Chapter Ninety-Four
And yet You Do Not Repent

Dawn was over, and the warmer, modestly pompous air of the day was edging to settle upon Zootopia's Precinct One. A black car pulled into the enclosed ZPD HQ car park from the road outside, the vehicle crawling to a standstill at a parking space marked 'Reserved: Chief Bogo'. The door opened with a cape buffalo stepping out, waiting a moment, as the fox in the passenger seat jumped out opposite him.

"Keep yourself out of the way, Wilde," mentioned the Chief, eyeing the entranceway from the main road carefully, while the car locked in sync. "I know you'll likely have something of a vendetta against this person… Believe me, I feel the same. But, his punishment will come in good time. We need to act with greatest care and seamless cooperation between our officers to—"

Bogo cut himself off at the shape of the ZPD van pulling into the vicinity. Grunting, the Chief scooted inside a small building, which was disconnected from the rest of the PD, interacted with the control panel inside, and the large, wide gates of the confined ZPD car park cogged firmly shut behind with an echoing clank. He wouldn't be able to stop the white fiend if it would manage to slip away, Bogo knew, but it was still better than inviting it to the keys of his pawcuffs and an alluringly opened perimeter door...

The van scrunched into motionlessness, the car which had followed behind unnoticed pulling up beside it. From the car stepped out five officers — the vehicle's suspension noticeably rising by several inches as their combined weight left it. From the van stepped two further, one of them a polar bear, who nodded at the Chief stoically as he marched towards her.

"Snarlov."

"Chief."

"Any trouble?"

"After waking up he tried a couple of times to break out of his pawcuffs, Sir. The, eh... electric shock seems to have successfully dissuaded him from trying again. Actually, he's been sitting completely silently in the back there ever since… almost enough to make me wonder if he's the same creature that managed to barrage his way through a shield wall of armored officers."

"We'll soon see what this thing has to tell us," the Chief grunted. "Open up the back!" The officers formed a semicircle around the rear of the van — Nick keeping some distance away, watching cautiously, aware the Chief had told him to keep quiet for a reason. When they prepared — prepared as best as possible to the unknown dangers — the Chief gave a nod, and Officer Higgins turned his key in the control panel of the driver's compartment, used a combination... and the back of the van slowly, shudderingly, lowered upon the cold-reflective concrete ground. Bogo stepped in power, glaring into the shadows inside.

"Get down," he demanded, his voice sharp and impatient, his police truncheon drawn from his duty belt. Nothing happened. Bogo inched another step, his voice cementing in authority, "I am Chief Bogo, topmost officer of the Zootopia Police Force. You have been ordered to get down, now!"

The disgruntled air of blackout blistered, yet there was an aura in the open city air, the one when the stalking danger was following your every twitch of move. A gray shape motioned among the shadows. It grew taller, climbing to its feet, it seemed, until it stood tall and imposing in intimidation, with its wide chest above the Chief's head height, looking down from its place atop in superiority to those below, despite the cuffed paws behind and fur splashed across with streaks of dark magenta.

"You have three seconds before I get angry," Bogo shouted, neither phased nor discomforted by the shape before him.

It seemed to consider this. The gray shape before him, the ambiguous outline of a head appeared to be looking down at its feet. It shuffled forth, a small clink emerging with metal hoops secured tight around its ankles. Sluggishly, evenly, the white-furred figure stepped into the light of the sun's rays.

It started with its legs, which were thick and tough, covered with a pair of thin trousers which didn't seem to sit naturally upon its body. Its chest was tapered, the shape of an hourglass, the lines of its defined, honed muscles clear upon the tight shirt above. The body was tall and wide, the shoulders attached to the paws secured behind its back: wide and sturdy as rock. There seemed not to be the slightest piece of unnecessary fat upon him, though the rippling of muscles tracing across his figure as he moved were a sure sign enough that his health was something none of them had to worry about.

Then, his face stepped into the vision-bright. He turned upwards, scorning upon his pawcuffed feet, his smooth, tapered muzzle levelling with the officers around him, his lowered lids opening upon the lightless, pale irises beneath. Every officer there stepped back, save for Bogo, whose expression merely turned from a grimace to a gaunt, thin-lipped gawk. It was his pupils they were all looking at, those dark, slit pupils which sat amid his dead face and level gaze. His figure slowly rose and fell as his large lungs filled and emptied with the warm, early afternoon air.

