Bright green hills rolled by, the grasses clinging to the slopes. In some valleys, there were little pools of water from the recent downpour. On a slight incline, Judy saw a wooden fence surrounding a pasture where chickens dwelt. When she turned her head, she saw another here and another there—non-sentient livestock; they had some in Bunnyburrow, but she never quite found out what happened to them after selling. She now had an unwholesome guess or two.
The train overlooked the street, where a path branched off the main street. Large wheels pressed deep tracks into the somewhat muddy surface, and as it went along, there were vast fields on either side crowded with crops—tall and green corn plants with yellow ears hanging in bright yellow; high-strung tomatoes winding up trellises and topped by a plastic roof to stave the rain; and many more in the distance all about.
There, a bit to the left, rolling downslope one of the larger hills, were row after row of iron beams, breaking the soil in regular intervals. Connecting them was twine or rope under quite some duress, for they supported a plethora of plump green grapes. Summer has come and passed, and now winter was closing in, yet that had no effect in Zootoopia. Vineyards back home would have stopped their harvest long ago. The vista of it all reminded her of home, so alike and yet so different.
Not even agriculture could distract her now, and should it? After all, dwelling on the past didn't help her in the present, or did it? Judy walked back to the train stop with an unchanging smile before hopping on.
The smile was still unbroken. And why should she break it? She had realised that it plainly didn't matter what she did or thought right now, if it even ever had; with every mammal she saw labouring out and about, and with every tractor rolling by, and with every new orchard she saw one fact was clear: she came closer to her destination. Closer, and now even closer still. Judy didn't need to worry anymore, for her absolution was at paw. They turned to fists and her hindpaw tapping redoubled.
When she came to the ZPD lobby, Trickleberg informed her of the simple fact that Cutterson had already headed home. Inquiring after Bogo, the subject of quite a few jokes about sleeping on the premises, surprisingly yielded the same result. So, as it turned out, her absolution needed to wait until the dusk shift tomorrow, for that's when she'd go on patrol with Cutterson.
Her fallen ears rightened, her smile reappeared, and she went home. After all, what was a day against the years spent preparing for the ZPD? A broken clock was right twice a day and she knew now the reality of it all. A minor inconvenience in her greater vision had passed and soon enough she'd have it all: a partner instead of humiliation, a career instead of menial labour, recognition instead of belittlement, and, finally, meaning after over a year of meaninglessness; she'd get mammals to help, an employment she could leverage to make first Zootopia and then the whole world a better, more accepting and peaceful place; and she'd get to interact with Predators in earnest—not like what little she remembered of her ZPA peers—as they'd finally see her as an equal instead of a spineless, purposeless, simple-minded insect.
With those very thoughts, she went to sleep. Even as she instinctually recalled her dreams in the morning, finding nothing, she threw her duvet off, neatly folding it in half and removing any crumples from her sheets. And, after not very long, she had properly clothed and equipped herself—this time without the safety vest. She found her gun holster decidedly empty, though she was never that good of a shot. She'd get that back today, too. It would all turn out right.
For the eleventh time, Judy checked her phone and sure enough, it was well before 1700 when she stepped first into the lobby and then the ZPD break room. All indications would lead her to believe that at least some mammals were to be found here, for it was always like that, and especially so at this time, since the day shift clocked out only half an hour ago. And yet, she knew it wouldn't be so and that turned out true, as if orchestrated. The room was empty, except for a single mammal looking at something on his phone. Even without seeing that grey fur, the darker ears, and those white splotches on and around his muzzle as he cast his gaze still downward for a moment, she had known him to be here and only him. "You!" Judy said.
"It is me, isn't it?" Cutterson said. "Ehrm... that is to say: hello Officer Judyth Laverne Hopps."
Fear jolted through her the moment his broad muzzle turned up and fixed her from across the table, his upper fangs ever so slightly visible past the confines of his maw. A small part of her became transfixed by those intrusive thoughts but it was nothing more than an emotion at the edge of awareness, an idle thought. It was almost like it had been a few months back, but neither fact could hold her attention now. She didn't feel much at all besides the obvious. "Cut the formalities," she said in a voice much too harsh but an apology was just not in her.
"Whoah, I apologise. I'm not sure... if I shed Blood. I was trying to be respectful, you know? I don't know rabbit culture that well and Prey like their titles so—"
Winter's breath was her voice; snowflakes her words—calm, deliberate, and deadly. "Could I get one mammal around here who would kindly give me the straight and narrow and avoid dodging me all the time?
"Or is it that you all think I'm a carrot-brained, flower-eating, crop-farming, good-for-nothing rabbit that should have stayed at home?" Every word grew slower and more deliberate, carrying palpable weight, which clearly left an impact on the much larger canine, for his ears drooped and even she knew what that meant. And in the end, she noticed her fisted paws and besides brief shock, the only notion that came to her was to recall some more of that martial arts training.
"Heh," Cutterson chuckled, short and dry.
"Are you... laughing?!"
"Yes," he deadpanned. "It's actually hilarious. This situation is so serious and yet so... incredibly ridiculous that, in the end, I can't help but laugh even though I know I shouldn't."
"You have a lot to answer for," Judy said through gritted teeth.
Cutterson spoke much more gravely now. "We know. And you will get your answers after the patrol, but this is important. I may be able to tell you some of it as we go."
"I don't want any more lies and excuses! I'll just go to Bogo directly, then."
"Bogo isn't here."
"You are lying."
His fangs showed a hint more and all kindness was lost in his expression. "You shouldn't have said that." Tension grew within the room to palpable levels. At some point, there came three high-pitched beeping noises, closely following each other. Cutterson didn't break his stare but clasped a free paw over his wrist; the noise stopped.
Judy was undeterred and crossed her arms, repeating, "But I have," with just as grave of an expression. She stared into his wide pupils for many moments, focusing on those slightly slit pupils and the Predator they belonged to. She grew hot and her legs felt trembly, though she endured, unwilling to back down, though it dawned at the back of her mind that her accusation was not one Cutterson took lightly.
Cutterson spoke at last, very deliberate in his word choice. "Predators would rather live a life full of struggle, poverty, and without ambition; than to be loved, rich, and famous but a liar—even if nobody knew.
"We'd rather choose death; we have and we will—if necessary."
"But that's... But... why?" Judy sputtered.
"That's Predator business," he said, standing up. He rose to his full height, with his chest puffed out, his hackles raised, and even some of his fangs showing. "Now will you shed your Blood further and wait for Bogo, or are you gonna move your furry little chopsticks and come help me help the people of Zootopia?"
Albeit phrased like a question, it was far from, and Cutterson stomped out of the room. Judy found herself sheepishly following him into the subterranean parking garage and straight into their ZPD cruiser.
Just as he was about to start the cruiser, he paused, producing an object from one of his pockets and handing it to her almost reluctantly; it looked small on his plate-sized paw.
"Use it if you need to... Zootopia and your life are more important. I trust your Blood in judging if you are up to it.
"Sometimes you have to live with the smaller evil," he added solemnly. His gaze became distant, and she grew uncertain if his comment was meant for her.
