Chief Bogo licked his finger and turned the page on the dossier, sipping lightly from his coffee mug. The case was a real corker, as his father would have said; a major drug ring with distributors from Sahara Square to the Canal District, at least four potential cut-and-run factories for dilution, and nearly five million dollars per annum in illicit trade.

He was presently organizing a crack team to bust, or at the very least, disrupt the ring while the bean-counters traced the money and got to the real root of the problem. All because a certain pair of beat patrollers had stumbled,yet again, into a massive cluster-rut that ended in several ganglords dead or in prison. The Tundra Town Syndicate had wasted little time absorbing the remains of the rivals and was now all the stronger, if not easier to track. All because of a wise-cracking fox and a busybody bunny; at least with their new case they'd be stuck with something mundane, and maybe give the department time to catch its breath.

It hadn't been all bad. The press had been good and the new Mayor, a tundra lemming named Karl Ketchikan, had said some very reassuring things regarding next year's budget, but the department needed a break from the spotlight. Drug busts and gang wars and vigilante hunts were all fine and good if paced accordingly, but all three and more in the same year? Ridiculous!

Bogo pinched the bridge of his snout and sighed. They were good cops, the both of them, he allowed himself that; a bit busy and more than a little frustrating, but together they were almost like superheroes. Bogo found himself wondering just what it was about them that worked. Was it because they were Predator and Prey and the little differences in outlook formed a more comprehensive worldview? Was it because they were a fox and a bunny, and some dynamic therein that allowed them to drum up solutions better? Was it because they were Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde, an academy super-star and an unconvicted career criminal-turned cop? Was it some…fourth thing? All of the above? Regardless, those two had generated mountains of paperwork that they, as beat officers, were not qualified to handle at the time, so the lion's share fell on the bean-counters and, unfortunately, Bogo himself. Now that they were officially detectives, maybe a tiny increment of that bureaucratic nightmare would finally get off his desk and allow him to focus on what actually mattered.

Gazelle.

Also, the drug ring.

His office phone sang its shill, familiar song and Officer Clawhauser's soft, friendly voice sounded over the speaker. "Chief Bogo. Mayor Ketchikan is here to see you."

Bogo blinked in surprise, the Mayor was making an unannounced visit? He was in no position to decline, but his general opinion of the subject was regardless of what chair your rear polishes, you follow procedure and make an appointment; a crease of irritation settled in his brow. "Send him up."

The door opened and the little lemming entered the room through the newly installed small-persons door next to the main entrance, his expression was incensed and he was waving a tablet over his head. "Bogo! What is the meaning of this?!"

"The meaning of what, sir?" Bogo said patiently.

The lemming tapped his tablet and Bogo's smartphone buzzed. Bogo opened it to see a blog page; it looked exactly like the kind of Internet tripe he tried to avoid. "This, Chief! It's a standard break and enter case, so why is it the top trending article today?!"

"I don't know." Bogo paused, skimming the article. "Memes, sir?"

"Don't get smart!" Mayor Ketchikan seethed. "It's been a day and people are already crying conspiracy! What were you thinking, assigning those two to a pointless case like this?! Of course people are going to theorize, it's basic pattern recognition!"

"I was operating under the assumption that it'd be standard case with a standard workload and a standard amount of paperwork to deal with," Bogo answered honestly. "Something to cut their teeth on as new detectives."

"They 'cut their teeth' when they were busting elected officials for capital offenses!" Ketchikan exclaimed. "If you wanted a quiet week, why not give them an unsolvable case to work on? Missing mammals, mystery cases, internal affairs, the Loch Ness fucking Monster?!"

'Because they might actually solve them!' Bogo didn't say.

The Mayor continued. "Why'd you give them a B'n'E? The city's buzzing, Bogo, buzzing all because of those two and their stripy, foul-mouthed promoter!"

Bogo withstood the Mayor's theatrics, the little guy had to make a lot of noise to be heard and he had gotten quite good at it. "I wasn't aware that a blogger was on your radar, sir."

"Anyone who gets five million local views in ten hours is on my radar, Chief. I follow social cues, read the tides of the herd, it's kind of my thing!" Ketchikan smirked. "Honestly, she was just saying the right nonsense at the right time. That whole 'Prey scandal' and her coverage of Officers Hopps and Wilde just helped her along. Regardless, she's connecting dots that I hope to God aren't there, and I want to know what you're doing about it!"

"What, exactly, can I do about it, sir?" Bogo asked, reading through the article in question; overall, it was tactlessly inflammatory in its composition and Honey B's fixation with Hopp's hindquarters was nothing short of disconcerting. "Policing the Internet just doesn't work. You remember what happened to Congressman Llama Smith, don't you?"

Mayor Ketchikan shuddered. "Don't remind me. No, I want to know what you're doing to get this case closed and done with! How much freedom are you giving Detective Hopps and Wilde? How much assistance? Are their needs being met?"

Bogo arched his eyebrow. "What are you getting at, sir?"

