The door hadn't even closed behind Burke before Judy had taken hold of the tablet and begun flipping back through the images. "This is insane. What is going on?"

Winters snorted, looking down at his phone. "That'd be the million-dollar question, wouldn't it Hopps?"

She spared him an unamused look. "This all has to be connected, but how? What if we..."

Reaching over the table, Winters swipes the tablet from her paws. "This isn't your case anymore, Hopps! Drop it!"

"Someone tried to kill us! You can't just expect me t-"

"GODS-FUCKING-DAMMIT!" The bellow from outside the conference room started all three of them.

"What the hell...?" Winters muttered as he rose from his seat. "I'll check. You two stay here."

"But we..." Judy began to protest.

"Stay. Here."

She nodded reluctantly, staying in her seat until the snow leopard was out of sight. As soon as the door closed, though, she jumped to her feet and ran over to press her ear against the wood.

"Really, Carrots? Really?"

"Shush!" Ignoring her partner's annoyed expression, Judy strained to hear what was happening outside.

"What the hell...?" Winters sounded strange. There was a note of apprehension in his voice that didn't match the tactical officer she knew. "I thought the entire department was on high alert."

"It is!" Even through the closed door, Burke's growl was unmistakable. "Which is why I'm wondering how in the fuck this happened right under our fucking noses?!"

Another mammal said something too quietly for her to make out. Whatever it was, Burke didn't seem to like it. "I don't want excuses! I want answers! As of right now, this is the SIU's sole focus. Understood?"

Taking all of two seconds to consider her options, Judy reached up to turn the handle and silently eased the door open. She gestured for Nick to follow her, not looking back as she crept into the hallway and toward the sound of raised voices. They were coming from the set of double doors they'd passed by on the way in. Though they'd been closed then, they now stood open and inviting. Peering around the corner, Judy barely managed to hold back a gasp.

The room was nearly twice the size of the Precinct One bullpen, with maps of the city and investigative layouts up on the walls. Several mammals were sitting at sophisticated-looking workstations, all facing the same direction, their eyes jumping between their own computer monitors and something further into the room as they spoke softly into their headsets.

Judy inched further into the room, curious to see what they were all looking at. Then her eyes landed on the bank of screens that made up the room's far wall and she came to a staggering halt.

Nearly all of the screens showed a scene of chaos surrounding City Hall. Dozens of paramedics and firefighters could be seen amongst a sea of flashing blue and red lights, scrambling from one place to another as black smoke belched out several windows. One of the larger screens offered a clear shot of the front doors. A steady stream of rescue personnel moved back and forth as they led, helped, and in some cases carried mammals out of the building.

"Oh gods..." Judy murmured, not fully aware that she'd spoken out loud until Winters spun around to glare at her.

"Damn it, Hopps! I told you to stay in the conference room!"

Judy ignored him, stepping forward. "What's going on?"

"Another attack," Winters answered shortly. "Now get back in the confer-"

"They might as well stay, Sergeant," Burke cut in, glancing at the detectives. "They've seen what's going on, and I doubt you'd go back and sit quietly if you were in their place."

Winters scowled at the Captain but didn't deny it. Giving the detectives an especially irritated look, he waved them into the room. "Fine. Get in here."

Nick's eyes swept over the displayed information. "So? What happened?"

Burke nodded to the screens. "Early this morning, the city council was called into an emergency session to address the attacks on the ZPD. They'd just finished roll call when an explosion went off inside the council chambers. An EOD team arrived on site fifteen minutes ago and confirmed the presence of explosive residue."

Judy frowns. "More bombs."

"Exactly."

"Was anyone killed?"

"No, we got lucky there. Shit ton of injuries, though."

Nick stepped forward, scanning the screens until something caught his eye. "Wait a sec. All the news channels are saying it's a gas leak."

"Because that's the story we just gave the press," Burke rumbled. "Whoever's behind this wants mammals in this city to be scared. They want everyone to know what they did and be scared they'll do it again. We're not about to give them the satisfaction of succeeding."

"Shit," Nick said, his ear twitching thoughtfully. Looking up at Burke, he asked, "Do we know how many council members were injured?"

"Fifteen." The bear scowled back. "Why?"

"Which ones? I have a..." Nick paused. "Not a hunch, but..."

