The Chief sits at his desk, a folder and its contents spread across the surface. He holds his chin in contemplation as he studies an image. It's of a lion—female, late thirties, grey eyes, and a darker coat than what is typically associated with the species. He shifts his attention to another sitting beside it. This one shows a zebra—small build, mid-thirties, and green eyes. They are a couple and a rare one at that. Prey and predators typically don't mix. There is a lot of social pressure not to, a lot of social pressure. In fact, though not as bad, interspecies relationships in general are seen in a negative light by many of Zootopia's citizens. An argument used by those who hold such a view typically follows a certain path—something about the inability to bear offspring plainly showing the unnaturalness of these pairings
He doesn't pay attention to any of that. His job is to get these mammals back alive.
But it can provide clues as to how they disappeared. Hate crimes against these couples are uncommon but they do happen. The one problem with this case, however, is that crimes of that sort are generally messy.
Very messy.
See, the typical mindset of those who target minorities involve an urge to make a point. Usually, in the form of a display—the bodies being strung up and a message written on a wall, a torture being filmed and posted on a public website, or something similarly shocking. As long as it tells other mammals, 'hey, this is you if you do this.' As far as he is aware, nothing of that sort has happened yet. The lion, her mate, and even the vehicle they were driving had disappeared without a trace while on their way to…
Bogo glances at the name.
'The Honeywell Genetic Counseling Centre.'
Some place filled with a bunch of eggheads, he has no doubt.
Anyways, whether or not this is actually a hate crime, the job was clean, a fact that continues to amaze him. Surely it wasn't easy to control both a zebra and a lion, two mammals not known to be light. Even tranquilized or shot, that would still be a lot of dead weight. And what the hell happened to the vehicle? This was almost certainly done by a group, a group who knew precisely what they were doing.
Clawhauser abruptly bursts into the office, the chief jumping in his seat. "Chief! Here are the files you requested!" He shouts, bouncing to the desk, a hefty number of folders between his paws.
Bogo grabs the stack with a bit of aggression. "Have I not, repeatedly, told you to knock?"
"Oh, right, sorry sir!"
Bogo grunts. "Anyways. Thank you. That is all I need."
"Yes sir!" He says, grabbing the handle of the door in preparation to leave. As he begins to close it, however, he stops, a gigantic smile suddenly upon his face. "Sir, did you hear her new album?" He sighs musingly. "Oh. My god!"
"Clawhauser! I'm busy!"
"Oh, of course! Sorry, sir!"
Just as the door is about to click shut, Bogo mutters, just loud enough for him to hear. "But, I did."
Clawhauser lets loose a squeak of excitement before hopping away.
Bogo snorts and rolls his eyes before looking at the requested files. As chief, he typically doesn't deal with cases directly unless it's exceptionally violent or odd—like the couple who vanished. Generally, he simply glances through the reports that his officers fill out. This is due to the impossibility to keep track of every detail of every crime that his department deals with. But, with the recent influx of missing mammals, once again, he had decided to look for patterns and, to do that, he needed all missing cases. Well, at least the ones within the past few months.
'A lot of pointless sifting.' He thinks to himself as he opens the first folder and, after seeing a picture of a calf with the red words 'Closed' plastered across it, tosses it aside. The vast majority of these will be on pups, kits, and other young ones who decided to go for a stroll without telling their parents, on the elderly who wander off because of some mental disability, or on a mentally disabled individual in general, elderly or not. These types of cases typically close within a few hours after being opened and, more importantly, no longer provide any purpose other than getting in his way.
As he continues his primary search, splitting the files into two stacks—'potential leads' and 'no potential'—his mind begins to wander as minds completing menial tasks tend to do.
Not for the first time, the event of yesterday comes to the forefront of his thoughts.
Normally, he'd seriously consider putting Hopps and Wilde on the case of the missing couple despite she not actually having the title of 'Criminal Investigator' and he being inexperienced. However, considering that Wilde had almost eaten a bullet, it put them out of the running.
He grunts.
Besides, Hopps still shows signs of reckless tendencies. He had hoped that after she had been fully accepted by those on the force, those tendencies would die. Obviously, they haven't yet and, despite her reasoning for it, she needs to straighten up. Whoever's after them is serious.
Cops receive death threats. That's something that isn't new. But this is in an entirely new league, a league beyond anything he's witnessed. The amount of money is either a bluff or somebody with a lot of influence is targeting them. Both are quite frightening. The first means the suspect is utterly insane to try and swindle the entire criminal population. The other still means insanity but now it's coupled with power. Additionally, the first means the individual who put out the bounty could literally be anybody and, the other, the suspect list becomes quite a bit slimmer. As in, likely somebody who had been either under Bellwether or agreeable with her policies. And that somebody would also need to have the capacity to hold one hell of a grudge.