"Look." Ketchikan put his hands together a touched his fingers to his lips. "The fact of the matter is that since the Leodore-Bellwether Scandal people don't trust City Hall anymore. They don't trust us, Chief, but they trust, no, they idolize those two! I don't know what it is, maybe it's the Pred-Prey angle, maybe it's the bunny-fox shtick, or maybe people just like how they get results. It doesn't matter; what matters is that there are no other cities in the world with genuine hero cops. Do you know how many cities can claim a 90% positive opinion of the local police force? I could count them on one hand! People trust them, but we need them to trust us. We need to make it clear to the citizenry that Detectives Wilde and Hopps are with us, see? To that end, we need this case closed quickly, cleanly, and in a press-friendly manner. I want people to say 'wow, the Ketchikan Administration and the ZPD get things done!' Understand?"

Bogo rubbed eyes and sighed. "That would…we'd be devoting a tremendous amount of mammal-power to solving an otherwise insignificant case. I am presently working on a major drug bust that could–"

Ketchikan waved his hand dismissively. "No one cares, Chief! Hell, eighty percent of the city would see us legalize most of the junk those chumps are peddling, anyway! If it weren't for the fact that half of our legislators are in the dealers' pockets, we probably would have already! No, I want a good press-project put on for us, this administration needs every boost it can get after being saddled with the cluster-rut from last year!"

Chief Bogo scowled and gritted his teeth, but only one person in the room approved budget expansions, so he simply nodded. "Alright, sir. I'll have them submit their findings to me ASAP and I'll put together a dragnet for the perps and the stolen merch. I'll need some legislative support on this one, though. Cut through some red tape?"

"Leave that to me," Ketchikan said with a buck-toothed smile. "The gears of justice will get a little coercive grease for this case. Afterwards, you assign our good friends to a suitably mysterious and unsolvable case so they don't kick up any more dust for a while."

"Done and done," Bogo said, only somewhat disgusted with how this meeting had turned out, he pressed the reception desk's button on his phone. "Officer Clawhauser, get WildeHopps in my office ASAP!"

"Yes, sir! Right away!"

"Wild hops?" Mayor Ketchikan asked, perplexed.

Bogo shrugged. "It's what we call those two around here. Clawhauser said it at a staff party once and it stuck."

The Mayor pondered this for a moment. "It's catchy, I like it! Sounds like the name of a café, with specialty cold-brews and gourmet drinks. Hmm…maybe a soup of the day, a nice clam chowder with soft, fresh dumplings…" Ketchikan noticed the look Bogo was giving him and cleared his throat. "Hey, I skipped lunch to talk with you!"

"I'm touched," Bogo said flatly.

"Check your attitude, Chief!" Mayor Ketchikan grumbled as he made for the door. "I'm trusting you to get this thing wrapped up! Have a nice day!"

"And you, sir." Bogo sighed as he reluctantly closed the drug ring dossier and waited for the detective to arrive.

"Okay, so maybe I was a bit out of practice," Nick said as he walked the halls with Judy. "And also drunk."

Judy shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Excuses, excuses! Just admit it, I whupped you. I whupped you good! I always win at Hopps Family Tournaments. Always."

"No, no, I admit it," Nick said with faux-nobility, placing a hand over his heart and the other in the air, as though under oath. "I, Nicholas Piberius Wilde, being of sound mind and body at the moment of this confession, got totally dunked by Detective Judy Hopps last night, who is some kind of freak at Fatal Fight V: Fangs Forever."

"I'll need that submitted to me in writing by the end of the day." Judy playfully punched him on the shoulder.

"So, what do you think the Chief wants?" Nick said as they approached Bogo's office.

"Can't say." Judy shrugged. "Honestly, I figured that he gave us this case because he wanted us off doing something quiet and pointless."

"I'd wager that he's not going to be crazy about the inconsistencies we noticed." Nick cracked open the dossier he was carrying, the ease and professionalism with which the perps had conducted the crime seemed laughably at odds with the value of the stolen goods. "What do you think?"

Judy thought on this for a moment. "Personally I'm betting on him being all 'you want HOW many patrollers? This case is bottom priority, Hopps; you think I've got enough uniforms to drown every theft case in blue? Get out of here!' Sound about right?"

"Hmmm," Nick said, unsure. "I dunno, since we have no actual evidence I think he's going go more with a 'that's a damn flimsy case, Wilde! You couldn't pin a gnat with your evidence folder! If I walked into the courtroom with your case under my arm, I'd get sent right back out, but not before the judge tattoos the whole thing straight onto my ass!' But that's just me."

Judy reached up to the doorknob, turning to Nick, her expression somewhat anxious. "I guess we'll find out."

ONE HOUR LATER

"Seems pretty straight-forward. Eight LCD TVs of varying size, ten large-sized laptops, and six various-sized laptops. We have their serial numbers and their make. Should make finding them easier." Bogo said, putting down the missing items list, leveling a look at Nick. "And I assume you have some idea as to where that merch is headed?"

Nick shrugged, still perplexed by how smoothly this meeting was going. "Given the neighborhood, Reggie's Surplus and Retail is our best bet for the TVs, as for the laptops…well, some nice stuff have been known to mysteriously show up in Gilbert and Sullivan's Electronics from time to time. But we can't rule out street vendors, so we'll need some extra patrollers for a sweep."

"How many?" Bogo said, turning to Judy.

Judy went over the projected sweep in her head. "It's a large-animal district so…ten patrol cars searching in a grid pattern. Maybe more as the day goes on and we have start doubling back."

