3:27 pm, September 14th


A lone fox stood at his spot in the front of the glass cylinder, leaning against the handrail that encircled the viewing deck. The country had changed quite drastically from Judy's oaken home of grassy knolls and tranquil rivers after it made the long journey through the mountain range, but since then it had seemed like it had not changed a single bit. The dense pine forest that surrounded him was vast; a small paved road ran the length of the track to his right, and power lines hung from old wooden beams on the other side. It was still raining. The monochromatic atmosphere of the storm sapping the color out of the dense forest.

The fox let out an audible sigh in the empty compartment, bring up his paw to scratch the back of his neck. Nick had spent the majority of the train ride up on the viewing platform, thinking about the long couple days he had. It seemed to him that something had snapped inside him; a new mammal that he was not familiar with brought about a mindset that unnerved him. He was being positive. An egregious sin the eyes of the confox that lived on the edge of his seat for nearly twenty years. However, Nick was finding it hard to fight it. The night before had somehow melted his cynical voice into nothing but a dull feeling in the back of his head; long gone was the conflicted debating inside his own mind.

More than that, he had occupied his time thinking of his next move. Nick had always planned out his adventures well in advance, as a con was only half thinking on your feet. The other half was always being prepared; being mindful of your surroundings, the variables, the hundred different ways it could all go wrong. It was like he always had a Plan B if things didn't go the way he had expected, and following the failure of that plan, he had a Plan C, D, E, you name it. Being blindsided was the worst way for a con to go wrong, because when you don't account for every variable, you lose. And Nick did not account for this variable.

Never in a million years had he planned to ever actually want to leave the lifestyle. He had planned for the opposite, actually; Nick had hedged his bets on living forever just as he was. I guess the joke's on me, he thought boredly. So much for planning for every outcome. Hating to be in situations where he was at a disadvantage, Nick had more times than not just turned tail and ran. You could always come back later and pick up the pieces, but having the life he had, with the mammals he worked with, it was often a smarter move to just run away. You can't pick up the pieces when you're dead.

Nick had no such luxury this time around. He had made Judy a promise, and that was that he was done. If there was one thing that Nick knew for sure, you can't get out by just skirting around it. You had to do the one thing that he had promised himself he would never do: stand his ground. There was a very good reason he promised himself that, too, as standing your ground with these mammal was akin to attempting to stop a barreling train by sticking your paws out in front of it. Could he do it? Nick looked back at his day, recalling his quiet little conversations with a mammal he had never believed in a million years would be in his life. If one thing was possible, why not the other?

He stared back out of the glass. The landscape would be changing soon, the empty forests making way for civilization, then growing larger and into the metropolis of Zootopia. The soft pine would be replaced with the towering concrete that shoots straight into the air. He had already seen a few small buildings lining the road. Coming closer to the rocky coastline, the train ride having taken him southeast after the mountains, Nick was quickly approaching the sea, and he could smell it. It would curve northward and meet up with the coastline before continuing its journey north to the city. It was only a matter of time, now. Even so, the last legs of any journey always feel the longest.

Truth be told, Nick was right. It wasn't long before his view had changed dramatically. The pine forests that enveloped every inch of the rocky hills were beautiful in the storm's fury, but the dreary coastal abodes that took the place of the trees did not look nearly as elegant. Buildings were becoming a regular thing, small towns stretching for more and more miles.

From Nick's vantage point in the train, he could tell that they were getting closer and closer to Zootopia, the mythic city of "cooperation". The viewing deck was filled with the sound of a loud scoff; Nick almost spitting at the thought of "peace and cooperation" at a time like this, when the whole city was in a state of panic and hostility. He glanced away from the rapidly approaching bend that would grant him his first sight of the city since he left. Far over the coated pine hills, he could see the dark haze of the ocean through the ribbons of falling water. The deep water looked darker in the overcast, reflecting no light at all.

An uneasy apprehension was weighing down Nick's shoulders as he leaned more into the railing, his ears flickering in nervous anticipation. He slouched into the glass, thumping his forehead on the transparent surface and closing his eyes. His tail was limp against the floor and he had taken to inhaling long, drawn out breaths of worry. I should have stayed in Bunnyburrow, he mused. Maybe get a job and spend the rest of my days as farmhand or something; make a real name for Reynard Sharp as the best blueberry picker west of the Iles. Nick let out a dismissive snort and lifted his chin up just as the first glimpse of the city he called home came into view.

The train rounded the bend swiftly, breaking out from the mainland to sail across the dark water of the bay on a simple bridge. Finally, the whole skyline came into view behind the rainstorm that fell between Nick and the city, towering structures of glass and steel. The Downtown district rose up from the water and buildings around its base, dwarfing the area around it. The base of the enormous cityscape tapered off below it into Savannah Central and Sahara Square, being framed on either side by Tundratown and the Rainforest district. The sight that would take the breath away from most mammals produced no reaction from Nick. He could only glare at the city, a bittersweet feeling rising from the pit of his stomach.

