Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the movie Zootopia are all owned by Disney the great and powerful. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

Hopefully this title will be completely misleading as you read the chapter. I considered the old song title, I'm Beginning to See the Light, but I don't think there is any real light to see just yet. Things will get even worse before they get any better.

The Rabbit Is in the Bag

The phone rang. Judy pounced. Caller ID indicated Lylah rather than Nick.

"What happened to Nick!" the rabbit demanded. "Is he okay?"

"Thanks for asking how I'm doing. I love you too."

"Sorry... I just... Nick hasn't called and-"

"Nick hasn't called? How long since you heard from him?"

"Three hours!"

Lylah sighed, "Three hours? That isn't very long."

"And if you thought George was doing something stupid or dangerous would you be worried about him? Nick said he was thinking about trying to help."

"George isn't the kind to do anything foolish, and don't pull a Nick on me and say his marrying me was a mistake. But, yeah, I see your point. Nick gives you a lot to worry about."

"He forgot to call one night, and–"

"Oh my Dog! I'll bet you were a basket case."

"I was. I was getting ready to head to Zootopia and look for the body. He's doing better... So far. But I have a mild panic attack every time the phone rings instead of thinking, 'Oh, he's calling to say he's fine'. Does Nick enter into the reason you called, or is this a standard update on progress?"

"Neither, in this case. You've heard from Nick since I've spoken with him. And I've got no progress to report. But, when I promised to call with any important information I also said I'd update other things. I thought you should be told about an unsubstantiated rumor – which I'm guessing is bogus."

"But you needed to call me? What is it?"

"The story is that a hit animal has been sent out to Bunnyburrow to kill you and Nick."

"Seriously?"

"That the rumor exists. There is no reason to believe it's true. But I still felt that you should know."

"You don't think it's true?"

"I doubt it, I mean, it's not that anyone couldn't find the two of you had gone to Bunnyburrow. It wouldn't take a ton of research. But sending an assassin is just too obvious, in my opinion. Bellwether is here in Zootopia and playing things close to the vest. However, I had to call and warn your local constabulary. Give them something to do. Is it as boring there as I imagine?"

"I doubt that's possible. But it is peaceful here."

Lylah sighed. "I'm tempted to send Sam out to stay with you. He's picking up on our stress. And he wants to see his little sister."

"Well, he'd be welcome. Fresh air is good for young animals," Judy assured her friend, knowing Lylah was too much of a helicopter mom to allow her son away from her care. "Thanks for telling me about the rumor. I agree it's nothing to worry about. But I appreciate hearing it, and I'll keep my eyes open. No progress update for me? What was the last you heard from Nick? He tells me he's got ideas but nothing definite."

"This is my standard update on a lack of progress for you. Nick... I've heard what you heard. He claims he has an angle he wants to work on. Last I heard he had an impossible problem he was trying to fix."

"I'm glad he's giving us the same story... Do you want his help or will he just get in your way?"

"What I've heard wasn't promising, but George and I need help. The two of you can sometimes work miracles."

"That isn't good... that you're looking for a miracle, I mean."

"Well, miracles are too much to ask for. I'm hoping he has a decent idea and doesn't want to get our hopes up until he has the kinks worked out."

"You really think that?"

"I hope that. I'm desperate enough to listen to Nick."

"You're desperate."

"Yep. Trust in the police is at an all time low. Bellwether wanted to run the city before. Now she wants to... She's so invisible she could be dead and maybe we're just tearing ourselves apart here."

"You really believe that?"

"That she's dead or gone? No. She's out there. And she's behind this, whatever this is. Maybe she just wants revenge against the city for putting her in prison. But the tensions just keep getting worse."

"You'll break it Lylah. I have faith. And remember, we'd be happy to have Sam come out. Jade misses her big brother."

The panther managed to chuckle, "And I know he misses his little sister."

Lylah laid out her own money for the pagers. This wasn't official ZPD business so she couldn't request funding, and she was trying to keep things quiet. It would be wrong, and impossible, and counterproductive to try and keep things secret. But keeping things quiet was a good idea. Things would hit the fan at some point, and trying to keep things secret would simply cause more shit in the air on that future day.

