Author's Note:

Hello everyone!

Took a bit longer than expected, but I think it was worth the extra editing.

Special thanks to Salty for giving the once over again!

As always, your comments are welcome!

Enjoy this installment!

4:30 PM

It was time to start the barbecue and Wile Eastmore was the neighborhood's self-proclaimed Master Barbecuer. The coyote traditionally held neighborhood lawn parties during the cool Saturdays of Autumn in the unique, all-predator community in the outskirts of Bunnyburrow City proper. There were no Association rules or ordinances making the collection of thirty properties a haven for predators. It was simply the way things worked out over the years and now few prey families would feel comfortable being the single fangless household amongst all those meat-eaters, regardless of how "civilized" and "progressive" all parties might consider themselves.

Fresh, home-made bug-burgers and bug-sausages, smothered in Mrs. Eastmore's special BBQ sauce, were the rage of Saturday Afternoon, usually drawing many more mammals than actually lived in the neighborhood. The Eastmores provided lawn and protein, everyone else, the side dishes and beverages. Arrivals began after 2:00 PM and lasted well past sunset, though last alcohol was served at 6:00PM. Anyone who partook of alcoholic beverages left their keys with Mrs. Eastmore, and anyone too drunk to drive would be left sleeping on the lawn. There had only been a pawful of such incidents in the early years, until everyone one knew it was an unbreakable rule of the household.

Wile imperiously opened the back patio doors, stepping out dramatically amidst the applause of his guests, nodding gracefully to his audience while slowly making his way to the Barbecue Pit.

Admiring the custom brickwork grill, a relative newcomer he had only met once, a tall raccoon with a foreign accent, stepped aside to let the Master through.

"It is a truly magnificent set-up," the raccoon said in heavily accented Common, shaking his head.

"Designed and built by yours truly," Wile said with a flourish. "The largest barbecue rig in Bunnyburrow."

"Have you had it long?" The raccoon asked.

"Over ten years," the coyote said, proudly, donning an oversized apron with 'The Master' embroidered on it.

"I like how the gas burner placement also allows you to use charcoal," the raccoon said, admiringly. "It must be time consuming to properly maintain this masterpiece."

Wile smiled. "I should probably spend a bit more time on it than I do," he admitted. "So, who was the girl?"

The raccoon tilted his head. "Excuse me?"

The coyote nodded towards the raccoon's ear. "Only a female gets you to put ink on your ear," he chuckled. "Especially a heart—and only a sad ending gets one to let it fade away."

The raccoon laughed heartily. "Very true!" He said. "I was young, she was older. I soon realized she wanted me to do things I did not agree with. You understand, the follies of youth."

"I married mine," Wile laughed. "We're both too stubborn to admit we were wrong, so we made it work just to spite the naysayers."

The raccoon joined in laughter, clapping him on the shoulder. "Ah, spite!" he laughed. "The true 'most powerful' force on the planet! Well! I better leave the Master to his work," he said. "There are too many predators walking about to leave them hungry!" The raccoon turned and slowly made his way through the crowd, leaving the coyote to continue his preparations, half of which were simply show.

The raccoon made it to his car and was two blocks away by the time the 'Lighting of Primordial Fire' ceremony began. In his rearview mirror, he saw the rising fireball of the exploding propane tank.

4:35 PM

The base was busy, not typical for a Saturday afternoon except, these days, the entire ZDF was on constant alert. Determined-looking mammals of every species went about their business, from PT to grounds maintenance to war games. Unlike the rest of the world, the ZDF knew no discrimination, able to find a use for every mammal, large and small.

One of those small mammals, Lt. Jenkins, a ferret, stood out among the best young officers of the ZDF, being put on the fast track for Senior Officers Training School. Already an assistant to General Felmore, CINC of Commonwealth Ground Forces, the ferret was expected to make Captain this next round of promotions, after only four years in the service.

Making his way as quickly as possible without actually running, the Lieutenant carried a thick folder the General had forgotten in his office. He purposefully made his way to the Headquarters building, where the three CINCs of Ground, Air, and Sea Forces held their daily Joint Briefing. The current State of International Affairs, as the Intelligence spooks dubbed it, had prompted the CINCs to hold daily meetings as a precaution.

