him. Is he that weak that she can outmanoeuvre him? Have the wounds sapped away his strength? Or has she always been this good?

Every blow she makes is designed to incapacitate. They don't work too well against his enhanced frame but each one leaves him unbalanced and open to the next blow. She doesn't use the weapons on her body even though she could have long ended this fight. If they fight like this, Judy will win and the revolution built on his blood and pain will fail. He made an oath to see it through.

(Nick is loyal as his father was. To the death.)

He lets her blow to his sternum connect. The high calibre round to his vest had softened the area. It felt like agony against bare flesh. But he fights through the pain and grabs her arm with his good arm.

Her eyes widen and she tries pulling away for a moment. His arms have ripped through steel doors. A single bunny will not eclipse that strength. A spark of an idea flashes across her eyes—a way to win by the dark shade of purple.

Nick doesn't let her. He twists his body as he tugs her forward. He kicks at her shins with one leg. Unbalanced, she can't do anything but fall forward. He falls with her and wraps his shins around her throat. It's a chokehold, perhaps his worst with very little support.

But his legs can kick through concrete. He won't let go.

"I'm sorry, Judy," he whispers as she struggles to escape. "I won't let you die, Judy, but I can't let you stop me. I'll always love you."

He doesn't listen to her words, either her curses or her pleas. It hurts too much. Her struggles weaken and eventually peter off. Nick knows the trick and keeps on squeezing until her heart rate slows to a crawl. Nick lets go and slides away from her. He rests against the wall and breathes slowly. He's felt pain before but Nick feels as though his heart is dying.

But he rises to his feet. He checks the blade he uses as a makeshift brace. It's still there and still as beautiful as the moment he laid eyes on it. It is a symbol of his promise to see the corruption ripped burnt at the root.

Nick walks to the door. The locks on it are complex but none had thought him brazen enough to walk to the heart of Zootopia and wage war against them personally. He could rip the door from its hinges but one of his arms is broken.

He punches through the concrete wall instead. He steps through the dust, into another room. A single way mirror fills the room and through it he can see Jack Savage. The rabbit is calm, his paws interlaced as though in prayer. He is dignified even in prison garb, even though he is injured.

Nick's heart rages.

Glass shatters at his kick. Jack looks up and meets his eyes—dark emerald meets metallic blue.

"I left Skye with orders," the rabbit—hare, maybe—rages. "My life isn't worth this revolution."

Nick approaches the rabbit and simply stares, engraving every strand of fur and every line of muscle in his memory.

"I followed those orders. This is the revolution." Nick holds out his free paw. "Would you like to see the new world?"

Jack stares at the paw. The rabbit smiles slowly, the anger slowly melting away, before gripping Nick's paw. "I knew you would come for me." He nods to the knife strapped to Nick's other wrist. "Thank you. For everything."

"Skye is safe." Nick closes his eyes. "She'll be glad to see you."

"You were always my greatest sword, Nick. I used you over and over again, no matter how impossible the task. And you always exceeded my expectations." Nick's paw is covered by another paw. "But you were also my only weakness."

Nick stiffens, clenching harder around Jack's paw. "I'll always love Judy."

"Yes, but love doesn't discern." Jack huffs. "Honestly, you are a dumb fox. We can get sentimental later. For now, we have a city to take."

He laughs slowly, unexpectedly. "Yes."

They walk out of that cell and towards the future.

Year 45

Judy Hopps is thirty-seven and has just watched the city she loved burn. Everything she fought to defend has collapsed. There is no anger, no rage. Only a bitter disappointment at what Nick has done.

She loves him and always will. He was always so strong, so beautiful. Nothing could ever break him. Even when he mourned his mother's death, she only found the depths of his emotions glorious. She remembers when he campaigned for the rights of the downtrodden and even now she feels so much pride, regardless of his actions since then. He is not perfect, she knows, but she never wanted him to be. There is grace in his failings and glory in his determination. Nick will always be her moon, her guiding light in the dark. And she regrets that she could never love him in the way he needed—regrets that she could never love anyone like that.

She is not bound but finds no point in standing. Weariness is her companion and it stays close to her. Judy looks up when the steel doors open.

Nick.

He looks… healthier, maybe. His fur is clean and his wounds have been bound. There is a brace around his wrist and his clothes are fresh. There is darkness shading his normally bright eyes. He never truly understood what those eyes did to her.

"Hello, Nick. Is this everything you ever wished?" She smiles bitterly. She never wanted any of this.

Her beautiful fox takes a step forward. Hesitates. Crouches so that they are level.

