Chapter XIII: The Fox and the Hound

"I think it's telling that, when the chaos at Twentynine Palms unfolded a few days ago, the ZPD couldn't – or wouldn't – control a rowdy, drunk, and disorderly crowd that ended up leaving several animals injured while the SST secured their assigned premises without fail. I think it's telling that the supposed best officers in the city resigned over a corruption investigation. I think it's telling that the bedrock of this city was allowed to rot to such an extent that we have chronic drunkards working in the Major Case Squad.

"Therefor, in line with the recommendations of the Committee for Public Safety, I have signed legislation curtailing the abusive powers of the ZPD and allowing for the Zootopian Aerospace Corporation's Special Security Team to take over the realm of security and law enforcement throughout the city of Zootopia. Obviously, the police department will still function as an organ of city government, however, much like the rest of the corrupt institutions that existed when I took office two years ago, its structure will be torn down. We will reduce to its shell and we will remake it, as we've attempted to remake this city in the past two years, into a new force reflecting a new Zootopia. I'd like to thank my chief of staff, Cynthia Spots, for shepherding the special legislation through city council on such a short notice. I once again thank the city council for its continued support in my initiatives to root out problem areas of city government and serve the needs of our citizens in a manner which reflects the greatest of our ideals: hope. And I hope that the citizens of Zootopia unite behind my decision as we brace for a more accountable Zootopia. A Zootopia that is newer, brighter, and better than ever before. Thank you, God bless you, and God bless the city of Zootopia."

The clicking and flashing of cameras drowned out the questions from the crowd of assembled journalists, as several animals in suits applauded the mayor from the background, herself turning away and leaving the podium while her chief of staff stepped up to take questions.

Nick felt the anger inside him boil over as he watched the scene unfold on television, gripping his paws with such force that he could feel his own claws cut into his skin. Saint and Finnick stood by his side, equally engaged in the press conference.

"That bitch," Nick said, the alcohol inside him amplifying his rage. He reached his paw out for another Fox Poison, which Saint had readily prepared for him, anticipating his reaction. "She calls me corrupt! She's all but disbanding the ZPD! And she's the one placing all these corporations in power? Where does she get the nerve?" Nick yelled, slamming down his drink and turning the glass upside down on the bar. Saint lit another cigarette with the one already in his mouth, clearly needing the relief. Finnick simply shook his head.

"Guess even the fuzz can't escape a pissed off politician with friends," the fennec said. "You think your bunny friend knows about this yet?"

"Oh I'm damn sure she knows. Quite frankly I'm surprised she wasn't up there tackling the mayor off that stage," Nick said. "Give me one of those, will you?" he asked Saint, pointing to the cigarette.

"I thought you quit?" the dog asked, a smile catching his face. "What's the matter? Cat got you all riled up?"

"It's not just the cat," Nick said, taking the cigarette from Saint and letting the dog light it for him, blowing it up in the air and taking a good, hard look at the florescent light flickering above them. "This entire thing is moving way too fast. You can't even get a group of guys down at the precinct to agree on going to a restaurant at that speed, and the city council just happened to agree to all those bills popping up the same day they were proposed? We didn't even get our pay raises that fast when the Police Animals' Benevolent Association donated to the council during the last election." Nick's voice was tinged with suspicion and anger, the cigarette barely helping him. He took another drag as Finnick sat up on the bar, looking the larger fox in the face.

"This reeks of big money, Nicky," Finnic said, shaking his head and staring at the news conference – the ocelot behind the podium taking questions on when the private security teams would be deployed around the city. "Every single animal wrapped up in this case of yours is sitting on a mountain of cash – the only question you gotta ask yourself is where the hell is it going?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm trying to piece together as well. You'd think half a million dollars in campaign contributions would buy the police a little good will," Nick said, his voice shifting into a dull monotone. His vocal chords, as well as his soul, it seemed, were being worn thin through sheer attrition. How many battles would they have to lose before they finally won? He wondered. "Mayor Felis, the Zootopia Aerospace Corporation, Rickey Mouse, Goldman Yaks, the All Mammal Credit Union – what do they have in common? If we can only find out the missing link in this chain, me and Judy can crack this case and actually have a chance at redeeming ourselves."

Finnick and Nick sat there in silence while Saint brought his paws to his jowls, losing himself in thought, playing scenarios over in his head before looking at the two foxes in earnest sincerity. "You said it yourself Nicky – campaign contributions."