For a moment, she forgot the hardship ahead and behind—the anger, the guilt, and the sorrow. What she had just reacquired was quite the sight, for it was nothing less than her standard-issue ZPD handgun.
"How did you...?" she found herself saying. She ran her paws over it; how long had it been? It was light and rather cubist, a seamless black from the very bottom of the grip to the tip of the muzzle, with sleek edges, rounded just enough not to hurt, and little in the way of nooks or protrusions. But she knew of the technology veiled in this simplicity.
The sunlight may be waining, but it blinded her nonetheless when they drove up and out of the building, with her nose twitching furiously and anger mounting at that very fact.
He gave no answer.
Describing Judy's current predicament as unnerving was more than missing the mark. She and he drove about the heart of Zootopia as darkness fell all about them, only broken by the tall streetlamps that ran along most of them. Judy took to the window for a while as Cutterson drove at a moderate pace in no specific direction to no exact destination. More than one street light turned red as dusk progressed and sunlight waned from the urban landscape. The abundant high-rise buildings she saw were dominated by much white and glass, and the much smaller lodgings and storefronts were also plenty and of much the same make, and on every entrance to any closed space there she saw little markings denoting their preferred or intended clientele with numbers from one to four and the Predator or Prey logo, or the lack of either.
From what she had inferred about her mistake an hour or so ago, describing what she had called him an insult was equally off the mark. Currently navigating through the database on the in-built computer's touchscreen, she tried to forget all that and concentrate, though it didn't prove easy.
Despite it, she managed to compare the documents with the data and jumped out of the cruiser, padding her way to the pangolin in the yellow Rambukta. Cutterson was stooping on the sidewalk, his paws positioned on his knees in such a fashion as not to show his claws. "Yes, sir. There is no need to worry. This is just a routine control. My partner is currently—"
But when Judy came near, he looked at her in surprise. That emotion didn't last long and his face became hard as rock again. Judy handed him back the registration documents as well as the driver's license. "Everything's in order," she said.
Cutterson swiftly turned to the driver. "Here. Have a nice day, sir."
Judy made to the cruiser with her partner following. He closed his door moments after hers and both shut with a click, though Cutterson used quite some force. Silence was about them and not even the radio was turned on—he had muted it sometime earlier. In those moments she considered the notion of apologising to Cutterson sooner rather than later a good one before she found out just how grave of an insult she had made. She considered how to go about it, but during that, the beeping she had heard earlier in the staff room again came from his direction. Her head turned.
"W-What is that?" she said.
"Stupid thing; I don't have time for this." Something clicked, the beeping stopped and through her vision flew a little wristwatch-like thing. "Heh. This? Heh heh," he said. There was a certain deranged quality to him that had her guard up, to say the least. "You might say I'm stressed."
For no specific reason Judy felt the urge to smooth things over with her partner sooner rather than later, but they were already being called to their next destination.
One would think that with the invention and improvement of paws-free car kits, there wouldn't be any more car accidents caused by reckless mammals driving with their phones. And yet, the scene before them was a shocking one: At a four-way intersection, a green Fentisma and a small-sized Combinata had a frontal collision and scrap lay about them like shrapnel, the smell of gasoline thick in the air.
And once that was over, and Judy just got back in the proper mindset to contemplate her next action, Trickleberg called again, this time for a mediation request a few blocks behind them.
This one turned out to be a simple misunderstanding between two tenants. A sheep allegedly purposefully left wool lying around to annoy one of her neighbours since: "She never liked me anyway. That son of a goat wants to drive me insane." The sheep was quickly informed and turned apologetic even faster, and made that known to not only Cutterson and her, but to her neighbor as well.
What became of it they didn't know, but they were not called there again, so everything seemed to have had a happy end. That was in contrast to the unrelenting frequency of calls that continued to come in as dusk proceeded; it got yet darker and darker until, when Judy climbed inside the vehicle yet another time, Cutterson enabled the internal lighting with a quick jerk; a slight blue sheen glowed behind every dial and knob, bathing the interior in what was almost a moody atmosphere.
At several points throughout the day, the radio voiced groups of protestors assembling, moving, or disbanding at one location or another; Cutterson occasionally tuned into the shared ZPD frequency to participate in banter, where similar notions were voiced—how tired they were; how some protest where Officers were was still peaceful but they could not tell for how much longer; how much more difficult the work had become lately; and so much more that Judy only paid half a mind of attention to. Cutterson seemed to lose himself between the conversations and the road when dusk had fallen, no longer aware of Judy or appearing as if he wasn't.
It was as if Judy woke from a deep sleep; she yanked her face right and then left and froze, looking out of the window. They were flanked by walls and it was so very dark wherever she looked. When had they gotten here? She couldn't see an arm's length into the gloom. Why were their headlights off? Why were there no streetlights? And, thinking of it, what had they been doing? Her eyes jumped to the right; there Cutterson was. "Why is it so dark? Is it always so dark?"
Cutterson opened his eyes a bit further, pulling at the collar of his uniform. "Guess the alley isn't lit... Stupid me; thought of the light in the car but not outside it." He turned on the headlamps, and Judy's surroundings became vivid in colour. "Was this uncomfortable?"
"I'm just fine," Judy said, drawing herself up.
"Okay. I'll start the car."
Judy had noticed that Cutterson had gotten increasingly brief up to this point, and it was not because of the matter between them, because he had and is showing that in other ways. He was not only clinical like he had been all evening but his responses grew ever shorter as time went on. If she were to have a guess, she'd say he was irritated or unsettled somehow. Maybe he didn't like working in the dark... No, no that wasn't it. Why would she think that? He is a Predator and those saw—
And so she noticed her current situation: a Predator to her left, with the two in a secluded spot in a highly secure vehicle out of which no noise would likely escape. Judy's legs were twitching every few seconds at this point and she knew he was feeling the same way with his constant fur ruffling and steering-wheel-gripping. It could only mean one thing: They were anxious for their lunch! In fact, Judy could feel her stomach rumbling right this moment.
Lunch, however, would have to wait an hour, for then they would, once they had finished, have half of their shift done. That approach made the most sense to her and any other way would not have the lunch break serve it's intended purpose as a break or at least diminish that value; slicing a cake in two precise halves gave neither of them emphasis nor inconsiderableness. And since Cutterson was of so high a rank, he was undoubtedly seeing it the same way.
Following that reasoning, it would seem potent to address the issue between them right then, to get it out of the way. But upon further consideration, it turned out to just not be the right moment for it, she found.
The calls they responded to lulled and many minutes were between each, yet every time Judy found it to be an unfavourable moment to bring up their Blood, and she would really like to apologise, all things considered.
Eventually, their break came and went. Cutterson had progressed to speaking in simple phrases and she was just fine with that; he must be getting tired. Maybe? Bored, perhaps. Judy dared to rotate her head a fraction to the right and peer up at him from the edge of her peripheral. He mirrored her tense posture, limbs outstretched, head tall and stiff, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
In either case, Judy got sick of not thinking the moment proper and just made this moment out to be that moment before their shift came to an end, the process of which proving unexpectedly difficult. First, she noticed how her jaw muscles were tight and she couldn't pry her mouth apart, and then she didn't find a voice when she expected one. Yet, at last, Judy cleared her throat and spoke up.
