I am the Second,

Alone in a Faceless Crowd.

A Mammal caught,

In Monochrome Dreams,

I scream to wake up.

My Voice drowns deep underground,

Only the Dead can hear me,

See Me.

The climate walls were going all out, unleashing a literal snowstorm upon the Tundratown District of Zootopia. The engineers had cranked them up earlier that morning, to cope with the hottest summer the city had experienced in fifty years, and they had yet to crank them back down again.

Kathryn Bogo watched the heavy snow fly past the window of the locker room in Tundratown Hospital and sighed. It wasn't windy, thank goodness, but the excessive snowfall made for very poor visibility. If those walls didn't take it down a notch, the ER would be overwhelmed by the next sunrise, and the thirty-eight year old buffalo wasn't just thinking about the traffic.

Kathryn finished packing her bag and sighed. Just before the end of her shift she'd had to treat three consecutive victims of a massive pileup on the Iceberg Arch. Halfway across the famous bridge a lion's collar had malfunctioned while he was driving. He was one of the poor souls who did not survive the catastrophe that ensued, but the news would make sure he took the flak for it. Just like they did with every collar-induced incident that has graced their pages.

Kathryn's hooves tensed at the thought. If Zootopia was so advanced, then surely they would by now have come up with something better than shock collars to prevent further accidents. If there was one thing she'd learned in her twenty-year career as a trauma surgeon, the damned things caused more accidents than snowstorms. Storms like the unnatural blizzard going on right now. There was not a chance in hell that she would drive home in this weather. If it didn't let up before she left this building she was taking the train.

Just as Kathryn was reaching for the door, she heard the beep of her pager.

Seriously? Just when she was literally leaving?

With a grunt she looked down at the rectangular screen. Her expression hardened when she saw the message.

Another patient. Borderline Code Blue.

She made it back to the ER just as the paramedics were wheeling in a motionless caribou soaked in blood. "Doctor, we've got a seriously injured caribou here!" Accompanying the stretcher was ram with thick wool and a blue business suit which she found familiar.

"What happened?" Kathryn demanded with a stern tone she'd been told many times that she shared with her younger brother.

"Savage attack! A panther did it!" The well-dressed ram said quickly. "I'm Carlton Woolton and this is Boris Antlerson."

Carlton Woolton. Now Kathryn remembered him. He was the assistant mayor to Tilda Swinton. Nevertheless she kept her focus on the other mammal.

She paced alongside the stretcher, taking in his visible injuries as she pulled on some latex gloves . There were several lacerations on his right arm and hoof. Blood from a potential head injury. More stains coming from tears in his black tracksuit. They would have to cut the clothing off to see the damage underneath. Worst of all, a deep laceration of the left arm, a little below the elbow. A beaver was kneeling on the stretcher itself, doing what he could to stem the bleeding. It spurted a little before he managed to apply enough pressure. Severed artery. They needed to get him into surgery asap.

The rest of the trauma team were ready and waiting when they brought him in. Kathryn quickly explained the situation as she held out an arm to keep Woolton at a distance. Once he promised to stay away from the table Kathryn placed an oxygen mask over Boris' face before grabbing a pair of scissors and cutting through the fabric of Boris' black sweater. Dr. Elkervera stood beside her administering an intravenous line. On the other side of the bed Dr. Minerva worked to ensure Hemostasis. The beaver paramedic stayed where he was, maintaining direct pressure on the partly severed extremity. Above the clamor, the heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm. Boris' heart rate was faster than what was normal for a mammal of his build, but he wasn't in shock. Not yet. But he could make it with both arms fully workable if they acted quickly.

Kathryn cut away the right sleeve to find a myriad of cuts and bruises, characteristic defensive wounds.

When the left sleeve was cut away she could see just how deep the arm cut was. Right down to the bone. She was looking at a partial amputation. She pictured possible nerve damage along with the artery. There were bruises here as well, but no other cuts.

Kathryn removed more fabric to find more lacerations, raggedly crisscrossed over the motionless caribou's torso. They were long and clean, most of them as long as a school ruler. Some were deep enough that she could see muscle and bone underneath. Completely treatable, but the chest hair would have to go.

Kathryn's hooves carefully traced the edge of one of the wounds. Something about this grisly pattern didn't seem right.

"Tell me again what happened." She said.

"Savage attack." Woolton replied. "A panther clawed the shit out of him. Why?"

"Because this looks like it was done by a knife." Kathryn said as she continued to probe the chest wounds. Every now and then a predator would get especially violent, or savage as the media insisted on calling it, and out of the ten cases that had occurred in the last decade Kathryn had treated three. Out of those three cases, two had been inflicted by big cats. All three had shown more or less the same injuries; parallel cuts inflicted by claws. Tooth marks typically located around the neck area or otherwise on the extremities. Blunt force injuries to the head and neck. Boris' injuries showed no such characteristics.

