Judy pressed the pen to her notebook, her sore wrist all but forgotten in the excitement. "Alright, you have my attention, Mr…?"

"Richardson," he answered, his tone somewhat resigned sounding. "Richard Richardson. Sounds fake, I know, but it's not."

Judy jotted this down. "Alright Richard–may I call you 'Richard'?"

"Call me Richie, since we're about to become best friends and all," Richie said, his voice more than a little sarcastic.

"Alright, Richie," Judy said, chipper as ever, always willing to humor someone. "In that case, you can call me Judy. How does that grab you?"

"The fewer things that grab me, the better! I'm going to tell you what I know, some now, and all of it once I'm in protective custody." There was a pause, when he spoke again there was a sudden sincerity in his voice that cut into her. "I'm scared. I'm real scared. If they get me, I'm…look; you think you can send some blueberries over to pick me up? …Please, Judy?"

"Blueberries?" Judy blinked, how much did this guy know?

"Cops," he clarified, sounding somewhat annoyed. "Because of the blue uniform?"

"Oh, I know," Judy rolled her eyes. "It's just weird, my family grows and sells blueberries."

"Really? Tell you what; I'll buy a bunch off 'em when I'm safe. How's that grab you, Judy?"

"I'll need more to go on if I'm going to get you approved for protective custody, Richie." Judy tapped her pen on the paper.

There was an audible shrug. "Alright. There were four of us, a gnu, a lynx, a ferret, and me, a dik-dik." 'Small and dainty, sleek and fast; just like Shakespeare said,' Judy noted, growing more and more convinced that there was some truth to be found. "I was their in-guy, their hacker. I got the security systems down and picked the lock, we walked in through the front door. We were wearing body-nets, footpads, gloves, and scent-blocker. For the ferret, the smelly little shit, but in general it's just good sense. I bet your fox friend noticed something under it all, though, am I right?"

Just then Nick walked through the door holding two cups of coffee. "Who you talking to, Carrots?"

"That him?" Richie said warily.

"Detective Wilde just entered the room, yes." Judy waved him over. "Is that a problem?"

"No. You and Detective Wilde are the only people I can turn to right now. He smelt something, right?"

"Yes," Judy said, shooting Nick an urgent look, he rushed forward and set her coffee down next to her, dragging his seat over. "He said he noticed something musky under the scent-blocker. You said there was a ferret with you?"

"That'd be Finn," Richie said, disgust clear in his voice. "Vicious little monster. He's our break-in guy; he can slip past any security system that I can't shut down. He's also our…interrogator. Likes to chew…" there was a noise, a terrified wheezing squeak of some kind, when he spoke again his voice had renewed its desperation. "Is this enough, yet?"

"Can you give us more information on your accomplices?" Judy said, switching the phone to speaker and gesturing at Nick's laptop. "Full names, basic descriptors, anything like that?"

Nick brought his laptop over and punched up the criminal database, he nodded at Judy when he was ready.

"Yeah, I can do that," Richie said, sounding relieved. "First is Elim Boakye, a brindled gnu with a big crest of fur on his head, he's our leader of sorts, he's a smart one, kept his ears up and his nose to the wind; there won't be much on his record. He's up and down every suspect list with Interpol though; he's just made it so nothing sticks, yeah? He made a point to have dirt on the right people. Spelled b-o-a-k-y-e, by the way."

"Thank you," Nick muttered, tapping away at his laptop.

"Next is Grigori Yevgenyevich, he's a lynx, very strongly built, and he's been rounded off. He builds whatever we need to get built, and he's also our muscle. And, boy, does he muscle! He's just a lynx, but I've seen him break a cape buffalo's neck with his bare hands! Very dangerous, tranq him if you can. You'll have no trouble tracking him down online, his file is fat and juicy, Ol' Gory Grigori is a lot of things, but subtle he ain't."

Nick cleared his throat awkwardly, tapping his finger on the table. "Yive-ghenny-vitch?"

