To Mend a Broken Hart

by nievelion

Just why was Leodore Lionheart so determined to keep the savage mammals a secret, what was he truly hiding? The answer will not only shed new light on his actions, and offer hope of redemption, but be critical in helping Nick and Judy once more save Zootopia from species division and chaos. Lionheart/OC, implied WildeHopps.

10. Chapter 10

Cracking his back to get out the kinks that came from sitting in his office chair too long, Mayor Leodore Lionheart yawned, worked his jaw, and sighed as he gazed at his computer screen. Numbers swam across it, budget figures and revenue, donations and federal funding, requests from the city's various organizations and departments for further support for their programs, all carefully entered into the spreadsheet, but they simply hovered hazily before his eyes, as he was too tired to focus. It had been a very long day.

A solid knock came on the doorframe of his office. "Does our glorious leader have time to come down off his mountaintop and see how the rest of us live?" a beloved, deep voice drawled.

Even before he had fully turned away from the machine and was rising out of his desk chair, the lion was smiling wryly. "I don't know, what could possibly be more important than making the countless decisions that decide every facet of the little mammals' lives?" Laughing, he crossed the vast office and opened his arms to Buckley, embracing the deer firmly.

When he pulled back, the cervine regarded him critically, a searching look in those dark brown eyes that had always drawn him in, even as a cub. "You really do overwork yourself. You know that, right?"

Lionheart snorted. "Have to combat that lazy lion stereotype somehow, now don't I?"

"True, but there's such a thing as going too far." Stagmire frowned. "I seem to recall similar warnings from you, when I was pulling far too many all-nighters at ZSU…"

"Yes, Mother," the Barbary teased snidely.

"That's hardly what you were calling me the other night…" Buckley murmured. Despite how many years they had known each other, how close they had become, how comfortably they had fallen into such adult talk even as they remained carefully private and discreet, and the specific fact there was no video or recording equipment to speak of in the Mayor's Office (he'd made it a point to have a sweep performed, after the last mayor had turned out to be both corrupt and highly paranoid, spying on everyone who met with him, keeping all manner of blackmail material while ensuring nothing he himself said or did were preserved to incriminate him)…despite all of this, Lionheart couldn't help flushing profusely and hushing the deer.

"I still forget sometimes how provincial you can be. It's rather adorable really." Even as the lion laid his ears back and glared at him resentfully, to another merry chuckle, Buckley continued more seriously and kindly. "I mean it though, Leo…you've done so much for this city already, and I know you have even more to give, but please…don't deprive us of all the good you have to offer just because you're too stubborn to know when to relax once in a while."

Sighing slowly, Leodore let the tension, worry, and pressure flow out of him with the exhaled breath, then responded with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Bucky. Force of habit, I suppose. There's always so much more to do though, and if I don't, who will? I can't leave it all for those who aren't as conscientious, productive, or civic-minded as I am. Not when you aren't here to help me anymore. The DA office's gain was City Hall's loss." Even though the deer's change in political career had been at his insistence, it didn't make it sting any less…especially with the reason he'd felt compelled to advise it.

Buckley took his paws in both hooves, shaking his antlered head slowly as he regarded him with both bemused fondness and chiding disbelief. "Sometimes…very often, actually…you still amaze me. Don't ever change." Grinning, he leaned in closer until their faces were nearly touching. "As for your yearning for my assistance, you know you only have to call, and I'll be at your side in a heartbeat." Another meaningful pause. "For anything."

And since he could never resist the deer except by a supreme act of will, in moments Lionheart and Buckley were sharing a warm, tender kiss.

There had always been something between them, he guessed. A bond stronger and deeper than friendship, but he had not begun to have an inkling what it was until high school. At that point peer pressure, the manliness of his sports vocation, and the typical attitudes he found everywhere in society had demanded he resist it, repress it, though he would never go so far as to belittle, insult, or demonize it as others did. Neither of their families was powerfully religious (though the Lionhearts were more devoted in the beliefs they had than the Stagmires), but Leodore had always been afraid of what their reaction would be, should they ever admit the truth about themselves, let alone their interest in each other. While he didn't think his parents would reject him outright (and even the concern of there being heirs to carry on the family name was well taken care of through his older brother Elliott and his younger brothers James and Franklin), he was too afraid to find out otherwise. (There was a reason one of his family's mottos had been "Roar softly and carry a big stick.") And up until his death, the elder Mr. Stagmire had intimidated Leodore as much as he had his son with his sternness, his rather narrow view of what a real male should be and do, and his rather nasty temper. After the accident, Bucky's mother had always seemed so fragile to the lion, and neither of them had wanted to risk a shock her heart might not be able to withstand.

College had been different, however, in a number of ways. Not only was sex much more on many males' minds there, especially in the fraternities, and there existed a much more open, liberal atmosphere where sexuality could be explored and accepted in all its myriad expressions, but there was the fact the two of them had become roommates following Leodore's binge episode and the intervention that had turned his life around. Aside from the extreme gratitude he felt for his oldest friend, the feline had found that simply having the same accommodations with Bucky, being around him constantly rather than just seeing him at school, while hanging out in the city, or spending time at each other's homes, getting to see him in various states of undress right down to the altogether…well, it had had an effect on a hot-blooded jock. And on the deer, too, from the blushing, stammering, and heated looks whenever Bucky had gotten an eyeful of the football player's physique in turn. After that night when he'd brought his friend back from passing out over his books, Lionheart had finally gotten up the courage to admit how he felt, the desires that had been burning stronger and deeper within him over the past several years…and to his explosive relief and joy, Bucky had admitted he felt exactly the same way.

Needless to say, they'd both lost their virginity to each other not long after that. (In fact they'd practically ripped each other's clothes off, so great was the need to act on their long-pent up desires…) After that however…despite the fact they'd pushed the beds together to share, didn't care any more how much they saw of each other's bodies, and that for every night they'd needed to let off steam thanks to the pressure of their coursework, there'd been just as many where they had simply held each other close, faces resting on each other's warm chests for comfort and reassurance…despite all this, they had still kept the true nature of their relationship a secret from their other friends and especially their families. Not just out of fear of a horrible scene, negative repercussions, and the strong possibility of being forbidden to see each other ever again, but because of their plans for the future. Namely, that both of them intended to do work that would place them very squarely in the public eye.

Whether as part of the political or business worlds, Lionheart had been well aware that there would be little chance of keeping either their sexuality or their relationship a secret…and while it would not necessarily interfere with their determination to change the world for the better, since shareholders, customers, donors, and constituents had different levels of conservatism depending on where you looked, the chance their careers would be ruined was one he did not want to take. And there was also the simple fact that obviously, neither of them was objective when it came to the other, their connection was too strong, too at odds with what they might have to do in their respective lines of work. To put it simply, even if no one was bothered by their gayness itself, they would be absolutely right in being suspicious of collusion, conflicts of interest, and nepotism. It would be next to impossible to achieve many of their goals if everyone could honestly doubt their ability to act for the needs of the many over each other's personal benefits. There could not be anything other than a professional respect and courtesy between them, and that was that.

So although Bucky had been crushed (and Leodore had to admit it had broken his heart as well), they had agreed their relationship would not only be secret, it would end upon graduation. After one final, tearful embrace in ZSU's auditorium, a gentle kiss once they were out of sight of anyone, and a last desperate lovemaking at their fraternity bedroom, they had gone their separate ways into the adult world. The deer had gone into business law, eventually ending up at Hexward, while Leodore had become a dedicated philotherian and politician—the Zootopian Civil Liberties Union, Zoamnesty International, the City Council, and more. If twinges of heartache and other desires resurfaced from time to time, he bore them with great fortitude as the price he paid for his service and the positive difference he was making. If he ever thought about the possibility of encountering Bucky again, he had assumed it would be on a strictly platonic basis, acquaintances who might mingle briefly at key elite social gatherings, nothing more, with their once-carnal ways relegated to the past—a youthful indulgence brought on by the heat of the moment and the stresses of their surroundings, but which had only been a passing desire.

To his surprise, and extreme pleasure, when they had met again at a City Hall Christmas party, it had been as if no time had passed between them…their friendship and insight into one another as strong as ever, their passion for justice and equality undimmed, their hope for the future and their earnest need to make it possible together undiminished. And after they had decided to leave their current pursuits and make a run for the Mayor's Office, they had also discovered their more personal needs for each other had not been quenched either—merely ripened, a more mature and committed love that, even as it still had a very healthy sexual side, had proven by the test of time that it was real, something that could be built upon and counted on.

Yet Leodore had still been afraid—not so much of familial disapproval these days, but of the public's reaction. For something as important to Zootopia's well-being as the positions at the top of its political food chain, in his mind any hint of anything improper, too much closeness and influence between them, would relegate City Hall back to the mires of corruption and graft, where favoritism and personal allegiances mattered more than the common good. Never mind that the two of them were as united as could be when it came to policy, and what differences they had in how and when to implement it (or even whether it could be) were easily debated and resolved without much fuss and next to no recrimination. It would still look horribly wrong to anyone who knew.

And so, he had insisted their renewed dedication to one another remain a secret, to ensure that no hint of scandal could taint their administration—and when the opportunity came for Buckley to do more direct good for the city by making use of his legal expertise once more, to have the deer run for District Attorney while he chose another running mate when seeking re-election. This placed further distance between them, dismissed even further any thoughts of being compromised or untrustworthy, but at the same time justified more frequent visits from Stagmire for various judicial pretexts. As long as they continued to be careful, their assignations could continue…and Leodore Lionheart had every intention that they would. Now that he had Bucky back, he was never letting him go…

Breaking the kiss, the deer let out a deep sigh and a soft, amorous groan before seating himself partially on the desk's edge, resting his hoof on Lionheart's shoulder and squeezing firmly. "You've still got it, Leo. We may have started this back when we were both young bucks—" He quirked a brow and chuckled. "—but I think we've proven things only get better with age." Winking, he glanced down at the desktop, then frowned. "All right, what have you done with my mug?"

