Disclaimer: "Zootopia" is owned by the Magical World of Walt Disney Pictures and Walt Disney Animation Studios. The "Sly Cooper" videogame series is owned by Sony, Sucker-Punch Productions, and Sanzaru Games. There are also aspects that will be borrowed from or directly inspired from Zootopia's pre-production works and concepts from Nicolaswilde's "Zistopia" Tumblr blog. Said story itself is a fan-based non-profit work of fiction written strictly for entertainment purposes only. Please support the official releases. Thank you.
Fox Point
By MaveriKat
Beta Read By Innortal & Nanya
Chapter 2: Difference of Opinion
Carefully making her way up the rickety and warped remnants of scaffolding, the vulpine policewoman held her shock pistol before her at the ready; the heat of the volcano leaving a haze in the air that made it difficult to see more than a few feet before her. The smog that was lifting up all around her was due to the interior of the Krack-Karov smoldering with all the wreckage that lay within the magma interior, metal and electronics that had made up the mad mechanical owl's doomsday device were proving quite resilient, even to the molten rock.
The woman came to a stop as she saw her target by the edge of the metal walkway. It was a masked, grey-pelted male raccoon. His attire was comprised of a blue long-sleeved shirt with yellow collar and a black leather belt around the waist, black boots, yellow gloves with lengthy black cuffs that reached his elbows, a bright red backpack, and to look topped off with a blue cap. His right arm held a good cane, the top of it a golden C-like shape, akin to a Shepard's crook, the shaft of the tool's length resting on the raccoon's shoulder. His left hand held tightly onto a series of pages, the worn papers covered with scribbled of browned ink, hinting at its age.
She took careful steps towards the criminal, her gloved hands grasping the pistol grip so tightly that the leather creaked. She allowed him a moment to reach behind his back and place the papers into his backpack as he lowered his cane with his other; such an unnatural position would make it more difficult for him to simply lunge into a sprint. "Freeze, Cooper!" She called out to the procyonidae perp. "Slowly turn around and hands where I can see them!"
The raccoon jolted in place, taken by surprise for once. Both hands rose up at either side of his head, his right hand still holding onto his cane. He slowly turned, his torso twisting to his left, allowing him to look over that shoulder in full. The career criminal gave her a nervous smile. "Huh... looks like we're not going to be friends anymore..." he softly chuckled, the man's laugh a surprisingly sad sound. "So, with Clockwerk's death ray out of commission, we're back to playing cops and robbers?"
Taking her left hand off of the shock pistol, the vulpine Interpol agent reached into her jacket pocket while her right hand kept the electric weapon aimed on him. "You knew this was going to happen eventually, Cooper." She then withdrew a pair of handcuffs, twirling them on her left index finger. "I should save myself a lot of trouble and slap these on you right here and now."
His fingers twitching, the raccoon slowly turned about so he was facing the Hispanic vixen outright. "Yeah... you could..." he admitted rather reluctantly. "And here I thought handcuffs were saved for the third date," he mumbled wistfully underneath his breath. Yet the smile that blossomed on his face made it clear he had meant for Carmelita to hear that.
Inspector Fox didn't deign to answer that. Still, she did have something else important to tell him. "However..." she looked at the raccoon thief over the sights of her firearm. "I am a woman of my word," she said in all seriousness even as a smile spread across her muzzle. The red fox couldn't help but feel slightly giddy at being the one to finally offer a teasing grin for once. "I promised you a ten second head-start, didn't I?"
Smiling, the mammalian master thief lowered his arms, his smile returning in full. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that the vulpine woman found rather alluring on his handsome features. "Oh, my dear Inspector... you are too good to me sometimes, you know that?"
Shaking her head in annoyance, Carmelita held her shock pistol up, the bright red firearm with yellow trim primed and ready while her trigger finger feeling felt awfully itchy. He was so close to her, such an easy target from this distance... but the officer promised him. And thus, began to count down. "Ten... nine... eight..."
As soon as the woman began counting backwards, Cooper gave the police officer a grin that reached from ear-to-ear. He brought the heel of his cane down on the platform and leaned forward, both hands placed atop the crescent-shaped gold handle. He looked into her eyes, even as she continued to count down.
"Seven... six... five..." was the cycle of numbers that came from the vulpine woman's lips. Pocketing the handcuffs, the police vixen brought her left hand up to the crimson shock pistol, steadying it. Why isn't he running!? She mentally screamed as she stared down at that widely smiling face of the thief. She felt a flush of embarrassment as he brought his left hand up and ripped the brim of his cap upwards, showing off more of his face to the officer.
The Hispanic Interpol agent knew she was the one sweating now. Her hold on her weapon was becoming shaky, despite how tightly she gripped. "Four... three... two..."
And then it happened. Before she could finish the countdown, the volcano erupted behind Sly, leaving the raccoon illuminated from behind by an angry, crimson light of molten rock that bubbled red and orange as pockmarks of black meshed along the surface, portions of unleashed magma trying to harden before reheating and being enveloped within the mass once more.
Yet, all this intensely heated semifluid earth didn't come raining down on them in fiery death. Oh no, it just rose into the air higher and higher, the cascade shaping into a rather familiar avian form. Carmelita would have sworn her heart stopped as the lava took on the appearance akin to that of an owl. Immense amounts of magma reached out from either side of the pillar as a pair of enormous aerodynamic appendages with a wingspan that blotted out the sky. As the face took shape, its eyes began glowing with an intense burning yellow light, flickering with flames so incredibly violent it was as if they were solar flares.
The creature of molten rock looked down on them with those hate-filled eyes before its gaze settled on the tiny raccoon at the edge of the catwalk before it. "Coo~oooop~eeerrrrrrrr..." it growled in a hollow, metallic voice that boomed throughout the area. It then released a bird-like screech that made Carmelita drop her gun and raise her hands to the top of her head, trying to muffle her ears with her palms... yet it still came through as high pitched as ever.
And then it happened. All that mass of lava came down upon the raccoon, the avian shape lost as it just became an immense flow of super-heated rock that would engulf the man. Her eyes going wide with horror, the woman tried to run forward, to grab him... only to find her legs refused to move. "SLY!" The vixen screamed in impotent terror as the mass of angry-eyed rock was about to make contact.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"SLY!" Carmelita cried out as she jolted from her sleep-haggard state, only to end rolling off from her couch and come crashing down on the floor. The partially undressed red fox grunted as she rose up to her hands and knees, shaking her head to clear her senses. Breathing heavily, the woman clad only in her tube-top, skirt, and socks was doing her best to calm herself even as her heart beat thunderously inside her chest. "Just... just a dream..." she gasped out, trying to get her waking thoughts back in order and process what was going on around her. "Just a dream... that never happened. Just a dream," she repeated the mantra in an effort to calm herself.
Raising her head slowly, the woman needed to get her bearings. Yes, she was still at her office, sitting on the floor. Settled in the wall to her right was a set of windows that looked out to the early morning skyline of Paris. The policewoman then turned to her left, gazing towards the North side of the room where her six feet long green faux-leather couch was settled–and that she fell off from. The Latina vulpine was thankful that she had the venetian blinds of the solid glass office window above it closed; the Hispanic vixen wouldn't want any of her fellow Interpol officers seeing her in her current sorry state.
Climbing back up onto her couch, the woman settled into it. As she did, she gazed about her office, trying to get her thoughts in order to relax. Almost directly across from her was her jacket strewn over a filing cabinet. The floor was tile–durable and hard as she could attest to just then–was remarkably clean, save for the dust bunny.
No, really, it was a bunny made of nothing but dust. The vixen had to blink her eyes as she would have sworn it just waved at her in cheerful greeting.
Bringing her hand to her face, the woman rubbed her eyes. "Necesito conseguir una limpieza o algo así," Carmelita complained in her native tongue about needing a maid before shaking her head. Her gaze moved to her 'L'-shaped desk near the Western wall where her Academy Diploma hung prominently. The desk itself was a mostly empty save for a desk lamp, a computer monitor with a keyboard and mouse, and a cushioned swivel chair on wheels settled behind it for her to be comfortable when she got down to working. On the Southern wall were a set of shelves... well, cupboards to be more precise. Carmelita wondered why they were always on the ground. She hated bending over to get stuff from them; it always felt like someone was scoping her rear end out when she did that.
