Hey, ya'll. Gonna try my best to make things interesting.

Before you start reading, I want ya'll to know that I am aware that hares and bunnies are not the same species. I tend to use the word "rabbit" interchangeably between the two, for lack of other words besides only "hare" and "bunny". I would also imagine that hares are called "bunnies" if the mammal referring to them means it in more of a derogatory way, since bunnies are smaller and more timid. I think that they're close enough to the same species that it shouldn't matter too much (i.e. donkeys and horses), but there are also some differences between them.

Just letting you guys know.

Hope you enjoy~

… … … … …

Chapter Three: Storytime with Sir Crumpet

When he's lucky, Jack gets four hours of sleep when he's working.

There was a common knowledge that if one gets more sleep, it increases their ability to function properly; but not Jack. In fact, it was the opposite for this hare; lack of sleep made him attentive, uptight, aware. It was part of the reason why he made such a good spy—his performance never deteriorated with the number of hours he stayed awake.

Oh, don't misunderstand, Jack loved to sleep as much as the next mammal…but he was an agent, and agents don't have luxuries like sleep. Once set on a mission, Jack was a spy twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; spies never clock out.

So, as expected, on the subsequent night to his discussion with Bogo, he got no sleep whatsoever. He kept all the lights on in his mediocre hotel room (chosen for subtlety), three laptops set up side-by-side on the desk and stacks of files at each corner. His place was in front of these computers, a trac-fone he bought from the drug store flipped open and dialed to Damon Sentry, his dependable meerkat tech mammal. Jack's notes, all written on the hotel-supplied stationery, were spread out in front of him in a fan of sickly yellow. A tiny pine-scented candle flickered nearby.

He never ended up changing out of his suit; he only shed his jacket, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. The red panda who delivered his room-service tea and watercrest sandwiches looked slightly nonplussed at his uncomely attire, but did Jack care? Not one bloody bit. He would have normally tried to maintain at least a little dignity at all times, but the current situation was so impossibly infuriating he had no time to consider the discomfort of any potential visitors.

As time pressed on, this mission proved itself more and more dubious; and taking a dubious mission meant taking some major chances.

Bogo's evidence, though sound, was risky. Everything about this was risky. Jack had dealt with risk before, of course, but this was the ZIA he was investigating, for cripes' sake! He had worked with them so much, he might as well be working up a plan to infiltrate MI6 itself. All Bogo had was reason that Wraqune was possibly up to no good, that he may have a bulk of ZIA agents in on it, and that it was tied to the recent drug problem in Zootopia; but what Wraqune was doing, exactly, was unknown.

Even Damon, a genius with computers and the like, was finding it challenging to tiptoe around the ZIA firewall and get to the juicy files. Jack was hoping to get some information without having to sneak into anything—but it was never that easy.

The hard part was not getting through the ZIA firewall, but doing so without letting the ZIA know they were being hacked. Damon had tried for hours, only able to dig up some practically useless information about Wraqune's home life; which could eventually be useful, Jack noted, but didn't aid his current need for a base plan.

Jack and Damon discovered the following: Wraqune had two sons, one biological by the name of Louis Wraqune. His second son was adopted; a hare by the name of Elliot Snowshoe. Any trace of a wife—alive, deceased, or otherwise—was never specified. Wraqune liked to play croquet and golf on the weekends, bought an excessive amount of scotch, and had a subscription to Home and Gardens. He had five different email accounts (all laced with ZIA tampering, so Damon couldn't hack his accounts without letting the ZIA know), and had blackberry cobbler delivered weekly to a confidential address. Damon managed to get the address, but it only ended up being location of a grocery store; it was probably the pickup location for the cobblers.

So, basically, nothing worthwhile.

It was almost like the Wraqune that identified himself as the ZIA director didn't exist.

"Sorry, mate," Damon had told him with his heavy Australian accent, a groan emanating from the low-quality speaker of Jack's flip phone. "I just don't want t'cock this up. I know how t'get around ZIA's firewalls—they aren't much different than ours—but not sending up red flags's pretty close to impossible."

"You've done fine, Damon," Jack replied, tapping his ballpoint pen against the desk as he stared at his computer screens in frustration. "I'm just asking a lot of you." With the exception of billion dollar companies, most systems were extremely easy for Damon to hack; even those rich and powerful companies that set up extremely sophisticated systems had a weakness somewhere.

But this was a government agency they were trying to hack into. There were probably hundreds of geniuses sitting behind computers, waiting patiently for any sign of hacking so they can locate and obliterate the offender—and if the ZIA found that it was the MI6 trying to hack them, "war" wouldn't even begin to describe the chaos.

Jack could hear Damon smack his lips, a habit the meerkat could never drop. "Regina offered to go try t'squeeze some information out o' other agents, but I told 'er not to. 'You're no actor,' I told 'er. 'Leave that t'Jack.'"

Jack had chuckled. "Tell her I appreciate it, but she should just stick to her guns."

Damon gave a loud ha!, his snicker sharp and amused. "Pun intended?"

"Pun intended," Jack repeated, smiling. Regina—just 'Regina', last name arguable—was their weapons extraordinaire. She was a black bear who knew the weapons world inside and out. She may have lacked stealth, but if you ever needed to charge head-on into a fight, Regina was your gal.

After agreeing to buying Damon a few pints once he returned to the UMK, Jack hung up and popped the cheap cell phone in the hotel's provided microwave for about ten minutes; then, he planned. He took what he knew- some small and possibly flawed information Damon managed to dig up, and what Bogo had given him—and patched together a makeshift plan that may or may not work.

He worked all through the night and into the day, until about four p.m. After some caffeinated hot tea, a shower, and a fresh suit, Jack burned all his notes on his pine-scented candle and had Damon completely obliterate the memory on his laptops. He had studied everything so much that he had all of it memorized, anyway. He kept what was necessary to explain to these officers and put them into his briefcase, which he secured with a combination lock.

The officers! Jack was not above working with the fuzz, but he couldn't help but feel extremely uncomfortable with working alongside two mammals of such minor law enforcement. Chief Bogo had given Jack the files of the two officers he boasted about, and the hare could admit that he was a little miffed at the fact that one of the officers was the very fox that had been staring him down earlier that day. He had Damon look into these officers' backgrounds so he could know a bit more about them; Jack didn't let Bogo know this, but if either even seemed slightly incompetent, Jack wasn't afraid to drop them like a sack of old potatoes.

