Hello, my fellow Zootopians!

Sometimes things need to get worse before they get better …

This is exactly what this chapter's all about. In here, I'll deal with the repercussions of the first press conference, how it influenced several mammals, both characters from the movie as well as OCs. This is a heavy one, but absolutely necessary. There will be angst, pain, oppression, then whole shebang. I'm taking a leaf out of history books, but apart from that, I just thought of the most ugly possibilities and put them in here.

It was a very tough chapter to write, having to deal with such a host of dark emotions. It took me quite a lot of tries to get the tone right. I hope I managed to deliver.

The stats so far are thus: Almost 200 views, 5 reviews, 8 favorites and 19 alerts. Your support is, as always, very much appreciated.

Thanks to hpalex13, RandomNobody37, Galaxyexplorer74, Dirtkid123, and Foxlover91 for their reviews.

The disclaimer can be found in the first chapter.

Chapter Two

Yeah, But It Might Be Worse!

There's desperation in the air. It leaves a stain on all your clothes and no detergent gets it out.

Meat Loaf: "Life Is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back" (Written by Jim Steinman, from the album "Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell," Virgin, 1994)

Zootopia News Network Headquarters, Office of Peter Moosebridge and Fabienne Growley, City Center, Zootopia

Peter Moosebridge looked at his wristwatch, trying his hardest to not let his nervousness show. For the third time in two weeks, his co-anchor Fabienne Growley was late in coming to the studio for the Evening News. Until those two weeks ago, lateness and Growley had been things you wouldn't have found in one sentence together. But ever since some mysterious mammal had targeted the snow leopard, making her private life a living hell, she had either arrived at the studio at the very last minute, or very, very late.

Today she was very, very late.

The door opened a bit, and Larry White, one of ZNN's production assistants, pushed his horned head through the gap. "Fabienne's still not arrived?"

Moosebridge spread his arms. "Do you see her here?"

The oryx clicked his tongue in irritation. "When push comes to shove, you need to do it alone today."

"I know, but you know perfectly well that I'm loath to do so, Larry," Moosebridge replied immediately. He shook his head. "Why does nobody interfere? She's been harassed for weeks, still the authorities do nothing about it."

White didn't appear to be particularly sorry for Growley. "That's what you get for being a stinkin' pred." He pulled back his head.

"NOW WAIT JUST ONE SECOND," Moosebridge thundered. White's head reappeared. "You didn't just say that, did you?"

If White was upset over Moosebridge's tone, he concealed it well. "What if I did?"

"That was the single most disgusting thing I've ever heard. Fabienne is one of two reasons you have a job, young mammal." He got up, towering over White. "I am the other one. So I strongly suggest you show her the respect she deserves, and show me that you can behave. Otherwise you'll find this hoof," he pointed at his right hind leg, "at a certain place where the sun doesn't shine. Along with your walking papers."

It certainly was unusual for a news anchor to issue such threats. However, Peter Moosebridge wasn't your usual news anchor.

For more than 35 years, Moosebridge had been the "voice of Zootopia," as most of his colleagues, and thus the public, called him. He was the prime news anchor and thus a familiar face for mammals in both Zootopia as well as the surrounding districts. He was immensely popular and therefore in constant demand. He hosted his own talk show, Moosebridge One on One, he had been the narrator for countless documentary features and had recently even begun doing voiceover work for animated movies. He was a well-known staple in advertising and a welcome face in other talk shows. He was famous for knowing a lot of politicians on quite an intimate basis, and there were few mammals in Zootopia who knew more about the political proceedings than he did. Which is why most citizens of Zootopia valued his opinion highly.

All this had made him a wealthy mammal. Combined with an extraordinary skill in making investments, the money he had at his disposal even put the most overpaid sport celebrities to shame. And when the ZNN had been facing financial troubles, it had enabled him to buy 51 percent of stock, which in turn meant that he was basically running the whole company.

When Moosebridge told someone that his job at the ZNN was on the line, it was no empty threat.

White's jaw dropped. "You wouldn't!"

"I am the majority shareholder of this company; I can, and I will. So, don't you dare talk about Fabienne like that. Just get out and do what you're paid for!"

White's head was gone faster than Moosebridge had ever seen a mammal move.

He sat down again and sighed. Times had surely changed.

