This chapter proofread by winerp and anonymous. Thanks, guys!

Quick announcement before the chapter: Happy Birthday! Wait, whose birthday is it, you ask? Well, mine, actually. Since I don't much like to ask for presents, though, I'm giving them! It was a bit of a rush job, but this chapter and the penultimate climax of my Balto fanfic, "White Legend," are my birthday gifts to you, the readers. It was a bit of a rush to get the edits done in time, but the pressure was very motivational and I'm pleased with the results. Hopefully you all will be too!

"How hard could it be?"

Juni Cortez, Spy Kids

(What, were you expecting the thirteenth chapter to not be jinxed?)

Scant streetlights cast intermittent patches of yellow luminescence over the former neighborhood of the three fugitive rams. Through the dirty cones of light, a decrepit-looking van crawled along the street like a dying wind-up toy. The driver looked to and fro through luminous green eyes, somehow looking bleary despite the glow as he searched for a place to stop.

"That one," whispered a voice behind him.

He jerked and glanced back. In the seat behind him, a short mammal pointed to one of the nearby buildings. "Third driveway down. Nobody's in it. Count on it."

The driver gazed warily at the building, pulled past the driveway, and backed through a decrepit chain-link gate hanging open on a single hinge. The house, wedged between two taller structures as though it were hammered in to keep them from smacking together, certainly did look deserted. There wasn't a window left intact, and broken doors testified to long-ago ransacking. If someone had thrown in creepy music and a few cobwebs, the place would have been all set for a haunted house movie.

With a shrug, the driver pulled into the driveway past a ramshackle gate hanging on a single hinge. He parked, stretched, and yawned, displaying an impressive set of feline fangs. "Alright, you two get to work. I'll keep a lookout here."

In the back seat, Kevin undid his buckle. "How can you be sure this place is empty?" he asked.

Nick, who had already unbuckled, slipped down to the floor. "Because I know this part of town," he replied matter-of-factly. "The place has been deserted for years. Even most homeless animals hardly ever bother with it. Besides, anyone in there would be going in and out on foot, so the driveway's fair game."

Kevin nodded, seeing the logic in Nick's choice. "Well, even if we run into a conflict, that's Clawson's worry. Come on, Junior." He delivered the last word with a smirk and a wink. "It's time for show and tell."

The fox groaned. Evidently, word of his nickname had reached even the ears of his old card buddy. Who's next? he wondered. Chief Buffa… gah. Chief Bogo? He really needed to work on the name thing.

He soon forgot about embarrassing monikers when Kevin showed him the back. The driver's seat, accompanying shotgun spot, and the row behind them were the only real seats in the van. The rest were all just tops attached to a kind of roof which, while reminiscent of youngsters' play forts in its scale, was clearly designed and built by pros for just such jobs as this. From the front of the car – the only way one could see in thanks to the tinted windows – it looked just like a bunch of empty seats. Beneath that layer of deception, it was a little den totally invisible to the outside world. Kevin extracted a few boxes and bags from the crawlspace, which he piled on top of the cover. Now it looked as if the back seats were occupied by... well, as far as Nick could figure, it was supposed to look like the contents of a yard sale. Out of the tops poked mostly clothes, a few books, and even one of those statues of a Zoola dancer – which, for some reason, seemed to be holding a large hook in one paw.

"What's with the junk?" he asked.

Kevin grinned. "I think I'll see how long you take to figure that out. C'mon in."

Inside the crawlspace was a fair-sized monitor linked up to a laptop computer – solid state drive, as Kevin mentioned, to shield against any damage from use in a moving vehicle. The monitor was larger than the laptop's screen, but the appearance was considerably altered by the assortment of small images arranged all over it in a grid.

"Not what I expected," Nick admitted, looking around at the otherwise blank space. He refrained from asking where all the other monitors and keyboards and whatnot were hidden. He didn't even see a coffee pot, which he'd always fancied police must keep on hand for long stakeouts.

Kevin grinned, reading his expression and movements anyway. "You must have watched the TV shows with old technology. This little setup – I call it the play fort – has got all we need." He laid his paw on the laptop's touch pad. "The screens are set to work in conjunction," he explained, flicking the cursor from one to the other to demonstrate. "The big one shows all the cameras we've got in the area. Any we click on..." he clicked a mini-view on the grid, "... shows up in better size and clarity over here," he finished as the laptop screen bore out his explanation. Then he handed Nick a pair of headphones and donned a pair himself. "We've got plainclothes cops around the area. They radio in anything they spot, I – or rather we – check it on the cameras, and issue instructions as needed. You might call us the Command Center for this little mission."