Lionheart, who had been puffing out his chest and lifting his chin in pride at the compliment, suddenly had to cough behind his paw and avert his gaze slightly. "Ah, yes. About that. I…may have given it to Dawn."

Buckley stared at him incredulously behind his glasses. "Why ever for?"

Elevating his eyes to the ceiling now, the mayor adopted a lofty tone. "I, ah, may have altered the message on it a tad. It now reads 'World's Greatest Assistant Mayor'."

The stag snorted a laugh, then shook his antlered head slowly. "Really, Leo? I know she can be a bit high-strung, far too desperate to please, and a chatterbox, but what do you have against poor Miss Bellwether?"

Frowning, Leodore shot him an odd look; it had been a bit tasteless, he admitted privately, but surely it hadn't been truly insulting? "Don't you think you're overreacting a bit?" he said delicately. "It was nothing against you or your gift, but the change I made genuinely reflects how I feel about her. Well, aside from you, of course, but you're unfortunately no longer in the candidate pool, so…"

He shrugged, then noticed Buckley staring at him again—this time in distinct disapproval. Flinching, he again became shifty-eyed. "All right, I admit it was unplanned—I'd forgotten it was her birthday, so I had to quickly come up with something and the mug was the first thing at paw. But really, Bucky, I don't know why you're so offended on her behalf. Surely you don't think I'm being species-ist—"

Buckley's frown grew deeper, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he let out a sullen grunt. "One word, Leodore: Smellwether."

The lion's face grew deep red with shame in seconds, the blood rush making him feel rather faint. "I…didn't realize you'd heard about that."

His friend and lover's face grew pained. "Leo, in case you've forgotten, when you bellow, everyone can hear it."

"Ah…yes. Well. About…that." His shoulders slumped and his ears drooped. "I'm sorry, Bucky. It started off as just a lame joke—you know, sheep wool smells absolutely awful when it's wet?—and then I lapsed into it whenever I lost my temper. And…that's been happening more lately."

Despite his disappointment, the cervine eyed him with pointed suggestiveness. "And I believe this is where we circle back to where I came in. You, working too hard, over-stressing yourself?"

Lionheart sighed and nodded. "You're right, of course. Absolutely right. In my defense, however, it isn't just about me snapping whenever I lose my patience. Dawn Bellwether may not be you, but she's still an incredible Assistant Mayor. She's smart, insightful, able to get right to the heart of a matter, and extremely capable when it comes to all the bureaucratic red tape I just can't handle. Paperwork, scheduling, accounting, filing, note-taking—you name it, she can do it with flying colors, and still have time to meet the press and the constituents, sit on various councils, fund-raise, and more. I would be completely lost without her.

"So when she is not so stellar, when she fails to give me her best and does not meet the high standards she herself sets let alone mine, I notice, it frustrates me, and…I say things I shouldn't say. But she is indispensable, and so I mean every word on that mug."

Buckley regarded him candidly. "That's wonderful, Leo. Commendable even. But have you told her this?"

He paused…and guilt washed over him. "Not in so many words," he admitted quietly. "I guess I thought it must be obvious, that she should already know. I mean, I wouldn't have picked her as my new running mate if I didn't think she could do the job and do it well."

"You mean it wasn't just to get the sheep vote?" the deer asked wryly.

"Certainly not!" A beat. "Well, if it did help bring in more prey votes, that could only be a good thing. And you have to admit, the whole 'lion and the lamb' imagery was just too good a PR coup to pass up. But no…I chose her because I like her, Bucky. I think she's adorable and sweet, though I would never say so because I know how condescending sheep take that sort of thing." His stiff posture and tone both softened. "I can't deny that despite the fact you're prey too, having someone as small and vulnerable-looking as she is next to my huge, intimidating self was a far better way to convince the undecideds that I am serious about species equality. And we both agreed you could do far more for Zootopia—not to mention actually use that Master's degree of yours!—as the DA. But even if such cynical calculations were my only reasons for picking the next Assistant Mayor, there were plenty of candidates to choose from. I selected her for the reasons I've just named, but also because I like her, a very great deal."

The deer rubbed his chin, lost in thought, and although he still looked troubled, much of his suspicion and anger had faded. "Then what's with the basement cubbyhole?"

Trying for a joke to ease the tension, Lionheart responded instantly, "Well, she's small. She doesn't need that much space, does she?"

Buckley looked at him, expressionless and stone-faced—then scooped up the afternoon newspaper from the desk, rolled it up tightly, and without hesitation bopped him on the nose. "No. Bad kitty." With that, he buried his face in his hoof.

"Okay, okay, I get it, now's not the time and my humor needs work." Cringing a bit, the mayor clasped his paws together, fingers working nervously. "The truth is, I didn't think it'd be safe giving her the old adjoining office you used to have. If she was right here, instead of down in the subterranean passages of City Hall, she'd be able to see everything that goes on here. Including all of your comings and goings. More than there really should be for the DA. I didn't want her to think you were really still my second-in-command, the real Assistant Mayor while she was just a figurehead, or that there really was some of corruption going on. And…"

He stopped, turned to look out the windows at the city far below, and he couldn't stop the pain from welling up, or the fear. "I thought she might figure out the truth. About you and me. She's almost dangerously intelligent sometimes. If she did…well, sheep are very provincial creatures, those from the Meadowlands more than most. What we are to each other…it might very well disgust her. You know I'm right." Indeed, Buckley was the one who now looked uncomfortable and ashamed, his hoof lowering woodenly before tossing the newspaper carelessly back on the desk. Generalizations were often exaggerated and selective in the biases they expressed, when they weren't outright false, but paradoxically that was true about this very statement about generalizations—because sometimes they were right, or at least had some grounding in reality.

When he had let enough time pass for his point to sink in, Lionheart relented. "It's things like that I'm still afraid of, it's why I still think we need to keep what we have together very quiet. And if putting Dawn in a broom closet so she doesn't get even the whiff of the inkling of a suspicion is the only way we can keep a scandal from sullying this office…and ruining our lives…then it's what has to be done. But." Emphasizing his final word, he waited until Bucky lifted his now glum, distressed face to look him in the eye once more, then spoke apologetically, with warmth and understanding. "That doesn't change the fact you're right, I need to let her know more often, and more directly, how I really feel about her." Recalling now the look she had worn when he had given her the mug—perplexity and uncertainty turning to depression and resentment before quickly being hidden behind a mask of perky cheer—he swore privately to himself he'd do right by her. "So I'll try to be more encouraging, okay?"

Slowly Buckley let out the breath he'd been holding, but when he looked up, the stag had that fond twinkle in his dark eyes he knew and loved so well, the smile on his face that he felt was meant ever and only for him. His heart skipped a beat and his chest tightened. "All right, Leo. Fair enough. Just please don't let it go too long…you know as well as I do how much even one more day of loneliness and rejection can do to a mammal, especially a prey receiving lowly treatment."

Lionheart nodded solemnly; he knew, and remembered. Moving back to the other side of the desk, he swiftly made sure his work was saved, then shut the computer down. "And you're also right that I need to find a way to relax more often. Unfortunately I can't afford a vacation right now, but…something has to give."

The cervine regarded him wistfully. "Starting to regret leaving your volunteer work at Doctors Without Species?"

"Bite your tongue," he chided. "I mean yes, the work was eminently rewarding, giving back to the community is always a noble thing, and there's nothing quite like seeing a look of despair turn to one of hope when someone receives the concern and dignity every mammal deserves." And, though he didn't want to admit it for fear of how his lover might react, there had been something intensely beautiful, even holy, about holding a cub in his arms, taking care of such a new and unprotected life, feeling it nestle into his mane and provoke a rumbling purr... "But in case you've forgotten in your time away from Hexward, the health industry is just as stressful and overwhelming as politics, when it doesn't manage to be that as well! I don't think I could handle it any better."

"Touché," Buckley replied rather fervently, with a certain wildness in his eyes Leodore knew all too well.

"No, what I need is a little R&R now and then, that's all," the mayor said decisively.

"Well…" The deer reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and produced two squares of stiff, glossy paper, decorated with musical notes, sparkles, and vibrant colors. "I had hoped, when I came in here to begin with, to invite you to Animalia with me tonight. Gazelle's putting on her biggest, most spectacular show yet, and I've managed to snag two front-row tickets." Buckley paused, and when he spoke again his voice was as coy and filled with implications as his half-lidded expression. "You have always said you'd very much enjoy discovering just how alluring and irresistible those tiger dancers of hers are, up close…"

That was all he needed to hear. Snapping his laptop closed, Lionheart strode back around the desk, offered his arm to Stagmire, and gave him a rakish grin in return. "That, good sir, is more like it! Let's get to that concert…we haven't a moment to lose if we don't wish to fight everyone there to get to our seats."

As they departed the mayor's office and hurried toward the elevator as quickly as they dared, the deer remarked with a casualness that was completely disingenuous, "You know, those glittery shorts of theirs really are quite popular. Seems like anyone and everyone has a set. I do believe they're the most successful merchandising ploy in Zootopia's history…whoever decided to sell them to the fans was a marketing genius."

Lionheart smirked, broadly and more naughtily than ever. "You're only saying that because you want to wear one."

"Hardly," Buckley shot back. "You know very well it is merely fanservice, nothing more nor less. Utterly tawdry and shameless from beginning to end."

"Of course," Leodore ventured with dubious aplomb.

"Quite." The deer's cheeks were the ones that were quite red now, however, as he nervously adjusted his jacket and shirt collar. "Besides...I'd only want that if you did."

The big feline pounced, figuratively speaking (although his tail was lashing at the thought of doing so for real, once they were alone at the stag's humble residence). "You're wearing a pair right now, aren't you?"

