"Keep every promise you make, and only make promises you can keep." - Anthony Hitt
9:30 A.M ; Somewhere in Tundratown…
"Aaaahhhh…" The polar bear's deep sigh echoed into the tiled chamber as he submerged himself into a pool of bubbling warm water. "I deserve this. Weeks of babysitting that brooding wolf!" His meaty paws were tossed to the air with exasperation. "Drive anyone crazy."
"Mikhail, my comrade," a larger polar bear with thick, orange-tinted glasses acknowledged from the other side of the hot tub. "Your efforts are not unappreciated. Tell me: is this Harlan wolf reliable?"
"Very." Mikhail assured, allowing a pair of arctic vixens to massage his shoulders. "I've convinced him to deliver documents. Now we can stay one step ahead of Nocturnal-Mob, knowing what ZPD knows. Thick as he is, he will not serve us forever. Not if he thinks we cannot deliver on our promises. So… what should we do about Rupert Clovestone?"
Kozlov guffawed with disbelief. "Are you kidding? Rupert Clovestone is one of most powerful mammals in Zootopia. That is one reward we cannot give. Besides, if little bat has his way in the war, we will all be dead anyways. No help to give. String wolf along instead. Tell him what he wants to hear. Then dispose of him when we have enough information."
Mikhail nodded his understanding, though there was one sentence in particular that caught his attention above the rest. "Do you really think Nocturnal-Mob will win war?"
His boss dismissively waved one paw, nearly knocking over the one arctic vixen massaging him. "Bah, of course not! They may have elephant and defense underground, but we have territory on surface and help of Unbearables. They took one of Nocturnal-Mob's beachheads in Sahara-Square. Soon, all of their fronts will fall, and we will have victory."
Kozlov trailed off, nose turning toward the nearby doors. Beyond them, he could detect faint commotion in the form of yelps and crashing sounds.
"What are those fools doing?" He grumbled, one paw readjusting his orange tinted shades. "Go tell them to shut up."
"As you wish," Mikhail relented, rising from the tub and wrapping a towel around his lower half.
He approached the large wooden doors, trying to ignore the growing chaos of the noises outside. It sounded almost like a fight was going on. His suspicions were confirmed as he creaked the door ajar and peeked through, eyes widening at the sight of at least a dozen mismatched nocturnal mammals scuffling with the guards outside.
"Get them off me! Get them off me!" One polar bear muffled past a trio of raccoons scrambling over his face.
Timber wolves fought with arctic wolves, mole-rats brandished guns against shrews, and polar bears kicked badgers from their path like soccer balls. Being a spa, most of the Tundratown Mafia was unarmed, having left their weapons in lockers and strewn clothes. The Nocturnal-Mob, however, came plenty prepared. The moment Mikhail heard gunshots, he slammed the door and pressed his back to it, fearful gaze set at Kozlov.
"It's an ambush! The mob found us!" He exclaimed. A pattering of gunshots echoed from behind the door, and Mikhail grunted softly. He then slowly looked down at his bare chest, admiring the growing red stains across his fur. "Oh…" he murmured. "Blyet."
Mikhail fell forward, face planting into the glossy tile and revealing a smattering of bullet holes in the door behind him. Said door was then kicked open by a suited timber wolf with a machine gun. "Say hello to my little friend!" He shouted bombastically, and then fired wildly into the spa.
That well-worn movie reference was sadly the last thing many of the mobsters heard before they were gunned down in various states of undress. Fortunately, that blind firing gave Kozlov time to tactically retreat under the waters of his hot tub. Holding his breath was no issue for a polar bear. The intruders would likely find him long before he'd need to come up for oxygen. That didn't exactly leave him a lot of favorable options though.
He was saved mostly by the timely intervention of his masseuses, who let out simultaneous shrieks and bolted away on all fours, drawing the machine gun fire. As the wolf took off after the white blurs, Kozlov hastily climbed out of the tub and ran for the back door. "Good luck, ladies," he said, a knowing smirk on his muzzle as he made his exit.
The trigger-happy timber wolf caught up to his quarry, the three arctic foxes now pinned up against a wall. They screamed at the sight of him, huddling up against each other and cowering in fear. Terrified tears rolled down their cheeks, pattering lightly against the tiled floor.
"P-Please don't shoot!"
"We just wanna go hoooome!"
It gave their would-be assailant some pause. The wolf was more than happy with targeting helpless Tundratown mobsters, but less so targeting helpless, innocent, strikingly attractive spa workers. "Aw, geez. Uh… hey, girls, maybe I…"
He was so flustered that he didn't even notice his fellow mobsters start pouring into the room behind him, only turning his head once he heard the crunch of the door he'd kicked down being trampled over. He locked eyes with another wolf, who then caught sight of who he had cornered. His reaction was not what he'd expected. "L-Look out, you idiot! Those three are-!"
His brief second of confusion became a very sudden comprehension when he felt the knife sink between his shoulder blades. "You came into our spa without a reservation," one of the three said, now much calmer. "That was so not cool."
Even as his consciousness faded, she kept the wolf standing upright, using him as a shield while she borrowed his paws to fire his gun. The surprise attack tore through a few of the Nocturnals while the rest scattered to regroup. "Aww, looks like the boys are being shy. Let's go get to know them, sisters."
They giggled in response, each drawing a pair of knives of their own. "I am, like, feeling it tonight."
"Literally in the zone."
There was a persistent rumor in the criminal underworld, often believed to be exaggerated, that Mr. Big had a peculiar trio of assassins working under him. They went by many names: The White Whirlwinds, The Bloodstained Beauties, The Three Masseuseketeers… But most just called them Pearl, Opal, and Crystal. The Vixens.
One of the badgers that had busted through the door peeked his head out from behind the cover of a tiled column, grimacing as he watched the head vixen drop the trigger-happy wolf she'd been using as a shield dead to the floor.
"They got Tony!" he announced to his comrades. "And Papa Bear got away!"
"Forget about Kozlov!" a nearby raccoon in a blood-red button-up and suspenders shouted back. "And forget about Tony! If we take down the legendary Vixens, this'll still be a win for the Fangpyre Family! FIRE!"
They fired, taking positions behind the row of columns and letting loose a hail of bullets that would've seemed overkill for most mammals. But the Vixens were already on the move, hiding behind the opposing row.
In the center of their formation, Pearl looked to Opal and Crystal on her left and right, the sisters sharing a nod as they silently decided their next move. Clamping down on their knives, they began to scale the columns, unseen by their adversaries.
The bullets stopped soon after, to no response. "Are they gonna shoot back?" the raccoon whispered.
"I don't think they have their own guns," the badger replied.
"How do you know?"
"Where would they be hiding them?"
"Where did they hide the knives?!"
There was another moment of silence.
"Just move in! We're wasting time!"
They signaled to the rest of their invading force, the badger waving a paw forward. Brandishing their weapons, they slowly moved in, not even noticing that the ones giving the command weren't following.
Creeping softly across the tiled floor, the Nocturnal mobsters approached the columns the Vixens were hiding behind, then suddenly rushed forward to flank them, their lack of observation becoming readily apparent now as the trio had disappeared.
Only to now suddenly drop onto their unprepared heads. A pair of knives sank into a wolf's shoulders, Opal using his body as leverage to spring off again amidst panicked return fire that mostly just finished him off. She landed once more between the mole and porcupine responsible, stabbing the latter swiftly in the gut, then turning on her heel and punting the former hard enough to lift his body off the floor a little. Knives still embedded in the porcupine, she pulled him around and drove him into the mole quills-first, slamming them both into the column. "Yikes. Literally my worst acupuncture treatment."
Crystal, meanwhile, had her legs firmly wrapped around the neck of a burly badger, gripping the column behind her for leverage as she slowly choked him out. "S-Shoot her! Shoot her!" he gasped, directed at a shaky lupine desperately trying to steady his gun on her. It didn't help that she was effectively using his friend's own body as a shield, and especially not when she winked flirtatiously at him. In that brief moment of distraction, she snapped the badger's neck and kicked his limp body at him.
