Chapter Eighty-Five
Formal Diligence

Three great, black vans drove through the streets of Zootopia — as slow as silence, ominous as a storm and as final as a hearse. The glass was tinted black and bulletproof. The wheels were reinforced and with enough tread to traverse a frozen lake. The long, tall containers they carried on their backs were polished to a fine shine, and black all over, but for a thin band of gold at the top and the bottom; and the insignia, the coat of arms of Blackheath prison on their sides.

The insignia was of strong and stark design. Upon a loud, white circle, 'ZZ' was written in sharp, black lettering — striking and imposing and imperious. The size and boldness
of the motif, its monochromatic simplicity, instantly caught and held the gaze and the attention of all who would glance upon it.

The officers of the ZPD stood silently to attention, Chief Bogo waiting with his arms crossed and his muzzle in a grimace as he fretted. A moment of static passed on his radio, and then an almost robotically cold and professional male's voice spoke out: "Zulu Papa Delta, this is Bravo Hotel Papa armored convoy, we are inbound, two minutes ETA."

"Contact received," spoke Bogo, radio to his lips. "We're ready for you, Blackheath."

"Sir, yes Sir." The Chief turned towards one of the officers and whistled sharply. The officer glanced momentarily towards his chief, and then pressed a button in the small control room the officer resided within, activating the front gate into the ZPD car park; raising it slowly into the air.

Clearing his throat, Bogo stood a little more to attention. A low rumbling grew in the ears of the surrounding officers. A few moments later, the tops of large, black boxes appeared into view over the wall of the car park. The officers watched, their bodies motionless as those large, black trucks pushed their way imperiously to a stop inside.

Bogo bit down on his lip, waving a finger towards the officer in the control booth who lowered the outer gates down again. "Chief Bogo," called a mammal — an aging, yet elegant red deer — as she climbed down from the side of the front-most of the vans.

"Miss Wright. So happy to see you. What brings you to our humble police station?"

"This was all explained in my brief, Harold," she said in her dry, rollingly elegant voice. "But for the sake of your memory, and by excuse of the fact your attention may well be elsewhere at this present moment, I will give you the liberty of repeating that I am here owing to consigns around the procedures that entailed last night's attack on Miss Judith Laverne Hopps."

"Yes, Director Wright, I am aware of who was attacked. I was just wondering why you're here so quick. The official report hasn't even been filed yet; I'm surprised you—"

Stopping, the deer turned upon the larger mammal, swiftly. "Bogo dear chap," she said, kindly, "I am Surveyor Director for the Department of State Security. Of course I know! Zootopia is the wealthiest, most prosperous city in all of Zoophon, and we're not having you making an arse of it."

"Miss Wright—"

"We will discuss this further in your office, Harold," she cut in with her large, sweeping voice, raising a hoof and touching her brass and ruby necklace. "I will be expecting full documentation on all movements and activities of all officers in the past forty-eight hours."

"Yes, Director Wright."

"I'll also expect to see your warrant application," she added lightly, pacing away. "I'm intrigued as to how you attained enough evidence on the establishment Erkin Electrical Enterprises to have a warrant justified."

"Urhmm."

"Is there a problem?" she stated.

"Nh— no, Director Wright."

"I sincerely hope not."

"I'm sure you will find everything perfectly in order. Was there anything else you needed?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. A glass of lavender tea, if you would be so kind."

"Erm. Lavender?" Without turning, the red deer slipped her red satin hoofbag from her shoulder and thrust it into Bogo's hooves, leaving him fumbling to catch hold of it as she marched directly into the ZPD, moving sharply towards the front desk where the receptionist stood in polite smiles.

"Good mor—"

"Surveyor Director Evie Wright of the Department of State Security, here to investigate consigns about the actions, failures and possible shortcomings of the chief of police. My badge, my identification and letter of governmental approval for legal access to all files, witnesses, staff, crime scenes and records without reactivation for the duration of my investigation and assessment are in my bag. The Chief will sign me in, I have other things to be doing. Good morning."

