It was not the end of it.

Not for Judy Hopps, not for Dawn Bellwether, and not for Nick Wilde, who woke at the usual time despite the pointedly unusual night he just had.

He lay in bed for a few moments, not quite awake. Decent night of sleep. No nightmares this time. None bad enough to remember, anyway. The only dream he could recall was that bizarre one where that bunny he met a few weeks back was dressed up like a...

Wait.

Nick broke into a smirk.

He didn't hurry. He threw on his clothes at a leisurely pace, buttoning his shirt as he descended the stairs.

He closed in on the living room. "Rise and shine, meter maid! You've officially overstayed your welcome! I–"

He rounded the corner and saw the couch was empty.

Judy was true to her word; she was nowhere in sight. More than that, her sheets were neatly folded. The pillow was resting on top of them, and resting atop the pillow was a scrap of paper. There was a short message which ended with a phone number, presumably hers. Nick picked up the note, squinting at the neat blue handwriting.

Nick,
Thank you so much for your help and hospitality. If you ever wan-[a scribble]
need to contact me, don't hesitate to call.
I made myself a slice of toast. Sorry for not asking but I didn't want to wake you.
I left a dollar next to the toaster.
Judy

"This is the woman who saved your life last night, Wilde," Nick murmured to himself. "The terror of Zootopia's criminal underworld..."

He let the note flutter back down to the pillow. For a moment he just stood there, thinking. He had been lucky to have her on his side last night; hugely lucky. Maybe luckier than he had the right to be. But he didn't feel... impressed. Especially not now, in the stark light of morning, when the whole thing seemed even more unreal.

It was stupid. She was stupid. He was right to think so.

But part of him wondered – shouldn't he feel... grateful?

Why didn't he?

He was jostled out of his reverie by a buzzing in his pocket; text message. He took out his cell phone and blinked at the number. His thumbs moved quickly, unlocking the screen and tapping the message alert.

Bnm

Nick's mouth tightened. With two hurried taps, he called the number. He pressed his phone to his ear, half-sitting on the side of the couch.

By the third ring he was getting anxious. But then the call went through.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he said. "It's me."

"Oh, Nicky! How nice of you to call. It's so good to hear from you."

Nick felt himself relax a little. "Thanks. Is everything okay?"

"I'm doing just fine. Can't complain, you know."

"Yeah." He paused. "You... texted me?"

Her turn to pause. "I did?"

"Yeah, you did," said Nick. Mild exasperation began to creep in. That was good. It was a lot better than what he had been feeling a moment ago.

"I didn't intend to. What did it say?"

"Just... random letters. B-N-M." He coughed. "I was a little worried you were in trouble, or something."

She laughed softly. "I'm very sorry! I must have done something accidentally. I certainly didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine," he said. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"You're sweet to be so worried about your mother. But rest assured, I'm fine."

"Good, good!" He tapped his foot off the couch. "So... how was your day...?"

"Quite nice. Especially now that I'm talking to my elusive son." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I don't have much to tell. I'm just sitting in bed, reading." A lull as she suppressed a yawn. "It seems I've found a page turner! I must have I lost track of time. I'm not usually awake at this hour... I don't know how I missed the sun rising."

Nick relaxed into a more comfortable position. "Well, that's one of the benefits of retirement, surely. You can read for as long as you want. You earned it."

"Very true. Still, it's important to stick to a clear sleep schedule."

Nick's eyes wandered to the sheets next to him. "No kidding," he thought to himself.

"Speaking of," she continued, "I suppose you're just getting up."

"Yeah, that's right. I'm about to have breakfast."

"Yes, of course. How are things going? Do you have any news?"

Nick was still looking at the other items on the couch; the sheets, the pillow. The note.

The first-aid kit.

"No, not really," he said. "You know how it is."

"If you say so, Nicky. Are you spending the day... working?"

"Uh, yeah." Nick wished he could sound a little more confident. He was working. It was work. "I have a sneaking suspicion my assistant will be feeling under the weather, but... yeah."

"I see. Well, don't let me detain you. I'll let you get your breakfast."

"Okay." He shifted. "Uh... sorry to bother you."

"Nicky!" she laughed. "You're not bothering me. It's an absolute pleasure to hear from you! Don't be a stranger, alright? In fact, we should have dinner soon." She chuckled slightly. "Well, let's not bogged down with labels. Perhaps a late dinner for me and an early breakfast for you. How does that sound? If you're not too cool to visit your mom, that is."

"You vastly overestimate how cool I am," said Nick, smirking. "I'd like that. We'll arrange something later."

"Splendid! I'll talk to you soon, then."

"Yeah. Talk soon."

"Goodbye, dear!"

The line clicked, and Nick sank back into the couch. He let out a sigh, ears flat.

