Chapter 18

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"So, you're planning to enter the PI business," secretary Washimi spoke. Retsuko nodded, looking on as the delicate (yet ruthless) sentient secretary bird scooped up some of her noodles with her chopsticks, slurping them down. They were together at a familiar ramen place, Ram-Don, sitting together in a small area to the side that they often frequented. Retsuko had the feeling that it was for Washimi's sake. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd known that a few wild bird species had a surviving sentient species as well, just like it was known that non-sentient versions of some mammal species still existed far out there. Still, rare was underplaying it, and unless you went to Polynesia, Antarctica or New Zealand, the chances of stumbling into one on your days off were slim to none.

A secretary bird especially, given its origin in Africa. The only sentient bird she'd seen (in mammal at least) before Washimi was a California condor she'd bumped into when she was eight, sitting in the back of a store they'd popped into on a road trip down to the magic kingdom in Anaheim and scaring her half to death when she'd seen him, his gnarly fleshy head poking out of his reaper like cloak of feathers. She'd had nightmares on all the following nights of the trip, and a good few after too. In many cases, he'd morphed in those dreams, his feathers going cold like metal and his eyes going wide, burning like a crematorium furnace with hate. Something was so chilling about it, so demonic, and coming so naturally to her imagination. It was only much later that she wondered what it was like to be him, the remains of a lost path of evolution, stranded in a world not built for his class.

With the benefit of hindsight, she'd learnt that, like all vultures, evolution had designed him that way, building the ultimate scavenger. Of course, then came the great uplifting, and with mammals now practicing burial rights or handing over their dead to the predators, the niche they had so specialised in had become redundant. When the uplifting had finally reached the birds, condors and vultures were one of the few where the advantage over their non-evolved counterparts was enough to justify their continued existence. To the point that they were one of the few cases of sentient birds being more numerous than their non-sentient counterparts, in some cases to the point of the non-sentients going extinct. She couldn't shake the feeling though that he and his kind were not winners in all this. She tended to think that the only sentient birds that could be called that were the ones down in New Zealand, even after mammals finally arrived there. She also noted that it wouldn't necessarily make her first introduction any better.

After all, a dozen twelve foot tall Moāri dancers doing a haka in front of her wouldn't be the best introduction, would it?

Regardless, after that her only encounter with sentient birds was through the media, where their rarity acted as a novelty. Arguably the most famous comedy troupe of all time had once involved four sentient birds: a yellow canary with a notable faux-feminine/ camp personality, who enjoyed playing the oblivious bystander/victim to his feline partners ultimately foiled exploits; a rage fuelled semi-mad black drake who was the bad guy and foil to his calm, smart-aleck bunny partner; a massive white brahma rooster from kentucky with a southern drawl as long as his slow burning penchant for mischief; and a roadrunner with a love of silent comedy shared by his coyote partner, to the point where they were known as the kings of slapstick. Closer to the present, there was a cult mockumentary/reality show supposedly about the gay interspecies relationship between a racoon named Rigby and a sentient blue jay named Mordecai… with each episode always spinning out into abject surrealness by the end.

In any case, all of that aside, the fact was that she'd had a doubletake at Washimi on first seeing her, and it had taken a while for the novelty of such a creature working in her office, as the CEO's secretary of all things, to wear off. By the time they'd start going out as friends, she was used to it, but she couldn't help but imagine what it was like for Washimi, being so out of place. Everyone all around you, turning their heads, double taking, staring. Was she used to it? Retsuko guessed that she had to be, how else would she cope, yet alone be so confident and strong. Still, places like this where she could sit in private with only those who knew her must have been something that she valued, even if she didn't say it.

Looking over to Gori, Retsuko wondered if the same thing was true with her. Gorillas and primates were nowhere near as rare as sentient birds (or reptiles), but they as an order had never really come and settled in Zootopia for whatever reason or other.

