Zootopia: To Date A Predator Chapter 1: Primer&A1C1: The Utopia That Is Zootopia, a zootopia fanfic

Proper Description:

Zootopia. The only city in Animalia that is home to both predator and prey. This very fact led them to the greatest technology and the greatest tragedies; instincts have abated little from the time of savagery; as minutes of uninterrupted contact pass between predator and prey, even with a reasonable distance, both grow more unstable. Eventually, one of them could go savage at a wrong twitch.

What will become of the unlikely duo now that they solved the Nighthowler case? Can they even find common ground after the unspeakable events inside the pit? Could there perhaps be a 'them'?

Interspecies relationships? As long as they are in the same order, fine. However, no mammal even dreamed of a predator/prey relationship; it would be a nightmare, a death wish.

Will Nick and Judy shake society's beliefs to the very core, or will they only further solidify the status quo? Will Nick learn how to date prey, and will Judy learn how: To Date A Predator?

Set after Zootopia (1). All significant events happened, but some are framed differently.

Author's Note:
(This has been added after chapter three has been released.)

Thank you for expressing interest in this story of mine! There is a lot of worldbuilding to this unique setting, so I advise you to read the first chapter before making a judgement call on whether this is a story for you or not.

Regardless, below I have a short Q&A and a primer for the story, explaining the most crucial details of the setting.

Important Note:

All future chapters will be named like the following: AXXCXX

Whereas 'A' is short for 'act', and 'C' is short for 'Chapter'. XX is the respective number.

Chapter 1 of Act 1 would be written: A1C1

Chapter 16 of Act 4 would be written: A4C1

Chapter summary:

Zootopia, a paradise of predator and prey living together in harmony... or is that just a marketing slogan? It couldn't be, right?

Acknowledgements:

Huge thanks to my beta-reading team on my Discord:

- Dawnless
- Vicarious
- Toboe
- itzmasterz

Q&A about technicalities:

- What is this? Haven't I read this before?

- Perhaps you have, but this is the new iteration of the story, with vast improvements in every area, but especially pacing and worldbuilding. If you've read it before, you'll find this version much more appealing.

- Why didn't you post the above description in the real description box instead of posting it here?

- I am genuinely sorry for this inconvenience, but this story is vast in detail, so I couldn't really break everything down into less than 400 words I am given. I hope the above serves as the proper primer.

- What does the story feature?

- Realistic decisions, situations, and outcomes
- Heavily partial toward internal conflict (as in conflict stemming from their relationship and the consequences thereof (as opposed to external conflicts, such as conflict from police cases))
- Grim setting with low but constant angst, such is the society they live in.

- What does the story not feature?

- At no point will any major character die
- Constant erotica
- Irregular or rapid pacing
- Focus on police/crime

Story Primer/Important Information:

To Date A Predator plays in an alternate universe set in the near-future with a heavy focal point on instincts and instinctual behaviour. As per the description, we follow Nick and Judy after the events of the Nighthowler case (which, importantly, are not all the same as in the movie, as also described above). The story is divided into several acts, each of which having one broad topic while also sometimes featuring sub-plots. The story starts in Act 1, which will be around ten to fifteen chapters long alone, wherein Nick visits the ZPA while dealing with the aftermath of the Nighthowler case and the resulting revelation of his mental dissonance.

There is a lot of worldbuilding I could write about, and I even wrote a lot of that down right here before thinking better of it. I'll keep this to the very minimum, as the story itself, well, tells the story, after all. Writing everything here would spoil the sense of discovery and puzzlement.

Zootopia is the only city on Animalia which harbours both predator and prey; all other cities are home to either predator or prey, but never both.

Predator/prey relations (as in, societal) are ever tense. There exists a real and omnipresent threat of predators going savage (without any involvement of drugs, that is). Prey can also react instinctively, most likely resulting in a feedback loop that makes the feat of predators resisting their instinctual urges much more difficult.

There is a lot more to this, but chapter one should give you a good outlook on how societal relations are. Concepts such as going savage, deliberately going (half-)savage, willpower/mental foritude, and willpower recovery activities are tackled throughout the story.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

A gust of humid air almost sent her stumbling the moment she stepped outside, rain droplets matting her fur. A blanket of dark greys weighed the air all around, clouds racing each other to the horizon's edge. An ear-splitting thunder came from the distance. Despite her large appendages, Judy Hopps didn't hear it. Well, she did hear it; rather, she didn't mind it much. A day of parking duty was behind her, and another day of parking duty would follow. "367 tickets," she grumbled, kicking a stray rock. There was no ray of light.

She checked her phone, the little rain droplets making the screen unresponsive to her touch now and again. ZPD app. Assignments... Parking duty, parking duty, and even more parking duty.

On the farm, it had been the very same. Someone needed to do it, so why not her? It benefited the greater whole, after all. Crops could only be harvested when they were planted; produce could only be sold when it was cleaned. The phone was thrust back into a narrow pocket. She didn't apply as either a meter maid or a desk jockey. She applied to be a police officer; she was clearly competent enough to do more than what she did right now. Judy did have to admit to herself that it was fair enough; she was sort of new, yet she had proven herself, and she had been valedictorian. She was educated and well-trained; they were wasting her potential—!

