"To pull a friend out of the mire, don't hesitate to get dirty." - Baal Shem Tov
11:00 A.M ; The next day, the Marshlands...
Nearly a decade of work on the streets - from his time as a con artist to his period as a police officer - had shown Nick every inch of Zootopia.
It had been over two years since he'd last set foot in the Marshlands, and he was disappointed to see that it hadn't changed a bit. The roads were still underdeveloped and peppered with muddy potholes, the buildings were still small and pitiful compared to other more prosperous regions of the city, and worst of all, the diabolical stench of swamp gas still lingered in the air - a constant reminder of the industry that had made the Marshlands what it was. Indeed, as the campaign bus ambled along the crumbling roads, Nick spotted several large industrial plants built around misty green bogs. Humongous pipes sucked the gas from the water for processing. Fleets of bright red blimps hovered above the factories, waiting their turn to connect to the towering smokestacks that would refuel them before their flights back to the Rainforest-District next door.
"Those don't seem very environmentally friendly…" Olivia Wilde muttered softly, indicating the factories through the humidity-moistened windows.
"It might not be pretty, but it's important work," A meerkat in a violet business skirt and jacket in the chair beside her explained. "Zootopia's a big city. We have to get our energy somewhere! Secondary districts like the Marshlands, Beaverdam, and the Canal-District, to name a few, all have huge energy sectors. The mammals here are proud of the work they do." Samantha spared a sly glance at the fox in the beige suit across the aisle. "Probably something to mention in your speech, huh?"
"That's the plan, Sam." Nick confirmed, gaze untrained from the windows before him. Through it, he watched a small crowd of hares in stained blue coveralls and gas masks performing maintenance on a gas line connecting two giant bogs. A few of them spotted the bus and waved. Though Nick doubted they could see him past their masks and all the condensation, he waved back with a smile. "I can tell they're a hardworking bunch," he continued. "It's a shame the Prioritization Policy punishes them for it."
"No kidding." A snide voice added. A dark-furred opossum in an equally stygian bomber jacket and jeans briefly peeked his head out from one of the seats near the back. "I think I slipped a disc on the last pothole." Niel groused before shuffling back into his seat. "And this is Main Street…"
"I had always thought Happytown had it bad…" Olivia murmured, paws clutched against her modest green dress. "But this… this is chronic."
"Widespread," Nick agreed, calmly watching the forest of mossy swamp trees rush by through the window. "The primary districts have no idea how good they've got it. But I'll show everyone just how undervalued districts like these really are."
"Yeah, well I hope it works out," Niel grumbled, trying to keep his laptop still as the bus powered through another pothole. "Our trip to the Meadowlands didn't amount to much."
"But it could have been a lot worse!" Samantha quickly interjected, perking with joy. "The last time a predator tried campaigning in the Meadowlands of all places, he got tarred and feathered."
Nick chuckled dryly. "Seriously? When was that?"
"Oh, about a hundred and fifty years ago."
The fox shrugged. "Well, yay for breaking new ground?"
"That's the spirit!" Samantha beamed, shooting him a supportive thumbs-up.
In the bordering seat, Olivia smiled proudly, hefting her clipboard. "I'm sure we'll do good here. The turnout is expected to be over five thousand mammals this time!"
"See?" Samantha piped. "Always something to be grateful for!"
"You could say that again." Nick agreed with a smile.
Their bus continued its journey through the rural borders of the district, eventually reaching the more populated center. Factories and other signs of industry were still abound, yet clusters of elaborate wooden cabins crowded the very same bogs that they drew power from. Small office buildings were built in and around the murky green water. Fog cloaked the streets, and industrial smog hovered in the air above, creating a warm haze that blanketed the entire town. From there it didn't take long for the bus to reach its destination: a massive rectangular clearing surrounded by mossy trees. Just as Olivia had predicted, a vast sea of mammals were already waiting before a modest wood stage.
Nick and his team exited the bus to the chorus of applause. So far, this part of the trip was making the Meadowlands seem like a bad dream.
At the podium, Nick took a moment to stare out into the excited crowd. It was amazingly diverse, with more variety than anything he'd seen in the Meadowlands, where every mammal seemed to be some variation of a sheep. As he looked, it felt like he was seeing every size and type of mammal possible, from several huge water buffalo dotted around the furthest edges of the crowd down to the littlest voles set up in miniature bleachers at the foot of the stage, and between them were various species of deer, raccoon, opossum, weasel, nutria, and on and on. Nick's eyes tracked up, and he spotted more than a few bats hanging from the mossy branches of the trees surrounding the clearing.
The crowd in its size, variety, and enthusiasm was as different from the crowd Nick had seen in the Meadowlands as Tundratown was from Sahara-Square.
Smiling wide, Nick leaned in to the microphone and spoke the first thing that came to his mind: "Wow! Look at this crowd!"
The dull roar of excited chatter erupted into a raucous cheer. The enthusiasm was so infectious that Nick couldn't stop his smile from growing into a full grin. When the noise fell once more, Nick leaned back into the microphone.
"The variety! The enthusiasm! This is what I like to see in Zootopia! Give it up for the Marshlands!"
Not needing to be told twice, the crowd exploded into roars, screeches and applause.
Into the following lull, Nick said, "I see all sorts here. Big to small, thick and thin, predator, prey, and everything in between. Truly, this is what Zootopia is all about: bringing every kind of mammal together."
There was brief, though still very enthusiastic, cheer of agreement.
Nick placed a paw over his heart. "I'm so glad to see you all here, because it means you remember what makes Zootopia so amazing. That you remember that overcoming differences to meet on common ground is what made Zootopia what it is today. But, my friends in the Marshlands, not everyone remembers." Nick's enthusiastic tone shifted from upbeat to angry, and the crowd shifted with him, going from happy chatter to angry mutterings.
"Too many have forgotten what Zootopia stands for. Too many want to raise up those like them while pushing down those that are different. Districts like Happytown and the predators that live there have been left behind, and for what? So already wealthy districts can get an even bigger cut of the pie? So the rich elite can build bigger office buildings and shinier shopping centers? They've forgotten what Zootopia's about, but not you!" Nick jabbed a claw at the crowd. "You remember, don't you!?"
The crowd erupted into a deafening clamor of agreement. Nick didn't wait for them to settle, instead he yelled into the microphone, striking while the iron was hot. "You remember! Now, let's remind them! The Prioritization Policy has severely hurt districts like yours. Underfunded and underappreciated. Mammals forget that it's you fine folks that provide so much of the fuel that keeps all those transport blimps in the Rainforest-District afloat!"
He glanced around at the mossy trees surrounding the clearing and breathed in deep, hoping his face didn't look as agonized as his nostrils felt. "Smell that bold swamp gas? That's the smell of hard work, right there! The other districts depend on you! If that sweet, sweet swamp gas stops flowing, the Rainforest-District's economy would grind to a halt! All that cargo stacked on trucks and forced to take the long way from layer to layer. And how does the city government thank you for all that hard work?" His chin nodded to his bus parked nearby. "Potholes. Nearly popped a wheel on my way here! All they care for is what you can give them, and believe me, the moment this swamp stops producing, they'll leave you out to dry. This district is so much more than its exports. I see that looking around this crowd. Work with me, and let's teach them a lesson they'll never forget! Work with me, and let's make the Marshlands, and Zootopia, the shining city it was always meant to be!"
The deafening roar of the crowd grew even louder, until it felt as though it shook Nick down to his bones, and not even shouting into the microphone could make him heard, so Nick settled into wait. It was nearly half a minute before the crowd settled into something resembling order. For every second of it, Nick stared into the crowd with pride, heart hammering in his chest. He spread his arms wide, basking in the adoration. This was better than anything he could have imagined, especially after his lackluster experience in the Meadowlands. This was exactly the kind of motivation he needed. To know that there were mammals like these, far less this many mammals, that actually agreed with his goals was an incredible thought.
Nick vamped for nearly twenty more minutes. With such an enthusiastic crowd, it was difficult to find a place to stop, since it seemed like such a waste to not give them more when they were so receptive. Eventually though he forced himself to wrap it up, but rather than slip off the back of the stage and around to where the press was waiting as planned, he stepped down off the front into the crowd.
