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.

19. The Resistance

"When injustice become law, resistance becomes duty." - Thomas Jefferson

---

10:00 A.M ; City Hall, Savanna-Central...

Judy Hopps had been into the belly of the beast many times before. Heck, she'd charged in at the front on most of them.

But, looking up at the towering height of City Hall above her, it was hard to deny that a pit of dread was lying uncomfortably in her stomach. Just as it had been ever since she'd been told about the summons by Clawhauser. Closing her eyes, she walked in, finding herself waiting outside the mayor's office. She did her best to keep a firm, untwitching nose, pausing as the door cracked open. Her eyes shifted as she saw another bunny - this one black - walking out, one that looked surprisingly familiar.

But it took a second for her to figure out that that couldn't have been the case. The bunny had been attacked savagely, some creature having ripped at her ears and shredded them. For all Judy knew, it might have been a literal savage all those years ago. Out of politeness, she looked away, not wanting to stare.

The other bunny, though, had a different idea. "Are you… Judy Hopps?"

Looking up and smiling, Judy nodded. "In the fur."

"Virginia," she gushed, smiling. "I…" She paused for a moment, getting a hold of herself, before carrying on. "I… owe you a great deal. After all, you were the one who caught Bellwether. That… That meant a lot to me."

"Well, just doing what I could to help the city," she agreed, nodding.

"Can I have an autograph, please?" With that, she pulled out a pad of paper. "I… I'm afraid I don't have a pen."

Fortunately, Judy had one on paw, bringing it out and writing her name down. Right as the door opened up. Out stepped Bradley Stagnew, some papers in his hoof. The deer towered high in a sharp black suit, stern blue eyes cast down at the two smaller prey before him. "Miss Capriola, you forgot to sign this," he stated flatly.

"Wormroot," the bunny grumbled, grabbing it as the deer cleared his throat.

"Officer Hopps," he said, turning to her. Breathing in, firming herself up, the bunny responded in kind, keeping a close eye on him at all times. And doing her best to make sure it didn't turn into the icy cold death glare she so much wanted to give him. "Please, come in."

"Okay, let's go," she said, turning and taking her pen back from Virginia, slipping it into a pocket on her uniform's belt as fast as she could.

With that, she went, Stagnew grabbing the files from the rabbit and striding in behind Judy. A seat at his fancy mayor desk was waiting and up she got, the stag slipping the notes he'd received into a drawer and settling down on his side, the vast colorful cityscape of Zootopia stretching behind him. "I presume you can guess why you're here."

Judy smiled, slipping a quick paw into a pocket and back out again before crossing her arms in front of her. "I might need some clarification. Is this about the sudden resignation of my superior, or the issue with the alleged bad cop in my ranks?"

In truth, she'd wanted to talk to someone about it for a while. Just not Stagnew. Hearing Mary come to her and explaining her actions had wrenched her heart deeply. She hadn't wanted to believe one of her own students was capable of betraying the force like that, but the more she thought… Well, weighing everything up, her gut sided with Mary more than Harlan. She also, silently, agreed with the ewe's worries that Bradley had played her as well hook, line and sinker, into being an informant.

'I don't think I did anything bad… Or at least I really hope I hadn't. It just seemed like the most sensible move to make at the time,' Mary had told her.

Tragically, it did. And Judy had no doubt that Bogo had fallen for the same ugly trap. She'd gone to him for advice on the Harlan issue, only to learn he was tending his resignation.

'Sir, we need you right now…' She'd urged him at the time.

'Mayor Stagnew disagrees, I'm afraid, and he's backed me into a corner on this.' He'd insisted.

'If… If he's blackmailing you…'

'Let's just say we had a professional disagreement, and I chose to take the cleanest route out.'

His only advice had been to play it very safely, and to always follow her moral compass. And now, here she was, about to put it to the test.

"Bad cop in your ranks is underselling it," the stag replied firmly. "Try shamelessly corrupt. First Officer Wilde, now Officer O'Conall, both in league with the Tundratown Mafia. And that's not even counting who knows how many undiscovered double agents there may still be." He templed his hooves together, leaning forward, cragged antlers practically hanging above her as if ready to come slicing down like some guillotine. "My doubts about the integrity of the ZPD are increasing with every day."

"As I can understand," Judy promised. "Rest assured, we'll be doing an extensive internal investigation on the matter with due haste."

"Of course. I'd expect nothing less. But you could improve your image and transparency by making this a cross-department investigation," he offered. "Get members of S.C.A.L.P.E.L in too. A second set of eyes."

Pausing for a second, the bunny decided the best response to that. If the way he'd won the election and fired Bogo was anything to go by, Bradley was clearly a relentlessly opportunistic mammal. The last thing she wanted was to paint herself into a corner. "If you forward your suggestions in writing and they are reasonable, I'm sure we could work something out. However, I assure you that the ZPD is more than able to investigate this matter ourselves. After all, it was a brave officer who first discovered it."

"A brave officer so worried and fearful of recrimination that she came here first, rather than her very own superior." The stag rebuked.

Judy's eyes narrowed. "Because, as stated, she ran into the mammal in question on the way to report her suspicions to me. He reportedly spooked her and in response, remembering an offer you made, she judged it best to come to you. Would you have preferred it if she were the kind of mammal to punch a gift deer in the mouth?"

Bradley chuckled lightly, sensing the threat. "When you put it like that, still. The question remains…"

"Who watches the watch mammals?"

He paused for a bit before nodding. "Indeed, Officer Hopps. Indeed." And with that he settled back. "I'm sure you're wondering why Chief Bogo resigned."

"He said it was a 'professional disagreement.'"

"Simply put, yes," he nodded. "My aim as mayor first and foremost is simple: Destroy organized crime. Tear it out root and stem, salting the earth behind for good measure. It is a scourge that can be removed, if only given enough political will."

"By peace, if possible, by force, if necessary," Judy said, "I believe those were your words."

He held himself still for a second or two. "I see Officer Ewever filled you in on our discussion."

"What can I say," the bunny smiled. "She and I both care about doing the right thing. She can work herself up pretty bad when she feel she's being used. Something I am not a fan of."

"Regardless, you are right," the deer nodded, ignoring her hint. "Capping it off are the crime families. New generation after new generation taking up the mantle, something I plan to stop. In cases like the Catpone's, it seems they have chosen to walk away peacefully. But the Fangpyres and the Bigs, they're beyond redemption."

Judy's ears slowly dropped. "No one is beyond redemption," she stated, unable to stop her nose from starting to twitch. "Don't tell me you intend to arrest the newer generations without cause. That breaks even the most basic-"

"Civil liberties, yes," Bradley waved off. "But it doesn't break family and child protection law. A child in a dangerous environment, physically, socially or emotionally, is justifiably taken away. I don't see why a criminal enterprise is any different. Do you?"

The bunny stared at him hard. "I can see why Bogo resigned."

"That isn't answering my question."

"It's wrong to split up families just because you don't like them," Judy chided. "It's wrong to split them up based on presumed wrongdoings in the future."

"We take away cubs we feel might get beaten," he shrugged. "Why not cubs we feel might get raised to be criminals?"

"That's a very slippery slope," the bunny warned. Crossing her paws, she shook her head. "And one with too much risk to be abused. I won't have any part in this."

Bradley smiled, almost warmly, but something about it unsettled Judy. "I understand. After all, you don't want to harm your goddaughter's family, do you?"

If Judy had a mirror then, she'd have seen her face shift just like Nick's had back when she'd threatened to arrest him for felony tax evasion, all those years ago. "Sir," she began, preparing to defend herself. She had no idea how Bradley had gotten that information, but it was too late now. "I've been open that I met Fru-Fru Big and saved her life on my second day in the force, and that my investigation into the Nighthowler case involved talking to them."

"And being named her daughter's godmother?" he asked, crossing his hooves. "That is a career destroying conflict of interest, given that you're the head of investigation into the crime war involving her family. Is it that you've been hard pressed for findings, or…"

"Even if I am, that isn't a crime," she spoke, standing up in her seat.

"Unlike torturing a suspect?"

The bunny blinked. "What, I'd never-"

Pulling out a file from his desk drawer, Bradley turned the page, revealing a mugshot of a scrawny weasel in worn orange prison overalls. "Duke Weaselton. Currently serving five years for burglary. Precinct Two picked up him not too long ago, half frozen in the snow, and with a lot to say about some alleged mistreatment from the mafia... both recently, and several years ago, during the Nighthowler case. An old friend of yours?"

Holding her jaw tight, the bunny shook her head. "I wouldn't say that."

"Neither would I, seeing as you had Mr. Big threaten his life for the sake of your case. Sound familiar?"

"I don't recall," she said, breathing out. She was beginning to think Bogo had it lucky.

"He does, as he does hearing Mr. Big state that you were going to be his granddaughter's godmother."

"All interactions with that family have been highly documented and ended years ago."

"It doesn't change the facts," Bradley pressed, tilting his head to the side. "You, your husband, one of your proteges. All deeply involved in the Tundratown Mafia. Just how deep does this rot go?"

Judy met his eyes stubbornly. "Not as far as yours does. After all, you put a murderer in charge of your new task force."

One of his ears flickered. "Murderer?"

"Cliff Boarton," she announced. "Your appointed head of S.C.A.L.P.E.L. Shot and killed Jason O'Conall, my subordinate's father."

"After the gun-dealing criminal shot him."

"O'Conall was disarmed," Judy said, pointing straight at him. He only smirked, causing the bunny to dig into the seat of her chair with her toes. "Boarton could have easily arrested him at no risk after that. Instead, he chose to 'put him down to spare others trouble'. My subordinate met this boar, and showed me the file."

"So what if he did?"

Judy's eyes narrowed, the edges of her mouth beginning to pull up. "So, you don't deny it."

"No," he said. "That wolf was nothing but trouble. He reached for a gun, Boarton put him down. End of story. It's just a shame that the trouble seems to run in the family. I'm not one for taking compromises, Hopps. We need more mammals willing to do what is right, however disagreeable it may first seem. Why else would I bring T.U.S.K back? Force Bogo out? Kill your husband's political career before it could grow? And believe me, I'm only getting started. And, by the end, this city will thank me, your own hypocrisy be damned."

"By force, if necessary," the bunny said. "Quid Pro Quo, Stagnew."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Sure, I'm the godmother to Fru-Fru Big's daughter. I had her father threaten Duke Weaselton to learn where Doug's lab was and stop the savage crisis, because it was the only option we had left. I put aside my husband's criminal past because I knew he could do so much good for Zootopia. I was willing to do what was right, however disagreeable it may first seem. But here's the thing, it'll be your word against mine on that. Whereas with how you brought T.U.S.K back, led by a mammal you're happy shot a wolf rather than take him in, it'll be your word against yours!"

With no other options, she finally brought out her pen. The orange may have faded somewhat, one of the green leaves broken off, but it was the same old carrot pen. Pressing the button, the garbled recording reversed before, smiling confidently. "Mutually assured destruction," she boasted, and then pressed the button. "If you try and take me down, you're coming with me!"

All as the shameless words of Bradley played out. 'Nice try Hopps. But you should have realized by now: I am far out of your league.'

"W-What?" Judy blinked, looking down to her pen. Only, it wasn't her pen - brand new, still shiny, with all the leaves intact, looking totally unlike the one she'd known for so long.

'You thought you could play that trick on me? When it's been your publicly known, go-to method for years? Really? Well here's one your husband might know: Slight of hand."

Another sound of a carrot pen rewinding snapped Judy's attention back to Mayor Stagnew, her real carrot pen in his hoof. He clicked the play button and her words rang out. 'I'm the godmother to Fru-Fru Big's daughter. I had her father threaten Duke Weaselton to learn where Doug's lab was and stop the savage crisis, because it was the only option we had left. I put aside my husband's criminal past because I knew he could do so much good for Zootopia. I was willing to do what was right, however disagreeable it may first seem.'

He clicked it off, face an emotionless mask. "It's your word against yours, Officer Hopps."

The bunny felt a pit of dread envelope her, mind flashing back to her encounter with Virginia just before the meeting. Lending her her carrot pen and then Bradley coming out…

Sweet cheese and crackers, she'd just been hustled. Hard.

"You know," the mayor continued. "I'd have been happy moving you to a different, out of the way role. Back to the academy or Bunnyburrow. Lots of mammals still believe in you and what you did for this city. And I did too. Sadly, it seems that the rot runs even deeper than I thought. Given that, I believe you're no longer suitable to work in law enforcement in this city." His blue eyes narrowed. "I advise you resign now, while you still have your dignity and reputation intact. I'll allow that much. Go home, live a simple ordinary life, and just remember: I can make your life a lot harder if you chose to do something stupid." As if to emphasize his point, he slipped the old recorder into one of the draws on his desk and audibly locked it. His gaze turned back to Judy with a clinical indifference. "Goodbye, Mrs. Hopps."

