'T' minus 148 minutes and counting...

Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde stood beneath the growing shadows of Grand Pangolin Arms, the block of flats where the rabbit lived. Before them, stood Officers McHorn and Delgato, their notepads at the ready as they scribbled down the last of the notes as Judy spoke:

"And then Nick and I came down for some food to help me recover after throwing up, and that's the whole story so far."

"So you haven't told the next of kin yet?"

"No, sir, that didn't seem wise until backup arrived."

"Okay," Delgato said, "we'll get Fangmeyer and Trunkaby onto that once we've finished looking around."

"I think the first thing to ascertain," McHorn said, "is when exactly the mammal died."

"He died sometime this morning," Nick said.

McHorn and Delgato turned to him, slowly. "We'll just let the coroner decide that, shall we Wilde."

"Well... if you don't think you can trust yourself to judge right," Nick said, shrugging.

A grim light lit up in Delgato's eyes; a light of realization suddenly appeared in Judy's.

"Wait," she said, "if you're all here, who's guarding the port?"

The rhino snorted. "This may surprise you, Hopps," he said, making the rabbit's eye twitch in frustration, "but round here, murder is considered to be a little more important than watching over some dock."

Nick glanced down at his short partner, looking for and spotting the frustrated twitch in her expression. Even after a year on the force, he thought, she still gets the piss taken out of her. He turned back to the rhino. "I doesn't surprise us," he said, flatly, "it's just we assumed two experienced officers such as yourself could manage here without the help of two other officers to boot."

"Bogo assigned the four of us to investigate," McHorn shot back, "it wasn't our decision, just what the Chief thought necessary."

"Ooh," Nick said, now allowing sarcasm to enter his words, "so the Chief assigned four of you? Well, that's intrusting. Funny how he feels like he needs the four of you just to check out a corps - unlike, say, Hopps and myself - who he's entrusted with breaking into a criminal hideout all on our own..."

The two larger mammals shared a glance. "The old harbourmaster's on the lookout anyway," Delgato said, knowing Nick well enough to realize that trading comebacks would only make him look the fool.

"Not that that old creep'll be much use of trouble comes," McHorn added, chuckling.

"How do you mean?" Hopps said.

"What is he," Delgato said, "seventy? Eighty something? Hardly what you'd call ship shape anymore, no matter what his job is."

"Are you kidding me?" Nick said, incredulously, "that guys sharper than a Gieves & Hawkes suit and hardier than a killer whale."

"That old timer? Nah, he's way past his sell-by date."

"Alright," Nick said, "if that's what you want to think."

"It's not what I think," Wilde, "it's what I know. Now, the rundown, and make it quick."

"Well," Hopps said, stepping forwards, "while there's no real concrete evidence at this time, there are definitely a few oddities."

"Such as?" McHorn said, uninterestedly.

"Well," Hopps said, "when we first went up, Nick – I mean, Officer Wilde – spotted that the door had been broken open rather than smashed. But the victim is related to the landlady and would have been able to access the keys, giving rise to the question as to why he bothered breaking in rather than just unlocking the door."

The larger Officers were silent for a moment. "What, that's it?"

"Isn't that enough? It doesn't make sense!"

"So you're saying what, this was a direct attempt on your life?"

"Possibly, yeah! If he really break in this morning, that means I would've been there when he came if I hadn't spent the night in Nick's bed."

"…in Wilde's bed?" McHorn repeated.

"Oh, erm, did I… did I say bed just then? I meant, erh, bench. Yeah, he has a bench in his living room, I slept on that. Not in his bed."

"Wait!" Hopps called, "There's more!"

"I'm sure if there's anything to find," McHorn called back, "we'll find it, Hopps. You may be Bogo's favourite," he muttered to himself, "but you're not the only Officer on the force, bunny."

"Just one more thing," Nick called to the Officers' backs, "just promise me you'll at least tell Bogo that Hopps and I think it could be something out. Promise me you'll just tell him!"

"Sure, Wilde," Delgato called back, "whatever you say."

