A/N: Some points of gratitude:

My deep thanks to winerp and TheCatweazle for their great work in proofing this story. Their feedback has been tremendous!

In this part, we'll see more of the politics emerge; thanks to nota999 for guidance and thoughts there.

Thank you to reviewers like Berserker88, Omnitrix 12, HawkTooth, and jeffhoward78. Your feedback is so valuable, and I take to heart everything you have to offer!

And thank you to all of you who read this story. It's been a lot of fun writing this; I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am.

Also: This story was featured on ZNN recently (for which I am super excited and incredibly humbled). If you've never checked out the site, go take a look at some of the amazing content on there. It's a hub of inspiration and a great place to share passions for all things Zootopia.

Please enjoy this next part of "Run!" ~ Euphonemes

Run

"You sure you know where we're going, Nick?"

"Relax: I'm an expert navigator."

"Uh huh."

In an ill-advised effort to avoid traffic, Nick had parked the car blocks away from their first stop. The duo had already plodded along three different streets, up and down and back up, all on foot. Judy's impatient paw tapped rhythmically on her phone screen, scrolling through the email with the location for the Mansoa scene.

A concerned citizen had reignited the investigation. She had sounded like an elderly zebra on the phone — Judy wasn't entirely sure why she knew what one of those sounded like. Regardless, after the zebra asked Judy, "What's that, sonny?" half a dozen times, they finally rustled up a credible tip on a Mansoa sighting. It was in a part of town few ZPD officers ventured into alone.

Luckily, Judy had Nick beside her as they wandered fruitlessly.

They passed by old buildings, many with rigidly cubic holes from where bricks had broken away. A scent of pulverized concrete made her nose twitch. While their cruiser sat by a luxuriously decorated storefront selling ludicrously overpriced dolls (or "collectible action figures," as Nick called them), two ZPD officers marched on through a part of town that seemed breathtakingly run-down

She stowed her phone and inhaled deeply. "It seems…sad here, Nick."

"Meh. Reminds me of home a bit. Especially that pothole you're about to walk into."

Her foot wiggled as it suddenly hung over empty space. A little hop backward set her properly. "Yeah, uh, thanks, Nick."

"Of course. I can't have our next mayor breaking her leg — it's only supposed to be a figure of speech, Candidate Hopps."

"Agreed; we'll keep it that way." He had wished her to break a leg as she had stumbled into the center of an eager cluster of volunteers at Campaign HQ and spoke to them. According to Nick, they all left excited and energized. Judy herself was elated to find that she could string together coherent sentences when she needed to.

Nick had buried his snout in his phone's screen; the positioning system would pick up the slack in his tracking skills. "Should be right around this corner. And you did fine with the volunteers; stop fretting. It makes you look funny."

"How did you…hey!"

His laugh trapped itself in a hole in the wall as she glared. "It's been long enough, Carrots. I know when you're worrying too much."

"Is that right? And how do you know?"

"I told you already. Just because you can't handle the truth…."

"Because I look funny? Well then, I'll show you a look." At that moment, however, the only look she could muster was confusion. They had rounded the corner, and only an empty street greeted them. "Wait: I thought you said it was around the corner."

Nick's phone burbled. It was a pleasant tone: a jazz riff, with a saxophone and clarinet vying for top billing. Together, they made for a fetching harmony. Sadly, his own tone was not so pleasant. "Oops."

"Oops? Oops is not good, Nick."

"Nah, it's fine. Just…stop walking for a moment." He tapped and spun his paw along the screen. He appeared to be quite adept at the motions; he had been on the device pretty much since he took over the campaign. A lot of practice.

"You're pretty handy with your phone, Nick. It's a shame you can't actually read it."

His foot shifted backward, and he sounded a tad defensive. "Please. This thing is nothing. I was made for the streets, Carrots…although, on this particular street, I need you to execute an about-face."

An audible groan escaped from Judy, but she turned around. The extra walk didn't seem to bother Nick; truly, Judy didn't mind it either. She rather liked having a few uninterrupted moments with her partner. The case and the campaign battled for their precious time, and though they were together almost endlessly, she didn't feel any closer to him.

