Couple of quick heads-ups before we get started: first off, I want to thank everyone who's been reading, and to apologize to those who worried about this story's long delay. Rest assured I have no plans of calling off any of my Zootopia material. If something ends prematurely, the best thing you can do is pray like heck for me. Why? Well, it probably means I got hit by a forklift at my new job or something. Morbid improbabilities aside, I'm touched that so many people were so interested in this story. I'll cover some of the reason for the delay in the note at the end.

Due to the length of said note, I'll give the Easter Egg clues at the start of this chapter (answers for chapters 7 and 9 are at the very bottom). There are three Disney references in this chapter, so look carefully. Bonus points for the first one to figure out how I named Lionheart's neighborhood and why.

Proofreading by Hawktooth

Juni: "How to Be A Spy. (We've) read it."

Gary: "Well read it again. 'A good spy makes no binding connections with family or friends.'"

Juni: "Well I don't believe that. Do you?"

Spy Kids 2: Island of Lost Dreams

Nick and Judy jumped back away from each other on a shared reflex, paws snapping down to their sides like soldiers at the sound of a loud, 'Ten-HUT!'

"Spo- I mean Catano!" Nick fumbled, almost slipping into his habit of using nicknames. "We were, uh, talking about the case."

If the cheetah wore glasses, she'd have been looking over the tops of them. "Mm-hm," she answered, clearly not impressed.

"He's telling the truth," added Judy, feeling the need to defend her friend's standing – not to mention her own dignity. "He thinks we should ask Chief Bogo to let us focus more on Obearon."

Catano's demeanor called up memories of Chief Bogo's attitude when Judy tried to tell him that the empty Sky Tram boarding point had, just minutes ago, held a savage wildcat. After a moment, however, she apparently decided to just file away the incident and let it rest for the moment. "That sounds… reasonable," she allowed, strolling past them to return to the desk. She slipped the warrant request into a folder and then turned back towards them, clasping her paws behind her back and looking for all the world like a ship's captain during inspection. "I don't want to abandon the chase entirely, but we're not getting very far on this angle at any rate. Where do you suggest we start, Wilde?"

Nick and Judy both blinked, wondering why Catano would single him out. "Well," Nick ventured apprehensively, "I was thinking if we listened to the recordings again, we might find something in the background; a train, maybe, or something like that."

This drew a skeptical look from the cheetah. "We didn't get very good recordings," she admitted. "The phone was useless there, so all we've got are my and Hopps' recording equipment."

"True," Nick agreed, "but Obearon didn't just call us. Maybe the news stations got something; they record stuff all the time."

Judy shot her partner a pleased look. Way to think outside the box, Slick, she thought.

Catano knew the ZPD was one step ahead of Nick there. The night shift had contacted every news outlet in the city and requested copies and recordings of anything and everything they got pertaining to Obearon. The phone calls with his side of the fight with Jesse, and the ones claiming responsibility for the attack on Killrahb, were already in the ZPD's hands. She did, however, have to admit it was promising that Nick thought of it so quickly. Maybe he'd make a decent officer after all, if they could teach him to act appropriately on the job. Calling a cheetah 'Spots' was a minor thing as long as it wasn't repeated too often, but the exchange she had seen on coming back… well, that could be problematic. She knew all too well what happened when professionalism took a back seat.

"Do you have any other ideas?" she asked Nick, deciding to test his savvy a little further.

Nick thought back before venturing, "Well, we were talking about asking Lionheart some more questions. It's a long shot, but it might help tie up some of our loose ends on the other investigation."

Catano mulled that over. "Bogo does hate it when officers jump assignments," she mused.

Though the cheetah had not indicated Judy in any way, the rabbit couldn't help thinking of how ticked Bogo had been when she went after Weaselton. On the other paw, that little side trip had effectively saved the city. "Well, you know him the best," she reasoned, throwing the ball back into Catano's court. "What do you think?"

The cheetah folded her arms. "We'll have an easier time getting reassigned if we ask first thing tomorrow – or if we leave a note at the end of our shift. Are you two busy after work today?"

Judy and Nick glanced at one another, wondering what Catano had in mind. "Not me," answered Judy, looking back up at her. "Why?"

Catano didn't answer right away. "Wilde?"

He shrugged. "Eh, nothing I can't push to later in the week," he offered. "At least not if this is important enough."

She gave him a look as if to remind him that he was still on probation and she was – for all purposes – his officer. "I suggest we look over the recordings until the shift changes, and then go have an informal interview with Lionheart. If we're going to get this past Bogo, we'd better exhaust all our leads. Time is ticking." She made for the door, then stopped so abruptly that they bumped into her legs in a maneuver calculated to test the smaller mammals.

"About what I saw coming in," she began slowly and deliberately. "My small mammal etiquette is rusty. What exactly do head-pats mean among rabbits and foxes?"

Judy bit her lip. Among rabbits, patting someone's head or playing with their ears could mean a number of things. From a larger mammal to a rabbit… well, it was like a lesser version of calling someone 'cute;' tolerable among close friends, but on the pushy side. Unfortunately, that made it very easy to misread, especially for bystanders. She knew full-well that anything Nick did – including and maybe especially anything like that – could easily put him in a bad position with Bogo. She also knew that if she fudged an answer, it would be all too simple for Catano to look it up.

"It's a… well, it's not exactly rude, coming from larger mammals," she offered, trying to paint it in the best light possible. "It's kind of pushy, but fine from someone we know well." She realized – too late – that the last part of her explanation could be taken in exactly the way they didn't want Catano to take it.

