And here we are! Another chapter of Saving Wilde! And I think one of the longer ones too. nearly 15k words!
I actually had this one done a little sooner than I expected, been busy, but I have had enough time to write, more or less, though obviously the two week thing has sort of gone out the window lately. I considered breaking this one up, but after what I did to you all last time, well, I just hope it doesn't drag too much. I realized I had a lot more to say than I had originally planned as I was going through it.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!
I don't own anything Disney.
"Ya know, I am gonna miss this ol' place."
"Really?" asked Finnick. "You were just ranting about how much of a shit hole it was only 10 minutes ago."
"Well… yes, it is a shit hole, I stand by those comments, but it is our shit hole. Think of all the things we have accomplished here in the last three years Finnick. All the mischief we have managed, all the mammals we have turned, all the undermining of Artician interests – all from this little, shitty apartment. So what if the sink leaks, and there is black mold on the ceiling," he looked up at the large dark spot above them, "this place has been good to us. Very good. Just think Finnick, you finally got Jackie to sleep with you here! That has meaning Finnick! Meaning!" He shook his clenched paw before him to add emphasis as he gazed at his diminutive partner.
"This was not where I first convinced her to do that Nick," Finnick replied, unamused.
"Well, it's certainly where you got her to continue sleeping with you. And I for one, think that is the more important achievement. We have been through a lot here, for instance, just look at that spot over there," he pointed towards a corner of the room, "that was where you found me, dead drunk, after Liliya broke up with me."
"I thought you weren't dating."
"We weren't," Nick shot back, a dangerous gleam in his eye, "but…" he paused, his train of thought thoroughly derailed. "But… oh! And on this very couch is where that crazy reindeer doctor patched your ear back up after our successful foray into Ossetia."
"Successful? Ossetia fell barely two months later. We didn't do shit."
"Come now, Finnick, you know as well as I that it was never our goal to prop up that little place. Just to sow as much havoc as we could. And we did just that, Finnick, helped keep Ossetia in the fight months longer than anyone could have imagined. And we couldn't have done it without this place… It's the end of an era."
"I don't think it's quite over, Nick," Finnick replied surveying their pawiwork.
"Heh, no," a malicious grin spread across Nick's muzzle, "I suppose not."
It was not often that Nick had such an opportunity before him. The opportunity to 'poison the well', to deliberately feed multitudes of bad information to the MSS. Information which would lead to bad decisions and the ruination of more than one career, and might, if they were lucky, result in the deaths of many an enemy agent.
They were going to allow their apartment be discovered, long after they were gone of course, but it would be much at though they had never left. The equipment, computers, hard drives, cameras, radios, and ream upon ream of documentation would all be left there, just waiting to be discovered. And it would be, that was the whole idea. Someone, somewhere, would share the information, just so that there would be no doubt. They could not use any of the mammals they had turned to share the location with the powers that be, the one who shared the information would would be under immediate suspicion, and Nick had no doubt that more than one of their contacts would come clean with very little provocation. No, it had to be someone who had done long service for Arcticia, who had long been a loyal servant, someone beyond reproach. Well, they didn't have anyone quite like that available, sharing a secret like this wasn't something that would simply happen out of the blue. There had to be a context to it all. The means of acquiring this valuable tidbit had to make sense, could not be too easy.
Nick might not have had anyone like that available in Arcticia, but that wasn't to say they didn't exist. The ZIA, for all its faults, frustrating bureaucracy, inability to be quite as proficient an intelligence organization as the MSS, an almost schizophrenic approach to determining what was important and what its vision was, did have one thing going for it: It was a massive organization, and quite often, its parts were far greater than its sum. There were those in the ZIA who were excellent at what they did, who had contacts all over the world and could name which could be trusted and which couldn't, could even tell him who in the ZIA couldn't be trusted. Some of those supremely competent mammals were even in positions of power, a rare thing indeed. And sometimes, those great minds knew a good idea when they saw one, and threw their full support behind it.
It had been a plan hatched over a long night filled with booze and bad TV. One created with the understanding that Nick's time in Articia was already limited, his days there numbered. Stevens was gone, replaced when the old PM's government had fallen, and the new ambassador, an otter named Roger Ottersberg, had wanted to bring in his own prefered spymaster. That hadn't bothered Nick, his replacement was an excellent agent, and he had spent much of the three months ensuring the transition was as smooth as possible. He was going home, reassigned back to where he had been before he was returned to this frozen tundra, this white limbo.
Everything before the two of them, everything, from the spare hard drives that were arranged in stacks along the walls, down to even the crumpled up sheets of notepaper that lay beneath the couch was a carefully constructed lie. The MSS, whenever they were finally given the location of this apartment, would burst in and discover a treasure trove of fool's gold. It wasn't all false of course, a considerable amount of real information had to be included to lend credence to the overall picture, numerous useful contacts sacrificed so that the MSS might harm itself in its zealous efforts to make good on all that it would discover.
And that was the point, at the end of the day, to make the MSS destroy itself, even if only just. The treasure trove was a bomb, not the physical kind, but it would end the lives of so many jsut the same.
They had worked hard the to make it all believable, toiling away to connects dots of the vast web they were creating. It implicated dozens of officials all across the Artician government, created evidence that they were spies, and had been selling information to the ZIA. So too did it implicate Artician agents abroad, made it clear that so many were in fact double agents, talking out of both sides of the their mouths. And if everything went according to plan it would set the MSS back by months, perhaps even years as they purged the 'rot' in convulsions of fitful violence.
It was a coup de gras, a final, audacious act of a mammal who was determined to spit in the eye of his adversaries one last time before he was shuffled off into unbearable obscurity, and perhaps save himself from that very fate.
It wasn't so much that Nick wasn't excited to be reassigned to counterespionage back in Zootopia, it was perhaps what he was best at. It was simply that his last foray into that role had ended explosively, and he knew for a fact that his superiors had not forgotten his mistake. He had no doubt that his assignment back to Zootopia would involve him riding a desk until he was reassigned abroad again. Just a waystation on his journey through life.
The prospect of such inactivity was crushing. He hated being useless, doing nothing, and would have done much to avoid it. He'd even offered to work for his replacement in Arctica until they had found something else for him, but that request had been quickly denied. They needed him, they said, back in Zootopia. He didn't believe a word, but there was nothing he could do, and so he had thrown himself into what little work he had left, building this bomb, in particular.
"Are you done, Nick?"
"Finnick, I am being nostalgic, I want to remember this place, because I have no doubt that the next place we are sent wont be quite so nice."
"What do you mean we, Nick? I am not letting them send me anywhere, I have better things to do than manage this shit for the ZIA. Besides, Jackie has been back in Zootopia for four months already. I'm going home."
"It's too bad she isn't here for this. She would have loved to see it all come together."
"She helped us put it all together, Nick."
"Yes, but there is something magical about seeing it all together, ready to go, you know? Like, it almost makes me believe that this fucking plan might work."
"I hope you're right, Nick."
"They won't remember me, I don't think, it's the nature of the thing after all." He gestured around the room. "No one will, Finnick, but I'll be damned if I don't leave my mark."
"You remember what to say when we get in there right?"
"Yeah, I do…"
"Hopps," her partner, Detective Chambois, admonished, "you have to be assertive, you let the beaties think they are in control of the scene and we get nothing done. You're a detective now, don't let them walk all over you."
"I know, Ava, I know." Chambois gazed at Judy a moment longer, let out a small, bemused chuckle, and then opened the door to their unmarked cruiser and stepped out into the late afternoon sun, Judy following close upon her heels.
It was an apartment complex, not new, nor in the best part Sahara Square, but well maintained and quiet. The type of place that many a member of the middle class called home. 'Normal', is perhaps what it would have been called, a place entirely unremarkable, except for the fact that there were perhaps a dozen emergency service vehicles all surrounding the entrance. Their occupants, ranging from paramedics and firemammals to police all loitering around the entrance.
"Hey Chambois, Hopps," the tiger closest to the door called out to them as they approached, "'bout time you showed up!"
"Shut up, Bangale," Chambois shot back, grinning. Ava glance at Judy, caught her eye, and gave her a significant look before looking away.
"Bangale, what do we got?" Judy jumped in, the message from her partner clear.
"Well, nothing pretty. A body on the third floor," he replied, pointing off behind him in the general direction of the southern half of the building. "Looks bad. Sergeant Fangmeyer thinks there are signs of a struggle, or something, the poor bastard doesn't look happy she died."