"Done," Chief Bogo grunted, setting the dossier down and pushing back to her. "Get copies of the item list made and I'll drum up the patrollers. Meet in the parking lot in, say, an hour. Dismissed." Nick and Judy started in surprise and gawked at each other, Bogo leveled one of his classic buffalo glares at them. "Dismissed, detectives."

With that they hopped out of their seats and made a rapid exit. When they were well out into and down the hallway Judy suddenly turned to Nick, her large purple eyes wide.

"What!"

"Right?" Nick returned the incredulity. "Didn't you say you could make it work with five?"

"Three, even!" Judy ran her hands over her ears, trying to get them to appear less perky with excitement. "I expected him to haggle! What are we even going to do with ten cruisers?"

"Our jobs," Nick said with a chuckle. "We might even find something today!"

Judy squealed happily and hugged him. "C'mon! Let's print these off and map out our route!"

The truck sat in a parking lot nearby the Bug-Burga rendering plant, where millions of pounds of insects were shipped from vast underground farms per day and processed into all manner of food items. The raw protein could be molded and formed into any shape, color, or flavor; some particularly morbid companies even made and sold synthetic meat crafted from this substance. Between Burga-Brand rendered bugs, Cachalot Sea Produce, and the more protein-rich products supplied by the OmniGreen Corporation, no Predator wanted for variety in their diet.

"See that?" Grigori rumbled through a mouthful of a double-decker beetle burger, pointing at the produce truck. "Crickets, termites, and ants, mostly. The beetle and locust processing starts later in the year, they take longer to fatten up."

"Huh," Finn said, disinterestedly, popping a roasted grasshopper into his mouth. "Izzat right?"

"Jeez, would you look at that…" Elim said, disgust clear in his voice as he saw the writhing mass of insects pour out of the trucks and into the funnel that led to the primary pulverizer. "I mean, yeah, they go through all kinds of mashing and boiling and stuff, but how can you stand eating those things?"

"Like this," Grigori and Finn said in unison, taking mouthfuls of their respective meals.

The gnu shuddered and went back to munching on his grass-pack, the soft, tender chutes grinding into a pleasant paste in his mouth. He checked his phone and sighed, now came the waiting game, the long, boring waiting game. When Richardson had run off, he'd left his money, cards, and phone with them. Not that it mattered; Richardson was the kind of guy who could scrape together such things in less than a day. He was their backdoor, their forger and hacker, if he wanted to leave, he could. Elim smirked at this; he could leave if he wanted to, but he didn't, so he wouldn't. Rich didn't want to run away, he wanted to be safe, he wanted them gone because he knew that if they found him, a nice long play session with Finn was his fate. The little ferret liked the taste of blood, he liked the feel of meat between his teeth; Finn liked to chew; Richie knew that, too. To Elim's knowledge, the ferret had never actually eaten anyone, Finn once compared his 'hobby' to wine-tasting, swish for flavor and spit the substance, but that almost made it worse the more he thought about it.

So he didn't think about it, instead Elim chose to dwell on how clever he was; a connection here, a chat there, and all the stolen goods would show up in places not too close but not too far from the warehouse, the cops would find them inside of a day, arrest the retailers, plea bargain, plea bargain, and their driver would be caught, charged, and convicted. Then the police would bend over and give themselves a good lick and City Hall would make some kind of statement to counter all the Internet gossip: that's when Richie would panic, and that's when they would get him.

See, Elim knew people, knew how they worked, it was the reason he'd gotten as far as he had in his line of work. He knew that Richie, guilty conscience or no, would keep close to the ground and hope that the problem would go away, that the hero cops would figure the whole thing out and arrest his evil co-conspirators, allowing him to get off scot-free. But Elim knew that the second it looked like the case was wrapping up, like attention was going elsewhere, Richie would call them up and spill some of his guts. Richie was a cagey sort, the kind of person who never went all-in on anything, so even when he called the cops there'd be virtually no chance of him actually compromising the mission. No, instead Richie would dangle the carrot in front of the bunny, giving her insider info to get her nose wiggling, but keep the real meat to himself until he was good and protected. Prey, especially small Prey, all tend to think alike: stay quiet, stay still, and act only when provoked. Prey like Elim preferred to be instigative, reading social cues, negotiating the herd, and covering one's back with someone else's body. It all worked out well enough.

When his phone finally went off he'd be given directions by Boss's ear on the Fuzz-line, then they'd haul ass and snatch up the little loose thread and then their backs would be covered. Elim smiled and gripped the steering wheel tightly, wringing it like it was a certain narrow, delicate throat. It was only a matter of time now and they'd all be filthy rich.

"So," Finn said through a mouthful of locusts. "What're you guys gonna do with your thirty mil?"

"Forty," Emil said without looking back at him.

"What?" Grigori said, arching his eyebrow.

"Forty mil," Emil clarified. "Once we pick up Dick-Dick, it's forty for each of us. He's not gonna be in any shape to claim his share, is he?"

Finn began dooking, a sort of ferret chuckle. "Eh-heh-heh-heh! Nnnnope!"

"Forty mil?" Grigori said thoughtfully. "Changes nothing. It's all going to the same place."

"Yeah?" Finn said with a smile. "Up your nose with a rubber hose?"