He waved her off and Judy, shellshocked, slowly began walking to the door. Half of her was mad with him and half of her was mad with herself, for falling for that. But, reaching the door, she couldn't help but look back at the mayor, her own eyes narrowing defiantly. "Words of advice: the harder and crueler you push, the harder others push back. And some day, someone will come along who'll push harder than you."

He ignored her, bar a flash of a smile on his face as the door closed shut with a boom.

Walking off, the bunny gave one last warning beneath her breath, which if he heard she was sure would produce a less smug reaction. She may be out of the police, but she wasn't out of the game.

"After all, I don't know when to quit."

---

11:00 A.M ; Somewhere in the Nocturnal-District...

"So can you tell me again about what kind of places your daddy said he'd been taken to?"

A low quiet filled the tight living room down in the Nocturnal-District, the little raccoon kit quivering at the sight of the hulking brown boar across the table from her. Big yellow tusks, scary eyes, he seemed to lean over her like the impassable silhouette of a mountain in the horizon. She shrunk back, sniffing and fingering her little dress. "I... I don't…"

"Oh, don't worry, little one. You're not in trouble," the boar promised, his gruff tone taking on a gentle inflection, before hardening once more. "But your daddy might be. He's been missing a while now, and we're just trying to find what cold, icy place he's been taken to." He shifted forward. "Come on, he must have mentioned something."

"I…" She closed her eyes, thinking back. She didn't even know what job daddy did, all she knew was that not long ago he'd come back scared after someone cut off his tail.

"Come on, maybe it was somewhere a chef works. Like a restaurant?" Boarton asked, his mood suddenly lifting slightly. "That was his job, right?"

The raccoon girl's ears rose up. He was still scary, but a little less now. "Y-yes," she said. "A big, cold restaurant."

A tusked smile stretched the boar's face. "Very good. What a clever girl you are, remembering that! Now… let's talk more about this restaurant..."

---

Meanwhile, at Kozlov's Palace, Tundratown...

War or not, there was nothing like a hot drink to stave off the crushing cold of a long day in Tundratown.

The inside of the restaurant was large and spacious, adorned with fine assorted rugs and filled with many arctic mammals, mostly polar bears lounging about large booths. Icicles clung to the ceiling, cast in an ominous relief by the gentle red lights throughout the eatery. Seals carried trays of food and drink atop their noses, waddling around bartops made of ice blocks. Sitting down at his favorite corner booth, Kozlov relaxed, turning his eyes over to the new bear coming over. Unlike many of the other bears here, he was only half white, the other half of him black. Still, Kozlov could only smile as Lee, the leader of the Unbearables, sat down next to him, shivering slightly even in spite of his fluffy black jacket.

"Thank you for accepting invitation. It has been long time, Lee. How have you been?" Kozlov's deep, accented voice greeted, one blinged-out paw raising a cigar in acknowledgement. He had swapped his typical suit and slacks in favor of a deep red tracksuit - what he preferred to wear, outside of working hours.

"Can someone please turn up the heat in here?" The panda huffed, a puff of white coming out of his mouth with each word he uttered.

"It is already steamy for a bear like me in here," Kozlov smiled, waving one paw at the assorted diners around him, lounging about the many carpeted booths. There weren't many, at this hour, with most of the crowd being those from the mafia itself. "Besides, if we make it too warm, my target customers will leave! Kozlov's Palace is perfect arctic mammal lounge! And perfect front for our... other businesses. You will just have to suck it up. But I will get you something nice and hot to fill you, my comrade."

Already, a seal waiter in a vest was standing at attention beside the table, ready to take down any order. Kozlov ordered two large bowls of borscht, and the seal waddled off.

"We have all but knocked that bat's operation from the surface," the panda said. "Even at great cost." Pulling up a thick sleeve, he showed off some fresh bandages. "One of Vlad's assassins nearly did me in, last week. Who would have guessed fruit bats could have such sharp teeth?"

"Da, and you have done well," Kozlov proclaimed, leaning back in his seat comfortably and adjusting his thick, orange-tinted shades. "Very well, indeed."

"Yes," Lee gritted, eyes narrowing. "The Unbearables have bled for your cause, looting Vladzotz's empire… But for what?"

Kozlov's eyebrow rose. "For what we negotiated. For the glory and wealth that awaits when he hit down into those caves, and take those bats out for good in their own home."

"At great cost, at great injury, but for great glory," Lee waved off before his gaze hardened. "And to the victor goes the spoils. But I've got a suspicion that the victor who gave the least is setting it up to get the most. Tell me Kozlov, does that sound fair? My organization is not large, and it's already been cut in half. We need more compensation."

The polar bear looked on, confused for a second, before snorting. "What do you mean!? We have fair deal. My organization has lost more than yours has, regardless of size! We will seize more prizes from the Nocturnal-Mob to compensate. We take what we find, then-"

"But who is finding what?" Lee pressed, before throwing down a newspaper article. Leaning over, Kozlov scratched his chin.

"That warehouse fire… with magic props?"

"Yes," Lee said, pausing as a shuffling sound rose behind him. Kozlov looked up, teeth beginning to bare as he saw a dozen or so Unbearable goons approach the table, looking distinct in their assorted leather and denim jackets, and not looking happy. They congregated behind Lee, surrounding the table. "My mammals battle and bleed for empty warehouses and stripped out shops. Never getting any real loot from Vladzotz's empire. That is not what we agreed upon. And now we hear that another 'warehouse fire' took place without us knowing. Who's to say that wasn't where his treasures were held, and that you decided to cut us out and make it a solo hit, hm? Take all his loot for yourself?"

The sound of gnashing teeth and rumbling growls began to sound out, before Kozlov jabbed a clawed fingertip down at the page. "And how do you know this is not just ordinary warehouse fire!? Do you read? ZPD found dead squirrel in there, and magic supplies!"

"Of course there's magic supplies," one of the bears at the back grumbled. "It's you, mocking us."

Kozlov shook his head before standing up, looming several heads taller than even their tallest goon. "And since when do we OR Vladzotz hire squirrel!?"

"I…" Lee began, only to trail off slightly. A respite widened further as the seal waiter arrived, a tray of steaming food balanced on his nose.

Kozlov sighed, and reseated himself. "Come, come," He pleaded, motioning for them to sit. "We are bears - brothers - all of us. Together, we talk this out."

---

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Nocturnal-District...

"So it was a big cold restaurant?" Mr. Boarton pressed, his smile growing.

"Yeah…" the raccoon kit said, nodding.

"Very good, you're being really helpful. In Tundratown?"

"I guess so."

"Is that a yes?"

"...Yeah!"

"Good. And it looks like this?" He held out a printed photo, displaying a large, snow-covered building, seemingly drooping with its own weight like melted ice cream. On the front of the building, flashing neon lights read, 'KOZLOV'S PALACE.'

She slowly nodded. "Y-yeah."

"That's all we need," Boarton concluded, rising from his seat. "Thank you for your cooperation." He began to walk out of the house, pausing to look at the concerned raccoon mother, standing in a doorway just out of sight. Next to her loomed another boar, this one with all black fur and body armor, keeping watch on her while Boaton had questioned her daughter.

The raccoon mother held her timid gaze low and away from either of them, instead mumbling out, "You'll find him, right? Charles?"

Mr. Boarton stared at her silently for a moment before answering. "I can't make any guarantees. Your husband was a criminal, working for the mafia. If he's gone missing, there's little we can do." His gaze softened a bit as the raccoon placed a palm over her mouth to suppress a sob. The boar sighed. "If we find your husband, you'll be the first to know. All I can promise, is that a bunch of Tundratown thugs are about to get a nasty surprise."

With that he left the house, stepping into the dark, rocky streets of the Nocturnal-District neighborhood. Quickly jogging up into a waiting armored truck, he leapt into the back and barked an order. "Tundratown, now! Kozlov's Palace! Step on it!" And with that, they were off.

Sitting down, he was practically giddy with excitement, something shared by the various other armored and armed prey mammals stuffed into the back of the truck. Fighting came naturally to mercenaries, and plenty of them had a strong sense of justice, particularly some of Boarton's old comrades who had rejoined the fight once more - ready to take on one of the black beating hearts of the Tundratown Mafia, of which the ZPD had conveniently lacked 'just cause' for years. But S.C.A.L.P.E.L was on nobody's payroll.

And now, thanks to one honest, frightened little kit, they had all the justification they needed to rip it out, roots and all.

---

Meanwhile, at Kozlov's Palace, Tundratown...

"In the past, there was another criminal organization," Kozlov continued, leaning forward over the table. "Not tied to any of the crime-lords. A band of master thieves, so the rumors say. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Felidae Infernum?"

At first the others bears shook their heads, until one in the back spoke up. "Didn't they have a crazy hare doctor?" The grizzly chewed on a clawtip. "One time I went for some medical attention at this underground clinic. The doctor said he used to be a thief, or something."

"DA!" Kozlov said, pointing hard. "And they apparently had a squirrel. One who I heard Lucy Sang hated."

"Wait," Lee interjected, raising a paw. "So you're saying this warehouse incident was the Nocturnal-Mob attacking old enemies? Not you, or your organization trying to stiff us?"

The massive white bear just opened out his paws, an odd silence filling the booth. "Who can say for sure? There is debate in underworld and ZPD alike if Felidae Infernum even existed. But that is just my theory, built from rumors. And I can assure you that my organization is not trying to stiff you."

Finally Lee slumped down, grumbling a little. "Fine, fine. But we're still expecting a payout! A piece of the action!"

"Which you will get," Kozlov stressed.

"You say that," a moon bear in a biker's getup grunted. "How do we know you won't sell us out if that tiny shrew orders you to, huh?"

Kozlov's eyes widened, his fist gripping itself tight.

"Yeah, just throw us under the bus and…"

"Because I already betrayed him for you!" Kozlov growled.

The booth went silent once more, Kozlov looking around for a second before leaning forward towards the equally surprised Unbearables. "Big is my lord, yes. I would serve him forever, if I could. But he is old. Weak. If the war doesn't kill him, the mere stress of it will. I refuse to let our organization suffer that loss... not without a plan for succession."

"Isn't Big's son-in-law, Michael, the heir to the Tundratown Mafia?" The panda asked softly.

Kozlov's expression took on a disapproving grimace. "Big has become a weak ruler, with a worse successor. Michael will never become crime-lord of Tundratown. He lacks strength. A pacifist. And I will make sure that he never grows any. Crime war is perfect opportunity. Eventually, Big will be disposed of, one way or another - perhaps through 'accident' - and I will take control. Better for organization to have, eh... 'seamless transition,' rather than forced transfer of power. But Vladzotz sends letters, demanding peace. Apologizing. Seeking end to war. So, I destroy the letters. Let war go on." Kozlov allowed himself a smile. "We are winning, after all, yes?"

"I wouldn't say that," Lee grumbled. "We have yet to even breach the Nocturnal-District. At this rate, it's looking like a war of attrition. We're running out of options."

Kozlov snorted. "Pah! Maybe Tundratown Mafia is, but us bears? Together?" He smiled. "Tell me, what better future could there be for the crime-lords of Zootopia, then for there to be one? Ruled by us, together. Bears, together!" He pumped one fist against the table, lightly rattling it. "The Ursid Union! A new faction, of only the strongest of predators."

There was a pause before the Unbearables began looking at each other and smiling, chuckling softly, Lee especially. "Kozlov, since when did you sell out your little masters?"

The bear shrugged. "As I said, Big is old. Weak. And his heirs are as well. Why should we continue to take orders from a dying family of weak little shrews? We will let Big fade, and if Michael protests, we will put him in his place too. As of now, he is simply placeholder. We will then work together to storm the Nocturnal-District, and once little bat is finally put down, we will be the one, true crime family in Zootopia."

"The Ursid Union..." Lee mused, stroking at his chin. "I like it! Quite frankly, that kind of power is all I've ever wanted!" He raised his fist up, soon joined by the others and Kozlov as they all took drinks from their mugs.

The polar bear laughed, relaxing, happy… Until his nose started sniffing something. In an instant his eyes widened, and he hauled up onto the table, sending the others jumping back in shock. It didn't stop him, though, as he rammed a fist up into the snowy ceiling and yanked it down in a flurry of ice and wood chips. The Unbearables yelped and shouted in shock, only for their eyes - along with those of many other guests in the restaurant - to widen as they saw the small, struggling mammal in his grasp.

"Placeholder, huh?" Michael spoke, wriggling in the bear's grip and wrinkling his tiny burgundy suit.

"You!" The polar bear growled. "Eavesdropping in my own restaurant?!"

"Don't act so surprised," Michael spat, glaring his beady black eyes up at his captor. "That 'dying family of shrews' you talked about is good for more than just leading. We've secretly tunneled into every front and building the mafia owns, including this one! How do you think we decided if we could trust mammals that could crush us in one paw if they really wanted to? We've been spying on you, everyone in the Family, for years."