The figure jumped down from the van with delicacy and grace unbefitting his muscled structure, to which Bogo's scrutiny crashed to stare down upon the now-shorter albino wolf, while his soft, impassive pale voids flicked back upon the Chief's scornful ones. Bogo's grimace was of stone and cold command. He raised his truncheon to the wolf with caution, and genially prodded the creature in the chest, testing his build, not wholly surprised at the sensation of immovable weight he felt through his short experiment.

"Do you hear me?" No reaction of any kind. "Creature, do you hear me?" Seconds passed in blankness. Bogo's glare remained very closely fixed upon the wolf. Cuffed though he was, Bogo half turned to Snarlov, his eyes unmoving from the slit pupil before him. "Get him down to the cells, they should be empty by now. Don't take the cuffs off him: now, or ever."

"How many officers do you want standing guard over him?" Bogo's mouth gaped for a quick answer, but as he roamed the creature's body once more, he knew that no chances were a good idea to be taken.

"All of them," he sternly answered with a sneer, to which Snarlov's brows huddled together in dissonance.

"All of them?" Bogo didn't even look for her bemused reaction, while the distant sound of claws scraping on concrete filled the air from nearby.

"Until we can find some more convenient way of—"

"Chief Bogo! Chief Bogo, Sir?" interrupted a recognizable voice to which those scrapes had belonged.

"Speak, Howlitz," Bogo lisped impatiently, his voice heavy with irritation as he turned upon the charcoal-furred wolf panting towards him from the main building.

"It's Miss Director Wright, Sir. She says you're to come up to your office right away."

"You go and tell her," he stated, "that the chief of police is currently predisposed, dealing with an apparently 'savage' wolf."

"She, ehm... that is, with respect, Sir, she told me that you would say that, and that she said Snarlov and the others would be able to manage getting one lone, electrically cuffed mammle down a flight of stairs and into a room."

The Chief smoldered a moment before gesticulating irritatedly with his truncheon. "Get out of my sight." Howlitz recognized the danger signs, the warnings finally sinking into his less-than-perceptive mind, and scurried away from the Chief's brooding mass before he would have time to do more wrong.

"Don't worry, Chief," Snarlov reassured, her expression also locked upon the figure of white before them. "We can handle this one."

Bogo glanced upon the polar bear, his expression unnerved, while holding within his features, for a brief moment, all the uncertainty and anxiety he felt in his brooding, stoic heart. A smile cracked across the steel of his lips. He chuckled, softly, and put his hoof upon Snarlov's shoulder. "You're a good cop," he approved, warmly. "If the worst should come, when it comes... I know you'll do what I would've wanted.

Snarlov put her paw upon the Chief's own arm. They shared a moment of mutual assurance, the discomfort upon Bogo's expression having faded from his features; before, the buffalo pulled away from the bear, and turned upon the fox stood unobtrusively somewhere behind.

"Wilde, on me," he commanded, giving a final nod to the polar bear and a spiteful glance to the albino creature, who still held the same eerie aura: unflinching, vigilant. The fox came up upon Bogo's side, and Bogo marched towards the place that no longer held the calmness of comfort.

"Wait at the reception," Bogo said upon passing through the smaller entrance to the PD that could be accessed via the car park around the back. "Wright wants to talk, as you no doubt heard. I feel as though this shall be her final accusation upon me. It may be a long while."

Nick glanced up Bogo to complain about the 'long delay' mentioned, but upon seeing the indignation and the subtler hints of overwhelming anxiety, the fox decided his issues, perhaps, were of lesser concern than those posed against Bogo.

The fox followed the buffalo to the ZPD reception, and patiently sat in one of the seats of the quieter corners of that large and usually bustling room — watching the Chief wordlessly as he shrunk away down the corridor to mount the stairs, go to his office... and find whatever accusations and problems Surveyor Director Wright had to filthily-throw upon him.

...

"Director Wright?" Bogo judged it wise to be as polite as possible. The door opened quietly, his voice patient and calm. The red deer looked from her documents, from Bogo's computer upon his desk and from her own laptop she had set up just beside it. No smile tugged upon her face, just simple expectance.

"Take a seat." Bogo came in without another word, paced across the burning calm and sunk himself into the chair opposite his own desk. This was the opposite spot to the one he was used to, both in terms of seatage and in terms of role. Clearing her throat, Wright lowered her pencil, carefully. "And how is Hopps and her family?" she asked in hints of sarcastic care.

