Judy considered herself a mammal with a sense of humor. Although jokes were few and far between in the unyielding walls of the city, she still felt that comedy had a time and place.
But this? This was by far the dumbest, most sardonic joke the universe could've pulled on her. As she surveyed the crowd in front of her, the roiling mix of emotions occupying her stomach finally reached a boil. Her face, however, managed to stay frozen in a mask of utter neutrality. Smooth as fresh ice.
"You're going to overthrow the city?" she parroted. Judy could feel the crowd's gaze on her, urged on by a curiosity that was nearly thick enough to swim in.
Nick, seemingly unbothered by the sudden attention, smiled brightly. "That's the plan."
A lone microphone stand leaned sickly against the porch's railing, and with a graceful swoop Nick offered it to her. She took it, mind still filled with a bubbling static.
Judy took a deep breath in, then out. These mammals had congregated - prey and predator, collared and uncollared - just to hear her speak, to hear her story.
It might've been a mocking one, but the universe had pitched her another chance, and with that thought the words began to flow.
"We can't win," she said plainly.
She didn't dare let her gaze meet the crowd's expression.
"Zootopia is unconquerable. Unshakable. Immovable, invulnerable, invincible. It's an empire built brick by unbreakable brick. Not one of us could make a goddamn dent in the city, together or alone."
"I'm telling you this because I tried. We tried. Thousands of prey and smaller predators gathered under one roof out of sheer defiance. By today, almost all of them lie dead, silenced before the outer city had even a chance of realizing its opportunity. I'd call it a massacre - Lionheart would call it a waste of food. When Nick found me in the fields, chased miles away from the city, I thought I was the last one left."
Judy paused, nearly breathless. The sparks of defiance had rekindled into a blazing bonfire. "But," she said, letting the word ring out like the slam of a gavel in the crisp afternoon wind, "I'm not. The last word has not been said, the final flame has not been extinguished, and the final bullet has not been fired!" she shouted.
"I stand in front of you today not as a hero or a martyr, but as a mammal that made a promise. Zootopia will fall. Maybe not in my lifetime, and maybe not in yours, but it will fall," she insisted. "And I'm going to do everything in my power to help that happen. Even if it kills me."
It occurred to her, as she spat the last word with a relentless resolve, that the crowd hadn't dared to interrupt her.
She tilted her head up in defiance, surveying the menagerie of expressions on display as the sound of uneasy clapping grew. Unfocused anger. Misplaced hope. Piqued curiosity, burgeoning pride, undisguised distrust, and so much more.
Nick stepped up next to her, wearing a smile split straight down the middle between damage control and renewed interest. The gears turning in his head were nearly audible as Judy passed him the mic; there would be time to tell the whole story later.
"Thank you, J- I mean… Carrots." A colorful patchwork of emotions gripped the air, but Nick seemed to navigate it with nothing more than a charming smile and a sweeping gesture to the crowd. "You heard her, folks - escape is possible. I've called you all here today to show you living proof that Zootopia isn't always in control."
Her eyes narrowed unconsciously at the nickname, but it dawned on her that giving out her name - or worse, her tag - to such a large group would be unthinkably stupid. As a low murmur of conversation broke out amongst the sea of mammals, she took another glance at Nick, noting that he didn't seem particularly fazed; this was probably a normal occurrence. Her eye caught his.
"Sorry about the surprise, by the way," he said, gently placing the mic at his feet. "Bit rude of me to throw a new friend up on the stage like that, I know, but I really needed this to happen. Motivation has been... in short supply."
"It's alright," she confirmed hesitatingly. Having such an admittedly conversation with a fox still pricked at her subconscious, and the mumbled din of their onlookers certainly wasn't helping her focus. "It was part of our deal."
Nick smiled. "Thanks. You can head back into the house if you want; we can get the rest of the story some other day. No rush."
"I'd like to say a little more, actually."
Surprise flitted across his muzzle, but it quickly resolved back into a wary, probing grin. "That's… fine by me. Would you mind leaving questions until the end, though?" he asked, receiving a quick nod in response.
The muttering mass of mammals seemed to quiet as discussion finally ceded to curiosity underneath. Scooping up the discarded mic to recapture their attention, Nick presented it to her once more.
Taking it carefully, Judy subtly kept her paws as far from his claws as possible. Whether or not this was a charade, it was not the time to be taking chances.
"We started small," she recalled, choosing to sit on the oaken stairs. Hearing her own voice magnified by the shoddy speakers steadied her heart. "Just another prey and I, tired of… everything, really. The work, the abuse, the fear. Originally we just wanted out."
