DISCLAIMER: I was walking to the post office to deliver my bid to own Zootopia, and was distracted by a commotion. Some guy in a scary black helmet, suit, and cape was fighting this orange female looking alien with white and blue horns with some weird light swords or something and one of them slashed the bid I was holding in half. I'm sure it was an accident. But I still don't own Zootopia
Thanks to GusTheBear and TheoreticallyEva for editing this chapter!
"Stock dove another twelve and a half points, sir. Since the attack, we've lost almost sixty percent of our stock value. Investors are panicking, and our remaining shareholders are demanding action." The beaver Furston board member stared pointedly at Steve Furshaw. "They are calling the company's handling of the current antidote crisis abysmal. The announcement yesterday that Brayer Pharmaceuticals made a breakthrough in their own antidote formula just hurt us more."
"Not even a donation to the Red Cross has helped slow the fall. And from what my contacts in city hall are hearing, there's word of a law being passed to make it illegal for any health-related product or service to be monopolized. We'd lose out on our Night Howler patent, and worse, the contract signed with the city a year ago to develop the Night Howler antidote doesn't guarantee exclusivity if another company develops it on their own dime."
The CEO scratched his chin. This whole situation had become a nightmare of epic proportions for Furston. Even with their donations and their offer to produce and supply the Night Howler antidote for future considerations from the city, their efforts to protect their intellectual property and patents had been met with outright hostility by the public at large. "What if we changed our stance? Offered our assistance in other companies developing their own antidotes?"
Another of the board members, this one a spotted hyena, shook her head. "Too little, too late. I doubt anything short of a full release of the formula would help at this point."
The head of Furston Pharmaceuticals pinched the bridge of his nose. "Our legal department would shit bricks if we did that."
"Our legal department's advice is what got us into this mess in the first place. That and your insistence that we protect what's ours."
The eastern coyote CEO glared at the spotted hyena. "If we don't protect what's ours, then we'll lose potential profits to the competition. We won't even get royalties. ESPECIALLY if we just make the whole formula public domain. We'd lose out on everything."
The first board member slammed his paw on the conference room table. "We'll lose out on everything already at this rate! Public perception of Furston right now is that we are greedy money-grubbing misers that are just making a bad situation worse."
"What if we were to increase production of our own antidote? Push more through the factories? Or block Brayer from continuing development?"
A musk deer at the other end of the table spoke up. "Our own mammals report that the factories are running at capacity. Even with outsourced production, demand is about three hundred and fifty percent more than what we can supply. Current projections say that the last savage case from the Rainforest attack will be able to be treated…three months from now."
"As for the latter, no, our lawyers have already threatened infringement if any other company tries to copy our formula. If they develop their own, though, we have no legal recourse if the formula is different enough," the hyena stated. "We're bleeding money at this point, and at the rate we are going, bankruptcy is a real possibility if Brayer makes a successful formula. We are going to lose our biggest bargaining chip, and right now, we have no weapon to prevent that except public perception, which is already in the toilet."
Steve Furshaw stood there, his paw on his forehead. The day was getting worse and worse. "What about the shareholders? It's our job to make them money. If we go and give one of our key products up to the world, we'll be signing over the profits."
The musk deer rubbed his temples. "Listen, Steven, you've been doing a piss poor job of handling this situation already, and the shareholders want action, and a statement from you. The board here is already floating the idea of removing you as chairman."
Steve Furshaw sat down hard at that. He'd already served almost two four-year terms, the second of which had been as chairman. At the end of the third term, he'd planned to retire. This development didn't really change those plans, but it meant he wouldn't have as much money when it happened. However, the alternative—forced resignation—was even worse. He sighed. "Fine, I'll talk with the chief marketing officer and the public relations officer and see what we can do."
"Good. I'd hate to have to force you off the board, Steve."
