Author's Note:
Hello again! After quite a while of writing, I'm able to present you with Chapter 2: The Way Of The Fox. It is about 8,7k words long. Normally I'd release this on Monday, but I've decided to release it already as I'm very excited about what you think.

This chapter has it all: action, contemplation, existential dread, instincts... you know, all the things you come here for.

Chapter Summary:
How did he end up here? What had his life been like up until now? He needed to acknowledge he was no longer the same.

Acknowledgements:
As always, huge thanks to all my beta readers on my Discord:
- Dawnless
- itzmasterz
- plank_space
- Pompombojam
- Toboe
- Vicarious

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

White-tiled floor. White ceiling. Grey wallpapers. Four Double-high bunk beds taking up the entire left and right wall. Eight mattresses—four left; four right. A rectangular window on the opposite side of the entrance. A strip of space between door and window. A single lamp mounted close to the ceiling. This, this was his prison. There were no guards to hold him, no cell to keep him locked up; this prison was one of his own volition.

When he closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose, he could almost feel the physical presence of his roommates. They haven't returned yet, nor would they until sun overtook moon again.

He paced the room, back and forth and back and forth, never at the same speed. At times he felt the need to run up to the door and bash against it until one of them gave up the fight. At other times, he considered vaulting out of that closed window that bathed the whole room in the moon's light. The slap of his bare paws had echoed for quite some time, and he had no intention of stopping it.

It was a time of restlessness for his species in general, but especially for him, especially considering what had happened just half an hour prior. After his conversation with Judy, he couldn't find sleep, no matter how tightly he clutched his sheets, no matter which position he tried.

Friedkin, the ZPA, Zootopia as a whole, and most importantly, she didn't matter to him right then. This was about him. This was about his problems, his plans, and his ambitions. Did he have ambitions? That was the issue at hand.

For a long, long time, he believed he could only be what the world decided for him. So, through necessity, he took to the streets, bearing the burdens of his forefathers, perpetuating them, for there was no other way. Whenever anyone looked at him, they feared for their wallet and their safety alike. Prey was scared despite his very best efforts. Every moment of discrimination, of fear, of hatred, of malevolence was like a chisel launched straight at his leaden mask. Piece after piece was chipped away, but he always mended it, strengthening the facade. He never let them see that they got to him. Never.

He only let them see what he intended them to see; no emotion was genuine. He could read them like the book they were to him. It was a matter of inputting the right code. He observed the machines of viscera before him, analysing them, scrutinising them, objectifying them. It was a game of finding the right things to say and the right things to do; he excelled at it. When they didn't run or fear or hide, they were caught within his jaws and turned into mindless puppets. After ways parted, they thought it was them who had gained something from the encounter.

It had been like this for longer than he could stand to remember. This had been the status quo. This had been the inarguable, uncompromisable way the world worked. They would never understand him. He would be what they all expected him to be.

Soon he met someone truly extraordinary, someone who defied expectations, someone who shattered traditions and uprooted the status quo. Of all mammals it could have been, it was prey, it was a bunny, his natural prey, who caused him so much grief. It made him question himself for one of the first times he could recall.

Judy Laverne Hopps, the first rabbit to graduate from the ZPA and become a ZPD Officer.

He remembered their time together solving the Otterton case with equal parts of shame, regret, and disdain. There were moments he enjoyed but all in all, it had been close to the worst part of his life. Nothing afterwards had worked the way he wanted. His carefully constructed machinations failed in their purpose and reverted to nuts and bolts before his very eyes. The buttons he pressed were labelled seemingly at random. His mask shifted, convulsed, undulated when he didn't focus on it.

He braced himself against a metal beam of the nearest bunk bed—he could barely wrap his paw around it. Everything spun, his mind was a haze, and it was only getting worse. The memories of how this all began flooded back in for what seemed like the third time this night alone. He could recall it as if living through it anew, as if it was happening just now.

How easy everything had been back then. It all started on the last day of his fulfilling life.

The wide streets of Savannah Central gave way to a-many nooks and crannies, reclusive spots where shadows hushed about the corners. Another deal was sealed, a bargain struck. The little weasel stalked out of the alleyway now, leaving the two to their devices. He had fallen prey to a loan shark. Now, he had the means to pay them off.

Nick shared some of the fortunes he had acquired over the years with... less fortunate members of society. The fox wasn't quite that selfless, though; his offers came at a price: interest. A loan shark, he was not; he played fair; his interest rates were below most of what one would get at any bank. He didn't take advantage of the mammals; he took advantage of the system.

If he really wanted to, the fox had all the means to arrange the timely payments of his customers. Some may think he'd abuse that fact, but no; he never harmed anyone, nor did any of his associates. He knew them, and they knew that he knew them. There were no problems—ever.

They always saw the predator in him, the fox, the sly, cheating, conniving fox, and so that's what he'd be. He did what was convenient, yet even he had his standards. Nothing illegal; that wasn't like him. Well, at least not too illegal.

A trick here, a loophole there... Some business mammal charm and wit opened door and lip alike. A favour for a favour. With Finnick by his side, even the more ambitious ventures became possible.

