legoshi: wait. sorry. whats happening?

"Okay, but seriously," said Judy, "that better be the last one!"

The lab was still tilted, but silent. They were checking over the computer, just to be thorough. But it really was dead.

"Be quick." Carmelita's voice had regained its authority. "We have to assume the worst case scenario; Neyla did disable the oxygen, and the EMP only made that situation worse. This entire station is a death trap now, so we need to regroup and leave safely. Everybody stay close and help me restrain-"

With a scream, Andross burst from the wreckage.

He was feral. There was nothing left of the smug intellectual. He was a howling animal, propelled by rage and spite as the last fragments of his life's work turned to ash.

Just rage and spite motivated his movements, the way he shunted them all to one side and grabbed, randomly, at Sly, one surprisingly strong hand crushing the thief's throat. In the other, he had a piece of the Fileactery, a shard so sharp his furious, shaking grip was bordered with blood. He stabbed directly at Sly's heart.

Sly's dexterity failed him. The monkey's grip was too strong to break. So when the world slowed down, honed reflexes drawing out the moment, there was no benefit. All it did was freeze the image in Sly's mind. The mindless hate in those wild eyes.

And just as suddenly, a sound cut the air. Andross grunted and fell.

Sly heaved a breath, the shard clattering harmlessly to the floor. He - and the others - looked up to his saviour.

Wolf O'Donnell easily hefted Fox with one arm, holding him to his chest. The light of his electronic eye had gone dead. With his other hand, he trained Fox's pistol on Andross.

"Shut up, old man."

He fired twice more. And that was it.

Sly felt Carmelita's hands on him. "Tell me you're alright."

"Aren't I always?" He gave her a timid smile. "I, uh…"

"Yes?"

"You were right," he murmured. "About the whole 'revenge quest' thing. I'm over it."

Carmelita was unimpressed. "That's easy to say now that he's dead."

"Haha, sure is!"

"So, uh," said Nick, giving Wolf a dubious look, "are you good now?"

"I'm the same as I always was," huffed Wolf.

"No." There was a quiet conviction to Fox's voice. He stayed close to Wolf's chest. "You're better."

Wolf glanced to him, then to Judy, who was giving him an equally insufferable little smile. The others were more guarded, more cynical. But Wolf's actions spoke for themselves, and he could see what he had earned. It grew slowly in their eyes.

Respect.

He growled. "Quit it!"

"Yeah, quit it. Focus up, losers."

Penelope entered - standing tall on Murray's palm. Bentley wheeled in alongside.

The others, especially Nick and Sly, tensed immediately. But Penelope just raised a hand. "Cool it. Fight's over, you won." Her brown eyes were dark. "Almost."

Nick glared. "What? You have a last-minute revenge scheme?"

"You're half-right. But it's not mine. It's-"

The room rocked. Again.

"That," she said. "That is very, very bad."

Carmelita's glare was much more professional. "What's going on?"

Penelope looked at the computer, thin trails of white smoke still trailing from some corners. "We inferred from context - 'context' being 'my bots all going berserk and trying to kill me' - that Clockwerk got access to the station's systems."

"Both him and Neyla, yes."

"And," added Sly quickly, "Neyla actually was Krystal, so Bentley's scepticism was, like always, well-placed." Bentley compressed his thoughts on this matter into a tired shrug.

"Whatever!" snapped Penelope. "Point is, before I could fry them, they fried the systems powering the MacBeth engine. Those explosions then knocked us out of our orbit." She jabbed a finger out at the globe. "Keep your eye out the window, and you'll notice that's getting bigger. We're going down."

"Alright, fine," said Sly. "We wanted this whole place trashed anyway. Let's get to the hangar and-"

"S-sorry, Sly." Bentley was the kind of thorough paranoiac who would EMP-proof his personal laptop, but the sheer euphoria of such specific preparations paying off did nothing to lift his spirits. He frowned into the screen. "I'm afraid it's not that simple. The station has been put on a very, very specific trajectory. I… It, uh…"

Penelope craned her neck to see. "Yep. Exactly what I thought." Behind her, Murray stared.

