When Night Falls

by upplet

Ten months after the events of When Instinct Falls, Nick begins the difficult work of forging a new path. With his eyes on the mayor's office and Judy at his side, the duo work together to make the world a better place, and navigate a dangerous plot years in the making. Meanwhile, a long kept secret threatens to destroy the peace between Zootopia's last two great crime families.

13. Aftermath

"The future is bulletproof, and aftermath is secondary." - Gerard Way

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9:00 A.M ; Samantha's office, Downtown Zootopia...

Nick sat down tensely, the eyes of his entire team on him. It had been a few days since the first big debate, and the city had been having plenty of time to mull over what it had seen and start making its decision. The fox couldn't help but worry about his biggest mistake in the debate; that foolish trip-up about 'not having to live in Happytown.'

Even now, his brain couldn't help but think of responses that could have sailed off his once silver tongue and shut down the complaints against him. Long tales of his time growing up on those streets, seeing things get richer or poorer as factories opened or closed, or playing amongst the old street cars left abandoned or the rubbish filled drainage ditches. He knew that place like the back of his paw, he grew up there, he'd spat at the old Happytown sign more times than he had hairs on his body.

It just so happened that after getting into the ZPD's top precinct, he'd moved to somewhere that didn't give him a crazy commute to work and back. And now he wanted to lend his old home a helping paw. Nothing wrong about that, right?

But that wasn't what he'd said, and it wasn't what the city had heard. And now, that realization ate at him like a parasite.

He drummed his fingers on the table. To his left sat his mother and Judy, here for the support and both looking as nervous as he was. To his right, Neil sat tapping away on his laptop. The conference room was as clean and bright as any other part of Samantha's office, yet the gravity of the situation did little to make it feel like a warm, safe place.

And then finally, scurrying in with a stack of papers in her paws, came Samantha herself. "Right," she announced, heaving and throwing them onto the table before climbing on top of them, paws on her hips. "Nick Wilde, you are well on the way to becoming the next mayor of Zootopia."

Nick felt all the tension leave his body, before joining in as the rest of the crowd (bar Neil) whooped in joy. He hadn't flubbed out!

"I knew you could do it," Judy said, coming up to him, patting him on the back. She brought a paw out and up, her husband hi-fouring her then and there. "One step closer to making the world a better place, I'm proud of you."

"Yeah," he said, letting his tail wag. "I'm more relieved personally, but each to their own!"

"Ah, that's just you being your usual worry-fox self."

"Me? A worry-fox? Please…"

"You say that to yourself."

"I will," he winked, smiling as she walked back to her seat, before he turned forward, a big cheesy grin still on his muzzle. He'd gotten through to the next round! And, looking at Samantha's smile, he wasn't just skimming by either. "So, how did we do?"

"Read for yourself," she said, pulling the first one off the stack and placing it down. Nick couldn't help but take a sniff in through his nose.

"Ah, that new newspaper smell," he smiled, the smile only increasing as he saw the headline: 'Stagnew and Wilde Clear Front Runners for Second Round.'

"Let's get to the good news first," Samantha chirped, grabbing the initiative once again. "You have already been written in for the second round of debates, grabbing the approval of those polled for it. Even better, there is no clear third runner chasing up your tail. I've seen it plenty of times before, where you have a close enough race in the top three that the two top-runners get leapfrogged in the second debate. Not this time, with the two follow up slots being split pretty evenly between Batley, Tucker, Templeton and Livingstone. It would be five, but Dillard chose to pull out, and her support got evenly spread between the rest."

"What about the others?" Judy asked curiously, Samantha glancing to her.

"Well, it doesn't really matter much, but after his encounter with a certain moose," she said, smiling up at Nick. "Thumper pulled himself out, which is great for us as he was splitting the disadvantaged district vote. The Swamplands are all yours Nick."

The fox almost lit up with a triumphant smile only to pause and shake his head. "No, they're nobody's," he said. "They belong to nobody, and everyone there gets to vote for whoever they think is best for them. Even if I get lots of support there, I have to earn every single vote from them from now until election day, and not take them for granted."

"Yes, yes, understood," Samantha agreed, nodding. "Very wise. But we can still enjoy that it's ours, right?"

Nick gave her that, and a big smile. "Yeah, I suppose we can."

"Uh-huh," she carried on. "As for the rest, they've been informed they haven't got into the next debate and have all dropped out. Except for Chuckles - he's contesting the vote on account of being off-stage for half the debate, but it won't hold water."

Olivia looked on curiously. "He can't still be in the race now, can he?"

Neil scoffed. "If you consider his 'alternative, happy, debate,' complete with a bouncy castle, cotton candy machine and clown an issue, then yes. So far, no other candidates have considered joining in-"

"-And that will include you too Nick," the meerkat cut in. "We can spend that time far more productively campaigning and practicing for the real debate."

"Yes, Samantha," Nick replied, letting his ears droop down a bit as he forced a disappointed look, earning an elbow from his wife.

Samantha though seemed to have the same immunity that Olivia and Judy had, quickly pushing on. "So, we have no threats from below, yet. Which brings me on to that bad news."

Nick sighed. "Our big threat is above us, and has a head full of antlers, correct?"

"Correct," she said, getting serious. "Worse still, he's pretty much been called the front runner already." Grabbing the papers she began opening them out to the opinion pieces, the big bold headlines laying out the gauntlet ahead.

'Wilde Gives Out Daring New Vision, but Stagnew Stands Strongest.'

'Nick Wilde: Champion of Happy-(to be out of)-Town'

'The Old Guard Takes the Lead.'

'Whoops. Ex-ZPD Fox Talks Himself into a Box.'

'Zootopia Eyes Up Trusted Familiarity Over Radical Shake-Up.'

There were more, but the themes were all the same, falling into one of two camps. Nick sighed. "Okay, okay, I know I flubbed up with that line about living in Happytown. I need to work on it."

"We need to work on it," Samantha corrected. "Politics is cutthroat, if your enemies see a small weakness, they'll pounce on it and chip-chip-chip away at it for all its worth. And that has to go for you too." She looked down. "The consensus is that Zootopia is working, and Bradley will keep it working the way it does, for the betterment of all mammals."

"Except those in the unprioritized districts," Nick spoke under his breath. "Which is why we need to remove the Prioritization Policy. Go to Happytown, go to the swamps, go to the docks. Ask them, is Zootopia working?"

Samantha looked on and smiled. "Good, now pretend that I have a pair of antlers." She puffed herself up. "Well," she said, putting on a voice. "These districts may not be glamorous, but they pay their way, wages are low but so is the cost of living. They're getting by, doing their part. But who is funding their healthcare, and pensions, and so on? The priority districts pay in the majority of the cities tax revenue. Investing in them gives greater returns, those greater returns help subsidize the other districts."

"So you're just going to let them sink further behind?" Nick asked. "Here's an idea. Give them a chance. Give them an injection of funding, more control over themselves, give them a nice boost to catch up. Because tell me this, would any of these prioritized districts be where they are now if no-one had given them a chance in the first place? Try imagining a future where instead of having to rely on 'handouts' as you put it, these smaller districts could hold their own just as well as the big boys. That's what we could get if we removed the Prioritization Policy and gave them a chance to succeed."

Samantha beamed a smile, before shaking her head to clear it and going back into 'Bradley mode'. "And what if it fails?"

"Then at least we tried."

"Cold comfort for those made poorer by the failure."

Nick whistled, impressed by how accurate Samantha's Stagnew impression was. It sounded exactly like something he would say. Then again, she knew him better than Nick ever had. He only wished that he'd taken her word for his sleaziness back when she'd first warned him. "You could say the same thing about those in the poorer districts now."

Samantha nodded, before bringing her paws down. "Better," she said, just a bit of concern entering her voice. "But still no slam dunk."

"Well, we're not going backwards," Nick said.

"And we're in second place, so we're not getting any closer to winning. Bradley just needs to stay in the same place, and he wins. After all," she sighed, "The prioritized districts are bigger than the others, and have better turnout."

"So we need to find a way to appeal to the kind of mammals who support him," Nick offered..

"If we could, that would be great," Samantha agreed, only for her smile to fade. "But that's about the hardest way to go about this. There'll be a lot of voters who won't want to vote for you, or your message."

"Well," Judy chipped in, "We can still win them over, right?"

The meerkat shook her head, before spotting something in her paws. "Mind handing me that?"

"What, this?" The bunny asked, holding up a nearby grass smoothie that she'd bought earlier that morning from Snarlbucks. Walking over, Samantha picked it up and wandered over to Neil, the opossum leaning away slightly as she undid the lid and shoved it into his face.

"Ueeghhh…" Niel squirmed in his chair, trying to distance himself from the drink.

"This here," Samantha said, unable to stop her own nose turning up a bit as she screwed the lid back on, "Happens to be the third most popular beverage type in Zootopia. Millions are sold every day, and it's impossible to tell the people who like it that they're wrong, as they're not." She handed it back to Judy. "Just like it's impossible to argue with Neil that him not liking it is also wrong."

"Can I argue that I don't like being used as a prop?" The opossum grumbled, crossing his arms.

