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The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.
All language is either through Google Translate, or the site 'Bits'n'Bob-stones'
The Sons of Efrafa
.
Sweet cheese! The smells, the sounds of kits playing while parents chat nearby, it's almost like being…
"Feeling nostalgic for your 10,000 kin back in the warren there, Fluff; except, ya know with 100% fewer rabbits?"
…back home; complete with obnoxious older siblings.
-sigh- "Yes, Nick, as a matter of fact this does feel a lot like home; pot-luck dinners, all the grownups trusting their kits with each other, though nobody ever used old mam Catmaul as a jungle gym. Who did you say that was, Jacob?"
"Huh? Gah! -pant- Make some noise when you move, Savage! When did you get here?"
"Situational awareness is the key to survival in the field, Nick; fail to know your surroundings when on patrol, and guess what? Take it away, Hopps."
-Giggle- "You'll be dead, Brushtail!"
"Thank you, officer. To answer your question, Nick; I live here, so this is where you're likely to find me. As for your question, Judy, did you mean the African Lion, or the Mountain Lion doting on him?"
-um- "Both?"
"The elderly lion is Rabbi Dusan Loewe. The puma is Jean-Pierre DuPrey: he's the cop who arrested me."
"Not really a badge of honor there, Savage."
"Dayne drayéveeron, Hombe-fa! Dayne drayéveeron!"
"Hwa?"
"And this is the neighborhood Hrair-roo. Hrair-roo, M'saies Nicholas Wilde."
"Frithaes, Nicholas Hombe-fa. Dayne drayéveeron!"
"They're asking you to play with them."
"But, Judy and I…"
"Oh, go on, Nick. We're not supposed to speak until after the, Colchita, Lupadora? Is that right Jacob?"
"Um, okay?"
"Narn-ni!"
"Señoras AlvaredoandCabrera: Mrs. Alvaredo is the maned wolf in the yellow dress She's the Lupadora, as the Lapin root Lupa should tell you. Mrs. Cabrera is the Lama in the red dress. She's the Colchita. Hola, Señora Alvaredo, señora Cabrera!"
"Hola, señor Raibert."
"They're both from Bullivia; came here after one of the revolutions in that region 30 or so years ago. They were both internationally recognized professional fighters."
-rumble-
"Iya, iya, kerfluffle fhtagn."
"Oh, stop complaining Nick."
Chapter 13
The night progressed well. The pair from Bullivia, with translation from Mrs. Alvaredo's daughter-in-law, gave a demonstration on wrestling using your environment; while they themselves were quite showy in their presentation, they also showed much more sedate techniques based upon their movements. All of this was couched in terms of temporarily subduing one's opponent, so as to ensure escape, though it was quite apparent that if either of them was in that situation, escape would be the last thing on their minds.
Next up were Nick and Judy, who were there to talk about an education outreach program being piloted by Northwestern Community College, with the assistance of the University of Zootopia. The program was aimed at providing GEDs, Anglican as a Second Language classes, Associate's Degrees and Technical Certificates to inner-urban communities throughout the Pacific Northwest, such as Foxburough. Nick spoke about his own experiences, and how many of them might not have come to pass had he had more education opportunities, as well as how an informed community is often more resistant to criminal influence and influx. Judy spoke about the work opportunities available for mammals with as little as a GED. She touched a cord in the audience when she spoke from the heart about how education and diversity go paw in paw
"I grew up in Bonnieburough, what most people call Bunnyburrow. As the name implies, we are mostly europan brown and cotton tail rabbits from the Edinburgh region of Caledonia. We had a UZ satellite campus that focused on agriculture, economics, and ethanol fuel industry. It was, also, mostly rabbits. Growing up, I knew two non-herbivores, Robert Catmaul and Gideon Grey; one was a school acquaintance, the other was the school bully. To me, that was how the world was, except in Zootopia.
"I didn't know how little I knew about the world until I arrived here. I didn't think foxes could be anything other than what I had been told or had seen from the only fox I had ever met. I didn't believe a sheep could be so cruel as to actively destroy lives, just to push her political agenda. I didn't think that I could be so parochial and ignorant, that my ill thought words could do so much harm."
She paused for a moment to gather herself, while Nick rested a paw comfortingly on her back. After a moment she continued. "I certainly didn't know a wonderful, diverse community lived right here on the edge of the city. I grew up with stories of Zootopia being a shining city where Predators and Prey could live side by side, but it's not; it's a city where mammals can live side by side, just like you do. I've never been anywhere else that a ewe would happily trust her lambs to the care of wolves," she looked at Jacob, "…or where a hare's word carries as much weight as a lion's.