She marched away as quickly as she had come, her blue, silk dress-jacket shimmering in the light as she went off through the corridors with more sense of purpose and vocation than a steam train following its pre-determined rails.

"Miss Wright?" Bogo called down the corridor as she disappeared.

"Make on with your duties, Harold. I'll show myself around."

The Chief gritted his teeth. He had to get Finnick out, but how to do so now when his every move was going to be noticed, recorded, timed, dated, filed and cross examined...? "One more day," he sighed. "Just one more day and it all would've been—"

"Sir?"

The Chief smoldered at the receptionist. "Why don't you clean something? We're under inspection for fuck sake."

"Urh, yes, Sir!"

"And get in touch with someone down at the crime scene at the docks."

"At once, Sir."

"There'll be a small box in the back of Ja— in the back of the black car at the front gate. It'll most likely be open and empty on the back passenger seat. There'll be a twelve-digit code written on a slip of card attached to the inside of the lid. Find out what that number is and get it to me A-Sap."

...

"And just raise your other arm for me, please?" The hare noted something down. "Good. Now, I need to listen to your heartbeat. I have a stethoscope here; I'm going to place it against your chest but it might feel cold to start with. Okay?"

Judy nodded, her movements slow and weak. Flo put the earpieces of the stethoscope into her ears and put the other end against the rabbit's chest, looking down upon the watch, which was a part of the nurse uniform, and counting heartbeats under her breath.

"Just one final test," she added, taking up a small, cloths-peg-like device from a stainless steel table, taking Judy's good paw and attaching it to the end of one of her fingers. "This is going to take your blood pressure, Miss Hopps. We need to find out if a blood transfusion will be necessary or if your body has started regenerating its lost blood."

"Okay. Th— thank you."

A few moments later, Nurse Flo took the pulse oximeter off Judy's finger, penning down more notes on her clipboard before tucking it under her arm, and looked back towards the rabbit, a reassuring smile on her face.

"Excellent. It's early days and, naturally, you're a long way from recovering either fully or enough to leave this hospital, but all the early signals indicate an early recovery. It's her advanced metabolism," she added, turning to Nick. "It allows her body to work and repair itself much faster than the average person. I estimate… loosely, and barring any exceptional circumstances or further complications that we'll be able to let her out from here in a few months."

"Complications?" said Nick. "Like what?"

Flo glanced down to the rabbit, looking back towards Nick and nodding at the door, walking away and allowing Nick to follow until they were some distance away. "Her broken wrist should recover fine, her cuts and bruises are painful but of no real threat. The real consign is the trauma to her head: both physical and psychological. She was attacked very viciously. That will take a long time to recover from, if she does, and the psychological stresses can severely disrupt other bodily functions and negatively affect her recovery."

"Wait, she's not getting any counseling for it?"

"Of course, Nick, but counseling is only the foundation for psychological recovery: an hour or two of what is an all-consuming process. In earnestness, we need to get her out of here as soon as she's recovered enough to do so. If she has a family or a place she used to live: anywhere she has strong, happy memories. It is imperative that either you or someone close to her takes her and allows her to spend the remainder of her recovery time there."

"Okay. Okay, I know where she can go. I'll take her down to the Hopps Farm and see if her family will take care of her for a while. That'd probably be the best idea."

Flo nodded. "Just be aware, there is a small chance she may regress back to her childhood. It isn't a large risk, but if she has everything done for her like a kid, she might start thinking that she is one."

"Heck. Really?"

"A small chance, as I said. So long as you make sure she takes care of herself as much as she is physically able to, there won't be a problem in that particular area."

A few slow moments passed of the fox's gaze lowering to the floor. Aware, always, that her time was valuable and overpacked with tasks, Nurse Flo cleared her throat softly and said, "I'll be checking in on her as often as I'm able. You're free to leave this hospital if you wish. Remaining here is an option as well."

"Erm... thanks, Nurse. Thanks."