"What?" Nick asked, taking his gaze away from the ceiling and looking at the dog in front of him, the smoke from their cigarettes meeting half-way, waltzing in between them and entangling in a cloud that rose with their heartbeats. "You're telling me that Felis is doing this for campaign money when she's already swimming in cash? She practically financed herself in the last campaign – that fact was on every tabloid in the city."

"Not the mayor. I'm saying what they have in common ought to be campaign contributions. Look, you have all these corporations, unions, and politicians all getting their share of the pie, right? None of them have a damn thing in common. It's not like Zootopia Aerospace deals with the subways or Rickey Mouse has any interest whatsoever in whatever Goldman Yaks does or Mayor Felis knows whatever the hell goes on at some random credit union. But you said yourself they ought to have one thing in common, right? Well it's not going to be their work and it's not going to be personal so it's gotta be political, am I right?" Saint asked, leaning forward onto the bar, his face only a few inches from Nick's.

"So what are you suggesting, Saint?" Nick asked.

"Follow the money."

Nick snorted. Even as he gave the same advice to Judy, he'd failed to connect the dots himself. If there was big money involved – and with Goldman Yaks, ZAC, and the unions all involved, there had to be – then naturally, there'd be anomalies in the system. Every single animal and company so far dealt with so much money on any given day that smaller transactions would get lost in a quarterly report or spreadsheet, but they would be there nonetheless, the smoking gun to whoever was pulling the strings. Whoever ordered the hit on the AMCU, whoever altered the transit footage at the railway station, whoever killed Mr. Bos – the evidence would be in the monetary transactions between the animals involved. If he could prove the money trails, he could prove the relationships, and if he could prove the relationships, he would know which animals had the knowledge and access to alter the tapes, disappear the witnesses, hide the evidence, and rack up the bodies. He almost felt like kissing the dog out of thanks.

"Saint, you son of a bitch," Nick said, putting his cigarette out on the bar, a grin creeping across his face.

"Well, technically speaking, I am," the dog said, smiling back at him. Finnick stood up, looking up at Nick.

"So, you got a plan now? Or are you still traumatized by being outwitted by a bunny for the past two years?" Finnick said. He was grinning now, as well; the three of them equally engaged to do what they did best: find out who had the money and con the hell out of them. The cumulative experience of over one hundred years of street hustling finally giving Nick the edge he'd need over whoever had it out for him, Judy, and the ZPD.

"I got a plan, yeah. But first I need to talk to Carrots. She must be back at her place by now, so I think I'll head home and sleep on this. Thanks, you two," Nick said, waving goodbye at them as he approached the door.

"Hey Nicky, next time the drinks won't be on the house until you find out who the hell keeps messing with you!" Saint yelled. "And bring that bunny back with you. You're a better animal with her around!"

"Thanks, I'll try to. I don't know if I could spend a day without her at this point," Nick said. He was in high spirits, his face a testament to the power that a few con-artists with some street smarts could piece together what, he was sure, no one at the precinct was able to at the current moment. They were searching for a needle in a haystack: no evidence, no witnesses, no records, and no official backing or authority, but they would crack this case and clear their names, he was sure of it. All he needed to do was get back to his apartment, get on his computer, and start tracking down the money trail that led to the one thing all these different actors had in common. Once he found the common thread, it wouldn't take very long to unravel the entire unholy conspiracy.

Nick was still looking at them when he opened the door and was suddenly thrown into the street. The animal was easily three times his size and clad in all-black composite armor. He hadn't been on the ground for more than a moment before he felt an immense weight on top of him – a hoof burying itself into his muzzle.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Nick Wilde. Petty criminal, disgraced police officer, and part-time alcoholic, I see? I'll earn a damn medal killing you," the animal said. The force applied to his face was so great that he could barely open his eyes, only being able to make out the fact that, whoever was on top of him definitely wasn't anyone he recognized. At least it wasn't someone he'd conned out of any money – he'd already be dead if that were the case.

"I'm flattered you know me by name, most of my sweethearts don't," Nick said, barely able to mumble the words. The hoof pressed down on his head harder. Nick could feel his skull grinding against the pavement. Any more of this and he'd be done for.

"Get up and get your mouth on that god damn curb. Do it!" the animal said, picking Nick up from the ground and throwing him onto the curb. The force from crashing down on the curb made an audible crack in Nick's arm as he braced himself on his shoulder. Crying out in pain, the animal above used the opportunity to take Nick by the head and force his open jaw onto the curb. "See you in hell, fox," the animal said, without a hint of magnanimity or mercy.