"Zootopia could be an incredible place, where mammals of all types don't just live in proximity, but share a community, just like this one. These programs will allow your voices to be heard, your stories to be told. The opportunities offered aren't just to get better paying jobs but to show Zootopia that it has been wrong; unity doesn't come from rejecting what makes us different, but by embracing and sharing what makes us diverse and unique!"
She stood there for a moment, embarrassed that she had gone on like that in front of a crowd of strangers. The silence was broken when Rabbi Loewe stood and began clapping. Within moments, the entire hall was on its pedals, clapping and cheering. Jacob started rhythmically stamping his pedal paw, and soon every hare, as well as several other mammals were stamping and chanting with him. "M'saion fuléao! M'saion fuléao!"
Once the cacophony died down, the elder Lion spoke. "Pay heed, oh ye people, for God is speaking." Saying this, he stepped aside as a young Jaguar in a Reman Catholic priests collar stepped forward and gave grace. After that, the assembly settled into a very lively dinner. Judy and Nick sat beside Jacob, and Judy suffered a great deal of thanks for her gracious words, as well as one poorly veiled attempt to set her up with a local hare.
When the well wishers had abated, Judy turned to Jacob. "I'm curious, what was that chant you started up?"
"The Hain are how Efrafans and Lapinos celebrate or commemorate something. That one doesn't translate well; literally, it means 'We greet the dawn'. The best I could explain is it means hope for the future."
After dinner, a statuesque Reindeer stepped onto the stage.
"Good evening everyone. Most of you know me, but for our visitors from city center, I am Gladys Winterhorn, Chief of Police in the Seventh Precinct."
Judy sat ramrod straight in her chair, her ears pointed in rapt attention.
"First, I would like to thank our guests from the First for their presentation, as well as their inspirational words."
Judy beamed at the praise, even as she blushed with embarrassment at being called out.
"Now, onto the FCDC police blotter: the racers who came into town last night were, with your help, sent back out; while there were no arrests, as there is no law prohibiting 'spontaneous social gatherings', there were also no injuries or altercations. Your filling the streets to prevent the racers from using Lower Canal Street as a drag strip quite possibly saved lives here in town; the race moved to the Wadi Pashto neighborhood of Sahara Square, where an accident destroyed a store front and landed three mammals in the hospital, one in critical condition. I bring this up to reinforce the point that it is through cooperation that this community remains safe; that accident could have been here, and that mammal could have ended up in the canal."
Judy looked at Nick when she noticed him tune the rest of the Chief's talk out. "What are you thinking partner?"
He glanced over to her, then looked back at his dinner. "Opportunities and outreach." At her quizzical look, he continued. "You know Grizzoli and Snarlov coordinated with the Third on that accident, and the Fangmeyers have been working with Gangland trying to crack down on illegal street racing."
"Of course; Bill and Wade ended up pulling a double trying to get something from the driver, while she was lucid. I still can't believe Flash was involved in something like that." Judy shook her head in dismay.
"Well, he was never involved for the same reasons as some. He's a bit like Pearl; he races for the fun of it. A bunch of mammals do. Others are trying to be 'edgy' or are 'sticking it to the mam!' Not to sound like an old mammal, but I blame it on the media's glorification of the underground racing culture."
Jacob turned to Nick. "Hey Red, they have tapioca pudding. Do you want me to get you some?"
Nick's ears perked up. "Yeah, that'd be gr…" His ears flagged when he noted the smirk on Jacob's muzzle. When he turned to Judy, she was busy hiding a grin behind a black bean burrito.
"I tell you, mammals today have no respect for their elders. Where was I?"
Judy swallowed. "You were railing against mass media for corrupting the youth of today with their Hot-Rods and Rock-and-Roll."
Nick gave a good natured huff. "Thank you, young lady. Anyway, it goes way deeper than just obsession with the 'Fast and Furriest' series. Some are kids like I described, but there's another use for the races: recruiting."
His friends looked at him strangely. "No seriously! When I worked for Big, one of my jobs was to go to those races and poach the best drivers. It's how I met Flash in the first place. Anyway, there are a lot of kids who get into street racing for work; the pay can be incredible, it's exciting and a hell of a lot more dignified than customer service work, especially for preds." Nick held a paw up to Jacob before he could say anything. "I know, I know: Tannerman Propaganda language, but it's our reality so accept it for now."
Judy put a paw on Nick's shoulder. "So, what is it you're thinking?"