"Not for you. I wanted us to stand together."

(It was always Nick's greatest wish. You know the depths of love he holds for her. And maybe, none of this would have happened if she did love him.)

She scoffs. "You've already found another rabbit to replace me."

Nick recoils. "No one could ever replace you, Carrots." The nickname hurts. "I'm forty-five and you've been the greatest friend a fox could hope for. But I also need him."

"I suppose this is when you dispose of me."

Nick makes a sound hallway between an exhale and a gasp. "Judy, you'll always be my sly bunny. I'm going to make sure you get back home safely."

"This is my home," she snaps. "You're not sending me away."

"You'll always be allowed to come back, Judy. But you can't stay whilst the fighting's still going on." He frowns and reaches into his pocket. "And not without knowing the truth."

In his hand, he holds a data drive that has seen better days and a vial of something glowing a vivid blue. She knows what it is instinctively. Nick had described the experimentation chambers to her in disturbing detail. That vial, or one like it, had enhanced Nick to levels beyond reason.

Nick nods. "I won't try to justify what I did but now you'll understand why. And if you feel that you need revenge, you can come after me. You know where I'll be."

Year 51

Jack Savage feels his age more often now. He had thought burning the infection out at the root would be the end of it. Not once had he thought of what would happen if there was no government and no order. Chaos had reigned for the first few weeks before Nick had told him to take responsibility for his actions.

He had. Building a new government had been a nightmare labour and treachery had besieged them from all sides. Their allies were calling in the favours that were owed to them, seeking to take advantage of the weakened state of Zootopia.

He had sent Nick to cut through them.

The generals and military had fallen in line when they realised Nick could get past any defence they placed. He smiles at the thought of the glorious destruction his fox had caused. And then, when the military was under his control he had set them to rebuilding this new nation.

Nick had no patience for roadworks or energy generation. He was a soldier and police officer by training. But that was not his calling. Wherever mammals cried out for aid, he was there and did what he could. And then did more.

(Jack does not understand that Nick does this to atone for his crimes. Every life that he can help will always soothe his tortured soul.)

There was no figure more polarising than Nick. The fox that had campaigned for equality, destroyed a nation, built a new one on ashes and blood, and then went straight back to campaigning. And yet, it worked. No matter where you looked his face was engraved in the minds of everyone. Jack might be the architect of the revolution and now Chancellor, but Nick would always be the face of the change they had caused.

Jack was very well one of the most powerful mammals in the world. And yet, he had never thought he could be so terrified as now.

Nick lays a hand on his shoulder. Jack looks up at his perfect sword and meets those eyes. "You'll do just fine."

"Maybe." Jack takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

A black fox opens the door. He looks first at Jack and then at Nick. The fox sighs. "Come on in. I told him you'd come."

"Thank you, Adrian," Nick says as they're let to the lounge.

Jack is tense and not even the comforting presence of Nick can erase that tension. He looks at the pictures on the wall. The only one of interest has Nick centre stage in it, happy and content surrounded by his family.

Jack takes another deep breath when Noah rounds the corner. Nick's brother looks nothing like Nick aside from the red fur. Their eyes are different colours and the structure of their muzzles are different.

"Hello, Nicky. I didn't think you'd visit again." Noah sits and sighs.

Nick chuckles. "You're not getting rid of me so quickly, old man. But it's safe for me to visit now."

Noah nods. "Who's this?"

"Noah, I'd like you to meet Jack."

Age 75

Nick has lived a long life and done more than he could have ever imagined. He's lost much but gained just as much. His siblings passed away years ago and though he mourns their passing, they had both lived fruitful lives in peace. He regrets that he never adopted any children but his nieces and nephews have been enough.

He doesn't regret the nation he built nor does he regret the steps it had taken. It isn't perfect by any stretch and it is flawed. But it isn't run through treachery and deceit and manipulation.

There is one person he regrets: Judy. He regrets never having spoken to her again but he had always respected her wishes. So, when she asked to meet he had answered without hesitation. No matter the reason, she would always be his sun though Jack is the earth he orbits.

She looks much the same as she did so long ago. There is a surety to her steps that time should have taken away. The serum, though, fought against even old age. Nick knew this for a fact. After all, he still looked to be in his forties.

"Hello, Carrots."

"Hello, Nick."

"Have you made your decision?"

"Yes." She draws the sword strapped to her hip.

Nick sighs and unsheathes the knife Jack gave him so long. "I love you, Judy, but I've moved on."

"So did I," she says.

Nick chuckles. "Move on or love me?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

My sly bunny.