Another reverberating shockwave of sound originated nearby, making her lose all thought and turn to the point of origin. Several raindrops hit her square on the nose, making it twitch. The drains on both sides of the street soon had their work cut out for them as she pressed onward. The moisture soaked right into her hoodie, making it heavier with each step to the point it was unphased by the wind. With some left-over energy, she set off in what wasn't quite a jog but not a walk either.

The bus station's glassen, see-through roof was a sanctuary the rabbit was all too happy to have found. Now at least somewhat sheltered from the elements, she brushed her front as if to deny the rain the purchase it had already claimed. Unfortunately, her clothing didn't consist of countless strands of entwined lotus leaves; all it accomplished was an even wetter paw. She shook her head at the thought. Empty space all around her. Not for the first did she consider purchasing a car. No. With these gasoline prices, that wasn't economical.

"Hey! Do you wanna get in or not?" Her ears perked all the way. The squeaking tires and the complaining breaks were memories she didn't realise she had until that very moment. A deer with antlers as little more than stubs beckoned her through the open door just as lightning struck on the horizon. The stairs weren't meant for her, but that had never stopped her. The teenage cervine barely glanced at her presented phone; he just nodded.

The chemical undercurrent of scent-blocker and all manner of more-or-less synthetic shampoos and perfumes was pierced by a whirlwind of natural scents, odours, and pheromones. One stuck out among the charge of scents, not unlike a single weed amidst concrete. The utter stench of soaked predator fur was undeniable, forming a physical barrier from thin air alone. For a moment, she halted and gazed over her shoulder back at the entryway—it was still open. That wouldn't do. She set forth again.

A long bench spanned each side of the spine, regularly accentuated with yellow beams serving to connect the floor to the ceiling, a red button on every third one or so. Some handlebars lined the very centre of the high ceiling, suspended by a short cord close, starting from shortly behind the driver all the way to the rear of the bus—they weren't in use just now. One bench was filled to bursting, with the other having space for a mammal or two. Gazes were cast her way for the briefest of seconds before, moments later, no one seemed to acknowledge her presence anymore. She made out a few mammals on both benches. Sometimes, their eyes roamed to their brethren but never to the party opposite them. One paw barely touched the floor before the other, lingered there and, finally, set itself down. She rolled her eyes behind closed lids, trotting a hint more speed. Her eyes cast left, then right, then straight.

On the left bench sat mammal next to mammal. A beaver mother clutched one pup with each brown-furred arm. An older deer with intricate antlers that rivalled his black suit played on his phone with permanently raised shoulders, a suitcase in his lap. Two male hares were in a sideward embrace, holding each other as if they expected to be separated, the other arm held close to their sides. A pronghorn stared at nothing but the ceiling, clutching both hooves together. An ewe examined herself with a hoof-held mirror, her teeth achatter, the white poof of wool on her head just a bit bristly.

The opposite bench held several individuals. A wolf with grey, well-kempt fur clad in a red-and-black death-metal hoodie, listening to music with his hood drawn up. An arctic fox sat a short bit away, closely scrutinising some book with a green cover, her perky, white ears the only thing visible from her muzzle. A weary-looking tigress with a blue shirt redirected her son's gaze toward the floor. A lone cheetah was also there, head hanging, his slender arms almost tied in knots as if they were enemies, muttering frantic whispers inaudible to anyone except those with the sharpest ears. They all sat a few centimetres apart. Despite that, there was enough space at the far end to permit a small mammal like herself about twice over.

The door had already closed behind her; a decision was made. The spine was her ultimatum. The information replayed in her mind. Left or right seemed the same to her not long ago, but not now, not anymore. There was a clear expectation of her, and as she approached the mid-way point of the bus' length, the floor became as dried cement she'd sunken into. Of course, it was not law that made any of them behave this way; it was a force much more powerful than law, much older than civilisation, a force that no one could ignore. She had tried to deny it, to ignore it, and she even managed it... for a time—it felt like a lifetime ago.

The scent, those muzzles with their gleaming cutlery, the claw at the end of every digit... It all reminded her of the incident. Yes, she could hold onto one of the beams. She liked standing; she wasn't tired; her uniform wasn't crumpled or stained, no. Not at all. Her paw caught a beam of the left bench just as the bus lurched forward. She didn't let go until the doors eventually opened once more at her destination.

Sometime after the speaker system had announced the last stop of the bus, Savanna Central Station, the bus halted with the same level of delicacy as it had set off on all prior stations, which is to say about as delicately as a sledgehammer would hit a brick wall.

As soon as the pneumatic double doors swung outward, every gaze was cast upon the mammal opposite them for less than the blink of an eye. Then, the predators almost stood as one and marched outward, slouching noticeably. Once the last of them, a lynx, stepped outside, the tension inside the bus lessened palpably. They didn't sigh in relief, but shoulders were lowered, muzzles roamed freely, and those eyes were just a tiny bit less weary. Judy extracted herself a second later, exiting as the first of them.