Jenkins returned the salutes of the MPs on duty at the building's entrance, showing them his ID, then passing through the biometric ID and body scanner. Out of sight of anyone, the officer did run all the way to the other end of the building, slowing to walk before coming into view of the guards standing by the briefing room door.

"Just in time, Sir," the sergeant on one side said with a smile. The enlisted mammal on the other side opened the door, and Lt. Jenkins strolled into the room.

Attendants were just finishing serving coffee as Jenkins made it to his General's side at the large, round table.

"You make him look good, Lieutenant," Admiral Hennnely, the bear CINC of Naval Forces, chuckled.

"I simply follow the General's good orders, Sir," the ferret said with a smile, handing the folder to his General. He stepped back, taking his seat behind Felmore. The junior officers assisting the other CINCs gave him knowing smiles, familiar with the ways of Generals and Admirals.

"Good afternoon," General Quill, the porcupine head of Military Intelligence, said. "While it has been a very busy twenty-four hours in the Civilian sector, we, thank the powers that be, have been unaffected by the Ryzhaya/Packland quagmire and have not identified any emerging or worsening threats on the board." The CINCs and other senior officers around the table gave relieved sighs as they scanned the large monitors hanging from the ceiling showing a map of the continent with appropriate markers for threat levels and geographical location of said threats. "As of this morning," the porcupine continued, "the Commonwealth remains the strongest military force in known Mammaldom, and is likely to remain so for the foreseeable future." The porcupine sat down. "Admiral—yes, Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Jenkins had stood up, staring at a spot on the display. "There's something new on the map," he said, walking closer to the table.

"No, Lieutenant," General Quill assured him. "It is the same as yesterday, I assure you." The Lieutenant shook his head, climbing onto the table and pointing to the display.

"Right there," he said, pointing at Zootopia. Everyone stared, wondering what they had missed. Lieutenant Jenkins looked contemptuously at the gathered officers. "You don't even see the threat this place represents," he sneered, ripping open his shirt to reveal the faded tattoo of a heart.

Then he promptly exploded.

4:36 PM

Sitting at a table on the sidewalk of the trendy street corner café, Mayor Lionheart and Chief Bogo discussed the current status of the Ryzhaya/Packland case which, technically, was still under Bogo's purview. The Mayor's bodyguards stood nearby, four rhinos, staying out of the way and scanning around for anything threatening. The café was downtown, so there were few patrons at this time on a Saturday, with massive concrete planters keeping cars from parking in front of the establishment and also assuring the lion and buffalo had a high degree of privacy to talk. Both mammals held large, steaming glass cups of coffee.

"I don't suppose I could get some better coffee approved in the budget," Bogo mused, sipping from his cup appreciatively. Lionheart did likewise.

"You get the same stuff we get at City Hall," the lion commiserated. "It's still better than the axle grease they served in the ZDF."

Bogo laughed. "At least you could clean your weapon with it," he chuckled. The two had served together in the ZDF. It had been random chance that the Chief had not been the one at Bunnybreak Ridge. There were two posts open at the time of their promotions: Bunnyburrow Civil Defense Corps Liaison Officer and Military Police Post Commander. Both positions were stepping stones in their careers, but would determine the final career paths they would take. The two friends had flipped a coin to see who would apply where. Lionheart got the political position, Bogo the law enforcement one.

"Have you seen the list so far?" Lionheart asked.

"I stopped looking when Castille was added," the Chief grunted.

"That was, hopefully, the worst," the Mayor said with a relieved sigh. "At least none of my appointees have made it on the list."

"So far," Bogo chuckled. The Mayor raised his cup in grim salute.

Something caught the lion's eye, a peculiar pattern of light glaring off his glass cup. Battlefield instincts took over, sending him diving around the building corner. "INCOMING!" He shouted, flying through the air, sending Bogo jumping over the concrete planters.

The bodyguards dropped to their knees, weapons out and aiming, looking for a mammal threat. None of them had been in the Service to know that particular call meant 'get out of the way or die.' The bodyguard farthest from the corner spotted something strange and stood up, ready to shoot, just as the anti-tank rocket arrived, striking him in the chest. The resistance of his ballistic body armor and naturally tough hide was enough to trigger the rocket's warhead, igniting the thermite payload and burning a basketball-sized hole right through the mammal, the remainder of the projectile becoming a glowing mass of molten metal that flew past the other stunned bodyguards to crash spectacularly against the concrete wall of the building across the way.

