Chapter 1
October 5, 1989
Mr. Wilde hit the button to turn off the radio and adjusted his paws on the wheel. The game had left him with that happy feeling one gets after pulling off a semi-complicated task. Man, that last throw by Zeke Zellmer of the Kodiaks had been spot on, letting Richard Pierson make the final game-winning touchdown. Mr. Wilde had grown up a Kodiaks fan. No special reason really, other than his father liking them too. He was pretty sure his grandfather had rooted for them also so it was kind of a family tradition, which didn't bother him any. The Kodiaks were one of the best.
It was late now, and Vivian had just called wondering when he would be home. 10 minutes he had told her, but he was now thinking more like 20.
Mr. Wilde's work was dangerous. He was employed by the government, specifically the FBI, and for the last six months he had been undercover gathering evidence to help prosecute the most nefarious crime boss in Zootopia. Only an hour or so ago he had left the last packet of information at an undisclosed location far out of town. Now, with only a few more miles to go before he got home, he was getting antsy. Six months was a long time, and it had strained their relationship as few things could. It wasn't the first time he had had to be away for many nights, but it was the longest. He had been able to keep in contact with her though, thanks to specially provided burner phones and he knew from their talks he had nothing to worry about, but still. Phone conversations were no substitute to being together.
He couldn't wait to get home. The thought of the smell her musk and holding her in his arms all night was making him crazy. Then he remembered he would have to go back to work the next day. Thankfully though it was not undercover, but rather behind a desk completing the finishing touches to the case.
Even so, bodily functions don't wait for anything, and he had to use the restroom something fierce. On top of that, his car was getting low on gas. Out of habit, he had put off filling it, and now it was getting to the point where he couldn't keep putting it off. Yet something seemed wrong. The needle said it was just above empty, but when he had last checked it before he went into work, it had been slightly above a quarter tank. He shook his head. The needle stayed where it was.
"Maybe I was imagining things." He thought. "Welp, I'll just fill it up at that station coming up. Kill two birds with one stone."
Minutes later, the station lights hove into view. He sighed a sigh of relief at the welcome sight, for his bladder felt ready to burst, and his car was running on fumes. Literally, for just as he pulled up to the pump, the engine sputtered and died. To compound his bad luck, a summer shower rolled in, quickly drenching the area. Mr. Wilde cursed softly as he got out of his car and walked to the station building, rain splattering the ground in a soft murmur accompanied by a soft breeze that blew fine raindrops into his fur and making him shiver despite the warm air. Once inside he went straight to the restroom.
When he came out, he saw the lights of another car pull into the station through the station's plate glass front windows. He barely gave them a second glance.
Mr. Wilde walked up to the counter and waited a second to see if the young deer behind it would notice him. The deer did not, and Mr. Wilde interrupted him by banging his fist on the counter, which was worn from years of other mammals resting on it. The deer behind the counter, whose name tag read "Greg" gave a jump and pulled off the headphones he was using to listen to music on a cassette player. He stood up and set the magazine he had been reading on the stool. Mr. Wilde saw that it was a soft porn magazine.
"Can I help you?" the deer asked. He seemed not to care that Mr. Wilde had seen what he was looking at.
"Yes, can I get 20 on pump uh… four, please?" Mr. Wilde said, pulling a $20 bill from his wallet.
"Sure thing." Said the attendant, taking the bill and putting the information into the register.
Before he was able to finish the transaction and get the pump ready for pumping, the front door burst open, slamming into the counter hard enough to make the glass in it rattle. In stormed four masked mammals, two carrying shotguns, the third and fourth were each carrying a black duffel bag devoid of markings.
Before either Mr. Wilde or the attendant could say anything, the lead mammal brought his shotgun to his shoulder and blew a hole the size of a cantaloupe in the attendant's chest, sending him flying up against the wall and spraying blood and globs of bodily mechanics all over the area.
Mr. Wilde was dumbstruck, but his training kicked in extremely fast and he tried to drop to the ground and pull out his pistol -which he always carried in a holster in his waistband- but the lead mammal was even faster and with a low grunt used the butt of his gun to land a vicious blow to his stomach, sending him crashing to the ground and trapping his right paw between his back and the ground.