"I'll take that onboard," Samantha teased, looking to Nick. "At the end of the day, you're moving money going from one part of the city to another, and for lots of mammals that's going to be a deal breaker. Trying to argue with them that they're wrong is just a waste of time. It's better to focus on bringing others onboard your vote. The other candidates might have a few smart ideas in their manifestos that you can adopt without much fuss. In many cases, you can find niche issues where a simple rule change can ally a small but dedicated group of mammals to your side. Our last mayor for instance won thanks to a large swing in the Canal District in her favor, after she proposed a new deal for boat dwellers and a plan to open up a bunch more moorings. Most mammals in the city didn't notice or even think about it, but those it affected…"

"Uh-huh," Nick agreed, stroking thoughtfully at his chin. "I get ya. I mean, if it ends up with me against Bradley, not many mammals would object to me bringing on similar reforms to the blood market as Brian Batley wanted. But his old base? Well, pardon the pun, but I think they'll flock to me."

Neil, nose still wrinkling from before, cut in. "Presuming Stagnew doesn't do the same."

Samantha scoffed. "This is Bradley Stagnew we're talking about. His only point is he's going to keep things the same. He doesn't like change so much, I'm surprised he hasn't had some operation to freeze his antlers in place."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, we have to bring new mammals on board and pull in swing voters. Buuuut… I still think we can take away from his base too." His optimism earned a sigh from the meerkat, prompting Nick to add another amendment. "In fact, I want to! I want to try and represent all mammals in Zootopia. It's never just been about predators. We're trying to make things better for everyone."

Samantha cradled her head in her paws. "You can't go head on against them. It doesn't work. Bradley's got the lead, and even this early, it's gonna be too tough to overcome that." Looking up to speak again, she paused, seeing Nick nodding his head.

"I agree, going head on against them won't work," he said, crossing his paws and giving a smile. "But I have a lot of experience in pitching things to mammals, and I've learnt that if you come in just a bit to the side, you can win them over."

"Oh really?" Samantha asked, crossing her paws. "And when in politics has that worked?"

"Oh I don't know," he said, looking up in the air. "Pairing a lion and a sheep on a ticket, to get both the predator vote and the Meadowlands vote? I'd be curious to meet whichever genius thought that one up."

All eyes turned to Samantha, whose frustration had vanished, replaced with… a blush? Whatever it was, she shook it off and smiled, seeming far more relaxed and happy now. "Yeah, I wonder what happened to her," she said, arms crossed as she rolled her eyes, before getting a bit more serious again. "Though in our case, that ship has sailed, so let's see what else we can do. First, what's Bradley's pitch?"

It was Neil who spoke up. "If it breaks, you can fix it, right?"

"Huh?" Samantha asked. It was on everyone else's tongues too.

And with that, Neil turned around his computer and revealed a video, pressing play.

A grainy black and white video played at first, the frame rate flickering, bits of the film jerking, and all sorts of white spots and noise interfering with the picture. Through it all though, a young panther and horse dug a hole and planted an acorn. Patting the ground down, watering it, they left it alone and slowly it began to grow. The screen flicked to a pencil sketch of old Zootopia at its founding, then back to the video, the tree beginning to grow. Now a small sapling, Nick noticed that the image quality had improved. It was still a grainy black and white, but it was smooth, and free of any blemishes. Flicking back to a painting of Zootopia three hundred years ago, it then returned to a smooth, crisp, black and white film, the tree even larger.

And so, both progressed, on the Zootopia side moving to black and white and then color photographs, then film, showing the city grow and expand and blossom into a massive metropolis. Meanwhile the tree kept growing, the film quality improving too, soon gaining sound, then color. There were characters too, the horse and panther returning at various points, seeing the tree grow as they got older and older, new children joining in to watch it grow. Just like Zootopia grew and grew. And soon, through swelling music, they reached the end. First, a crisp HD image of Zootopia from above, then cutting to the street level showing the city at work.

And then the tree, just as crisp, mighty and old, light flickering through its leaves. At its foot stood two mammals viewed from the back. On the left, a deer. On the right, a fox, with a bunch of tools laying around him. "You know," the vulpine said, "bits of it are too low, those areas are unfairly stuck in the shade, I think it needs a lot of improvement." He held up a saw, then looked up at the deer with a mischievous smile. "After all, if it breaks, you can fix it, right?"

And then the screen faded, the motto turning up, followed beneath with the words 'Stagnew for Mayor' in a simple, clean font.

Back at Wilde HQ, the team looked on, concerned. Finally, Samantha let out a sigh. "I hate attack-ads. They always bring out the worst in politics. Naturally, Bradley went straight for a Baatchi and Baatchi. How bad is it Neil?"

The opossum began typing hard on his computer. "Already trending. It's played pretty much constantly on the Watering Hole Plaza big screen, for the viewing pleasure of the entire morning commuter rush."

Samantha shook her head, fingers pinching at her brow as the gravity of the situation slumped her shoulders.

"Then there's the political cartoons…" Neil added, trailing off to let the others see for themselves.

Revealing a Furbook post, they looked on to see a simple three part comic. The top part showed a crudely drawn, but still recognizable Nick, Samantha, Neil and Olivia, the mayoral candidate himself saying; "Right, to be elected mayor of Zootopia, I need a team. My campaign manager, a tech guy, my mother." And then, in the (identical) second panel: "And to run Zootopia I need a team. My campaign manager, a tech guy, my mother." And finally, in the third, the Nick cartoon shrugged. "After all, if it breaks, you can fix it, right?"

His mother shook her head. "I never said I'd be part of his mayoral team…"

"I think they're insinuating that you'll be an advisor or something," Nick guessed.

"Well, in that case just ignore them," she dismissed. "Never let them see-"

"That they get to you." Nick completed, both foxes sharing a grin.

"Oh no," Samantha cut in. "I've seen this before. Worst move ever. You can't pretend to be a blank slate in front of legitimate accusations."

"Right, so we shut them down then." Nick suggested.

"Also worst move ever," the meerkat cut in. "Listen, remember what I said: our opponents see a small scratch and work at it. Again and again and again. You ignore them, it'll go rampant. And if you deny it… well, the fact remains that we all chose Olivia to help organize this campaign. Given her work it was the right choice, but if we just act like that isn't happening-"

"I want to be open, honest; let people know they can trust foxes," Nick interjected. "Denying it will just backfire." So, instead, we should turn it around." At that, Samantha began smiling. "If it comes up at the next debate, I explain that my mother had years of experience running charities and soup kitchens, she knows how to get mammals to the places they need to be, and in the short notice we had she was the perfect person to lend her paw to this. As for when I'm mayor… She'll be the mayor's mother, just like plenty before me. If she advises me, well it'll be as much as a pilot lets his mother advise him, or a surgeon, or a business CEO, or the chief of police… Say, do you think Chief Buffalo Butt's mother is as grumpy as him, or a complete sweetheart?" That offhand remark got a snicker out of Judy. "And don't worry Samantha, that one isn't coming out at the debate. But I might ask about what words of wisdom Old Antler's is carrying on from his own, to have grown up into such a sneaky little stag. You never know."

The meerkat twitched for a bit, before leaping up in the air. "YES! That was perfect. Complete turn around, accept it and shut it down. Neil?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep track of any more of these coming out… and…" She paused. "Hang on, is it still playing outside Zootopia Central Station?"

He leaned down and tapped at his screen. "Four times an hour, but it'll be ramping up again at lunchtime and for the evening commute. And looking at the schedule, he's block-booked this schedule all the way up until the final debate, with a provisional extension until the election itself."

The meerkat looked on, gobsmacked.

"Uh, Samantha?" Nick asked, Olivia and Judy joining in.

Finally, she snapped too. "Back when doing Lionheart's campaign, I did a dozen or so adverts on the screen at peak time. That was a full tenth of our advertising budget. Who in the name of millipede stew and mongoose breath is funding all this!?"

"Beats me, for now," Neil said. "I'm guessing you want me to…"

"Yes," she urged, then turned to Olivia. "I asked you to phone up some ad guys, right?"

"Oh, yes," the vixen agreed, "They were working on some deals. I have a new meeting tomorrow and-"

"Get back online, tell them about this, and make sure they know we want a giant killer."

"On it," Olivia said.

"And once you're done, see if you can help Neil…" she said, optimistically, before sinking a bit as she actually thought it through. "Even if it is just getting him some coffee."

"Will do," she said, bright and bushy tailed as ever as she walked off.

"What now?" Nick asked as Samantha walked up to him.

"Now? Well, all our allies are helping to hold the line and stop Bradley moving forward, but right now if he manages to stay in the same place that's still a victory for him. We need to focus on moving forward, beating him in the next debate, and practicing how to do what you said. Come in from the side, and win over his own base."

"Debate practice," Nick agreed. "Just you and me."

"Not quite," the meerkat said, looking over to Judy.

The bunny paused. "I'm happy to help," she said, lifting her arms warily. "But not sure how."

"Oh, it's simple," the meerkat said, wearing a grin that, on her fox, would have set off more alarms than a fire station. "You're going to play a role that you were born to play. That's perfect for you. You're going to be a Stagnew voter!"

Judy looked on, confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

Nick, though initially just as concerned, quite simply couldn't resist. "You're going to be a Stagnew voter!" He grinned and shot her with a finger gun.

And with that, Judy's eyes half-lidded, clearly not pleased. "Okay, let's try this." She cleared her throat and deepened her voice. 'Hey there, it's me, your average stick-in-the-mud Stagnew voter! Now lookie here, a fox running for mayor, I didn't even know they were allowed to vote! I can't have Bellwether, so it's Stagnew for mayor for me!'"