"Alright," Burke nodded and turned to an impala sitting at a nearby terminal. "Marks! Have you got a list of the injured council members?"

"One second, sir." Turning back to her computer, the impala spent a few seconds skimming through the waves of incoming reports. "Got it. Kirk, DeStefano, Atelier, and Wessels from the Labour Party. Schoeman, Katz, Egilsson, Bajwa, Al-Abdari, and Marcellus from the Progressives. McCann from the TSP. And five independents; Ross, Jergović, Zuhayr, and Manx."

"Just one TSP councilor," Nick murmured.

"Apparently the rest were still on their way when the bombs went off."

"They were all running late to an emergency session?"

"It isn't uncommon for them, detective," Marks piped up. "TSP representatives have a history of passive-aggressive behavior."

"Seriously?"

She nodded, rapidly scrolling through what appeared to be the city council's original schedule for that day. "Particularly when the council pushes back on their legislation proposals. They put forth a proposed bill to ban the rezoning of residential buildings for multispecies use. It was going before the council today, and McCann was the only TSP councilor who opposed it. He was also the most liberal-leaning representative of their party."

"Oh." Nick blinked. "Uh...thanks."

Burke chuckled, lightly clapping a paw on Nick's shoulder. "Officer Marks here is the best intelligence analyst the ZPD has ever employed." Despite the situation, there was a distinct note of pride in his voice. "If she ever tells you that the sky is falling, you'd better get your ass to shelter."

"Sir?" Marks cut in. "We've just received a positive ID on the Precinct One bomber."

"What? Already?"

"Yes, sir," she confirmed. "Precinct One's external CCTV cameras got a good look at his face and our facial recognition software did the rest." Tapping a few keys, she sent the file to the tablet in Burke's paw. "Sam Barnard, ram. Seventeen years old."

"Shit, he was just a kid," Winters murmured. "Did he have any priors?"

Opening the file, Burke began skimming through its contents. "A few minor offences. Underage drinking, petty shoplifting, vandalism; that kind of thing. Nothing to write home about."

"What about affiliations?" Nick suggested, craning his neck to read the tablet. "Was he in a gang?"

"No gangs, but..." Burke paused. "Damn."

"What?" Giving up on the tablet, Nick moved to look at Marks' terminal directly. The impala reached out to tap her screen and his jaw dropped open. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"What is it?" Judy asked, concerned at her partner's uncharacteristic language.

Scowling, Nick stepped aside so she could see the file. "Just take a look under Barnard's next of kin."

She spotted the name quickly, it might as well have jumped off the screen. "Oh," she winced, glancing up at her partner. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, not very convincingly. "Not looking forward to following up on this lead, though."

"You don't have to," she insisted. "I mean, I can take care of it."

"No, I should do it. If anyone can get that freak to give something up, it'll be me." He took a deep breath and turned to Marks. "Can you print off copies of Barnard's file and the forensics report from the bombing?"

Marks nodded, gesturing to the nearby printer. Gathering up the requested documents, Nick tucked them into a small file folder and made for the elevators.

"Wilde!" Winters barked, moving to intercept the fox before he'd crossed the room. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"Black Rock," the fox responded coolly. "You coming, or should I call a Zuber?"

"Funny," the Sergeant growled, even as he picked up his tactical vest. "Why the hell would we want to go to Black Rock, of all places?"

"Because that's where our next lead is." Despite everything, Nick couldn't help but chuckle at Winters' increasingly annoyed expression. "There's an inmate there who might be able to help us. It's a long shot, but it's still worth following up on; even if he is the last mammal I ever wanted to lay eyes on again."

~o~o~o~

Black Rock Maximum Security Correctional Facility was quite possibly the least welcoming place in existence.

Located on the Northern-most edge of the city, the facility had originally been an iron mine that plunged deep into the heart of a mountain and had been the primary source of the ore that went into building Zootopia's massive steel climate-control walls. Once the ore had been depleted, the city had repurposed the mine into a virtually inescapable prison.

Riding the main elevator down into the prison itself, flanked by Winters, Fraser, and a pair of truly massive Department of Corrections officers, Nick tried to slow his racing heart enough to focus on the task at hand. As much as he'd rather be doing anything else at the moment, he couldn't pass up the opportunity for some desperately needed answers. Taking a deep breath as the lift doors opened, he followed the correctional officers down the hallway, past three security checkpoints, and to the interview rooms normally reserved for inmates meeting with their lawyers.