"A she?" Judy asked, making a note on her notepad.
"Yeah, female fox."
"Thanks, Bangale, what's the number?"
"425."
"I thought you said third floor?"
"Yeah, the numbers are weird here, they consider the basement the first floor. Elevators are on the left once you get past the front desk."
"Great, thanks Bangale," Judy said as she entered the building.
"You did good, Hopps. You act like you know what you are doing and they will think you do."
"If only they knew how wrong they were."
"Ha hah! Fake it until you make it, rabbit!"
Fake it 'till you make it. It was phrase that Junior Detective Judy Hopps had heard hundreds of times since joining the force. A mantra repeated so often that at times it seemed as though it was the unofficial motto of the department.
So she had to pretend to be a detective for the day. A full detective. Not the detective in training she truly was. It was a strange purgatory within the department, she technically had authority, or at least much more than she had when she was a normal patrol officer, and yet, everyone knew that, whatever her qualifications, she had no experience, and thus no one respected her. So she effectively had no authority, regardless of whatever her badge said. Her very title denoted that very state, Junior Detective. It was the same thing printed upon the the little badge stickers the officers gave to children. Junior Detective. She wondered, as they waited for the elevator to reach them, if the overlap in naming was a coincidence or some subtle form of hazing.
Hazing, of all kinds, was banned in the department, had been since long before she got there. But that didn't mean it still didn't exist, though usually in a much more mild form than what had apparently been the norm in years past. She herself had been made to buy the morning donuts for the detectives in her small part of the department for the last few months since she had been promoted. 32 mammals including herself. And there were other things too. 'Shit rolls downhill,' Chambois had said to her once before making her file everyone's reports for a week. She hadn't enjoyed those things, but she had learned much. The things that her fellow detectives liked and didn't. Who was most reliable in their paperwork and who needed to be poked and prodded, and their worked double checked after it was handed in. And the flow of the department. How the different personalities and mammals all interacted to get their jobs done. Who were the leaders, the followers, the ones who would toe the line and the ones that had no compunctions about crossing it.
It was a different environment than what she had acclimated to as a patrol officer. Much less regimented, the lines of what was and wasn't acceptable much more blurred.
"You excited to see your first murder? A stone cold fox too. Lucky!" Detective Chambois asked as the elevator began its slow upward climb.
"No, not really…"
"Heh, neither was I. It's always interesting though. If there is one thing I can say about us mammals, it's that we are really good at devising ways of killing each other. You really never know what you are gonna walk into."
Judy didn't reply, the tone seemed all wrong. It was something she was not used to yet. The gallows humor that was so pervasive amongst the detectives she worked with. They seemed to make light of everything, criminal and victim alike. She just couldn't relate to it, could not understand how someone could poke fun at someone who had just died, or been robbed, or even done the robbing. She had wondered, at first, if her promotion had placed her in the company of nearly three dozen sociopaths, but, after a short time, she had come to understand they they were simply jaded.
She had experienced a similar attitude as a 'beatie', the somewhat derogatory nickname for patrol officers amongst the detectives. A sort of frustrated, apathetic weariness that seemed to slowly infect even the most empathetic officers, even her. But it had never been so potent, so concentrated. Every detective seemed to display their own brand of it. For Chambois part she seemed to revel in making jokes about some of the least pleasant parts of their job, and watching Judy squirm as she performed them.
"Oh, c'mon, Judy! Buck up! This is a big step. You know what they say: 'Life is better when you are laughing!'"
Judy didn't feel like laughing, though, on some level she understood what Chambois was doing. She had read about the somewhat counterintuitive phenomenon that swept communities experiencing hardship. The deep dive into a strange, almost perverse sense of humor that kept things bearable. She understand that what Chambois was doing was to raise her spirits, alleviate her nervousness, put her in the right mindset to experience what she was up on the third floor, room 425.
She appreciated that. Was happy that her partner cared enough about her to take the effort to shield her, even if just a little, for the painful reality of their job. But it wasn't helping, it only made Judy more nervous, exacerbated her dread. She sighed, allowing some of the tension she felt to flow out with each deep breath. She knew what she had to do, what she had to be, a professional, in control and meticulous. And she was going to be that, no matter what. "I'll be fine," she said, "I knew what I signed up for."
"Hah!" Chambois barked, "I said the same thi–"
DING!
The elevator chimed as the door open, the sound surprisingly loud.
"Well, it's time to do our thing, Hopps."
425 was not far, just a left out of the elevator and a short jaunt down the hall. There was an officer she didn't recognize standing outside the door, gazing at his phone.
"Hey, Wright." Chambois called out to him as they approached.
"Oh, hey, Ava. I was wondering when you would get here." He seemed to notice Judy for the first time at that point and the zebra gazed down at her almost predatorily. "A Junior huh? Didn't think they had you ruining the newbies anymore Chambois."
"They only give them to me when the Chief particularly dislikes them." She grinned at the zebra, who met her gaze and held it. Held it for just a moment longer than what Judy thought normal. It was over then, as quickly as it came, the officer and detective suddenly looking away from the other, a strange tension filling the air.
Judy stood there, watching the two of them, confused as to the delay. It was no secret that the two of them had a thing together, despite the difference in species. The only ones who were apparently still under the impression they they had kept it under wraps was the two of them. But Judy was content to let their silly game continue, and she pushed passed her mentor and entered the small apartment.
It was quaint, but well kept, the entrance opening directly into the kitchen. A kitchen dominated by the massive form of Sergeant Fangmeyer.
"Hopps," he said as she entered, "where's Chambois?"
She gave him a significant look, and he immediately understood her meaning. He scoffed, mumbling under his breath, but didn't move from where he was, instead fixing Judy with a hard glare. "Well Hopps, I suppose now is your time to shine. The body is on the other side of the counter," he said, tilting his head toward the living room, separated from the kitchen with only a simple breakfast counter.
Judy swallowed, her anxiety welling up, the nervousness she had felt in the elevator returning tenfold. She hadn't realized just how effective Chambois had actually been at making her forget her nervousness, the awkward moment in the hallway and the rank unprofessionalism that was no doubt taking place at that very moment causing her to forget all about it. But it didn't slow her down, she didn't hesitate, had seen bodies before, had helped with investigations before. She was ready for this, as ever she would be, and, without a second glance back at Fangmeyer, she stepped around the counter to look upon the thing she had chosen, the life of a detective.
It was a red fox, a vixen, just as she had been told. The poor thing lay upon her side beside a fallen stool, one paw still clutching lightly at her neck and the other laying open, a large plastic smoothie cup just beyond the fingertips. Even in death it was obvious that she had died painfully, the face managing the to look strained even after the life had drained from the muscles, and she was scrunched into a tight ball, but not the tail, which seemed to stick straight out from her hips. Vomit, or something like it was pooled before her, brown and glistening on the faux-hardwood floor.
"She hasn't been dead long, maybe three or four hours, she was screaming I guess, and someone called it in." Fangmeyer broke the silence, leaning across the counter to gaze down upon the body with Judy. She nodded, but no more as she retrieved a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. "There is nothing else of note here though, as far as I can tell anyway, no sign of struggle, no break in, nothing. Just a dead fox in her little apartment. I am still running her info, it–"
"Fangmeyer," Judy interrupted him, keeping her gaze on the prostrate vixen.
"Yeah?"
"Please be quiet for a moment, I need to concentrate." He didn't reply, and she didn't catch his expression, if he had indeed even made one, but he remained silent, and she returned to the mystery before her.
She wasn't young, the fox, the fur around her lips, and her eyebrows, and the rim of her ears misted every so slightly with grey. Middle aged perhaps, though attractive and fit, dressed in exercise wear. Meticulously groomed, her claws maintained just so and not a stray hair on her head. Judy wondered if the vixen would take pleasure in that. Knowing that even in death she still looked good.
She stepped closer to the body, circling the unfortunate vixen, taking her in from all angles she could reach. She brushed her fingers through the vixen's fur, examining the skin. It was a dark, splotchy, red, almost as if it had been bruised. It was especially prevalent amongst the cream fur of her neck and chest. A strange condition, not one she had ever seen before. But she wasn't about to draw any conclusions upon it. There was still much to discover.
She tested the air, nose working furiously, could smell many things. A strange perfume she didn't recognize but liked, the smell of a fox, reminding her of someone from long in her past, though it had a softer taste, not a perfect imitation of him, and almonds. Bitter almonds. In fact that was by far the most powerful scent she could detect, it was overpowering. She kneeled down by the corpse, searching for the source of the scent. It was the puddle. Not vomit, a drink of some sort, maybe a protein shake, a common dietary supplement for many predators.