The two larger mammals paced chuckling up the last few steps, pulled open the door, and disappeared inside.

"...bastards."

Nick turned with a slight chuckle to the rabbit. "Hey," he said, "watch the language, Cottontail."

"They just are though," she shot, her voice quiet but low, her paws clenched in a fist.

"Arh, they're just jealous," he said, soothingly slipping his hand around one of Judy's tight paws.

"Yeah," Judy said, softer, her clenched paws slackening as she moved to hold the fox's paw in her's, "I just hope they're open to the idea. Even I wasn't open to it until you pretty much forced me to be."

"Yeah..." he sighed... "me too."

"Hey, what's the matter?"

"I still feel edgy about this whole thing. I can't help but think you should be in protective custody or something."

"Come on, Nick," Hopps said, "we're cops. This is what we do. If we ran for cover and hid every time we faced a little danger, we'd never have got this far as Officers, let alone a team."

"But the plan I have... it should work fine if we pull it off, but it doesn't exactly free us from danger."

"So... what is this plan of yours, anyway?"

"I still haven't got all the kinks worked out yet..." Nick turned down the small form of the rabbit... "but I'm sure we can figure it out. For now, let's just get to the cruiser; I'll explain on the drive over."

...

Inside the head office of the ZPD HQ, Chief Bogo sat smartly before his large desk, gazing down at the schematics of a building, drawing arrows and circles on the sheet with a red marker pen as he planned out various tactics.

He sat back from map, slowly, as he took in his current plan of action. After a moment, he grunted, picked up the page, screwed it up, and tossed in into a bin heaped with screwed up paper.

Sitting forwards, the Chief buzzed the intercom. "Clawhauser, another blueprint, now."

"A - another? That's gonna be your thirtieth sheet!"

"Don't worry," Bogo grunted, sarcastically, "the Mayor has given the ZPD a very generous budget since we saved his career… and the city, though we all know that was of secondary importance to him."

"It's not the budget, sir, it's the wood!"

"The wood?"

"The poor wood getting thrown away."

"…Claw, the wood does not have feelings. Nor do they have a union, so they can't go on strike."

"Sir, I'm a member of the Royal National Tree Preservation Society, sir," Clawhauser said, firmly, "and I will not stand idle while five thousand miles of raw forest land is dug up and harvested each day. This paper stands for our roots, and we must all fight together to protect it!"

Bogo stared blankly at the intercom for a long moment... then his shoulders slumped, and the buffalo raised a hoof and started rubbing his eyes. "Then how about this," he said, softly, "for every piece of paper I use, I'll plant three trees somewhere."

"Oh... okay, sir, I'll be right over."

"Good. Glad to hear it." Then Bogo exploded into shouting. "Because for every second I wait, I burn down three thousand miles of forest, with non-renewable fuel sources!"

The next sound Bogo heard over the intercom was the sound of Clawhauser's chair spinning from where he had leapt off in his haste to get to the printers.

The intercom buzzed; Bogo pressed answer with a hoof.

"What!?"

"Bogo, sir?"

"Yes."

"This is Officer McHorn, reporting from the fatality at-"

"I know where you are. What have you found?"

"Nothing we didn't expect to see."

"Have you informed the auntie yet?"

"Fangmeyer is attending to Dhirma as we speak, sir."

"How has she taken it?"

"She was in denial to start with, and then she started to break down into tears."

"Do they ever do anything else?" Bogo muttered.

"No, sir."

The Chief smiled, grimly. "Alright, so what about this corps?"

"Overdose, sir, clear as day. Judging by the rigor mortis, I would estimate he broke in and died sometime this morning. Clearly, he was trying to get out of the public eye while he indulged in his addiction."

"Officer McHorn," Bogo said, "is there any indication at all this might be murder?"

On the other side of the receiver, McHorn smiled. "No, sir... none at all."

"You're quite sure?"

"There is no doubt in my mind, sir."

"But if he broke in early that morning, surely Officer Hopps would have been there when he came?"