It did not take the train long to pass over the bay, coming back onto land as it entered Sahara Square. Nick barreled past a sign welcoming travellers into the city, causing him to frown. From his spot, he could see everything as the track took its loop around the city. The beautiful and enormous trees and vegetation of the Rainforest district. The cold looking sharp peaks of Tundratown. The low, industrial setting of Savannah Central. It was all a lie. The first thing that Nick had learned when he was on his own was the city wasn't what you saw, it was what you didn't see. An expression of exhaustion had set itself into Nick's features, and he willed it away as he snapped his jaw closed several times. "Another day in paradise," he mumbled out to the empty compartment.

The train arrived at the Central Station in no time. A flat, glass and steel building of immense size. He entered the station from an elevated track, freeways stretching in all directions below him. Zootopia's Central Station was nothing to shake a stick at. Saying it was immense was an understatement of an egregious nature. The building looked like a massive aircraft hanger, a roof made of a curving glass stopped the rain from pooling down by the interior tracks. It was made out of limestone and steel, a pale beige color, accentuated by green outlining. The main room of the station was easily the largest enclosed space Nick knew of. Rows and rows of tracks fed into the completely open back wall, coming into alcoves sandwiched in tiled walkways for passengers to freely exit and enter the trains.

The walkways all headed out toward the front of the building, a station with formidable infrastructure to cater to any patron's every need, regardless of species. At the front of the enormous building was a stained glass mural of simple tree designs and stone pillars reaching all the way up the arcing ceiling. The arches and curves of the ceiling decorated with almost victorian quality. Studded and printed with the most intricate and grand designs.

The plain color did nothing to inform on the absolute scale of the building, yet Nick couldn't bring himself to be impressed. To him, it was just another place. He had spent plenty of time selling watches and handing out flyers for business ventures up the steps, but that's all the surface level places in Zootopia were to him. Spots where he could hustle mammals. It seemed to him that they were just like favored fishing spots and bountiful dumpsters. Just a location he could exploit for his own needs. Now that he fancied himself a "changed" mammal, it didn't look like anything to him. Just a couple bricks and panes of glass.

Nick turned from the viewing window and made his way towards the elevator. There was no staircase to get up here, because there just wasn't enough room to build enough staircases to accommodate every size. Instead, the designers built an elevator at the back of the compartment, the doors flanking it led into the other cars behind it. Nick wasted no time in strolling over the ridged metal floors, and into the elevator.

The plain cylinder shape was big enough for the largest of mammals, but not really tall enough. Nick imagined if there were any giraffes that used these trains, they would just sit in the first floor, their long necks sticking up into their own viewing room. The panel to control the elevator was a sleek black bar running the entire height of the lift. It was a quasi touch-screen, which was really just a motion sensor blind as could be unless you swiped your paw across the bar directly. Since the elevator only had two places to could go, it really only needed one input.

It was originally built so you could just wave your hand without having to touch anything, but Nick guessed that must not have worked out for whatever reason. An assortment of horizontal scratched were left in the wall across the black bar. Mammals with long claws generally trimmed them to duller points for the sake of convenience if nothing else, but they were often still tough enough to scratch metal and plastic. Nick placed his paw on the wall of the elevator and swiped it across the bar. An electric tune played over a speaker at the top of the lift, the grinding protest of the doors closing following shortly after.

The lift lurched into a vertical movement, making Nick sway in the motion. The whirring of the lift's mechanism could be heard for a time as the elevator descended. It stopped after a very short couple seconds. Another tune played over the speaker as the doors slid into motion, moving around a circular pivot so that the door entered inside the rest of the cylinder. Nick stepped out into the first floor of the train. Hardly anybody else was taking the train today, the first floor only being occupied by a few smaller mammals.

He had just made his way down the taped ramp when the train came to a complete stop, the familiar tune playing over the car's speakers. Just as the doors opened, he was out onto the tiled pathway that stood at the same height as the train car's floor. Green iron benches and antique looking street lights stood in alternating fashion down the pathway towards the stairs that led up to the station proper.

Nick sauntered over to the escalator, noting how scarce the amount of mammals milling about were. It was like every mammal there was in a rush to get out of the station as soon as possible, and all of them seemed to be agitated to no end. It was possible that it was just the rain, but as Nick slowly rose on the mechanical steps, he could pick out a sound beyond the rain's constant downpour and the light bustle from inside the station. A tone played over the intercom, sending a hum throughout the building. "Thank you for choosing the ZTA for all your commuting needs," a female voice eased out over the platform. "Please exercise caution when exiting the station, and have a nice day."

Nick's brow furrowed when the cacophony of sound was given form. Rounding the lip of the escalator, he could see an enormous crowd outside the row of glass doors in the square. They were all holding protest signs and marching around, their voices carrying through the station in a loud rumble. They were being drenched by the pouring rain, but they continued marching. Some mammals had megaphones, shouting out chants across the amassing collection of animals.

Blinking, Nick raised his eyebrows at the sight. It seemed to be a mixture of both prey and predators out in the square, but who was on whose side was lost on him, as the hundreds of mammals all blended together. What sides are there even, he thought dumbstruck. What the hell are they even shouting about?