"Fangmeyer," she finally said, "are there protein shakes up there?"
"Yeah," he said after returning into view holding a box of protein packets, "good ones too."
"Any of them almond flavored?"
"No, but I suspect the scent you are picking up is this," he said, holding out a small brown bottle emblazoned with the words, 'Pure Almond Extract'. She took the bottle, examining it for any irregularities. But she found nothing, it was a normal bottle. She opened it, held it up to her nose and took a breath.
Her world exploded, a horrible burning tearing through her nose. She was dizzy, nearly fell, nearly dropped the bottle, the everything spun around her. She caught herself, just barely. She retched, suddenly feeling as though everything she had eaten that day was about to exit her body in a violent torrent. She fought back the urge, felt Fangmeyer at her side.
"Hopps?!"
"I'm fine." She pushed him away. "I'm fine… really. That stuff is just… strong." He took the bottle from her, took a whiff himself and recoiled.
"Oh, shit, you weren't kidding. Ahck, fuck it burns. The hell would anyone put that in their smoothie?"
"They sell this stuff at health food stores these days. Supposed to be good for you."
"Anything that smells like that can't be good for you." He eyed her, concern on his face. "You ok? That stuff really sent you for a loop."
"Yeah, I am good, awful stuff. Here, put it in the bag," she offered him an evidence bag. "Maybe it'll cut down on the smell." There was something off about the bottle, the intensity of the smell, the way it had smacked her in the face the moment it touched her sinus, but she couldn't place it. She would log it as evidence though, have a closer look at it later. "Can you tell me anything else about her, Sergeant?"
"Not much, HQ is still running her ID," he motioned to her purse sitting on the countertop by the door, "but the neighbors say that she was bit of a recluse. Nice though, always lent a helping hand if necessary. And she went on runs every morning. Landlord says she had been here for two years. Good tenant too. Always on time with rent and kept good care of things, as you can see." Judy nodded, gazing back at the fox, constructing a mental picture of her life. "When HQ gets back to me I'll let you know what she did. Not sure why they haven't gotten back to me already."
"What was her name?"
"Her ID said Ella Bissett… she was 52."
Judy nodded, the name releasing a flood of sadness inside her. She hated death, the pain it caused, the loss.
"You might want to get Chambois in here, she'll want to take a look before the rest of the department tears this place apart. I'll have a look around," Judy finally replied.
"I glanced around already. Not much to see, still, be my guest." She did just that, though he wasn't far off the mark. There wasn't much there beyond the life of the vixen lying in the living room, but there wasn't much to say even about that. There were few pictures, nothing that struck Judy as any of family. Just a number of portraits of the vixen, a few more candid shots as well. She liked to smile. And hers seemed to involve her whole face, her very eyes radiating her joy. Judy wondered who had taken all those happy pictures, not a single one contained another soul, they were all simply the Vixen, smiling at the camera. It was the only thing that could have been called a personal flair in the whole space. The apartment felt sterile, manufactured, as if the dead fox was rather more a guest in a hotel rather than the resident of an apartment. It was an eerie feeling, walking through a place that didn't feel lived in at all.
She entered the bedroom, perfectly organized like the rest of the apartment, and walked around the edge taking it all in. Much could be discovered about a mammal in their bedroom. It was a place for many where they could truly cut loose, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. But if Judy hoped that this bedroom would be just as revealing as her own, she was disappointed. There was nothing notable there. Nothing in the closet besides clothing, nothing in the amore other than more clothes and jewelry drawer with some very nice pieces. She found the perfume the vixen wore, and noted the name, but left it in its place. She took pictures, of everything. The bedroom, the hallway, kitchen, living room, bathroom, the body. Chambois made sure Judy got a photo of the fox from every angle.
The coroner arrived soon after to examine the body, but had little to say, and instead quickly left with the vixen wrapped tightly in a black body bag. They collected evidence, what little there was. The extract bottle, hairs on the floor, the imprint of lips upon the smoothie glass. But there was nothing shocking there, nothing that lead them to believe that this might have been foul play. Just an unfortunate, but natural death. They went around and around the apartment, searching again and again, hoping that perhaps they had missed something in the first half dozen passes.
HQ finally got back to them with the information they had asked for, after more than two hours, a horrendously long time.
"Records had a heck of a time finding her. Pillow said it was like all the links to her file had been erased," Clawhauser said over the radio, sounding suitably apologetic for the delay. "But I found what you asked for Fangmeyer. Ella Brisset," he read. "Looks like she was a long time political operative for the Labor Party, a registered lobbyist… I guess lately she has been working as a staffer for Mayor Lionheart's office."
"She'll be well connected," Chambois said. "Might want to take a trip to the Mayor's office."
Judy nodded, but the result of the search didn't sit right with her. Clawhauser had said it was as though her record had been erased. A strange thing for someone who worked for the Mayor. It might have been nothing, a computer bug, or a mistake somewhere along the line, but it sounded familiar, as if she had run into a similar problem once before.
Then it clicked. Nicholas Wilde. His record had been impossible to find, but found it she had, after much effort. That searched had sparked much in her, all those years ago. It had made her realized just want she wanted to do on the force. Become a detective, research and solve puzzles to solve crime. It was such a strange thing, that even through what had turned out to be an utterly fruitless search, the military never even responded to her frequent inquiries, Nicholas Wilde had continued to influence her, provide her direction and push her forwards into the future. She had kept that picture of him at the graduation, though it was rare these days that she would look at it. She had kept all the records she had discovered too, though she didn't look at those anymore either. Rather, she kept them as a testament to what she could accomplish if she put her mind to it. She had found a record that didn't exist. And if she could do that what else couldn't she do?
It was an interesting coincidence, that Ella's record was much like Nick's, though obviously less well hidden. But the parallel didn't really help her at that moment. It provided her with no profound realization about their current predicament. Nick's record had been an oddity, but not an illuminating one. Nevertheless the similarity heightened her critical eye. She took a deeper look at the apartment, approached it more methodically. She reentered the bedroom, looked around, found nothing, Stepped back into the hallway, gazed at the closet there she had opened probably ten times already, and opened it again.
There was little inside, a vacuum, a some boxes filled with holiday decorations, nothing out of the ordinary. She tested them, shaking a few, grasping at straws, chasing after a feeling that seemed to be misleading her. She shook one and it toppled over, full of nearly nothing. She gazed at its contents, frustrated.
"You good, Hopps?" came a call from the living room.
"Yeah, just knocked some crap over…" She looked at the next, full of tinsel and unusual ornaments, nothing to see there. She lifted it, intent on looking at the last box, but she paused, surprised at the weight. She gazed into the box for a moment, trying to reconcile her conflicting perceptions. She replaced the box on the stack and began removing its contents, gingerly placing them in the box she had knocked to the floor. There was something there, at the bottom, a case, deep maroon and heavy. She pulled it from the box and placed it upon the floor in the hallway. There was no lock, just a simple latch, wrought in silvery chrome. She pressed the button beside it and the latch snapped open. Slowly, carefully, she opened the case, her eyes growing wider as the contents were revealed.
Passports, it contained passports, at least a dozen, no, no, that was too much. There were only nine, from countries all over the world, an incredible, multi-colored array of booklets, each in their own individual slots. She took hold of one in the middle, a deep maroon just like the case, and pulled it from its place. There was a seal upon it, embossed in gold, a lion, framed by a rising sun, impaling a snake upon a spear, the lion's great paw pressed down upon the reptile's neck. There were words that bordered the image, surrounded it in a ring, words she didn't understand, 'Nemo Grandum Super Anguis'. There were words below the seal however, that she could understand, and they read:
Passport
Federal Republic of Pridova
She blinked at the name, a nation that she wasn't familiar with. She had heard the name, but it might have been on the opposite side of the moon for all she knew. She flipped the booklet open, realized she couldn't read the text therein, but she saw the picture, and she read the name. It was Ella, there was no doubt. Her piercing green eyes stared up at her from the little booklet, but the name was wrong, she could tell, even if it was printed in Pridovian script. It read, 'Ioana Jakkals'. She replaced the booklet, took out another, blue this time, embossed with a shield surrounded by a wreath and beneath that the words 'Kingdom of Aturia'. She opened this one too, saw Ella's picture again along with the name 'Crina Soro'. She replaced that booklet too, staring down at the array, trying to achieve some sort of understanding of what it was she was looking at. Why would someone have multiple passports? And all from different nations? It didn't make sense, the thing before her entirely beyond her experience. Or was it?