Above that was a book shelf, though she kept it free of books since the height it was at made it rather useful for storing physical pieces of evidence while she was working on cases. And finally, situated in the Northeastern corner of the room, she had a large filing cabinet, a television situated right on top of it.
Everything was in order, this was her office as she last left it; she was awake... and the clock hanging on the wall showed the fox with navy blue tresses had another hour to go before she had to punch in for her next shift. "Fuck it..." she murmured. She didn't feel rested at all. It was one thing to try and keep running on four hours but when her sleep was haunted by terrible dreams, it wasn't all that useful for recuperation. No, she needed a little boost. "A small nap won't hurt," she murmured as she gently lay herself back, closing her eyes.
However, the woman only had a minute to close her eyes before the office door to the left of the couch was opened quickly, nearly smashing the closest window along the Eastern wall as it made them rattle violently on contact. "Whoops! Sorry!" The purple weasel with his hand on the wooden barrier with a small, eye-height glazed window that was emblazoned with the insignia of an Interpol officer's badge apologized profusely. "I hope I didn't wake you, Inspector Fox!"
Still laying down on her couch, the Hispanic vulpine officer slowly cracked her brown eyes open to see the source of her interruption; the familiar desk jokey standing there with a bright and cheery smile on his face. "No... no you didn't, Detective Winthorp..." she replied kindly, albeit tiredly. Internally, she wanted to chew him out for entering without knocking but she was too tired for that. Taking a deep breath, the fatigued woman pushed herself to a sitting position once more and looked to her right at him. "What do you need?"
Blinking his eyes at the sight of the disheveled vixen the weasel then averted his gaze and brought his free hand up. Coughing into his left fist to clear his throat, the man turned his attention back to the red fox and answered, "Just two things. First, I brought you coffee!" He chimed merrily as he reached his right hand out to offer the tall Styrofoam cup. "Four creams, three shots of liquid sugar, and a shot of French vanilla: just the way you like it!" He shook the cup slowly to let the brown contents of the coffee dip and crest in waves along the surface of the beverage... but not enough to where it would spill over the sides.
Her nose twitching at the aroma of the steaming liquid, the woman perked up slightly, now slightly glad that he barged into her office. "Thank you, Winthorp," the blue-tressed vulpine replied earnestly as she more than gladly accepted the offered caffeinated beverage from him. Bringing it to her lips, the woman sipped carefully, both to not burn herself and to just revel in energizing effect it was slowly having on her. Pulling the cup away from her muzzle, the woman parted her jaws and exhaled. "Ah, yeah... that's the stuff..." she murmured before bringing the coffee back to her greedy maw.
Watching as the woman enjoyed the coffee, the purple-pelted weasel let off a sigh of his own. He always enjoyed that warm, comfortable sensation he got whenever he was around the vixen, feeling content without a care in the world. And with Sargent Cooper out of the picture, I'll be able to make my move soon, he thought gleefully. The news of the raccoon agent's apparent death had been nothing but wonderful to the Detective. Carmelita had always had her attention on that darned Sly Cooper from day one of his criminal career, and it had been even more difficult to make a move on the Latina woman once the thief somehow evaded punishment and joined them at Interpol. But with him dead? Oh yes, now there was no one to stand between the dutiful officer clerk and the woman he deserved!
And soon, the violet-furred mustelidae thought with satisfaction. She'll get over him and move on with her life. Then I'll be able to just slide myself into the picture and take over where he left off. Then it will be my name she'll be whispering lovingly. I can just hear it now.
"Winthorp? Winthorp? Hey, Winthorp?"
A giddy smile crossed the weasel's muzzle. Yeah, just like that... he thought wistfully.
"Detective Winthorp Wēzel!" The vixen barked the man's full name, snapping the weasel back to reality. She raised one of her navy blue eyebrows in curiosity, watching as her fellow officer stumbled about in place, throwing his arms up before jumping up in shock–even that eyesore of a bright red bowtie seemed to spin place on his neck in an almost comical fashion! Despite how mean it made her feel, the vulpine officer couldn't help but feel a bit of smug satisfaction at having caught him off-guard as he had her just minutes prior. Still, the red fox allowed the man a moment to calm down before asking in a much softer voice, "Now then, Detective... I believe you said you had something else for me?"
Finally gathering his wits, the violet-pelted Interpol paper-pusher nodded his head rapidly. "Y-yes, Inspector Fox!" He chirruped as he brought both hands down to his waistband, pulling his pants up a bit more to the point where the garment practically covered his chest. As they slid down a bit without him to hold them there, he explained, "Chief Barkley wants to see you before your shift starts. Apparently he has a special mission for you and needs you to begin right away!" He grinned at her. "Obviously, you've just kept on impressing the man! Keep this up and you'll have his job before you know it!"
Bringing the cup of coffee to her mouth once more, Carmelita couldn't help but roll her eyes at the obvious attempt at brownnosing. Still, she was at least able to refrain from snorting as well–that would have otherwise made a mess with how close the cup was to her nose. Taking a few more sips from her beverage, the woman swallowed before replying, "And who would want it? Maybe when I'm older and it's more difficult to run around but I've still got at least a decade or two before I want to start vying for that desk job!"
Now the weasel pouted a little bit. "There's nothing wrong with a desk job," he muttered under his breath. Seeing his fellow officer was staring at him curiously, the man was quick to switch subjects, "Anyway is there anything else I can do for you while I'm up, Inspector Fox?" He grinned widely, showing off all his pearly white teeth in what he felt was an award-winning smile. "I'm never too busy to do anything for you. Anything at all!"
Said toothy grin made the vixen suppress a shudder as that smile gave her the impression that Winthorp was the sort who hid bodies in the cellar and babies in the freezer. It was really putting her off of her appetite, let alone her coffee. Extending the arm out, she held the Styrofoam cup to the weasel to take from her. "No thank you. I just need to get dressed and see what the Chief wants is all." As he took the cup from her, the Hispanic vulpine requested, "Now please. Move along Detective. I need to freshen up."
His head bobbing for a moment, the purple-pelted mammal replied, "Of course..." he then waved at her with his free hand, grinning widely. "I'll be on my way!" He chirruped merrily before his free hand came behind him and grasped the handle, closing the door shut behind him as he exited the vixen's office.
Almost on gut instinct, the woman turned about on the couch. Standing on her knees, the female vulpine brought her right hand up, using two fingers to gently pry apart two of the plastic slats. Peering out into the rest of the building through the opening she made with an inquisitive gaze, the vixen watched as the weasel swirled the contents left in the Styrofoam cup for a moment... before drinking from it himself.
The woman let the blinds snap shut back into place and gagged. "Dios maldito monstruo..." she cursed as she shook her head. She was certain the weasel didn't mean anything by that–at least she sure as hell hoped he didn't–but someone really needed to have a firm talk with Withorp about his social awkwardness if not outright creeper tendencies! "I swear to God! Sometimes I really think the deck is stacked against me," she grumbled as she turned about on the couch. Now that she was sitting properly, the Latina fox bent over and picked up her boots before lifting them up and allowing one to them fall down on the cushion next to her. She then brought her right boot around, slipping her foot into it. Once she had it snug, she brought bought hands down to start clasping the buckles. "And so another day begins... ugh!" she shook her head in annoyance, upset with the skeeviness of her co-worker, her boss refusing to let up on her, at her missing boyfriend worrying her... at everything, really!
"I swear," she grumbled as she set her foot down on the floor. The woman turned her foot left and right on her ankle to make sure it was secure before she reached over for the other boot. Bringing the piece of footwear around to slide her left foot into it, the Hispanic vixen continued to complain, "There is just no rest for the weary..."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
With black umbrella adorned with patchwork repairs held above him, a rather thinly built male fox made his way through the much larger throngs of locals that crowded the street level of Zootopia's Rainforest District. The vulpine was covered in the traditional pelt of crimson fur with a creamy abdominal patch that reached up to his muzzle that was commonly associated with the red fox breed. However, he also had a distinct variation to his pelt in that the man had dark auburn fur covering his feet and hands, as well as the tips of his ears and tail.