The trek through storm and downpour didn't last long, for her residence in the Grand Pangolin Arms was close by. The reception area was a cramped, rundown little thing. A short little desk was situated to the right of the entrance door in a slight rectangular indent in the wall which was just a few centimetres off from making the desk flush. A dull wallpaper depicting some colourless flowers wrapped around the narrow room, torn or ripped at a few places. On the scratched oaken furniture sat a small sign telling the guests the receptionist would 'be back soon', whatever that meant.

She was sure the creaky stairs could be heard even outside the complex. A key turned, a lock clicked, and she swung the door inward to her apartment. The room was taller than it was longer and longer than it was wide, not that any dimension could be boasted about. Her bed, with its less-than-blue sheets, at the far left corner, barely contained her outstretched form. In the back middle stood a green radiator working as often as not. Above it, the alarm clock rested on the single-paned window's windowsill. In the far right corner was a small, still-mostly-white, short desk with a rusty desk lamp. Precious memories sealed inside picture frames overlooked exactly two neat piles of paper taken home from the ZPD some days prior at the left end of the desk, next to the lamp. Somewhere on the left wall, toward the door, was mounted a shelf that had seen better days. The floorboards of the bunny-sized apartment creaked not unlike the stairs; all of it was wrapped in a sort of greenish-grey wallpaper, showing signs of wear here and there, with the bottom fifth instead being wood, protruding slightly from the wall.

Bed, radiator, clock, window, desk, lamp—all she needed, more than she needed.

The sheets were not exactly blue, but after thoroughly washing them, that was the only thing off about them; they now smelled of lovely violets. Further, it doubled as her main storage area, with some drawers integrated at the side of the wooden frame. The radiator and the window weren't the most functional, yet she could just bundle up when it got cold—the few times she was home. A succulent with plump green leaves accompanied the clock on the sill, greeting her whenever she woke up or came back home. The desk was small, but that one drawer of it and her meticulous 'everything-has-its-place' ideology made it more than enough for her purposes. The make-shift shelf could comfortably hold the few books she owned, among them her holy grail: the ZPD handbook.

As she took those laboured steps inside, she could feel a bit of water seeping from her clothing and down her frame to the floor, vanishing inside the tiny spaces between the boards. With just a bit more haste, she produced a rough blue towel from a drawer. After drying herself, she changed out of her meter maid outfit, lobbing it in her laundry bin in one corner. Considering the nippy temperature, the black sweatpants and grey pullover seemed a good idea to don. Finally, she hung her utility belt on one of the shelf's hooks.

After that was taken care of, she flopped onto her bed, her upper body hanging off the right side, opening a drawer with her face upside down, where she kept her Laptop.

With the pillows shoved away a bit, the back wall provided adequate support for her back as she opened the device with outstretched legs. Looking at her phone, she smiled, for she was just in time for their arrangement. Opening the app and starting the call with the number she had received proved not much of an issue.

The smile immediately gave way to a tight-mouthed stare when the call connected. Foxes were dangerous, her father always said. Foxes were the devil, one of her many uncles always said. Foxes were predators, she knew. Foxes. Of course, the saying held true for all predators; foxes just happened to have been their most significant threat in times long past. She was as close as she could at this point in time: muzzle-to-screen and screen-to-muzzle.

The top of the predator's—Nick's, of Nick's russet-furred head brushed against the camera, producing a light thud from the adjacent microphone, veiling her Laptop's screen in darkness. The wallpapers on the other side looked just like she remembered them, grey and dull. As he clearly didn't notice the call connect, she managed to clear her throat to get his attention. Every motion ceased while his ears perked towards her. His gaze lingered for a bit before he looked up with a slowness like a melting glacier. "J-Judy? Wh— Don't look at me... Of all mammals she could have meant... you." Cross-legged and cringing, his frame slunk where two planes met; it seemed as if he was afraid of her. The screen's blue-tinted light illuminated every single strand of fur in agonising detail.

Two vast pools of the purest white bore immaculate holes in her frame. In each, a slash of green, not like her purple ones, no—they were always slit, ever so faintly. They were not circles; the distinct shape made her heart skip a beat.

Both thought and voice failed her at first. "Nick...," was all she managed, her frame erect, pressed all the way to the wall, craving more space she couldn't get. His pupils alone took her breath, but there was so much more of him. His triangular ears lay low; his whole muzzle seemed to bear an invisible weight with how every feature drooped. He actually looked away from her, then. Seeing him again filled her with a slew of emotions undulating too rapidly to make out. A single thought of a single place continued to scale toward the forefront of her mind, as it had done ever since she saw him for the first time in a month just now. His thoughts and hers were as one.

"It's about that, isn't it?" she guessed. He nodded tersely. "Nick, I—"

"I can't believe you are still talking to me...," he all but whispered in reverence. A repeat of his words didn't make it any clearer.

"Why wouldn't I be talking to you?" Even through the screen, he made her reach for her utility belt, consider whether her door was locked, where her key lay, and whether or not she knew the emergency exits of the apartment complex. The fur at the back of her neck stood on end.

"I-I-I thought it would be... best if I... got away for some time. You wouldn't come to the ZPA. After what happened, I couldn't imagine you'd want to see me again.

"B-but I still have your application...?" she said, not really thinking with that fox before her very eyes.

"I filled out a new one," he told her as a matter of fact, still looking at anything but her.