She examined the case more closely, hoping that there might be some sort of clue. But it was totally featureless beyond the latch and handle that adorned the edge. But she noticed something during her examination, the case was far deeper than it seemed when opened, and it was far too heavy just to contain some passports. She took hold of one of the pouches that contained a booklet and pulled.
Nothing happened, the false bottom perhaps not being quite as false as it seemed. But she did not relent, instead returning to inspecting the inside edges for some way to release the passport tray. She found it, a simple system, slide the tray forward just slightly and it was easy to lift out. She took a peek beneath it, started, surprise making a brief appearance on her face before she regained her composure and placed the tray on the floor. On one side there was cash, a large amount of different currencies, probably the equivalent of a few thousand Bucks, but there was no way for her to be sure, much of it she didn't even recognize. And on the other, there was a pistol, tucked neatly into a specially designed slot along with two magazines.
She stared at the contents, her mind racing, trying to put the pieces together. But the longer she thought about it the more lost she became, the further she moved from connecting the dots. It was spy stuff, like from a TV or a movie. That was silly though, spies like that fantasy. It had to be something else. The pistol was probably illegal, she knew that much, weapons like that long banned for the general public, but the passports... How could someone acquire so many? She knew nothing of the process to be given one, had never had one herself and she soon realized that she couldn't think of anyone she knew that had one either, though it certainly wasn't a normal topic of conversation. Identity theft perhaps? No, that didn't seem the provide the solution either.
Things just weren't adding up, there was just too much she didn't know, didn't understand. She was grasping at straws just trying to make sense of the basics of what she saw before her. So she fell back upon one the first lessons that he been pounded into her head at the Academy. The one lesson that, more than any other, was constantly reinforced day in and day out on the Force: When in trouble, ask for help.
"Hey, Chambois, Fangmeyer, I found something."
"Hello, Nick," the voice said over the phone, sounding almost robotic. His new boss, Horace. It was a secured line. "There's been an emergency briefing called and we want you down at HQ."
"Why? What's going on?"
"Not sure yet, they haven't told me anything."
"I feel like you tell me that a lot. Maybe they are trying to tell you something."
"Hah, go fuck yourself, Nick. Meeting starts in an hour, I'll see you then."
"Yeah, ok, I'll see ya." Nick sighed as he hung up the phone, not relishing the fact that he now had to make his way downtown. He had already mapped out the rest of his day, and that road map had definitely not included being at the ZIA facility that afternoon. He resented being told to go there, though only a little, and only because he had planned to do basically nothing that day. Work of course, he wasn't neglecting anything, but he was feeling lazy and he wanted nothing more than to indulge that feeling.
But he couldn't avoid it. Meetings like this were a rare event. Something big was happening, and whatever his mood he would be loath to miss it. He had been back from Arctica for about a month – a long, boring month. It had been made clear to him upon his arrival home that he was desperately needed there, that someone with his experience and talents were just what the counterespionage division needed. But that had been, apparently, a lie, or perhaps simply an alternative fact. He had in fact been given very little to do, and was mostly left to his own devices. Normally that would not have been a problem, he had been thrown into a similar situation in Arctica and he had taken advantage of that general lack of oversight to build a large an effective espionage operation. But here in Zootopia the game was different. He had no authority, no budget, and no direction.
He kept himself busy, doing what he could with what little he was provided. Had rebuilt many of the bridges he had made during his last stint in this division. But there wasn't at the moment, much more that he could do. Counterespionage was inherently reactionary, and he had nothing to react to. So he sat, festered, and stewed in his little, dingy apartment. Rudderless, and immensely bored.
His worse fears about his reassignment had been realized. Made all the worse by the fact that that reassignment was not based upon competence or success, rather national politics, the one type that was almostly entirely beyond his control. He hadn't loved Arctica, but he had loved his work there. It gave him purpose, and that was perhaps one of the things he needed most.
At least this briefing was something. Something to break up the monotony he had been forced into. It was something because if the ZIA and the Director had intended for him to return home into total obscurity and irrelevance, they wouldn't have made him a part of it. He was excited, he realized, for whatever it might bring. He left only a few moments later, it wouldn't take him an hour to get downtown, perhaps only 20 minutes, but it would serve him well to test the waters, feel out the mood at HQ before he was thrown into the thick of things. For the first time in a month, perhaps even more, Nick Wilde felt as though his life was moving again, even if this was only a small step, it was going somewhere.
"Brisset's dead," said the tiger at the head of the table, scanning about as he did so. The excited, nervous tension in the room becoming palpable, every occupant fully focused upon the speaker. The name meant nothing to Nick, too long had he been out of this loop to know all the players just yet, but he reacted with the feeling of the room. Whomever it was, this was a shock, and he was keen to find out why.
"How, when?" came the voice of a deer sitting a few seats to his left, close to the tiger who had made the announcement. They all watched him closely as he considered his reply.
"Two days ago, the ZPD got a call to her apartment. Found her dead. We are not sure what happened, not yet. Our contact in the department is being very quiet, and we are not sure about that either. They may have found something there that they weren't supposed to."
"What kind of thing did she have that they aren't supposed to see? She was only working for the Mayor," the jackal across from Nick asked.
"I don't know that either, but whatever happened the ZPD is keeping things under wraps."
"Do we know what killed her?" asked a rat sitting at the far end of the table.
"No, we don't."
"The ZPD must by now, autopsies don't take two days." Another deer, though this one Nick knew, Scott Yano.
"Couldn't it simply be that they don't really care? She was just a fox. A lot of foxes die each day." It was a badger, sitting close to the head of the table, another mammal Nick had never met, but he knew then that he never wanted to. The badger never even looked at him.
The tiger raised his paw, demanded silence, and then finally said, "We do not know these things, our wells have run dry." It was as much a statement of fact as it was an accusation, his gaze swept around the room, lingering here and there, his message clear. "She is the third agent who has died in the last six months, we are missing something. We are losing, but we know not to whom." He let the statement linger, the gravity of it weighing down on the room, and then he turned to the section heads and ask for their reports.
The meeting went on and on like that, status update after status update rattled off by the various mammals around the room. Every mammal there was in charge of something, Nick quickly realized, and that realization was made all the more poignant when he was passed over. It was a bizarre exercise, almost degrading, for no one had anything to offer. They were, collectively, at a loss, and Nick found himself in much the same position. He had considered, at first, once the tiger had made his announcement, that perhaps this Ella might have been a double agent, caught up in his little plot. A thought that was, perhaps, too arrogant by half. While there was a possibility, it was doubtful that he had had such a far reaching impact, especially because this Ella was not someone he had been aware of, at least he didn't think so. And the timing didn't make sense either. Three agents in six months? No, he had only formulate his plan four months ago, and had only put it into action a little less than two.
So Nick sat, absorbing as much as he could, listening intently to each update and taking notes on all that was said. And indeed there was much, a long list of topics hashed and then rehashed, but with little progress made. And eventually, it came to an end, two unproductive hours later. There was little post briefing conversation, the various attendees quickly retreating lest they catch the tiger's ire. He had not been pleased. His countenance had grown darker and darker as it had dragged on, and his subordinates did not realish the idea of remaining in his presence.
Nick was one of the last to leave, had exchanged a few words with Scott, and was just just collecting what little he had brought when he was interrupted by the tiger.
"Nicholas Wilde is it?" the tiger asked, appraising him.
"Yes sir, I don't think we have met," Nick replied, offering his paw. The tiger grasped it in his own massive paw and they shook, neither breaking eye contact for even a moment.
"Eli Thompson. So what did you think of all that?" he asked, motioning with his head back into the room.
Nick paused before answering, considering what he was to say. It had been a thoroughly unproductive meeting, but in situations such as these honesty wasn't always the best policy. Nevertheless, he was honest. "Well… I don't really think we accomplished anything…" He was nervous, and the words came out low and hesitant. He didn't expect Eli to react poorly, Nick was under no illusion that Eli was just asking for some sort of validation. But he knew that, regardless of what Eli was looking for, he held the future of Nick's career in his paws. Eli was the Deputy Director of the ZIA, a powerful, dangerous mammal. He was as elusive as the Director, a mammal Nick had seen only once in his decade long career at the Agency, but he was certainly just as demanding, and far more involved in the day to day operations. Nick had no desire to find himself on the tiger's bad side.