There was a sigh. "Y-e-v-g-e-n-y-e-v-i-c-h. Yevgenyevich."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Gimme lip for not being able to spell that off the top of my head." Nick grumbled as he typed it in, his ears perking up as the results came through. "Whoa…bad guy."

"What do you mean 'rounded off'?" Judy said, looking at Nick, who returned her look with a shrug.

"Oh, yeah. Zootopia doesn't do that," Richie said, almost wondrously. "Across the pond, if you rough up a public official or government employee one time too many, they put you under and remove your pointy bits; fangs, claws, horns, antlers, some folk get it so they can't open their mouths any wider than they need to eat."

Judy's ears dropped as she grimaced. "That's barbaric!"

"Yeah, and it doesn't work!" Richie said with a hard, bitter laugh. "Grigori never bothered with fangs and claws, he just breaks people apart with his hands. That's how he got rounded off, actually; snapped a cop in two over his knee, so they took him back to the precinct, tied him down, and did the procedure with a pair of pliers. All his eye-teeth and all his claws."

Judy shuddered and shook her head. "Good God!"

Nick nodded thoughtfully, his expression almost sympathetic. "Zootopia may not be perfect, Jude, but there's plenty worse out there."

She pressed her claws against the tabletop, imagining how agonizing it must have been. She cleared her throat and continued. "You said there was a ferret?"

"Finnegan McNulty," the dik-dik said icily. "He's like Grigori, only not as nice. His file has some horror stories in it, and no mistake."

Nick whistled as he read, if the rap-sheet of 'Gory' Grigori failed to impress, the gruesome reputation of Finnegan surely wouldn't. "Wait, a ferret is your muscle?"

"A ferret is our teeth. He gets past whatever security I can't hack, he's also something of a chemist. Makes bombs and the like. He's also a sadistic, murderous little monster who gets some kind of sick thrill outta chewing parts off people."

Judy reviewed the files Nick had drummed up, each one was just as Richie had described. But, again, it wasn't conclusive evidence that he was telling the truth. "Richie, look, I know you're scared and I know you probably don't have the best opinion of cops, but I'm going to need more information if I'm going to be of any help to you. Please, tell me what was going on that night."

"Alright," Richie said. "You're not getting the whole story, not now. I trust you, Judy, for some reason I trust you. As Grigori would say, trust is not a cheap bottle of wine you pass around at a party, it's a rare reserve of scotch you share with a worthy few."

"A fellow scotch drinker," Nick muttered approvingly.

"I'm flattered." Against her better judgment, Judy found herself coming to like Richie. "What makes you trust me, Richie?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Maybe it's because you came here and changed things despite being so small, maybe it's because you didn't let what you are keep you low, or maybe it's because…well, I wanted to be a cop, once upon a time. But, ah, things, well, they didn't pan out that way." He chuckled bitterly. "Maybe I could have been like you? Nah. I don't think so, but maybe some other kids out there could. God willing, maybe my kid, if I ever have one, could go and do something no dik-dik's ever done before, just like you. You and Detective Wilde, you guys give me a bit of hope, okay? That's rare. In this day and age, it's like finding gold on the sidewalk."

Judy felt her heart swell, she was suddenly and unequivocally proud to be a member of the ZPD. "Well, Richie, I don't know what to say. Thank you."

There was a pause followed by a small laugh, Richie's voice had taken on a strange quality, almost…happy? "You're welcome. Okay, so you want to know what happened that night? Well, I picked the door and we walked in. See, about a week before I'd hacked the security system, all Maxbell systems have the same backdoor in their programming, it's just well hidden. They're pretty good, affordable and reliable; you could do worse. Anyway, I introduced a little something of my own design that mimics a programming flaw, just the sort of thing that goes wrong all the time. So no one really raised an eyebrow outside of the usual bristling fur and bared teeth what comes with a total security collapse.

"We got in and got to work, Finn and Grigori were the beasts of burden in that regard, Gori slapped together the merch and Finn installed it where it needed to be. Elim and I were talking, yeah? Talking about…what was going to happen."

"Richie," Judy interrupted. "What were you doing in there? It sounds like the four of you, uh, have a very specific skill set. One that doesn't lend itself to television theft."