"Of all the mammals I thought would be loyal to the end…" A familiar, aged voice spoke out.

Looking up, Kozlov sneered as he saw Mr. Big peer over the edge of the newly opened hole, revealing himself from whatever ice tunnel the shrews had been hiding in. The tiny predator turned his head down and glared.

"I told you we couldn't trust him!" Michael shouted up to his father-in-law.

"Kozlov..." Mr. Big growled. "I cannot express my anger, that you, of all mammals-"

"What, because I was your loyal servant?" Kozlov barked, holding Michael tighter. "For all these years? Change is as inevitable as winter hibernation! So what if I decided it was time to forge my own path? To give you the eternal peace you were willing to sacrifice yourself for at the start of the war?! Your time is over, Big. Together, us bears will rule the underworld!"

The shrew just tutted. "Do you know how many of your other bears will fight against you? Plenty are still loyal to me, and those who are not I have plenty of dirt on." His gaze narrowed. "We grew our power from spying and blackmail. It is easy, when mammals like you are happy to spill every dirty secret in places like this, and we can listen in all we like from our tunnels. Like Mikhail in the spa scoffing at that naive wolf of his, wanting to take on Clovestone, you're nursing a doomed fantasy. If it comes to civil war, you have no chance."

"But I have your son-in-law," the bear smiled, holding him up. "Father to your grandchildren." There was a pause, the bear shrugging. "How about you leave the crime to us, and we leave your family alone, in peace?"

"Abandon our legacy?" Big asked, pausing as some noises came off from in the distance. It sounded like a commotion was happening outside, with tires crunching through ice.

"You are only afraid of the bats," Lee scoffed. "Fake your death or something. Run off. Hide! And then we'll take over. What do we have to fear, hmm?"

The smashing of a wooden door rang out, everyone turning to see a panting polar bear, shaking splinters off his tracksuit. "TUSK-, I-I mean, SCALPEL RAID!"

"What!?" Lee stifled as Kozlov turned to them.

"We run out the other way! GO! GO!"

"KEVIN!" Big yelled, as hard as he could. The polar bear who'd ran into the door paused. "KOZLOV BETRAYED US! THEY HAVE MICHAEL!"

"Help…" the captured shrew began, only for his face to get smothered by a thumb. It was too late though as Kevin roared and ran forward.

With one paw, Kozlov tried to punch back and thrown him down, only to be overpowered, yelling as the shrew bit hard into his finger. Kevin reached for Michael, trying to pry Kozlov's fingers off of him, only for an ice chair to smash over his head in an explosion of cubes, Lee left holding the broken-off back rest.

Kevin turned to rip his throat out with his teeth, only for the rest of the Unbearables to move to tackle him. Unfortunately, they had bigger problems at their door. Several flashbangs burst through multiple windows, blowing up the lobby in a harsh glare. Even innocent bystanders were caught in the flash, some ducking and hiding under their tables. Those mafiosos who were lucky enough not to be cripplingly disoriented retracted weapons of their own, only to be gunned down remorselessly by shooters from the windows. The door burst open again, this time flying off its hinges as a bulky black boar rammed his way in, weapon raised. Several other assorted hoofed mammals followed, from rams and deer to pigs and more boars. One of them followed in the middle of the pack as his comrades fanned out across the restaurant, beating down resistors and cuffing them to tables. His gray trench coat billowed behind him as he marched forward, a sleek black pistol raised in one paw.

"Confirmed hostiles!" Mr. Boarton yelled, throwing something into the middle of the remaining bears. Up above, Mr. Big turned away from his hole, paws over his ears and eyes closed shut tight as a high pitch BANG rang out in a flash of blinding light.

The ringing was quick to fade for the shrew, only for other sounds to come back. Ursine roars and screams, the barking orders of "STAND DOWN NOW," and "LETHALS AUTHORIZED!" More roars and the sound of throwing furniture cut in, before the blasts of guns firing cut in.

Mr. Big closed his eyes, a paw over his heart as it suddenly began to ache. More roars, Kozlov yelling "DIE!" and more gunshots, only for several heavy thuds to follow.

"Clear," the gruff voice in charge announced.

"THAT is how we do it!" Another yelled.

There were whoops and cheers, Mr. Big slowly making his way to the edge of the spyway. He carefully looked over before his head shot back, grimacing as he looked away. It was too much... too bloody. And worst of all, one of the boars - the large brown one - was eyeing up at the hole in the ceiling, and had spotted him, yellow eyes widening with realization. Eyelids welded shut, back against the wall, Big's paw was held hard over his heart as he struggled, taking pained breaths as the mercenary force below chuckled.

"Hey?" One said. "You smell mouse anywhere?"

A few pig-like snorts followed. "...That ain't mouse."

Big's eyes widened, and he immediately ran off down the tunnel, as fast as his little legs would take him, even as he stumbled around the maze of frosted wood that ran through the building, going past in a blur. He ran and ran, stretching the limits of his aging body. Fear was something he hadn't felt in a long, long time, yet now it consumed his very being. Eventually, his strides gave out beneath him, and he collapsed atop a wooden plank, panting hard and trembling.

"Father?" A voice cried out. "Father!"

Mr. Big's head seared with pain, but he managed to get his eyes open, two blurry visages of Michael kneeling in front of him. Stained red with blood, shaking, but there. Alive.

"You made it..." Mr. Big murmured weakly. "I'm glad."

The younger shrew helped the other to his feet and began guiding him off. "Kozlov dropped me when the fighting broke out. I ran into a hole beneath the booth and made my way up here. But Kozlov and the others..."

"I know," was all Mr. Big could say, stumbling along. The Tundratown Mafia had lost many of its top leaders and its closest ally in only a few short minutes. The ramifications would be severe. "I know. Son… What has become of us… Of everything? To lose our closest allies? To nearly lose you?"

"I don't know," Michael admitted, though he knew that Mr. Big spoke of the crime war. A part of him was pleased that the Don had finally addressed him as though he were his true son, but the situation was far from a cause for celebration. "I don't know. But it's okay. We're alive. We made it out."

They just shuffled deeper into the structure, heading home. Mr. Big grit his beady teeth. "We need to stop this. Stop it all. If what Kozlov said is true... about the letters... about Vladzotz losing the will to fight... then what cause is there to risk our own lives?" His feet stopped moving, forcing Michael to stop as well. The older shrew looked to his son-in-law with desperation in his eyes. "I put us through so much... so much, for so little. All in the name of foolish, useless pride. I'm..." he paused, as though having trouble forming the very words, either through the stiffness in his throat, or the lack of practice in having used them before. "I... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Father," Michael said, his tone level. One tiny paw clutched the older shrew's shoulder supportingly. "I'm with you to the end. No matter what." There was a pleased gleam in his eye, and Mr. Big knew that he was happy the war would be coming to an end. And deep down, a part of him was now happy at that very fact too.

"What do we do from here?" Michael asked.

Mr. Big breathed in deep, and finally found himself able to stand on his own two legs. "We return home," he declared softly. "We make peace. And we accept the consequences."

---

Meanwhile, back at Kozlov's Palace...

Grunting, the squad of boars pushed over the body of a massive polar bear onto his back, revealing his bloody track suit and barely conscious face to the ruined bar. A panda beside him got the same treatment, only to reveal a bullet hole straight through his forehead.

Mr. Boarton approached, one paw gripping his pistol tightly at his side. Glancing distastefully down at the body, he snorted a scoff. "We got an ID on Kozlov. And Lee."

The other S.C.A.L.P.E.L agents cheered boisterously, some clapping freely, as the restaurant had been fully secured. Even then, fellow agents were cuffing suspects, securing the outside perimeter, and fanning out through the connecting rooms. It was a victory. Yet the look on Mr. Boarton's voice suggested no such thing.

"We did it!" An armored ram declared, much to the jubilation of his comrades. "We got Kozlov! We've practically taken down the Tundratown Mafia here!"

Mr. Boarton set his yellow eyes to the ram, who hesitated at his boss' glare. "You're new, aren't you? Most of you are. Had to fill up our ranks quick, after all. I expected naiveté. But you can't seriously be celebrating right now."

"But... we took out Kozlov, and Lee..."

"We did. But I can't have been the only one to spot Mr. Big, and his heir Michael," the boar noted firmly and pointed to the hole in the ceiling, tone brooking no satisfaction. "Who both escaped."

The ram chuckled nervously, raising his hoofs and the assault rifle he carried loosely in one of them. "Sure, but-"

"Does that sound like a victory to you?" Mr. Boarton growled loudly, and then turned his frustrated gaze to the bear at his feet. "And look at these shots. Too many to down him, and not enough to keep him ALIVE! SLOPPY!" He kicked the body, spawning a weak groan from Kozlov. "Now we can't get any intel outta him!"

A warthog stepped forward, one hoof raised assuringly. "We can still get him a medevac, and a doc-"

Mr. Boarton pointed to the bear's bloody chest. "Do you see how many holes you idiots put through 'em? No one walks away from wounds like these. He won't last another five minutes, far less a trip to the hospital. Trust me. You've got a lot to learn. This is what happens when you get sloppy," He cocked his pistol, and then raised it to Kozlov's head. "You have to clean up your own messes." He pulled the trigger once, and then again for good measure, splattering blood across the dangling rim of his trench coat.

The room went silent, all eyes on Mr. Boarton, who lowered his gun back to his side. "Double-tap to the head. Put 'em out of their misery. But ideally, don't PUT THEM THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!" He shouted to the room, his agents all nodding their assent.

Snorting, Mr. Boarton turned on his heel and marched out of the restaurant, the bloody flaps of his trench coat billowing in his wake. He lumbered into the cold outside, stepping into the snow with deep crunches, and eyeing the frosted, empty streets around him. The whole block had cleared out the moment shots started firing.

Damn noobies... Makin' my job harder than it should be, he thought to himself. ZPD should be here any minute to take care of the witnesses.

He sighed, looking down at his pistol. A harsh lesson, perhaps, but one he viewed as necessary. Not too different from Bradley. He shoved the weapon back into his waistband. Back on the beat again, yet something was still nagging at him. This was everything he'd wanted, yet even as he kicked down doors and mowed down criminals like the good old days, something felt missing. The boar tried to ignite a cigarette, only to fail again and again as the wind blew out his lighter, which didn't help his sour mood. Mr. Boarton only wished that his old team was still around, but most of them had either retired, died, or moved away for easier lives. Now he was stuck rebuilding a brand new mercenary taskforce from the ground up, even if it meant hiring more than just boars. But tradition could be damned if it meant securing a better future - Stagnew's vision of a clean city.

It was a vision that Mr. Boarton had strived to make a reality for his entire career, even before meeting the boss, and being recruited to join the Cabal as his trusted field agent. He remembered that day easily, even after ten long years. After all, it was the most important day of his life: the one that would set his guiding philosophy.

The Cloven Hoof had seen quieter nights, but this was definitely a contender. Practically empty, save the sheep bartender handling a few drowsy drunkards at the bar, and a single booth housing a burly boar in a ragged t-shirt and jeans. He sat alone, with only a drink before him as company, that was, until the deer arrived.

"Is this booth occupied?" A clear, articulate voice inquired politely. Before Mr. Boarton could even respond, the newcomer seated himself across from him, casting a shadow over the table as their tall figure blotted out a nearby light source.

"Who are you?" The boar gruffly asked, yellow eyes distrustfully scanning over the intruding deer. He looked fancy in his dark black suit and tie. Not at all like the kind of company this establishment typically attracted. His antlers branched into a modest four-point spread, and piercing blue eyes stood out among a thin coating of light brown fur.

The deer calmly clasped his hooves atop the table between them. "Just an interested party. You're Mister Cliff Boarton, is that correct?"

"You lookin' for a merc?" Cliff guessed. "Sorry pal, but I'm retired, and T.U.S.K got axed. I'm just here for the drinks."

"If I may speak frankly, we both know that retired life doesn't suit mammals like you," the deer pressed, leaning forward a bit. "Mammals of action."

Although Cliff wanted to be annoyed by the deer's pushiness, his first instinct was to chuckle dryly before taking a swig from his drink. "I'll give ya that one. But my answer's still no."

A moment of silence settled over the two mammals, only made worse by the lively chatter from the rest of the bar. Cliff shifted his weight uncomfortably, unnerved by the way the deer wordlessly analyzed him.

"I don't think you're just here for the drinks," the deer finally hypothesized. "You're lying to yourself and you're lying to me, Mr. Boarton."

Cliff snorted stubbornly, averting his gaze to the side. "Oh yeah? And what makes you think that?"

The deer's emotionless expression hardened ever so slightly. "I'm a good liar. A very good liar. It's only natural that I know when I'm being lied to. You haven't even been out of the hospital for a month, and you're already here - all night, every night, hoping for someone to come through that door with a warrant for you to chase, like the good old days. But T.U.S.K is gone, and no one wants to buy a broken gun. Lucky for you, I see the value in trash."

