Chapter One Hundred and Four
Smarta Choices

In the interior of the carriage of a Zootopia Zedoaries van, a group of figures sat hunched against the cold wall. They looked between one another, asking through their silence if any of them had a plan of escape. They were all alike in their postures, their paws cuffed to a rail behind their backs which was built into the carriage of the van.

"Hey, George," one mammle said, "you're in charge here, you got us into this. You got any plans?"

"Shut up, I'm thinking," hissed the coyote, his fur reduced to patches of burnt black.

"The thing to remember is surprise," mentioned a dark bear with a scar across his face. "Been in like this before. They don't expect you to instantly try fight them, second they open the door."

"These rails we're cuffed to," the first said, "they can't get us off these without taking our pawcuffs off."

"Yeah," agreed George, "we've gotta take what we can of that. Whoever gets uncuffed first, see if you can make a grab for a weapon or something. Get a hostage."

"No," said the bear. "Let it be me. Once they uncuff me, I grab by the throat, use them as shield if there are others who are armed. Force them to paw over keys."

"Don't be idiots," an older mammle rebuked from the far corner. "You think they're about to just let us walk out of here? Even with a hostage?"

"Well, it's better than—" Through the thick, metal walls, they heard a sound like a metal hinge locking shut.

"What was that?"

"Must be... some kind of gate shutting?" another suggested. The van jostled then, as the engine kicked back into life.

"We're on the move again? What've we been sitting around for these last twenty minutes?"

"Psychology," the elderly mammle stated. "After those laws about beating prisoners came in those five or six years ago, prisons have become real clever at getting under your fur. Make you obey, naught even needing to hit no one." This journey, unlike the prior one which had lasted through all the night, was but a couple of minutes long.

The van slowed to a stop; then, everyone tensed at the electronic buzz that rang out. The doors clicked and then swung open. The light of the sun shone in through the open doors, with the outline of a fox and a horse appearing in dislike. Stepping into the safety room — a small room insulated between the outside of the van and the space where the prisoners were held — the two officers grasped a small, metal hatch on either side of the van. They found a chain and pulled.

Inside the van, the memmle were sporadically looking around one another, the long, metal poles they were all cuffed to sliding out of the back of the van. They were no longer bound to the walls of the van.

"Well... there goes your dumb little plan, George," the elderly mammle grunted.

"Shut up. Bearsburg, we stick to the plan. First chance you get, grab whoever's closest."

"I'll go for the fox. Won't be trouble much as the horse."

"Go for it," George accepted, eyeing the equipped fox carefully as he entered a code into the safety room's door.

"On your feet," the fox called out, pulling the door open. "Come on, move it. You let us get you signed and changed quick. We'll give you all a double allowance of Compliance Tokens."

"Compliance what?" George asked.

"Compliance Tokens, crusty," the horse replied. "You wanna eat? Twenty CT. You want a shower? That's thirty CT."

"You get Compliance Tokens for good behavior," Shale said with a slight flick of his foxy tail. "Stealing, antisocial behavior, swearing: that gets big penalties from your CT total."

"I wanna know something, fox," demanded the large bear as he got in between the memmle with a cast shadow upon the puny fox. "What's your name?"

Squaring up to the larger mass of mammle, Shale slipped a paw behind his back. "Assistant Chief Constable Shale."

"Well look here, Shale, tell me. How much… for shanking a fox!" The bear flung himself against Shale's body, but the decision had been seen from miles away by Shale, who drew a thin, metal truncheon from behind his back and cracked it down upon the bear's knees. The body stumbled instantly and shivered at the blow; nevertheless, the metal bat punched heavily into the bear's chest a second later.

"Depends where you shank him," the horse stated, impassive to what had just occurred. "Shank him up the ass, he'll probably enjoy it."

"Enough," Shale hissed with bubbling aggravation, "you'll all get a talk about all this in the lecture later. Now come on, we've got two more vans to unload after you. This way— you're all entitled to a shower and some food. Well, almost all," he added, turning to the still-recovering figure of the bear.

"What? Why?" the big bear asked in suitability to unfairness.