I know I told the Chief that there was no time to evaluate these officers' abilities, Jack thought as he slid his hotel key into his wallet and stepped into the colorfully-carpeted hallway. I think I must. Too much risk, too much uncertainty. If there is one thing I need to be certain about, it's my team.

Jack was definitely stepping out of his comfort zone by doing this—but he was a spy. Nothing was supposed to be outside his comfort zone; if it wasn't inside his comfort zone, he forced it to be.

He was determined to do that now.

Maybe he should have gotten more sleep.

… … … … …

Both Judy and Nick had large stacks of completed paperwork in their paws, inside Bogo's office for the second time that day. They were both completely burnt out, a typical symptom of paperwork duty; it was a good thing Judy kept pain reliever in her desk or they both would have been miserable. Judy did not hesitate to reiterate how Nick depended on her ("I don't see you thinking of bringing Aspawrin in case we need it!"), and of course Nick played along with it; she didn't have to know he kept his own pain pills in his duffel bag back in the locker room, and how he was just too lazy to go and get them.

Bogo was staring at the clock on his wall with ferocity when the duo walked in, his steely eyes narrowed in an almost uncharacteristic concentration.

The heck…?

Nick glanced over at Judy, who just simply watched Bogo with a furrowed brow and a little twist to her mouth, her body leaned backwards with the strain of her stack of paperwork. She was obviously just as bewildered as Nick was.

Nick cleared his throat scratchily. "Uhh… Chief…?"

Bogo's gaze never left the clock. "You both did most of the paperwork?"

"Um, yeah," Judy uttered. She still looked absolutely puzzled. "We finished it all, actually."

Bogo's eyes shifted with the minute hand, which was inching the slightest bit toward the twelve; ten till five, Nick noted. "Good, good," the buffalo muttered in reply. "Just leave it on my desk."

After placing the papers beside Bogo, both Nick and Judy retreated awkwardly. Nick scratched the back of his neck, and he could hear Judy sniff beside him; there was an uncomfortable length of silence forced into the space.

Eventually, Bogo realized what was going on, and tore his eyes away from the clock; he raised an eyebrow at his officers, who were waiting sheepishly. Judy had her paws clasped dutifully behind her back. "What are you two gawking at?" Bogo snapped, and waved a hoof to the two chairs in front of his desk passively. "Sit, for crying out loud."

Nick looked over at Judy, and found she was already scanning him, looking for answers. What's going on? Judy mouthed at Nick, her nose shifting slightly with each word; he gave a slight shrug and mouthed back, No idea.

Judy twisted her mouth and quickly hopped into a chair; Nick slid in beside her and proceeded to accidentally sit on his tail. Ugh, uncomfortable. He adjusted it. "Chief," Nick blurted as he settled down next to his rabbit partner, "when are you gonna tell us why we're in trouble?"

Bogo gave a large, haughty puff from his nose; his nostrils flared. "Now, what makes you think you're in trouble, Wilde?" This was sarcasm.

Nick felt obligated to reciprocate. "Oh, I don't know, giving us paperwork duty, maybe? And now you're calling us directly to your office an hour before our shift ends. Not to mention you're being a little grumpy."

A low, irritated growl emanated from Bogo's throat at the fox's disrespect. "Apparently, Wilde, you feel extremely comfortable with not. Having. A job."

Nick held up his paws in immediate surrender. Point taken.

"It's because we asked for that drug case, isn't it?"

This wasn't Nick; it was Judy. She was leaning back in the chair, crossing her arms and looking incredibly stern for so cute a bunny; there was fire in her eyes, her nose twitching and her mouth pressed into a thin line.

Bogo just glowered at her. Nick took it with a grain of sand; Bogo glowered at everything.

Judy threw up her paws in exasperation. "I mean, we've been doing more paperwork and parking duty than ever, since we requested to investigate the new drug problem!"

Nick through about this for a moment, scratching his chin with a claw. He nodded, thinking about the past month; what she said was true. They've been doing paperwork and parking duty a lot lately.

"Hopps, you know why I didn't assign you to the case."

"Because a case like that is personal to us, yes, I know," Judy retorted. "But, sir, we didn't mean any harm in asking. We just wanted to help; we felt like we would have been effective in fixing it!"

"I know it may not seem this way, but the emotional stability of my officers matters to me," the huge buffalo said out of the side of his mouth; his eyes were practically slits. "You had the Bellwether case. Then, not a month into his new job, you and Rookie Wilde were assigned to a domestic dispute case that you, Hopps—now, correct me if I'm wrong—took very hard. Another emotionally scarring case wouldn't have helped you cope in the least bit."

Nick inwardly winced, and immediately looked to check on Judy. Her profile was slumped, her ears now flattened against her head; she wrapped her arms around herself. Nick couldn't tell if she was hurt from Bogo's words or hurt from the memory of the case, but either way, he wanted to squeeze the fluff out of her until she felt okay again.

Nevertheless, Bogo continued. "I also didn't assign you to the case, Hopps, because A—we have other equally talented officers who are perfectly capable in investigating such things," Bogo stated, ticking off on his hooves, "and B—I didn't want your heads to become so excessively filled with hot air that you became blind to failure."

Judy peered up at the Chief through her eyelashes. "Do you think we're cocky, Chief?"

"A little bit, yes. Wilde moreso."

Nick stifled a chuckle. He couldn't deny that.

Judy was taken aback, her eyes flicking back and forth for a moment and her jaw hung slack. "Chief, I… I try as best I can to be humble! Humility is a virtue, and I try—"

"You can try, Hopps," Bogo snapped back, folding his massive arms, "but the chance is still there. I've lost plenty of good, honest officers to them making risky moves because they thought they could do it and failed." He paused for a moment, glancing back toward the clock. "I have something bigger on my plate now. All that dramatic bullroar doesn't matter anymore."

"Bigger?" Judy asked, her voice riding in pitch. All of a sudden, she didn't look so miffed; the frustration in her posture was replaced with straight-backed bright interest. Her eyes glittered, all purple-y and curious.

A small smile grew on Nick's lips. He couldn't help it! He tried, he did, but it wasn't his fault if her abundance of excitement was adorable. Her enthusiasm was contagious.

"Yes, bigger," Bogo replied. "Something that will make me have to ignore your rapidly inflating heads and excessive amount of confidence."

Too late for that, Nick thought briskly, smirking and straightening his tie. I am Mr. Confident, yessir. Confident is my middle name. Nicholas Confident Wilde.

Bogo cocked an eyebrow at him, his snout twisting into an unpleased frown. "Got something to say, Wilde?"