"What?" said Carmelita. "Bentley, what is it?"

"We, uh…"

He turned his laptop around, showing them the predicted crash site.

"We're going to hit Zootopia. Directly."

A ripple of shock went through them. Judy gasped, eyes wide, ears shooting up. "A-are you kidding?! How?!"

Penelope folded her arms. "With that computer's processors? They coulda easily thought of, perfected, and executed this plan in about two seconds. They knew exactly where to aim."

"That…" Judy looked uncharacteristically helpless. "We can't let that happen."

"This is really, really bad," agreed Bentley, losing any sense of technological eloquence. "The blunt impact alone would be cataclysmic, but-"

"But," added Penelope, "because someone overloaded Andross' dumb accelerator, we're actually looking at an explosion that'll level the whole city."

Judy's horrified choke was buried under Bentley's yell. "Excuse me? Was that a dig at me?!"

"Oh, you got that, did you?"

"You're the one who de-stabilized this whole platform! If you had implemented a better solution, then maybe-"

"Baseless theorising! Unless you can show me hard math that proves-"

"Neither of you," snapped Carmelita, eyes burning, "are about to do any math! Is that clear?!"

"Yes," mumbled Bentley.

"Oop. Yeah. Okay," mumbled Penelope.

"If you can stay focused in the brief time we have left," she continued, "we would appreciate any way to stop millions of people from dying horribly."

They both lapsed into a thoughtful silence. And a second later, they burst out of it again, their voices tripping over each other.

"The accelera-"

"The Jet!"

"That's what I-"

"I know, I'm-!"

"Bentley," said Carmelita very loudly, "is going to explain the idea you have obviously both had. And you can correct him on anything when he's done," she added, meeting Penelope's affronted expression with a glare.

"What we need to do," said Bentley, "is alter the velocity of the huge metal projectile this station has become. If we could blow it off course, say into the bay-"

"No, do not say into the bay," said Nick, "it's full of ships and a cornerstone of the city's economy. Somebody sank a whole freighter outside Zootopia a few months ago," he glared. "Do you have any idea what a headache that was for everyone involved?!"

"And that's assuming it doesn't cause a huge flood!" said Judy.

"Right, yes, of course." Bentley rubbed his eyes. "Further. Further out into the ocean. But it's the same principle. We just need to change our trajectory."

"Which we can do," said an impatient Penelope, "with the Clockwerk Jet and the accelerator. We'll fire the Jet like a bullet, and the kinetic energy generated by the accelerator will push the station off-course."

"Like a souped-up, sci-fi tow truck!" said Murray.

She smiled up at him. "Exactly, big guy."

"Actually, it'd be the inverse," said Bentley. "We'll overload the accelerator - further, that is - which will not only generate enough explosive recoil to achieve a sufficient change in velocity, but also set off a chain reaction that should destroy more of the station as it falls. Judy's right - the smaller we can make this thing before it hits the ocean, the better."

"And you still want to blow this whole place up," sniffed Penelope.

"Oh, that went without saying."

"Then we have a plan," said Carmelita. "How do we make it happen?"

"You're gonna need these, fer starters."

They looked up. During the conversation, Wolf had wandered into Andross' office, Fox still comfortably tucked in his arm. With his free hand, he held up a sheet of paper.

"This is the only reason I came up here," he said. "Andross' computer was what controlled the hangar doors. Even if all his tech's busted, he kept the only set of manual codes in his desk."

"We have to open the hangar manually?" said Sly. "I thought doors are supposed to open automatically if the system breaks."

Penelope glared at him. "The doors to space, you mean? You want those doors to open automatically whenever there's trouble? The ones that lead outside? To space?"

He glared back. "…Alright fine whatever."

"Point is," growled Wolf, "there's nothing else up here." He was already moving. "We better continue this discussion in the hangar."

"Let's not dwell on how strange this sounds," said Carmelita, "but Wolf's right. Move it, people. While we still have air…"

He and Fox exited, then Murray and Penelope and Bentley, then Nick and Judy. Sly lingered for a moment, his eyes on the broken computer. But he didn't object when Carmelita took his hand and led him away. He gave her a quiet smile. And they left.