Nick looked thoughtful for a moment. "We need what happened here: outreach, cooperation and participation. It's like a drug or Vice sting: so long as the market is there, mammals will come, and the ringleaders keep distance through mammals like me. Just rounding up the racers won't stop the problem either; they just become 'victims of the system'."
A voice came from behind the three cops. "What would you suggest then, Officer Wilde?"
"Gah!" Nick turned to look at who startled him and came face to knee with Chief Winterhorn. When he looked in her eyes, he saw genuine interest, so he took a chance. "We need outreach ma'am. A good number of the mammals involved in street racing just want to race. The ZPA has a controlled driving course; we could give them the competition they want, while demonstrating interest in their interest. They stop being outcasts, have a safe venue to hone their chosen craft and are shown that there are employment options available without resorting to vehicular felonies. We keep racers off the streets, while providing outreach to disenfranchised citizens and, potentially, interesting recruits."
Jacob started to grin. "I get it: a 'Hearts and Minds' campaign!"
Nick shook his head. "There will be no harvesting of organs, Jacob."
Jacob looked aghast until he saw Nick's smug look. "Smug rug. Well, I'm onboard, for what it's worth."
Judy all but bounced in place with excitement. "I'm in too! OOH, Nick, this will be great!"
"This is all well and good, officer Wilde," the Chief interjected, "…but it doesn't address the core issue you mentioned: that there are many involved who are involved specifically for criminal activity, or other purposes, to say nothing about not knowing when a race will be."
Nick spun completely around so he was fully facing the reindeer. "The mammals who are in it for the counterculture thrill will lose interest once they aren't 'edgy rebels'. As for the hard-criminal elements and the race times, I think I could swing an in."
Judy looked pensive. "I don't like the idea of getting Flash involved, Nick."
"One, Judy, he's already involved; we didn't catch him that first day joy riding. He was practicing. Two, it won't be him that's the mammal on the inside."
"Who, then," Winterhorn leaned down, "…will be this, Fox, on the inside?"
Nick grinned.
…
Nick swallowed nervously as Chief Bogo fixed him, Judy, and Jacob with a deadpan look.
"I want to understand this correctly: you, probationary officer Nicholas Wilde, want me, the Chief of Police for Zootopia's First Precinct, to authorize an extensive operation involving multiple precincts and special departments, to say nothing of the countless mammal hours that will be involved, taking away resources from ongoing operations by veteran officer teams, and which will, according to you, result in zero arrests. Is this correct, officer?"
Nick took a calming breath. "No sir. I am requesting everything you mentioned, with the very real potential of crippling the underground racing circuit, as well as securing vital intelligence on the key actors involved: the organizers and recruiting officers, gang leaders, as well as the vice peddlers who use these events as advertising venues. I am also asking, because a great many of the mammals who participate are just kids; they feel forgotten or misunderstood and are trying to find a community that gets them. If we can show them that they do have a place in the city, that we don't view them as deviants who will only ever find acceptance in the criminal element, then even if we don't get actionable intelligence to make any raids or arrests later, we'll have stripped the scene of a huge number of potential criminal recruits. Sir."
The three rookies sat at attention while they awaited the Chief's decision, the set of their ears the only indication of their nervousness. After a minute of consideration, the Chief steepled his manual hooves.
"I'll give this my, tentative, approval. If Chief Winterhorn hadn't called me and told me to hear your proposal out, and I am somewhat annoyed that another Chief knew about this before I did," he held up a hoof to forestall any comment, "…I'd have laughed and put the three of you on Parking duty for a month. As it is, your idea has merit. However," he lifted the sheet of paper Nick had written his proposal on, "…I can't take this to the Commissioner's meeting with the Chiefs tomorrow. If you are going to be this active an officer, Wilde, you'll need to learn how proposals like this are drawn up. Also, this is somewhat sparse on details and resources required. I'm assigning you to Lt. Higgins for today Wilde: clean up and format this proposal for presentation. Higgins will work with you as far as resources you would require and have access to. Hopps, Raibert: you two are on foot patrol around Waterly Park; I still need officers on patrol, and Higgins doesn't need the three of you under foot. Dismissed."
After the meeting, but before heading off to their assignments, the three agreed to meet at Nick's place for a bad movie night. "I'm using my veto; tonight, we will watch something with bad Seventies porn music and a crap load of fake blood." Nick pointed his snout in the air with an affected air of disdain.