He'd been living in Zootopia for most of his adult life, and he had seen a lot of changes in society lately. Every day, he had seen the prejudice, the bigotry, the false hopes, the animosity. At this particular moment, there was very little which could have served to convince him that in Zootopia, anyone could be anything, as the former Mayor Leodore Lionheart had constantly claimed.

And after the press conference following the solving of the Missing Mammals case, things had taken a turn for the worst. Now, open harassment against predators happened on a daily basis. Every day, news of atrocious crimes, always perpetrated by prey mammals, and always with predators as the victims, flooded his office. And strangely enough, the city's administration seemed to be somewhat reluctant to put the criminals to justice.

Each and every day, things got worse. So far, injuries and property damage had been the worst outcome, but Moosebridge was secretly dreading the day when reports of outright murder would make it onto his desk. In his opinion, it was just a matter of time.

Suddenly, the door leading into his shared office opened with a bang, and Fabienne Growley stormed into the room, completely out of breath and looking quite disheveled. "I don't believe it!" she shouted instead of a greeting.

"What is it?" Moosebridge asked.

"I finally know who was molesting me. I found him slashing the tires of my car!"

"Again? What, it's like the third time."

"It is. And can you imagine who did it?"

"No idea."

"My neighbor."

Moosebridge flinched. "The zebra? Hold on a second, didn't you tell me you were getting along just fine? Didn't you invite him to your last birthday party."

"I did, but 'were' is the operative word here." Growley collapsed into her office chair, trying hard to calm her breathing. "Seems like he had a change of mind. Now I'm just a dirty, no-good pred, according to him."

Moosebridge shook his head. "The nerve! Did you report him to the police?"

She snorted. "I tried. Turns out that their staffing level is stretched really thin right now, so there was no officer available to receive my report. All they told me was that they would call back as soon as an officer is available. Which will probably take years, if it happens at all." She leaned back and sighed. "So I had to take a cab, or rather, I tried. Nine cabs just rushed past me; each one of them driven by prey. One even flipped the bird at me. The tenth cab was driven by an ocelot. He seemed to be happy to have a customer. According to him, business is extremely slow, because no prey wants to ride in a cab driven by a predator." She looked at the wall clock. "That's why I'm late. Guess we need to skip the …"

At this moment, the door opened again, and the editor-in-charge appeared. Patrick Mephitis was a skunk, a no-nonsense mammal with little sense of humor. "Get a move on! We have a news-flash! We're on the air in five!"

Both larger mammals looked at him, flabbergasted. "What?" Moosebridge said. "Why?"

"Just got word from the ZPD. Seems like they arrested Mayor Bellwether."

"WHAT?" both Growley and Moosebridge shouted.

"Yeah. She is charged with conspiracy, as far as I know. Press conference will start in ten minutes. Mike has already arrived at the ZPD. Just get yourselves presentable; we'll talk once you reach the studio." With that, he left the office.

Moosebridge looked at Growley, who looked like she'd just seen a ghost. "What the hell …," she said slowly.

"We'll find out what this is all about," Moosebridge said, rising from his chair. "Get yourself a blazer and let Meggie apply some make-up. We don't have time to ponder on what's happening."

"Right," Growley said, getting up, too. "Fortunately, I'm always prepared."

"Felinae Homestead" Apartment House, The Otterton Apartment, Rainforest District, Zootopia

Natalie Otterton entered the apartment, closed the door and leaned against the wall next to it with a sigh.

The workload was slowly, but surely, catching-up with her. She was absolutely dead on her feet.

She had she been forced to run her husband's florist's shop after his disappearance. She had to care about her children Shawn and Francis. She still had to deal with the usual household chores.

And on top of that, her husband's lifelong dream, the florist's shop, was gradually coming apart at the seams.

To say that business in his shop had been slow was an understatement. Business was virtually non-existent.

She had seen no prey mammals the whole day, only a few predators. Each and every one of them had looked harassed and the worse for wear, and they had spent little money on few flowers. The reason for the peculiar absence of prey mammals became obvious when she spotted a poster she had completely overlooked when unlocking the shop in the morning.

It was a plain white poster which bore, in fat, black letters, the following slogan:

Zootopians!

Defend Yourselves!

Don't Buy From Predators!

No wonder most mammals had shunned the shop.

She had taken down the poster, then she had gone to the back to brew herself a cup of tea.