She made herself recall the proper words, somehow still clinging in some alcove of her mind. "I... I've shed Blood," she said carefully. "I'm very sorry."
Cutterson instantly replied, "Your Blood is my Blood," a loud exhale followed though his anxiousness didn't abide. "Blood... it's difficult. It is great achievement to admit mistake, and you couldn't have known. But... what you said is very insulting. And yet you have plenty to be angry about. I'd likely have done same thing."
Cutterson, too, cleared his throat. "I should add, I also shed much Blood," he said, grave and solemn. "I should have had a better grip on myself. I insulted you, and even more importantly, I scared you, and I knew better. You have much Blood and it's not right to treat you like that..."
"W-Well, no it's alright. Your Blood is my Blood," she repeated.
"I don't think it works that way this time."
"W-What? Why... why wouldn't it?"
"I refuse. You may decide my service."
"Your... service?" Judy blinked.
"I wouldn't expect your common mammal to know this, but you? For someone who graduated top of her class, you know surprisingly little about us, though unfortunately, the education has been less than stellar these past few years."
"I... can't remember for some reason."
"Well, I'll tell you this, but only one time and I don't like it: If I shed your Blood, you can choose to make us equal again, but I don't have to accept that.
"That is a simplification, but it is enough for now."
"Okay, so let me get this straight: You shed my Blood, which made you shed your own Blood. I tried to set us equal... but you refused?
"Basically."
"And now you want me to decide what you should do to regain your Blood?"
"Yes."
"That's ridiculous!"
"I suppose it could be seen that way."
"Why do I get to decide anyway?"
"Only you know how much Blood I made you shed, so only you get to determine the price I have to pay to make it right."
"Credits?"
"Are you really gonna insult me further like that?"
"What? No!"
"It can be an item or a service or something like that. Not money."
"I suppose there are certain stipulations about what kind of service?"
"No, we know instinctively."
"But there are, right?"
"Are you gonna keep making my Debt to our kind greater than I made it myself? We don't talk about this to Prey. Perhaps it should be another way but there are reasons and it is like that for now. Prey don't even want to know what we give them access to. Nobody takes part in the experiments either. Way too few anyway."
"I actually read about that some time ago."
"But that's not important right now."
"No, it isn't.
"So, uh... I don't really need anything, if that makes sense. Can I just save this—like an IOU?"
"It would bring me great shame to not be able to repay my debt right away."
"Fine. Can you start telling me about the whole thing with the ZPD and the patrols and Bogo? I got a good idea by now but some insight would be much appreciated. Is that acceptable as your service?"
"I suppose if that is how you value my Debt?"
"Well, it is very important to me to know."
"Heh, yeah, I can imagine.
"So basically, you are a pretty great cop as far as Prey goes. You have earned your respect in the ZPA and gained high Blood with most Preds here thanks to the case. Prey Officers are probably thinking along similar lines.
"But what about the constant avoiding, treating me like a kit, and those judgemental or evil looks I get?"
"It's not that simple, Judy. You might have interpreted some things the wrong way. There is plainly nobody like you in Zootopia or outside."
"Like me?"
"A size 1 Officer. But not only that. Prey got their head stuck in the ground, happy to be away from Predators, but you are not like that—you weren't afraid of us and that unsettled quite a few. It's baffling, frankly.
"And that courage had you drinking from a water puddle with more than one crocodile lurking within, and now we wanna help you get out of it without causing more harm in the process. Bogo's a bit stumped and I can't blame him."
"So it's true. You just don't think I am cut out for this and are giving me all these staged patrols and these stupid questions to figure out if I learned everything properly?
"That's... not what I said. That's not true. Not all of it."
"So why don't you tell me the whole truth?"
"I... I'd like to, I really would, but it wouldn't be safe for you at this point in time."
"But your Debt? You have to tell me!"
"Flagellate me when this is all over, but I won't allow you to force me to hurt you by telling you that. High Blood be as it may, but we gotta at least finish our duty. You can talk to him right after and he'll tell you more than you want to know. And that is a promise.
"And by the way," he said pivoting his head slightly to her, "this patrol isn't staged. We genuinely don't have the staff to spare. Bogo swallowed it since I'm a colonel, and that means a lot to him. The district also fit as the last patrol. Y'know, the whole Predator aspect.
"The staff is why you oughta have your gun, too. There is no second cruiser around the corner, and if hackles are raised I want another good shot at my side. Anything else could get us killed. Or the citizen."
"I guess I'll roll with the punches," she said. "Again."
"We all gotta do that. But, c'mon, I can tell you a bit more."
From Cutterson's current demeanour, Judy would never be able to guess that he had been very angry with her not all too long ago. It was as if it had never happened and for that she was eternally grateful as her legs dangled from the much-too-large chair that had been adjusted to fit her size. Eventually, Cutterson did speak up.
"Because I know you are gonna ask it, I'ma say that the reason I can't tell you all of it all is that we don't wanna compromise the patrol. We could trigger your thing."
Her thing? Judy decided that it wouldn't be a good idea to pry right this second. It was impolite, really. Instead, she said, "If everything is so dire, how come the others are just idly talking and joking? What about the rallies and protests and counter-protests?"
"Ah, that. Well... Most of us have been doing this gig for longer than anyone should, but we don't want it any other way or we wouldn't have even started. What use is there to cry?
"We are working on caffeine and adrenaline and not much besides. Sure we might have more sleep and bio time than most but the career... it takes a hold of you after a while, y'know? Takes hold of your life. You devote yourself to function here and to protect and serve. You stay true to yourself and keep trying to improve or you won't make it to the other side. Maybe you'll change something and improve the lives of your fellow Officers or, Moonhowl forbid, of all of Zootopia.
"Functioning. That's your first responsibility, and everything else comes after. Can you catch me? And right now, it's especially bad, but what are we going to do about it?
"Exactly. We need to keep doing what we are doing, and a little humour is good for that. We are doing our job already, so talking even more about it is just gonna drag us down...
"Uhm, well, to answer your question, yeah we don't wanna talk even more serious stuff when that's already what keeps us up when we are tired, and besides that? Those who are really in the thick of it? They don't have time to chatter, y'know?"
Judy listened with her paws folded while Cutterson conveyed his points, and the reasonable part of her found more than a grain of truth staring back at her. After a while, she began anew. "So, I get that you can't tell me but can you at least hint at why everyone is treating me like a poisonous potato?"
"A what?" Cutterson replied, gazing at her from his peripheral.
"A potato," Judy repeated, pronouncing the word slowly. "Salanum tubersum? The root vegetable? The yellow starchy thing that's often boiled and salted or mashed, or fried?"
"...Oh! Now I getcha. Been a bit since I... Anyway, I don't quite understand; they can be poisonous?"