Pinned beneath it for a moment, the wolf frantically scrambled out, dropping his gun and backing away from the approaching Crystal until his back hit the rim of the hot tub the bears had been lounging in. He looked behind him for a second to confirm that, and found the assassin in his face as soon as he looked back. "You are under, like, way too much stress. Don't worry, I can work it aaaaall out." A quick flick of her wrist and she had slashed his throat, before lifting him over the edge and into the tub, its jet bubbles quickly turning red. "There! No more stress!"
Seeing all this, the raccoon and badger who had just sent a bunch of their guys to get slaughtered now hid back behind their columns. "So their reputation is well-earned," the raccoon admitted. "I think it's time for us to use that."
"I think you're right," the badger returned. "By the way, weren't there three of them?"
"Hi there!" Pearl suddenly dropped down on their side of the room, making them both let out high-pitched screams and run back out through the broken-down door. She slowly followed after them, twirling her knives. "I hope you boys have enjoyed our renowned customer service, but you are so not getting a happy ending."
"Wanna bet?" the raccoon growled, leaning against the other side of the wall as he and his partner retracted a few small, blue orbs from their pockets.
"It's time we got high off our own supply!"
Both mobsters grinned. As the remaining Vixen approached, they each, and without further hesitation, popped the pellets into their mouths.
As Pearl reached the doorframe, she paused as she watched the two opposing mobsters drop to the ground and writhe about. She tilted her head back and yelled across the room. "Hey, girls? Is this normal?"
Crystal dusted off her paws and checked her claws, sparing a glance. "Depends. They got, like, slitted eyes?"
"Yeah."
"Sudden muscle growth?"
"Uh huh."
"Scary growling noises?"
"So growly."
Opal skipped up to Crystal's side curiously. "Then it's bad?"
"It's, like, real bad."
"Ohoho." The badger stepped back into the room, knuckles cracking inside meaty, scaled fists. "You've got no idea, foxy."
The raccoon joined his side, smiling with a toothy grin that complimented the crazy look in his bloodstained eyes a little too well. "Have to say, Al Catpone may have been a delusional conspiracy theorist, but he sure knew how to cook up a mean batch of Nighthowlers. What do you say we give the ladies a demonstration?"
Pearl instinctively raised her knives as the raccoon swiped his claws. The resulting blow snapped both blades off at the handles and left her now holding two pointy stubs.
She quickly backed away, slowly coming together with her sisters again in a near-huddle as they brandished what was left of their knives at the approaching predators. "You're not supposed to be able to talk," Pearl said. "That's cheating."
"I think this is, like, that special Apex-Affluent stuff that Al used," Crystal explained.
"You mean the stuff he almost overthrew the city government with?" Opal asked.
"That would be the stuff."
"Right. Better question," Pearl returned. "Are we being paid enough to risk getting eaten alive?"
"Like, I don't think so."
"That would literally ruin my day."
"Great. Glad we're clear on that."
Pearl reached into her bikini top, which somehow still had room for a small metal sphere that she threw against the floor, engulfing the room in smoke as they immediately took off through the same exit Kozlov had used.
The raccoon ripped one claw through the cloud and scoffed. "Cowards. Guess they know when to fold 'em."
"I was really hoping I'd get to use the extra strength…" the badger complained.
His comrade growled. "As if we'll let them get away so easily!" And then scampered on all fours toward the back door exit, shouldering it open and skidding onto the cold pavement of an alley behind the spa.
No sign of the Vixens, but he doubted they went far. "Come on!"
As it so happened, the Vixens were huddled in a nearby alleyway, Crystal peeking out at the bulked-up predators. "They're looking for us. We need to, like, move!"
"Working on it!" Pearl hissed, she and Opal dragging out a ski-doo they'd hidden there for quick escapes. As soon as they started it up, all three foxes hopped on and sped out of the alley.
Or at least they would have were their exit not suddenly blocked by the raccoon. "Our sense of smell is enhanced too, you know. Assassins shouldn't wear such nice perfume."
"Eeep!" They instantly skidded around in the limited space provided and headed for the opposite end.
Which was now cut off by the badger. "We just wanna get to know you fine ladies. At least stick around for dinner."
Snarling, the Vixens now just cranked up their speed and charged, catching the badger off-guard as they leapt from the vehicle at the last second and let it ram into him. He just barely kept the thing from bowling him over, feeling three pairs of dainty feet springboard off his back as the Vixens landed out on the empty street again.
The sidewalk between them, however, was not so empty, now occupied by a stunned antelope doe. Faced with the monstrous predator before her, she was rooted to the spot, just staring at him in terror with a literal deer-in-headlights expression.
The badger grit his teeth. Dammit! I can't let the civie get hurt! He planted his feet into the ground, but the sleet-lined pavement was too slippery for friction to help. It was too late. The badger's back slammed into the antelope, saving her body from the brunt of the vehicle, but still casting her off to the side with a shriek. The badger tumbled into a snow pile, and the ski-doo ground to a halt.
The raccoon scampered out of the alley shortly after and cursed at the sight of the wreck.
"What did you do?!" The raccoon shouted at his partner.
"It wasn't me! It was the-" The badger pointed to where he'd last seen the Vixens, but they were already gone. "We've gotta get outta here!"
They tried to bolt away, but now they were the ones being cut off, by a squad of heavy-duty ZPD patrol vehicles coming in to surround them. Not even the inhibition-numbing effects of Apex-Affluent could make them feel confident about this situation. And unfortunately for them, ZPD policy was very much 'shoot first' when it came to savage mammals of any kind. Before they could react, they were suddenly being pumped full of tranqs, the onslaught soon bringing them to the cold hard ground.
A couple blocks away, the Vixens were racing off when they too found themselves surrounded by encircling vehicles. Instantly, they put on their guise as helpless victims again. "P-Please help us!" Opal cried. "Those t-terrible monsters are after us!"
Their only response was a set of raised, but not yet fired, tranquilizer guns. Pearl groaned as they all raised their paws. "Aw, poop. We got smart ones."
11:00 A.M ; Precinct One, Savanna Central...
Stepping out in front of Precinct One, Harlan knew he should be feeling warmer. Even though this was nothing like the blazing parts of Sahara Square up close to the climate wall, the warmth of Savanna Central was like blazing summer's day compared to the chill of Tundratown. He should have been looking forward to this day, getting called back to come off his ticketing punishment and returned to the main force.
Or at least, coming back for a 'critical meeting' as they'd worded it.
But right now, the wolf's tail was dipping. If he was a police commissioner looking into corruption and leaking, this would be how he'd lure his suspect back, wouldn't it?
Climbing up the steps, Harlan grit his teeth and put on a neutral expression. The chances were it was just a normal meeting, in which case he would act like it and give them no reason to think otherwise. After all, even if they did suspect him, staying home or running away would just paint him even worse as they called the other officers out to hunt him down. To come at him. To corner him in his own home to make him surrender, or die fight…
He closed his eyes and breathed out as he stepped inside. This was the right move.
"Oh, hey Harlan! Been a while since I saw you around," Clawhauser greeted.
"Yeah," he said, "been helping out in Tundratown."
"Ooooh," the cheetah shivered. "Way too cold for me… Then again, don't tell me you didn't give Snownuts a go?"
"Snownuts?"
"Only the best donut shop in the entire district, best icing in the whole city."
"Right," the wolf nodded, refraining from adding that sweets weren't exactly his go-to. "I'll remember to give it a go."
"You won't regret it," he smiled. "Anyway, Judy and Bogo are waiting for you in meeting room D. Have fun."
"As much as I can," the wolf breathed out, making his way over. He hoped he'd be having fun, but the gnaw in his stomach telling him that he wouldn't get the chance to try that donut shop for a lot, lot longer than Clawhauser imagined began to grow and grow.