Every shape and size of mammal imaginable surged around Nick by the dozen and hundred, holding out paws to shake, requesting selfies, asking questions. Nick accepted every offered paw, posed for every camera, and answered every question, all with a smile on his muzzle.
While all of the interactions were positive, one stood out to Nick in particular. Six individuals approached as a group, having managed to shoulder their way forward through the crowd. Five were marsh hares, perhaps even the same Nick had noticed earlier, while the sixth was a swamp cat that stood a head taller. Interestingly, the cat and the tallest rabbit, likely the oldest, stood at the front of the group as a pair. All wore mismatched rags and jumpsuits, like specialized blue-collar workers, which Nick wouldn't have doubted given how reliant the Marshlands was on its natural gas industry.
"Mr. Wilde, it's so good to meet you!" The hare greeted Nick while stepping up and offering a paw to shake without any of the hesitation Nick was used to from strange rabbits. Smiling, Nick took the paw and gave it a firm pump.
"My name is Hank Wetmoore," the hare, Hank, went on as he released Nick's paw. Hank waved to the swamp cat by his side, who offered a winning smile. "This is my fiancée, Jolene."
Nick's smile grew warm as he offered Jolene his paw. "My congratulations to the future Missus Wetmoore."
"Thank you," Jolene demurred as she took Nick's paw in a grip to match Hank.
"Mr. Wilde, I've been a fan of yours for a while now," Hank went on as Nick and Jolene pulled apart. "You see, I'm a widow. My wife, bless her soul, passed while bringing our beautiful kits into the world." Hank turned and placed his arm around one of the young rabbits that stood around him, presenting her to Nick. Nick smiled at the half-grown doe, who smiled prettily back. "I was struggling as a single father. Lost. One of my neighbors, a friendly swamp cat, offered to help." Hank smiled adoringly up at Jolene, who returned a warm smile of her own. "Jolene was an angel. She was a mother to my children, and she quickly became my best friend. But, I was afraid to ask for more. I didn't think it could work."
"I was just as guilty, don't let him trick you into thinking it was all his doing." Jolene cut in.
Hank nodded along, accepting her words, then turned back to Nick. "Then, Judy Hopps became a cop."
Nick perked up a bit at the mention of his wife, but remained silent, invested in the story and curious about how it would end.
"I kept watching, curious about the rabbit cop. I tracked her career in the news and social media. Then, one day, I found out she was engaged to a fox. It was a revelation," Hank breathed the word with reverence. "After all, if a rabbit and a fox could make it work, why not a cat and a hare?"
Hank and Jolene shared another sweet smile. Nick couldn't help smiling with them, moved by just how in love the two obviously were. It reminded him a bit of himself and Judy, after they first became engaged, so long ago.
Jolene turned her smile onto Nick and picked up the conversation. "You and Judy are a beautiful example of what Zootopia should be. We want to help your campaign any way we can. How can we be of service?"
"Hank, Jolene, you have a wonderful story." Nick said, looking from one to the other. "I was in your position once - a mammal questioning their preferences, their ability, whether it would even work - and my wife and I, against all odds, against all the naysayers and dirty looks, made our own destiny. I'm always happy to brush elbows with another inter-species couple. We're somewhat of an endangered species, huh? As for helping with the campaign, there's a table set up by the bus. Stop by and we'll sign you up as volunteers. We'll get you everything you need to get started. I look forward to working with you for a better Zootopia." Nick lay a paw on each of their shoulders and the three shared a smile before Hank and Jolene ushered their little clan away. Nick smiled wistfully after them for a moment before turning to the next patiently waiting mammal.
As the last few mammals finally trickled away, Nick checked the time and was shocked to see that two hours had passed, and he had spent every minute of it interacting with his supporters. He'd heard stories of hardship, hope, and hate, all bundled up into one small district. If there was anything Nick could take away from this event, it was a fresh helping of perspective. The mammals here had it nearly as bad as the ones in Happytown, and the Nocturnal-District. The farther he got from Downtown Zootopia, the closer he got to seeing just how unfair the system really was. As if he needed any more motivation to destroy the Prioritization Policy, the last three hours had given it to him. All the commercials, Bradley's harsh truths, and the Meadowlands trip had admittedly discouraged Nick, but after everything he'd seen today, he had been reminded of what he was truly fighting for: justice, and the citizens of Zootopia. Perhaps some commercials could be tolerated if it meant securing a more prosperous future.
Quite exhausted and ready for a break, Nick climbed back into the campaign bus, trudging past his committee and flopping into one of the chairs. A tired sigh escaped his teeth.
Olivia looked up from her clipboard. "Everything alright, sweetie?"
Nick lolled his head toward his mother and smiled. "Couldn't be better. I'm no stranger to good conversation, but I honestly think the ones I had today will stick with me for life." He lifted his arms up and stretched in his seat. "But after two hours worth of the stuff, I'm beat."
Hopping over into the window seat beside him, Samantha yanked down the sunblind before turning to Nick with a smirk. "We'll let your fans think you're immune to such mortal necessities. Rest up! You've got another press conference in two hours!"
"Aye aye, captain." Nick gave a lazy salute, slumping in his seat a bit more.
As Samantha scampered off, Nick took a long, proud look at his campaign team. Samantha, Niel, Olivia, all working hard for one shared goal. There was just one thing that felt missing…
The fox retrieved his phone from one pocket before immediately scrolling to Judy's contact. Her profile icon depicted her on her family's farm, hefting a freakishly huge carrot a quarter the size of her body. Nick smirked at the photo. As he recalled, it had been taken during one of his first few trips to Bunnyburrow after marrying Judy, at a giant crop competition. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall the inviting scent of fresh blueberries, but ultimately gave up when all he could muster was another nauseating injection of swamp gas. The Marshlands was difficult to acclimate to. He didn't envy those who had to live here.
Quickly recomposing himself after a brief shudder, he dialed in her number and brought the device to his ear. After a few rings, Judy picked up.
"Hey, Slick," Her bright voice greeted, instantly putting a smile on Nick's face. "You caught me at the cubicle, so I can't talk long. What's up? How's the trip going?"
"Its had ups and downs, but I suppose that's to be expected when driving through hill-country," he allowed himself a slight chuckle at his own joke, pleased to hear Judy snicker as well on the other side of the line. "Said hill-country wasn't exactly a standing ovation, but the Marshlands? Couldn't have asked for a better crowd. This place has good taste! Only wish I could say the same for the smell though."
"That's great to hear, Nick," Judy praised before clearing her throat. "The part about the supporters, not the smell."
Nick smirked, leaning back in his seat. "I figured. How are things on your end?"
"Well, the case against Clovestone is making progress. I assigned Harlan and Mary on a stakeout at his firm's headquarters. We're hoping we can catch something useful." Her voice paused. "I also hope those two can get along sitting in a car together for four hours. They've been a bit… distant lately."
"Again, don't beat yourself up over their situation. Let them sort it out themselves."
"Yeah, I know. You're right." Her voice disappeared again. "Uh oh, looks like Bogo's patrolling the cubicle farm. I can see his horns over the wall. Let's wrap this up. Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?"
Although his first instinct was to say no, Nick realized that there were a few things on his mind. "Actually, yeah. Two things. Thing number one: remember how I mentioned we had some trouble appealing to the Meadowlands? Isn't Mary from the Meadowlands? Do you think you could patch me through to her? I'd like to ask her some questions about what I could do to help win them over. You know, from someone who knows the town. Hate to say it, but the Meadowlands is the one place where I don't know everyone."
"Sorry, Nick, but she's still on her stakeout. Is there anyone else you could ask?" Judy offered.
Nick hummed with thought, stuffing one paw into the pocket in his beige trousers. Something sharp pricked him back. With narrowed green eyes, he retracted the paw and admired the item that had poked him. He blinked, and then smiled down at the sleek business card. The words Bradley Stagnew, Election Chairmammal stared back at him in crisp bold font.
"Not to worry, Carrots, I actually think I know just the mammal," Nick said with a smirk. "He has a little more experience in this field than Mary, too."
"That's great! Hope you can find what you're looking for. Anyways, what was the second thing you wanted to tell me?"
Nick snorted dryly. "Just that I miss you. Nothing special."
"You just can't help being an insufferable smarm even when you're trying to be romantic, huh?" Judy grumbled, though her suppressed giggling betrayed her true feelings.