Fangmeyer, on all fours, crept as silently as she could along the moss-covered ground toward her target. They'd received a report from the HAWCS aircrew that had passed over some time ago about a potential missing mammal in the area, and she was the officer responding. Just another dart-and-grab, as the department had taken to calling them. They'd dart the savage predator, grab them, and beeline for the nearest hospital, precinct with a holding cell, or minimum-security prison to drop them off. Staff there would then work to identify the mammal, provide any medical care they needed, notify the families, if available, and then wait for a supply of antidote.
Things had been a bit easier since the hazmat teams had determined that the air was clear of toxins, negating the need for the gas masks. The Night Howler in the ground was still potent in small doses and could accumulate through skin contact, leading to a limited time rotation and the need to wear rubber booties and even gloves, which were uncomfortable, to say the least. None of the officers enjoyed those, especially the mandatory decontamination that came after such a shift at ground level.
The tigress moved silently through the overgrowth that dominated the forest floor region of the district in areas not developed, using her nose to guide her to her quarry. She'd picked up the scent a few minutes ago and had been following it without waiver. Normally, it was the canine officers that were known for their sense of smell, but tigers could also sniff out a mammal in a pinch. They just weren't as good at it, and it wasn't as acute.
The tigress' ears picked up the sound of the other mammal. Though it, too, was trying to be as quiet as possible, it wasn't doing a very good job of it, and the arrhythmic sound of its pawsteps told the tigress that the mammal was injured. She stopped and listened, following the sound left to right before moving in that direction. The wind was in her face, so if she was careful to not make a sound, she'd have the element of surprise on her side.
A few minutes later she peered out from behind a tree, searching. A coywolf on all fours and with the remnants of tattered clothes on came into view, sniffing at the ground and looking around. It looked a bit on the lean and malnourished side, something not unexpected, since there wasn't exactly an abundance of food around, unless they dug around in garbage bins or dumpsters. She'd already caught a few of the traditionally scavenging mammals rummaging through them for something edible. Not this time, though. The coywolf must have sensed something, because it froze and jerked around, looking her way. The tigress stayed in the shadows, counting on her stripes to do what they had done in ages past and allow her to blend in.
A few seconds later, the coywolf returned to what he was doing – digging in the ground, apparently, maybe looking for gopher or rabbit holes. Fangmeyer blew out a breath and steadied her aim, then pulled the trigger on her tranquilizer.
The coywolf yipped, jumped in the air, then took off, away from her. Groaning in exasperation, Liz got up and chased after the canid.
Fortunately for Liz's patience, the other mammal didn't get very far before the tranquilizer took effect, and she caught up to him in a few seconds. The coywolf still had enough energy to look up at her and growl before dropping off into his chemically induced sleep. The tigress sighed and knelt next to the snoozing canid, checking the tattered clothes for any sign of identification. Describing the clothes as "tattered" was a bit of an understatement, though. The clothes now equated to the waistline and part of the pantleg of a pair of jeans and a belt.
She lucked out. In one of the pockets—the only one that hadn't been shredded somehow—was a wallet. How it had stayed put for three weeks, she didn't know, and she didn't WANT to know. Fangmeyer flipped it open.
"Dispatch, Zulu-221 here. I've got a sleeping savage mammal at my location, in the natural area, about half a mile northeast of the Green Road entrance to the Rainforest District. Coywolf by the name of Jackson Roberts. Looks like he's been here a while."
"221, dispatch, copy that, I have an ambulance headed your way. Head to the nearest access road, there should be one about a quarter mile north of you. Ambulance will meet you there."
"10-4, dispatch, 221 out."
Fangmeyer gathered up the snoozing canid and made her way through the overgrowth to the access road. It wasn't much of a road, really—more of a bike trail—but it should be large enough to get a large ambulance in and out if they backed up all the way to the main road. There was no turning around in here.
The tigress decided the best course of action was to head back to the main road and shorten the time the ambulance needed to navigate the pathway, and that's what she did. Only ten minutes later, the white vehicle pulled up alongside her, the paramedics hopping out and taking over the care of the coywolf.
Strapping the mammal into a gurney for safety, the paramedics quickly loaded him into the back. Fangmeyer led the ambulance out of the wooded area, and they took off in the direction of the nearest holding facility.