"Okay, um," Samantha clasped her palms together. "Seriously this time."

"I was being serious."

"Oh."

And with that, Nick broke the ice. "Glad to know you have such a high opinion of the majority of our city's residents."

"I'm trying my best," the bunny shrugged. "I just have trouble wrapping my head around why anyone would vote for someone as clearly jerkish as Stagnew."

"Put your stereotypes aside. Try imagining yourself as the kind of mammal who'd really like Stagnew's attack-ad." Samantha suggested.

"Okay, okay," Judy relented, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Lemme focus, and…" She looked up as she placed one finger beneath her nose as though it were the handlebar mustache of some ultra-wealthy oil tycoon. "Ah, hello, this is Judy Hopps the eighteenth, CEO of faceless corp inc. Hmmm, everything in this city is working quite finely for me, so no point in changing it unless it's gonna get even better for me. Sadly that hippo wanting to give me a big tax cut is gone, so Stagnew it is for me! And that fox who wants to give more money to the places the poor live? Forget it."

"Now, while I can see both of those guys as Stagnew voters," Samantha began tensely, "They're just a tiny little fringe of his voters. Try imagining the people you work with, the people who are your friends and family, all the normal mammals out there who'd vote for Stagnew because they believe in his platform, and act them out."

And with that, the bunny sighed. "I know they exist, I'm not that dumb a bunny…" she said, looking up. "But I just can't imagine the people I do know voting for him. I mean, can't they see that smaller districts are being let down? Don't they have faith we can improve Zootopia for all? Are they just not gonna let their taxes be raised a tiny bit to help out? I just… struggle to imagine it. To picture these mammals I know going in and putting their tick by the wrong guy." She huffed, looking down and tapping her foot on the ground. "I'm sorry, I don't know how to do this."

Fox looked at meerkat, meerkat looked at fox, and then fox had an idea. "Say, Carrots?"

"Yeah?"

"Pretend to be your dad."

"Huh? But he lives out in Bunnyburrow."

"Just do it. Samantha will be Stagnew, moi will be moi. Introduce yourself."

"Okay," she said, breathing out and channeling memories of her father's personality and verbal tics. "Howdy, y'all. Name's Stu Hopps, farmer out in Bunnyburrow, but seems I'm livin' in the Big Z all'uva sudden. Woah, did you see that mammal? He was huge! Watcha call them, kangaroos? Now I've seen bunnies go through a growth spurt, but that was somethin' else!"

Samantha walked up and in, proud like Stagnew, only to pause, ears flicking as she looked over. "Nick, if you're going to stand their failing to hold that laugh in all day, just get it out now."

The fox released his paw from his muzzle and keeled over, laughing. Paw banged on table, Judy's brow furrowed, and finally Nick got it out of him. "I'm sorry, just… she'd punch me for doing a tenth of that."

"He's my dad," Judy said, arms crossing. "I get to have all the fun impersonating him I want."

"Okay, okay," Samantha said. "Now, back into the roleplay." She puffed herself up, and launched into it. "Hello, fellow believer in Zootopia. You're a new resident to our wonderful city, built by the combined contribution of millions of mammals over hundreds of years. Vote for me and I'll protect it, protect what made it attractive to you, and if that fox over there goes on talking about his big projects to shift things around and fix them up, ask yourself this: would you trust someone with no experience, no skill, and no connections to fix a fine watch? Now my opponent here is a brave mammal, he's done some great things, but if your local wilderness firefighter came up, wiping sweat off his brow and putting his lumber axe down, would you trust him to fix that fine watch your grandmother gave you?"

Judy paused for a second, thinking. "No, I wouldn't."

"Well in that case, I believe I would best represent your interests as mayor of Zootopia. I view myself as a protector of all that is good in our city, all that has worked. I want to keep it safe, and its residents safe, be it from crime, or misguided idealists," she drew a brief, accusatory glance at Nick. "And with decades of experience in city hall, I have the experience to follow it through."

Judy looked on, and smiled. "Hey, you know what, you there have a mighty fine pitch. I like you! But, I wonder, if that's what the deer says, what does the fox say?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked," Nick said, pushing his jiggling lip into a firm smile. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hopps." He paused. "May I call you Stu?"

"Uhhhh, I tend to be friendly, but I think we're a little too new to each other to be on a first name basis."

"Ah, don't you worry," Nick said, brushing it off, though giving himself a mental reminder to chew Judy out later for playing her part so heavily. "Now, my pitch for Zootopia is to rejig the Prioritization Policy that actually gives more money to some of the larger, richer, better funded districts, and leaves many of the poorer districts out. Now, we all want to be able to stand on our own two feet don't we? Well, I hope to give these underdog districts a chance. A bit of funding to clean things up, get them walking again, and you know what, they might just be able to run. Now, my opponent here keeps on saying that Zootopia works as it is and we can leave it at that. But you know what? Once upon a time, we farmed by hiring teams of horses to plough up the land. And that worked for a very, very long time. But, eventually, we had to move on. So, we got steam traction engines. Those lasted a long time too. And then we got tractors. And tractors are great, they can run for years and years but, I think you'll agree, eventually the time comes to replace it, right? Nobody likes change, but think of your farm, and how lots of little things have kept changing over the years, and how much better it has made it. Well, Zootopia's Prioritization Policy may have worked fine for that long a time, but I think it's time to try something new."

'Judy' looked on skeptically. "I don't know…"

"May I ask you a question?" Nick smirked, having a feeling his coming question would get quite the reaction. "What do you think of the government?"

"Uh… Well, they're okay, I guess," she huffed. "But they can be a real bother… Heck, I think they're a major bother sometimes! Comin' in to inform me I can't use this kinda fertilizer anymore, or sayin' I'm ploughin' my fields the wrong way! I just want 'em to keep the schools and roads runnin', but you know what…" Judy's eyes narrowed, giving Nick the impression that she was channeling more than just Stu's inner beliefs. "They can't even do that right! I mean I pay my taxes to you, do you enjoy using them to make my already hard work harder!? I'm your boss, rutabaga!"

"Yeah," Nick said, face straining slightly as he held his growing smile firm. A quick swish of his tail to the side and heel application held it in place, before he pushed on. "You are the government's boss, and so many mammals are fed up with it not doing the simple things we want it to do. But they just let things tick on and on. And you think the solution to that is letting the lifelong insider take command?" He waggled a thumb at 'Bradley.' What do you expect to happen? Things won't get better, he just wants things to stay as they are. Forever."

"Government policy wasn't my department," Samantha defended herself. "I was in city hall, head of polling, an independent role. And from there, I saw how it works. I understand it - more than this outsider ever could. And I believe that streamlined, minimal government is the future. I don't want a big government managing everything. You don't want it." She then turned to Nick. "But he wants it. He wants to expand it. He wants to use it to try and drag and move things around, getting into mammal's lives. Is that the kind of future you want?"

Nick looked back. "Hmmmm, you said you had experience, didn't you? You said the only person worthy of running Zootopia was one who'd been trained, done it before. Like a watchmaker and a watch. But you don't have experience. You've been locked away in city hall in an independent role, where you're not supposed to make any big bold positions or changes. You're just supposed to sit back and not interfere. So where's your experience in actually running a city, huh? Where's your experience running anything? At best, you don't have it. At worst, being in charge of polls…" He gave his 'opponent' a look over, almost wishing this were the real thing if only so he could use the same argument to Bradley's smug face. "Well, trying to move around the polls is a bit naughty, isn't it?"

Samantha huffed. "Maybe it wasn't hooves on. But I saw, I watched, I was in the thick of it for years and years. It's still far better than you. What does your police work have to do with running a city?"

Nick smiled. "Working under pressure, dealing with a crisis, coming up with new plans on the fly. You need a good leader who can work in a crisis, because maybe a crisis won't hit, but if it does… a mayor who can handle it and a mayor who can't… well, you may not think politics matters, but right there it does. I played a critical role in bringing down the city's biggest crime rings. I can work under a crisis and bring us through to the other side. When have you had to deal with a crisis? Where's your experience there?"

Samantha had to think for a second. "Well, you're assuming a crisis will hit. You're saying they should vote for the candidate who could help get us through a one in a million problem over the one with the experience to excel at the bread and butter, day-to-day issues."

"Yeah, experience in the government," Nick said. "With my assistant mayor, my team has experience in city hall. I also have plenty of experience outside of it, and you know what, that's important too." He looked at Judy. "Tell me, you're our boss, surely you'd prefer a candidate who understands the struggle of the everymammal, who knows what it's like to run a business, knows how to thrive in both the private and public sector, who can pop that city hall bubble that let you down so many times. I'm qualified for that, right? Well, more than a mammal who's spent his entire life stuck inside city hall. He doesn't know your struggles, he doesn't know the difficulties of living in the real world. I do. So, ask yourself this: the government is a bit sucky, right? Of course it is! It's too full of Bradley Stagnews who have only ever lived in its bubble. Well, how about we try and reform it into a government and city hall that knows what it's like in the real world, that works… better! That can work with mammals to truly make Zootopia a city where anyone can be anything!"

And Judy, still in Stu Hopps mode, leapt in the air. "Yeee-haaa! You got my vote."

"Really!?" Samantha asked. "I mean, what private sector experience does he even have?"