Pausing in front of the door, Nick closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders a few times, trying to work out the tension he'd built up on the drive there.

"You okay, Wilde?"

Glancing to the side, he was surprised to see Winters giving him an almost concerned look. "I'm fine."

"There's obviously some history here. Someone else can handle the questioning if you're not up to it."

"No, it'll be better if I do it." The fox responded through clenched teeth. "He'll say more if it's me."

"Okay then. Fraser will be right beside you and I'll be on the other side of the glass."

"Gotcha."

With one last deep breath, Nick allowed his features to relax into the generally disinterested expression he'd honed over the years. Opening the door, he walked in with an even, measured pace. Fraser moved in behind him, silently taking post in the corner.

Taking a seat, Nick placed a closed file folder on the metal table, and calmly regarded the one mammal he hated more than any other. "Manger."

"Detective Wilde," the scarred ram sneered back. "Been too long."

"Not long enough, Gordo," Nick quipped.

"You don't call. You don't write. It's enough to make a mammal feel unwanted." Manger's gaze slid over to Fraser, then down to the carbine in the wolf's paws. "Who's your boyfriend?"

Nick opened the folder and idly flipped through a few pages. "I've got a few questions. I think you've got some answers."

"What? No small talk?" The ram smiled unpleasantly. "And here I thought you missed me."

Nick glanced up, his eyes hard. "Trust me, Gordo. If I had another shot, I wouldn't miss."

"There's the temper I remember," Manger grinned. "Thanks for that, by the way. Amazing how a little excessive force can keep a mammal off death row. That really must've chafed, seeing me duck the chair."

"As a member of the ZPD, I fully support the ruling of the Zootopian Court system." He glared at the ram hatefully. "Just between us, though? I think a murderer like you deserves to be dragged out into the woods and shot."

"Ah, ah, ah." The ram wagged one hoof. "Alleged murderer. As I recall, neither you or the DA could dig up any proof to back up those baseless accusations."

Pausing, Nick took a deep breath and restored his calm expression before continuing. "There was an attack on Precinct One."

"And a few other places, I hear. What's it to me?"

"I think you know who did it."

The ram snorted. "That's rich, pelt, but I'm not into that mad bomber shit."

"Maybe. But with the circles you ran in, I bet a few mammals crossed your path over the years who weren't so restrained. I bet you remember some names. Hell, I bet you might even know what they've been up to lately."

"Yeah? And how would I know any of that?" Manger laughed mockingly. "I'm safely tucked away in prison."

"Not that safely," Nick commented. "Accidents do happen."

"Like what? I slip on a wet patch of floor and 'accidentally' bash my face on the table?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I slip and 'accidentally' taser you in the balls until you beg me to let you die."

"That's cute, Detective, but I don't scare that easy."

"Is that right?" Nick asked, slowly drawing a matchbox from his pocket and watching the ram's eyes widen as he drew a single match. He deftly struck it against the side of the box and chuckled when Manger flinched back from the small flame. "What's wrong, Gordo? I thought you didn't scare easy?"

"You're full of shit, Wilde." Manger recovered, although he sounded a little less self-assured. "We both know that's against the rules."

"You're a monster, Gordo. You've attacked six guards and at least a dozen other inmates since you got here. Just who do you think is going to come to your rescue?"

The ram looked to Fraser and received nothing but a disinterested shrug in return.

"Y'know, I don't quite remember what burnt wool smells like." Nick leaned forward, holding the flickering match between them. "I bet you do, though."

"Go to hell, pelt."

"You first," Nick replied calmly, flicking the match in Manger's direction.

Although the motion extinguished the flame almost instantly, that didn't keep the startled ram from trying to leap out of the way. He made it about a foot before being painfully reminded not only that he was still cuffed to the steel table, but that the table was bolted to the floor. Scrambling to stay on his hooves, he looked up to glare viciously at the fox. His expression fell when Nick calmly lit another match.

"Watch the attitude, Gordo, or the next one might not go out."