The other shotgun wielding mammal stopped just past the door and took position facing out into the parking lot. The mammal who had hit him knelt down by the gasping and choking Mr. Wilde and turned him over on his stomach. He then relieved him of his custom Les Infants .45 caliber automatic pistol. A weapon that he had gotten as a reward for the completion of another assignment years before.
"Nice gun, Mr. Wilde." The masked mammal murmured, admiring the mother of pearl grips and Damascus style metalwork. "A shame you'll be losing it." He said, tucking into his own waistband.
Mr. Wilde just groaned. His stomach and chest were aching so badly his vision was blurry, and he could barely make out the base of the counter only a foot or two away. But that voice. It sounded familiar.
Without being summoned, the mammal carrying the duffle bags set one of the bags down by Mr. Wilde, then continued on around the end of the counter with the other bag and into the little room behind it that contained the video storage equipment.
The mammal who wasn't carrying anything knelt next to Mr. Wilde, and rolled him back onto his back, pulling his left arm out so that his paw was a good foot from his side. Mr. Wilde groaned and blinked a few times.
"What do you want?" he asked groggily. The mammal didn't answer. Instead, he unzipped a small pouch on the duffle bag the other mammal had brought in and took out a loaded syringe and a pair of latex gloves, which he quickly put on. Then, he held the syringe straight up and thumped it a few times, causing a small bubble to float to the top of the golden-brown liquid. This caused Mr. Wilde to snap out of his grogginess. He sat up, startling the one with the syringe.
This was a mistake, for the one covering him with the shotgun hit him again, knocking his breath out and forcing him back down again.
"What do you want with me?" Mr. Wilde asked through gritted teeth after he caught his breath.
"I'm surprised you don't know, Mr. Wilcox."
Mr. Wilde's eyes grew wider a fraction of an inch. So, his cover had been blown. He knew something was off that time when he was talking with Canton, who let slip something about there being a mole. Mr. Wilde had gone on his guard, but a week after the slip, nothing seemed to come of it and he let himself relax. Now he knew that they had been suspecting him all along.
"I see that you figured it out." The masked mammal said.
Mr. Wilde had indeed figured it out. In fact, he suddenly recognized the voice of the mammal with the mask.
"Manny?" he said.
"The one and only. Can't risk taking the mask off though Wilde, you know how it is."
"How did you catch me?" Mr. Wilde was stalling now, trying to keep the medical mammal from doing what he knew was coming.
Manny laughed. He held out a paw, signaling the medical mammal, who had just pulled out a syringe, to pause.
"This isn't a movie, Mr. Wilde. I'm not going to spill our whole plan or how we new where you'd be, especially here. But I will say that you went too far. When Daniel was caught, we knew who was behind the rash of killings and captures. Daniel was… bait, shall we say, and you fell right for it." He paused and checked his watch.
"Dick!" he yelled.
"What?" came a voice from the electronics room behind the counter.
"How's it goin in there?"
"Almost done boss! Just have to finish cleaning up!"
"Well go faster!" He turned to Mr. Wilde "No more stalling now Wilde. Get on with it Marci." This last remark was directed at the medical mammal.
The medical mammal, some sort of prey mammal judging by his body shape, took the syringe and stuck it in in Mr. Wilde's forearm with a quick jab and depressed the plunger. Within seconds, Mr. Wilde's was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Just before they closed, he saw another car pull up into the station's parking lot.
Present Day
Nick woke with a deep yawn. He sat up and scratched under his left arm, then rubbed his eyes. Beside him, his wife of three years stirred but didn't wake. Nick watched through blurry eyes as her chest went rhythmically up and down. It was almost hypnotizing. The clock on the bedside table read 6:30, hopefully, Judy wouldn't get up for a little while longer. Normally, Nick wouldn't get up till much later, but today was special. It was their anniversary, and he wanted to make her breakfast. Hopefully, she wouldn't mind skipping out on one day's work out on short notice.
Carefully, he crawled out from under the covers, thankful that Judy hadn't snuggled up next to him this night like she normally did. That would have made it a lot harder to sneak out.