"Have you been watching me?" The boar growled harshly, grip tightening around his glass.

"I have friends in high places. Friends with a lot of money and a lot of eyes. And my friends and I would hate to see a mammal with skills like yours go to waste."

Gritting his teeth, Cliff suppressed an angry snort by downing the rest of his glass before jabbing a finger at the deer across from him. "You think you know me, pal?" He snarled. "You don't know anything! You don't know what it's like to lose everything you've ever known!" His outstretched hoof balled into a fist and slammed into the table, rattling it jarringly enough to attract the attention of a few passerby. "I've been with T.U.S.K since I dropped outta high school. Being a merc was all I knew! And now…" A bitter, frustrated exhale tore through his tusks, and he slumped back in his seat. "I don't even know what I am anymore." He muttered softly.

The deer sat calm and composed throughout the entire rant, listening politely. When Cliff was finished, he quietly replied, "I do know what it's like to lose everything I've ever known."

Cliff locked eyes with him. When nothing was said, the deer continued, "I've lived here a long time, but I'm not actually from Zootopia, Mr. Boarton." He claimed, taking a moment to let that point settle, and to inhale deeply before elaborating. "I moved here thirty years ago from Podunk. You've probably never heard of it. It's a small town in Deerbrooke County, hundreds of miles from here." He chuckled softly, blue eyes lolling to the side as though reminiscing of simpler times. "It was aptly named - no skyscrapers, or noisy cars, or pollution. Just the loving community I grew up with, and all the simple satisfactions of life that we needed. Leaving all that behind to come here was…" his expression darkened. "Difficult."

"Oh, boo-hoo," Cliff derided, waving one paw dismissively through the air. "Small-town nobody moves to the big city and finds out he's still a nobody. Congratulations, you're one in a million."

The deer's eyes flicked to Cliff's own, and for a moment, there was a cold authority radiating from them that gave him some pause. "I didn't exactly leave because I wanted to." He sternly claimed, and then straightened his posture even more. "Enough history. The lesson here is that I do understand you, Mr. Boarton. Much, much more than you think."

Cliff scoffed. "Whatever. And I take it you want me to, what, hunt down and kill some other schmuck who said something you didn't like?"

In spite of the boar's insult, the deer only smiled, sensing the fresh curiosity for employment. "Nothing of the sort. My goals are far grander than simple pettiness. Indeed, what my friends and I are looking for is to make a legacy for this city. One for the better. T.U.S.K may be gone, but your legacy - your purpose - doesn't have to end with it."

Cliff sighed, neck slacking until he was staring into his drink. He hated to say it, but that was all he wanted: to go out and continue the only work he'd ever known or taken any pride from. If this deer was really offering him a second chance, then it was too good of an opportunity to not hear out. He raised his head until their gazes locked once more.

First things first. "What price?" Cliff asked.

The deer chuckled, shaking his head and the antlers atop it. "You can't purchase loyalty. Not the sort I have in mind. I'm not just looking for a hired gun. I'm looking for a partner - a visionary. If you want to earn my loyalty then you'll have to offer yours in turn. And if we agree to that, well," he gestured to the walls around them. "Let's just say you'll be able to afford the whole bar," then his eyes disapprovingly indicated the drink in the boar's hooves. "Rather than one toxic piece of it."

Cliff sighed with exasperation. "I'd better not regret this." He grumbled before sliding his glass out of the way and extending his hoof. "Fine. You've got yourself a visionary."

"Oh, we'll see about that," the deer warned as he accepted the shake, their hooves clopping together firmly like two stones clicking. "But I have a feeling you'll find all the purpose you need to grow into your new role soon enough." He shuffled out of the booth and rose to his feet. "Follow me. There's something I'd like to show you."

"What the heck?" Cliff muttered before shuffling out and following after him.

The deer led them outside, into the messy, dark streets surrounding the bar. Above, the giant boulder that comprised the roof of the building protected them from the chilly night time gales. Sheep and other seedy-looking hoofed mammals strolled the streets, though none stood in the tall deer's way as he strode toward the parking lot.

Cliff pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, pausing just before lighting it. "You want one?" He asked his new employer.

"I don't partake." The deer replied, stopping before the back of a pure black van and opening the compartment doors.

"What's your name, anyways?" Cliff asked before taking a deep draw from his cigarette and then blowing into the gentle breeze.

The deer turned to face him. "You may call me Mr. Stagnew. Or simply boss, if you'd prefer." He stated before pulling a black briefcase up to the edge of the bed. "This is yours now."

"Okay, boss, I'll bite." Cliff relented. He then clicked open the briefcase, revealing a pristine gray trench coat and identically colored fedora. "What's this?"

"Consider it your new workplace dress code."

"Gees, you really came prepared."

"Like I said: friends in high places. Try it on."

Cliff did as he was told, throwing the trench coat over his body and nestling the fedora atop his head. He twisted around to look down at himself, only stopping when the pain from his thigh interfered. "Not bad. Makes me look like a spy." He looked up to the taller deer, puffing from his cigarette all the while. "I like it."

"Congratulations, Mr. Boarton. You're among my list of friends now." Bradley folded his arms behind his back, staring intently down at Cliff. "My Gray Ghost."

The boar scoffed. "Quit callin' me mister. The name's Cliff."

"Apologies. Professional courtesy." Bradley nodded his head in acquiescence. "The way I see it, mister is an honor to be called: a title, showing your competence as a contributing member of society. And believe me, the work you'll be doing will make a difference." He smiled reassuringly. "You should use it more often. It fits you well."

Cliff narrowed his yellow eyes. This guy sure knows how to make a convincing argument, he thought to himself. "Hrmph. You know what… I like the sound of that."

---

12:00 P.M ; Present time, Precinct One Cubicle Farm...

"Judy, I…"

"Whatever you do," Judy said, holding onto Mary's hooves, "Don't blame yourself."

"But," the ewe blinked, wiping away a tear. "If I hadn't gone to the mayor, if I-"

"I had plenty of other skeletons in my closet," the bunny said, patting her shoulder. "Ones far more dangerous than trying to give two of my officers the benefit of the doubt. I went in there thinking I could outplay him, but he outplayed me." Biting her lip, looking down, Judy anxiously squeezed Mary's hooves. "The important thing is we keep fighting, okay? Both on this case, and against the mayor. It's clear now: he's as bad a guy as Lionheart and Bellwether. Maybe not criminal, but I doubt he has good plans for Zootopia."

"I… Well, maybe I could help," Mary said, trying to build up her confidence. "Bradley still thinks I'm on his side, I could try and spy on him, or…"

Judy shook her head. "I may have burnt that bridge myself," she sighed. "I don't know. If you act it right, you could get back into his graces, but I don't think he'd risk putting you anywhere you can make him vulnerable."

"What about Harlan?"

Judy laughed, snorting out before wiping her nose. "I don't think that'd work, Mary."

"I mean, what are we… Am I supposed to do about him now?"

Her ears flagged down. "I don't know," she said, fussing the floor with her foot. "I'll have a word with him after. I guess… I guess just give him his distance, and let him reap what he sowed."

"Even if that means him getting killed!?"

Judy backed off, about to say that that wasn't going to happen, only for the fate of his father to creep back into her memory. She easily imagined Harlan making his own last stand. "Then I just hope you're the one bringing him in."

A cold silence filled the room before Judy got up, bringing Mary into a sudden hug. The sheep jerked back before relaxing, hugging back. "You're a good officer, Mary. Keep at it."

"I'll… I'll try my best," was all she could say, before Judy stepped back and gave her one last salute. Mary returned it as Judy took her leave. Out of Mary's cubicle, and into the cubicle farm. She couldn't help but notice several fellow officers glancing over at her, the sudden news of her resignation already spreading.

It didn't so much as dawn on her, more hang over like low-slung thunderclouds tensed up and about to unleash their storm. This was it. Her dream. Her passion. Her life. Everything she'd pushed for, everything she'd dedicated herself to, everything she'd fought for. Her paw held her badge tight. Soon she'd be hanging it all up and walking away.

"Uh, Hopps?"

She looked up, seeing a familiar figure standing there. Harlan, standing tall in his ZPD uniform, head tilting in confusion.

Biting her lip, Judy waved him to the side and into a spare office. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"No," she said, looking down and breathing out. "Over my years in the force, I have made some questionable decisions. Things that, in all honesty, are not befitting of an officer. Mayor Bradley has found them and gave me an offer. Resign peacefully or be dragged through the gutter. I…"

"Don't tell me you quit!?" He pulled himself in front of her, grabbing her firm. "You're… You're Judy Hopps! You caught Bellwether! You saved the city. We need you right now, to fight against this tyrant mayor. C'mon, you can't just leave! Keep fighting! To hell what they'll do to you! Grit your teeth and push through, to the very end!"

Judy hung there for a long time before turning up, staring right into his eyes. "Until I refuse to surrender and get shot?"

She watched the look of surprise grow across his face. "W-what?"

"Harlan... I know how your father died. Rather, Mary found out... After an uncomfortable meeting with the mammal who did it... who's working for Bradley."

The wolf's yellow eyes broke away, flickering with confusion and shock. But the anger quickly overcame them. "Then why aren't we using that to get him?" he demanded to know, stomping one foot on the ground and growling. "Why-"

"I tried," Judy hissed. "But he outplayed me. As I said, he dug up dirt from my past. Something he doesn't have to do for you too."

He blinked, suddenly looking a lot more nervous. "W-what?" He laughed for a bit before shaking his head. "What dirt?"

"Harlan," she said, shooting him a gaze that gave him flashbacks to his Tundratown service. "Drop the act. I can forgive you for letting Mikhail use your anger to turn you. I can even forgive you for removing those documents, knowing what happened in your past. But I can't forgive you for bullying Mary. Again and again! Threatening to tear her down with you! Weaponizing your own tragic past to the point where I can't even feel sorry for you anymore! And I can't forgive myself, most of all, for letting it get this bad right under my nose." She looked away, grimacing as if he were a stack of elephant dung. "And because of that, I don't blame her for taking Stagnew's offer of help."

"W-what!?" Harlan suddenly snarled. "She's a traitor!"

"NO!" Judy yelled back, jabbing a finger into his uniformed chest and watching as his ears wilted back. Thanks to lunch break, the cubicle farm was almost empty, granting her the opportunity to hold little back. "YOU don't get to call her that, Harlan! She went to someone who'd offered her help after you threatened her! She had no way of knowing he was bad until it was too late. Something she quickly realized herself, before telling me everything. You went to someone you knew was bad, willingly and knowingly broke laws, and still deny it. Don't you?"

"I…"

"Harlan," the bunny warned.

Slowly closing his eyes, the wolf looked down, mumbling out under his breath. "He said they'd take on Clovestone. He said they could… They…"

He trailed off into silence, Judy walking over to him. "So it's true," she murmured softly. "And City Hall knows. I'm not sure what advice to give you. Ask for a transfer to give Mary some space. Clean up as much as you can for when it comes. Accept it and take your punishment, rather than throwing your life away in a blaze of glory. Who knows?" She stared down, before giving him one last look up. "Maybe, in what time you have left, show this city the kind of cop you could have always been."

With that, she walked out and back to the main lobby, leaving Harlan there in his cubicle, slumping on a seat and wrapping his head in his paws.

Stepping out, Judy took a breath out, before pausing as she realized something was very wrong.

It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop and, looking up, she saw why. All the officers in the lobby were looking at her. News of her resignation was truly out now.

Back straight, upper lip firm, nose fixed and untwitchable, she marched down and towards the desk, Clawhauser sitting there with a pained expression. "Judy, it's not…"

She nodded, handing over her badge. "It's been an honor," she sniffed, wiping a tear away.

The cheetah nodded back, taking it from her before saluting back. "It has."

Judy turned, holding back the tears as the precinct erupted in applause, the bunny keeping it together until she left the door.

After that, she raced off, trying to remember where Finnick's van was. However much she'd criticized Nick earlier, he was the only mammal she wanted to see right now.

---

9:00 A.M ; The next day, The Bullpen, Precinct One, Savanna-Central...

"TEEEEN-HUT!"

Standing up on her chair, Mary began pounding her fists on her desk, just like the others. Here she was in the Bullpen, without Judy. Her superior officer and friend. It felt alien. She wanted to say without Harlan too, only there he was, across the room. It felt like a sick joke.

Her thoughts were cut off as the door opened, Interim Chief Joseph Redhorn marching in with a bulky blue uniform, pulled in to handle all the sudden changes at Precinct One until a new permanent Chief could be chosen. Whatever misgivings the force had at Bogo and Hopps' sudden, mysterious resignations (though Mary knew better - the truth - and it ate at her like a parasite), his stewardship seemed to keep them happy. Redhorn was as well-respected as Bogo, and with a friendlier reputation to boot.