He closed his eyes. He shouldn't have come. It was too late now, but he shouldn't be here. He'd even tried to phone Mikhail about it, to ask if this was the right thing or not. The bear would know. But right when he needed him his phone had gone to answer. Not once, not twice, but three times.
Pulling the thing out and putting it on do not disturb, lest the response come at the absolute worst time, he stepped in the room and froze.
There, up at the other end, stood Judy and Bogo, looking at a massive projector, Mikhail's mugshot staring back out at him.
The wolf gulped and slowly put a foot back, only for Judy to turn. "Harlan!" she chirped. "Sit down, want anything?"
She began moving over to the small refreshments trolley as the wolf, doing his best to keep a lid on his screaming nerves, nodded. "Just some water please." He tenderly sat down on the chair as Judy put a glass in front of him and poured out some water.
"...Is everything okay?"
He snapped to her, the bunny looking on concerned. "I'm…" he began, glancing to the picture of Mikhail staring out, Bogo next to him. The buffalo's eyes were boring in even further than the bears. "Just… Who is that bear. I swear I've seen him before. Ha, must just be some deja-vu." He chuckled off and grabbed his water, beginning to drink it down.
"Right," Bogo nodded. "It seems we were right to call you in then."
The wolf had to force his throat closed to stop him spraying back out into the glass. "Why's that then?" he said with a forced chuckle to mask out any nerves. "Anything happen to him, or…"
"Well the bad but not so bad news is he's dead," Bogo said.
This time Harlan did choke. "I… What…"
"Not to disrespect the dead," the buffalo added. "Though I have absolutely none for this mammal. Mikhail Stalilapa. One of Big's inner circle, a mammal responsible for recruiting, corrupting, extorting and murdering countless mammals. We've been trying to get something to stick on him for years, but it seems that his enemies got tired of waiting." And with that he flicked over to a bloody crime scene, the bear lying dead in the middle of a torn up spa room. Bogo began going off on some of what was witnessed, how there were some who claimed savages tore in as if it were the Nighthowler case or Catpone's revolt all over.
Harlan just let it glaze over him. Mikhail was dead. The mammal who took him in off a cold street. The mammal who knew what it was like to be a predator.
"Ambushed while in a hot tub, the bear gave a, by the reports, pretty futile fight before collapsing," Bogo rounded off. "I'm sure if we had a certain fox still in our ranks, we'd be getting a tasteless joke about now."
"I could try," Judy offered.
"At ease Hopps. It won't be half as funny."
"So you did like them."
BANG!
They both turned to see Harlan glaring at them, paws hard and flat against the table, still rattling from his strike.
"Officer-" Bogo began, only to get cut off.
"He's dead! A mammal's dead - murdered - and you're laughing at it. You're…" He panted in and out. "It's like his life didn't even matter!"
Judy's ears went down and she stared at the floor, while Bogo let his eyes flicker away. "Apologies if we came off as… unprofessional, Officer. I suppose that hearing that a long time thorn in our side had been pulled out was worth a bit of celebration, but you're right. Unprofessional."
"Yeah," Judy said. "Especially given that its growing a whole new batch of thorns. This was a serious mob hit, and who knows what it could mean going on."
"Which is why we pulled you back," Bogo said. "Ewever has already looked over it with Officer Hopps, but we wanted you back on. And, given your work in Tundratown, we wanted to see whether you'd spotted anything suspicious. A shot in the dark, but it seems to have sit true."
The wolf blinked, pulling out of stewing anger and into a tricky matter of hustling out of this all. "Yeah, I'm not sure, I said it was deja vu but… hang on, I know where I saw him. It was a few weeks ago, and he was helping a pair of arctic foxes by lifting their car out of a snow drift." He said. He'd gotten better at lying ever since he'd had to do it to Mary. "I mean, can't ticket something under a pile of snow.
Bogo smiled. "Well, I know one mammal who might try."
"If they have a problem they can argue it in traffic court," Judy smirked.
"Yeah," Harlan rolled off. "But still, kinda shocking that that helpful bear I saw got gunned down in cold blood and murdered and all. Hope he doesn't have any children, learning their father isn't coming home or even being there and seeing it. Not gonna be much of a laughing matter for them, huh."
A cold silence filled the room, Bogo clearing his throat. "It's easy to forget that sometimes indirect things like this can hit hard. I can say though he doesn't have any cubs."
"Uh huh," Judy said. "And even though he was a criminal, he didn't deserve this, and its up to us to find out who did it and bring them to justice."
"Before they strike again," Bogo intoned. "This kind of thing always spills out to hit innocents and civilians. I trust you two can stop it before then." He was broken off by a knock on the door, as Mary came in with a stack of files in her hooves. "You three," he corrected, "I'll leave you to it. Oh, and Harlan," He stared at the wolf. "Welcome back. Don't make us regret giving you this second chance. Understood?"
"Understood," he replied.
Bogo nodded with approval. "You can get your firearms back from the armory later, and badge from the postroom. Best of luck."
"You're back early!" she cheered.
"Yeah," he grunted, eyes flicking back to the screen. Mikhail lying there, and then cut off to a picture of a security camera picture of him and a posse of other animals entering in.
"So, I've been doing some research," the Ewe carried on. "It seems he and his group were mainly there for relaxation, but this sun bear…" She pointed to one. "Isn't a mammal you'd expect in the Tundra Town mafia. I mean, I thought it odd. I was thinking maybe he was there for a meeting or something. Maybe they were planning crimes or something, so I began searching…"
"As did I," Judy said. "And I struck gold first."
Mary nodded, switching to a police report from the desk of Chief Latran. "A warehouse fire in Sahara-Square from last week, or at least it seemed to be. Chief Latran's team found several bodies in the ashes, burnt beyond recognition, so he had to focus on dental records for identification. What he didn't need to wait on was working out what species they are. Including another weird one. A naked mole rat."
"What's weird about that?" Harlan asked.
"They're an underground species," Judy explained. "And of all the places to come out, Sahara Square is the absolute worst. They've got no fur, and their skin would start burning within the hour. There's reports of an old ventilation tunnel for the Nocturnal District nearby, which could explain it. Smuggling through the tunnels, him popping out and trying to rebuild Shahaz's old outfit under Vladzotz's wings."
"Of course, the other weird thing that Latran discovered were a few reports of some bears nearby at the time. And I'm thinking they're linked."
"How?" Harlan asked. "Is this… fighting over the scraps of Sahara Square or something?"
"Could be," Judy said. "Looking into the bears, we think they might be a new outfit from the Timberlands. Trying to jostle up as the third crime lord of the city, to mixed success."
"Well that sounds unbearable," Mary began, only to freeze as Judy struggled to hold in a laugh. One that quickly began returning to sender. "I didn't mean that! Honest, I…"
"At ease," Judy said, wiping away a tear from under her eye. "Apparently that's what they call actually themselves, so…"
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," the bunny said, shaking her head and firming up her face. "Wordplay that would make my husband groan aside, they are a serious threat. We're talking about a crime war here, involving these bears and the two city mobs."
Mary nodded. "There was something else…"
"Huh?" Judy asked.
Mary shuffled a few more papers. "It seems the Sahara Square fire wasn't the first. There was one a few weeks before in Tundratown." She pushed some papers forward. "It's been cleaned up well, but the investigators did notice a lot of things that suggest it wasn't some accident."
Blinking, Judy walked over, gesturing Harlan too. "Hmmm, I mean, I can see that. But if was the Unbearables trying to come in, why would they strike there first."
"I… What if the bears were brought in by Tundratown as muscle?" Mary suggested.
"That would suggest a war between Tundra Town and Nocturnal." Judy shivered. "A war that's already turned hot and is only going to get uglier." Her eyes narrowed. "There's no proof though, so… Any ideas, Harlan?"
He shook his head. "No."