Quiet, however, was good. And if it meant paying for pagers from her own savings she would do it. She kept the receipts for her purchases. If things worked well she might seek reimbursement for her expenses, but she was more concerned that things would work well.

This was the third group of eight she and George addressed. She had no authority to recruit animals for a group that didn't officially exist. They were all officially volunteers. They had all been recruited in the sense they had been asked if they wished to volunteer. No one had turned down the request.

There was only one new officer in the twenty-four. The others had all been on the force when Bellwether's first plan had rocked the city. Five were retired from the ZPD, but eager to served on a picked team to arrest her and her followers. Only two were prey species, both Cape Buffalo: Captain Bogo of the First and Detective Parr of the Third. Some of the others would have preferred no prey officers on the team. Lylah recognized that as a very bad idea. First, Bellwether appeared to be trying to cause divisions among officers of the ZPD – and Lylah would not use Bellwether's play book. Second, since Lylah and George had no idea how large a group of followers Bellwether commanded it was important to have a large team of officers ready for immediate response. And finally, that day when news of the team hit the fan – as it surely would at some point – it would be vital to show that prey species were included.

The recruits had doubts about two pred officers who had received invitations.

Officer Ernest Hunter was new, and a weasel. Prejudice against weasels ran moderately deep. But the cheerful little officer was the only animal to ever graduate the police academy with a commendation for bravery. He credited Captain Bagheera with saving his life and thought she could walk on water. Lylah credited the weasel with saving her life and had absolute trust in his honesty and integrity.

Some officers questioned the presence of Ben Clawhauser in the second group of inductees. No one disliked the overweight cheetah, but, "Ben? You're kidding? He's so slow grass doesn't grow in his shadow when he runs!" "Catch Bellwether? He couldn't catch a cold!"

Lylah considered Clawhauser a vital part of the team. It was an all volunteer group. As the news quietly spread among ZPD members there would be animals lining up to join. If Bellwether had infiltrated the ZPD her agents would be anxious to volunteer. No one would be allowed to join without being vetted. Officers among the initial twenty-four were encouraged to recommend other officers – officers they trusted implicitly. Ben would screen officers who volunteered without being recommended. Clawhauser knew everyone in the ZPD, and if he didn't know every officer personally he knew the animals at the Second, or Third, or Fourth who knew the officers. And should Ben hear a hint or rumor or vague suspicion in regard to an animal's loyalty that officer would be told, "You're being considered. We'll get back to you later."

"Are we the B-Team for Blitzen-Team or Bellwether-Team?" one of the new group of officers asked.

"We have no official name, because we have no official existence. I think of you as REDS," Lylah told them, "a rapid emergency deployment squad." She held up a pager. "One alert tone and you will drop everything – unless you're in the middle of an arrest – and come running. George or I have a confirmed Bellwether sighting."

"What if I'm having sex," one joker asked.

The panther stared at him and shrugged, "Oh, take another three seconds to finish. She'll appreciate you lasting longer than usual." There were some laughs at the officer's expense. "This is serious," she reminded them. "If any of you have a confirmed sighting two alert tones will get the rest of us moving. Three tones means we have credible information about location, but it hasn't been confirmed. If you hear three alerts be prepared, hopefully we'll have a confirmation."

"Lylah and I would like to have at least a hundred volunteers in REDS," George told them. "We don't know what the conditions will be, or how many followers she might have when we move in for the arrest."

"She's damn smart, and we have no idea how much protection she has around her," Lylah reminded them. "We have no idea when or where we'll find her. And some of you may be unable to drop everything and come running. So we need more officers. Officers you trust. Bureaucracy is not necessarily a bad thing, but I don't want to fill out a five page form, in triplicate, if I know where she is right this minute. SWAT teams are great, but they take time and paperwork. My options are REDS or red tape. You'll be more effective."

"Is red tape code for prey officers?"

"No. We need prey officers. We need every officer whose loyalty is to the ZPD and sees Bellwether as the biggest threat we've faced since the last time she tore the city apart. If there are any officers you trust completely – pred or prey, male or female, large or short – we need them. If there are any animals you have even the slightest doubt about, we don't need them."