Grigori swatted back at the ferret, who effortlessly dodged it. "To my Mama and my sisters back in the old country! Every penny!"

"So, I guess those gold-plated tungsten fangs you bought are for them, too?" Finn snorted.

Grigori sneered, revealing the four little metal bolts that would serve as anchors for his new eyeteeth. "I am restoring what was taken from me. For them, I will restore what they never had! They will finally get what they always deserved!"

"Really?" Emil said, perplexed. "They didn't seem too badly off when we all visited them over the holidays."

"Yeah," Finn said. "They seemed comfortable, seeing as how you paid off the mortgage and all. Anya and Kseniya liked that you dressed up as Santa Claws to deliver the news. That was sweet."

"That was pretty cute, Gori," Emil agreed.

Grigori waved his paw and hissed. "It's not about 'comfortable', it's about what they deserve, and they deserve the world on a golden platter! Mama always worked hard to keep us fed and in school, Anya and little Kseniya always lived humbly so Mama would not have to work so hard. I started bashing heads just so they could live as little girls ought to, with pretty things and fancy clothes! So I do this job, and then we all go and live someplace warm, with good schools and supermarkets that deliver. They'll live how they always should have lived, and so will their cubs! They will know that Grisha will do this for them!"

Emil gave an impressed whistle and smiled in bemusement. "Scat, man! I just wanted millions of dollars! To be rich enough to just do anything. Write a novel, whatever. I don't even talk to my mom anymore!"

Grigori's ears went flat and he turned to look out at the parking lot. "That is because you lack character."

"Maybe," Elim allowed that, loyalty had never been his strong suit. He turned back to Finn. "How about you, Shark? What are you gonna do with your money?"

"Dunno," Finn said, fidgeting somewhat. "Build a chair, maybe."

Grigori's ears perked up and he slowly turned around, exchanging a confused look with Elim as he did. "What."

Finn smiled and pointed at the large mountain overseeing Zootopia. "Yeah, right up there. I'm gonna get all my money and have it split into a bunch of loaves, yeah? Then I'm gonna stack them up like Lego and make a chair. A great big chair of money. A whatchamacallit, a throne! Maybe buy a telescope or something. Then, I watch."

"Watch?" Elim asked. "Watch what?"

Finn smiled toothily, his black little eyes lighting up. "Watch as the stuff hits the water. I've seen what it does to folk, you know? Imagine a whole city going down like that, millions of folk! Damn, if that wouldn't be a sight!"

"Uh-huh," Grigori said, not sounding at all surprised. "And then what?"

Finn once again looked at a loss. "Hm. Dunno, open a restaurant, I guess. Finnigan's: Authentic Food from the Emerald Islands!"

"Sounds homey," Elim said, internally tickled at the thought of his brutal, bloodthirsty friend overseeing a family restaurant. "We'll all eat there when it's over and done with."

Nick and Judy eyed the road ahead, both were giddy but focused; they'd never even been part of an operation this size before, much less led one. The GPS had ten dots moving around, the patrollers were scouring their parts of the city as the detectives headed to the most likely points of retail, nothing was going to slip through the cracks.

"So, what's this new merger I keep hearing about?" Nick said as they pulled up to Reggie's Surplus and Retail. "The big food one?"

"Hmm?" Judy replied. "Between Bug-Burga and OmniGreen, right?"

"That's the one."

"Don't know," Judy shrugged. "According to my dad, they've collaborated on this new plant genome, one that eliminates the need for pesticides. A bunch of staple crops on the market use it. It's so they can send excess farm waste and spoiled produce to the bug farms without the animals getting sick. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah," Nick said, opening the door and stepping out into the sweltering summer heat. "A real nice little food cycle they're putting together."

Judy turned off the car and followed. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Nick shrugged. "Everyone seems to have a strong opinion on those two mega-corps getting together. You know, blah, blah, blah, dystopia blah, blah shock collars, blah."

"Talk like that has really gone up since the Nighthowler's Case, hasn't it?" Judy said sadly. "It created a fissure between people."

"The crack in the wall was always there, Carrots," Nick said, holding the store door open for her. "Someone just pulled away the feel-good poster that covered it up. Now, it's up to us to go to town with the Bondo."

"I think I'm rubbing off on you, Detective Wilde," Judy said with a sly grin.

"You should see a doctor about that," Nick chuckled, following after her.

Judy and Nick strolled into the store; it was a large building with an expansive interior, all of which was filled to the brim with bric-a-brac. A wolf in a cheap-looking suit slid up to them, a decidedly sleazy smile on his face. "Niiiick! How good to see you again. It's been far too long!"

Nick saw Judy reach into her pocket for her badge and gestured at her to stop, he turned back to the wolf, grasping his hand in a firm handshake. "Reggie! My man! What's good?"

Reggie laughed and walked with them. "The weather, the economy, even my wife's cooking! Everything's going just great, Nick! How about you?"

"Pretty good, Reg," Nick said slickly. "In fact, I'd almost say things are damn fine. Came into something fat, recently, so I'm looking to do some sprucing up."

"Oh, you don't say!" Reggie said, gesturing at Nick's ensemble. "I must say you're looking well dressed, not to mention fit. Have you found…" he eyed Judy with a look that made her shiver, "…A lady-friend? Buying some presents, eh?"

