Chapter One Hundred and Six
Tenuous Tendencies

Electromagnetic forces resolved within the automated fizz to the towering gate, the red light flashing as the force holding the fence in place dissipated. The steel jostled a tune of soft scrapes and metallic clangs, as the barrier was pulled sideways by the motors built into the ground beneath the gate's edge; the gate itself retracting into the glowering white-stone wall which encircled the confines of the ZPD carpark.

Meters away Snarlov stood patiently, but alert, in the control booth of the carpark's gate, her paw resting upon the button of freedom's significance; of egress from the courtyard of tarmac and transportation.

The Chief wasn't far off his glance upon her, to the gate. He then resumed his vigil upon the working hooves of the officers before him, loading the necessary equipment for the arisen trouble. Restlessness roamed like a plague in his nerves, and he just wanted to know everything that was happening in the breadth of his control.

The radio to his lips, Bogo transmitted once more, "Fangmeyer, acknowledge." The delay it took for him to get his answer scrunched the limits of his ropes, but he knew it was all just precautionary dread.

"All clear here, Sir. No signs of movement."

"Civilians?"

"None on sight, Sir. All kept at the gate."

"Have you attempted to talk with the crew?"

"We, eh… can't, Sir."

"Can't?"

"No loudhailer, wouldn't hear. After they chased us out with gunfire, looks like they sealed off every porthole, window and door they could find." The worst part of it all was the live ammunition, something which his city was kept clean from. But now it was appearing as if every scum in the city had a spare assault rifle, which even if untrue, the public was just going to lash upon mindlessly.

"We're heading to your location. Bringing some 'tools' that'll help you through. How many of you are there?"

"Just five, Sir. We weren't expecting anyone to be about. The other—"

Bogo's attention drifted from the radio, his hoof slipping from the device as he nudged his officer's shoulder. "Tactical suits for five," he ordered in a flick of a second. "I'll want you three to accompany us, and send a callout for another officer or two to head that way. Ten should be more than enough to keep things under control."

The officer nodded, and the Chief's attention turned back to the radio. "— and still could just be a lone perp."

"Fangmeyer. Backup's incoming. Keep a look out, keep things under control until I arr—"

"Chief Bogo, Sir," a lion greeted, pacing steadily towards the Chief. There was no time for obstacles. The time was to organize and act, but he could notice from the side of his eyes a sort of determination. Yet, when was determination alone able to restrain Bogo from shrugging someone off? Maybe Officer Hopps… But for him back then, those parking tickets were just a bad joke on his part.

"Not now, Leopolde."

"It's the findings from the basement in Tundratown, the place we—"

"I said not now."

"Now, Sir, I've been waiting to show you this report for—"

"Not now, Henry!"

"But— but, Chief, I really think you should see this right now." Bulky buffalo breathed in the fires of frustration, but Leopolde was holding his ground in his own visible similarity, which as it was, finally made Bogo to relent. Letting his bias think had proven less and less reliable/ in these few years.

"Alright! Give me the paperwork."

"Sir?"

"I will read it on the drive. You write down every detail anyway!"

"Let me just draw your attention to th—" Nonetheless, Bogo could spare only this amount of time.

"Officer Klunkerkranich, are we ready?"

"Yes Sir, Chief. Primed and loaded."

"Then board. Officer Snarlov and I will ride up front."

"Yes, Chief." At the new developments, Bogo moved himself away from the surrender of Leopolde.

"Snarlov, set the timer on the gate. Close up in one minute." The polar bear nodded. She turned a dial in the control booth of the carpark gate and slipped out of the undersized office. The gray van shook at the weight of Bogo and Snarlov's entrances, followed by rattled doors and a fierce engine growl. A shadow cleared from the car park of the ZPD, thin wisps of fumes following a trail of excited air.

A minute later, a red light flickered, and the traces of softly scratching metal and metallic clangs echoed around the lonely space of the carpark, slowly, slowly, until the gate's lock jangled tight against the wall and the electromagnetic lock buzzed into security.

…

The bright damper glazed short shadows on the clean earth, the skillets of darkness just starting to grow longer as the sun piqued in height, the pads of paws and taps of claws all about on the golden-shining concrete. A slim figure stepped between them, against the general flow of people.

The white-collar workers paid no heed to the lone lynx, more concerned with finding food in the twenty minutes they had before their next shift would take over their working lives, than with identifying a young and unremarkable femammle.

"Billy," she whispered to herself. "Billy-Billy. The country Billy, the Farmer Bill. Judy's brother. Took a punch at Wilde, lost the fight, Judy steps in to… heh, to 'help'. Billy cries to Bonnie, Bonnie runs to look up prosecution. And now in this instance: who'd win, who'd win…"

She breathed deep the… somewhat fresh air, the cars and bodies making their way around her. The beaming sun appeared nice, or at least its reflection in the steel and glass of a buildings beside her.