'Perhaps a political partner who had relied on Bellwether for their own power?'
He grunts again and makes a note to check her past affiliates.
Hopefully something will turn up once the Sherlocks are finished investigating the scene.
Bogo looks at the files that remain to be sorted and is glad to find that he's made good progress. Of course, the stack of the useful ones is significantly shorter but at least it's something. He continues the process and his mind wanders once again.
Hopps, through the now many months of working together, has grown on him. There is now a warm spot for her and, he can't deny it, one for the fox as well. How she had managed to convince the guy to join the force is something that still confuses him; hell, it still confuses most of the other officers as well. Their partnership has certainly become something of a legend around not only the department of precinct one but practically all of them. In addition to being the first bunny and fox officer, it is the first time that many mammals, including himself, have seen the two species working together with success.
A few pangs of guilt hit him as he remembers the way he had treated her. It was only due to her size, really. It didn't matter that she was a bunny—of course, it hadn't helped either—but, really, she could have been any small mammal.
He sighs.
It didn't make his actions any less disrespectful. She had certainly proved him wrong and, because of that, he had forced himself to accept Wilde's application without question. After all, the guy had also received fantastic marks during his time at the academy—not as good as Judy's, if he recalls correctly—but ones that definitely qualified him for precinct one.
Clawhauser bursts through the door and, like the previous time, the chief jumps.
"Clawhauser!" He roars.
"Oh, sir! I'm so sorry!"
"Go back out. And knock."
"Yes, sir!" Clawhauser leaves, the door shutting with a soft click. Then, a gentle rapping comes from the other side.
"What. Is it?"
The muffled sounds of his voice come through. "Sir, another missing mammal report just came in! I thought you would want to see it considering, you know, you asked for-"
"Yes, yes. Come in."
The door reopens with much less velocity. Clawhauser walks over with a calmness much unlike him and lays the file on the chief's outstretched hoof. "Now," Bogo breathes, "was that so hard?"
"Absolutely not, sir."
"Good. Now get out."
Clawhauser begins to leave and, once again, stops before the door is completely shut. "Sir, what'd you think of 'The Fire Within'?"
"Oh for god's sake Clawhauser. Would you just let me work?"
Clawhauser continues to grin at him through the crack.
The chief snorts, then whispers. "If I tell you it is one of my favorites, will you please leave me the hell alone?"
The cheetah lets loose a squeaky laugh. "Mine too!" And slams the door shut.
Bogo leaves a mental note that, if Clawhauser ever breaks his promise and tells anybody about his affinity for Gazelle, he would put him in the ring with McHorn.
For five rounds. At the minimum.
While filming it.
He grabs the newest file and pops it open. A Cheetah as well, but not the one he actually wishes were missing.
The classic golden coat with spots covers the feline. Black lines start at the forehead, make their way past the dark auburn eyes, and flow around the muzzle. Average build but above average height; male in his mid-twenties. One Yunton Alexander.
Bogo stares at the name and something clicks within his mind.
'Alexander… Alex… ander.'
He grabs the files in the 'potential lead' stack and begins flipping through them. After many minutes, he finds the one he's looking for.
'Jacob Alexander.'
Wildebeest. Male. Late twenties. Brown body with black upon his face. A spiked mane typical of the species rolls down his neck. He checks the 'family relations' section and reads down the list. Under 'Spouse', Yunton is listed.
Another prey and predator relationship.
'Fascinating.'
He decides to search back through the ones he's already sorted. This time he pays particularly close attention to the surnames. Many additional minutes pass but, with relative quickness, he finds another couple. Again, prey and predator in which the individuals went missing around the same time. It's only one but still more than enough. Three couples thus far. That is not acceptable.
He switches back to the stack that hasn't been sorted yet. Very few remain and most, as usual, prove useless. However, towards the bottom of the depleting pile, a wolf with a pure white coat catches his eye.
Male. Mid-thirties. Average height. Medium-build. And eyes of sapphire that glare into the camera with a burning intensity.
Damon Maximus is his name.
Bogo is about to place the file on the 'potential leads' stack. But, just as he makes one final glance at the names of the family, something small, but significant, screams out to him. It's the father's name. Specifically, his surname. Bogo raises an eyebrow and his mouth opens as confusion sweeps him.
'This… could be an issue.'