Nick was definitely starting to see the attraction of law enforcement and its many toys. He had long thumbed his nose at the police, reveling in his ability to stay just outside of the law's reach. Now, as if Judy hadn't been proof enough, it was becoming ever clearer that when Zootopia's Finest got serious, they could really put on a good show. Come to think of it…

"So," he concluded, "the stuff up top makes the van look cluttered, which..." he lowered his voice, "combined with Clawson's getup and smell-"

"I heard that," called Clawson.

Nick coughed nervously. "So while we look out from back here, he poses as some guy kicked out of his home." He hated to admit it, but he was impressed. The setup was strikingly simple, but it was ingenious enough to beat anything he and Finnick had ever cooked up.

Kevin nodded. "Now you're learning. And that reminds me..." he took out an iPaw and hooked it up to a dangling cord. "This is our part of that."

Nick blinked. "Our part?"

"You'll see," Kevin grinned, "but only if we end up having to use it."

Abstractly, Nick wondered if this was how other mammals felt when he did one of his 'I-Know-Something-You-Don't-Know' schticks.


Inside the apartment building, in an unoccupied flat next door to Doug's, all was quiet. A couple of months' worth of dust covered the floor and untarped furnishings, attesting to long disuse and disregard. The only signs of broken loneliness were some pawprints, and a long, taped-up box which lay on the floor, untouched by time. It sat there unattended – at least until a claw poked up through the tape. With one long, fluid sweep, the claw slid half the length of the box. A quick push from inside stretched the slit the rest of the way and snapped the tape at the ends with a pop. The flaps flipped up, releasing Judy Hopps like a Jackalope-in-the-Box. Officer Catano was right behind her, sitting up like someone prematurely consigned to a coffin and wearing the expression of one who had just found herself as the victim of a joke.

"Nice of them to let us know we'd been dropped off," she remarked, looking around at the empty apartment.

Judy shook herself. Even with her small size, it had been a little cramped being stuck in the box with Callie. On top of that, though she didn't want to offend the cheetah by saying it, cat fur had never been on her Top Ten list of favorite smells. Still, she tried to put a nice face on things as she pushed her paws against the small of her back and inclined her hips forward. "Well, if they had tried to open the box from the outside, we might have had something else to complain about," she noted. "Besides, you fell asleep."

Without commenting on the prospect of being poked with a claw or a box cutter, Catano turned a few twists to loosen her long, lithe spine, then straightened her uniform. "Got to rest where you can in this line of work," she pointed out, "but thanks for waking me up."

"No problem," Judy replied, likewise fixing her clothes as she looked around. "So, I guess you're waiting in here?"

Catano nodded, extracting several items from the box and supplying Judy with hers: a rabbit-sized rappelling harness, night-vision goggles which were rather inelegant due to hasty re-sizing, and a few other assorted pieces of equipment. On the ride over she had explained the inclusion of the harness with a simple piece of advice: sheep, and a lot of other mammals, were atrocious at looking up. All Judy had to do was climb up the wall – preferably behind the door where any marks she made would be least noticed – and station herself at a high vantage point from which to strike. She'd have – and she knew this was a terrible pun – the 'drop' on whoever came to dispose of the evidence.

Judy buckled the harness and allowed Catano to double-check her work. For someone as independent as she was, it was a bit... well, unorthodox having someone tinker around with something so tightly fitted to her form. She figured she'd have to get used to it, but it was some relief to at least be tended by a female officer – and one from a different species at that – for her first time. Catano, for her own part, simply tugged a few straps here and there before nodding her approval and offering some last-minute instructions.

"If you miss with the stun gun and have to get physical, hit the emergency release," the cheetah advised. "You don't want anything he can grab."

Judy picked up the rest of the gear, clipped it all in place on the harness, and nodded. "Count on it," she promised, flashing a confident thumbs-up.

Callie raised an index claw. "And don't get cocky," she added sternly, pointing the claw at Judy. "You're a good officer, so don't blow it." Then she fished in her pocket and drew out a key which she tossed to Judy; the key to Doug's former dwelling.