Chief Bogo was already running towards the source of the rocket, pinpointed by thin trail of acrid smoke. Lionheart was right on his tail, snarling with outrage.

"Get back to City Hall!" Bogo shouted, pulling out his weapon.

"Bastards tried to kill me!" The lion roared. "Damn amateurs! Should have used an AP round!"

"Should have fired from closer range, too," the Chief pointed out. "Doesn't mean they don't have a sniper for backup!" The Chief noticed Lionheart was carrying a lethal-grade sidearm at the ready. "Where did you get that gun?"

The Mayor laughed fiercely. "Officers Candidate School," he reminded the buffalo.

The smoke trail led to a parked van, its closed rear doors facing down the street towards the café. Lionheart stopped where he could cover the rear and driver's side while Bogo went up to the passenger side, looking through the van's side mirror for signs of the shooter. Seeing no one, the water buffalo quickly opened the door from the front to avoid anyone laying out of sight on the floor. The cabin was empty, with a hard wall dividing the front and cargo areas.

"CLEAR!" the Chief yelled, heading back towards the rear. Lionheart stood with two of his remaining bodyguards, all aiming their weapons at the doors. Bogo holstered his weapon, put one hoof on the handle and counted down from three with his other before opening the door. Lionheart began to laugh as thick, foul-smelling white smoke poured out of the van.

"Morons!" He guffawed, spotting the bodies of two dead deer on the van's floor. One of the bodyguards made to get closer but Bogo stopped him.

"The smoke is toxic," he warned, shaking his head. "What the blazes just happened?" he wondered aloud.

4:38 PM

"Pepe!" The young skunk doe called out, waving to her husband mowing the back lawn. The much older male looked up, releasing the electric mower's handle to stop it, and blew a kiss to his pretty wife. She giggled, shaking her head. "There's a couple of official-looking rabbits asking for you!"

"Rabbits? Did they show you their IDs, Kim?" He asked, wiping his paws on his shorts while coming over. She gave him a kiss.

"For whatever good that does," she quipped. "I wouldn't know a fake ID from carrots. Just remember you promised to take me to the movies tonight; we haven't had a date night in months."

He held her tightly against him for a couple of seconds, patting her rump through her thin summer shorts. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "They're probably just dropping off a report or something."

"I've heard that line before," she pouted as her husband went inside. She went to the kitchen to prepare some lemonade in case the rabbits were here for more than just dropping off a report. Then she heard something fall and went to the living room with a pawful of paper towels, just in case, only to find the two rabbits standing over the prone form of her husband. One of the rabbits held a knife and was bending down to cut her husband's throat.

She screamed, somehow startling the rabbits, then backed away as they turned towards her, both of them now holding knives. They leaped over the intervening sofa with ease, evil grins on their faces and waving their blades.

"You should have stayed ou—" began one of them, before Kim threw thousands of years of civilized behavior out the window, spinning around, dropping her pants and spraying them both liberally with her body's natural defenses.

The speaker caught a full jet right in his open muzzle, immediately doubling over and vomiting profusely. His companion fared little better, taking spray into his nostrils and joining the other one in vomiting. Fear suddenly replaced by anger, Kim stood over the writhing, heaving pair and sprayed them again, making sure to get their eyes this time. Then she rushed to her husband, relieved to find him only knocked out. She opened his eyelids to see his pupils were different sizes, signs of a concussion. But he was alive!

She reached for her husband's phone and dialed the emergency code he had taught her. Then she sprayed the rabbits down one more time and sat next to her husband to wait for help.

4:38 PM

Kataiahs' phone vibrated insistently, moving about the table top. He was going to ignore it until he saw the calling number. He glanced at the others, Trina, Jack, Skye, Judy, Nick, Elena, and Reggie. Everyone was looking at him, their stained muzzles showing they had been busy eating berries. The lynx frowned as he picked up the device and answered it.

"Yes?" he asked Zeke.

"We have a situation, boss," came the calm reply. "I count fifteen mammals creeping about real quietly towards the ZIA team, making me think they're not friendly."

"Are you safe?" The lynx asked with concern.

"Funny you should ask," Zeke chuckled. "There are others out here bumbling about, but they aren't very good. The ones heading to the ZIA team, however, seem to know exactly where they are going."