She could see the words 'that's impossible' on the faces of the front row, collars blinking like a line of morse code. "Yeah, I know. We thought it was hopeless, but we didn't have a whole lot to lose."
"Our first obstacle was the walls. Fifty-odd feet of raw concrete and steel - taller than three elephants combined, topped with rusty barbed wire. Nobody has or ever will scale it. Only way in or out are seven gates, spaced evenly around the edges: three in the Canal District, two in Tundra, one each in Savanna and Rainforest."
She gauged the crowd's reaction. A few nods and shared glances, mostly from the small preds. Good enough.
"We didn't make much progress, at first. The constant labor and fear had our time in a stranglehold, and every night was another opportunity for the ZCM to break down our door."
That got a reaction. Ears perked and wavered at the acronym, and another round of shared glances sparked throughout her listeners.
Judy took another breath in. "W-
"And that's all we have time for, folks!" Nick interjected, offering her a pacifying glance as her mic was audibly cut. "Thank you for listening. Carrots will be with us for… at least the next few days, so I'll call us together again soon to hear more. As always, updates will be available through the radio at 10pm."
A jumpy, abrupt murmur of agreement was his answer. Judy, far more confused than the crowd, side-eyed Nick as he swiped the attention away from her; mammals calmly dispersed in every direction before he'd even finished speaking.
"What the hell?" Judy hissed to him quietly. Curiosity had settled into her voice faster than anger could. "I wasn't done. I didn't even get to the useful parts."
Nodding - both to her and the retreating audience - Nick sighed. "Sorry. Having this many mammals in one spot for too long is... a security risk. You'll get used to the quick dismissals."
"We had to do the same thing in the city," Judy supplied. Anger at being cut off still subtly jabbed at her; she hadn't even reached the five-minute mark! "Everyone was always worried we'd be found out back then."
Shrugging amicably, Nick took a seat beside her on the steps, wincing as he picked a splinter away from the time-splintered wood. She scooted over to leave a good foot of space between them.
"But honestly? I don't think they cared. All the big preds had their own agenda to look after, and it wasn't like they were worried about the opinions of prey," she mused, mostly to herself. A gentle breeze prompted one of her ears to twitch."We should've been caught hundreds of times. None of us knew what we were doing."
She let the statement hang in the air, quietly drawing shapes into the planks below her. Nick added a thoughtful sigh into the mix for good measure.
"Can't always have things go right, rabbit. And besides that, this is a city we're talking about; power structures and class systems that have been in place for centuries. It was never going to be easy."
"It never will be easy," she corrected him, almost unconsciously. "I'm not done. I'd burn every collar in the city if I could."
Nick quieted, a certain spark draining from his eyes. "Speaking of collars…" he started cautiously, watching as Judy's expression sharpened to a needle's point, "...You should consider using one to blend in. Even if it's fake."
"NO," she snarled. One paw instinctively reached to her neck, rubbing the stunted fur where it had once dwelled. "There will be no debate on this, Nick. I'm not going back."
"Alright, alright," Nick placated understandingly. Regret laced the edge of his muzzle, but for which reason - whether he regretted asking, regretted her stubbornness, or regretted inviting her on-stage - she couldn't tell. "Just thought I'd ask. We'll be able to cover for you; the census-taker doesn't come around often. If anyone asks… you're a stray, picked up near the edge of town."
Judy can tell the pause was feigned; he'd thought through a cover story already. If she was being honest, it was both comforting and unnerving that he'd planned this far ahead.
Offhandedly, she noticed one flame-orange blob that seemed to be making its way towards the house rather than away with the retreating crowd.
"Got it." A sliver of irritation remained in her voice. "When's the next meeting?"
"Not sure," Nick began casually, "It's a bit tough to get everyone together like this. Probably no more than a few days, if I had to guess. Until then, it'd be best for you to keep working at the farm-" He caught her expression of distaste, raising a mollifying paw, "-because it won't arouse suspicion. You'll be provided with shelter and food, too."
A long, heavy sigh answered. All things considered, she was getting the better end of this deal: somewhere to stay and a reliable source of communication with Ben, for the mere price of her time. Assuming this deal was genuine, gratefulness - admittedly tarnished by the lack of freedom - was overdue.
"I can do that," she finally said. Out of the corner of her eye, she notes that the orange blob had come closer. "It'll be like yesterday, right? Picking blueberries until the baskets are full?"
The fox nodded. "Yup. Duke or I can answer any questions you have; I run the financial side of things, and he runs the mammalian side. If you need medical attention, the doc…" He trailed off, catching something in the corner of his eye. A flinch followed.
