Chapter 22

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"I know what it must feel like," Nick said. "What you're probably fearing. That not long ago in Zootopia proper, a fox had something like this done to him. Some stupid mammal, just trying to get a reaction or have a joke, stitched them up after they did nothing, nothing at all. And I want you to remember that, you did nothing wrong… Unless you actually did, in which case coming clean will make it easier, but anyway…" he rolled off, before giving the dingo a friendly look. "That fox got put through the ringer, but at the end of the day it was only a week until the ones that made that happen were gone. And the law's been changed so it can't happen again. Moreover, fool us once shame on you, fool us twice shame on us. And," he pulled his black specs on. "We ain't gettin' fooled again. Yeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhh…"

Looking up, the seventeen-year-old canine sitting across from them managed a slight smile.

"And there we are," Nick said, turning to Judy. "Look at that, I made Jira laugh."

The dingo kept smiling a little. "You did, you sneaky little pest."

The fox's smile faded somewhat. "Okay, now that was a little uncalled for."

"Oh I don't think it was," Jira snorted, crossing his paws. "I know your little game. Butter me up, make me think you're my friend, and then!" He snapped his fingers. "My dad always told me the best thing to do around cops was to shaddup and not talk, and all your little tricks aren't gonna convince me otherwise."

Nick's ears went back a bit, Judy taking over. "I understand your apprehension," she said. "But this interview wouldn't be admissible as evidence, seeing as you don't have a guardian and lawyer present. The laws in Zootopia are strict about that."

"Oh really?" he asked. "Then what's the point of all this?"

"We suspect someone set you up, just like the Anonymous Vulpine," Judy stressed. "So we want as much help as we can to find out who's doing this. To see if it's a copycat, or connected to something deeper."

"Well in that case I wanna go home," the dingo said.

"Ah," Nick warned. "Just stay here…"

"Am I under arrest?"

The fox blinked. "No…"

"Then I can go, right? I have my rights as a mammal! I can go home! Or you do what you actually wanna do, and slap the cuffs on me and read me my rights. Right! NOW!"

He thrust his paws out, up and ready, cocking an eyebrow as he looked at the two cops. Nick especially had his ears flicking back, face twitching slightly as he tried to figure out how to…

"Well in that case," Jira said, standing up. "I'm gonna…"

"Back to school?" Nick cut in, mouth gaping open before pulling back into a smile. "Because if you're going home, isn't that truancy?" He folded his paws. "And you're not under arrest here, you've been put in isolation by your school. And I'm afraid from long hard experience that in school rules, you ain't got any rights sony jim. So, you're being held here by the school, and we've just been invited to have a chat. How's about that from the sneaky conniving police fox, huh?"

Sitting back down, Jira just gave a little muzzle twitch, the faintest hint of a snarl, before pulling up his legs and resting them on the desk. "Doesn't mean I have to talk."

"Well it'll help."

"You."

"All of us," Nick said, looking down. "Listen. I heard some stuff out there about why you might have been targeted. Your father did some activism during the nighthowler crisis, trying to support preds like us, and I don't doubt he got some flack and abuse for it." With that he looked up, into Jira's eyes. "I don't doubt some of it spilled onto you, too. We were all predators back then. All being led along by an evil mammal who's only dream was to spread lies and fear and split us up. To have us at each other's throats, so that her side, the bigger side, would come out on top. And back then, it was lonely. I wasn't a cop back then, I was struggling by on a trickle of money, fearing I might turn or the cops might come and just…" He shook his head. "I was in a bad place. But! That's over now, and even though we think there's someone trying to do that kind of thing again, we can stop them! Together. Because you're their first true victim, Rusty… Mind if I call you Rusty? I'll take that silence as a lack of objection, Rusty, but the important thing is we can stop this before another predator gets hurt." The fox smiled. "Come on, preds, together, strong! We're not gonna let them mess with us again, right?"

Jira laughed, barking it out before pulling his legs off the table so he could slam it hard with his fist. Over and over… "Ooooh pred this and pred that. You stupid mainlanders, comin' over here an' thinkin' you know best!" He looked up and snarled. "You never change."

Nick and Judy glanced at each other.