Naturally, lending money was only a fraction of what he did. Some opportunities rose out of the woodwork, while others were premeditated. One of these latter ones was a particular hustle that relied on a certain quirk this fickle society of theirs had.

Mammals from as large as elephants to as tiny as shrews took shelter inside Zootopia, all in search of something within the largest city he was aware existed. The cooperation of predator and prey lead to benefits mutual. Everyone was unique. Further, predators thought differently from prey, and prey thought differently from predators. Those facts and all those clashing cultures, traditions, and religions had let this city develop into what it is today. Technological advances were made that are seen nowhere else. Job opportunities and healthcare were the highest among the whole of Animalia as well. It was understandable, therefore, that everyone saw this place as this big utopia where predator and prey sat side-by-side and went out for dinner together. Everyone thought like that, everyone except the mammals actually living there. Reality wasn't as happy-go-lucky as the bumper stickers' interpretation of it.

Yet, no matter for which reasons they resided within the city, at the end of the day, they were hungry and had to nourish themselves. Everyone ate, and who could resist an addictive, sugary treat in the hot climate of Sahara Square? This is where he came in.

The bigger a mammal one was, the less one paid per kilogram for one's food. It was some guideline about fair or average cost of nutrition across species, as far as he remembered. These ginormous portion sizes were only advertised to large mammals, such as rhinos or buffalos. That didn't stop others from buying them, however. With a little courage, he could exploit that.

Nick knew every paragraph of every subsection of every page of every law book in all of Zootopia by heart, which concerned his ventures. While it was true that any given owner has the right to withhold service to anyone they chose to, that law had its edge cases. When predator discriminated against prey, prey against predator; male against female, female against male; or one religion against another—it was unlawful to discriminate on such bases.

Jumbeux's cafe was one such establishment. This coffee and ice cream shop catered especially to H4s, hence the perfect mark.

The huge glassen door of the cafe stood before him. He double-checked. Yes, it was an H4 establishment, as denoted by the stylised, bright green leaf amidst a circle of equal shade; beneath it, the number '4' was printed in bold, white lettering.

Predators could enter establishments meant for prey, and vice versa, as goes without saying; one just did not do that. These social guidelines were more significant than any law but weren't laws themselves. The species didn't mingle beyond a certain threshold. Being too close for too long could be undesirable for both parties involved.

But it wasn't like he was strolling about a store meant for equal-sized or smaller prey—that he wouldn't do unless he was forced to.

If this would be taxing for anyone, it would be for him, and it would be, he knew. No matter. He might incur some hatred towards himself, but those fearful or from-hate-bursting muzzles couldn't grow any grimmer than they were.

After quite a bit of coaxing, his business partner, Finnick, had agreed to pose as his child, put in a stroller with a pacifier. He looked quite amusing, Nick had to admit. While nobody was truly his confidant, that little fennec was the closest to that.

When he entered the vast room of operations, he saw pillowed benches flanking tables twice as tall as him in long rows. The counter made an equal appearance, a glass showcase holding a trifecta of coloured Jumbopops, ice cream meant for elephants.

The steps to that counter and underneath those looming trunks went one after the other, but that thrill of hustling, facing an elephant, doing something he wasn't meant to do tore at his seams, not a lot, not noticeably, but he was getting stressed.

Jumbeux crossed his appendages before his chest, tilting his head up a bit. As he began to inhale, Nick prepared himself to take a beating, after which he'd explain oh so kindly why he and his cute little son wouldn't be denied their treat. No longer would prey deny him. No longer! No longer!

It took quite a bit out of him to stop those thoughts from bursting free, but it had grown easier over the years.

To his surprise, before the elephant could utter his first syllable, a grey bunny doe entered the premises, the audible bell of the door punctuating her arrival. He frowned internally.

Wonderful.

He wasn't religious, but he prayed to whatever deity listened right then that he had still engaged his prey posture. Frightening prey wouldn't bode well for him. Further, her reaction might incur one of his own, and that could end less than favourable for him. To his relief, he noticed himself to still be hunched, his claws to still be averted, and his muzzle to still be shut.

It was funny, really. That rabbit looked a lot like Judy Hopps with her ZPD costume and her utility belt. She had a predator-repellant holstered, as most prey—but especially Officers—had, a radio, cuffs, and probably other things in those sealed pockets. It was quite the high-effort imitation.

What happened next made him wide-eyed, and his partner lose his pacifier for a moment. That rabbit stepped right next to him. Right next to him. Right next to him. She flashed her badge; she was indeed Judy Laverne Hopps. Green slits faced violet circles for several seconds. He stared in disbelief as she fixed him in a 'why-are-you-looking-at-me-like-that?' expression. He took a step back, and she realised it as well, then, and took a step back herself, excusing herself.