At that moment, in the split second before he knew his death would come, Nick learned that, when facing death, one's life didn't flash before you like a grand, award winning movie. His thoughts didn't turn to the case, or to his mother and his idealistic childhood. They didn't turn to his life on the streets and his memories of growing up conning the rabbits in the surrounding factories out of their money. Instead, his thoughts turned to Judy. They turned to the countless days he'd spent with her in their squad car, drinking coffee and waiting for the radio to announce a chase. They turned to those days where, even in their days off, they'd go to an amusement park or a cafe together and talk for hours on end – the particulars of those conversations eluded him in that moment, but he knew that they brought him, and more importantly, her, joy beyond all he could remember. Seeing her in his final moments wasn't such a bad way to die, he'd decided. He waited for the end.

It was in that eternity before his death that Nick heard screaming and an enraged, familiar voice howling from above him. Nick turned his eyes upward, seeing Saint and Finnick wrestling with a rhinoceros against the outside of the bar. Saint had his large, meaty arms around the animal, screaming as he tried to hold him in place, while Finnick was attached to the animal's face, lunging at it with his teeth. Bits of flesh and blood from the rhino came down as Finnick bit down, tearing chunks off in rapid succession.

"You mess with my boy, I bite your damn face off!" Finnick yelled, clawing at the inside of the rhino's mouth as the latter yelled, desperately fighting off the two.

"What the hell are you waiting for, Nicky? Get the hell out of here!" Saint shouted, using the entirety of his body weight to slam the rhino against the building. Doing it was fairly easy to do when the much larger animal was focused on prying the fennec fox away from his face. Even that proved fairly difficult to do as Finnic left no room for error, attacking the animal's face in a mixture of savagery and anger. With the sheer size difference, they all knew that Finnic had to go all-out or die. The fennec decided to go all-out, popping one of the rhino's eyes out with his claws, the larger animal shrieked and fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Nick could only stand up, staring in awe.

"I said get out of here, Nick! Get back to your place! We got this guy! Go!" Saint shouted again, getting up from the ground and kicking the rhino in the torso.

Nick took off in a sprint, unwilling to look back as he heard the pained yelps and shrieks of the rhinoceros. It was doubtful that the rhino would survive the night, he concluded, after Finnic and Saint had seen the animal attack Nick. After spending twenty years with the duo of con-artists, they'd come to think of him as a son. They'd come to his aid as any parent would their child. He'd have to thank them later, when his heart wasn't on the verge of bursting from adrenaline.

As he made his way through the maze of abandoned warehouses and factories, Nick finally had to slow down to a moderate jog, eventually stopping next to a darkened light pole to catch his breath. Despite his daily workouts with Judy, he still couldn't match her exceptional endurance and speed – nature, and especially his hips, had made sure of that. He gasped for air, clutching his chest.

"Shit," he said to no one in particular, keeling over and hugging the pole for support. "Should not have smoked that cigarette. Idiot fox. Shouldn't have drank so much either, damn it!"

Nick said these things to himself, partially to scold himself, and partially to get a mental grip on the situation. He was running through what had just happened in his head, wondering how the animal had gotten the jump on him. He'd been in the bar, talking shop with Saint and Finnic. He opened the door and the next minute he was on the ground, about to die. Was that accurate? He didn't know. Whatever had happened, it had happened so fast that he was still unsure whether the adrenaline pumping through his veins was from a near-death experience or simply the side effect of something Saint slipped in his drinks. Maybe Fox Poison wasn't just the name of a drink and was actual fox poison? He swore to himself he'd never order the thing again.

Nick stumbled along, gasping for air and clutching his chest. There were bleeding scratches on his head from where the rhino had dug his heels in and where the concrete had scraped fur and skin off. His shoulder hurt like hell – maybe it was broken? Back in the day, he could've found a street doctor on any one of these side alleys to take care of him. Hell, he could've found half of his "clients" sleeping outside of their factories – too drunk to make it back home and too poor to take a day off. Now, silence and darkness greeted him. The streets had no life to them anymore, but they still held many secrets.

Nick continued along the darkened avenue, a few blocks away from his house, passing an unmarked concrete building with unusually large doors and large, metal grates along the top of it. A cooling station for underground tunnel systems – he'd seen structures like this one all around the city. Had this one always been here? He saw quick, jumpy movements coming from the corner of the building across the street. Even with no street lamps and a new moon, he was still a fox, after all, and he had acute night vision. He saw an animal pop out from a door on the side of the building, rushing over towards him. He closed his eyes and held himself. If this was another attacker, he'd be dead for sure. Sitting down on the curb, he wished he had a cigarette, if only to calm himself before the end.