He was a little paranoid when it came to... well, everything, frankly. But his mother's well-being was an especially worrisome prospect. It wasn't helped by how rarely he saw her these days. She was a more traditional fox, living and working at night and sleeping through the day. Nick had switched sleeping cycles a long time ago. Daylight hours were much more lucrative.

Making a mental note to arrange that visit for quote unquote dinner, Nick stood and headed to the kitchen. For now, he had to start on breakfast. He spotted the promised dollar on the counter and immediately pocketed it. It was laughable, but it was cash.

One hundred and ninety nine to go.

He was halfway through his first slice of toast when his cell phone rang. He took it out quickly, but on seeing the number he answered it with a smirk. "Well, good morning."

"Yeah, yeah," croaked Finnick. "I'm just calling to let you know I'll be late getting to your place. Only just woke up."

"My, my." With his free hand, Nick played with the jar of blueberry jam on the table. "Party a little too hard last night?"

"Something like that."

"Well, too bad," said Nick. "I don't care how bad your headache is. I guarantee my night was weirder than yours, and I need to tell somebody about it."

The phone crackled as Finnick sighed.

Often, Nick's scams allowed for slow mornings; the day he met Judy, the meat of the con began at noon. Unfortunately for Finnick, today's plan necessitated an early start. On the bright side, there was no need to dress as a baby. So that was nice.

Much of the cargo which moved through the Rainforest District was transported by red blimps; small and slow, but easily capable of the vertical movement the jungle demanded. One of the older models was being decommissioned and disassembled that morning. Nicholas P. Wilde held an official license to collect that blimp's discarded envelope – reams and reams of red fabric – and take it away to be recycled.

Technically speaking, cutting it into pieces and stencilling on a decal of the city skyline captioned 'I ❤ ZOOTOPIA' in order to sell novelty scarves to unsuspecting tourists just about qualified as 'recycling'.

The work was intensive. Nick related what happened to him the previous night in fragments, whenever there was a lull. There wasn't really that much to tell, but Nick only finished the story during their lunch break. They were sitting at the docks on the southwest corner of Savannah Square, eating from greasy paper bags from an old-style fish and chips place. Finnick had fish. Nick had chips.

Nick's natural flair for storytelling made the whole encounter seem even stranger than it actually had been. At points he was worried Finnick would think the whole thing was a weird, elaborate joke. But his business partner was the stoic type. He was ultimately more bemused than shocked.

"Huh. Wouldn'ta pegged her as crazy. At least not that crazy. When we met her, she just seemed a little dense."

"Stupidity and insanity are more of a continuum than two separate concepts," muttered Nick acidly. "Maybe she's not 'crazy', just phenomenally dumb."

"Yeah. Maybe."

There was a pause for a moment. They ate in silence, watching the harbour. A smaller boat was struggling to navigate around the huge ships surrounding it.

Nick shifted, making the rickety wooden bench they were sitting on creak in protest. "I really don't get her. If she was trying to solve that big case she got fired over, sure. That's still dumb, but it's understandable. But she can't solve it. Probably because the whole ZPD obviously can't solve it. So instead, she's just kind of... doing whatever."

"Yeah. 'Doing whatever'. Like saving your life."

"Hey, I dunno about that," said Nick defensively. "I'll admit she helped me, but 'saved my life' is a bit much. They might not have killed me."

Finnick looked unimpressed.

"What?!" said Nick. "We don't know!"

"Whatever." Finnick bit into his fish. "Think you'll see her again?"

"I tend to run into everyone eventually," said Nick. "But I don't know. It depends on how long it takes before she..."

"...Before what?"

"Before she gets herself killed," said Nick. His eyes were on the water. The sea air was salty, bracing. "She's not going to last out there. She's... not bad at it, sure. She's fast. Tougher than she looks. Easy to underestimate, which is definitely to her advantage. But none of that is enough. It just takes one slip-up, one unlucky night, and..." Nick underlined his point by biting forcefully down on a chip. "What I'm saying is, there's a reason no-one does this," he said, chewing.

"Yeah," said Finnick. "Sounds about right."

"...You're very neutral on this, aren't you?"

"I don't care about most things," said Finnick.

"Hard to blame you," Nick muttered.

"I do care about getting paid, though. So what's the plan for the rest of the day? What next?"

"Good point. We've still got a lot of merch to move." Nick threw a few more chips into his mouth, thinking as he ate. "Let's switch location, anyway. Don't think we're gonna get much more out of Savannah Central."

"Lotta tourists in Tundra Town this time of year," said Finnick. "We could probably make some good cash around... Bering Plaza, maybe?"

Nick grimaced.

"What?!" snapped Finnick. "How come my ideas are never good enough for you?!"