Nick seemed a little more prepared – probably by long experience. "Yeah. Now, see, I could say I was just messing with Judy here, but if I do it'll just sound like a guilty denial. So you'll just have to take our word for it; that thing I know you're thinking is not what's going on here."

Catano considered this reply. It clearly came from a mammal familiar with awkward predicaments, so the confident delivery might have been an act. Judy's reaction to his statement, though… that rang true.

Shake it off, officer, she told herself, subduing her body language through old habit. Gestures could mean very different things from species to species or even family to family. A simple pat on the head… well, it didn't always mean what it had meant in her experience.

She pushed it to the back of her mind. "Alright. Let's go see about that reassignment."

The recordings were easy enough to get. All they had to do was find a quiet room down in the basement – where several were soundproofed for just such purposes – and pull the recordings up on the computer system. Catano also pulled up a file containing other officers' and detectives' notes on the recordings up to that point.

"Looks like the calls were pre-recorded," she observed. "They all have the same wording for each of the two messages."

"Which means they were probably recorded somewhere with as few clues as possible," Nick uttered dismally.

Judy frowned, deep in thought. "Maybe not," she ventured, standing up. She had taken a spot on the desk next to the computer, and now began running a paw down the list. "Catano, can you sort these by time stamp, please?"

Catano did, and Judy looked at the oldest one. "Let's take a look at this one," she suggested.

The cheetah shrugged and double-clicked the file.

"Hello," chimed a voice from the computer's speaker. "Zootopia News Net-"

"Hold your tongue," instructed the familiar, distorted voice of Obearon. "Do not speak. I am called Obearon, and I am here to report that the Zootopia Police Department has just arrested one of my operatives; one of the self-same sheep involved in the recent Night Howler operation.

"I must commend them for the execution of their trap, but I have some executing to do as well. This is to notify the press that for every blow struck against my operatives and their missions, I will retaliate with a blow against the city and its occupants. Goodbye."

"Wait, wait a minute!" protested the voice of whoever had answered the news hotline. "What operatives? What mission? Aw, crud!" In the silence that ended the call, they could hear the drone of an empty phone line.

Nick had been paying close attention to Judy throughout the call, monitoring each flick of her ears and twitch of her nose. As finely tuned as he knew his own senses were, he knew that she was the best in the room when it came to hearing – except, maybe, for Catano.

"You heard something, didn't you?" he asked confidently.

Judy nodded. "There's a program for splitting sound into multiple tracks, right?" she asked. "Words, background noise, and so on?"

Catano nodded, opening up the program in question and selecting the file. She ran it through, separating out the dialogue. "I'll turn down the speech and try to dial up the rest."

The resulting hum of background noise was muffled and indistinct, but Judy thought if she listened really hard she could make out some kind of clinking. Loose change? No, it doesn't sound like metal.

"Did you hear plates or something?" she asked out loud.

Nick nodded. "I did – and it sounded like someone in the background might have been talking too. Something about 'iss.'"

Catano glanced at him. "I thought I might have heard a voice, but how did you pick up the 'iss' part?"

He shrugged. "Hissing's one of the easiest sounds to make out," was his answer. "And, uh..." he trailed off, deliberately not flicking his eyes towards the cheetah officer. "Well, you don't exactly spend thirty-two years as a fox without learning to pick up muted remarks."

It was pretty clear that Catano didn't completely buy Nick's dodge, but she decided not to argue. "Plates and maybe someone hissing. Alright. I'll play it back, and you two lift your paws when you hear those sounds."

They listened closely as their colleague – or Judy's, anyway – tinkered around with the recording. After about twenty minutes' of experimentation, they had gleaned a definite sound of clinking and a muffled "or eekass isk," whatever that was about.

"I haven't broken down many recordings like this one," Catano admitted, "but I think whoever was talking was in another room behind closed doors."

"Don't tell me," Nick uttered. Twenty minutes of struggling for information from an uncooperative recording had left him impatient and bored. "That means we're probably not going to get anything else out of this."

"Probably not," Catano agreed.

The fox slumped his chin onto his crossed forearms. "Great. So, now what?"

The cheetah glanced at the computer's clock and stood up. "Hopps and I go punch out, maybe grab some coffee, and we go question Lionheart." Turning to Nick, she added thoughtfully, "And we also need to figure out what to do with you."

Judy turned and stared up at her peer, dropping her ears back and frowning. "What do you mean?"

Catano shrugged. "Well, you and I can just go up to Lionheart Manor and ask to speak with him. Wilde, on the other hand, doesn't exactly have our level of access yet – and it would look pretty suspicious for him to just go in there with us."

It didn't help that she was – as usual – completely right. Chances were Nick knew some of the staff in the mansion, and he might very well have some useful ideas or insight. He sure had come in handy when they needed to get into that empty house, little use as that turned out to be. Getting him into Lionheart Manor, though, would be a definite challenge.

"I could try the old candygram bit," Nick ventured. Under the skeptical looks of the other two, he added, "Hey, I've delivered them before."

Behind a raised eyebrow, Officer Catano's brain clicked away as she filed that claim, simultaneously debating what to do with Nick. He's been helpful, she admitted indifferently, but he's also a loose end. Anyway, we shouldn't drag him around too much or Obearon might find out he's a potential weak link.

"I think you should go home," she advised at last.

"But-!" Judy protested, not sure how to finish.