And when she returned to the shop proper, somebody had replaced the poster.

Three times she had torn down the poster, three times it had been replaced almost immediately. And she had never been able to catch the culprit who was responsible for this impudence.

Someone had been watching the shop the whole time, making sure that the harassment of her and her husband's livelihood would continue unimpeded.

In the end, after the third attempt, she had stopped trying to stop the mammals, whoever they were. She was just too tired.

Too tired to deal with the constant harassment. Too tired to deal with the constant prejudice.

Too tired to care about her own well-being.

Come on, Natalie! You need to eat something! Starving yourself is going to help no-one.

She wished Emmitt was there. He had always found ways to cheer her up.

She sorely missed him.

The apartment was empty, which surprised her for a second, until she remembered that her sister, who had volunteered to help her with childcare, had promised to take her two boys to Central Park today. They wouldn't return before seven in the evening. She sincerely hoped their day had been better than hers had been.

With a groan, Natalie pushed herself off of the wall, walking over to the kitchen. Opening her fridge, looking at the food it contained, she decided that for today, a smoothie would have to suffice. She simply was too tired to prepare a wholesome dinner for herself.

Switching on the radio, she hoped that the latest in pop music would cheer her up. But even this wasn't working in her favor today. Because instead of soothing music, a female newscaster was currently giving her report.

"… are still waiting for the Chief of Police, Adrian Bogo, to appear. So far, all we have are rumors."

Another voice, a male one, was heard: "What do those rumors say? Do they revolve around Mayor Bellwether?"

"They revolve around her exclusively." The female again. "The ZPD issued a statement that today, at around five pm, the Mayor had been arrested. No further information has been given, so we don't know the reason yet. A ZPD spokesmammal announced that Chief Bogo would give details on the case, the reason for the arrest. All we can do now is wait for him to appear."

"The main problem Zootopia is facing right now is the ever-increasing number of predators turning savage. Is it possible that there is a connection there?"

"That's the possible reason mentioned the most around here. In fact, it's virtually the only reason anyone here can think of."

"Just this week, Mayor Bellwether had announced a motion to strengthen control over predators. There has even been talk about a device currently in construction, which would allow predators to live next to prey without posing a possible threat to them."

"You're right, but the Mayor has been shallow on the details. Nobody knows what kind of device we're talking about, nor how it will work. And the fact remains that among the 865,000 predators living in Zootopia, only a few dozen have turned savage so far. Detractors have said that the administration's attempt at controlling the situation is like taking a sledgehammer to crack a nut."

"But it is true that savage predators have posed a threat lately."

"That's certainly true, yet those detractors say that the numbers are so few and so well-contained, that it would be counter-productive to impose laws on such a large number of citizens."

Natalie looked at the radio, the smoothie in her paw forgotten.

The Mayor has been arrested? Talk about laws against predators? Rumors?

What the hell was going on?

"The Watering Hole" Bar, Savanna Central, Zootopia

"Howdy, Freddie!" Reginald Pocock looked at the new arrival with a smile while dropping the rag with which he had polished the bar. "The usual?"

"Yeah, and make it a tall one," Frederick Delgato said. "And a beer." He sat down on one of the bar stools with a sigh.

While the tiger barkeeper was pulling the beer, he asked: "That bad?"

"You have no idea, Reg. ZPD's still doing nothing, and nobody's looking for a middle-aged lion who's well-versed in paw-to-paw combat."

"Not even the security companies?"

Delgato snorted. "They're all run by prey. What do you expect?"

"Shit!" Pocock sighed. "It gets worse."

"No kidding!"

While waiting for the barkeeper to finish pulling the beer and pouring him a tall scotch, Delgato looked around. The bar, usually one of the more crowded ones in Savanna Central, was almost completely deserted. Apart from Delgato, only a couple of weasels were sitting in a booth along the back wall. "Business seems slow," Delgato commented.

"That's the understatement of the year," Pocock said matter-of-factly. "Then again, it's not that surprising."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you seen the posters adorning several shop windows here?"

Delgato shook his head. "I had other worries on my mind."

"I understand. However … no, it's better if I just show you." He placed the two glasses in front of Delgato, then he knelt down to take something from under the counter. "My first thought was to simply throw it into the trash can, but I had a hunch that you might come here today, so I kept it to show it to you. What do you think?"