Kataiahs swore, drawing alarmed looks from the others. "Ok," he said. "Do what you can." He hung up the phone and turned to Jack. "There are fifteen hostile mammals heading straight for your team," he told the buck. "There are several others wandering about the woods—likely searching for my team but, somehow, they know exactly where yours is." It was Jack's turn to swear, the rabbit fishing through his pockets for his own phone. He pressed the speed dial for Kurt.

"Fifteen hostiles zeroing in on your position," he told the bobcat. "Others roaming about the perimeter. There are friendlies overwatching, but they are also being hunted."

"So much for an easy assignment," Kurt grunted. "Should we come to you?"

Jack turned to Judy. "You heard all that," he said. "Can Kurt and Blackwell come here?"

"I need to tell Dad," she said, thinking. "We have to get the burrow alerted and armed. Can they mark themselves somehow?" Jack smiled.

"You're Pelts, they're Shirts. Head on in," he told the bobcat, then hung up the phone while Judy called her father to get the Hopps Burrow on a war footing.

4:38 PM

Lecroy checked his phone again, the navigation app guiding him and his team unerringly through the forest. The trees and hills made it challenging, sometimes cutting off the signal to leave them walking with nothing but an old compass for a guide. The brown hare's team of fifteen would soon split up to finish surrounding their prey. The whole purpose of such a large group was to ensure they could eliminate the ZIA support team before they could alert the real targets: Jack Savage and Skye.

The orders had arrived late last night, barely giving Lecroy enough time to gather his crew together.

As usual, the Intelligence was phenomenal, with detailed maps and plans for the Hopps Farm and Burrow, including junction box locations and security codes. The exact coordinates for the ZIA team, drone shots denoting their camp layout, close-ups of the skunk and bobcat, even the best routes to approach from were all provided in the email with his orders to eliminate Savage and Skye.

That those two had chosen to seek refuge in the Hopps Burrow was just bad luck for the bunnies: The Hopps Clan was on the list of 'targets of opportunity' and this mission gave Lecroy the opportunity, so he called in all his resources for this day: Forty-five dedicated followers without any compunction about ridding the world of a few pesky mammals.

Lecroy led the point team; the other thirty were scattered around the perimeter of the Hopps Farm making sure they didn't run into any surprises. At Lecroy's signal, power and communication lines would be cut and signal jammers activated, isolating the Burrow for what had to be done. They weren't going to kill everyone—they weren't savages, after all—just a few designated targets to make sure the Message got across: The Time for Change was at hand.

To be sure, Lecroy had been shocked at the orders. His group had never been tasked with such a large or important operation. Especially not within Bunnyburrow. To him, that meant the revolution had entered its final phase: Global Chaos, from which the obvious solution would be a return to the only system of government that had ever prospered all of Mammaldom.

The Pax Tuzei.

Lecroy had studied this extensively as did all members of the Movement. For three millennia, rabbits had ruled a blissful world. Peace, prosperity, tolerance, and unrivaled cultural growth had been the trademarks of the Tuzei Empire until the Canine Wars toppled that peace-loving world order. Predator and Prey had coexisted side by side as equals in that perfect society Zootopia could only dream of even being a shadow of.

For centuries, historians and sociologists from every nation touted the greatness of the Tuzei Empire. Then a small group of them decided the only solution to the ever-increasing number and severity of wars, rising species inequality, poverty, and diseases, was the return of that greatest benefactor Mammaldom had ever known: the Tuzei Empire.

From this group, the Movement was born.

It had many names, for it was not central to any one nation or species. As the Tuzei Empire had done, the Movement spanned all of Mammaldom, every country, every species, every social and economic class. True Believers who dedicated their lives to bring peace and prosperity to all of Mammaldom, regardless of the cost, for they knew one universal Truth: To make an omelette, you had to break some eggs.

Lecroy's grandfather had brought the Movement to Bunnyburrow, certain that the homeland of Gengris Bun, the last of the great rabbit leaders, would be receptive to the return of lagomorph rule. He had been sorely mistaken. The Great Clans had degenerated to where they wanted nothing more than the simple life of farming. They were content with supporting the travesty known as the Commonwealth. For his mistake, his grandfather had been imprisoned, where he died several years later. Lecroy Senior had developed a deep hatred for the Commonwealth from this, which he passed down to his son.

At last his family would be justified, Lecroy thought. They would take their place in History as the visionaries they were; heroes of the New Empire. Rightful rulers of Bunnyburrow Province.