"Nothing you'd like, Chief," Nick smirked back.

Bogo only grunted.

Judy was excited now, way more excited than she should be. She stood up in the seat beside Nick, her face now completely level with his; it was weird like this, Nick felt, since he was so used to looking down to meet her eyes. "You were talking like you were going to put us on this new case, Chief!" she exclaimed, her paws clasped together and a huge grin showing off her rabbit teeth. "Is that true, sir? What is it about? Something bigger than the drug case… does that mean that it's bigger than the Nighthowler case?!"

Bogo grunted again, and sniffed. "…Possibly."

Nick was excited, too, but for another reason. "So no more paperwork duty, Chief?"

"For now." Bogo glanced at the clock again.

Judy exaggeratedly flopped back down into the chair, giving a great, high-pitched sigh and slumping heavily against Nick's arm. "Thank goodness," she emphasized, her ears pressed down and head against the fox's bicep. Nick couldn't help but snicker at her.

"Don't get too excited, Hopps," Bogo grumbled. "Nothing about this situation is pretty."

"Knock, knock!"

Nick's ears perked up. This voice was low, smooth, upbeat, and undeniably British. It was also a voice he had never heard before.

He turned and peered around the side of the chair, straining his neck and holding the armrest for leverage. Judy sprang to her feet and peered over the top, her ears erect and eyes wide with enthusiastic curiosity; she had to balance on her tiptoes in order to see more than the backrest of their chair.

A small figure occupied the space of the doorway, right paw deep in slack pocket and tie pressed closely to his throat. A black trench coat, nicely pressed and laid over his shoulders… his arms weren't inside the sleeves of his coat. This exposed the light grey material of his suit, well-tailored. Slim-fit. A trilby hat was settled well onto his head, his long ears laid over his back and brow shadowed by the brim. He held a glossy black briefcase in his left paw.

That hare from yesterday! Nick tightened his jaw, grinding his teeth together aggressively. The one who glared at me. Gross, go away.

He didn't look in any way surprised at Nick's presence, however. He looked…strangely enthusiastic? And excited! Lightyears different than the hare that death-glared Nick into oblivion the day before.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything!" the hare said with a chipper voice, chuckling awkwardly.

"No, come in, Jack," Bogo said, his voice suddenly much kinder. "Close the door behind you."

If this hare—Jack—was surprised at Nick's presence, he certainly didn't show it. He shut the door with a soft click, placed his coat and trilby on Bogo's coatrack, and deftly lifted himself onto the seat beside the officers'. His face was occupied with a wide smile as he stretched over and plopped his briefcase on Bogo's desk.

Nick noticed that the hare's ears twitched quickly to the right, toward the door. Weird.

Bogo cleared his throat. "Uh… This is…" He glanced questioningly at the hare.

"I'm Jackson Russel," he clarified, standing in the seat and giving a slight bow toward Judy and Nick. "Accountant. Great pleasure to meet you both, I've heard so much about you!"

Nick cocked his eyebrow. Accountant? He inwardly chuckled. Well, rabbits are good at multiplying, I suppose. Maybe he's a witness for the case Bogo was talking about.

Judy was smiling widely; she was faced away from Nick and towards this Mr. Russel, but he was sure that if he could see her face, her eyes would be glittering and friendly. "Hello, Mr. Russel!" She shoved a paw towards him, slightly leaning so she could stretch over the gap separating their two chairs. "Officer Judy Hopps. Nice to meet ya!"

Carrots, you're too nice.

Jackson-Russel-the-Accountant grasped her paw and shook it briefly but enthusiastically. "Pleasure's mine, Officer, really. A joy." Then his eyes shifted to the fox behind her; his toothy smile was unwavering, but a certain slyness made its way into the hare's blue-grey eyes.

Another twitch of the hare's long ears.

Don't let them know that they get to you, Nick. The fox let a wide smirk shimmy onto his snout; he would start the introductions. "Officer Nicholas Wilde, Mr. Russel," he keened, putting out his own paw for the hare to shake.

Finishing touch: the half-lidded gaze, Nick thought, and threw that on his face, too. Bake for 20 minutes at 365 degrees, and you've got yourself an award-winning sarcastic smile. He finished with, "But you can just call me Nick."

The hare glanced down at the larger, clawed paw, and immediately took it. "And you can just call me Jack, Officer." His voice suddenly gained a bit of an edge to it.

Ooh. This was war. Of sarcasm? He hoped so. Another equally witty opponent like Howlton would be… entertaining.

Nick withdrew his paw. "Nice suit," The fox acknowledged, looking down at Mr. Russel's attire. "Full canvas, right?" It was a simple, low-key suit, but good quality—very good quality. All grey-and-black was too plain, in Nick's opinion; he would have opted for a blue or green tie to go with it—but something told him that this hare wasn't a bright-green-tie guy.

Judy gave him a perplexed look, squinting her eyes at him. Nick just smiled at the accountant and pretended not to notice.

Jack let out a friendly chuckle, and spread a grey paw over the top button of his jacket. "Yes, it is, actually. I'm quite proud of it! Good buy, I think." His voice was rough, but cheery. An odd combination.

Nick nodded. "Very sharp." He rubbed his chin as if in thought, still scanning over the hare's clothing. He noticed the lack of flaps on the pockets, the pronounced v-shape of the jacket. "Italian, looks like."

Bogo or Mr. Russel may not have realized what Nick was doing, but Judy sure did; she knew he was mocking the hare. She looked like she was about to lecture Nick, but must have decided to stay silent. Nick suspected that Jackson caught on to what he was doing, but the hare didn't show any sign of discomfort or irritation.

"Italian, yes," Jack agreed, shrugging amiably. "I do enjoy my nice suits, I suppose. Keen eye, Officer, I'm impressed!"

Yet another twitch of Jack's ears toward the door; this particular twitch was more obvious. Was the hare getting nervous? Nick hoped so.

"You seem like an intelligent mammal, Mr. Russel," Nick pressed, leaning forward in his seat. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Nick," Judy warned from beside him; Nick could practically feel the anxiety in her voice. She put a paw on his arm; he ignored it.

"Why, of course, Officer!" Jack nodded, his eyes wide and curious. He didn't acknowledge Judy's nervousness. "Anything."

"I know a massive amount of mammals in this city, including a lot of accountants," he began, folding his arms and staring the hare square in the eye. "And all are very, very good with money."

"As expected," Jack agreed, nodding.