A whistling sound broke Nick's blanks stare, and he glanced over to the Juice Bar, where a small fox was sitting in front of a completely barron kiosk. The fennec waved Nick over, and turned back around in his seat. "Can you believe it?" Finnick's incredibly deep voice grumbled as Nick approached behind him. "Damn Juice Bar is closed." The fennec swiveled on his stool, looking at Nick with an irritated expression as he sneered. "I had to wait at an empty bar for you to-" He cut himself off as his nose scrunched up. His sneered grew practically larger than his face as he looked at Nick. "You reek."

Nick smiled at him, giving the fennec his trademark smug grin. "I haven't gotten a chance to shower today," he started lightly. "Would that I could find nice spot to scrub myself in the rain."

His smile was tapered when the fennec scoffed at him loudly, turning around on his stool to lean on the counter. "No amount of scrubbing is going to take that shame away," he seethed, refusing to look at Nick.

"Your nose must be having an off day," Nick replied, watching the smaller fox intently. "You can't smell any of that on me."

"Do I need to?" He asked, turning to Nick. "Does it matter if you reek of sexed up rabbit, or just plain rabbit?"

Nick snorted at Finnick. "You tell me, big guy," he retorted, weaving his paws behind his back. "You seem to be thinking they're one and the same."

Finnick clicked his tongue at the red fox, shaking his head. "You must be out yo' damn mind, Nick," he began. "That fluffy fuzz walked into yo' life and took ya for a fool. One minute we're making money like there ain't no tomorrow, and the next yo' sulking like a pup with yo' tail between your legs."

"Watch it," Nick barked, baring his teeth at the smaller fennec. "You've got some nerve to say that to me-"

"I ain't done," Finnick cut him off, pointing an accusatory paw at him. "Now yo' callin' me in the middle of a riot to pick ya up from a train comin' out a' Bunnyburrow." The fennec scoffed at the red fox and hopped down from his stool. "The only reason I am still talkin' to you is because I can't smell none of that one you."

Nick scowled down at the mammal in front of him. "And here I thought we were friends," he darkly quipped. "You're breaking my heart, Fin."

"Ha," his deep voice dryly shot out. "Seems you made a new one."

"What's the matter," Nick leaned in. "Jealous?"

"Of that fluffy new tail of yo's?" Finnick replied lazily, meeting Nick's disinterested gaze with his own. "Nah," he breathed out, exhaling while pulling his lips back to show rows of sharp teeth. "I'm more sympathetic than anythin'. She's got to deal with yo' red ass, huh?"

"Your admiration never ceases to delight," Nick said, giving Finnick a lopsided smirk. "I'm glad you've come over to my side."

"Oh, no no no," Finnick chuckled as he turned to walk towards the side door the led into the parking garage. "I ain't nearly that desperate for tail, Nick."

"There you go again," he shook his head, following after the fennec. "It's like you just can't accept my lifestyle."

Finnick scoffed at the mammal following him. "Acceptin' yo' lifestyle was when I wasn't carin' that you slithered yo' ass into a new hole in the ground every night." He tilted his head back to look at Nick as they passed into a hallway. "This is me bein' the best damn friend yo' ungrateful hide's ever had."

"How do you figure that? I've been nothing but grateful."

"Uh-huh," the fennec let out a nasally breath, waiting for Nick to open a push-bar door. The walked into a cement parking garage filled with cars of every size, and Nick could see Finnick's van parked down the lot after observing the space for a moment. The vehicle was a burnt orange color that had been weathered since it was last painted. The design on the side reflected that of an aztec warrior who had just saved a helpless damsel, but the retro color scheme long since fading in contrast, giving the side of the vehicle the impression of an old polaroid photo that had been left out in the open for too long. The driver side door had been stripped out and switched with a plain gray replacement.

Nick plopped down on the passenger's side, reveling in a vehicle that was accommodating to his size once again. Finnick scrambled up to the driver's seat beside him and turned the ignition; the engine roared to life in happy chugging, Finnick's careful maintenance shining brilliantly through the sound. "Purrs like a dream, Fin," Nick chirped, pulling out a pair of sunglasses that he had left in the passenger side door and slipping them over his muzzle.

"She better," He shot back, pulling the van into motion towards the exit. "She'd be in deep shit if she didn't."

"Don't be so harsh," Nick cooed, patting the dashboard lovingly. "You'd both be lost without each other."

"Yo' a funny mammal, Nick," Finnick deadpanned.

"I'm glad someone thinks so," Nick lamented, his face pulling into a contented smile as they neared the entrance.

"What's the matter," he threw over to his passenger sarcastically. "Yo' bunny bumpkin not laughin' at yo' jokes, huh? Must be a slow crowd out in the sticks." Finnick clicked his tongue before glancing over at Nick, "Flat-tooth's never did catch yo' humor, Red. Flies a little low for them raidar ears of theirs. Ya shouldn't be so hard on yo'self."

"You sure you're not trying to beat me out on being the funniest mammal around?" Nick questioned, giving Finnick a sideways glance. "You could do a whole routine, Fin. If you could reach the mic."

Finnick clicked his tongue again, giving the red fox beside him a disenchanted look. "It's a wonder," he started. "How that cottontail friend of yo's can stand yo red ass long enough to smother you in her scent."

"I've just got a magnetic personality," Nick smiled at the fennec driving.