Something in the cheetah's voice pulled Judy up short in a way few ever achieved. It reminded her of when Bogo had thrown down the ultimatum about what would happen if she failed to find Mr. Otterton in time. Maybe there was some of that same gravity in Catano's voice. It also might have been the cheetah's regard for her safety, or – riding on that last point's tail – the simple reminder that she, Judy Hopps, was every bit as capable of dying as anyone else. Ten to one, whoever showed up would be one of the sheep from that clash in the subway. They had tried darn hard to snuff her out the last time, and would no doubt be more than happy to remedy their past failure on round two.

Whatever it was, it weighed heavily on her mind as she slipped next door and went about getting herself into place. Once she was in, however, her tactical mind took over. Her eyes scanned the apartment, mapping out every relevant detail: where the target might go, objects she could use to her advantage, and angles from which she could strike.

She would not mess this up. She had set her personal bar too high to botch an arrest now. The whole ZPD was counting on her to bring in this suspect.

For that matter, so was Ben's donut supply.

Focus, Judy! she mentally scolded herself, shaking her head. She went back to planning.


Out in the surveillance van, things had gone quiet. Clawson was listening to a portable radio as he pretended, for the benefit of any passers-by, to doze fitfully. Every now and then he would lurch and look around as if waking from a dream. In the back, Kevin assured Nick – who kept slipping out from below seat level to stretch – that the jaguar was wide awake through it all. Besides, Officer Clawson was just the window dressing. The real business was in the back.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though the real business consisted of watching a whole lot of nothing. In the hours they'd been there, Nick had observed several shady-looking exchanges, a few hookups, and a handful of would-be muggings quickly disrupted by officers supposedly just doing their regular patrols. So far, outside of tipping off those officers and making Nick wonder how often the regular patrols had this kind of fly-on-the-wall assistance, the surveillance van seemed to be about as much use as a life raft in the middle of a desert.

Nick was in the process of making his fourth or fifth trip up front, hoping to catch Clawson actually taking a snooze, when a sound sent him diving back into the 'play fort.' Someone was rapping on the window.

"Shh! Shhhh!" hissed Kevin, motioning for Nick to take over the computer while he manned the iPaw. They both listened as Clawson rolled down the window, smacking his lips and groaning as if he had just woken up.

"What?" asked the jaguar, and despite Kevin's assurances Nick suspected that the stranger had finally caught Clawson napping for real.

"What're you doing here?" came the unpleasantly toned reply. The voice had the same grating tone and irritability Nick had often met when visiting non-fox establishments. "You ain't from this neck of the woods."

Clawson continued to act confused and exhausted, blinking owlishly in response. "Oh, sorry," he yawned. "Was I in your way? I was just getting some rest, and-"

Kevin pushed a button, and a female voice suddenly sounded above him and Nick. "Honey, what's going on?"

Nick raised an eyebrow and flicked his ears. Then he realized that there must be a speaker hidden somewhere in the junk above their heads. Darn good speaker, too, he thought. It sounds just like a real mammal.

The jaguar looked over his shoulder at the non-existent passenger. "Nothing, sweetheart."

Another button yielded a sound like a baby feline crankily stirring in his sleep.

"You'll have to excuse us," Clawson added, speaking again to the stranger. In a forlorn tone even Nick could scarcely have seen through or beaten himself, the jaguar explained about losing his job and being evicted with his family. "We've been trying to find a place to stay, and I just had to..." he paused to yawn. "... had to stop and rest for a bit."

Kevin played a sound effect of the fictional baby feline beginning to cry, and the mother quickly trying to soothe her infant.

"Oh, now look," Clawson groaned. By the sudden odd, faintly smothered tone his voice took on, Nick guessed that he had dragged a paw down over his face in a helpless 'why me' gesture.

The stranger still sounded perturbed, but there was now a note of regret in his voice. "Hey, sorry about that, mac, but you do know this ain't a public parking area, right?"

"Yeah, I know, I know," the disguised cop replied impatiently. "Look, I just need a little more rest, okay? If there's a fire or anything, I promise I'll move."

Kevin cranked up the kit to all but uncontrollable wailing, largely drowning out the mother's voice.

The stranger, evidently, didn't want to continue debating in the presence of a crying child. "Okay," he agreed with a relenting sigh, "I guess that's alright – just this one time."

"Great. Thanks." Chad rolled up the window, and then kept an eye on the stranger. When the mammal was far enough away, he signaled Kevin to cut it out. The crying gradually died off, just like a real baby calming down.