Here and now, as they walked the block again, Judy hoped that something of interest would come to mind. She wanted to give voice to a lot of different thoughts. Since they were now going in the proper direction, however, she relinquished the opportunity and dove back into business. "So, the campaign…"

"I suppose it's as good a time as any. Where do you wanna start?"

It was an easy question, and Judy was a little ashamed that she wasn't ready for it. An ear flopped over her eye, and she played with the soft and short strands of fur along its edges.

"Um…well…." She let her gaze drift up toward the rooftops of the buildings. They were painted in dull colors; they somehow robbed the sky of its vibrancy. The sunlight felt tired here. Their ZPD uniforms looked gray if Judy squinted enough; even Nick's shiny and brushed fur couldn't invigorate his cleanly pressed shirt.

Nick cleared his throat; she must have been taking too long. A sly thought popped into her brain, and with no other option, she followed it. "Where do you think we should start, Mr. Manager?"

Nick hummed as he dodged a jagged split in the concrete sidewalk. "Whelp, let's think of it this way: We have a little over four weeks left until this special election. That's our end point; we can work backward from there."

That's actually a good idea! While Judy's mind was excited, her body was a tad more judicious in showing said excitement. "Gotcha…y'know Nick, I really still don't see what's so special about these special elections." Normally, as Nick had told Judy, a campaign would be a much longer process. Weeks upon weeks would go by with candidates locked in heated battle.

Naturally, this election was different. Lobos had been installed as manager for several months, and because he had stood unopposed for so long, there hadn't been a need for much of a campaign; the actual voting part of the election would have been just icing on the carrot cake. Judy's last-minute decision changed the game.

"Hah! Nothing is special about them. Usually, there are a few others slugging it out; best not to complain about that, though."

Judy had also wondered why she was the first (and now that the candidacy period was over, the only) mammal to oppose Lobos. The emptiness of the candidate field raised a host of red flags, all of which she chose to carefully ignore. Such a shakeup in City Hall should draw out wannabes of all stripes to press their luck in the political arena. Both the departures of Lionheart and Bellwether had also swept out a lot of other mid-level players and staffers who would've made solid candidates; yet, Judy found it difficult to believe that every challenger was gone. The silence of the field simultaneously told her quite a bit and nothing substantial.

Nick seemed to relish the challenge of this one-on-one election. Though the light was languid around here, his eyes glimmered with a brilliance as he dove into his idea. "So, our goal is to get you in that big and shiny office in four weeks' time. To do that, we need to convince enough of your fellow mammals to vote and put ya there."

"Okay, I follow."

"Good. Now, a lot of your constituents know who you are thanks to the work on the Night Howler case. For most mammals, that's probably a good thing."

She tried to hide her shock; she failed. "What! Why would anyone think otherwise?"

"Whole host of reasons. Some crazies will probably say you were in on it — don't worry about them. Others may take issue with how certain things were, ehm, handled."

"You mean like the train station?"

"That, and when you claimed predators had a biological predisposition to devour every living thing in our city."

She halted. Her ears went rigid. Her belly seethed with something white-hot. "That's not— no!"

And Nick brandished the paw of reproach. She chilled immediately. "And I just got beneath that gray coat of yours. You gotta keep your cool, no matter what anyone says about ya. Got it?"

Judy had fallen so easily into his trap. She nodded sheepishly, careful to avoid Nick's stare.

"It's fine, Carrots; you'll remember next time. But, good or bad, the Night Howler stuff will only carry ya so far — especially as the campaign heats up."

He kicked a crushed tin can; it ricocheted off of a stoop about eight houses up and skittered into the middle of the road. It was actually a well-placed shot; Judy wondered how many of those he had kicked before. "Now, Carrots, awareness is one thing; action is entirely different. It seems like we need to think about how we get you in front of as many citizens as possible and how we tell them what you stand for. We need to convert that Night Howler fame into real votes. How's that sound?"

"Okay…sure, I think you're right. But you think I'm ready to be talking to crowds?"

"Well, you're getting better at the whole talkin' thing. The volunteers tolerated you well enough, and you kept your message in focus — that's good. Plus, there's not a whole lotta time left for you to get ready; trial by fire is gonna be our best bet."

Reluctantly, she agreed. "Right. So…how do we get more mammals listening?"