"'Suppose you do," he replied. "Opposites attract and whatnot," Finnick trailed off reaching out the window when they came to a stop next to a booth. A Zebra dressed in a dark blue uniform took the fennec's money and parking receipt, returning his eyes to his desk to work out Finnick's change. "You should really be quicker to deny it, Nick."

"Deny what?"

Finnick turned his harsh eyes back to the red fox next to him after receiving his change from the Zebra. "Mammals are fickle things," he seethed out. "But one thing they ain't fickle about is what I'm lookin' at right now. Whateva' happened to that fox with a survival instinct?"

Nick frowned at the smaller mammal, vibrant green eyes narrowing clandestinely behind dark shades. "Would you like to point out my oversight?" He shot back at his friend. "Or do you want to be vague enough that I have to guess?"

"Vague?" Finnick chuckled out, bringing the van into motion smoothly. He shook his head as he replied. "Nick, I ain't sure why I have to be the one to inform you 'bout this, but you are a fox, first of all. That's strike one. Strike two is a pleasant little thing I like to call 'actin' the fool'. You know what I mean by that?" Finnick glanced over at Nick, waiting for an answer he knew wasn't coming. "I mean you look like you just crawled out of a dumpster," he continued, puffing out a breath in exasperation. "Cherry on top is strike number three. You won't guess this one."

"Enlighten me," Nick boredly proclaimed.

"Strike number three is the fact that you're rollin' 'round smellin' like you just had a five course meal of rabbit."

Nick shot Finnick a pointed glare, pivoting his shades down on his muzzle slightly so he could narrow his eyes more visibly. "I don't suppose you're trying to piss me off, are you? Your jokes are starting to get a little difficult to pick up."

Finnick clicked his tongue at the red fox next to him. "I knew it," he started quietly. "You gone soft on us, Nick. I'm just lookin' out for my own, something you've apparently deemed isn't worth much of yo' time." Finnick glanced over to his passenger, observing the slanted expression that was being beamed in his direction. "Word of advice, Red," He said, giving Nick a toothy smile. "And this is just me continuin' to look out. You don't want to look soft, maybe think of brushin' off some of that rabbit fur that's stuck to yo' neck."

Startled, Nick quickly ran his claws through the fur of his neck and brought it up to his muzzle. Sure enough, she had been shedding on him. It wasn't just guard hairs, either. No, Judy had left quite a few down hairs on him, and that was usually a sign of close proximity, not just a passing brush. He cursed under his breath, continuing to run his claws through his fur like a comb, attempting to get as many as he could. Finnick only shook his head at the motion, giving Nick an apathetic look.

The van rattled over a metal grate at the bottom of a concrete ramp. As the van slanted upwards, the dark clouds and torrential rain was framed by an enormous concrete archway, brightly lit by artificial light against the dark gray of the sky. A low rumble made its way to Nick's ears again, and when the van crested the ramp, the cacophony of sound was again given form. The crowd of hundreds of protesters continued to march in the rain and streets, shouting chaotically at each other and just the air around them.

Finnick slowed exponentially as they reached the collection of mammals; the brightly colored van's halogen headlights flipped on, capturing the attention of the mammals directly in their path. The ocean of mammals, big and small, parted ever so slowly, allowing the van to pass through at a snail's pace.

The rabble became almost too much to bear, but neither fox offered any sort of reaction to the sound. Even when the protestors started banging on the side of the van, shouting at the occupants behind the windows, they still simply stared out, quietly observing the actions of the mammals. They held signs, chanted slogans, and wore disenchanted scowls on all of their faces. It was like the whole population had lost their minds to hate.

"A lot of prey out today," Nick calmly remarked, watching a boar shout something indecipherable at him with a blank expression.

"'Bought as many of us," Finnick agreed, blaring his horn a couple times to make the mammals blocking their path move out of the way. "That's still about a tenth of what it could be."

It felt like it took ages to reach the end of the mob, the snail's pace not at all aided by the constant banging and shouting against the van. When they finally did reach the end of the crowd, Finnick sped up just as one last kick brought a final bang against the tail end of the vehicle. The fennec cursed under his breath as he looked through the rear-view mirror at the disappearing mass, scowling deeply at them. Police officers geared up in full riot equipment stood idly by the crowd, watching the ruckus intently. Nick turned around in his seat to watch the trickle of mammals feeding into the square disappear behind the buildings.

"How long has this been going on?" He inquired, glancing over to the van's driver.

"Started congregatin' some time last night," Finnick replied, fiddling with his shirt pocket. "Seems the storm's churned up some muck." He brought out a candy lollipop from his shirt pocket and bit the wrapper off, a leftover from a scam that didn't go too well. Nick could remember back in the day, he and Finnick had picked up some nicotine suckers with the intent to turn them around. They bought maybe a couple hundred regular suckers, unpackaged them, dipped them in the melted down nicotine juice, and repackaged them all as full fledged smoker candies right down to the core. It had turned out the nicotine derivative got banned the next week. "The city stinks," he finished, sticking the candy into his maw.

"You know those things are literally poison, right?" Nick asked, knowing full well that Finnick knew. He might have been the one to drop the scam when he found out they were poison, but Finnick was just as reluctant to actually sell them with that knowledge.