"Enough!" the bison yelled, quieting the room with ease. "Right. Seems we've got a lot of mess needing to be cleaned up. First off, Officer O'Conall."

Mary felt a chill on her spine as she looked over to her former partner, his ears pinning back. Well, she wordlessly tried to reassure herself. He has only himself to blame.

"Your name has come to my attention," Joseph remarked, holding up some papers atop his podium.

This was always going to happen.

"All I have to say is this..."

Here it comes!

"Did you actually enjoy the icebox!?"

Mary blinked. Whaaaattt?

Harlan relaxed as the room erupted into raucous laughter, and Redhorn continued. "Regardless, we've got too much of a mess on our hooves here to lose you to Tundratown. Transfer application denied."

Mary relaxed. So, he'd planned to give her some space after all - Transfer back to Tundratown, this time to stay. And this time, probably to seek out the mafia for help.

"Instead, you and Officer Ewever are to continue your investigations. Especially with that recent warehouse fire, given reports of a squirrel skeleton being found inside among a surprising amount of magic props. I'm getting mighty tired of warehouse fires, at this point. However, I'm glad to inform you that, given your work in neutralizing three suspected assassins from the Tundratown Mafia, I raised your names for promotion. Congratulations."

The room erupted, whoops and hollers coming out, Mary at first feeling tense but then joining in. Unexpected, yes, but a promotion? Wow!

Soon the remaining orders were given out, Mary watching Redhorn give Harlan a pat, sending him on his way before turning to her. "I hope you enjoy your new office, Ewever."

"T-thank you," she said, only to pause before she walked away. Something was nagging her. "It just seems a bit much, given what feels like a lack of progress on the case…"

"Well, by all accounts you've worked hard and, with Hopps gone, you'll be taking on lots of responsibility." He chuckled. "I'm still a union mammal, so I say the pay should come with that, not after."

"Ah, I see."

"But it was actually the mayor who encouraged me, you know," he added, smiling wide. "Both you and Harlan."

Mary paused. "Harlan and I... the mayor?"

He nodded. "We were discussing the... recent loss of talent, and on promoting up to solve it. I mentioned various mammals, he recognized you two, and said that given your work against the mob it seemed highly deserving. I'm not going to argue with that."

"No," Mary smiled, walking off. "Of course not. Thank you." Argue it no. But question it?

She could see Stagnew promoting her, but Harlan? Why? Stagnew knew what he'd done and hated it. Why the cud would he not only keep the wolf here, but encourage a promotion? It didn't make sense. Getting to her old desk to pack things up, she closed her eyes. "Okay," she said. "Devil's advocate. Maybe Bradley wanted to help me but couldn't tell Joseph about Harlan. It's only rumors, and Redhorn is a union mammal…"

It didn't feel right, hanging onto her as she packed up her things, eventually getting to a small medicine box. Out of instinct, she opened it up, doing a quick stock take. Something her father had always drilled into her during the accounting lessons he'd put her through. 'Always keep something up your sleeve, Mary. You don't know when you'll need it until you do…'

Her eyes widened. "No way…"

But the more she thought about it…

Packing finished, she raced to her new office before marching right over and knocking on the one next door.

"Yeah…huh?" Harlan opened the door, looked down and spotted Mary quickly, putting his paws up defensively. "Okay. You, heard I applied-"

"Yes, I did," she interjected, slipping in and closing the door behind her. "But this isn't about your transfer. The mayor is using you, Harlan."

He blinked, scoffing. "What? No dice. Why would-"

"Then why did he advise Redhorn to promote us, together?"

"He did?"

"Yes! Knowing that you worked for the mob!"

"Shh!" Harlan shushed, glancing around at his new office as though to make sure no one had heard. His eyes hardened down at her, and he spoke softly. "After you told him."

"After you gave me no option," she retorted. "What else was I supposed to do? Just sit here and take it? Ignore that you were a corrupt cop, working for the mob?" She ground her teeth before throwing up her arms. "If you don't believe me about the promotion, ask the Chief. But either way, don't you realize what he's planning?"

"No…"

"Think about it. Stagnew has the ZPD right where he wants it now," she warned. "Bogo and Judy? Gone. Redhorn will probably serve his agenda, too. BUT, what if that changes, huh? Two years, three, five down the line? If the ZPD starts to squeeze him? Well, he'd probably engineer a scandal to make us look bad and him look good. But why bother when he already has one stored right up his sleeve? A mammal he already has dirt on? And the higher that mammal ends up the chain of command, the more Bradley can benefit when he finally decides to cash out."

"I…" Harlan stuttered, having trouble finding his words.

"That's what you are," Mary concluded. "His get-out-of-jail-free card. A bomb that Bradley can set off anytime he wants to bring down the whole ZPD. Don't think for a second you're safe."

"I… I…" The wolf looked around, before looking down at her with frustration, exasperation filling his voice. "Then what am I supposed to do, huh?"

It took a second or two for Mary to realize it. But in hindsight, the solution was simple. "Make yourself useless to him. Resign."

"What!? After my promotion!?" He bared his teeth and pointed a claw at her. "Oh I see, this is you trying to guilt me out after my attempt to play nice-"

"Don't start," Mary warned. "That's what got us into this mess in the first place. First, double check with Redhorn. Second, there were so many ways you could have legally fought against Clovestone. That didn't break the vows we made. But you chose the one that made you feel the most powerful, the most heroic. Your choice, Harlan. Now take responsibility."

"What other option was there!?" Harlan growled, paws out. "Do you have any idea how unfair of an advantage mammals like Clovestone have over everyone? What could I have possibly done to him?"

Though it took effort, Mary maintained her eye contact with the larger wolf. "Don't you see? You let your anger and hate guide you until they were all that was left of you. Just like Clovestone!"

Harlan's eyes snapped wider at that. For a moment, he looked tempted to disagree, gaze tearing away and flickering with a contemplation that only continued to grow, until he choked back what sounded almost like a sob. "What other option… could I have even...?" He exhaled shakily, anger gone, and then slumped back into his chair, head in one paw as he banged his desk with the other.

"I don't know," Mary confessed. "But you have one now. It's not heroic, fun, or some blaze of glory. But it'll hurt Bradley, and maybe Clovestone too, if he's really involved like the Vixens suggested. Resign. Steal a pawn from their game! And… and you know what?" She threw her arms out. "I'm not a pawn either! I'll resign too!"

Harlan's head jerked up. "What?"

"You heard me," she declared, almost proudly. "I'll resign too."

"No," Harlan began, jumping out of his chair and approaching. "You can't! The case..."

"There are plenty of other officers."

"You're a good cop, Mary. The force needs you!"

The ewe stepped back, a brief look of surprise crossing her face. "I…" she said, sniffing. "Thanks…"

"Huh?"

"Thanks. For saying that."

"Oh. Yeah," He turned away. "I always knew it. I just…" A pause followed, long and tense. "I'm sorry. For everything." A sigh siphoned through his teeth. "I wasn't a good partner, far less a good mammal. Least of all to you. I was an arrogant, angry jerk. You're right. If Redhorn confirms it... I'll go. Go fight Clovestone by myself."

Mary's ears dipped, and she turned to the door. It was the apology she'd been looking for, but it would take time to see if it was genuine.

"Harlan," the ewe said, as he gave her one last look. "You're not gonna fight Clovestone by yourself. We'll think of something. You may have made terrible mistakes… But there's a good cop in you too. And I'm not gonna let you run off on a suicide mission on your own."

"Thanks," the wolf said softly. "That… means a lot, from one as good as you."

Shortly after leaving, Mary got a call from Redhorn, begging her to convince her partner to not be 'so darn stupid'. "Hopps and Bogo resigned of their own volition. I can't lose O'Conall now too! I know I can depend on you, at least. So please, talk some sense into him!"

Mary chuckled mirthlessly. "Yeah... about that..."

He didn't like her response. Then he really didn't like it.

After the rant was over, and her career along with it, Mary returned to her old office in the cubicle farm. She picked up her box once more, giving one last glance at her badge sitting atop the pile of objects within.

One word shone out brighter than the rest to her: 'Integrity'.

With that, she held her head high, a smile of true pride on her face, and left her post for good, knowing that this time, it was her decision and her decision alone.

---

3:00 P.M ; Capricorn Tower, Downtown Zootopia...

The private lab of Rupert Clovestone was dark and quiet.

Faint light from a large array of multiple computer monitors dimly illuminated the room, casting hazy blue waves across tables lined with architectural blueprints, half-finished engineering projects, and scale models of various buildings. Before the computers sat an elderly markhor, brown vest and slacks draped over with his lab coat, all wrinkled from the abuse of extended use. Rupert Clovestone had been sitting at the terminal for hours, pouring over weeks worth of security footage from all of the properties he owned that were closest to the Grand Palm Casino - the site of the late Peter's assassination attempt on Vladzotz Fangpyre.

It was the kind of mind-numbing work that he would have preferred to shelve on his secretary or some starry-eyed intern, but the confidential nature of the matter meant that the responsibility fell to him. Grumbling beneath his breath, he watched over the fuzzy screens. Even the latest in security camera technology made it difficult to find what he was looking for: any sign of where that damn crime-lord had been rushed off to following his injury.

As usual, when occupied with thoughtless work, Rupert's mind wasted no time in wandering to more interesting places.

Remember... Patience is key... Patience... He reminded himself again and again. Patience...

The stack of sticks fell over, spilling atop the lap of a young markhor dressed in the soot-covered garments of a chimney-boy, no older than eight. He whined a bleat, and then began gathering up the twigs, before carefully restacking them, this time not with a base in the shape of a square, but a triangle. More structurally sound. After a long day at the Happytown steel factory, sweeping the charred remains of iron ore and dust from beneath the impressive machines of industry, all he wanted was some peace and quiet. To let his mind wander while he relished in the joy of his own little industry - stacking, studying the inevitable collapse, and rebuilding stronger.

That was, until a projectile tore through the structure - a small rock rolling to a stop beside him. Another pebble bounced off his head, which he rubbed with one hoof. Rupert turned his gaze to the edge of the small park - one of the few spots of green in the polluted wasteland that was 1930s Happytown, and spotted the perpetrators. Two teenage bobcats, and a smaller lynx between them with a scar across his face, all dressed in equally squalid rags akin to Rupert's own.

The young markhor's horns had only just started to grow in, but he still lowered his head threateningly at the bullies, hoping to stave them off. "I'll butt you, butthead!"

The lynx in the middle shuffled forward, tossing a larger rock in one hoof. "Hey chimney sweep!" He taunted. "You missed a spot! Let me point it out for ya!"

He reeled his arm back, Rupert wincing and covering his face, but just as the lynx was about to pitch, another rock sailed over and smacked him right in the face. The bully toppled over, much to the surprise of his fellow goons. All eyes turned to the opposite side of the clearing. Standing in the opening between a moldy wood fence, a teenaged female markhor stepped forward, confidently fingering a rock of her own. She wore a modest commoner's dress, though her hooves were covered with the glittery gloves of a flapper, as though she'd just returned from a party somewhere, and unlike the soot-covered younger markhor, her brown hair was sleek and glossy.

"What's the matter, boys?" She called out in a smooth, yet playfully teasing voice. "Can't pitch better than a girl?"

The lynx sat up, nose bloody and bent, the sight of it earning a smile from Rupert. "Get outta here, you dumb broad!" He shouted with tears welling up in his eyes. "I'll cut you bloody!"

"Careful," the female markhor warned, reeling her arm back. "Don't make me break your ego, too!"

The lynx sniffled pitifully, but still gave a defiant, cat-like hiss as he scrambled to his feet. "You ain't seen the last of me! Let's get outta here!"

Smiling cockily, the older markhor watched them flee, and then dropped her rock as she waltzed up to Rupert. "You okay, Rupey?"

"I'm okay. Thanks, Esther." Rupert weakly smiled up at her.

She returned the smile, and then sat down beside him. Even with her own goat-like beard, Esther was strikingly beautiful, with smooth brown fur, glossy curved horns, and a frame that Rupert knew her current attire did no justice. He'd always admired his older sister, for being not just beautiful enough to break the prejudices about goats being in showbiz, far less song, but for being tough and confident enough to defend him against bullies like the ones that prowled the streets of the tenements. He supposed it had something to do with her upbringing: having to raise Rupert in a place like this, with no help from parents or other family. Orphans, the both of them. But it was common in an age filled with so much disease and sickness. Just another fact of life, not that that made it any easier for Rupert to accept.

"I hate it here," Rupert grumbled, crossing his arms and tucking his chin - already sporting a goatly goatee - down stubbornly. "All the chompers are mean."

"It's the best we can afford," Esther reminded him. "Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices for a better future, right? And stop calling them chompers, Rupey. That's an adult word."

"But it's true!" The younger markhor protested, throwing his arms up. "All they do is bully other mammals, and scare them with their teeth."

Esther smiled gently, patiently. "Don't be so quick to paint 'em all with the same brush. Maybe they'd treat you better if you didn't call them chompers?" She suggested.