"She's... recovering. She's given us invaluable intel on the wolf creature."

"Good. Nice to hear. It'd be a terrible end to your career if Miss Hopps were to die as a result of your actions."

"Miss Wright," he stated, "I do not appreciate this continued poking in my business, nor do I appreciate your continued arguments against my actions. I made, under the best intent throughout—"

"The best of intents? The best of your judgment? Sending Hopps into that place with no backup. That was the best thing you judged?!" she snorted with a sense of incandescent frustration.

"We were stopped from converging at the docks by the Nyilas mammal. We had only a limited amount of time to act on the ship at the docks before that intel would've been lost!"

"Is that the same excuse you're going to give when I question you on sending officers into Erkin illegally?"

"There was... Director Wright, I never s—"

"Then from where did the photographs of the 'inside' of Erkin come from? Like the photograph that gave you the information that the place had access to automatic weapons, for instance?"

"An informant, one of the people working there, they sent those photos."

"Then why is there no mention of them on any file?"

"You're wasting your time," he retorted heavily. "Anonymous informants are neither rare nor illegal."

"I should have thought they would have sought immunity and police protection, given the severity of the gang they're working with."

"It is precisely because of the severity of the gang that the informant asked to be kept completely off all police records," Bogo adlibbed. "It was a condition agreed upon immediately upon their getting in touch."

"Fine. Fine. But another thing! Do all of your officers carry advanced tracking gear in the back seats of their cars?" Bogo's response was a flat stare towards Wright. Wright slid back in Bogo's chief chair, looking at him openly, knowing, by his reaction, she could wait all day listening to his silence. "Who was the other rabbit, Harold? Tell me."

"I have no id—"

"Then you will be fired for gross negligence for sending an officer into a high-danger situation completely alone, and Miss Hopps will be severely reprimanded for allowing a 'civilian' to get potentially injured and fatally tangled up in a ZPD affair." Pulling herself upright, Wright picked up her pencil and started tapping it upon the Chief's desk.

"Now... is that the answer you really want to give?" Bogo grimaced, almost audibly growling at the corner he was forced into. There was no choice. Wright was giving no bluff. If he didn't know who Jack was, he had indeed sent Judy in completely alone, and it would also mean it was Judy's fault this 'stranger' had been entangled because of her. It flashed into his mind for an instant he could say it was another officer, but everyone knew Judy was the only bunny-cop. No other answers would've worked in the end...

"An MI-Z agent," Bogo relented in a disdainful mutter.

"Officer Leopolde said it was another rabbit."

"Yes, he is... he's called Agent Savage."

"Agent One." Wordless, motionless, Wright stared at Bogo for exorbitant, long moments. "And just why was 'Agent One' working with Hopps? I'm happy to hear she was in the company of someone well-trained enough and that we don't have to fire you for negligence quite yet. Nevertheless, this case hasn't had any involvement or help from the MI-Z."

Wright waited just long enough to see that Bogo wasn't going to an answer, and then started to do so herself, "So you had him brought in, asked him to come and investigate personally, rather than going through procedure. To... keep his presence here off the paperwork? To... stop people like me knowing he's involved?"

"It... it's only a small matter. I judged it not worth troubling the MI-Z about, just asked Jack personally."

"If it was a matter that small and unimportant, you wouldn't have asked Agent One to look into it," she stated, calmly. "This matter is quite the opposite, it isn't linked to the drug investigation, and involves Miss Hopps in some way, clearly. Otherwise they wouldn't have been together afterhours. I'm curious about why he was brought in. If it was about this 'drug' investigation, Erkin and the Ladders' murder and so on… well, then you would've just asked for Savage's help officially. What drove you to—"

"There is nothing illegal in asking a professional from another department to aid in a police investigation! Seeking official permission isn't mandatory."

"It's still interesting when linked with everything else you've done in the past few days."

"Like what?" Bogo shot, though started regretting the emotional outburst instantly.

"The Ruger? The murder weapon tied up in this gang business? Where is it?"

"It's been found! At the harbor, last night, it was—"

"And the other Ruger?"

"Oth—? There is no other, there's only one!"

"Indeed," Wright mocked through a jeering grin, which made the Chief's veins on his forehead to thicken in unspoken fury.