"They're all cheap," Nick emphasized. "Wealthy or poor, they don't spend a lot of money, because they know how the system works. And you," Nick pointed at the hare, "are young, not yet thirty. Unless you own an accounting firm—which you would have made clear in your introduction—you are not wealthy."

Jack gave an amused scoff, glancing from Nick to Bogo, who was watching with one eyebrow raised. Jack focused back on the fox. "Well," he laughed, "what is your question, Officer?"

"My question is, why would an accountant—in Zootopia, where cost of living is high—be willing to spend money on a suit that's well over a thousand dollars?"

Jack blinked. Ear twitch.

"Nick, what the heck is wrong with you?" Judy gasped. "You are insulting a citizen!"

"All I'm saying is, Mr. Russel here can't be an accountant. Not with a suit like that; great-quality Italian suits are always some of the priciest." He gestured toward the trench coat hanging on the coatrack, returning Judy's accusing look with an exasperated huff. "And that coat? Really good quality, just as good as the suit. A thousand at the least." A snicker rolled its way out of his throat. "That means that all his clothes are that expensive, unless he decided that a meeting with two grubby officers was the perfect opportunity to pull out his Italian suit that may or may not have the same worth as a vehicle."

There was silence. Judy looked horrified, her large ears pressed onto the back of her head as she stared at Nick in anguish; he could tell that she didn't know what to feel. Bogo, to Nick's surprise, didn't look nearly as ticked off as the fox thought he would; he was simply observing with his arms crossed, looking a little…pleased?

Jack, on the other hand, had defeat written all over his face. Nick couldn't help but feel extremely satisfied with himself, falling back into his chair with a triumphant hmm.

His victory was short-lived, however. All at once, the hare's face dropped into a smirk, and he stuck his paws back into his pockets. "One officer has proved himself, Chief," he murmured. He was a whole different mammal now, nonchalant and dignified; Nick could believe that this hare was the one who glared at him so bluntly.

"Ex-con mammal," Bogo replied gruffly.

Shock flew like a rock into Nick's throat. "Wait… what?" What did his past have to do with anything? And why was Bogo not surprised at the odd behavior of his visitor?

"What's going on?" Judy questioned, look of horror morphing into confusion.

The hare's voice suddenly lowered to a low mutter; his expression much more solemn, his demeanor cooler and more collected than before. "Officer Wilde is right," he said. "I'm not an accountant."

Nick swallowed a large amount of saliva; he wasn't surprised that this hare wasn't an accountant, but instead at the fact that he was so willing to admit his lie.

Judy snorted; she was incredibly offended at the lie, Nick knew. He didn't blame her. "I'll bet your name isn't Jackson Russel, either, huh?"

"Correct," was the soft, simple answer.

"Very smart." The words just flowed out of Nick; something about this hare had rubbed his fur the wrong way, and this accountant lie just sealed the deal. "I suppose you just woke up this morning and thought: Say, I think I'll go to the ZPD and lie about my identity to the coppers, they definitely can't arrest me for that! It'll be such fun, I'll make it back to my flat by teatime for a biscuit or two." He used a fairly accurate but much haughtier imitation of this British mammal's accent. Beside him, Judy glowered at the hare; her paws were firmly placed upon her hips.

"Wilde…" Bogo warned, his voice growing in volume as he extended the syllable.

"I don't like biscuits," the hare replied, unperturbed. "Crumpets are delicious, though."

"How incredibly British of you." Nick spat every word. "Do you drink Earl Grey, too?"

"I am inclined to believe, Wilde, that you do not have a bloody filter between your brain and your mouth!" Bogo bellowed; now he looked ticked off, hooves clenched and shoulders tensed.

Jack immediately held up a paw to the buffalo. "It's quite all right, Chief," he affirmed. He looked unimpressed with Nick's sarcasm. "He has a right to question my actions."

Damn right I do, Nick thought, clenching his teeth.

"But I recommend, Officer Wilde and Officer Hopps, that you do keep your voice down." Jack glanced at the door, his eyes tense and suspicious. "It seems we have a visitor."

"A what?" Judy asked, her ears perking. Her paws fell from her hips, and she flicked her gaze at the door with caution.

"Visitor. For quite some time. I was going to make it known quietly, but…"

but I called you out, Nick thought grumpily. Sorry, not sorry.

Jack and Bogo exchanged glances, both equally serious. Bogo was the first to move to the door, his strides quick and booming; he flung it open with a fiery haste.

There, awkwardly keeled in a crouch and husky paws pressed to husky cheeks, was Clawhauser. He had jumped when Bogo opened the door, the buffalo's massive shadow sliding over him; he chuckled sheepishly, giving a little wave of his fingers. "Uh… hi, Chief." His brown eyes were the size of dinner plates.

There was a furious pause; the only sound that could be heard was the deep in-and-out breaths of Bogo trying to keep his temper in check.

"I don't know what is so special about today," Bogo growled under his breath, "but for some reason, all of my officers seem to want to do their best to get under my fur."

Nick winced. Maybe he had laid on the quippy one-liners a bit too thick.

Judy whimpered beside Nick, concerned for her friend. Nick had plenty of second-hand embarrassment for Benji, sure, but he also may have thought it was just an eensy-teensy bit funny. Maybe.

"S-Sorry, Chief!" Clawhauser stammered, shrinking away from Bogo and clasping his paws together in desperation. "I just thought, since Gazelle came here earlier today to meet with Judy and Nick, that this guy was someone associated with Gazelle and I was just curious, sir, I promise, I'm really sorr—"

"Leave!"

The cheetah scurried off as fast as his pudgy hind paws could carry him, calling back apologies and promises to remain at the front desk from then on.

Bogo quietly shut the door, visibly restraining himself. Judy piped up, "How long had he been there?"

"Almost right after I closed the door behind me," the strange hare said distractedly, louder this time. He was fixing the hem of his sleeve, straightening the folds. "That's why I lied. He was following me from a distance—not very stealthy. He tried, though."

"But it was just Clawhauser, he's a good guy," Judy protested. "Why would you need to lie in front of him?"

Their visitor flicked his attention away from his sleeve and peered at her pointedly. "I had no idea who he was, or who could be listening in. One can never be too careful."

"Why would we worry about someone listening in?" Nick questioned, forcing one eyebrow up as he tried his best to give the hare his best flower-killing glare.

Bogo gave a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, Jack. They're not very trusting."

Anger flashed through Nick. Bogo was sorry? If anything, Bogo should be happy that Nick was so incredulous. What a joke.