Which contrasted sharply to red pandas, who had a history of migrating to the west coast of North America from Asia. Given Zootopia's neutrality in WW2, many mammals of Japanese descent had then moved there from the western seaboard in order to escape internment. Two of her grandparents had done just that, with a third moving years after getting out of the camps. It was also why the city had large numbers of tanukis, more than the rest of the States and Canidea combined, much to its benefit. Some of their businesses had grown into global giants while still headquartering here, Nook Incorporated in particular coming to mind.

Whatever the case of all this, Washimi had asked a question and Retsuko quickly answered it.

"Sort of, yes." She quickly explained how things had started with the email that Ton ignored, going to the tax agency, the initial invitation there and then so on and so on. "I mean, the idea of being a tax investigator does sound really interesting to me, but being a full on PI on top of that… It's like the difference between being offered some very nice mochi ice cream, or being offered a full on sundae. The first is really good, but the second is even more really good."

"Oh yes, I really know what you mean," Gori agreed. "It's like having a spa day, versus going to a wellness-rejuvenation experience, complete with manicures and pedicures. Though that might not be so much of an increase for you, given that you have claws, not nails."

"Oh no," Retsuko chirped. "It's a very good analogy."

"Fun to hear."

Washimi nodded, finishing off a noodle with a very quiet and dignified slurp. "Or the difference between standard udon noodles and these."

Retsuko looked down, cocking her head. Washimi's noodles were best described as absolute units, making normal udon look like (her preferred) thin ramen. "No, I don't get that. I didn't even realise they made noodles that thick."

"They're for megafauna," she spoke, bringing up another one and slurping it down, singular. "But they let it go into smaller mammal bowls too. Most of the time it's mongooses or meerkats, but the principle still stands."

"What principle is that?" Retsuko asked, nervously.

"They are very effective snake analogues," she replied, completely deadpan, before slurping down another one whole.

"Oh, right, of course…"

"Let's not talk about dietary habits," Gori chided. "I've heard about the triple date and the PI stuff. What about this plan to free the silver fox kit? What role was I going to play?"

"Well," she spoke, breathing in and out. "We think… no, we're pretty certain, that Wassermaim was involved in Bellwether's plot. He's throwing this kid in prison out of spite. Our plan, while also looking into who did it, is to get him to confess by having a friendly mammal get him drunk and probe him. We can then record it, release the tape, and that should help give the silver bullet that can be used to get him out of office, getting in someone who'll rescind the nighthowler act charge."

"So," Washimi spoke. "You're not actually involved in the investigation itself."

"Fenneko is," Retsuko countered. "And she and Haida would always be in it with us. She's the one driving us towards this thing, leading the way."

"-Oooh," Gori spoke. "You're her Watson to her Shirelock."

"Yes!"

"And you're okay with this?" Washimi asked.

"Yeah," Retsuko said. "I mean, I'm taking a back seat in this, and while I'd like to do more I can get why we're doing what we're doing. We've got the hero cops of Zootopia working for him, along with some really talented gadget mammals, Fenneko and her new boyfriend and the boys family themselves, who are all pretty talented."

"Like Spiderpig in civil war," Gori summarised. "You can have your own solo adventures, but right now you're letting the established stars battle it out!"

"Not that I get the reference," Washimi said, "but that does seem reasonable."

"And we've done work already," the red panda said. "After all, I recorded the big confrontation in the ZPD, Haida and I made contact with the reporter and got him on our side and our interview will hopefully bring the city onboard."

There was a pause as Washimi slurped up another one of her extra thick noodles. "So, not investigation, but helping out with the total war."

"Yeah, and if I get the taste for it, I sign up for official PI training. Most of that stuff is supposedly looking at accounts anyway, which I'm good at."

"Wait," Gori said. "Looking at accounts?"

"Most of the private stuff is financial in nature, not all guns ablazing."

"Aaaahhhh… That sounds far more boring."

"I wouldn't say that's a bad thing," Washimi countered. "Tell me, do you know why old incandescent lights usually failed when they were turned on?"

"Uhhh…" Retsuko began, not sure if she'd heard that right.