This proximity made his eyes scrutinise every square inch of her body. Her lithe form, which only reached about his naval, bar her ears, sported supple leg muscles. Low fat, high muscle. Truly, a fine meal—

Gah! These creeping thoughts, his instincts... The thoughts repulsed him even though saliva pooled. With an audible gulp, he swallowed it all down. At the end of the day, meat was meat, no matter if one considered the mammal-made concept of 'consciousness'. His instincts weren't restrained by such notions; they didn't discriminate one state from the other. Prey, his size or smaller, just made him hungry.

He couldn't do anything about that; no aroma therapy, no smelling salts, no cure-all herbs, and no other conventional medication of any kind helped. Neither could anyone else; it was like that for all of his kind, and he didn't know whether that should comfort him or concern him. No matter. He'd need bio time soon—that would fix it all. The life of a predator wasn't an easy one, that was for certain. To be fair, prey didn't have it any easier, either; it was just... different, as different as they themselves.

"What seems to be the problem here?" she asked him, then fixing on the still-slightly-mad-looking elephant, tapping one hind-paw repeatedly on the floor.

Jumbeux deflated visibly, and upon Nick asking which colour his child would prefer his Jumbopop to be, the elephant just muttered, "15 Credits, please," to no one in particular.

Alright. Judy Hopps. Country Bunny, naive and gullible. Perhaps he could leverage that. Patting his khakis down, he made it evident to both of them he had no means to pay for this treat. By abusing the 'fact' that it was his little son's birthday and her compassion for that, he got her to pay as well. Truly unbelievable. Serves those prey right, though.

They strolled out with the truly gigantic Jumbopop in tow. Nick hoisted it on one shoulder, driving his stroller with the other arm.

He had to keep from bursting out laughing or cringing over on the pavement when she went ahead and commended him for his dedicated parentship.

Once she was out of sight, Finnick promptly jumped from the stroller; Nick folded it, carrying it under one arm. The Jumbopop switched shoulders and was now carried by Finnick. Despite not being a child, Finnick was never a fox of many words, so they proceeded in silence to their next destination.

Meanwhile, he was still in awe over what had just happened. Never had prey gotten so close to him. Truly, it had to have been Judy Hopps. She could have dyed her fur, tailored that uniform, and faked that bade, but that behaviour... wow. Either she had no emotions and instincts at all, or she truly graduated from the Zootopian Police Academy. It seemed as if she had backed away for his sake, not for hers.

From then on, the hustle was as simple as it was tedious. First, he melted the Jumbopop on a nearby roof, funnelling the red liquid through a drain which Finnick then made sure would land and fill several glass jars, one after the other, replacing the old one when it could hold no more.

When those containers were finally all filled to the brim and sealed tight, Nick secured them inside Finnick's red van and got in the passengers' side.

Tundratown, a district of icy spires, half-frozen rivers and igloo-shaped dwellings, drew in many arctic species. Those conditions were perfect for the next part of their process. They parked at some location where the snow was plenty and pristine—so almost everywhere. Finnick made little moulds with his little hind-paws. The red liquid was then poured into those, each joined by an ice cream stick they reused from the last time they tried this.

The result were many smaller 'Pawpsicles', as they dubbed them. With those, he arranged his stand back in Sahara Square, selling each of the several dozen confections for 2 Credits each to whoever came by. A good many went out of their way to avoid him in a 10-metre radius, but despite that, it wasn't long until they were sold out, and they shared their profits equally in an alleyway nearby.

He had commented on Judy on several occasions, for she was with them every step of the way, thinking she was oh so sneaky. Now, as if in a bad horror strip, she appeared from behind Finnick's van right as he drove off. He grunted in annoyance; she just wouldn't let up.

He looked over his shoulder, a dead-end. He was cornered between brick walls and an absolutely hard-boiled, fuming bunny.

If he didn't know any better, he would fear she would go savage any second now. What she said wasn't much better. "You lied to me! You liar!"

'Oh sweetheart, that is who I am, don't you know?' he thought.

"I stood up for you, and you cheated me! Do you know how many laws you have broken today!"

Against his better judgement, he took a step forward, straining himself as much as her. At least that was the theory; she didn't seem phased. "Oh yeah, Officer Carrots? What have I done?" he asked in jest, his voice not quite concealing his contempt. This wasn't just about her. This was about all of them. All of them! Who did she think she was, barging in here, thinking he had a problem... just because he was a fox? What did she know? She was prey! She didn't know what it was like... being...

As she continued to bring up one perceived broken law after the other, he refuted them all.

Selling food without a permit? He did have a permit.

Transporting undeclared commerce across districts? He did have a receipt declaring his commercial goods.

Disturbance of the peace? Oh please, the spot he melted the Jumbopop at was owned by one of his many acquaintances. He knew everybody, and everybody knew him.

As a final straw, he really tore into her, detailing how and why she would never amount to anything in her career. She would stay a metre maid until she was an old spinster cop. Perhaps she could supervise her own little group of metre maids one day.

As he left her in his wake, he could just shake his head. Not because of her—this wasn't about her—but because of himself. Never in all his years had he ever lost his cool like that. She had gotten to him.

This was the start of his downward spiral.