Nick had to laugh. It had been a hustle worthy of him. "That was great," he chuckled.

Kevin grinned. "Thanks. My Illusion level's gonna hit 98 soon."

The whole thing was so funny that Nick almost missed the incoming report. "009 to CC," came a female cop's voice. "Incoming on SS."

"Check the south side of the place," Kevin commanded.

Nick's eyes were already scanning that set of mini-screens. Spotting motion, he clicked and surveyed the view that popped up on the main screen.

"Looks like one of our suspects, alright," Kevin concluded.

Nick nodded. "Yep. I'd know him anywhere." He keyed the radio. "Carrots, you and Spots better get ready. One of our sheep buddies is on his way – the one you almost ran down with the train car, I think. He's got a package, and I don't think it's pizza."

Kevin winced and shook his head as Officer Catano's voice testily answered, "The name's Catano, fox. Officer Catano."

Well I'll be, thought Nick as Kevin tried not to laugh at his bravado. They found another Judy and she's not even a bunny.

"Thanks, Nick," Judy replied. Then came the other shoe. "And you know I'm going to have to clobber you for the 'Spots' thing on principle, right?"

Catano said nothing at the moment, but hoped Judy was serious. She never could put up with being called 'Spots.' Putting that aside, however, she continued her surveillance of Doug's room through a camera planted right by Judy's current position. Though she admired the bunny's pluck and hoped it would pay off unaided, she had never lost a partner in her entire career with the department. She didn't plan to start that night.


It was an interminable wait for those both inside and outside, hardly daring to move as they anticipated Jesse's arrival. They supposed he was taking his time, avoiding any possible run-ins with his former neighbors or maybe suspicious that there would actually be a trap waiting for him. The truth was actually much less interesting, though the implications were dire. Despite having been commanded to go straight to Doug's apartment, do his job, and get the heck out of there, Jesse first went to his own former dwelling to retrieve some of his posters and other odds and ends. He had three reasons. One: he didn't like Obearon much and, being confident that he could smuggle his things back into the hideout, was glad enough to thumb his nose at the Mystery Boss' orders. Two: Life in the hideout was boring as heck.

The third reason was the one with dire implications: he knew that, depending on the potency of the package he was to leave at Doug's, he might not have another chance to collect his possessions... ever.

At the academy, Judy had learned that there was a drawback to being a rabbit where field work was concerned. Nature had given rabbits a heightened flight response, meaning their adrenaline glands could kick into high gear at the drop of a hat... and burn through said substance in a very short time. A system like that had served her well where running was involved – like chasing down Weaselton or being chased by Mr. Manchas. For waiting like a spider in a web, though... well, if nature had meant for her to do that, it would have given her spinnerets.

Never one to settle for the paw that fate had dealt her, she had learned to cheat her body's systems – at least in practice. The trick she had taught herself was to focus her mind on a given stimulus and screen out all other possible triggers. In this case, she was waiting for the door below her to open and the sheep in question to walk in.

In concept and even in training, it was simple enough. In situ, she was hard-put to keep up that kind of focus and force herself to be calm when every hair on her fluffy little body was screaming, 'Let it begin! Let it begin!' In a nutshell, it was exhausting. She was breathing as slowly and quietly as she could, holding her mouth open wide enough so the air wouldn't whistle through her teeth or lips. The only sound she couldn't muffle was the beating of her heart. It had been soft before, like a watch wrapped in cotton, but at the announcement that their sheep was on the way, it had strengthened in pace and intensity.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

THUMP-thump.

THUMP-THUMP!

THUMP-THUMP-THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP!

Part of her was convinced that the suspect would hear it all the way out in the hall.

Fortunately, he didn't. She almost gasped when the door opened. With a quick movement that belied his clumsy build, Jesse slipped in and shut the door behind him.

Judy could barely contain herself as the ram flicked on the lights. Thanking her lucky stars that the ZPD had picked goggles with an auto-response to sudden light changes, she paused while the suddenly darkened image cleared, letting her eyes adjust. This was her moment! Quietly, she slipped her stun gun out of the holster and took aim, steadying it with her left paw for insurance. She had already clicked off the safety; ill-advised, maybe, but this way no sound would betray her. Slowly, she raised the weapon and made ready to fire.

Unfortunately, she had neglected to allow for the window. Glancing around for any signs of traps or an ambush, he caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass and jumped forward just as she pulled the trigger.