Nick padded his way to the bathroom, where he rubbed cold water on his face. Nothing like a little H20 to get rid of those annoying crusty morning eye-boogers. Next, he brushed his teeth, but not with your standard mint toothpaste. He wasn't a big fan of mint. It always left his mouth feeling weird. Instead, he used another flavor he had found at a whole foods store one day. Blueberry. It was a bit odd for toothpaste, but man was it good. Sometimes he had to consciously remember not to swallow it. Nick took showers in the evenings so after brushing his teeth and throwing a bathrobe over his boxers he was done.
He padded to the kitchen and flicked on the lights. The brightness blinded him for a moment, but after dimming them all was good. Quietly, he set about getting the coffee maker ready. Then he went to the fridge and pulled out the necessary ingredients for making a batch of blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes. Nick didn't really care for the chocolate chips, so he made sure to make a batch without them for himself. He also made some scrambled eggs.
"Why are you up so early?" a yawning voice asked from behind him.
"Oh, heck Carrots." Nick said making sure she saw his tail droop as he pushed some eggs around in the pan. "I was hoping you'd sleep a little longer."
"Were you going to bring me breakfast in bed?" She asked, walking up to him and grabbing him around the west. "Why didn't you just stay in bed instead?"
Nick laughed. "I wanted to do something a little more, ah, filling."
"Oh ok." She said, letting go of him and walking over to the coffee maker and pouring herself a cup.
Nick finished his eggs, then started on the pancakes. Ten minutes later they were sitting at the table.
"Oh, I almost forgot." Nick said, standing back up. "Gotta go get the paper."
"Ok old man. I'll wait here." Said Judy.
Nick chuckled. "You know, reading the paper isn't just for old people Judes."
"You have an old soul though." Said Judy.
"Yeah, I know." He said then kissed her on the head. "Be right back."
Nick left the small dining room and shambled on over to the door. Already, light was pouring through the single square window set at head height on the door. muscle memory made him turn the deadbolt without even registering it. Upon opening the door, he was struck with an odd sight. On the small concrete pad that served as his porch was a small brown box. His newspaper was sitting on top of it. The newspaper covered a white label on the box.
His curiosity thoroughly peeked, Nick bent down and retrieved the box and paper, absent-mindedly putting the rolled-up paper into his bathrobe pocket while reading the label on the box.
'Nick Wilde' was written on it in neat cursive handwriting.
"What in the world could this be?" he thought.
He went back inside, closing the door behind him. He walked back to the kitchen and plopped the package down on the table.
"What is that?" Judy asked.
"Don't know. I was hoping maybe you would know."
"Why would I know?" she asked.
"I thought maybe it was a gift you might have had shipped here." "Nope," Judy said as she took a sip of coffee. "Hope it isn't another secret admirer." She added.
Nick laughed. He had become famous because of the night howler case and becoming the first fox police officer of Zootopia. As a result, he had gotten more than a few letters and other little goodies from vixens who had all desired to go out with him. He had even gotten a few from other rabbits. Of course, he had dismissed them all, and eventually, they had stopped coming.
"I doubt that's what it is Carrots." He said.
Nick went over to a drawer and pulled out a knife. Then he used it to cut the tape on the box, cleanly slicing through the label that had his name on it. Inside was something wrapped in white paper.
"A package in a package." Nick said as he pulled it out. The rattling of something inside told him it was a small box with a single item inside. Nick began to unwrap the box, totally forgetting about the rather heavy paper in his bathrobe pocket.
The box was made of a dark wood, with a very smooth finish. On the lid was a little design made of four interlocking circles that formed a line. On the corners were little curly-ques. The lid was held closed by a little gold clasp with the same curly-cue designs etched into it as the lid. He must have been looking at it for longer than he thought because he heard;
"You going to open it slick?" Judy asked.
"Oh, yeah." he said. Nick set the box on the table, flipped the latch up and opened the lid. Inside was a small gold ring and a piece of paper.
"What the heck?" Judy said when she saw the contents. "Is that a wedding ring? Nick?"
Nick had gone very quiet. Gingerly, he picked the ring from the box and turned it over in his paws.
"You ok Nick?"
"I, Yes. I am."
"You going to see what the paper says?" Judy asked excitedly.
"Yeah yeah." Nick said, setting the ring down and reaching into the box and grabbing the paper. Quickly, he unfolded it to reveal a long letter written in the same cursive writing as on the box. He began reading out loud.