"Heh, very diplomatic of you. We are in a difficult situation as I am sure you know. Conducting operations here in Zootopia is technically illegal, but at the same time we are asked to combat domestic espionage. We have no authority here, and yet we are asked to do all the investigations, make all the decisions. And at every turn other agencies constantly work against us. It's a bad place to be in."
"I remember, sir, the difficulties we ran into the last time I was assigned here."
"And I remember the difficulties you ran into." It was a jab, a painful one. It had been three years ago that Nick had gotten himself blown up by the the mob boss Koslov, but it had been the reason he had been reassigned back to Arctica. Banished, it felt like at the time, though in hindsight it had been just what Nick needed. "I heard about what you did in Arctica though, good work it's said. And it is my understanding that your little caper before you left has done amazing things."
"Ah, thank you, sir," Nick replied, his confidence suddenly returning with a gusto. To be praised by a mammal like Eli was no small thing. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to leave them with parting gift."
Eli didn't laugh, but instead fixed Nick with a hard stare, "I brought you back here, Nicholas, instead of bundling you off to some other foreign assignment, because I have hope that you will bring some of that same flare back with you to this station. We are desperate for it. I have high expectations for you Nicholas. Good day." He did not wait for a reply, and left Nick standing there, contemplating his words. Nick wasn't sure, not really, if that was a good thing or not, but he had no intention of disappointing Eli. He hated idleness, but it had been good to him in one way. Nicholas Wilde had plan.
It was a good plan that would solve quite a few of their problems. Risky though, and they needed an agent who could act the convincing cop. It would break every law in the book of course. Might create an incredible scandal if discovered, but there could be no reward without the risk.
Nick had spent the last two weeks preparing his proposal, checking and rechecking, formulating an understanding of what sort of powers police had in Zootopia and identifying how their structure could be exploited. How closely they were monitored. What they could get away with. It had been an enlightening study, the things they could do, legally, he was amazed. But whatever his personal feelings about what he had discovered, he had a job to do. Direct this weapon of the powerful in a way that could be useful to the ZIA. And he was ready to do just that.
So he sat, waiting for those to whom he had to give his pitch, in a meeting room much like the one in which he had met Eli, though a floor lower. He wasn't nervous, had put a tremendous effort into calming himself, but he was ready to begin, ready to pull the band aid as quickly as he could.
The door opened and his boss entered, smiled at him, but said not a word as he took a seat at the edge of the room. He had to approve this plan just as much as the higher ups did, though he had been invaluable in the preliminary planning. He still had a chance though, to put a pin in the entire thing if he wished. He wouldn't but he could, and that didn't sit well with Nick.
A few moments later, others entered, chatting, the mood they brought, good. A positive sign, Nick hoped, though he knew he still had his work cut out for him. He knew none of these mammals, had no friends there, no allies apart from his boss, and that accounted for little. He was the new face in the home station again, an outsider, and outsiders weren't trusted.
The door opened again and Eli entered, followed by another mammal he did not know, a bespectacled gazelle. They all found seats, eventually, and once they did the presentation began.
Nick's boss stood, introduced himself and then said, "This is Nicholas Wilde, one of our agents who has just been reassigned from a foreign station to my team, he has a proposal to–"
"What station?" one of the mammals croaked out.
"Arcticia," Horace said.
"And what did he do on the Arcticia station?" another asked.
"Ran it." Nick said. The collective attention of the room immediately upon him the moment he spoke. "I answered directly to Ambassador Stevens."
"And why didn't you stay on when Ottersberg arrived?"
"He had his own spymaster in mind. Though I stayed for more than three months getting my replacement acclimated."
"Are you the same Nicholas Wilde who got himself blown up in a warehouse on the docks a few years ago?"
"Yes sir," Nick replied without a hint of contrition. He was done, long done, apologizing for that.
"You caused a lot of problems, Wilde."
"I have been briefed on the complications caused by that explosion. But today I come to you with a solution, a proposal." He was greeted with silence, rewarded with only their attention. It was enough. He launched into his plan. The ZIA would pick an agent to pose as a FIB officer and create a task force of officers at the ZPD with which they could persecute their domestic enemies with near impunity. And most importantly it would all be legal, outside of the agent doing the directing, impersonating an FIB agent was no laughing matter, but that was a small detail. It would give the ZIA exactly what they wanted, the ability to prosecute the war against domestic spying as they saw fit. And, more importantly, it was a proof of concept. If things went well, something similar could be implemented in every major city.
If it worked they would no longer have to work with FIB, poking and prodding them to act as quickly as possible. It would create an arm of the ZIA free of scrutiny from the Parliament's Intelligence Committee, that obstructive, difficult body of politicians. Police, of course, experienced a different kind of scrutiny, but it would be easy to circumvent, to co-opt. It would give the ZIA a freedom of action at home they had never before experienced. All they had to do was grasp it.
He could tell, as the presentation went on, that he was doing well. They were engaging with him, asking questions, making suggestions, talking almost excitedly amongst themselves. The gazelle though, through it all, seemed skeptical, unconvinced.
"And who did you have in mind for this Op, Wilde?" the gazelle asked, cutting off another question.
"I have a list here of who I think would be best suited." He handed out copies to the attendees. "They were selected based upon their past law enforcement experience."
"Where did you get this list?"
It was provided to me by HQ." The gazelle eyed him, searched his face for any falsehoods.
"The first agent on the list, and the second too, they are mine. I am not releasing them for this," gazelle said as the rest of Nick audience scanned the paper.
"I understand sir. There are four more on there from which we can choose." Then more objections came from the others. These rest of the agents on the list were busy with other operations too, and certainly couldn't be redirected on such short notice. "I can make other selections," Nick said, doing his best to keep them focused upon his vision as a whole rather than the details. "But I think we can all agree that this Op has so much potential that it is worth moving our resources around to make it happen."
"And what do you plan on doing while we send one of our agents off to play cop?" the gazelle asked.
"Aiming the weapon," he said matter of factly.
"Why don't you do it, Nick?" Eli asked, the first time he had spoken during the whole exchange.
"Well, sir, I…" He had plenty of reasons, had ruled out his own personal participation long ago. First of all there was, already, the extreme risk of being discovered to be a fraud. He had never been a cop, had stayed as far from that lifestyle as he could, and he was not prepared to mimic an agent of the FIB. He would just increase the risk of failure by sticking his nose in the middle of things. Second of all, he explained, there was the risk of losing sight of the bigger picture by getting too stuck in. If he ran a police task force he would be in the thick of it, helping with investigations, making arrests. He would be so focused on the day to day running of his team that he would lose the ability to effectively direct the task force to where it was needed most.
The second reason rang rather hollow, he had to admit. It would really be no different than any other small team he had managed over the years. But he was throwing darts, hoping something would stick.
There was a more personal reason too, one he would never tell anyone. They had selected Precinct One for the Op, felt it gave them the widest reach around the city, but it brought with it a problem. Judy Hopps was a detective, or Junior Detective, at Precinct One. If he had to personally run the task force, well, there was no possibility that he might avoid her. And then everything he had worked so hard to build. All the walls and defenses he had built up to remove the hold she had on him would come tumbling down.
He argued and argued, countering their every objection with one of his own. But, finally, the decision was made for him.
"Wilde," Eli said, "I don't know what to tell you. This is a good plan I think, once we work out some of the details, but I don't see any way around this. If you want this to happen you have to lead this one up. There is no one else to do it at the moment."
Nick stood there, horrified, empty, a sick feeling rising in his throat. "Yes, sir, I understand," he said. "I'll do it."
It was all wrong, it wasn't supposed to happen this way. He had avoided her for a good reason, had no desire to experience to the pain their reunion would bring. But now if he wished to save his career he had no choice but to meet her again.
Oh, gods, what had he done?
His phone was ringing, for the second time. Someone hadn't gotten the message when he hadn't picked it up on the first call. He glanced at his clock, bleary eyed and still half asleep. It read 12:45 AM, late. Who the fuck was calling at 1 AM? He grabbed the phone off the nightstand, saw the name on the display and then chucked it across the room. Why the fuck was Nick calling him at one in the morning? He was probably drunk, Finnick realized. Nick was bored, incredibly so, ever since he had returned to Zootopia. But it was unlike him to call him at this hour. That damn fox might lack many things, but he at least had sense not to wake up his friend in the middle of the night.