"Billy's word against… reason? Evidence? The mother would jump to his defense without any considerations either way. But no evidence. And who'd take their word? Especially after the little 'fight' they've already had."

She slowed to a stop at the vibrating buzz in her pocket. Her paw slipped into her jeans and snatched the slim, black device within. There was a message on the screen, but her awareness made her look around herself instinctively: the multitude of the metropolis' population moving about without a care in the world to who was down there in the shadows of legs and waists.

She pressed the power button and the phone's buzzing deceased.

Putting a paw back to her pocket, she took a spindling wire coated in white plastic. One end bore a slither of thin gold, which she pushed into a small hole on her phone's side. Upon the other side the wire split into two parts: two small speakers which found their way into her lynx ears.

Headphones within their rightful place, Grace paced back on with her tasks, never faltering for a moment in her mission. As she forged on, the audio she received played out with almost perfect quality.

…

"Nicky?" The voice came soft like a warm touch, though laced with taints of uneasiness, as though the notes came forced through distant struggle. Judy repeated the name again, unsure whether it was choice or injury which had brought Nick a hospital bed of his own. "Nicky?"

His eyes pulled open, and his slow gaze wobbled around. Judy observed, her fox's awareness slowly emerging into focus, until his emeralds found her, and a low smile grew on his face. "Hey-ya, Carrots."

Her own eyes coming to proper focus, Judy studied upon what was partially blocking her view of the fox; what was causing her to push weight up against her injuries as she leaned on the mattress. "There's bars on the bed," she stated.

"Yeah, after your little 'outburst'… Flo thought… Well…"

Her strained neck giving flashes of hot pain as a warning, Judy lowered her head back upon the pillow. "Just feel so… weak," she huffed, eyes falling closed. In her whole life, this was the first time she had existed in a literal prison-pit of hopelessness.

There was a rustle, then movement of air as Nick stood and propped himself against her prison. Her good paw followed his gaze, and he reacted by lowering himself close enough so she could caress his cheek, her small fingers pressing on the russet of his face.

"So," he said after some enjoyment, "step one done: parents know."

"Ugh," she slapped him, without force.

"Went perfect, I thought."

"Yeah. Had to beat up my own brother."

"Guy's got a punch, I'll give him that. Should introduce him to Fin sometime." Judy's eyes pulling open, they lingered thoughtfully at nothing. "Come on, Hoppsie the Fluffish. They get over it and start accepting it, or they don't. What's really the issue?"

"How would you know the issues to me? You don't even have a—" She paused, anger flaring from stress and pain, and softened her voice. "I mean, your family, you've lived most of your life without anyone. You're used to not having that behind you. I'm not. I love my family. I trust them. I don't want to lose them."

"Even if they expect you to 'act' a certain way to get accepted?"

"Nh, but they just—"

"Even if they've proved they don't trust you to make the right choices?"

"Joining the Academy would've been a big step for any rabbit—"

"And fifteen, heck sixteen years of endless dedication later, they're still right there, trying to talk you out of it?" The fox sighed, touching his claw upon the rabbit's nose. "I get that you see a lot in your family. Question is, Carrots: are they trying to help, or just trying to control?"

Responding right now wasn't an option, as the dissonance in her head was reaching the peaks of her mental threshold. "Parents. Any idea where they are now?" she asked in diversion. But the door clicked in emergent of a figure.

Flo checked in upon Judy with a genuine smile, or at least what appeared to be one. She glanced back out into the corridor and gave confirmation, "She's awake. You can come in."

Rabbit and fox alike tensed themselves in preparation for Bonnie and Billy, but the tension released itself at the sight of beige and grey.

Nick flashed approval to the wolf. "Still here, Wool? Thought you would've ran off by now."

"I was heading home, wanted to tell you the news. How's Judy?"

She could only shrug her shoulders to the indirect question. "Numb. Mostly I'm just exhausted."

"Numbness is the drugs," Flo explained. "Exhaustion is your body telling you to rest. Your injuries are all clearing. You're recovering better than expected. Who do I congratulate for your excitant physical condition? The ZPD or your own drive?"

Nick scoffed as if it was an obvious answer, "It's all on Judy." Wolfard chuckled in step. "She tells the instructor to keep pushing. I think the whole department is a little fitter thanks to her."

"Not so fun for all of us," Wolfard muttered. "The training's hard enough without being shown up by a rabbit."

"Criminals and cops of all shapes and sizes, Wool. And among them all, the toughest comes in at the height of a rabbit. So, what news?" Judy wanted to join in the conversation, but liking was sprouted at her just listening in for the mere moment, especially with all the complications the past-mundane would cause now.

"The ZPD are having trouble at the harbor," Wolfard informed with a sort of guilt, which Judy placed to be his disappointment of not being there.