A few days later, she would return, finding him as if she had some sort of Nick-tracking device. With equal determination as before, she slapped a parking brake on his stroller—the two had tried to pull the same hustle that day—before blackmailing him to aid her in that stupid Otterton case. Granted, it was his fault; he had divulged the fact he didn't pay taxes in his renewed outrage. Again, she had gotten to him.

They darted from place to place during their investigation. Nick didn't really have any choice but to do as she said as he held on for the ride, for even as little authority as she had, that recording of his confession could end up backfiring on him. That bunny was a lunatic, and he didn't know what she would or wouldn't do. Despite it all, he made conscious efforts to disturb her workflow whenever he could. Not a lot, not all the time, but ever so slightly, just to fuck with her. It was honestly pretty fun.

Nick recalled some memories in quick succession. At one part, they were in an H2-4 oasis—well, she was; it was for herbivores, after all. At another, they were at Mister Big's mansion, where he had had the one or the other undertaking in prior years.

Then, his mouth went dry as one scene sprung to mind that made him shiver even now.

Artificial rain from dozens of sprinklers suffused the environment of the Rainforest district, providing vital nutrition to the vast, thick trees and the countless fern-like flora spread throughout. The humidity was beyond anything else encountered in Zootopia, making his fur feel wet and weird the moment her metre mobile passed through the invisible thermo-regulating isolation barrier placed inside every cross-district tunnel.

The whole area was... organic—it couldn't be described any other way. Almost everything looked as if carved from wood by nature herself. It's hilarious, really, since Zootopia was as far from natural as one could find.

The houses, apartments, and lodgings here looked much the same as Downtown—if they were made of sturdy wood instead of concrete, shrouded in living vines, creepers, and ferns of all kinds. The from-the-outside-primitve-looking dwellings blent in with the environment thanks to their Sierra tones and a dozen different hues of green provided by that lush overgrowth one could find everywhere in this place.

Despite the district being roughly equal-sized with the three other main districts, this one was much, much more densely packed. The high-speed train soared past them from high above; it was on par with the buildings on 'ground level'—which is to say high above where the two of them were currently, on the actual ground. The road was twisted and uneven, in total contrast to how it was laid out in every other district.

From up there, wooden platforms were perched at different levels of height above and below, vines hanging from the edges at all angles. No matter if one looked up or down, one would never see where all those shops, houses, and offices ended.

These enormous ring-, oval- or half-oval-shaped wooden protrusions held atop a number of buildings, most often around one to three. Sometimes the platforms were tiny and only held one little building, while others were expansive, harbouring a stadium of some kind or another, or an apartment complex. Some of those structures were built against the back of those giant trunks, which served as structural beams to the entire district.

The road only enabled limited access to the districts, and the high-speed train could only stop at its stations. Instead, rope bridges crisscrossed wildly from one area to another, serving as the primary way to get around. That is where they needed to go, so they made their way up there with a nearby elevator built against a luscious tree.

He clutched those moist ropes tightly, watching his step.

Their goal was a particular dwelling, home to Mister Manchas. Fortunately, it wasn't too far off the street level; Nick was never one for heights.

Manchas was one of Mister Big's Limo Drivers. Otterton had gone savage while driving with him. It made no sense how he could have gone savage; the front and the back compartment were firmly divided; there could not have been any stimuli between the two predators, and even then, two predators together weren't half as bad as a predator and a prey together, even with the size disparity between Manchas and Otteron accounted for. There was more to it, Nick knew.

When his paws found solid ground in the form of the stout wood beneath him, Judy was already several meters ahead and knocked at the door, the thud of paw against wood sending a dozen or so birds into a cawing outrage. They would have flown if it weren't raining right then. "Mister Manchas? I'm from the ZPD. I'd like to ask you several questions if you don't mind."

The door opened, and Manchas glanced out at them with one eye through the narrow gap. He just mumbled something at the time incoherent about Nighthowlers or some such. After she inquired whether she could come inside and ask questions there, a thud from inside was heard. Manchas fell over and closed the door to nothing more than a minuscule slit. A growl permeated the air around them, causing all previously unimpressed avians to reconsider how bad the downpour really was.

As Judy took those last tenuous steps toward the gateway twice as tall as she was herself, she called the ZPD for backup, just in case. As she went to open the door with the utmost hesitance, holstering her radio with the other paw, Manchas came barreling through the door, tackling her, sending them both flying right to the floor a few metres away. The door swung outwards with force and smashed against its hinges' limits, tearing one atwo in the process. The wooden rectangle, rounded at the top, now hung haphazardly at an odd angle. Her radio sailed through the air, skidding along the floor and across the flimsy railing nearby and into the void of fauna below.

Manchas savoured the squirming meal he had caught. With gnashing jaws and crazed, gleaming pupils, he pinned her. She writhed and wriggled for a moment before, against anything he would believe possible, Judy went ahead and punched Manchas' nose with such strength he stumbled back a bit—blood drizzled from it instantly, his ears hanging low, his lip curled. Before the panther had any time to cope with the sudden hit his prey had dished out, Judy used her newfound freedom to deliver a powerful double-kick. The impact sent the heavy body of the jaguar prone with a thud, a bit away from her.