"Oh please," Nick said, "I…" And then he froze. For a second he was still. He couldn't just quote one of his pre-ZPD schemes, could he? And while at the ZPD, he hadn't been in 'business'. Yes, he'd knocked out almost all the crime lords, he'd briefly been a teacher at the academy, but when during any of that had his business skills been put on display?

His eyes widened, and Samantha carried on. "Well, seems like my opponent is all bark and no bite, with not a single example…"

"Well, to give one," Nick butted in. "I may have massively boosted the productivity of a division in one of Zootopia's biggest companies, all while a new hire, all while popular with my underlings, all while working on an undercover op that successfully brought down both the corrupt boss and the crime lord of Sahara Square!"

"Sources."

"Huh?" Nick asked, blinking at Samantha's responses.

"Sources for that story. If true, it's BRILLIANT!" She exclaimed, now fully breaking out of her Stagnew impression. "Management, success, mammal's mammal, multi-tasking…" She smiled, shaking around in glee. "Ooooh, I can't imagine what kind of boast Stagnew can bring to top that." She then turned to Judy. "And that was PERFECT!" Then back to Nick. "You were both perfect!"

"Yeah," Judy said, "I think I've got a knack for acting. In fact, if we wanna do another one…"

"Yup, we're on a roll," the meerkat said. "Go for it."

The bunny smiled, then breathed in and out as she prepared her next impression of the ideal Stagnew voter. "Okay, Mary Ewever mode, GO!"

---

9:30 A.M ; Precinct One, Savanna-Central...

Fear wasn't an emotion that struck Harlan O'Conall very often.

The wolf stared down at the empty manilla folder in his claws, back against the wall of the hallway behind him, wrinkling his blue uniform. In front of him stood a door - the only barrier between himself and the friend that he had so grievously wronged. The friend that he hadn't seen in over two weeks. The friend that he was about to steal from.

Harlan swallowed. This kind of hesitation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run away - to toss the envelop he'd brought with him to smuggle documents in, to go home and smash that dreaded flip-phone he'd so stubbornly kept against his better judgement, and to return to his sworn, honest duty as an officer of the ZPD. But as those thoughts assaulted him, distracting from the mission he'd assigned himself, Harlan forced himself to remember why he was doing this.

The Tundratown Mafia are bad guys, who do bad things, but sometimes bad things can do good! If they can really bring Clovestone to justice… then I have to do this. But… what if I get caught? His jaw tensed, sharp teeth gritting together like jagged vices. No! Stop thinking that. You're just taking a few copies. Mary won't notice. No one will notice!

Even still, the guilt was profound. Stop it! Remember that night, his mind demanded. The night you realized how unfair the world really is.

Harlan needed no more prompting. The memories that flooded his brain were ones he'd never forget.

The door slammed shut behind a young timber wolf no older than fifteen, rattling the surrounding wood of the rotting Happytown apartment. He obscured his face with one paw and tried to run past the kitchen to the staircase in the dark of the hallway beyond, but a stern voice caused him to seize with fear.

"Where you goin', pup?" It demanded to know. "Turn around."

With arms stiffened against his sides, Harlan turned to face the kitchen. It was a grimy, run-down excuse for one, with stained sinks and ratty drapes surrounding the single tiny window above a counter covered with cuts. The moonlight from outside streamed through the holes in the drapes, but did little to illuminate the dim environment. Sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, an older wolf with grizzled gray fur and weary yellow eyes stared Harlan down. The older wolf crossed his arms against his raggedy white tank top.

"Another fight?" He grumbled, scanning over the bruised, bulging flesh around Harlan's left eye. A disappointed sigh followed. "You gotta learn to control your temper, pup."

Harlan yanked off the messy white apron from his waist, revealing the cheap black basketball shorts and t-shirt beneath. "Stop calling me pup, Jason. I work more than you do."

A chuckle slipped through the older wolf's lips. "I'll stop callin' you pup if you try callin' me dad for once. And if you think you work more than me, you've still got a lot to learn about how the world really works, pup."

The younger wolf growled. "Does selling scalped tickets and old soda cans suddenly count as work now?"

"We do what we can to make ends meet around here. Don't forget that just because you got lucky enough to land yourself a job stirring soup all day."

"Whatever, I'm going to bed already!" Harlan snapped, moments from swiveling away before his father's firm voice demanded his attention once more.

"You're angrier than usual today. Was it the fight?"

Harlan trembled, frustration growing until it finally burst. "Of course it was the fight! I got jumped by those panther twins again leaving work! Where the hell are all the cops when you actually need them?"

"Hey, language," his father chided. "And we can't rely on the fuzz. You should know that by now."

"It's not fair! They constantly monitor the whole neighborhood, but they never arrest the ones actually causing trouble!"

"Keep it down, your siblings are trying to sleep upstairs." Jason ordered, leaning forward in his chair. He took in a deep breath, and slapped his palms against the knees of his raggedy jeans. "Look, Harlan… life isn't fair. And if you go through life tryin' to find faults in everything, it'll bite you in the tail. You can keep doing that, forever shocked whenever those teeth sink into you, or you can do somethin' about. Work to make your own life better, rather than just gettin' angry at everyone else for havin' it better." He sighed bitterly, wiping at his snout with one paw. "It consumed your mother. She always wanted more. And that's why she walked out on us when times got tough. I'm not lettin' it consume you too."

Harlan shuffled his feet, ears bowing with submission. His anger quickly receded until all that was left was guilt. He didn't want to be the kind of mammal his father described.

"I'm sorry." He whispered softly.

Jason's expression softened as well. He sighed again, trying for a reassuring smile. "Hey, chin up, pup. You're learnin' this a lot earlier than I ever did. You got plenty of time to improve. Whaddya say we swing by the old gym tomorrow? I'll teach ya how to throw a good punch. Might be able to learn enough to send those panthers runnin' next time they come lookin' for trouble, huh?"

Harlan sniffed, gently wiping at his tender left eye. "Yeah. I'd… I'd like that… dad."

He tried sharing a smile with his father, but the older wolf had averted his gaze to the tiny window nearby. His hackles raised as the sound of a heavy vehicle pulling to a stop hissed from outside.

"They're coming," Jason strained through tense breaths, rising from his chair. "Harlan, get upstairs and wake up your siblings. Now."

Confused, Harlan looked between his dad and the window he stared through. "What? Who's coming?"

The moment the words left his mouth, his ears detected the sound of a thick metal door being thrown open. A few harsh stomping sounds followed, sounding like heavily-geared mammals jumping from the back of a truck. Yet of all the alien noises Harlan overheard, the only one that made him realize the gravity of the situation was the sound of a shotgun pumping.

Harlan could feel the blood draining from his face. "Is it T.U.S.K?" He hissed softly at his father. "Did they seriously send the Razorbacks after us? Why?"

"Get upstairs, now! It's not safe here! I'll deal with 'em!" Jason growled back, pointing to the staircase before glancing nervously to the door as bulky footsteps echoed closer.

"What did you do?" Harlan asked, voice laden with both shock and anger. "Were you selling weapons again?!"

"I… I…" The older wolf stammered. His breath hitched, and he lunged forward, grabbing Harlan's shoulders. "Everything I do, I do for you. Never forget that! Now GO!"

Jason nearly shoved Harlan away. After regaining his balance, Harlan did as he was told, darting into the hall and up the stairs as fast as he could. His father's words still echoed in his mind. The sound of shattered glass stalled his escape halfway up the stairs. Harlan turned around, watching as a small black object bounced into the kitchen. It popped with a loud hiss and began to pour smoke into the apartment. From the top of the staircase, Harlan saw the shadow of his dad cast across the floor from out of sight. He watched with horror as the shadow reached into its waistband and retracted the unmistakable shape of a pistol.

Harlan was moments from calling out when the front door blew off its hinges in an explosion of splinters. Red lasers cut through the smoke, tracing over every corner of the house. Without words, a pure black boar in heavy body armor stepped into the foyer, assault rifle raised against his stout shoulders. Several more followed, tearing through the door and fanning out into the house. Harlan stared, body frozen with shock, as a brown-furred boar with eyes as yellow as his own entered the apartment. He was dressed in lighter armor than the others, and snorted as the cloud of debris filled his nostrils. He stepped into the kitchen, searching for signs of his target.

The boar's stiff posture somehow flexed even tighter as he raised his rifle at something out of Harlan's line of sight. "PUT DOWN THE WEAPON!" He shouted in a gruff voice.

Two shots rang out, and the boar stumbled back, dropping to one knee as a bullet tore through his thigh and streaked the floor with blood. Yelling defiantly, he flung his gait forward and sloppily fired a smattering of bullets into the back of the kitchen. Something heavy fell to the floor. Past the rim of the ceiling, Harlan saw a pool of blood gradually begin to grow.

Tears began to build in his eyes. "Dad…?" He choked in a weak voice.

Jaw clenched with pain, the injured boar raised his gaze to meet with Harlan's. One of his teammates lumbered over and began to drag him into the foyer, smearing more blood onto the floor as he slid by.

"You're hit bad, Boarton!" The grey-furred pig shouted. "We've gotta get you outta here!"

Past his pained writhing, the now-named Boarton pointed to the top of the stairs with one meaty hoof. "There's… a kid!" He weakly announced.

All eyes turned to Harlan. The grey boar raised his weapon. "SCRAM, KID!"