"Wanna know the real low down? Us dingoes came to our true homeland several thousand years ago, fair and square by every stinkin' right, and we lived peacefully for millennia until the likes of you mammals invaded. And we were the real opposition to that, the true guardians of our land. So you shot us down and spread your stinking diseases to knock us out. But that ain't good enough, right? You wanted us savages to really suffer. So you taught those stupid traitor roos that because they had their babies a different way, they were different and special or some now we got the stinkin' pan-marsupialists and all their bollocks at our backs, both you and them deciding that you could come together and bond over kicking us guys down when we were already knocked out. That's how it is in Straya, and Outback Island, ruined by you lot and these stinkin' pan-marsupialists, always happy to bond over a good game o' kick the dingo! First hint of the howler crisis and they said 'oh no, it's not our precious tazzies, it's you lot.' While saying they should move 'the dangerous ones' to a different part of the island behind a fence or something. A dingo fence. Stinkin' pan-marsupialist wet dream."

"I'm sorry," Nick began. "I can understand, both our species have…"

"Pah, this foxes are sneaky stuff? Let me play you the world's smallest violin. You and the bunny there and the other newfellas get on with the marziefellas just like a song. Us dingafellas though? Oh, there's your problem. Back during the crisis, my father stood up for both our rights! Your silly pred-pred together bollocks. He caused a right lotta noise, saying that we wouldn't go out quiet into the night. But the Outback Precinct came down on us hard. Newfallas like you, and marzies, and even some traitor dingos who thought they could go suck up. Same old story."

"We've got no stake here," Nick began, paws up.

"That's accurate," Judy agreed. "We just want to help figure this all…"

"-You just wanna come in an' act hero. Never consider you're the real bad guy here… Naw, you're always the plucky ones from the victimised good side fighting against the big bad evil. Fighting your happy little fight and copying and pasting your stupid messages and ideas everywhere you go," he said. "Do you know how many things we had after the howler crisis on 'pred and prey getting along?'" He pointed up into the corner of the room, posters on that matter on proud display. "All these 'peace' things and 'we're not so different' things. That stupid crap may matter over where you live, but here? That ain't the problem. Wanna know what is? All the stuff dingoes like me and my father feel, and felt, and will still feel as no-one will hold those stinking stupid pan-marsupialists up for what they are, which is what we actually need." He huffed. "Instead we get endless patronising post-howler PSA's of wallabies and roos making up with tazzie D's and tazzie T's…" He frowned for a second before cupping his paws to his mouth and shouting out. "The most overrated species there is, ya cussin' coorinna! Saltiest too. Your ancestors left the mainland, so you ain't got no right to 'repopulate' it on land you stole from us.'"

He sat back, crossing his paws, as if expecting the thylacine standing outside to storm in.

The cops inside just sat there in awkward silence, Jira's eye rising up.

Judy turned to Nick. "I thought their native species name was lagunta?"

Nick, shaking out of a flat blank look, shrugged. "I thought your native species name was rabbit, Bun." A smile somewhat working its way back onto his face, he turned back to Jira. "Okay," he said, breathing in and out. "You know, what if these guys you hate are the ones who'll get hurt by us figuring this all…"

"-And you'll all solve this, forget it, and have a nice square-groom session like you always do. Patting yourselves on the back for solving it all," he snarked. "I mean look at that dumb poster there." He pointed up, Nick and Judy turning to look. A black and white picture was shown, a goat looking at the camera, dressed in a thick baggy waterproof thermal coat, its hood resting behind his horns alongside a pair of goggles. Next to him stood a snow leopard dressed likewise, looking down at him. Both looked young and fresh faced, yet grizzled slightly at the same time, not that it could hold back their infectious grins. "I mean what the cussing cuss is that even about?"

They looked down to read the caption. 'Pred and Prey: together we can summit the highest mountains.'

"I mean who the cuss even are those fellas?" Jira continued.

Nick looked back at the dingo. "Sir Edmund Billygoat and Sherpa Tenzing Pawgay."

"And they are?"

Judy spoke. "First mammals to climb Mount Everest."

There was a pause, the dingo looking over. "Okay, the idea's clever… The execution ain't…"

"Sounds a bit similar to someone I know," Nick huffed. "Idea of holding up for all this and that, great. Buuuut it's not going well. So come on, let's talk, please. And find out who tried to screw you over."

"I'm looking at them," he said, arms crossed. "And I ain't talking."

