A door. What was the meaning of a door? What was its purpose? What were the ramifications? Nobody was to dispute the irreducible necessity of doors, for an absence of them would see oneself remaining in one room ad infinitum. That wouldn't work; one would grow weary and dilapidated, rot of mind and body setting in. Doors were omnipresent; one could not navigate life without encountering several. To leap a threshold meant as much—if not more—than abstaining, but a door wasn't merely a rectangle of matter to divide two areas; it was a gateway, a decision. Every door was a decision.
To step through or to turn one's back? For all her life, she'd been stuck in the same room, standing among her brothers and sisters, until eventually, she had found that one door everyone else had no interest in, forgot, or denied existed. That door had led her here. But that door wasn't the one she was focusing on—that door had been her dream, though now she wept in silence for having grasped its handle—rather, the door of her apartment was the one of concern.
Ironically enough, those two doors meant much the same. She might have stepped through one, but she could still deny the other and perhaps mend things, return to the first, walk through, and never look back. Once forsaken followed tragedy. Twice forsaken? She didn't know.
Her heart was beating a mile a minute, the shadows whispering conspiracies as blurred shapes gained predatory outlines. That door. That door was killing her. She should cave. That was the logical decision. Yet... twice forsaken? No. That wasn't her. Judy grit her teeth, her entire body tensing. Shaky limbs were wrestled back under control. She fought with the darkness, digit-to-digit, banishing it into the crevices of her mind, back into submission. She'd gotten this far, and she wouldn't stop now. No. She'd wear her blues, put on her belt, adjust her radio, and go out there with her head held high now that her free days had passed and she again had the chance to prove herself. She just needed a single one.
That. That was her.
And with that, she leapt to her paws, throwing her blanket from her body. Digits collided with the cool boards, and she compulsively surveyed her environment. A shiver ran through her spine as she hastily gathered her blanket again to place it on her bed just right before folding it in half. Her morning routine once had this calming effect on her, but now the black of closed eyes revealed afterimages of her nightmare. While the beat of her heart might have slowed a little, the pressure of fangs on her throat and that taste of iron on her tongue wouldn't go. Berating herself was of no use, but she could not stop from doing it; this irrational fear was crippling her. Others feared the same things daily, but she wasn't like them. Judy got her badge from the windowsill and clutched it in her palm, leaving the sharp edges to imprint on her pad. It would not do when such fantasies clouded her judgement. She shook her head at the marks there. When she looked out the comparatively tall window, a smile brightened her face as a particular thought set in. She hadn't checked her app; perhaps she would have that one chance today. The other times had been nothing but flukes. Her body was fighting her, but she knew what she wanted. She'd just need to patrol with someone, and she could finally show them all how much value she added to the ZPD. They'd finally give her a predator to partner with, and everything would be as it should be. They had to—had to!—be aware of her skill. The page loaded. Five seconds passed. Ten. She tapped her paw on the ground a mile a minute. Twenty. A minute? When she could finally see her entry, her ears just drooped.
Soon, she had dragged on her blue ZPD pants out of which stuck her short and white tail, put on her hind-paw protectors, fastened her utility belt, donned her bullet-proof vest, and managed to get her shirt over it, her ears proving quite the nuisance all the while. Her black tie was fastened shortly after, which made her almost ready to depart. The durable ZPD garment had two breast pockets, with her name tag above the right one and her badge above the left. Yet, she frowned, tracing the object in the space above the right pocket but below her nametag—her rank insignia. Two lines converging at a 45° angle, facing right, essentially a triangle without its bottom side... The '1' on her shoulder couldn't be argued with; she was on the lowest rung. The warning vest now hiding both rank declarations made her almost glad. Almost.
No. Her entire life had been a lie. She'd have to crawl back to her parents. It wasn't true. It didn't matter. "No!" She would not forsake her dream. With a thump, her fist collided with the wall. She didn't feel the impact.
Out the door and a short walk later, she found herself at the local bus stop consisting of a roofed bench with a bus stop sign. The high-speed trains really were mostly for cross-district travel, and taking the bus was subsidised as opposed to any other option—it wasn't like public transit was unreliable either.
She'd been assigned the day shift, but she wasn't the only one working as it turned out; from afar, she saw several mammals looking to take the bus as well. Two sloths clad in black business attire were holding a 'conversation'—though to her, it was just barely fast enough to be understandable—instinctively clinging onto whatever rod or nook their arms could reach. Further, a deer of some species was reading a book with his head held high, and a moose was browsing their phone, his prominent antlers in swinging gleam. Those folks were close to each other on one side of the bench, though there was a trio of wolves wearing casual clothes on the very other side. As she approached the station, the sight of them made her halt. One. Two. Forced steps were necessary to go further. She could... well... she could take a Prey-only bus stop not too much further, but that wasn't an option. Not to her.
That wasn't her.
What would that look like? She'd just be proving them all right. She could do this. She had done this before. Once she got there, all eyes rested upon her for a moment before hushed murmurs went about, shortly replaced by the mammals returning to what they had been doing before. Again, she was presented with a choice. It could be a few minutes before her means of transportation arrived, so was she to stand or to sit down? Standing was the Prey option—the prey option—the safer option. She could pretend to be browsing her phone and would look semi-authentic doing it, but even if nobody knew, she would know. Hopping up the bench proved second nature, though the forced strides to get there felt almost the same. She let her legs dangle in the air, right in the middle between the deer and the closest of the three wolves. Both turned to face her, and just then she realised the whole pretend-to-be-deep-in-thought plan was a very good idea. The deer looked away. The wolf did not.