With that, Judy groaned. "In that case, we've got to try our best. But it might already be too late to nip this in the bud. We might be playing firefighter to a true crime war here, and that means mammals, guilty and innocent, are going to get hurt." Her eyes narrowed. "So we're gonna work double hard to shut it down and make that number as small as it is. Right team?"
"Yes Ma'am," they agree, pushing off to work.
An hour or so later, Judy was slipping off for a quick bathroom break and then lunch run, getting some food for all of them. As she went though, she pulled out her phone and dialed in the first number. It picked up and she smiled. "Heya future Mayor."
"Woah, don't wanna tempt fate just yet, future First Lady." Nick and his campaign group were busy getting ready in a salty smelling changing room, the fox sitting on one of the cracked wooden benches beneath a porthole window.
"Says you."
"Says me," me smiled. "How are things going."
There was a pause. "Tough… Not the best news, not by a long shot, but we have a big chance to make a difference. As will you, soon enough."
"Fingers crossed," Nick said, stepping out and looking out the window. The dock district lay out in front, a queue of mammals already forming. "One last push on the victory lap, the final debate, and then it's election night." He breathed out, blinking a few times. "And chances are… Chances are, I'll be mayor."
"Just hitting you now?"
"You could say that."
"Ah, best of luck Nick!"
"You too my love!"
And with that, he hung up, walking over to Samantha. "Five minutes," she said, showing him his cards.
"Uh-huh. Going over all the main points."
Over in a corner, Neil spoke up. "Even how that rat from the debate was a plant?"
"Yes, it sounds like a very Bradley thing to do, hiring someone to put the pressure on a rival," Samantha agreed. "But we found the newspaper article showing it did happen."
"You mean the one where her and her 'son' had a different surname?"
"The one where it said her partner's son, yes. And?"
"Well it'd be step-son for a start, debatable as they're not…"
"Do you want to lose even more sympathy than Brian did?" Samantha asked, crossing her arms. "Now, looking in I'm also pretty sure that Stagnew played a bit dirty here. The audience tickets were sent out via a lottery but could be traded, and that rat lady was confirmed to have been gifted one."
"-And looking on Furbook said 'gifter' seems a lot richer all of a sudden. So we can…"
This time Nick spoke up. "None of this changes the fact that a mammal was drained by Lucy Sang," he said, arms crossed. "Trying to draw away from that is what Brian Batley did, and it's exactly how not to do it. We need to have a Sang-stopping 'win-win' solution for both the rodents and the bats."
"Really easier said than done…" Samantha began, only for Nick to cut her off with a raised finger.
"We're gonna fight bat with bats!"
"Huh?"
"ZPD! Air force division!" Crossing his paws in front of him, wrists against opposing shoulders, he began flapping with his paws and running around. "Neeeeoooowwww…"
She paused, looking over to Neil, who shrugged. "Honestly, I'm surprised no-one thought of that before."
Samantha smiled. "Ever heard of the 'Mammal Inclusion Initiative, ultra-first draft?"
By the end of the day, Nick had managed a speech both at the Docks and out in Outback Island. More were lined up for the last few days, including for both the Nocturnal District and Little Rodentia. Everything was picking up pace, as opposed for the ZPD, where things were running into a roadblock.
Leaving for the day, they had lots of theories, but no firm proof. And nothing to use to cut off the violence before it burst out once again. All they could do was dig in further and learn. After the work was done, Harlan returned to the subway for his commute home. Sitting down, he closed his eyes and rubbed his face.
Mikhael was dead. And the ZPD didn't care.
Oh, sure, they said they did. They said this was important. They said they needed to stop it to stop innocents getting hurt. But that bear wasn't one of those. He felt his teeth grit. They were happy he'd been killed. They were joking. As that was what he and all the other 'scum' were to them. To mammals like Clovestone. Jokes. Nasty, horrid, stupid jokes who deserved what they got.
How many times had he been told that before?
'He deserved it'
'The world's a better place now'
'He could have surrendered but he chose to fight back.'
'He asked for it'
Damn that, the wolf growled internally, stepping out of the subway and back into the streets of Happytown. Trash blew gently in the warm savanna breeze, though Harlan kept his fists balled in his pockets as though he'd never left Tundratown. They were mammals, they had their dignity, they had their pride, and they had a will to fight for themselves and their brothers. That was something those mammals staring down above and wrecking their lives would never understand.
But he did.
HONK!
Harlan glared at the car his introspective pacing had inadvertently placed him before. Behind the wheel, an antelope raised one fist and shouted, "Hey, big guy, get outta the road! I've got places to be! Go find a nice cliff to howl from!"
Something in Harlan snapped. Though his expression remained flat, his yellow eyes intensified as he drew a pistol from his waistband and fired several shots into the vehicle's tires as though doing something as mundane as flicking the buttons on a TV remote. The antelope yelped with fear, and began to drive away, car thunking awkwardly down the road. Harlan just watched as it fled, standing in the middle of the street. He then looked down at the weapon in his paw, taken from the armory. Normally, officers were only allowed to check-out dartguns for standard use. Real firearms were rare. Yet no one would think twice about just anther predator shooting out the tires in just another car in Happytown. It happened all the time.
After all, he'd asked for it.
11:30 A.M ; Fangpyre Family safehouse, the Nocturnal-District...
How many times had Vladzotz escaped death by this point?
After the latest attempt on his life, it had taken nearly a full day to reassess his criminal empire's security apparatus, including his own home's. Hours of work and planning directly following an assassination attempt. By the time it was all over, and the threat was cleared, there was nothing the bat wanted more than to retreat to his bedchamber for some privacy.
Hanging from a wooden bar within, he was alone with his thoughts until his hole-peppered ears twitched with irritation - an involuntary reaction to the sound of the bedchamber's mahogany doors opening and closing shut with haste. Vladzotz didn't bother turning around. His sharp ears were enough to deduce the identity of the newcomer: he'd grown accustomed to Lucy's breathing rate over the years, and could tell that she was far from calm at the moment. After all, she too had been forced to go through the safety checklist after nearly losing her husband. He didn't blame her. Though he felt tempted to turn her way, something deep down and stubborn kept him averted. Was it shame? Frustration? Confusion? He didn't know. But whatever it was, it restricted him to what a bat did best: listening.
Lucy stalked into the room. She clearly wasn't happy. There were bags under her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. She flopped to the bed under the bar, next to Vlad. With two words, she summed up her entire opinion on the situation: "This sucks."
Vladzotz sighed. It was simple enough of a statement, and certainly accurate, but even this he had trouble finding the right words to respond to. What could he even say? 'Sorry for nearly leaving you a widow? Sorry for continuing a war that clearly harbors dangers and consequences?' The crime-lord thought he was prepared. He was no stranger to the darker side of mammality. Violence. Death. Crime. But something about this was… too close to home. And now that he was in that very home, he felt little safer.
"I…" He murmured, attempting to at least voice something. "I never imagined the war would come this far. Rage this long." Bear scars this deep, he left unsaid, glancing silently to the empty cradle where Leo and Vasila usually slept.
Lucy noticed where he was looking, and sighed. "What are we even doing?" She asked in a soft tone. "What are we even winning in this war? So far, we've only lost, no matter how 'well' the war is going." She did air quotes around the word 'well.' Lucy sniffled. Crying was rare for her, but even she was having trouble holding tears back. "Lost our pups. Lost our friends. Lost our safety. Why are we letting this happen?"
There it was. The question Vladzotz had been dreading since the day he'd declared war: why?
"Why…" He rumbled, expression hardening as an image of Mr. Big's face passed over his mind. "Why does anyone seek justice? To right a wrong. To correct an injustice. This is war. We were… prepared."
Even as the words left his mouth, they left a bitter taste behind on his tongue. At this point, how much had truly been lost in pursuit of vengeance? And how much more was yet to be lost? It wasn't a question Vladzotz wanted to answer. His wings tightened around his frame, talons gripping harder around the wooden bar that he clung to. But as he heard his wife's sniffles atop the bed down below, he couldn't resist shifting his neck a bit to bring her into the edge of his vision.