"Hush, you!"

The bell chimed as the elevator reached their floor, and Lionheart could only grin smugly at the now-perpetual blush the DA was sporting. Whether or not his guess was true (or might be, in the future), he knew one thing for sure: as soon as possible, he was getting the deer to join him at the Mystic Oasis. There was a particular tiger masseur there Bucky wouldn't believe until he saw him with his own eyes…

---

By the time Manuel Delgato had returned from the back of the Palm Hotel and Casino, walking much more slowly and heavily than he had when he'd left the lobby, it took all of his legendary restraint, patience, and calm to keep from stalking forward with a lashing tail, clenched paws, and a constant growl. Obviously he'd been unable to reconnoiter, let alone attempt to catch the perps in question, until after that hostage situation had been resolved, but even aside from how critical it was that Doug and his rams be stopped, and Buckley Stagmire in particular be rescued, he hated being outsmarted or outmaneuvered by a criminal. It reminded him far too much of how he'd always been third-best or worse in life, how so much about his background had been against him from the start, and he simply prided himself on his exemplary record and ensuring those who broke the law were brought to proper justice.

However, there was nothing for it; when he'd raced through the drab, more dingy and dark corridors of the hotel's delivery and maintenance areas, he'd reached the back door and tumbled out onto the loading dock just in time to see a car squealing away from the lot, and only his supreme night vision had let him pick out the license plate number before it had disappeared into the early morning shadows of Sahara Square's back streets. The latter would be helpful, once they could get back to the police database and run a quick search, but somehow he suspected the vehicle in question was registered to some innocuous and squeaky clean individual, and that regardless who the owner was, they wouldn't find the car at said mammal's place of residence. No, unless Judy had found something not only incriminating but very revealing about their opposition's location and plans, he was very afraid they had lost their final lead and would be unable to stop the coming chaos.

Cursing under his breath, the Hispanic lion holstered his gun and stepped warily around the last corner, past the pillar that separated the elevators from the lobby—and couldn't help but be startled by what he saw. Not only were Nick and Judy still kneeling on the marble floor by Lionheart's side, but both the fox and the Barbary were staring in absolute disgust and contempt at something the rabbit was holding up in her paw…and the bigger lion also appeared to be simmering in a growing rage.

His paw instantly went back to his weapon as he approached; as much resentment, suspicion, and righteous anger as he held toward the former mayor for his recent behavior, he didn't think Leodore would ever genuinely wish to harm anyone, at least not without real provocation. And considering the situation, he had a feeling whatever Hopps had shown him justified the reaction. Still…

"Guys?" he said softly, carefully, not wanting to startle any of them but thinking coming up to them without speaking was just as unwise. "Is everything okay? I mean, under the circumstances and all."

Lionheart visibly regained control of himself, muscles flexing and tensing all through his massive body before he rocked back against a palm trunk and forced his paws to unclench. But when he spoke it was in a very tight, strained voice, and his expression still hovered somewhere between fury and open distress. "Why don't you look at what Miss Hopps has for us, and decide for yourself, Officer Delgato."

Dreading what he would see, the young lion looked at the plastic badge the rabbit held up mutely, and the instant he saw the name on it he felt his hackles rise. Something cold and dark seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach, even as a fiery heat started building in his breast. Forcing his paw away from his gun (as he didn't trust that his fingers wouldn't jerk and accidentally pull the trigger), he spoke quietly, uneasily. "Okay then. A lot of things are making way more sense now. But…who is this guy? Bellwether's father…her husband?"

"Brother," the former mayor growled. "Cyrus Bellwether. And before you say anything, no I hadn't the slightest idea he worked here, let alone for Vinny Corlione. Dawn was not in the habit of speaking often of her family, but the one time she did mention her elder sibling, it was to say he was her favorite brother and that he worked in the security field. I can't imagine she knew, or approved of his being affiliated with organized crime…but then it is entirely possible she didn't know of Corlione's true nature, or assumed her brother was one of the many entirely innocent, perfectly legal employees serving on his properties. She certainly wouldn't have been running for a public office if she knew such open corruption could be linked with her, and I certainly wouldn't have chosen her as a running mate had I known." His mouth pressed into a grim line, and Delgato didn't even have to guess what he was thinking. "Anyway, he's the only one she ever spoke of. It's possible there could be others, but the initial fits."

"Huh." Nick seemed to have recovered his usual equanimity, though his fur rippled several times and he still sounded a bit unsettled—as well he might, considering the ewe had tried to drive him savage so that he would then kill Judy for her. The thought made Delgato's blood boil, and he was usually the more mild-mannered sort. "Well then, we've got our motive. I suppose we could quibble over whether it's mere revenge over his sister's fate or if he also wants to finish what she started, but considering you've already been disgraced, Leo, and put in prison in the bargain, I don't know what more punishment or recompense he could expect. And from what that garrulous old goat at the Cloven Hoof said, I think it's pretty safe to say that even if it didn't start out that way, Cyrus has certainly thrown himself wholeheartedly into this Night Howler terrorist plot by now."

Delgato frowned a bit, his mind racing; it was a welcome distraction, but he also was intensely aware of the need to do all he could to keep this unorthodox case on the rails, to provide all the legal justifications for their actions, and to put all the pieces and clues together to form a coherent whole—both for the reports they'd need to put on Bogo's desk when this was all over, and for any trial proceedings which would hopefully follow for all involved. "It might just go beyond that, Wilde," he said slowly. When everyone looked at him expectantly, he continued. "You're probably right why he's doing all this. But a mafia criminal is very good at finding more than one reason for doing things, or satisfying multiple needs and illegal dealings at once. I mean, we originally thought Big or Corlione might be using the missing mammal to take over Zootopia, rob everyone during the chaos, get everyone looking to them for protection as society broke down, set themselves up as the ones in charge. But what about a lesser underling who's got just enough power to be hungry for more? We thought Corlione might be trying to double-cross Big…but what if it's this guy who's the real mastermind? He could have gotten Doug and his boys the room here, he could have done all the stuff behind the scenes we were thinking about…and when Corlione goes out tonight to switch with Lionheart, bam! He sees his chance to pull the hostile takeover on both of them."

Everyone looked at each other, and while there was definitely some worry and concern going about, he couldn't help feeling a sense of pride as they also seemed to be marveling at his insights. That's right, amigos. Not just muscles, a pretty face, and a chip on my shoulder for Lionheart. Still got the smarts!

Then Judy spoke up, and while she too replied slowly, it didn't seem to be from trying to puzzle something out—since it sounded as if she'd already reached her conclusions up in the VIP suite—but from the gravity of what she had to impart. "Good job, Manny. That matches several things I learned up there…and from Cyrus himself. We wondered how Doug and his rams could afford an expensive suite, or how they got in with Buckley without anyone seeing them. The Head of Security, and Corlione's right-hand mammal, could accomplish that easily. The particular suite they were in wouldn't have been available without pulling some strings—same explanation. The place they're taking Mr. Stagmire, there's no way they could slip in without anyone being the wiser, let alone release him to tear into innocent mammals…except for the kind of security and credentials Cyrus could give them himself or obtain for them." She paused, then shot a pained look at Lionheart. "And remember how we wondered how anyone could get a recording that would fool the voiceprint at Cliffside? Well obviously, the Head of Security here would have the money and equipment to make what was needed, but he didn't even have to go that far, really. He already had a perfect recording of you to use, sir."

Lionheart stiffened, and while the look in his eyes was disbelieving and ready to instinctively reject what she was about to say, there was something else there too…suggesting he might already suspect where this was going. Despite everything, Delgato felt a twinge of sympathy. "What? How? Did he get it from his boss…?"

"No." The rabbit shook her head. "It probably would have been too hard to get a recording from Corlione without him getting wind of what it would be used for. Cyrus told me exactly how he got it, in the elevator ride down." She paused, her face a bit ashen under the fur. "I don't know if he was just that proud of what he'd done, if he thought no one would believe me, if it was because it'd be my word against his what he'd confessed…or because he planned to silence me, so I couldn't tell anyone else." Instantly Delgato moved toward her—even though the danger was past, the very likely threat to Judy's life urged him to intervene on her behalf; while the various officers at City Central had responded in many ways to the rookie bunny placed among them just over six months ago, he had been one of those to want to take her under his protective wing. No matter how independent, brave, strong, and resourceful she had proven to be, his feelings in that regard hadn't changed one bit. And from the look on his face as he also moved toward her, Nick seemed to feel the same way. If matters had been less serious, Delgato would have had a huge, sly grin to cover with his paw. You two aren't fooling anyone, you know.

Shooting a somewhat exasperated look at the fox, Judy went on in the meantime. "Anyway, he had it right there with him, played it for me and everything. He got it from Dawn—or at least, from her desk at City Hall. Same place where he got the code for the door at Cliffside, which she also stole from you. She told him during visiting hours right where to find them."

This time, Lionheart looked vaguely ill. "No. Don't tell me…"

Judy gazed at him sadly. "I'm afraid so. It came from one of your meetings with her—apparently she had the habit of recording almost everything. It…was one of the times you used your…pet name for her."

For a few seconds the ex-mayor stared at her, ears flattened to his skull, cheeks burning with shame. Then he twisted aside and started slamming his fists against the palm trunk until leaves showered down from above. "Idiot! Idiot! I never should have…" His words dissolved into inarticulate growls.

Delgato realized after a moment what was being referred to—although it hadn't really been relevant (other than as a possible motive for the sheep to frame Lionheart), Judy had included every detail in her meticulous report of the Night Howler case, including what the former Assistant Mayor had told her and Nick about her interactions with the lion. It had been ridiculous at the time, something infantile like might be heard on a school playground…but knowing something like this had been the Barbary's downfall, that it had been his voice bellowing "Smellwether!" that had been used to open the way to Stagmire's room…it was karmic, in its way, but also deeply humiliating.

