Oh, Nick. My beautiful, precious fox.
One day, when you're yourself again, I'll tell you the story so you can understand. Until then, I'll have to repeat it to myself over and over to keep it fresh. To keep me from forgetting what I did to you.
You know what happened. You probably think I made a mistake. In a way, I did—I thought I was clever enough to beat them. Believe me, Nicholas Wilde, I tried my best. At least, I hope I did. They didn't leave me much to work with, but I was not going to let them win.
Finnick told me about the bridge where you liked to hide out, and they followed me—Bellwether and her idiot rams trailed me in a car. When I got out of the truck, they were hiding just within earshot. Close enough for them to dart you if things didn't go the way they planned.
Oh my goodness, Nick, what a joy it was to see you again! And of course you were upset. How couldn't you be. I gave you my speech and I held it together until I got to "And after we're done…". Because I knew we wouldn't be done.
You were the target and I was the bait. They kept me alive to make you go savage, to give Bellwether the martyr she always wanted. Oh, Nick, I wasn't crying because I was disappointed that you'd hate me! Please don't think I'm that selfish a bunny! I was crying because you deserved none of this. What a horrible, horrible way to pay you back for helping me, for allowing me to get close to you. I couldn't even look at you, knowing what they were about to do...
But when you played back my voice on the carrot pen and turned around with that smile, I was certain. We were going to beat them. We were going to beat them together! Nick and Judy— the sly fox and the dumb bunny, and sometimes the other way around!
You're totally going to make fun of me for this, but deep down, I believe there's something special about our partnership. Something about a fox and a bunny teaming up makes us immune to any of the evil the world can throw at us. After everything, I still believe it.
But I couldn't tell you who or what we were up against— he had them plant a bug in the truck, and they pinned a bug with a tracker under my shirt. If I'd given you the whole story, the rams would have caught up with us and darted you. And then you'd have to live with the nightmare of eating me for real.
So we had to continue the fake investigation he planned out. I wish you didn't know Duke Weaselton, because we could have spent hours together finding out who he was. Days, even. They didn't tell Weaselton about the plan, but he was their actual errand boy. The plan called for us to make him confess where he dropped off the Night Howlers. It was all for your sake as I led you deeper into the trap.
But Weaselton wouldn't cooperate, and that was a gift. Bellwether and the rams seemed to buy our pretense of taking him to Mr. Big's mansion for an interrogation, but I think they caught on when the Big's polar bears closed the driveway gates before they could drive in.
For those brief moments, we were completely safe. Weaselton talked, just like they predicted, and I was ready to rip off the bug and explain how very close you were to being darted. But then Kevin brought us a message, a note one of the rams had handed through the bars of the gate:
"Mr. Big— Ms. Hopps and Mr. Wilde do not belong to you. They belong to me. Kindly return them. -E".
You remember how Big kicked us out so suddenly? I was as baffled as you were, and I asked why. "It's bad business to get into a territory you have no stake in." One day I'll explain what he meant.
And so we had to go to the Banyan Street station like Weaselton told us to. That was the real drop spot, but that wasn't the real lab inside— it would have been too risky to show us. Doug had thrown together some equipment to make it look like the genuine operation, and he gave us a convincing demo once he heard us come in.
Now here's what was supposed to happen: when Doug left to get his latte, we would grab the dart gun and a few bullets and run out the other door. The rams would "chase us" until they "ran out of steam". As we made our way to the ZPD, still being tracked, I would suggest a "shortcut" through the Natural History Museum.
But I was both a clever and a dumb bunny. I was clever enough to think about using the subway car to escape, and dumb enough to think that we'd actually be able to escape to place where they couldn't catch up to us.
I don't have to remind you of how that turned out.
And the worst part was that we ended up at the Natural History Museum anyway. How's that for luck. But even when Bellwether stepped out and revealed her conspiracy, I refused to give up hope. The fox and the bunny were going to do this.
We came so close. Goodness, Nick, we almost made it! You almost did, at least.
I didn't trip— I cut myself intentionally on that tusk. I couldn't explain while they were on our tails, but I was giving you your chance to escape. A sly fox could have easily outrun them. You would have made it out of the trap, Bogo would have gotten the evidence, and today you'd be the hero of Zootopia. And, well, I wouldn't have been around to see it.
Nick, believe me. I was willing to go. I would have saved two lives and you would have stopped the conspiracy. I'm completely serious— it would have been worth it.
But instead you carried me.