The orange thing she'd seen had finally come close enough to identify: Another fox, dressed in simple farmwear clean enough to shine, was swaggering towards them. Almost instinctively, the smattering of prey remaining veered away.
"Dammit," Nick sighed. Bitterness spread across his features like wildfire, and with a subtle gesture he urged the rabbit to head back inside, keeping his gaze perpendicular from the approaching fox. "Sorry, Judy. I… have to deal with something. Meet you in the house in ten?" he said, hushed.
She peered out of the corner of her eye at their new guest. While she wouldn't describe their expression as hostile, it certainly wasn't friendly. Confidence - or perhaps arrogance - rang out with every step they took.
"Judy," Nick hissed. "Get. Inside. I won't be long. I promise."
"...Alright," she said finally, with a doubtful frown. Judy stood from the steps, sparing one worried glance behind her before walking with all the feigned normalcy she could manage through the shuddering door. This was Nick's figh- guest, and from his tone she doubted he was in serious danger.
Nonetheless, she crouched beneath the nearby window, closing her eyes and straining to hear the outside.
First was the gentle crunch of leaves as they were tread on. Next was a quiet groan of the stairs as she assumed Nick stood; it wasn't hard to imagine the shrouded worry on his muzzle.
Last was the conversation.
"Wilde," a new voice drawled. She assumed it was the other fox.
"Ah, sir, so good to see you! I was wondering when you'd come by. This is a simple misunderstanding, I promise."
A silence, followed by a languid huff. "I'd hardly call a forest fire a misunderstanding. Explain."
Nausea pounds her stomach, hard enough to keel her over like she'd been stabbed. She forgot about the fire.
"Sir, it wasn't my doing," Nick explained patiently. "All I know is that a few days ago those acres hosted a fire, likely started by…" He paused, just long enough for her throat to seize. "...natural causes."
How much had been destroyed? She didn't check. She couldn't check.
A guttural snort followed, the distilled sound of utter contempt. "Don't gimme one of your stories, Wilde. I was told that the ZCM came through - armed and outside of the city. If they come askin' questions, it's my tail on the line. You know who's next?"
"Me," Nick murmured. Despair - faked or not, she couldn't quite tell - dripped from his voice.
Her guilt compressed into a tight coil, stored away to explode. There would be time for explanation - and apology - later.
"You. Boss don't want either of us dead, Wilde, so find an explanation. Lie if you hafta - you're good at that."
Something mumbled. There was a slight curve to the pitch at the end, like the words were being thrown rather than said, and then a heavy thud. Despite being well out of sight, Judy felt a rush of equal parts adrenaline and fury enter her system.
"I told you not to get smart with me." Another thud, louder this time, and the distinct slap of a mammal hitting the dirt. One paw, previously over her mouth, settled grimly on her knife. If this went much further… "Send me something I can use over the radio. Soon. Property damage from the fire is gonna be taken outta your paycheck."
"Got it," Nick wheezed laconically. Even without seeing him, the airiness of his voice clearly told her that he'd been winded.
"Mmm," the other fox drawled. "You'd better. I got other business to attend to, and I ain't plannin' on coming round here again."
And again, the crunching of leaves - this time quieting as that damned fox swaggered away - framed by the semi-controlled gasping of Nick.
She couldn't wait another second. Drawing her knife, she opened the door quietly, filled with a surge of spite on seeing an umber-orange form, back turned. Creeping down the steps, she began appro-
"Don't!" Nick hissed quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. His head had snapped to her the second she stepped out. "Please, don't. It'll just make things worse," he rasped. A fresh coating of dirt slathered the side he'd fallen on, but fortunately nothing seemed broken, mental or physical.
Her teeth gritted, grinding near-audibly. The white-hot spike of rage dulled, if just for a moment, but not quite enough for her to form a sentence. Fanning the anger would help overpower the burgeoning guilt as it clawed against the cage she'd put it in.
"I'll be alright, just need to get to Doc. Got off easy this time. Help me up, please?" Although he was sprawled on the ground, a bright, frighteningly genuine smile was painted across his face.
Judy wordlessly offered him a paw. He took it gratefully, one arm resting over his stomach as she cautiously helped to pull him up; even his tail was stained a dusty brown.
"Sorry you had to hear that," he said quietly. "That fox is the leader of our biwarren, responsible for maintaining all the land nearby. I work as a kind of right-hand-mammal for him, unfortunately."
"It sounded like he was using you as a punching bag," she bristled. Nick was her one half-possible - okay, maybe quarter-possible - chance at freedom, and anyone that endangered him was not an ally. "What's his name?"
"Gideon," Nick murmured. "Gideon Grey."