The Mammal Intelligence Center
The polished black and gray speckled tile floor responded gleefully to the busy steps of officers and officials at the Mammal Intelligence Center. It was a tall horseshoe-shaped building that sat on an island east of Zootopia. Right inside the lobby, a large wide touchscreen information booth sat on one wall nestled between two potted plants that stood like jolly game-show assistants presenting a prize. Jack, sporting a matching olive brown suit, passed a mouse working the screen.
He walked down the crooked hall to his right and headed for the elevators. To his right, as he walked up the hall, large windows provided a pleasant view of the exterior; a white-hot sandy beach glowed with the rays of an overzealous morning sun. Skinny trees stretched on the beach, sporting wild hairstyles.
The general mood at headquarters was one of a calm indifference. But every now and then, Jack would pass a mammal with a harried appearance, to which he would mutter sympathetically,
"You and me both," under his breath. Jack needed to review numbers with his accountant, check in with his inventory team, manage a small number of subordinates while meeting with the lower tier leaders in Zootopian Investigative Affairs, or Z.I.A for short. Then he had to report back to his superiors, not the least of which included the Mayor of Zootopia.
He would be lucky to finish these tasks and exit any meetings without picking up a heavier workload than when he went in. And after all this, he still needed to meet with Frank and a few other close friends to help configure his disguise. But keeping himself in good standing at work was his number one priority.
Despite the discontent with his recent behavior, Jack managed to keep his superiors placated enough to avoid any serious scolding. He continued to perform just above average, as was the norm for him. And he grumbled at how the slightest misstep in public could be cause for so much grief from his co-workers.
"I'm supposed to be a robot 24/7," he whined. "Heavens help me if I show emotion."
He chewed through the workload for the day with minor concern over how long it would take him. His thoughts about the past two weeks all faded into the shadow of his subconscious. The only thoughts buzzing in his head was of what needed to be done now. This was a skill Jack was personally proud of. He could shift and settle his focus on the fly. Like a missile to its target.
By the time Jack made it to his meeting with the Mayor and other officials, it was late afternoon. His late lunch still sat heavily in his stomach, and he could taste the bitterness of his salad. A cheetah and Giraffe sat to the right of Jack by a glossy reddish-brown rectangular table. The room was dimly lit. A projector was set up and lit the wall it faced a saturated blue.
A robust brown hog wearing a black suit and red tie sat on the opposite long side of the table, along with three equally dressed sheep and an elk who settled for a white suit. The hog muttered instructions to the sheep closest to him and then began to address everyone in the room. The sheep began scribbling in his notebook.
"First, the Mayor wishes to extend an apology for being a no-show. Some family business came up and he had entrusted the task of briefing you all to me." The hog rested his arms on the table but maintained a straight posture in his chair. He slightly turned his head to the lit wall and as if on cue, the elk clicked on a video that played on the projector.
"Jack, one of your old missions needs a touch-up. This is not by fault of yours. It is because of local governing incompetence." On the screen was footage of a struggling military camp in an urban ghetto. Giraffes in familiar combat gear walked about bored and disheartened. "Given the knowledge you have, you are needed to help restore balance to the unfortunately tenuous peace treaty we had put in place."
Jack clenched his fists in frustration. His nose twitched involuntarily in a disapproving manner. He hoped he didn't have to leave Zootopia again so soon. "We have a team set to be deployed to the south. You are a good LIOZNA and it is vital you remain in touch with the team through electronic communications. For now, you are only to oversee the operations from here at home. But in the future...Who knows?"
A reprieve. Jack, the Lead Investigative Official for Zootopian National Affairs, or LIOZNA for short, would only communicate at a distance and not have to be present. Maybe the situation wasn't as serious as he thought. But it could always get worse. In which case, he knew he would be called in. And he hoped and pleaded to himself that this would not happen. Threats on homeland were just as important as foreign ones. Big needed to be dealt with. There was still so much to uncover here at home. The thought of leaving filled him with dread.