Nick snorted and laughed. "In my experience, those things don't leave extra cash lying around. Nah, what I'm here for is a bit of an upgrade in the entertainment department, if you know what I mean?"

"I'm smelling what you're stepping in," Reggie said, nodding knowingly.

"You're picking up what I'm putting down?" Nick retorted, gesturing appropriately.

"And I won't drop it like it's hot," Reggie reassured, gesturing down the aisle. "This way, my friend. I just got a new shipment of products you may find interesting!"

"Oh, I bet I will," Nick said, gesturing for Judy, who was still trying to piece together their conversation, to follow.

They came to a quintet of LCD TVs, ranging from 25 to 50 inches in size; the majority of the stolen sets, but not the three most expensive ones. "As you can see, I have a wide range of screens for you to choose from, I also have audio-video set ups, home-theater packs, and those little digital TV microconsoles. The works! What do you think, Nick?"

Nick and Judy approached the largest TV and began looking it over, quickly finding the serial number. Nick looked at Judy, who nodded and began to type the number into her phone as he turned back to Reggie.

"Say, Reg…" Nick said with a handsome smile. "You, uh, keep up to date with the news recently?"

Reggie's smile faltered for a moment, but he rallied. "No, not really, Nick. You know me, I'm more of a, uh, 'small-circle' kinda guy,"

"Ah, well, that's a shame." There was a beep behind Nick, Judy stood up and showed him her phone, the serial numbers matched. He looked back at Reggie, his smile suddenly a lot less friendly. "Because if you peeked outside your 'small circle' more often, you wouldn't have tried to sell a cop hot goods."

Reggie's ears went flat, a sneer pulled at his mouth. "I'd heard Slick Nick had gone straight, but I didn't want to believe it! You came in here and asked me if I was holding, this is entrapment!"

"Did I?" Nick said innocently, turning to Judy. "Carrots, did I say 'show me the stolen TVs'?"

Judy pressed the playback on her phone. "*–drop it like it's hot."

"Nope," she said, smirking at a horrified Reggie. "I couldn't make ear or tail of what you guys were saying. Honestly, to me or anyone else, really, it sounded like you just said some nonsense and then tried to sell stolen TVs to a pair of cops."

"Tough luck, Reggie," Nick shrugged. "This is strike three, too. Don't worry, they really cracked down on Hoth up in Tundra Town, they only add sawdust to their bug-loaf every other day, now."

"Hoth?" Judy whispered.

"Hothstein Min-Sec Penitentiary," Nick whispered back. "And I was lying."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Reggie said, rushed forward. "No need for that! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

Judy reached into her pocket and produced cuffs. "Yes. Yes, you will."

"No, listen!" Reggie said, stepping back. "He was a cheetah, see? About five-three, thin, wore a stained white wife-beater. He drove a two-ton box-truck, Hino I think, with a great big faded OmniGreen logo on the side! Uh! His license plate was, uh, 2FST-4U. He said he was stopping by a few other houses on his way to Downtown!"

Nick smirked and nudged Judy with his elbow. "See, that's why we came here first. Ol' Rotten Reggie, he keeps tabs and has a memory, and wallet, like a steel trap. Thanks Reg, get those TVs on the curb and tell one of your peons to say they saw a guy with that description drop 'em off. I don't want to come back here."

Reggie slumped nearly to the ground, clutching his chest, panting with relief.

"We're letting him go?" Judy exclaimed. "We caught him in possession of stolen goods!"

"Yeah, but he's a known quantity," Nick whispered back. "We don't want to lock him away and have someone else take his place and do this all over again. Besides…" Nick said, now speaking audibly. "Reggie knows who's in charge, doesn't he? He'll be an ear and eye for his good pal Slick, won't he?"

Reggie cleared his throat and fidgeted when Judy pressed playback on her phone again "*–smelling what you're stepping in."

"Yes!" Reggie said, a desperate smile on his face. "Ol' Slick Nick, Shit Don't Stick! You have a man in Savannah here, yes sir!"

"Glad to hear it!" Nick said, speaking into a radio as he walked away. "This is Detective Wilde. APB on Two-ton Hino box truck with faded OmniGreen logo on the side, license plate 2FST-4U. Suspect is male cheetah, approximately five foot three inches, last seen wearing a white sleeveless undershirt, headed for Downtown."

Judy moved to follow Nick, turning back to Reggie with a stern expression, she gestured at her eyes with to fingers and pointed back to the nervous wolf. 'Got it?'

Reggie nodded and backed away.

Nick and Judy got in their disguised cruiser and pulled out of the parking lot and made for Downtown. Judy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, her brow furrowed.

"Alright," Nick said, turning to her. "What's up?"

"You ever feel like this whole thing is too easy?" Judy replied. "I mean, we started today with a list of stolen goods and now, all of one hour later, we have a plate-number and a perp description!"

Nick shrugged. "That's how it goes sometimes, Carrots. Some guys just don't crime so good."

"Do guys like that also hack security systems and wear identity concealment? Do guys like that leave the crime scene we found?" she retorted.

Nick paused and looked out the window his ears bolting upright. "Do guys like that try and hock stolen goods from a box truck on the side of the street in broad daylight?"