Judy shook her head as they passed Clawhauser's station. "No can do, 'Smug Rug'." She giggled when Nick shot Jacob a glare. "I'm bringing one of my girlfriends tonight. She's been wanting to join in for a while now, so she gets to decide what we do."
Jacob faked a hurt look "Are we not enough for you?"
Judy snorted. "Nope. Plus, whenever we get together, you two just wear me out. Once one of you finishes, the other one starts in; I nearly passed out the last time."
There was a yelp and a sputtering commotion behind them. When they turned, Benjamin was rushing to the bathroom. Jacob looked on with a worried expression.
"I really am starting to wonder about that mammal. Anyway, what are you complaining about? Laughter is supposed to be good for you."
...
The three rookies met at seven o'clock. Waiting by the door was Judy's friend, who had a bag in her paws.
"Zib!" Nick and Judy started slightly when Jacob rushed forward and hugged the vixen, who broke out into a grin.
"Umbra mica, or should I call you micuta doamna now? You looked quite fetching in that pants suit."
Jacob began sputtering, while Nick tried to look his best in his off-duty casuals. Judy stared at the vixen questioningly.
"I told you I knew Jacob. Anyway, I should probably introduce myself to my host." She held out her unoccupied paw to Nick. "I'm Zabrina Alescu."
"I'm awed by your radiance, glorious as the dawn, but you can just call me Nick."
"Hey Zib, want to see a magic trick?" Every mammal was suddenly wary of whatever Jacob had in store. "Watch now as I transform one of my coworkers into a kit!" Jacob turned to Nick. "Hey Red, this is the niece of Mrs. Adame I told you about."
"Ohmygodyourfamilymakesthoseawsomegrubbpuffsthosearesogoodpleasetellmeyoubroughtsomepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-gasp-pleasepleaseplease…" The gathered mammals could only laugh at Wilde's kit-like excitement.
"What have you been telling them, Umbra mica?"
Jacob managed to compose himself. "Only that you have access to your aunt's grub puff recipe."
"Yeah, no. I'm not risking Baba's wrath by giving away one of her recipes." She giggled at Nick's suddenly crestfallen look. "But I might be persuaded to bring some when I visit."
Judy snorted. "I'd become a dirty cop for you if it keeps him from pestering me for my family's blueberries. What did you bring tonight?"
Zabrina lifted her bag. "Well, you said this was a bad-movie night, so I went for a theme," She reached into the bag and began grabbing items and handing them out, "…Vanilla ice cream for Judy and myself, vanilla Aegean yogurt for the boys, and for tonight's entertainment!" She pulled out a DVD. Upon seeing it, Nick's eyes gleamed in delight as he and Zabrina said in a sing-song voice, "Can't get enough of the STUFF™!"
…
Judy was the first to arrive at the precinct in the morning. She headed up to Clawhauser, coffee in paw.
"Good morning Ben!"
"Good morning Judy. I have a fresh dozen if you want one. How, how was your night?" Clawhauser seemed slightly uncertain, but Judy was just hungry enough to not care.
"As long as it isn't a Boston Crème or an Éclair. Last night was great, but I've had about as much of white, creamy gunk as I can stand. Thanks for the donut, Ben!" Judy didn't see the stricken look on his face as she walked to the bullpen.
When Jacob and Nick arrived, a Zebra was at the reception desk. Nick waved at the mammal. "Hey, Cherise. Where's Clawhauser?"
"Hi, Nick. He had another fainting episode, so the Chief took him to the clinic to get checked out. I hope he's okay." She nervously ran her hoof through her mane. "Higgins is running the precinct today, so you should head in now."
As they walked into the briefing room, they noted the rather subdued environment, while Hopps and Trunkaby were in conversation.
"I'm not trying to 'fat-shame' him, I'm worried about his health! This is the third time in as many months." Hopps was wringing her paws.
"Except he's been that weight for years, and this has only been happening this last year." Francine pointed with her trunk.
Judy's and Jacob's ears snapped up, and both moved to their seats before Lt. Higgins entered.
"Room, Aten-Hut!" He waited a moment, then continued. "At ease. First up: yes, Clawhauser has been sent to the clinic for a full evaluation. I am going to pass around a card for everyone to sign, as I know we all wish him well. Second, assignments: Hopps and Wilde, Ingram Heights; keep an ear on the radio in case the Chief needs to see Wilde once he's done at the Chief Brief. Raibert, Lupinski is out on her roady thing, so you're with Winters on speed-trap duty, Interdistrict-25 off Grand."
Jacob stood and headed over to Mitchel Winters.
"Mitch, what did he mean, 'roady thing'? It's Passover, the Holy Sabbath; she's not doing anything until tomorrow night."