The wolf did not?! She knew it to be true from her peripheral. Her body was heating up, and one of her hind legs started to twitch no matter how much she counselled, argued, pleaded, and even begged it not to. Her blood began to race, sending her mind sputtering for a solution. Face him. Face him. Face him, she repeated to herself. She had to face him; that's what officers did, what she did.
She faced him. The wolf in question was clad in a green muscle shirt out of which a tuft of light grey fur grew. His black baggy pants reached to his ankles and his tail lay motionless to her side. Of much more concern, however, was his facial area, turned to her. A low growl rose in volume as the wolf sat with his torso still forward. He caught her within his gaze, flexing the sides of his maw in turn with the twitching of her leg, revealing the lethal cutlery glistening within. There was clear exertion in his face, but also pain... and fear. His head jerked in futile attempts to look away from her, but he ultimately resigned from wear, his slit pupils burning holes into her being.
The predator raised a paw. She almost bolted on the spot, barely managing to at least prevent that. He simply wiped the saliva slowly seeping from his long snout with the back of his hand. He inspected it for a moment, watching mesmerised as beads travelled across his fur and rallied to the tips of his digits before splattering on the metallic surface they sat on.
His torso turned towards her. She couldn't help but notice from the corner of her eye that the Prey have taken notice of the situation. One may have stood up and slowly backed away, but that was difficult to tell with a growling Predator at 12 o'clock.
Where was the police when—? She—she!—was the police! She had to act before this became a repeat of... She didn't finish that thought. Not only did she draw a blank as to what exactly she was thinking of, but a voice rang out, too. "Greg!" a wolf said.
"Greg. Get a hold of yourself, Greg." A wolf shot to his feet and took the aggressor's head between his paws, yielding a perfect mugshot-like image in side-view to Judy of two predators, black nose to black nose. The aggressor tilted his maw up while the second wolf tilted his down, both sets of fangs flashing in the pre-noon sun. Another growl erupted, a much louder one, but from the mediating wolf this time. The first wolf retaliated with another growl, to which the second growled even louder. She tried to take action in aid of the intervening wolf but found herself unable to even blink. In fact, she had to actively fight losing consciousness as she watched the edges of her vision turning dark.
The wolf with the green shirt whimpered after several more minutes of ceaseless eye contact. "I..." he breathed. The mediating wolf took a cautious step back, holding his temples and panting hard. The third wolf, meanwhile, just stood back and observed the whole scene from a metre away, his gaze held to the pavement as his tail hung to the floor. After a minute or two, the mediating wolf let go, took a step back, and extended a paw. "You good, Greg?"
"I... I think so, Jack." He took it, stumbling haphazardly forward, threatening to make contact with the pavement. He glanced at her and mumbled an apology. The mediating wolf just shook his head, instructing both his kin to go ahead. Judy took note of the windswept street, not a single soul bar the one wolf in any direction. He began addressing her, assuming predator/prey etiquette by remaining a good distance away, hiding every tooth and claw he had. But not only did he do that, but he also knelt as one might to a queen before speaking in a voice with few high or low notes. His muzzle now roughly matched the height hers was on. "Officer Hopps, my friend has harmed your honour deeply and therefore have I. Nothing I could ever say can begin to make up for what we did, but I will say we are deeply sorry for what it's worth." His face bore the weight of a boulder, his eyes sinking to the floor. "I... I don't know what came into him. That lazy fuck..."—He whispered that—"...probably skipped on bio time again, thinking he was above that or something. I accept any and all punishment. I understand if you want to see our records, too..." He raised his muzzle to await her judgement.
For the second time today, she drew a blank. Judy placed her paws on her hips and held them more firmly than strictly necessary. Thinking about it, she might have dug her short claws in a little as her brain lit on fire, scrouging for any pice of information that would help her here. "F-F—" She gathered herself, though her voice was still more shaky than she would have liked it to be. "From a legal point of view, neither you nor your friend are in any kind of trouble. I'll waive an inspection of your bio time records this time if you assure me you'll see to all of you getting the proper amount of instinct relief."
The wolf paused, his ears flopped to either side, and when he opened his maw to speak he closed it even quicker before carefully choosing his words. "I... thank you, Officer. I'll make sure this never happens again." Still, he knelt. Seconds passed and she figured out he was waiting for something. Oh!How did it go again? "Uh... your honour is my honour?" That's the phrase, right?
The wolf's eyes widened, though he stood up gradually. "Oh... Ah... I understand. Thank you, Officer." That 'thank you' was as heartfelt as her brother and sister's groans after a double shift of cleaning out the pens. "Thank you very much, Officer," he repeated before briskly striding off the scene. She watched his back and saw that he, too, wiped his forearm across his face and swallowed his spit just before rounding the very next corner a few metres down the street. With him gone, she was left alone with nobody for miles but her thoughts.
She couldn't say that an encounter like this had happened to her before. Cultures were not a simple thing and she didn't want to think about what any other phrase she could have said would have implied. The simple fact she had forgotten how to properly deal with the mere basics of Predator culture was yet another thing she could add to her failures, and she had no doubts that this list would only grow as the day went on.