"-It's because of the thermal shock of them suddenly heating up as the electricity pushes through them. There are old lights which have easily stayed on for a hundred years and can carry on for another hundred. What breaks you are the rare moments of extreme intensity. If you want a thrilling job, that's up to you, but you want to manage your thrills. No-one wants to ride roller coasters every day."

"You can speak for yourself," the gorilla said.

"Yes I can," she said. "A while back, we stopped you going off with Tadano because we feared that you were going to throw yourself into something that you didn't want, but had convinced yourself that you did. What you're talking about now is certainly unique, but it sounds like you've thought it through and do want it, at least as far as you're aware of it."

"What does that mean?" the red panda asked.

"It means that you're happy with the experience so far, but if you commit to this path there might be far harder hurdles further along, ones you don't know about, can't see, don't realise that they're too high. I wouldn't say it's a reason to not go along that road, after all, doing so is the only way you can come up across them in the first place. I'm just advising you to keep it in mind, though with the tax-detective route it seems you already have."

Retsuko paused and smiled. "Thanks. I think I know what you mean. Coming across someone dangerous, right?"

"Right. Have you ever come across someone dangerous before?"

"Well, one time, I returned to my apartment and found the door open," she recounted. "Someone was inside."

"Oh my gosh," Gori spoke, leaning forward on the edge of her seat. "What next?"

"Well, at first I was terrified," she admitted. "I ran, I called the police, but then I calmed down a bit and saw an old wrench on the floor. I grabbed it and sneaked up to my place, ready to face the threat."

"What next!?"

A little smile grew across the red panda's muzzle. "Turned out my mother had copied my keys and was inside, doing housework. That was something and a half to explain to the cop who came."

Gori's mouth hung open. "Mothers really are annoying creatures…"

"I KNOW, RIGHT!"

"It's in their DNA, it has to be!"

Retsuko nodded, as did Washimi. "I have to say, I'm impressed," she said. "Fear of the unknown is arguably the worst fear of all, and when defenseless you acted in the right way. On finding a weapon and coming up with a plan though, you bravely confronted that fear."

She blushed.

"-Still, there is one other type of stress you might have to get used to."

"What's that?"

"Failure."

"Huh?"

"Tell me," she said. "What happens if you have clear evidence that this kit is innocent, but it doesn't matter. He's kept inside, he's found guilty, he loses years of his life and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I think I'd have to keep on trying."

"Sometimes persistence is a lost cause…"

"-But she owes it to her friends," Gori countered. "She owes it to him, to free him, to get him out, to always try!"

"And sometimes bad things happen and you can't do anything about it other than rolling on. Case in point, my first and only marriage."

"What if you were locked up, would you expect me to give up on you?"

"If all reasonable avenues were exhausted, then it would be the regrettable thing to do. Vice versa…"

"Vice versa, you'd mean you'd…" Gori spoke, beginning to sniff up and tremble.

"Don't take it personally," Washimi spoke. "Same counts for Retsuko."

The red panda blinked. "Oh…"

"Again, nothing personal."

"Right…" she mumbled, looking away.

"You cannot win everything, and the higher the stakes the bigger the losses. The more personal it gets, the more crushing the failures. You're like Gori, you have a big heart, but that makes it easier to be stomped on. I'm not against you following this path, I'm just warning you of what you might come across on it."

Retsuko nodded and looked up. "Understood, thanks."

"You're welcome," she said.

"I mean, I kind of had one of those today with Gori being on antibiotics."

"That was very bad luck, but it is the kind of thing that will happen."

"I'll have to warn Haida about it, then we can replan. Though I don't know who else could fill in for us."

She looked up, the two friends in front of her glancing at each other and shrugging. Retsuko sighed. "Though I guess it's only two weeks. Marathon, not a sprint."

"Exactly," Gori said. "Don't give up."

"-Just yet," Washimi added. "But for now, let's enjoy our food. Weakening yourself helps nobody."

Looking down, smelling her ramen, Retsuko couldn't help but agree on that point at least, even if she agreed with Gori on the other point. So owed it to him to always keep trying, for one simple, solid, reason.

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"So tell me. Why do you look after pup?"