"Ah-bup-bup-bup!" Richie hissed. "I told you I was keeping some things to myself until I know I'm safe. I trust you, Judy, but I don't trust your bosses. They may feel a little ancy about cooperating with a terrorist-turned-accomplice to genocide! I want my protection order in writing, signed, and underway before I tell you how to stop them. We've got a week or so before populace saturation reaches ideal levels anyway, plenty of time if you don't drag your asses."

"Well, you're consistent, I'll give you that," Nick said flatly. "Look out for number one, eh, Dick?"

"No one else signed up for the job, Slick," Richie retorted. "The TVs and shit, all that was a distraction, to keep people from really snooping around the crime scene and to get the cops chasing their tails. Elim's idea, I bet, he takes risks but he's smart like that. He probably set Manny up to take the fall, too. See, he knew that with all the media attention this case was getting that the higher-ups would not only give you the push you needed, but that they'll also shut you down if you brought up anything…inconvenient. To that end, he basically tossed you the perp red-handed, all tied up in a neat little bow. It's working, too. I can already see the administration lining itself up to give its bits a good lick; just like Elim planned."

Nick tapped the desk and sighed. "So what, Elim's some kinda supergenius or something?"

"No, but he's clever. He can read people and make good predictions. But he's a risk taker; he goes all in on everything he does, if you catch him, here, now, he's too far away from his connections to get off. You'd have him dead to rights. He can call shots and make predictions all he likes, but I bet he didn't see this coming, you and me talking. Probably figured I'd make a run for it." Richie paused, tapping his hard fingers against the phone. "Heh. I told him. I told this job was rotten, but would he listen? Noooo. It's the money, you see, we were each gonna get thirty mil if we could pull it off. Thirty million…can you imagine what someone could do that? I'm frugal by nature, Judy, I'd do very well."

"Who's writing that check?" Nick said, astonished.

Richie sighed, frustrated. "That's what I'd like to know! None of us have ever seen them; they only talk to us over the phone with a disguised voice. And even then, they only ever talk to Elim. It was one of the first things that got my back up over this job, actually. Then…well, we all found out just what it was we were doing. Boss, we call them. Just 'Boss'."

"Richie," Judy asked, her voice was even, but she was starting to get impatient. "I need more. Why did you break into Rikko? What were you doing in there? Please, if I'm going to help you, you have to help me!"

"I get that, Judy," Richie said glibly. "But if I let it slip now, your bosses will hang me out to dry with the rest of them."

"That won't happen, Richie," she said reassuringly. "I'll make sure of it."

There was another pause, a long one, before Richie spoke again. "You have the Maxbell Security files on hand, right? You must, given the case."

"We do," Nick said, punching up the appropriate files. "What d'you got, Dick?"

"I want you to look into their records over the past month, look for 'anomalous system failure: total shutdown'. There, you will find a list. From that list find the following addresses: 681 Agave Avenue, lot 3341, and 992 Shady Place. Tell me when you have 'em."

Nick's fingers flew over the keyboard as he located the addresses on the database. "I got 'em. What next?"

"No one can access this database without a warrant, right? Well, how else would I know this: both places reported total systems failure on the dates of June 17th and June 24th respectively. Want to know how I know? Because I did the exact same thing to those two places that I did to Rikko. Only, you know, without the brick throwing."

"Judy, it checks out," Nick said, his brow creased in worry. "I think he might be…"

"Go tell the Chief!" Judy said urgently. Nick shot to his feet and streaked out the door, Judy turned back to the phone. "Alright, we're getting the ball rolling. Just stay on the line and I'll keep you updated."

"Right, okay," Richie said, sounding relieved. "That took some doing, huh? But trust me, if you think you're a hero cop now… I gotta sample of the stuff we were gonna use, a little vial I took when no one was looking. It's hard stuff, I tell you. All told, Boss gave us maybe ten gallons of it, but Finn says that we'd do just fine with half that. Just a few parts per billion and wham, you bring the whole thing down."