"Coming from the rabbit that's told me my insufferable smarm is what makes me romantic."
"Oh yeah? You know what else is romantic?" Judy asked, putting a bit of flamboyant charm into her voice.
"And what would that be?" Nick inquired, playing along with great interest.
"Teasing cliffhangers." Was all she said before the line clicked off.
Nick stared down at his phone, then chuckled. "Got me there." He muttered to himself before hefting the business card in his opposing paw. "Now then… time for some networking."
The number rang for only a single time before picking up. A clear, commanding voice answered, "Office of Bradley Stagnew; Bradley Stagnew speaking. How may I be of assistance?"
"I dunno, you got a minute to talk?" The fox asked confidently, placing one paw behind his head. "It's Nick Wilde."
The other voice instantly brightened. "Oh, hello Mr. Wilde. It's good to hear from you. I hope your campaign is proceeding appropriately."
"It's about as appropriate as it can get. But to the Meadowlands, I might as well be rated-R," Nick joked, chuckling. "If you're not too busy, I'd like some more advice from you."
"Oh? Is Ms. Diallo not pulling her weight?"
"Oh no, she's great! Couldn't ask for a better campaign manager. It's just…" Nick spared a glance down the aisle, taking note of the way Samantha was jumping up and down with excitement, hugging the pig bus driver for some indiscernible reason. "She can be a bit on the optimistic side. Your advice is harsh, but fair. I think I'll be needing more of that to balance out the overwhelming optimism."
"Very well," the deer agreed cheerily. "What questions do you have?"
Nick's gaze turned to the window, staring out into the foggy swamp. "My team won gold here in the Marshlands, but in the Meadowlands, we might as well have tripped at the starting line. The whole point of going there was to raise some support, but I can't help feeling that we accomplished the opposite. What should I do? Is there anything I should try to win them back?"
Bradley took a moment to ponder this. When he answered, his voice was a lot colder. "Mr. Wilde, I've been counting votes and running data on the Meadowlands for longer than you've been alive. For forty years straight, ninety-five percent of its population have voted for hoofed prey candidates over any other mammal. I can assure you that if your trip there wasn't enough to win them over, then they're a lost cause." His voice slipped from its professional, no-nonsense tone into a softer, more relaxed version. "Try focusing on predators more. It's a better investment. Aren't they the cornerstone of your campaign?"
Nick stroked his chin, humming beneath his breath. "You're probably right." He sighed. "I hate to give up such a big voting block, though. My campaign may have a focus on predators, but I'm not in this just for them. I'm trying to make Zootopia better for everyone. That'll be a whole lot harder if such a big chunk of the city is fighting against me every step of the way."
"No one ever said politics was easy," Bradley remarked. "But it seems to me that that's your only option."
"Yeah, I guess so." Nick agreed, no small amount of glumness filling his words.
Bradley was silent for a moment, as though thinking something over. "Tell you what," he announced. "How about when you return from your trip, you stop by City-Hall, and I'll supply you with all the data you'll need to make the best informed decisions for your campaign. My position has allowed me to learn a lot about how Zootopia thinks when it comes to elections. In this world, data is all you need to succeed. Believe that."
The fox blinked. "You'd do that for me?"
"I would. You'd likely be servicing such data during the debating period anyways from some third party, but I can provide it directly to you, free of charge. I just ask for one small favor in return."
"And what would that be?"
"Join me for some coffee at City-Hall, and tell me more about your campaign: your goals, your setbacks, what you plan to do next." The deer chuckled dryly. "My work, important as it may be, isn't exactly entertaining. I could use an inspiring story."
Nick smiled. "That's a price I'd be happy to pay."
11:45 A.M ; The previous day, the Nocturnal-District...
For a nocturnal mammal, Vladzotz Fangpyre hated to be in the dark when it came to information.
As the head of a major organized crime syndicate, the steady flow of reliable information was paramount to stability. Knowledge was a kind of power that Vladzotz could never get enough of - knowing his competitor's plans, developing contingencies, and applying calculated risks, all of it had helped secure his position as one of Zootopia's top criminals. Yet when the information stopped flowing, all that was left was speculation. As cautious as he was, speculation was a liability that Vladzotz despised.
When the survivors from the strike on Subzero Storehouse had returned to the safehouse from their mission, a very noticeable quarter of them were missing: one raccoon, one badger, and one Lucy Sang. Not a single one of them claimed to know what had happened to her. The news of her disappearance weighed heavy on the crime-lord's heart, yet he refused to let it bleed through his skin - his minions needed their leader, after all, and a leader had to remain cool in the face of setback. In the face of speculation. There was nothing Vladzotz wanted less than to let his rage consume him once more. It had been nearly twelve hours since the strike, and the crime-lord knew there was work to do.
Vladzotz strode through the purple-wooded halls of the safehouse, wings folded calmly behind his back, trailing behind him like a cape. The day's stresses had prompted him to shed his typical collared overcoat for comfort's sake, now sporting only a simple red vest and black slacks. His face was a cold, harsh scowl staring ahead as Lester walked alongside him with a clipboard in paw.
"There have been news reports about the fire in Tundratown, sir," the mole-rat briefed his boss. "So far, none of them have mentioned any ties to gang violence. The ZPD is painting it as a gas line malfunction. But considering we lost three soldiers, they undoubtedly know that there was a fight. We'll need to be extra careful going forward to avoid drawing unwanted attention."
"Yes," Vladzotz agreed, ignoring the line about having lost three soldiers. "The war must be concluded swiftly, lest the ZPD grow privy of it. Every day that Big still breathes is a day this conflict stretches onward. We cannot let it grow beyond our control. Cannot let civilians be caught in the crossfire. That means we must attack hard and fast. I want another team organized to hunt down Big's location. We'll strike at the heart of our enemy and burn them from the inside."
The mole-rat nodded, jotting down a note on his clipboard. "As you wish, sir. We can use the survivors from the last mission again."
"I wish to speak to the elephant." Vladzotz ordered.
Turning a corner, the two mammals pushed through a comparatively large door, entering the safehouse's backyard. A massive elephant in a black trench coat stood near the pool. His face and trunk were obscured by a rubbery green gas mask, the opaque dark eyes of which stared down at the approaching bat and mole, looking quite minuscule in comparison. Being a vampire bat, Vladzotz was no stranger to standing in the shadows of larger mammals, but staring up at the massive creature before him was something else entirely.
"Apologies for the lack of accommodation," Vladzotz began, shouting up to the elephant's giant ears. "The house is a touch small for you, I'm afraid. I was told that you're a friend of my wife's, and that you helped lead the strike in Tundratown. What is your name?"
Grunt grunted.
Vladzotz paused, waiting for more. When more didn't come, he cleared his throat. "Erhm, a pleasure to meet you," he said. "Do you know what happened to my wife on the mission? Where Lucy is?"
Grunt grunted again.
Vladzotz looked to Lester. "Do I need to hire a translator?"
"I don't think he can speak, sir." Lester hypothesized, to which Grunt nodded in confirmation.
A sigh escaped the bat's fangs. "Very well. I have a different question for you - one that requires a less complex answer. Will you help us on future missions? We could use your strength to great avail."
The elephant nodded once more, earning a fanged smile from Vladzotz.
"Excellent," he continued. "We'll begin planning forthwith. Since you won't fit in any of our safehouses, we can have you posted in our warehouse in Sahara-"
Sploosh!
Something loudly crashed into the pool beside them, dousing Lester. All eyes turned to the pool. There, Lucy floated to the top of the water, gurgling softly as she tried using her wings to paddle to the edge. A noticeable swirl of red trailed from her side, darkening the water with blood.
"Lucy!" Vladzotz knelt to the rim of the pool to help her out.
The thief rolled onto the surrounding stone tiles with a wet flop. Her gray fur was drenched, sticking to her frame and making her appear even smaller than normal. Pain filled her expression, but she smiled up at her husband's happy face.
"Hi, Vladdy." She greeted in a weak voice, straining slightly as she sat up on the tiles.
Vladzotz wrapped his wings around her shoulders, pulling her close and soaking his red vest in the process. Lucy was shocked for a moment before leaning into his embrace. The cold from Tundratown (not to mention the pool) had made her temporarily forget how nice it was to be warm. She nuzzled into the groove of his neck as he spoke.