"I heard about this," Flo said to the surprise of everyone in the room, nonetheless, she didn't even notice. "The officers searching the boat came under fire. I'd be heading over there now if Bogo hadn't requested I keep my charge of Judy. How did you find out?" Flo asked Jim, while Judy was further interested to how the white hare was able to get this information so quickly.

"Grizzoli messaged me. He's on the van with Bogo. They're gonna raid." This sounded severe, especially with how the last raid turned out, a raid's aftermath which nearly took her life and that of Jack's. For a slight shiver she managed to bring herself back to that shack, to that shadow, to that… beast.

"Any injuries?" Judy asked in success to the temporary expunge from her trauma.

"Didn't tell me about any. He just sent a text though, not sure." Wolfard took a stare at the floor in the obvious informationless despondency.

"Any other information?" Judy asked, keeping her mind focused on this, rather than allowing herself to slip away into the misted no-where-land her mind had been wandering of late. "What about the… about that mammle."

"He's, uh… He's down in the cells. Half the First Precinct's watching over him. Apparently someone's on the way to pick him up, take him over somewhere secure." Flo quickly nudged the wolf's side lightly. When Wolfard gave her his attention, her sharp blues nodded fixatedly on his browns, as if conveying a string of multiplexed messages.

"Oh," he noted a float of shock, reversing himself out of the room, "yeah, uh. That's pretty much all I've got. Flo said I gotta leave. You've got food coming and stuff."

"Thanks for coming by Wool, you back at work tomorrow?"

"I'll be there, Judy. I'll pass on your 'hi's to everyone. And to Clawhauser… if he's there." Wolfard gave a short glance at Flo, with an accompanied wink in a result of inclination of her head. But nothing of significance appeared from Flo, just a gaze of indifference, until more was confidently added, "And I'll be seeing you too."

"Indeed?" Flo's tall ears lost the indifference in new puzzlement.

"Yeah, as in I'll text you later. You can come over, I'll make you dinner or something. It's just a small flat but… uh. Actually, just… I need to clean stuff and… yeah, like I said, I'll text you." Flo only blinked at the wolf, whose pink ears only spoke of embarrassment. Judy could only giggle bleakly at the failed flirt, for right now, she couldn't care less at her present moment of freedomless anguish.

The door closed with his disappearance and Flo shifted to face the tired rabbit. "Food. Mealtime. The hospital provides meals, naturally."

"Naturally," Nick chimed in.

"Nicholas, there's more than twenty thousand beds in this building. I'm sure the Administrators won't reassign the finance department if I take an additional meal for you." She visibly contemplated for a moment, then added, "Given your acute fatigue, I can even sign you as a patient for a day or two."

"Well, Flo, that's—"

"You did pass out through exhaustion, I remind you." Such didn't sound at all a bad proposition to Judy.

"Sure then," he said, glancing over to Judy who nodded at him in a small beam. "Nothing but an empty house to go home to. What's the food like?"

"It fulfils all necessary dietary requirements." Judy knew this was the soothing way of saying the food was anything but decent, yet survivable upon, hopefully.

"Oh."

"It also fulfils the 'healthy eating' policy this government encourages, the Health and Hygiene act, and runs in accordance with the Public Offense Prevention and Unsavory-Predator-Tendencies Act' of eighteen ninety-one." Judy had lost the trail already, and Nick didn't appear any much different, as his annoyance had morphed into what she knew as a 'foxy attitude'.

"Gee. Tell me more."

Flo raised a brow. "Really?"

"No. Please."

The hare cleared her throat. "Judy, would you eat something? I can sign for nutrition gel if you don't want solid food."

"The heck's 'nutrition gel'?"

The hare turned back to the snappy fox. "It's as it sounds: a glutinous synthetic composite geloid which satisfies all major nutritional requirements, while also availing the patient with a sense of satiety."

Nick's mouth gaped open to the requiem of snap's final conclusion, "You guys seriously need to look into your marketing."

Judy didn't want any more of this back and forth, so she just answered, "Thanks, but, I think I'll stick to 'real' food."

"Very well. The vegetables are so over-steamed they mostly resemble a glutinous substance anyway. If there's no questions or other requirements you have?" Judy glanced to the fox, then shook her head. "Very well, I'll inform the staff; your food will be brought shortly."

Flo passed from the room, leaving the lovers once more alone.

After a visibly long contemplation towards Judy, Nick fell back into his bed, a long breath filling the air. Edging closer, Judy tried to find Nick's eyes and attention, but caught his lids closed against the light of the room. This aura of sickness and vulnerability was severely putting a strain or her mind, so she fought audibly for a distraction.

"Think we could push these beds together tonight?"

"Love to, Hopps. But won't. I cuddle you, end up just… fracturing something. I'll still be here darlin', for as long as ya need me."