The phone began to ring again, loud in the quiet room, taunting him with each chime. He staggered daggers at it, willing it to shut up with all his might.
"Finnick, turn off the stupid phone, I am trying to sleep!" Jackie said from beside him, rolling away from the noise. The ringing stopped for a third time, blessed silence falling over his bedroom once again. Nick would not call back, the message was clear by now. Finnick's mind began to recede back into murky unconsciousness, the only coherent thought remaining the one about how he was going to kill Nick in the morning. Then there was nothing, he was gone.
The phone rang.
"Finnick!"Jackie called from beneath her pillow.
He shot from the bed in a rage, snatched the phone and flew from the room, careful not to close the door too loudly. He seethed at the phone, wished to smash it, to hurl it from a window as far as it could be tossed. But in the back of his mind a concern reared its ugly head. It was unusual for Nick to call like this, and to be so insistent too. There was trouble. He answered the phone.
"Finnick, Finnick… Finnick?"
"Nick, do you realize what time it is?"
"Yeah, I know it's late, but I thought I would give you and Jackie a chance to get it over with, I know how the two of you are together."
"Wha– shut the fuck up Nick. The hell are you calling me for!?"
"I just go out of a meeting Finnick, we finally have something to do again, but I kinda fucked up."
"What do you mean "we". I am not helping out the ZIA again, I told you I am done with that shit!"
"Finnick, focus, I need to explain to you what's going to happen."
"No, Nick, I don't care, I am not getting involved!"
"Finn, I've explained this to you: I need you. We are like two peas in a pod. I can't make the magic happen without your help! Now, this meeting. They liked my proposal."
Finnick sighed, "That's great, Nick… tell me again why you needed to call me at one in the morning to tell me?"
"As I said, I kinda fucked up! They are making me do it. The impersonating the agent bit, I have to do it. "
Finnick was silent for a moment, processing what he had just heard. It was hilarious. And he laughed, his deep cackle echoing around the hall outside his room.
"Shut up, Finnick, this isn't funny! I– He went silent for a moment.
"You what?"
"I… I'm not a cop, Finnick! I don't know the first thing about being an FIB agent. It's like the ZIA has it out for me!"
"Well, I hope you have fun with that Nick, I'm going to bed."
"Wait, Finnick, you're going to help me right? I need you buddy."
"Fuck no I am not. I am not getting anywhere near the police. I don't think I need to remind you of how I feel about police, Nick."
"Hmmm… shit."
"What?"
"Well, I… I sorta already told them you would be on it with me."
Laughter erupted from Finnick's muzzle, frustrated, angry, "Nick, I ain't doin' shit. They can't fuckin make me!" It took every fiber of his being not to yell and scream into his phone. But it was one in the morning, and Jackie would not like being awoken.
"Well, they can, it's not like they don't know where you li–" Finnick hung up the phone and turned it off, he didn't want to hear the rest of whatever Nick had in store for him. Couldn't believe that Nick would just volunteer him for another operation. He didn't even work for the ZIA! Not technically, had never been an agent. Rather more like retinue. And now he didn't even want to be that..
He was furious, and he had no outlet, so he stood there in the dark hallway shaking with anger, hoping it would pass. But it continued forth, like a great storm in his mind. He needed to do something and he began to walk down the hallway to the other side of the apartment where he could release it without disturbing his mate.
A paw on his shoulder stopped him as he was about to cross the threshold into the livingroom. Arms slid around his shoulder, the familiar, comforting smell momentarily filling his mind with thoughts of good times and happiness. He anger began to seep from his body as he was pulled back into her warm bosom, her tail engulfing him as he relented to her embrace. They sat there together on the floor, he in her lap, relishing the light kisses she planted on his ears and the way she nuzzled his neck. Soon, it was all gone, his anger, completely forgotten, and only she remained.
"Feeling better?" She asked, almost disappointed at having disturbed the pleasant silence.
"Yes," he sighed, and how couldn't he be? He had her. It had been a long struggle for him, to control his anger, a problem he had dealt with all his life. But at her insistence he had been working on it, and he had gotten better. But there were still times…
"Why didn't you come back to bed?"
"I was going to go into the kitchen to… vent. I didn't want to wake you."
"Aww," she giggled. "That's sweet. But doing it this way is so much better isn't?"
"Heh, yes, much better," he replied as she nibbled on his ear. "So much better."
Massive, that was his first impression of the ZPD HQ. Wrought from stone and iron, it dominated Savannah Central. It had not always been so monolithic, so imposing. The newest part of the building only completed some 10 years ago, and despite every effort taken to ensure it was a friendly, welcoming facade, in Nick's opinion they had failed horribly.
It didn't help that to Nick and to many other predators the police were often more a tool of oppression rather than protection. They protected the powerful from the weak, and maintained the status quo, no matter how despicable it might have been. He recognized the need for police on a basic level, there were rules in society that needed to be maintained, and everyone ought to have their day in court. But too many times Nick had seen his fellow foxes put upon by Zootopia's 'finest'. A dubious moniker, even for the most upstanding police officers. He had even been put upon himself, and he didn't always deserve it.
Things had gotten better, he knew that, or felt he knew that. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that he was told that. But the distrust remained, festering just beneath the surface. It was doubtful he would every really get over that, and on some level he wasn't so sure that it was a bad thing. Police needed to be under intense scrutiny, lest they poison their relationships with the very communities they were supposed to protect.
It was with those feelings of unease that Nick Wilde sat in the waiting area outside the office of Chief Bogo, the head of the precinct that operated out of ZPD HQ. His was not the highest position on the force. No, that title went to the Police Commissioner, whose office was one floor above where Nick now sat. But Bogo was undoubtedly the most senior of all the Chiefs in the City. Running precinct one, by the far the largest and most active in the City was no simple task, and it wasn't assigned to just anyone.
He was not nervous for this meeting, despite what he knew about Bogo's disposition and reputation. We would be starting at the department in just a few short days, and there were still details to be hammered out. He had a problem with the roster, for one, the detectives he was going to be assigned inadequate in his mind, among other things. But he had been stonewalled over the phone, told quite literally that if he didn't like the roster he could find another precinct to ruin. He didn't like their part time status under his control either, he wanted them full time. He had much to do to justify this unorthodox approach to the ZIA, to demonstrate his domestic usefulness once again, and he wanted nothing to stand in his way. So he felt that the best way to smooth other these final remaining issues was to meet with Bogo, face to face. He wasn't really expecting to get his way, not entirely, but any movement in his direction was welcome.
"Agent Renard, you may come in," Bogo said, disappearing back into his office as quickly as he had come. He was a cold mammal, always had been, or so Nick had been lead to understand, and even more so when his authority was challenged. The curt welcome was not unexpected, but it did not bode well for what was ahead.
Nick followed Bogo back into the office – a modest space, the large desk in the center by far its most prominent feature. But there were awards lining the walls, and pictures of other officers too, and even one of a smiling Bogo receiving some plaque.
"Have a seat, Renard." Bogo gestured to the two seats facing his desk as he passed them by, taking his own behind the desk as Nick did as he was bid. "I understand that you are here because you disagree with the dispositions."
"That is primarily why I am here, though it is also to finally put a face to a name. It is a pleasure to meet you Chief, I must say I admire your service here at the Department."
Bogo grunted, apparently unappreciative of the complement. "I am very busy Renard, let's get this resolved so we can both move on with our day." It wasn't quite contempt in his voice that Nick detected, but the message was clear. Bogo didn't like that he was there. Nick knew this already of course, Bogo was nothing if not protective of his territory, and Nick was encroaching upon it, stealing his detectives, and in a manner that was highly unusual. FIB agents just didn't get involved in a police department like he was about to. It wasn't totally unheard of, but certainly unusual, and if the payoff of manipulating the department wasn't so great it never would have happened in the first place..
"Fair enough, Chief. I have two issues, first, I want my team full time, this is a big case, with ramifications all across the City, I–"
"We were doing just fine on those cases before the FIB decided to jam their muzzle into it and send you. You have already been offered six of my detectives on a part time basis, I don't see why you need them more. I am sure you realize that there are other crimes committed in this city, and I can't have so many of them working on just three murders, no matter how unusual they are."
Nick wasn't going to get anywhere on this tack, that much was obvious, but he was willing to haggle, "How about just three of them full time?"
"My detectives always work in pairs Renard," Bogo countered.
