Chapter Thirty-One

Cometh Dawn: Cometh Dusk

From behind the tall mountain peaks which surrounded the city with a wall of tall, jutting stones: The sun had finally risen. The beams of gold shone down — through the picket of jagged rock — and upon the pure blue lake and the luscious green earth surrounding. Obliterating all retirements of cloud, the sunlight greeted all the cityscape of Zootopia in glorious rays of hope, its polished glass and gleaming metal shining like flawless crystals of most precious qualities.

The cold and stillness of night broken, the city was reborn in the flame of a star.

The warmth of day shone — stimulating the growth of trees and the movement of late-rising mammals — spreading its glory all through the metropolis, across all the streets and buildings, and in through the upper floor's windowpane of a plainly decorated, rectangular room. Within sat three occupants. One: a large black dog with shaggy, thick fur and a glass eye. He sat with a hunch upon a chair, his only real eye glinting almost red in the fresh sunlight, as he looked upon the two before him — far smaller mammals — who shared a single chair, on which they were actually standing on, rather than vice versa. One of them, the rabbit, spoke.

"So, Mister Black," she said, while making ready to fill out a witness form, "if you would be so good as to just answer some questions for the paperwork, we can make a start looking into this case. Your first name, please?"

"Shuck. Shuck Black, but most people know me by Black Shuck. And your names, Officers?"

"I'm Officer Hopps," she returned politely, "and this, is Officer Wilde."

The back dog sat forwards upon the desk. "Wait, Hopps, Wilde... you the officers assigned to this case?"

"Yes," Nick answered, doing the same as Shuck in slight aggravation, already guessing his response, "is that a problem?"

"Thought little mammals were used to fill out paperwork. Don't the ZPD have anyone bigger who can handle this?"

"Sir," Judy took the word, her voice strained a little, but still polite, "Wilde and myself are more than capable of investigating whatever requires our attention."

"Officer Hopps is right," Nick continued with formal diligence, "our rate of success easily matches all those of our fellow officers, even the biggest ones."

"Well I don't doubt you— I mean, you're a fox, you can cheat your way out of anywhere— but this rabbit—"

"Mister Black," Nick cut in, allowing his rising temper to show through just a little, "would you mind refraining from directing offensive and speciest comments towards my partner, and just telling us what you came here to say? We have a great many things to be getting along with, and would prefer it if you could tell us what you know." The harbormaster met Nick's glare steadily for a moment.

Perhaps… He decided that they will assign real officers to him once they were satisfied that he was not just wasting their time. Then, he leaned back in his seat and uttered, "So, what can I tell you in aid of this investigation of yours?"

"Well, Mister Black," Nick answered, "first, I would be interested in some more details about yourself. For one thing: I notice your accent. You're not from around here, are you?"

"Not originally, no," Shuck said through a scratch under his neck, "I was born and bred in— well… Zootopia's twin, you might say."

"You mean you're from—"

"Yes," Shuck slashed instantly to the surprise of the fox officer.

"Oh… I see."

"When I was sixteen, I lied about my age and joined the Merchant Navy. By the time I was seventeen, I'd circled the earth. I had to get away from... there— I didn't have a future in that place… and I'm certainly not going back. So when I got too old for sailin', I settled down here in Zootopia's docks, working night watch to keep meself busy."

"So," Nick asked, "what's living in Zi—" Shuck's warning gaze held his, yet the fox didn't visibly falter other than a restructure or expression, "What's living in... that place really like? I've heard a lot of rumours about it, but I thought that was all just myth."

Shuck sighed longly, leaning back from the beam of light entering through the window, and into slight shade: his black fur and coat hiding his form, only a single-soot eye glinting. "Let's just say there ain't many living there who can make something of 'emselves — any attempt to better yourself is trod down — and leaving that place when I could was the best decision I ever made."

"How bad is it," Nick asked, his voice low, "really?" Judy glanced between Nick and Shuck as the fox's focus held the dog's. She wouldn't admit it in front of Shuck, but this was going over her head — she knew what Zootopia's twin city was, certainly — but, as far as she knew, that was a lovely place to live at, by all accounts.

Shuck broke the dance of drills and looked off, breaking the standoff. "I didn't come here to discuss me past, Officer Wilde. I came here to warn ya about the drug shipment."

There was silence. The rabbit sought for Nick's guidance, and he nodded to her to show that he was finished with his line of questioning. Then, Judy sat back in the mutual chair, her arms folding across her chest. "You can start," she acknowledged, "by giving us a rundown of what happened at the harbor last night."