Judy sighed. "Yes. To put it differently, why is everyone at the ZPD acting so strangely around me?"
"Oh that. You mean to ask why they are treating you like a starving wolf?"
"I... suppose?"
"I'm sorry but I told you before it's about not triggering your thing and I shouldn't even have said that. And a tip for next time: Prying is kinda a big deal usually, but I suppose there's no point to exchanging Debts and forgiving the other with how often it happened already, is there? It's water under the river in the big picture... A necessary evil...
"It's better if Bogo—" he tried, but he grew furious out of nowhere. "By Moonhowl, could you drive any slower?" he said, and then stared, turning to Judy and apologising for raising his voice.
"Is that also because of my "thing," whatever that is?"
"Nah, that's just Prey etiquette." At Judy's confused looks, he furthered, "You know, the stooping, the not-raising-your-voice—the whole nine yards?"
"Does that play any part in how the Officers acted, too?"
"Yeah, that and your high Blood. Can't say much about Prey though. Our orders and that."
"So you treat me like royalty? It didn't seem like it to me. You all just shied away or quickly went to talk to someone else whenever I tried to have a conversation."
"What?"
"You said I have high blood. Like, noble blood. Royalty? Someone inherently 'better'."
"I..." The wolf took a few minutes to think, and then laughed out loud, though in a somewhat respectful manner, if that made any sense. "No, no, no; I meant Blood, not blood. Royalty is... we don't do that; no, that's against our beliefs. Royalty is just thrown at your feet... or something like that—Blood is earned."
These few sentences alone managed to create a plethora of questions for Judy, and she couldn't help but pry further. Hadn't she learned not to do that a minute ago? No, this was different. "So what did I do?"
"What you did?"
"Yeah, what did I do for you to tip-toe around you?"
"We didn't tip-toe," he insisted. "There are lots of things. We had orders. Nobody knows how to act around Prey of your stature, and the only thing about rabbit culture anyone could muster was vague concepts. We didn't wanna offend you with half-truths since you are of high Blood. Some of us are just the solemn type, too. You see, it's just a... ...new experience to have a rabbit on the force."
Judy was left reeling once more, and despite it all she couldn't quite believe Cutterson, but she pressed on, along the one question she should have led with, honestly. "So is my Blood a good or a bad thing now, and how does it work?"
It was Cutterson's turn to sigh, just as they stopped at a three-way intersection. "Don't make me reveal even more about us; that's a lot of questions about our culture."
"You could say I am interested in it."
"It's somewhat of a hobby of mine to learn about your stuff—luckily you aren't as close-mouthed as us—but it's strange to see Prey being interested in Pred culture."
"How so?"
"Even Officers don't care all too much about anything but the superficialities. It's always about the big scary Predator getting cranky when they don't get what they want, so Prey stay away. That and the parts that are very uncomfortable about our culture for 'em."
"Well, I've always been different."
"Yeah, it seems like it... You must like Predators quite a lot, eh?"
"What?! What do you mean by that?" That was about the strangest combination of words she had expected.
"I really shouldn't bring it up."
"Well, if I am of such high Blood, then why won't you tell me?"
"It's not proper to abuse it like that. But... I suppose it's not right. Ugh, you are... difficult. Difficult and terrible."
"I've been told that," she said, a touch of smugness overtaking her features.
"Look," he sighed. "The thing about the Blood Debt you forgave?"
"The... amnesty? Yeah."
"Yeah, the amnesty. Same thing. Either way, both that and your long-form testimony left everyone confused. Some thought you were being manipulated; some thought it was Stockholm; and a good amount of Preds didn't think either was relevant and simply didn't believe you had the right to forgive the Debt in the first place, given your status as Prey and the severity of the Debt. I mean, I wouldn't have forgiven a Debt like that.
Your amnesty was accepted, so you had the right in the Prey sense, and since you are Prey and Zootopia is run by many Prey standards, that was enough, so technically, he never shed any Blood, and there wasn't a Debt to forgive.
"But," he said. "That doesn't mean he has to accept that. Just because the Prey legal system honoured your decision and absolved him, doesn't mean that he, following Pred culture, has to honour that."
"And here we are, and some think that that Stockholm part was already there when you joined. I mean, how many rabbits do you see applying for the ZPA, and how many make it through? Very few of the former, none but you of the latter."
"...And what do you think?"
"I think... your testimony might just be crazy enough to be true. I believe in actions and those don't lie. The Blood between you is a deeply personal thing and my opinion on it doesn't matter—it's his call. But one thing is for sure, you are one freaky bunny to do any of that. You gotta like him a lot if you forgive that kinda Debt.
Judy remained quiet in contemplation, though Cutterson seemed to think he had offended her.
"Hey... I'm not sure if I shed Blood according to one of your customs, but the ZPD doesn't think like that. Sure, most of us can't quite believe you forgave his Debt like that, but we don't think worse of you for that; quite the opposite.
"And there's nothing wrong with having a Pred for a friend. I mean, if you define it as seeing each other once a week in public then I can count them on one paw... which isn't a lot considering I know plenty of people.
"Stuff, all kinds of stuff, just needs to change—there's a lot wrong in our little world—and it's gonna take a while. It's a good thing what you did, and you being out here is doubly good if only for the reason of proving your testimonies. You know as well as I how much harder it got for all of us, though especially the Preds, after Bellwether—the scary, cranky, goes-savage-unprovoked Pred—though sadly there is a good part of truth in that.
"But eh, cheer up, too much politics. I'm just glad there are a few mammals left who have some cultural sensitivity and an interest in approaching the other party. You'll find most of the ZPD to be that way, especially when we get this issue sorted, you'll see. And if for nothing else, I'm glad we got you on the force as another one who's in it with all their passion, wanting to see Preds and Prey live together in harmony. That's what we try to enforce, after all."
Judy was overwhelmed and responded to what came to mind first. "It kinda sounds like we are forcing them together."
Cutterson shook his head and laughed again.
They drove on with the occasional chit-chat. Judy managed to share something of her own culture, though she remembered remarkably little, and of some parts in the way of agriculture and cooking. She was delighted in getting to share some part of what made her 'her' with a Predator, though sadly she wasn't able to share much, and the conversation grew more and more stifled either way for Cutterson quickly tensed again.
When they were back on the road again, he said, "You know why I was chosen? I can deal with not going savage pretty good and the Chief trusts me. The whole colonel plays a big part in that but ranks are not that important."
"...So?"
"Oh, it's just. I'm at my limit. And you being all... bite-sized, all things considered. That makes a difference. So... uh... less talking, please? Our conversation kinda took the last out of me so I gotta focus if we are gonna get through this. You okay tho?"
"I'm good, yeah," Judy said. She had lost the ability to relax her body at all despite putting her all into hit. It was as if she were trying to saw a boulder or uproot a tree with her bare paws. But here it wasn't that obvious at all, for she didn't know what caused it and she'd run out of reasonable explanations about two hours ago. Some things had no explanation, and perhaps this was one of those.