~o~o~o~

The guard captain scowled as he watched the interaction through the reinforced two-way window. "The detective is dangerously close to crossing the line."

"But he hasn't crossed it. Let the mammal work."

"The inmates at Black Rock are under my charge; even lunatics like Manger." The muscular bison looked down to scowl at the leopard. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't put a stop to this right now."

"Because Manger might have information we need, and Wilde is a professional," Winters responded, easily matching the correctional officer's glare. "He knows what he's doing, so let the mammal work."

~o~o~o~

"You think you're real funny, don't you?"

"I have my moments," Nick shrugged, blowing the flame out and placing the matchbox on the table, idly tapping it with one claw. "Feeling a little more talkative?"

"I wouldn't snitch to save my own ass, Wilde. Did you think I'd do it just because you asked?"

"We managed to identify the Precinct One bomber." Nick commented. "He was just a kid. Barely old enough to have a driver's license."

"What the fuck do I care?"

"His name was Samuel Barnard."

Manger's eyes snapped up to meet Nick's, disbelief written all over his face. "What?"

"I take it you know the name?"

"You're lying." Manger surged forward, the chains holding him snapping tight. "You're fucking lying!"

Looking unimpressed by the ram's outburst, Nick turned the file folder around and pushed it across the table. "The facial recognition results were pretty conclusive."

Manger didn't respond, his eyes locked on a pair of photographs attached to the file. The first was the arrest photo of a ram in his mid-teens, glaring at the camera with the defiance unique to young mammals. The second was the scorched blast crater in the middle of the Precinct One lobby, a pair of ZPD forensics technicians collecting up charred body parts barely recognizable as having belonged to a ram and piling them in an open body-bag. "Sam..."

"It seems your nephew has had a rough time these last couple of years."

Reaching out, Gordon gently brought one hoof to rest on the young mammal's mugshot. "He wasn't supposed to...he was a good kid..."

Nick leaned forward, looking the ram right in the eye. "Think about it, Gordo. A kid like that doesn't go radical all on their own. Someone got to him and twisted him into the mammal that did this. Are you really gonna protect them?"

"I got no idea who did this..."

"Dammit, Manger."

"Shut your hole, pelt!" Even with his wrists chained, the ram still managed to slam his hoofs on the table with impressive force. "I got no idea...but I know some mammals that might."

"Now we're talking." He pulled a small notepad from his pocket. "Whenever you're ready."

The ram eyed Nick silently for a moment. "Let's get one thing straight here, pelt. I hate every single one of you knife-toothed scats. If you all died tomorrow, I wouldn't shed a single fucking tear. But that don't mean I give two shits about all that natural order, race-war shit. Never have, never will."

"Good for you," Nick drawled. "The names?"

Manger's jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on his nephew's picture. "About five years back, this elk comes into the diner. He starts going on about reordering society and getting things back on track, or some shit like that. Had some of the young folk eating from his fucking hoof."

"You get his name?"

"Are you shitting me? Some asshole comes into my place and starts preaching, and you think I went and made nice?" Manger snorted. "I dragged him out back and gave him a beating he wouldn't forget."

"You what?"

"Statute of limitations for assault is four years, pelt." He sneered at Nick's annoyed expression. "So yeah, I beat the hell out of him. Didn't see him again after that."

"Is this coming to a point, Manger?"

The ram's eyes narrowed. "I might've kicked his tail out, but the shit he'd been spewing stuck around. Got into some heads, y'know? Some of the boys liked what they heard. Most of them dropped it after a while, but a few thought we should start getting involved in 'the real fight' or whatever. I ended up kicking them to the curb, too. Got that pen of yours ready?"

Nick nodded, and Manger quickly rattled off a half-dozen names. "That's all of them?"

"Yeah, pelt," Manger confirmed, sounding not a little disgusted with himself. "That's all."

"Well, I appreciate the help, Gordo."

"I ain't doing this to help you, you little skidmark."

"Right," Nick paused on his way out. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your nephew."

"I don't need your sympathy, Wilde. Now fuck off."

~o~o~o~

Nick forwarded the list of names to Marks as soon as his phone had reception again. When he and Winters eventually arrived back at Precinct Thirteen, they were immediately directed to the same conference room as before, where Burke was waiting to brief them.