Lucy wiped her nose, staring up at the ceiling vacantly, as tears leaked down her cheeks, wetting the fur beneath her eyes. "Vladdy... I know quite a bit about revenge. It's not to make anything right. If we're really honest with ourselves, we just want to make other mammals hurt. Not make anything better. What's been made better by this? Our babies are gone. Our lives might be next. We'd leave them all alone..."
Vladzotz scoffed, growling beneath his breath. She was right. But could he admit that that fact made him wrong? "I... I..." He stammered, unable to find his words. Lucy took the chance to fill the silence.
"Whenever I risk my life on my missions, I tell myself I'm prepared to pay the ultimate price," Lucy confessed, though left unsaid, Because I've always hated a part of me just enough to risk it all. "But now that your life is at risk… I can't handle it. I can't lose you. You don't deserve to die for a war I started."
The crime-lord's single red eye traced back to the cradle at the mention of their pups. Even past all the hustle and bustle of the war defense effort, the house had never felt so… silent. It was a silence that reminded Vladzotz all too much of the weeks following his old family's passing. And here it was again. Except this time, it was a silence of his own making. Vladzotz's gaze fell to the bed below him, where he at last locked eyes with Lucy. He saw her reddened eyes, and tear-wetted cheek fur. He saw how utterly depressed she looked, as though a vital piece were missing from her very being. She looked so, so very different from the fierce, confident bat he had fallen in love with.
Vladzotz hated to see what the war had done to her. And he knew that he was responsible for that war. To know that he sent his wife to fight in this war that he could have avoided, to know that their pups were gone because of him, all of it he thought he had the strength to endure, as a crime-lord and a leader. But it was not the kind of leader - kind of husband nor mammal - that Vladzotz wanted to be. There was only one thing Vladzotz could do: fill the hole of the missing piece.
Unfurling one wing, he reached down to her from above, beckoning a gentle offer to join him. "I… I'm so sorry, my sweet Sang," Vladzotz confessed. A single tear escaped his remaining eye, plipping onto the bed beside Lucy's head. He didn't try to hide it. After nearly losing his life once more, there was nothing he cared about but the family that he shed it for. "I have brought this upon us all. I… I fear I have made a mistake too deep to correct. I'm sorry…"
Lucy's frustration quickly faded. "Vladdy..." She sat up, touching her forehead to his. This was the first time she'd ever seen him cry. Vladzotz was normally such a pillar of strength; always so dominant and commanding. Seeing him cry was almost disturbing. But it didn't stop her from trying to comfort him.
Vladzotz inhaled deeply, breath shaking slightly. "I never wanted this… never wanted war. You're right. I have let my wrath consume me once more… and I have let it burn us all." His wing pressed the back of Lucy's nape, adding more pressure to their touching foreheads.
Lucy clambered deftly up Vlad, before flipping upside-down, and grabbing the bar with her feet. They were now chest-to-chest. She snuggled into him, trying to create some measure of comfort for both of them.
Sighing, Vladzotz wrapped his wings around his wife's frame, pulling her as close as possible. His head tucked over her shoulder into a hug, and even in spite of the size difference between them, Vladzotz felt as though Lucy's presence left no spot, no reassurance unfilled. Together they hanged there for some time, breathing softly until these too slowed with the steadying beats of their hearts. Vladzotz sighed again, this one more of a gentle, relieved exhale than the last.
Lucy is right, his mind repeated to himself once more. In this conflict, we have only lost that which we already had. Friends, another image of Mr. Big returned to his mind, though without any hint of rage to accompany it this time. Family, he tried not to look at the empty cradle nearby. All for nothing more than pride. I was a fool to think I'd changed. His eye opened, admiring over the way Lucy's vinyl-coated body molded into his own. I can't lose her too… can't let this go on any longer. No amount of blood… can fill a missing heart.
"I will make this right." He gingerly claimed, voice whispering into one of Lucy's radar-like ears. "I… I will find a way to end the war. To reunite our family. This I promise." He then kissed inside it, and stroked at her lower back, knowing how often the act helped calm her down.
A smile slowly spread across Lucy's face. She nuzzled into his chest, a purr in her throat. "Thank you," she murmured softly. "I love you, Vladdy. More than any stupid revenge scheme. Don't forget that."
Vladzotz allowed himself a gentle smile. "And I you, my sweet Sang. Family is all… and I was arrogant to pursue war in the name of it. This… you… is all I ever needed." His lips moved to her cheek as his wings glided up her hips, planting a kiss while caressing his wife's hourglass frame.
The female bat chortled softly. "Aren't I technically your sweet Fangpyre now?" She asked, winking playfully, and sticking her tongue out just to look cute. When times were tough, a bit of humor could go a long way. And judging by her husband's reaction, it had served its purpose.
Vladzotz's smile grew. "Yes. I suppose you are. Doesn't have the same ring to it, but…" he paused as a brief kiss connected their lips. "I like it. You're the vampire I fell for either way."
Lucy hummed in approval at the kiss. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck to deepen it. Her tongue swirled with his own, relishing in the flavor of the fox assassin's blood leftover in her mouth. This is what I need... after everything. Maybe we could use a bit of relief...
Vladzotz released a slew of vampiric clicks into her mouth, enjoying the deepening of the kiss and how it made his fur rise with euphoria. Their winghands stroked and swept across each other's bodies, and when the kiss finally broke, both bats were left panting, eyes staring deeply into one another. The female bat licked her lips, now stained red with the assassin's blood like a crude form of lipstick.
"Lucy…" Vladzotz practically exhaled the word. "Do… do you-"
"Yes," she said immediately. "You nearly died. All I want right now is to know you're still alive." Her fingers skillfully started unbuttoning his shirt, having little trouble despite being upside-down.
Vladzotz didn't stop her. He could see the desire on her face: a look of want, begging for his comfort. For a release with him. After everything, how could he turn her down? And after everything, there was no better way for Vladzotz to remind himself that he was truly alive. That they were still alive, together and in the moment. The creeping of their wings and warmth of their embrace had done nothing but draw them closer. Now, it seemed the peak had at last arrived. And the crime-lord wanted nothing more than to enjoy it with his wife.
"This, too, I want," Vladzotz agreed, letting his shirt be cast from his body, gravity taking it to the hardwood floor below. "And you." His deep voice thrummed, one eye falling to the zipper on her chest. The way it bulged through the skintight fabric of her bodysuit with each breath rarely failed to catch his attention, yet now all he wanted was to free her from it.
Lucy guided his hand up to the zipper just below her neck. Once again, she gave that cute wink, with her tongue out. But this time, she playfully licked at his chin.
Invitation granted, Vladzotz smiled at her display. It was indeed cute, but something about it further ignited the passion within his being. He gradually pulled the zipper down her body, exposing what was hidden beneath. Her prominent chest caught his eye, as did her smooth belly, fur, and every other detail he'd seen a million times before yet never failed to appreciate every last inch of. Once the zipper was down, it didn't take long for the rest of the suit to follow, joining the rest of Vlad's clothing on the floor. Presented fully now, Vladzotz ogled his wife's body, wings sweeping over her curves tighter than the shadows that the dim lighting sculpted around them.
As her husband's white undershirt fell away, Lucy was left staring into the fading patchwork of zagged scars that coated his chest. Castle Fangpyre's destruction had left its mark on him. She'd eyed these scars for years, yet now they were barely even visible.
"Your chest has healed a lot." Lucy remarked, affectionately rubbing her cheek into his sternum.
Vladzotz chuckled softly. "I wish I could say the same for my eye." His brow raised as his gaze dipped to Lucy's naked lower body, crinkling the scar running down his left eye socket. The talons on his wing stroked at her narrow waistline, just above the scar she'd received from her fight with Niko. "Though it seems we're both scarred now."
Lucy glanced down to her own marking. "Yeah. I guess it is kind of distracting."