They picked up the keys and radar gun.
"Yeah, the L.T. is super atheist; he doesn't get religious things, so he thinks she has special dispensation to work as a roadie for Black Sabbath." The Lynx shrugged his shoulders. "I've tried to explain it to him, but he just doesn't seem to get it."
Jacob got into the passenger seat of the cruiser.
"Are you sure he isn't just an A-hole?"
"No, he really is just that dense when it comes to religions."
"Huh, good to know."
…
It was noon when the call came in.
"Base to Adam 54; car 54, where are you?"
Nick picked up the radio while Judy wrapped up her hummus wrap.
"Adam 54 to Base, we're on the west side of Taylor Plaza."
"Copy that Car 54, Chief needs to see you back here. How copy?"
Nick looked at Judy as she started the cruiser. "I guess the Chief-Brief is done." He buckled in and re-keyed the radio. "Solid copy base, heading back now; ETA 30 minutes."
"What are you talking about '30 minutes', Nick? The station house is only five blocks from here." Hopps pulled out into traffic.
"Yeah, but there's construction on Pleasant St., and a Gala™ store on Peko Ave."
"Aw, crap!" She scowled. "The new Me-Phone 9 comes out today doesn't it?"
"Yep. I almost expected Higgins to brief riot control measures this morning, what with the shopping craze."
Both the fox and rabbit were pleasantly surprised; they were only 10 minutes late from their estimated time. As Hopps settled in to file their morning report, Wilde headed up to the Chief's office. He was greeted by the Chief, a stoic Jaguar that Nick recognized as Commissioner Kali Singh Bagheera, and a Shetland Pony with a shock of technicolor mane and such disheveled clothes that he figured she was either Vice or Gangland; that, or the Chief had adopted a random homeless mammal. He stood at attention and threw his best salute. "You wanted to see me, Chief?"
"Yes, please sit down. This is Commissioner Bagheera, and Sgt. Raine Daschle; she heads up the Street-Racer taskforce. They're here to talk about your proposal."
The Sgt. leaned in. "Specifically, the part where you have half the force putting on some kind of Broadway musical song-and-dance number, instead of making arrests."
Nick took a deep, calming breath to center himself, and dove right in. "This op won't be about making arrests, but rather a combination of preventing the need for some future arrests with kids who just want to be accepted, while securing intel to guarantee the arrests of mammals that use these events as criminal job fairs. The dance troop thing was actually Higgins' idea; he and McHorn both have sisters in the Fourth who went to college with Officer Trunkaby. They were all apparently in the same sorority and were all on the Stomp team. There are a bunch of other officers with similar skills that we can use."
The Commissioner rested his paws in his lap. "And why do we need this spectacle to begin with?"
"To prevent the racers from scattering when we arrive." Nick hopped out of his seat and began pacing. "A lot of these mammals are just conditioned; 'It's the Five Oh, time to go!' If we just pull up and start yelling and arresting people, we'll accomplish nothing except what's gone on before, and I hope I'm not overstepping any bounds, but that's not good enough any more. We show up with a dance crew, and the novelty alone will entice some mammals to stick around.
"This is the social media age; everybody has a Tweeter account or a Muzzlebook Page. Everyone without the criminal savvy to not post their activities will be tagging and linking videos. Meanwhile, we will have several dozen hi-def, hi-resolution body cams and dash cams pointed at the crowd. We start comparing the two sets of information, and we'll have eyes on nearly every player at the event."
Sgt. Daschle had a thoughtful look on her face. "That's all well and good, and I do mean that; it's more dignified than some of the things me and my team have had to do in the past, but we'll still need to know when and where. You said you would infiltrate, but you're not a racer; this is about racing, and we don't know that information until maybe an hour before."
Nick paused and turned to the pony, arms behind his back. "That's because you are a competitor, not a vendor." At the combined curious looks, he continued. "Whether it's a comic convention, a business seminar or an illegal street race, there is a certain amount of groundwork that has to be done. In our case, the route itself has to be mapped out, escape routes have to be scouted, and vendors, that is, chop-shop owners, drug dealers and pimps, have to know where and when to be, since they have valuable merchandise to move around.
"That's also why I wanted to have access to the CI network. Whoever, and by whoever I mean me, goes in will need credibility; that means a name that can be dropped safely. I can't just say I'm there for Big business, or that rejecting me might Destroy their future business opportunities; that'd get me killed or worse if someone tried to verify my story by calling Mr. Big or Victor 'The Destroyer' Destoyov. I also can't just be a free agent or work for an unknown. I know there are just enough mid-level mob types doing time right now that one would be willing to cut a deal for a reduction in their sentence. If I 'work' for a known Capo or lieutenant, it affords me the protection to operate safely, and the legitimacy to get close to the key players, and that's where the really good intel will come from."