Liz sighed, rubbing her forehead. Each day it was the same thing—trying to find missing mammals, trying to keep order among the unruly masses that scoffed at the lockdown, or trying to do both at the same time. Unfortunately, finding savage mammals was becoming more and more difficult, and in many cases, they didn't come up with anything. Even the dragnet searches organized for many of the city's open areas didn't yield results anymore. Most officers just patrolled an area until they got a report or happened to stumble across somebody.
The tigress got back to her abandoned cruiser, pulling the accursed booties and gloves off, flexing her paws to try to regain the more familiar feeling in them. Very few mammals ever wore pawwear, so when it was mandatory, it was almost universally reviled, though a few celebrities wore it as a sort of fashion statement.
After twelve hours on shift, though, it was time for her to clock out and head home. Firing up her cruiser, she headed back towards Precinct One.
Nick and Judy watched from the sidelines as Bogo stood at the podium once more for yet another press briefing, one for which many mammals had been hoping. For days, the ZPD was preparing to allow limited non-essential travel into and out of the city again—families only, apparently. The briefing earlier that afternoon had highlighted the expected and possible responses and courses of action as the city began to function again. More and more stores had been allowed to open over the past week, but reports had come in that many others had simply chosen not to, citing a lack of guaranteed patronage.
The duo had been back on the force for a week by this time, and the duo's days had been filled with filing paperwork for other officers, interviewing the suspects and visiting Marian. Both were eager to get back into the swing of things, but Judy's injury disagreed.
That, and the visit to the department psychologist on Thursday. Both the individual sessions and the shared session between Nick, Judy, and the zebra doctor had gone well enough for a first time, but they knew that the harder ones were still to come.
"Ladies and gentlemammals," Chief Bogo's voice rang across the podium. "These past three weeks have taken their toll on all of us, but I'm happy to announce that as of tomorrow, we'll be finally opening up the city borders to limited traffic. Unfortunately, we can't let just anyone come and go at this time. While residents of the city will be able to leave and return, only relatives will be allowed to visit. If you are travelling by car, you will only be able to enter or leave using the Highway 1 and Highway 2 accesses, and they will be through checkpoints. It'll be a lot like crossing a border. Trains and planes will resume in a similar fashion as they were before, but inbound intercity trains will only stop at the Savannah Central station, and we'll be putting added security both there and at the airport."
The chief paused for a moment before continuing. "This is to ensure that we can have an orderly, smooth, gradual reopening that won't strain our resources any further."
The reporters in the room exploded into shouted questions at that, causing Judy to wince and pin her ears back at the onslaught. Bogo raised his arms. "I know you all want to get back to normal life, but please understand that emergency services are still overwhelmed as it is. While hospitals have largely shifted towards caring for the predators who are still savage, there are still many victims who have been injured or disabled who require their attention. Here at the ZPD, we are still focussed on finding missing mammals. Opening up the city, even just a little bit, is going to strain that even more, so we need to make sure we can manage that."
The chief squared his shoulders. "I'll take some questions now, but please understand that in the interests of security, I may not be able to answer all of them."
Another explosion of voices from the reporters. Judy covered her ears until Bogo pointed to one. She didn't hear the name or the publication, but she did hear the question. "What sort of checks will be done at the city borders for cars, and what sort of added security will be put in place for planes and trains?"
Bogo nodded. "I can't answer specifics, but like I said, it'll be a bit like crossing a border into another country. At the airport, it won't be much different than what you're already used to. The train station will have added officers checking mammals coming and going. The road checkpoints are so that we can keep track of who comes and goes from the city, in case any mammals go missing."
The chief picked out another hoof from the sea of reporters demanding attention. "Chief, sir, are these measures temporary? Can you offer a set date that these measures will be lifted? Oh, sorry, Tracy Grant, Zootopia Bulletin," she said, belatedly introducing herself.
"Yes, they are temporary, and no, I can't say when they'll be lifted. Until we are certain we have control of the situation, the measures will be in place. Last question, please." He pointed to an antelope.
"Trent Hoofson, ZNN. Some mammals will claim that this infringes on their rights. How would you respond to that?"