Too preoccupied with her own thoughts, she simply entered the bus and grasped a handlebar near the door, not even looking at who was sitting on the benches. Zootopia—a hodgepodge of cultures... Though... no, that wasn't the important bit. Say as anyone might, the reason this had happened in the first place was her... again. This had been her fault, and it was insulting to think that they took the blame on themselves. How had they harmed her honour? She was at fault—she alone. If anything, she harmed his honour—if she understood that concept right anyway—by sitting next to them and nearly causing a disaster. If she, Officer Judy Laverne Hopps, wasn't so afraid of being devoured in broad daylight, this whole issue wouldn't have come up.
Judy set one paw before the other to ascend the stairs to the ZPD building. The multi-story complex was equipped with a vast entrance that saw mammals from classification 1 all the way to 4 through it. Just a few feet ahead it was now, though through the alternating columns of glass, each held up by a following pillar of sandstone, she could already glimpse the hustle and bustle of Zootopia's largest police department. There must be at least one predator in there she could be assigned to, no matter what Bogo said. That would be later; she had a duty, as lowly as it was. Just a few more deliberate strides would yield the beginning of another wonderful day of parking duty where she could show everyone how wonderful of an officer she was. Officer Judy Hopps shoved the doors open and donned a smile that reeked, 'I am mentally stable and proud to serve the citizens of Zootopia.'
The familiar sight of the lobby greeted her. White tiles stretched the surface of the ground floor, overlooked by railings from the first floor where most offices and work spaces were situated. Beyond that still was the kaleidoscopic dome of marble and glass in the centre of the ceiling. Her 'goal', however, lay in the basement.
Speaking of the centre, there was Officer Trickleberg at the receptionist's desk. Since when was that daydreamer a dispatcher? Yet, there he sat, right beneath an upscaled version of the ZPD insignia. It read the words 'Trust', 'Bravery', and 'Integrity'. She frowned at them.
Judy got on the small stairs to one side of the desk with a leap instead of three steps. "Hey, Trick," she tried casually. A glimpse into the dispatchers' domain revealed a microphone and a computer with an ultrawide monitor to work with and coordinate, as well as a vast amount of office paraphernalia—pens, pencils, staplers, hole punchers, various written and unwritten papers and printouts, and much more. Why was he here? The question didn't leave her mind. The roe deer was also one of the smaller Officers at the ZPD, only standing a hair taller than a fox might. He had a typical reddish brown coat and antlers with three tines. However, she could have sworn they were less well-kept a week ago; they practically shone now. Had he been polishing them? Regardless, he was indeed preoccupied with staring at something beneath the desk as he sat on his swivel chair. During that extended period of time, she could confirm his lack of rank—only the number two was on his shoulder badge. After a bit, she repeated herself, a loud thump of a leg against metal pronouncing her agitation.
"Agh! Wha— Oh, M— Officer Hopps." He gathered himself. "How may I help you today?" With his posture settled and his chair now closer to the desk, the deer clasped his paw-like hooves together and gave her a nervous smile. She glinted at the golden, gleaming insignia beneath his equally-coloured name tag—a column of two triangles with a tiny bit of space between them, the first facing his right, the second facing his left.
"I've been assigned parking duty... again..."—That word was a tad quieter than the rest—"...so could I have keys to the parking cruiser?
"The small one?"
"...Yes." She sighed.
"Alright. Let me have a moment." Trick pulled out a drawer and his phone and began searching the former by hovering his digit over a key, reading the number, and cross-referencing it with a list on the latter.
"So, you are working dispatch now? I don't see the map on you."
He stopped, directing his gaze towards his insignia for a moment. "Oh, no," he laughed. "I'm not even at the three triangles yet; I'm just here for the reception and to relay information, anything else I am to call in for support. There is a big thing going down in the Nocturnal District. Still, I can't believe Bogo insisted on me of all officers."
"Hold on. Bogo?"
"Yeah. Haven't you seen the quickened gait of everyone? He would not say, of course, but I ponder... He must have quite a workload in such a position. Bellweather did not particularly soothe anyone's nerves, that is for sure."
Bell— Wait. After a moment, she realised what Trick had said before. "The Nocturnal District?"
"Why yes, weren't you told?" No. No, she wasn't. Explaining that she waited for him to continue. "I understand... Yeah, Delea is spearheading the intelligence operation right now from the dispatch room. If I had to guess, everyone being at their preasurepoint forced Bogo to make some unconventional decisions, like this one." She let the conversation trail off which made him resume browsing.
Unconventional decisions indeed. For example, not letting her in on that. Or, even better, not assigning her a partner when every officer ran around like there was a fire to put out. The ZPD really was busy. That had been his excuse when she had asked once, yet that didn't make any sense... If it's at the point where officers are doing tasks they don't have the appropriate rank for, why didn't he do the same for her? Why didn't he flick his hoof and give her a partner, promoting her to Junior Officer? Why was she still on parking duty when they desperately needed all paws on deck? With only a year under his belt... that slacker had somehow accrued two promotions and was quickly nearing his third, already being entrusted with running dispatch despite his lack of rank. Meanwhile, she'd been here three months and not even gotten a partner, let alone a promotion! She tried her hardest time and time again and was just not recognised. If she just had a few inches to her, maybe, maybe then she would be seen as a proper officer instead of a laughing stock one talked about when they weren't present. "Dammit..." It slipped her mind.
"Huh?" The deer stopped again in his task and stared at her. "Nothing." He simply shrugged and, before long, produced the correct key. "Here you go," he said, handing her the black, rectangular remote about the size of her palm. It was attached by a small chain to a ring, which itself held a white plastic ring with the cruiser's four-digit identification number written on it.