"Yes, the employees at Ruger told Officer Jefferson 'only one Ruger exists'." Somehow, Bogo now doubted his own words at the lack of a downcast reaction from Surveyor Wright, especially when she rolled her eyes in a smug manner, which was something he'd usually experience with Wilde. But he couldn't behave with Wright like he could with Wilde, it was impossible to yell at her to shut her filthy mouth…

"Hm. Well, 'I'm sorry but we have lost the information on who bought and commissioned this completely original one-of-a-kind gun' didn't quite sit right in my mind, so I sent a message to Surveyor Director Secretary Jones, telling him to send in a couple of Under-Surveyors to look through their paperwork and see what they could find. And less than three hours after they had arrived, they had discovered, not who commissioned and bought the Ruger, sadly… but, at least, that there were two that were made."

The Chief sighed interiorly, but didn't allow his shoulders to sag. "Damn." His mutter was taken quizzically by Wright.

"Pardon?"

"Damn good work. Well done. Where did you find it?"

"Both the commissioner info and the owner's details were missing from the company's files. A highly unusual thing to occur in itself. However, fortunately for me, owing to the luck this was a one-of-a-kind creation, there was a single, additional piece of paperwork in their records. A photocopy of the bodywork, with a footnote at the bottom of the page, stating, quite clearly, that two such guns had been commissioned."

"Well done. I had no idea t—"

"It's very curious how this paperwork could've been mislaid, I think. It's also curious how Officer Jefferson reports," she added hastily through Bogo's open mouth, looking focused at her documents, "that 'the worker I spoke to, a rabbit by the name of Jock,' open parenthesis, 'might've been Jake', close parenthesis, 'said that they couldn't find the ownership details but that this gun was one of a kind'. It's very curious, because it sounds as though this... rabbit, this... 'Jock' had access to paperwork which has, since two days ago, been removed from Ruger. Or he was looking at this... which states two were made."

"It... it's not my fault if a worker at Ru—"

"So why did you ask Agent Savage to infiltrate Ruger and pretend there was only one?" Wright waited just long enough for Bogo to be 'about' to reply before interfering again. "On another note... you wouldn't know anything about Officer Clawhauser coming into the ZPD after he was off duty last night, and taking from the Long-Term Storage department some boxes of paperwork, would you?"

The Chief gritted his flat teeth — though kept his expression carefully calm. Seconds flew in a timeless breeze, as he tried to decide on an answer, aware there was all but too few excuses he could use.

"Officer Howlitz briefly mentioned something about it, the dear," Wright prompted.

"I'm sure he had a good reason, he's very trustworthy. If he brings it back, I'm su—"

"If he brings it back or not is of no importance," her voice rose cold and harsh from her throat. "It is stealing. It is the unsolicited theft of ZPD documents from an administrator-owned building, and it will not be tolerated for any reason and to any extent. Officer Clawhauser's only chance of avoiding the loss of his job… at minimum, is if it occurred he was only doing such on the orders of anoth—"

"Fine! Fine!" Bogo shouted, glaring at the desk, "It was under my orders he took such, yes."

"And for what purpose is Chief Harold Bogo removing, without authorization to do so, five boxes of paperwork on the long-ago-demolished gang 'The Firm'?" Bogo's forfeit rose slowly to meet Wright's criticism. "No games, Harold. I am in less than no mood for 'games'." His eyes tired down again, his lips unmoving as he wondered his sight at his desk between them.

Leaning back, Wright crossed her hooves upon her chest. "Tut-tut, Harold. Faking the existence of only one Ru—"

"And you have proof? You have real proof that it was my hoof that saw that information forged?"

"Agent One 'mysteriously' brought in to an unknown ZPD affair by the Chief's orders... a piece of paperwork gun companies are always very careful to keep safe, for an especially rare design of gun no less, goes missing after an officer talks with a rabbit who, no doubt, will match Savage's description perfectly. A few days later, the Chief orders the receptionist, and long-term personal friend, to steal paperwork... it doesn't take much of an imagination to join these together." Bogo relented in saying anything hence Wright continued.

"Agent One called in unofficially, the existence and ownership details of another copy of the murder weapon hidden, documents from your own department about the old gang 'The Firm' taken at your orders..." She sat up with propped arms against the desk, sharply. "Who are you protecting, Bogo? Is it Wilde?"