Despite the news, the meeting ended with a fair set of requirements from Jack: He would communicate every other night with the team to the South to help translate for the locals and culturally educate his team so they do not cause offense as they help investigate the murder of a presidential candidate. For now, this was all he needed to do. If the leads in the South needed a refresher on the history of the region, Jack would only be a phone call away to provide any necessary intel.
Jack sauntered out of the meeting and patiently walked to his office. He wanted to tour the headquarters for a bit and reflect on the activities of the many officers and officials in the building. He entertained himself by attempting to predict and work out behavioral patterns of fellow workers in his head. He toyed with questions in his mind as he would glance at a random target and wonder, "when and what does this person eat during lunch," "is this person married," "are they right or left-handed," among other things.
The long high pitched whine of a melancholic electric guitar playing in his pocket drew Jack's attention away from his thoughts. He reached for his phone and answered the call. It was Selene.
"Agent Jack, Gregory was able to spy on Big in the Rainforest District. I just got the messages now!" Jack unconsciously picked up the pace in his steps.
"Good! Tell me everything in detail."
"Wait until I see you. I know the day is just about done and I'm going to be clocking out, so I'll see you in the office. I just have to return the papers you gave me."
"Alright. Meet me there." He hung up and excitedly made his way through steel double doors that led to a corner staircase. He hurried up to the sixth floor to his office with a big awkward grin plastered across his short muzzle. His translucent white whiskers shined in the overhead lights in the halls.
Selene arrived shortly after Jack and filled him in on what Gregory had seen, including descriptions of the mammals present. He mentioned seeing weasels, foxes, and bears. He described their appearance and what they took away from the site.
"That's it! That's a good lead!" Jack threw a fist in the air as if claiming a victory. He paced and thought to himself for a brief moment as Selene watched. "If the foxes Gregory saw are who I think they are..." He stopped and noticed his disorganized desk. A pen tottered along the edge just barely hanging on.
With vigor, Jack tidied up his desk as he prepared to clock out for the day. There was so much he wanted to do. But work was going to force him to rethink his schedule and he needed to wait for documents and a video link to be mailed to him so he could communicate with his team in the harsh Southlands. Most likely, the info would be available tonight.
As he stopped to look over his office – a ritual he engaged in at the beginning and end of every workday to ensure things were in order and nothing was forgotten – he graciously said to Selene, "Thank you for everything today. I wouldn't have managed so well without your help. It was a lot of work," he laughed. Selene smiled back,
"Just doing my job, Sir. Goodnight." She packed up her belongings and retired from her shift, using her phone to punch out.
"Oh, wait!" Jack called out just before she closed the door behind her. She stopped and wearily turned around, opening the door wide again.
"What is it?"
"Contact Gregory tomorrow for me. Tell him to try to get records of that forged document. I want to know who the original recipient of cargo 68-CRD was supposed to be." Selene nodded affirmatively and said,
"Yes, Sir, Goodnight." Then she closed the door behind her.
Jack stood alone in his office. He eyed the suitcase full of the materials he purchased from Finnick. He was anxious to get the suit made.
It was not too long after Jack had returned home that he found waiting for him the information he needed to work with the team deployed to the Southlands. Jack conversed through video chat on his laptop with the Lead Diplomat, a black bear. The video chat was not just an introduction from Jack to his team overseas, but a response to the three e-mails he received containing documents about the situation in the south. Jack was to help the Lead Diplomat and the deployed team navigate a sensitive investigation involving the murder of a presidential candidate. The diplomat was sent to ease tensions between rival political groups but he needed some extra assistance with navigating sensitive cultural, religious and social practices in the region.
He familiarized himself with the names of his team members, twenty-three mammals in all. And he introduced them to important phrases in the region's languages. In all, the communications lasted about an hour before Jack signed off for the night.
The following night, after one more interview with the team in the Southlands, Jack met with his meerkat friend Frank, and two makeup artists in a private studio in Little Rodentia owned by a retired spy. It was close to midnight. The studio was a converted garage and had a remote-controlled gray roll-up door. It had two square slits for windows that allowed a fair amount of light through them.