And this time, much stronger than a few moments ago, Manuel Delgato felt his heart go out to Lionheart.

It helped that, as much as he'd been berating himself inwardly the entire time he was ranting at the bigger lion in the car, furious at losing his cool, acting like an immature cub, and probably losing any respect either Lionheart or Wilde had had for him, getting it all out like that had been…extraordinarily cleansing. He'd had all that anger and resentment, that disgust and disappointment, bottled up inside him for six months. Loosing it had taken such a huge burden from his young shoulders, even apart from knowing his words had hit their mark, that Lionheart had finally understood what he had done and its full consequences.

Afterward, especially once the former mayor had given such an eloquent testimonial in his own defense, had shown true remorse, and especially once he had confessed just whom they were trying to rescue, Delgato had felt an equally strong sense of guilt wash over him. He had consoled himself by repeating that Lionheart himself had understood, had admitted he was right in everything he said, and seemed determined to make up for his many mistakes. He'd also reminded himself that, as bad as his words and attitude had been, it would have been far worse had Officer Johnson been the one Judy had chosen—he knew for a fact the other lion, far more belligerent than he (he was the one, after all, who always wanted to arm-wrestle in the bullpen, and even after losing was right at it again with the biggest members of the force) would have launched himself at Lionheart, clawed his belly open, ripped his throat out.

Yet as much as he was still angry at the other lion for all he had done, in some strange way he felt he understood him better now. Not enough to forgive him, at least not yet…but enough to give him the chance to redeem himself. Of course it helped having seen the Barbary dive so desperately across the lobby to save Nick and Judy before they were dashed against the unforgiving marble floor…such a valiant and heroic rescue showed what noble impulses still lay inside him, under that self-centeredness and pride which had so led him astray.

By the same token, in a way he was glad he hadn't been placed on a team with Lionheart while he still thought the sun rose and set in his mane—the cubbish enthusiasm and eagerness to please as he hung on the former mayor's every word would have been embarrassing in the extreme, but understandable considering how much Lionheart reminded him in some ways of his own amiable, hard-working, loving Papi. Instead, he felt he had approached the bigger lion with a fair balance of the two extremes, a hard-eyed gaze without rosy spectacles to blind him to Lionheart's flaws, but also an open-minded willingness to believe when the fellow showed himself capable of change, demonstrated his better qualities and aspirations.

None of that changed the fact, though, that right now, in this moment…Lionheart was suffering. And Delgato, for once, did not think he deserved it. Not for this.

Slowly, warily, waiting to make sure the other had calmed enough from his relentless battering that he wouldn't instantly turn on him with those giant fists, he approached the kneeling lion. Then, gently, he reached out and placed a paw on that heaving shoulder. "Hey…Leodore. It's okay. We all make mistakes…right?" He tried for an awkward smile. "We know now how the bad guys carried out their plan. What's important now is finding out where they went, what they're going to do, so they don't get away with it."

When the miserable lion looked up at last, the gratitude welling up in his brimming eyes was so strong, Delgato almost felt weak-kneed himself. Pull it together, Manuel. There'll be plenty of time later to break down from all this shit we've been through, when it's over.

As the two of them continued to stare at one another, an unspoken understanding passing between them, Nick, who had been watching everything play out with a shrewd gaze but oddly no commentary (witty or otherwise), finally inserted himself back into the conversation. "That's right. Didn't you say something about learning something up there, Carrots? About just which suite they were staying in and what you found there?" He looked at Judy meaningfully.

The rabbit, who had been watching the two lions with much greater tenderness and concern, blinked briefly and then jolted back to the present. "Right! Yes. Well, there was a lot I heard up there, and several things I found that puts it all in perspective—though unfortunately I couldn't bring most of it with me. I did find one big thing, though, that I think should cover it." And so saying, she reached into an inner pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out something which she displayed for all of them to see.

The objects sat there on her palmpad, winking and sparkling in the bright lobby lights. He didn't know if the others somehow weren't aware of what they were looking at, or the truth was so obvious it had everyone stunned into silence. But Delgato knew, and if he was uneasy and worried before, he was downright horrified now. Mierda! Carajo! No, no, no, this can't be happening!

Forcing himself to stay calm, the lion pointed at the very familiar purple sequins glittering in Judy's paw. "You all realize what this means, don't you?" The rabbit nodded solemnly, Lionheart slumped his shoulders, and Nick looked entirely too knowing (not that that was different from his usual expression), but none of them said a word, only waiting expectantly. "Those are from a pair of those pinche tiger shorts everyone's so loco about!"

His words echoed in the lobby—he hadn't intended to raise his voice, but his agitation and distress had made his control slip again. A number of the milling guests stared at him—some looking offended at his language, most confused, but a few seemed to realize what he was talking about and, making the connection between that and his tone, started babbling and gossiping about the danger. Damnit. Not what I wanted…we don't need those terrorists getting wind of this, knowing we're onto them. If they change their plans, so we don't know where they're headed or what they'll do…

After several more startled moments, Wilde spoke up at last—and to Delgato's surprise and annoyance, his tone was decidedly neutral, even skeptical. "You sure about that, Manny?"

"Sure, I'm sure!" he burst out in frustration. "You think I wouldn't know those things when I see them?"

"Well, that's just it, my friend," Nick said breezily. "Everyone and his mijo is a fan of Gazelle's these days, and knows who her—what are they calling them on the Net these days? The Stripers?—are. But if you see them everywhere, in commercials and music videos, up on billboards, it's easy to start seeing them places they aren't. Can you prove they're the real deal?"

Delgato stared at him in disbelief, then planted his fists on his hips. "This some sort of fox thing? You doubting my powers of observation now?"

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes," Nick said bluntly.

Remembering how he had questioned the vulpine's abilities back at Cliffside, the lion groaned under his breath. Really? We're gonna play this game now? Taking a deep breath, he gave his fellow cop the onceover, from head to toe, eartip to tailtip, then rattled off matter-of-factly, "You've got a monthly membership at the Mystic Oasis, your dad's a tailor, and your favorite food is blueberries."

For several moments Nick was actually too flabbergasted to speak, something that had Delgato feeling inordinately smug. Then he managed to say, "Well that last one hardly counts, all you had to do was ask Carrots here…"

"Could've, but didn't," the lion mused. "You brush pretty well, Wilde, but that telltale blue stain on your teeth is juuuuust noticeable enough." As the fox lowered his ears and Judy giggled in the background, he warmed up to his subject, crossing his arms slowly over his chest. "The rest? The slipknot on your tie is one only tailors use; I suppose you could have a brother or something, but being taught how to put on a tie is a thing fathers do with their sons. And that naturalist club? There've been plenty of times you've come into the locker room at work smelling like sandalwood, amber, and nag champa—all incenses used at the Mystic Oasis."

There was a pause; then Lionheart actually began to slowly clap, while Judy grinned at him openly. "Well done, Manny, well done! So now that we've established what I already knew, that you do know what you're talking about when it comes to police work, how'd you identify these sequins?" Her violet eyes twinkled winsomely, and as the fear, worry, and distress faded from her face, he realized what she was doing—after her and Nick's brush with death, all of them needed some quick levity to recover their wits and refocus, something that helped them bond a bit. And considering the rams were already long gone, and he'd seen Cyrus make a run for it even before his victims had landed in the Barbary's outstretched arms, it wasn't as if there were a rush to depart. They could pause long enough for something like this. We won't be any good to Mr. Stagmire, Gazelle, or anyone else if we don't stop to get ourselves in order and think carefully.

Letting out his breath to settle his nerves, Delgato smirked lopsidedly at the bunny. "I suppose if I tell you I recognize them from Clawhauser's Gazelle app, and all the memorabilia he's got on his desk, that wouldn't be convincing enough?" When Judy chuckled but shook her head, he rolled his eyes and admitted, "All right, fine. I know them because I once got a real close look at a pair of those shorts. Jackson's got one."

Judy blinked, then let out a whoop and turned to thrust her paw out at Nick. "Hah! I knew it. Pay up!"

The fox, who had finally recovered from being shown up at his own pastime, smirked and started digging out his wallet, but even as he did so he observed, "Fine, but I must take note we still don't know why he has them; that has been as hotly debated as whether he owns them at all." He glanced questioningly at Delgato, green eyes bright and curious.

Before the lion could even attempt to answer (not that he thought it was the business of anyone at the precinct, let alone the rookies), Judy cut in again. "Does it matter? Besides, it's obviously a gift from his girlfriend." A beat, then she chuckled. "Or boyfriend."

"Really? I thought he dances in them on ZooTube."

"Seriously, Slick? If you're going to be that memetic about it, you might as well say he's secretly one of the Stripers in his off-hours. Or a brother to one."

"Actually my next suggestion was that he cosplays."

As the two dissolved into good-natured bickering, tossing out one outlandish possibility after another, Delgato sighed and ran his paw uncomfortably over his maned neck. He knew exactly why his fellow cop had the shorts, and not only were neither of them anywhere close to the mark, it was something rather private he didn't think should be bruited about so casually…that everyone at the ZPD was so convinced Jackson secretly owned a pair of glitter shorts, he had finally thrown up his paws and bought one just to shut everybody up. "Do I resent the fact that apparently no one can tell me apart from Gazelle's dancers because 'all tigers look alike'? Yeah. I'm not even from India, like they are!" the other cat had retorted with a pained look and nettled tone. Then he'd shifted to bemusement, grinning wryly. "Do I also find the fact all of Zootopia is fascinated with them funny when I sit down and think about it? Hell yeah. But I figured, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Let them think what they want. Call it satire, call it performance art, call it tweaking their collective noses for getting so caught up in pop-culture theories. At least I can have some fun with it all, yanno?" As he'd turned away, Jackson had lashed his tail and flashed a gleaming smile. "Besides…they are pretty flattering on me."