"Never be ashamed of it," Vladzotz quickly advised. "It means you're a survivor." He smiled warmly at her. "Like me." His wings swept along her hips, pulling her closer until their bellies touched. "And not to worry, my dear, you're still as enrapturing as ever."
Lucy stared up into his single red eye, hoping that she wasn't blushing. She gently settled her claws over his chest, caressing at the fading lines beneath his black fur. "I always have thought your scars were… kind of hot." She complimented him back, now certain that she was blushing.
"See? Our markings are just on the surface. Everything we truly need is deeper still." Vladzotz's wings settled on her lumbar, just above her tiny tail, holding her body close against his own. "And right now, I need nothing more than you, Lucy." Unable to resist any longer, Lucy lunged her face forward and captured Vlad's mouth in a kiss. A ripple of warmth blossomed inside her chest, and Vlad's fur stood on end as an electrifying chill ran along his skin; their pent-up passions releasing at last. The two bats explored each other's bodies with their wings, Lucy raising one leg to invitingly tuck behind Vlad's back.
Perhaps the two of them deserved some time to themselves, after everything. Time to heal, and forget.
Yet there was one mammal that would never allow himself to fall to either. Somewhere in the Nocturnal-District, Peter Ishini sulked through a littered alley filled with glow worm waste. He held up a tiny remote, listening to it crackle in the direction of his prey: a tracking device he'd left in Lucy's old painting.
"Damn interference. Who would have guessed service would be poor underground?" The flying squirrel smiled. "I'll find you sooner or later," he remarked softly to himself. "And then the real fun can begin."
3:00 P.M ; Savanna-Central
With a satisfied clunk, Bradley Stagnew closed his car door and put on his seatbelt. A quick turn of the key, and with the hearty purr of the engine he was soon on his way, turning up and around the underground car park of city hall. A lot of the time, he'd walk the distance between his place and where he worked. Was it long, yes? But he liked seeing his city, all at work. Besides, the doctors said that exercise was good for him, and so he saw no reason not to include a healthy dose of activity into his daily routine.
Except when the day was like today. Coming out of the gate and onto the street, the rain drizzled down, forcing him to put his wipers on. Dank, dreary, low slung clouds hung overhead. At least it wasn't the torrent that it had been this morning.
There was one other reason he'd brought his car in today. The stag made a small diversion to the foot of an unassuming building, one of the names on its tenants plaque reading 'Stagnew Candidate' Office.' Standing in the lobby, a large wood bison in a black suit nodded and walked out, Bradley lowering his passenger side window for him. "Afternoon Mr Wisent."
"Afternoon sir," he said, as he dropped a stack of papers, reports, even some newspapers onto the passenger seat. With that, Bradley smiled, gave a nod, and pulled up the window, taking off through the traffic of downtown. Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out again in a different underground garage and entered a lift, pressing a special key to the panel.
He rose up swiftly and uninterrupted, before stepping out onto a private landing at the very top. A quick unlock of his door and he stepped in, flicking the lights on of his penthouse apartment. The folds of the roof, cut triangles angled together, sailed above him like a forest canopy, the varnished planks of redwood, osage orange, yellowheart and a mix of other tones mixing together to make it look like an autumn leaf load at its most vibrant. Deep brown walnut columns held it up at the lowest points, themselves resting on small cairn like stone plinths, the rounded stones mortared together. Stone dividing walls and wooden furniture and bookcases split up the area, while the carpet was a deep earthy brown and grey, like the soil of a cool, wet forest.
One lit and warmed by the flames of a hearty gas fire, in a mock pit at the centre of an amphitheater like sitting oom area. Walking down to it, pulling out a bottle of brandy, a glass, and a liquid medicine bottle and spoon, the deer sat down on a deep seat, placing his documents on a table next to him and taking a deep, relaxed breath.
He turned the fire up, and its heat warmed him from the dreary chill of the day, his eyes resting on it and through it. Past the fire, on the other side of the circular faux pit, was a sweeping panorama window, leading out to his balcony. And, beyond that, laid out in front of him was his city.
The lights glowing, the residents going to and from, infinitely complex yet working, beating. Not by someone's arrogant design, but like an old tree that had grown into place over the centuries. And now there was a fox out there who thought he could switch and change and alter it to his fancy… One of the cervid's ears flickered. "You can fix it, right?" he asked, before grabbing the files and looking through them.
As always, Mr Wisent had distilled everything down into the crucial details, which Bradley began reading at his pleasure. Or dis-pleasure, as the case might be.
Pulling over a foot stool and resting his hooves, clicking on a remote and turning on some light orchestral music in the background, he quickly got up to speed. Brian Batley was a clear favorite amongst the bats and nocturnal mammals, but had been anyway, so any improvement from his defense of their honor was only minor. Any attempts to bring on Ralph Templeton's former rodent vote though had crashed and burned with his response to the Lucy Sang issue… A smirk grew across his face. Maybe that stupid squirrel's record of abject failure had some upsides. Regardless, with the potential outside challenger now well out of the race, alongside with the expected drop out of Terry Tucker, it was now just him and Wilde.
And that fox was leading. Well rated, well liked, even taking a small but healthy chunk into some of his home demographics. Good answers, good ideas, charismatic. In comparison, while he himself was being considered more statesmammally, he was considered older, less inspired, and most damaging of all… A tinge of the corrupt, thanks to Wilde's accusation of polling malpractice. The deer sighed with frustration.
Wilde was leading on multiple fronts, though it was nothing that others hadn't recovered from in the past. Mr Wisent had thus suggested a series of tactical pushes in some battleground districts, a push to taken in the demographics that Brian Batley had been aiming for, and some holding of the line against Wilde in a few core areas to keep him busy while he outflanked him… in time for a decisive make or break push at the last debate.
A few checks of the newspapers and Bradley nodded and put them down. They said the same thing, and were this an ordinary campaign he'd completely agree. Indeed, to give the illusion this was an ordinary campaign, he'd put in the motions anyhow.
He smiled though as he relaxed back and turned up the music. This wasn't an ordinary campaign, and everything was lining itself up very nicely for what he had planned. Quite frankly, the deer couldn't wait for the final debate.
It wasn't long until the music stopped, and he pushed himself back into motion once more. He'd been taking the odd sip of brandy, but now came the medicine bottle. Unscrewing the cap, he poured out a tablespoon's worth of the creamy white substance before swallowing it whole, a quivery look of discomfort on his face. A healthy mouthful of brandy wiped it away.
With that, he placed his still half full glass and the bottle of medicine on a desk area of his, beside a few trinkets. Some old pictures of him as a fawn with some other deer, a town up in the forested mountains, a mug full of Zootopia themed pens and flags, and a small hockey puck shaped piece of dull metal, placed on top of a large wooden box.
The rain pattered down steadily, a low steady drumming. A bass drum like thump caused Bradley to raise his head so fast he bumped his antlers into the back of his seat rest. While coming in excellently this year, there was a particularly low down prong that was going a particularly long distance back. It wasn't the first time he'd caught it, and it wouldn't be the last. Speaking of which…
He stood up and made his way across his apartment, walking up the steps and through the mock forest, past doors for the kitchen, which he popped into to press a call button, and the bedrooms. Finally, sliding open a wooden door, he walked across the polished stone tiled floor of his bathroom. The same effect covered the bottom half of the walls, before receding at a wavy border to the teak panelling up to the roof. The bath, shower and other items came out of the almost organically, as if carved from the rock by forces of nature or having been there all along.
It had been Bradley's idea, just like much of the rest of the features of his house. But while he'd had the vision and image so strong in his mind, getting them out onto pencil and paper, yet alone in physical form, was beyond him.
He remembered though how Rupert had guided him through the process, given his visions form. It brought a smile to his face, along with the knowledge that, in part, he could return the favor so very soon.