"We're going to get you everywhere. You need to be on everybody's phones, their TV screens, their computers, everywhere." A little smirk brightened Nick's face. "Emmitt is doing a good job of setting that up so far, but we'll need to think of other ways, too."

"Is that where the media can help?"

"The media can help; yet, with the media, it'll be tougher to control the direction. It would be nice if we could get something to soften you up a little more. A…fluff piece, perhaps?"

The look Judy delivered would have stopped a fully-grown elephant in its tracks. All Nick did was smile and point the way. "Couple more blocks, Fluff."

Despite his lame, all-but-funny joke, Judy admitted that Nick's ideas were really solid. Behind the cavalier smile was a careful plan and a great deal of thought. He made it look so effortless; she felt fortunate to have him here. And there was something indescribably magnetic about watching him work this way. It drew mammals to him — she could sense the pull. Strands of fur rose as she walked a little closer to her partner.

She kept her tone conversational. "And what do I tell everyone? You said my message is good, but there are so many problems I should be addressing. Where do we start with it, Nick? How do we talk about all of these…issues?"

There was no hesitation; he must have been preparing for this question for some time. "Look, Hopps: Zootopia has a lot of things going on right now. You could pick any number of the dozens of issues and still not scratch the surface. But you've been talking about a big one: opportunity. The hope for success is powerful; don't discount that. And many of these other problems that mammals will ask about can be answered with the promise of more opportunity. Hearts, minds, and wallets, Candidate Hopps."

Her mind didn't settle so easily. She broke stride with him as she scrunched her face. "Really? That's it? But what about—"

"No. The more you try to throw in there, the more confusing your message will be. With so little time, ya gotta pick this one and ride it out. Decisiveness is key."

He delivered it with such conviction; it was hard for Judy to fight it. She chose to compromise instead. "Alright…I just wish I could practice this or something."

Nick was uncharacteristically quiet for almost ten steps; Judy's stomach dropped. "You might just have that chance...there could be a few reporters up ahead, actually. Somebody let it slip about this Mansoa tip — and no, Finnick didn't help with this one."

Her assignment to the case had not been a secret; she and Nick had earned a few column inches in the middle of the "City" section in the newspaper. The television stations broke the story and then let it simmer for a while; other distractions filled screens right now. A bit of continued interest, however, should be expected. "Oh…so, uh, what do I do with reporters?"

His eyelid twitched, and he leaned closer to his phone. She dreaded a call to turn around again, but he only offered some advice. "I don't think we have time at present for me to explain everything. But just remember this to start: Always answer the question you hoped they had asked."

It was at that moment that Judy realized she had not been keeping track of Nick's plan. I should be writing all of this down. Out came her notepad and ever-present carrot pen, and she went to scribbling. "Always…answer…the question…."

The scratches of her shorthand attracted Nick's look. "The trusty carrot pen, eh?"

"Never leave home without it."

"Hasn't it run outta ink yet?"

"It's called a refill, Nick." Invariably, Judy would get a little testy when someone questioned anything about her carrot pen. The sentiment of it warmed her paw whenever she set the pen's tip to paper. Somehow, everything made sense when she used it to write.

She wasn't sure if Nick understood, but he surrendered nonetheless. "Fair enough; I was just curious, my dear partner."

She flipped closed her notepad and tapped her chin with the top of her pen. "Mhm, I'll bet. So how close are we…to…."

Nearly a hundred camera shutters sounded like distant thunder as they clicked in unison. The crime scene was like a castle, guarded at its parapets by some local beat cops. The cordon around it, though, was brimful with reporters, who undulated as they pushed and shoved their way to the wall of yellow tape roping off the scene.

"This is more than a few, Nick."

"Yep. And for some reason, I don't think they're here for Kyle."

Something —perhaps the combination of fox and bunny scents mingling in the stale air — triggered the mass to turn. Suddenly, a whole mess of eyes and camera lenses were trained on Judy. "There she is!"

Her fur clung to her body as the wave rolled toward them. Nick, though, was on the spot. A stiff-paw blocked the nosiest of reporters as the wave broke. He grabbed her paw and together, they carved a path toward the crime scene. "Back off! C'mon, get out of the way! We have real investigative work to do, thank you."