The dog looked from one to the other slowly, almost as if trying to show his disbelief. He was a traditional sort of mammal — brought up on little more than chores and 'healthy beatings' like all children once were, back in the good old days — and he simply didn't have it in him to believe these... small, animals had it in them to operate efficiently in situations like this. These were, however, the officers who had been assigned to him. "Very well," he decided, "I am ready to tell you what I know on the matter."

Judy smiled to the success, and Shuck began his recollection on the past-night's activities, "It was just past eleven o'clock — or thereabouts anyway — and my shift on night watch had just begun..." The harbormaster spoke on. His story opened at the very beginning, continued until it came to the end, and then stopped like soothing wind, as all good stories must, while the blue-gray and red mammals impatiently awaited for more to sprout from his mouth, yet to no avail…

...

The sun chortled on through many a window, behind each of which was a story unfurling. Some mundane and common, others bizarre and unexpected. Some were totally independent, playing out as they would, regardless of all alternative events around. Others were different. Other stories were so tightly bound to the tales of other creatures that one simple difference in what happened, and how they behaved, had the ability to utterly sway anyone with a focused ear.

One such story, which the all-seeing light of sun was gazing upon, was playing out but-one-floor below where Judy and Nick dwelt. Had the fox and the rabbit had been more careful with their newfound status, had they had been less forthcoming with the information they had found, had Nick had been unable to accept Judy into his life: then the conversation playing out between buck and buffalo might've been quite different — or, not happening at all.

Chief Bogo flipped the blinds closed, and the sunlight, which had been so sweetly touching upon the room, turned from a square of luminescence, to but-a-few dozen and narrow strips, which lain thin and stretched across the stark table and plain floor of the small interrogation room that the cape buffalo now gave aura to with his presence. He sat down at the table again, staring blankly at the space in front of him, while the gray, black-striped rabbit continued reading out-loud to Bogo from Judy's notes. Bogo leaned closer and rested his head on his chin in thought.

Jack knew, however, his thoughts were not on the matter at paw. "Sir? Sir, are you paying attention?" Bogo didn't react. Jack shut the rabbit-sized book, with a small thump, which was enough to yank the buffalo from his trance.

"Yes, Agent Savage?" he started, quickly, as if burned by fire's tongue.

"You don't seem quite yourself, Sir. Your mind is somewhere else. Would I be mistaken — I ask you — in suggesting your mind is preoccupied by Wilde and Hopps' romantic involvement?" Bogo snapped up at the clock on the wall, using that as an excuse not to look the rabbit in the analytical eye.

"Let me give you a hint," Jack added, "I'm not mistaken."

The buffalo's eyes moved and dared to express themselves at Jack. He was right. Of course he was right, damn it. Sitting back a little, Bogo rubbed his forehead as he surrendered, "I don't know what to think, Savage. This... thing between Officers Hopps and Wilde: Is it natural? Is it right?"

Savage leaned back in his ow seat, crossing his arms as he considered aloud, "Is it natural? No, not at all. Not it any way, shape or form is it natural for a rabbit to be romantically involved with a fox... but, is it right?" he continued, brushing off the apathy from his face in the replacement of a tug of frown, "well, that's a different question entirely."

"You're saying you agree with their pairing?"

"On paper, no. In the sight or reality... yes." Jack then just shrugged, arms still crossed. "But what do I know? I'm a spy, not a marriage counselor. But so long as they're happy with each other, I say, who gives a toss? It's just love, unlikely pairs have fallen in love before."

"Yes, but those 'pairs' tend to be different in social standings, not different in species or — while we're on the matter — different food groups."

"They are happy," Jack repeated, then simply opened up Judy's notebook and started flicking back through the pages. "Sir, just look at all these drawings Officer Hopps has made over the year. That's not something you do unless you're very much 'into' someone." Bogo raised an eyebrow. Jack hadn't even battered an eyelid, when he had first seen the drawings, thus the Chief just assumed he hadn't noticed them. But then again, Savage rarely battered an eyelid, no matter how surprising something would be... and there was also the fact that… Savage noticed everything.

"Clearly," the rabbit continued, "Officer Hopps has been romantically interested in Wilde — whether she knew it or not — for a long time. Actually, I'd have to say," he included through a pause, flicking to the first page, "since within a week of meeting him… interestingly."