"I'm so glad you're alive. I was beginning to fear the worst."
The crime-lord leaned back and helped her to her feet. Grunt reached into his pocket with his trunk and draped a rabbit-sized handkerchief over Lucy's shoulders.
"Thank you. Sorry I vanished. I couldn't make it back here after I got hurt," Lucy explained, touching tenderly at her waist. "But I'm okay. Had to take a detour to Lilian's. She patched me up."
Vladzotz turned her toward the house. "You should go dry and clean yourself. Tend to your wound," he spared a glance at the blood in the water. "I'll be with you shortly."
While Lucy limped off, Vladzotz coldly turned to Lester. "Assemble another strike team. Make sure our territories on the surface are secure. It won't be long before Big turns his attention toward them."
"As you wish, sir." The mole-rat assured, wringing out the water from his black commando sweater. "You should go tend to your family."
Vladzotz nodded, his expression softening ever so slightly. "I shall."
The crime-lord flapped back toward the manor, leaving Lester and Grunt all alone. The former looked up to the latter. "So… glowworms look extra bright today."
Grunt grunted in agreement.
Back inside the manor, Vladzotz followed Lucy into their bedchamber. Nearing time for sleep, he was unsurprised to find her there. He walked in on her just as she finished repatching her wound with a fresh bandage. Her partially naked form was quickly obscured by a thin, wine red nightgown as her husband approached the bedside.
"How bad is it?" He asked softly.
Lucy sighed through her nostrils. "Bad enough to put me out of the fight, for now," she admitted. "I just hope it's not for too long. I need to be able to protect you, and the pups."
"Your presence here will accomplish that," Vladzotz assured. "The pups need their mother. Rest. Recover. Help me end this war from our front. We could always use more help on the logistical end."
The thought of their children caused Lucy to pause with thought for a moment. "Vlad… there's something I need to tell you. When I was at Lilian's, she offered to take care of the pups while we're busy fighting Big. I think we should do it. They'll be safer with her."
Vladzotz straightened his spine at that notion. "Safer than here? I doubt that. This building is under twenty-four-seven security. My organization will protect us all to the death."
"But it's still a target!" Lucy insisted, grabbing one of the crime-lord's wingtips in her own. "Vlad, we can't juggle both the war and the pups. They deserve better. They deserve to be safe. Lilian is perfect. We can post some guards. No one from the Tundratown Mafia will ever think to look there. Please."
Vladzotz's large ears dipped as he picked up on the sincerity in his wife's words. "Very well. As you say."
"Thank you," the female bat squeezed Vlad's paw. "I… couldn't bear to put them in any danger. If something were to happen to them…"
"They will be safe, my dear. I promise. We will make it so." Vladzotz assured.
Lucy's gaze tore away to the floor. "I feel like such a terrible mother for bringing them into this war… and I feel just as terrible for having to give them away to be safe."
"No, Lucy," Vladzotz quickly sat down on the bed beside her, wrinkling the plush red sheets. "You are wrong. Do not condemn yourself for taking such actions." A brief period of silence descended upon the two bats again. Vladzotz didn't like how despondent Lucy was - so out of character for herself. "What happened while you were away, Lucy?"
It took her a moment to respond as she thought back to her encounter with Niko in the warehouse; how he had berated her for her blood cravings, and threatened to hurt her children. Lucy recalled the way her own sister had expressed such genuine, honest concern over her mortality, and ability to continue the work she did. Another sigh followed.
"I guess I just took a long look at myself… and I didn't like what I saw. Didn't like the future I saw, either. I've had a lot on my mind lately, and it's scared me. Peter, the war, the pups, you - it's just so much at once. I've been getting reminder after reminder of how… how horrible a mammal I am. My job, my feeding habits, my failures. I've always wanted the best for you, and the pups… always loved every one of you. But I was afraid to be a mother," Lucy confessed, rubbing tenderly at her eyes with one wrist. "Because of who I am-"
"I know that you would never be a danger to our children," Vladzotz interjected, understanding what she meant to say before it had even left her mouth. "You are not a monster, Lucy. You are my wife. And you are a good mammal, despite what you may believe. Think of all the lengths you've gone to defend this family. You have a clear, indisputable love for your children. What we have is not hampered by who you are, or what you do."
Lucy sniffed, trying a bit too hard to keep her tears from falling. "But the war… it's my fault! I nosed into Big's past and got that recording sent to the-"
Her husband gripped her shoulders. "It is not your fault, Lucy. We are pawns in a game beyond our control. But we will beat this game together. I swear it. Our pups will grow to live long and happy lives, as will we."
Oh, screw it, Lucy's mind blared, and she buried her face in Vlad's chest, letting her tears drip into his vest. "I hate that you can make me cry."
Vladzotz smiled and gently pat her head with one wing. "I am your husband. It is my job to know how to manage your emotions."
A frail laugh escaped Lucy's fangs. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Having a family doesn't stop you from being an individual, my dear," Vladzotz said softly as he stroked her spine. "You have your habits and hobbies, as do all of us, and you can change any of them if ever you so desire. But I want you to know that I love you for who you are. And I want you to know that who you are isn't defined by what you do - it's who I know you to be. I know that past your battle-hardened surface," he caressed her gray fur. "Is a mammal with a good heart. A mammal that has risked her life for friends and family alike. Perhaps on the surface, you are what you've done, as it is all you have ever known. But deep down, we both know that you are so much more."
Lucy sniffed again, this time with a soft smile on her face. She didn't respond because she couldn't - not only was there nothing she could think of to reply to such a heartfelt reassurance, but her throat was simply too backed up with suppressed sorrow to function. Instead, she just rubbed her face appreciatively into Vlad's sternum, listening in on the sound of his heartbeat as it pumped blood she had tasted, yet never hoped to see. Lucy affectionately butted her forehead into Vladzotz's jaw, cheeks nuzzling into his neck. She purred softly like a cat, and then released a series of brief clicks that Vlad mirrored back at her. And there they stayed for several minutes.
"You always were the romantic." Lucy blurted out after a while, voice back to normal. "I'd like to see the pups. I… I want to spend some time with them before they go."
Vladzotz smiled, patting her shoulder with one wing. "Mothers know best. Let us go."
Meanwhile, in Tundratown...
Sometimes the best medicine for a bleak situation was a good distraction.
With the war weighing heavy on his heart, Mr. Big wanted little more than some time away to ease his stress. While some mammals drowned their unhappiness in food, drink, and revelry, the crime-lord of Tundratown had no patience for such pointless debauchery. In his eyes, spending time with family was the simplest and greatest of pleasures. The Big family estate was a peaceful, quiet place, with all Tundratown Mafia activity quarantined to other properties. This was home. And home was a place for family, not crime.
Mr. Big hefted the smaller shrew in his paws, paying no mind as she lightly kicked into his tuxedo. The only thing that mattered to him was her joyous smile.
"No, Grampy! Higher!" Judy demanded, flailing her arms in her tiny pink dress. "Higher! Higher!"
Chuckling softly, the older shrew bent down slowly and then lifted his granddaughter as high as his aging body could handle. "Up you go!" He grunted.
Lifted toward the living room's ceiling, the toddler laughed happily. This part of the estate was sized for shrews, giving the Big family some welcome privacy. Miniature, old-fashioned furniture filled the dimly-lit parlor. Old family portraits hung from the walls and perched atop fireplace mantles, and the smell of pine lingered in the chilly air.
"You should be careful throwing her around like that," the high-pitched voice of Fru-Fru urged, lounging atop a nearby couch in a bright green dress. "She nearly kicked one of my teeth out yesterday. Four-year-olds can be real nasty things."
Smirking, Mr. Big glanced to his daughter. "Does this face look nasty to you?" He countered, holding Judy for her to see. Judy smiled happily, as though to emphasize his point.
"It is when she's crying." Fru-Fru retorted, earning a scoff from her father.
"So was yours, when you were her age."
A knock at a nearby wooden door drew the family's attention. "Come in." Mr. Big declared, watching as a brown-furred shrew with beady black eyes entered the room.
"Mikey!" Fru-Fru leapt up from the couch and greeted him with a kiss and a hug that wrinkled his vermillion red suit. "Welcome back! How was work today?"