"They'd still bully me!" Rupert insisted, glaring angrily down at his pile of sticks. "I hate Happytown. I just wanna rebuild it. Make it better."

His older sister pat him gingerly on the shoulder. "Maybe you will some day. Don't let them discourage you. All you ever need is yourself, right?"

"Yeah... Just me..." Rupert gradually calmed down, and allowed a small smile to grow across his face. "And you."

Returning the smile, Esther pulled him into a playful hug, squeezing her younger brother enough to discomfort him, but not enough to hurt him. "That's right! Just me and you!"

Laughing together, the two markhors spent the rest of the afternoon rebuilding Rupert's construction, happy to have at least had each other in that cruel, filthy world.

In the present, the now aged Rupert sighed bitterly through his nostrils, tickling the fraying, graying brown hair of his impressive beard. For a moment, his amber eyes flicked away from the monitors he'd been straining them against so long, and took note of the framed black and white photo in the corner of his desk. Esther, smiling dazzlingly in her glittery showbiz outfit, so different from the ragged, filthy look she'd sported that day.

That day... Rupert's mind repeated wearily. That was the same day she recorded her final record, his gaze moved from the photograph to the antiquated record player beside it. The same day she died.

His mind couldn't help pulling back the images. The way the police, batons in paw, had led him away from the scene of the crime. How he'd only caught a brief glimpse of her mangled, bloodied body before it was draped over with a cloth. How utterly defeated he'd felt that day, suddenly alone in a world that wanted him gone. He remembered the questioning that came after, and the line-up of the suspects he'd been forced to choose from. Among them all, diverse in size and species, his arm had shakily risen to indicate only a single mammal: a teenaged lynx with a scar running down his face. Without any hesitation, Rupert remembered, clear as day, how the police had dragged away the lynx, kicking and screaming his innocence. And in that moment, for the first time in entire life, Rupert had felt a twinge of power. Of control.

Now, he had more of both than he knew what to do with, and no doubt only a few years left in his life to enjoy it. But his life was never about making things better for himself. The years of grinding, working, had all been leading to the moment he and Bradley had envisioned for decades. The markhor felt tempted to reminisce over the day the two of them had first met, but with the thought of Esther's murder still clouding and choking over his mind like the same smog he'd inhaled so long in the awful factory, all he could draw were yet more bitter thoughts.

Time is no one's ally, he stared back up at the monitor. Least of all the dead. But once Project Everest is complete... I think... I can finally rest. But not until these meddling parasites are dealt with.

A few more minutes of careful scanning, and one of the monitors at last beeped an alert. Rupert straightened himself as best he could in his chair, and looked to the screen. Across it - somewhere in Sahara-Square, near one of his less developed properties - was a small van parked at a street corner, and out of the van rolled a small hospital bed, and atop it was none other than Vladzotz Fangpyre, infested with biomonitors and breathing tubes. Rupert watched as his wife, Lucy Sang, sporting a sleek red dress much like the framed photo of Esther, flapped out of the car and began pushing the bed, alongside a hare in a lab coat that Rupert didn't recognize.

"There you are," he muttered softly beneath his breath, watching as the two of them pushed the hospital bed down an alley, and into a grimy, old-school elevator hidden behind a discarded, propped up fence. Down they went after the doors closed, gone from the world, and sinking that much closer down to hell.

The markhor's hard amber eyes narrowed hatefully upon Lucy. The vampire thief... you've eluded our grasp for far too long. The arm he draped across the table trembled with suppressed anger. Psychotic scum of the earth... no better than your incompetent late mentor. Criminals like you are a bane on existence. Taking all, and contributing nothing. No building, no creating, no helping society. Wasteful. Wasteful! Parasites on my city! I look forward to the day you die.

He rewound the clip, and watched as Lucy pushed the hospital bed down the alley once more. Why bother? Why help him when you can run free? He pondered silently, scowl deepening across his graying snout. You don't care about him any more than he cares about you. All your kind care for is blood, stolen and spilt. He snorted disapprovingly. A trick. It has to be. You're after something... something valuable... valuable enough to risk your life to save his-

"Not everyone is like you, you know," a feminine, familiar voice rang out from behind him.

It was only when Rupert turned around in his seat to spot his modestly dressed llama secretary, Miss Hoover, standing behind him with a clipboard in hoof and a frown on her face, did the markhor realize he'd been muttering his words aloud. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Rupert's sharp tone warned. He squinted his eyes, adjusting his glasses. He'd been so immersed in the screens before him, that he hadn't even noticed the lights turn on with Miss Hoover's arrival. His fading senses didn't help.

Miss Hoover wasn't having any of it. "Not everyone cares only about themselves. You should learn to stop seeing the worst in mammals."

Rupert sneered, glancing down to the papers on her clipboard. Even with his poor eyesight, the giant bold 'Two Weeks Notice' at the top was hard to miss. "No wonder. You're quitting. Here to put up one last token resistance, hm?" He rose from his seat and fully faced her, thin arms folded calmly behind his back. "Fine. I understand pride. But I also understand you only have the courage to do it because you know you'll never see me again."

"And how terrible that must be," Miss Hoover spat back, and then tossed the papers onto the floor in front of him. "Here's your last report. Read it yourself this time."

Rupert didn't react to the report at all, only continuing to stare at Miss Hoover with that same hateful scowl that he'd been with Lucy. "You're making a mistake." Was all he said.

"Am I?" The llama retorted, and then shrugged mockingly. "Doesn't feel like it. I'm tired of doing your dirty work," she then stomped one hoof, scoffing with exasperation. Judging by her pent-up features and clear frustrations, what she knew was clearly painful. "And what you're planning with your stupid Project Everest... it's wrong! The moment I walk out that door, I'm going straight to the ZPD! Or City Hall, o-or ZNN, or... someone! Anyone who'll listen! Anyone who'll get the word out that you're a demented, insecure, psycho-"

"You're fully NDA'd, as are the engineers and project managers," Rupert interjected, one hoof frustratingly wringing the other behind his back. "Severing that is grounds for legal prosecution. Do you genuinely think you can stop this? And even if you did, your life as you know it would be over. You were my willing, paid collaborator."

The llama couldn't help but laugh mirthlessly. "Collaborator? More like conspirator! And I don't care if I burn myself torching down your twisted empire. I'll make it work! I survived you, after all. And don't worry, after the dust settles and your moldy tail is rotting in prison, I'm sure the company will stick around just fine. Though likely with an intense rebranding, and a new CEO that isn't an evil-"

"NO!" Rupert shouted suddenly, fists balled and stepping forward. Miss Hoover backed away nervously before holding her ground. "I've dedicated my LIFE to building Clovestone Industries from nothing! Building my legacy! I can't just give control of it to some sycophantic usurper! To do so would be to admit failure. And I never fail!"

"First time for everything," Miss Hoover retorted, quickly regaining her composure, before bleating deeply and then hawking a spitball on the ground, nailing the dropped report with pinpoint accuracy. "Get used to it. Greedy tyrants like you deserve every wake-up call you can get."

Rupert growled, outraged at her conduct, and marched closer. "YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME WHAT-!"

As he approached, another jolt of fear overcame his secretary. Miss Hoover stumbled back, one arm grasping behind her, only to trip over her own hooves and fall to the floor. The grasping hoof took hold of the white cloth obscuring an adjacent table, and pulled it down with her.

The markhor's rage instantly turned to shocked desperation. "No! Don't touch that!"

But it was too late. Miss Hoover's long neck gave her the perfect view of the contents that were beneath the veil, now revealed to the room. She stared for but a moment before gasping, eyes lit with disbelief. "Oh my goodness... you're not just planning to evacuate. Project Everest... it's..."

She turned to her boss, only to trail off as she took note of his demeanor. Once frenzied, he now slumped over, staring at her with a bitter scowl that could almost be described as tired. Something in his amber eyes suddenly looked so... hollow. The markhor sighed deeply, turning back to his desk and approaching it with jaded slowness.

"Oh, Miss Hoover… you really should have submitted your notice remotely." Reaching under his desk, the small click of a button pierced the tense silence, followed by the sound of whirring machinery. A panel in the ceiling slid open, and out from the darkness dropped the barrel of a small, sleek white turret, instantly locked to Miss Hoover.

"Target acquired," the robotic, feminine voice of Rupert's A.I filled the room. "Authorization required for lethal intervention."

Clovestone locked eyes with his employee, taking no note of the fearful desperation that filled them. "But sometimes... you have to make sacrifices for a better future. I dearly hope your family never sells your company stock."

"Wait..." Miss Hoover croaked, voice shot with terror. "Don't-"

Rupert took no joy in what came next. "Lethal intervention authorized."

BANG!

---

4:00 P.M ; Happytown, Savanna-Central...

"You really didn't have to, you know that?"

Mary slowly looked up from her sheltered corner seat to meet Harlan's gaze, sitting there next to her. She hadn't really known what to do after leaving Precinct One, only getting the idea to go with Harlan when she spotted him leaving too. She wasn't sure why, given all they'd been through. Or, more accurately, all he'd put her through.

But still, maybe it was better than nothing, trying to rebuild the relationship they'd lost.

It hadn't taken him long to notice her behind him, and when she admitted that she too had retired from the force, she followed up by saying that she didn't really know what to do. She might as well follow the wolf for a bit if he had any kind of plan or something.

As a matter of fact he did, even if it wasn't much. Slipping back to the edge of Happytown, he'd taken her down a back street and down a staircase into what turned out to be a very well frequented bar.

"What?" The wolf protested at the look she was giving him. "It's been a rough day for us both. Why not unwind a little?"

"It's not even five o' clock yet, you degenerate!"

Nonetheless, Mary followed him in. Finding a table, a few cheap snacks ordered, they sat back, mulling everything over.

"Maybe leaving was the wrong idea," Mary replied to his last question, looking up. The room was dark, the music slow and heavy, but Harlan's yellow eyes bounced off the scant light and shone like a pair of beacons amidst the cigarette smoke filled gloom. "But I wanted to."

"I thought you wanted to be a good cop," Harlan sighed, gaze flickering away from Mary to watch a raccoon waitress running past, trays of food balanced on both arms.

"I did. And part of that was acting with integrity."

"You know, I may not be the best judge of character there," he chuckled. "But it seemed you had that in spades. Full hand. Royal flush. All of 'em."

"Thanks," Mary said, turning her eyes to the floor. "But for how long?"

"Huh?"

"I was being used, things were going on above my head, the more it went on the more I felt I was just a piece on a board. To be moved around this way and that. Even if those doing it weren't as… forceful… as you were. I didn't want that. I don't think I could have been fully… -integral? For much longer." She snorted. "So I folded and left the game. Walked away clean, before I got in too deep... or became a liability."

"Whereas I'm on the run," Harlan joked. "Kind of. I wonder if they will come chasing me again. Or if my so-called friends from that spa will come find me."

"The Tu…"

"-Ah, ah!" He cut her off, shifting uncomfortably for a few seconds, scanning around.

"Harlan?"

"Some things are best not mentioned around here. I mean, I almost had us run into a charity shop and get some less conspicuous clothes as it was."

Mary's eyes narrowed. "Harlan. Is this a mafia joint?"

"Well, technically no." He settled down. "But it's the kind of place they'd hang out. Especially the nocturnals. Gathering intel on the surface."

Looking around, Mary could certainly see that the patrons were of a certain broad, nocturnal type. "Are we near one of the access tunnels then?"

His muzzle twitched and he held out a paw, waving it. "Kind of. There's tons of underground chambers beneath Happytown from the old factories." He sighed sadly. "My father used them for his smuggling. Said there were miles still undiscovered, sealed off, flooded. There's Zootube videos of urban explorers sneaking in through mammalhole covers, looking around the underground ruins and ending up peeking out over the Nocturnal District."

He smiled a little before shrugging. "Anyway, the factory here brought up ores from the Nocturnal District with a lift. After they closed, the city took it over. I think there was meant to be a subway built over it, routes going up and down, but…" He blew some air. "Happytown, right? Like Clovestone would give us a dime on a dollar, if he was the one building this place."

Mary nodded slowly, pausing as a group of possum girls in rather revealing outfits stumbled by, giggling and laughing. "I suppose that explains all the nocturnals."

"I suppose," he nodded in agreement. "You know what?" He stuck two fingers into his mouth and blew out a loud whistle, quickly gathering the attention of a ringtail waitress. "Uh, two drinks please. Whatever's best for two mammals who've run away from their jobs and ain't comin' back."

"I'll get two whiskeys, no backsies," she said, before scurrying off.

"H-Harlan," Mary began. "I don't really-"

"Ah, c'mon. You'll need it." He paused, laughing. "If it makes you feel better I'll go first."

"I…" She began, before shrugging. "Sure. Go for it, why not?"

"That's the spirit!"