The Chief jolted from his lifeless stare as if he'd been scorched. "Wh— what?!"

"Hopps and Wilde are very clearly your favorite officers currently. The amount of nepotism you've shown them itself is of major concern to me. And of the two of them, it feels far more likely, looking at their histories—"

"Looking at their histories?"

"Hopps had a very typical early life, brought up on a farm, worked hard, entered the academy and joined the ZPD from there. Wilde, on the other hoof, has already been involved in one murder and a suspicious death before he even joined the force. The death of his father from cocaine overdose in two thousand and three, and the murder and disappearance of his former fiancée in twenty eleven."

"Wilde was never formally charged with anything, on either occasion. He was checked out, sure, and strongly questioned, but— but what you're saying is... what?" Bogo was careful to overplay the apparent-ludicrosity of Wright's suggestion. "That Nick was an operative in The Firm, or something?!"

"Let us leave this delicate matter aside for now. As I stated, I have no proof Wilde is the target of your 'behavior'. It could be any of your officers, or none of them, for whom you have tried to steal and hide what I can only assume to be 'incriminating paperwork', concealed that person's ownership of one of the two only guns possible of making the murder at Ladders, and their implicit connection to this whole gang issue. That is for... another, to look into. All I'm saying for now is that you have shown both of them a great deal of nepotism. And I'm curious to know if that 'nepotism' goes far enough for you to cover up a person's past involvement with The Firm."

Wright breathed slowly, while Bogo looked away, scouring at the wall as she continued, "If you had looked into Wilde, or 'whoever' it is you're trying to protect: through standard means, rather than using these round-about methods, you wouldn't have needed to risk Clawhauser being fired and perhaps imprisoned. Agent Savage wouldn't be in the critical condition he is in now. And you wouldn't be... well... in the position you're in. These are your mistakes, Harold. They are not mine. You have undermined everything the ZPD stands for in your treatment of whatever crimes Wilde has committed, which you've tried to bury with your own stained hooves."

Bogo stood, his voice raising into a heated shout from the accusations as well as tone that he wasn't used to receiving, especially in his own office! "You have no evidence against Wilde!"

"Thanks to your efforts, that statement is correct. There is no evidence against Wilde. And it's going to take a lot of digging for the next chief of police to uncover the truth about him."

Bogo sat down, slowly. "So this is really happening. You're really going to do this."

"Harold my dear, dear chap... I have done nothing except to look into the truth about what has happened. You cannot blame me for the predicament you're in. You cannot call me the 'villain' for pursuing justice. All I have done, has been to look into the commands you've given. All I have done, has been to bring into question the decisions you made." She moved closer, her voice lowering in pitch. "And you did... make these decisions yourself. You, knowingly, and willingly, broke not only police protocol, but the law itself, on more than one occasions. You made developments, I'll give you that. But look where Miss Judy Hopps is because-of-you."

Bogo grunted in decline, with Wright's immediate reaction forging into a scowl. "You make childish noises all you want, it was your fault you recalled those officers from the harbor."

"Wright, all my other officers were a long way from there. I wasn't expecting the ship back so fast, and I needed the murder at Hopps' place investigated A-SAP to find out if she had been directly targeted or not. Which she had been, and has."

"And in doing so, Harold, gave the 'ship' ample opportunity to return to the docks, unload untold amount of illegal substance into our fine city and created the highly unwanted situation, which has allowed young Hopps to be almost killed." She took a breath, calming herself. "There's a reason for protocol, Harold. There's a reason why it's required ZPD officers to stand guard at a location involved in criminal activities for a minimum of twenty-four hours— and you would have saved everyone a lot of pain and trouble to have remembered that. Protocol is there not for people like me, not to give the administrators justification for their otherwise-redundant jobs, it's to protect you, protect the justice and protect your officers. It's why we give officers only what they're capable of doing. It's why nepotism is so very, very dangerous."

Bogo snorted. "I've shown them no nepotism. I've only given them what duties were right and sensible for their positions, experience and abilities."

"You gave Officers Hopps and Wilde permission- no, orders, to investigate the fire at Ladders and Ladders. You gave these junior officers detective-level work, when there were other officers, many officers, of a far higher rank and level of suitability."