"No, sir, apparently she was sleeping around-"

"Wilde's. Yes, I know. But the armadillo who broke in didn't know. For all he knew, she would have been asleep in the bed. Is this not so?"

"I, erm… clearly he must have come in later than that."

"And what of Hopps and Wilde? Do they concur?"

There was an instant of silence. "There is no doubt in my mind... sir."

Bogo stared for a long moment at the receiver, a warning sign flagging up in his mind - something he had learnt in his days as a detective, long before he'd become Chief of the ZPD.

"Good to know," Bogo said at last, his voice perfectly natural, "for a while, I was worried the gang might have found out Hopps and Wilde were key players in this investigation and had tried to take care of them. I glad to hear you say this isn't the case. Good work, McHorn, I will certainly ensure it's clear in my report that it was you who assured me things were fine..."

"Thank you, sir," McHorn said gratefully, apparently missing the subtle threat in Bogo's words, "I'll certainly do my best to get-"

Bogo ended the call with a large hoof. He sat there for a long moment

"Hopps and Wilde?" he muttered, "'No doubt', my arse."

Leaning towards the phone, he entered a number swiftly and picked up the receiver. It rang twice, then was answered. "Jack, where are you?"

"I thought it best to pull back in my observations a little," came a smooth voice in reply, "I'm pulled up in the car just a few blocks up from Hopps' apartment."

"Okay, what's that music?"

"Erh, what music?"

"Are... are you at a lap dancing bar, Jack?"

"No, sir! They're, erm... it's just the music coming out of the car I'm stopped next to."

Bogo snorted. "Well," he said, tersely, "as soon as you've finished being parked next to a car playing 'The Striper', I want you back on Hopps' and Wilde's tales. Close pursuit."

"Close pursuit?" said Jack, "Why take that risk?"

"There's an inkling of doubt in my mind that this drug gang may have somehow discovered their close involvement in this case. If this is so, there may be attempts made on their lives, and I want you ready to step in and control the situation."

"Alright, what have you found to give you that doubt?"

"There's not the time for that now, Jack. The pare should be leaving for Erkin even as we speak."

"Just a sec', do I follow them inside Erkin?"

"That is what I am asking, yes."

"And what do I say if there is an attempt and they want an explanation as to why I'm there?"

Bogo chuckled, dryly. "We don't employ you to do all the thinking for you, Jack. You'll just have to come up with something on your own."

"Understood, sir, I'll be right on it."

"No rush, Jack, finish your drink first. Bloody Mary, is it?"

"Oh, thanks Cheif. Yeah, it's a nice... I mean, I only have a Bloody Mary because when you said Bloody Mary, I thought you meant it in the same way, like, as a teacher would use a golf ball to putt a, like, school book into an oven for the Mary Institude of Bloody... like, the Bloody Mary Celeste, or-"

Bogo smiled, delicately placing the phone back on the hook as Jack's attempted excuses continued.

...

Nick Wilde pulled the car smoothly around the bend as he drove the police cruiser gradually closer to the headquarters of Erkin Electrical Enterprises, driving on through the slowly growing shadows as the sun slowly edged down the towards the horizon.

In the passenger seat, Judy sighed heavily. "How much longer 'til we get there?" she asked, again."

"About five minutes."

"Okay."

"But we'll need a little time to dash into the clothes store, don't forget."

"Alright," Hopps said, breathing deeply, her nerves on edge, "okay, you confident it'll work?"

"It'll work just as well as any other plan. It's unlikely I know, but I've always found if you make yourself ludicrously oblivious - if you take it far enough - it comes back full circle, and people kinda stop believing you're doing what you cleanly actually are doing."

Judy sighed, her eyes fixed on the fox. "And you're sure you can keep them completely distracted?"

"Keeping mammals distracted," he said, smugly, "just so happens to be my number one forte, my little rabbit mine, as you well know."

Her gaze turning away, Judy gazed solemnly out of the window. "I just don't like that it's you who's in the firing line here."

"Hey, Carrots," Nick said, softly, "it's what we do. The important thing is... tell me, Fluff, what is it?"