The feline seemed undeterred, however; he didn't take long to recover, righting himself. Manchas switched targets, now rounding on him, stalking toward him on all fours, his body held low, his maw slightly ajar, dripping copious amounts of saliva barely noticeable through the heavy rainfall. Nick could only flinch and freeze in reaction, a thousand thoughts running through his mind.

Judy attempted to intervene and dashed toward his position intersecting the stalking Jaguar and him. Whatever she intended to do with that momentum was lost, however, as she just ever so slightly lost her footing at the moment of her jump, sailing through the air with as much grace as a thrown brick.

One of Manchas' ears perked, his eyes widened, and a paw as large as her head connected squarely to the centre of her tiny frame. He swatted her not unlike a fly. She was sent to the floor like a volleyball, grunting and sliding across the rain-soaked floor. Despite rolling over several times, she caught herself on the very precipice of falling to the depths below the platform. "Go... Nick...! Go!" she yelled at him between coughs and grunts.

He contemplated taking the gondola that was just behind him but instead decided, for some reason, to stay right there and aid the bunny. He could see the telltale signs of the jaguar preparing to pounce.

If he didn't do something right now, both she and himself would die that day. He had to do that. He had no other choice. It was a deadly tango he wouldn't dance if there was any other way. He had to. He had to and hope he didn't lose himself in the fight. He had to do it; he had to try. He had to.

Taking a deep breath, he placed himself deliberately on all fours, embracing it partly, like flexing a muscle.

Fire began to smoulder the frayed edges of his mind. His vision narrowed further, not unlike he was sure his pupils did. Time slowed down for the briefest of seconds as he heard each individual raindrop impact the ground. He heard the heavy, growling, snarling, panting of the jaguar and the desperate grunting of Judy nearby. Everything was different and yet the very same. Yet, it wasn't enough; he needed more. He wouldn't survive this otherwise!

'Save yourself. Save Judy. Save yourself. Save Judy' was his mantra throughout, the thing he fought for, the thing that allowed him to stay sane enough to do what was needed.

His thoughts burned brighter than the stars themselves, as every fibre of his being felt like it was torn asunder at the very same time. Everything began to have an outline, a secondary colour, or something like that—he couldn't describe it. He was not quite himself anymore.

He felt the dirt and wood beneath his paws, the rain wetting his fur. He felt it all.

He smelled something like fresh rain and mowed grass mixed with fear, adrenaline, surprise, and outrage. He smelled it all.

His eyes slit further, his vision sharpened, and the growls from his throat came without thought. He clung onto the shred of sanity he had left himself with.

Time sped up without any warning. Some part of him recognised the jaguar now mid-leap. In desperation, Nick jerked out of the way, his limbs moving of their own volition. He jumped spryly slightly to the right. The jaguar took note of this and tried correcting his course mid-air with some success. The very tip of his claws ripped his shirt open, grazing the flesh beneath. Blood started trickling from his veins, tainting his clothing.

Manchas was at such an angle mid-air that he rolled over once he hit the ground. Unerring as he was, he went right back to stalking towards Nick, his nostrils flaring.

Nick felt his savage side capturing more of his mind, but he needed to hold on. He had no hope of actually defeating the jaguar without any aid, so he had to think of something. It didn't take long for an idea to form.

He studied Manchas' prowling as Nick slowly backed up and to the side, keeping his gaze fixed on the larger predator. Nick's head jerked without control now and again, like a faulty servo.

The fox was where he wanted to be now. Manchas was made to pounce, and so as to encourage that, the fox looked away on purpose for a second, no matter how hard the feat was for him. Not a breath later, Manchas leapt at him as expected. He leapt to the side himself with all the strength his hind limbs could muster.

A clear ringing like a hammer striking a bell told him he had succeeded without needing to look at the scene. Manchas had impacted the light pole right behind him, stunning him severely in the process.

With a scream louder than Nick could remember ever doing, he threw his head back. The following headache hit him like a gunshot, but it worked; he had wrestled back the upper hand—it had actually worked!

"Come on!" he called out to Judy and lifted her by one arm up to the platform. She was surprisingly heavy for her compact frame. Despite it all, he was still a hunching, growling, snarling mess, not quite sane and not quite as savage as before.

Another growl came from behind, and just as they had steadied themselves on the platform, the jaguar prowled towards them once more.

Now the real tango began; he would fall to all fours very soon.

He didn't care about the size of his opponent anymore. He was ready to defend what was his! He was a cornered, wounded, savage animal. He would rip, and he would tear. He was famished. He felt like he hadn't eaten in a whole season. He couldn't eat when he was dead. He needed to survive. He would survive by all means. It was him against the world, and they stood no chance! He would show it to them. He would show it to them all. He would rise above them all—above them all! He would—

The feline made a hint of sanity return to his eyes as he mocked a charge at them. Without thinking, Nick stumbled backwards, taking Judy with him. They were freefalling into depths unknown; all Nick saw was the savage muzzle of Manchas staring over the precipice, getting smaller and smaller as the distance increased.