The thunk of her dart lodging in the floor was almost instantly followed by a much louder report as the sheep rolled upward and fired – with an actual gun.

BLAM!

The first shot missed, but Judy wasn't about to give him time to recover. Flipping the release on her harness, she swung by the straps and dodged two more bullets, landing at the top of a bookshelf and knocking it away from the wall. Jesse yelled and scrambled out of the way, dropping the gun as the shelf slammed home on top of it and the package, which he had dropped in his roll seconds before. Judy rode the top of the shelf halfway down, then leaped, bounced off the far wall, and landed in a crouch on three paws with one forepaw drawn back.

"Let's see how tough you are without a weapon," she taunted.

"Let's see how tough you are without a train!" he yelled in reply, charging straight at her. Judy sprang straight up, came down on his lowered head, and jumped again, using the recoil from her second jump to send Jesse's face into the floor.

At first it seemed very one-sided. Judy struck blow after blow, shooting in quickly to flatten the ram before rebounding and leaving only air for him to hit in turn. Right hook! Tornado kick! Strike! Strike! Strike! Jesse was strong and built to withstand blows which would put her in a body cast, but she had speed and training.

There was, however, one very dangerous flaw in her strategy. Her blows were strong enough to take down a rhino, but rhinos didn't give ground; they took the full force of any blow right into their massive bodies. With each blow she struck, Jesse rolled, taking the brunt of it on his horns or letting his wool deaden the worst of the impact. Judy had virtually no experience against Jesse's style, but Jesse was a veteran of countless bar fights with more different species than he could remember. He had experience. She was wearing him down bit by bit, but he only needed one good shot – and he got it.

Tired of waiting for him to go down, Judy zipped towards a wall and rebounded. It didn't have the same give as the ropes around the ring at the academy, but she was sure she could do a good enough Rhino Rammer (her pet name for the move she had invented). Flying toward him like a missile, she brought her feet around, planning to slip them under his horns this time and get him on the chin.

He rolled back, just inches from impact, and hurled one hardened fist straight into the middle of her body. Pain knifed through Judy from spine to stomach, and her elegant leap turned into a tumble, knocked upward by the force of Jesse's blow. Her landing would have been inelegant for a rag doll.

Jesse rose to his feet, cracking his knuckles as he approached her, savoring the moment. He'd endured endless ridicule when it got around that he had been beaten by a bunny and a fox. Now, watching Judy struggle to rise, he had to give her some credit for just being able to move her legs. He'd put other sheep in wheelchairs before with punches like that one.

"So, this is the cop that saved the city, huh?" he gloated.

Still wincing, Judy rose to her feet and doubled up her paws. Jesse chuckled, let her charge, and sent her flying with a sweep of his horns.

"I guess you're not so tough without-"

He barely had time to register the blur in his peripheral vision before Catano struck, kicking him exactly where Judy had been trying for.

Officer Catano had been her high school girls' soccer team's MVP for three years running, and she'd lost none of her skill in the near decade since. The force of the kick flung the ram halfway across the apartment. He was followed an instant later by the feline as she landed on top of him in a pounce forceful enough for a cat twice her size, with a single forepaw driving his head against the floor. Keratin cracked as his horns were slammed into the boards, and for several seconds he was utterly dazed.

"Hopps, are you alright?!" barked Catano.

Judy took a few weezing breaths, patting her side to check out her ribs. "Nothing's broken," she replied. "I'll be fine."

Catano had some doubts on that, but she was satisfied that a few moments would not kill her partner. "Stay down. I'll take care of this punk and be right with you." Rising to her knees, she transferred her grip to Jesse's horns – one of which was now a mere half of its former length – and held him at arm's length with a disdainful look. She rose completely and began to walk along the wall, knocking in seemingly random places with her free paw as she carried her stunned captive.

"You know," she told him with the air of a teacher rebuking a schoolyard thug-in-training, "slamming a female around is about the most pathetic thing a male can do – especially with a female smaller than himself. No offense, Hopps. So if you think that's somehow macho, then I think you need a little education. Let me introduce you to a real stud."

Whirling around faster than Judy could track, Catano slammed the sheep's face into the wall. His horns punched right through the sheet rock like it was paper, taking off the tip of the other horn in the process.

His face met with something a teensy bit more solid. Even Judy winced. For all the mishaps she'd run into as a kit on the farm, she had never smacked her face into a two-by-four at that kind of speed.