Laughing at the memory, the lion could only shake his head again with a rueful smile…and carefully file away some of the more creative and hilarious explanations Nick and Judy were offering. Jackson would get a big kick out of them, he knew…and right now, they could all use more to laugh at.

Stepping forward again as there was a lull in Judy and Nick's debate, Delgato cleared his throat. "Okay. Have we got that all out of our systems now? Because we do still need to finish putting the evidence together, and plan our next move." He flicked his gaze to the hotel guests, as well as the concierge still standing nearby; while he seemed rather pale after the confrontation and the open threat to police officers on the property, there was still disapproval in the giraffe's overall mien.

"I think so," the rabbit drawled. "Unless you have any last words, Nick?"

The vulpine shrugged eloquently, paws thrust in his pockets. "Just that it's kind of a shame…I was hoping it would turn out you were aware of those shorts from personal knowledge, Manny."

Delgato scoffed. "How do you figure that one, Wilde? What makes you think I'd ever be caught dead in those things?" When Gazelle's music had first started exploding over the air waves, the lion had been a bit critical, mostly because of her tendency to lapse into Spanish during some of her concerts or including random words and phrases in her songs; the whole thing had felt a bit gratuitous to him, a pandering to the exotic to gain popularity. Over time his annoyance had faded, and he had to admit a lot of her music was extremely good, and catchy. But that didn't mean he intended to join Clawhauser's fan club or anything similarly over-the-top.

"Really?" Nick pursed his lips. "I've seen you with your earphones in, when you don't think anyone's looking." The fox rolled his fists and stepped side-to-side with a swish of his tail, smirking openly. "And you've got a set of hips on you, don't deny it."

The lion stared at him, jaw working soundlessly as his mind went utterly blank. Even as he felt his cheeks blazing with heat, his mouth got ahead of his brain…and, naturally enough, could only produce flustered Spanish.

Laughing at this, but with a fondness that showed she wasn't mocking him in any way whatsoever, Judy finally put the sequins back in her jacket pocket. "Anyway, as much fun as this has been, there's another reason I asked you for your expertise, Manny. As we all know, this case has been rather unusual from the start…if we expect any judge or lawyer to look at all this and not throw the whole thing out of court, we're going to need not just hard evidence, but clear, intelligent analysis. That we can offer identifying testimony that isn't just based on hearsay or common knowledge will go far to establishing our credentials. Also," and she gestured up toward the hotel towering above them, "the rest of what I learned and saw backs you up. That suite Doug and his cronies were holed up in? It belongs to Gazelle, most of the time; usually one of her dancers uses it. I know because I saw some stationery on the bedside table. From what I saw, somebody—I'm guessing Cyrus—asked to borrow the room for the night, since her entourage is out preparing for their next concert. I also saw three backstage passes. Child's play for the Head of Security here to get hold of, especially as a personal favor from one of the hotel's biggest tenants."

Lionheart flexed and clenched his paws visibly, his brief good humor fading back into anxiety and anger. "So that's their plan, then? Go behind the scenes at one of her concerts, and unleash Bucky there? Do they actually intend to have him attack her?!"

Judy looked stricken. "I don't know. Maybe? Maybe they just want to cause a panic and riot in the crowd? But if they really want to tear the city apart, I can't think of a better way than by having someone as beloved and popular as Gazelle get mauled by a savage mammal live in public. Having it be another prey would just make it even more confusing and easier for everyone to turn on each other…and if her dancers have to defend her from Buckley, that certainly won't look good either." She sighed. "Either way, it's sure to cause chaos. End result, a lot of innocent mammals will get hurt. But it's what they're planning, all right. I heard one of the rams bragging about it to Cyrus. He even made a horrible pun on the Animalia outdoor stadium."

"Well then what are we waiting for?" The former mayor leaped to his feet, and it was a toss-up whether it was his suddenly looming figure or the roar in his voice that made nearby hotel guests scatter. "If we know where they're going, let's get over there at once! If we're quick enough, we can find them, save Bucky, and arrest the lot of them before the concert even starts."

"Hold it!" Nick cut him off sharply, and for a change his narrow features were pinched with deadly seriousness. "I think you're forgetting a number of things, Leo. For starters, the place is huge. It's going to take far too long to search the whole backstage area for that flock of felons, there's way too many places to hide and lie low. Now, I know a guy who works there—"

"Of course you do," Judy said with a smile.

"—but even that's not going to be enough, I don't think. Especially if we want to do this without alerting the press or the public and causing a meltdown ourselves. We're going to need a lot more bodies to do this."

As Nick paused significantly, Delgato realized what he was implying. Gathering together the last of his frazzled nerves, he drew himself up to his full height and nodded. "Nick's right. It's time to radio for backup."

The rabbit looked at them uncertainly. "Are you sure? I don't want Bogo thinking we're not able to handle things on our own, or—"

"Judy." Delgato kept his voice mild, but firm. "We all know this case has been getting out of control ever since Cliffside. We really can't handle it on our own, especially not now. The only reason we've waited as long as we have was because we needed concrete evidence of what was happening and who was involved. Well now we have it. Even if they took the key, we've got the evidence in the car, the sequins, everything you saw and heard in the suite, and we all can testify to Cyrus being the ringleader." He shook his head a bit; all that time chasing specters, jumping to conclusions about Corlione and Big because the mafia made such an easy target and the evidence—some of it contrived, some of it surely planted and arranged by the bighorn, and the rest their own imaginings—had seemed to indicate as such, when the answer turned out to be so very simple. Still, in a strange and roundabout way, part of their theory might well be true in the end, and there had been no other way to find out what was really going on.

"Now we've got all the probable cause we need," the lion finished. "We can call on the ZPD, get all the officers and equipment we'll need to keep everyone at the concert safe, arrest these terrorists, and rescue Mr. Stagmire too."

Lionheart, understandably, looked no more sanguine—less because he didn't want the law involved this time, Delgato supposed, and more because he hated any further delays. He understood, but there really wasn't any other choice. "Are you absolutely certain? And what exactly are we supposed to do until then?"

"Well," Nick interjected, drawing the word out, "I'm guessing you aren't exactly up on the Angel with Horns' schedule, but the next concert isn't until tomorrow night anyway. We've got no idea where these bozos went, but we do know where they're going to be, and when. If we lie low until then, that'll give Bogo and the rest time to get things set up, and our quarry may just think we've given up on them, start relaxing and getting sloppy…"

"It is pretty late," the rabbit admitted, gazing up at the sky outside the hotel windows—mostly dark, but just beginning to show traces of graying light to the east as a hint of the coming dawn made its presence known. "Or early, whichever. It'd be good to get some rest, a change of clothes, some good meals…we're going to need all our energy and wits about us." She paused. "But where can we stay? My place is way too small, Nick's isn't much better, and we certainly can't take Leodore back to prison…"

Once more Delgato stepped in. "You can crash at my place," he said easily, without hesitation. "If you don't mind a bachelor pad. It's practically right around the corner from here."

Judy laughed. "If I can handle a crowded warren and the barracks at police academy, I think I can deal with that."

"I practically invented the bachelor pad," the fox smirked.

"I was a frat boy in college," Lionheart deadpanned. "I trust that covers it."

"So we've all been in the same boat," the rabbit concluded. "Just as well…I have a few things I want to look into, if you don't mind me bumming off your Net connection for a bit, Manny." After he nodded, she flicked her gaze to the murmuring watchers in the lobby who were still agitated with uncertainty and fear, then to the silent giraffe. "Uh…I'll radio Bogo, then. Manny, Nick, if you'd do a little crowd control here? Make sure everything's kosher when the authorities get here, ours or theirs."

As she turned back toward the nearby pond—to fish out her ruined taser, he assumed—Hopps paused once, glanced at Lionheart where he stood morose and at a loss what to do, then spoke deliberately, with feeling. "Don't worry, Leo. You haven't failed him. We'll get him back. And once we do…he'll be your Bucky again. I promise."

Delgato stared after her as she moved across the sloping floor, her paw already moving to the Bluefang controls, then looked back to the former mayor. From the bigger lion's startled expression…swiftly turning to one of such yearning and hope, so filled with devotion and need…he was not only confirming Judy's implied surmise, he made it so undeniable it was a wonder the truth hadn't been plain to see before. 'His' Bucky? No, it couldn't be…could it? But…it would explain so much.

And if that were true… The lion officer felt his breath catch in his throat, his heart pounding, his chest growing tight. If that were true, it would change so much. Maybe everything…

Mind racing as he considered this new information, wondered how he or any of them might be able to confirm its accuracy without Lionheart clamming up and refusing (perhaps not without cause) to trust them with something so private and possibly inflammatory, Delgato felt his body go on autopilot. Moving across the marble floor toward the hotel and casino guests, he was already lifting his paws to offer reassuring gestures, voice rising with firm authority but also projecting calm and compassion, even as he carefully maneuvered himself to keep them away from the other lion and any intrusive questions he could not or should not answer. Across the way, he could see Nick doing the same thing, though despite the fox's innate confidence and air of competence, he still had to flash his badge before anyone believed him to be more than the frumpily informal fellow he appeared. And Judy, he saw, had approached the giraffe and was speaking to him earnestly—probably letting him know they would be no more trouble and the law was on the way, he hoped—before a crackle of sound and a deep, accented voice he knew all too well came over the line and made her turn away with a wince, finger to her earpiece.

What a crew, he marveled to himself. But at least they knew what they were up against now. They had a plan…they'd have backup coming in…and there was a good chance this could all still work out. He had to believe that.

Sighing, he once more turned to face the nearest pair of citizens, one in a bathrobe and the other decked out in riches so gaudy it seemed they would outshine all the lights and glitz of the casino itself. He barely even glanced at Lionheart this time.