"A couple a year ain't gonna kill me," he curled his lip at Nick. "'Sides, half the shit we eat these days is poison; ain't the sucker that's gonna get me. Where we headin', anyway?"

"Over to the lot," Nick answered, turning to look out the window at the storm raging against the empty streets. "I need to drop off my wallet and grab a few things. Did you get what I told you?"

Finnick hooked a thumb behind him towards the back of the van. "It's in the back," he mumbled out with the sucker still in his maw.

Climbing over the center console, Nick mosied his way into the back of the van to retrieve his request. Thrown over a box held in place by bungee cords was a blood red collar shirt with sky blue flowers. A pair of golden yellow slacks and a lavender tie was also piled onto the cardboard, showing off a mishmash of colors that could seldom be called anything more than 'entirely random'. Nick lifted up the brightly colored shirt so that Finnick could see it in the rear-view mirror. "What the hell is this?" He exasperated, holding the shirt in his paws like it would bite him.

"It's a shirt, Nick," Finnick deadpanned. "You told me to get you a shirt."

"Yeah," Nick trailed off, looking at the fabric skeptically. "But I said get something classy."

"I ain't about to ride around the city in the damn rain lookin' through your stupid-ass caches for something classy," the fennec barked over his shoulder. "I ain't convinced you even have something classy in any of them."

Nick placed a paw over his chest in mock disbelief. "I have at least three suits around," he defended.

"Well," Finnick easyed with a harsh edge to his tone. "Next time please tell me where they are and I'll get it."

Nick scoffed at the smaller mammal as he unbuttoned his shirt. Pulling his tie over his head and shedding his pear green collar shirt, he stuck his nose into his arm and breathed a deep take of his scent. It was true. He did reek, and not just of rabbit. Rabbit was just a small, though very noticeable, part of a cocktail of scents ranging from dried out hay to synthetic leather. I should really think about finding one of those gyms, he thought. I'll pick up a membership card at the lot… I think I have one there, anyway.

Now dressed in colors so bright it would make eyes bleed, he elegantly jumped over the center console and landed with a hard thump on the seat, knowing Finnick hated hind paws on on anything but his floorboards. "Have you been up near Hill Street?" Nick questioned, knotting his lavender tie around his neck.

"To all them offices that they burned?" He questioned.

"They burned the offices?" The red fox inquired, looking up from his work around his neck. "I thought it was just a couple cars."

"Nah, Nick. They burned the whole damn lobby. They've been dishin' out fox bombs since before breakfast."

Nick's eyebrows rose high above his sunglasses. "Tear gas?" He incredulously breathed. "On Hill Street?"

Finnick gave Nick a hard stare, cocking one of his own eyebrows at his passenger. "When'd you skip town anyway?" He said, shaking his head. "Yo' more out of the loop than the damn prey."

"I was gone before eight. I didn't even know there were riots until about noon today."

Finnick let out a dark laugh, flipping his blinker on as he slowed for an intersection. "And yo' first thought was 'I better take the train back right now'?"

"To be fair," he answered as he rolled his head around. "I was already on my way back."

"Oh, right," the fennec scoffed at him. "Long-ear's parents catch a fox in the burrow?"

"On their way back from some City Hall thing, actually. Couldn't be caught skulking around when they got home, now could I?"

"So ya did spend the night in a goddamn rabbit burrow?" He retorted, ignoring Nick's attempt at levity. The fennec's enormous ears parted slightly as he gave him an expression of both disbelief and ridicule.

"Just outside of one," Nick hastily clarified.

Finnick clicked his tongue at Nick again, giving him a passing glance while he drove. "Ya know, yo' pretty bad news, Nick," he started. "Goin' 'round corruptin' wide-eyed bunnies that're too good for the tip of yo' tail. She's fuzz and the daughter of some old hicks that work for the municipal now, apparently. Quite the change of scenery."

"They're volunteering."

"Volunteerin'," Finnick drew out in condescension, mocking his own words back at him.

Nick's brow furrowed at his friend, registering the fennec's words finally. "I'm not going around corrupting anybody," he simply stated.

Looking over at Nick in quiet incredulity, one eyebrow cocked to a dramatic extent, Finnick gave him a toothy smile, the hard paper stick of the sucker sticking comically out of his sharp teeth. "Other way 'round, then?" He eased out.

Nick gave the fennec a skeptical look, internally debating what he should even say to that. "Something like that," he finally answered in a tone denoting distinct finality.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Finnick shook his head, turning back to the road.

"You were telling me how the city has gone to hell," Nick continued after a long silence.

"I don't gotta say nothin', Nick. Look around you," Finnick said, waving his paw around him in the air. "These fools are throwin' away a perfectly good day. Half the damn businesses around their little powwows are closed because of them."

"How many do they have?"

Finnick shrugged. "Mayor's office, City Hall, one back there at the station, the one by the UPP buidlin' all but moved on, and one by the fuzz's hangout. I swear if these mammals put half as much effort into their everyday, we'da solved most the shit they're bitchin' 'bout."