The elevators were as dead as the computer. They had to climb down the emergency ladder along the shaft, a task made no easier by their vastly disparate sizes and the fact two of their number lacked working legs.

"This is all moot, of course," said Bentley sourly, from his position under Murray's armpit, "if Penelope's EMP affected the vehicles in the hangar."

Murray tensed. "The Van! My precious Van!"

"Calm down, big guy! The Van'll be fine!" Penelope awkwardly patted his opposite shoulder. "This was my escape plan, after all. I made sure the EMP wouldn't affect the hangar itself, 'cause how else would I leave?"

"But what about-?"

"Yes, Bentley, the accelerator's Faraday cage shielding means it's fine too! If it wasn't fine I wouldn't suggest this plan in the first place!"

"Haha," said Nick, "this is a really long climb."

Past the floating platform, through the wreckage of Barons and Knights and Phantasms, straight down to the hangar. All the way, Bentley and Penelope continued to hammer out the plan. With Carmelita's burning eyes still on them, they managed to keep the general tone closer to 'robust debate' than 'acidic bickering'.

They moved with purpose. They all did. But although he had initially led, Wolf was soon limping in the rear. Fox watched his face.

"Are you okay, Wolf?"

He didn't look down. "Got enough circuits in me that I damn well felt that EMP. I'll be fine, though. I ain't about to drop you."

Fox knew that. He had seen Wolf's sudden, pained reaction when the lights all fizzled out. And he knew the arms under him, the chest he was held against, were still solid nonetheless. That wasn't what was slowing Wolf down. And Fox knew that, too.

"Okay." Penelope had emerged surprisingly quickly as a respected voice in the group. Imminent death tends to have such effects. "Whatever about saving the city, we also all gotta get off this rig. Since we're using the accelerator for something else, our options are… nothing."

"I've said it before, and I gotta keep saying it!" said Murray. "The Van! Can do! Anything!! Let's just pile in, and we'll be fine!"

"That's…"

As they all came to the hangar, picking over broken drones, Penelope's eyes fell on Fox's plane. And lit up.

"…genius!"

"Huh?" said Murray, suddenly self-conscious.

"The burnup of entering the atmosphere is gonna seriously damage your plane, but it might get the Van close enough to the ground for a safe drop…" She pointed at the cockpit. "Help me up, big guy, I gotta make some quick modifications!"

"Okay!"

"Is there anything we should do?" said Carmelita.

"No offence, Inspector," said Bentley, eyes intently on his laptop, "but anyone without technical expertise should probably wait in the Van."

"Fine with me!" It was Sly's turn to lead Carmelita, pulling Nick and Judy in his wake too. "Shout if you need us."

He led them into the back, and they resumed the lengthy task of strapping themselves in. Nick caught his eye. "Hey, uh…"

"Yeah?"

"So, if this room was unaffected, and the accelerator was unaffected… Well, they didn't fry every computer up here." Nick cringed. "I hate to say it, but… Clockwerk, or Neyla, or whatever that thing was - what if it's not really dead?"

"Eh," said Sly.

His hands were steady, helping Carmelita with her seat.

"We've won here. Just like we won before, and like we'll win again. For all his horrific power, what'd Clockwerk achieve, exactly? Nothing much. Neyla, too. Now the best they can do is show up every so often and sour my mood."

Casually, he took Carmelita's hand. She gave him a smile. He returned it, then turned it to Nick.

"I'm feeling pretty good about the future. And I have all of you to thank."

Nick didn't have a reply for that. He and Judy just smiled back.

Bentley hacked into the accelerator, a task made easier with experience and proximity and a total lack of interference. Penelope made efficient modifications to Fox's jet. And Murray, using the manual codes, set the hangar doors to open on a timer. They would need to be ready when the last of their air escaped.

But there was stillness amid the fevered work. Wolf stood just under the Clockwerk Jet.

"Wolf." Fox's voice had begun to strengthen again. "There's something you aren't telling me."

One lonely purple eye, gazing upwards.

"Wolf!"