Bogo looked skeptical. "You expect these mammals to let you get close to them with recording gear?"
"The key to hiding something from someone," Nick took on an almost pedantic air, "…is to conceal it in and as something they expect to see: Want to hide drugs? Disguise them as over the counter drugs or candy. Want to hide a fox cop in a criminal den? Plant him as a fox criminal. Want to conceal an AV recording rig? Bury it under a lot of other electronics. Only the most technically savvy mammals can tell the difference between the electronics associated with one of those Blackout Dance troop suits, and the guts of a modern cell phone.
"I've run a hustle before, where I posed as a party-drug dealer. It's a lot of cash, very quickly, and the props make identifying me later almost impossible. I did it on a shoestring budget because I needed cash to pay off debts quick. Now, I have a city behind me, and I'm doing it to save lives." Nick huffed and returned to his seat, seemingly spent. "Sirs, ma'am, I can do this because I have done it before, and I should be the one to do this because it needs to be done, and I can't in good conscience ask anyone to do it in my stead."
The three senior officers considered the fox in front of them, then looked at one another. After a moment, the Commissioner spoke.
"Son, I am approving this operation. For the foreseeable future, you will be seconded to Daschle's team: you report to her, and she reports to me. We keep minimal knowledge of this op for security reasons. I know," he held up a paw to forestall comment from Wilde, "…several of your coworkers already know, so they will be read in and integrated. Any questions?"
Nick perked up. "Yes sir, is this operation going to have a cool name I can put in my memoirs?"
Bogo snorted. "Yes, Wilde, we're calling it 'Operation: Mess-this-up-and-I'll-tie-your-tail-to-a-rope-and-use-you-as-crocodile-fishing-bait'."
Wilde sat still for a moment. "Maybe just 'Operation: Shepard's-Prayer'." At the puzzled look, he saluted the senior officers. "Alan Shepard's Prayer: Please, God, don't let me screw up!"
…
With the operation now being organizational, rather than personal, Nick was freed up to establish the persona he would be assuming. He was still boggling at the idea that he was trusted to get this done. This was how he, Judy and Jacob found themselves back in Percy's workshop.
"This will be Fabulous! My greatest creation to date!" The skunk was nearly beside himself in excitement.
Jacob relaxed against one of the walls. "As long as it's not me in the chair, I don't care."
"I don't know, I thought you looked quite fetching." Judy smirked at him.
"The two-piece was okay, but an evening in those heels and I was ready to murder someone; they crushed my toes." Jacob reflexively moved his pedal paws.
"And now you will know better what females go through to look 'beautiful'."
"Look, Hopps, at no point have I ever asked…JESUS-H-CHRIST, Wilde! What is that?! You look like the unholy lovechild of a Gypsy caravan and a Rave!"
Judy looked at her friend in horror. "I'd have said Liberace and an overdone Christmas tree, but, Yikes!"
Where once stood Nicholas P. Wilde, now stood 'The Candymam'. He was perched on clear acrylic bottomed, white snakeskin platform boots which made him slightly taller than Jacob. His pants, shirt and tie were a riot of clashing primary colors and patterns, over which was a red-and-white candy striped Zoot-suit coat. Crowning the whole affair was a fuzzy, misshapen top hat and spangled Elkton John glasses, as well as a walking stick fashioned to look like a candy cane. To add insult to visual injury, the whole outfit was covered in a variety of LEDs, blinking in a near hypnotic pattern. When he addressed them, it was with a falsetto so grating, it caused Judy's ears to shoot up in alarm and Jacob's to point straight back.
"The point of all of this is to make later identification nearly impossible: how tall am I? What's my build? Even my scent is covered; if you two were canids, you'd be running for the hills right now."
Jacob began massaging his temples. "And the Saturday morning villain voice?"
Nick approached them with a slow, exaggerated strut. "That's all me. You're going to have to get used to it, since you two will be taking turns in the A.V. van."
Nick took a theatrical bow when Ferdinand started clapping.
"Fabulous, absolutely fabulous! Just some minor fitting issues, and to test the electronics!"
Judy squinted at the fox. "They seem to be working just terribly, I mean, fine."