"No, because that'd be an incredibly stupid thing to do."

"Rhetorical question," Nick said, pointing at the adjoining street. "There he is, Carrots!"

Parked outside of a large communal building was a two-ton box truck with a patchy, faded OmniGreen logo on its side. The door to the box was open and standing inside was a cheetah in a stained wife-beater and long, baggy cargo shorts. He was talking to a bizarre-looking bald creature, Nick could make her out to be a feline of some sort, mid-sized and rangy, but beyond that she could have been anything from a panther to a cougar for all he could tell.

Judy doubled and around and pulled the camouflaged cruiser into the street, casually pulling in and parking opposite of the Hino; the suspect and his strange, bald customer were too busy haggling to notice.

"Should we go for it?" Judy said, pulling out a map and pretending to read it.

"He's fast," Nick said, pointing to some random part of the map as part of the charade. "Much faster that either of us. Let's call for backup. Quietly."

Judy discreetly turned on the radio. "What's the nearest car?"

"Uh…" Nick checked the GPS. "93."

"Car 93, Car 93, this is Car 52" Judy spoke into the receiver. "Suspect sighted, requesting immediate back up. Over."

The radio buzzed and a voice rose out over a commotion. "Negative on that backup, Car 52. We're currently held down at the Humpty's on Fifth Avenue. We have a large mammal dressed as a knight, suspect is belligerent and possibly under the influence. Over."

"Do you require assistance?" Nick asked, concerned.

There was a blast of commotion, crashing furniture and breaking glass along with the rattle and clank of metal plates and chainmail. "I, Sir Marcius, shall never pay thee with cash, ONLY WITH DRUUUUUUUGS!"

"Negative, Car 52. We have the situation under control. Out."

The radio went silent and Nick turned to Judy. "Hey, Carrots. Remember when life made sense?"

Judy rolled her eyes and sighed. "God, it feels like ages!"

Nick reached over and set the radio to broadband. "All cars, all cars, this is Car 52. Suspect sighted at 2021 Hallcrest Drive, requesting ETA of nearest vehicle. Over."

"Car 52, this is Car 27," the radio crackled. "ETA ten minutes. Repeat, ten minutes. Over."

"Looks like he's wrapping up out there," Nick said urgently. "Now or never, Carrots."

"Copy that, Car 27. Requesting immediate backup, Detective Wilde and I will apprehend suspect. Over."

"Affirmative, Car 52. We'll be right there. Out."

"So…" Nick said, looking out the window. "What's out first move, Carrots?"

Nick saw a little grey shape speed over to the two-ton and affix a boot to the wheel. Judy sat with her back to the tire and gestured at Nick to come.

"Well, thanks for letting me know…" Nick grumbled, stepping out of the car and onto the street. "Hey!"

The cheetah's head snapped around, his ears up in alarm; Nick smiled and walked over, crumpled map in hand. "Hello! Uh, sorry to do this, but could you help me get back on Highway 7? My GPS has no idea what's going on!"

"Uh, sure?" the cheetah said, looking at the map when Nick brought it over. "Yeah, man, you're way off. You gotta–"

The cheetah's eyes went wide as his nostrils flared, Nick's badge chain was dangling out of his jacket pocket. Nick locked eyes with the cheetah, his smile still as friendly and good-natured as it had been before. "Don't."

The cheetah leapt back in a flash, in the same amount of time Nick had drawn his sidearm and leveled it at the perp. The cheetah deked off to the side, cutting across and in front of the strange bald cat-lady, who screamed and covered her face with her hands. Nick cursed and brought his gun up, stepping around the civilian as the cheetah streaked behind the truck on the passenger side. By the time Nick had made it around, the cheetah was already in the cab. The truck roared to life and started forward, only to have the metal boot dig into the wheel-well and stop it cold.

"What the–?" The cheetah said, leaning out the window to look at the tire. Judy darted out from under the truck, her new MSIM drawn and aimed.

"Step out of the vehicle!" she roared, impressively so for a bunny. "Now! Get out, now!"

As the cheetah hurriedly rolled up the window, Judy fired three pepper-shots into the narrow slit still left. The solid pellets struck the roof, the glass-hard capsaicin infused substance was forged similar to a Rupert's Drop, with tremendous internal stresses focused onto a single point at the tip which, when compromised, caused the entire pellet to fracture and explode into burning, choking dust. A millisecond later and the three pellets had filled the entire cab of the truck with pepper-dust, the cheetah coughed and retched, crying out as his eyes stung and watered and his mouth and throat seized. Nick ran up to the passenger-side door and moved to open it when, propelled by a kick, the door swung open and knocked him on his back. The cheetah sputtered and coughed, his eyes red and weeping, he saw Nick on the ground and cursed to himself, taking off down the street at nearly forty miles per hour. Judy strode over to Nick from under the truck, her sidearm at her hip.

"Should I take the shot, or do you want to give it a go?" she said jokingly as the perp sped down the sidewalk.

"Take it!" Nick said impatiently.