Seizing out of his stupor, Harlan tore his gaze away from his father's killer and scrambled up the stairs, out of sight. He rushed into his sibling's room and slammed the door shut behind him. The young wolf collapsed against it, claws digging into the fur on his head. An anguished scream tore through his throat, echoing into the ruined home around him.

Harlan blinked, shaking his head irritably. He hated thinking about that night like little else. But if it was what it took to remind him of what was at stake, then he would relive every last second of it. The wolf tightened his grip around the manilla folder, yellow eyes hardening with determination.

Clovestone is responsible for the Prioritization Policy, he reminded himself. Funded T.U.S.K. Destroyed countless lives. If Mr. Big can return even a fraction of the pain he's caused, then this will be worth it.

Releasing an exhale of baited breath, Harlan stepped forward and at last opened the door. The workroom beyond was small and cramped with towers of old boxes and storage cabinets, forcing Harlan to squeeze through two stacks of bins. In the middle of the mess, a lone ewe sat slumping a cheap desk strewn with papers and more than what could be considered a healthy amount of coffee cups. Mary had discarded the top half of her ZPD blues, exposing the white t-shirt she wore beneath. Head tiredly supported with one hoof, her brown eyes were all that moved to analyze Harlan's arrival. As soon as she saw it was him, she flicked her gaze back down to the documents in front of her.

Harlan fidgeted nervously. "Hey." He flatly greeted.

"Hey." Mary parroted, keeping her gaze down. After a few more seconds of awkward silence, she remarked, "I thought you still had another week or two in Tundratown."

"Yeah, don't remind me," Harlan chuckled mirthlessly. "I just came here to pick up some documents." He indicated the folder in his paw. "What are you up to?"

The ewe sighed. "Just sorting through more financial statements from Clovestone Industries, and some reports from that warehouse arson in Tundratown the other week that Bogo shelved me with. Pretty sure he's trying to make my life as miserable as possible."

Unsure how to respond to that last statement, Harlan remarked, "I hear about the warehouse every time I go to Precinct Two to get snow gear. They seem pretty worried."

"The ZPD has never seen any conflict between the crime-lords before. Or at least, that's what it looks like. It's definitely worrying. And there's so much paperwork. Judy's had me down here for weeks, ever since the acci-" She cut herself off. "Well, you know. Judy tells me it's important to have someone who understands accounting on the job, so she can go out and do the case's field work. Tells me 'paperwork builds character,' Mary grumbled, wiping at her face with both hooves. "I think she actually just wants to keep me from messing things up again."

Harlan's ears dipped. "Hey… it wasn't your fault."

Mary raised her head, locking eyes with Harlan for the first time in weeks. "Then why does it feel like it was?"

Furrowing his brow, the wolf shuffled over until he was directly beside the table. He knelt down so that his yellow eyes were level with hers. "Because you're empathetic, kind, and responsible," he spoke honestly, pulling every trait of hers he knew to be true from his heart. "And you hold yourself more responsible for everything than anyone else."

The ewe stared at her partner as though wondering if that were really true. "You think-"

"I know," Harlan interjected before she could start doubting herself. "You doubt yourself too much. But life…" he exhaled bitterly. "Life isn't fair. I learned that a long time ago. Life isn't gonna wait for you to make a choice. You just have to make one. You have to trust in yourself, and do what you can to come out on top. Don't you think?"

Mary glanced away. When she didn't respond, Harlan continued, "I'm sorry I got us both here. It wasn't your fault. It was all mine." He lifted one paw, hesitating for a moment before letting it gently clasp Mary's shoulder. For the first time in what felt like forever, there wasn't an ounce of fear to be seen from her. Her shoulder even felt perfectly still. "Next time you encounter someone that scares you, don't be afraid to stand up for yourself. Don't be afraid to stand up to me."

It took a few moments of quiet contemplation, but Mary eventually nodded her head, expression filling with resolve. "Okay. I won't."

Harlan allowed himself a smile that showed his teeth, and said smile only grew more genuine as he noticed Mary's lack of a fearful reaction to it. "You're a lot stronger than you think. I mean, you're a cop."

Mary shrugged, absently flicking at one of her braided balls of wool. "We both know I'm only a cop because my grades at the academy were enough to make up for my poor athletics."

"But you still passed," Harlan reminded her. "And so what? You'd make a better administrator than anyone. Keep fighting. Keep gettin' stronger. You'll get there."

A gentle smile spread the ewe's lips. "Thanks, Harlan."

The first moment of silence that wasn't unbearably awkward in weeks stilled the room. The two officers stared at one another before Mary cleared her throat and turned back to her paperwork. "Enough about me. What kind of paperwork were you looking for?"

"Oh, right," Harlan muttered, scratching at the back of his neck as he stood back to his full height. Suddenly remembering what he truly came here to do briefly stalled his response. "Uh, just looking for some files for Precinct Two that got transferred here by accident. Something about, uh, an armed robbery on Avalanche Avenue." He turned his gaze to the many filing cabinets throughout the room. "Got anything here?"

"I'll check for you!" Mary assured, hopping from her seat and briefly stretching out her spine. "I need to get out of this chair anyways."

"Thanks. You're the best." Harlan called out as she trotted behind a stack of cardboard boxes, trying to ignore how guilty those words made him feel.

Exhaling away his apprehension, the wolf quickly began to sift through the stack of papers on Mary's desk while she was away, occasionally glancing in the direction she'd gone.

"I'm not seeing anything from Precinct Two about an armed robbery here!" Her voice called out innocently from somewhere out of sight.

"Try the assault section!" Harlan quickly called back, desperately trying to think of excuses to buy time. "Everyone always confuses robbery and assault. Oh, and uhhh, the assailant used a frozen swordfish! Yeah! It's a real weird one! Should be in there somewhere. Just keep looking."

Finally, he found one of the reports that Mary had mentioned: a detailed record of all the information known from the attack on Subzero Storehouse compressed into a single paper. Harlan's gaze anxiously flicked to the nearby copy machine, wondering if he had enough time to make a duplicate. When he heard Mary's hooves clopping closer, he growled and stuffed the paper into his folder, knowing it was hopeless. This would just have to do.

Mary returned around a corner, smiling warmly. "Found it!" She exclaimed, hefting a folder in one hoof.

Harlan raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" Then he remembered he had an act to put on. "Oh! Uh, I mean, yes, thank you." He quickly said, adding the folder into his own.

"Sure thing… partner."

As Mary looked up at Harlan with her big, innocent brown eyes, it was difficult for him to ignore the coils of dread tightening in his chest. But he powered through them, clearing his throat and forcing a smile. "Nice seeing you again, Mary. I'll leave you to your character-building."

Mary chortled ever so softly. Then her expression softened with concern as a new thought reached her. "Be careful in Tundratown. If the mobs really are fighting…" She trailed off before forcing out her main point. "Just be careful."

The wolf nodded, each coming word feeling like an individual spit on his ZPD badge. "Don't worry. I wouldn't go near organized crime if you paid me."

---

Meanwhile, in Savanna-Central...

Bradley Stagnew was glad he'd never gotten used to Zootopia's skyline.

Standing before his campaign office's window, the deer stared out over the morning cityscape, quietly admiring the colorful architecture and equally colorful citizens going about their days in the streets below. No more than half a mile away, he could see the pristine, terraced white slopes of City-Hall towering over the watering hole that the entirety of Zootopia had grown around. It was a beautiful sight - one that he never shied away from taking a moment to appreciate. To him, the city's very skyline represented all Zootopia had come to be: its wealth, its innovations, and above all else, its sheer beauty.

The deer exhaled softly through his nostrils, slacking the fabric of his light gray suit and slacks. Arms folded calmly behind his back, he stared down City-Hall in the distance, wondering if the next time he set foot in it would be as mayor, or back to work as the election chairmammal. The mere thought of returning to work knowing that his competition was victoriously sitting in the mayor's office just a few floors above was enough to churn his stomach with disgust. His grip tightened his hooves together.

There's too much at stake to waste time worrying over what-ifs, his mind sternly reminded. What was it dad used to say? Don't dream of what you want; dream of how to get it.

Just hearing the words brought solace to the deer, relaxing the grip of his hooves. His youth had taught him many valuable lessons, but those words from his father were among the most cherished of all. Bradley closed his eyes, trying to remember the first time he'd heard them. An image began to form in his mind: the shine of glossy oaken shelves filled with various trinkets blurred together by the fog of age, the sharp ding that would fill the store every time a customer entered, and the tall, branching antlers of his father sitting behind the clerk's desk. It was a good memory, with none of the violent thugs sulking in the adjacent alleys, or smell of wet litter and cigarette smoke to ruin it yet. Yet.

"Mr. Stagnew." A deep voice called out before the full memory could immerse him, each word ripping through his vision until it was gone. "Mr. Stagnew!"

Bradley slowly opened his intense blue eyes. The moment was ruined. He turned to face the instigator, scanning over a muscular black bull in an identically stygian suit. His polished horns curved into black tips as well, and a solid gold ring dangled between his quivering pink nostrils. Despite being twice the deer's size, the bull nervously trotted as Bradley's critical gaze settled over him. Yet he still tried for that charming, business-professional smile that Bradley noticed he used on everyone.

"What is it, Mr. Bullsworth?" Bradley flatly inquired.

"It's time for us to go over the results of the debate." The bull lifted a clipboard in his hooves. "Hope you're not missing City-Hall too much yet!" He nodded toward where Bradley had been staring. "Because with how things are lookin', we'll get you back there in no time with a brand new promotion! Heh!"