Before Nick and Judy could say anything more, there was a knock at the door. "Hey," Wade said. "Your mice are back. They say they've cracked it."

"Shall we give Jira some time to think things over?" Judy asked, looking to Nick.

"Yeah…" he said, levelly. With that they left, Nick especially taking a big gulp of air as he tried to cool off. He was silent as they made their way over to an admin room full of screens, Basil standing there looking very pleased for himself.

"I thought they looked through the security cameras," Wade began, eyes narrowing. "If they wasted our time…"

"Oh no," Basil said, "though arguably yes. You see, what you wanted to look for wasn't on the security cameras. But what you needed was."

"I'm not sure if I'm following you," Wade said.

"Oh don't worry," Judy said, smiling. "You will after he's done. Take it from the top?"

"With pleasure," he said, finger up. "The first question, presuming this is a plant, is working out whether the target was chosen at random or specifically. Now, given that his father was involved in some contentious local issues, I'd very much wager on the latter. This then leads us to the next question, one which to my knowledge took up much of the early investigation into the Anonymous Vulpine case. How did the planter know which locker to put it in?" At that he pointed at the koala caretaker. "As you said earlier, there's no 'list' so to speak, mammals pick the lockers almost at random."

"Yeah," Wade replied. "The way I heard it, they had to ask the dingo to take us to his locker when we got the tip in."

"Which would make things all the more awkward if they got the wrong locker like the last case," Basil carried on.

"-Wait, the first case had the howlers planted in the wrong locker?"

"Yes, it was quite confusing from what I gather."

"Truth…"

"-Anyway," the mouse carried on. "This means that our mystery planter couldn't have just flown in and out at night, everyone all the wiser."

"Who's to say it's a bat?" the quokka principal asked. "Isn't that jumping ahead?"

Dave answered for his husband. "Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith, and sometimes occam's razor is there to make it easier."

Basil nodded. "There was also nibbled bits of moth in the locker which is very bat-like. And speaking of bats, there's a lot of bat students in this school…"

The quokka's eyes narrowed. "I hope you're not saying…"

"-We have our own bat as a prime suspect, but don't forget the last case was a fellow student. Regardless, the important point! Your bats are all very frequent users of their lockers, swapping out books and documents at them between every lesson or so. It makes sense, they have to carry those things on the wing, and a large book bag will quickly become a burden. So, to and from the lockers, swapping out and keeping the load low. A stark contrast from other mammals, who tend to only use their lockers for specific large items. Gym clothes for instance; keep your bag in there until you need it. Or in our dingo's case, his lunch. This means our bat would need to keep a wide open view of the entire courtyard during the whole day in order to confirm the target locker." He held up a finger. "But, the places where he'd most like to hangout, for instance staying on the top of the lockers, is the absolute worst place given all the other bats that'll be flying in and by him every time the classes change over."

There was a hoof click from Wade. "So, he'd probably fly in at night so he isn't spotted. Hide in a very specific place through the day to spot the locker. Then, when night falls, he'd pick the lock, plant the howlers and then get out."

"And at that point, two questions remain," Basil said. "Where? And how do we prove it? Now, the where is actually pretty simple when you think about it."

At which point Judy clicked her finger. "One of the lamps in the centre of the quad."

"Exactly," Basil agreed. "In between the bulb itself and the outer glass. There's a gap to get in, and looking at them there are spots he can squeeze and hide in if any of the bats come up to roost below. Otherwise, keeping a low profile, he has a three-hundred and sixty degree view of the courtyard. Enough time that, if he doesn't spot our dingo going to his locker when coming in, he has two other chances at lunch and one at hometime."

"Plus two more," the quokka added. "I think our pup had gym yesterday."

"Yes, quite," Basil mused on. "So, this means that at the end of the day, we just have to prove he was in a lamppost."

"Easy done," Wade agreed, pulling up his walkie talkie. "Hey, Sunny Trunks! Want to put the tiger in you to use? We're going to be swabbing the insides of the lamps, look for a naughty bat squatting there like a right old…"

"-Good idea," Basil said, finger up. "But if that were the case, wouldn't Wilde have smelt something in the locker?"

The fox, ears down, looked up. "I mean, I thought I smelt some scent blocker or something, but can't…"

"And wouldn't the bat have only spent a tiny amount of time in the locker, compared to a day in the light?" Judy pointed out.