"Since Miss Hopps is no longer in a critical condition, I'm obliged to inform the reception that she's now open to visitors. You're welcome to stay for now. I'll be back soon."

The fox watched the hare as she went, his ear twitching at the click of the door moving into place. He turned back towards Judy as she lay on the bed, sighed softly and slipped his muzzle down into the space between her neck and shoulder.

...

At the edge of the Zootopia docks, a black car sat devoid of life outside the main gates. The seats were of a dark synthetic leather, the floor clean, the windows polished to a shine. A small black box laid on one of the back seats, made from brittle plastic with a large clip keeping it firmly closed.

Footsteps approached from outside the car. A paw reached out and tried the handle. The door pulled open on sturdy hinges, and the face of a tiger appeared at the back door, leaning down to look into the rabbit-sized car.

"Where are ya then you little— ah!" said Officer Jefferson, spying the black box and reaching out an arm into the car, thus, taking the handle of the box and pulling it out towards the door, where he stood with it in his paws until deciding to place it upon the roof of the car.

"Now then, now then, jigger-de-jig." He turned the box around, found the large latch and flipped the lid. His tongue peeking between his teeth as he scanned the contents of the box, the tiger found the twelve-digit code on the lid and grabbed his radio to his mouth with the words, "Hey, PD?"

"Officer Howlitz here. Is that you, Jefferson?"

"Yeah. I got that code the Chief wanted."

"Let me get a pen. Okay, read it out to me." The tiger read the number out to the wolf who scribbled down digit after digit onto a slip of paper. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. Yep. Okay. That all of it? Okay, thanks Jefferson. I'll send this right on over to the Chief."

"'K, pall," said the tiger as he leaned up against the low body of the car. "Better let him know ole Leo's found some interesting little details he wants to chew on Bogo's ear about. He's just finishing up the report now. Stubborn fool, gotta photograph every-damn-thing he sees. Back later."

...

With the unstopping fury of a brooding storm, two rabbits burst forth from the opening doors of the yellow train they had rode on. They barged past the nervous and far larger people, who were trying to escape the silent hotness of fear and tension the two small creatures had created. Finally they rushed with ferocious drive to the closest taxi, boarding via the open door that a luggage-laden ocelot had opened for himself, hence, leaving him shouting and shaking his fist as the now occupied taxi pulled away.

No words were spoken between the motherly doe and the tough buck; only tense glances of frustration and silent understanding upon the turn of events that had led them here today.

The cabby knew better than to try and make casual conversation; knew better than to take the rabbits on a round-about tour of the city to bump up his fee; thus, made swiftly and quietly with all possible haste towards their blurted destination.

...

A beige-gray mammle moved quietly down the long and busy corridors of Saint Bernard's Hospital. He padded his way along the shining, white walls and disinfected floors, until coming to a stop at a tall, bland door.

Inside, a rabbit lay sleeping deeply; a fox sat just beside her, looking down carefully, protectively with fondness aimed at her sleeping form.

The door opened a small crack, and the muzzle of the timber wolf appeared around the side. The door creaked as it opened, and at this sound the fox's ears pricked up, his head turning with a raised brow over his shoulder. "Wolfard?" he asked, his voice a mere mutter so as not to wake the sleeping rabbit beside him.

"Oh— oh, sorry, I'll—"

"No!" Nick nearly shouted, standing and making towards him. "No-no, stay, it's erh... it's good to see you. I heard you'd been shot at. How're you now?"

"Bruised, a little sore… But c'mon, it's not me who's needed surgery."

Both canidae turned together to face the slumbering rabbit behind them, Wolfard's paw raising slowly to his muzzle in sorrow for what he saw. "How is she?" he asked, his voice a whisper. "Will she— is she going to—"

"She'll recover. Eventually. I guess."

"She's got bandages around her head, is her mind all still..."