Oh my sweet fox, you picked me up and carried me. Because you knew for certain that we had to go on together.
Nicholas Wilde— if you ever think of yourself as shifty, or petty, or mean, or nothing more than a popsicle hustler— remember that moment. Please.
And as for me… I lied. I didn't switch the Night Howlers for blueberries. I wasn't as noble or selfless as you. We missed our last chance to escape, and I was going to keep investigating. No matter what it took. If the serum didn't work, then Bellwether wouldn't have her martyr, I wouldn't have had a chance to meet him, and I never would get to the bottom of it.
I thought… it doesn't matter what I thought. I hurt you. I'll never be able to rid myself of the memory of seeing you writhe in pain, or your contorted, enraged face. Not your face. The face of some wild creature that had taken over your body.
Please forgive me. And no, you don't have to forgive me if you don't want to. Don't feel obligated.
Now that I've told you the truth, it's probably best that we leave forever. I doubt you'll be able to trust me again.
But despite everything, I'd love for us to be Nick and Judy again. If we could find a way to move past what I did… that would be the most wonderful thing in the world. The dumb bunny in me hopes it's possible. Is it really, Nick?
As the savage fox shreds the stuffed deer in the exhibit, Judy finds herself lifted out of the pit by a ram wielding a rope ladder. In her place, the ram tosses a dead female rabbit, dressed in clothes identical to hers.
Another life destroyed.
Who is she? How did they pull her into this? Judy never finds out, because the fox tears open the artery in her neck.
She covers her eyes and screams. This has to be a nightmare. That would explain everything. She'll wake up back in her old bed in Bunnyburrow. The alarm will go off and...
A white paw with long fur between the claws covers her mouth.
"What a horrific sight," whispers the suave voice from the phone. "Poor Mr. Wilde. You did everything you could for him. You're a very brave bunny."
The white mammal grabs her by the waist and pulls her into the shadows of the museum. He's not very tall, that's for sure.
Officers' voices… They're coming. They'll be able to find her!
Judy tries to yell but the paw muffles her. "No, no. You're not safe here. They'll think you're involved."
He guides her toward the open door of a museum classroom. He may be small, but he's strong. "It wouldn't be good for Officer Hopps to be accused of making a predator go savage," he whispers in her ear.
The white mammal shuts the door and releases her from his grip. "Now let's have us a proper introduction." He flips the lightswitch—
Judy's captor is some sort of weasel relative. A stoat? But his fur is blinding white. Not white like an arctic hare or a polar bear, but white like sunlight hitting snow.
The stoat wears a white dress shirt with a black waistcoat and striped gray trousers. The tip of his tail is coal black, creating a startling contrast to the rest of his fur. His whiskers are meticulously trimmed, and his warm brown eyes study her, apparently lost in thought.
He's freaking gorgeous.
Oh, Judith Hopps! Now is not the time for bunny hormones to come out! This mammal is a dangerous criminal under investigation!
"Who are you?"
"I'm best known as the Ermine."
"Is that what your friends call you?"
"Yes."
"I doubt you have many good friends."
"It wouldn't be wise to underestimate me, Ms. Hopps."
The officers are still talking around the pit… this door has no lock. She could run to join them! But with her lookalike dead, the Ermine could accuse her of being part of the conspiracy… oh God, he's set traps everywhere.
"Alright. I have just a couple of questions." She crosses her limbs with forced confidence. "Now that I'm for all intents and purposes dead, what exactly do you plan on doing to me?"
The Ermine smiles a gentle smile. "I suppose you think I'm some sort of deviant murderer type. No. I'm merely offering you a place to stay until this whole brouhaha about preds versus prey dies down. It's your choice. You're free to go if you like."
He steps closer. Wow, that fur is… stop it, Hopps!
"Of course, if you were seen on the street after dying and making a fox go savage, I doubt the predator community would, shall we say, embrace you. Or would the prey community after it turns out that the rabbit corpse with your name in the morgue isn't you. But that would be your choice. Don't let me stop you."
The Ermine looks her in the eye. "Ms. Hopps?"
She grins.
He must believe that she finds him charming. Well, it's true— he's charming in that superficial psychopath way. The Academy trained its officers in the signs of psychopathy so they could avoid being manipulated. But that's not the real reason why she smiles.
"Okay. I'll take your offer."
While Nick was going savage, she picked his pocket. And now in her own pocket is the carrot pen, still technically Nick's, the switch set to continuously record.
We're doing this, Slick. We're still doing this together.