…

The words shook. The lines of text jumbled and jumped between one another, playing a game of cat and mouse on the page of growing irritation.

The Chief grumbled to himself, holding his glasses against his face in one hoof, while the other tried to keep the page the right distance away from his face to be read. Both hooves were trying to remain still, each of them equally failing.

"In the next room various body parts of – a rectangular desk about two feet above – a concrete staircase of thirteen…" He grunted in surrender of attempting to read on the move, slapping the pages upon his knee. How could he not keep his glower of frustration in check to his degenerating age and skills that time just bashed and made harder and harder to keep up to a standard?

What managed to stop him from smacking something was the motion-blurred outside. There was a basket of fruit for sale by the road, where a camel salesperson visibly reacted to the spontaneous shrivel of his now-dark apples, a symptom of the intense heat of the passing Chief's glare.

The polar bear chuckled at Bogo's observations softly. "Should've driven something a little less bulky, ay? Maybe a Mini?"

"I'd like to see you get all this equipment inside a Mini," the Chief smirked. "Or the two of us, for that matter."

Snarlov glanced over with mock-offence. "Are you trying to say something about my weight?"

"All that muscle, yeah."

"Hah, ain't got nothing on old McHorn."

"In terms of raw strength, maybe. But there's a few places you outshine McHorn in all respects."

"Careful, Chief. You know the policy on fraternization in the workplace." She chuckled, but Bogo lost himself in his own world of silence. "What's on your mind? The ship?" He didn't acknowledge her question, until he just waved a dismissive hoof at his unwant to divulge the traffic jam of issues he had stacked in consent or otherwise.

"The boat at the harbor holds maybe six criminals with light weapons. We move in with bulletproof shields and knock-out gas, and the whole thing'll be over before it started."

"You said that about the raid at Erkin too."

"The Erkin raid went perfectly… minor injury to Officer Wolfard aside."

"Someone died, Chief." A groan wanted to leak out of Bogo, but he just brushed it off like a meaningless insect.

"A perp, yes. Accidents happen."

"It was me who killed him."

"As I said… accidents happen." Could she not get the hints he was giving her? It was as if she was infected by Officer Hopps' self-righteousness, self-righteousness which he was a personal witness to during the disastrous Bellwether office. His respect for their perseverance, honor was tremendous, but the short-sightedness which followed only cemented his frustration to how they were only limiting themselves to how much more they could practically do.

The bear's paws gripped tighter upon the wheel, the lightness of her voice trampled down with soberness, "After Wolfard went down, I just… instinct took over, pack instinct. We called it an accident for the report, but—"

"Snarlov, he was a shade away from OD'ing before we had arrived. I remember the report. Evidence of extended history of drug use. Immune system practically ground to dust."

"I know that, just… it's been on my mind. So, uh… I told you what's on my mind…"

Holding gazes for a moment, the buffalo ruffled a sigh. "It's this lead, this… impossible lead I'm trying to follow."

"Hey-hey," Snarlov snickered, "chief of police keeping secretes from the PD? Maybe the backbiting Surveyor femammle was right after all." Bogo hadn't thought about it, but it was actually true. How could a joke like this have so much reality in it… It was rather disgusting to his taste.

"It's… about that too. Huh, distracted me so much, didn't even realize I haven't told anybody yet."

Snarlov's amusement just disappeared. Bogo didn't need to explain the scope of negativity the Surveyor's visit had and would cause.

"Seriously? She didn't clear you? She seriously didn't clear you of suspicions?"

"She asked good questions. Hard questions. Twisted words and forced information."

"Chief, wh– what was the outcome? They can't seriously be considering—"

"Firing me."

"For what? Why? Doing your job? Doing it brilliantly?"

"Nothing's decided yet. She hasn't even finished the report. But listen," he added, Snarlov on the cusp of another response, "it doesn't matter so much right now. The lead, the impossible lead—" The van lowered to a halt; nonetheless, Bogo was so engulfed in what he had to say that he just didn't care one little bit. There was panic in his heart, as if there was no time left on the earth, and he had to divulge this to the officer he most trusted.

"We're here, Chief. Sorry."

"Backup can wait, they'll survive another minute."

"Chief?" The bear stared at her superior, obvious caution rising at the implication of lower priority to the safety of their officers at the harbor.

"We have a lead, Snarlov. A name. A lead as thin as a spider's thread. And I need help finding where it goes." His behavior might've appeared senile, but he needed to get this off his chest.

In the solemnity of the driving compartment, the Chief of Zootopian Police spoke a name he had grown to know better than his own in the last hours- passed.

"Zafearov."

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!

- Don't forget to check our collection called Independent Returns. It's on my account and is worth reading!

- Also we're producing high-quality YouTube videos of animated tendencies. Support us there by checking us out and leaving your precious feedback!

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