"But, Nick, that doesn't make sense; it's not your fault! D-don't you remember?" It had been the kind of decision you slept over, but the situation required a split-second decision.

He whipped his head around, on his muzzle a deep frown. He spoke, then, barely stopping a growl, barely stopping a snarl—he released neither, but his tight-kept muzzle parted just a tiny bit more for just a moment before it closed even tighter. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply once, yet each word was still laced with icy venom. "What do you think? Do you think I could ever forget something like that? Do you think I could ever forget you, forget the situation?!" She tried to interject, but he cut her right off. "What, do you really want me as your partner? That's worse than any of my jokes!"

It took a conscious effort to remain locked with him, to retort, to say something, something he had already denied. "It is not your fault, Nick! I made you do it."

He took another deep breath and retreated from the screen, but that didn't calm him as his stance changed. The fox had his paws at either side of the screen, his muzzle an inch before it; it looked as if he were about to come through to her side. Despite his at-most barely parted muzzle, a fire smouldered in his eyes. "And I still hate myself for it! I should have— ugh... you should have— ugh..." He threw his arms overhead, retreating, tilting it upward for a moment; a stray beam of light revealed the thin film coating his pupils. He gritted his teeth, sounding frustrated, almost pleading. "I don't know what we should have done, OK? But we... we would have found something, anything! Something other than... what I did." He slowed further, uttering every word as if it caused him physical pain. "I— Don't you understand what that did to me?! Don't you understand what you asked of me?! Don't you understand how... how close I was... how so very close! Fuck!" He inhaled through grit teeth. "God fucking dammit, Judy! I couldn't have lived with that! I can't live with it as it is!" He looked away.

He brought her to the point of tears as she held his gaze still. "B-but, we needed to—"

Turning back on her, his brows furrowed. "We needed to what? Why are you talking like it wasn't a big deal?! I could tell it then, and I can tell it now that it didn't just pass by you!"

"You said it yourself! You didn't know what to do. It was worth it, Nick. Sweet C— Fuck, Nick. It was bloody worth it!"

"It was worth it? It was worth it?! I'm a mess! You're a mess! I went against everything—everything—I've ever been taught! I told you, Judy! I've always attended the classes! I've always tried to fit in! Nobody accepted me, and you are just. Like. Them! Just like all those prey! I'm surprised you didn't file predation charges; that fat buffalo asked you. I was sure I'd see the wrong side of the bars for at least ten years, not that you'd mind."

She wanted to tell him how much she minded, how fiercely she tried explaining to the Chief why they had done what they did, why he didn't get apprehended on the spot—the Chief had believed her just enough. She wanted to say something, anything, anything at all, but no words came. She was too weak. Through a haze of salty water, she barely made out the shape of his muzzle.

Nick was silent for quite some time. Then, at last, she could hear a whispered 'sorry'. Fading pawsteps were all that followed for a while. Judy didn't have time to mourn, for the call hadn't ended, as was evident by the commotion on the other side. First, a thud came, then back to fading pawsteps, and then, eventually, other, heavier pawsteps came closer. She tried composing herself for whatever came next.

"Judy?" drill instructor Major Friedkin came into view. It was clear she held the comparatively small Laptop aloft in one giant paw, bracing the backside with the other. The polar bear scrutinised her with a worried expression only friends wore. "Is everything alright? Did he threaten you? I was just on my way toward the barracks when he came sprinting."

Even Friedkin had that effect on her now. What she had worked her whole life toward had been ruined in a single afternoon. Where she once had no problems at all with predators, now she wasn't much better than any other prey of her stature—especially when Nick was involved. Nick! She'd asked about Nick! "No, no, nono. We just had a... disagreement. He didn't... he-he wouldn't."

Friedkin remained thoughtful. "I understand. I believe you, Judy." It was clear to the doe that Friedkin wanted to know more, but she'd always been respectful of others' boundaries. Judy didn't intend to share the details, however. Nevertheless, she could probably guess what their 'disagreement' was about; some of the information was leaked by the media, and since he was under her supervision, she would likely have seen all details regarding the case.

"Just... don't be too rough with him. It's a difficult situation."

"I can't promise anything. Now, excuse me. I'll have to catch that fox before he hurts himself. Take care!" The iconic melody of Muzzletime rang, and the call ended.

The cool wall at her back swallowed her tension, storing it for later. It had been some time since she ran a marathon, but the conversation right then didn't feel far from that. Her eyes roamed the room without any aim or goal, as if dazed. She couldn't sit around; sitting around meant thinking, and she'd rather not do that right now. Yes! She'd go to the washroom in the basement; her laundry bin was full now. Luckily, she had a spare left for tomorrow, Thursday. Her reprieve was Friday and Saturday, at least this week. Sometimes she had none at all; sometimes, she had four. Sometimes, the days were back to back; sometimes, the days were spaced apart. Sometimes, the same days two weeks in a row; sometimes, not the same days for several weeks. Heaving the basket up, she set off.

Nick's hind-paws hit the white-tiled hospital-esque floor of the corridor frantically, unable to stalk the prey— unable to see Judy, Judy any longer, he fled. Before he knew it, his momentum was gone in an instant. Crashing against such a vast belly did that to you. He hadn't so much as seen a glimpse or sniffed a hint of her before he already rebounded, rolling once, then once more. Their eyes found each other in a shared 'where-did-you-just-come-from' look. He certainly didn't intend to explore that question, and what she thought of it, he would never know as he scampered off to anywhere but right there. Outside, yes. Somewhere outside. Away, far, far away.