Jack gave a low chuckle. "It's fine, Chief. I would be suspicious, too."

"How about you stop justifying our questions…" Judy snapped through her teeth, "…and start answering them?!"

That's my girl, taking names but never taking crap. Nick smirked.

"Fair enough." The hare folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the back of the chair, crossing his lean legs. The fabric of his slacks stretched. "My name is Jack Savage."

"Sounds like a stripper name," Nick gruffly replied.

Jack chuckled again; he seemed genuinely amused at Nick's comment, which ticked him off. "Haha, no. I'm an agent."

"I take it you're not, like, an insurance agent," Judy muttered. She cocked an eyebrow. "Or are you going to lie about that too?"

Jack's blue-grey eyes flared. "I'm an agent of MI6, Officer."

A spy? Nick felt his eyes widen on their own accord. As much as he didn't want to believe it, it made sense; the lying about his occupation, the fear of eavesdroppers, the expensive suits, the switch from a cheery personality to an intense and serious one.

Nick immediately looked to Bogo for affirmation; Nick knew Judy was doing the same. Bogo grunted and nodded slightly, jaw clenched.

"You're a secret agent?!" Judy practically squealed, focusing her attention back on the hare. Nick was genuinely amazed at how quickly her mood switched from incredulousness to awe. "How… how admirable!"

'Admirable'? Nick boiled. Only Carrots would ever call a secret agent 'admirable'.

Jack smiled slightly. "I like to think so."

"Jack is here to talk to you both," Bogo interjected, obviously ready to get down to business.

"If they are willing to listen," Jack said. His voice didn't sound accusing, very genuine.

Genuine or not, it made Nick want to be a smart aleck all the same. "Are we too sassy for you?" the fox couldn't help but jab.

"No, Officer Wilde," Jack immediately countered, "You're just the right amount. Now why don't we address the task at hand instead of engaging in yet another battle of wits, yes?"

Nick scoffed. Pretentious bunny.

Jack leaned over, practiced thumbs pressing out the keycode to the combination lock on his briefcase. "I assume you've both heard about the drug problem arising in Zootopia."

Judy's eyes grew in astonishment. "I thought you weren't going to put us on that drug case?" She looked to Bogo for answers; her question hung in the air.

Bogo gave a small shrug. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, Hopps."

"Aren't Fangmeyer and Delgato on that case?" Nick asked. He thought about the very few arrests they made, the lack of clues they were able to dig up; he couldn't help but feel that he and Judy would have done much better.

"They are," Bogo agreed, "and they will continue to be."

Judy's eyebrows furrowed delicately. "I don't understand."

Jack's briefcase opened with a small pop. "Well, first of all," the hare began, "what we're asking you to be on is not a case." He began to sift through the papers inside, pulling out some printed documents and a thick manila envelope. He looked at them squarely. "It's a mission."

"A mission?" Judy watched the hare thumb through the contents of the envelope.

"Yes. An extremely controversial one. It's not legally assigned by Chief Bogo or, even, myself."

"Then who?"

Jack shifted his eyes back down towards his papers. "The MI6." He shuffled some yellow-dyed paper with unnecessarily neat pawwriting printed across each surface.

Nick blinked a few times. He glanced at Judy, but she didn't return his gaze; she was looking absolutely shocked, one fluffy paw pressed to her collarbone.

"You're telling us to be spies?!" Nick barked; he placed a protective paw aver his badge. The metal felt cold against his pawpads. "We are co—"

"I'm not telling you to be spies," Jack bluntly interrupted. "Skilled informants, maybe; but not spies. To be a spy, one requires years of training." It was the first time since the hare had arrived at the office that he had outwardly glared at Nick. "An untrained individual has not earned the title, and therefore is undeserving."

Jack's statement rung true, but that didn't stop Nick from feeling excessively peeved at the hare's upper hand.

"Second of all," Jack continued, "I'm not telling either of you to do anything. Being a part of this mission is completely up to you."

Nick grumbled under his breath; Judy was still in a silent shock, simply observing the situation. It was a moment before Bogo piped up.

"Wilde," he testified, "I recommend that you listen to what Agent Savage has to say and get off your high tower before you make a fool of yourself."

Everything in Nick told him to lash back, to make another smart comment; but Judy was looking pleadingly at him with purple, heart-wrenchingly massive puppy eyes. He got the message: Please, Nick. Cooperate. It'll make everything so much easier.

Ugh, this is absolutely traumatizing. "Fine." His agreement was begrudgingly given, and felt too much like a surrender for Nick to be entirely comfortable with.

"Excellent," Bogo accepted. "Please, Jack, continue."

The hare nodded slightly, and cleared his throat. "As I was saying… participation in the mission is entirely up to you. But before I inform you of the details, I must know that you're willing to partake in it."

"What does it entail?" Judy asked, in her Never Can Stopsy Flopsy Copsy mode. Her eyes were squinted in concentration as she listened to the hare.

"Danger… a lot of risk. We're in a time crunch. Much more intense than even the hardest ZPD case." Jack said this plainly and seriously. "This isn't a mission for the fainthearted."

Nick glanced at Judy; she had blinked a few times. It wasn't necessarily that Judy was fainthearted, but soft-hearted. She cared about everything and everyone, maybe a little bit too much. It could be a good thing and a bad thing; when it was a good thing, it was a great thing. When it was a bad thing, it would leave Judy crushed.

"The stakes?" she pressed, nose twitching.

Jack shifted. "Well… if we succeed, it will save lives and put the inner workings of Zootopia at peace again… and put some high-up criminals behind bars."

Nick felt his eyebrows furrow. "And if we fail?"

"The permanent corruption of Zootopia, and the general peace will be completely shattered."

Well. This was reminding Nick a bit too much of the Nighthowler case.

Nick had one more heavy question. "If this is about Zootopia, then why are you helping us?" His vision shrunk with the narrowing of his eyes. "What's in it for you?"

Jack paused for a moment, Nick's question sifting dubiously in the air; all eyes went to the hare, who was focused on the fox. His eyes were pensive, paw settled on his jaw as he thought.

"You are one skeptical mammal, Officer Wilde," Jack finally spoke. He chuckled. "That's a good thing. Your question will be answered in due time, you have my word."

This left Nick unsatisfied.

"But," the hare continued, "I can tell you that MI6 will reward you generously, if the mission is successful."