"Forgive me. I was just reminiscing over the past. We all love returning to simpler times, don't we?" Bradley mused, gaze flickering longingly back to the window.

Mr. Bullsworth noticed that Bradley wasn't looking at City-Hall, instead staring off toward the forests across the Zootopia Sound, in Bunny-Burrow's general direction.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, I suppose so." He gestured to the other side of his office, where a pair of leathery, velvet club sofas flanked a smooth glass table. "Shall we?"

Bradley nodded his assent, and followed his campaign manager to the sofas, though neither of them chose to sit. Instead, they gathered around a large wheeled whiteboard with a poster of Zootopia's map draped over its middle.

Mr. Bullsworth hefted his clipboard. "The results were even better than I expected, given that you didn't use the speech I wrote for you. You're payin' good money for my services, you know."

"I've spent four decades working at City-Hall," Bradley retorted. "I know how to play this game, Mr. Bullsworth. You're just here for insurance."

The bull shrugged, not looking the least bit offended. "If you say so. As long as my checks keep coming, you can work however you please. I do have to wonder how you're able to afford all this-" he raised his arms to the glossy, ornate tile and wood office surrounding them. "-with your City-Hall salary, though."

Bradley gave a shrug of his own. "I admit, our campaign isn't being financed out of my own pocket. My donors are quite generous."

"You mean donor."

"What difference does it make?"

Mr. Bullsworth raised his beefy arms defensively. "None to me! Heh. Just sayin'. Anyways, even if you aren't relying on me, I've at least gotta brief you on the debate results. I'd feel like I'm rippin' you off if I don't do my job's bare minimum!"

Bradley turned to the poster, admiring the many fine lines comprising the city's twelve districts. "Go ahead."

Clearing his throat, Mr. Bullsworth hefted his clipboard. "The good news is that while you made a strong impression on the citizens - if your speech during the debate was anything to go by - the polls show that not many mammals can actually relate to you. I mean, you kinda did come outta nowhere! No campaign trail or anything! I had to pull two all-nighters just to prepare for the debate! Lucky for you, you made just enough of a good impression to squeeze by into the second debate! You were very well-spoken - charismatic, even - but there was a lot of information you left unsaid."

The deer nodded his head. It was disappointing, but unsurprising that citizens didn't relate to him. They'd relate to me even less if they knew where I called home, he thought to himself, but instead voiced, "I'm not surprised. Myself and the other three victors were the only candidates that seemed remotely worth taking seriously."

Mr. Bullsworth glanced to his clipboard, eyeing over the profiles of Brian Batley, Nicholas Wilde, and Teddy Tucker. "Yes sir, they sure do seem competent! Though I did like what the hippo had to say about tax cuts for the ten-percent…" He trailed off when Bradley gave him a disapproving glare, and cleared his throat. "Anyway, you've got some stiff competition! If you're gonna make yourself stand out enough to even make it to the final debate, you're gonna have to be more open with your policies. The vagueness in your speeches didn't help make you any less relatable. So next time, don't be afraid to show everyone what makes Bradley Stagnew the best candidate for mayor!"

"I understand." Bradley assured.

From there, the bull pulled a marker from the whiteboard's shelf and gestured to the map of Zootopia. "Now, here's something to consider," he then drew a red circle around the four primary districts of Sahara-Square, Tundratown, Savanna-Central, and the Rainforest-District. "Everyone inside this circle can relate to your policies. Tough on crime, prey-leaning, conservative, et cetera. It's safe to assume they'll want you in office. Everyone outside this circle can relate to the policies of the other candidates, especially that fox, Nicholas Wilde. He's been doing a lot of campaigning in the secondary districts, which shouldn't be underestimated! The Marshlands, the Docks, the Nocturnal-District, the Deciduous-District, the Canal-District; all of these places have a lot more to gain from someone like him, and if he unites them all? Hoho, there might not even be enough mammals in the inner-city to stop that! So what's the solution? Behold, your lifeline," he circled a large patch of green just outside the city. "The Meadowlands!"

"I've already ensured the Meadowlands vote won't fall into the claws of my competition," Bradley grumbled. "Don't lecture me on what I already know."

"Another ominously vague statement, but if you really have all those sheep on your side, then making it to the final debate should be a walk in the park!"

Bradley looked to his watch. "I'll appeal to their hopes in the second debate."

"With another on-the-fly speech?"

"I refuse to peddle policies with any words other than my own," the deer replied as though it were obvious, looking almost insulted at the bull's disapproval. "Zootopia deserves better than a pre-recorded sales pitch. Besides, notes only slow me down." He nodded politely at his campaign manager before beginning to walk toward the exit. "Thank you for your advice."

"Wait, what?" The bull snorted. "You're leaving? But I'm not done with my brief yet!"

"I've heard enough," Bradley claimed, stopping at the foot of the large mahogany doors. "Besides, I have others I wish to seek counsel from."

Without further hesitation, the deer pushed on and continued his leave. The heavy door slammed behind him in his wake, leaving Mr. Bullsworth to snort disappointedly.

"Can never get a read on that guy…"

---

10:00 A.M ; somewhere in Sahara-Square...

As if fighting a crime war wasn't enough, much of the Nocturnal-Mob's circadian rhythms were fighting their own battles. Their head of security was no exception.

Hopping out of the comparatively massive limousine that had brought him to the surface-world, Lester squinted at the late-morning sun even past his bulky black shades. The heat radiating from the surrounding desert sand just made everything worse. Nocturnal mammals were all too used to the cool, damp caverns of the underground, and judging from the tired yawns of the guards at the warehouse gate, there was still some adjustment to be had. Albeit small, the mole-rat held his head high as he approached the fence.

"Eyes up, you two." He growled at the two taller wolf guards, his high-pitched but gruff voice snapping their attention.

"R-Right! Sorry, sir!" One of them piped back. He'd removed his suit jacket and fastened his tie around his forehead like a sweatband. "It's just so hot out here!"

"We're all hot, and we're all tired," Lester rebuked, waving a clipboard at them. "These are the front lines. I shouldn't have to remind that if we lose this warehouse, we lose our biggest foothold on the surface. If you can't handle the responsibility, find a shift change, but don't expect to earn your pay. Now quit complaining and open the gate."

The other wolf hopped over to a nearby wooden guard shack, pulling a lever inside that caused the barbed-wire fence to slowly pull open. Without further hesitation, Lester marched inside as the limousine rolled past him and parked somewhere behind the warehouse. Staring up the building itself, one could easily dismiss it as just another abandoned building, with its towering jumbles of sand-blasted brick and sheet metal. A few wilting palm trees sprouted from the corners of the compound, providing only a pitiful amount of shade from the oppressive sun above. The place looked like an OSHA violation in the making. But inside, the sounds of activity could be heard: the beeping of forklift machines, the hushed grumbles of more guards, and the occasional click of a magazine being shoved into the place of a weapon. Lester didn't bother with the locked door that led inside, instead ducking under a particularly large rust-hole at the base of the loading bay doors.

Just before entering though, he spared a glance back at the greater district behind him. The warehouse was in a more rural part of Sahara-Square, shielded by dunes and a handful of other old buildings. In the distance, the towering casinos could be seen peeking over the surrounding dunes. The Nocturnal-mob had plenty of privacy to work here. However, that wasn't what concerned Lester. Staring at the buildings afar, even his beady black eyes could see them getting blurrier by the second, fading into a dull beige haze. A sandstorm was coming.

Humming distrustfully beneath his breath, Lester turned back to the hole and proceeded to shimmy through. The interior presented a better view than the exterior, with colossal rows of shelves stretching deep into the building, filled with crates and containers. Various nocturnal mammals kept busy stacking cargo, keeping watch through windows in the metal catwalks above, and sweeping the sandy floor with brooms. In the center of the commotion, an elephant in a bulky black trench coat and gas mask helped lift oil drums with his trunk. Lester marched up to the massive mammal, placed two fingers between his sizable buck-teeth and whistled for his attention. The elephant glanced at the naked mole-rat at his feet, stepping back for space staring down at him with his hollow black eyes. In them, Lester could see his own minuscule reflection, from his wrinkly, tattooed skin to the black commando sweater and green cargo shorts draping over his stout body. As he wiped a dash of sand off his padded collarbone, Lester cleared his throat.

"Grunt, was it?" He inquired up to the elephant, who nodded in confirmation. "Right. I'm here to inspect the warehouse," he indicated the clipboard in one of his wrinkled paws. "Boss' orders. Him and the lady are a bit shaken up after that poisoning attempt. Wants a full diagnostic of our security apparatus."

The elephant silently glanced around the vicinity, as though looking for a mammal that was not there. Lester quickly picked up on his intentions.

"It's just me. Lady Sang isn't here right now," he added. "She's out on a mission. Something about tracking her old mentor's identity at Lemming Brothers."

Grunt rumbled his understanding. Lester crossed his arms, fingers drumming against his clipboard. "I heard how she saved your life, in the past. You don't have to worry. If she can take down whatever gave you a run for your money, I'm sure she'll be able to handle a little B and E. Now," he pulled a pen from one pocket. "Let's get to work."