Lowering the window blinds against the early afternoon sun, the bear took his usual seat and nodded to the wall screen. "So, we followed up on the names your informant provided and...something funny, Wilde?"

"Sorry, sir." Nick shook his head, though he didn't even try to wipe the smirk off his face. "I just imagined the look on Gordo's face if he heard someone call him an informant."

"Gordo?"

"Gordon Manger," Winters supplied with a tiny smirk of his own. "Who, I might add, Wilde played like a fiddle."

"Hold on. The Gordon Manger? As in the Ares Brotherhood?"

"Unless there's more than one prisoner at Black Rock with that name."

"Shit," Burke murmured, impressed. "We've barely gotten a thing out of that psycho in two years. How the hell did you get him to talk?"

"I appealed to his sense of vengeance," Nick shrugged. "You were saying?"

Burke gave the fox a calculating look, as though he were reassessing his opinion of the smaller mammal. "It turns out that pretty much all the mammals on Manger's list are either dead, locked up, or have long since skipped town."

Nick deflated a little. "Shit."

"However," Burke continued, "One of the mammals on the list, Carlo Resnik, was one of Manger's lieutenants. And although he was found floating in the Sahara Straight a little over a year ago with a couple of bullets in his back, when we followed up on his known associates we landed on a very interesting coincidence. It turns out that two of the mammals known to work as Resnik's muscle-for-hire..." He glanced at his notes. "Karl Mikkel, a thirty-four-year-old ibex, and Floyd Grisholm, a thirty-five-year-old camel...were arrested this afternoon waiting for Simone Blaireau outside of the Precinct Twelve building."

Judy practically exploded from her seat. "What?!"

"Blaireau is fine, Hopps." Burke assured her. "The idiots were sitting in a pickup truck across the street, right out in the open. Grisholm tried to make a break for it when a pair of uniforms approached their vehicle, but he only made it a few blocks before pursuing officers caught up with him. Turns out being a chain smoker isn't very conducive to outrunning the police."

"And Mikkel?"

"Decided to attack the officers, instead," he chuckled. "It didn't really work out for him. To quote the official report, 'Upon being told to surrender, the suspect produced a knife and attempted to attack the arresting officers, whereupon we gave that no good hoser a right kicking'."

"Excuse me," Fraser interrupted. "I don't suppose the arresting officers were a moose and a polar bear?"

"Yeah, actually. How'd you know?"

"Officers Robert and Douglas McKenzie." The wolf shrugged. "We're in the same fantasy hockey league."

"Yeah. Bob and Doug are good mammals," Nick agreed, chuckling at Fraser's surprised expression. "They helped me out of a tough spot a couple of years ago."

"Oh?"

"Yup. I was running for my life after lighting a psychotic killer on fire when Bob knocked me unconscious." He waved a paw, dismissively. "It was a whole thing."

"That's fascinating, Wilde," Burke drawled. "May I continue?"

"Right. Go ahead, sir."

"Unfortunately, the only word Grisholm's said since we arrested him has been 'lawyer'. Something we are, I'm sorry to say, still obligated to provide him with."

"That darn pesky law, eh?" Nick's comment drew an annoyed look from the bear. "What about Mikkel?"

"Oh, he's been plenty talkative, assuming you're interested in a wide variety of specist slurs. Other than that, he's given us precisely fuck all."

The fox smirked up at him. "Bet I could get him to talk."

"Oh, is that so?"

"I got Gordo to talk, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I'll give you that one," Burke snorted. "And I'm halfway tempted to let you try."

"Give me a ride out to Precinct Twelve, then. Twenty bucks says I can make him sing like a canary."

"You're not going anywhere."

Nick slouched back in his seat, clearly disappointed.

"Oh, stop moping, Wilde," Burke continued. "When a suspect is clearly linked to a series of terrorist attacks against the ZPD, it's pretty easy to have them moved to the SIU. Grisholm and Mikkel are already in separate interrogation rooms, two floors down."

"They are?"

"They are," he confirmed, gesturing to the elevator. "And after what you pulled off with Manger, I'm willing to give you fifteen minutes to show me what you've got."

"That's very generous of you, sir." Loosening his tie, Nick lightly rolled his shoulders as he made for the elevator. "But I'm only going to need five."

~o~o~o~

END PART 9