Judy spun around, took aim, and fired in under a second. The lower muzzle of the new weapon coughed a cloud of smoke and fire, the heavy zap-net canister left the barrel at just under 200 meters per second. Its secondary engine hissed to life as a thin trail of smoke billowed from the rocket motor on the end. It overtook the speeding cheetah instantly, the compacted micromesh unraveled and opened into a net almost two feet wide. The nigh-unbreakable fibers engulfed his legs below the knee, a charge from the little black tab at the center of the net caused them to contract and become as unyielding as steel. The cheetah cried out and face-planted into the concrete, tumbling and skidding painfully.

"That! Is! How! It's! Done!" Judy cheered, pumping her fist in the air.

"Good shot, Carrots," Nick admitted, dusting himself off. "Careful you don't lose him, though."

The cheetah was already up and on his feet, hopping away with surprising speed. Judy stepped forward to pursue, ready to run, when Nick's hand settled on her shoulder. He pointed at the little button with a lightning symbol on the side of the grip, a wry smirk on his face. Judy smirked back and casually pressed the button.

"Heauegerkergerk!" The cheetah gurgled as the net suddenly became electrified; he collapsed bonelessly, like a puppet with its strings cut.

As Nick and Judy strolled over to their fallen prey, Judy regarded the MSIM in her hands. "You know, I could get used to these Miss'Ims."

Nick pointed, still walking casually. "He's up again."

Judy pressed the button once more, only a short jolt, but enough to sweep his feet out from under him. "Stay down, please."

The cheetah whimpered and tried to crawl along the ground like a worm, looking up helplessly as two figures loomed over him. "Hey, man! I have rights!"

"Like the right to remain silent," Judy said, brandishing the weapon. "And the right to put your hands on your head."

The cheetah grumbled and complied, Nick was on him an instant later, bending his arms back and zip-tying them together. "See, I was trying to spare you this before."

"Hey, fuck you, man!"

"Say, what's your name, sport?" Nick said, hoisting him to his feet.

"Manny Beetz!" Manny spat. "And you'll hear from my lawyer!"

"Looking forward to it, Manny," Nick said pushing him towards their cruiser. "Until then, Manny Beetz, you are under arrest for suspected breaking and entering, suspected burglary, possession of stolen property, resisting and evading arrest, assault on an officer of the Zootopia Police Department, and…" Nick looked over at the Hino, which was parked in front of a fire hydrant, "…one parking violation. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Exercising that right'll be the smartest thing you do today."

Judy spoke into her radio, trying in vain to keep her triumphant smile out of her voice. "All cars, all cars, primary suspect detained. Repeat, primary suspect detained. Finish your business and meet back at the precinct. Out." Judy let out a breath and sighed, a happy smile in her face. "Phew! So, Nick, thoughts?"

"I think…" Nick turned to her, a smile on his face and a wink in his eye. "That's case seven, partner."

Judy squealed with joy and hopped over, pulling him into a tight hug, which he returned after a moment of apprehension.

"D'awww…" the cheetah said dreamily and Judy brandished her sidearm, silencing him.

A nervous teenaged antelope clopped into the interrogation room; he was still wearing his uniform from Reggie's Surplus and Retail. He sat down at the table opposite the pair of detectives, both of which had stern, unyielding expressions on their faces. He had heard of them, the fox and bunny cop team, how they had brought down criminal empires and stopped that mad scientists and, of course, the Shearer. He felt fear creep into his guts, was his crappy job really worth lying to WildeHopps?

Reggie could go fuck himself!

"Please state your name for the record." Detective Wilde said, his stony expression and cutting green eyes tunneling through any vestige of willpower the young antelope had.

"G-Gregory Prouse."

"Mr. Prouse. Did you or did you not see the following merchandise," he pushed forward a picture of the TVs Reggie had told him to put on the curb, "deposited on the side walk by this mammal, one Mr. Emmanuel Beetz," another picture, this time a cheetah whom Gregory had never seen before, "earlier today between the hours of 12 and 1:30pm?"

"Yeah, but–" Gregory began.

"Yes? Okay, then. Next question," Detective Wilde leaned in. "When you noticed the TVs, you asked your boss, one Mr. Reginald Torrio, what was to be done with them. He then told you to leave them alone like any upstanding, law-abiding citizen. Is that correct?"

"He–"

"Some guy, your boss," Detective Wilde interrupted, tossing him his card. "He'll probably give you a raise for this. If he doesn't, gimme a call and I'll sort him out. You're free to go, Mr. Prouse."

"Uh–"

"Next witness!" Detective Wilde called out, shooing him away.

Gregory stumbled out of the interrogation room looking somewhat dazed; well, at least he was out of there, and he got a paid day off work, too!

The last witness entered the room, sitting down across from them with an oddly serene look on her bald face.

"Uh," Detective Hopps said, looking at Wilde, who gestured for her to proceed. "State your name for the record, please."

"Starlight Shimmer," she said matter-of-factly.

She sighed and rested her head on her hand. "Of course it is."

Judy groaned and flexed her right hand, having spent the last two hours filling out paperwork. "Is this what we've been doing to the Chief all this time? We should be in jail!"

"Occupational hazard, Carrots," Nick replied, also feeling the burn in his wrist, "And this was a small case! Can you imagine what covering the Shearer Case must've been like? I mean, we blew up a warehouse!"

"Well, let's get all these testimonies dated and checked so we have a solid case against Beetz. Maybe if we show him the pile of testimony and evidence against him, he'll flat-out confess!" Judy said sourly.