She focused on the computer, showing the time in one corner; there was just an hour left of their patrol. Streetlamps reached high into the air and cast cones of light on either side of their cruiser; they were on one of the main roads.
It may have been dark, but the city was far from sleeping, as there was movement all about, and when their heads came into view in the dazzling light, she saw a many Predator shield their gaze. Thoughts of no escape and those of torn flesh came to her but that didn't make any sense. The doors weren't locked and everyone seemed to be walking about just fine. It was strange, all things considered.
"Dispatch to Cutterson and Hopps. Dispatch to Cutterson and Hopps. Please respond," came a voice from the radio.
"Cutterson speaking. Where's the fire?"
"We got yet another 0001 Alpha Bravo. Few blocks away at Rising Dawn's Residential. You guys up for it?"
"We are not sure about an Alpha Bravo, let alone an Oh-One. We are currently feeling stressed."
"I understand. Let me see... It looks like all other units near Dawn's are ensnared. Best I could do is get someone from Tundratown, but that might take an hour or so... It's non-urgent, and your health is more important either way; I'll see what I can do. I'll dispatch—"
Judy found herself saying, "No, we are fine. We are heading there now."
Cutterson stared at her and then back with quite a bit of surprise in him, yet he spoke confidently. "You heard what she said."
"Okay. I'll send you the details now."
And on the screen there now was the quickest route to their destination, Cutterson not hesitating in making a U-turn as soon as he could.
Though his paddle on the gas was steady, his expression faltering and grim. "You feeling better?"
"Yeah. I'm fine," Judy deadpanned. "Something the matter?"
"It's not important. So, we'd just do the usual One-Two but it's kinda the point that you do the talking with the Pred." He made to start another sentence but Judy broke in.
"You all wanna see how I do with Preds, don't you?"
"Yeah... but I'm not sure if it's a good idea."
"Oh come on! Why wouldn't it?"
"If you'd let me tell you then you'd know." He added chidingly, "The world doesn't revolve around you."
"Just most things, huh?"
"You are a special mammal at a special time. What can you do?
"But this clearly needs to happen or we are leaving a citizen in distress. Safety comes first so I'd feel better if we'd talk to both citizens together."
"Okay," she said. "By the way, the plan you and Bogo and all made."
"Yes?"
"Well, this mediation is between her and a desert wolf. And as you very helpfully pointed out," Judy said, reaching a paw up and coming far short of the cruiser's roof," I'm not the tallest or biggest mammal around, so isn't there quite some danger if I would have been there without you next to me? And even then..."
"Danger?" he laughed. "The entire city is danger, and we are the ones to defuse it. But it's not like I would have been more than a few metres away. We don't do that among Seniors, and asking that of anyone new would be even more irresponsible."
"But it still would be dangerous for the Pred. And you."
"Duh, of course. That's the entire point here: we gotta see how much danger you are to yourself and others, and how well you can perform. Though, the current situation is less than ideal, of course, but there is nothing for it."
"I guess you are right..."
"And you know that how much danger any given situation is in cultural mediations is far more complex than just the disparity in sizes, though it does play a significant role. His expression turned sour. "The whole instincts shebang is still a blind kit deep in the den despite over 800 years of Zootopia.
"Yeah, I've read about it, lately."
But as pleasant as their conversation was, they soon came to their goal: Dawn's Residential, located near the climate wall to Saharah Square, on the very outskirts of Downtown. Even in the veil of night, and only seen by lamplight, it was clear that this set of dwellings, spread across two or three stories, was not the finest to be found, for the colour of the walls was not longer a resplendent white and seamless—or close to, anyway—but rather slightly roughened up, with a smidgeon of yellow on most stones.
He looked at her almost pleadingly. "Maybe... maybe I should go in alone really quick. It'll just be a few minutes and there's no shame in it. I mean, I'm not doing much better. This happens all the time."
"What? Everything's fine!" Judy insisted. Rage she didn't know of bubbled to the surface. "I'm just fine. I don't have a problem! I can function just fine. You all have a problem! And yet everyone else is acting like I am the problem."
Cutterson wiped a paw across his face. "Yeah, okay. We'll go together. Come on, let's get this over with so we can go home."
The two went inside the apartment complex and soon heard the sound of rock music from opposite the door of the caller, which they came face to face with right then. The ewe seemed to be in her thirties with a white-and-pink scarf around her throat. She clutched the doorframe and her eyes, after one glance at her partner, were almost glued to Judy.
"Officers! I am so glad you are here," she said quiveringly. "I... uh... have this issue with the Predator next door."
The ewe shot her gaze at Cutterson, "No, offence, please. Please," before hunkering down to Judy again.
"None taken, ma'am."
"I recently moved in and he is often awake at night and I can't get a wink of sleep since he listens to this loud music... but I don't want to go over to him because... I don't think it's a good idea if I make him angry at me. I wouldn't want that, please. He just listens to this music and I can't take it anymore. I tried earplugs but I always had a good hearing and I just can't drown it out."
"I'm very sorry about this', "Judy replied. "When exactly has this happened in the past few days?"
"Well, maybe at ten o'clock and it goes on for many hours. It's happening right now, can't you h-hear? There has to be some kind of rest time, maybe?"
"We do. Well, you see, normally the insulation in these mixed apartment complexes should be quite generous and cover these issues. If that's not the case, the landlord should have informed you. It's a legal necessity."
"Well he did, and it was written somewhere on some page I signed, too, but I didn't think it would be that bad. I mean, who would be up at that hour?"
"This issue is quite a difficult one for us. You see, there aren't any statuary rest periods for this district, so unless your landlord enforces one, which I don't assume is the case here, we can't do anything about that."
The ewe was shocked. "But... But... no that can't be? That can't be true."
Cutterson jumped in. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but my partner is quite right. There are no mandatory resting periods and given that these residences are rented Predators—who are generally known to be largely active at dawn, dusk, and at night—it stands to reason that there would be activity all around the clock, so this shouldn't be a surprise to you. Further, as my partner said, this specific contract you signed specifically points out that the insulation does not do a good job of preventing these kinds of disturbances from crossing over. I suggest you talk to the landlord on grounds of goodwill to see if another apartment might be available to move into."
The resident worked her mouth dryly. "Move? No... that would be terrible. I just got settled in. The place gives me the creeps sometimes when they... I don't want to move, please. Can't you mediate? The nice mammal from your reception told me you could."
Judy kicked back in. "Ma'am, we might have miscommunicated. What we were suggesting was only the last possible course of action. Of course we'd be happy to mediate between the two of you so that we can get something worked out. We were just trying to tell you that there aren't any legal grounds we could work with."
The ewe agreed to that and no sooner than when they were half turned away, she slammed the door shut.
Right across from that was an equal-looking door which soon gave way to a long-furred wolf with brown-yellow fur, clothed in a red tanktop and black baggy pants. The music redoubled as he opened the door to them.
"Oh! Hello. What's the issue?" he said casually.
Judy had deliberated on how she would lay out the current issue, the tenant's part in it, and how she could get him to comply without shedding Blood or being rude or obtuse or...