Delgato looked at the poster with a frown. "Zootopians! Defend Yourselves! Don't … you gotta be kiddin'!"

"Nice, isn't it?"

"Who did this?" Delgato examined the poster. "PPS … what the heck's that supposed to be?"

"They call themselves the Prey Protection Society. Little more than a bunch of prejudiced, self-righteous, violent prey, with way too much money at their disposal and way too much time on their paws. Seems like they've have made it their lifetime ambition to make the lives of predators a living hell. I watched them place the posters on most shops owned by predators here."

"A minor case of Damage to Property, a small fine, maybe a few hours of community work," Delgato said automatically.

"Do you honestly think they care that it's illegal, Freddie? They do it anyway! They probably know that the police is doing nothing about them. When you call the ZPD right now, all they tell you is that they're really low on officers, and that they'd call back as soon as someone is available. But they never do. Seems like they cannot be bothered with petty things like criminal mischief at the moment." He looked at Delgato. "I knew them showing guys like you the door would bite them sooner or later."

"So you just tore it off?"

"I did. Ten minutes later, a sheep and a pig turned up, trying to put a new poster in place. Which was when I showed them just how long a tiger's claws really are."

"You attacked them?"

Pocock snorted. "Attack? Certainly not! The situation's bad enough without predators attacking prey without having turned savage before. All I did was ask them to refrain from putting the poster up, and threaten them with bodily harm, should they do it anyway."

"What did they do?"

Pocock shrugged. "Must have made quite an impression on the pair, because they ran. But the pig shouted at me that they would call the police. But, seeing as the ZPD's staffing level is so thin right now, I guess they don't have the time to deal with me."

"I rather think they know what they're doing is illegal, so they're afraid to go to the ZPD."

"Maybe." Pocock looked at the poster and sighed. "Anyway, it feels like Zootopia isn't a nice place for predators to live in anymore."

Delgato gave a low-pitched growl. "And where to? Reg, I was born and raised in Zootopia! I have left this city a grand total of seven times, five of which were on ZPD duty or Academy-related. This is my home! I don't think I could settle in Deerbrooke County or the Tri-Burrows!" He picked up his scotch and downed it quickly. "Another one, please."

"At once."

Delgato picked up his glass of beer and took a big gulp. The three weasels in the background ignored him completely; they were deeply engrossed in a heated conversation, and if their facial expressions were any indication, the topic they were talking about was less than pleasant. Given the shady reputation of weasels, probability was high that they were meddling in some less-than-legal affairs. Delgato watched them for a few seconds before deciding that he didn't care. He no longer was a police officer, probably never would be again, so whether or not these weasels were involved in illicit activity simply was of no concern to him. In addition to that, Delgato thought, was it prejudice like that - weasels being considered slippery and untrustworthy, therefore promptly assuming that any weasel you saw was up to no good - which had turned the situation between predators and prey into such an unbearable mess. After all, because a tiny number of predators had turned savage for unknown reason, the prey in Zootopia were about to dish out some collective punishment to all predators.

Suddenly all concepts of right and wrong, everything Delgato had ever believed in, had gone out the window.

He took another sip. It was probably best to not think about it too much. The thought alone was much too depressing.

He looked up at the TV screen hanging from the wall instead. It showed a rerun of a popular TV series, where a group of mammals, among them a somewhat angry looking walrus wearing a black beret and a hyperactive wolf who, for some reason, was missing an eyebrow, tried to prove or disprove urban myths. This particular episode showed them trying to rip the rear axle from under a car with a strong cable, as shown in a popular movie from the seventies.

"Won't work with police cruisers, that's for sure," Delgato said, taking another gulp.

"What won't work?" Pocock asked, placing the next glass of scotch in front of Delgato.

"Hooking up a cable and hoping it would yank the rear axle out from under a police car." He pointed at the screen. "Might work on some of the cruisers for smaller mammals, but not on our heavy cruisers."

"Why?"

"Hello? Have you seen one? These things can carry up to four rhinos! They weigh more than ten metric tons! They have hybrid drives, four electric motors plus two turbocharged petrol engines, and can put out more than 2,000 bhp! No cable in the world will be able to withstand …"

Suddenly, the image on the TV screen changed, along with a short jingle. The image of the remote-controlled police car was replaced by that of a koala bear wearing an ill-fitting maroon suit. "We interrupt the current program for a special broadcast," the male koala said. "The ZPD had just announced that Zootopia's Mayor, Dawn Bellwether, has been arrested. No further information is available at this stage. We're switching over to the ZPD headquarters at City Central, where a press conference is scheduled to begin in a few minutes."