The cheetah let her prize drop, planting one foot in the center of his back. Jesse, apparently, had either learned his lesson or was just in too much pain to resist. Catano keyed her radio. "Got him."

Several congratulatory remarks came through, along with a few inquiries about calling it a night.

"We might still need Wolfard," Catano replied. "The rest of you can go – and that includes the fox. Tell him he'll be hearing from 'Spots' later."

In spite of the pain she was in, Judy half-winced and half-laughed. On the off-chance she ever wanted to annoy Callie, now she knew how to do it. She was beginning to get her breath back as Catano cuffed the sheep, and something began to turn over in her brain. She wasn't sure if it was just the uncharacteristic sass from her normally business-like colleague, or perhaps her own head had taken a harder hit than she thought, but the next words out of her mouth were out of place even by her offbeat standards.

"That lecture sounded a lot like Major Friedkin," the bunny noted, recalling her tough-as-nails polar bear instructor.

"From the academy?" asked Callie, shrugging. If the remark surprised her, she gave no sign. "Makes sense. She adopted me when I was ten."

"Oh." Judy knew some mammals adopted outside their species, but she'd never actually met someone from such a family and known about it. For that matter, she had to wonder what it would be like for a savannah mammal to be raised by a polar bear – especially the major. "Was she a-"

"Friend of my parents?" Callie's reply came just a little too quickly, and Judy could see fur starting to stick out from the cheetah's body. Then Callie calmed down. "She was... but I'd rather not talk about it. Besides, we have something more important to worry about."

Though she doubted it was what Callie meant, Judy suddenly remembered something else. "Um, Catano, about that last-minute save... you don't suppose-?"

"Save it," the cheetah replied, lifting the toppled book case and looking underneath. With a scowl, she finished putting the shelf back in place and crouched over a package. "I hate being right," she muttered, putting her ears back.


Back in the van, Nick and Kevin slapped paw pads. "And that's a wrap for the night," Kevin announced as he closed down the equipment. "Go ahead and buckle up. I'll pack up back here and be right with you."

Sure enough, it couldn't have been more than a minute before the wolf emerged, put 'Clawson's belongings' away, joined him. "Let's go, Chad," he announced.

"Yeah," Nick agreed, feeling the urge to celebrate the victory with a good ribbing. "That shower's not getting any hotter."

Clawson gave him a baleful look in the mirror. "Funny, fox," he replied, muttering as an afterthought, "My wife hates it when I have to stink up for these things."

The canids in the back exchanged playful grins, but grew more serious by the time they got back to the station. Both of them, though initially jazzed and energized by the victory, were feeling the effects of the late hour. It was pushing three in the morning.

"It was good to have you along," Kevin said later as they parted ways, holding up his fist for a bump.

Nick smiled and returned the gesture. "Yeah, it was pretty fun. Gotta admit, I've never seen this side of the law before."

Kevin shrugged. "Hope you get to see more of it. In fact, let me see your phone a sec. I'll give you my number." Receiving the device and tapping in his digits, he added, "If this case takes a technical turn, it might pay to have an inside line with the computer department. Mind giving this to Judy too?"

"Will do," Nick promised. Then, as Kevin turned to leave, he laughed a little and added in a slightly louder voice, "Gotta admit, I figured the first 'give her my number' request I'd get would be from a buck."

Kevin chuckled a little at the joke. "Ee-yeah, somehow I think she'd prefer a guy closer to her own size."

Nick wiggled his eyebrows. "Well, maybe her taste runs more toward wolf."

At that, Kevin blanched just a little. "Uh, Nick, don't you think we should keep this profess..."

It was too late. By the time he'd turned around, Nick Wilde was nowhere in sight.

Kevin sighed, put a paw to his face, and ran it down his muzzle in wearied exasperation. "One of these days, I'm going to nail his paws to the ground," he muttered, walking away and shaking his head.


Meanwhile, in Ramses' apartment, the mood was not so jovial. Catano had searched Jesse and found him in possession of both a phone and a 'wire,' or listening device. While she disabled the wire and checked Judy for any serious damage, Wolfard was examining the contents of Jesse's package. "Lucky for you two our little friend here never got to arm this," he noted to his fellow officers with the gravest of moods. Studying some cylinders, he added, "Lucky for him, too. If these canisters had gone off by accident, it would have blown this whole apartment right out of the building. The chain reaction could have brought half the place down, too."