The opening of the door surprised her though she was fairly confident in what she was about to say, when Cutterson simply acted before her.
"We sorta got a complaint about the noise you are making," Cutterson said, rivalling the wolf in terms of nonchalant attitude.
"The noise?"
"Yeah the metal right behind you."
"Oh, you can hear that?"
"Yeah... some Prey next door kinda can't sleep at night. You know, they sleep at night, right?"
"Oh I uh... the insulation?"
"Nah, not in this place."
"Oh, Moonhowl! Gosh, I shed Blood. How can I deal with this? I don't think I can just go over to her?"
"Ehh... just don't turn the music that loud, and I think she'll thank you for that. Best way to repay your Debt is to do that and not bother her."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"And if that isn't good enough just call us and we can help you with the Debt."
"Will do; much thanks."
Judy spread her arms wide, first gesturing to the door and then to him and back with a flabbergasted expression. "I have so many questions," she said.
The only issue with all of that was that he couldn't hear her for there was no 'him' anymore; there was no trace of Cutterson when he had been beside her just seconds ago. She ran outside and found him there, a few metres away from the entrance and halfway to their cruiser. She gasped when she saw him stumbling, only barely catching himself by the roof of the car.
His words were odd and slurred, and Judy got very annoyed when she noticed the fog on her mind and her heavy breathing, and her body having, for some reason, decided that going limb and tensing up both were suboptimal responses to the light growls that were presently emanating from Cutterson every sentence or so; she was left feeling all wobbly and rigid at the same time.
"Oof. Yeah yeah, it was your thing, but... You don't need to prove; we seen enough. Look, I shed Blood but what is point anymore? I owe you big time.
"I was selfish. You didn't... deal with Preds much at all in this kinda setting and... didn't want to drag and slack cuz if he go mad I go mad and you can be good shot all you want but two against one make you dead meat. Nah, I ain't chancing." He shook his head violently, only speaking in very short sentences. "Please come. Don't talk. Not doing well. I... overestimated me; shouldn't've ignored... watch."
Judy hopped back on her seat and slung the custom-made seatbelt around. Her muscles were tense; she couldn't shake it and that produced a frown. Alas, Cutterson's behaviour had turned on a dime and simply left her too surprised—as it would anyone—to even be angry about his intervention. She saw him through the tinted window, pacing back and forth, his maw forming syllables, but there was no one around. Is he having a pep talk? He doesn't look very happy.
It was some time before his strides were petering out, and he came slowly and sat in the driver's seat with a loud sigh; a hint of baritone vibrations, not quite growling, emanated alongside it despite his best efforts. He did not say a word; in fact, he did not look at her, and she was only aware of the fact by what her peripheral vision allowed, for she did not look at him either—only to preserve his dignity, of course.
Cutterson started the engine, their cruiser speeding through the night. Judy was content to stare beyond her window and take in the nightlife of the city for some time, for she had seldom been awake so late privately and not once had a patrol during it. As he had insinuated earlier, and as she was well aware, it was chiefly Predators who were about at this time, the light from street lamps descending from above and outlining their forms in shadow. But it was not long, or at least did not feel very long, before Cutterson took a left and drove into the underground parking lot again. He stared at her for a moment after the car's humming had died down, and she stared back, but they exchanged no words. He went ahead, and she followed as they walked to the lobby and then to Bogo's office, whereupon he knocked on the door.
Her lapine ears pivoted and she heard a few scant words from inside the office. Between vocals that bled together, she made out coherent strings of words uttered in a voice she did not know: "I didn't have a chance to," and "not conclusive", and "experimental."
Words continued to fall despite the knock; Cutterson simply opened the door with a huff and went inside, Judy following with hesitation. She beheld Bogo, in conversation with some kind of stag, easily recognisable by his somewhat slim but long and powerful legs, ending in black cloven hoofs; as well as the little stubby tail that expanded beyond the aptly named tail hole in his navy-blue trousers. His fur was the colour of desert sand; in one dark paw he clutched a cane of dark wood. At once, both fell silent.
Bogo snapped to Cutterson. There was an edge to his calm voice. "What are you doing here and what made you disturb—" But then he noticed Judy. He cleared his throat. "Of course. But didn't you notice I was talking to someone?"
"You told me to come after our shift," Cutterson deadpanned.
"You are still assigned for 24 minutes."
"I had trouble containing myself."
Bogo was reckoning and guessed the details swiftly, but the phrase had drawn the attention of the deer, who turned around.
Crested by antlers of three tines, the bespeckled Prey was the embodiment of a juxtaposition: he wore a dark blazer, but it was not buttoned and the sleeves only reached the elbows; there was a lightly-coloured shirt beneath but there was no bowtie or cravat fastened to it. He appeared the classic aristocrat with cane and staff, but that was dispelled when he spoke.
"Ooooh! Judith, isn't it?" he said. "Antlerfield my name, but look at you!" He examined Cutterson and paused. "And this white-teethed gentlemammal, too!" There was a certain light in his eyes when he gazed at them, but the deer took note of the sombre mood and the eyes on him—he shirked back behind Bogo's vast desk.
Judy hopped on the chair and stood. The Chief opened his mouth, but Antlerfield couldn't help himself and interjected, idly saying," This could use some more small-mammal accessibility..." Bogo grunted indifferently.
Cutterson was thanked and sat, loomed on the chair beside her. She wondered why he was not dismissed.
Bogo uttered but a single word: "Hopps."
"Yes, Chief?" Judy said hopefully.
"I was wrong."
"I... don't understand."
He momentarily looked at Cutterson. "The past few months," he explained, "have not been fair to you. I've been unjust from the moment you joined. I held you to standards no fresh Officer should be held to, put stones in your way just to discourage you, to get you to lay low or to resign quietly so we could sweep the miraculous rabbit cop under the rug.
"You thought I was serious—I did give you two weeks, after all; that was the mistake." He laughed dryly. "However, no Officer straight out of the academy should have been able to solve a case our collective intelligence has been working on for several months, in any amount of time, let alone a few weeks. It was just to make you taste some mud; get you a good mouthful of reality. But, in the end, all it did was drive you harder; should've known that. I made you put yourself in situations you shouldn't've been in and... I'm sorry for that." Bogo looked down, holding a solemn silence; Judy took the opportunity.
"But it wasn't like that; I chose to get into danger; you gave me a chance to prove myself and I did. I did everything! I did everything anyone wanted from me ever since the ZPA, and all I got ever since was weird looks and ridicule!"
Bogo raised his horned head and chuckled, but he did not laugh at her. The deer spoke.
"Your situation is quite a special one, and I have been trying to figure it out ever since I completed my doctorate a few months back. To put it plainly, there has never been anything like you and that makes mammals act... unpredictably. Unpredictable in the sense that their behaviour goes against what is commonly observed. You did not fit in with Prey, and so were not a classical target for Predators, though that doesn't mean they felt any more at ease around you—just for different reasons.
"After your hospitalisation following the Nighthowler case, this changed, and I am not certain of the technicalities—whether it is an affliction or a mindset shift, or something else entirely—but the fact of the matter is that you now have, according to all observable evidence, a level of instinctual reactions comparable to your peers; that is, other rabbits..." Antlerfield trailed off in thought.