Together, they checked every little problem they could find, from cracks in the building to guards letting their eyes droop a little too low. As it turned out, having a mammal like Grunt posted here had worked wonders on the overall morale, but all throughout the inspection, something still felt off to Lester. More sand began to swirl outside as the storm intensified, and the building began to creak as piles of it built atop the roof. Most nocturnal mammals had bad enough vision already, but not being able to see more than a few meters beyond the windows in the catwalk made for a glaring disadvantage in their fortress' defense; a disadvantage that Lester was keenly aware of.

"I don't like this." He muttered to himself.

A nearby binturong in a cheap, sweat-soaked button-up chuckled and wiped at his forehead. "We've been through sandstorms before. No need to be so paranoid."

"I can't help but ask myself how much life this building has left in it. It's been through years of sandblasting," Lester remarked, eyeing a few bullet holes in the walls. "And the last owner didn't exactly leave it in good shape for us."

"The former district crime-lord, right?" The binturong asked. "Well, at least we picked it up at a discount, considerin' the ZPD threw him in jail and left this place to rot. Dumb pangolin always was a sloppy one."

"BOSS!" Another voice called out from somewhere above. "I think I see something!"

Everyone stared up to a raccoon mobster standing in the catwalks, a pair of binoculars pressed into his dark eyes. "What is it?!" Lester yelled back.

"I…" the raccoon sighed with exasperation. "I can't tell! It's too blurry! But whatever it is, it's big, and… and there's more than one! Boss, you gotta get up here and-"

A sharp shearing of metal filled the air even past the sound of the whirling sand outside. Lester recognized the sound immediately: gates being blasted open. An engine revving was quick to follow, and in that moment, the mole-rat knew what was coming.

"IT'S A SURPRISE ATTACK!" He shouted into the warehouse. "EVERYBODY-"

His orders were cut off as a massive snow plower tore through the sliding metal doors that separated the warehouse from the outside world, blowing metallic sparks in every direction. It was massive - bright yellow and easily as big as an elephant, moving slowly but with enough momentum to flatten the doors to pancakes, allowing sand to freely billow into the depository. The snow plower crashed into Grunt, who struggled against its power, slowing its momentum as his stout feet dug into the concrete floor. An elephantine trumpet blasted from his trunk, and he began to lift the vehicle from side to side, building leverage until he could toss it to one side. Several polar bears flopped about inside, while several more jumped from the back of the vehicle. Lester had thrown himself out of harm's way, and when he raised his head, he saw pure chaos unfolding.

Three more humongous trucks pulled up behind the toppled snow plower, and yet more polar bears began to pour from them, overwhelming the smaller nocturnal mammals with ease - literally kicking them aside and pulling out firearms from their burly suits. Lester could only watch in horror as several raccoons were gunned down without mercy, blood soaking into the growing piles of sand like a velvet sponge. Worse still, there were more than just polar bears: grizzlies, black bears, and even a few pandas began to overrun the warehouse, flanked by arctic wolves with shrews barking orders atop their shoulders. All the bears wore mismatched biker gear and denim, hooting and hollering with a grace that spoke of a lesser criminal organization. No one had yet spotted Lester laying off to the side of the chaos, and he took that to his advantage: doing what his kind did best and digging away into one of the nearby sand piles, furrowing up a trail in his wake.

Lester grit his incisors, trying to keep his beady eyes closed and relying on his sharp sense of smell to guide his way. They used the storm as cover. Dammit! This is bad!

The Nocturnal-Mob's remaining forces began to congregate behind cover. Badgers and raccoons fired weapons back into the invading forces, knocking a few smaller arctic mammals back. But when Lester emerged from the sand a safe distance away, one cursory glance was all it took for him to realize that this was a fight they weren't going to win. There were too many bears. Even as Grunt knocked several aside with his arms as though they were fuzzy white bowling pins, it was clear that he was being overwhelmed. Bullet holes began to pepper his trench coat. Something told Lester that he was wearing a bullet vest under there, seeing as how he was still standing, but the pain was undoubtedly building. The elephant obscured his vulnerable masked face with one arm, ducking behind a nearby storage shelf with surprising speed. He then heaved forward and knocked it over toward the enemy, flattening a few unlucky shrews and pinning several brown bears beneath a pile of oil drums.

Trump-card he may have been, there was only so much he could do unarmed. The remaining Nocturnal-Mob forces began to quickly realize this too. Some tried running away, but were mowed down in the hails of bullets. Lester growled, tempted to reach for his own rodent-sized firearm, but knew it was hopeless. The warehouse was already lost.

"FULL RETREAT!" He shouted as best he could over the commotion.

Only a few mammals actually heard him, mostly being the bat mobsters in the rafters above, which were quick to flap away to safety. Grunt's massive ears turned to Lester's directions like thin gray radar dishes, and although the mole-rat couldn't see his expression, he knew that an understanding was reached. Stomping forward, Grunt ran across the clearing, taking several bullets through his ears before reaching down and scooping Lester from the sand. The elephant pounded down the hall, clutching his arms into a tight square and bursting through the sheet metal wall on the far side of the warehouse. Still raging, the sandstorm stalled his movements, but he trudged through undeterred into the desert. Many nocturnal mammals poured through the gap left in his wake and ran out into the storm as well, recognizing the scant hope of victory.

"We were not prepared for this!" Lester hissed. "The Tundratown Mafia's working with the Unbearables! We need to get back to the safehouse and-"

The sharp crack of a rifle pierced the howling winds, and Grunt immediately fell forward as his shoulder suddenly jerked forward, rumbling with pain. Lester tumbled into the sand, and as soon as he'd regained his orientation, stared back at the source of the shot. A suited polar bear several heads taller than the rest held a pure black rifle in his meaty palms, grinning wickedly at the sight of his fleeing foes as he stood in the warehouse's new hole. Kozlov began to saunter forward, aiming at Grunt and taking another shot. His bullet found its mark, digging into the elephant's upper back. Grunt shuddered, and stomped forward, fleeing into the sandy haze.

"Wait!" Lester yelped, running after him. "You dropped me! You-" He growled, looking back and taking note of the bears beginning to fan out over the dunes.

There was no time to chase after him. Instead, Lester bared his incisors and then buried into the sand, hoping it would be enough.

Kozlov chuckled deeply, raising one paw to his brow to keep the sand from his eyes. "MR. BIG SENDS HIS REGARDS!" He roared into the storm. "AND WHEN ALL OF YOU ARE DEAD, HE WILL BE ONE CRIME-LORD OF ZOOTOPIA!"

Beside him, a female arctic fox sniffed irritably. "I'm picking something up in the sand. Something small. Might be the mole-rat."

Dashing into the storm, they leapt into the air before plowing face-first into one dune. Shuffling in the sand for a moment, she then pulled back, revealing Lester clamped between her jaws. He uselessly struck against her nose before remembering that he had a pistol. Retracting it, he shot a single bullet right into the fox's eye. Yelping, she dropped him, but just before Lester was able to dig away again, a massive white paw slammed atop him, grabbing a fistful of sand as it pulled him back.

Kozlov grinned at the writhing mole-rat in his grasp. "Sorry, friend," he rumbled, tone not brooking a hint of actual remorse. "But we win this round."

The bear then positioned his thumb atop Lester's chest, and jammed its clawtip into his sternum with a wet crunch. Lester gasped, gripping painfully at the fur on Kozlov's fingers.

Several dozen meters away, Grunt finally realized that Lester was no longer with him. He turned back, only able to watch as the bear tossed his bloody carcass into the sand as though he were discarding a used tissue. Grunt hummed with grief. Lester was dead, and the Nocturnal-Mob's largest front on the surface was lost, and there was nothing he could do. Turning away, he continued his escape into the sandy haze, even as the Tundratown Mafia chased after any survivors they could find.

But by then, the elephant's tracks had already vanished.

---

10:30 A.M ; Samantha's office, Downtown Zootopia...

"How are we doing, team?" The voice of Nick resonated into the conference room.

Olivia and Neil looked up from their table as Samantha, Judy and Nick walked in through a set of double doors, the fox looking extra confident as he led the charge.

"Well, not as well as you are," his mother said, seeing his grin. "But that doesn't mean we're doing bad either."

"Any news?" Samantha asked.

"We found something of note," Neil said, gesturing for them to crowd around his laptop. "These are the public records for Stangew's donations, which help fund the advertising."

"Oh wow. He has a lot of backers," Samantha said, shaking her head apprehensively. "And they've donated a lot."

"Well it looks like that," Niel added, scrolling down the list. "Zootopia Prosperity Foundation. Zootopia Heritage Organization. Mammals for Continuing Prosperity. All 'independent' trusts and funds. But, if you look at who funds them..." He pressed a button, and the page morphed.

"It looks just the same," Samantha said, blinking. "In fact, I think there's more."

"Redirection trick, throwing us off the scent." Nick said, sneering as the thought of Stagnew's perfect white grin entered his head. Wider the smile, bigger the lie, he thought to himself.

"And to chase the rabbit," Neil said, ignoring Judy's nose twitch. "Onto those funding the funders, then those funding them."

"It's going down," Samantha said. "It's going down fast!"

The list kept dwindling and dwindling, until only one remained.

"No way. Whoever this guy is, he's funding Stagnew's entire campaign. I... " Samantha blinked, turning to Neil. "Document it. Have it ready to put up on our website during the second debate."

"Way ahead of you," he said, allowing himself a self-satisfied smirk. "I dump that one on and tell curious mammals to refer to our site, he'll be scrambling to find a response, if he can. Our advertising budget obviously can't compete with his, but the sheer amount of free advertising the internet can provide is all we need."