"Nick.
For a time, your father was my best friend. Let me start at the beginning. On October 5, 1989, I and my comrades kidnapped your father. You probably don't know this, but your father worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigations and was wreaking havoc amongst the ones who were, and still are, top of the heap in controlling organized crime in Zootopia. Even above your friend, Mr. Big. Just ask him, He'll tell you. I'm surprised he hasn't already.
Your father made the mistake of falling for a trap, which is how we got him.
I wish this letter was the conveyor of good tidings, but I'm afraid that it is just the opposite. You see, we have held your father captive since then. Originally, he was going to be put to death, but I was able to convince those in charge to spare him, though not without its cost to me. There was no way we would be able to let him go, so instead, we kept him confined. Sometimes we would let him stroll around the city, but always under heavy guard.
The reason for this letter is to inform you that your father has died. He died while sitting at his desk drawing. Your father had grown on most of us, and we considered him a friend, despite him being directly responsible for the capture or death of eleven of our operatives. We knew he was just doing his job, so there was little animosity held toward him.
Enclosed is his wedding ring, something he always took good care of. I am not supposed to give you this, but I feel you deserve it. I wish I could give you some of your father's sketches, but they would be easily missed, and I can't figure out a way to sneak them out. The reason it has taken me so long to get to you is because your father never spoke of you. I assume it was to help protect you. I admit, it is odd that we never learned of your existence until the night howler episode, but I suppose it wasn't much of a priority. Once word about you got out though, your father approached me and asked me if I would get this ring to you whenever he died. I assured him I would, as he and I had become quite close over the years.
In closing, I want to tell you how much I regret having to keep him and deprive you of having him with you as you grew up, but it was of the utmost importance that we not let him free as he was very close to being able to bring the entire family down. If you want to know more you can contact me the old-fashioned way. By leaving an advertisement in the classified section of the Zootopia Herald stating that you are looking for someone to restore a painting. Let it run for 48 hours. I will be in touch soon after.
Yours truly,
Marci.
PS. I have your father's service piece as well. I got it from Manny after he went crazy. If you would like to come into possession of it, I advise that we meet.
Nick slowly set the letter down on the table. Beside him his food sat growing cold, untouched and forgotten.
"Wow." Judy whispered.
"What are you going to do?" she asked after a moment.
"I'm… not sure." Nick replied, picking up the ring up again and turning it around in his fingers. "I think I'm going to place that add."
"You're not going to tell the police?"
"Judy, we are the police."
"You know what I meant Nick." She said exasperated.
"Eventually."
"Eventually?"
"Yes. Eventually." He said.
A plan was forming in his head. Maybe he could pick up where his father had left off. This Marci person could help with that. If not, then he knew where else he could go.
"The newspaper office opens at 9." He said. "I'm going over there as soon as it opens." then he sat back down and picked up his fork.
"That won't interfere with any of our plans for today will it?" Judy asked, a mixture of annoyance and concern in her voice.
"No cutie." Nick said, reaching across the small table and ruffling her head.
Judy used to grimace when he called her cutie, but despite herself, she had found that it had grown on her.
"Good. You wouldn't want someone to find your dead body in an alleyway. Us bunnies don't like it when such an important event as our anniversary is not observed."
Les Infants is a parody of Les Baer, which is a company that makes custom pistols.
I looked up Nick's birthday, and I have found that it was November 12, 1989. From what I've gathered, his dad disappeared when he was very young, so I picked a random date. Nothing special about October 5, 1989, other than that since Nick wouldn't have been born when his dad was captured, it is conceivable that the bad guys wouldn't know about him. Originally, I wanted him to investigating a prey supremacist group, but I figured that would be very hard for him to go undercover in, so I made it your standard crime boss.
I know I have another story in the works, and I will finish it. Just not sure when though. That being said, I wanted to write something else and give my brain another avenue of thought. I hope you liked this chapter and plot, and if you have any comments or questions I would love to hear them.
Signing off,
Erwin.
PS: I am leaving for basic training the 27th, so all my stories will be put on hold for at least nine months. Basic is 9.5 weeks, AIT is 22.5. Hopefully, this long pause will let my creative reservoir fill again, and I will definitely do a story about Nick's experience at basic training.