"For assaulting an officer," Shale answered. "How much for 'shaking' a fox? Minus eight-hundred CT. Might want to be on best behavior from now. You've got quite a deficit to make up before you'll be allowed to eat."

"How... how long?"

Shale shrugged. "Depends on how well-behaved you are, how proactively 'compliant' you behave."

"And if I'm not, you... you'd let me starve!?" Shale responded with a simple raise of a brow to the scandalized criminal.

"There's guys in here," the horse answered instead, "guys who are in for life, who'll loan CTs out to ya' if you're gonna starve to death. Just make sure you pay 'em back, or you're gonna find yourself someone's bitch. Huh... don't matter to me how you earn CTs. Ain't that right, Shale?"

The fox glanced to the horse with faded indigence. "Gerard. Please."

"Hey, just giving 'em tips on easy ways of getting their hoofs on some CTs."

...

Outside the hospital, the shadows were growing long. In a city of towering scrapers, in the corporate sector of Precinct One, much of the day was spent shrouded from direct sunlight. The cars rumbled and the pedestrians kept to their day-to-day lives. West Precinct One housed many of its most important buildings, and headquartered many of its key industries: the ZPD HQ, the Zootopia Central Bank and Saint Bernard's Hospital, to name a few.

A pair of shining, glass doors slid open on the front of the hospital, the figure of a young lynx pacing out from inside. She looked about herself, her nose twitching, her eyes scanning the public around.

"Okay," she said to herself, getting on the pavement and turning down the street, "last seen going... this way." The heavy traffic that bustled the corporate sector made finding traces of Bonnie's scent difficult to identify. But eventually, Fields caught the whiff of earth and fresh air, and guessed it to be the scent of farms and countryside.

The street she trod upon was long and laden with numerous wide, tall buildings. Most were office towers, but between them existed many small shops and food vendors, who were busily occupied by people on their tired lunch breaks — business being told to have lunch breaks at different times between one another, as to avoid the whole street being empty throughout most of the day, and then swamped with hungry white-collar workers at one o'clock.

Grace's quickness slowed, as the faint scent was thinning further between the multispecies' multitude of mobile people around her. She looked in on every window she came across, her nose in full operation. In time, her nose led her to one building in particular.

"National Zootopia Library," Grace muttered to herself. "Whatever are you looking for in there?"

She got her radio and tried to speak into the receiver... then stopped herself, sighed and returned the faulty device back to her pocket. "Typical," she muttered before picking up her feet and making for the insides of the book-cramped vault.

...

There was an empty darkness within Nick's mind. A slow, monstrous beeping filtered its way into his thoughts, like the first recollections of awareness which'd break upon a shallow sleep. A low murmur passing his numb lips, Nick tried to raise a paw to his head, although he couldn't feel it much.

"Wh— ugh, where am..."

"Mister Wilde?" His eyes pulling gradually open, the fox looked into the steady, blue gaze of a white-coated hare.

"Flo? What? What happened?"

"Come on, Nick, let me help you sit." Her paws touching upon the fox's back, the nurse helped the fox from lying on his back. As she helped him, a greater sense of awareness entered his mind. The dimness in his vision cleared, and he absorbed his surroundings — the medical bed he was sat in.

In the moments of startled silence, Nick checked to see if he was in a medical gown. To his relief, he wasn't. "Nurse, I... had a headache. I blacked out, or something. What happened?"

Flo exhaled, a small smile in place. "You're exhausted, Nick. Physically, emotionally... looking at your blood sugar levels, you haven't eaten today either."

"Yeah... yeah."

"And if I were the type to fritter away my wages on making bets, I'd put money on that you barely had any sleep last night too."

"Right again," he muttered.

"You'll be fully recovered in an hour or so," she clarified. "Your body just shut itself down for a few minutes. It tends to do that, when you fatigue it to its limits and don't stop to rest."

"So, what... eat something? Have a drink?"

Flo passed a glass of water which was already waiting for the fox. Thanking her quietly, he took it from her and chugged it down in strain to the dryness of his throat. "You have been through a great deal in the past few hours. Despite your own views on the matter, Judy isn't the only person to be suffering from her condition. My medical advice: just stay here for now. The hospital won't miss one bed. Have a nap, if you can."