"What our Doctor is saying," Bogo began, "is that we can't have you on field duty anymore."
Judy, previously highly befuddled, now came to understand their implications and shock filled her face. "B-B-B- But... I ah uh—that's not... You can't!"
Bogo sighed. "We are between a rock and a hard place. But this goes way beyond just your personal ambitions. Thanks to me—And don't you argue this point again!—you went to places you shouldn't've gone, and talked to mammals you shouldn't've talked, and now we are in a real quagmire. We can't go forward and we can't go back: frankly, I don't know what to do with you."
"But... but I don't understand," she said. "What about the patrols, then? Why was everyone treating me like an idiot?"
"Yes, that. It was my desperate plan—we... I staged the patrols."
Judy couldn't help but gloat. "I knew it. I knew it. I knew there was something going on."
The buffalo broke his gaze, looking down. "I failed the city was what's going on. I made you go with specific partners who were in the know, and I made another patrol always be on standby in case something goes wrong with yours."
"But why?!" Judy said. She understood the notion now, but it didn't make any sense. Bogo confirmed it.
"It was illogical in some sense... The psychologist who interviewed you couldn't give me a clear picture—and it's still not clear nowadays, after we had given every shred of evidence to our expert, Doctor Antlerfield. We don't know what to do: I wanted a quick fix to my mistakes; get another set of paws out there—so I simply did that in hopes of either getting you back or seeing what is wrong. I don't like to say it, but you know we are understaffed thanks to the consistently terrible graduation rates and our current situation across the precincts.
"The fact of the matter is that we are between a rock and a hard place. While we are dedicating resources to handle this delicate situation with you, the city is crumbling around us. Now we can't go forward and we can't go back, because firing you, suspending you, or moving you to a different department would all cause a public outcry." Bogo paused and sighed again. "I think we have to cut our losses. And I'm sorry, Judy; I am. But we have no choices left." Judy was too stunned to say anything, but luckily Antlerfield intervened.
"No, Chief, as I was trying to tell you earlier, our examinations were not conclusive. There has to be a way this can be resolved."
"Antlerfield, please. We don't have time anymore. Or would you mind telling me the percentage of C1 mammals working a HI-J, let alone as Officers on field duty? I didn't expect her to last a week, let alone graduate! And now it shows!"
"With all due respect, what does that matter? Judy has shown the ability to work with Predators before. Do you have any idea what this could mean for our cause? This could be a breakthrough after 800 years of stagnation! R would devour her, if you'll excuse the term. I came here to change the paradigm, and you would just cast her aside, the most fascinating specimen we have ever observed?"
"As much as I'd like to think that, it's never been realistic, Antlerfield; the most logical conclusion here is that her prior behaviour was some sort of sort of fluke or delusion. I have no other choice either way—we don't have capacities."
"But—"
"If you want to work with her while also teaching the ZPA in Precinct 1 and instructing the other Precincts as best as possible? Then good luck to you, but that's your plot of land to till, and you better not fail your teaching, or we will actually go down in flames. I have no other choice: Judy, you are indefinitely suspended from duty. You may do what you will in that time, but if I see you in the precinct, so help me Woolsworth...
"If you are ever fit for duty again, we will be glad to have you. I don't know what it takes, if there is such a thing—perhaps Antlerfield really can help you, but I can't anymore. I am sorry; I failed you. Now, I have to see how much of the city I failed in and how much I can salvage. Don't make this harder than it needs to be: badge and equipment." He stretched out his big, callous paw.
Judy put her paw to her badge, her arm trembling... "No," she cried. Giving up her badge would mean an end to everything she has ever worked for. Giving up now would mean she'd need to go back to her parents, and give up the dreams that have motivated her since early childhoom. She'd never be able to interact with Predators again; she'd never be able to make the world a better place; she'd never see that insufferable fox again, either! And as she violated her mind, frantically searching in the very nooks and crannies, she came upon a very shred thought involving the very same fox.
"Nickolas Wilde," she said quickly. "Nick. He's in the ZPA, isn't he? Why don't I just help him graduate and partner with him afterwards? You could sell it as some sort of publicity stunt to increase graduation rates, and Antlerfield wouldn't be burdened with me. Nick and me caused this current issue so maybe we can fix it, too?" Toward the end, Judy donned a nervous smile. Bogo and Antlerfield looked at each other for countless moments.
"That's... ridiculous," Bogo said, while Antlerfield put in, "It might just work," at the very same time. They looked at each other.
"She has a point," Antlerfield reiterated.
"The only point she has is after the word 'Deathwish'. And we can't do it either way."
"Why not?" Judy demanded.
"Rabbit, do you ever listen with those big ears? I'm not Fancypants over here, but I don't need a doctorate to know that thats the worst idea I've heard in my time. You can't work with Predators. Not even since he literally assaulted you to the point of hospitalisation, not even speaking of the strings I'd have to pull to get this nice and presentable. And even if I did that, and even if it all worked, you've got not nearly enough field experience to senior him."
"I have no problem with working with whomever I have to," she said sharply. "And it's not my fault I didn't get enough patrols because you thought you had to do what you thought was best! I graduated top of my class in nearly every discipline and I've gotten enough experience to show any old graduate the ropes. You know that! And I deserve to do just that!"
"She really is stubborn," Antlerfield said under his breath, but not nearly quiet enough for her ears to miss it. Her death stare made him look away.
Bogo was actually taken aback, rubbing his paws over his face. He gazed at his bottommost drawer. "Fuck this... If you get yourself killed in your own free time then it's not my fault. I'll do what I can with PR. You can have your fox and choke on him."
Antlerson cleared his throat. "With my assistance, that is. We need to study you at length and..." He hesitated. "And see what we can see. That is another requirement." "If Bogo is okay with it," he added as an afterthought.
The buffalo in question just groaned. "Fine, you can all do your clown show, but leave me out of it. I made my mistakes. Now you can make yours because only Woolsworth knows who never made any." He continued at length. "Still need your badge and gun, though; you won't have any need if you want to help that fox by bringing lunch."
"Oh and Cutterson," he added. "We are going to have a long conversation about why you gave a gun to a mentally unstable Officer, against my orders."
Judy did what she never would have thought: though somewhat reluctantly, she handed over her badge and her gun, and thanked him a million times for it, and she thanked Antlerfield, too. She strode with him out of the office and blitzed home after she had confirmed her number to him.
Finally, she knew what had been wrong. Bogo made a mistake because he underestimated her, and he still does, and the others do, too. Of course, the pit had happened, but that didn't mean it changed her. No, she could partner with any Predator she wanted, and if they couldn't handle her, then that wasn't her fault but rather their own. But nobody would see it, any of it; they simply couldn't believe that she'd shrugged off the pit—but they didn't need to anymore; it didn't matter anymore.
Nick was now on the horizon, and she'd have no problem with him now that there wasn't anybody getting in her way anymore.