"The plan's not bad," he said. "I hope it works. It's efficient, too. Overloading the accelerator will destroy all this stuff. Including this damn owl." He sounded hoarse again. "But there's just one problem."

He finally met Fox's gaze.

"It… needs a pilot."

Wolf knew they were all listening, now. Murray had drifted up. Bentley and Penelope didn't slow their work, but he felt their attention on him. They could doubtlessly hear him from the Van, too. He hated it. Hated having an audience for this.

This was between him and Fox.

Like clockwork - like a knife to the gut - Fox said exactly what Wolf predicted. "Okay. I'll do it."

"You won't."

"Wolf, I have to! Someone has to."

"No, no." Bentley's fingers kept working even as his voice wobbled. "I obviously assumed there'd be an Autopilot feature we could use, rather than-"

Penelope let out a frustrated groan. "No. No, it only works with a pilot! I completely forgot! Wolf, I'm sorry, we-"

"There's a solution here, there has to be. Give me some time, I'll - I can reprogram the accelerator to-"

"No," growled Wolf, "you can't."

His natural eye burned, more than making up for the dead grey his other one had become.

"Cut the crap. We don't have time to sit around and come up with some perfect solution! Every second we're getting closer to that city. Don't risk millions of people for my sake. That's just stupid."

"But-!" Fox stared up at him. "It doesn't have to be you! I can do it! Let me go!"

Wolf looked down.

His cybernetic eye had gone grey. That cold light had been extinguished. Now all that remained was purple. Taking in Fox's frantic face.

Fox understood that look. Maybe more than any look anyone had ever given him. In that eye, he saw all the trust Wolf had for him. Wolf knew that he could pilot that Jet, and, if given the slightest chance, he would.

Fox also understood he wasn't going to get that chance.

Wolf kissed his forehead and subtly tightened his arms. The briefest hug. "You. Uh… Murray, right?"

"Yeah?"

Wolf passed his charge over into Murray's arms. And he let Fox go.

Fox squirmed. "Wolf, don't-!"

But Wolf ignored him. "You get him home safe. You hear me?" Not a request. Almost a threat.

Murray hesitated, but only for a second. "It's what I do."

"Good."

Wolf's gaze lingered on Fox, who stared back at him, green eyes wide and wet. "Wolf… I c-could…!"

"Sorry, starfox." A pet name he thought he'd never hear again, murmured low into his ear. "I can't let you."

And that was it. A kiss, too short, a touch, too brief. And Wolf turned away.

Murray watched him calmly enter the Clockwerk Jet, never looking back. "Huh." His voice came out quiet. "I guess sometimes not everyone makes it back."

Fox hadn't accepted it. He still struggled in his arms, fighting and squirming-

Until he didn't. It was like a switch had been flicked. Murray felt him go limp. Those eyes became dull.

It tore at his heart. But it didn't slow him down.

A vital part of emotionally supporting others is ensuring they don't die. Murray was great at that part. He moved quickly and efficiently. Fox was placed in the middle of the Van's front seat. Bentley, still typing, was put next to him. The wheelchair was disassembled and stored, more bluntly this time. And then he was in the driver's seat, hurriedly reworking the seatbelts so he, Bentley and Fox would all be secured. Almost ready.

"You guys strapped in?" he called over his shoulder. "We're just waiting on Penelope!"

On cue, a voice crackled into Bentley's ear. "Hey."

"Yes?"

"I'm all done with Fox's plane. It should give you the control you need to manage your descent."

"Um…" Something about her phrasing was off. "Aren't you the one flying it?"

"Check your laptop."

A notification. When he selected it, he was asked if he would allow User Airheart_Babe to make changes to his device.

It was normally a question that would make his skin crawl. Without hesitation, he selected Yes.

In seconds, there was a new icon on the screen, labelled 'RC'. Selecting it yielded a view of the plane's cockpit. There were other angles, inside and outside the plane, he could cycle through.

And there were controls.

"You wired it like one big RC plane," he said.

"Astute."

"And you're giving me the controls?"