Thankfully for the fox, despite the dreary atmosphere that was the ever-present rainstorms–thanks to artificial rain from an advanced sprinkler system in the treetops for when genuine lousy weather wasn't in the forecast–his attire remained dry underneath the secondhand parasol. Decked out in an outfit that consisted of a bright lime-green Hawaiian shirt with darker green adornments of palm trees and leaves, a dark blue necktie with a pattern of light blue trimmed red stripes, and a pair of simple tanned slacks, the vulpine stood out from the darkened surroundings.
Coming to a stop before the base of a staircase that was designed to spiral up and around one of the tree buildings, he couldn't help but let his emerald green eyes rise up to check out the imposing height before him; topped by a canopy that hid not only the sunlight but the giant humidifiers that kept the place feeling oppressively steamy. All together, the set-up allowed the faux rain a greater coverage space. Yet no matter how many times the fox saw the familiar structure, the set-up of the apartment complex he lived at was always an unwelcoming sight, possibly more so than any building in the Nocturnal District. At least there it was just darkness that his natural night-vision could cut through. Here? It was accompanied by water that flooded the senses, made it harder to hear anything but the torrent that dropped down mercilessly, blurred the vision and made it difficult to see the definition of anything more than a few inches from the tip of one's nose, and left the building with a glistening sheen that made it seem unnatural.
"Home sweet home..." he murmured nonchalantly as he raised his right foot to the starting step and kept walking. Fortunately for him, the red fox's home was closer to the ground floor–and then some–so he only needed to make his way to the first intermediate landing. Moving beneath the overhang that gave the door some coverage from the elements, the vulpine male closed his umbrella slightly and tilted it to the side. Holding the handle firmly in his right hand while his left hand hefted the shaft, the canid male began to shake it, doing his best to clear off the excess water without splattering himself. When the parasol was dry enough, the vulpine male closed it completely and withdrew a set of keys from his right pants pocket. Flipping through the metal pieces on the ring for a moment, eventually the fox anthro found the one he needed to start with and then began flipping through the rotation.
Yes, rotation. Apparently, a door lock and a single deadbolt wasn't enough. This door had a total of seven locks altogether, each one needing a different key. So one after the other, the vulpine male turned keys and withdrew them until he had all the deadbolts opened. He then carefully stuck the final key into the lock of the door handle and turned it, opening the entrance to the building. He was very careful when he opened the door, moving it as slowly as he could so that he wouldn't slam it into the huge pipe he knew was against the wall space the wooden barrier would have swung up against. The fox sure as heck didn't want the bill for the plumbing charged to him again. Once was enough!
With the door opened enough for the red fox to enter, he did so... and cringed. Upon entering, he was immediately greeted to the sight of his landlord. Not that the large ursine was waiting for him, oh no. The simple fact was the sun bear practically lived in the lobby of the apartment complex he ran...
And as usual, the lazy bear was hanging out in only his underwear, revealing his short, jet-black fur that had two whirl patterns on the shoulders and a crest that converged from either sides of his neck and down into the center of his chest. The overweight landlord was idly scratching his rotund abdomen with his right hand as he relaxed in his old and worn Barcalounger reclining chair, the sun bear's feet propped up on an equally worn ottoman. He had taken his glasses off to watch the television he'd set up in the lobby, the eyewear resting on his chest as it hung from the metal bead strap that went around his neck.
One of these days, someone has to introduce him to pants, the fox mentally groused as he physically fought down his revulsion at the sight. He may have occasionally worked near a naturalist club in Sahara Square but even the fox knew there were some animals that should have kept their shirts on. Still, on a positive note, it looked like the bear was really into that episode of Dr. Phil: the mustached Walrus talking to a female mongoose about her daughter that was an unwed teenage mother with a spice addiction. I might just be able to avoid any unnecessary interaction with the guy for once.
And so with that thought in mind, the male vulpine went into action. With the skills of an expert safe-cracker, nimble fingers carefully relocked every bolt in place–ever so slowly as to not cause a loud clacking noise of metal springing into the doorframe. Once the vulpine had the door fully secured once more, he then carefully tip-toed across the floor, passing behind the overweight ursine in hopes to not to gain the larger mammal's attention. He was doing quite well with it too, his feet coming softly upon the wooden floorboards with the sneakiness that would have impressed some of the truly nocturnal breeds of animals.
Unfortunately for the red fox, as soon as his foot came into contact with the floorboard just before the door that was the entrance to his domicile, it creaked loudly. In response, the bear jostled in his chair. "H-huh? What the hey?" The ursine murmured as he sat up in his seat. Bringing his glasses to his chubby face, the bear turned left and right, gazing about the room. Eventually, on one of his turns towards his right, he caught sight of his red fox tenant standing before the basement door. "AH! Nicholas! Just the animal I was hoping to see."
Taking a deep breath as he faced away from the bear for a moment longer, the vulpine male schooled his features into a calm appearance. He then turned about, giving the bear a massive grin. "AH! Mr. Bearenstein! How're you doing, good sir?" He then began to quickly make his way towards the larger mammal. There were a number of things Nick had learned to stay on the sun bear's good side, and a couple of those were to let him remain at rest and to always hold conversations close enough to show you weren't afraid of the man but far enough to stay out of paw's reach–usually keeping the bear's snack table between the two of them was more than enough. "There's no need to bother with me, sir! I saw you were busy with your show and felt it would have been rude to interrupt you."
Sitting up in his chair, the ursine wasn't deterred by the fox's smooth talking. "Actually, it wouldn't have been a problem at all, Mr. Wilde..." he said in a deep guttural voice. "I just needed to talk to you about out arrangement." The tone of his voice suggested that it would have been beneficial for the fox to have a response that the bear wanted to hear from him.
"Oh dear, is this about rent?" Nick scoffed as he brought his right hand up and waved off the man in a relaxed fashion. Never let them see you sweat, he mentally told himself as he spoke in a calm, charming fashion. "Well, don't you worry your pretty little head about that Mr. Bearenstein! I'll be on time as always." At the hairy eye the ursine gave him, the smaller mammal put out an air of mock outrage for comical effect. "What? Is this because I'm a fox? Come on, Mr. Bearenstein! How long have I been a tenant of yours now?"
The overweight mammal considered that for a moment. "...Ten years..." the large sun bear surmised. "But this isn't about the money. If I thought you were just another bum of a fox that couldn't make rent, I would have kicked you out on your tail nine years ago." He then exhaled deeply, causing the folds of chest fat to ripple. "No, this is literally about your living conditions. You see, the Zootopia Construction and Building Inspectors drop by to check buildings in the Rainforest District around every decade or so to make sure there are no problems with any tree's foundation stability or structural integrity. They arrived while you out working earlier. To be blunt, they didn't like what they saw when they checked out the boiler room."
Despite the desire, the vulpine hustler was able to fight down his urge to cringe. He kept his poker-face smile firmly plastered across his muzzle and asked in a tone that sounded far calmer than he actually felt, "They weren't happy to hear you were turning a part of your basement into a rental property on the cheap, were they?" Crap, it looked like he was going to need to start looking into another place for low-cost rent. Is old home district was a likely choice but that meant he was likely to run across her. That was one thing Slick Nick would never be ready for.
Fortunately, his worries were immediately abated when Mr. Bearenstein replied, "No. I told them I was using the boiler room as an office. They suggested I move my more important documents to someplace dryer but they didn't give me any fuss about that. No, it was about the overly leaky nature of the foundation itself." He scoffed. "They're making me pay to waterproof the place: insulation and installation of more drainage grates. And that's just for the basement, let alone everything else they're making me do to this old tree!"
With that bit of news, the vulpine had perked up considerably. "Oh really now? You don't say..." Nick trailed off as a smile made its way across his face. He'd been living in such horrendous conditions since he moved in and it just got worse with time. To hear a fix was on the way was the first bit of silver lining he'd seen in the dark cloud of life in a while. "Well, that's great news!" He clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously in delight. "Now I'll have pots and pans I can actually cook with instead of catching rain!" Yes, such was the possibly the worst aspect of living in the Rainforest District. The water was everywhere. "Thanks for the heads up, Mr. Bearenstein!" He gave the sun bear a salute with his index and middle fingers. "That made my day!"