He didn't heed her urgent calls as he navigated the extensive white corridors of the ZPA. The barracks lay in the centre of the academy, and so the exit was quite some way away. The other recruits were doing some sort of unsupervised nocturnal training that he was sure to make up for twofold, as the Major had informed him earlier; he'd be all alone as long as the aforementioned ursine didn't manage to tail him. He felt the urge to run on all fours but shut it down the instant it appeared. He was considerably more agile and had a headstart; he wouldn't need to resort to that.

A left at the T-section, a right at the next, then all the way straight, disregarding the following 4-way intersection—and all after that—till he reached the front entrance. It had been one month, and by now, the fox knew the layout, as well as the motions, like the back of his paw.

He breached the door as if he had already graduated valedictorian and was part of the SWAT team. With all of his speed, even that large door stood no chance against him. He leapt over the three stairs and landed in the grass a few metres away, sprinting as soon as his pads hit the ground. The sun had already made amends; the moon took over. The faint light was more than plenty for his species. Behind the academy was an extensive obstacle course with everything a drill instructor could need to torture the mammals that thought themself fit to serve Zootopia. The front, however, was forested with multiple kinds of trees, starting almost right next to the doors, creating what wasn't far from a thicket that surrounded the academy, only parting to permit a path of trodden dirt leading to the front entrance to the ZPA. Moment's later, he pounced inside the thick canopy. He needed space. He needed time.

Judy's muzzle made feelings inside him stir. Some he couldn't place, others he could but didn't want to, and still others made no sense, however much he mulled them over. He had known ever since she presented him with that idea that no matter how it went, it would end badly for the two of them. He couldn't get the taste of her fur out of his head ever since that day, and she... she had it so much worse. That twitching nose... She didn't even seem to recognise it. She was prey; as a predator, one was careful around prey. No matter what kind of fortitude she had attained, he had ruined it forever. He had ruined her livelihood forever. He had ruined her forever. How would she do her job now?

Wait... Why was this so important to him? He'd helped her with her case and now done the only thing sensible: distance himself. He'd quit in like a few days from now, just enough time for her to get away from him. But then, then the Major came with the Laptop, stating someone wanted to call him—alone. Of all mammals, it could have been—perhaps Finnick, asking whether this is one of his elaborate jokes, or perhaps some Ex that suddenly found him much more attractive with that smidgen of fame he now had to his name—but certainly not that one prey he'd scarred that day. He had always been a predator, a fox whose middle name was 'deceit': a fox with a literal ace up his sleeve at all times, a gun under his pillow, and an untraceable phone taped somewhere to the inside of his pawaiian shirt.

Of course, those notions were ridiculous, but that's the kind of mammal they saw in him. He wasn't much better, he had to admit to himself. After all, there he sat, amongst grass and shrubbery, for all intents and purposes, a predatory offender. These insignificant prey... Why was he crying? Prey had only caused him harm.

No, it isn't fair talking about her like that.

Why not? he asked himself.

She'd only wanted the best for you.

Perhaps that was just her self-preservation instinct, he thought.

Yet, she wasn't like other prey. She hadn't judged him then. Now she surely did, even if she denied it, but could he blame her? Never. What he could blame her for was the fact she considered herself at fault. Like? What even? He was the predator; he was the larger of the two; it had been his responsibility to shut her idea down. Granted, he hadn't exactly been in a situation like that before. Further, it wasn't like they had had the discussion over a nice cup of coffee; they needed to act fast. At least he hadn't been hit by a real Nighthowler pellet. A shudder ran through him at what he'd be capable of under that drug; he was already balancing on a tightrope of razors!

As Judy heaved her laundry basket before the opening of one of those huge cuboids they called washing machines, she contemplated her situation once more. Work had been... difficult these couple of days. Actually, it was incredibly dull; she was doing the same thing over and over again, and as good as she was at it, she couldn't stand one more day. If she didn't do something about it, she'd still be handing out tickets when she was an old spinster cop. While the ZPA had included several tactical exercises, she'd only truly be ready to make her way on the force when she had some field experience under her belt while working with a permanent partner. As far as she was aware, she should have been assigned a senior predator Officer by now. That, however, has yet to happen.

The times she'd not need to drive around in that silly joke-mobile with her infallible ticketing device could be counted on one paw. But, even in those cases, she always got some prey by her side who'd act as if she were a tax collector paw-cuffed to them for a shift. Last Wednesday sprung to mind.

Checking the ZPA app on her phone again, her perseverance finally bore fruit; what had been an assignment of paperwork five minutes ago was now changed to patrolling Sahara Square together with Officer... Higgins. She recalled clambering up into the vast cruiser meant for large mammals like him before being seated in something not unlike a child seat that was fastened to the large seat by several tight straps. At least that way, she could see out of the cruiser. During her day in that arid environment, she tried several times to engage in conversation. Higgins somewhat replied to most of her statements and questions but didn't really follow up with anything of his own. Meanwhile, the AC blasted full force to keep them from melting into puddles.