"And, Judy? Can I see—"

"I've already made arrangements." Flo nodded her head to Nick's left. Turning, the fox caught glimpse of a small figure resting soundly beneath the white sheets. Her chest rose and fell in peace, her eyes closed and her expression blank.

"See... I, eh, see you've got a bed with bars on it." Nick pointed with his claw at the metal surroundings.

"Guard rails, Nick. She isn't a prisoner. They're for her own protection."

"Yeah, I... I meant, I know that... uh. Thanks."

After a moment, the hare tilted her head upon one side. "Do you have anybody you need me to contact?"

"No."

"I see. If you will excuse me, Officer Wilde..." The nurse made her way from the room, her tall, white figure disappearing through the doorway before closing it shut behind her. Nick licked his lips, turning to look at the weak figure of the hurt rabbit. He licked his lips again, glancing to the door and then to Judy in deliberation to his next act.

"Judy. Hey, Judy!" he whispered, loudly. The rabbit didn't stir. "Judy!" he tried again, his voice a little louder. An ear moved this time, and through the bars, he noticed her paw twitch and then slowly close to a pseudo-fist.

"Good girl," he breathed to himself, a relieved smile crossing his features. His anxiety abated, while his confidence filled from the fact that Judy could be woken up if needed, so Nick chugged down what remained in his glass of clear water and set it on the bedside cabinet, lowering himself into the softness of the sheets.

"Just like Monday, right, Carrots?" he said to himself. "Knowing you're there, knowing you're nearby... We don't have to share a bed, just being close means the world to me, Judy."

The fox took another glance over at the rabbit, her figure obscured by the white, metal guard rails which ran either side of her small, medical bed. He smiled to himself, assured by the smooth rise and fall of her chest that she'd be okay. He was right there beside her, after all...

Sinking himself down, the fox put his head upon the white pillow and allowed the tendrils of rest to plunge him into unconsciousness.

...

The National Library kept one of the largest collections of books in the world, books of fact and fiction, both present and from years past. It appeared to be guarded tightly by an independent branch of security, 'Smarta'. The name was written onto the many security cameras dotted in key locations, and appeared on the dark shirts of a small number of guards who patrolled meticulously around the premises.

Grace entered carefully through the front door, bringing to her mind all the facts she knew of the building, taking note of the layout of the place, the positions of the guards and trying to spy out the security cameras around.

"Lot of trouble for some old books," Grace muttered, while checking at the isles and isles of books. Bonnie's scent could be felt enough for her to know that she was in the building… but on which of the dozen floors, she truly had no clue.

"This... will take... all month. She could be three feet away and I wouldn't' see her." Even checking every isle there wouldn't help, as Bonnie wasn't a static target and was likely moving from shelf to shelf. It crossed Grace's mind she could wait by the door out and catch her as she left, but then recalled her mission was to uncover what Bonnie was doing, more than where she was. Grace looked around, the small, flashing light on a Smarta security camera catching her interest.

An idea forming, so she peeked over her shoulder to a door marked 'Staff Only', which a Smarta guard was standing in front of with a radio firmly attached to his belt. A radio. She studied him for an intense moment. Her brows slowly lowered. Then, she chuckled to herself, due to the train of thought leading her neatly to an idea.

She paced casually to the security guard and took her badge from her belt. "Auxiliary Officer Fields."

"Afternoon, Officer. Eh, listen kid, if you're about to ask access, I'mma have to refuse it without a warrant."

"It's fine, Mister...?"

"Wolfard. Fred Wolfard."

"It's fine, Mister Wolfard. I don't need access, I just need to borrow your radio."

"My what?"

"Police business, it's quite urgent."

The timber wolf considered her cautiously, but pulled his radio from its rightful place. "You're young for a cop."

"I'm on probation. Special agreement between my school and the ZPD."

"Oh? My son's cop, you know him?"

"Hmm? I'm not sure that I do." The wolf pawed Grace the radio. "Thanks, this won't take a sec. Just need to tune it to the ZPD's..." Turning away from the older wolf, she fiddled with the radio frequency. Out of sight, she quickly took Nick's broken radio and replaced it with the Smarta one in agility.