"It's not that. It's just, uh..." Nick fiddled with his shirt collar. "I hear a lot of the businesses there changed management recently."

"So?"

"That area," Nick mumbled into a chip, "is now part of Mr Big's territory."

Finnick stared. Then he slammed a paw into his forehead. "Great. Fan-frickin-tastic. How many blocks is that? Just, gone!"

"Hey, I..."

"For someone who thinks he's so smart, you really are a jackass. And you dragged me down with you! I gotta watch my back whenever I'm in TT. It's a quarter of the damn city."

"Mr Big only controls half of it," said Nick breezily.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?! That's still one eighth! And we can't go to any part of it because of you and your terrible ideas."

"It's ridiculous how long he holds a grudge," said Nick vaguely. "You'd think in all the time since then, he'd have made plenty of new enemies."

"Little presumptuous to call yourself his 'enemy'," said Finnick. "That implies you're equal. Not that he could easily kill you. Like it was nothing. Which he can."

"That's all the more reason to just forget about it!" yelled Nick, throwing his arms up. "He should be focusing his time and effort on people who matter. Rivals! Someone who actually poses a threat to him! I shouldn't even be on his radar."

Finnick chewed thoughtfully. "I think the problem there," he said finally, "is that there ain't that many people who pose a threat to him. The cops mostly ignore him these days. None of the other gangs are big enough on their own, and they all hate each other more than him. So he's on top. Hell, he might be starting to get bored. Old grudges with idiots who disrespected him are all he has left."

"It was a tasteful rug," muttered Nick. "It was quality! He wouldn't have bought it if it wasn't! It was just the origin that was... it..." He sighed heavily, his head in his paws. "That stupid rug is gonna kill me, isn't it?"

"Probably," said Finnick placidly. "Just hope I'm not there when it does."

"Oh, thanks. Good to know I can always count on you."

"Don't give me that, Wilde. Law of the jungle. We both know you gotta be smart to survive." He took a bite of fish, talking with his tiny mouth full. "And thas hexactly why no-one's after Mifther Big."

Nick angrily crammed the last of his chips into his mouth. Yes, that was clearly his problem. He was too smart. That was why his life was a wreck and nothing ever went right. Because Nick was just too intelligent and prone to survival for his own good. His hand tensed, crumpling the bag. Maybe there were benefits to being a dumb bunny, to have the sheer stupidity necessary to throw yourself into –

Nick's eyes widened.

Finnick knew that look. "Oh god. No."

"Yes." Nick's mouth curled up. "I believe I just had a shiny new terrible idea..."

"I already hate it," said Finnick flatly.

Nick sat up straighter. "Alright. Mr Big's easily one of the most powerful people in the entire city, right? He has to know something about that missing mammal case. Hell, he could be behind it!"

Finnick squinted. "What? Why would he ever do something like that? Kidnapping all those random people would just bring the cops down on him. If it is kidnapping. Might be murder. Same problem," he muttered.

"You're missing the point. It's not about what actually happened. It's about what might have happened. Mr Big might have a hand in this. He might just know something useful. And I doubt an idiot vigilante desperate for leads will need much more than a 'might'."

Finnick rubbed his eyes. "Oh, for the..."

"It's simple. We sic Captain Questionable Life Choices on Mr Big and his operation. If she wins, great! Mr Big goes down, and all we have to do is stay on the good side of whoever takes his place. If she fails..."

"No big loss?" Finnick's eyes narrowed. "That's cold, Wilde."

"Hey, hey!" Nick raised a paw defensively. "You're putting words in my mouth. It's not like I want her to get hurt. But look at it this way; if she keeps this up, that's gonna happen either way eventually. She could at least have the decency to die in a way that benefits us. The little guys."

"Mmh."

"I'll drop her a text. We can meet her once we're done with work." Nick began to crumple his bag into a greasy ball. He smirked. "Yeah. I got a good feeling about this."

He aimed at a nearby trashcan and gracefully fired the crumpled bag towards it.

He missed.

It was sunset. Nick and Finnick were leaning against the van, parked under a bridge on Wall Street. The huge border between Tundra Town and Savannah Square was just to their south. This was where the districts met, and where Nick had told Hopps he wanted to meet. The dying light of the sun looked starker in Tundra Town. Sunlight was less warm here.

Finnick adjusted his sunglasses. "...Still think this is a bad idea."

"Yeah. I know."

"I mean, you can do what you want. Not my problem. But I don't see why I have to be here."

"Because," said Nick calmly, "I need a driver for this plan to work, and if this plan doesn't work I might die violently, and it's hard finding a new employer in this economy."

"Buy your own damn car, Nick."

"No."