Kris looked up at the polar bear from his breakfast seat, resolute in his answer. "It's the right thing to do."

"People who do the right thing do not end up here," he spoke, his voice hardening. "So why do you do it?"

"Because he's scared," Kris said. "He's young, terrified and the last thing he needs is bullies attacking him."

The bear nodded a few times. "So, you do it because you are honorable?"

"If that's your view of what honour is, then yes."

"And is it?"

"Mostly."

The bear paused and nodded. "What is other part?"

Kris thought for a second or two. "Being willing to accept your mistakes and take them. Being brave. Being strong for those who need you to be strong."

His eyes narrowed as they turned and walked back into the cell block, automatically making their way to a table in a corner, sticking in the same groups as in the canteen. "I did not hear that another child of the family was getting in here," the bear mused.

"Family? As in crime family?"

"Yes," he said, staring down. "And if you are not in my one, then just who do you belong to?"

Kris felt a chill go down his spine, the bear was staring a bit closer, the other members of the small table (all now sitting down) glancing fretfully at each other. "I don't belong to any crime family," he spoke, truthfully.

The bear was silent. "I would have no problem if you were a Big like me, or in the Firm, or under the Red Pig, a Lobos, a Razor, or one of Lang's children. We are predators and we stick together, so I do have problem if you are a liar. Tell me, white fox, you speak of honour but you are not one of the families. So, how did you end up here?"

Kris closed his eyes. He had the truth, he had a cover story that had been worked on. The latter was meant to keep him safe and out of trouble, but given what the polar bear might or might not have a problem with… Still, the people who came up with the plan likely had a far better idea of what these mammals were like than he did. Best to stick with it. "I was tired and made a mistake," he said, sighing. He bent down, rubbing his head. "I lived in the Rainforest District, working part time at this coffee shop. Making drinks, handing out treats, keeping the library books in order… It was just a busy day and I'd pulled an all nighter before, and it was near the end of my shift. I hadn't drunk any coffee as I just wanted to go home after and sleep, and I just had this one cussing order left to deal with." He paused, breathing in and out and sighing.

"A bunch of hippos, a whole family, they were loud and noisy, and one of them saw that I was a fox and was shouting out loud, saying that she'd call the manager and everything. And they were arguing, and it was noisy, and they were shouting out different orders and changing them and explaining their intolerances and I was just going through saying yes-yes-yes. I just wanted it to end. I wrote it all down, the lady said that she wouldn't be giving a fox a tip and her daughter saying that her mommy wished that I was dead. I looked up, said that I hoped speciesists like her got what was coming to them, and left. I put the order in. I didn't deliver it, I was leaving when I heard screams from that table, a bunch of them coughing and spluttering, collapsing to the floor. I panicked, walked back in to check my ticket, before relaxing as I saw that I had written down that they had an allergy. No acorns, we tend to get a lot of squirrels so we have a few things using them and acorn meal and flour. I took a picture with my phone, went home and fell asleep. When I woke up I found out that the police wanted to talk with me."

He rubbed his eyes. "I explained it all, even showed the picture. They said that they had an acorn allergy and I did all the right things. Then they showed that they had the ticket, and a recording that one hippo had been making. They didn't say that 'My family has acorn allergies.' They had a corn allergy, and most of our drinks take corn based syrup… None died, but most were injured. The police were happy to rule it off as an accident, but then I found out it was the District Attorney's family. They charged me with attempted murder. The video with my 'get what's coming' word was their evidence, me taking a picture of the ticket was my attempt to cover myself. My lawyer did his best, we're lining up for a strong appeal as soon as we can, but…"

Kris shrugged, glancing around before looking back down, his eyes catching his uniform. If anything, he wanted to look at it now and not the bear. For all he knew, he'd seen right through him. This… was a mistake. Truth had been the right option, hadn't it? Or he'd messed up the delivery...

He felt a paw come down onto his shoulder, gently. "Look up, brother."