"Oh, don't you use that argument on me. This isn't just a couple of random officers, they—"

"The ones who saved Zootopia? Don't give me that, Bogo, I've read the report: seemed largely built on luck and good fortune to me."

"A shame the Board of Surveyors of Administration didn't have the same 'luck' and 'good fortune' to sniff Bellwether out for what she was." Wright's expression soured.

"You also, arbitrarily gave them the duty of briefing the PD on all the known facts for the raid on Erkin."

"Damn it, Wright," he shot, glad to have an entirely truthful answer for once, "there was no favoritism in that decision. It was no arbitrary decision. Hopps and Wilde were, out of all the other officers on my force, in the best position to give the briefing."

Wright smiled, in the same way a cat smiled when the crook of a trap would snap down upon the mouse's neck. "Why?"

"Why what?" he answered, hotly.

"Why were Officers Hopps and Wilde in a better position? What did they know about Erkin? Why did they know more than any of your other officers?" The Chief's expression of irritation fell, backpedaling, as he tried to find a way of fixing what he'd just done. "What did they know, hey, Harold? The layout of the building? Precisely where those weapons were being held? That's what they needed to know."

"The— the blueprints were—"

"You could've looked at the blueprints. McHorn, Snarlov, any officer could've looked over the blueprints and given the report. But no. You put Hopps and Wilde in charge especially, telling your officers, now telling me, that there was a particular purpose, a specific reason as to why they were in the best position to give such."

"Wright, it was merely a judgment of—"

"They have been inside. I know they have, Harold. I have no proof, but all I need to do is talk to a few of the workers, and I am more than eighty-seven percent sure it won't be long before I hear a story about this 'rabbit' and 'fox', who had some extravagant reason as to why they had to be let inside earlier that day."

"I'm not being disobliging, Bogo. I'm not one of those Surveyors who'll pick out the smallest misnomer in some minor piece of paperwork and tell you your whole department is corrupt. These are genuine, major breaks of modus operandi." Raising her pencil again, Wright pointed the small nib of graphite between the Chief's glare. "Illegally. Without backup. You sent Hopps and Wilde into a situation they both could have very easily died in, if just the slightest, smallest thing had gone wrong."

"But nothing went—"

"Bogo... do you have any idea how much risk you have put Hopps and Wilde into? They may be your favorite officers. They may be the best officers in Zoophon. But being your 'favorite', it seems, means only being pushed into the forefront of the most dangerous situations Zootopia has to offer. If you seriously believe that it's 'perfectly acceptable' for you to take ZPD officers and put them into the most ridiculously dangerous situations possible, just because they are the 'best'... well..." Wright breathed slowly, her gaze twisting between compassion and accusation, unsure of which to settle on and fixing somewhere in between.

"You have lost your sight, Harold," she declared, calmly. "I genuinely believe it would be best for everyone if you were to... retire. With your past services to the city, I am confident that the administrators will see this as a loss of judgment after your many years of stress and work, and will take no disciplinary actions against you. They'll allow you a quiet, fully privileged, honorable retirement, with a good pension and a cottage somewhere quiet. We both know it isn't the stress that's done this, though. Do you know what I think, Harold? Correction: do you know what I know?"

One last time, the Chief's gaze rose to meet Wright's unmoving-accusatory sooth.

"As the years have ticked by..." her voice was patient and smooth, her surroundings forgivingly still, "as the shadows have grown long, as you have started to feel winter's first bight of age come upon you... you've started to doubt yourself, doubt your health, doubt your judgment. You feared old age and the closing days of your working life, of your useful life. You feared the day you would be unable to carry on as the chief of Zootopia's police. You wanted to see yourself return to the mammle you once were, wanted to prove to yourself you were still the great 'Chief Bogo'."

"So," Wright continued, "you started taking risks, risking more and more for greater and greater rewards, delighted you had two officers, at least, who could keep up with your insecurity-driven need for this 'validation' you sought. You knew, in your heart, you were risking far more than these developments were worth, but chose to hide from these doubts in the self-glory of more policing-orientated developments, thus, sending Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde into inordinately increasing danger. You covered your ruthless, selfish decisions from your officers, your growing inner-doubts, by calling it 'the only option', saying it was 'in the interests of justice', even going so far as to start convincing yourself that Hopps and Wilde are the best officers in all Zoophon."