Nick nodded along. "Uh-hu."

"All good points," Basil surmised. "But, while he was very careful in some areas, there are others where he was less so. After all, he left evidence of snacking in the locker. Moths."

"Those moths get everywhere," the koala caretaker waved off.

"But they're mostly around the lamps, when those lamps are on," Basil said, moving over to the screen. Selecting the wide overview of the campus, he fast forwarded to nighttime and pressed play. Indeed, all the lights, glowing as they were, buzzed and flickered with the activity of moths.

"Now," Basil said, "this is about the time our bat would be getting ready to make the drop and fly off."

"And if we zoom in," Judy began, "we might see his silhouette!"

"Yes," Basil said, "if only for the fact that there's only one really good view like this. He just made sure he was on the other side, and as all the other cameras are focussed on the main entrances, exits, and high value areas, there's nothing covering it. At least, nothing covering it directly. But, if we scroll over to this camera." That he did, and their eyes widened. It was covering the entrance to the IT room, its door and various main windows in clear view. And in one of them, the reflections of the lamps shone out. And, zooming in, there in the centre of one, amids the light flutter of moths, a small dark dot moved, jiggled, flapped, and then crawled up before flapping off." Basil then raced over to a rough drawing he'd made of the campus. "Now that was there, and that means it was this lamp here, and he was flying off in this rough direction, right towards our dingo's locker!"

He held his arms together and gave a very happy look.

Wade just smiled. "That's good enough for me." He held up his walkie talkie. "Hey, Sunny Trunks! Tell that dingo that he's in the clear."

There was a round of cheering, Judy jumping up and pumping her fist. "Yes," she said, "he's going home right away."

"He's going back to school and we're forgetting this mess ever happened," the quokka replied sternly.

Judy paused, turning to him. "Give him a break, why don't you."

He shook his head. "We sorted this matter professionally, now we can…" He frowned as Judy began giving him 'the eyes'.

"Stop that."

…

"I said stop it."

…

"Fine," he grumbled. "And they wonder why we banned them…"

She stood up, arms crossed and happy for herself. However, a few seconds later her nose twitched, something was missing.

Something lovingly annoyable was missing.

She looked back to Nick, who smiled and shrugged a little.

They were already moving out, and as they did so she slipped back beside Nick, slipping her paws into his. He looked away a little, and she gave him a little squeeze.

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"Okay, can you hear me, over?"

Holding his ear-piece down, Jack gave a cunning little smile. "I can read you loud and clear, Lieutenant!"

"Okay," the fox said. "On deployment you are to follow the briefing. Circle around the edge of the area. Observe the mountain to see if you can see any of the wolves present. Moreover, see if they've left any material on the ground you can slip a tracker into. The name of the game is intel gathering, not hostile engagement."

"Okay," Jack said, pausing as Doug gave a very disappointed sigh.

"Patience Dr Ramses. I'm sure we'll stumble onto an evenly matched battle later on."

The sheep's eyes narrowed. "I'd prefer situations where I was the only one shooting."

"Creature of old habits I see. Anyway, looks like you're there. Have fun, without any funny business."

And with that, the vehicle they were in pulled up by the side of the road, Doug and Jack opening the doors and stepping out. "-Ahem…"

Jack smiled at the caribou in the driver's seat and handed him over a couple of bucks before stepping out, shutting the door, and sending the snow-taxi off on its way. Pulling two ear covers out of his pockets and slipping them over, he made sure his winter wear was nicely done up, looked up to the similarly dressed Doug, and together they set off.

The plan was simple. Act like you belong.

That was why here, near the foot of one of the highest peaks in Tundra Town, where the downhill winter sports ceded space to ice climbing and other such pastimes, the two were geared up as winter hikers. Thick clothes, snow boots in Jack's case for extra grip and foot protection, seemingly pointless poles for both of them, though that uselessness was mitigated somewhat by the lightweight cross country skis that were binding to their backpacks. Wandering off on a signed pathway that would send them working their way through the boulders and around the rocks at the slope's base, they looked just like any other mammal one might expect to see in this area of the city. Which was exactly the plan, as they kept their eyes out for any suspicious activity.

"If you were excited about first deployments, this is basically how they are," Doug spoke.