Michael smiled at his wife's attention, patting her shoulder to show his affection, yet the action suggested he had little time for more. "That's actually what I came here to discuss," he claimed before looking to his father-in-law and clearing his high-pitched voice. "A moment of your time, sir?"
Mr. Big set Judy back down on the wooden floorboards. "Very well."
"Daddy, Judy and I can come too, you know." Fru-Fru insisted, to which her father turned around and administered a disapproving glare at her.
"We've been over this," he grumbled. "I do not like you nearing yourself to the family business. You have a child to nurture and protect, now more than ever with this war."
The crime-lord turned his back to his daughter, who crossed her arms and pouted with exasperation, ignoring her as he followed Michael outside. Making sure to close the door shut behind them, the two shrews calmly strolled into the shadowy hall, pacing atop a long red carpet.
"I hope you enjoyed your break, sir." Michael said softly.
"A mammal that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real mammal." The crime-lord claimed, tugging on the lapels of his tuxedo.
Michael glanced back to the room over his shoulder. "She's stronger than you think, you know. You should give her some more credit."
Mr. Big sneered. "My daughter lacks the will for such responsibility. Such danger. Most importantly, I won't have mammals of my lineage anywhere near this conflict. I built my empire to make their birthright, not for it to be their birthright. There will come a time when the family and the family business must separate," his expression softened. "That is why I offered to make you the next Don. You are fit to carry on my work."
"I respectfully disagree, sir," the younger shrew asserted. "I… don't believe the others share your sentiment. Kozlov has wanted your position for as long as he's served you. I fear that he might… disagree, if I were made Don."
"Kozlov serves the Don. He will do as commanded," Mr. Big declared with authority, as though that notion were unquestionable. "Now tell me what you came to say."
A sigh siphoned through Michael's trunk-like nose. "Our front in Subzero Storehouse was attacked. There was a fire. The entire warehouse was lost… Niko was too."
Good news was not what Mr. Big was expecting, but this was something else entirely - his organization's largest supply front and one of their top lieutenants had been lost in a single night. The crime-lord felt an intense pang of anger suddenly surge in his chest, heating his torso to the point where his vest felt like a brand burning into his flesh, and his bowtie a noose hanging around his neck. His right paw immediately clutched at his heart, gripping it tighter and tighter with each heaving pant that pushed through his mouth. He stumbled backward until his spine was against the wall.
"S-Sir! Are you okay?" Michael asked quickly. He stepped forward and spread his paws, yet didn't touch his boss, as though he were afraid of doing more harm than good.
Mr. Big snarled in a mixture of pain and anger. "I'm fine!" He snapped, gritting his beady teeth harshly and pushing himself deeper into the hall. "Vladzotz is behind this! That conniving parasite… I want him dead by the END OF THE WEEK!"
Michael grimaced, walking after him quickly. This is exactly what he had predicted would happen. "Sir, are you sure-"
"The shipment," Mr. Big growled, interrupting him. "Did it leave the warehouse before it was destroyed?"
"Yes, sir. Niko delivered it before the attack. It's currently in storage at the weapons cache on Sleet Street."
"Good. Send it to our mammal on the inside. Tell them to target the Nocturnal-Mob's blood supply. It is the only way to ensure that every vampire bat in the house is dead."
"Y-Yes, sir." Michael repeated. "Even… the pups?"
Mr. Big's expression softened for a moment. He stopped in his tracks. "No. They should not yet be old enough to drink blood. They will be spared. Their parents will not."
Michael stopped behind his boss, looking like he wanted to say something before ultimately changing his mind. "I'll see to it. But, sir, there's one more thing you should know."
"What is it?"
The younger shrew paused again, this time for an entirely different reason - he wasn't sure how well Mr. Big would handle this information. He quickly forced himself to speak.
"As you know, all of the Nocturnal-Mob's leadership have gone deep into hiding. Our inside mammal is always transported to and from Fangpyre territory blindfolded, so he has been no help in tracking down where they are hiding. Even our scouts have yet to find anything, but they've given new reports of an elephant guarding one of their new warehouses in Sahara-Square. The survivors from the raid on Subzero Storehouse also mentioned that an elephant was among the attackers."
"What?! An elephant?!" Mr. Big spat with disbelief. His anger threatened to boil over again, so he forced it down by balling his fists and swallowing hard. When he was calm enough to speak, he continued, "What terrible news. Our bears are strong and in great numbers, but an elephant on the opposing forces puts us at a severe disadvantage."
"What do you suggest we do, sir?"
Mr. Big took a moment to consider this. His pacing resumed down the hall, approaching another small wooden door at its end. "Subzero Storehouse is lost. Niko and his soldiers are gone. And an elephant aids the enemy. Our edge in this war has slipped. We must regain our footing or suffer the consequences. Poisoning the Fangpyres is a probable tactic, but we must prepare contingencies." He stopped in front of the door and gripped its handle. "I will make a call for external organizations to aid us in our efforts."
Michael perked with surprise. "I thought all of the other crime-lords were imprisoned?"
The older shrew glanced to his son-in-law over his shoulder. "The Five have never been the only criminal organizations in Zootopia. We were - are - simply the largest and most powerful. The desperate dregs dependent on our table scraps have the potential to be useful allies, if properly united. I will leave this task to you."
"As you wish, sir," Michael accepted. "What would you have me do?"
Mr. Big hummed. "One of the largest of these lesser organizations is a syndicate in the Deciduous-District that calls themselves the Unbearables. Start with them. I will give you the location of their headquarters. The Unbearables are a rowdy pack of thugs, but their leader prides himself in his…" the shrew cleared his throat as though his mere thoughts were giving him heartburn. "Class… so negotiating a deal should not be problematic. He is a panda by the name of Lee. Promise him twenty percent of the assets seized from the Nocturnal-Mob once it is defeated as payment for his help." Mr. Big opened the door at last. "And promise him that if he betrays us to the enemy, his life will be mine."
12:00 P.M ; Present time, Fangpyre Family safehouse, the Nocturnal-District...
At this time of day, most bats were sound asleep. Yet there was one bedchamber that was uncharacteristically loud that afternoon.
The baby bat squeed as his mother hefted him with one foot, talons carefully clutching around his sleeveless green onesie. Lucy held him out in front of her face, smiling fangs at the baby's distinctive chirps.
"I think Leo's trying to echolocate!" Lucy announced excitedly, lifting her head and staring at her husband.
Sitting atop a purple Gothic settee in the corner of the room, body obscured by a wine-red bathrobe, Vladzotz glanced up to the ceiling. There Lucy dangled from a wooden bar with their son clutched against the chest of her skintight black bodysuit. "No, it's far too early for that. They're just reactive chirps- ack!"
He sputtered off as the pup in his own wings yanked at one of his ears, dragging his head down with it. "No, Vasila, that is not a chew toy!" He pried his daughter away before she could gum at his ear and gently set her on the ground, muttering, "Already has enough holes…"
Lucy giggled. "She's her mother's child."
The crime-lord chuckled dryly, rubbing tenderly at the tip of his ear. "You must be so proud."
"Sure am! Don't pretend like you aren't, either." She said, ignoring the strand of drool that stretched up from Leo's mouth before plopping to the purple carpet at Vlad's feet. "Come on, Leo! Echolocate for mommy! Then I can teach you how to hunt a nice juicy mouse!"
"Didn't you tell me that you wanted to cut down on your blood theft?" Vladzotz asked, all the while admiring the way Vasila did her best impression of an inchworm across the carpet.
Lucy winced. "You're right. Sorry. Old habits."
"Do you think you'll be able to manage?"
The female bat pondered that question for a moment. "I dunno. Maybe I should only drink off you from now on, and the henchmammals that volunteer… and anyone we may happen to catch trying to hurt us. This war is gonna tempt the worst from me, once I get back in the field," she shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the slight stinging in her side from her injury. "But I am trying to curb that side of me. I don't want our pups to grow up thinking I'm some monster."
"It's very noble of you to seek to quell your compulsions for the sake of our family," Vladzotz praised, velvety voice filling the room. "Just don't forget that I'll still look at you the same regardless of how you drink your blood."
Lucy smiled softly. "Thanks, Vladdy. It's hard to kick a habit," she turned her grin to the pup in her grip, noting the way her reflection beamed back at her in his large green eyes. "But at least I have support!"