Opening up a circular vanity mirror, he pulled out a small brass item from the shelf. It almost looked like a magnifying glass, except for it being the size of a ring and the glass being inside the frame. Closing the cupboard, he looked at himself in the mirror and raised it up onto the back side of his right antler. The metal felt slightly cool against the soft velvet as it fitted on snugly to a small tine budding off the main branch.
Putting it back in he swapped it out for a small notebook, marking down 14 next to the date.
A quick double check against past records, and he gave himself some time to smugly look at his ever sprouting rack from different angles.
For decades, he'd reached and gone past being an imperial. But he'd never reached it this early. Not even close.
And with that he walked back, past the kitchen where a delicious smell was coming out from. At the foot of the building was one of the finest restaurants in Zootopia, and a dumb waiter connected it to his penthouse. A massive plate of mushroom and squash risotto, with wholegrain toast covered in garlic butter, garnishing flakes of green pine bark, toasted pine nuts and forest berry reduction on the side was ready.
He took it out to a waiting table, ready to eat it while looking out at his city.
"Ooooh, how many janitor's wages did that cost?"
Bradley jolted, placing his food down on the table and glaring through his residence. "What are you doing here, Peter?"
"Ohhhh…" the squirrel mused, before appearing, flying down through the air and gracefully landing on Bradleys desk. "Can't a little squirrel come and have a talk with his fellow evildoer when he wants to?"
The deer gritted his teeth. "No. An incompetent squirrel who can't do his job properly is not welcome in my home. And don't take that tone with me. What I'm doing is for the good of the city."
"Awww, you tell yourself that," Peter said, looking over the rim of Bradley's cut crystal brandy glass. Paws in, he scooped up a pawful of the amber lyric and gulped it down. "But I must tell you, it's far funner when you embrace it."
"Says the glorified insurance clerk," the deer scoffed.
"Ahem, that was me sticking under cover and trying to live the normal life. And lemme tell you, it sucked real bad." His gaze turned to the bottle of medicine. "I mean, yeah I wanna be evil, but insurance? Now there's just no fun in that. It wasn't worth it." He scoffed a little. "I mean at least the mammals who peddle this quack stuff get to laugh at the dumb dumbs who buy it. Horn growth supplement, extra, extra calcium." He giggled. "Why not do what most mammals with your affliction do instead, and spend the money you save on a real big car."
"If you need to be educated on the difference between keratin horns that grow once, and bone antlers that regrow every year, I'm thinking I should just give up on you now," Bradley sneered. "There never was any hope of you dealing with Sang in the first place."
"Lucky for you, seeing as the debate now isn't between Wilde and Batley," Peter carried on, walking around the desk like he owned it. Coming up to the small metal hockey puck, he moved to pick it up, only for his feet to slide from under it. "Wooo, heavy boy here."
"So, your incompetence had a positive side effect on one occasion."
"I think the words you're looking for are 'thank you'," Peter said, finger out. "And also, 'Wow, amazing 7D chess move'."
"If you're expecting me to be thankful for that, you're-"
"Oh no, no, no, no…" the squirrel cut off, as he slid the metal puck down next to him. Resting on its curved edge, he leaned against it, claws of one paw scratching away idly. "Prepare to eat humble pie, as I'm proud of this one. Now, what's better than taking out Lucy Sang when she comes in to pick up her lost painting, all prepared and ready for something big?"
"You tell me," Bradley grumbled.
"Letting her take it back and hang it over the fireplace, relax at her place, and then hit her when she's busy taking a bath or something."
"Which would require you to know where in that maze-like warren of tunnels their secret…" Bradley trailed off, huffing a little. Peter just gave a candied-nut-eating grin in return. "Ah, I see. If you want me to say I'm impressed, let me ask you why you have to be so irritating about all of this?"
"Because it's evil, therefore fun," Peter smiled. "Come on, embrace the dark side!"
"And when do you intend to finish this hunt of yours?"
"After I've let our other little faction in this butter everything up first," Peter said. "I believe they know where Vlad's base of operations are, and with this war going on they'll be looking for a swift end. If not, I'll inform them. Let the bears and the bats break each other, and sneak through the rubble when nobody is looking to take out Lucy."
"As long as it's quick," the deer huffed. "Though it seems you do think of everything."
"Uh-huh," Peter said, "Including how we misread that damn bat and let her destroy our family in the first place… We took everything from her and then raised her just a bit up, thinking her new camaraderie would hold her to us whatever happened. But when she found out we orchestrated her brother's death, she decided she didn't really have that much to lose from burning us to ash. After all, turns out she truly didn't need us anymore, and we had nothing to hold over her to keep her in line. And so we've learnt from that. Rule one, make sure your mark always has a lot to lose. Rule two, make sure you're never disposable. Rule three, make sure that if anyone is planning to off you, they know that'll be a very bad move."
Bradley slowly looked at him. "I sense a threat."
"I know you think I'm the absolutest scum of the earth," Peter said. "And I know that once my work is all done, is there any real reason you'd want to keep me around? After all, evil does as evil does, and two evil doers working together never decide 'well that's a job well done, let's leave each other now and go on our merry way'. Nothing personal, just I know when an end of the job might also involve the end of my life. And I know that you're so envious of my excellent personality, you and Rupey are probably giggling at the squirrel squashing possibilities."
"You really have no honor, do you?"
"Hey, I'm just being street smart," Peter said. "So I'm just telling you now, I have a few friends elsewhere. And if you and your gang don't let me take my big bundles of cash and walk off into the sunset at the end of this, you'll get to join Lionheart and Bellwether in their little manacled mayors club."
"You're extorting me," Bradley growled. "No wonder you're so cocky all of a sudden."
"No, it's insurance. As I said, super evil! I really did learn a lot. All you need to do is pay me as promised and let me go, and we'll be out of each other's sight forever. Is that really so hard?"
"You're starting to make it," the deer snarked.
"Ahhh. Thank you. Anyways, glad we could clear that up," Peter said.
"And what if Lucy kills you?"
"Don't worry. I've got my methods, my contacts, and some base honor among fellow scumbags."
"I am not your fellow nor a scumbag. And if you think extorting me will work, you're sorely mistaken."
Peter shook his head. "Oh come off it. You hang out with and idolize a speciest corkscrew-head like Clovestone, who cackles at seeing predators suffer-"
"While I respect Rupert greatly, I don't respect him there," Bradley opined. "I'm not speciest and I don't have anything against predators. On their own they're good, honest, mammals. Or at least, most of them are. Little different to most prey." He turned to stare down Peter. "As you should have gathered, sometimes you have to put up with less than savory ideas and mammals to get to a greater goal. And Rupert is nothing compared to some mammals I know."
"Aw, shucks… I'm touched. But come on. All this stuff, just because a predator asks for more money for the predator district?" Peter chuckled. "Have you seen yourself. Predator slum might get a bit more money… The very foundation of Zootopia is at risk. A bit more prosperity for them and it's the savage ages all over! I mean, for saying 'keep 'em preds down' without saying 'keep 'em preds down', I've got to hand it to you for disguising it so sweetly."
Bradley looked at him, angry at first but then his features softening. "Peter," he began. "Try getting up to that pillar up there."
"Huh?"
"Trust me. You'll like this."
"Oh, I've used that tone before," he said, before scurrying up the nearest pillar regardless. He leapt off it and glided down to the pillar in question, near the window. Climbed up, level with Bradley's eyes, he looked out at where the cervid was pointing.
"See how everything's just a bit of a jumble? How all these buildings are in different states of repair, different sizes, all mixed up."
"Yeah," he said, scratching his head.
"And now look over there."
Peter followed his gaze. "That area is more… samey… Is this relevant somehow?"
"All in good time," Bradley said. "Now back to the desk."
"Okay, but if you're just going to ping-pong me around to get your own back forget it." He scurried back up and then flew down, landing on the desk and sitting next to the small metal puck. Bradley meanwhile went over to a large bookcase and began looking through.
"The reason that area was all the same height, all similar, is simple. It was built at roughly the same time, to the same plan. It's Happytown."