Wishing him a good day, Judy trod the familiar way past the desk, out of the lobby, and down the basement ramp next to the stairs—the stairs were quite large for one her size. Reminded at every step. The subterranean floor held the archives, and some holding cells behind a door thicker than all the others by a factor of ten or so. Besides those two, of course, remained the garage which really couldn't be any more ordinary. White parking indicators and concrete-like ceiling-supporting pillars stretched hundreds of square metres, which were illuminated by orange-white lights. Most of the cruisers and their inhabitants were on duty, so her 'Joke-Mobile'—that name had stuck ever since he had so affectionately called it—was easy to find in one corner. She inspected it and fired it up; it was exactly in the same location, with all the equipment in the exact same position as it had left it on Thursday evening. She checked herself over one last time to see whether she had all the equipment she needed. Radio? Check. Utility Belt? Check. Ticketing machine? Check. Tranquillizing pistol? Yeah... She paused. Predator repellent? That cylindrical spray can weigh heavy on her belt. Standard issue, she reminded herself.
Judy inserted the black key into its predesignated slot, and the 'cruiser' whirred to live with electrical zest. The peddles were easy to reach; gathering dust in a corner, she imagined the cruiser specifically bought for PR, for token mammals like her to feel like they mattered. Navigating to the incline leading out of this concrete prison proved simple, though scaling it was another matter. The automatic gear shift made it work, though not without the motor groaning uphill. Soon, she saw the sun cast slight shadows as it hung before its everest in the sky. The yellow-and-blue-striped gate opened before her to grant her passage to the open streets of Savanna Central.
To the left and the right, there stood grandiose buildings, skyscrapers nearly as often as not, all made of polished material with nice slopes and smooth edges. Already the first time when she had come here this district had been the most impressive, reminding her of her elaborate burrows back home. Though, the flora—and the fauna, for that matter—differed largely from what she had known. The terrain was mostly flat, with the occasional minor incline or decline appearing. Palms and shrubs dotted the sidewalks, and parks appeared every few blocks to grace the urban landscape with even more greenery.
As she drove down the wide streets, surrounded by micros larger than her cruiser, trucks that practically towered above and beyond, and roadsters, hatchbacks, pickup trucks, and vans of all varieties and colours, with mammals of various origins piloting them, she kept an eye out for any parked vehicles that didn't meet the Zootopian street laws, as well as inspecting the round sticker at the rear of any vehicle to determine whether they have been inspected within the last two years as per government-mandate.
While she did bad-mouth this particular responsibility, it was crucial to the functioning of Zootopia. She'd always known that every task was as important as any other but keeping that mantra beyond a Rabbit Clan proved difficult when the cultures differed so. Jealousy was inevitable, and she felt herself fall into that trap too, though, for herself, it wasn't so much that she wanted or needed that recognition, the fame, the praise; she simply wanted to be taken seriously and be allowed to do what she came here to do. She wasn't given a real chance, and it started getting to make her sick.
As shadows lengthened, ticket after ticket was printed, though that wasn't a huge feat with these crowded streets and jam-packed parking lots. The radio was silent, bar some officer banter and chit-chat. She wasn't going to participate; she was at work.
When Judy had methodically covered downtown, she progressively ventured further out, where traffic decreased exponentially. So, while not nearly as many cars roamed the streets as deeper in the city, there still were plenty in all directions. Just as she drove past a four-way intersection, she heard a parking meter expire in the distance. About two blocks down and one to the right if she didn't mishear. Indeed, five minutes later, she came across a red sportscar for mammals of classification 2, parked right before a jewellery shop.
She stopped just behind the car, turning on the warning lights of her cruiser before dismounting. After hopping up to the sidewalk, she strode towards the parking meter, inspecting it. "Okay... they paid until 12:39, but it's 12:45 now..." Judy pulled out her ticketing device from her belt. It took the shape of a rectangle with a series of buttons and knobs at the lower half, a screen in the middle, and a roll of paper leading into a printing apparatus at the top. The machine beeped in several pitches before it whirred to live, printing a parking ticket with the ZPD insignia and contact information. A simple jump later, and the ticket was fastened beneath the wiper.
"Whoa whoa whoa." A bell of a door rang, and a throaty voice followed. Almost back to her cruiser, she turned about to see that door just closing, a set of two warthogs emerging. They were bounding toward her. One was male, with a spotless blue shirt and a dapper hat, while the female donned an orange blazer as well as a pair of bejewelled earrings.
"How may I help you, Sir?" She addressed the male who was striding before the female—friends or more, by the looks of it.
Instead of answering right away, the hat-wearing warthog snatched his parking ticket and waived it in her face. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Yes, what is this, and why are you even still an officer? You shouldn't be. Shouldn't you be in therapy or something?" the female added.
Sharp pain. A pound of flesh. Both swallowed.
"Sir, Ma'am," she said, looking at each in turn, beginning to firmly but calmly explain the situation. "I am an official member of the Zootopian police department assigned to parking duty, and this here is a parking ticket issue in accordance with our Zootopia's parking laws. In this street you may only park in designated areas with a parking meter. You have done so, but you've exceeded the time you paid for, which demonstrates a clear infringement."
"Five minutes," he spat. "We've never gotten a ticket before."
"Do you even know who we are?" she added.
"Sir, Ma'am. I understand your frustration and I am sorry for this, but there is nothing I can do."