"Hopps, I won't deny that Wilde's come in handy so far, but we can only rely so much on a civilian no matter how helpful he is." Softening a little, she added, "Besides, we don't need him on this part of the case, and I'm sure he has a life of his own to take care of. It's not like he's on the payroll yet."

Judy opened her mouth to argue, then realized Catano had a point. They'd asked a lot of Nick, and he did deserve some time of his own. Besides, without a badge he really didn't have much call to be on a visit like this.

She felt a paw drop lightly on her shoulder several times, and turned to see Nick's reassuring, confident smile.

"Don't let it bug you, Fluff. I've got to do my laundry and pay my bills sometime. Officer Catano," he called up, tilting his head back and tossing off a salute, "I will see you bright and early tomorrow."

Judy tried not to be annoyed as she and Catano drove to Makundi Heights, one of the ritziest parts of Savannah Central. The entire neighborhood was lined with mansions, mostly of sandstone with flat roofs and high arches stretching over their fronts. At least one in three had multiple statues or fountains, and pretty much all of them boasted elaborate gardens and topiaries. Judy's family had been pretty well-to-do, but the grandeur of the homes – even in consideration of their occupants – was more than she could wrap her brain around. Heck, some of the front yards could have held her elementary school and all its sports fields with room to spare.

"Who the heck can pay for places like these?" she asked.

"Mostly taxpayers and credit card companies," was Catano's grim answer.

Judy wondered if this was a reflection on the cheetah's view of politicians or just a literal answer. It seemed like the cheetah took a very cynical view of pretty much everything – and everyone, come to think of it.

I wonder if she was telling the whole truth about why she had Nick take a hike, she mused. It was clear enough that Chief Bogo took a dim view of foxes, and it would hardly be surprising if Catano felt the same. Still, hadn't Nick done enough to prove his reliability?

It occurred to her that she had posed the same question to Chief Bogo what felt like weeks ago, and gotten no satisfactory answer. On the other paw, Catano hadn't proven a bias against foxes. Everything she'd said and done was backed by logic and utterly immovable, and she had even reckoned Nick's virtues into their case.

"I've noticed that you put a lot of focus on Mr. Wilde."

The remark came out of nowhere, causing Judy to jerk as she pulled out of her thoughts. "Come again?" she asked.

Catano glanced her way, but retained an attentive gaze on the road. "Your friend, Nicholas. You seem very determined to get him into law enforcement."

Judy felt a little defensive at this remark. "Well I am very determined to get him into law enforcement."

Callie sighed – hardly enough to perceive, but it was a sigh. "Hopps, I have a great deal of respect for you, but I have to warn you: mixing police work and personal life… it's not a good idea. It can end badly."

There was something about that remark that made Judy uneasy. "It can also work pretty well," she argued. This elicited no response, so she pressed further. "You're not going to try to tell me that Nick shouldn't be a cop because he's my friend, are you?"

Catano said nothing; only braked abruptly to a near-stop and prodded the horn with a paw. "Figures," she uttered, abandoning the previous topic entirely.

Judy looked up and saw a giraffe up ahead, waving a sign on a pole that had to be nearly as long as its neck. Stretching a little, she saw that a whole crowd of mammals around the giraffe. The mob – mostly predators – had rallied on a sidewalk and were spilling out into the road.

The giraffe, spotting them, moved back to the sidewalk and scowled as Judy and Catano got out. His eyes widened when he saw Judy.

"Hey, it's Officer Hopps!"

At once a crowd of the mammals, all waving signs blaming Lionheart for his part in the recent fiasco (and some blaming him for the mess lock, stock, and barrel), crowded around the officers and their cruiser.

"Are you coming to arrest him?!" called a black bear.

"Book the creep! He locked up my brother!" yelled a tiger.

"Never mind your brother! He's the reason my daughter's in the hospital!" shouted a pangolin in reply.

Catano sighed, went around to the trunk, and drew out a bullhorn.

"Your attention, please," she said in the face of a hyena who was crowding her personal space. The hyena drew back, covering her ears as Catano continued to the crowd at large. "We're here to ask Lionheart some questions for everyone's safety. Now please let us do our job."

If that was supposed to mean "move aside," it didn't exactly pan out. The crowd continued to surround them as they tried to make their way towards the mansion. Judy practically had to hold onto the cheetah's tail, and Catano wasn't having much of an easier time. Judy tried not to look at the angry mammals – mostly predators – waving their signs and yelling for Lionheart to pack up and go somewhere else - pawcuffed if necessary. The suggested destinations were pretty varied, but Antarctica seemed pretty popular, along with Mars and the Black Hole of Cowcutta.

"Excuse me," Catano said tersely to a tiger in her way, "but I need to get through and you need to move your protest elsewhere."

The tiger seemed to take offense to this latter point. Judy didn't know it, but that had a lot to do with about six other officers delivering that same message earlier in the day. "Hey listen, Officer, we've got a right to peaceful assembly."

Catano snorted in reply. "Okay, play in traffic. Just say out of the yards."

Judy tried to screen out the noise of the crowd. Even if it was directed at someone she didn't particularly like, it reminded her a little too much of Gazelle's peace rally.

"If you want to grab my leg," Catano offered, turning to look down at her, "it would probably be a good way to keep together in the crowd."

It was a reasonable offer, and – if Judy wasn't mistaken – a pretty outgoing one too. Cheetahs, as a rule, didn't tend to like anything that hung on them or slowed them down in any way. All the same…

"No thanks. I can manage."