"Yeah," she smiled, looking down. "You know… I like this, Harlan."

"Huh?" He turned to her, his head tilting.

"It reminds me of back in the academy. Before the case, and what it did to you. We were friends, life was simple... you weren't…"

He let out a huff. "Yeah. I get it. I let my anger over the case control me." He looked around before smiling. "But you know, right now? I feel better. No longer at risk, no longer stuck in this fight with the mayor and Clovestone, no longer balancing or under pressure I…" He breathed in and out. "Well, I guess it might get worse when I do go back to fighting them… But at least I'm not going to be hurting others along the way trying to do the right thing."

"Good," Mary said. "There's no denying that you're in the right against Clovestone, Harlan. He's an awful mammal that deserves justice. But it can't come from vengeance. It needs to be done the right way."

He nodded, looking down. "I'm sorry, I… Sure, I can say I was panicking, I was lashing out trying to protect myself. But it was wrong. I shouldn't have threatened you like that."

Her eyes narrowed. "And in the car? Before you went on your chase? Which I…"

"I should have listened to you," he sighed, head in his paws. "I shouldn't have let my anger ram you down. That's why you're the good cop. Or were. I guess…"

She nodded. "I want to forgive you. But I need time. Okay?"

"Sure," he said as the drinks arrived. Both the same size, small for him and big for her. "Tell you what," he said, taking a swig of his, draining half. "Let me just…" Half of hers went into his glass. "I guess that's proportional."

Leaning forward, picking it up, she looked down at the liquid before casting her eyes up at her former partner. "Who's to say I didn't want all of it?"

"You," he said. "Just before."

"I don't remember," she warned him, hooflet up.

"Well you did kind of imply it," he said. "More to the point, I'm the one buying."

"Sure…" she relented. "After all the passes I gave you before, I suppose I can spare you this one."

Together they picked up their glasses, looked at each other, and downed it in one go.

"ACKKKK… HUHHHH… KHHHH…" Mary hacked, bleating painfully and clutching at her throat.

"Ha! Went down the wrong way, huh?" Harlan asked, leaning over and giving Mary a few hard whacks on her back.

"Noooo…" She croaked. "It burns…" Closing her eyes and working her tongue around to remoisten her mouth, she breathed out. "Okay, that's the worst thing you did to me."

The wolf chuckled, and sat back down in his seat. "What now?" he asked. "For you?"

She tapped her hooflets on the table, thinking it over while she soothed her voice back into working order. "Maybe I'll get a law enforcement job in some sheep town in the Meadowlands. Or something similar. I… I won't spread the news of what you did or help them get you. But if they ask me the questions, I'll tell the truth… -ish. I found what seemed like a theory, I confronted you, you denied it and got defensive, I went to the mayor and then Judy."

"And I didn't admit to it all, so plausible deniability, huh?"

"Yeah, give you a fighting chance," she said, before her ears went down, a nervous look growing on her face. "Unless I'm under oath when they ask I-"

"No, I understand," Harlan said, looking down. "Not fair to make you a criminal. Though I would owe you big time-"

"Harlan," she teased.

"Just a little perjury?"

With a roll of her eyes she waved him off, smiling lightly. "We'll see," she said. "We'll see."

The wolf nodded, gesturing to the waitress and asking for some nachos. Off she went as Mary spoke up. "What about you?"

"Huh?"

"Where are you going next?"

He worked his muzzle in his paws. "Well, I still want to fight Clovestone. Show him for what he is. Bradley too for forcing Judy and Bogo out. Any connection to Clovestone is a bonus."

"I see," Mary muttered, expecting something like this. She felt tempted to protest, but knew it wouldn't get them anywhere. "Any idea where to start?"

He paused, sighing. "Nope."

"And I've burnt whatever insider bridge Judy left," Mary said.

"Not that I'd ask you," Harlan said, ears going down as she saw the look she was giving him. "Not that I'd ask you now."

"I mean, you need someone who's close enough and actually wants to get him down. I…" She paused as the nachos arrived. "Hang on, I think I might know someone."

Harlan's ears perked up. "Really."

"I… I mean I don't know them, personally. But…" She brought out her phone and dialed in. "Hi, Judy? Where are you?"

---

Half an hour later, somewhere in Savanna-Central...

"Get that lava monster…"

"I'm trying!"

"Get it…"

"I said… Got it!"

"Okay, computers over there. Come on Carrots."

"I'm trying," Judy assured, wildly tapping at her controller. "I'm… Got them!"

"Yes!" Nick cheered, holding up his beer.

Judy patted him on the side before looking on. "Okay, next mission."

Nick nodded before pausing. "Hey, it's sexy vixen cop again!"

Whatever comments he or Judy were about to add were cut off by a tiny knock on the back door of the cramped van. One answered by an angry fennec. "WHO IS IT?"

Outside, Harlan and Mary looked at each other before looking back. "Is Judy in?"

Finnick sighed irritably before aiming his next words back into the van. "BUNNY COP!?"

Judy made her way over. "Yeah, what's up?" Then she caught sight of her former subordinates. "Mary? Harlan?"

"I resigned," the wolf said immediately. "And I'm sorry."

"And I didn't want to be used, so I resigned with him." Mary added.

"I…" Judy began, before nodding. "Well... If that's what you both want."

"It is," Mary said. "And, for now at least, we'll be going our separate ways. But Harlan still wants to look into Clovestone and Stagnew. I think I might have a lead to at least get him on the scent trail."

"Okay," Judy said. "What do you think I might know?"

"Where Nick is."

Judy chuckled nervously, and then looked deeper into the van. "Nick?" She called out. "You have guests."

"Well, I just got zapped, so I suppose I can spare a few minutes." Out he walked, looking far worse for wear than they'd seen him last, with his scruffy russet whiskers and sloppily buttoned yellow floral shirt. Mary and Harlan looked at each other and then back to him. "Any way I can help?"

"Aside from taking a shower?" Harlan whispered softly beneath his breath, sharp nose twitching with discomfort. Judy's equally sharp ears were the only ones to hear him, but she just suppressed a giggle and watched politely.

"Yes," Mary answered his question. "I remember reading somewhere that your assistant mayor had a history with Stagnew. Could you lead us to her?"

The fox blinked, lazily scratching his open chest. "Samantha? Sure. Then you can go on your way, and me and Finnick can-"

"Who's this 'me and Finnick'?" the fennec interrupted. "Ever since Bunnycop slunk here, I've been stuck as a third wheel! Time for you to take a walk!"

"I…" Nick began, only to get a jab in the back from Finnick's bat. "Okay, okay, I'll go."

"Well," Judy mused, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "I suppose it is getting you back into something."

She elbowed her husband and he looked back, eyes narrowing. "Yes. How very exciting and not at all peer pressured."

Regardless, off they went, strolling through the streets of Savanna-Central until at last reaching their destination, right on the border of Downtown.

"Now, I know Sammy tends to hang out after work at… Ah-ha!" The group of four upped the pace, following the fox into a coffee shop. The Wired Puppy was as charismatically urban as ever, with its moody decorations and mismatched furniture. Nick was quick to spot the mammal he was looking for. Like usual, the meerkat, dressed in her usual sunny yellow skirt and blazer, grabbed her regular, wandered over to a waiting table and, climbing up the small mammal seat to the level, sat down, idly playing with her cup. A slight glance up and she saw Nick, Judy, a sheep and a very big wolf all crowding around her, smiling. "Wahhh!" She shuffled back in her seat, nearly dropping her coffee.

"Hi Sammy!" Nick said, grin wide and paw out.

"I can't be seen with you!" The meerkat immediately hissed, setting down her coffee and partially obscuring her face with her blazer. "Scram!"

His grin faded. "Hey, I know we didn't part on good terms, but-"

"It's not that," she quickly clarified. "Ever since you were exposed, my career has been hanging on life support. Life support supplied by Bradley Stagnew."

"How bad?" Nick asked.

She looked at him with dead eyes. "E-learning courses. E-learning course after E-learning course on 'professional ethics', 'code of conduct' and 'avoiding criminal enterprises.' Hour long unskippable videos, slowly narrating out the options before giving you the braindead, stating-the-obvious multiple choice answers! Patronizing dronings about changing your language to be more 'anti-crime'. I can't even exit the tabs without starting over! My mind feels like jelly and my eyes want to fall out of my sockets..."

Nick grimaced. "Ouch. I'm real sorry, Sammy."

"Yeah, and guess what happens if he discovers I've hung out with you?"

"He'll advise you retake them all again, right?"

She groaned a confirmation, wiping her forehead. "I wish I could make him do one on plagiarism."

"Huh?" Judy asked, as Samantha's brow furrowed.

"All these things are literally just my old predator inclusivity seminars with the lines changed! When I brought them in years ago, Bradley objected, saying it was 'patronizing' and 'stating the obvious,' but he was outvoted and in they came! Now… now he's just trying to humiliate me. I'm so tired of politics..."

Her rant was cut off as Nick chuckled out, the meerkat giving him a deathglare.

"Wilde, I can only just cope with Bradley's silent smugness as he watches me doing them. I can't take any more irony in my diet so please, just leave."

Nick was about to speak, only for Harlan to cut in. "Listen, do you want that deer to rule your life forever?"

"No..."

"Then all we're asking is for some help. To find dirt on him and Rupert Clovestone. A bit of payback!" He paused, his ears dropping. "Listen, I'm… Yeah, I've already done some bad, allegedly illegal things trying to find anything on these two. So I'm not going to force you, but I'm not gonna stop trying to bring them down. If you can't-"

"I can't afford any more heat," Samantha interjected, sighing wearily, only to pause. "Although…"

"What?" Harlan asked, perking up.

"Remember the discovery we made about how Happytown voters were cut off back in Mayor Lionheart's election?"

"Yeah," Judy agreed. "It was an anonymous source, right?"

"Yes," the meerkat agreed. "One Olivia said she was keeping in contact with. She already kind of gave me your offer too. Whoever they are, they're not not an insider in whatever twisted regime Bradley's building, but they are another ally, who by the sound of it has plenty of dirt."

"Perfect," Harlan smiled wide. "Thanks for everything!"

"Uh-huh," Nick agreed, smiling. "Thanks and, uh, we'll shoo off now."

Sammy watched them go, turquoise eyes flickering between her coffee and her friends, looking conflicted. Before they left, she called out, "Wait!"

Nick turned around, surprised to see her jogging over to them with her coffee to-go. "I'm coming too. If this informant can dethrone Bradley... I wanna be there for when it happens."

With that, they all piled out of the cafe. "So," Harlan asked. "Who's Olivia?"

Judy and Mary's eyes, followed by a confused Harlan's, turned to Nick.

Half an hour later, a few knocks rung out on a Happytown apartment door.

Olivia Wilde opened it up, stepping back as she saw her son, his wife, a sheep, a meerkat, and a big wolf all squeezed into the medium-mammal sized halls in her apartment. Raising his paws in a gesture of peace, Nick smiled. "Hi mom, can I bring my friends around to play with your conspiracy theorist?"

The group was rushed inside for privacy. After filling in Olivia on their situation, the aging vixen was all too happy to help. No more than half an hour later, the group was trudging through the snow in Tundratown, though Olivia was the only one prepared for the cold, with her long purple scarf and modest green dress. The others just shivered along, awkwardly listening in as the vixen tore strips off her son.

"-An absolute mess!" She chided, poking at his side. "And look at those whiskers! When was the last time you shaved?"

Nick had since buttoned-up his shirt, partly due to the cold, and partly due to his mother's endless berating. "It's only been a couple weeks! Can't I have just a bit of peace? I mean, how many packs did you smoke while-"

"Don't even start, Nicholas," Olivia huffed, crossing her arms against her chest. "Your basic hygiene is completely within your control!"

"And smoking isn't?"

The vixen scoffed. "Never mind. It's clear we both have some problems to work through." She lifted her head, gazing across the snowy street to their destination, at last in sight. "Hopefully, this will be a good start."

Everyone looked to the dilapidated wood and cobblestone bar, wedged between two larger, more modern buildings.

"A Tundratown bar?" Harlan asked, fidgeting nervously in his uniform. "I.. Have bad experiences at Tundratown bars."

Olivia waved him off. "Don't worry, this one isn't in league with any criminals or other weirdos... unless you count the owner herself."

Nick stared with awe up at the sign above the door. "Honey's Tavern... I can't believe it." He turned to his mom. "This whole time, the conspiracy theorist you've been talking to has been Honey Badger?"

"A honey badger?" Samantha asked.

"Yes, b-but, well, no," Nick stammered, quickly clarifying. "See, she's a honey badger, but her name is also Honey... Badger."

"And you know this mammal how?"

"I remember her!" Judy piped up, violet eyes bright with recognition. "We'd visited her a few years ago, back when we were on vacation after the undercover banking case with Jack Savage!"