"Oh, just gentle stuff? Nothing exciting?" Jack asked.

"No, more just walking around. At least here it's a comfortable temperature."

"Ah, desert deployment," the hare said. "I could see why you might not enjoy that."

"It was an honourable job, I did my duty," he said, pulling out an energy bar and beginning to nibble at it. "While the heat could get bothersome, I enjoyed the general peace and tranquillity. So I'd like you to stop talking."

"Oh," Jack muttered, closing his mouth. Well… Stealth mission, after all. Needed to keep his ears peeled for anything, as well as his eyes. Speaking of which, as he took the chance to dart forward and hop up a bunch of boulders to the top, he brought out some binoculars and raised them up to view a mountainside above them. And there, coming down at a reasonable pace, were a team of wolves in plain view.

The hare smiled. "Just like we are, hiding in plain sight and taking that refuge in audacity." After all, he could see another group going up a small chunk of mountain a bit further along.

"If I'm going to have to repeat myself, this is going to be less fun for the both of us, particularly you."

Jack closed his eyes, breathed in to puff out his chest, and exhaled as he followed the line down and scanned around. "No other teams present…"

"Something I can see for myself, I am the experienced combat veteran to your naive pred tricked recruit you know," the sheep huffed, reaching the top next to him.

Closing his eyes, Jack stashed his binoculars back where they came from. "Ahem, was the experienced combat veteran going to suggest we deviate a little way over to our left so that we can wind through those large boulders, helping to block us from their view?"

"Once I'd have studied the situation and dealt with your annoyances, yes." And with that he marched off and forward at a brisk and hostile pace.

Jack followed, a growing smile on his muzzle. "Ahem, is that a green tinged mix of jealousy and insecurity I hear in your voice?"

"Green tinged sickness at having to not only work for the militarised branch of the Predator Superiority Complex, but also deal with an annoying claw-licker bunny who's all too happy to do it of his own free will." He jumped off down into a snow drift and, seeing a long patch of level snow ahead, began putting on his ski's.

"Is that PSC again?" Jack asked, sliding down beside him. "Now there's a blast from the recent past. It would be a shame if any mammal went and painted that little idea of yours as so silly and dumb only an idiot would follow it."

"I noted that hippos were some of the most pred-like prey, but did they listen?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "I'm surprised he didn't self sabotage sooner, though he was probably having too much fun putting in place his revisionist predatorist-roader take on our noble plans."

"Well, he only talked when a certain someone tricked him into talking," Jack said. Skis on, he leant casually against one of the rocks, one ear up and the other bent over halfway up. He gave a cocky smile as Doug looked back.

"You understand that we're on polar opposite sides and as a trained marine there's nothing stopping me from killing you in roughly two point seven seconds?" A short buzz came out and he flinched down, Jack's eyes going wide at the sudden jerk from the sheep's body. He hung there, still for a second, before slowly beginning to tip over. Limbs springing back into action, he tried to regain his balance but was instead caught in a slow motion tumble, crunching down into the snow and laying on his side.

He let out a short grumble.

"Nothing stopping you apart from…" Lt Vixen came over the radio.

"Apart from my own torture devices now ironically attached to my body," he said, extra roboticly.

"Hmmmm… I was going to say your plea deal and actually wanting to have a shot at freedom, but that will do too. Now, if I were you, I'd get on with your job."

"Yes Ma'am," he said, pole out as he pushed himself upright. And with that, he began sliding off, leading the way. Experience kicking in, he was soon sailing on at a brisk pace, leaving a certain bunny in his wake.

"Uh, Doug?" Jack said, as he glided around a boulder. "Might want to wait up. Give me a tow or something? Uh Doug?"

"I know you can hear him," Lt Vixen's voice came over again.

Jack just kept skiing as fast as his legs could carry him, curling up and schussing as much as he could on the meagre bit of downhill available to him. From what little he knew, he should lean forward, and…

The tips of his skis stopped skipping over the powder and instead bore straight through, the bunny sinking down to almost his waist and buffeting to a stop. "Oh."