"Ok, two then, just two." Bogo hesitated, considering. Nick caught it immediately, a chink in the armor. "Chief, I know that you are stretched thin here, but this case, if my suspicions are proven correct, this case could result in the biggest busts in a decade. We aren't just talking about murders here, Chief, each of those mammals was killed by someone who knew what they were doing, and each victim found with unusual items. Multiple passports, illegal firearms, heavily encrypted electronics. Enigmas each one, with no apparent connection beyond what was found in their homes. I'll be honest, Chief, the FIB believes it could be international spying, and we really want to get to the bottom of it."
"Then why isn't the FIB handling it internally? Isn't that how those sorts of things usually work?" Bogo asked.
Nick hesitated, looked away, for effect rather than to consider his answer. He already well knew what he would say, but he felt as if on the cusp of getting his way, and he would leave nothing to chance. "The Bureau…" He sucked his teeth. "The Bureau, at the moment, doesn't feel as if it is in a position to perform this investigation, for reasons I am not at liberty to discuss. But loose lips send ships askittering if you catch my meaning."
Bogo blinked, "I am… not sure that I do."
"Just two, Chief, two is all I need."
Bogo leaned back in his chair, sighing as he did so. "Fine, you can have two. Chambois and Hopps, you can have them full time. They have been leading up the investigation on the most recent murder."
"Thank you, Chief! I appreciate it, however… that selection leads us into the other reason I am here. Does it have to be those two? Can can I take one of the other pairs perhaps? Maybe Seder and Brooks?"
"What's wrong with Chambois and Hopps?"
"Well, Chief, I am concerned about Hopps' experience. It says in her dossier that she is a Junior Detective. I am sure she is perfectly capable, but I would prefer if I had two fully trained and experienced detectives working closely with me."
"That's nice that you want that, but I am giving you Chambois and Hopps."
"Chief, I am not sure how I can make the importance of this case to the FIB any clearer. We need the best resources on this, and I am afraid that she may not be up to the task." Bogo's face darkened the further he went, and Nick rightfully decided to leave it at that. He wanted to say more. That she was just a rabbit, that he refused to work with her, but he suspected that those things would get him even less than he had already gotten himself with this little meeting.
And those things weren't really true anyway. He had no doubt about her competence – she wouldn't be where she was for nothing. But he didn't want to work with her. He had left things between them so poorly, had done his damndest to obstruct her search for him in City records, he decided long ago that that chapter of his life, the one in which she was so prominent, was done, written and sent of to the publishers, never to be revisited. He didn't want to deal with whatever meeting her might bring. Seeing her on the roster had caused an outpouring of emotion inside him that he had neither expected nor prepared for. She still meant something to him, though exactly what he couldn't put his finger on, but he was terrified as to how she might receive him. He knew how he had treated her, the lies and deception, and he didn't want to confront the consequences of all that. He was content just knowing that she was happy, and he didn't want to cap off his relationship with her, such as it was, with the knowledge of how she felt about him now. It was much easier for him to believe that she hated him than for him to know it in fact.
"First of all, Chambois is my best detective, there is no way I am not putting her on this one. If this case is as important as you say it is you will need her. Hopps, is her partner and trainee, they are a package, and I think this will be a great training experience for Hopps. And I will say this about Junior Detective Hopps: she was, by far, one of my best officers, and she is shaping up to be an excellent detective. I am not going to deny such a promising detective the chance to get even better. Renard, believe me when I say that I understand the history your species has with rabbits, but Judy is a professional, otherwise she wouldn't be working for me, and I expect that, while you are working here too, you will act no differently. Let me also remind you, Renard, that it was part of our agreement that I select the detectives assigned to the task force. I expect that we maintain that understanding, or you can go looking for another precinct."
"Of course, Chief, I was making no insinuations towards her species." There was nowhere to go. Bogo wouldn't budge, that was clear. And even if he would, Nick was sure it wouldn't be worth the effort to do so. "Alright, Chambois and Hopps it is. Thank you for your time today, Chief, it was a pleasure to meet you," Nick said as he stood to leave.
"And you too, Agent Renard. Oh, there is one last thing before you go. We have an office for you, just down the hall. You'd best locate it before you leave."
"Oh, perfect. Thanks again for your help today, Chief." And Nick left the office, feeling as though he would rather have not met at all. A confrontation with Judy was inevitable now, something he had spent years avoiding. He would manage, he was sure, but he just hoped that it didn't become a distraction from why he was really there. He had a job to do and he wasn't going to let a rabbit get in his way.
Judy's coffee cup was empty, consumed before she even got into work. She stared at it, horribly disappointed. She needed more, or she wouldn't make it through the rest of the morning. She had made a mistake the previous night, working so late. But she had been so focused on the case she was working on, was making so much progress, that she didn't want to stop.
It was a robbery, an elderly tapir's small home in the rainforest district vandalized and pilfered. She had spent two days absolutely devoted to the event, the very first Chambois let her take the lead on, start to finish, on her own. It hadn't been a difficult case, the cameras spread all over the city had caught the culprit entering and exiting the home. She had spent three hours the night before tracking the criminal's flight around the city, it had been two before she got a good shot of the license plate, and another before they reached their final destination. She had everything she needed, she just had go and make the arrest, her first since had become of detective. A big moment. Evidence of growth.
But now she just wished she had more coffee. She still had to apply for a warrant, hadn't felt up to filling out the affidavit so late, still had to go actually make the arrest, and then still had the rest of her day ahead of her. And all that on only a few hours of sleep. She would be dragging the whole day, but at least the supply of coffee would be plentiful. One of the perks of working in a profession fueled almost entirely on caffeine in all its forms. But she was, mostly, used to this kind of exhaustion, had been experiencing it on the force for years. That experience made it easier to handle, but it still wasn't any fun.
"Hey, Judy!" Clawhauser called to her as she entered the station, still focused on her empty cup.
"Oh, hey, Clawhauser, how's it going?" she replied, forcing herself to hide how she felt. "I didn't think you would be in today."
"You ok, Judy? I told you my vacation doesn't start till next Monday."
"Oh, shoot, that's right. I'm sorry, I'm just tired, had a late night last night."
"You certainly look tired… oh! I have just the thing! How about an energy bar!" He held out the bar, rather small in his thick paws. Calwhauser was on a health food kick. Had decided a few weeks ago that he had to lose weight. But while he had kicked the really bad foods like donuts, no mean feat in and of itself, he had replaced those sugary foods with alternatives that weren't all that great themselves. Energy bars were certainly healthier than donuts, but they too had a lot of calories in them, and if eaten in the quantities Clawhauser did, well, he wasn't gaining much advantage over his previous diet. He had been making progress though, of that there was no denying, even if quite slow.
"Thanks Clawhauser, but that's a predator version, I don't think I can eat that." A tiny picture of a lion was emblazoned upon the wrapper beneath the name 'Pred-Protein'. "I really appreciate the offer though."
"Oh, darn, I'm sorry! I forgot. Wait I have–"
"Calwhauser, it's fine," Judy interrupted him, "I'll just go get more coffee. I am going to make my first arrest this morning, and I gotta be awake for it!"
"Congratulations, Judy! But… oh, did you forget about the briefing? It's this morning."
She looked at him, confused. "What briefing are you talking about?"
"Judy, the Fibber is here today, the one who is taking over one of your cases?" Judy gasped as the realization dawned upon her. She had completely forgotten, the robbery she was working on had absorbed her completely.
"Oh, carrot sticks! No, I forgot, what time was it scheduled for?" She was frantic, afraid that it had already gone by. The rumors had been flying for days, the FIB was taking over several cases, but some detectives were going to be selected for the agent's task force. She didn't know how that selection process was going to work, but there was no way she wanted to miss it. She knew she probably wasn't going to be selected. A three month old detective was hardly a detective at all, but there was always a chance.
"It's at eight. It's only 7:12 though, Judy, you still have a lot of time. Relax." He smiled at her from behind his desk. Eyes twinkling with excitement.
"Oh my gosh, Clawhauser, you can't do that to me! I thought I missed it!"
His grinned widened, "He's here you know. The agent. A fox! Can you believe it?"
"Wha… a fox? Really?"
"Yeah I know right? I am surprised they let foxes into the FIB."
"Calwhauser, that isn't nice!"