"Oh, not the lights dear: the A.V. rig!" With that, the flamboyant mustelid switched on a nearby T.V. monitor. What appeared was an image of Jacob and Judy at an angle, looking at a screen showing Jacob and Judy into infinity.
Jacob pinched is eyes closed. "Okay, turn and look at something else! This is just freaky."
Nick walked over to the wall and turned out the lights, then turned back to his friends. What they saw, was a largely unchanged feed. While Jacob looked on in confusion, Judy sat up for a moment, then started laughing.
"That's brilliant!"
Nick smirked at her. "And that, young lady, was a terrible pun."
Judy giggled and planted her paws on her hips. "Oh, shush you!" Jacob looked back and forth between the two, until Judy took pity on him. "It's all those lights: I'll bet the same number of red, green and blue LED's are always on! The suit provides full spectrum illumination at all times."
"That's, pretty damn incredible." Jacob turned to Ferdinand. "I bow, sir to your exemplary skills." As the skunk hurried into the back room for something, Jacob turned to Nick and Judy. "Now we just need your assigned criminal contact and we can get started."
"I still don't see why we don't just ask Mr. Big: it's not like he would say no to me if I asked Fru Fru." Judy was busy fussing with Nick's coat, and so didn't see the alarmed look on his or Jacob's face.
"First rule of the hustle, Fluff: never get in debt, if you can call one in. The precinct already has mobsters who owe us, might as well use them. I'm going to get out of this now; do you mind Hopps?"
She looked confused for a second, then blushed and stammered. "Oh, cheese and crackers Nick! I am so sorry! I'll, uh, I'll just, see how everyone else is doing."
Once she was out of sight, Jacob turned to Nick.
"She is aware of what the Bagnoli family is, right? That Francesca is the heir apparent to the Big empire on the West Coast?"
Nick pursed his lips in thought. "She has something of a blind spot when it comes to people who help her. I think she spent so long doing without support, moral or otherwise, that she won't risk losing those who extend their paws to her."
Jacob and Nick both looked the way she had gone. "We're going to have to keep an eye on her and get her ready, aren't we?" Jacob said with concern. "When the Bagnoli's call in whatever debt they feel she owes, it will devastate her."
…
Harold Papanopolis was not, despite his street name of 'Happy', a nice goat by any stretch of the imagination. He had been brought in on a number of charges ranging from drug distribution and racketeering, to less savory crimes such as allegations (unproven) that he had run a child pornography ring. He was serving back to back life sentences, and as such seemed a poor choice for the Candymam's erstwhile employer, except for one detail: he hated the city's criminal underworld. This might have seemed ironic on the surface, save for his adamant belief that his downfall was orchestrated by his own underlings, at the prompting of, 'outside elements'. As such, the Gangland Taskforce was able to secure his assistance simply because the end result would hurt those whom he felt had hurt him.
As with any other enterprise, Happy's criminal organization was capable of functioning without his direct input, though when it was given, it was obeyed without question. More than one competitor or disloyal member had ended up in the same prison as Happy at one point or another, to gruesome results. As such, when Happy told one of his lieutenants, Dodger Wilson, that they were to assist a new employee called the Candymam to gain access to the racing circuit, there were no dissentions. This was helped by the fact that all the assistance that was required was a date, a time, a location, and a phone number to be called if there were any questions.
Nick stepped out of the panel van he had been loaned, at the location he had been given by Happy's crew. He was immediately approached by a group of young toughs, probably part of the race crew that was scouting the location and meeting mammals like himself.
"Hey you, circus mam, what you doin here."
Nick put on his working smile: all teeth with his head tilted slightly down. "I'm the Candymam, I'm here to spread my own brand of Happy times." So saying, he turned slowly, panning his hidden camera across all of the mammals. He then opened his coat. The inside was festooned with pockets, each one with a different baggy. Another advantage working with the ZPD, was access to Vice squad's chemists. His own recipes had kept him out of trouble in the past. With the help of the precinct however, his two 'best sellers', a candy-coated mixture of ground up caffeine pills and an over the counter dietary and exercise supplement he called 'Shock Rocks', and gummy worms made with vodka and an over the counter sleep aid he'd dubbed 'Wonder Worms', were both much more convincing in effects, as well as much safer for the user. The final touch was a one-ounce vial of lab grown "Zootopian Ice", just incase someone doubted that he had any actual drugs. That one was not for sale, only to be tested.
While some of the mammals looked impressed, the speaker, a rather stocky jackal, considered him with some skepticism.
"You a Happy mam then? You ain't trying to Skip out on nothin?"