Delgato looked away from the screen, his face showing complete and utter incomprehension. A look at Pocock revealed a similar facial expression.

"What the …?"

Zootopia Municipal Correctional Facility, Sahara Square, Zootopia

As per custom, the three principal meals in Zootopia's largest prison were served in the mess hall; meals were usually shared by all prisoners, with the exception of those in solitary confinement,. This was why Madge Badger was sitting at a table, watching another inmate with growing irritation.

If you didn't know it, you'd never have guessed that Leodore Lionheart was just as much a prisoner as she was. But he was, and as such, he was in an even worse position than she was. As the instigator of the Missing Mammals affair, he had been sentenced to ten years, whereas she, as his mere accessory, had been sentenced to two-and-a-half years.

Yet he didn't behave like an inmate. More like a tourist on an extended vacation.

He was "holding court," there was no other expression for it. Mammals approached him - other inmates, sometimes even guards - to have a conversation with him. Most asked him about some legal counsel, others for background information on certain Very-Important-Mammals of Zootopia, yet others wanted to discuss the latest football scores with him. And he responded to each of them with the same smile, the same patience.

As if he was the prison's official counselor.

The strangest thing about it was that he never tried to let this fact work into his favor.

From Day One of his imprisonment, six weeks ago, the guards had offered him quite a lot of amenities, only for him to reject them all. He was, for all instants and purposes, just your usual, everyday convict.

It seemed like he had accepted his fate with a certain fatalism. Which wasn't all that surprising, given the fact that he was still young enough to return to his former occupation after his release. He might even be able to run for a seat on the City Council again. Despite his criminal record, his future life probably wasn't in any serious jeopardy.

Unlike hers. In contrast to Lionheart, she would hit rock bottom when she left the prison. Unlike him, she had no savings, no job, no future whatsoever. And nobody would hire an ex-convict, especially someone whose arrest had happened under the very eyes of the public.

Lionheart's future probably held some inconvenience. In Badger's future, she saw nothing but trouble.

"What's the matter, Honey?" Lionheart asked when he finally joined her at their table. "You seem distraught."

Badger rolled her eyes "I told you a thousand times, Lionheart, only my friends may call me Honey."

Lionheart blinked. "Ah. My mistake. I thought that, given the fact that we share a table in this mess hall, we would at least be on friendly terms."

"And that's at least the thousandth time you told me that," Badger replied irritably.

Lionheart shrugged. "I'm merely trying to be friendly."

"No, you're not. You're trying to be overfriendly."

He still looked at her, but his expression changed drastically. Every trace of friendliness left the lion in an instant. "I'm not, to the contrary. But if you really want to spend your time here moping, bemoaning your fate, instead of socializing and trying to get others to understand your problems, maybe even let them try and help fixing it, be my guest." He got up again.

Badger sighed. "Why do you feel the need to come over and pester me?"

"Pester you? Refresh my memory, when have I ever pestered you?"

Badger had enough. "Fine. Feel free to talk to all and sundry. But unless you want me to bite you, leave me out of your grand schemes."

She had hoped to goad Lionheart into leaving her alone, but he simply sat down again. "So that's what you think I'm doing."

Badger snorted. "Of course. You're a politician, you're always scheming."

"Excuse me?" Lionheart made an encompassing gesture. "Do you see any politicians here? Any political discussion? Any political opportunities." He made a pause. "Face it, Doctor, I'm just as much a prisoner as everyone else here."

"Yeah, right! You, the mighty Mayor, the most important mammal in all of Zootopia …"

"Do you know what I did for a living before I became the Mayor?"

Badger was taken aback by this sudden question, this sudden change in topic. "Uh, I have no idea. Teacher? Administrative official?"

Lionheart shook his head. "I was a judge."

"A judge?"

Lionheart made another encompassing gesture. "Behold the beauty of my work! Almost forty percent of the inmates in here were sent here by me."