"Nothing you can do... Nothing— This is outrageous!"
"Outrageous," she repeated, shaking her head.
"Again. I am sorry for this inconvenience, but I am just doing my job. If you have any complaints about this ticket please issue them towards the ZPD or the DMW."
The male grabbed his tusks and rubbed them before throwing his palms above his eyes "Fine," he said, unshielding his face. "Money means nothing to me anyway."
"Have a good day. Sir, Ma'am." She smiled, nodding to each in turn. They expressed their outrage to each other once in hushed whispers more than loud enough for her sensitive ears to pick up. She plopped down in her cruiser with a groan. A frown was etched on her face. The job wasn't praised a lot, especially by those she had to give a ticket to. While proficient at it, she was glad every time she put a ticket under the wipers and the owner wasn't there to confront her. She wouldn't give tickets if she could help it, but that was her job, and she did what she had to. But yes, she was good at it, and that encounter she handled well, too—she could still perform. Speaking off, she was feeling a little peckish; how late was it anyway? Around 1 PM, as it turned out. With the engine whirring, she set off towards the nearest eatery. The streets still seemed foreign despite roaming the Precinct for a while now, a good deal of that being off-duty just to memorise the district. That was nothing to say of the other districts she luckily had not been yet assigned to. To restaurants, bistros or cafes she hadn't paid much attention to while away from work, usually having gotten something for lunch before she set off or nothing at all, skipping that meal to get more work done. Today was not one of the days she could skip lunch, so she was glad when her nearly tourist-like sight-seeing tour concluded at seeing 'Tech's Diner' a few blocks down.
She halted as she approached the door. Printed on the glassen surface was '1-4', which was fair enough; she'd be able to be served just as a giraffe might, though the latter might not be able to order from the inside. The more concerning print was the one beside the green circle featuring a leaf—a red circle with two overlapping canines. The Predator logo. Predators ate here as well. She could leave and search for— No. That wasn't her. Placing her palms on the wooden handle above her head, she practically stormed in there with ears straight and a grimace.
The interior was rather unremarkable. The tiled room was longer than it was wide and about four to five times her height. Several booths lined the long glass wall, overlooking the streets, while the other side featured a counter spanning the width of multiple booths with a patron sitting at every fourth bar stool or so. Despite the noiseless air conditioning she'd come to know in these places, made specifically for this very purpose, the scent of Predator was faint though unmistakable and somehow overpowering regardless, warring with the aroma of cooked tofu, sliced vegetables, and perfume. That was how it smelled with the ventilation and the aid of scent-blocking deodorants, sprays, tinctures, baths, washing gels and whatever other form of scent-blocking remedy every second billboard advertised. She did not want to imagine it undiluted, though curiosity did peak. Her closest experience to that had been in the ZPA, but she wasn't like she was now during that time. She forgot most of the social aspects, just like she forgot how to be like she had been. She wasn't how she should be anymore. That smell... it was somewhat like a tincture of jalapenos, ground ginger, and rubbing alcohol—a dirty, jagged scent that implied bloodshed. It wasn't at all like the one she had imagined to find, the prospect of the smell that was part of setting her on this path, though the smell had something exciting—like playing chase or showering in ice-cold water after having worked in the noon sun gathering the harvest—to it when she came. Now, however? The scent made her react as anyone might. It was exciting in the 'sprint for your life; you are in danger' kind of way. It made her breath catch, and her chest constrict. She wondered how she retained that last iota of agency to not just run off, though she did think about that as her feet actively tried to get her to move out the door again. She was a failure.
No one seemed to pay her any mind as idle conversation carried on. How long had she stood there? As she began to orient herself, she saw the second security and safety measure these places had—namely, a jackal standing in the corner. He was exceptionally tense with eyes as searchlights and flaring nostrils. Clad in riot gear and equipped with a standard-issue tranquiliser rifle, he served as a peacekeeper. And if that didn't give it away, he wore a ZPD badge on his left together with an equally metallic and golden insignia on his right consisting of an arrow facing right, right of a vertical line. Between the arrow and the line was a column of two triangles, with the first one facing right and the second facing left, with a tiny bit of space between each. On his shoulder badge, he had a '6' with a dividing line in black and the arrow facing right beneath that. "Officer," he said with a flat voice. Judy nodded back and navigated towards the closest booth, where two red faux-leader sofas flanked a black table with rough stone beneath a glass covering. Atop it sat a decorative succulent—an echeveria, most likely—in a yellow-glazed pot.
She climbed the sofa with the help of a single step placed before it. As she pulled up her blue pants and readjusted the straps of her hind-paw protectors, someone yelled through the comms. "Did I ever tell ya about that one wolf from yoga class?"
Judy panicked, fumbling for her radio, almost dropping it, but at last, managed to turn it down. When she sighed in relief she was already greeted by a waitress, a female Springbok. Clad in white livery, Judy saw a kind smile and two excellent-looking curved horns of black atop her head. "What can I get you, Officer?"
"Oh, hi... Uh... I didn't really have time to look at the menu. I'd take some rabbit coffee, please, or any other decaffeinated kind you have." She grabbed the menu on the table and flipped through it.
"No problem, Officer. I can get you some rabbit coffee. Size 1, I presume. Big or small?"
After a moment, she answered. "Yes. Small, please."
The Springbok merrily jotted down her order before beginning to speak again. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. I'd like number three, please."
"One spring salad coming right up."
