A soft breeze blows through the abandoned brick structure, whistling against gaping holes where windows once shone, whispering secrets of the cold and the abandoned to Judy as she runs to the entrance of the building, guarded only by shattered sliding glass doors. She does not enter, however, but stands off to one side. She draws her pistol, turning on the light attached to it, and points it at the ground. As she breaches the facility, she presses a switch that causes the light to begin strobing at a quick interval, and quickly points her gun to various parts of the room. Hopefully, anybody in here would be blinded and disoriented before harm can be done. After checking behind the welcome desk, she declares vacancy. Behind the desk, an elevator bank flanks the room and, opposite this, a door leading to a stairwell. She enters this using the same protocol.

With every impact of her foot upon the stairs, her presence is announced through a loud echo that throws itself against the concrete walls. She attempts to climb as quietly as possible but this is almost impossible in her rush. Luckily, despite this building being the tallest around, it's only five stories and, before long, she makes it to the door of the ceiling. She bursts through it, light strobing. As soon as she's cleared of the doorway, she bounces to the right, swinging the gun in many different directions.

But there seems to be nothing.

After checking behind the various appliances of the roof—ventilation, climate control units, piping—Judy determines the roof to be deserted and switches back to the regular light.

The wind is stronger up here. It shifts the snow, blows it in circular motions and kicks it into the air. She shivers and walks towards the edge of the building closest to where the incident had taken place. Haley's car is clearly visible as well as the four other police cruisers that have arrived. Their lights twinkle a soft red and blue in the silent night. If those colors hadn't come to be associated with problems and violence, it'd almost be a peaceful sight.

She begins her search near the brick railing that lines the roof. Prints draw her attention first, prints with an odd shape and an even stranger pattern.

'Boots. They were wearing boots…' Either the suspect doesn't like the cold or they were hiding what species they are. Her wager's on the latter.

She follows the tracks and realizes they do not go towards the ceiling door but to another side of the building, to another edge. She peers over and finds a fire escape.

'Interesting escape route.'

Hopping over, she runs down the rickety structure, not attempting to be quiet this time—there is no hope anyways. At the bottom-most floor the escape reaches, she shines her light towards the ground. Pure, unbroken snow reflects back. This baffles her before she makes a few guesses. Either the shooter is still in the building or he used the fire escape to go to a random floor and then used an internal staircase to find another exit. Again, her wager's on the latter. She sighs.

'The area will have to be searched.' She decides to return to the ceiling.

Back where she began, she continues to scan the area. It's not long before she finds something else, something that the bright, powdery snow almost makes her miss, something otherwise insignificant. It's a piece of paper lying half-embedded into the small, white dunes. Picking it up, she notices it's actually a pack of papers stapled together and folded.

For a moment, her eyebrows arch in confusion as she unfolds the pack.

But only a moment, only until her light is fixed properly upon the name typed in large font at the top. Then they rise in gut-wrenching horror.

Nicholas Piberius Wilde

Below his name are a row of images, all of him, taken from different angles.

'How did they get these?'

She flips the sheet over.

The next one contains a description of not only his complete physical appearance but of some of his daily routines as well. She reads the bottom and her gut wrenches even further.

(Payment)

Alive: $1,250,000

Dead: $1,000,000

'One million. Two-hundred. And fifty-thousand dollars.'

For many minutes she stares at the page, unaware of the cold, unaware of her shivering, unaware of anything but the ink and the symbols it forms. Eventually she comes to, just enough to flip to the next page.

And finds herself staring back.

'Oh… no.'

She flips again.

(Payment)

Alive: $1,750,000

Dead: $1,500,000

The door to the ceiling bursts open. She shifts the gun, clicks on the strobe, and points it.

"Woah! Carrots, it's just me." Nick, too, has his gun out and aimed at her. They both quickly lower their weapons, he instantly beginning to rub his eyes. "Was the strobe necessary? You almost blinded me."

More officers rush through the door, all with their arms raised.

She remains silent.

"Judy," he asks, walking towards her. "Are you okay?"

She holds the papers in an outstretched fist. He tilts his head, ears perked, and takes them.

As he looks at his image and information, his ears fold back. When he gets to Judy's, they flatten and he swallows. As he slowly closes the pack, he sneaks a glance at Judy and, the moment that he sees that she is staring back with a quickly-twitching nose and wide, fear-filled eyes, he forces his ears to perk back up a minute amount and his mouth to work into the twitch of a grin. "I really don't think you're worth more than me. But hey, they're criminals. They aren't known for making logical choices, now are they?"

"Nick…"

"Now, Judy."

"I don't understand…"

"Me neither. What could you have possibly done to make somebody want to blow perfectly good money?"

"Nick…"

Officer Wolford joins them. "The area is secure, Officer Hopps." He pauses, then adds, "But it very well could not have been." He glances at the papers in Judy's hand. "Is that something you found?"

She swallows. "It is. But I'd rather have only Chief Bogo and whomever he deems necessary see this."

"Very well. You may want to put it in a bag. Any potential identifiers could still be on the object."

"Yeah, okay."