"I, erh— I think so, as far as we know. I mean, she's been awake, even spoke to me a couple of times, but, I don't know, it was like she was only half there. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I'm still just overjoyed she's alive," he added, flatly… "After what she's gone through, I shouldn't be surprised she's not acting herself."

Wolfard looked across at him unsurely, aware that it was Nick, just as much as Judy, who was not feeling himself. He reached out a paw slowly to the fox, touching his paw on his russet arm. "What about you, though?"

The fox turned up towards a little, his expression meeting blearily with the wolf's. "How am I? Heh..." his eyes falling closed, his gaze returned ahead of him... "I've made it through worse before. You already know about the— well, that I was involved in a raid before now, and not on the side of the cops."

Wolfard nodded. "You've been through a lot," he said. "Yeah, I can see that. Underneath your playfulness and your charm... there's a lot of darkness and heaviness under that." After several moments of silence, the wolf turned back towards the fox, finding him with his eyes still closed and his head lowered as though to gaze upon the floor.

Wolfard stepped closer, reaching a paw slowly out between them and carefully touching it upon Nick's back with a surprise at his reaction of — as though his body just partially collapsed into him — finding himself with a fox leaning his weight against him, his expression tight and his eyes closed.

It wasn't long until Nick pulled himself away and paced to gaze out of the window. He appreciated the steps that Jim had undertaken, as there was surprising comfort present in all that amidst the fact that his little bun lain sleeping beside him, her body healing and her heart undefiled. So Nick put his paw around Jim's neck to pull him closer into this feeling of peacefulness-new.

"Thanks, Wool," he muttered, softly, his gaze fixed on the view outside, on the apartments and businesses that ranged from the splendid to the squalid, the pure and the putrid, and all that nestled in between.

...

"Chief?" crackled Bogo's radio, the buffalo taking it from his belt and raising it to his ear. "Director Wright says she's ready to see you now."

A pang of anger flared up in the Chief's mind — the same anger a child who believes himself grown-up enough to be above the commands of their parents' wishes when told to go to bed — as he stated his reply, "Well I'm not ready for her. She wants documentation on all the movements of all staff in the past forty-eight hours? Give her to then. Starting from the toilet-cleaning staff, then moving to the janitors, Auxiliary officers, non-police-action officers, officers-in-training, Junior staff, staff who had no involvement in last night's case and, lastly, and be sure it's lastly, the officers who were involved in last night's raid."

"Yes, Sir. At once, Sir."

"Heh, and tell her I'll give her as much space as she needs to read through it all." Bogo flicked off the radio, grunting as he let his arm dangle by his side. "That'll keep that prying bitch quiet for a few hours." He turned back towards the doors to the prison, moving with a nod towards the officer, who was observing over the situation inside through the reinforced, glass window.

"Chief."

"Officer Gunnery. How've they been?"

"It's mostly been quiet all night, Sir. It started off looking like there might've been some trouble later on. A couple of rowdy offenders, you know. But then Shuck Black, the old dog, started spinning stories about his life and people he'd met, and they all settled down and seemed to even enjoy themselves."

"Good. Good. How long until Blackheath are ready to start moving prisoners?"

"They're just looking over the final paperwork now, that'll take about five minutes. After that is the line-up and inspection of the security guards involved in the transfer, that'll be twenty minutes. So, all in all, they'll be ready in five and twenty."

"Good. Yes, that is— that is good. I need to, further investigate a couple of the prisoners here just briefly for any further information."

"Before Blackheath takes them? I'm not sure, Sir. Without the proper authorization from the—"

"They are not Blackheath's prisoners yet, Officer Gunnery. I need no mammle's authority or authorization to question one of the prisoners held in my police department. Now bring Mister Black and Banes the fennec to interrogation room one, before, I give you the soul privilege of maintaining the toilets for the next week!"

The door handle nearly broke with the speed with which the officer made to follow the orders. Chief Bogo looked carefully over his shoulder in a check upon the shadows, his teeth biting down on his lip in concern. "Damn investigation. Damn bloody Evie Wright."

Author's notes:

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