Kris did just that, the bear looking at him softly. "I am Timofey. Member of the Tundratown family. Back during Nighthowler crisis, many of my family hit hard, so I stand up and did jobs to keep them well. After a caribou was mauled by a bear like me, a gang tried to smash and burn uncles store. Young prey punks. I showed them who was boss and threw their firebombs back at them, chasing them down the street to hit the last one with own molotov as he begged for mercy in an alley." He shrugged. "They say that flips it from self defense to grievous bodily harm. So here I am, doing my time. I can blame the evil sheep mayor, I do quite a bit, but it does not matter now. What matters is I have eight months left, and they know never to hurt my family again."

"I threw acid on a pig bailiff throwing us out of our home," an ocelot said, his fur going up. "I was in the police station when I heard that the mayor had done it! It told the court as much, that I was defending myself from her and if they sent me away for that they were just as evil, but they were just mad that she lost so here I am. My family lost their jobs and house because of her and I lost my freedom!"

"I stabbed a guy to death," a dingo said, shrugging before thrusting out his paw. "Nothing to do with that sheep. Still hate her guts, wish it was her I got."

There was a burst of laughter around, Kris joining in, albeit a little nervously. It was only the bear and ocelot who claimed that they were here in part due to the howler scare, though there were other preds in other cell blocks, and plenty more who'd stolen, got into scuffles or been victimised, only touching the lower ends of the legal system and now out. Regardless, the sentiment was universal, they despised her, and Kris began feeling better about his cover story.

"Your name?" the bear asked.

"Kristofferson," he said, before remembering that he had a nametag with it on. Then again, he hadn't looked at the bears, which said his.

Timofey shrugged. "Long name, I like it. Everyone calls you Kristofferson, unless you want it shorter. I am Timofey, nothing else. Leader of the pack."

"The pack?"

Timofey gestured around to the small set of predators on the table. "The pack. We are predators, so we stick together, and we are honorable. You showed yourself that by looking after screamer.

"You mean the pup?"

The bear nodded. "You recognised the sickos and steered him clear."

Kris nodded, glancing over and spotting the wolf and his small posse in one corner. "Those guys."

"Sickos," the bear said angrily, spitting on the floor. "Sick mammals, feel no remorse for perverted things that they did. Lowest of the low. But not all mammals who do that stuff are sickos."

"Huh?" Kris asked.

"Many grow up and are raised by sicko parents," Timofey explained. "They do not know it is wrong. But when caught and learning it, they either see no problem and become sicko, or become horrified at what they did and wish to make it right. Those often become founders."

"Founders?"

"-Yeah," one of the pack said. "'Cuz they've found Jesus Christ."

There was a giggle of laughter, even from Timofey. "Many are founders. Not all believe in god, most not ex-sicko's. They are friendly, ones who took in the screamer."

"Right," Kris nodded. "So, are these gangs or cliques?"

"Both," he shrugged, "you get the idea, smart fox." He then gestured over to another cluster of about a dozen mammals, including the racoon and the capybara with glasses. Most were ones with paws, such as large rodents and even a marsupial, a grey kangaroo. "Those are the nerds. Not just computers. Some very clever, some rich in here, untouchable. Also very nice. But then we have the herd. The herd and pack stay on different wings, we not mixing. They all prey, half of them normal mammals who just want protection. The other half are the pred haters. Not so bad early on, but they really filled up after the howler plot was solved."

"Right, so steer clear," Kris said, again feeling more at ease with his cover story. Pred haters were one thing, but pred haters seeing a pred messing with their howlers… In a way, it was daunting that he was locked in with mammals like that, and the sickos. But there were others around here and he was feeling more confident. Keep his head down, be polite, be sensible, be friendly. He could get through this.

Timofey nodded and smiled. "What did I say? Clever fox. Do any other stuff?"

"I do know karate. I can draw…"

Timofey laughed, looking up to the rest of his pack. "He might be very useful fox too." He looked back down again. "Do not worry. We will not use you for violent stuff." There was a pause, as he looked over to the rest of the prisoners, his eyes narrowing. "But drawing is useful, and I can do stuff with diplomat."