It felt like a year before they made their way out of the crowd, zigging and zagging through larger mammals. It occurred to Judy that, if Obearon wanted to launch another attack, this place would be perfect. Lots of mammals close together, mostly predators, mostly hard to tell apart at a glance, and all of them noisy. A single Night Howler dart could probably lead to over a dozen mammals maimed or worse before half the crowd knew what was going on. Who knew how many more might be trampled afterward?

She tapped Catano's leg, and the cheetah looked down quizzically.

"I need you to put me up on your shoulder as soon as we're between them and the mansion," she instructed. "And I'll need your bullhorn."

Catano put her ears back in confusion. "Why?" she asked.

"It's important." Part of the reason Judy didn't answer was that she thought explaining it might convince her not to do it.

The cheetah shrugged, and as soon as they were out in the open she dropped to one knee and laced her paws together. Judy bounced from them to the upraised knee to the cheetah's shoulder, steadying herself against Catano's head as the larger officer stood up.

"Take Lionheart back to jail!" someone in the crowd yelled. The whole rest of the group began chattering their agreement.

"Alright! Alright!" Judy called, waving her paws for silence.

Catano took a more direct approach. Everyone was so focused on Judy that they didn't even notice her extract an item from her belt.

"Cover your ears, Hopps," she instructed.

Judy had only enough time to see the object and heed the cheetah's advice before…

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!

A blast from an air horn could jolt just about anyone. Considering the sharper-than-average hearing of most of the protesters, the effect was even greater. In the silence that followed, Judy found the bullhorn held up near her face. She tried not to think about the last time she had spoken to a large crowd, and instead shut her eyes and focused on what she had to say.

"You have every right to assemble peaceably," she reminded them, "and frankly I'm not a fan of Lionheart either. Blasting him, though, isn't going to accomplish anything. We know what he did, he's been arrested, and we are watching him carefully while he's out on bail."

"Crooks like him shouldn't get bail!" someone shouted. Another uproar began, but when Catano quickly brought the bullhorn down and put the air horn behind it, they all stopped in a hurry and covered their ears. Judy couldn't see it from her perch, but the cheetah actually smirked at that before lending her the bullhorn again.

"I know you're upset, and frankly so am I. But this isn't a courtroom, and he's not on trial yet. When he is, the judge and jury will decide what happens, not us. We're just here to ask questions, put the crisis behind us, and make sure all of you can go about your lives."

No one spoke, which she supposed was a good thing.

"I know a lot of you have friends and family who were hurt by the recent scheme, and I know Lionheart did things that made that situation worse. But standing here angry won't help them. Please, if you can do something for them then go do it. Your protests have been heard, and Lionheart will face justice, but this isn't helping. And if you must protest, please at least go back to the sidewalk. Blocking traffic will only make things worse for everyone."

She made an end of speaking, not entirely sure where she had gotten all of that. She was glad she had, though. It seemed to have a lot better results than, 'Any one of you could be the next Regis Killrahb.' When she looked up at the crowd, many of them were glancing at one another uncertainly. On the outskirts, a few of them were drifting away toward cars parked alongside the road. In a few moments, the more stubborn ones were, at least, retreating to the sidewalk.

Catano lowered the bullhorn and glanced up at Judy out of the corner of her eye. "I'm guessing you want to come down now," she observed.

Judy gladly accepted the opportunity, and the cheetah lowered her to the ground. There seemed to be an odd look on the feline's face, and it took Judy a moment to place it.

"Not bad, Hopps," she uttered.

Catano was impressed.

Judy shrugged modestly, and for a moment almost forgot what she was even there for. Then she looked up at the fence and squared her shoulders. "Well," she said, "let's go have a talk with our ex-mayor."

Lionheart Manor was surrounded by a sandstone wall which was only waist-high to Catano but quite the hurdle to Officer Hopps. Surmounting this wall stood a wrought iron fence made in likeness of tall stalks of Savannah grass cris-crossing one another. Judy was no expert on metalworking, but based on the intricacy of the latticework and the crisp lines on the leaves, she had a feeling the fence alone had cost a fortune.

Catano seemed to read her expression. "The Lionhearts are a legacy of leaders," she remarked. "He's the sixth of his family to have been mayor, and rumor has it there was a king way back somewhere in his family tree." Frowning thoughtfully, she added, "Might be the last one to hold office, though, after everything that's happened."

"That would explain a lot," Judy admitted, trying not to think about that last part. She had to wonder what it would do to a mammal – or his kids, for that matter – to lose a career that had been in the family for decades; centuries, even. She reminded herself a little forcefully that he had illegally and unethically covered up a threat to public safety and imprisoned innocent predators. Still, it wasn't like he was as bad as Bellwether, was it?

Besides, a part of her realized, without his Mammal Inclusion Initiative I never would have made it into the Academy. Now that was a bitter pill to swallow.

Catano must have noticed her misgivings. "Hopps," said the cheetah gravely, "if you want to sit this out, there's no harm in it. I know you must feel conflicted."

Judy shook her head. "No, I'll go," she answered firmly. "Come on. Which way's the gate?"

The cheetah looked around, pointed, and set off at a brisk power-walk. There was no one at the gate, but she pushed an intercom call button below a security camera.

In a few minutes a crisp female voice answered. "Who's there, please?"

"Officers Hopps and Catano from the ZPD," Catano replied, pushing the button. "We're here to ask Mr. Lionheart some questions."

There was a pause. "I can't see through the camera. Could you step to where I can see through the gate, please?"

Catano stepped to one side, and Judy followed, noting that the camera's protective dome was marred with cracks and chips as if someone had been throwing rocks at it. Pretty likely, she reflected.