With a mutual smile and a 'thank you,' Judy saw the waitress leave her to her own devices. Speaking off, it couldn't hurt to check in on the news, could it? Her phone had a similar background to her laptop; she couldn't look the two rabbits in the eyes. The ZBC as well as other, more minor news sources, covered the happenings inside Zootopia. She began to read.
A devouring in Tundra Town yesterday. Not common but not unexpected either.
Some celebrity had a new boyfriend. She couldn't care less.
Now this is something. A simplification from the primary literature regarding a research study about cross-party cohabitation. She read that one with her eyes peeled, though she quickly turned to skimming once she learned that no actual practical research could be conducted yet again because of a lack of willing participants. Once the last paragraph had flown by, she had gained no major new information. The study looked at statistics and data when comparing establishments and services primarily catering towards one of the parties and those who catered to both. Toward the end of the article, the researchers discretely reiterated their lament about the lack of participants for any practical trials on both parties. They, therefore, concluded that their findings were speculative and theoretical; they had to cut their investigations short despite the presence of adequate funding—a common issue among these kinds of studies. She rolled her eyes; theory wouldn't get anyone anywhere. If only she had the time to help them out. She would the moment she solved her work issues.
With that thought, a glass plate was set before her. She looked up to see those brown pupils look into her own.
"Have a nice meal," the waitress said."
After reciprocating the kindness, she began to dig in. The salad was made with crunchy romaine lettuce, tender asparagus, and soft but not mushy peas. It had a touch of olive oil as well as a hint of citrus juice as dressing. Though certainly one of her best meals in recent memory, she somehow still felt empty inside. It wasn't the same as back home. Nothing had been. One problem at a time, she woved. When the waitress came back, she handed her the bill, which totalled 7 Credits flat after her 30% enforcer discount—one of many perks the most dangerous and difficult job in Zootopia had. She handed the waitress three squares—first, a yellow Credit and then two red Credits.
"Thank you for your service, Officer," the Springbok said just before leaving. Judy soon did the same, nodding the sentry on the way out, and continued her parking duty assignment. The rest of her day went by in a blur, shadows lengthening. She drove from street to street, handing out tickets and occasionally stopping a vehicle that looked suspicious or had an expired license plate or TÜV. All encounters went without hassle, which—she had to admit—was probably not in small part due to the fact there weren't many of them, and those she had were not with predators.
Her device whirred and blurted, spitting out another ticket she deftly placed on this silver van. The task wasn't difficult, for the vehicle was one for mammals of height classification 1; she could most certainly reach those pedals, though she wasn't sure she wanted to with all that grime in there and the empty soda bottles that littered the floor. She made sure to get away before whoever owned that thing came back. Her phone declared the end of her shift was growing nigh; that was her last ticket for the day. It had already turned half past three, and she should clock out on time at four.
She let her weight be taken by her cruiser's seat, latching onto the steering wheel. A smile somewhere between genuine and forced marred her muzzle. A day well done if one ignored all her rookie mistakes and the inherent pointlessness of her task. No, not pointless, not to Zootopia, but pointless to her career. Pointless. Was she pointless? Her task? Pointless? She gathered breath and exhaled before going insane. The chip-like key inserted, her mobile's electric engine revved to live, and she drove forth directly to the Precinct. The sun began to decent rapidly at this point in time, and a mild chill was felt. Of course she had forgotten to take her jacket with her; damn those who could snuggle themselves in their long fur.
Fortuitously, she encountered no more action-worthy sightings on her way back, relieved when faced with the gate back down to the ZPD's underground garage. She held her phone in front of the scanner, which quickly recognised her and lifted the gate to grant her access. The afternoon light outside dimmed before a nova replaced it; the ceiling lights turned on. A short moment of blindness later, the faded smell of heated rubber and the warmth emanating from cooling cars surrounded her as she navigated around and between vehicles. Left and then right, a free spot presented itself toward a corner where she promptly turned off her 'Joke-Mobile' and pulled the key. Well, that took longer than when she had left, and the large sizes of all these cruisers and response vehicles had certainly made merely spotting a free space more difficult. Now just to get the stuff from her locker and be off home. Home...
Judy took the stairs to the ground floor, her paws dragging, her shoulders slumped with a fist for a paw. An ear perked. The staffroom to the left saw activity; she wouldn't be able to get by without being noticed, so when she passed, she peered inside. The room was of a size to comfortably fit several dozen officers at a time. Through the very middle of it ran a single long table with ZPA-like seats on both sides. All the way on the back wall, there was a sizable fridge flanked by countertops with kitchen apparatus that turned the corner and ran a bit of the way along the longer side walls. The rest of that space up to the entrance door was taken up by a window here and there, a few drawers, potted plants in freshly watered soil within coloured pots on the floor and the windowsills, as well as pictures in frames or posters or banners. These displayed various constellations of officers, be it a new cohort graduating, silly group photos from dress-down days or an office-mandated group vacation, or even promotional or inspirational pieces featuring uplifting phrases, badges or insignias.
One poster was among them she saw even before fully turning her head. It was situated to the left of a window on the right wall so that she couldn't miss it when she walked to the lobby after an agonising day of parking duty. She was on there with a way-to-cheery mug in full ZPD attire above the phrase 'Preserve Our Mission - Join The ZPD Today' with a further line reading 'No Excuse Big Enough; No Mammal Too Small'. Sure. They wouldn't last a minute.