"You do realize that Bellwether tried to eradicate us, right?" Nick shook his head as he turned his snout towards the passenger side window. "Like they do have a pretty good reason to be out here?"

"Do they?" Finnick shot back. "Last time I checked you and yo' cottontail put the bitch in the bighouse. Her and her friends have all been rolled up on already. Ain't nothin' to be up in arms about anymore, s'far as I can see."

"What about Rampyke?" Nick asked, turning back to his friends with a questioning glare.

Finnick's eyebrows rose up, though he did not turn to meet Nick's glare. "What about him?"

Tilting his head, Nick narrowed his eyes at the fennec. "You're not worried he was in on the whole thing?"

"What's it matter," he shrugged back. "I ain't seein' no city goons goin' 'round burnin' no buildin's down. What's he gonna do? Take the city to hell in a handbasket in the month and a half he's got in office?" Finnick shook his head, dropping his voice more decibels than thought possible for his already low voice, making him sound like he was gurgling gravel. "What a waste of goddamn time," he droned, giving the city around him a disapproving glance.

Nick clicked his own tongue at the fennec. "Your outlook on life makes mine look like the gospel, Fin."

"Long as I'm makin' money," he shrugged again. "I don't care."

Scoffing at his friend, Nick thought it as good a time as any to pop open the glove compartment to look for a protein bar or something. He still had a long day, and doing it all on an empty stomach, while perfectly doable, didn't strike him as a pleasant thought. "If only everyone else was as chilled out as you," he replied, shutting the compartment without any luck.

"Well, what the hell do they expect him to do?" Finnick shot back. "Go around dartin' mammals? Seems a bit old hat now, don't it?"

Nick looked back at his driver, giving him an incredibly incredulous look while pulling his lips up in disbelief. "Old hat?" He started. "Those prison cells aren't even warm yet, Fin. You're acting like this all happened a month ago. Yesterday, we all believed preds were losing their minds over nothing, and that we all could go in an instant."

"Yeah, well, they weren't and we ain't," he offered with a sharp glare over to his passenger. "Seems it should be a huge sigh of relief, but apparently it's like mammals are more pissed off than when nobody knew jack."

"You're unbelievable," Nick breathed out. "What makes you so sure he's not going to do something stupid?"

"Who?"

"Rampyke!" He seethed out. "Who the hell do you think I meant?"

Finnick let out an amused breath. "Nick," he started with a toothy smile. "You got two vuples in yo' name, and you're still half the fox I am. Make use 'a those big ears of yo's, and have a listen." The fennec punched a knob on the radio and turned a dial for the volume. In an instant, the incredibly expensive speakers let out a low hiss until it focused on the audio.

"-listening to ninety-five point three, KLZR. The ZNN News Hour is next," a soundbite played of the speakers before a musical interlude played.

"What am I listening to?" Nick questioned.

"Yo," Finnick shot at him. "You want to have half a second's patience and find out, or has that rabbit rubbed off on you in more ways than one? It's almost four, and the big mammal himself is supposed to be on air."

Nick was about to reply when a voice came over the speakers again. "Hello, and welcome to the ZNN News Hour. I'm your host, Ryan Buckley, and joining me today is Zootopia's new interim mayor, Adrian Rampyke. How are you doing today, Mr. Rampyke?"

"I'm doing good," a gruff voice that Nick was familiar with spoke out. He had listened to a number of speeches the ram had made while campaigning in Savannah Central; the old politician worked hard for the predator vote outside of subsidized housing blocks and various other places. "How about you?"

"I'm doing just fine, Mr. Mayor," the host chirped back. "Now, I think we should get right into business here-"

"As we should."

"Right. Do you have anything you want to say before we get started?"

"I just hope that the citizens of Zootopia will help me in facilitating a peaceful transition of office. Lord knows we have had enough uncertainty for the past couple months."

"Yes," the interviewer started softly. "But that seems to be the forefront of the issue with you taking office, if you don't mind me saying. Uncertainty, that is."

"I don't mind at all. Look, I know this city has its reservations about me following the revelations of the former mayor's office, but I am no friend of Dawn's. We have consistently fought against each other on every bill that matters for more than a decade now."

"I'm not sure your track record is the issue here, unfortunately. I think most mammals just want to know what's going on. With the bombshell press-conference yesterday and your almost immediate appointment to mayor, I think the city is just in a bit of shock right now. I think the fact that you weren't in the leaked emails-"

"I wasn't in any of the conspiracy emails," Rampyke butted in.

"What was that?"

"I said I wasn't in any of the email chains or conversations that involve Dawn's despicable actions; I just wanted to correct you there," he began. "As City Manager, I am actually featured in a large amount of emails that were leaked discussing matters of the municipality. But, and this is important, every member of the plot that we know of has been apprehended. If I was in any way knowledgable about the events taking place, I would be in a cell right next to Dawn, but I'm not. The ZPD has been working tirelessly throughout the night to dish out hard justice, and they are doing a fantastic job about it."

"What do you say to all of the mammals that would like to see you step down?"

"The simple truth, Ryan, is that I am nothing more than an interim mayor. What remains of the UPP is in no position to hold elected office at this moment, and I have been asked by the City Council to act as the interim mayor as I am the most qualified."