"You awake, Lecroy?" Whispered his worried second in command, bringing the rabbit back to the present.

"Yeah, yeah," he answered, tersely. "Keep your panties on. I'm thinking what to do next."

"And?" His second demanded.

"Keep moving," Lecroy told him. "We're almost at the split point." The rabbit went ahead, his second shaking his head in disbelief before indicating the rest to follow.

Lecroy chided himself for daydreaming, paying careful attention to where he was going. Wouldn't do to alert their prey; they were trained ZIA assassins, capable of inflicting unspeakable horrors to unsuspecting mammals. He held up his paw and gave the breakaway signal, very pleased that his team moved silently towards their assigned positions. He put his phone away and set the timer on his watch for three minutes. A faint bird call told him everyone was in place so he started the timer and began advancing straight up the hill, carefully maintaining solid cover. The members of the team in the line directly in front of their prey would simply lie in wait in case the agents managed to flee. They also had sniper rifles at the ready should the agents inadvertently make themselves targets.

As Lecroy approached the top, he spotted one of the agents lying down semi-concealed, surveilling the Hopps Farm a mile away. He quickly spotted the other one nearby, doing the same, but looking towards the main gate to the property. The rabbit looked at his watch, aiming a silenced pistol at the agent nearest to him.

Time.

The hilltop resounded with the muffled clacks of silenced weapons, birds suddenly chirping with alarm and scattering from the area. The targets were hit repeatedly, bullets shredding their clothes, bits of cloth flying everywhere. There weren't even any cries from the agents, so sudden and violent was the onslaught. Weapons clicked empty, then the hunters approached their prey carefully while reloading their weapons.

4:45 PM

All was dark within the Hopps burrow but for the emergency lights lining the floors, mostly quiet now that all windows, doors, and accessways had finished their automated lockdown sequences. Inside the main hall, those without Civil Defense training calmly huddled together, five hundred in all, surrounded protectively by a growing number of heavily-armed relatives. From the top of the hall, the sounds of rabbits preparing for a fight could be heard. Stu Hopps' voice called out the names of rabbits, males and females, who stepped up to receive weapons and gear from Jethro while Kevin made a careful record of who received what.

The process went smoothly from much practice and soon the bunnies of Hopps Burrow were ready for action. Twenty five remained behind to guard the precious cargo in the main hall while the other eighty three followed Stu to the kitchens.

"Kevin," the patriarch called out, "take fifteen rabbits and secure the burrow. Jethro, take fifty outside and sweep the farm. I'll keep the rest here as reserve. Anyone with a shirt on is fair game. Try to take prisoners, but our priority is no casualties to our own, so take cover, move quickly, aim straight. Understood, everyone?"

"Yes, Dad!" Chorused the assembled bunnies, then split up and went about their assigned tasks.

4:50 PM

The nondescript yellow light on the gazebo ceiling told Judy the Hopps Burrow was ready for calamity. Jack, Skye, Nick and Kataiahs looked out of the lonely structure in the middle of the berry fields for signs of Intruders. Jack was the only one armed, carrying a dual mode dart gun and a taser. Nick, Skye and Kataiahs all had their claws out, looks of determination on their faces. To everyone's shock, Reggie had no claws; his parents had him declawed when he was an infant, a growing trend amongst predator parents in overwhelmingly prey-inhabited Bunnyburrow. The tod sat with the does, looking dejected, Elena holding him and Trina doing her best to encourage him.

Which left Judy impatiently chomping at the bit. She knew it made sense for her to remain on the sidelines, unarmed and without any natural weaponry. She simply did not like it. Trina said she knew self defense, as did Reggie and Elena, but like Judy, that would make them of little use against a distant assailant armed with a gun. Jack would remain in the gazebo while the other three predators would go out 'hunting' at the first sign of approach. She had told Dad to stay out of the berry fields to avoid a 'friendly fire' incident.

Reggie tensed up, sniffing the air. "They're coming," he whispered. Nick, Skye and Kataiahs were already gone, silently disappearing among the berry bushes. Jack's ears were straight up, scanning around, and Judy, Elena and Trina added their ears to the effort.

Nothing to do now but wait.

Author's Note:

That's it for now.

The true villains are making their appearance, though not all is as it seems... muwhawhawha...

Let me know your thoughts.

Until next time,

Thanks for reading!