Bogo thought for a moment. "Let's pretend for a moment that the city isn't under police control right now. Yes, there would be a question of civil rights, but there's more to this than that. What we have right now is a missing mammal crisis, and it's important for us to stay on top of it.
"Let's say a young mammal named Hubert is missing. The ZPD knows that Hubert is missing, but not where he is. If a mammal were to get into the city and, say, tranquilize and abduct Hubert, the ZPD would have no way of knowing if our city boundaries were completely open. The abductor could then take Hubert anywhere. Maybe it's to return him to his family, or maybe it's to sell him into slavery in another country. Or worse. But without a temporary measure of tracking and limiting who comes and goes, we would never know."
The reporters all started clamouring again, forcing the chief to raise his hooves. "I'm sorry, anyone else will need to submit their questions to the press corps. Thank you for your time."
Nick blew out a breath. "Oy. Mammals are sure not going to like having to go through a checkpoint just to get into the city. I'd hate to be the officers assigned to that job, convincing mammals every minute that yes, it is necessary, and no, I can't just let you in because you bat your eyelashes at me. Or tried to bribe me."
"But you wouldn't take the bribe." It was more a statement than a question from the doe.
"And risk the wrath of Superbunny? No thanks. I'd sooner admit to putting the paint bomb in Delgato's locker."
Judy paused. "You didn't." Delgato had been subject to that prank on his birthday, less than a week after Nick had joined. Though several mammals suspected Nick of it, no one had been able to prove anything, especially since Judy had been with him the entire day, and the security cameras hadn't caught him coming or going. Judy herself had wondered about it only briefly.
"No, Carrots, I didn't. Though I have to admit, I did actually wish I had thought of that. Bogo would probably skin me alive if I did. Assuming you or Delgato didn't get me first."
The doe snickered as the two turned to head back to their office cubicle.
The cybercrime office of the ZPD was rarely the hive of activity that it had been recently. The mammals employed there usually only dealt with internal issues and the occasional hacking attempt around the region, with many of them doubling as members of the department's IT team.
With over fifty cell phones to crack and analyze, though, there was no time to waste. Warrants had been issued for all of them, and when the mammals who owned them had refused to pony up the unlock codes, extreme measures had to be taken. The two major phone types, iCarrots and Mamdroids, both had systems in place that made breaking into them difficult.
But in many cases, not impossible.
Cam had to laugh at the decent chunk of users that had no security at all, or had a passcode that was pathetically easy to guess. It was shocking how many mammals out there used the last four digits of their number, their spouse's number, or their home landline as their passcode. Or just 1234.
'You'd think that one of the highest ranked terrorists would have a more secure passcode than the last four digits his deceased spouse's cell phone number,' the cougar thought as he browsed through the information that had been downloaded from Damian Hornby's device. Personal computers were also being analyzed in one of the other rooms, and his team was sifting through the data sent over by the cellular phone companies as well.
Furston's IT and legal departments had been digging in their heels and stalling, though, doing their best to resist the request for the computer activity of Hornby, McStripeson, and Hogsmeed along with the security camera footage of the one day they could guarantee McStripeson and Dade Walker were in the same office. Cybercrime had taken their requests to a Zootopia court judge, where Furston lawyers had taken up arms against them there, too, citing company and trade secrets.
Most of the information the cougar had looked through wasn't relevant to the case. Photos were the first thing that were looked at and sorted. Unfortunately, none of them had provided anything new for the case. Emails and text messages had been next. Though many had been deleted from the devices, the providers had been more than happy to furnish the ZPD with their records to fill in the missing gaps.
Clicking through emails and text messages was often a boring, time-consuming process, though. It was shocking how many times things like "lol", "OMG", and other such text speak was bandied about in a day, even by terrorists. All of them appeared to be keeping up a professional/personal front and there was no mention or hint of their extracurricular activities between their friends and colleagues, but between themselves, it was a whole different story. Much of the discussion seemed to be in code, so that was sent to the mammals in questionable documents to figure out.