"Indeed. Take as much time as you need. I wouldn't have married you if I was afraid you'd suck me dry in my sleep, after all."
Another giggle escaped Lucy's fangs. Just as she was about to make a dirty joke at Vlad's last comment, she watched as Vasila crawled forward, and with a flap of her wings, pitifully flung herself into a black vase potted with mushrooms beside Vlad's seat. It toppled over with a crash, just barely missing the pup as she rolled to the floor, covered in dirt, and began to cry.
"Oh my-" Lucy gasped fearfully, immediately flapping to the floor and setting Leo on the bed. "What happened?!"
Vladzotz stood from his chair, quickly lifting Vasila from the mess of shards with one foot and setting her on the bedside next to Leo. "I don't know," Vladzotz quickly confessed. "I was watching her the whole time. I… believe she tried to fly."
"Is she okay?" Lucy asked, leaping onto Vlad's back to gaze down at their pups over his shoulder.
Vladzotz maneuvered Vasila around. "No cuts. She's all right."
Both parents released a sigh of relief. Vasila quickly calmed down, cries fading as her brother crawled over and wrapped his wings around her.
"I guess this means we'll have to start finding ways to flight-proof the house," Lucy declared slumping one arm around Vlad's shoulder and allowing herself a relieved laugh. "They're gonna be all over the place once they learn to fly."
"Yes," Vladzotz agreed, turning to face the shattered vase. "It's clear we have more planning to…" He trailed off at the sight of the wreckage. "What… is that?"
Lucy followed his gaze. Sitting among the dirt was a small black knapsack. She hopped off her husband's back, flapped over and shook it clean. "Oh yeah, I hid this here back when we had the house furnished." Lucy admitted, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry for forgetting to tell you. I like to keep emergency supplies around. You know, just in case."
"I suppose I can't fault you for being cautious," the crime-lord said, staring at the bag as he seated himself on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the pups. "What's inside?"
"Well, it's not the one with the grenades," Lucy murmured as she zipped it open. "That's buried beneath the garden shed."
Vladzotz raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She reassuringly spread one wing under his gaze.
"Don't worry, it's buried in a metal box with a passcode. I promise I think these things through!"
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." Vladzotz replied, voice edged with a teasing undertone. "So long as they're secure, it's of no concern to me. Though I would like to know exactly what else you've hidden, for security purposes."
Lucy nodded. "Deal."
That settled, she opened the bag and stared inside. Her curious expression melted almost instantly.
"Is something wrong?" Vladzotz asked, quick to take notice.
A few rapid blinks from Lucy betrayed her apprehension. "No, I-I just…" she swallowed, and then pulled out an item from the bag. "Forgot about this."
It was a small mask. Shaped like a curved teardrop, it only bore a single eye hole, as though it were made to be worn by only one half of a face. It appeared to once have been a pristine silver, or white, but now was singed almost entirely black from fire.
"What is it?" Vladzotz's smooth voice broke the silence.
Lucy had been so lost in thought that she nearly jumped at the sound of her husband's question. Quickly recomposing herself, she paced over and sat down beside him.
"It used to belong to Peter… my old mentor," she explained. "He always wore this stupid mask during our missions together. After our falling out, well…" Her story trailed off as she thought back to the night Peter had faked his death - the way the explosion had blasted her away, ripping at her sensitive ears. She sighed. "This was all he cared to leave behind."
"You've kept it all these years?" The crime-lord asked, placing a comforting wing on her shoulder. He could tell she'd probably be needing it.
Lucy's muscles relaxed a bit under his grasp. "Yeah. Didn't have it in me to throw it away. Not after everything he'd taught me," she slowly elaborated. "Didn't have it in me to look at it, either… not after everything he'd done to me. So I buried it with some supplies and tried to forget about it," she muttered, tossing the half-empty bag to the floor. "Along with the rest of the Infernum."
"I'm sorry." Vladzotz replied, voice gentle and caring. For as eloquent as he was, he wasn't sure what else he could say.
Lucy shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I messed up, thinking I could trust them, and I got burned. Never making that mistake again." She chuckled dryly. "I used to think it was trust that I had to be afraid of, after I went solo," her gaze met Vlad's. "But you reminded me that trusting the wrong mammals is what hurts."
"I couldn't have said it better myself," Vladzotz agreed with a smile, secretly thinking of Mr. Big. "I'm glad you recognize that now, my dear."
"Yeah," Lucy placed one wingtip over the paw on her shoulder. "Nothing like a wise vampire to help keep my head straight."
Her gaze turned back to the mask in her grip. By then, she could do nothing to stop the memory from overcoming her.
The flying squirrel landed on the mat with a light thud, forcing the air from his lungs in a wheeze. He cracked a buck-tooth grin up at his student. "Good. But your stance was misaligned. Again!" Peter acrobatically launched himself to his feet, and stared down Lucy through his bone-white mask. "A good thief must know how to defend themselves!"
On the other side of the mat, Lucy panted softly. They'd been at this for hours, to the point where all the movements were beginning to rub the fur beneath her skintight black bodysuit to the point of irritation. Peter's martial arts training was easily the hardest workout of her life. And she was forced to do it every day without fail. No time for fun, no time for leisure. Lucy hated it. The only thing that made it worthwhile was whenever she was allowed to go free for a mission, and put her hard-earned skills to good work. It had been six months since the prison break, and the Felidae Infernum had spent every minute of it training her in their ways. Brutal, but necessary.
Peter shifted into a defensive stance, limbs stretching in his own strapped black bodysuit. "Chokehold takedown, aerial technique!" He suddenly ordered.
Spurred by the test, Lucy lept into action. She had done this so many times that she didn't even need to think about it. Her body simply knew what to do. Lunging forward, the bat closed the distance between them until they were mere inches apart, and then using her wings for extra lift, vaulted herself upward in an acrobatic jump, locking her thighs around her opponent's neck. She then twisted her body in midair, taking Peter with her. They both slammed into the mat. He may have been bigger than her, but momentum was a magical force. Lucy tried holding him in place, but Peter twisted his limber body to the point of prying himself free from her grip. Lucy tried to get on her feet in time to defend herself, but it was too late. Peter flipped back and kicked her square in the chin, toppling Lucy to the floor once more. The shock from the blow sent stars cascading through her vision. Pain filled her jaw. Peter stood back, allowing her to recover.
"Good, but you weren't holding my neck at the right angle," he explained. "Again!"
A sigh escaped Lucy's fangs. No matter how lax Peter was around her compared to the other Infernum members, if there was one thing he didn't hold back on, it was his combat lessons; unafraid and unapologetic to hit her. But she knew that was the point. Not that that made it any easier. All the bruises and soreness reminded her of the fights she'd been forced into back in prison. Only this time, she was able to defend herself.
Without further stalling, Lucy hauled herself to her feet, and resumed a defensive stance. Peter did the same, and then declared, "Throw takedown, defensive technique!"
The flying squirrel ran straight for her. Lucy tightened her jaw, and when he was in range, grabbed the collar of his jumpsuit with one paw and the back of his neck with the other, and then whirled around. Straining with all her might, the bat pulled Peter forward into a flip, letting gravity do the rest. The echo of his back crashing against the plastic pad bounced off the concrete walls of the gymnasium. Peter struggled to breath for a moment as the air was expelled from his body.
"I'm so sorry!" Lucy yelped, hopping to his side and extending a paw to help him up. "I didn't mean to throw you so hard."
"No," Peter chuckled wheezily. "Never be sorry. That was perfect." He clasped her helping paw with a smile. "Again!"
In the present, Lucy released a fresh sigh. Her green eyes stared over the mask in her paw. After everything the Infernum had put her through, Peter's lessons still carried weight with her to this day. His humor, his skill, his friendliness; all of it had meant worlds to her coming out of a place as bleak as prison. A part of her wanted to wonder how it had gotten so bad between them. But she knew the answer already - the Infernum had never been her friends, far less family. And when the chips were down, Peter had chosen the Infernum over her. And now, years later, their feud still raged.