Now a decidedly cruel smile crossed the puffy-cheeked muzzle of the nearly naked ursine. "Really? If that made your day, then the other bit of news is gonna break it. I need you and your stuff out of there by this weekend. I can't have you in the way of the carpenters and plumbers while they're working." His fingers rapped atop the armrest of the recliner he sat in, following a beat. "I don't need the construction contractors asking too many questions they don't need answers for. Do you read me, Wilde?"
Releasing a purposely exaggerated sigh, the red fox practically cooed to his landlord, "You don't need to worry about me, good sir. I'll make sure my personal effects are moved out well in advance, all by my little lonesome." He brought his right hand to his forehead and threw his head back in a most dramatic fashion. "It will be a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done and after I grind down my muscle with such labor it will be a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known!"
The sun bear snorted at the fox's attempt at comedy. "Cut the theatrics, Wilde. Just get your crap outta there before this weekend."
Rolling his eyes, the vulpine huckster let off a rather true sigh then, one of exasperation. "Fine," he replied as he straightened himself up. His hand pat over the front of his shirt to smooth it out as he asked, "So where am I staying in the meantime?"
Shrugging his shoulders, the overweight bear replied, "How should I know? That's your problem, Wilde. Not mine. I merely have to pay these guys to make repairs so they don't terminate my rental contracts and evict all the tenants! You're the one who needs to figure out where you can go in the meantime."
The fox twitched slightly at that. "Can't I just use one of the other apartments while they're working on the basement?" He asked honestly. "I mean, it's not like you don't have the room."
The older bear gave his tenant the hairy eyeball. "Please," he chided with a snort. "You barely meet your rent as is. You think I'm gonna trust you to make due for twenty times what you pay me now?" He barked out a laugh. "I always knew you were a comedian, Nicholas but that takes the cake!" Licking his lips at the thought of such a tasty, the sun bear couldn't help but murmur, "Mmm... cake..."
"Come on, Mr. Bearenstein," the fox pleaded with the larger predator. "Have a heart!"
The bear smirked. "Oh I do have one, Nicholas. It's why I let you stay here for only the fifty dollars a month you pay me under the table. It's also because of that I don't have what will really cover your tail here: a contract. So please, do try and take care of things before this Saturday or else everyone's going to be out on the streets!" He said in all seriousness before he rolled over onto his back, facing forward so he could look at the television set once more. "And that's all I have to say on the matter. So hop to it! I'm missing what Dr. Phil has to say about the state of single mothers these days!"
Watching as the ursine took off his glasses to better watch the television set, the male vulpine's shoulders sagged. Shaking his head, the fox turned away, making his way back towards the door to the basement. As he opened the door, Nick quietly whispered to himself, "There is just no rest for the weary..."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Despite his advancing age, James Barkley could remember back when his mornings were filled with optimism, when every day held the promise of making the world a better place with a little hard work and elbow grease. These days, he would just as soon stay in bed until the clock passed the hour of noon. However, as much as he would like to ignore such, the workday beckoned him onward. Crime didn't take the holiday and neither could the Commissioner-in-Chief. He had to be as sharp as a steel trap and make best use of his time collaborating with colleagues and issuing orders to Interpol's employees and field agents.
And that included getting his ability for conscious thought and deductive reasoning up to speed. Which meant besides a strong cup of coffee, the old badger's morning ritual included reading the local paper first thing. Of course, as with any news format, whether print on a page, imagery on a television set, or text on a computer screen or phone... it was always a crapshoot for what he would be greeted with. Some days, the headline was uplifting, inspiring, or even humorous! Indeed, sometimes the good word was just that and it was more than enough to fill the mustached musteloidea with enough positivity to keep him energized throughout the day!
Sadly, more often than not though... it was a decidedly unpleasant way to start his day. The in-depth coverage of some tragedy or great calamity that befell animality left the older mammal feeling anxious or even depressed. Or worse, it would give him a burgeoning sense of helplessness; not enough to affect his outward performance and duty but enough to leave him with a nagging sensation in the back of his mind that wouldn't leave until he investigated it further. That spine-tingling sensation that the world was falling apart around him... and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
Setting the newspaper down on his desk, the police chief exhaled deeply. Still, the badger began to think as he gazed down on the imagery of a uniformed policeman being loaded into an ambulance on a stretcher as the headlines proclaimed how a dozen officers of Sûreté Nationale had been injured during a labor protest. I can at least try and make things better for one person.
Granted, considering what he knew about the situation he was going to throw her into, one might think him being needlessly cruel. But as the old badger knew, at times you had to be cruel to be kind. Besides, Carmelita is a tough one. She'll handle this as well as she does anything else. She might have a rough start but she'll adapt, James justified to himself. He'd feel better about throwing her in the proverbial lion's den if he felt she could handle it.
A sudden knocking on his door drew the older Interpol officer's attention to the entrance of his office. He could recognize the outline of that head and hair through the glazed window on his door and he smirked. "Speak of the devil and she appears..." he chuckled to himself before calling aloud, "Who is it?"
"Hola! It's Inspector Fox, Sir!" Came the lovely voice of his former protégé. "You said you wanted to see me?"
"Ah yes, if it isn't Carmelita! Do come in!" He called aloud towards the door. As soon as the wooden barrier slowly opened, he offered the woman a small, caring smile. "Please, Inspector. Close the door behind you and have a seat." The portly badger waved to the chair in front of his immense desk with his free hand; the other still grasping onto a cup of coffee.
"What can I do for you?" Carmelita asked, hoping it wasn't something that would take too long. She did need to get clocked in for the day officially so she could hit the streets. Those gangbangers and conmen weren't going to arrest themselves!
Taking a deep breath, the badger knew this was it. The moment of truth. "Well..."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Outside, the sun was rising upon France's fabled City of Lights; the start of another glorious morning. The birds were chirping, the animal citizenry were milling about on their business, and...
"YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT!?"
...Someone was yelling loud enough to set off a quartet of car alarms as a result.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Bringing his hand to the side of his head, James rubbed his ear. He blinked his eyes a few times, shaking his noggin to clear his senses and get the ringing to stop. Damn, she can really yell if she wants to, he thought glumly. Eyes darting about to look for damage from that outburst, he would have sworn that some of the windows were now cracked from her yell. Finally though, he managed to reply verbally, "...I take it you've been working out your vocal chords for that one?"
Realizing she just started to chew her boss' head off, the vixen was filled with a sudden sense of dread. "Ah..." Carmelita blushed and looked down. "I-I'm sorry, Chief. I don't know where that came from..." she bit her lower lip for a moment, trying to calm herself down. Finally, she began speaking again, far calmer this time. "But still... you want me to do what now?" She hissed, unable to believe what the badger had just told her.
The older mammal sighed as he gazed over to the profusely blushing Latina vulpine. "What I said, Officer Fox is I that I need you to pack up and head over to America. For the next six months, you are going to be part of a special program and work as a beat cop."
"Wuh-why!?" The vixen demanded to know. "I thought I was doing so well! You even told me the other day you were proud with my efforts!" She brought her right hand up to her face, index and middle fingers at the center of her forehead while her thumb and ring finger rubbed just beneath her eyes. "I just don't understand why you would try and tear me away from my work while I have everything under control! Hasn't the crime rate plummeted since I actively took to the streets of Paris!?"
"The answer is very simple actually," the mustached badger began in all seriousness. "But first, there's something I need to know..." he paused, making certain he had the woman's attention. "Tell me, Inspector Fox: what do you know about the city-state of, 'Zootopia'?"
The Hispanic vulpine blinked her eyes once, twice, thrice. "You mean those liberal hippies that would try to vote a disabled rodent whose only platform is being openly homosexual into office over a proven lion candidate rather than worry about genuine crime and actually arresting real criminals?" Carmelita asked dryly.