Peter scratched his head. "Oh great, it's not preds you're against, it's bad architecture. You know, I was thinking you were unreasonably petty, but thanks for clearing that all up."
"Funnily enough, you could say that's partly true," Bradley smirked, as he picked a book out.
"Oh acorn hats," Peter moaned, facepawing. "You're an Ayn Ram fan doing some fountainhead larping. That's it, isn't it? I should have known. Just kill me now!"
"No, and no. Unfortunately. You see, on some level I do respect Wilde. His heart is in the right place. But, he is operating on a simple and fundamentally broken premise. He wants to fix Happytown, raise it up high, he thinks that after years of neglect that he alone can repair it and make it a prosperous part of the city. But he fails to see one simple fact. Happytown can't be fixed. It was broken from the day it was created."
"Aw, but it's the thought that counts, right?" Peter chirped.
"Mammals like this might have said the same thing," Bradley said, as he raised up the front of the book. 'Modern Zootopian Architecture', a hoof resting on a picture of a slightly nerdy looking moose, two round broad rimmed glasses on his snout. He was standing next to an angular 2D silhouette figure of another of his kind..
"Oooh, another one for the evil jerks with big things sticking from their head. This time it's baseball mittens, which funny shape will be next?"
"I wouldn't describe Le Cormoosier as an evil jerk," Bradley shrugged off. "An arrogant fool, certainly. At the turn of the century he and a bunch of other 'visionary' architects had a bold idea. The way we'd built cities before, the way things naturally were, the status quo, was just a wasteful accident, they believed. Things could be far better if they were planned properly, if a red right hoof swept in to raze and reorder everything in a highly managed dictate. A new ordered order."
"I thought you liked order?"
"The natural order," Bradley clarified. "You see, these mammals thought their new order… no more streets, no more houses, everything reorganized, would reorganize the mammals themselves. Create a utopia. In reality their arrogance and disregard for the way things had naturally evolved created not a new order, but a new chaos. Their utopias collapsed into uncontrollable, overpoliced, crime-generating slums - broken hellholes dynamited to the dirt barely a few decades after rising from it. But that would be in the future. In their present, they needed some big backers to push forward this dream."
Peter rapped his paw against the metal puck. "I give in. Who?"
A warm satisfied grin grew across Bradley's face. "None other than your evil speciests." His grin grew more as he saw Peter's reaction, before carrying on. "By then, Rupert was one of the most well-respected innovators in the city. He thought predators were evil, predators were wicked, predators needed to be kept apart and controlled. He had a lot of power, but not enough to convince everyone. And this was well before I started working with him, you know. So, he decided to pitch a grand new scheme to replace Zootopia's slums with modern buildings, built by the architect group to their radical new designs. Rupert started lobbying to make it happen, leading to what would become the Prioritization Policy. The only neighborhood built for predators became the largest and cheapest, built on large areas of wasteland around some of the city's biggest factories."
Peter's eyes widened. "Happytown."
Bradley nodded, putting the book away. "Few know of its true origin. Most mammals see it as we've marketed it over the decades: just another predator-heavy neighborhood. But the truth, Peter," the deer turned to glare him down sternly. "Is never so simple. Subsidized rents and mortgages drew them in, but as the factories began closing and things began going wrong, poverty and crime dropped the housing prices, while more and more being both built and foreclosed added to the glut. Eventually the penny dropped and the market collapsed. Those who rented tended to be too poor to afford to get out. Those who'd purchased were trapped in negative equity." The deer smiled. "For trapping as many predators as possible in one place with no fences or walls, it was an excellently subtle and devious plot. One that made a lot of mammals happy and rich, including a certain young markhor whose construction company was able to win a lot of contracts during this era's last great gasp."
"Old Goat's Gruff himself," Peter concluded, leaning back on the metal puck. "And now I'm guessing he wants you in office as even all that's not enough for him."
The deer remained silent, the corner of his mouth pulling up slightly. "You like that thing, don't you?"
"Huh, the paperweight?" Peter asked, turning to it. "I guess…"
"It's a bit more than that," Bradley said. "Just a run of the mill nuclear fuel pellet."
"WHAT!?" Peter jumped back, before looking at his paws and beginning to wipe them on his shirt front. "Are you crazy?" He looked up, before running over to the remaining glass of brandy and washing his paws in it. "Are you a terminal lunatic? Do you have a deathwish? Do you know what kind of HELL I'll cause you if my fur falls out." His face grimaced into a fury. "Was this your way of offing me, huh? Was it?"
"Oh grow up, it's harmless," Bradley waved off.
"But it's…"
"Creating no more radiation risk than living in any number of mountain towns I could point at on the map," the deer said. "Sometimes by a factor of ten."
"Yeah, say that when it blows you up!"
"Science really isn't your strong point," the deer said, crossing his arms and smiling. "As I said, it's harmless. Unused in a reactor, it's decaying at a slow natural rate. Only a gibbering moron could judge it to do any real harm, but certain mammals do. They see it and panic, they hate it, they want to throw and lock it away out of sight and out of mind. You'd want to lock all of these away in one room far away, right?"
"Well, yes," he said, jumping off the table and scurrying away as fast as he could. "How do you know so much about this stuff, anyways?"
The deer's eyes glazed ever so slightly. "My hometown. It had a nuclear power plant close by, where my mother worked. She brought that pellet home one day, and taught me the same lesson I'm about to teach you. Do you know what you'd need to do to make it dangerous? To make it a genuine threat?"
"Apart from just having it sitting in your living room?"
"Two things," Bradley said, as the squirrel scurried up a table on the other side of the room. "Firstly, concentrate it. Secondly, reach a critical mass. At a certain point, you create a chain reaction. Enough energy to kill anything that gets close. That's the inside of a nuclear reactor. But what happens if you concentrate it further and further and further? To truly unnatural levels, ninety percent or so, all crushed together to an immense, artificial pressure."
"...Boom?"
"Boom," Bradley said, walking back to the window and looking out. "You're terribly mistaken, Peter. I have nothing against the individual predator. They're harmless, no more a real danger to you than anything else you might encounter out there. Indeed, in many cases less than certain prey species. Society has lasted for millennia with ten percent predators living amongst us prey, all good and natural, moderated and prospering. It's what built this city and made it great. But some mammals disagreed. In the past, they thought they needed to get the predators away from them, to create a new better order, to rewrite all the rules and make a utopia in which they felt were finally safe. And in their arrogance they decided that the solution was to concentrate them to unnatural levels, to pack them all in tight, to squeeze them together in the vice-like grip of a poverty stricken ghetto to the point where there was nothing but predators as far as the eye could see!"
The deer shook his head with a scoff. "And in doing so they didn't solve any problem. They created the problem: Happytown. As soon as that place was built, as the predators were led in by the thousands, and as soon as it reached critical mass, a chain reaction leading to Al Catpone's inevitable rebellion was ensured." He sighed, stomping his foot. "We were lucky, this time, but the next? Or the one after? Rupert doesn't understand - neither does Wilde - you can't throw the predators into some glorified prison, or try to fix it. Trust me," he said, a sad inflection in his voice. "I've seen it happen with far less. And you only need one wild-card to succeed to consume the rest of the city and cause true misery, pain and fear. All because some foolish speciests thought better than the order which had kept peace for centuries!"
He held himself tall, antlers brimming to the ceiling. "A fair and natural order I will do everything I can to return this city to, Peter, before it's too late. And no mammal, however misguided or corrupt, is going to stop me."
Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter! Credit to berserker88 for working with me on that spa fight scene, JackOfMinds for the Sangpyre scene, and J_Shute_Norway for the final scene. Also credit to the first two for the Vixens from their own story, Born to be Wilde, who I couldn't resist porting here for the purposes of that fight scene. The final debate begins in the next chapter, aptly titled, "The Final Truth," in which huge revelations are made that will set the course for the remainder of the story! You won't want to miss it. Stay tuned. :)