Nick snapped his fingers at Judy. "Right, that. I also happen to know Honey because she's an old friend, back from my..." he cleared his throat, trying to ignore the withering gaze his mother was giving him. "Hustling days. Yeah. She'd buy a lot of the, uh, merchandise I was selling, and allow us to sell pawpsicles at the bar."

"Charming," Olivia grumbled. "If I'd known this mystery informant was your partner in-"

"It's okay, it's okay," Judy assured, fanning her paws down. "She's someone we can trust. Let's go introduce ourselves."

The crowd shuffled into the bar, with both Nick and Harlan shaking themselves down from the light snow glazing their fur, earning groans from everyone else. The bar's interior matched the exterior, with an inviting, rugged atmosphere of wood and stone, and many colorful drinks lining the frosted shelves behind the bar. In the center of it all, unstacking arrays of stools, was a stout female badger in thick-padded camo cargos and a dirty white tank top. She glanced over at the approaching crowd.

"Sorry, but we're not open 'till six," her surprisingly masculine voice announced, trailing off as she caught sight of a certain fox. Then her light-green eyes lit up with delighted recognition. "NICKY! Is that you?! And Judy! You brought friends!" She spread her beefy arms wide and waddled over, crushing Nick in a hug so tight it audibly spawned a few cracks. "It's been so long!"

"Yep..." the fox croaked. "It's me, Honey. Sight for sore eyes... and spine."

"Oh, sorry!" Honey chuckled, and released Nick before backing away. After introductions went around, she asked, "So, what brings you all here?"

"It's a bit of a long story," Mary chuckled, scratching at the back of her wooly head.

"It has to do with your theory, Honey," Olivia stepped forward, gently placing one paw on the badger's muscular shoulder. "We think you may be right, and that you may be able to help us. I received your files concerning Stagnew's polling manipulation, and Rupert Clovestone funding his entire campaign..."

"We tried making a win for us out of it, but it wasn't enough to stop him from winning the election." Samantha added, arms crossed against her bright yellow blazer.

"But we know you have information," Judy picked up the topic. "And we have some as well that together we believe could give us a fighting chance. We think there might be more to it... that Rupert Clovestone might be behind the crime war, somehow. And if he's connected to Bradley..." She trailed off, letting that statement sink in.

Honey looked around at the crowd, jaw slightly agape with surprise. She straightened her spine, clasped her paws audibly, and then inhaled deep. "I have been waiting for this day," she spoke in a surprisingly calm voice, and then grabbed Nick's forearm in her crushing grip, her grin suddenly lighting up once more. "Follow me!"

She dragged the fox across the bar, toward a staircase behind a locked cellar door in the back. The rest of the crowd followed shortly behind, wondering what they'd just gotten themselves into. Down the cellar they went, several floors deep, until reaching a large metal door, built like the entrance to a bank vault. Honey punched in a few codes, and even scanned her pawprint, allowing the door to slide open with the sound of heavy grinding metal.

Everyone entered the vault, and there was no shortage of dropped jaws at the interior. It was a massive bunker, easily the size of the entire bar above and with more than enough room to accommodate even Harlan, the tallest of the group. Shelves built from floor to ceiling were stocked with canned food and dried goods. Multiple computer terminals were set up between racks of gas masks, pressurized oxygen tanks, and creative arrays of weapons, creating a jumbled mess of power cords and wires snaking haphazardly across the floor and walls. Corkboards, blackboards, and whiteboards littered the room, decorated with posters, drawings, and yarn displays of a conspiracy theorist's paradise, ranging from aliens to pyramids hidden beneath Sahara-Square. A few bright LED's lit the room, and everyone's shocked faces.

"What in good gravy is this place?" Samantha asked, turning in a circle.

Honey hopped atop a crate labeled 'EXPLOSIVE CONTENTS: HANDLE WITH CARE,' and spread her arms to her guests. "Welcome to the bunker! Hope you're ready to get red-pilled!"

Harlan gently nudged a casing of bullets on the ground away from him with one foot. "How the heck can you afford a place like this?"

"Lots and lots of business loans!" The badger shrugged. "Debt won't matter once the world ends! Besides, the tavern business is pretty good!"

"Gees, Honey," Nick mused, briefly earning Judy's attention at the word 'honey' before remembering that the badger was present too. "I always knew you were a bit..." he considered his words carefully. "Paranoid, but this... is not what I expected."

"Don't worry," a new voice rang out, snide and somewhat condescending. "You'll get used to it."

One of the chairs at the farthest computer terminal swiveled to reveal a jet-black opossum in an equally stygian bomber jacket and jeans. A laptop computer sat in his lap, and a small lollipop was perched between his beady little teeth. Nick, Samantha, and Olivia all stared with shocked recognition.

"Neil?!" Sammy stifled. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you quit, and ran off to go make more scathing op-eds about me, or something." Nick added.

"Don't tempt me," The opossum lolled his sucker around in his mouth for a moment before answering. "Who do you think convinced Honey to send those files to the campaign committee? I've been working with her before you so much as even dreamt you had a chance at the mayor's office. I'm a political activist, remember?" He asked rhetorically, flat tone brooking little patience. "I make it my business to expose corrupt jerks. And I've been doing it as a white-hat hacker for years. I never trusted you, Nick, but I trusted Stagnew even less."

"Mom, did you know about this?" Nick asked, pointing to the opossum.

The older vixen exposed her palms defensively. "This is news to me! I've only been in contact with Honey over email!"

"I led your mom here once to meet with her," Neil clarified. "Back during the campaign. But I never revealed I was working with her."

"Neil and I have been trying to put the pieces together, and it seems that you guys have too!" Honey giggled excitedly. "We can all work together, and make a giant conspiracy puzzle!"

The opossum rolled his eyes, and proceeded to clarify, "We think that Stagnew might be in line with Rupert Clovestone, and not in a good way. It seems obvious, based on the evidence so far, that Clovestone - at the very least - had funded Stagnew's campaign. Shady, the way it was hidden behind all those shell companies, but not illegal. On the other end, Stagnew has clearly been manipulating polls for a long time. Also not illegal, at least with the way he did it, giving himself plausible deniability."

Honey clapped giddily, hopping off her box and jogging over to a nearby corkboard obscured by a large, reflective space blanket. "And that was the extent of what we knew - nothing concrete to bring either of 'em down - but if what you said is true, about Rupert being tied to the crime war, then it could be exactly what we need to expose..." She ripped the space blanket from the board in a cacophony of foil crinkles, revealing an overly complex criminal yarn board. "THE ZOO WORLD ORDER!"

Everyone stared at the board wordlessly, Neil kneading at the bridge of his snout. "Yes, yes, it makes perfect sense for Clovestone to be a player in all this, but we have no idea if there's some shadow organization - some secret cabal - pulling strings from the background or not. All this is just theory."

"Evolution is a theory," Honey insisted. "And thanks to it I can inject myself with wasp venom to build immunity for the Zoo World Order's paralyzing, doomsday gas weapons!"

Neil sighed. "There's a difference between a scientific theory, and a laymammal's theory, Honey, I've told you this before. One has evidence, the other has speculation."

"We've got all we need now that this dream team is together!" Honey, still grinning, pointed to the pinned picture of a much younger Rupert Clovestone, likely taken from his company website. "This guy is goin' down!" She picked a throwing dart off a nearby film projector and nailed the markhor's smug face. "Ha!"

The opossum returned his gaze to the crowd before him. "Nevertheless, it means nothing if we can't find proof. Firm proof. I've been trying to hack into Clovestone Industries' systems for months, but he's firewalled and airgapped everything. It's been hopeless with just Honey and I. But if we join forces-"

Nick stepped forward, and even in spite of his disheveled appearance, he looked as proud as ever. "Say no more, pal. If you've got a plan to expose whatever the heck this is, then we're all in." He turned to his friends. "Right guys?"

"Yeah!" Mary was the first to pipe up, pumping her cloven fists. "Let's beat those jerks!"

"You've got my support," Judy promised, walking up to Nick and patting his back. The two shared a smile as Harlan cracked his knuckles behind them.

"A chance to bring down Clovestone for real? I'm all over it."

Olivia hummed with concern. "Oh, I suppose I can help... However I can."

Samantha sighed. "Fine, so long as it gets Bradley out of office. I've got nothing better to do anyways."

Honey scrambled over, wrapping both Nick and Judy in a half-hug, half-headlock. "WE'RE THE RESISTANCE! THE RESISTANCE, NICKY! WOOO!"

The group couldn't help but chuckle a bit, at that. Nick looked around at the eyes of his friends, and for the first time in weeks, felt as though he could truly make a difference again. Freeing himself from Honey's embrace, he asked aloud, "Okay then, team. Now what?" He turned to Neil. "You mentioned proof. What kind of proof?"

"Ideally, we'd need some sort of direct information that links Bradley to Rupert, Rupert to the crime war, or something in between. If this is as big as we think, then there's gotta be something tangible we can find to expose them, and best case scenario, justify an arrest."

"We'll need more muscle, for that, now that..." Judy paused, looking around the room. "Well, all of us are off the force now."

"Seriously? All of you?!" Honey quirked, green eyes widening. "What happened?"

"Long story," Judy insisted. "Let's just say that Bradley is the common denominator. The point is, none of us have any authority to make arrests anymore."

"Chief Bogo is gone too," Mary added, a bitter inflection in her voice.

Harlan growled, fingers tapping irritably on his crossed arms. "And with us off the table and the case against Clovestone dead in the water, Bradley has free reign to corrupt the ZPD. He's got everyone fooled into thinking he's trying to protect the city, but it's clear he's just trying to protect his own tail. Maybe if Chief Bogo were still-"

"That's it!" Judy exclaimed, ears twitching even taller. "We can get Bogo's help!"

"I dunno, Carrots," Nick scratched at his beard. "He's not exactly open to new ideas. It'll take a lot to convince him of all this."

"We'll bring him here, and tell him everything! He may not be on the force anymore either, but we could use his strength, and connections!"

"Whatever the case," Neil interjected, closing his laptop and hopping out of his chair. "We'll need more help if we're planning to end this with Clovestone in cuffs, and Bradley out of office. Both are literally the two most powerful mammals in Zootopia right now. First things first, we need to build a stronger case. And that means more evidence. Honey and I have been scraping as much data as we could from Clovestone Industries, and we have reason to believe that there's a backdoor in their system."

"A backdoor?" Judy asked curiously.

Neil rolled one wrist impatiently as he explained. "Yes, a backdoor: a hidden, digital entry point for the flow of information. We believe that someone left one in their code. Probably used for insider trading, and considering that it leads to the dark web, it's safe to assume it was used by the criminal underworld. We just need to figure out who used it. If we can exploit it the same way they did, we could have access to Clovestone Industries' entire network!"

"So how are you gonna track down this mystery criminal trader?" Samantha asked.

Both Honey and Neil looked to Nick, and although the former was her usual excitable self, the latter's face displayed a grim sort of wisdom. "What?" Nick raised his paws.

"Who else is a super powerful mammal in the city?" The badger teased rhetorically, wringing a pair of dog-tags dangling around her neck with one clawtip.

Neil exhaled softly through his nostrils. "We think the inside trader had ties to the criminal underworld. If we're gonna find them, we're gonna need the help of someone who knows the criminal underworld better than anyone. Someone with a lot of information, and a lot of power."

Nick was quick to catch on. He shook his head and made a time-out pose with both arms. "Whoa whoa whoa, slow your roll there. You can't be suggesting what I think you're suggesting. You want us to go buddy up to a crime-lord? To Mr. Big, or Flappy-Bat? Not gonna happen." He crossed his arms stubbornly. "One would kill me on sight, the other would probably kill Harlan on sight. It's not worth it."

"I can vouch for that," the wolf behind him added nervously.

The glint in Neil's glasses from the nearby computer monitors spooked Nick a bit more than it probably should have. But his coming words made it even worse.

"You're right, Nick. It's too risky to go to them. But whoever said anything about the current crime-lords? Why bother when there's several sitting in prison, perfectly able to interrogate safely... and one in particular that would no doubt take every opportunity he could to hurt the current prey establishment?"

Nick's heart sank, and his injured leg suddenly seemed to weigh ten times heavier, aching with painful remembrance. "No... no way. Not that crazy cat..."

"Sorry, Nick," Neil spoke, and this time, his tone seemed genuinely apologetic, if only mildly. "But we're gonna need help from the jaguar that broke your leg."

---

Dun dun dun! Pretty spot on with the quote at the top, huh? As I said last chapter: new alliances being formed! And we're only just getting started. I'm supremely excited for the remaining chapters, and have no doubt they'll be among the best, most impactful writing this story has seen yet! No spoilers, but the next chapter's title should be a hint: Chapter 20, "Bloodbound," will be arriving soon. Stay tuned! Credit to J_Shute_Norway for helping with the scenes involving Harlan and Mary. You can also expect some more When Night Falls fan art to be posted on my DeviantArt account soon, for those interested in seeing characters and scenes visualized.