A small smiled played on Bogo's face. He had always known the two of them were interested with one another. It wasn't that he didn't like the fact they were different species — that wasn't really the problem. He trailed his eyes elsewhere and exhaustive-sighed as he spoke, "It all comes down to Wilde's part in this. My minds running like a gyroscope at the moment. One half of my head is incredulous he's as clean as a freshly scrubbed bathtub, and the other half insists he's in it up to his neck." His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in the struggle of finding a decision between the two.

"And then the first half accuses the second half of being speciest, and the second half calls the first ignorant. The accusations get louder in volume. Then, the two halves get into a row and start shouting at each other. It reminds me," he groaned, bitterly, "it reminds me of my ex-wife." Bogo chuckled, dryly, then continued, "When I first saw Wilde, I was about ready to rip him apart for — as I thought at the time — taking advantage of one of my officers. Now, this anger wasn't because he was a fox and Hopps a rabbit, but because I believed, with every fiber of my spirit, he was criminally involved and that it is my duty to protect my officers from that kind of harm."

"But then the part of me that thinks him innocent kicked in, and seconds later, I was telling myself that there was no proof and that he was innocent in it all. I can't make up my mind, and so my mind makes it up for me. The problem is, it can never agree for more than a few minutes at a time, and it changes its mind continuously."

"So it's a matter," Jack asserted, "not of their species, which concerns you, but of Wilde's questionable lawfulness?"

"Savage," Bogo breathed, flatly, "if you can convince me Wilde is innocent as I hope he is, I will have nothing whatsoever against him and Officer Hopps becoming romantically involved — so long as they get their work done, that is. But, up until that time, it is nothing less than my duty to take precautionary steps to protect my officers from potential threats."

Savage smiled. He rested his clasped paws on the table and inched closer. "Let us, therefore, examine what we already know, Sir, and do that which we can to draw this investigation to an end." Bogo nodded. If he had heard of Wilde and Hopps bonding in that way all but a week ago, he would have been happy to hear it — more like delighted — but now, with an unsolved murder on his hoofs, literally a heap of illegal drugs on his doorstep and with Wilde apparently the only suspect as the owner of the murder weapon... he had no choice but to be mistrustful.

"It will not be long now — the ending," Bogo said, grimly. "We know the crime, we know the cause, we know where at least one of their bases of operation are set up, and once we locate Nyilas, we'll have the whole operation shut down." He grinned. "I feel the drawstring pulling the net tight around those who would do this city harm. The ending," he repeated, "will not, be long, now."

A dry voice cut into his assurance, "I would not be so sure, Sir," Jack intervened with a slash onto the Chief's confidence, "this operation seems far too large for only one mammal to manage, and I suspect there is more than just Nyilas at the top. And remember, we may know the drugs come into Zootopia through the docks, but, from where are they grown? No, Sir, it is my belief that this story... may be far from over."

"A chilling thought, Savage," the Chief muttered in dejected spirit, "one which I hope holds no greater baring than mere hearsay."

"To whatever end, Sir. To whatever end."

...

In another place — far from the city of Zootopia and from the heat and light of the rising sun — a gray figure stood in the darkness, silhouetted against the dusty horizon, while the very last drip of sunlight vanished into crawling night. The air close to the ground shimmered with heat, but the desert sands cooled swiftly after sundown, and already a chill wind was rising, driving away the hot, muggy air that hung about the city during the usual of day.

The streets were mostly empty, the last of the public rushing to their homes before the biting chill of night would finally set in.

This was the twin city to Zootopia: where the streets were narrow and paved with nothing but dust and muck, where the hours were long and the pay meager, where cubs as young as six worked long hours to buy their bread, where families had a choice between keeping fed and keeping warm, where an honest mammle would suffer great loss for his decency, and yet a liar and a cheat could pave their way in gold.

Zistopia.

Where the crows fed on the corpses of those who had starved to death, and the living ate of whatever they could find — bugs, arachnids, birds and remains better left unspecified — there were no prey mammals here. All had... 'disappeared' many years ago.

A single long road led up to Zistopia, a great long and narrow road, which dipped and twisted like an empty wasteland through the endless dunes of the desert's sands. The city itself was mostly shacks and small huts, built from drystone or corrugated metal. Simple buildings. Simple, squalid buildings, which neither kept their occupants cool during the day, nor retained any amount of heat overnight. The only source of water or proper food, within over a thousand miles around, was circle of green oasis in its center, around which, was built a wall of shimmering, white marble: thick and tall. It was defended day and night by armed guards, who jealously protected the only greenery in the whole desert from the commoners, who would only receive miserable rations for all their hard labor.