Frowning, he tried to lift them up but strained, the weight of the snow on the tops too great. His frown increased, before he closed his eyes, interlocked his paws, and spoke. "Time to deal with this with the dignity of the bunny race." He then bent down and forelimbs ablaze dug out the worst of it. Standing up again, pushing down on his poles, he worked his feet and slowly lifted them out of his pit. A push forward, a slower and more careful control of his speed, and he slowly reached the bottom of the little incline, turning around and meeting Doug there, leaning into the cleft between two boulders.

"Seems I'm going to have to pull you then, or worse than that carry you on my back. They're making faster progress than we are."

"Right," Jack said, skis coming off. "You could have tugged me in the first place, or gone back and helped me?"

Tying them up to his back, the hare stood there, waiting.

Waiting…

"Well…?" he asked.

"I'm guessing that annoying vulpine wants to experience the schadenfreude of seeing me explain this rather than the joy of doing it herself," Doug huffed.

"Putting that PHD to good use I see."

"Anyway, my abandonment of you led to another light reprimand," the sheep grumbled. "Only in this case, my loss of balance resulted in my lodgement in a compromising position, requiring a small input of assistance from you."

"Your head's stuck in the cleft."

"Could you just push up on my skis a bit, hare."

"Ahem," Jack said, wandering over. "That's 'please' Jack Savage, AA, thank you." With that, straining, he pushed up, Doug pulling with his arms. His body went forward a bit, before he pushed it out, swinging back to an upright position and holding it.

"AA? Did they get you on this as part of a twelve step programme or something?"

"Associate of the Arts, my mammal," Jack said, hopping around and onto his back. He held on as Doug began gliding along.

"Right. Honestly the first one would be less embarrassing, but that's just me."

Jack's eyes narrowed, sharply. "Ahem, need I remind you who has the shock collars they wanted to stick onto my friends around their neck and other limbs?"

"I figure with you on my back they're not going to use them over things they view as merely petty."

Jack grumbled a little, glancing up. The wolves were making a good headway down. He and Doug though…

"-So what have they convinced you is in it for you?" the sheep asked, out of the blue.

"What do you mean, what's in it for me?"

"I mean, you're an artist, a profession that, though populated with a heavily pred-individualist affinitied culture, isn't known for producing mammals willing to fight or die for any cause. This doesn't sound like some sort of deal. The more you talk about it, the more your belief in friendship and even love with those foxes sounds like it's genuine…"

"It is genuine," Jack said. "I like them."

"And I'm certain you think they like you back," he carried on. "I'm certain they even give a very strong impression that such actions are genuine. But even so, why are you fighting for them?"

"I'm not fighting for them, I'm fighting with them."

"So they're just over that boulder ready to face that threat with us," he said, pointing up at a nearby boulder.

"Well no, but they both have experience and… And I want to be up here."

"Why?"

"Because after the little taste of spy work I had before, I wanted more, and they offered it."

Doug stopped for a second. "So… let me guess this straight. You just volunteered to be their spy… as you thought it was fun?"

"Yes."

"You wanted more of it."

"Yes."

"That's it? Nothing deeper."

"Does there have to be."

"That's a pretty crappy motivation," he said, as he began skiing forward once again.

Jack's eyes narrowed, and were his paws free he'd cross them. He made do with his ears instead. "Ahem, I don't care if it's 'crappy' or…"

"You're an actor right. I guess do some writing of some kind on the side, at the very least improv you don't write down. You need characters that have a good reason for wanting something, and you'd have to agree yours is pretty crap. No motivating factor, no delusion you have to prove yourself, no guilt or drive or complexity. Just a shallow, weak, I want to do this. Honestly, if you were writing that character you'd want to redo him from scratch and put down something that would actually motivate him and work with his otherwise flat boring personality to make him do this."

"Well," Jack said. "Good thing I'm not writing that character…"

"Exactly, you are that character. So surely it has to make you think and question why you're even here and working for them, other than just wanting to, as if that's it chances are you shouldn't be here and those two are just using you."

Jack's nose twitched. "Why did you join the army in the first place then, huh?"

There was a pause. "Good pay, honourable, I felt like I fit, but…"

"So is that any different?"