Lucy grimaced with disgust, and then tossed the mask somewhere out of sight over her shoulder, not wanting to lay eyes on it any longer. She hefted Leo from the bed with both arms, holding him out in front of her where their gazes could meet. Both of their irises bore the same shade of green, a trait that never failed to catch Lucy's attention as she stared into his big, curious eyes. Leo smiled and chirped happily, spreading his tiny wings through his sleeveless green onesie. A smile spread the mother bat's face. This was a much more comforting sight. The one thing she'd wanted for so long, but could never steal.
Beside her, Vladzotz smiled and stood to his feet with Vasila clutched against his torso, claws digging into his red bathrobe. "I'm going to retrieve a broom and dustbin to clean up that mess," he announced, gesturing one wing toward the pile of dirt and shards. "I'll be back shortly."
Lucy watched them as they left. She knew they'd be back momentarily, but just knowing that in that moment, her whole family was there, Lucy was left reassured. By the time he returned, she'd completely forgotten about Peter's mask, now wedged between a nearby lamp and the wall behind it. Perhaps becoming a mother wasn't something she would have imagined during her time with the Infernum, but now, she couldn't think to a single regret. Somehow, she wanted this moment to last forever - this moment where she knew that everything was okay, and that her past was behind her for good.
But she had already accepted the fact that the future would hold yet more uncertainty, even with the family she so cherished. Although Lucy wished she didn't have to give her pups over to Lilian, she knew that they'd be safer with her than anywhere else. For now though, she meant to enjoy her time with them as though it were the last she'd ever see them, trying to ignore the nagging voice in her head that told her it just might be.
1:30 P.M ; Capricorn Tower, Downtown Zootopia...
In a bland, forgettable parking garage, a bland, forgettable brown sedan sat with two mammals dressed in bland, forgettable clothes. The mammal behind the wheel, a wolf with dark fur, sat slumped in his seat, chin propped on his knuckles as he stared vacantly out the windshield. The second mammal, a little sheep ewe, looked much more focused as she stood on the passenger seat and leaned against the dash to peer through the glass.
"This is so boring! I never thought I'd miss paperwork," the wolf snarked, louder than necessary in the small, quiet space. The ewe twitched an ear in his direction, hummed a neutral response, and then silence fell again.
The wolf leaned forward to glance out at the clear, blue sky, a large part of which was blocked off by skyscrapers, the nearest of which was the unique spiral shape of Capricorn Tower, then fell back into his seat. "Sky's getting pretty dark for the afternoon. Think it might rain?"
"Maybe." The ewe said without turning her head.
The wolf stared intently at the side of the ewe's head. He drummed the steering wheel with his claws, once, twice, three times. He watched her ears drop and her shoulders bunch up in a clear sign of discomfort, but her gaze stayed firmly through the window.
"Ewever, are you ever gonna look at me?"
Mary's head turned. Just for an instant, expressive brown eyes met Harlan's. Then her gaze snapped forward again.
"We're supposed to be watching for Clovestone. I'm just doing my job." She deflected.
"Were you doing your job when I met you at the front of the station? Or all through the brief? Or when we checked out this junker and the entire drive over here?"
The sheep ducked her head, but her gaze stayed stubbornly forward.
"What can I do to make this go away?" Harlan asked, voice a conflicted mixture of irritated and remorseful. "Do I need to say sorry? I'm sorry."
Mary shook her head. "I don't need an apology. I just… need time, I guess. You really freaked me out back there."
Harlan snorted in disbelief. "You've known me for a year already. How much time could you possibly need?"
"Maybe it's not about you," Mary snapped, voice uncharacteristically tight with frustration. Harlan blinked in surprise. Mary continued, "I just need to figure this out on my own, okay? You can't reach into my head and fix this, so please drop it."
Harlan chuffed, but dropped the subject as requested. For several long minutes an uneasy silence filled the car until he could stand it no more.
"So…" Harlan began slowly, unsure of where to begin. The very expensive antique automobile they were watching across the street gave him an idea, and he waved vaguely in its direction. "What do you think about all this? Clovestone, I mean."
"Rupert Clovestone is a despicable mammal. He uses his money to influence the government into doing his bidding. It's a perversion of the law." Mary bit out, voice dripping with disdain. "Reminds me of my dad…"
Harlan snorted again, but this time with a bit of humor. "Not exactly how I'd put it, but yeah, couldn't agree with you more." When it seemed like Mary wouldn't respond, Harlan continued, desperate to keep the conversation going. "Rich prey like him never go to jail. You ever notice that? Even if they get caught stealing millions from hardworking mammals' pensions or something, they'll only get probation, or maybe a couple years house arrest in their freakin' mansion. Meanwhile, a predator steals a few hundred dollars from a convenience store to feed their family and goes to prison for ten years. Makes me wish cops could just do what they actually gotta do, you know? Then we might get some actual justice."
"That's not justice at all," Mary rebuked, voice low but firm. "There's no justice outside of the law; just revenge. A city like Zootopia could never exist if we let every mammal with a grudge do whatever they want. Remember Al Catpone? He thought like that, and look what happened."
"I'm not saying we should hurt them, Ewever," Harlan protested. "I just wish cops could do more. I mean, a cop can search any poor mammal's car if they even think it's carrying contraband, but we have to get a court order to search a rich mammal's office, even if we know they're fraudsters or laundering money or whatever."
"That's not the same thing."
"How?"
"Would you want to live in a city where the police could invade your home at any time?"
"I already do." Harlan growled.
That got Mary's attention. The ewe turned and stared at Harlan, their first prolonged eye-contact in days.
With a curl to his lip that spoke of vast disgust, Harlan explained, "Happytown was an overpoliced warzone for as far back as I can remember. Judges would sign blank, no-knock search warrants so cops could pick them up whenever they wanted. And whenever the cops didn't feel like it, the courts would hire bounty-hunting mercenaries: T.U.S.K," Harlan spat as if he could think of no viler acronym. "Those trigger happy boars… T.U.S.K would break down the door of some poor Happytown schmuck and trash the place. And those raids were dangerous. It wasn't called T.U.S.K to be cute. Those razorbacks gored a lot of innocent preds, and sometimes those preds died."
Mary looked shaken and confused, ears pulling down with submission as her big brown eyes stared into Harlan's. "But… wasn't T.U.S.K disbanded? We learned about that case at the academy."
"That was only ten years ago," Harlan reminded her. "And not because they hurt any predators. They got caught taking money on the side," his yellow eyes intensified. "From Rupert Clovestone. I saw it in the records we read. All his financial statements. It was only after the government realized they no longer had full control of their little private army that they got disbanded. No one was even punished - not Clovestone, not the pigs that killed preds, or the politicians, judges, and cops that supported them."
Mary's eyes fell away, first down toward the dash of the car, then up and out the windshield. No wonder you're so angry at Clovestone, she refrained from saying. Instead, she spoke just loud enough to be heard, "I didn't know that."
Harlan's own gaze drifted back out the window as he snorted with disdain. "Of course a sheep from the Meadowlands wouldn't know anything about it." Harlan didn't notice Mary flinch as though stung, and blithely continued on. "Prey never know anything about it. The politicians and their buddies in the news did their hardest to cover it up. But I grew up on those streets; went to school with pups that lost family that way," he paused, breath straining behind clenched teeth as though he wanted to say more, before growling and pressing on. "Had neighbors pack up and move outta the city because they couldn't handle the thought of being next. You wanna know why Happytown predators were so ready to riot and wreck the city last year when Catpone gave them the chance? Because they felt like they had no other choice." He snarled. "That's why. Zootopia pretends to be a place where 'anyone can be anything', but it's clear that only applies to prey. Even after everything Officer Hopps did to change it." His bitter gaze dropped to the side, yellow eyes narrowing with contempt. "Always has, always will."
Another silence fell over the cab, the worst one yet. Even Harlan, admittedly not the most socially skilled, could sense the tension. His gaze flicked back to Mary, and he was startled to see her shoulders shaking.
"Ewever-?"
"I don't know what I can say!" Mary blurted in an uncharacteristically loud voice. Harlan's mouth snapped shut in surprise as the sheep finally voiced her thoughts. "Ever since we took this case, you've just been getting angrier and angrier! You say the police should have more authority, but T.U.S.K is the perfect example of what happens when they have too much! Don't you think that's exactly why Zootopia needs a strong government in the first place? To keep both criminals and cops in check? Because if we don't, all we have is a bunch of angry mammals too busy fighting each other to see the big picture! That without City-Hall - no matter how many mistakes they've made - there'd be total chaos. Order is what keeps everything together. So shouldn't we be thankful for that? So… so…" she sighed with exasperation. "So what are we supposed to do?"