Nick had no idea who Skip was, or if it was simply a test, so he stuck with the plan as established, and trusted his Brothers in Blue would have his back.
"I wouldn't dare to be called a Dodger. I'm just here to spread joy and Happy times."
The jackal signaled three of his partners to stay with Nick: two watched the fox while the third looked over the van, as he moved back some feet. Wilde guessed he was confirming that Dodger knew Nick. Since there wasn't anything to be gained by worrying about that conversation, he focused on the two animals in front of him. Particularly, he paid attention to the muskrat that kept licking his lips while looking at Nick's coat; this mammal was the weak link in the team.
A minute later, the Jackal came back. "Yeah, ain't no worryin about no Dodger here. You come back around seven tomorrow night, spread the Happy times."
Nick nodded and lazily turned to his van, once again panning his camera across the area. Tomorrow was going to be very busy.
…
The next night, at seven sharp, the Candymam arrived on the scene. The van, while externally unchanged, had experienced a complete interior makeover, and was now the AV monitoring support station for Operation: Shepard's Prayer. Jacob and Judy were seated at separate monitoring stations, while Winters and Lupinski were in riot gear, ready to extract Nick at a moments notice. The first racers had only just started to arrive, but the plaza was already filled with mammals, just as Nick had said. He circulated the crowd, focusing on meeting the various players, as a networking mammal would do at one of these meets. He had mixed success, especially with a group of large wolves who looked at him with disdain and muttered to themselves.
By eight o'clock, all the racers were there. Just before the organizers could start the event, there was a rumble of engines from all directions, as police cruisers poured in from every road. There was a moment as the cops were arraying themselves around the nearly panicking mass of mammals. Nick used this to move over to a storm drain, but within view of the other 'vendors', and with a quick tug on an errant string, opened the bottoms of all the 'drug' pockets on his coat. Once he was clear of 'contraband', he kicked the piles down the drain. The few who had watched him, nodded in approval at his foresight.
There was the screech of a bullhorn, as Frank McHorn stepped forward. "This is the Police! You are being served!" He lowered his bullhorn and stepped back, as every female megafauna in the assembled force stepped into line. The UZ geology department later reported a 1.2 Richter scale earthquake that lasted two and a half minutes, as the first Police Stomp team lived up to its name. This was followed by a more agile choreographed demonstration by several of the tiger, lion, zebra, and deer officers. The assembled cruisers had been modified so their sirens would act as speakers for the chosen Electronic Dance Music tracks, while the light bars provided the light show. As the dance wound down, there was a new roar when a tricked-out Chevalier Manta Ray pulled a perfect 180 slide park at the front of the formation, out of which stepped ZHIP's own Pearl Swineart in a ZPD Nomex racing suit.
After a five second pause, McHorn stepped forward again. "This is the Police. You Have Been Served!" He let the bullhorn fall to the ground, and there was pandemonium.
…
The mood in the precinct that night was jubilant. Nick, upon his return to the station house sans Candymam costume, received a standing ovation from the assembled officers. Francine Trunkaby stepped forward. "All Hail the King of Candy! Your crown and scepter, your Majesty!" At that she bowed and placed an elephant-sized Lifesaver™ on Nick's head, and an elephant candy-cane in his paw.
It took Nick a moment to collect himself, as this was the first time it truly occurred to him: he belonged, this was his pack. "Thank you, thank you. It wasn't all me though: let's hear it for the All City Dance Team! Yeah!" There was another round of cheering and back slapping. "They'll be available for birthday parties, Johnson will be available for Bachelorette parties…" A number of female officers started hooting and wolf whistling at that.
Once the congratulations died down and officers started to return to their sections to begin interpreting the gathered intel, Nick looked around and saw Judy. "Hey Carrots, have you seen Emanuel?"
"Yeah, that's what I came to tell you; he all but locked himself in the Cyber-crime offices, and he keeps reviewing the same section of transcript."
"Huh, I'll head down and check up on him."
"Not alone you're not! I want to know what's going on, too."
When they arrived, Jacob was seated in front of one of the large, hi-def screens with the same scene playing over and over: two large grey wolves talking in a foreign language, followed by them making a gesture with bared claws. Before either could say anything, Jacob spoke without turning around. "I need someone who speaks Germanic." In the background, the audio played in a synced loop.
"Warum wir mit diesem Essende arbeiten? Wir sind Jaegern!"
"Warum wir mit diesem Essende arbeiten? Wir sind Jaegern!"
"Warum wir mit diesem Essende arbeiten? Wir sind Jaegern!"