There were, however, some gems that didn't get put into code. One damning message from Doug to Damian Hornby dated the night of Eric Wolford's murder stated simply, 'took care of a tail, fuzz showed up.' On the surface, it didn't mean much, but having heard the recording from Eric Wolford's dictation machine and having read the testimony of Officers Wilde and Hopps, it lined up exactly with what they already knew.
The cybercrime specialist was just thinking of getting himself another coffee when he clicked on an email sent to a jam59602 on the Zmail domain.
'Janus, Couple of our guys in ZPD custody may need a visitor to represent them. Woolter and Jesse. Can you take care of it? -DH'
The cougar grinned and attached the email to the case.
Grizzoli stared at the unruly-looking contraption in front of him. "You really think this will work?" The thing looked like an oversized lobster trap with a door on the end of it, mounted to a car trailer. Or maybe one of those traps they used occasionally to relocate crocodiles without hurting them in some parts of the world.
The ibex shrugged. "City officials contacted us a week ago and had us build a few dozen of these things. Savage mammal comes into the cage, smelling the food," he said, indicating the dead chicken hanging on a trigger wire. "They pull on the food, and it releases the door, here. The door falls down and latches into place. The electric radio then sends an activation signal, and you guys come and take care of 'em. That's what the city wanted, anyway. I just build 'em. I don't ask questions when the city gives me a contract. Researchers at the U designed 'em. I tested it with my employees, and even the strongest of them couldn't bust out."
Grizzoli nodded. The U was the informal name for the University of Zootopia. Researchers there had developed the trap designs and selected where to place them based on prevailing winds and terrain. The ZPD just had to keep an eye on them. The department had to change their tactics for catching savage mammals a few times over the last few weeks. The draw of food was often the most effective, but setting up a food sting that had to be constantly monitored lest the mammal get away was expensive and inefficient, so they needed a solution that they could set and move on, coming back to it only when necessary. The traps would be checked four times a day on rotation, and also if the radio signal went off.
The other mammal set the chock blocks, pulled the trap's safety pin, and disconnected the trailer from his vehicle. "I'm out of here. Gotta drop off twenty-three more of these things."
The bear ZPD officer nodded and headed back to his own cruiser to call in the completed task and move on to the next complaint in the miles-long list of phone calls. He didn't have to. A high priority call had come in to the emergency number, and he was the closest unit, though it was still across the district boundary in Savannah Central. A savage mammal claim from a civilian. He even recognized the address as one to which he had responded about six times already that week, and he knew a few others had as well. In each of the cases, the warthog sow in question had called claiming one of her neighbors was going savage, she was certain, and asked the ZPD to come save her.
She wasn't the only one who was seeing savage mammals where there were none. There were hundreds of claims of savagery a day, most turning out to be false, and the ZPD had to treat each one as if it were a real case. The bear flipped on his lights and sirens and raced down the road and onto the highway, heading off in the direction of the caller's house.
It didn't take him long to get there, and in that time, the sow called the emergency line four more times, based on the radio chatter. When he pulled up to the house, Sergeant Higgins close behind as his backup, the sow came running up to his cruiser. "Thank gawd you're here. My neighbors, over there, they're going savage! I just know it! There were some loud noises coming from the house, and then it just went quiet!"
Grizzoli and Higgins both looked at each other, a look of exasperation crossing their faces. "I'll go check it out," Grizzoli volunteered as he headed off to the sow's neighbor's house. He didn't hear anything unusual or alarming, so he rapped on the door.
The "Just a minute!" that came from inside was comforting in a way. Whoever it was, they were obviously not in any medical distress. When the Bengal tigress answered the door, clothes covered in what was clearly household paint, she looked rather surprised to see the bear standing there. "May I help you, officer?"
The large bear looked around. "Ma'am, we received a call about a disturbance here. Is everything OK?"
The tigress frowned and looked confused. "Everything's fine. I mean, I did accidentally knock over the ladder I was using to paint, and I ended up with more paint on myself and the floor than on my walls, but other than that, things are fine." She gestured to her messy clothes and fur.