Just in the nick of time, Judy caught onto a vine from which they both swung high, high above the ground. To his dread, she told him she'd let go of the vine soon. She gathered momentum before letting go at the very right time. Their screams outdid the rain in volume as they flung through the air. They landed in a heap of vines and foliage, holding them aloft for some time. Not too long after, however, their screaming renewed as they sailed through the air once more. When they finally stopped, they were tangled together two metres or so above ground back to back, upside down, breathing heavily, held taut by a vine that slung around them. He still growled at everything and nothing. He growled at her, at himself. The fight still raged on. He had gained ground only for it to recapture it. Back and forth and back and forth. She didn't seem to mind in the slightest; he could just make out annoyance wafting from her in droves.

When he had regained further sanity, he noticed her uniform, much unlike his own clothing, to be mostly intact thanks to its durable fibres. That—if he guessed right—ceramic vest was sure to have helped her survive that devastating paw swing.

The stragglers of the civil war inside of him were snuffed out as the rainforest was bathed in alternating red-and-blue lights as what seemed to be the whole of the ZPD showed up.

Nick felt like himself again and just followed Judy sheepishly at quite a distance as she led police Chief Idris Bogo, a Water buffalo of impressive stature and grim disposition, upwards a dirt trail and toward the vantage point they fell off minutes earlier.

"No, no, no, no! He was right here; he went savage!" she exclaimed, full of desperation that Manchas had now turned to thin air.

The Chief sighed and signalled most of his Officers to return to their headquarters. "Maybe any large predator looks savage to you, Hopps," he told her.

"Look, he's bleeding. Does that look like I did it?" she pointed out in exasperation. Indeed, his shirt had three distinct claw marks across it, larger than his own could make.

She tried to say something further, but he shut her up with a raise of one hoove while Nick watched the scene unfold from the sidelines, outside the circle of cops that had gathered, enclosing Judy and Bogo.

Bogo cast his gaze toward fox; all Officers immediately made way, enabling a clear line of sight between the two. Nick's Pawaiaan shirt was stained red, not a whole lot, but it was noticeable. "You. Rhinowitz," the Chief stated gravely, pointing toward a rhino standing the closest to the fox," See to his injuries. If it's grave, call the medical team."

As Rhinowitz kneeled before him, examining his injuries carefully, he could see the buffalo rounding on her.

"I don't know what happened here or what you believe to have seen," he snorted. "Say I believe you, and this fox didn't sink his claws into you and himself for the fun of it and there really had been a savage jaguar... You went far, far beyond your capabilities, endangering both yourself and a civilian. You are neither experienced enough nor educated enough to spearhead your own little private investigation, engaging every predator that looks savage to you. When I told you, you were allowed to investigate, I wasn't talking about this.

"What you have done was reckless, unlawful, and plain ignorant. I have seen enough of this. You failed."

After a pregnant pause, he added, "Badge!" holding out one massive hoove towards her.

She tried to speak up, but he just repeated the word even louder.

Nick didn't know what spurred him to action right then, but this rabbit wasn't losing her job. She didn't deserve it. As much as he hated the guts of all of them... Hell, she had saved his life! That alone placed a huge debt on him that he couldn't just ignore. It was a matter of honour and obligation.

Nick strolled towards the two of them with his bandaged midriff, explaining to the Chief quite respectfully that there had, indeed, been a savage jaguar there and that Judy didn't intend to engage him; instead, he engaged them—no matter if he believed all of that coming from a fox or not. Further, he revealed kindly but still quite firmly that he went with her of his own volition, absolving her of any fault. To top it off, he reminded him that Judy had been given 48 hours to solve this case, and they still had 10 left.

With shocked expressions from all surrounding Officers, he led her into the gondola, with the badge.

"Thank you for having my back there. I could have died without you," she informed him with a little smile. Her voice was just that tiny bit shaky. That was understandable, really. What wasn't understandable was what he had just done! And now she was even commending him for it?!

Having your back? I needed to go savage... I could have done anything. I— Again, he sought distance. He was still vulnerable. "Same goes for you," he told her instead.

"You know, I haven't always been this way," he admitted. Maybe it had been the events right then, or maybe he still felt he owed her something, but, despite himself, he proceeded to open up a fraction, bringing up the fact the Chief hadn't believed him right then. He explained that everyone could only be what they were born to be, so he could only be a fox, with all connotations that he brought with it.

"You are so much more than that," she had replied sincerely. Never had prey spoken to him like that. It took an effort to hide his emotional turmoil, but he managed it. The bulb of contempt flickered for a moment as compassion unwinded it, but he was quick to screw it right back in its socket.

As soon as he was apart from her, he untensed noticeably, putting a paw to his forehead as it throbbed in concentration-induced pain. It helped she didn't fear him, but he would need to keep up his prey posture. He needed to focus as much for her sake as for his. Now she was gone, and he was alone close to his apartment.