It was an inquiry that got the canid woman a nod of confirmation in response from her superior officer. "Ah... yeah, that..." the pudgy musteloidea sighed as he considered her words. "That actually sounds about accurate." He then did his best to school his features into a smile for his protégé's benefit. "Well... congratulations, Inspector Fox! You're moving there!"
The red fox's left ear twitched erratically above her navy blue tresses. "...I'm not going to like the story behind this, am I?" Came the woman's rather blunt response.
Taking a deep breath, the overweight badger sighed as he sat up in his chair. "Carmelita, please!" The man tried to reason with his subordinate... who was being anything but.
"Oh no!" She snapped as she practically leapt out of her seat and stepped forward, standing taller before the mustached officer's desk. "Don't give me that!" Placing a finger down on his desk, she continued, "I am needed here! Now, I know I'm one of your most experienced internationally-versed officers but you want to send me to hunker down in a city that's more walled off than the Vatican!?" Her brown eyes narrowed, meeting the stare of her boss. "What in hell makes you think would I even agree to this!?"
Bringing both hands before him, the portly Commissioner-in-Chief reclined his chair back a bit. "Officer Fox, trust me when I say my reasons are genuine. Please, take a seat and I will gladly continue. Now then, I need you to be calm and speak only when spoken to for the time being." At the now surprised expression that crossed her face, he smiled. "I know, I know. I normally let you speak your mind but please, humor me a little. I am your boss after all."
Her shoulders sagging slightly at that, the Latina beauty took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. "Sorry Chief..." she apologized with a repentant tone to her voice. Making her way back to one of the two chairs in front of the older animal's desk, the vulpine settled herself down into it, the motions making the navy blue tresses the framed her face bounce a little bit. Sitting down in the chair, the woman straightened up and looked back at him with rapt attention.
Nodding his head as the woman seemed to be taking things civilly for the moment, James proceeded to explain, "My reasoning is threefold, Officer Fox. The first is that an old friend of mine is in need to help. Because of Zootopia's mayor... well, to the point: he's going to need not only my best officer but the one most appropriate for the job."
It was that last bit that caught the Inspector's attention. "Appropriate?" She asked in confusion.
The portly musteloidea nodded his head in affirmation. "Yes. You see, my dear Officer... the city wasn't always so..." he trailed off, needing to find a way to politely put it. "Shall we say... accepting of other species. Even to this day, there are still major issues to be had, which is part of the reason why, of all my agents, I need you to go. Mayor Lionheart is trying to help assuage the relationships between the species and apparently he's going to put some of the animals that have been oppressed through the Zootopia Police Academy to become officers."
The woman frowned as she considered what her boss was telling her. While such sounded like a lofty and noble goal, something wasn't adding up. "But that takes months. Even if they started fast-tracking animals through training, they're looking at half... a... year..." Carmelita trailed off as she realized why she was being sent there for six months. "Asi que es por eso..." she murmured with disbelief in her native tongue.
Nodding his head as he saw recognition dawning in her eyes, James told the vixen, "You always were the sharpest tool in the shed, Inspector." He couldn't help but chuckle softly at her awed expression. "But yes. I want you to do this for my friend. It shouldn't be too much trouble for you and I believe you'll find it a nice change of pace compared to your more recent endeavors."
Meeting the hopeful expression of her superior officer, the woman... frowned sadly. "Chief," she began with his title to show respect... before she had to try and argue. "I appreciate the confidence you have in me and I understand that this is a friend of yours you wish to offer assistance. But I don't understand why you need me in particular." She managed a nervous smile. "There are other species here that fit the bill. Can't you just send Detective Winthorp?" She asked hopefully. "With how calm and demure he is, he's sure to defy expectations." The Hispanic vulpine just hoped he didn't do anything to creep out the female officers there.
The badger sighed... ironically, in a bit of relief. He would gladly take her reluctance over the flat-out refusal he was expecting her to blow up with. "I understand how you feel Inspector, but this will really help an old war buddy of mine..." he said in all honesty.
Needless to say, that caught Carmelita's attention. "War buddy?" She asked quietly. "You fought in a war?"
The mustached musteloidea have the younger woman a nod of his head. "Quite. It was back in 1991, when you were... maybe six-years-old?" He offered curiously, the man slightly flush with embarrassment as he was letting on just how old he was. "I was in the Middle East fighting on behalf of Saddle Arabia as part of Operation Granby."
The answer she got made the woman tilt her head, the vulpine woman staring at him in curiosity. "...Operation Granby?" She queried, the phrase not ringing any bells or raising memories for her. "What was Operation Granby?"
Releasing a sigh, the man shook his head. "I'm not surprised you never heard of it. Most of the world knows it better as, 'Operation Desert Storm'." He snorted. "Operation Granby was the code-name given to British military operations during the Gulf War. We were fifty-three thousand troops strong, deployed to give aid to our American allies during Operation Desert Shield. As part of the British Secret Intelligence Service, I was one of the fine animals in charge of the First Armored Division. We were tasked with giving aid to the ZSA's Bulldozer Assault; whereas they charged in head on, we took a gigantic left-hook to outflank the Iraqi forces. Our plow-mounted British Challenger tanks destroyed upwards of three hundred Iraqi vehicles during the ground phase of the war, stranding a lot of the enemy forces where they were and forcing them to surrender."
"Unfortunately," the portly badger sighed as he continued. "A lot of innocent people died in that assault." He started to reach for his cigar but stopped at the look the red fox was giving him. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, the man settled back into his chair. "And when I say innocents, what I mean is child-soldiers." He felt a little proud at the look of proper horror that came over Carmelita's face. "One evening I happened to meet a cape buffalo, one Second Lieutenant Idriis 'Big Driis' M'Bogo... he was stationed on patrol during one of our joint ZS-Britain staff meeting." A frown adorned James muzzle. "When I discovered the young man, he was holding an M9 to his head ready to blow his brains out."
"I... can't say I'm surprised," Carmelita said softly. She couldn't argue that the very thought of killing children would have made her want kill herself right then and there if she had done it. "I'm guessing that something stopped him?"
James nodded his head firmly. "Yes. I did," he said seriously.
Looking over her boss, Carmelita couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. "I..." she blushed slightly. "Permission to speak freely, Sir?" At the older man's nod, the Hispanic woman continued, "Forgive me for saying, Chief... but I cannot envision you stopping a big ol' African buffalo from doing anything he doesn't want to."
"Exactly so," the older badger agreed. "At best, I was only able to shake his leg to get his attention... M'Bogo stopped because he burst out with laughter at the sight. Told me that I looked like I was trying to hump him." He smirked a little as he saw a smile tug at the corners of Carmelita's lips–a rare sight as of late. "I spent some time talking him down after that and we ended up becoming good friends afterwards. Since then we have kept in touch, albeit his current job has made the past few years difficult for him to do so until today."
The woman raised a navy-blue eyebrow in curiosity. "His job?"
Smiling, the older mustached mammal replied, "Chief of the Zootopia Police Department. Yes, M'Bogo certainly went up in the world. He left the military because of the responsibilities such a duty entailed, but he was still a very responsible, lawful herbivore. His successful military career made it easier for him to get into law enforcement as a war hero, and he climbed the ranks the honest way: hard work. He's an animal with a rare disposition in this day and age and deserves a modicum of respect."
The vixen nodded her head slowly as she considered that. She always held respect for honest cops. If what American television said was to be believed, then they were harder to find Stateside these days.
"Why," James went on to continue to praise the buffalo. "He's the one who pushed to get the ZPD to start accepting predators in greater numbers nearly twenty years back!" The badger chirruped. "He fought with them side-by-side and was able to use his influence and newfound municipal power to give them their first big push into lawful administrative positions."
Hearing that, the vixen felt she'd heard more than enough of the Zootopian police chief to form an idea about the kind of man he was–a good one. So before her boss could continue to talk her ear off about the, 'good old days' the Latina woman spoke up, "Okay, I understand that you two have some major history together. But what does that have to do with me going over there? And I mean besides the obvious." Carmelita suspected something was up. There had to be more to it than simply wanting to help a friend out. Though that would be reason enough for most people, when politics were involved it could be anything but.