"Why do you think you are the most qualified?" The interviewer asked in a leading tone.

"Simply put, it's because I have been working as the defacto mayor since Lionheart left office. Bellwether was acting in an official capacity as more of a mediator between the bipartisan council and the rest of the bureaucracy, as she has spent a large amount of time in the past month campaigning for the November election. I was really the one to handle implementation of the safety instructions handed down from City Hall. I led the curfew orders on both predators and prey, I was working closely with city officials in the maintaining peace during any demonstrations, and it was my office that set up the so-called 'savage hotline'. I have had my hooves in the dirt of this city's strife since it began, and I'm going to make sure I continue doing my job, and doing my job well, until my time runs out."

"Mhmm. Tell me, Mr. Mayor, do you see this as the end of the UPP?"

Rampyke chuckled, his grizzled voice reverberating off of the dead sound of the radio station. "No, I do not," he started. "It's pretty common knowledge that the UPP has had a checkered past. Many mammals can actually still remember the foundation of our party during the prohibition period. It may not have been known back then, but many people have come to know that the first mayor of our party, Marilyn Swinton, campaigned for the continuation of the prohibition of alcohol, despite bipartisan opposition to the idea at the time, to keep the profits flowing into the mob. It was not until Gregor Romanov did the leaders of the party purge any mammals affiliated with the mob. That is what I see these unfortunate circumstances as. A purge of all the mammals that would see the health, safety, prosperity, and peace of our great city-"

Finnick cut the rest of the new interim mayor's speech off at the knees, punching the dial to shut the radio off. He turned to the red fox next to him before he spoke. "Did ya catch that," he said, cocking an eyebrow.

"What was I supposed to catch?" Nick questioned giving the fennec a narrow look.

"Come on, Nick," he replied as she shook his head, turning back to the road. "That rabbit has only been in yo' life for a couple days in total. Yo' slicker than oil, and sharper than a blade, my mammal. You a fox, after all. Put the pieces together."

Nick stared blankly at the fennec, trying to piece together what he was getting at. You're a fox, after all, he reminded himself. Put it together. Nick watched the storm rage on out the window, losing himself in thought. First thing's first, where's the money going? Well, it's not going anywhere. There's no money in this. Okay, who's to gain? Obviously Rampyke, as he's the new mayor, but what's the end goal? Darting mammals isn't going to work anymore, as Finnick pointed out, so what does he want? The downfall of his party?

Nick tried a different angle, and thought about the data packets being dumped online. Who gained from those? It was hard to say, really. Possibly the UPP's opposition, maybe the an enemy of Bellwether's, but justice was certainly winning out over it all. With the packets online, it seemed a number of officials were put behind bars. Which stood to question: why did the mammal who had this information wait until after the plot was foiled to release it? Obviously something other than justice was on the agenda, but Nick could not think of what.

'That is what I see these unfortunate circumstances as: a purge,' Rampyke's words ran through his head. The wording struck him as odd, to be sure, but nothing incriminating. It also seemed odd that Rampyke went out of his way to declare the fact that he was in the data packets, just not as anything more than the official capacity of his office. One would think a politician would feel better leaving the fact that they were in the packets at all, wanting to be as far away from the scandal as possible.

"I was over at Henry's," Finnick started boredly. "Down by Walnut. I was there when you called me around noon, because I was lookin' through some of the leaked shit. Did you know that not a single member of the City Council is in the packets?" he asked, looking over at Nick with lidded eyes, rolling the sucker around his maw with his tongue. "Seems kinda strange, don't it? Within hours of the ol' bitch's arrest, they've got the prodigal son lined up for the job like he was next in line for the crown."

Nick tipped the sunglasses he wore down his muzzle so he could look directly at the fennec fox. "I see what you're saying," he began softly, narrowing his eyes. "But I fail to see how this is supposed to sate my concern for him being mayor."

"Weren't you listenin', Nick?" He asked with a toothy smile. "A purge of all the mammals that would see the health, safety, prosperity, and peace of our great city-" he mimicked, placing his clawed paw over his heart in mock patriotism before waving his paw through the air dismissively. "Yadda, yadda, yadda." Finnick took the sucker out of his mouth and dropped it into an empty coffee cup sat in the drink holder, having finished with the nicotine layer a long time ago. "Biggest tell I've heard all damn day. If politicians keep givin' away their intentions so easily, I might think of runnin' myself. I could talk my way around a whole herd of these fool. Call me a sheep-dog, Nick, because the only circles these woolly bastards are runnin' is 'round themselves."

Nick scoffed at the smaller mammal's boastering. "You have yet to explain why him being in office is nothing to be concerned about."

"I've got three words for you, Red," Finnick shot, pointing two clawed fingers in his direction. "It's 'self-interest' and 'blackmail'. The dude is a fanatic. Not in the pred/prey sense, though I ain't so sure about that, but in his stupid-ass politics. He's probably been hoardin' shit for years now, waiting to drop it at a time he could capitalize. If he gave a shit about predators, he would have released it all awhile ago. He did not. If he gave a shit about prey, he would have kept his flat-toothed jaw closed. He did not. Tells me the only thing he's interested in is his own personal politics." Finnick glanced over to Nick with a smug expression. "You can trust a mammal that only cares about himself. There ain't a question about his motive."