Questions were flying at her from all directions; in total, they were a jumble of utter gibberish. She did her best to keep her eyes from widening like a terrified kit. She concentrated on Nick's grip. His paw was hot, but not in an unpleasant way. It was energizing as they dipped and weaved past bulky cameras and jutting microphones.

Mercifully, they crossed the gate of yellow tape and a stern-looking officer from another precinct and entered a roped-off square of open pavement. The wave of reporters splashed against the tape but proceeded no further; the mountainous grizzly bear guarding the line made sure of that. She covered her lips to hide the sigh of relief.

A police cruiser was parked at the center of the square. The pavement was old; the asphalt had grayed, with cracks like wrinkles scattered around. Officers from another precinct were milling about, with a few more joining their ursine compatriot in keeping the tide of reporters from rushing inward and flooding their scene.

Training kicked in. She went to the top of her checklist. Establish the chain of command. She summoned a mighty voice from within her. "Who's in charge here?"

Somewhat surprisingly, Nick answered. "That'd be us, Hopps."

Her mighty voice fled. "Huh?"

"Our case, our clues. This one is all us. Right boys?"

Their fellow officers' curt nods signaled their agreement. With a weirdly large smile, one cop gestured toward a spot by the parked cruiser. Judy felt that his grin was unnecessary — at least until Nick and she reached the spot.

There lay a blob of navy blue. It had more wrinkles than the pavement; in fact, it appeared almost formless save for three strategically placed holes.

Judy needed to crouch down and squint to puzzle it out. "Is that a shirt?"

"Yep."

Nick proceeded to tap it with his foot, much to Judy's dismay. Keep all evidence as-is until the proper crime scene team arrives! "Nick, what're you doing! Don't be touching the evidence!"

"Calm down, it was just a tap. But you're right: it's a shirt. A Lionheart shirt, that is."

Sure enough, emblazoned on the front of this lump was the "Lionheart for Mayor" banner that had become ubiquitous during his first campaign. Bunnyburrow was outside city limits, of course, but she had heard plenty about it from Nick. Lionheart had mobilized a veritable army of volunteers and champions of his cause; he rolled into his first term with an incredible landslide victory. This particular brand of shirt was reserved for special contributors (financial or otherwise) to his campaign — one of many gifts Lionheart gave to reward loyalty.

She wondered just how well Kyle Mansoa knew Leodore Lionheart. Enough for this, perhaps? "Y'think it's Mansoa's?"

Nick didn't shed any further light. "Dunno. We'll wait for the crime lab techs; let's see what they can dredge up on it."

Judy didn't mean for her sigh to telegraph her disappointment so clearly. At that range, though, only Nick would be able to hear it. "Is that it? Just a shirt?"

"Looks like it, partner. Kinda weird, huh?"

The whole scene stank of weirdness. Judy's nose twitched as she surveyed everything. Beyond the reporters still seething by the tape, she saw a decrepit townhouse. A shingle tumbled from the roof; it didn't make a sound as it disintegrated upon impact with the dingy sidewalk. Of all places, Mr. Mansoa….

She had to admit: it was rather frustrating. As complex as it became, the Otterton case had at least made a modicum of sense. There were patterns to follow, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading them to the bigger truth; however, Mansoa's disappearance was proving to be uniquely tricky. Nick and Judy had so few pieces, and the things they had were not connecting. Even with the media's attention and the vigilant eyes of many citizens, only sparse and seemingly disparate elements emerged.

We must be missing something, Judy's mind nagged.

"Why would he be here?"

"A good question, my thoughtful partner. But for now: you need to go say hi to everyone out there."

Mansoa vanished immediately from her mind as Nick set his paw on the small of her back. She was already lost in the notes of her discussion with Nick when he delivered the inevitable shove. She barely felt her feet while she crossed the square and reached the wall of yellow tape.

Upon seeing her, the wave of reporters surged; a few enterprising individuals even stuck a microphone across the barrier. A low growl erupted from her fellow officer, but she waved him off.

She again summoned the mighty voice. "People, please calm down. I will take a few questions."

It was wishful thinking, really; the feeding frenzy had begun. A small part of Judy wondered how many times the same question could be repeated — nearly one hundred reporters each asking a distinct question sounded impossible. No matter, really: it was all still a complete mess.