Nick suddenly felt a jolt from beside him; Judy's ears were perked and attentive, her paws clenched tightly into fists at her lap. "What kind of reward?" she blurted; her ears turned a fiery red.

What the heck is up with her? Nick thought, his stomach tossing around a bit at the uncharacteristic behavior of his friend. Since when does she care about rewards?

Jack flicked an amused smile. "Ten thousand American dollars."

"Split?" Judy's voice was just a squeak.

Jack shook his head. "Each."

Nick's heart flew into his throat. Ten thousand dollars?! He could pay a huge portion of his tax debts off with that! Maybe he'd finally be able to buy some nice clothes, a good suit, a coat for winter. And some decent Christmas presents this year, too, for Judy and Clawhaus-

Wait, wait, he halted. Hold up. Nick Wilde doesn't care about holidays. Nick Wilde doesn't care about good suits, either; at least for himself. He couldn't tell whether he was amused, happy, or upset at this change. Carrots has had way too much of an influence on you, Nick.

"I'm in," a small voice came from beside him.

Wait, what?

"You're willing to go through with this, Officer Hopps?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. "You can handle it?"

Judy nodded dutifully, the determined expression on her little face drenched with willpower. "I can."

Looking at the bunny, Nick had a sudden, massive realization; it fell on him like a Clawhauser falling from a tree. He would definitely have a talk with her later.

"And you, Officer Wilde?" Jack asked. All eyes were suddenly on the fox; Judy's hopeful, Bogo's threatening. Jack's were cool and collected.

Nick shrugged, tearing his eyes away from his bunny friend. "I have to," he answered. "If Carrots is in, then I am. She's my partner."

A smile spread over the bunny's face; Nick was relieved. He made her happy.

"You both realize, with Chief Bogo himself as a witness to your acceptance of the mission," Jack uttered, "that any tiny piece of information you are told about the case must not be repeated to anyone else, or you will be in jail for the rest of your lives?"

A choking sound fell from Nick's muzzle. The rest of his life? Apparently, Judy had already assumed this, and nodded at the hare for her and the fox's behalf. "Yes, we know," she replied.

Jack nodded, content. "Right. Good. Well, now for the ugly part." He laid his papers on Bogo's desk and motioned for the duo to stand in their chair.

Once they did, Nick first noticed a black-and-white picture of a raccoon on the top of the pile. He was an older mammal, a little husky, eyes as black as the mask surrounding them; he wore a very nice suit, glaring angrily down at a cell phone in his hand.

"This is Emerson Wraqune," Jack began, leaning on the desk with an elbow. "New Director of the ZIA. His predecessor, Arnoldo Furboario, recently died on the twenty-fourth of July."

"How?" Judy questioned, peering at the picture.

"Heart attack, according to his autopsy—which was conducted by the ZIA's own forensic analysists." Jack pulled another picture from the pile, and set it beside the one of Wraqune. "This was Furboario about a month before his death."

Nick leaned closer to examine the photo; it was a husked boar. Generally, any kind of hog usually leaned toward the pudgy side, but not this guy. He was a bit heavy, but not nearly to the degree of most boars; certainly in very good shape for his age, which was probably about mid-fifties.

"How old was he?" Nick asked.

"Fifty-one."

"That's strange," Judy answered, rubbing the flesh of her ear between her thumb and forefinger.

Jack glanced at her. "And why is that?" He asked this as if he already knew the answer.

She let go of her ear and it popped back up, nearly hitting Nick in the snout. "Well, hogs' bodies are meant to handle an excessive amount of fats and sugars," she answered, picking up the picture and studying his closely, holding it only inches from her nose. "Heart attacks aren't very common in species of hog, especially boars, due to their increased muscle and blood flow. It's not unheard of, and he could have had some other medical condition, but… this guy was in pretty good shape." She lowered the paper, furrowing her brows and returning Jack's gaze. "It's just weird."

Jack nodded, a satisfied quirk raising his eyebrow. "Legitimate deduction, Miss Hopps."

"Thanks."

'Officer' Hopps. You call her 'Officer'. She's not an elementary school teacher, Nick wanted to spit, but he held his tongue.

"According to Furboario's personal credit card account statement, he bought relatively healthy things to eat and went to a gym regularly," Jack elaborated, pulling out a piece of paper with a complicated chart made of names of establishments and numbers of varying length. "This boar had a healthy lifestyle. To suggest he died of a heart attack seems…"

"…wrong," Nick finished.

Jack nodded respectfully. "Correct." He set the chart in front of the duo for them to examine; Nick scanned his eyes down the page. Jack was right; any food establishment that was listed was known for being organic or healthy. Nick knew these restaurants from his years on the streets. Occasionally, there would be a diner or bakery listed, but not nearly enough to be of concern.

"My tech mammal back at MI6 tried to look up his health records, to see if there was another preexisting condition Furboario had that may have led to his heart attack," Jack continued, "but all of those files were sealed up tight by the ZIA."

"How convenient," Judy muttered.

"Almost immediately after—not even two weeks—Wraqune had taken on the job as Director. And then," Jack articulated, "the beginning of August was when—"

"—when the new drug problem started happening," Nick drawled as it dawned on him.

The hare didn't seem the least bit put off that Nick kept interrupting him; in fact, he looked pleased. "Precisely. Suspicious, don't you think?"

"Extremely," agreed Judy, picking at her bottom lip with one finger in deep thought.

Jack set his eyes on the buffalo behind the desk, who had been watching silently with his arms crossed and a contemplative clench of his jaw. "Do you wish to relay to the officers your pleasant experience with the Director, Chief?"

Bogo shrugged nonchalantly, and swallowed. "Well, when Fangmeyer and Delgato weren't getting anywhere with the case and the bodies were piling up, I went to ask Director Wraqune for help from the ZIA; I figured, since this was his city as well as mine, he would be more than happy to give me his agents' assistance."

"And?" Nick let the single syllable ring in his throat.

Bogo grunted. "He refused. He told me that my officers could handle it, and that it was probably Bellwether's old accomplices finishing her work." His voice had lowered to practically a growl. "He seemed quite keen to sweep it all under the rug."

"Up to no good," Judy stated matter-of-factly, crossing her arms and glaring at the picture of the raccoon. Her eyes flashed menacingly.

"We assume he is," Jack corrected. "There are, that we know, seventeen different predators in all that took or were given the drug in question."

"How do we know it's not Nighthowler serum?" Nick questioned.

"After the drug is taken, the savage behavior only lasts for a certain amount of time; this drug also leaves the mammal who ingested it extremely ill. Nighthowler antidote was not effective when attempted, either."