George handed out the pagers and gave instruction on their use. Word the Bagheeras were paying for pager rental and service had apparently gotten out. Three of the officers paid her for the devices they were using and two gave even more to help equip other officers.

Several hours later George got an excited call from Nick. "I need you. I may have a major hole fixed in my idea."

"You've got an idea that'll work?"

"No, not yet, anyway. But I hit a solid stone wall. I may have a way over the wall... Or under it. Okay, I still don't have a definite plan, but it would have been impossible with this roadblock. And I need your muscle."

"You talking figurative muscle – something Lylah and I can do as officers?"

"No... Literal muscle. I'll explain later."

Tony, 'The Gimp,' Hopper did not like being folded up and carried in a bag. Small for a rabbit he'd never been able to indulge in the physical activities – beatings and extortion – with which the friends he'd grown up with in a Zootopia slum had spent their time. Which explained why his friends were all serving jail terms of various lengths of time. But Tony was very good with the skills he had: an identity theft here, an ATM malfunction there, a by-passed security alarm at a department store. The police suspected Tony of many things – most of them crimes he had committed, but had not yet been able to prove anything. These electronic skills had brought him a very lucrative, and secretive offer, enough that he was willing to swallow his pride and allow himself to be stuffed in a satchel.

Tony blinked at the bright light as the bag was opened. "Where's the panther?" he demanded as he looked around a well-scrubbed modern room.

"He was just a courier to bring you here," a masked fox answered.

"And you will leave with him," a masked rodent of some sort seconded. "Your job is here." He indicated a leg that was extended through a curtain. There was a GPS monitor around the ankle.

The rabbit could not see the animal attached to the leg, but the wool proclaimed the animal a sheep. The Gimp licked his lips nervously. "I get my guarantee just for looking, right?"

"Right. And the whole bunch of carrots if you figure out how to by-pass it, so it can be taken on and off without going off... Oh, and showing us how to do it ourselves."

Tony thought a moment. "Just don't play dumb on me and claim you can't follow directions."

"We have no intention of cheating you," the fox assured him. The fox reached into a pocket and pulled out the Gimp's bag of tools as the rabbit gave the GPS a fast visual examination.

"This one is good... ZPD?"

"You don't need to know," the rodent answered.

The rabbit grinned, certain it was a police monitor. These were crooks. He felt oddly safer, no danger of entrapment. He continued the examination, looking closer, softly feeling it and trying to get a grasp of the tech used for the lock, the disconnect switch, the GPS device, and the alarm that would be triggered by a mistake. After fifteen minutes of examination and contemplation he began to take equipment from his tool bag and line his instruments up on the floor.

"It'll take all that?" the fox asked in dismay.

"Still diagnostic," the Gimp assured him. "I got to figure it out before I try anything. I'm assuming you want it done right. I want it done right. Now shut up and let me do my job." The rabbit smiled. They needed him. He was in charge, and they'd damn well better listen to him.

For twenty minutes Tony worked in silence as three animals waited nervously. "Oh, this is good," Tony told them. "I'm better." He might have opened it after four minutes, but didn't want to risk a mistake There might be a trap built in to the security device he'd never seen before. Let them wait. The harder they thought his job was to do the more willing they'd be to pay him the promised bonus – if he were successful. And he wanted those 'carrots'. Finally, selecting two tools, he released the monitor and slipped the shackle off the sheep.

"Did it work?" the fox demanded loudly. "Did it trigger an alarm?" He dashed to the door and opened it. "We good?" he asked an unseen animal outside the door. He turned back to the room. "We're good. How did you do that?"

The rabbit explained to the rodent and fox how to remove and replace the GPS monitor. It took less than half an hour for the two animals to be comfortable with the technique.

"And now my bonus," the rabbit told them.

"In a moment," the rodent told him. He opened a door and ushered in an animal not in disguise. The rabbit swallowed hard. He recognized the lemming wearing an eye-patch. She might be the most dangerous animal in Zootopia, there were animals who'd make book on it. Theory said she was only engaged in legal activities now. No one believed that. The fact she was not in disguise scared him. Obviously she didn't think he'd be in a position to identify her to the police, or anyone else.