The rabbit's gaze returned to the fox, seeing his free paw outstretched toward her. A small smile crossed her face, and then she took the fox's paw in her's. "...that we do it together."

...

Near the courtyard across from the genially lapping tide, the old and slanting shack of the Harbourmaster of the Zootopia docks coughed viciously as he puffed from his overfilled wooden pipe. Clearing his chest with a swing of brown ale from the bottle, the large, shaggy dog banged out his pipe on the sideboard.

"Cheap old Feneswalian tobacco," he muttered in a low growl, "load-a hogwash, that is, bor." The old dog broke out into inexplicable chuckling as he shuffled the few feet to the other side of the shack and fell back into his chair, ale in paw.

The inside of the dog's shack was hardly cosy and anything but roomy, yet the old shiphand had always felt somehow at home in this shabby little square of corrugated metal. The room was about the size of a small train carriage and would have been considered almost a mansion back home in Zistopia. There was no bed or toilet, just a worn felt armchair on one side, which was a faded green in colour with the stuffing falling out of the back, and an iron stove, which Shuck kept constantly lit from a small bucket of coal beside it, on the other.

There was a sturdy, metal door on one of the long sides of the room with a window a few feet beside it. The window was a single pain of glass, which had been smashed, but had been taped over with Ducktape to keep out the wind. Below the window was a spindly, four legged table. One of the legs was shorter than the others, and so had a lump of wood stuffed beneath it.

Shuck lent forwards to the table with an outstrhced paw and started searching for his cigarettes. The dog pushed a three day old news paper onto the floor, pushed aside his old oil lamp and pick up a small box from which he took a cigarette and put it to his mouth.

"Here's to the real stuff," he muttered to himself, lighting one in the oil lamp, "proper black cigarettes what these are, bor, of the fine-living Weston life livers of~" He continued speaking to himself in a low voice, his speech now incomprehensibly mumbled and slurred.

"Damn Officers," he muttered between swigs, "come down here, trapces about the place an' go buggering off leaving me to merself. Well sucks to the lotta dem! Hah, the mother-clinging comes from and... oh, what will we do with a drunken sailor, what will we do with a drunken sailor, what will we do with a drunken sailooor-."

Shuck's head shout around at the echo of a bottle tipping some distance away. The large dog stood slowly and creaked open the metal door, breathing the cold, lake air as he stepped from the slightly warmer interior, muttering softly under his breath. "...ear-I in the morning."

Outside, the air was crisp and cool, the shadows growing steadily lager as it began its decent through the air. The black dog ran his tongue over his barbed teeth. Something in the air wasn't right.

Stepping out into the harbour, the shaggy black hound started walking through the rows and rows of large shipping crates, beneath the low arches of cranes and among the rusted framework of the disused boatbuilders' yard his shack was lent up against.

Hearing a muffled sound behind him, Shuck turned, and came face-to-face, with a heavy piece of lead piping. "Arse fu-" And then the two of them made heavy contact with one another. And the body of the dog slumped like a sack of bricks to the floor.

The coyote gazed down at the unconscious figure of the mongrel. He was impressed, a strike like that would kill most mammals. He let the lead pipe drop to the floor, then turned and called out behind him.

"Hey, Gramps, come on out."

The figure of a billy goat approached slowly. "Is it done?"

"Yeah, course it's done."

The goat spotted the dog on the floor, jolting back at his bloodied muzzle. "My God, George, look what you did!"

"What? He won't wake up for a good few hours."

"But look what you did!"

"Nyilas, just shut up! And keep this gun trained on him, just in case he wakes up early."

"Where are you going?"

"To signal the boat to come into port."

"It isn't dark yet, what about the police?"

"You see any police around here?"

"But where do you think they went?"

"No idea, but they seemed to be in a big hurry."

"Are they coming back?"

"Who cares? With them out of the way, we can begin operations early."

"Do you have the Lord's permission?"

"I don't need anyones permission!" This is my job, and I'm gonna do it my way."