Bogo stared miserably at the desk. For all her sly words, for all her irritating smugness and trickery, for all her snide remarks and thinly veiled insults. She was right. Getting old, losing your touch. The very words the fox had said to him not a day before, after Judy had wound up broken and bleeding from a decision he had so stupidly and selfishly made.

"Maybe they are," she added after a long pause. "Though, far more likely, is that your insecurity and need for personal validation has twisted your mind, giving you the fervent belief that they are 'the best' to allow you to justify to yourself to continue this heinous treatment." Her expression low and frowning, Wright half turned away from Bogo's motionless figure to gaze upon the far wall. "I do wonder, Harold... if these 'best officers' of yours are actually very average indeed. Even if they are... it doesn't mean they should be regularly put through the risk of capture and death, with no backup or support, in places they have no business poking. If you really do think of them as your best... they deserve far better treatment than you have given them. They–deserve–better."

Bogo still didn't look up, didn't respond to the doe sat before him. She stood slowly and straightened a few documents upon the table. "Thank you for your patience and cooperation," she said, quietly, collecting some personal belongings — pens, papers, laptop — and pushing them inside her attaché case. "This is the end of my investigation as Surveyor Director of the Department of State Security. Once back at HQ, I'll need a day or so to write up my findings and present them to the Board of Surveyors of Administration. They'll be in touch with the administrators of Zootopia to give them our verdict and discuss a course of suitable action, and they will inform you upon whatever decision they make." Zipping up her case, the red deer slipped it over her shoulder, giving Bogo her final musings and attention.

"It is likely they'll want to speak with you personally. If you want my individual opinion, I'd say you have around a week before you're summoned to a Convocation. After that, they'll give you a few days grace to put whatever remaining affairs you have here into order. Then... well..."

Evie gazed solemnly down at the Chief, the moment slow and silent. The Chief had always expected his career to end in a bombing or an out-of-hoof gunfight. He'd never truly believed he'd be quietly retired.

Her words failing her, her doubt as to what should be said overtaking her, Wright turned away from Bogo, pacing to the door swiftly. "Good day, Harold," she uttered one last time to the incoming end, with the door sealing it quietly in her departure.

Bogo was now alone in the suffocating air of his office, while he blinked with his crozzled heart down upon his desk.

The clock ticked, the minutes passed and slowly, eventually, the Chief moved himself into his own chair, his expression a dull, silent grimace. He gazed up at the ceiling, at the ceiling beneath which he had shouted from, written reports and plans for raids and promotion, made up intel on...

Promotion.

His heart leaping with a sudden jolt in his chest, his tired eyes opened and his blood started to pump loudly.

A week. A week, she said, and a few more days grace after. It could be... it could be enough. The dejected gloominess passed from the Chief's chest with the sudden flaring of a molotov exploding. His dulled senses sharpened, and his thinning blood pumped hot. By the grace of whatever fortunes he had to thank, there, was, time.

He pulled himself to his feet and turned upon the door, reaching it in the exhale of a breath, and throwing it open with more force and sense of drive than he'd known since first being made chief of Precinct One.

"And that is exactly who I am," he muttered to himself, his march swift, his muscled arms swinging broad. "Maybe not for much longer, but for now... I am." And that was all that mattered when one lived the lifestyle he knew. If one only thought of the unknown tomorrow, all one could see were the risks and death. If one focused solely on the now...

Bogo vitalized and marched with haste away from that dim-lit and brooding office. He rushed down the wide corridors, the halls of his second home and reached the staircase. He put his hoof upon the metal banister with the peeling, red paint and followed the concrete steps down as they double-backed on themselves upon a landing halfway between floors. He sped faster and took a second flight down, stepping out, his eyes eager and alert, upon one of the central corridors, the main bloodlines of the ZPD.

Blowing a breath of heated air from him, he paced off to the right, pummeling the worn, ZPD-blue carpet beneath his feet, his broad arms in the motion of purpose. He passed the bullpen, and pushed open the tall doors into the reception area, where the figure of a red fox kept waiting.

"Chief! I saw Wright storm by, how'd it go?"

"She gave me a touch of trouble but nothing I couldn't deal with. She's figured out one or two suspicions over you, but nothing you and I wouldn't be able to convince the administrators otherwise about if it were to come to a Convocation."

"A Convocation?"

"Briefly: A meeting of some of the more senior administrators to discuss some important—"

"Yeah-yeah, I know about convocations, but, it's that serious?"