She tried for calm again but gave it up as the questions only became louder. She closed her eyes and set an ear to task. It flitted about atop her head, scanning for something intelligent. Out of the tumult, one bubbled forth. "Ms. Hopps: What do you think of how your opponent has been running the city?"

Nick was right; they weren't here for Kyle Mansoa. It saddened her, though she hid her feelings beneath a plastered smile. Panic tried to set in; there was still so much noise. But a deep breath reminded her of Nick's words. Always answer the question you hoped they had asked. She was momentarily back in the room with Mr. Big, contemplating how that early morning meeting had launched something amazing. She could sense Nick watching from the corner once more. That notion alone allowed calmness to descend, and she opened her eyes, ready to face the tumultuous sea.

"While Mr. Lobos has done a fair job to keep the city afloat after the events of last year, I'm afraid that is the total of what has been accomplished. A fair job…good enough. But it is not enough. And as a city, we cannot settle for good enough. The time has come to be better than we are — better than we have been to our fellow mammals. We need to be a real city, where neighbors watch out for one another and where our leaders watch out for all of us!"

Her ears picked up a few delighted whispers. They were quickly suppressed as questions roared again. She pointed to a meerkat, who announced herself as a rep for some local magazine. "So what will you do differently, Ms. Hopps?"

Gears turned in her mind; it was closer to automatic this time. She broke it down piece by piece. What's the question I want to answer? It was smoother; she almost didn't need to pause.

"With the support of my fellow citizens, I will seek to create opportunity for everyone in Zootopia. All mammals need to have the opportunity to find themselves, no matter where they come from. Opportunity won't just be for those who have the shiny storefronts. It'll be for the mammals who live in these very buildings." She thought that her gesture may have been a mite grandiose, but the camera shutters clicked anyway. "Everyone deserves a chance to be their best!"

Reporters murmured into their microphones and recorders. Judy flashed a winsome smile. Her paws buzzed as she awaited the next question. It was intoxicating, actually — carrot purée has nothin' on this!

"Hopps! C'mon, we gotta finish securing the scene!" Sadly, duty called and ruined the buzz.

The groan of the crowd shook Judy's fur as she yielded the floor. Cameras continued snapping as she walked back toward Nick. Her mind churned with a thousand news ways to answer the reporters' questions. It was hard to focus; she barely caught Nick's words in time. "Alright, so, we'll wrap things up pretty quickly around here; then, we should head back to the station and see about that shirt. Might tell us something."

Nick doing police work was a pleasant surprise. Her smile was genuine. "Great!" The buzz was wearing off, especially as she listened to more of the camera shutters clicking. Yet, she felt rather accomplished; the blue was returning to Nick's shirt.

The scene had been secured for a while now; Judy had a feeling why she had been summoned back. To show her comprehension, she winked at Nick; his ear twitched. "How was that, Nick?"

She was right. A paw went to his chin, and he studied her with careful eyes. "You're getting there — I could tell you were enjoyin' it. Might even be able to put ya in front of a bigger crowd soon." His tail suddenly locked itself in place. He leaned in, and his voice was gruff; a jolt of fear electrified Judy. "But don't be so soft on Lobos, okay? You're running against him for mayor, not prom king or something. You can really dig into him. Got it?"

She got it. But, she felt compelled to correct him. "Wouldn't I be queen?"

Nick snorted.

She shrugged. "Guess it doesn't matter: I never went to prom."

"…huh. Me neither."

He had taken away the thrill of oration, and Judy was itching to poke at him for it. She smelled a perfect chance to tease. "Would you have taken me to prom, Nick?" Although, truth be told, she was also a little curious about his answer.

Time seemed to linger for a few moments. The noise of the reporters fell away. The buildings vanished. She watched his snout crinkle in a wonderfully complex pattern. He's deciding what to say — it was as clear as day for Judy.

After all their time together, she was so certain he would take the bait. It was like a big fat blueberry fresh from the bushes: perfectly rich blue skin, the right amount of juice, the satisfying pop when bitten, irresistible. And with a wink of his own, Nick turned his back on it. "C'mon partner, we gotta get back to our cruiser. Time's running out on the meter; I'd hate to get a parking ticket."

More to come soon; stayed tuned!