Woolton scowled. "What? No! It was a savage predator, I assure you." Kathryn peered at him. The ram was edgy, glancing between her and Boris. It was the kind of behavior her brother had often described seeing on a nervous criminal.

Kathryn turned her attention to the left forearm. A cut that deep should be accompanied by others if claws made it. But there were none. The edges were slightly ragged and there were traces of dirt and tiny flecks of wood. This particular wound showed more characteristics of an industrial accident, such as kickback from a chainsaw…

"Dr. Minerva, we need a lavage on the left arm before we begin suturing."

"On it."

Kathryn turned back to Woolton. "Where exactly did this happen?"

Boris hesitated. "Near the old fishery."

"And where is the jaguar now?" Kathryn asked. Insane predators were seldom in any condition to be put in a holding cell, so they were always brought straight to the nearest hospital and placed in quarantine. This hospital currently housed none.

"Not sure. Probably on its way here." Doug answered, tense as ever. Her brother had told her about him. He was the dull, overly professional type of bureaucrat. Not a suck-up like the PA always following Bellwether wherever she went, but there was no order Mayor Swinton could give that he wouldn't obey. Kathryn wondered what someone like him was doing in the poorer parts of Tundratown. "Besides, it's a panther, not a jaguar. Two different preds."

Kathryn didn't bother correcting him. Instead she took another look at Boris' wounds. She now seriously doubted that the unconscious mammal had suffered a mauling. Almost all savage attack victims had suffered bite marks or puncture wounds of any sort, but here there was none. Instead he had been slashed to hell and back, with something sharp and long enough to reach the ribcage.

It honestly looked like a knife attack. An extremely vicious attack instigated by a sane individual. Considering the sheer number of lacerations, however, 'sane' might be something of an overstatement.

"Dr. Bogo, we're ready to suture." Dr. Minerva barked.

"Do it. Mr. Woolton, you have to leave now." Kathryn said.

"What? Why?"

"You can't be in here while we're performing the surgery. The rest of you start without me, we have to stop that bleeding."

Boris turned his head slightly towards the sound of Kathryn's voice. His eyelids twitched, and his bloody lips barely moved as he tried to speak.

Making sure Woolton stayed away from the table, Kathryn rushed back and leaned over the semi-conscious mammal's face. "You're in the hospital, Boris. You're going to be alright."

"Twilight…" His voice was barely audible to Kathryn's ears.

"What?" Kathryn whispered. It sounded like a name, perhaps an attacker or an illegal substance.

"Twilight…" Boris murmured, so faint Kathryn was sure she was the only one who could hear him. "Warn Doctor Slothfeld… Twilight…"

His head went limp. He'd returned to complete unconsciousness.

"What's going on?" Woolton yelled. "Are you losing him?"

"No." Kathryn straightened and turned back to Woolton. "I'm sorry, but it's time for you to leave."

Kathryn's larger size gave her a distinct advantage in ushering out the reluctant ram. They stepped out into the hallway just as two mammals in uniform appeared. Kathryn perked up. It was the rhino Lieutenant McHorn and the hippo Sergeant Higgins from Precinct One, the precinct given the responsibility of dealing with all savage cases. These particular officers worked closely with her brother.

"Kathryn." McHorn said bluntly, all business as usual. It would be a different story if he weren't on duty. "We're here about the incident near the old fishery. Is the victim conscious?"

"I'm sorry, but he's in no condition to answer questions." Kathryn said firmly. "You'll have to come back later."

"You think he's going to make it?" Higgins asked, his ears perking.

"He's got a very good chance. Any word on his attacker?"

Higgins scowled. "No, not yet. Assistant Mayor Woolton here claims it was a savage panther."

"Where is his attacker now?"

"No idea. There was no sign of it when we got there."

Kathryn realized then that Woolton was no longer at her side, but he had merely gone to lean against the wall beside a metal shelf. The buffalo scrutinized the ram. Most witnesses to such a gruesome incident tended to be scared shitless, but not this one. He just looked troubled.

"Kathryn?" McHorn asked, with more familiarity than when he'd first greeted her. Whatever expression she was bearing must have bothered him.

"Were there any other witnesses?" She asked.

"There was no-one else around when the attack occurred."

"Who told you that?" Kathryn already suspected the answer.

"Woolton did." Higgins said. Kathryn scowled. "Dr. Bogo, what's wrong?"

"I've seen the victim. It might just be the circumstances of the incident, but this doesn't look like a mauling to me."

McHorn and Higgins traded glances. "In any case, we'll need pictures of the victim's injuries for evidence." McHorn said. "And we'll need to question the witness."

"Of course, he's right over there." Kathryn pointed, but she saw that the Assistant Mayor had gone.

Two days later, Boris Antlerson regained consciousness and gave the same bullshit answer Woolton did.

What does one do when they have three ideas but with no idea what to do with them? Play Resident Evil 6 and get inspired to put all three story lines in one fan fiction!

Just one more prologue after this one and we'll get right into the story proper, ranger scout's honour!