He really needed that bio time now. As he didn't have a proper job, he always had time for some stress relief. It was neither bar nor brothel he craved; this tension was one of instincts, and there were only select ways to alleviate that pressure. There were a few things that one could do at home free of charge. He disliked leaving there unless really necessary. Meditation was effective but rather boring; he was never good at it, either. Solitary confinement was another option, but that, more often than not, just stalled the issue instead of resolving it.

Instead, he opted for one of the much more conventional approaches. The establishment nearby would suit. The weather was favourable for his purposes. Frankly, it always was, considering the climate-controlled nature of Zootopia, but that wasn't the point he was trying to make to himself.

Then there was the whole thing with arresting the Mayor. The cliffside asylum harboured several mammals that were savage, all locked up for their own safety, it seemed. They were conducting some form of research there. The Mayor, upon his arrest, tried to explain that he didn't know what was going on either and that he was merely trying to help, but no one believed him at the time. He did the right thing for the wrong reason, and, had they known it at the time, perhaps things could have gone differently if they hadn't arrested him but instead aided his research.

Speaking of going differently... After that, there was the press conference. He was still under Judy's guard, so naturally, he attended the conference as well.

They had been there sometime before it officially started. They conversed for a bit as the crowd continued to thicken. While a part of him would have loved to see her fair in front of everyone, he gave her some actionable advice beforehand. It was probably for the best; he needed her not to mess up; the press conference would shape the opinion of all of Zootopia. Any given thing she said now would be taken for the objective truth despite what she may say afterwards or even during the same breath. There needn't be any more distrust between the species. That would be bad for business. If he were the one speaking, he wouldn't divulge much at all. They lacked information; something was wrong with all of this.

A few minutes before she had to go up there on stage, she brought up something that made him feel a lot of different ways in rapid succession. First, he thought he was making a big, elaborate joke. Then he guessed she was just trying to see how he would react. When he then noticed her stern expression and her drooping ears, it was clear she was serious. Despite that, he asked as much.

"Yes, Nick," she told him, pressing that piece of paper further towards him. "I really think you have potential here. You did so much already. Maybe I'm crazy, but at least consider it."

"You really want me as your partner?"

"Well, you could be," she laughed nervously. "You could also choose anybody else. You will probably not find the right one straight away. Not every predator works with every prey. It's a rather long phase of forced acquiescence, or so I've read.

It was too much for him, so he just spoke what was on his mind, giving a noncommittal answer. "I'll consider it."

As the voices around them grew louder, Dawn Bellwether, Mayor Lionheart's secretary, approached her and quickly ushered Judy onto the stage, but not before looking at him a second or two longer than would be considered normal.

It was clear she was overwhelmed from the very start. Reporters started asking questions left and right. The question on everyone's minds also came. "Why is this happening?" a gazelle reporter with black glasses, clad in a decently long skirt, asked.

She chose to answer that honestly. "We still don't know."

'Ok, so far, so good,' the fox thought. As long as she didn't say something stupid, they could get away unharmed.

A rabbit with a silver wristwatch, black pants, and a green tee dared to speak what everyone thought. "It is known that predators go savage under certain circumstances already. What does this new development mean for Zootopia?"

A grey lynx from the reports chimed in with a similar question. "If you don't know why this is happening, does that mean predators go savage at random? What can we do?"

The crowd separated into predators and prey now—even the reporters did. He heard voices all around him muttering in distress and fear; the air was tainted with those emotions.

Predators feared hurting or killing their loved ones. Prey feared for their lives.

She tried to defuse the situation, it seemed, but all she did was stoke the fire. "Yes, predators already go savage. What I mean is thousands of years ago, uhm, predators survived through their aggressive hunting instincts. These are still here in some capacity. For whatever reason, they seem to be reverting back to their primitive savage ways."

Not only did she not have a tenth of the information she needed to make a statement like that, but she wasn't even a predator herself! She didn't know the intricacies of it at all.

After all, he couldn't deny that what she said was truthful, but that didn't mean she should have said it. This was helping no one; it was merely spreading mistrust.

Some reporter he didn't see asked, "So is or is it not possible predators might go savage unwarranted as has happened now?"

Again she replied in honesty. "It is possible, we—"

The crowd immediately went outraged, shouting their disapproval. Prey flocked further together, while some predators looked at each other or themself with doubt. In contrast to the prey, they stepped away from one another.

What Judy still said was barely audible beneath the chaos. "...must be vigilant, and we at the ZPD are prepared and here to protect you."

Now the crowd really tripped over themselves with all the questions. He stared in disbelief as Dawn hurried up to the stage, ended the interview, and Judy came towards him.

He crumpled that sheet furiously inside his pant pocket. She had fucked it all up. Predators didn't just go savage—the guidelines prevented that; there was always a reason, someone overstepping a boundary, and all these cases lacked that. That just wasn't it!

Hell, she should have lied but not told them they didn't know. This was bound to have consequences.

She was really like them, wasn't she? She saw all predators as unpredictable, didn't she? And here, he thought she was different.

When they were in a slightly secluded spot, he let the bomb blow, taking a step toward her, snarling. That was all it took for her to reach for her predator repellant. She wasn't any different. And that after all they had been through...