Though Judy couldn't spot anyone looking out from the mansion up the hill, apparently whoever it was could see them. "Thank you," called the intercom a moment later. "Please come in."

A buzzing sound came from the gate, and Judy pushed it open. It swung easily and then shut with a clang as soon as they were through.

Following her partner's lead, Judy made her way up a walkway of sandstone bricks arranged in complex patterns. They passed a pair of fountains, carved or molded in mirror images of one another, in the shapes of two dancing elephants. The figures, apparently classically inspired, boasted exaggeratedly long ears that flowed down to cover their bodies like some sort of togas or similar garb. A tennis court could be seen at the front of the mansion as well.

As the officers reached the front, one of the large double-doors opened to receive them. Inside stood an okapi; dark-pelted, taller than both of the officers put together, and dressed in a typical maid's uniform. Her uniform was a bit dusty, as though she had only just come from cleaning. She dipped in a bow and waved the two of them in.

"Good afternoon, officers," she greeted, eyeing them a bit uncertainly. Judy wondered if the maid thought they were there to arrest her boss – and whether she would consider that a good thing or a bad one.

"So Lionheart still has some of his house staff?" asked Catano, glancing around.

It was a rude question, but if the maid took any offense at it she hid it well. "Mister Lionheart is in the library with Mrs. Lionheart and a guest, if you'll kindly walk this way."

She escorted them through hallways which might have felt longer than they were, owing to the sheer size of them. Every passage and doorway looked wide enough that three elephants could walk down it side-by-side with no trouble. At length she stopped at a large pair of oak-paneled doors with well-polished brass handles. Voices could be heard from within, but none too clearly.

"You'll find him here," offered the maid, "but I should warn you that he's in a session with the missus at the moment."

"A session?" asked Judy, puzzled.

The maid nodded as she put a hoof on the door handle. "I'll ask if Mister Lionheart will see you, but-"

Anything else was cut off as soon as she opened the door. A sudden outburst emanated from the room with such force that, had it been a living thing, the doors might have been reduced to splinters.

"-saying that over and over!" shouted a female voice. "I'm sick of it!"

The maid cringed at the yelling and waved a hoof toward the doors. If she made any attempt to explain, it was lost in the more plaintive but equally loud reply.

"I'm saying it because it's the truth!" came the unmistakable voice of former mayor Lionheart. "I was trying to protect the city. To protect us!"

"Oh, and that worked out really well," his wife carped – for of course she was the other voice. "We've got protesters outside, our son is getting beaten up at school…!"

Judy's stomach lurched. She'd known that the former mayor had a family; that had historically been one of his selling points as a politician. She still remembered the talk that had gone on about the Lionhearts getting a pet water monitor. She hadn't really thought about the impact his exposure and arrest would have on his private life or those around him… until now.

That kind of harassment just because of what he did… she thought, twisting up inside at the thought of an innocent cub being pounded at school for his father's sins. It was way too much like what had happened to Nick for being a fox. No one should have to go through that.

"Mrs. Lionheart, please," another voice interjected. Judy hadn't heard this one before, but it was low and had a slight rasp to it that made her think of a jazz singer she'd heard once – or maybe it was blues.

"I know things aren't going like they should – and your husband has definitely made some mistakes," the speaker added pointedly as he went on. "But I guarantee you that filing for divorce is not going to solve any of it."

"Exactly," Leodore pressed. "This is only a temporary situation. If I can just-"

"Just what?" his wife demanded. "You're washed up in politics, your reputation is nothing, and you could go to prison for what you did. How exactly are we going to make ends meet when we can't even afford to live here anymore?!"

"Well, I'll… I'll…"

It was rare for Leodore Lionheart to be at a loss for words, but now he was.

The unknown speaker stepped in again. "I think you two should give that question some more thought – especially since we're almost out of time. Would you like to pray before we-"

"I am not in a praying mood," snapped Mrs. Lionheart. Her voice had quieted from a roar to a loud rumble, but she left no room for debate.

After a pause, the unknown party said – in a tone implying a sigh unheard through the door – "Alright, but I will be praying for you. Shall we meet this time on…" he must have checked a calendar. "Thursday?"

"I'm not going anywhere," said Leodore, trying to put a bold face on being, for all purposes, under house arrest.

His wife still sounded like her expression could kill flies. "My time's freed up quite a bit lately," she snapped.

"Alright," said the counselor. "Then please, try to work things out in the meantime and come up with some way to make ends meet."

By the brief silence, the investigators could just imagine the leonine couple looking uncertainly at one another. At last, there came a sigh.

"I'll try," Mrs. Lionheart promised. "For our son's sake, if not for his."

"So will I," proclaimed Leodore, diplomatically skipping over his wife's last shot. "We'll figure something out; I promise."

There was no missing a mutter of, "And we all know how good your promises are," from his wife.

Their counselor sighed, clearly feeling that the response – while understandable – was not helping matters. "Alright," he said.

There was a flapping sound which surprised Judy, although Catano seemed less taken aback. A moment later, a bat surprisingly similar to Nick flew through the doorway and braked sharply in the air at the sight of them.

"Sorry!" he blurted, dropping to the floor. "I didn't realize there was anyone out here."

Catano took the bat's surprise in stride. "We're here to speak with Mr. Lionheart."