Grizzoli scratched his chin. "That's all? Does anyone else live here?"
"Just my husband, son, and daughter. My husband was finally let in to work a few days ago, and my children are staying with some friends. It's just me here right now."
The bear officer nodded. "Of course. My apologies for disturbing you, ma'am. As I said, we got a call about a disturbance, so we had to check it out."
The tigress nodded. "It's no problem officer. But…was it my neighbor?"
Grinning, the officer shrugged. "I can't really say, ma'am, but that probably just confirms it for you."
The tigress returned the grin. "Yeah, it does. She's been calling you guys on all of us lately. I think the dingo on the other side of her has gotten called on at least four times now."
"Sounds about right. Anyway, is there anything I can do for you?"
The tigress shook her head. "No, I'm fine, unless you know a good way to get paint out of fur."
"Sorry, ma'am, nothing for sure, but I heard dish soap really helps. Have a good day!"
The bear turned and walked back down the front pathway, returning to the sow and Sergeant Higgins. The hippo looked up. "How'd it go?"
"She knocked over a ladder and paint can. Nothing more."
The sergeant turned to the smaller mammal. "There, you see, Mrs. Charlotte? Nothing to be afraid of. Just a minor accident."
"But they could still go savage, right? How do you know she's not going savage?"
Grizzoli pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ma'am, no one ever went savage from knocking over a can of paint. Angry, maybe, but not savage."
"Can you stay and make sure? I am certain they are going savage and are hunting me!"
The bear and hippo both shook their heads. "I'm sorry ma'am, but we can't see anything wrong, and we have a lot of other calls to attend to," Grizzoli said. "If you do see a savage mammal, though, please call the emergency line, and we'll have someone here for you. The thing is, ma'am, every time you call us out here because you THINK someone went savage, it means we can't deal with a mammal who really IS savage. I understand you are scared, but we need you to be sure a mammal is savage before you call. That's how you can help us. If you think someone is savage, lock yourself in your house and watch for them first. We can't keep coming out here."
"OK, thanks, I guess."
The two officers turned and walked back to their respective cruisers. "I don't really like telling them not to call, but this is getting ridiculous." Higgins huffed as he spoke. "We're starting to get more paranoia calls than legitimate ones."
The bear stopped by his cruiser. "Bogo still not handing out misuse of the emergency line fines?"
Higgins shrugged. "He doesn't want us handing them out for good-faith calls or even paranoia calls if there's a legitimate belief that there's a savage mammal involved. The prank calls, he wants us to go to town with the fines, arrests, whatever we feel is justified."
Bert Grizzoli frowned. "That first prank call was a doozy."
A week and a half after the attacks, a call had come in about a pack of savage wolves hunting the caller. When they arrived at the Savannah Central address, they'd only found a wolf family just sitting down to dinner on their patio. In the yelling and confusion, one officer had accidentally discharged his tranquilizer. Fortunately for all involved, the dart had embedded harmlessly in the grass, and no one had been hit. They'd eventually traced the call to a cell phone belonging to a high school classmate of the wolf family's eldest pup, and the caller—an eighteen-year-old lion—had been placed under arrest for falsely using the emergency number with intent to injure.
They'd had one or two other calls like that in the intervening days. Fortunately, none resulted in injury. Response teams were on high alert, though, and one wrong report and accident could mean someone was sent to the hospital—or worse, the morgue.
Grizzoli bid his hippo sergeant goodbye and climbed into his cruiser. "Dispatch, Zulu-231, we're code four here. Paranoia call."
"Copy that, 231."
A/N
Furston's not doing too hot are they?
Hope everything is going well with everyone! We're in a second round of lockdowns here where I live, so I just had a kind of a stay-at-home, do-nothing birthday last week. OK, I guess but no substitute for cake and pies and family and fun!
A few people on the story's Discord server found the WoW and Star Trek references hidden in the last chapter! Can you find any in this chapter?
Coming up on December 11: The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly!
Questions? Critiques? Did Darth Vader march into your home and declare it the property of the Empire? Leave a comment!