"Yep. I get the impression my connection won't last when we, uh…"

"Penelope," said Bentley, "where are you, exactly? I don't understand…"

"Yes you do," she said. "You really expected me to go with you? You don't want that. Ask anybody in that Van. I'm not welcome. So I'm taking the only other way off."

He found himself tensing. "The Jet-!"

"Might survive the trip. I'll take my chances with Wolf. However low they are."

"But…"

"No buts. No time for buts. And because I know you're thinking it, because you're always thinking it, and you're right to think it when it comes to me - no, this RC program isn't some elaborate death trap. Your controls will work. Precision Earhart engineering. You can trust that much, at least."

Bentley's voice sounded distant, even to himself. "I see."

"It's an intuitive design that I was… Look, you'll figure it out. Your RC skills aren't a patch on mine, but they're impressive in their own way."

"That's the nicest thing you've said to me since we broke up."

"It's the nicest thing I've said to anyone since we broke up."

There was a pause, and for a second, Bentley thought she had simply hung up. But her voice came through one last time.

"Bentley?"

"Yeah?"

"Safe falling, I guess."

"Thanks. You too."

He looked up. Murray was watching him. From his expression, it was clear he had heard enough of that conversation to know what was happening.

"I'm sorry," said Bentley. It didn't feel like the right thing to say, but he had nothing else.

Murray shook his head. "It's okay. We're, uh…"

His hand rested on Fox's shoulder, still sunken in silence.

"We're learning some life lessons today."

Bentley nodded.

"But I'll tell you this much…"

Murray's voice strengthened, catching the attention of the four in the back. Even Fox managed to look up.

"Everybody in this Van is making it home. That's a promise. 'Cause if we manage that…" He put on a grin. "We'll be in pretty good shape, right?"

Sly caught his eye, matching his smile. And that was all he needed. Murray's hands were steady on the steering wheel. He was ready.

They all were. More or less. And Sly's voice carried. "You know, if I have to burn to death as I plummet back through the atmosphere from space… I'm really, really glad I get to do it like this. Surrounded by the people I love the most."

"Well put, Sly." Bentley focused on his laptop. "Let's hope that sentiment lasts."

With a shrill beep, the timer ended. The hangar door opened.

It was bad. The world was so much bigger.

What had started as a slow, lazy drift was growing and growing in speed. The closer they got, the faster they would become, until this huge makeshift bomb reached terminal velocity. Zootopia was the victim. But when those doors opened, and a huge globe stared up at them, accusatory, there was a sudden sense of hostility.

Time to go.

Both jets came to life - one nudged by remote commands, the other in the capable hands of two legendary pilots. Predicting Bentley's timing, Murray released the Van's handbrake. The natural - unnatural - tilt of the station began trundling them towards that gaping door.

Judy didn't wait to be prompted this time. She reached out and took Nick's hand. He squeezed.

The Clockwerk Jet unfurled its wings, but stayed in place, waiting. Bentley gave the plane a few tentative commands, getting it to hover above the Van. He didn't have long to master it.

And then everything lurched, and then everything began to get hotter. They had hit the atmosphere.

The station took the brunt of the heat as they sheltered in the hangar, waiting for their moment. The plummeting station matched the earth's rotation, so the globe barely moved as they fell. Only grew. Now Nick could see his hometown - or the little patch of coast his hometown should be. A dark metal splodge, directly below. Growing.

The Van lurched. Bentley was taking them forward.

Judy's grip on Nick's paw was tight, but then she felt another. Sly. He reached for her other hand, and she accepted him, and Carmelita was across from her holding onto Sly and to Nick. A chain. A circle.

A welcome sliver of comfort when the whole Van began to shake.

The plane blasted away from the station. It was far too high, too hot, to be safe. But they needed distance. The engines accelerated gravity's deadly design, and in seconds, they had left Bolse behind. Huge and flaming. Death from space, eager to wipe out the dinosaurs anew.

The station took most of the flames. But the plane, the Van, were going much, much too fast. And they all felt the air get hot. Boiling.

The ground grew. Zootopia zoomed. Time stretched, every instant agony, but it would be over all too soon. It came down to this. They would live, or die. The city would live, or die. No middle ground. No second chances.