Early on that day, he asked her some questions she had learned in the first few weeks of her ZPA academy or just things that were common knowledge. Where did they patrol that day? How did you defuse an argument? How did you use and interpret the results of the breathalyser? What was the difference in apprehending predator or prey? What determines which Officer engages predators and which engages prey?

No matter how many questions they asked, she could answer them within seconds, more than once kindly reminding him he asked this or that question before, and she clearly knew the answer, to which he only said some permutation of 'I'm just making sure'.

Sometime in the midst of the day, the sun casting little shadows, they saw two lynxes arguing. Normally, they wouldn't intervene, but as the car slowly approached, one began shoving the other forcefully, who then shoved right back.

Judy had already started extracting herself from the seat when Higgins put his hoove-like appendage lightly on her shoulder. "What is it?" she half-pleaded, half-groaned.

"Stay in the car, Hopps; I'll handle it."

This was one too many times. "Why?" she asked, exasperated.

The hippo was visibly surprised by this. "I need you to radio this in and stand by in case we need backup."

"But couldn't I at least come with? We've both got radios on us."

He groaned. "Judy. Hopps, just stay here. I don't want to argue; this is an order. If we tarry much longer, fur will be flying."

She agreed but put on a pouty face as soon as he was out of sight.

The four times she had patrols, she got partnered with first Rhinowitz, Pennigton, Delilah, and, most recently, Higgins. Higgins wasn't anything special; they all behaved similarly toward her. Of course, they didn't say it outright, but they doubted her ability; they doubted her. They weren't rude or even hinted at anything regarding her, but she could tell: the way they asked her whether she knew how to do this or that even after they'd told her on several previous occasions, the way she was told to sit something out when it involved some matter more complex than relaying some information to the dispatcher, the way she was gently steered away from approaching predators and 'letting them handle it' instead. She wasn't incompetent, and if they had treated her that way when she first began, it would be understandable, but it had been over two months, and they were still acting like she was some carrot-brained fool!

When would the Chief assign someone to her? She hadn't questioned his judgement yet—he was the Chief for a reason, after all—but she knew she could do so much more for Zootopia when released from such simple tasks. Everyone could fill out forms or print tickets and stick them to cars.

She closed the washing machine's door by employing both arms. With them reaching up, she firmly grasped before shoving at the side opposite the hinge, the lock clicking in place. The puzzle pieces didn't really fit together. If they had allowed her to enlist and then graduate from the ZPD, surely they'd let her do real police work as well—they had to. She should know the Chief by now, and he wasn't the kind of mammal to go easy on anyone.

Clearly, he had to know of her competence. The other Officers would acknowledge her skill as well once she got the opportunity to show them that her part in solving the Nighthowler case wasn't a fluke and that she did play a part in that, besides Nick, to begin with.

It was simple as it was cruel, really. Her colleagues and superiors didn't respect her because she didn't do anything of significance, but she couldn't do anything of significance because her colleagues and superiors didn't respect her! To solve this, she had to grab hold of the very root of the matter. She had to interrogate the Chief.

But how would she go about it? For one, she could go up to Bogo and demand she got partnered right this instant... "Mh," she tutted. On further thought, that idea seemed a bit too... rash. One didn't get anywhere by demanding things with little to no reason—especially when it concerned your superiors, especially when it concerned Bogo. He made the demands.

Perhaps she could go ahead and ask the Chief kindly as to why she hasn't been partnered yet. Then, then she'd know for certain. Well, unless he evaded her question. But, he wouldn't do that, right?

After hopping up, pressing some buttons and turning a dial, the machine began filling with water. Sighing, she started walking back to her room again. While she suspected several reasons, she couldn't be sure until she confronted the Chief about it. She denied some of them firmly. It couldn't be. That didn't make sense. He was the Chief, and he could make exceptions. They made an exception for her when she enlisted, after all.

But even if she managed to sway him, there was an even bigger problem at paw. All Officers were partnered! It was one of those simple situations one encountered during sports class where everyone had to pick a partner, but you—for some reason—were the literal odd one out. While this was obviously more important than some sports lesson, she did have one mammal in mind she could partner up with. This presented another issue—of course, it would. He wouldn't be available for another couple of months, and she wanted to be done with her training before he showed his furred muzzle. Until then, she'd need to muster the courage to talk to Bogo.

There wasn't anything to it; she had to try.

Well, that whole plan, again, held a major flaw: the Chief himself. He could just deny her request, and she could do nothing about it. And even if he agreed, for her to patrol, someone's partner had to either be sick, or the Chief would have to assign them to another duty, which no one liked, of course. That meant she'd get passed around in the best of cases or be little better off than she was now in the worst.

Maybe she could just assist another patrol? No, that wasn't possible. Even if she convinced Bogo of it, where would she even sit? The backseat? Of course not; that was the area reserved explicitly for perpetrators.

She was thinking herself into a frenzy again. All of those things were things that depended on other things to come true to be relevant.

The plan was very simple. Get enough experience now to convince the Chief to let her partner with Nick once he got back.

Even though she tried not to think about it any longer on her way back, she couldn't shake the predators from her mind. For which reason, the Chief decided to not pit her with a predator yet she wasn't certain, but that would change if she were successful.