She trusted him not a dot, not a smidgen, not an iota. She was afraid of him just like she was afraid of Manchas, just like she was afraid of probably all predators. He wasn't the only one with a facade, it seemed. Only he could hide it better. Whatever made it possible for her to combat Manchas, he wasn't certain, but she was positively terrified doing it; he had smelled that. While that situation had been totally mutual, her smell right now wasn't much different.

She tried to explain herself, but he just told her, "You've said enough," in a gravelly voice before stalking off.

Behind him, he could hear mammals blocking her way, inquiring about things he only half paid attention to.

"—fox just go savage?"

"—to hurt you"?

"Are [...] to press charges?"

"He is my friend!" she countered. He heard that clearly.

The ensemble gasped. "So we can't even trust our closest ones."

This was too much. He drowned it all out, shutting himself off from the world. It grew easier the further he was away. Where he went? He didn't know. Anywhere. Anywhere except here, with her.

He thought he was a good judge of character. Apparently, he wasn't. It was stupid, really. Prey. Pah! Prey was always the reason for his troubles, and this right here just added to that string of events. They were all the same, yet... she had gotten to him.

He didn't know what happened afterwards, but he didn't see her for several months. The city, as expected, went into an uproar about the notion of predators going savage. Well, they did already go savage, but that was few and far between. It didn't really matter to him; predators and prey were present in almost equal parts of the city.

Against his expectation, he managed to make the cons work despite it all. Fair, dealings with prey worked even worse than they had before, but he could comfort predators with some of his own knowledge and experiences. Granted, he didn't know a lot, but a bit more than most, and with his disarming personality, he could make it appear as if he knew way more than he did. His hustles worked all the better.

When she returned, he was kinda glad about it. Well, not for seeing her but for doing something different. He didn't know why, but it somehow felt good doing something else. She stormed toward him with her new realisations, managing to impart at least some of her eagerness onto him.

He couldn't stay mad at her. Prey was afraid of predator. She was young and naive, a misguided judgement call on the day of the conference. She would learn to hold her lip when she didn't have all the information. What she had done was horrendous, but he wanted to forgive her. He just... did. She still had the carrot pen, he guessed, but it wasn't really his top priority to get it back. There were other things to worry about, and he didn't think she'd use it against him any time soon.

Then, eventually, in the end, the apex of the case followed; the apex of the case was the nadir of his life.

Two words: the pit...

The pit was nothing against Manchas. He started recalling the pit but screamed instead, banging his fisted paws against the wall. No! He wouldn't think of it! No! No! Judy... no!

The Nighthowlers... switched with... blueberries. Pit. Close. So close. Too close. Blood. Her blood. Grass. Adrenaline. Hunger. Jaws. Throat. Headache. Blurred vision. Recoil. Calm. Run. Run far away. Run back to bridge. Tranquillity.

He couldn't bear to fill in the details. He couldn't bear the scent he still smelt, the sensations he still felt, the noises he still heard.

Once that incident had passed and he had found the darkest recess of his lodging, he was restless there, sitting for hours on end. He couldn't help but shake their first encounter in Jumbeux's. It had taken him several days until he got it.

She had been disappointed in him. She had been... disappointed... in him? She. Had been. Disappointed. In. Him. Disappointed? Prey had been disappointed in him? Disappointment meant expectations. That meant she... she... had expected more of him?

He had tried carrying on after that realisation, but it just wasn't the same anymore. He wasn't the same anymore. He didn't believe he could be something more than he was, and he tried to deny that notion with all his heart. She had had some impact on him.

The meat no longer tasted of meat. The occasional fling no longer titillated him. The TV shows no longer held his interest. And... the hustles... even the hustles were no longer exciting. He no longer felt good about it. He didn't want to admit it, but that was the truth. He could still do it—all of it—but his heart wasn't in there anymore.

The crumpled piece of paper she had given him at some point or another had still been legible enough to read. Whatever the authorities thought at the time about a fox applying at the ZPA, he'd never know. Surprisingly, he hadn't been treated in any special way he could make out. They hadn't thrown it out either, evident by the floor beneath his paws and the roof above his head.

The ZPA had been his latest option. With no real motivation for anything to speak of, the ZPA would at least keep him busy and away from her. He didn't want to relapse. Who knows if he might? He hadn't gone savage before. Well, not when he didn't choose to. Not around prey, not in public.

His stress wasn't quite as bad now. He was being fed loads of stimuli on a daily basis, distracting him from anything not surface-level. Except now; now, he was defenceless against the onslaught of his own thoughts. He had to admit that there were some benefits to the ZPA, a lot, even.

She is extraordinary.

This isn't about her.

It... isn't?

It isn't. This was never about her; this is about me. This is about what I do. She is of no relevancy. You want to leave.

Did he want to leave? He wasn't certain. For every reason to leave, he could find a counterpoint as to why he should stay. Was he really the same? He couldn't have changed. He had always been happy doing what he was doing. But, somehow, he felt happy right here, too. Maybe even happier than before. But then again, it could just be the change from the monotony that excited him.

What even is happiness?

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

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