"What is it? Poison?" Judy inquired.

"Oh, it's not poison…" Richie said, distractedly, "Not really. We'll talk about it face-to-face, yeah?"

Judy sighed and rolled her eyes; he just wasn't budging. No matter, they'd pick him up, bring him in, and learn what he knows. Still, she found herself feeling uneasy, was this really the sort of person they should be helping? He'd essentially admitted to being a terrorist, not to mention being present for at least one murder! But again, he'd compromised the scene, deserted his team, and made some very dangerous enemies, all over a crisis of conscience.

Judy almost spoke when he started talking again. "Want to know what made me do it? Give up all that money? Betray my friends? And yes, they were my friends…my best friends. Even Finn was a decent bloke most of the time. Isn't it funny how you can hate something about a person, but still like them?" His voice began to hitch and catch, he loosed a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Nah, I guess you wouldn't be wondering why. It'd all be pretty cut and dry to Judy Hopps, eh? But us? We were the same, see? Just a bunch of mammals who, I dunno, woke up on the wrong side of life, I guess. Things went wrong from the get-go and we just went with it, it was the only life we knew. But when I learned what was going to happen, what we were going to do and, and…oh, God…oh, God!" Richie began to weep, his voice thick and wavering. "We've hurt people before, but this? I begged them to back out, to walk away, but they wouldn't! I helped them for as long as I could stomach it, but in the warehouse I saw one of those smartphone covers, it was all pink and covered in cartoons. It was for a kid! An innocent little kid! How many kids in this city, huh? How many little boys and girls and babies would die because of what I was doing? Is any amount of money worth that?!"

"Richie…" Judy whispered as he wept, her heart went out to him; here was a mammal who, after long years of detachment and cynicism, was for the first time feeling for others, and it was tearing him apart. "You have to believe that what you're doing is right, Richie. You made mistakes, you broke the law, you hurt people; but all that can change, right now! You are on your way to being something more than you were. If you help us to stop your teammates, to save Zootopia, well, I guess that'd make you a hero, wouldn't it?"

There was a sniffle. "Y-you think so?"

"Richie, would you have called us if you didn't care? From what I've gleaned, a mammal like you could have skipped town and disappeared. But you didn't. Do you know why?" Judy pressed on as he tried to answer. "Because you knew it was wrong, because you knew you could help, because, despite what you may think of yourself, you are a good person, Richie. Can you say that back to me?"

"I'm a good person?" Richie said, uncertainly.

"With feeling, Rich, c'mon!" Judy said, thumping her fist on the table.

"I'm a good person," he said, with more confidence. "Yeah, I am, aren't I?"

"You are!" Judy cheered, looking up to see Nick walk through the door to grab his jacket, he gave her a thumbs-up and smiled. "Okay, Richie, we're coming to get you. Care to give me your location?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied, happily. "I'll be near the phone booth at by the OmniGreen off of Troop Street in Savannah Central."

"See you soon, Richie. Nothing's going to happen to you, I promise."

"Thank you, Judy," Richie hung up.

Richie sighed and clacked the phone down on the receiver, he felt lighter and the world seemed brighter. Soon, this whole mess would be wrapped up, he'd be in witness protection, and the world would be one atrocity poorer. Well worth thirty million.

He reached into his pocket, feeling the small glass vial there, a reminder of what lay ahead. He grabbed it and pulled it out, feeling the weight of it in his hands; though it was feather-light, he felt the weight of the world in his tiny palm. Remembering the change he still had in the phone, he pressed the return button and reached up to collect his due.

"Eh-heh-heh-heh…" a horrifyingly familiar chuckle echoed in the booth. "Hey, Dick-Dick. Why'd you run off the other night? You gave us all quite the scare."

Richie slowly pulled his hand back from the coin return; the nickel and dime tumbled out of his empty, trembling palm and hit the floor with a 'clink'. He glanced over his shoulder to see a broad toothy smile and two black, glittering eyes.

"I knew it!" Judy said, thumping her fists on the dash as the cruiser sped to Richie's location. "I knew there was something about this case!'