"As I was going to say…"

"I don't care," Jack cut off. "I'm my own mammal. Maybe I just liked to do theatre in the past, maybe I was an actor who had a taste of this espionage and got hooked. But do you know what? That's my decision. It's what my heart wants. And I, Doug Ramses PHD, am Jack Savage AA. And I always follow my heart where it takes me. I follow my passions, I try new things, I let the wind take me. It's what I've done, it's what I've always done, and if you think you're the first critic of that let me tell you that you are very wrong. My feelings led me into this, I want to help out, I want to feel the thrill and the danger and help take down the bad guys…"

"And risk dying horribly…"

"Okay, that's a new one. But life in the theatre business isn't all that rosy too. I mean my theatre's owner was minding his business one moment, the next: poof! Gone."

…

Doug shook off his slight confusion. "It's not like if you succeed and are good at it you'll get any recognition either. No riches, no benefits, no promotions. Do you know what awoke me to the pred-worldview dominated state of the world? The fact that us sheep and other prey made up the majority of the grunts, but the officer corps and up? Five years of petitioning to enter Wolf Point made it pretty clear that they viewed us as the mammals to be herded en-masse into the meat grinder, and that they were the ones with the honour of directing us. I mean half of the mammals that go there are of one genus, half of those one species. Is guessing redundant at this point given its name, or…"

"I get the picture," Jack said. "But I mean, if you want a group of mammals trained up to lead a team that'll be hunting, co-ordinating, together, then maybe…"

"-You let the internalised pred-dominant viewpoint mask the injustice they've caught you in," he said.

…

"And that justifies the injustices you wanted to, and did, do to them?" Jack asked.

There was a pause. "Well, I'd say so."

"What about Skye?"

"Huh?"

"Skye? The swift fox. My girlfriend."

"The one painfully trying to befriend me and gain my trust, expecting me to be as easy as you."

"I almost screwed up my first date with her," Jack said, looking up. "It was on a whim, we practically joked ourselves into it. And I thought, being inters, we could go to this inters meetup come festival that was on… But at first he didn't like that, she didn't really feel like being 'an inter' was anything to her. But then we found fun things to do there… Then we had a fun talk about inter relationships, and something was said which just unnerved her so much she almost backed out there and then. Do you know what it was?"

"No. But I guess you're going to tell."

"It was that many preds feel an attraction to their old prey due to remnants of the old hunting circuitry in the brain now overlapping with the, to put it the best way I can think of, hubba hubba circuitry of the brain. Now I didn't care. But she, after realising I was quote: 'the softest cuddliest emotional support bun-bun in the world' did. She felt disturbed a bit, and almost backed out, until some other friends gave us a nice talk that it was all okay. And then we started dating, she broke her ankle and almost died alone. I saved her. And she held me tight and cried into me. And she taught me some things about myself too then. We realised that while when we met we might not have been right for each other… for the mammals we wanted to be, we were. And so every day as I change, I improve as a mammal, and she works through her issues… We find ourselves more and more in love."

He looked down. "And I don't care what you think of foxes, but none of that, not one jot, was a hustle or a scam or me being tricked or anything like that. And, with that great PHD and your big brain and what not, ask yourself this. Would she or any other pred really go through all that, change so much both to me and her friends and family, share her darkest fears and feelings… For months. Just as part of some long con?"

There was a long pause. "I think we're pretty close to their base, so silence is vital now."

Jack let a little grin grow on his muzzle, before buckling himself down. Looking up, the great cliff now loomed up ahead. Doug was keeping himself close to the rocks, sheltered out of view of the team abseiling down, even faster now.

"I don't think you've got much of a chance," came Lt Vixen, over the intercom. "Looking at zoogle maps, it's a maze there… You'd be pushing it dangerously close. My ground view isn't as good, but my instincts are saying pull out."

Doug paused. "As long as the mammal who conceived the plan acknowledges her vastly overestimated window of operations and overall responsibility for the failure of the operation, I'd agree."

"I don't," Jack said.

There was a pause.

"Okay, hostility aside rookie, you're a heroism chasing bumpkin in it for the lulz who has no idea of how these are done. By the time I get around these boulders, it'll be too late, and we'll be outnumbered and in mortal danger. To the point where throwing you in as a snack won't give me the chance to get out of your mistake."

"It's his experience talking, not his jerkiness," Lt Vixen added. "I'm…"

"-Who said anything going around the boulders?" Jack asked, leaping off Doug's back and onto a slope on one of the rocks. Scrambling up, he reached the top, looked around, and then leapt to the next top. Then the next. Then the next. "As the hare leaps," he said, heart beginning to beat faster and faster.