"And that, my dear Inspector... is why you're the best," James admitted, knowing she figured out that there was more to it than he was letting on. "Besides the whole aspect of minority groups, apparently the fact that you're a foreigner and a female is supposed to help drum up goodwill among Zootopia's citizens, to show them the police force and their duly-elected mayor genuinely care about the people and their welfare no matter what their backgrounds are."
Both of them snorted at that. The pair of Interpol officers knew from personal experience that politicians–for the most part–didn't care about the average citizen's wellbeing. Finally though, it was the Hispanic vulpine who finally admitted, "Well... I suppose that is one way to keep everyone from being angry at them if things go sour." After all, that way they could say it wasn't their fault, but another nation's... specifically hers. Yep, she thought bitterly. The Great American pastime at its finest... passing the blame!
The male musteloidea nodded his head in agreement. "It can't be helped. Despite being on American soil, Zootopia is a city-state; a sovereign state that consists of city districts and dependent territories. As such, they can get away with certain political eccentricities." Taking a deep breath, the old badger murmured, "Only a handful of these sovereign nations exist, such as Singapore, Vatican City, and even Monaco here in France... but trust me when I tell you that of all of them, Zootopia is both at the forefront AND dead last."
Needless to say, that warning made the Hispanic vixen frown. "Dead last?" She parroted, hopeful her boss would elaborate on that for her benefit.
James surprised his protégé by suddenly switching gears. "Tell me first, Inspector Fox... just what do you know about the Zoonited States' Civil Rights Movement?"
Blinking her eyes once, twice, Carmelita gave the man an incredulous stare. Seeing the dead-serious expression on his face, the woman realized he meant business. Taking a moment to try and gather her thoughts, the woman explained, to the best of what she could drum up on such short notice, "Well, from what I understand... it was to be the end of Species segregation, to put a stop to the disenfranchisement and exploitation of the various predator animals. It's often associated with starting off with Rosa Barks and her Montgomery bus boycott and being seen through thanks to the efforts of Civil Rights leader Dr. Martin Leopard King Jr., Sir. But that's simply basic history right there."
"There's more to it than that, my dear Inspector Fox... a darker history..." the badger snorted in disgust. "While most of the Zoonited States were going through that great time of change over a course of years from the mid-Fifties to the late Sixties with the predators' sit-ins, freedom rides, and peaceful protest marches, the City-State of Zootopia decided to be the forefront of what they considered 'progress'... which only ended up making it worse for everyone there." The Interpol Chief reclined back into his cushioned seat and sighed. "They ended 'segregation' on August 15th, 1954 to coincide with the predators' week-long End of Summer Festival. Such great news caused the festivities to last a solid two weeks that year. Hell, if you look at the pictures and history books, you'll see it's a beautiful sight... predators and prey dancing in the streets, laughing and drinking together, hugging and kissing like long-lost lovers... you would think it was the beginning of a whole new era!" A sad gleam shone in the old badger's eyes. "Sadly, despite how badly Zootopia would want the world to believe it... that is not the full story."
Reaching for the cigar he had in his ashtray, the older badger took a puff of it. He knew Carmelita hated him smoking indoors, especially with her in the room, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment... because he needed something to calm his nerves if he was to share what he needed to tell her. "And then on August 30th, a mere day after the festivities ended... came the shock collars."
The vixen with navy blue tresses rose straight up in her seat, her brown eyes going wide as she stared at her boss in surprise. "Que!?" She queried in her native tongue, having been taken so off-guard by THAT statement.
The man merely looked at the cigar in his hand for a moment before he could finally answer her. "Oh yes..." James said in a tone of voice that was all business. "While the rest of the country's predator population was doing its best to make their plight and presence known to earn their much-deserved integration with the prey majority population, Zootopia gave its predator residents the modern equivalent of a noose and enough rope to hang themselves with under the guise of progressiveness." He snorted in obvious disgust. "The Zootopian government believed they couldn't trust their predators... that their, 'natural instincts' would cause them to attack the prey citizenry and it would result all-out anarchy. So from the age of five-years-old and upward, every member of every predator species in Zootopia had to wear a collar that would give them an electric shock... a device that would Taser them into submission whenever their vitals rose past what the collar's monitor allowed, no matter what the reason was."
Her hands gripping the armrests of her chair, Carmelita twitched in irritation at the injustice of it all. Oh, she could already envision how THAT could have turned out, even in the best of circumstances. "That's completely asinine!" The vulpine officer snapped angrily. "What kind of witless morons thought that would be a good idea!? No, wait, scratch that!" She shook her head. "What kind of specist morons couldn't see that something like the collars would end up making things worse!?"
"Exactly," Chief Barkley agreed. "So while during the 1970's the majority of the Zoonited States saw real integration of predators into jobs and positions once traditionally held by the prey and herbivores species thanks to things like Affirmative Action... in Zootopia, that didn't happen until around '89, a good twenty years after the fact!" He snapped irritably for emphasis. "It only finally started to end when communication became a far easier thing to accomplish among the common animal. With the world becoming a smaller place thanks to technology, the locals were learning what the rest of the country, if not world was like... and we were learning the crimes against animality that were still going on in that small corner of Washington state."
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, the badger merely looked into inquisitive gaze of the woman sitting across from him. "Needless to say, the Zootopia city council was pretty quick to flip the script before the ZSA government started sending troop involvement to take them down like the freaking fascist cult they were..." he snorted. "They only managed to survive THAT by the skin of their teeth. A lot of the former sheep politicians ended up stepping down and new elections were held... elections that got a surprising number of predator civil rights leaders into office." He chuckled at the irony of it all. "All under the delightful bumper sticker slogan of, 'Zootopia: Where Anyone Can Be Anything!' or some crock of shit like that."
Slowly, the vixen took all of the information in. It was so much to do so but things were starting to make sense to her, particularly Barkley's insistence of her going. Still, there were things she needed to know. "So let me guess..." she began slowly, making sure she had the older badger's attention. "Even though they have been forced to suddenly adapt to a modern world... it's left a schism..." she frowned more at the nod of her boss' head. "So even though they're working together and their society becoming more of a mixed bag like everywhere has helped things along... old sentiments die hard and there's a lot of lingering resentment."
"Exactly," the old badger replied. "There is still an unspoken species divide and it's gotten worse in different ways," he admitted. "Now with predators holding positions of power, the general attitude of Zootopia has become more, 'survival of the fittest' atop of the already ingrained disposition against carnivorous animals! Now you have lesser animals on both sides that are at the bottom of the food chain getting used and abused by the system. Rabbits, sheep, domestic breeds of canines and felines, various rodent breeds, skunks, raccoons... foxes..." he said that last one rather pointedly.
"...Dios omnipotente..." Carmelita groaned as the final pieces fell into place for her. "I'm being set up as a sacrificial fish, aren't I?" Granted, she would have preferred to go by the proper saying and use the term, 'lamb' but that would have been very specist... and Zootopia was doing more than enough of that!
"Yes... and no." The badger shook his head at the confused look on the woman's face. "While it's true that this is a bit of a publicity stunt, it may actually end up helping relations out. Especially if someone from the, 'bottom feeder' crowd proves themselves to be more capable than the supposed cream of the crop." He smirked at her. "I have complete faith in you, Carmelita. I know you'll do greater than they could ever expect you to do."
The woman blushed through her red facial fur, still not used to receiving praise of this level from her boss. "Frankly, sir..." the vulpine officer sighed. "I'm not sure about all of this. You're asking me to leave my home, my work, move to another country, work with their police force until the new recruits can get settled in... all because you want to help out a friend?"
"Yes." He nodded at her explanation. "But more than that, Carmelita. I think you could do a lot of good over there. Look at what you've done around here so far!" The portly musteloidea could see that she wasn't convinced yet, so he thought to add something that might sweeten the deal for her. "Carm, I promise you. You do this for me and when it's over, I'll let you have a vacation."
Hearing that, the vixen raised one of her navy blue eyebrow so far it went up into her hairline. "Really? But you never let me have a vacation." Sure, she got days off but the woman never had any lengthy stay of leave before.