"Try to sound less excited about the potential terrorist plot, Carrots," Nick said flatly.

"Sorry. It's just, well, we called it, Nick! Team WildeHopps strikes again!" she said with an apologetic grin.

Nick grimaced and shook his head. "I don't recall saying 'ay, you know, this just might be some kind of city-threatening conspiracy'. At worst I'd suspect a corporate espionage or something."

Judy shrugged. "I mean, we both felt that something was wrong. It was like…I dunno."

"Like seeing Finnick smile without a victim?" Nick offered.

Judy laughed and nodded. "Or seeing Clawhauser sad!"

"Right?" Nick said, turning to Judy, relieved. "So, it's not just me! Remember when that perp called him 'Tubhauser'? It wasn't even clever, but he was so sad! Threw off my whole day!"

"Awwwww!" the radio crackled. "Niiiiiiiick! Thank you!"

After a long pause, Nick cleared his throat and answered. "Clawhauser,"

"Hi."

"The, uh, the radio was on the whole time?"

"Yep," Clawhauser chirped. "The button on the radio in car 52 is pretty sticky."

"Yeah, well…" Nick sighed and shrugged. "Just keep smilin', babe."

"Will do, Detective!"

"Babe?" Judy said, arching her eyebrow.

"Claw's a total babe, Carrots," Nick said with a playful smirk before pointing to the road. "There's the OmniGreen. Let's get into character."

Judy leapt out of the car as it pulled over and raced over to the phone booth; there was no one inside. She looked around; her nose wiggling as she sampled the air, over the scent of the nearby traffic, pedestrians, and the food inside the OmniGreen building, there was little she could conclusively detect. She reached out and grabbed a passerby. "Excuse me, sir? Did you see a male dik-dik around here, near this phone booth?"

"What's a dik-dik?"

Judy sighed and shook her head, the pedestrian wrested his arm from her grasp and continued on his way. She turned around and walked over to the payphone, she opened it up, breathing deep. There was some unfamiliar smell there, the mild, distinctive scent of Prey, but also something else, something chemical: bleach and baking soda.

"Oh, God," she whispered. "Nick! Get over here!"

"What is it?" Nick rushed over, his hand hovering over his sidearm. He leaned into the booth, his nostrils flared as his ears perked up. "Smells like Ol' Dick had company…it's fresh, definitely ferret."

"Oh, God!" Judy leapt out of the booth and looked around desperately. "Nick! We have to find him, they'll kill him!"

"Judy, we have bigger problems than that!" Nick grabbed her by the shoulders. "If what he was saying is true, we've got maybe a few days before they attack. We have to get back to the precinct and tell the Chief everything."

"Tell him what, Nick?" Judy retorted, gesturing at the phone booth. "Everything we had for this case was in that booth five minutes ago! We can't just walk in and say 'we have a bad feeling and a missing terrorist, put together a dragnet'!"

Nick sighed and rubbed his eyes under his aviators, Judy walked over to the booth and slammed her fist on the glass. "I promised him, Nick. I promised him he'd be safe!"

He reached over and patted her shoulder. "…Can we at least entertain the possibility that he was leading us on? Having a laugh at our expense, there's weirder kinks out there."

"Don't say that!" Judy spun around, her eyes blazing. "You weren't there when he came apart! I could hear it, Nick, it doesn't take a good actor to spot a bad one and he was…broken. He'd seen and done horrible things, but he was ready to make up for them. He was ready to change." Judy turned back to the booth, staring sadly at her reflection in the glass, something shimmering and metallic on the floor caught her eye. "…Change. Nick! Change!"

"What?" He walked over and saw her snapping on rubber gloves. "So he left some coinage on the ground, what's the big deal?"

"He said he's a frugal person, Nick, frugal people don't drop change. Hold on a second…" Judy said as she reached over and pushed her fingers into the change slot, her eyes lit up as she pulled out a small glass vial filled with a bluish translucent liquid. "Richie…you're a good person."