He closed the gap to Badger, who shrank back immediately, suddenly and uncomfortably reminded of his fit of rage in Cliffside Asylum, shortly before they were arrested. But his voice was silent and calm when he continued. "The reason I'm trying my damndest to socialize with my fellow inmates is that if I don't, probability is high that someone tries to do me in. I'm the reason they're in here. Some might be after my blood. And if they are, they're probably going to get it. Despite the claws and the fangs, I know next to nothing about self-defense." He made a pause. "All I'm trying to do is stay alive!"

Surprised, Badger looked around, taking in the other prisoners. And while most of them looked at Lionheart with a look of indifference, one or two eyed Lionheart with what can only be described as loathing.

She took a deep breath. "It can't be that bad."

"No, it's even worse. Just so you know, I received three anonymous death threats in less than five hours when I came here. The Warden takes them seriously, and so do I."

Badger gave a grunt. "So, you need to survive. Tough luck! We all do. It's no easier for me. Or do you think I'm spared, just because I'm a girl?"

"Did you receive a death threat yet?"

She hesitated. "No."

"I rest my case. For the record, I've received seventeen so far."

Badger rolled her eyes. "At least you'll probably leave the prison before I do."

"You think so? I disagree. The current administration isn't too predator-friendly, and I doubt Smellwether likes me enough to grant me a pardon. No, I guess I'll have to ride out the full ten years, regardless of what I do. I don't think they'll release me early, even if I'm on my very best behavior."

"But when you leave, you can still be …"

Lionheart snorted. "Oh, please, don't give me the 'you-were-a-Mayor,-you-are-well-cared-for' crap!"

"But you are!"

"I'm not! My days as a politician are over. Nobody will trust me enough again to vote for me, ever. I will never make it back into the City Council. And I can certainly never work as a judge again, and I doubt someone will want me as their lawyer. My career is stone cold dead."

Badger looked at him, crestfallen. If he was speaking the truth, his fate might even be worse than hers. Then again … "At least you'll be able to survive afterwards, unlike me. I have nothing. No job, no savings, nothing."

"And you think I do?"

She stared at him, flabbergasted. "You don't?"

He managed to give her a smile, but it was taking him a visible effort. "The common misconception about Mayors. Most people seem to think that once you are a Mayor, you've got it made. Most seem to think that you make a fortune doing your job. Fact of the matter is, you don't. Yes, your salary is huge, but so are your expenses. You may be able to live a life without worries, but you certainly don't amass riches while in office." He made a pause. "Of course, this changes the moment you leave the office. When you do, you're granted a substantial pension, two-thirds of your last salary actually. And since your expenses go down drastically, you can become a wealthy mammal in a matter of less than two years."

He leaned back, bringing more distance between him and Badger. "However, since I have to suffer this … inconvenience, I lost the right to a Mayor's pension. Right now, I'm no longer in office, so I get nothing. And I will continue to get nothing, even after I'm released. Of course I may get the judge's pension, but right now, even that is doubtful." His face took on a dreamy expression. "And given the fact that some of the organizations which sponsored me want their money back, I'll probably be up to my neck in debt by the time I am released. I had to sell my hacienda in the Pawaiian Islands already. My cars are gone, as is my yacht, and my estate is probably up next. And when it's gone, there's not much left. My wife is currently working double shifts to make ends meet, to support herself and our three children. I simply can't do it." He made yet another pause. "Please, be so kind and enlighten me, Doctor, where's my advantage over you?"

She just stared at him, open-mouthed. Lionheart looked around. "So excuse me for trying to be friendly. That's all I have left, trying to be helpful and friendly to others. Helping them survive." He made another pause. "Maybe this'll help me survive."

He straightened himself, looking at the serving counter. "Hope they'll get a move on. I'm hungry."

Badger had the feeling of being doused with ice water. In her arrogance, she had assumed that he was much better off than she was, when in fact it seemed to be the exact opposite.

Yet he didn't complain, he had simply stated the facts.

Facts which, when everything unfolded exactly as he seemed to expect it, would lead to him being dishonored, bankrupt, with a family in disgrace and no future whatsoever.

I'm such a moron!, Badger thought.

Opening her mouth to render an apology, she found that Lionheart wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he was peering over the serving counter into the kitchen behind. Badger followed his example, only to see a strange sight.

The serving counter and the kitchen looked just as usual, but the absence of mammals was highly suspicious.