And that was why he didn't register, on the Barbary's ankle where it lay hidden between his pants cuff and the thick, draping underbrush he stood among, the yellow light that blinked and pulsed in steady rhythm.

---

Hitting the 'Next' button in the laptop's browser window, Judy leaned back in the chair (the back of which she naturally had had to lower to fit her dimensions), stretched, and took another sip of the wine cooler Delgato had given her from his mini-fridge. Smiling to herself, she couldn't help looking once more around the cool, dim interior of the sandstone dwelling that housed the lion's modest apartment. The place was cozy, no question of that, the thick rock walls beneath their shadowy overhang retaining cool temperatures for a blessedly long portion of the baking days—aided by naturally-shaped windows that guided breezes into the right channels (but which could be sheltered or even blocked altogether by brightly-colored awnings that doubled as shutters when the weather turned to harsh sandstorms or the downpours of Sahara Square's carefully-regulated monsoon season). He had assured her the building also retained the day's heat late into the night when it turned relatively frigid out, but by the time they'd made it to his home, the sun had already risen and it was beginning to warm up rapidly.

What truly pleased her about the place, however, was the personal touches. While it was slightly disorganized and messy, it nowhere near merited the embarrassment Delgato had displayed when they'd entered, as much of the clutter consisted of books and magazines, solar-powered chargers for the various appliances and computer accessories, candles and bowls of incense, countless precious objects and small pieces of art, and plenty of photographs and plaques. She'd spied awards and commendations the feline had received over the years—rather heartwarmingly going as far back as grade school, it looked like, and extending right up to ZPD badges of service and special honors.

Pictures of Manuel as an absolutely adorable cub—kicking around a soccer ball with gleeful gusto, trying to consume a multiple-scoop ice cream cone nearly as tall as himself, racing on all fours through an expanse of verdant grass—gave way to ones of him as a gangly adolescent and finally filled out as a well-muscled adult. A rather sheepish shot of him as his mane was first growing in, a much more proud and dignified image of him in his high school graduation robes, and a family portrait…his mother was a rather matronly lioness whose warm, kind eyes and welcoming smile reminded her so much of her own mother Bonnie that it made her heart ache, while his father was the spitting image of Manuel save for the thicker, softer physique, the significant bands of gray in his mane, and the beard and glasses that changed the cast of his features.

And then, of course, there was the artwork. Aside from richly-hued blankets, glazed ceramic bowls, small statues with gems and crystals, and beautifully-painted skulls from Dia de Muertos, there were a number of the lion's own paintings adorning the walls. To Judy's delight, there were also some gorgeous pastel reproductions of images, backgrounds, and designs from The Lion King. While Delgato had been defensive about it, noting he'd been strongly impressed by the amount of faithfulness to ethnic and cultural artistry in the movie's production art and the vivid colors to be found there, the bunny simply was proud to meet another adult who didn't think animation was 'just for kids'; she herself was still a fan of The Re-squeakers and The Great Mouse Detective and didn't care who knew it.

All in all, Delgato's home was a wonderful, charming place to get some respite from the stresses and demands of the case, and she didn't think she was the only one who had adapted to it with alacrity. Glancing over her shoulder, she had to smile softly at the sight which greeted her. On the far side of the darkened living room, Nick lay sprawled out in the open bottom drawer of a dresser, snuggled into a set of folded blankets; one of the couches in the room was actually a foldout sofa-bed, and currently held the large, snoring form of Leodore Lionheart; and finally Delgato himself had fitted his smaller self on an actual couch, paws clasped behind his head and maned chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep.

Judy smiled wider, and couldn't help the warmth that suffused her cheeks as she contemplated the company she was keeping. She recalled with both amusement and a greater flush what had happened when they'd first gathered here to retire for the day—namely, that with the place being rather cramped to begin with and now occupied by two very large mammals, plus having only one rather small bathroom to change in, there was next to no privacy. It didn't bother Judy of course, as she was used to the ZPD locker room, and Nick so often seemed on the verge of shucking his clothing that she rather suspected he'd had more than one reason for knowing Emmitt Otterton; his utter comfort with the naturalists at the Oasis certainly implied as much, and Delgato's deduction of his having a membership there which the fox had not denied confirmed it. Although Leodore had been rather reluctant to change in front of them back at the prison, he'd had no problem removing the hoodie here; the sheer amount of shaggy mane he possessed certainly meant he wouldn't be getting cold, and justified removing extra outer layers.

And Manuel? The younger lion had been practically tongue-tied and beet red at first…but once he'd nerved himself, stripped down to his boxers, and put on a pair of baggy sweats, he'd seemed to relax a great deal more. The bunny had no idea why he was so worried—while he was no powerhouse of muscle like the former mayor, she didn't see an ounce of fat on him, and the way his golden-brown mane spread across his chest to perfectly cover and frame his well-developed pectorals, as well as running down his chiseled abs to disappear below his waistline, was the reason for Judy's pink cheeks. It's a good thing I've got plenty of extremely important things to distract me. A girl could do far worse for teammates, and get herself in a lot of trouble when surrounded by such prime examples of masculinity. Well, Leodore was way too old for her, and much more of a father-figure if anything, but for her fellow officers, much closer to her age…ahem.

Tearing her eyes away from Delgato's well-shaped, thickly-bulging biceps, Judy glanced back at the computer screen and sighed…as she realized she had in fact been doing the reverse, allowing the eyecandy to distract her from what she'd been reading in her research. Because as critical as it was in giving her a window into her enemy's mindset, it was still deeply unsettling, disturbing…and saddening.

When things had finally settled down back at the Palm, with most of the hotel's guests and tenants departing for their rooms or other pursuits, leaving the four of them alone with Bartholomew, Judy had at last been able to ask Delgato what he'd discovered when he'd raced to the back lot. The lion's memory was excellent, and he'd recited the license plate of the fleeing car for her to carefully write down. It hadn't been long after that that Chief Bogo and their reinforcements had arrived, the squad cars swiftly forming a semicircle around the building's glass doors but not employing their sirens since the danger was past and the criminals had fled the scene.

The rabbit had been afraid the Cape buffalo would immediately launch into yet another blistering diatribe, particularly now that matters had grown calm; the initial explanation she had given over the wire had admittedly been rather breathless and breakneck in its recitation, and the amount of developments she'd had to report, what precisely the true nature of the case had turned out to be, and the revelation of the enemy and his plans had been understandably overwhelming and hard to process. But she'd expected that by the time Bogo had driven over, he'd have had time to get over his original befuddlement and deep concern, to instead have built up quite the head of steam as he realized what all she and Nick had done, what they had kept from him, and for how long (even if the situation had made it so they couldn't call in until this juncture).

Yet instead, after reassuring the concierge that there would be no further disturbances, no charges filed, and his officers would all be departing shortly, the police chief had regarded her candidly…and if there had been something of his usual stern glower in those hard, dark eyes, he'd also gauged all of them with careful, grave consideration before at last noting that while he would have preferred this all have been discovered and handled much more discreetly and safely, he couldn't fault them for their actions. He even admitted (though it seemed to grate on him a bit) that Judy had called the ZPD in at just the right time, and as soon as had been truly feasible. And lastly, he had acknowledged that the truths they'd learned about the missing mammal, what had happened to him, and the new plot revolving around him, certainly did merit both Lionheart's initial secrecy and this unusual mission to address it.

Even as Judy was staring up at him in disbelief (and noticing out of the corner of her eye both Nick's highly-raised eyebrows and Delgato's long, slow sigh of relief), Bogo had noted the judge had come through for him on the paperwork, sanctioning all of their activities as part of necessary undercover work to keep the public safe from a clear and present danger that had to be apprehended at all costs. Then, with a slow nod of acceptance—no more and no less than merited under the circumstances—he had thanked Lionheart for his information and aid, then agreed they would pool all their resources to try and track down Cyrus Bellwether…and barring that, would move in with enough mammals and equipment to ensure Gazelle, her concert, and all those attending would be protected until such time as Buckley Stagmire was rescued and cured.

However, after he had given them leave to rest up for the day at Delgato's apartment (and Judy had begun very much to wonder who had clandestinely replaced their superior—or when he might later explode on them with no warning), there had been as little information forthcoming to aid the investigation as she had feared. The detectives Bogo had brought with him had gone over the VIP suite with a fine-toothed comb, and by the time they had arrived at the sandstone dwelling, the report had come in over their radios.

Amazingly, the key had been left in the lock, but both the fingerprints on it (aside from hers) and elsewhere in the room had been of little use, since apparently none of the sheep had a criminal record. (Doug's sniper abilities, it seemed, had been acquired and developed quite legally at the local firing range—though Judy wondered about that in retrospect, considering his skill level as displayed in the original Night Howler case had been far above what he should have been able to learn that way. Had a friend or relative of his who joined him there been in the military? Was the mammal who ran the place a former soldier himself? If so, that sort of training was itself illegal... Regardless, what weapons were known to be in his possession were all properly licensed and registered.)

The weapons case had been taken, so there was no evidence this time linking the group to the Night Howler extract (nor any indication where they were growing it). As she had surmised, both the use of Gazelle's suite and the obtaining of backstage passes (as noted in hotel records) had been done through proper, unremarkable channels. And while there was definitely evidence of the patient they'd been keeping prisoner—disturbed bedding with traces of deer fur among the sheets, the wheel tracks of a hospital gurney in the deep-pile rugs, and leftover syringes and bottles indicating the tranquilizers used to keep him heavily sedated—there was no clue as to where Buckley was now.

A quick log-in to ZPD's database from Delgato's laptop to run the license plate number (thank goodness she'd been given access to all police systems three months ago, so it wouldn't be necessary to go to the DMV and encounter Flash again!) had determined the car he'd seen departing was indeed registered to Cyrus. But since none of them believed the ram would have the DA taken to his own home or that of one of his bullyboys, and there were no other addresses on record for any of them, the ovines had for all intents and purposes vanished off the map. Whether they had another secret hideaway, found some seedy motel to stash the stag, or what, they had all come to the painful conclusion that they would not be able to locate their quarry…not until the rams put in an appearance at Animalia itself.