"Damn straight!" Nick said with an impressed grin. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Not poison?" Judy said as she slipped it into a plastic bag. "Could be. We need to take it back to the lab, though."

"I'll radio us in." Nick headed back fro the cruiser. "See if they can get the lab set up for us by the time we get there."

The cruiser pulled up to the precinct and was immediately beset by a throng of press. Nick and Judy exchanged baffled glances, the questions of the reporters overlapping into an almost insectoid drone. An elephant bellow cut through the chatter and Chief Bogo and Officer McHorn barged through, flanked by Officers Trunkaby and Delgato.

"Clear a path! Let them out, for God's sake!" Bogo shouted, greeting Judy as she stepped out of the car. "Detective Hopps."

"Chief, what is all this?"

"This," Bogo scowled and gestured for her to follow, "is what this new administration calls an 'impromptu press conference'. Mayor Ketchikan wants to get the two of you in front of a couple hundred cameras and reassure the city that this case was just a standard B'n'E, that there's no awful conspiracy, and that you two are the pets of the administration. Just smile, nod, and it'll all be over soon."

"Uh, yeah. Chief, about this case…" Judy fidgeted uneasily as they approached the podium where the Mayor was standing, staring guiltily up at Bogo.

Bogo's eyes widened, a dismayed look spread across his face. "No…I know that look. Hopps, you are going to tell me that the caller was a fraud, some crazy homeless guy with a handful of quarters and a story to tell, then, you will march right up there and tell the Mayor 'No problems here, sir!' That's what's going to happen, right? …Please?"

"Sorry," Judy said sheepishly, dangling the little plastic bag containing the vial.

Bogo clapped his hand to his face and groaned. "Heaven knows what would happen if I assigned you two to a murder! Alright, what's in the vial?"

"Something? Sir, we need the techs to look this over, it could be incredibly dangerous!" Judy put the bag back in her pocket. "I can't waste time with the press right now, get Nick to handle them."

Bogo looked around, turning to Officer Trunkaby. "Francine, where is Detective Wilde?"

The elephant shrugged. "I thought he was with you. All the press and hangers-on went to the other side of the car when we broke them up, so maybe they got him as he was getting out?"

Bogo rubbed his temples, his usual dealing-with-the-mayor headache had set out on its way to becoming a migraine, a dream that it followed with enviable resolve. "Well, go get him! Alive if possible."

Francine nodded and stomped back out into the crowd, trumpeting and bellowing as they fled from her. The Chief sighed and started to turn back to Judy. "And you! The Mayor is going to chip a tooth if you bail on this conference, so I don't care if there's pure anthrax in that vial, you're going to…Hopps?"

He spun around just in time to see Judy disappear around the corner on the far side of the room. Bogo scowled and snorted in disgust as Francine returned and plopped a disheveled, haggard-looking Nick down next to him. "Wilde, you handle the press."

"They handled me plenty, Chief!" Nick said, wiggling his hips around as he adjusted his pants. "This isn't my shirt and I'm pretty sure my underwear's on backwards."

"Just get up there and schmooze with the Mayor, the sooner this day is done, the better."

The room was cold and austere, save for a trio of chairs around a large-screen laptop and a space heater, there was little to be said of creature comforts. Grigori huffed as he pulled his chin up to the bar one-handed, switching out before slowly lowering himself back down. Now that the traitor was in hand, all they had to do was wait. Unfortunately, this also meant living and sleeping in a cold, dilapidated subterranean crypt of concrete and water pipes, but it was the only way to make sure the alpha-site stayed safe. All the other locations they had visited were private property or workplaces, but the alpha-site actually required them to clear out a half-dozen vagrants before they could set up shop. Grigori grinned, he'd gotten to kill a polar bear, a soused and raving polar bear, but it was satisfying regardless.

His tufted ears turned as the door opened behind him, Elim entered the room and shuddered, a harrowed look in his eyes.

"Is he finished?" Grigori rumbled, letting go of the bar.