Nick was a predator. When he returned from the ZPA, and she had done enough field duty to be assigned to him as his superior, she'd need to supervise that smirking fox sitting next to her all day. She wasn't sure whether she could endure that with any predator, much less with Nick. But, well, she had to; he was her ticket. Nick was her ticket to meaningfulness, her ticket out of the mud.

Firmly plopped down on her bed again, she rested against the headboard. The Laptop at her hind-paws was still slightly ajar, some light radiating out. She needed to distract herself, and that was her ticket. The quaint little apartment she had in the Grand Pangolin Arms didn't have a TV. But, luckily, streaming services existed.

As soon as she folded it open, a popup instantly annoyed her. Her Xunil operating system informed her of a possible update. She scheduled it for later. Immediately after, her muzzle curled upward; a photo of her parent's standing in front of fields which extended further than the horizon greeted her. Plants in all colours of the rainbows were in several stages of growth behind them, some budding, some flowering, some on tall stalks, and some only small bushes. Bright green trees of different barks dotted the landscape, shading some hard-trodden dirt pathways. Her loving but protective father held the multitool that was her well-built mother in a sidewards embrace—both smiled.

She opened and navigated her browser but was distracted by one of her bookmarks before she could decide what to watch. Her work at the ZPD—even if all she did was print tickets and juggle documents—would benefit greatly if she knew of the latest happening. Even if she wasn't allowed to aid in the cases, she could at least contribute to the Office banter. Conversations lasting longer than five seconds were uncommon, but at least she'd have something to talk about in such instances. So while nobody really disliked her, she has yet to solidify the impression she'd left after solving the Nighthowler case together with Nick if she was ever to be taken seriously. That could only be achieved through continuous engagement and a thick steel rope of hard work.

The ZBC news website always had its latest news broadcast on the front page. The head of a rather stylish-looking gazelle clearly in her studio was obstructed by a spinning circle, indicating the video player was loading. Moments later, the video began playing.

This is Ilsa Longhorn from the ZBC. A brand new murder leaves predator and prey alike shocked. Larisa Beaverton was found dead inside an alley. Lemir Bjornson for further details.

She extended her right arm, pointing gently toward a large screen built snug into the wall, framed by silver strips. On-screen was a brown-furred buffalo holding a microphone to his chest with one hoof while placing his other close to his ear, presumable to hear from a speaker he had there.

Thank you, Ilsa. As you can see, the ZPD is already on-site, preventing any citizens from getting too close.

Sirens blared, red and blue lights flashed, and incoherent mumbling could be heard from his end. He stood on the other side of the street, pointing toward the several ZPD Officers she couldn't quite make out. A forensic team ducked under or stepped over the black-and-yellow striped ZPD tape on occasion carrying a sealed box or bag to or fro.

Let's just say the sight isn't pretty. From what I've been told, Larisa suffered multiple deep lacerations. Judging from the patterns of the wounds and the piece of flesh missing from her body, the detectives heavily assume a devouring. The perpetrator fled the scene, and what kind of species they are is still unknown. More details as the case develops.

The camera zoomed out again, refocusing on Ilsa before the screen depicting the crime scene turned black.

Thank you, Lemir. It is always shocking when another mammal dies before their time. We trust in the ZPD to bring justice. Ilsa out.

Judy just stared at the now equally black screen of the video player. Another one of those. She shuddered at the thought of witnessing the aftermath of one with her own eyes. It's just that one case; prey don't commit any more or less severe crimes. It's been proven. Despite that rationalising, a devouring was just that much more shocking.

She picked the first streaming service her cursor landed on, with the movie selected much the same way. Even halfway through the movie, every minute sound emanating around her made her breath catch, her ears immediately perking in that direction. The darkness outside was already vast, but it only seemed to grow blacker.

Her 9 PM alarm rang; she flinched—hard. Her evening schedule started. Even during meditation, she couldn't banish the creeping thoughts that invaded her mind. She just hoped he would accept her call or call her himself. He can not fail. He must not fail. She needed this. She needed him!

Wait. Did she even like him? Well, she needn't like him to work with him. They had a history together. What had he been thinking anyway? Going to the ZPD to... what, give her room to escape? That didn't make sense; she wasn't afraid of him.

You are, a voice inside of her cried out.

"I'm not!" she retorted aloud.

You know you are.

"I know I am," she repeated. Her eyebrows rose in astonishment at her own words. She groaned loud and long, frustrated. The voice was part of her, and she could deny it no longer. Did she even want to see him again? Of course, she did! But then again, maybe not. Well, he was going to become her partner—hopefully—so she better learn to deal with it... but how? She couldn't exactly visit a psychiatrist. She'd have to confess much more than she'd like.

Despite everything she felt around him, a sense of duty struck her now. It was his potential, yes. Even though his snobby, snarky demeanour, she could tell he had the potential to surpass most. He was intelligent and observant—only through him did their plan work! She couldn't have done it alone. So, even though the means have been less than by-the-book, the result was undeniable. He could probably deal with the academy better than she had, but that would all be for nought if he quit.