A plethora of officers filled the room, their uniforms as often worn and stained as they were crumple-free and freshly put on. Some were seated and engaged in conversation—some with a phone between them—while others stood looking out of windows, prepared coffee or scrounged the refrigerator or got or put away plates. Before she saw any of that, she saw Tricklberg, who was facing her from across the room, sipping coffee, his mug midair. His eyes widened in recognition, and he set it on the countertop he was leaning against to not-so-surreptitiously whisper to a colleague she didn't see the face of. More and more of the officers ceased their conversing to make eye contact with her, though all but very few averted their gaze twice as quickly and continued where they had left off. Some exchanged hushed whispers.
Most of them bore a line. Judy recognised Clawround, one who didn't, smirking—though when did she not? She was a snow leopard of medium age, bearing three triangles with nothing but a '4' on her shoulder badge. She hadn't quite reached a line, but her next promotion would yield one. There was also Meadow, a female addax leaning across the table towards Cutterson. She bore a '5' but with a magnifying glass tilted 45° instead of the sentry's arrow earlier. Further, her insignia beneath the nametag also bore one triangle instead of two. Despite Judy's ears, the addax's lips moved as if silent, Cutterson nodding. He displayed a '9' on his shoulder badge with a black line beneath and a magnifying glass beneath that. The insignia on his chest held no magnifying glass, though it did show two columns of triangles right next to each other bar a tiny bit of space with not only a line to the right but also one to the left. The triangles themselves were four in number, with the first and the third row pointing inwards and the second and the fourth row pointing outwards, creating a badge-like shape. A grey wolf alone made her want to stay in good graces, but his rank only quintupled the sentiment.
However, there were also some newer hires, like the spotted hyena Righthook from the year before or so, who just then decided to busy himself with the washing machine. He had a '3' and just bore two triangles on his front insignia. The officer right beside him, Silverstar, had been in the same class as Judy and bore a '2', displaying a single triangle. And to think she didn't even equal him in rank; she still lacked her first promotion. That zebra had been one step from failing, and had it not been for herself truly, they would have. Not all the officers here were familiar to her. She could always check on their nametags though that would inadvertently lead her gaze to their insignia—a cruel reminder that evoked a feeling not unlike bathed in oil and engulfed in flames.
"Hey Officer Hopps, care to join us?" Cutterson, of all mammals, was the one to pull her from her trance, gesticulating for her to come inside. He raised his red-glazed thermos bottle.
"I'm sorry, I... have a date." It sounded more like a question than anything else, but one could not just refuse a superior by eight ranks without a good reason. She didn't intend to be spit and roasted, serving herself on a platter to be humiliated. She walked past without looking back. This was a trick, a ploy, a scheme. They were mocking her.
Once she had returned the keys and gotten her keepsakes from the locker room, she promptly exited the ZPD. The cold doors braced her frame as she stood beneath cloud and rain. Autopilot still engaged, she continued her way home until the key to her apartment was turning.
The door closed, and the lock turned. For a moment, just her and the room existed, and she was in stasis. The chill air that would mark the evening soon already showed it's first signs, sweeping through her fur as she stood there with her eyes closed. Considering the day at work, it brought her peace to know she had served Zootopia today, made no mistakes, and behaved professionally all throughout. Now, time to unwind was now on hand, as her evening routine was still a ways away. She did what every mammal in the modern age would do and got her laptop from a drawer beneath her bed. She examined it a bit, running her paw over the top, over the slightly off-colour stickers that were coming off at the edges.
There was a round one, the classical 'Join The ZPD' motive in in blue and gold and black with the badge. Another one, a landscape-oriented one, depicted a multitude of flowers she'd find at home. The last showed a stylised fox smirking with their tongue out and a hint of canines showing—that one she had to order online; not many bunnies shared an interest in predator stuff. She couldn't make herself get rid of it though especially now she'd like to; it bore an eerie resemeblence to another fox she had come to know. Judy reminisced how far that little thing had gotten her ever since it had been gifted. Of course, some action had to be taken to make it able to view what she had really been interested in, but, as it turned out, having many siblings had more than one advantage. Speaking off, she did miss them. A lot, actually. She'd return once the mammals here had finally seen her for what she actually was instead of what they assumed at first. How long that would take, she did not know, but she'd crawl in the mud with her tendons slit until she got there. The article she read during her break wouldn't let go of her, so she pulled it back up.
That was when her entire world shattered. She had lost track of it. She should have never agreed. Midway through re-reading, her ears perked as her laptop erupted into a cacophony of noises. She was calling. She thought of a million good reasons to decline, to close herself off, to go to sleep and continue her crusade tomorrow unimpeded, but... they were her Clan... A rabbit without a Clan was no rabbit. With trepidation, she clicked on the green 'Accept Call' button to reveal a bunny with a coat of black, white streaks running across her face—she'd recognise Becky blindfolded. Judy uttered her name, only for Becky to practically scream in joy.
"Judy!" Her lips were curled all the way up in an almost comedic fashion, her buck teeth showing through the space between. "You're alive! Of course, you're alive."
Of all the thoughts running through her mind at once, Judy couldn't help focusing on one in particular, shaking her head at the insinuation. "Why shouldn't I be? I told you I'd pick up."
Becky groaned. "Yes, I know. That's what I meant. I couldn't belief when you finally answered my messages. I thought you were... were..."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Judy narrowed her eyes, watching Becky squirm on the other end. "Are you trying to tell me something?"