Judy groaned; Nick inwardly agreed.

"Be aware, also, that the reason the four savage predators were found by the ZPD was because they were admitted into a hospital or a morgue." Jack pulled out some autopsy reports and handed them to the fox. "For the four predators that have been discovered so far, all fell into extreme illness immediately afterward; three died within hours."

Nick's eyes widened at the words that had been scribbled on all three of the autopsy reports, on the blank beside where it said Cause of Death. "Cardiac arrest…" the words tumbled out of Nick's mouth clumsily.

Jack nodded. "Easily misconceived as a heart attack to anyone lacking medical knowledge, or vice versa."

So Furboario could have died by the same drug. The unspoken statement rolled between the mammals, each taking a moment to absorb the idea.

"So Wraqune lied?!" suddenly exclaimed Judy, tiny paws clenched on the documents Jack had given her to look over.

"Not just Wraqune, Miss Hopps," Jack answered, "but anyone in the ZIA that dealt with any part of Furboario's death."

Nick felt too overwhelmed to be concerned with Jack calling Judy Miss Hopps again. "So what you're saying is," Nick clarified, shaking his head in disbelief, "that right now, there's a good possibility that the ZIA is behind the drug problem?"

"Possibly," Jack corrected. "It's more likely that Wraqune and a few goons are behind it and he's simply manipulating his agents into doing what he wants; Bogo and I figured this because he wasn't willing to give the assistance of his agents. If he had the whole ZIA involved, he wouldn't be afraid to let his agents investigate it." He shrugged. "Either way, it would mean that the ZIA is corrupt."

"And that would mean that Zootopia would be corrupt," Judy whispered fearfully, as if the mere mention of it left her sick to her stomach. "Oh, sweet cheese n' crackers…"

"There's more." Jack thumbed through his papers and pulled out some more pictures; they were more pixelated than the photos of the directors, as if the camera had zoomed in from a distance. Others looked as if they were taken from security camera footage, some better quality than their neighbors.

"These are all security and surveillance photos of Wraqune," the agent said, spreading the photos across the desk. "Look at this one." He pointed at a picture right in front of Judy, who was between the fox and the hare.

It was, presumably, in a country club. Wraqune was decked out in tacky golf clothes, a driver in his left paw and an otter golf boy behind him, carrying the rest of his clubs. He seemed to be making friendly conversation with a young, well-muscled lion; a familiar lion.

"That's—That's Dick Sandeclaw!" Judy piped up, pointing at the large cat. "Fengmeyer found him a couple hours after he had attacked and killed two prey in Sahara Square. He was…"

"Dead," Nick finished, wincing at the sight of the lion. From what he heard, it was not pretty. He looked at Bogo, who had been silently observing their conversation; he remained expressionless.

Jack gave a hm of agreement. "Found lying in a ditch behind a Bug-Burga." He pointed to another picture. This showed the inside of a grocery store, Wraqune helping a small badger woman pick up some dropped items.

"Julianna Ratel," Judy whispered, her voice barely recognizable. "She... had a husband. Two kits. I remember Delgato talking about her to Fengmeyer."

"This badger was also one of the predators killed by the drug," Jack mentioned. "Hospitalized for having a cardiac arrest almost immediately after attacking a coworker, and died shortly after being admitted." He pulled out a page that was lying under another picture; this photo featured Wraqune laughing amiably with a grizzly bear, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of alcohol. They were inside a liquor store.

"Kyle Grizzby," Nick uttered through clenched teeth when he saw the bear, who was firmly clasping a large bottle of vodka. "I have to admit, him messing around with this drug doesn't surprise me. Judy and I have caught the kid a dozen times illegally purchasing and consuming alcohol with a fake ID."

"He died in the hospital, too," Judy choked out; her eyes were dry and to anyone else, she'd just look in shock- but Nick knew better. He placed a paw on her shoulder, attempting to comfort her. He knew that she hoped the bear would eventually set himself straight.

"All of the predators that the ZPD is hunting down or have found have all conversed with Wraqune at least once," Jack said, waving a paw across the pictures; each one featured Wraqune communicating with various predators one way or another. "Most likely more than once; he visits these places quite often."

"More evidence that he's associated with the drug ring." Nick gave a small squeeze to Judy's shoulder; she visibly relaxed.

Jack nodded. "The problem is… this isn't enough for me to take him down," he admitted slowly. "And if I do have enough evidence to take him down, then the whereabouts of the drug or anyone else associated with his schemes is unknown. If I try to get my tech mammal to do any further digging, it could send a signal to the ZIA that MI6 is investigating them."

"So that's what we're going to do," Judy replied, a small smile forming on her face as she motioned around the group with a flourish of her paw. "We're gonna find out the nitty-gritty details, stop this raccoon from killing innocent mammals, and save Zootopia!"

Jack smiled back, seemingly amused by her enthusiasm. "Precisely."

"Alright, Sir Crumpet, how are we gonna do that?" Nick asked plainly, leaning back against the seat's backrest. "We can make it seem all easy peasy nice n' cheesy, but it isn't. Right?"

"Right. Never is, is it?" Jack pulled out another paper from his pile; this was cardstock, fancy red and black script gracing the front; he turned it to face the officers. The calligraphy read, You Are Invited. "One of Wraqune's two sons, Louis Wraqune, is getting married a week and a half from now at Wraqune's estate. That will be our cover while we sneak into his manor and try to find more puzzle pieces to fit together." He let the wedding invitation fall from his fingers and onto the desktop; it opened to reveal the invitation was sent to Chief Bogo. "Eventually, we'll have to sneak into the ZIA headquarters itself."

Judy sucked in air through her teeth in sudden anxiety, causing her to make a snake-like hiss. "Oh, goodness."

"It's risky," Jack replied, chuckling. "But think of sneaking into Wraqune's manor as the trial run before the real deal."

Nick raised his paw. "Am I allowed to ask questions now?" He didn't hesitate to add a disobedient edge to his voice.

"Of course," the hare replied.

"So, I assume that the reason you're requesting assistance from two relatively fresh and undeserving officers of the ZPD is because you can't bring in other agents?"

Jack didn't acknowledge the smartness in Nick's voice. The fox was starting to believe that this hare was incapable of perceiving any degree of emotion besides solemnity. "Yes. It would attract attention from the ZIA."

"How would the ZIA know?" Judy asked.