The city of Zistopia may've been as vast as Zootopia, but it was anything but 'great', for the only structure of any magnificence was to be found in the center, towering imperiously over all else, unequaled by any structure, by mammle or God. In the center of the endless desert, amidst a wide city of squalid huts, within the confines of a white, marble wall and surrounded by the only luscious earth around — stood the Lord's Royal Tower.

Rising avarice-high-stories above every other structure in the city, the Lord's Royal Tower was all paw-carved from a single piece of great, black marble. A single stake — a boundless black nail — hammered into the heart of the earth, the tower's looming arrogance and broadness was a humbling and fear-inspiring sight to all whose eyes would be drawn to its terrific and intimidating design, yet luxurious and somehow appealing, nevertheless.

Within this sharp piece of jutting rock was to be found great treasure, and — so the rumours spread — some very inventive torture chambers... of course, none of this could be proved... and as far as the rest of the world knew, Zistopia was a just fine place to live — thanks to some very careful propaganda on The Lord's part.

Oh yes... a Lord. Zistopia had no simple mayor to tend to its needs, it had a lord. One-third up this towering spike of black upon the earth, was a balcony cut into the rock. The gray figure inhaled the crisp air, gazing slowly around all that he might, his breath leaving his lips through vapor to the cooling air.

An ear twitched. Sharp, intelligent eyes picked up change in the empty streets, the figure's focus was drawn downwards towards the earth, to one of the more squalid parts of the city. Movement. A chase. A small bear-cub of no more than twelve was fleeing through the narrow streets of the squalor below. In his paw was clutched an apple, and chasing behind, two palace guards. From his vantage point above, He saw the bear-cub leap and climb a low brick wall, left into another thin street, and right into an alley. The cub was, admittedly, doing rather well... but the chase for the stolen apple would be over soon... and the punishment dealt.

The sight didn't interest Him. One could see that kind of thing thirty times a day in this city.

No, of all the views and luxuries that surrounded him, the gray figure found more interest in the parapet of his balcony. He rubbed a padded paw across its time-smoothed sides, which were made from the same single stone as the rest of the unique black rock, it was finely and ornately carved, thus why he liked this tower a great deal. In daylight hours — with the hot sun shining upon the nigh endless miles of sand — the dark stone glinted and sparkled like the white surf of the sea — but come nightfall, it'd fade again to be as inkish as the distant-deep night sky, blending seamlessly with the enveloping shadows, with a cloak of invisibility to the outside observer.

Bold when in daylight, nonchalant in shadow. This is how He lived his life.

With a start, he moved and turned from the sight to return to the inside of his dwelling. He did this in one part because of the sharpness of the wind, which was now beginning to pick up... and because the child was now screaming in agony, one of his paws now cut off for theft by the palace guards who had audibly caught him. The city had been better once — free of poverty and death — but that had all changed since He had come into power. They once had operated with mayors too, but He had soon seen to that.

People had disagreed with His self-proclaimed 'Lordship' to start with, but such people often wound up in some kind of hideous accident and, over the years, the public had learned it was simply best not to argue... for their life's sake. And now, He was allowed to drain every penny he could from the city and into his own paws. With the avarice flowing with roots of decay, so did the city wither and die. Though it was not out of mere greed or spite he wished to disembowel the city, no. His goal was far... greater.

This land was all dust and sand. This land was infertile. This land was frost at night and stifling in the day. And this land was mocked by its better-off twin. This land — His land — was ever in the shadow of a better, greater city... and He would never be content, until he called the city of Zootopia his own.

He paced soundlessly across the polished floor towards a mahogany chair and sat back into it easily. He sat forwards upon the table and pulled a heavy, black rotary-dial telephone over towards himself, from which he picked up the bakelite receiver, and spoke.

"Secretary Appleby, get in touch with my contacts in Zootopia, get Nyilas on the phone." His voice was soft and smooth as silk — the kind of voice you could become lost in — with a musical quality and a lightness that made his speech a joy to listen to... and all but impossible to try to disobey.

"And run me a bath," he continued, raising his feet leisurely onto the expensive desk of power, "I need to scrub myself from the filth of this city."

…

Author's notes:

Hesitance jumps around your mind,

Grooms decision thus chosen blind.

Your thoughts most succulent of snack,

All delivered by luscious feedback.

So don't hide like a tiny shrew,

Thus share that belovable review!

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