"Well, uh... not exactly? It's just ahem this... big—very big!—city and you know... them. You know I am almost as interested in them than you but uh well theory and praxis—you know, actually being there—are two different things, and the news... I was worried before... and then the pit thing—"
"You did not show them Zootopia news?!"
"What? No, no. No! Nothing like that. I promise on my wedding bracelet." Judy relaxed but still kept an eye quirked, prompting Becky to continue. "Nobody else here knows how to hack; they just see the propaganda like everyone else. Hell, half of them think predators are either a fairy tale or savages or both, and Zootopia is some kind of government ploy for one thing or another. Life's easier that way, I suppose. Not that it's easy, exactly, to get into contact with one."
Becky was rambling. Judy nodded, a breath escaping clenched teeth. "Okay... You were saying?"
"Uh... oh yeah. I was just going to maybe possibly say that ever since you left we kept contact so I uh didn't really actually expect you to cut me out all of a sudden, too, and... and..." A frown was prominent on Becky's muzzle, a tear escaping her eye. "And it was just right after that thing you didn't respond to me anymore, so what else was I supposed to think? They said you survived, but I couldn't be sure. Nobody else knew. I... I was left alone thinking..." She shed another tear.
Judy breathed a deep lungful, and her features softened. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have—"
"I-I thought you were gone, Judy! You are my first-litter-sister; I couldn't have lived with you gone, don't you understand?!" After a pause, she added, "Without you, everything would have gone back to boring around here. You are one of the only ones—and excuse the predator expression—with enough guts to talk with predators, let alone actual real ones in Zootopia. I wasn't trying to say you were weak; you are the strongest one of us. It's just... they are unpredictable! ...And I just assumed the worst when you stopped writing after—"
"They are not unpredictable," Judy insisted. "They aren't. I just... made a mistake." With that sentence uttered, silence came over both. Judy's gaze swept Becky's room. Not much had changed since she had last been inside in person in what felt like another life. In truth? It had been another life, in a way. She saw a question burn on Becky's tongue, so she waived her paw in a 'go on' motion.
"You made a mistake?"
"I..." Sharp pain. A pound of flesh. Both swallowed. "I'm not ready to talk about it."
"I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked."
"No, it's okay."
Another question came then, which Judy should have predicted. "So, are you gonna... return?"
"No!" Becky put her paw to her chin; Judy deflated. "I'm... sorry. I mean... no. I... can't leave—not yet. Not until I've cleared my reputation."
"I didn't mean it like that. I meant for the Winterfrost Homecoming in two months. You are gonna be with us, right?"
Winterfrost. She'd forgotten. "I... don't know. I love you guys... but as I said... I can't leave before I get everything settled over here. I'll try to get things sorted... but I don't think it'll be before Winterfrost.
Judy was sure Becky set off to retaliate—Judy would have done the same—but she worked her mouth soundlessly. At last, she spoke. "I... understand. I'm ready to listen whenever you want to talk, okay? Just... don't scare me like that ever again."
"I promise, Becky."
"Thank you." The most egregious part of their talk over, Judy hoped things would calm down now, but just then, Becky hit her with a cannonball.
"I dont expect you want to talk with the others?"
"Huh?"
"Yeah. I asked you about it? Some of your first-littler-siblings want to talk to you as well. I kinda... had to tell them?" Judy frowned. "Listen, Sharla just walked through my doorframe the other day and saw me chatting with you. She made me spill the beans that we've been in contact after you left and that we talked about calling today... and she perhaps convinced me to at least... tell your first-litter-siblings?" Becky smiled in a way that implied she was about to be hit over the head with a club. Judy bore an expression that implied she was about to hit someone over the head with a club. "You h-have to understand!" she sputtered. "Most of us think you are... well... dead... after the event because you were all over the news and suddenly... you just weren't—as if all records of you had been erased just like that." She snapped her digits. "Nobody had any contact with you. I knew the pit was why you were taken from all the news and I knew the article said you were alive and recovering but even then I had my doubts since you cut contact to me too. But all the others just saw you vanish from the news; they only saw the propaganda and Zootopia didn't report about that event there, and if they didn't see that they would have thought you were a goner the moment you left." Becky paused for what felt like five minutes. "You... don't want to see how our parents took the silence after the pit. Bonnie and Stu... It's been two months since the event, and they barely leave their room since then."
Judy had not considered that possibility. Her anger at Becky vanished. Tears streaked down Judy's chest. Her paws morphed into fists in undiluted fury. She had left them to rot, forsaken them, but she'd also hurt them once by leaving and now again, this time in a way not even her worst enemy deserved to be hurt. "They... don't... know? My siblings know, but they don't!?"
"You only wrote me last week and we wanted to leave the decision up to you. Sharla doesn't share what we have, but even then, I told her that I promised and telling your siblings is fine, but telling your parents that you are alive would just make them ask more questions, and I would have to tell them eventually what really happened because they wouldn't leave me alone and then the whole Clan would know and I think it would just make the two of them even sadder or make them drive there just to get you away or some other drastic thing and we didn't want to be responsible for that. As much as it hurts to see them grief like that it's still your call to make. None of them know about the... event either, not even Sharla—she couldn't force that out of me. That's also your call. I wouldn't know what to do in your position."
Judy wiped the tears from her face and steadied herself. "You can't tell them."
She would not return a failure—not twice a failure. Heartbroken as they and she might be, telling them would only cause calamity.