Elim shook his head twitchily, a morbid smirk on his face. "N-nah. Ha! No, he's just getting started. You know, when Finn says he's going to get creative, he's, uh, he's not joking. I actually feel bad for Dick-Dick…"

A shrill, muffled scream echoed through the halls, Elim flinched away from it and clapped his hands over his ears. Grigori sighed and shut the door, thankfully cutting off the sound. "I told you, you shouldn't have watched."

"What?" Elim exclaimed. "No, you didn't!"

"Oh yeah," Grigori grunted, the flicker of a smile on his dour face. "That's right, I didn't tell you on purpose. Because seeing you like this is very funny to me."

"Yeah, you look just tickled," Elim grumbled, heading over to the cooler. "I need a fucking drink. You want anything?"

"Beer me."

Elim tossed him a bottle; the lynx brought the bottle up to his mouth, his new, glittering metal teeth made short work of the cap. The two sat themselves down in front of the laptop; Elim pulled out the wireless keyboard and mouse and navigated to the Zootopia streaming news site. As predicted, the Mayor was congratulating himself and the police force, simultaneously putting down suspicions of conspiracy and boosting confidence. Elim sighed, sometimes he wished that people weren't so goddamn predictable. Next to the Mayor was a fox in a cop uniform, something that was personally baffling to Elim, but then there wasn't a whole lot about Zootopia that made sense to him.

The fox, Detective Wilde of the super-cop duo whose portmanteau name made Elim's eyes roll, was a well-spoken, slick son-of-a-bug; with a handsome smile, friendly-but-obtuse answers to questions, a well placed joke, and he soon had the press eating out of his hand. Over the course of his research, he had discovered that Wilde used to be on the other side of things, legally and morally speaking. Elim knew a hustler when he saw one, and he was looking at a chieftain. Wilde had little of the flash or panache of big-time scammers and con-men, but many things about him told Elim he was at least as talented, if not more so. First of all, he carried himself like a con-man of fifty, yet he was either near or just through the door of his thirties; this spoke of an early start, a rough childhood that nurtured nascent talent. Here was someone who had kept a low profile, hadn't turned too many heads, but had made a decent living doing whatever smalltime shtick he had adopted, and in the meantime had contacts and eyes on every street corner. Elim had suspected two days, maybe one, for them to track down Manny, because even when trying to get caught you shouldn't make it too easy.

The fox had done it in one hour.

Elim found it troubling, but of no actual concern; all con-men are made up of the same stuff, the same basic ingredients: opportunism, cynicism, and superficiality. Wilde had attacked the case with a wit and ferocity that would have been impressive, were it not for the fact that he had been utterly duped by a feint. His con-man instincts would lead him to tackle the surface, the superficial, while the true crime slipped between his fingers. It was a simple matter of knowing people and how they worked. Elim chuckled to himself; he had a good bead on things.

"Where is the bunny?" Grigori asked.

"What's it matter?" Elim grunted, sipping his beer. "Do you think he practices?"

"Huhn?"

"That look," Elim said, pointing at the screen, on it Detective Wilde had just set the Mayor up for a friendly zinger and his expression was decidedly smug. "That pratty, self-satisfied smirk, the screen is practically dripping oil. How can one creature convey such conceitedness naturally? He must practice it in the bathroom mirror every morning."

"Foxes just do that," Grigori sneered. "Makes it more fun to wipe it off their faces."

Elim chuckled, as he watched the police and government giving each other a good lick, clapping themselves on the back over a case solved in record time. Won't they be surprised! He saw Grigori's ear twitch, his neutral expression, which was already a scowl, deepened as though he had just heard an unpleasant sound. "You can hear them, eh?"

"Eh," Grigori affirmed. "Finn is really having fun with him."

Elim shifted uncomfortably, Grigori had a stomach for this sort of thing and even he was getting an off vibe this time. "You know…I think Finn's mad."

Amazingly, Grigori smiled; the gold sheen of his fangs startling in the hard light cast by the floodlight that served as their only source of illumination. "You are just realizing this now?"

"No, no. I mean, I think he's angry with Dick-Dick."

Grigori waved dismissively. "I don't think Finn's ever done what he does out of love."