"I stand corrected," she smirked. "Presuming they're sufficiently focussed on what they're doing and don't spot you, you should be in and out well before they get back down. Have your weapon ready in case of an emergency, and your tracker applier ready."

"Will do," he said, flying through the air and landing on top of another boulder. There was a slight scrabble as his momentum carried him along the icy surface, claws trying to dig in but failing. Heart fluttering, he turned, made another leap and let his belly stop his travel. He'd carried himself to the top of a rock and latched around it with his limbs, clinging on before pulling himself up, reaiming, and bouncing off once more. Jump, jump, jump, his grin grew, but so did something else.

Nerves.

Fear.

He was so very close now.

Close to actual, real, dangerous mammals.

Being a spy wasn't an idea now.

It was a reality, with all that came with it.

Leaping into a sheltered area, spitting distance from what he assumed was their climbing base, he pushed himself into the cleft of a rock. Eyes closed, breathing in and out, steady himself. Steady himself.

It was just like stagefright.

Push through, wow the crowd, be awesome.

Slowly emerging, he crawled through a cleft, careful with his paws to avoid making any noise. All the while, he let his huge ears stand up, ear warmers removed.

A slight scrunching.

He froze still.

It carried on for a second, before stopping.

He crawled on.

Ears back, streamlined, he felt into his pocket and brought out a small item on a pole. A mirror. The edge of the rock loomed in front of him and he shifted up next to it, as he'd been instructed to in one of the 'brief overview training videos' he watched.

And in its small light, his heart sank.

Wolves.

Four of them.

Each taking different positions, looking out, keeping an eye on everything. One who was looking vaguely in his direction.

The mirror was pulled back in a flash.

"Okay, give a nod for how many?"

He nodded four times.

"Grrrrrr… any big piles of bags or anything you could shoot our tracker at? Once the team gets down, there's a very good chance they'll be distracted for just long enough."

After a pause, Jack nodded his head and shook it.

"Don't know?"

He nodded his head.

"Right. Wait there until they all get down. Then when they start talking, mirror out, then make the call. It's a tiny window. But I'll have Doug come close by. Be ready to run and squeeze down into the snow. It'll be virtually impossible for them to follow. Clear?"

Jack nodded.

"Good. I will not have you dying. After all, my sister will kill me."

He kept his chuckle hidden and waited, ears rotating, listening and…

Crunches of snow. Multiple.

Getting closer?

Getting closer.

Sniffing…

Jack's eyes widened and he turned, quickly making his way along the cleft and around the corner as fast as he could. "Nod or shake. Something come up?"

He nodded, before looking down and letting him slide down the slope of one of the rocks, feet burying themselves into the waist high snow. He pushed himself onto his belly, pushed off the rock and over to a cleft at the base of some of them, and began pulling himself through, slowly, quietly, care…

Clink…

He jolted to a stop, heart skipping a beat, before he realised one of his skis had caught a divot in the stone overhead.

Adjusting himself, he pushed on through before taking them off. Onto the ground, he didn't bother fixing his boots to them. He lay them under his belly and, using his paws, pulled himself along. Keeping to the overhangs and small edges, darting across the narrowest of the spaces.

"Good, you're almost at Doug. We call this off now, but we now know what to look for. I'm not going to let perfect be the enemy of good, especially when perfect is right next door to complete disaster."

Pausing, ears rotating but finding nothing, he smiled. "Wise words," he whispered, making the last push.

Doug was there.

Standing up, skis on back, he on Doug, they set off quietly.

Just two, slightly lost, snow hikers, soon back on the main trail.

As they were, Jack sighed with relief. Looking back, the wolves were off their mountain, heading off to wherever with no tracker to trace them. Their mission, whatever it was, most likely successful.

His own mission had failed, he might have panicked too early and scuppered their chance.

A horrid chill was growing in his ears, and it spread to his heart as he realised that maybe, just maybe, he was a very lucky bunny to even be feeling that.

Why was he doing this?

Did he have a good reason?

Was the woolly brained doctor he was holding on to at least very, very, very, very partially right?

He wasn't sure.

But looking through his heart, he realised he didn't want to quit at this.

He wanted to keep helping.

And maybe that was a stupid reason.

But he didn't care.

It was his reason. And that was what mattered.