The badger met her chocolate eyes with his own deep brown gaze. "Do this and you'll more than earn one. I'll give you a month off, full pay. That will give you a chance to go home to Spain for a while to see your folks and get the time needed to decompress from the mission." Left unsaid was that she would need it.
The woman stared at her superior with an incredulous expression. That was tempting... so very tempting. She remembered how many times Sly tried to get her a vacation only... to...
Feeling a clench in her heart, the Hispanic vulpine officer cringed. It felt like a ball of lead just dropped into her stomach and was laying there. "I..." she started, only to hear her voice cracking as her throat tightened up. She brought her left hand up to her face and coughed into her fist in effort to clear it. "I'm sorry, Chief," she managed in a much calmer demeanor. "But I really can't accept this. I understand you want me to do good by..."
The man held his hand up in a motion for her to desist. "That," he began in a surprisingly gentle tone. "Is my third reason for wanting you to go to the States." He made sure to meet the red fox's gaze with his own as he told her, "I know what you've been doing off the clock, Carm. I've seen the records you keep, which includes you checking out if not outright commandeering Interpol's equipment. I know you've been performing a private investigation into the whereabouts of Sargent Cooper but you have to face facts, Inspector Fox... he's gone."
Upon hearing that, the vixen felt her ire begin to rise. Clenching her teeth to keep from saying something she might regret the woman inhaled deeply... before telling her boss exactly how she felt. "If you really think Sly would die to something like that, then you Chief are–pardon my Spanish..." she took a deep breath before screaming, "COMPLETAMENTE MURCIÉLAGO-MIERDA LOCO!"
The Commissioner-in-Chief for the Paris Branch of the Interpol Offices sighed. "Carmelita," he spoke her first name in full, trying to show he was on her side but that he had to be serious. "We've lost a lot of good men and women to similar circumstances. It's not something we're ever prepared for when it happens but we all joined the line of duty, knowing full well that it's a possibility that either we or our compatriots won't come home. You've been investigating for two months now and... to be frank, I've seen your files. Your daily report increments are getting sparser and sparser. I allowed you to sink yourself into your work to help you cope but at this point, you're going to start hurting yourself. And soon? That could hurt others as well."
The red fox gawked at what her boss was saying. "Sir, I am not—"
"When was the last time you actually spent any considerable time at your home, Carmelita?" Barkley asked her point-blank. "When was the last time you went back to your apartment to check your mail? To clear out your fridge? To get some good sleep in a real bed? To do some laundry? To take a bloody shower?"
Crossing her arms over her chest in a defiant stance, the woman responded, "I'll have you know the building has a decent shower set-up in the women's locker roo—"
"Stop evading the question and give me a Goddamn answer!" The badger snapped firmly, interrupting the woman's attempt to go off onto a tangent.
Her lips tugging into a frowned, the vixen lowered her head slightly, unable to meet her boss' stern gaze. "Uh... about two weeks..." she murmured. And that was the conservative guess.
The mustached mammal just stared at the woman. "You see? That, Carmelita, is why I'm telling you to go home, and I mean right now. Get some real sleep and then get your affairs in order. You're going to be on a plane by this weekend at the latest."
Hearing the finality of his voice seemed to drive the hammer home. "...I don't have a choice, do I?" She whispered. Slowly looking up at the badger, she sighed when he merely shook his head in response. "Damn it! I can't leave! I swear to you, Chief! Sly is still alive!"
"Even if he was, he's nowhere around here." Bringing a hand up to his face, the man rubbed his chin in thought. He needed to do something to ease the doubt in her mind...
Fortunately for the old badger, an idea came to the Interpol Commissioner. "I'll tell you what, Inspector. I'll put a notice up for all field agents. If there's any hint of Sargent Cooper's whereabouts anywhere in the world, they'll inform me so I can let you know." Granted, he knew playing into such wasn't the best for her mental health, but if it gave the woman some peace of mind so she could do her job, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Hope was a powerful thing, after all. "I promise I'll have people keeping an eye out, okay?"
The vixen looked at him, her brown eyes practically pleading for the man to reconsider. "Please Chief... I know you are having your doubts about me but you can't be so critical with me about this, about Zootopia. If I leave now... if I drop everything I'm doing? Then I might not find Sly ever again."
Sighing, mustached mammal did his best to give her a reassuring smile. "Don't feel that way, Inspector. Criticism may not be agreeable but it is necessary. It fulfills the same function as pain in the animal body. It calls attention to an unhealthy state of things."
The woman gave him an incredulous expression as she considered what the badger said. "More Winston Churchill?" She asked curiously. As the older mustached male nodded his head, the vulpine woman's shoulders sagged. "You've been quoting that old bulldog to me since I was in the Academy."
"Because his words of wisdom remain relevant to this day," was the portly badger's soft-spoken response. Considering things for a moment, the old musteloidea got up from his chair and came around his desk. Coming up to the vixen's side, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Carmelita... when I chose you for Interpol, it was for a reason. There is integrity in you that I find genuinely rare in people in this modern era. I understand that to you it feels like you're compromising your ideals with the prospect of having to leave things behind, but can you really say you want to chase ghosts when there are real animals out there who need your help... predators and prey who still suffering under the specter of ol' Jim Crow?"
The Latina vulpine officer sighed. She did see his point, really she did... but she didn't want to go. The thought of doing so practically hurt to a physical degree. So once more, she tried to argue with him. "Can you really say that he's dead? There was never a body found."
Internally, James could admit such was something that had crossed his mind from time-to-time, in his private moments of wishful thinking. "And that is the only reason I'm even willing to ask the departments on your behalf to keep their eyes open for anything concerning Sargent Cooper."
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, the vixen bringing a hand to her face to fight tears she could feel threatening to start. I'm sorry, Sly... but he's right. Damn this old badger...
The older mammal looked at his protégé with a curious expression, his right hand still rubbing her left shoulder. "Carmelita?" He said her name softly.
Finally, the woman opened her eyes. "A la mierda..." she cursed irritably. "Fine. You win, Chief. I'll take the assignment and park my ass down in a specist paradise posing as a hippy commune for six months. Happy!?" She spat out bitterly.
Nodding his head, the badger heartily replied, "Very." Releasing her shoulder to allow her to stand, the portly mustached mammal told her, "And I'm serious now. Go home and get some real sleep; it'll do you a world of good. I'll give you a call later this evening with more information. We'll get your affairs settled on both sides of the Atlantic so you can do what's needed." As she stood, the badger saluted her. "I have full faith in you, Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox. You'll knock the pants off of them."
"I'd rather not." Then despite her weariness, the woman managed to smile before joking, "Who knows what I'll see?" She returned the saluted before she turned about. Making her way to the door, the vixen walked out of Barkley's office.
Sighing as the woman closed the door behind her upon exiting, the portly badger brought a hand to his face, rubbing his tired eyes. Well, that could have gone worse.
It was at that point the reverberations from the vixen's earlier scream took full effect; several windows broke in sync in a complete domino effect. Papers began to flutter on Barkley's desk as his room was subject to the early morning breeze from outside while the floor along the wall twinkled and glittered as sunlight shimmered on the shards of glass.
Lowering his hand, the Commissioner-in-Chief looked about at the destruction before sighing heavily. "I need to get some replacement windows in here," he muttered irritably, hoping he could commandeer some of that seventy-eight million Euro annual budget to fix the mess.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sitting atop an old wooden desk, Nick held a Samsung Galaxy S5 phone to the right side of his head, avoiding the dripping of the water that was going on all around him, filling bowls, pots, and pans. "Awww, come on, pal..." the male fox cooed into his cell phone. "Have a heart and give your buddy a hand with moving his stuff."
A firm baritone tremor spoke through the cell phone's receiver. "You kidding me, Wilde?" The voice queried irritably. "You want me to help you move furniture and store it until further notice? Me? Keeping it is one thing but come on, my mammal! You're bigger than I am for cryin' out loud!"
"That... is true!" The male vulpine heartily agreed. "However, you're the one with a van. So give your business partner a hand, Finnick... otherwise we're easily going to lose a day of hustling! Do you really want to lose out on a couple hundred dollars?"