"No, listen." Elim turned to look at the lynx. "I think it really hurt him when he betrayed us. Like, his feelings."

Grigori nodded thoughtfully. "People like us do not give trust easily, if at all. Finn liked Dick-Dick, we all did."

"I did," Elim admitted. "He did his job well and he was a hoot to be around."

"Yeah, and then he ruins everything and runs off, like we don't matter." Grigori said, leveling a glare at Elim. "It's like mixing an 18 year old port-finish scotch with coke."

Elim threw up his hands. "One time! One time, three years ago! Haven't I done enough to make up for it?"

Grigori nodded and gestured apologetically. "Yes, you have. I'm sorry, I'm not angry about it, but you must know I'll never let you forget."

Elim smirked and nodded, sipping his beer. A moment passed, a heavy pause that weighed on both of them, when Grigori spoke. "Elim…I wanted to thank you. For this job. For involving me. With that money, I can retire and support my mama and sisters. I want you to know…I consider you my friend."

Elim blinked in surprise, he felt uncharacteristically stymied; did he feel the same way? Just then, considering life without his burly teammate for the first time, he began to feel a tug of sadness. He'd have the money all the same, but whom would he talk to? Who could possibly understand what he had been through? And Finn, what would life be like without that chipper, demented maniac? A lot less interesting, that's what. "Yeah, Gori. Thanks. Y'know what? Same here. You're my buddy, yeah? You, me, and Finn, we're like the Three Musketeers."

"Used to be four," Grigori grumbled, flinching at some sub-audible sound from down the hall. "But yes. Don't ever tell him I said so, but Finn is a real droug, we spar and it's fun, keeping each other on our toes. The three of us, we are bratva, yeah?"

"Y'know…" Elim said, tapping his fingers on his beer bottle. "When you get your money and move your family to that 'warm place' with the supermarkets that deliver and such, well, what would you say to us being neighbors?"

Grigori nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I would like that. Evenings, we sit on our porches with barbeques and beer, and talk about the old days and what we're going to buy next."

"And in the mornings we have breakfast at Finnegan's!" Elim laughed. "Remember that breakfast he cooked up for us a while back? Best damn hashbrowns I've ever had!"

Grigori chuckled, an almost unprecedented occurrence. "And in the afternoon? We do whatever we want."

"Whatever we want!" Elim repeated, offering his bottle in cheers.

Grigori reached over to clink his bottle with his friend's when the door swung open and in walked Finn. The ferret was humming jauntily to himself, warm blood dripping from his mouth and down his stomach.

"Coulda been anything that we wanted ta be/with all the talent we had~" he sang as he rifled through their groceries, grabbing a pot off the floor. "With little training we mastered complaining–say, Elim, where'd we put that big box of salt I picked up?"

"It's in the box on your right," Elim said before reluctantly asking, "Why?"

"Oh, just mixing up a couple pints of sterile saline. See, I need a little something to keep the fun going when the chew toy runs low on juice. I've already jury-rigged an I.V. so all I need is the filler. He's stable now, I just want it on hand for when I get really carried away." Finn pulled out the big box of salt and began to pour it into the pot.

Elim spun his wheels on this for a moment, trying to understand, before giving up and loosing a hearty laugh. "Okay, whatever! Grab a beer and get over here, you crazy little shit! Gori and I were having a talk."

Finn's ears perked up. "About what?"

"Well, we were talking about how we wanted to be neighbors once we retire, you, me, and Gori. You with your restaurant and such, we'd be regulars!"

Finn pulled a beer from the cooler, the 12oz bottle looking comically large in the arms of the little ferret, without much effort he clambered up and onto the table between the two larger chairs, where Grigori capped his bottle for him. "Wasn't that the plan all along?"

"Stay gold, Finn. Stay gold," Elim smiled and offered his bottle in toast. "I propose a toast to Zootopia…" Finn and Grigori exchanged bemused expressions. "Yes, Zootopia: good fuckin' luck."

The three laughed sardonically, they clicked their bottles together and drank deep. It was only a matter of time, now.