They only had to wait a few more minutes. One moment, they were alone; the next, a red blur fell upon them from the bridge above, dramatically sliding down an icy street-light to ground level. She landed in the snow and unfurled with a hop.

Just as she had threatened, Judy had upgraded.

Her neoprene suit was now a bright red. The original chest piece, belt and wristguards from her uniform were still there and still black, standing out starkly against the new colour.

The main change, however, was the lack of the cloth ski-mask. Now she wore a motorcycle helmet, the hard plastic the same colour as her suit. The visor was black, reflecting the light of the setting sun dramatically.

Her ears still stuck out the top.

Nick forced himself to smile. "Heyyyy, Podunk. You're looking... vibrant!"

Judy flicked her visor up, revealing two shining purple eyes. "Isn't it neat? I found a speciality store for motorbikes that had all kinds of stuff – including bunny helmets!" She rapped a knuckle against the side of her head. "It's designed to weather high-speed impacts, so it should work great in a fight!"

"Uh... huh." Nick gestured to the smaller fox. "Podunk, you remember Finnick, my fake son."

Judy waved, though the motion was guarded. "Hello."

"'Sup," said Finnick.

"Great!" said Nick, clapping his hands together. "Introductions over. Let's get down to business. Those bears you fought last night – do you know who they work for?"

"Uh, yes." Judy was a little thrown by the sudden shift, but she recovered. "They're both members of Mr Big's gang. He's a crime boss based in Tundra Town, probably the most powerful one in the city." She put her hands on her hips authoritatively. "I've been researching local persons of interest ever since I started my... new line of work."

"Really seems like something you should have known as a cop," thought Nick. He did not say it out loud. Instead, he affected an air of mock shame. "Now, I hope you don't judge me too harshly for this – I would hate to jeopardise our friendship – but as it happens I used to know Mr Big pretty well."

Judy's gaze turned icy.

"Hey, don't give me that look!" said Nick, abandoning the joke. "It's not a euphemism or anything. I literally knew him, like, socially. I was never an actual member of his mob."

Judy's eyes narrowed.

"I wasn't! I'm just a small-time hustler!" Nick nudged Finnick. "Back me up here."

"Yep," said Finnick. "Small-time. Completely insignificant. Nobody'd ever ask him to join a gang. He ain't useful enough."

Nick buried his face in his hands. "This is not how I saw this going."

"He's not a murderer, if that's what you're worried about," continued Finnick. "He doesn't have the guts."

"Yeah. Great." Judy's foot had started to tap impatiently in the snow. "Look, Slick, I know you don't have a high opinion of what I do, but there's definitely somebody I could be helping right now instead of wasting my time here. So if you have something to tell me –"

"I do!" he said quickly. He drew himself up in an attempt to scrounge back some decorum. "Your Random Acts of Violent Kindness thing is pretty useful. I'm in no position to say it isn't. But that's really just a side project, isn't it? Something to do while you try and fail to solve the real problem: the missing mammals."

Judy's expression shifted. "What...?"

"I've been thinking since last night. The way I see it, Mr Big definitely knows something worthwhile..." His tone darkened. "If he isn't the one behind it."

"You think he might be the one doing this?!" said Judy, eyes wide.

Nick shrugged blandly. "It's a possibility. How many missing mammals did you say there were now? Whoever's taking them needs to be putting them somewhere. Somewhere big, and somewhere secret. That's hard to do. But he could pull it off."

Judy rested the chin of her helmet on her fist, thoughtful. "I did think that whoever was doing it – assuming it was deliberate act by a person, or persons, which of course is the most likely scenario – would need considerable resources. And that narrows things down a lot." She scoffed, shifting her weight at the hips. "I mean, it's not like City Hall is kidnapping these people."

"Sure," said Nick. "So, are you interested in investigating Mr Big?"

"Definitely. Even if he has nothing to do with the case, he's still a powerful criminal. Stopping him would be my pleasure." She menacingly cracked her tiny, adorable knuckles. "Is that it? You brought me out here to give me a tip-off? You could've just texted."

Nick laughed. "Oh, please. Give me some credit. Pointing you in the right direction is one thing, but like I said, I used to be tight with his family. I can get you inside his house."

"Really?"

"Really." He smirked. "I wanna give you the opportunity to... make a good first impression."

Judy folded her arms. "Now hold on. You gave me a long spiel last night about how much you hate helping people. Why the change of heart?"

"Honestly, Podunk?" said Nick. "Because I want Mr Big gone. He has it out for me. If you take him down, well, my life will get a whole lot easier."

Judy nodded slowly. "I see. Well... thank you for being honest."

"Of course." He gave her a gentle smile. "We're in this together, right? I'm glad you trust me."

Finnick found himself repressing a shudder.