The bat stepped sideways around them, noting Judy with obvious recognition but saying nothing. Now that he was more or less at her level, she could see that he was the herbivorous kind of bat known as a Giant Flying Fox. His head, neck, and wings were dark gray, and his clothes were of a peculiar design. The top part was like the collar of a polo shirt grafted onto the body of a poncho, and it buttoned onto a pair of pants which, baggy as they were to allow for his tail, clearly needed help to stay on. He dipped his head politely and shrugged, he extending a wing toward the doorway. "I suggest you try to avoid the missus," he whispered. "Things are a little, well, strained right now, if you see what I mean, and seeing uniforms… well, I suggest you try to catch Mr. Lionheart alone." So saying, he flew off down the hall.

Hopes of heeding his advice quickly disintegrated as the lioness, dressed in a gray and severe business dress, came out and stopped at the sight of them. After a momentary pause to take in the two officers – and frown at Judy – she simply said, "You must be here for Leodore." She looked as if she wanted to say something in her husband's defense, but then after a moment she stiffened her body and firmed her expression, throwing back her ears with decision. "Help yourselves."

Catano huffed and folded her arms as Mrs. Lionheart stalked off. "This is exactly the sort of reason why I don't date," she muttered when the lioness was out of earshot. At least one sort of reason, she added mentally. Then she waved a paw, signaling that she and Judy should enter the library. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

Ex-Mayor Lionheart sat dejectedly in one of a cluster of red velvet arm chairs in the middle of a sizable library. The furnishings, as in the rest of the mansion, were expensive but not tackily so; exotic plants in patterned earthenware jars, several busts of similar-looking lions (no doubt his ancestors), and a stunning abundance of books both on the shelves and on five or six tables spread around the room. Large windows flanked by curtains fit for any theater let in the sun, but the mood in the room felt dim and dismal.

That was partially due, no doubt, to the look on the lion's face. As mentioned, he was dejected. His once-proud shoulders slumped, his face was long, and his eyes had the look of one longing to awaken from a nightmare. His mane, while combed into a respectable condition, did not look nearly as impressive as usual. It had less body, and more hairs out of place, as if perhaps he had taken less time grooming it than usual and then lost that saved time in running his paws through it in despair. This was, actually, a pretty fair description of what he had been doing lately. Up to that point, Judy had reserved most of her sympathy for the lion's family. At this sight, however, she actually found herself feeling sorry for him. She also felt guilty for listening in, though she certainly hadn't gone looking to do it.

He glanced up before Judy or Catano said anything, and then for a long moment no one said anything.

"Officers," he greeted at last.

Catano set a paw on the doorknob. "Mr. Lionheart, we have some questions."

"Of course," he answered, standing up and gesturing to a pair of chairs remaining in a rough circle with his own from the counseling. Even at his lowest, he seemed resolved to save face and play the courteous host.

Catano went and sat in the larger of the two chairs – no doubt the one used by Mrs. Lionheart moments ago – while Judy took the bat's. A small table stood between the three of them, and a pitcher of water stood by two glasses mostly full and another that was empty.

"Would you like some water?" asked Lionheart. "I can call for fresh glasses."

Catano shook her head. "I'm fine, thanks."

Judy nodded her agreement. "Yeah, I'm… not so thirsty right now."

The lion made no argument, and sat down himself. He did his best to maintain an image of calm seriousness, but no one who looked well to his eyes could miss the helplessness within. If one looked closely they might even see hints of dark circles under those eyes, bespeaking of long and sleepless nights.

"What can I tell you?" he asked, twining his fingers together.

It was just as well that Catano did most of the questioning. Judy had no qualms about facing down Lionheart, or calling him out on his past actions, but seeing what had happened threw a whole new light on… well, everything. It wasn't just the thought of Mrs. Lionheart or the cub having to suffer for the things ex-mayor Lionheart had done. If it had been that simple, she could have just been more upset with Leodore. No, there was something else in the picture, though she tried not to bring it into account.

Judy didn't talk about it much, but some years ago one of her brothers had gone through a divorce when his wife decided she wanted to see other bucks. The proceedings had echoed through the Hopps clan for two awful years as he tried and tried to win her back or block the process. His ultimate defeat had left him a shell of his former self. Granted, Lionheart had actually earned his wife's displeasure, but the look in his eyes – hidden as it was – was too painfully familiar.

Despite the turmoil of his life, Lionheart bore the questioning with the polish of a seasoned politician. Perhaps he did so out of remorse over not having told the truth sooner. It might have also been that he was grieved at the failure of his past efforts. Possibly he simply understood that to be as useful to the police as he could was the only chance he had of salvaging the tattered remnants of his good name. Whatever the case, his voice never cracked and his hesitations over answers were rare.

Unfortunately, none of those answers were much help. No, he had no idea who Obearon might be. Obviously an absolute maniac, and (at Catano's prompting) probably someone who knew Bellwether, but that didn't say much. He had to admit he knew very little about his former assistant's social life. For several months before the predators started disappearing the sheep had seemed to cultivate that, obviously (in hindsight) to hide her plot. Yes, he knew Regis Killrahb. He was pretty sure they were second cousins or something of the kind. He had always known the maneless lion to be an excellent businessmammal, an involved citizen, and a diligent voter. There was no reason that he could see – except to cause the most chaos and disquiet, of course – that anyone would dart Killrahb. He knew Poisson, and was a little surprised that they were investigating the skunk. He freely admitted that he had been to a number of her parties, and every aspect of them had been, if micro-managed, certainly so handled to perfection. He knew, by his account, nothing of her business affairs – certainly not her investment practices. She was always quick to extol her family's history, but didn't say much about her upcoming business developments in any detail (not that he paid much attention).