Judy gasped and threw a look at Jesse, who said nothing. She had known the ram was brutal, but he could have killed dozens of his own neighbors!

Catano just nodded, guessing Judy's thoughts. "Whoever's running this now, they're serious," she announced. "Deadly serious."

Her words were borne out a moment later when the phone she had taken from Jesse rang. Covering the ram's mouth, she motioned for silence and accepted the call.

"Good evening, officers," came a digitally corrupted voice which made them think of their chief speaking through a fan.

The similarity was so strong that Judy half-whispered, "Chief Bogo?"

The phone must have had a pretty strong microphone, for this was met with a derisive bark of a laugh. "Ha! No need for insults."

Both of the larger officers glanced unpleasantly at Judy for making herself audible, but Catano waved for her to do the talking since her voice had already been heard.

The mastermind on the other end, however, wasn't finished. "I must say, you put on quite a show, and I do regret that I could not see as well as hear it. Officer Hopps, is it?"

Judy frowned and folded her arms. "Good guess. And you are?"

He chuckled in reply. "Oh, I'm not foolish enough to tell you that. You may call me Obearon."

Judy would have liked to call him a lot of things, but she held her tongue.

"I must congratulate you on the capture of my employee. He doesn't go down easily, I know that much. It was a game as old as time, but you played it commendably; a most impressive performance, I must say. All the same, I believe this makes it my turn. You in the ZPD have many who look to you for security, confidence, and even guidance. As it happens, so do I. So here are the rules of my game: for every blow you strike to those who are looking to me, I will strike at those who are looking to you."

This time, Judy couldn't hold back. "You leave the people of Zootopia out of this!" she yelled, grabbing the phone and putting it right up to her face.

Obearon laughed, carrying no hint of joy but plenty of amusement – and a little insanity. "Don't bother trying to track this call, either. Both the phone you have and the one I am using are new and disposable." He laughed again, as if he could see the enraged look on the rabbit's face. "Welcome to the game, Judith Hopps. Play well."

The call ended. Judy, her mouth firmly shut, slapped the phone back into Catano's paw and pulled out her own.

"What are you doing?" asked Wolfard.

"Letting Nick know what we're up agai-hey!" she yelped in protest as Catano snatched her phone from her paws.

The cheetah's face was grim. "Nothing personal, Judy, but we're not telling anyone about this until we run it by Bogo."

"But-!"

"She's right," added Wolfard. "Something like this could throw the whole city right back where it was before you nabbed Bellwether. Until we have some idea where the hit might come, it won't do any good for the word to get around."

Judy's paws clenched in frustration. "Fine," she snapped, holding out her paw for her phone.

Catano returned it, and for a moment some rays of genuine penitence showed through the cloudy haze of severity. "I'm sorry, Hopps," she said. "If you trust Wilde, then so do I, but this is larger than all of us put together. So until Bogo says otherwise, we keep quiet."

Oh, yikes. Now what?! Looks like Obearon's not pulling any punches. What's the ZPD going to do now that they know they're not just mopping up remnants of Bellwether's plot? Well, unfortunately the only way to answer those questions – and one other I'm not mentioning just now – is to keep reading.

There are also – I suspect – some people wondering about the gun thing. I actually spent a long time debating the kind of weapons in Zootopia, but to make it simple I figured guns made sense – and besides, Batman: The Animated Series was loaded with firearms and had a great gritty suspense vibe much like what I'm after, so it made little sense to break formula.

For those keen on hearing more, good news: my other ongoing project, White Legend, is done except for the epilogue, so I should soon be able to focus my fan fiction efforts almost entirely on this story. My deepest thanks to everyone who's been following this. I see by the comments on the last few chapters that the new Chapter Four was a success – however modestly so – and that this story seems to have picked up its first (known) binge-reader. As a special thanks to all of you, and a tribute to men and women at arms everywhere, I'm making plans for a short companion project – probably not more than five chapters – to be released around the 4th of July if all goes well. What could that have to do with this, you ask? Well, you'll just have to keep following this to find out... but I'll give progress updates to the first person who comments on each chapter released here (sorry, not counting Guest reviews).

Easter Eggs

Moana

Skyrim

Pokemon: Mewtwo's Return

Bolt

Classic literature

Balto

Batman: The Animated Series (no, it's not the gun thing)