The accelerator activated.

With its systems overloaded, it wasn't quite instant. And the stream of energy, once invisible, came alive with bright blue light. Hard to spot against the clear winter sky. But Fox saw it.

Fox watched it all. The way the Clockwerk Jet hung there, for a quarter of an instant. And then, with a beam of blue, it vanished. He saw the scar left in the sky, just for a moment. And then, that was it. Gone.

The blue built. The accelerator rattled. And the station imploded.

It wasn't violent. There was a minimum of debris. It just… twisted, in a way something so large and solid never should twist. It looked quite a bit smaller. And it was spiralling away.

What remained of Bolse was destined for the ocean. Zootopia was safe. Now it was just a matter of the seven idiots plummeting to earth in a van.

Bentley was hyperventilating. Just a little. He didn't let it distract him, his eyes intently on the screen, his fingers a blur, as fire gripped the plane like a burning fist and all kinds of warnings screamed at him-

Piece by piece, the rigging between the vehicles was snapping.

The plane reversed course, now fighting gravity's pull with all it had. Too late. What they had tentatively attempted, starting still on the ground, was now impossible. Inertia had its fingers in their bones. A jet couldn't lift a van. Not a van falling this fast.

With a final scream, the plane gave up. And exploded.

Now they were in freefall. Murray felt the explosion, heard Bentley gasp. He gripped the steering wheel. He hadn't given up. Not yet.

They hit the top of the dome like a bullet.

Fragments of unsuspecting drones went flying. So did they. The Van was now trapped in a death spiral, flipping and rolling high above Zootopia. No-one screamed. They were all too terrified to scream.

Murray waited, and waited. And pulled a makeshift lever.

The parachute from the now-deceased plane burst from the Van's roof, unfurling like a flower. Just as delicate. Almost as useless. The howling air tore at it. But now Murray had some tiny degree of control. And he was using it.

They had stopped spinning. The parachute didn't last, sheer force ripping it loose to flutter daintily at its own pace. But now the Van was pointing straight down. Zootopia's central plaza screamed towards the windshield.

ZPD headquarters. The museum. The central station. And closest to them, the tall white tower that was City Hall. Tall, with gently sloping curves.

The Van's wheels hit skyscraper. Bounced. Settled. Tyres rolling.

The blackened damage of the highest floor had flashed past in an instant. Just white. Murray pulled the handbrake and wrenched the steering wheel. A familiar move in a ludicrous context. The Van spun and wobbled but evened out, and it was backwards. Still rolling.

Handbrake on. Footbrake slammed. And every ounce of his concentration on his quote-unquote 'driving'. In the back, they still clung to each other. He would not let them down.

The Van left dirty tyre tracks along the brilliant white of the building, and hit the end of the slope, and flew. Slower. Still a bullet.

They lurched through the air and landed on a nearby street. Hit the tarmac with a screech of brakes, fighting this fatal momentum. They shook, and slid, and slid. And slid. Slid.

The Van slid, slowly, into a vacant parking space. Almost perfectly aligned.

A few moments passed. The streets were quiet.

Three foxes, a rabbit, a raccoon, a hippo, a turtle, and a disassembled wheelchair spilled out.

Several seconds passed in shocked silence. Mostly they just stood or crawled or sat on the tarmac, feeling the solid ground beneath them. Murray had pulled both Bentley and Fox from the Van, and after a moment he laid them down. Bentley sat up straight. Fox did not.

Finally, Nick spoke.

"Okay. Everybody remember where we parked."

And that was it. They were home.

Another cheer went up - a little shakier, a little less steady, than when they had made it to Bolse. Not everyone joined in. But the moment was undeniable. Getting to space had been a miracle. Coming back was something even bigger.

"Murray!" Sly's voice rang out. "That - that was the most amazing thing you've ever done! That anyone's ever-!"

"Don't thank me! Thank my baby! What did I tell ya? What did I tell ya?! The Van spits in the face of death! It's history's most perfect machine!" He gestured, full-bodied, to his child. Impressively pristine. "It never lets you down, and it's never going to d-!"