Jack gave a long, contemplative pause. "If there is one thing you need to know about the ZIA and MI6, is that we are sister organizations," he explained, once again tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. "We have a certain…alliance, if you will. An understanding. The ZIA has drones everywhere; if the ZIA saw that the MI6 was sending in not just one agent, but a team of agents, under their nose without telling them, it would be an insult. Wraqune would also deduce that we are there for a mission we do not wish for him to know of; he would suspect we were investigating him. Which we are." He shrugged. "We'd have the ZIA on our tails before you can say 'knife'."

Nick took a moment to comprehend the unfamiliar British idiom.

"So here's what's going to happen." Jack began to gather the photos and papers together, organizing them into a single, neat stack. "We will continue to let these Delgato and Fangmeyer blokes work on the case; Chief Bogo," he said as he turned to the buffalo, "please make sure that neither of these officers interferes with our mission."

Bogo gave a single nod. "Understood."

"Secondly," Jack continued, placing his papers back in his briefcase and shutting it closed with a sharp clack, "I will remain under the alias of Jackson Russel. If anyone asks, I am here to deal with the matter of Officer Wilde's tax evasion complications and what that means financially for both the ZPD and himself."

It felt like someone slipped a bar of soap into a sock, wailed it around a few times and smacked Nick in the chest with it. "How do you know about my tax evasion?!"

A smirk playing on his face, Jack glanced up at the fox. "Do you really think that I was going to agree to work with two police officers, and not at least look them up first?" He snapped his combination lock closed on his briefcase, giving it a tug to make sure it was latched properly. "I would recommend holding back on those blueberry smoothies, Officer. An over-abundance of antioxidants can inflict harm upon your immune system."

How does he know about the blueberry smoothies?! Nick had to hold back a growl from rising into his throat. I always buy them with cash! Creepy rabbit. Ugh.

Jack cleared his throat and adjusted his tie with one paw, clasping his briefcase in the other. "I do believe that this meeting has drawn to a close," he said, placing his case onto his lap. "Officers, I will see you three days from now at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. I want to see your capabilities—and limitations—for myself."

Nick noticed Bogo raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing. Nick also noticed the small rabbit sitting beside him; she was looking extremely puzzled, making a weird expression at the hare. Her nose was twitching rapidly.

"Remember," Jack warned, slipping deftly off the chair and brushing off the front of his expensive suit, "Not one word to another mammal. I'll know." He focused pointedly on them with an intense blue-grey glare.

"Aye-aye, Sir Crumpet," Nick couldn't help but snicker, pushing his voice into an exaggerated British accent. He gave the hare a mock salute.

Jack gave no sign of any irritation at Nick's attitude or the blatant jab at his ethnicity. He simply gave a small respectful nod to both the officers and to the Chief, who was glowering at the fox. "Good day, Chief. Officers," the hare muttered. He walked to the coatrack and plucked his trilby hat from one arm.

"Wait!" Judy interjected; the hare turned to look at her with one long eyebrow raised in interest. "You never answered Nick's question—why are you doing this?" she squeaked. "Why do you care?"

Jack pulled his coat from the rack as well, and settled it over one arm as he contemplated a way to answer her question. "Well—"

All of a sudden, sounds of static erupted from Bogo's phone on his desk, interrupting the hare's words. All eyes went to the phone; Nick's heart jumped into his throat. Clawhauser wouldn't interrupt this meeting unless whatever situation he needed to inform Bogo about was an emergency, especially since getting caught listening in.

"S-Sir!" Clawhauser's voice sputtered through the speaker. "Sir, I'm sorry, I know you're in a meeting—"

Bogo punched the respond button with his hoof. "Just spit it out, Clawhauser!"

A clear of the throat. "Yes, right. Fengmeyer and Delgato apprehended another predator gone savage by the drug today, sir! A coyote. Attacked a young doe. Both mammals had to be life-flighted to the hospital… It's bad, sir."

The buffalo gave a deep groan; Judy glanced over at Nick, her eyes wide with shock. That was the second doe attacked; the first one didn't live. This made prey victims… what, in the high twenties? Nineteen of these victims ended up dying during the attacks or in the hospital afterward.

"I'm on my way," Bogo replied gruffly. "Tell Fengmeyer and Delgato I'll see them at the hospital."

More static. "One…One more thing, sir."

"What is it, Clawhauser?! I have to go!"

A nervous cough came through the speaker, and a pause. "Th-The coyote…he's Jeremy Packard."

Bogo's eyes immediately went to Judy and Nick; he couldn't see Jack's eyes, but he was sure that the hare was examining them, too.

Nick didn't feel stunned; he only felt dread. Like he had swallowed a hedgehog; his esophagus burned, and he noted how weird it felt for his heart not to be in his chest and to be in his stomach instead. That name—Jeremy Packard—was familiar to him and Judy both. Way too familiar.

He looked at Judy; her eyes were as wide as saucers and eerily glassy, her nose twitching almost too fast for it to be recognizable. She mouthed a single syllable to her fox partner.

"Sam."

Jack quietly cleared his throat behind them; when Nick looked back at him, he was sliding his coat over his disgustingly nice Italian suit. "That is one of many reasons why I am doing this, Officers," the hare affirmed. "To save lives. That is a good enough reason for you, yes?"

… … … … …

Man oh man, I am so glad that's over with! The technical stuff is always the hardest part to hash out for me; I love emotional fluffy junk. But I promised myself that I would go through with it, so I am. This ended up being a slow chapter, too, but only because I had to go through with explaining all the details I left out in the past two chapters; answer some questions for you guys, maybe raise some new ones. ;)

I'm also very NERVOUS to post this chapter! I have a plot laid out, but I have a tendency to go back and change a lot as I write… I'm nervous I'll think of different, better things to make it more exciting or patch up the plot holes. D: I hope everything made sense to everyone, and that it wasn't boring.

I absolutely can't wait to get into Jack's character—I honestly love Jack. He's one handsome bun. Mm-mm. I decided to make him a hare and change it up a bit, but it doesn't make him any less lovable. Speaking of Jack, I hope I'm using these British idioms and slang correctly…?

Also, why does Nick dislike this hare so much? I don't even think he knows why he doesn't like him; maybe things will change. ;) And there's a solution to Judy's money problem! She now not only wants to succeed with this mission to save Zootopia, but also to continue being a cop. It'll make her ten times more determined to do great on this mission! Go, Judy!

I'm excited to continue; it might get a bit sad, just a warning. Please leave your thoughts, and if anyone has ANY advice or anything, don't be afraid to say so.