"Impressive, Mister Hopper," Chelsea Dagger told him with a nod of her head. "But we really can't let you go home at this point. We don't want anyone to know what you just did."

The rabbit's mouth went dry, "I don't tell anyone anything! Swear to Dog, My lips are sealed!"

"I'm sorry, but this is far too important to risk you changing your mind."

"I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die," he looked to the doors. No way he could get out. The panther who'd carried him in was probably waiting outside. "Don't kill me," he begged.

"Kill you?" Chelsea asked. "You are far too valuable to kill. You're going on vacation. Best hotel for shorts in Casablanca – all expenses paid. Oh, we will be taking your cell phone. At the moment I don't know how long your vacation will be, but we're all hoping it will be short. You will have two animals escorting you to Casablanca and seeing that you remain. Neither will know why you are there, but as a courtesy to my trust in you, please don't ask them anything. Should you try and tell them anything..." her voice trailed off.

"Your trust in me?" said the skeptical rabbit.

"I could use an animal of your ability. Imperial Industries has a job offer for you when you can come back – easily in high five figures, perhaps six."

"What kind of a job?"

"Does it matter? I haven't decided. You have obvious skills. I may hire you for R&D, or security, or product testing. ER will determine your greatest strengths, and your value. I may have different divisions wishing to claim you.

The rabbit wasn't sure if the job offer was real, or setting him up to relax before he was killed.

"Before we take your phone, would you like to call your Jane? You can either tell her you will be out of town for a few weeks and unable to be in touch – or you can invite her to come with you and enjoy your stay in Casablanca."

Tony thought frantically. They knew about Jane. She should stay in Zootopia where is was safe. If she stayed in Zootopia some other rabbit might move in on her. If she came with him on an extended vacation she'd probably expect him to marry her... Would marriage be so bad, if he had a steady job?

"The job offer is real?"

"Yes."

"You're paying for this trip – no matter how long? And for Jane as well?"

"Imperial Industries is serious about having an animal with your skills. If you have the imagination R&D would pay the best, but even security and product testing could benefit from your abilities."

The Gimp thought a minute. If they really wanted him dead they didn't need to pretend to make an offer. Could they believe he'd tell Jane nothing? They hadn't told him enough about this job for him to tell her anything. "Let me call Jane."

"A wise decision. I'll have a limo drive the two of you into the desert as soon as she can pack."

"Can I-"

"No. You will buy clothing there. You will have an animal monitoring you every minute until the hotel room door closes behind you and... Would you prefer separate rooms for you and your friend or would you prefer the two of you share a room?"

The rabbit grinned for the first time since seeing the lemming. "One room." "I'm gonna hafta promise we get married."

In the hall outside the room in the forensics lab the panther waited with a badger. He didn't ask the badger's name. He didn't want to know who he was or exactly what he was going to do. He felt vaguely dirty and guilty of something he couldn't put his finger on for even being there. Tony Hopper was a criminal, but that didn't justify harming him. Doc Wheeler had promised no harm would come to the Gimp. George decided he had to trust the hamster. Whether any of them could trust Doug Ramsey or not was still a question.

Nick had removed his mask before opening the door. "The rabbit's in the bag," he told George. He handed a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it to the badger. "Tell his bodyguards to pick up his female friend here. They'll know where to-"

"She's my fiancée," came a muffled voice from the bag.

"Sorry," Nick apologized. "Hope to see you again soon."

The bag answered, "Me too."

George picked up the bag and left with the badger. He'd be back as soon as possible with Lylah. The badger, who didn't know what Tony had done, would turn the Gimp over to two rabbit body guards some distance from the forensics lab. The rabbits had no idea why they were taking Tony, or the unexpected Jane, out of Casablanca. They didn't care. They were being paid and paid well. Nick had told the panthers he, Vaughn, and Ramsey had some vague sort of plan. The panthers cared a great deal about Nick's plan and were anxious to hear it.