Which had left Bogo to gather together all the officers that might be needed to either subdue Buckley, arrest his captors, or perform crowd control to keep the concertgoers and performers alike safe (and hopefully none the wiser to what was going on backstage); obtain the warrants and other necessary paperwork; and bring all the needed weaponry, including plenty of tranquilizer guns. And that in turn meant while the others ate, showered, and collapsed into their various states of somnolence, Judy had been left with nothing to do…except, after getting some much-needed food and sleep herself, try to understand the underpinnings of this case, why it had happened, what had truly been the impetus and cause of one sheep family's descent into hatred, prejudice, megalomania, and madness.

What she'd found, though, when she began poring through records—whether City Hall files, information the ZPD had obtained over the years regarding the many known elements of the mafia and their underlings (including a few things which had been sealed as part of the corruption cases against Captain Hemion), other police cases over the years, and articles from the back issues of the Zootopia Times and the Meadowlands Grazette—what she'd found had bewildered her, made her stomach sink, and divided her heart between deep sympathy and sullen, frustrated anger.

She hadn't been certain what she would find, really. Part of her had feared the beliefs and attitudes both Dawn and her brother had espoused, and the actions they'd taken based on them, had been something they'd been raised to consider right and justified, passed to them over the dinner table and encouraged throughout their lives the same as the lessons and support they had received at school. After all, "They must be carefully taught." Not that she had anything against sheep—far from it! Two of her best friends growing up in Bunnyburrow, Gareth and Sharla, had been lambs. But it had been hard for her to believe Dawn and Cyrus could have come to the worldviews they had, and committed such horrible atrocities, if it hadn't been something they learned at home; at the very least, unless they were very good at hiding it, she had wondered how they could have gotten away with such views if their parents did not agree with them.

At the same time, the commentary Lionheart had made on the way to the Cloven Hoof, regarding the black sheep market, had also made her wonder if perhaps there was something, deep inside sheep society, that could have produced such beliefs, given them more widespread influence than she wanted to accept. Could there really have been far worse things in their species' history than for other prey? Could they have been hunted and slain in more traumatizing ways, or mistreated more harshly and cruelly by predators, once upon a time? Or by contrast, could there be a grain of truth to some species generalizations—in this case, a combination of the timidity and self-effacing shyness that seemed endemic to the ovines and other mammals' belief in their simple-minded, follow-the-leader herd mentality? That their inherent fear of bigger, more powerful, meat-eating mammals had led them to see persecution and oppression that wasn't there, to always believe the worst of predators (something she knew, with both shame and sorrow, had been true for so very long of rabbits toward foxes, and sadly still was to some degree—despite the fact that any vulpine actions which may once have justified such views were now long in the past). And that this fear had then been passed almost virally among the rest of the species, accepted unquestioningly even by mammals who had never experienced such treatment…and might even have had examples in their own lives which testified to the opposite attitude.

Or…could there even have been some actions taken by sheep themselves, long forgotten and perhaps even deliberately wiped from the history books, which had explained (though never justified) some sort of response from predators, turning the whole thing into a vicious cycle of retaliation and vengeance?

None of these were questions she had answers to…and in the case of the deeper, darker, more underlying ones, unless she did some major digging and was willing to face both concerted opposition and the scanty, incomplete records which might be the only way to find the truth, some of the questions would likely never be answered. But in the end, when she had researched the Bellwether family itself, she had found what she sought was both extraordinarily simple—perhaps too much so—yet also sadly, completely understandable.

The headline blared on the screen from twenty-five years ago, slightly grainy thanks to the scan of the newspaper that had created this microfiche record, something that even digital clean-up couldn't completely erase: RESPECTED TEACHER SLAIN BY SERIAL KILLER WOLF.

The story was terse, grisly, and ugly. Kale Bellwether, beloved history teacher at Meadowlands Middle School, had been found dead in the living room of his well-appointed home, where quiet side streets, picket fences, and the whispering boughs of shade trees could not conceal the horror within. The ram's wife, local seamstress Thea Bellwether of the quaintly charming Sunshine Sotique, had returned home in the evening to find a horrifying scene: for her husband had not merely been murdered, but eviscerated to the point that not only were the carpets soaked with his blood (and his wool had become a lurid crimson), but it rather appeared as if his killer had attempted to dismember him in the manner savage predators had done with their prey centuries ago. Searching the rest of the house but finding no trace of the couple's children, Thea had fled shrieking into the night until collapsing in tears in the arms of her nearest neighbor, who had called the police…all she could conclude being that the creature who had done this had also done away with the rest of her family—kidnapping them, killing them, even consuming every trace of them.

When the authorities had arrived, however, they had discovered little Cyrus and Dawn tucked safely in a wood closet alongside the fireplace, clearly placed there to protect them from the deplorable murderer who had invaded their home. The little ewe girl had been nearly as traumatized as her mother, left speechless, wide-eyed, and tear-soaked, certainly unable to tell the investigators of anything that had taken place, even had she witnessed it. Her brother, however, had been consumed only by fury and hate, quite aware of his surroundings, and had gladly told the police everything he had seen. This, coupled with the evidence in the living room, was enough to crack the case—for the previous four or five months, there had been other unexplained deaths in the district, but in almost every case the victim had simply vanished, with nothing left behind to indicate who had accosted them or what their fate had been. Mr. Bellwether, however, had put up a terrific struggle despite having been caught by surprise—likely because he knew his children were nearby and in grave danger—and as a result, his body had been left behind to provide clues as to the killer's identity and methods. Little Cyrus's testimony, as well as blood from the scene and several hanks of fur his father had managed to rip from the murderer's pelt, had allowed the police to track down and capture the one responsible.

A local wolf by the name of Peter Mallupe had turned out to be the culprit…and when the police had located him and raided his home for his arrest, they had discovered just how unbalanced and disturbed his insane mind was, as the place was filled with the evidence of all his previous crimes. As would have occurred at the Bellwethers', if he had not been delayed and then forced to flee, each of his victims had not only been torn to pieces but actually cut up into…the proper size and shape for cold storage, the better to be consumed at his leisure. In fact it was likely he had been at this for long enough that short of finding all the bones, there would be no way of telling how many he had killed, since he had long ago eaten the evidence. Not that this would stop the police from digging all around the properties owned by him and his family, to leave no disappearance in the area of the last two decades unsolved if they could help it…

The scrape of feet on the sand-scoured stone floor behind her was her only warning, and then a paw rested gently on her shoulder. "Mmm…good afternoon, Carrots. Any luck? Inquiring minds want to know."

Stilling her racing heart back to a manageable level, Judy glanced back at Nick where he leaned on the back of her chair—still shirtless, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, but otherwise his usual laidback, easygoing self. If she had lost him at the Palm, she didn't know what she would have done. And since he was still here, having him refuse to change his wry and breezy ways made him oddly comforting amidst all the darkness and fear this case was unearthing.

Sighing, she pointed at the screen before her, trying to fight back the churning in her stomach; the story had thankfully included only family photos of the deceased and pictures taken of the home from outside, but she could imagine it all too well on her own. "See for yourself, Slick. It's…pretty awful, actually." She'd been trained at the academy to deal with death, blood, and violence, had been told by her forensics instructors of all the terrible things one mammal could do to another that she would most certainly encounter at some point in her career. But hearing about it and seeing it were two different things…and in some ways this went beyond anything she'd studied before.

Behind her she heard the chair creak…and then after a few seemingly endless moments of silence, she heard the fox's breath rasp in his throat. Apparently it was beyond anything Nick had seen either. "What? Good God, no…no…"

"I'm afraid so." Judy bit her lip, clicked the 'Next' button, and gestured somewhat helplessly at the images now on the screen. "Look at that…" Two little lambs, one male and one female, stood hidden behind their mother's skirts; with only vestigial horns and lacking his size and bulk, Cyrus was barely recognizable, but there was no mistaking the huge, teary eyes and tremulous chin of the former Assistant Mayor.

She waited silently as Nick read over her shoulder, only responding when he asked her to turn a page back or forward or to explain something from one of the other records she'd read. When he was through, her partner ran his paw back over his head and groaned softly. "Oh, damn. This…this changes a lot, doesn't it?" She glanced back in time to see him squeeze his green eyes shut, then shake his head slowly. "Please tell me they threw the book at the sicko who did this."

Judy crossed her arms, wondering if he could tell the action was meant as much to clasp herself protectively as anything else. "Depends how you define that. But I'll give you three guesses where he ended up, and the first two don't count."

A beat, then the vulpine replied with a tone she hadn't heard before, though it had shades of the way he'd spoken to her after that fateful press conference—dark, threatening, but also tinged with a cruel satisfaction. "Cliffside." When she nodded in acknowledgement, he added, "I think I might take back some of the things I said about the place, then…so what happened to the Bellwether family after that?"

Turning back several webpages to the civic records she'd accessed first, the rabbit pointed—a photo here, a subheading there. "Well, Thea recovered, eventually, though she was never really the same. The kids? Looks like they took different paths, the exact opposite in fact."

Nick peered at the same things Judy had read, Bellwether's various awards, honors, and public commendations throughout the years, ranging from roles at her high school newspaper and student council to work as a legal secretary, city councilmammal, and legislator. "A real go-getter, our Dawn was. Did everything right and by the book, all about propriety and order, everything to do with the law and seeking justice. This is starting to make too much sense."