That was precisely when her timer rang, and she was done, feeling no calmer than before. Perhaps a night of shut-eye would fix it or get her closer to a solution of how to get him to remain in the ZPA...

It didn't.

Sweat that froze time itself coated her entire body. More putrid than rotting flesh, more cloying than honey—she couldn't move. She drew breath after breath, flooding her lungs and emptying them right back out. Again. Again. Again. It wasn't like this had been the first time; each and every day after the incident, she dreamt of horrors unimaginable. No. They were very much imaginable. Predators. Almost always Nick. The pit. His fangs, her jugular. His claws, her tender skin. Her fate? To be devoured. Only a month—one month—had passed since the accident. It didn't get better; it got worse. Now, after talking to Nick, it was as bad as it had ever been!

She lay motionless for an indiscernible amount of time before her morning alarm rang. Maybe she could call in sick— wait! Did she really think that for even a moment? She'd just prove them all right. She had to keep going. She was a symbol to prey, an idol, a public figure. If she collapsed, they would all collapse. Predators had always been feared by her kind, but the recent Nighthowler shooting veiled the city in tension even greater than it had been before.

During breakfast, she mulled it over once more. She was so focused on her benefit that she almost creeped herself out. That fox would surely be better off at the ZPD. Even if his methods have been technically legal, wouldn't he be so much happier at the ZPD? An honest job would surely be preferable to him. He just needed the chance, and now he had it. It was apparent he had baggage to him; he had divulged as much on the gondola.

"Wilde, is that you? Come out here. Now."

It had been some time; only the occasional droplet fell to the floor now. In his deep crouch, his knee joints and front-paws brushed against the grass beneath him, still somewhat moist for the raindrops that found their way through the thick canopy. The storm had mostly passed.

When he heard her voice, his eyes shot all the way open, and he faced her. She was standing only a couple metres away, on the outside of the bushes and trees he hid amongst. Perhaps he could play this off as a fluke.

"Yup. I just lost something in here earlier today." Then, without further hesitation, he took several careful steps to extract himself from the thicket without tripping over one or the other surfaced tree branch. Despite watching out for them, he failed to spot a branch when he was nearly out of it. "Whoaah—" His back-paw caught; he fell forward. In the last second, he stopped his descent by planting both of his front-paws on the floor as if going for a pushup. "Ahem, so anyway," he diverted moments later. "Major Friedkin, what a surprise to see you here at this time of day. How come the honours?"

The ursine grumbled in response. "Wilde, this is not the time!" she told him, her voice as grave as threatening.

With those tree trunks of arms crossed before her sizable frame, her gaze could split skulls; he knew what she wanted of him. "I apologise, Sir. My instincts were too much, and I had to distance myself." Play it cool, Wilde.

"Mh," she breathed, nodding simultaneously, her iconic cap on her head. "I understand your situation must not have been easy, but that can not impair your judgment. Nevertheless, this behaviour concerns me, Wilde. You know, we polars have a saying for situations like this: you are on thin ice—very thin ice.

"Yes, Sir," he replied, his ears flat, his tail between his legs, meek as a mouse.

"Good. I don't want to see this again, or I'll have to assume you are unfit to be around prey, much less to protect and serve Zootopia."

"I am perfectly capable, Sir."

After some time staring at her, he averted his gaze to the floor. Suddenly, she spoke again. "And Wilde?"

"Yes, Sir?" Now would surely follow the coup de grâce. To his surprise, it didn't—quite the opposite, actually.

"I know how it can be. That is what bio time is for—use it. With your remarkable performance thus far, I wouldn't bat an eye if you requested more. It can be arranged. I don't want you to fail just because of something like that."

"Thank you, Sir. I— It won't happen again. It was a momentary lapse of judgement." When was the last time he'd been given such high praise? With Judy, probably. Oh, not her again!

Once she dismissed him, he barely kept from sprinting. Once she was out of sight, though, it was another thing entirely. He hounded through the extensive building as if chased. The door opened, the door closed, and finally, he braced his back against it, sliding down toward the floor.

What had just happened?! Why didn't he just throw the towel right then and there?! That was what he wanted! Why did he just swap to army mode instead?! He didn't care about this! He had his own matters to deal with! This was only temporary! He wasn't here for too long; he could still leave! His head felt heavy as a boulder, so he braced it with one paw at either side. Why, why then, was it he didn't want to leave? He... didn't want to leave? All his life, he had been happy doing what he had been doing. Why should that change now?

It shouldn't change! It shouldn't! It shouldn't! It shouldn't!

It could change. It should change. It will change.

It all bounced inside his skull, again and again, and again and no matter how much pressure he applied to his head, how wildly he shook it, how loudly he tried to drown it out, it would simply not go away.

"I don't care about the ZPA! And I don't care about her!" he yelled again. Why couldn't he get the prey out of his mind? Maybe because she was prey. He was only here because he felt bad for her. Now enough time has passed, and he could return to his old, mischievous ways. After quite some time sitting there in the dark, he sighed. Maybe he'd stay for just a tiny bit longer—just for one more week. He'd talk to her one final time and tell her why this wouldn't work out for him. At least then, he explained himself and could vanish. Then, after that, he wouldn't feel bad anymore. Then, he could forget having ever met her and never ever ever see her ever again in his entire life.

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