"You know what I mean, Judy! Foxes still aren't allowed to work in a lot of places. I am sure he is perfectly fine." He turned up his chin at her, pouting dramatically. Judy glared at the show, not willing to let him off so easily. She knew he meant no harm, was a mammal seemingly without prejudice, though he had his moments. But Judy was a mammal who had been written off time and again on account of her species and she didn't tolerate that behavior from her friends. "Ok, ok, Judy, I get it, I get it. I'm sorry. He was very nice when he spoke to me when he got in."
"Oh," she said, curiosity quickly overcoming her annoyance with her rotund friend, "you met him? What is his name?"
"Ben!" Clawhauser exclaimed. "Same as me! Benjamin Renard. Cool right? Who would have guessed that a cool FIB agent would have the same name as me? I can already tell we are going to get along great together!"
She hoped that was true. She wanted to learn as much as she could from the fox. This FIB agent. Even if she wasn't selected as part of the task force she had plans to glue herself to the agent's side. Glean as much as she could from him while he worked at the station. She hoped she liked him, and in turn that he liked her. But either way, she was determined to get everything she could. It was an opportunity she would have been a fool to pass up, and what was more, if they got along, he would be an excellent reference for whatever was next in her career. Judy was an ambitious rabbit, and she knew the value of allies.
She looked at her phone, 7:20, she had to go. Coffee was important, and she wanted to have at least one more cup in her before she went into that briefing. "Ok Clawhauser, I am gonna go. I have some things to take care of before my meeting."
"Ok, Judy, good luck, and have a nice day!"
It was amazing how quickly 40 minutes could pass. She had hardly gotten halfway through her cup, had hardly begun to fill out the affidavit, before it was time to go meet the FIB agent.
She was excited, wanted to know what it was like working on the next level. She knew the cases they handled were far vaster than anything she had ever seen, sometimes spanning the whole country. And she wanted to know what it was like to work in that environment. Fast paced, she imagined, exciting. A part of her wanted that next step, the title 'Special Agent Judith Hopps' had a very pleasing ring.
She wanted to be a part of the task force so badly, but the timing was all wrong. If this had all happened even just a year later her chances would have been so much better. She would be a full detective then. Maybe even with a few big cases under her belt. But it was not to be, and as she entered the bullpen and took her customary spot at the front, she resigned herself to the fact that she would be passed over.
It was not long before the room was full of her fellow detectives, Chambois taking the seat next to her. "You look sad Hopps, what wrong? Didn't figure out that robbery yet?"
"Oh! No, I got that one, I just have to get a warrant. We have footage and everything. Open and shut, I think. It's just… I know this is stupid, but I heard about the task force and I know I won't be selected." She shook her head, rather embarrassed now that she had articulated the source of her disappointment aloud.
"Oh, well, you never know, Hopps. These Fibbers always do things differently. They pick who they want and they get who they want. I think a fox Fibber is pretty rare, maybe he'll pick the rarest mammal on the force too." Judy chuckled, appreciated her partner's sunny disposition that morning. It cheered her up, just a little, at least enough so that she didn't look so forlorn. "Besides, Judy, you have a big day today. Your first arrest is nothing to shake a stick at."
"You're going to come with me right?"
"Of course! You think I would let my partner go and make an arrest alone?"
"No, of course not," Judy replied, feeling a little ridiculous for even having asked the question.
"Detectives, atten-tion!" called Sergeant Fangmeyer as Bogo walked into the bullpen, alone. He took his place at the podium, scanned the room, and began with the daily announcements, case updates, assignments, all important in the normal operation of a police department. But Judy wasn't alone in wanting it to end. All the detectives were on the edge of their seats. They had heard the same rumor a Judy had, and they wanted to know who would be assigned to the task force. It was the only reason many of them had even shown up to the morning briefing. Judy would have skipped it herself in fact. It was not mandatory for detectives if they were working on an active case.
But finally, the normal business was done, the moment had arrived. "Now," Bogo began, his deep, sonorous voice growing just a little louder, "as I am sure you have all heard, there is an FIB agent here today who is taking over the investigation of a string of murders that a few of you are working on. He has decided to assemble a task force of six detectives to assist him in the investigation. Only two of you will be working with the Agent full time, the other four will be part time. The Fibber says the case is very important, but I don't give a damn how important he thinks it is, I refuse to lose six of my detectives to the FIB for an indeterminate amount of time. Despite what the FIB believes, the world doesn't revolve around them." There was a smattering a laughter at the comment, a murmur of approval. Bogo paused, let it pass, then continued. "I have the list of those who will be assigned to the task force here." He took a pair glasses out of his breast pocket, the spectacles rendered insignificant by his large frame, and he picked up the sheet. "The following four detectives will be assigned to this task force on a part time basis. Half of your caseload will be evenly distributed among the rest of the department. Seder, Brooks, Binder, Lech."
Another murmur tore through the bullpen. A mixture of disappointment, relief, and excitement. The selected officers were all smiles, and they were congratulated and ridiculed with equal measure. Judy didn't watch the proceedings, the deep pit that had formed in her stomach prevented her from doing anything but stare straight ahead. She knew it was silly to hope to be assigned to the task force, but that didn't stop her.
"The two who will be working full time on the task force," Bogo said, the room falling silent the moment he spoke. "The two who will be on the task force full time are Chambois… and Hopps"
It felt like time had slowed to a crawl. Judy heard nothing, felt nothing, could do nothing but stare, wide eyed, at Bogo. She had been picked for the task force, and full time too. She couldn't believe it.
Suddenly, time caught up with her, the realization finally taking hold in her mind. She will filled with the most profound happiness. She shook with it, couldn't even reply when Chambois lightly slapped her shoulder and told her, "See? Never say never." She couldn't argue with that. Chambois was right. Never say naver.
"Now that you have your assignments," Bogo said, his stern voice again silencing the room. "I thought it would be good if all of you had a chance to meet our own personal FIB agent. Renard!" he called at the door.
The was a pause, a movement behind the door, two black tipped ears just poking above the bottom of the window. And then it opened.
Whatever Judy had just felt, the anxiety, the disappointment, the fabulous excitement at being selected, all of it. It was nothing. None of it meant anything, as if it had never been there at all. It all paled in comparison to what she felt when she saw the fox who had entered the bullpen.
It was him. The fox that had such a profound impact on her life. The fox that had lied to her and sent her on a wild, and probably illegal, goose chase deep into city archives. The fox that had shown up to her graduation but had not the decency to at least say hello... The fox who had kept her up at night believing he was going to die. The fox who had continued to keep her up once he had gotten better, though for much more pleasant reasons. The fox who gave her that one last push she needed to follow her dream, and sent her a gift that ensured she would make it. Set her on a course to achieve something that no other rabbit had ever even dreamed of. The fox that had believed in her even no one else would. The fox that had meant so much to her.
The fox, Nicholas Wilde.
Well, I hope you enjoyed that. :)
This was sort of a weird chapter for me, parts of it just seemed to flow from my finger tips and others I had to drag out kicking and screaming. I hope that didn't come out in the writing too badly. But it's also a moment in this story that I thought I would be at several chapters ago. I had plans upon plans to get to this moment, but much less about what comes after, so I will need to consider where to go from here. I have created a lot of threads, looking back, and now its time to begin connecting them. I hope that I am up to that task.
To everyone who has read, commented, followed, and favorited, I know I have said this before, but I want to know how much the support I have gotten from everyone means to me. It has been a pleasure to interact with so many of you. As I said at the very beginning of all of this, this story was the first time I had ever attempted to write any sort of fiction beyond some short character backstories for a D&D group that I only ever met with once. Maybe some thing for school too, but you get the picture.
There is a lot, I think, that I would do differently if I were to start over, I have learned a lot through this whole process, and that is in part thank to all of you.
Honestly Saving Wilde has become so much bigger than I ever expected it, and I am glad that all of you have been enjoying the ride.
Also, interestingly, I find that I have little trouble writing when I listen to Animal Collective. I don't know why that is.
Now, as for the future, the project I am working on in my day job is beginning to ramp up starting next week, so there is no way I can meet the two week schedule in the near term. After Wednesday I wont even have access to my computer for about a week. I have no intentions of dropping this story, nor do I wish to make any of you wait months and months for an update, but updates will be about as sporadic as they have been as of late.
As always, questions, comments, and feedback of any kind is welcome. I do listen! I think last time someone mentioned that they think my paragraphs are too large. I have tried to tone them down a bit for instance. So please, don't hesitate to get in touch if you wish. Though be sure to log into an account if you have a question. The way the guest comments work on this site is maddening.
And lastly, I want to wish you all a happy spring.
Live well my friends!