"Where does the blackmail come in," Nick inquired, already knowing where Finnick was going with in.

"Either elect him mayor," he eased calmly, gesturing slowly with his free paw. "Or he'd dump their dirty laundry out with all the rest."

"You think they're in on it?"

"City Council?" Finnick shot an eyebrow up when he looked over to Nick, lounging back into his elevated seat extension. "Nah. They're mostly Lionheart's cronies and Mammal's Voice. Not a UPP chump among them."

Nick wondered if the fennec was actually onto something, or if he was just fabricating some elaborate conspiracy theory in his free time for fun. Difficult to tell the difference, most times. "So what's the dirty laundry?"

Finnick gave Nick a dark chuckle, narrowing his eyes at the red fox for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. "They're government mammals, Nick," he reminded him calmly. "I told you I had a look at all of them leaked documents. Rampyke's guys must be good, because they had some pictures I'd say we could have taken. Ain't nothin' but kit's play to get some dirt on a politician. Remember what he did with McCreedy?"

Not replying to that, Nick settled into silence. It seemed funny to him that despite the little fox's aversion to caring even slightly about politics and its inner workings, he made a point of being knowledgeable about it all. Nick harbored no such sentiment. It was a wonder to him why he even seemed to care in the first place, as the comings and goings of mayors never seemed to make itself relevant to Nick. Maybe it's all that time I've spent with Carrots, he wondered. I bet she'd be pretty upset if it turned out Finnick is right.

Nick glanced behind him and picked up his pear green shirt. It was a mess; it had been completely covered in dirt and spots of mud from when he scrambled up that hill, not even mentioning the beating it got during the investigation the day before. Nick let out a shaking sigh. The day before, he repeated in his head. It feels like it was months ago. He stuck his snout onto the fabric and inhaled deeply, catching every whiff of Judy's scent that he could.

He had closed his eyes to focus on the task, but opened them when he felt something drop into his lap. It was the business card that he got from Judy's sister. Nick picked it up and turned it around so he could look at the back, rereading the information he had already checked out at the train station's payphone. He hadn't gotten much. "That reminds me," Nick started in a whisper. He glanced up to look at Finnick and saw he was giving him a strange look, his eyes narrowed at the red fox intently. "I need you to stop by Henry's on our way to the lot. I need to check something out."

"Sure thing, Nick," the fennec replied hesitantly, still staring at him with a skeptical expression. "Whatever you say."

Nick turned to look back out the window. They had passed into an area of Savannah Central that saw little attention. The asphalt and cement was cracked in disrepair. Pools of water grew as the rain continued to pour down, and tall grass and weeds grew out of every available opening, sticking out above the flowing water or out of broken rock. It was like the neighborhood was being given to nature, and it had slowly begun taking it back. Vines reached tall on every brick or cement wall. The trees grew into power lines, threatening to tear them apart. Large patches that once belonged to trimmed grass and sculpted plants now completely reclaimed by nature.

The entire southwest side had started to look like this some years ago. All of the money went into building the city's financial district, and the hundreds of square miles of suburbs. Nothing ever came to this part of town anymore. They only left. That was painfully obvious by the staggering amount of seemingly abandoned buildings littering the area. Not worth doing anything with, too expensive to tear down, and frankly the people that owned the property didn't even want to think about them these days.

The storm beat down on the city as they drove through it in silence, Nick having buried himself in thought. He was thinking over the past couple days. It just didn't seem to sit with him, the fact that the day before had been just that, the day before. So much had happened in so little time that it was surreal. Was he really a retired mammal, or had he made another rash, in-the-moment decision like filling out that police academy application? No, this time it was real, and painfully thought out.

One thing didn't escape his mind, though. A question that he had been meaning to ask since Judy had found him under that bridge. A question whose answer was the difference between some freak act of nature, and something deeper. "Hey, Finnick," he asked in an unusually somber tone.

Finnick's ears perked up at Nick's tone and he cocked an eyebrow in his direction. "Yeah?"

"Why did you tell her where I was?" Nick spoke purposefully, taking off his glasses completely so he could look at Finnick.

He observed his passenger blankly, giving no emotions away. After a moment he turned from Nick and continued focusing on the road. "That's easy," he began. "You've been messed up since she left, Nick. I'm talkin' real messed up. She fried yo' damn brain good, and you've been sulkin' 'round for the better part of two months now."

"So you just wanted me to snap out of it?" Nick wondered out loud.

Finnick gave him a sympathetic look, shrugging his shoulders lazily. "You want to know why I told her where to find you?" He asked slowly. "It's got somethin' to do with the fact that you currently reek of rabbit, covered in rabbit fur, and just spent five seconds stuffing your nose into a rabbit scent soaked shirt." The fennec scoffed loudly at him. "Yo' bad news, Nick, but that rabbit of yo's? She knocked you on yo' ass so hard you still haven't gotten up."

Nick sighed heavily, tossing his sunglasses onto the dash haphazardly and running his paws over his face. "Oh, Finnick," he said, shaking his head in defeat. "You don't know the half of it."