A deer makeup artist excitedly set up her tools inside. Large bottles of colored dyes and cans of spray paint of over five shades of more than a dozen colors stood on a long black table in the back of the studio There were two pairs of scissors that varied in length and weight, rubber needles and other prosthetics and a copious amount of other tools for cutting, splitting, nailing and heating set in messy rows on wall shelves just behind the table. The deer's partner was a male sheep that had several years of experience in espionage and costume making. Frank would oversee the work being done, as requested by Jack. In the center of the room was an elongated grayish-green chair that hovered over a silver tub.
Jack stripped down to blue undershorts and sat in the chair. The team took measurements of his head and body.
He let his thoughts run free as he relaxed in the stretched-out chair, legs up, head back. The team drew light blue lines along the main features of his body. This wasn't the first time he had to have a new identity and wear a disguise. He did this once while in the Southlands. But his preying on Mr. Big was not legally sanctioned by Zootopian authorities. Nor did they know that he continued his investigation behind their backs.
Underneath Jack's chair was the silver tub that served to catch the excess liquid from the mold that would be poured over Jack. The mold would have to cool and harden over his body. Then the artists would gently chip away at the hardened cast and do another mold for his back. There would be casts made of his lower body as well as upper. Once this was done, the rubber and latex would be applied to the cast and cosmetically altered, including the addition of fur so that it resembled a squirrel. Once the cast no longer served a purpose, it would be discarded as the rubber covering would be removed from the cast like the skin of an animal and then placed onto Jack like clothing.
While the team waited for the liquid mold to cool enough to apply to Jack without scalding him, he thought about his encounter with Judy. He noticed when reflecting back to their meeting how every movement she made was driven by optimism and a sense of duty. Her lovely voice echoed in his head. He recalled the burning passion for her work that reminded Jack of how he used to be. It was exciting. He didn't notice the effect she had on him at the time because he was too focused on escaping from Finnick's shop without being noticed. But now as he lied back in the chair, he hoped to see her again. And that thought made him laugh.
"Hold still, Sir," the sheep said and applied a breathing straw to the thoughtful rabbit's mouth.
He laid back with his eyes closed. The deer reached for a large pumpkin shaped jar that she had just removed from a low flame as soon as Jack arrived so it could cool as he prepared for the procedure. The experienced sheep guided his deer partner with some advice on how to keep the liquid from bubbling so the cast would not break and crack once it hardened. With the aide of the stronger sheep, she lifted the still steaming jar and gently applied the off-white liquid mold over Jack's body.
Jack fought the urge to wince. The heat dissipated quickly enough and he sat motionless for several minutes as the thick milky substance smothered and swallowed his upper body like a monstrous goo devouring its prey. He would have to sit this way for nearly a half hour, relying on the breathing tube for air. And then the process would have to be repeated for his legs, which would be easier. Once it began to cool, the heavy liquid mold actually felt comfortable around his body. Some time through the procedure, Jack felt a hard thump hit his chair.
Jack jumped in his seat cocooned in the mold. His whole body bounced like a marble statue of a rabbit being tossed onto a cushion.
"Mwaaa? mh..." His muffled yelp amused Frank and the artists as his breath whistled through the straw.
"This isn't some late night spa. You're not getting a mud bath! Wake up," Frank teased. Realizing he fell asleep and Frank was kickkng his chair, Jack vibrated in laughter, setting off more snickers from the artists in the room. He must have looked like an egg trying to hatch, with his free legs clutching to the seat to remain still and the rest of him in a hardened shell that vibrated in the chair from his own laughter. The thought made him exhale so hard from laughter in his rabbit shaped shell that the breeathing straw was launched out of his mouth.
"Ho ho! Stop, ish pawling on ma fur!" Just a few minutes later after the room settled down, the team worked to gingerly remove the upper body mold. Jack yelped occasionally when they pulled around stuck spots on his fur. After another hour of repeating the process for the lower body mold, they called it a night. The entire process of creating the disguise would take two more visits. For now, the casting phase was enough and they needed to let it sit overnight to dry.