"We should make it fair." Harlan stated without pausing to think.
Mary turned to stare at him. "How?"
Harlan stared back, unable to voice his thoughts to that exact question. He knew that Mary would hate him if he did. The two cops might have been close enough to touch, but they both knew in that moment that there was a gulf between them so vast that it might never be bridged.
Movement drew Harlan's eye, and he turned to stare out of the windshield. "Clovestone." He reported without inflection.
Mary dragged her gaze away from the wolf to follow his line of sight. Sure enough, the ancient markhor was stiffly walking toward his equally archaic vehicle. His gait was slow, suffering under the weight of his massive, corkscrew-like horns. Judy had described him as sporting a lab coat, yet this time the old goat wore nothing but a simple white button-up under a brown vest and identically colored slacks. To the surprise of both cops, an unmarked black van pulled up alongside him, stopping the markhor in his tracks. Harlan was already reaching for the radio receiver as Mary gasped, "A kidnapping?"
Harlan had the receiver in paw when a shout from Mary stopped him. "Wait, look!"
The two watched in surprise as Rupert turned and seemed to argue with the driver of the van, who couldn't be seen past the opaque tint of the windows. Neither of the two cops could tell what was being said, but the goat's expression and gesticulations spoke of annoyance, not fear. Then with even greater surprise, they watched Rupert Clovestone open the van's back door and climb into the vehicle under his own will.
"Did we just watch the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company get into a shady van?" Harlan asked in disbelief.
"I think so," Mary responded, sounding equally mystified. Then she held out a hoof. "I saw the license plate. Quick, give me a notepad! We need to get this to Officer Hopps ASAP!"
Harlan hit the ignition as the van began to pull away. Luckily, it was going in the same direction as the entrance to their parking garage, but there were still three or four vehicles between them as the non-descript brown sedan pulled out after the black van. Both vehicles spilled onto the congested streets of Downtown Zootopia, boxed between the shadows of the towering skyscrapers.
Now seated firmly in her chair, Mary pulled down her seatbelt. As the latch clicked home, she shot Harlan a strange look, trying to ignore the scowl on his face that showed his teeth.
"Er, O'Conall, what are you doing? We haven't radioed in."
"If we radio in, they'll tell us not to pursue." Harlan replied distractedly, his full focus on the van a hundred feet ahead of them.
"That's… kind of my point…?" Mary said cautiously.
"And that's kind of my point." Harlan growled back, eyes focused firmly through the windshield. "We can't let Clovestone get away!"
"O'Conall, this isn't-"
Taking his eyes away from the road, Harlan glared harshly at Mary and snapped, "Shut up and let me do my job!"
Mary's mouth clicked shut with no small amount of surprise, and she turned away, just trying to hold on as the car accelerated. Satisfied there'd be no more interference, the wolf turned back to the road, only for his eyes to widen in panic. The van was gone!
"Where did you go? Where did you go?" Harlan muttered as he pressed harder on the gas. He frantically cast his gaze about, looking down every passing alley and side street. A flash of black paint to his right caught his eye. "There you are!"
Harlan cranked the wheel hard. The sedan swerved abruptly, and came unnervingly close to swiping a minivan full of beavers in the oncoming lane as it turned onto the desired road. Ignoring the irritated honking behind him, Harlan sped after his target. The sought after black van was trundling down the block, and picking up speed. Something told Harlan that the driver knew they were being followed. His instinct was all but confirmed when the van came upon a busy intersection and barely slowed down as it swung into the flow of traffic to the accompaniment of screeching tires and angry horns.
They're trying to get away, Harlan internalized, gritting his teeth. Not this time!
Harlan was stuck behind another vehicle, and instinctively reached for the switch that would turn on his pursuit lights, only to curse as his paw landed on the unadorned dash. In the excitement, he'd forgotten that he wasn't in a police cruiser. With a growl, Harlan drove right up to the slower car's bumper and began abusing his horn.
It didn't help. If anything, the vehicle went even slower, much to Harlan's frustration. He swerved to the side as though to pass in the oncoming lane, but there was too much traffic to even consider it. By the time he swung out after the van, Harlan's teeth were so tightly clenched his jaw ached.
As Harlan swerved through traffic after his quarry, Mary was forced to clutch her arm rest just to keep from being thrown around. "Harlan!" She cried in dismay as a particularly daring maneuver pressed her back into her seat. "You can't arrest Clovestone like this! You're in plainclothes, in an unmarked vehicle! This is against protocol!"
"What good's protocol if it lets mammals like Clovestone off the hook?!" Harlan growled back without looking at her, eyes intense as they zeroed in on the van. To his joy, the vehicle seemed to be slowing down.
The distance between them began to melt away. In what might have been a few seconds, there were only a few vehicles between them. Ahead of them, a traffic light flipped from green to yellow. Suddenly, the van sped up again, swerving and dodging around traffic much as Harlan had been doing, its heavy back end swinging back and forth. Absolutely determined to prevent Clovestone's escape, Harlan's vision locked on the vehicle, and he stomped the gas.
Ahead of them, a traffic light flipped from yellow to red. As the traffic in their lanes came to a stop, the black van dodged left, and cut off a giraffe themed car trying to get into the turning lane, forcing it to brake to avoid a collision, much to the driver's very vocal displeasure. Unimpeded, the van flew forward. Gritting his teeth, Harlan forced himself into the next lane, then through the same hole the van had carved for itself, once again cutting off the angry giraffe.
Cross traffic had already started to pour into the intersection. The gap closed. The black van barely made it. The brown sedan did not.
Harlan was forced to swerve to the left to avoid tearing the front off a shiny red sports car. Then he had to swerve right to avoid a truck coming from the opposite direction. Then they were hitting the center divider, a curb tall enough by design to prevent large trucks from making illegal u-turns. A real pursuit cruiser with a properly reinforced frame might have made it. Their junker didn't stand a chance.
The front of their vehicle flew up in a burst of metal shards and plastic bits. For one surreal moment, all Harlan and Mary saw through the windshield was the clear blue sky, framed on either side by shimmering skyscrapers. Then they crashed back down. The car jolted to a stop half on the dividing curb, half in the passing lane. The abused sedan rested on its frame, which, along with the akimbo front tires, told of a broken axle. The front bumper was all but obliterated and steam began to pour from under the bent hood.
Still gripping the steering wheel, Harlan slowly raised his head. Glazed yellow eyes dumbly took in the destruction through the badly cracked windshield. Slowly, he turned his head to the right. A trembling Mary was there, warm brown eyes wide and vacant with shock, still clinging to her arm rest. The bare skin on her face had flushed pale, and her chest rapidly rose and fell with terrified breaths.
Woop-woop!
The familiar siren got the wolf's attention. Harlan turned away from his partner to look out his own window, and saw a police cruiser pulling up alongside them. When a very serious looking Officer Hopps stepped out of the driver's door, it finally dawned on Harlan just how much trouble he was sure to be in. The wolf finally tore his paws from the steering wheel and stared down at them. His grip had been so intense that his limp fingers were still bent into the wheel's rough shape.
Harlan groaned with defeat and sank his head into his palms, his regretful face being the only part of this mess that he could hide.
Hope you enjoyed chapter eight! I had fun writing this one. You'll be seeing how Harlan and Mary's development unfolds in the coming chapters, and Nick's campaign take some big new turns! You can also expect him and Judy to be spending some more time together now that Nick is about to return from his campaign trail. Some romance will come from that soon.
I should also note that the next chapter, "The Rebel Path," will be introducing another character from Bloodlines, so it might not hurt to give that story a look for the best context, though I promise you it won't be confusing here. This character will only be appearing for a single scene, after all, and another in the future. Just letting you know your options! I know I sound a bit like a broken record mentioning that story again, but this'll be the last time, I promise.
Thank you so much for reading, all the same, and hope you stay tuned for the next chapter! Bonus points for those who caught a few obscure references I threw in. You can expect chapter 9 to have a lot of scenes with both Nick and Judy, Harlan and Mary, some more with Mr. Big and Michael, and a few small ones with Lucy and Lester. Looking forward to sharing them!