"I'm sorry, Judy," he said, laying down on the sidewalk and opening his eyes at the night sky above. Twenty years hustling and he'd never feared death. Two years with that bunny and all of a sudden he was wracked with sorrow about always skirting the boundaries with her but never fully developing a relationship with her. They would use their awkward chemistry in their own ways, sometimes managing to flirt with each other in unorthodox ways totally alien to the others' species, but never truly admitting this to each other – not in words, anyway. If he was going to die tonight, he'd die with that regret weighing on his heart. "I'm so sorry, Judy," he repeated, closing his eyes, waiting for the animal to cross the road. Maybe he deserved this? After all, he'd learned over a lifetime that fighting fate never seemed to work out for him.

"Sorry for what?" he heard, a soft, feminine voice caught his ears, instantly perking his tail and ears off the pavement. He opened his eyes, seeing the rabbit leaning over him, her ears flopping behind her head in curiosity and relief.

"Judy?"

"Nick," she said, reaching down to lift him up and hug him. He felt a warm, liquid presence on his right shoulder. The warmth tingled the spot he had broken his fall on, the smell wafting up to his nose offended his senses and tug at his curiosity. He looked at Judy's shirt and saw blood covering the left half of it.

"Judy! Oh my God, are you alright?" Nick asked, instantly animated, grabbing her by the shoulders. He pulled back when she winced,

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'm fine, really," she said, only half sure of her answer, pulling back from him and taking stock of his own wounds. "What the hell happened to you? Bar fight?" she asked, noticing the gashes on his head and the way he moved away from her when she touched his right shoulder – his ears and tail were tucked close to his body, almost shivering.

"If only," he said, scratching behind his ears and grinning at her. "You should see the other guy."

"Spare me the details, Nick. I was attacked and I managed to escape – I was on my way to your apartment through the new tunnel network. That ventilation tower over there was the closest exit to your apartment, by my guess," Judy said, sitting down on the curb next to him.

"I was attacked, too. This rhino that did this to me was dressed in this really weird uniform," Nick trailed off, interrupted by Judy.

"Was it all black? Looked like body armor?" she asked, perking her ears up and placing her paws in front of her chest, instantly engaged.

"Yeah, why?"

"The bull that attacked me was dressed in the same thing," Judy said, looking around, taking stock of the empty buildings around them. This was too exposed. Too many angles of attack and not enough angles of egress. If they were attacked again, here and now, they'd be done for. Nick shook his head, dragging himself to lean against the darkened street lamp next to them.

"So I guess someone has it out for us," he said the obvious, looking her in the eyes. He could see the twinkle of her violet eyes through the darkness, a direct benefit of his vision. He noticed that there was no fear in her body language. He didn't think he'd ever seen her this excited in years. Not since the Night Howler Incident was she so full of vigor. He was glad for this – if she were any other way, he knew he wouldn't have the energy himself to continue forward. Hustling was easy: at least then you knew why animals wanted to kill you.

"Nick, we need to get to the precinct," Judy said after a momentary silence. Nick realized he had trailed off and barely said a word to her since studying her in the darkness.

"Why? We need to find a safe haven – somewhere where the attackers won't find us. And I guarantee that's not going to be in civic center."

"No, Nick. I overheard the animal that attacked me talking to someone on the phone. He said he was going to central. There's only two places in this city that animals call 'central'. Zootopia Central Station and-" she said, trailing off, allowing Nick to finish the sentence.

"And Civic Center Plaza, home of the ZPD and every organ of city government. Either way, if the guy that attacked you is going to either of those places, it can't be good," he said, standing up and brushing the dust off his pants and tail, looking down the street, up towards the gleaming skyline ahead of them.

"We need to move," Judy said, taking his paw and running toward the light. Nick felt himself grunting in approval, running down the abandoned sidewalks in tandem urgency. They had escaped the fire and were heading into the inferno. If the animals who had attacked them were going downtown, they had to be there as well. Too many of their friends depended on both of them to sit them one out. Nick could feel a bump rising in his throat. It wasn't fear, he knew. It wasn't helplessness or anxiety – those emotions he knew intimately. He knew the darkness ahead of him wasn't of his own making, no. As he ran with the rabbit, flying past warehouses and factories and boarded-up bodegas, he knew what this feeling was: purpose. Whatever happened to them along the way, whatever greeted them downtown, he'd protect Judy till the end.

As they crossed crossed the boundary between the factory district and downtown, they heard the wailing of police sirens, echoing against the glass and steel of skyscrapers – a siren song leading them home.