"So what, a Preddit Ask Me Anything?" Nick asked, fiddling with his tie and letting the jiggle ride down to the tip of his tail. "I could do that. And maybe some memes too! Get down with the kits."

"You must not get down with the kits. Trust me," Neil said, bringing out his phone and scrolling through. "Getting down with the kits is the meme killer. Getting down with the kits is the cringe that brings total professional obliteration."

"Are you saying I'm old?"

"Old enough," Neil retorted.

"Right," he huffed back. "So, stick to the official Tweeter, and maybe the AMA."

"I'll set that up, but we do have a promising meme to capitalize on."

Nick blinked. "You said no memes."

"No memes from you," Neil clarified, "Memes by me on behalf of you are allowed."

Ignoring the chuckling from around him, Nick watched as Neil brought up Dik-Dok and played a video entitled 'Tell me you're from an unprioritized district without saying you're from an unprioritized district.'

And with that, they watched a video of a swing bridge at the docks, crossing over an access channel. Most noticeably, the traffic lights controlling it had a broken red light. The camera panned to show a fishing boat approaching, before the operators of the bridge, a small marine otter and a massive hooded seal got into the position; the mustelid by the controls, and the seal getting in front of the broken traffic light as it switched down to a broken red. Closing his eyes, he began blowing out of his nose, his head starting to expand, as did a large red waddle from his nostrils, serving as a natural replacement for the red light.

The mammals watching the video looked at each other, speechless.

Finally Judy, nervously, shook her head. "Evolution never ceases to confuse me."

"On the flipside," Nick said, "I bet they're great at parties. Just don't pair them with a balloon modeler."

"Anyway," Neil said, "We have an opportunity to get on this trend. Do it right, pairing it with hashtag vote Wilde, we could achieve viral spread and get huge levels of free coverage to a demographic traditional advertisement would never reach."

"Yeah," Nick agreed, stroking at his chin. "Hmm. What old sob-story from my past could we use?"

"None," the opossum said. "You don't live in Happytown anymore."

Nick's face furrowed. "I grew up there."

"But you don't live there now."

"Are you really being so critical?"

"Are you forgetting how critical kits can be?" Neil asked. "You post the wrong thing, you'll be the internet's focal point of mockery for at least one cycle. So roughly two-point-seven days. But that's all it will take, especially after Moosebridge put you on blast in the preliminary."

Olivia stepped closer. "I might have an idea."

"Mom?" Nick asked, before pausing as she brought out an old picture on her phone. A baby Nick, climbing up the steps of the abandoned streetcar near their house. Then another one, showing him in the driver's seat, his mother behind her. Then older still, this time being him taking a picture of his mother. And then on and on and on, a mix of the foxes being pictured, the old trolley always constant.

Nick looked up and smiled. "That's still there, isn't it?"

"It's Happytown," she smirked. "What do you expect?"

"Another one for the album?"

"A first one for this Dik-Dok thing?"

"I'll assemble them into a gif and set it all up," Neil said, scrolling through his phone.

"Well," Nick said, "If that's all for our big strategy meet-"

"Not quite," Olivia said, raising a finger. "I also found something… something I wanted to share with you all."

"A conspiracy nut sent her an email," Neil filled in, tone sounding as though he wasn't fond of it.

"I thought that too, but there's something there. Something intriguing," the vixen insisted.

Samantha, Nick and Judy turned to face her, the meerkat looking particularly skeptical. "It has to be something with a lot of backing to be useful."

"Well… I'll show you and you can decide." And with that, Olivia walked over to her computer and loaded up some files. "The mammal who sent this didn't give a name, just said she'd been tracking these… these suspects of hers from her bunker for a while now, whatever that's supposed to mean. Anyway…"

She opened up a bunch of files, then a document, Samantha looking through. "These are polling documents," the meerkat noted. "For Happytown."

Olivia nodded. "Sort of. Part of the problem with Happytown is it's a sort of none-space split between a bunch of districts. A hundred years back, it was a massive set of industrial buildings and such, there are still some old roads named after the rail company here, or the fertilizer manufacturer there. It used to be the biggest fertilizer maker in a thousand miles," her brow furrowed. "Until the city closed it all down."

"Probably because a warehouse of fertilizer is like a nuclear bomb if it catches fire," Neil pointed out, briefly looking up from his phone. "I think one of those in the middle of your city is a good reason to close it down."

"Anyway, most of the stuff around the side was closed down, and what became Happytown was built around the factories that remained, mainly a steel-mill. The trouble is that the whole area is split between several local counties"

"Which is why Happytown has so much trouble," Nick grimaced. "It all worked when it was factories, but now when it's a neighborhood, everyone just passes the buck. Even if someone tried to sort out their corner of it, it doesn't do much as it's just one corner; that's why we need to bring it all together and properly fund it. And give it proper representation."

"It also means that even if it has no voice of its own, it can swing the other districts it's a part of," Olivia explained, looking through. "In a close election, Happytown can really make or break the lower levels of the city government, whose votes can allow or stop a mayor from getting his big bold plan through. Trouble is, their turnout has always been low, most mammals I know don't bother as they don't think who they vote for will care for them."

"Advantage us," Nick said, only to pause at the despondent look his mother was giving him.

"I'm sure Lionheart would have said the same thing, except…" She zoomed in on the voting figures for that year.

"Wow, what happened?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," she said, "I'd expect it to go up that much, not down."

Nick shook his head, biting down his disgust as a hypothesis began to form in his mind. "Who do we know was running the polls?"

"I know what you're thinking," Olivia continued. "And I don't know. He may have been responsible, but that's a heavy, heavy accusation to make. All I can see is that a lot of mammals did turn up at the last minute to vote, but few got in. The poll closed and they were turned away."

"What stopped them?" Judy asked. "Were there any sudden changes to the polling rules?"

"Well, the last big factory did make some shift changes at the last minute. They had some new owners or something, so that could have thrown those at the polls off. But still…" Olivia searched through the documents before pausing, looking over a pdf marked 'Official Voting Rules, Procedures and Guidebook, 27th edition.' Opening the item, she saw that it was for the same election, and authored and signed off with a familiar name.

"Bradley Stagnew…" Nick mumbled aloud, no shortage of disgust filling his words. "Why am I not surprised?

"If it's anything illegal-" Judy began.

"He's way too smart for that," the meerkat interjected. "Whatever this is, it's gonna be buried behind a mountain of paperwork and coincidences, all legitimate enough to bounce. Olivia, I want you to try to contact this conspiracy nut. Learn where they got these documents, and what they know about Bradley. He's cunning, but if we can uncover a sly little scheme… Well, if that horn-headed stuck-up thinks he can get away with outfoxing a team of foxes," She gave a brief, smiling glance to Nick and Olivia. "He'll be in for a very unpleasant surprise at the next debate."

---

10:30 A.M ; somewhere in Sahara-Square...

The minute Chief Bogo rolled onto the scene, he knew that day was going to be a long one.

He didn't normally deign to make an appearance at crime scenes, but as soon as the call reached his phone - another skirmish between the remaining crime-lords, even worse than the one at that fish depot in Tundratown some few weeks back - he knew this was too big to ignore. Stepping out of his cruiser, he set his sights over the scene before him: the flashing red and blue lights of the ZPD's vehicle blockade, the sound of orders being shouted between paramedics tending to the wounded and officers trying to control the chaos of the curious crowd on the scene's outskirts. Bogo couldn't help but notice the arrays of news cameras being set up along the perimeter of the blockade. Whatever this was, the public would know soon.

Beside him, Officer Delgado hummed thoughtfully. "Looks like another fight between the mobs," the lion remarked, scratching at his mane. "This is gonna be big, isn't it?"

Bogo glanced over to his colleague's face. Delgado had recovered splendidly from his injury in the case against Al Catpone last year, with the scars from the bullet wound in his neck hidden behind the fresh growth of his well-groomed mane. The buffalo then turned his gaze back to the scene of the crime. There was only one answer he could think of.

A concerned sigh was first to come. "Not as big as the pile of paperwork this'll make. Call Chief Latran, and get Hopps over here ASAP. Tell her it's urgent," his stony gaze raised to the sky above, still dimmed by sand swirling on the breeze. "I need an expert's opinion."

---

Happy New Year, everyone! 2021 was a wild one, but like many, I have high hopes for the next.

Speaking of hopes, I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. Don't be afraid to let me know what you think! And in the spirit of the changing year, there will be some changes to this story going forward as well. Due to time restrictions, I've decided to bring on some other authors to turn When Night Falls into my first ever collaboration of my own management! I'd like to thank Berserker88, JackofMinds, J_Shute_Norway, and ADeadMissionary for joining the effort. In fact, practically those entire two scenes with Nick and his team were written by J_Shute, so special kudos for that! All of us will be contributing to various scenes going forward, and I'll be revising them all to the best of my ability to make them flow together as well as possible. I think they did a great job! The updating schedule will more than likely stay the same.

This may be a big change, but I figured it would be fitting for my last contribution to the fandom to involve the fandom. Stay tuned for chapter 14,"The Cabal" coming your way soon! Remember what I said last chapter about this chapter being super important? Not that it wasn't important, but the scene I was referring to got moved into chapter 14 to make room in this one. In other words, you won't want to miss it! Many of your questions will at last be given answers... and then maybe a few more questions will arise. You'll see. :)