"Yeah. And look at her brother." Now she called up the sealed records from ZPD's files on Corlione's operations, the ones that showed Cyrus's careful, methodical, but still rather meteoric rise through Sahara Square's mafia until becoming the lion's right-paw mammal. "He went the other way. From what I read, he was something of a juvenile delinquent as he grew up, petty theft, extortion, intimidating shakedowns, that kind of thing. High-school dropout, but it was out of contempt and a vicious temper that got him suspended half the time, not from lack of smarts; he got good grades when he put his mind to it. And after he reached adulthood…"

The fox scanned the lines on the screen, one ear flicking idly in a mannerism she'd come to learn meant discomfort and worry. "Armed robbery, racketeering, money laundering…well he didn't think small, now did he…" He paused, frowning. "How did you get all this, Carrots? There's some really sensitive stuff in here, and most of this never made it to the mainstream media."

Judy managed a real, if small, smile. "Ah, I got that part of the ZPD Records Department unsealed by special permission. I wheedled it out of Clawhauser with a promise of heaping boxes of homemade pastries, courtesy of good ol' Gideon Grey."

In spite of the situation Nick snorted in good humor; he knew enough by now about her past to appreciate what it meant that a fox, Gideon in particular, could be a good friend to her and her family now. "Ah Benny, never change…heh, at this rate you're going to have to start keeping Gid on retainer, or at least including him as an expense when you write up your reports for Bogo. That's how many cases now he's helped you on, whether he knew it or not?"

Ignoring him—as far as she was concerned, now that she knew what Gideon had made of himself, she had no intention of him falling out of contact again if she could help it—she said, "Anyway, I think the pertinent bit about our adversary is right here."

Nick looked at the ZPD file she'd brought up, looked again, and then whistled, low and slowly. "The thing that really put him on the map, and made Corlione trust him. Well I gotta hand it to old Cyrus, it takes quite the cojones to get all the members of your boss's biggest rival family in one place, gas them, and mow down the stragglers with tommy-gun fire." He paused as he read the last paragraph, something the police officer in charge had somehow considered only an afterthought. "Of course. The target of the Loupcchesi Massacre? A family of wolves."

"But I'm afraid Dawn doesn't get off completely scot-free in comparison." Judy tapped one foot restlessly on the opposite shin. "I made it a point to look again at the list of our original fourteen missing mammals in the Night Howler case. The very first one to disappear was a wolf in the Canyonlands, right between Savanna Central, Sahara Square, and Tundratown. And his name was Mack Mallupe."

The fox cursed softly under his breath. "You don't mean…"

"Yup," she replied, softly. "Peter was his uncle. Whatever was wrong with him, it didn't afflict his nephew, thank goodness. But that didn't matter to Bellwether."

There was a very long pause, during which the apartment was silent with the only sounds being one of the lions rumbling or growling in his sleep behind them or a vehicle out on the winding warren of streets. Then Nick said, just as soft but quite firm, "I see. So you're not letting all this get to you, second-guessing yourself and such. I was going to say…"

"No. Maybe? I don't know." Miserable, Judy looked up at him and couldn't fight back the tears completely. "Nothing can excuse what they've done, what they've become. They let one night—a night that admittedly ruined their childhoods, maybe their whole lives—change how they looked at everyone around them. They decided one crazy wolf meant every other predator out there had the same sickness, the same bloodthirsty love of carnage and savagery, inside them. And they let it push them into things they were absolutely convinced were right, things that absolutely had to be done to protect all prey in Zootopia, until they became monsters, too." She trailed off, then spoke thickly. "But that doesn't change how horrible the things they went through were. If…if only I'd known…if I could have talked to Dawn about all this, let her know that just because one predator went on a killing rampage doesn't mean she should…that it would be all right for her to…"

Suddenly Nick's arms were around her, holding her close, and she found herself sobbing in his shoulder. "There, there…forget what I said before. Let it all out. It's okay."

She hiccupped, not even knowing if the sound she was making was crying or laughing. On the one paw, she hadn't let one experience with a fox taint her view of the entire species or of all predators—though she'd come close, falling into fear-driven instincts with Nick and blinding herself to other possibilities after hearing Dr. Honey Badger's theories (and she was a predator herself, shouldn't that have made her realize there might be more going on than simple primitive regression?). On the other paw, what if she had let it influence her into full-on prejudice? Or what if Nick, instead of simply becoming what everyone believed him to be and choosing to take advantage of others for his own gain, had actually come to hate and reject all prey species like the ones in his kithood ranger troop?

After her tears had passed and she had wiped her nose (not in Nick's fur, thankfully, but with a nearby stray washcloth), Judy sat back and looked at her partner soberly. She knew his mind was running along the same course as hers when she saw the shine fading in his eyes, and his ears folding partially back. "It's not okay, though. What I found…it explains so much. It doesn't excuse it, it doesn't justify it. But it does mean something else…in one way or another, there's something wrong, something broken, in Bellwether's family. Because of it, she came up with that mad Night Howler scheme. And because of it, the failsafe she came up with is now being carried out by her brother. That's what we're up against. We've gotta find some way to put a stop to it. But…"

Nick rubbed at the back of his neck, stared at the floor briefly, then looked back at her uncertainly. "But you don't know if that's even the half of it, do you? Because we don't know…we really don't know…if that's the extent of the plan. Or just what Cyrus might be willing to do, if we drive him to it by putting a stop to what he's doing with Buckley."

Yes, that was where her worries and uncertainties had led her, why she'd been sitting alone in the darkened living room for hours, as she thought about the carrying case with the Night Howler ampoules on the bed in Gazelle's suite. And as she looked at the fox, she saw that just as she had no answers for what might lie ahead or how they could prevent the worst from happening…neither did he. The glib, loquacious Nick Wilde was at a loss for words.

They stayed like that, embracing each other for support, for a long, silent time until Delgato and Lionheart awoke and it was time to make their final preparations.

---

(A/N: So, as promised, I've finally made the reveal of just what prominent rich family Lionheart's is based on. Though really, his given name should have hinted at it long ago. Although for obvious reasons Teddy Roosevelt has always been associated with bears, personally I think his physical appearance was as much leonine as any other animal's. There's also the fact I believe Leodore was a very progressive mayor, while Teddy pretty much invented the party; Teddy was a big game hunter, while Leodore himself actually is a predator, and Teddy's conservation efforts parallel Leo's Mammal Inclusion Initiative; both of them are/were extremely charismatic. And "speak softly and carry a big stick" [altered to fit the Zootopia world] applies to Leodore too, I think. I certainly could picture Leodore getting shot in the middle of giving a speech and going on with it without missing a beat! At the same time he has more than a little of FDR in him, too, considering his determination to help out prey rather than just predators is a parallel to FDR being a "traitor to his class" for wanting to help the poor. I can totally see him as saying "I welcome their hatred" to fellow predators who may have spoken out against his candidacy! [In fact he does say something similar a bit later, as you will see.] So aside from the famous saying, there's his relatives: Cornelius was Theodore's grandfather [his father was also named Theodore, making him a Junior, but I didn't want to do that with Leodore's father], his mother was Martha, his brother was Elliott, and two of his cousins were James and, of course, Franklin.

Lots of references to the movie, and also to plenty of amusing fanon notions. Bucky's comment about everyone owning a pair of the glitter shorts is a sly nod to the fact that so many fans love to draw as many characters as possible wearing them. "The Stripers" is a fandom nickname for Gazelle's dancers, and of course the idea of one of the ZPD cops being one of the dancers [Jackson, since Fangmeyer might well be female] is another popular fandom belief based on the fact all the tigers in the movie have the same character model. [Hence "all tigers look alike"!] I should also note there being another lookalike tiger as a masseur at the Mystic Oasis is canon, although I didn't notice said character in the background until it was pointed out to me. They're everywhere! ^_^ As for the art book, both Nick's dad having been a tailor and the original idea for Gazelle's Animalia stadium are shout-outs.

More names: I've gone with an ironic theme naming on the Bellwether family, to go along with Dawn: Cyrus means "sun", Thea was the Greek goddess of light [mother of Helios, Selene, and Eos], and Kale is the name of one of Jupiter's moons [but also means pure and fair]. The story of Mr. Bellwether's murder is very loosely based on the backstory for the haunting in the YA novel The Dollhouse Murders. While Peter Mallupe is a character of my own invention, his nephew Mack is another character [though so far off-screen] in my friend 6wingdragon's "Brave". Having him be one of the original missing mammals, of course, is made possible by most of them remaining unnamed characters in canon. And speaking of my friend and his fic, the bit in the flashback where Lionheart is thinking of caring for cubs at the hospital is, like Nurse Lanny Wild, a nod to the medieval notion that lion fathers were extremely protective and attentive to their offspring, to the point of actually breathing life into them [after three days, natch] due to being born dead. Expect this to be touched on again later. The name of the rival family of the Corliones which Cyrus wiped out, by the way, is a nod to the Lucchesis of The Godfather, of course [although the manner of their deaths is partly a shout-out to the St. Valentine's Day Massacre]. Sorry for dragging things out so long before finally revealing who my Big Bad is, but do trust that Corlione has a reason for being in the story than just being a red herring. And while I am not precisely attempting to redeem Dawn here, I did feel it necessary to do some backstory to explain how and why she became what she did. This will come up again later as well.

Finally, on a personal note, the bit about Delgato having pastel drawings of scenes from The Lion King is...a shout-out to myself! While I don't really consider myself an artist, I do have a little talent, and I was of course very inspired by the movie when it first came out. I even included the pictures in a show of my art my senior year in high school. Sadly there's obviously no way to scan such things, but I do still have them and am proud of them even today. The fact Manny had such artwork, after having been teased and mocked with The Lion King as a cub, should tell you a few things about his resiliency and refusal to let bullies ruin entertainment for him. And while I kept the name the same [and The Great Mouse Detective's as well] due to the fact both already have animal-themed titles, I did have to change The Rescuers to a more parodic name, one suggested to me by one of my awesome readers, QueenOfTheStorms. Thanks for that! R/R!)