And they weren't the only inmates to notice this.

"What's going on?" someone asked.

"Where is everyone?" another one demanded to know.

"I want me munchies!" a third one shouted. Others joined in, and soon a chant was beginning to form. But before it had gained too much momentum, a single voice silenced them all:

"SHUT IT!"

One of the guards, a rhino, had just entered the mess hall, seen the ruckus, and acted accordingly. "Sit down!" he bellowed, "and shut your pie-holes!" He walked towards the serving counter in long strides and pounded the counter so hard, Badger was secretly surprised that the thing didn't collapse on the spot. "What's goin' on in the kitchen!"

A young-looking ocelot was poking his head through the wide door. "You won't believe it!" he shouted with unconcealed excitement. "They solved the Savage Predators case!"

The rhino blinked. "Really?"

"They say so on ZNN. Mayor Bellwether has been arrested!"

Badger looked at Lionheart, only to find that he was staring at her, his face looking just as incredulous as she was feeling. Both said the same thing at the same time:

"Smellwether?!"

ZPD Precinct One Headquarters, Basement, Records Department, City Center, Zootopia

With a sigh, Benjamin Clawhauser placed the last files in the filing cabinet and looked around. His workplace looked pristine, apart from the occasional sprinkles littering every tabletop, shelf and filing cabinet.

Working at Records probably was the most tedious job the ZPD had to offer. Safe, yes, but tedious. When doing parking duty, you at least had the occasional complaint to deal with. Here, nothing was alleviating the dull job - even radio reception was dismal, due to being in the basement of the huge building. On top of that, his phone had run out of juice two hours ago, and he had forgotten the charging cable.

Out of sheer boredom, he had spent the last four days sorting all the files into an alphabetical order. Given the fact that this meant dealing with tens of thousands of files, he had expected this to take at least two weeks.

He had needed four days.

Clawhauser would have been the first one to admit that he wasn't the most diligent of mammals, still even his penchant for distraction hadn't hindered him to finish the task much quicker than anyone, including himself, had anticipated.

Not that he had seen anyone the whole day.

Which was even worse than the boredom. While he had been much slimmer and much more athletic in the past, he had never been the best and most physically fit mammal, he had never been the greatest investigator, he had never been the go-to-guy when things got rough.

But as a receptionist, as a dispatcher, he was unrivaled.

At the Records department, his talent was going to waste. Everyone knew it, but nobody seemed to want to do anything about it.

He was missing his place at the front desk. He was missing the constant coming and going of the most diverse mammals you could possibly imagine. He was missing the small talk, the occasional banter with his workmates, the corny jokes, the social interaction.

Here, only his donuts were keeping him company. And he had even run out of those an hour ago.

Hardly anyone ever came down here for a bit of small talk. And when someone did find his or her way down into the basement, it was usually only to dump a new stack of files on his desk.

He looked at his wristwatch. Another thirty minutes, and he would be able to clock out, wrapping up another lost day.

He sighed again and started swiping the sprinkles off his desktop and into the trash can.

When, quite suddenly, the door leading into his office opened with a bang, startling him.

Thomas Higgins, the hippo officer and orderly to Chief Bogo, appeared in the doorframe, panting heavily. "You need to see this, Ben," he managed to gasp.

"What? What's wrong, Tom?"

"Bogo's staging a press conference now. They solved the Savage Predators case. Guess who's behind it!"

"No idea."

"Mayor Bellwether."

Clawhauser guffawed. "Sure. The sheep was …"

"I was there when we arrested her!"

This gave Clawhauser pause. "Really?"

"Yes. And you'll never guess who made it all possible."

"Who?" Clawhauser was almost screaming. Higgins was well-known for liking to keep others on tenterhooks for as long as possible.

"Judy Hopps."

"Judy?" He let out a whoop. "She's back?"

"She is. And she cracked the case. She's with Bogo - they're going to address the press soon. Thought you might want to see this."

ZPD Precinct One Headquarters, Lobby, Press Conference Assembly, City Center, Zootopia

Adrian Bogo looked around slowly. The whole press gaggle was present - every major network seemed to have sent a few reporters and cameramammals. So were most of the officers working at Precinct One. He counted their number in his head and had to work hard to hide his sigh. They were so few … He needed to do something about it, and quickly.