"Just a formality, nothing will come of it." Nick's doubts that 'nothing would come' of an Administrator's Convocation were clear on his face. Bogo spoke through the reply of uncertainty just as it formed upon the fox's tongue. "But— we have more important matters to presently discuss, do we not? If you want to get back to Judy with all the speed you can." At seeing the unspoken fortitude of acceptance before him, Bogo nodded, turned and made way down the other main corridor — the square of corridors, which circled the whole department — with the fox following suit.

"Somewhere out of the way," Bogo added, "somewhere with a little privacy. Not my office, the walls are too thin. It works well enough for talking over top secret plans for cheating a search warrant out of Erkin and covering up the existence of murder weapons, but it's nothing near secretive enough for something of real importance."

"You... you did that? I thought it was just 'missing'." The Chief gave him a gaze of warning for a moment, then turned and started to pace away, thus, leaving the fox in startle, until it grew into leaking amusement.

"I did, Wilde, I did. Has to be said, though: initially, it was under the belief that, had I told you that you were under suspicion, you would've been able to cover your tracks too well for anyone to uncover them. But... now, it seems, might be just what we need to keep you out of... huh..."

The fox tried to crane his head over Bogo's shoulder to see his expression — a difficult thing to do when the shoulder of the mammle in question was several feet higher off the ground than himself. He followed quietly as Bogo led him, almost, to the staircase down and to the basement where the prison cells lived. But he stopped him and turned to the first of the two interrogation rooms, one of which's metal flap was pulled open by Bogo.

"Whad?" came a small but irritated voice from inside. Bogo startled back, the fennec's presence having been entirely forgotten.

"Shut up," Bogo snapped, then slapped the metal cover closed again. The muscles in his arms bunching, his brow lowering, Bogo stepped over to the second room. He lifted the metal flap, found the room empty and ushered Nick to get inside.

Nick did as instructed, the claustrophobic heaviness of the room settling upon his mind. He didn't like the spindly, metal chairs. He didn't appreciate the bareness of the stark, metal table. His feet moved in a slow pace towards what he knew must be his place: the place where all the criminals sat when they'd come in here.

Bogo took a moment to check the next room, along the room behind the one-way-mirror, and after finding himself satisfied with the results of desolateness and disabled recording equipment, his nostrils sighed in tranquility.

The Chief got inside, gradually, thoughtfully. He eyed the fox carefully, his gaze not lowering. They stood in deafness, only the sound of the other's breathing was succeeding in crumbling the empty distance between them. Bogo turned upon the heavy, metal door, pulled it shut and clanked the heavy, steel latch into place.

"Let's not sit, Wilde. That'll give this all the wrong vibes." The fox's focus remained set upon the Chief. "I'm not interrogating you, Nick... I'm asking you for your trust and your respect."

"I do respect you, Chief, I..." The fox's thin confidence quickly faded as the final words escaped him, and he leaned with a slow sigh against the coolness of the wall. "So, what do you want from me? Everything-everything, or just... everything...?"

Bogo idled in silence, to which Nick gathered that Bogo wanted everything from him that he himself felt able to tell, everything he felt capable of sharing, and which he did, knowing that withholding more than he must might well end him failing Bogo's trust... while telling him everything could, just as easily, have him jailed.

If this was a con, if this was Bogo playing tricks to get him to open up about stuff he never would've found out about otherwise, if Jack'd gotten to him... oh, Holy Vixen, if Jack'd gotten to him... "Guess I don't really have any options left."

"You always have options," Bogo sternly retorted, not missing a beat. "But being honest with me is the best decision for you right now." Bogo took hospice onto the interrogation seat, his tone soft and imploring as his face drew level with the fox's. "We can't go on pretending there's nothing suspicious about you, Nick, not like we could when you started out. Too much has passed since then, too many skeletons. If you hide things, if you keep things from me, all I can do is forever be suspicious… and I can't be suspicious of one of my officers…"

"So I open up to you instead... and just paw you evidence and expose my own guilt?" Nick chuckled, dryly.

"Guess it'll save you having to be 'suspicious', I'll give you that."

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!

- One of our montly gifts for our supporters! Monthly updates.

Social Links:

* To use a link just replace {dot} with a full stop/peirod.

- Youtube: youtube{dot}com/c/inlet

- Twitter: twitter{dot}com/inletreal