"I suppose she's a bit secretive," he allowed, spreading his paws, "but what businessmammal isn't now and then? It's how you make a buck; don't let the competition know what you're up to."

And you know all about being secretive, don't you? thought Judy, though she wasn't sure she had the heart for it now.

"What about her support of your campaigns?" asked Catano. "And the Mammal Inclusion Initiative? Can you tell us anything about that?"

He shrugged. "Not much that can help you," he admitted. "She supported it for quite a while, but then she got furious when the city council decided to add some options for skunks."

Judy had spent most of the session alternately trying to focus on the task at paw and thinking about the impact this was having on the ex-mayor and his family. This last, however, pulled her mind thoroughly back to the case. "Wait a minute," she objected. "That doesn't make sense. She's a skunk. What kind of options for skunks would she oppose?"

"That's what I said," he agreed, lifting his shoulders and paws in a helpless shrug. "It was a special option specifically for mustellids, but she called it barbaric and unnatural."

Canato got the ages-old look in her eyes of a hunter catching sight of their target. "What exactly was her objection?" she asked.

Lionheart frowned for a moment. "Let's see; she was upset that we decided to allow assistance for mustellids who wanted to have their musk glands removed."

That gave them all something to pause over. Practically all mammal species had some kind of scent glands, mainly designed for conveying information about health, mood, and so on. Mustellids, however – skunks, weasels, wolverines, and even otters, to name a few – had specialized musk glands which produced an especially noxious liquid. In skunks and wolverines particularly, these glands were basically weaponized. However, they saw little if any use in modern times, and mostly just made the mammals so endowed rather unpopular. This, and sometimes the personal preferences of the mammals themselves, made surgical alteration rather popular among those who could afford it.

"So she doesn't want skunks – well, mustellids – to have their scent glands removed?" asked Judy.

Lionheart nodded. "She said it was a crime against nature to encourage any mammal to give up a part of their body to be more socially acceptable. Said it was as bad as declawing."

That actually seemed to make even Catano flinch – or at least widen her eyes and flick her ears. Declawing – usually done to predators – was a punishment so severe that many considered it immoral even for violent offenders. During the protests under Bellwether, a lot of prey mammals and even some predators had advocated declawing policies.

"What did you say to the objections?" asked Catano.

"Well at first I let Bellwether handle it," he admitted, spreading his paws. "She'd gotten along fine with Miss Poisson when I was organizing my campaigns."

Both officers exchanged a significant look. The theater. "And then what?" asked Judy.

He turned his paws pads-up. "Well, I tried to talk to her about it; told her no one would be forcing skunks to de-scent. She just wouldn't see it, though, and in the end I lost her support for my next mayoral run."

Catano shook her head at this logic, in light of the recent fiasco. No one had asked her opinion about voluntary declawing during the Bellwether conspiracy, and she probably wouldn't have said much anyway. However, her frank thought on the matter had been that any mammal who let themselves be mutilated like that would only make mandatory declawing seem more reasonable later on.

"Can you tell us anything else that might be useful?" she asked.

Lionheart sighed and rose from his chair, pacing to the window. Behind his back, he clenched one paw into a fist and wrapped the other around the wrist of the first. "I wish I knew something that might be useful," he said, gazing out the back window. "I really can't think of anything right now except what a mess everything's turning into."

Judy usually wasn't the inquisitive type. Yet something in Lionheart's demeanor – perhaps the sag of his shoulders or the droop of his ears – drew her out of her chair to the window where he stood.

Following his gaze, she looked out over a sizable pool in the back yard, lying languid in the shadow of the mansion. Leaves and debris on the surface testified that it had not been properly cleaned in the last day or two, but that wasn't what held her attention.

Next to the pool, where a diving board would usually be, was a large slab of stone which seemed to be propped on a few others, both for sunning and jumping into the pool. Sitting on the rock with hunched shoulders, looking out over the pool, was a teenage lion. His mane was half-grown and unkempt, and his arms – as far as Judy could tell – were crossed with the paws hanging on his upraised knees.

Judy knew without asking who this was. It had to be Lionheart's kid; the one getting beaten up because of his father's actions. With this realization, Judy couldn't help looking up at the former mayor, who simply stared down at his son and said nothing. He did notice her at one point, but only cast the officer a rueful expression and continued to observe Leodore Jr.

The only further question Catano had was what else Lionheart could tell them about any conversations between Poisson and Bellwether.

"I don't know," admitted the lion, turning back to his interrogator. "I know they used to talk quite a bit, but after the argument with Poisson I was too busy to pay much attention to Bellwether."

"And when was that?"

"About… oh, two, two and a half years ago."

Judy was almost too preoccupied to catch the date, but when she did it stopped her cold.

Based on all the ZPD had learned, Bellwether had been working on her plot for about that same length of time.

A recent conversation with Berserker88 got me thinking – well, thinking again – about human culture translating into Zootopia. The bit with Nick patting Judy on the head was an example; obviously in the previous chapter it was meant and received as a playful act of teasing. In a world as varied as Zootopia, though, it's easy to imagine that a gesture might mean very different things to different mammals. To give a human example, patting someone on the head or even giving them a noogie is just fine in, say, the (human) USA. However, there are other cultures where it's taken a lot more seriously. I remember reading about one culture (somewhere in Africa, I think) where the head is considered so sacred that any contact with someone's scalp – even a child's – is treated as practically blasphemous. In Catano's case, she apparently took it and the banter going with it in a different light, though why she would do so is a mystery I'll not get into just yet.