A growl was heard over the line. "I keep telling you, Wilde! I don't have the room for all your junk. The van isn't only my business but my home! And you're gonna be out of yours for God knows how long!"
"Only a couple of weeks at best..." the sly fox replied to his fellow vulpine compatriot over the phone. "Sure, a month at worst but that's only the worst case scenario. And hey! Think of it this way," he chirruped. "With my stuff there, we could hustle nearly twenty-four/seven! Imagine how much money we'd pull in during that time!"
"And I can barely stand being around you for a few hours at time as it is," the voice replied irritably. "I promise you, if we end up living together you'll be dead within two days and the authorities will find your body in a gutter."
Cringing slightly at the blunt honesty of his compatriot of con-artistry, all Nick could reply was, "Oh Finnick-pooh... how you warm the cockles of my heart!"
"Ugh. The less I know about your cockles, the better!" the burly voice replied. A sigh was heard over the phone. "Listen: if things were different, then sure... I'd consider letting you use my van. But I don't have anything else, okay? That van is my livelihood!"
The crimson-pelted fox twitched in anxiousness. He really needed some help with this situation. "Fine, I get it. But you're one of the few people who could help me with this, unless you happen to know someone else with a van..." he suggested meaningfully. "Besides, I'd owe you one."
A deep laugh chortled over the phone. "Please! Anyone I know with a van sure as hell wouldn't help you out of the goodness of their hearts. I would need to call in too many of my favors to get them to do it." After a moment, the man known as Finnick added, "Really, this is your own fault. You should have been saving some of your money all this time. You could have at least had what you needed to stay at a Motel Six however long it took!"
Nick inhaled quickly through his nose before deeply exhaling out his mouth. The little guy had a point but that money was needed for more important things than collecting interest in a bank or dust under a mattress. "Okay, fine. Do you have any ideas, smart guy?"
The voice on the other end of the line was silent for a while, the only sound the vulpine heard being the drip-drop of water from pipes and wooden fixtures all around him. Finally, his buddy came on the line again. "You know, you could always ask Honey to put you up for a bit. You know how much she cares about you, Nick. Hell, I think she'd actually be glad to do it!"
That suggestion made the red fox cringe. "Look, Finnick... I'm not going to lie. That probably is the best bet... but I can't. She knows about Honey and stays in contact with her. I care about both of them and as much as I know the badger appreciates my presence I..." the male vulpine sighed. "I just can't see Francine again... not yet anyway..." he trailed off rather glumly.
"You can't keep running from your past, Wilde," the deep baritone voice told him firmly. "I mean, so what if she goes and visits Honey now and again too? It gives you a nice neutral setting to try and patch things up with your ma. Is that really so bad?"
"It is when mama finding out you're a hustler and the money she gets every week comes from a less than reputable sources would break her heart..." the red fox answered sadly.
Silence reigned for a moment before the smaller mammal spoke up with a voice that belonged to an animal ten times the source's size. "So what are you going to do?"
"Well, if someone would help me out, I could get this done quickly..." the red fox hustler replied as he reached his hand out to the side and pushed a pot closer to the source of the leak coming in from the ceiling... just one of many leaks.
Finnick's snort could be heard. "Again, I can't help you there. But I SUPPOSE I do owe you for helping me out with the time those zebras broke in my van's windows. So, tell you what. I'll make some calls and see if I can't get someone to put you... or at least your stuff... up for a couple of weeks. Okay? If I don't tell you anything in a few days, don't bother asking. Just means no one was willing to help."
And with that small glimmer of hope, Nick was grinning from ear-to-ear. "That's my buddy! I knew I could count on you!"
"Still, you should at least talk to Honey about housing your crap for you," Finnick told him. "In all seriousness, that way you only have to worry about finding a roof for your head."
That managed to catch the usually sly red fox off guard. Considering it for a moment, the mammal eventually nodded his head–even if his fennec partner-in-crime couldn't see the motion. "You have a point there, at least. All right. Tomorrow after our next pawpsicle gig, I'll take a walk over to Honey's and ask her about housing my furniture for me. Sound good?"
"Sounds great! One less problem for me to deal with," the deep voice that belonged to an admittedly tiny vulpine sounded out pleasantly.
Smirking rather deviously, Nick was quick to add, "Of course, since you don't have to house my furniture for me, that means there shouldn't be any problem with you just helping drive my stuff over to her place, would there?"
"Oh for the love of..." there was a menacing growl over the line. "FINE! I'll help you move your fucking crap but you owe me, Wilde!"
Nodding his head in understanding, the seasoned hustler replied in a most cheery voice, "No problem! I'll make sure you get an extra ten-percent cut tomorrow. How's that sound for your time and effort, little buddy?"
There was a pause, as the vulpine on the other line considered it. "...Sounds fine... and stop calling me LITTLE!"
A chuckle reverberated in the red fox's chest. "Right. See you tomorrow, Finnick. You can pick me up at our usual spot. Later!" He then slid his thumb over the screen panel of his phone, cutting the connection. He released a sigh that seemed to exude his long suffering as he looked out into his home... the apartment complex's boiler room.
The basement wasn't all that big when it came to actual living-space thanks to the numerous pipes overhead; most of the larger ones that crossed over the Western wall were barely higher than his head! The Southern wall had lots of smaller pipes, many of said metal lubes profusely leaking and so he had placed pots and pans under the dripping water so that he didn't have a completely soaked floor to walk over in the morning–the solitary drain grate in the floor wasn't enough to keep up with the torrent. Under the largest pipes was a three-drawer desk he currently sat on, a bit of cloth sticking out of the middle drawer. Nick also had a small wood dresser with a digital clock on top of it set to the right of the workspace. Behind that was a portion of wallpaper pattern that came from his home while growing up covered the wall to give him some piece of mind. For his clothing, he had jacket hanging under one of the pipes on a clothes hanger towards the corner of the room. And finally, a ways off from his desk, he had a suitcase full of various knickknacks he used on his gigs while above that to keep it dry, on one of the pipes, was a plant on top of a towel to catch the water there and stop any dripping.
Yes, despite such dank and cramped conditions of the boiler room, Nicholas P. Wilde managed to make something of a home for himself.
Now if only there was sunlight down here, the foxy conman thought a bit sadly. Not that one could even hope get much in the Rainforest District outside of the scheduled dawn, afternoon, and sunset clearings but the experienced hustler would take what he could get.
Sighing, the vulpine could only look at his situation and tell himself, "At least when I return, it's going to be a lot dryer." He shook his head as he slid off from the desk he'd been sitting atop of, the fox mindful not to slam his scalp against one of the pipes... again. Taking a moment to plug the end of the battery charger's chord into his phone before letting it rest atop the cabinet with his clock, the red-furred mammal then made across the cold concrete floor, being careful not to step in any of the pots or pans as he did. The male vulpine ended up by the section where he had his jacket and tie hanging before he began to unbutton his shirt. Once he had, Nick's hands came down to his pants, unbuttoning the slacks and unzipping the fly. Stepping out of them, he folded them nicely and grabbed the second hanger resting on the pipe with the one holding his jacket with his free hand. He then slid the pants onto the bar of the hanger and returned it to where it had been on the pipe he was using as a rack before sliding off his green shirt.
With that garment then wrapped in place over the second hanger with the pants, the red fox, now clad in only his white and blue-striped boxers made his way back to the desk. Grasping the middle drawer, he pulled it out fully, revealing the pillow inside which acted as a mattress. Carefully climbing up onto it, Nick curled up in a rather feline fashion. His hand reached out to the digital clock atop the hamper cabinet, smacking the button atop to set it for seven am.
"Another day, another dollar," the vulpine conman murmured as he withdrew his arms back into the safety of his drawer bed as he settled down for sleep. For better or worse, tomorrow would be another day in Zootopia.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Notes: If it seems as though I'm likening a lot of what happened to the predators with Civil Rights, one can blame YoutTube personality MatPat and his Zootopia Film Theory episode. The man gets a person thinking outside the box.
But hey! At least now Nick's been introduced to the story! Mr. Nicholas P. Wilde likely won't have a part to play next chapter but fear not, dear readers! He will be a major part of the story. I just need to build up and get to the point of it...
A Fox Point.