"Hello?" she slyly played the act with Nick's dead radio. "Officer Wilde, come in. Anyone there?" Facing the older wolf with the replaced device clutched to her chest, her brows were down in dubious confusion. "I'm sorry, it... it doesn't seem to be working."

"Must have the wrong frequency."

"Not, it's... eight-seven-four, it's right."

"Give it here," Fred snapped and took it from her. He messed around with the frequency for several few seconds, to the adjustment of the original Smarta signal, and pressed the buzzer.

"Come in, come in?" He released the buzzer, then pressed it again. "Does anyone respond? Come in?" Fred's fingers twitched on the radio's body, until his eyes fixated on Grace with words of irritation, "What did you do?"

"Me, you're blaming me? What could I have done?"

Fred Wolfard's doubt lingered on the lynx, the soreness clear on his features, but his shoulders dropped with a roll of eyes. "Fine," he muttered. "Look, just wait here, I need to... guh, just typical." The Smarta security guard made off from his post, the apparently faulty radio in his paw.

In Grace's defense, she did wait. Though, only until he was out of sight; after which, the lynx reached out a paw, opened the 'Staff Only' door and stepped inside without a speck of hesitance. "Smarta," she muttered, trying not to openly laugh. "They're smarta, alright."

The path beyond the gruff door was a narrow corridor of concrete. The door shut closed and the soft chatter of the library was reduced to eerie echoes of distance. The air was cold, stale. A number of wires ran along the ceiling of the corridor, though, glancing around, she could see no security cameras at all. "Probably don't expect anyone would get past the guard," she supposed.

Grace followed the corridor, short though it was, and came upon a red door with the word 'Smartass Security' written upon it. Someone, however, had added two additional 's'-es to the word Smarta in a red marker pen.

The security guard within wasn't helpfully asleep, like those in the movies would usually be, but Grace wasn't overly concerned. Looking around her, she found a small metal cabinet on wheels. Apparently it was used to hold books, but was currently empty of fillings. The young lynx climbed up onto the cabinet's top, forced to take it very slowly, since the wheels wobbled unsteadily below. She stretched up to the ceiling, reaching for the lines of wires that came from the cameras in the surveillance room.

"Really don't have tools for this," she muttered as she managed to loop her fingers around the thick wires. With a sharp pull and a jump off the cabinet, a rapid succession of 'snaps' yanked off several feet of wiring from the tallness. It didn't break or detach from either the cameras or the monitors of the 'Smartass Security' room, as it just pulled down low enough so they could be reached from the floor. "Wires," she mumbled. "Nasty, outdated things."

"Hey, uh, Mike," came an unexpected voice, the lynx freezing in place as her heart leaped to her mouth.

"Yeah?" came another, and with a start, Grace pawed to the culprit in her pocket.

"What do you need, Fredds?"

"Make a sweep of the first two floors, will you? There was some... kid just here a minute ago, a lynx I think. Said she needed to borrow a radio, disappeared, though."

Grace looked away from the radio, slipping a paw into her pocket and taking out a small knife. "Don't see anything so far. What she want your radio for?" Pressing the small knife against the first of the few dozen wires, Grace scraped back the layer of black insulation, revealing the silver conductors beneath.

"She was a cop. Auxiliary, anyway. Said she needed to contact the PD. But, uh... my radio packed up. I snapped at her, think I might've scared her off." Grace snorted, grinning to herself as she took out her phone.

"Take more than you to frighten me," Grace muttered in subtle jeer and clicked an app on the phone's screen, its top closely touching the naked carriers of data. The screen turned black and then flashed to white with a succession of a security feed on it. She chuckled. "More than eight cameras... Fools have rooted all security feed on each floor into one input."

"I don't see her," Mike finalized. "She must've flown the coop."

"Alright," Fred Wolfard surrendered. "Well, never mind." Her improvised plan had worked, no one was looking for her anymore, and she had the tools to find her target that Officer Wilde himself had tasked her with.

She was going to complete her mission.

Author's notes:

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