Choosing a pet for the Lionhearts was actually kind of interesting. I am not entirely sure how pets would translate into Zootopia, except that they would probably be more contained. You would have birds, of course, which are usually caged or pinioned anyway, and in a world with mouse citizens even a relatively small pet snake or lizard could potentially eat one's friends or neighbors if not carefully watched (see the trouble with cats and falcons in the Stuart Little movies). I ultimately settled on alligator monitor lizards, which are relatives of the famous Komodo Dragons and can grow up to eight feet long. It turns out that these particular reptiles are in fact legal as pets in California, with which the coordinates of Zootopia coincide.

The marriage counselor who was trying to help the Lionhearts work out their woes is a character I actually planned to introduce later, but this scene actually seemed to be asking for him early. I had already planned to make him a flying fox bat (as seen in the book and movie Stellaluna), and with the prey-versus-predator and other contrasts it brings to the table, I don't think I could have planned it better. Flying foxes, for those not in the know, eat fruit, not insects - and yes, they really do look like flying foxes. They are especially cute as babies; just ask YouTube. I recently had the opportunity to see some live and in person on a trip to the zoo with my girlfriend, and it was thoroughly enjoyable. Designing the bat's clothes was a challenge I'd been working on for some months, since a bat's wing and tail membranes would make it next to impossible for them to wear anything close to normal clothing.

I was actually pretty surprised by how this chapter unfolded with the Lionhearts. I admit that when watching the movie I never saw Leodore as a particularly sympathetic character, but when I got to working on his family life it just kind of whopped me over the head. Having witnessed a marriage falling apart and known one or two people rattled by divorces, it's hard for me to write about one in the making without my insides knotting up. Rest assured, I'll reach some kind of resolution about that issue later on in my material.

Concerning the issue of declawing and descenting in the world of Zootopia, I'm sure any number of readers will interpret that their own ways. As it concerns the real world, I'm opposed to declawing cats as a rule (even when my own cat tries, in his affection, to perforate my arms or stomach). Others have covered the matter of just what declawing does to a cat, so I won't get into the physiological details. In a context where skunks and felines were clearly human-level, I would probably side with both Poisson and Catano. In general I'm hardly ever in favor of unnecessary or non-restorative surgery with humans or animals, although I do support fixing pets... and I would probably de-scent a pet skunk if I had one. Whether that's inconsistent, you'll have to decide for yourselves.

And on one final note, I just wanted to share a bit of good news. After over a year of ill will, I finally got back on speaking terms with an old friend. I don't want to get into specifics – for obvious reasons – and we're not quite where we used to be, but at least we're talking again.

Easter Egg Answers:

Chapter Seven: The reference to dinosaurs from Pizza Hop is a nod to the collection of dinosaur puppets released by Pizza Hut when the movie The Land Before Time was released. Don't feel too bad if you didn't guess this one; the puppets are (as I understand it) quite obscure in general. Still, if you break down the movie it seems like one Judy would have liked growing up; she and Littlefoot actually have a lot in common. The twist about her unexpectedly finding the key in her pocket is a nod to Bilbo unintentionally making "What have I got in my pocket?" his winning riddle against Gollum in The Hobbit. I was hoping that directing readers to the whimsical quote at the beginning would make that easier, but alas it was, all too fittingly, not a fair riddle.

Chapter Nine: Taelia's wardrobe is directly inspired by the closet from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis, right down to being made of apple wood (though that detail about Lewis' wardrobe was not revealed until The Magician's Nephew). I added the idea of it being of rustic make since I am partial to such furniture, and suspect that it would be very popular in the part of Zootopia where Taelia grew up. On the way to the concert, Taelia thinks to herself, 'Face it, Taelia; you just hit the jackpot,' a modification of a line from Spider-Man's squeeze Mary Jane: "Face it tiger, you just hit the jackpot.' I'm having trouble placing the other Easter Egg in her assessment of Nick, except for one or two possible ones so vague they shouldn't count. I really need to stop doing that. The remark from her inner extrovert about "returning to the past now" is a reference to Code Lyoko, which is also where I got her name ("Taelia" is an anagram of "Aelita," one of the main characters, and also the name of a one-off character from the cartoons). Nick's cookie fortune is borrowed from the Disney live-action movie Sky High, one of their more underrated works in my opinion. Taelia's thought just before that, 'It's better than a dream' echoes a lyric heard in Lady and the Tramp 2. As an added bonus, while I was revising the chapter I added in photos of Xavier Moonbeamer's father, who will provide something of a musical Easter Egg later.

As for the Moonbeamers' name, that's an obscure one, though I made it as clear as I could with the note about American history. On September 11, 2001, a group of passengers fought back against hijackers and managed to reduce the body count of a major terrorist attack, albeit at the cost of their lives. I put the name Moonbeamer in out of respect to one of them: Todd Beamer, who became famous for the literal famous last words, "Let's roll."

Let's just hope Xavier Moonbeamer won't follow his namesake's fate. Of course, the only way to find out is to keep reading - and while you're at it... well, you already know what I'd like you all to do.

By the way, one reason I've been a bit less active on here is that I'm posting these chapters on Archive of Our Own now, and when I get to it I hope to put them on DA as well. Once those sites - or at least AO3 - catch up, my pacing should improve. (EDIT: I will still be posting on here. My thanks to dispix for raising that question in case anyone else wondered) Also, in as much as the rules on those sites allow, I mean to post the song lyrics which were originally part of chapter nine as well.