Mental note to self: Request reinstatement of predator officers. Let's see if the City Council is more inclined to listen to reason now.

But first …

He approached the lectern and cleared his throat, trying his hardest to ignore the constant camera flashes. "Ladies and Gentlemammals," he began, "the rumors you may have heard already are true. Today, around 5 pm, our dispatcher, Officer Christine Caballus, received a distress call from Mayor Dawn Bellwether, about a savage fox in the Natural History Museum and a gravely injured police officer. Upon arrival at the scene, however, the officer was mostly unscathed, and the fox was all but savage. As it turns out, it had all been a ruse, instigated by Mayor Bellwether. We have evidence that she might be the mastermind behind the predators turning savage. We also have evidence that she intended to use those as the means to establish a dictatorial rule over Zootopia. So we arrested her, and she'll be charged with so many crimes, it'll make the heads of most mammals spin."

He made a pause, and when several reporters raised their paws or hooves, already shouting questions, he held up his own hoof. "Unfortunately, this is about as far as my knowledge about this case goes. I will now give the floor to the police officer who made the arrest possible. She will be able to explain everything behind this ineffable affair." He pointed at Hopps, standing next to the lectern. Wilde was still standing next to her, supporting her. "Officer Judy Hopps."

Without hesitation, Hopps approached the lectern while Bogo stepped aside. With the help of Wilde, she managed to climb the lectern, not without hissing and clenching of teeth. It was a sorry sight, and that a fox was lending her a helping paw seemed to be even more incongruous.

Finally, she had reached the top. Trying to stand on her own and realizing that her leg wouldn't properly support her weight, she simply sat down.

And looked to the floor.

The reporters in front of her were shouting countless questions, hoping that she would have answers for them.

But Hopps refused to acknowledge the presence of even one of them. Eyes closed, ears droopy, she sat on top of the lectern, with the red fox one step behind it, half-hidden behind the lectern. She said no word, she moved no muscle, she simply sat there with her head bowed.

The posture of a repentant sinner.

Gradually, the noise died down. When it had become almost completely silent, Hopps finally looked up and opened her purple eyes.

And then she did … what? Hey, the cliffhanger is back!

The "Zootopians!" poster mentioned in this chapter was, of course, inspired by the atrocious "Deutsche! Wehrt Euch! Kauft nicht bei Juden!" posters used in the Third Reich by the Nazis to harass the Jewish population from 1933 onwards. To be honest, I hated the very idea of using a poster like that in this story, but as a plot device, it's priceless. (I guess it goes without saying that I abhor Nazis and racism in all its manifestations! If I had my way, earth itself should open up and swallow the lot! Nuff said!)

Reginald Innes Pocock was a real person. He was a British taxonomist, famous for subordinating the tiger under the genus Panthera, giving it the scientific name Panthera tigris. Thought it would be fitting for a tiger.

Despite the serious tone in this chapter, I couldn't help throwing a bit of fun into it. The TV series watched by Delgato is, of course, Discovery Channel's "Mythbusters," one of my all-time favorites. It was a sad, sad day when Discovery Channel announced the cancellation of the series. I just loved seeing them blow crap up! The episode mentioned herein was called "Explosive Decompression." It was the twelfth episode overall, and one of the three myths they put to the test, named "Rear Axle," revolved around the question whether it was possible to yank the rear axle from underneath a driving car, as depicted in George Lucas's 1973 movie, "American Graffiti." (Just in case you are curious, their verdict was that the myth is busted; even with a ridiculously weakened rear axle and a cable much stronger than the one used in the movie, all the cable did to the car was rip the axle itself loose, still it was held in place by the wheel wells. On top of that, even a cable twice as strong wasn't able to withstand the enormous forces at work there and snapped violently. Jamie "When in doubt - C4!" Hyneman and Adam "I reject your reality and substitute my own!" Savage concluded that a ramp was used to lift the car high enough for the cable to yank the axle from underneath the car.)

Well, the next chapter will probably take at least as long as this one, because I'm trying one of the staples of today's movies: one continuous monologue, interwoven with scenes from different locations and with different personnel. Sounds like fun to me, but it will probably be tough to keep track of all the different locations and mammals involved. It's probably going to be a big chapter, quite long and convoluted.

Until then! Thanks for reading, and please review!

Take care!

J.O. aka TheCatweazle