The heat of re-entry hadn't taken its toll on the fuel tank. Until now. And at this exact moment, the Van exploded.

It was a brutal death. But a swift one. A proud vehicle, full of happy memories and valuable items, transformed instantly into a huge fireball which contained neither. There was no sound except for the roar of fire - no sound, except for a tiny, muted squeak of grief.

Murray stared. It was all he could do.

Sly and Bentley both struggled to find words. They were also shocked, of course. It was theirs, too. Their home, their refuge. But it was Murray's baby. And their first thought was to comfort him.

But there was nothing to say. And they didn't move first.

Carmelita stepped forward. She caught Murray's eye, and showed him her pistol. Pulled the trigger to no effect. He understood.

Then she laid it down in front of the burning Van. She stepped back, alongside the others. Quiet.

Sly realized something. He produced his Binocucom and flicked a few buttons. No reaction. More casualties.

He gently took his own, and Murray's, and Bentley's. Laid them all down together. No-one spoke. Bentley didn't point out the obvious practicalities - that he had built and rebuilt them a dozen times. That it would be easy to replace them. They just embraced the moment. This impromptu viking funeral.

Murray removed his mask. His face was damp with sweat. His eyes were damp, too. Bentley followed suit, and so did Sly, hat against his chest. His cane, more appreciated than ever, tight in his grip. Carmelita dipped her head.

Three Binocucoms, in blue and pink and green, and a blocky red pistol. What remained of a van. Still sturdy.

Objects. Important ones. They could be replaced, yes. Rebuilt. But never forgotten.

Nick nudged his partner. Murmured, subtly. "The pen?"

"Hmm?"

"If the carrot pen broke too, maybe you should add it."

"Actually… I don't have it. I left it at home yesterday. I've been using that thing less and less."

"Huh."

He nodded. They took in the scene.

"Maybe for the best," he murmured. "This is their moment, not ours."

They left them to it. The partners stayed close. Fox lay still. And the four of them - unarmed, hats off - stood there. Bittersweet. Tired.

"It's going to be okay," said Murray finally. They knew he didn't mean the Van. Not specifically.

"You're right."

Sly smiled up at him. He felt Carmelita's hand on his shoulder, and he turned to her, too.

"It's all gonna be okay."

Judy's ear perked. She turned, breaking into a wide, wide smile. "Guys! We've got a welcoming party!"

A cruiser had followed their trajectory, pulling to a stop with the jagged energy of a skilled but worried driver. Fangmeyer emerged, which didn't surprise Judy, nor did the appearance of Wolford from the back.

But everyone was a little thrown when Benjamin Clawhauser, his uniform damaged and his whiskers unkempt and his eyes wild, exploded out of the car and bore down on them.

"Benji!" said Nick. "Sprinkles, my guy, we-"

He was cut off when he and Judy were pulled into the angriest hug of their lives.

"Where," said Clawhauser, his voice cracking, "WERE YOU?!"

He dropped them, semi-violently, as they helplessly stared.

"I've been - we've been-!!" He threw arms up, indicating the far-off dome of robots. The impact of their entry still visible. "There was all th-!" He waved his paws over his uniform. "And everyone-!" A frantic finger back at the museum. "We had to…!"

Judy blinked. "You okay?"

"No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

He took a long, long breath through his nose.

"We had to fight," he said, "Tai Lung."

A ripple of shock went through them. "He's here?!" said Judy.

"He's there!" yelled Clawhauser, flailing an arm at the museum, "with like a billion robots sitting on him, because we had to figure something out because none of you were here!!"

He panted a little, and straightened himself out, and prepared to apologise for yelling-

"Are you for real? That's amazing!"

Clawhauser blinked. Murray watched him, his brown eyes bright. Still slightly wet. All the police footage of the Gang showed him with his mask on; Clawhauser was a little struck, seeing him without it.

"Tai Lung is, like, crazy strong. And I should know, I fought him! How'd you do it?"

"Oh," said Ben, suddenly self-conscious, "I mean, like… it wasn't just me…"

"Of course not - teamwork's the only way to win. But still, that's super impressive! Tell me all about it!"