Officer Fangmeyer leaned in the doorway, his ears up and tail wagging. "Yo, WildeHopps! Did you hear? Beetz confessed! Said he masterminded the whole thing, he knew stuff that wasn't released in the press coverage like the scent-blocker and fur-nets. His story lines up with evidence, it's solid! Congrats on case seven!"

Fangmeyer left and Judy groaned, leaning her head back as she threw a handful of papers into the air. "Yaaaay. Confetti. Poosh."

"We'll still need those," Nick said, burying his face in his arms as paper fluttered around him. "But yeah, congrats."

"Had to talk to Madam Razor-Burn for nothing," Judy said, massaging her temples. "I mean, I thought she just had a condition or something, like Uncle Chanticleer. Nope! Shaved. I mean…what?!"

Nick shrugged audibly, still too drained to do anything but rest his head in his arms. "Didn't you hear her? Fur sours the aura, keeps negative energies from escaping the chi-circuit and into the ether. Some people say that fur is the bodily manifestation of sin, but they're pretty weird!"

"Ha!" Judy laughed, even though she was beat, talking with Nick always seemed to pick her up. "Starlight Shimmer calling someone else weird…well, I'll just let that speak for itself!"

Judy heard his chair squeak followed by the taps of footpads, a moment later and a pair of strong, wiry hands grasped her shoulders. She gasped and tensed. "Nick?"

"You have a lot of tension in your voice," he said from behind, his fingers began to dig in and rub in a circular motion. "What's up, Carrots?"

Judy tried to shake off his hands, but almost immediately noticed how good they felt. There was pressure, but not too much, and his technique was amazing! She sighed as she felt the tension melt away from her shoulders, replaced with warm feelings of contentment. "I dunno…I guess I was just expecting this great big thing to snowball out of this case. I mean, yeah, we had plenty of mundane stuff to handle on beat patrol, but we also got up to some pretty crazy shenanigans, too. I guess I was just…winding myself up for a big case, not some idiot with delusions of grandeur stealing TVs."

Nick nodded, his skilled hands working their way up her lithe neck. "I know what you mean. But, it's almost a relief, you know? We didn't have anyone try to kill us, no huge conspiracy, and I didn't even get the snot kicked out of me; it was just an easy case that we wrapped up in record time."

"I guess…" Judy said, rolling her head back to look at him. "Say, since when are you Mr. Magic Hands?"

Nick chuckled rubbing his thumbs between her shoulder blades. "An ex of mine was a masseuse, a damn good one, too. She was a sun bear and she really got in there, like, right up to the knuckle! She also gave good backrubs, too, I guess."

"Ewww!" Judy laughed, pretending to pull away. "Nick! Gross!"

"Learn to be more accepting of people's kinks, Carrots," Nick chuckled, his hands tracing up her head to massage her scalp and temples. "Hey, Starlight Shimmer was right, you are hiding a lovely bone structure under all this fluff!"

Judy rolled her eyes, trying to keep from moaning as he rubbed around the base of her ears. "I get 'up to the knuckle', it's fine with me. I just don't get the shaving thing, I had to get my belly shaved for surgery once and it was awful! It was cold, itchy, and all my shirts were really uncomfortable! I just don't get why someone would hack off all their fur, it does not compute!"

Nick shrugged. "I don't get why smaller guys put on scuba gear and hire big gals to swallow them whole, but that doesn't stop it from happening."

Judy clapped her hand over her mouth and stifled a laugh. "Oh, please! Like that's a thing!"

"Am I laughing?"

Judy blinked and turned to Nick, her eyes wide and questioning. "What? That…happens?"

"Oh, you didn't…" Nick laughed and backed away, his hands up. "Stay gold, Carrots."

"Nick!" Judy called after him. "No, seriously! What?!"

"I've said too much!" Nick said mock-serious, as he picked up his coffee mug. "Your innocence is like a precious flower, to be nurtured and protected! It's my knightly duty!"

"Ha-ha! Very funny, Sir Marcius!" Judy said, tossing him her mug, which he effortlessly snatched out of the air. "Get me a coffee, will you?"

"As Her Ladyship commands!"

"Wise-haunch," Judy muttered, a smile on her face; no matter the situation, Nick could always make her laugh.

The phone rang, Clawhauser's voice sounded over the speaker. "Call for Detective Hopps."

Judy depressed the button and picked up her phone. "Put it through."

There was a click and then silence; Judy's ears could pick up the sound of breathing and traffic. "Hello?"

"Congratulations on solving the case, Detective," an unfamiliar voice said. "Really, that must be a new time record. Too bad you got duped."

"Sir, this is private line to the ZPD, it is a serious offense to prank-call a police officer."

"How is Ol' Manny Beetz, by the way? He took an awful tumble during that little chase of yours," the voice asked, Judy's eyes went wide. "And no, there's been no official press release, yet. I was just keeping tabs on him, see? I figured something like this would happen, after a job like this one goes sour, you need a fall guy to take the heat. It's basic shit."

"Sir, where are you now?" Judy said, reaching for her pen and a piece of paper.

"In time, Detective," he replied. "I'm here to help, not tease. You think you solved a burglary, you didn't, you just followed their false trail. Now, listen very carefully, because if you don't…millions of people are going to die."