Ben rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Well, gosh, it's- Yeah. You're right! It was all about teamwork, really, and my job has always been to kinda, um…"

As they spoke, Judy quietly nudged Nick. "Check that out."

"Check what out?"

"They make a cute couple, huh?"

"They certainly are standing next to each other," he said flatly.

Fangmeyer and Wolford drifted up too. Part of Sly's brain would always see blue uniforms as red flags, but these two didn't register as threats. Too tired, too sweaty. Too lost.

"Uh," said Fangmeyer, "hi, Inspector. Glad you're… okay?"

She offered them a smile. "Thank you. I'm glad you're safe too. I'm sure it's been difficult for yo-"

"Yes," said Wolford.

Fangmeyer aimed a huge finger at Sly. "So, do we arrest him now?"

"Not today, no." Carmelita turned to Sly. "Do you want to tell them, or will I?"

"I'll do it. I've been looking forward to this for a long time…"

Sly fixed them with a broad grin, lively in the light of the burning Van.

"Myself and my associates, due to exceptional circumstances pertaining to the public's safety, are filing… for a Code White."

This declaration did not have the dramatic response he had been hoping for. Wolford and Fangmeyer just watched him. Tired.

"Hey, uh, Bentley?" Murray nudged his brother.

"What?"

"I don't know what a Code White is," he said, "and at this point I'm too afraid to ask."

"Ah."

Bentley felt more than Murray's eyes on him. Apparently he had been singled out as a more reliable source of information than Sly.

"It's quite simple," he said. "In times of sufficient stress, the military can request an external agent, or agents, to help complete a specific task. In return, any outstanding arrest warrants for those agents are nullified."

"I think the original idea was pointing mass murderers in the quote unquote 'right direction'," said Sly cheerily. "But we saw the true potential of this barely-used legality. And we have an air force general willing to reward us for everything we did today." He turned to the fox lying on the tarmac. "Isn't that right, Fox?"

Fox lay there. Staring intently at the sky. Silent.

"…Uh, pal?"

Without averting his gaze, Fox raised a half-formed thumbs up.

"There. See?" Sly returned to Fangmeyer. "Just gotta clear the paperwork, and we'll be model citizens."

"Rrrrrrrrrright…"

More a growl than anything. Fangmeyer found a fresh seam of strength, those broad shoulders looming over Sly.

"And you think that paperwork's gonna protect you," came that growl, "after what you did to Nick and Judy…?"

Sly's grin froze, his ears back. "Um…"

"Hey, uh, Fox?"

Before the scene could devolve any further - Wolford and Carmelita already tense and ready - Judy spoke up.

"I don't know how this all works, exactly, but… do you think me and Nick could get a little piece of that White thing, too? Just to like, y'know, smooth over a very small conspiracytoallowyourselftobekidnapped or whatever…?"

A tiny, distant grunt.

"Great!"

In an instant she was in front of Sly, smiling up at Fangmeyer.

"Then now might be a good time to tell you what actually happened back in the fall…"

And so it went. A chorus of voices, melodious over the steady backing rhythm of a city returning to life. Murray and Clawhauser still chatting. Judy running through a brisk but accurate summary of certain events. Carmelita and Bentley, ever practical, exchanging murmured suggestions on how the next few minutes would have to go.

But not everyone was talking. Fox still lay on the ground, limbs splayed. Eyes upward. Nick sat beside him, and squeezed his shoulder. He didn't expect a reply. Nor did he say anything. He just made his presence known. And with a quiet nod, Fox acknowledged him.

Sly was quiet too. He knew when a moment called for it. And while he was looking forward to recording this in writing when he got a moment to himself - whenever that would be - the most important part of that process was experiencing it first-hand. So he took it in. Carmelita, and Bentley, and Murray. Nick and Judy. Fox, and a handful of confused cops. The Van, gently going out.

Not exactly how he had pictured it. But he had never held out too much hope for anything like this. And now that he had his chance, he was going to remember it. He was going to remember everything he had found in this city.

Morning in Zootopia.