The euphoria, however, only lasted for as long as she was on her way home. Her joy suddenly but gradually dissipated as she stepped closer and closer to her bed. The next thing she knew, she was staring at the ceiling with blank eyes. She realised what she had done.
Judy wanted to get out of bed, to do anything but browse the web—and even the calls from Antlerfield and others she ignored completely—but she simply didn't have the energy: her limbs would not work as they used to and she was tired all the time, looking back at her situation these past months with a sigh. The worst part of the whole affair was that she had won; she had turned her ship around and was steering toward redemption, but in the process, she had fractured herself. And she couldn't even explain why so it made any amount of sense.
She cried in the mornings until no more tears would flow, lay in bed all day, and ordered takeout so she didn't have to leave her room. Trapped in a funnel of self-hatred, her emotions compacted until they were of no meaning and she was left as a husk of her former self. There was ambition left inside her core, but it was now buried so deep that she just sighed at the thought of moving forward. It would take so much effort and she had so little energy. And what would it gain her, when she had already lost everything she cared for?
On some day at some time—she had closed her shutters long ago and cared not for date or time—her phone rang to one side of her prone body. She gradually rolled to her side to stare at the screen. Of course it was— It's Nick! This should only spark more disappointment, but some aspect of her parted the clouds and blazed through her inner gloom in a radiant beam of fire that had her answering the phone for a change.
"Hello? she said, as close to her normal voice as she could make it.
"Judy!" Nick said frantically. "I... I can't do this anymore..."
"Oh. Oh no," she replied weakly.
"Wait, what is going on with you?"
"Me? I'm okay."
"You are clearly not okay."
"I mean, I've been better. But what about you?"
Nick hesitated. "It... it's not that urgent."
"Okay."
"Something is seriously wrong with you, Judy."
"Yeah. I know."
"Wanna talk about it?" Nick suggested.
"No energy," Judy said with a loud exhale.
"I need to talk to you about something important, too. I feel like doing it face-to-face would be best. Please, Judy—it's important. How about this weekend? Things are heating up over here; and besides, they don't like to let us go willy-nilly, so I'll have to see what I can do."
Begrudgingly, Judy agreed. Perhaps getting out of her room for once would be good. And Nick? She needed him at all costs. And what had it cost her? Everything.
Despite it all, the days went by. Judy couldn't quite shake that overwhelming numbness, but she had to concede that seeing Nick again and straightening things out between them was enough motivation to get a certain spring back in her step. Now, if only there were somewhere to go... Suspended! She couldn't quite believe it—the shock of it was the only thing that slashed through her fatigue. What was she without being on the force? She had trained to graduate from the ZPA for so many years and gave it her all at the ZPD, only to find out she had been playing a game there. And now it was over, and she couldn't work there anymore for the foreseeable future. But it didn't matter. There was Nick to tend to. But that only brought more misery.
She browsed the web for entertainment, but that usually didn't last long, for she felt guilty in moments like these and switched to educating herself on certain police regulations or working out to keep in shape.
Her room was a prison, and yet there was no guard; eventually, the weekend came; she snapped open her eyes that morning and knew. While noon approached, she jumped up and down, waiting so she could go out and meet him. But then she had a better idea! Why not wait for him at the academy and go from there?
She hurried to dress—despite it all, she had to chuckle when there were but one and a half outfits that were not ZPD-related. Dedicating herself to the cause was one thing, but when had she become such a caricature? Did she never go out outside of work? Ever?
In either case, she garbed herself in a nice red tanktop—yes, her workout wear would have to do—and some blue denim shorts of decent length before hurrying off and taking the nearest train to the ZPA since, despite what might be first assumed, the ZPA and the ZPD were not adjacent at all.
So it was not more than fifteen minutes later that she minded her business on the sidewalk before the main entrance of the ZPA under the noon sun. Her stomach felt odd—a residue of her repressed emotions? No, just nervousness. Frankly, she didn't know when Nick would leave for their meeting place closer to the heart of Downtown. What if he went through the backdoor? Wait, were there backdoors? No! What if he had already left? Judy shook her head; she was better than that. And after waiting some time, there he came through the doors! He stood for a moment but then walked, clad in the standard blue ZPA shirt and some shorts.
Apart for so long, her eyes were now fixed on him as if he were a celebrity walking down the stage. But then, with an internal groan, she realised the chief aspects that mesmerised her so: she saw his shining teeth, his upper canines protruding before his lips; with every step, his claws on arms and legs gleamed; and his muscles—of which there were now noticeably more—undulated. And all only got more life-like as he moved closer.
Apart for so long, he couldn't avert his eyes. It was as if she were his prized possession—stolen and now recovered, only a few metres distant. Nick beheld her for a moment; she was different from the last time they met: her expression was almost joyful but he descried somberness from deep within. In himself he found a certain eagerness to reconnect, but how much of that were simply his carnivorous desires? It was a bad idea either way and he knew it would end badly over short or long. Alas, that was to be figured out before the day was over, for he could not go on. He settled on adapting a more Prey-friendly posture, with likely limited success. And while he could only guess: poor Judy.
Judy expected him to be surprised, but his voice was full of concern when he called her name.
Judy opened her eyes—when had she closed them?; her nose was twitching. Nick once bore an idle smirk, but now it was all a frown as he stood a generous metre away, slumping a little with his claws hidden as best as he could. She trembled—and this was all out of fury—but both left together with a sigh.
"Are you okay?" he inquired.
"I'm... yeah."
"Library?"
"...Okay...?"
He did not explain further; no, Nick led the way, and their sombre march began. In fact, he remained silent for a long time, and when she tried, her tongue was tied and numb. She wondered how far the library was and for what reason he wanted to specifically go there instead of some eatery. The libraries she had known were not exactly the place to have a talk.
They walked abreast, so the first few times when mammals came on their side of the street, Judy went behind Nick to let them pass, but they always stopped and quickly crossed the street to the other side or walked down some other street or alleyway; after that, Judy stayed with him, highly confused and rather self-conscious. It didn't help that there were mammals staring whenever she looked, like they were dirty vagabonds or had a questionable reputation that was well-known to all.
Nick turned several times, and at one point, he disappeared behind a corner and inside an alleyway where the sun did not reach, barely wide enough to admit them at the same time. Her first step inside took effort, but she hopped up next to him; Nick looked at her in surprise but stared ahead again only a moment later. They came into the light and went on for a few blocks until the library was on the left-paw side. Nick strode inside with purpose; he walked straight through the long, gaping chamber, flanked on either side by tall bookshelves until he came to the back, where he led her up a flight of stairs where one could stand behind the railings and see the ground floor a few metres down. On the other side were regular openings in the wall; most were taken up by the opaque film-like matter or substance she had seen first in her bio time. Nick walked onwards into a seemingly unoccupied room.
She forced herself to go inside—she had to learn more. Nick sighed, pressing a little button which closed the 'door' behind them, making it opaque. The floor, bannister, and ceiling—all that lay behind the film—was somewhat visible as if she were looking up at it from the bottom of a lake.
A lightly-coloured table stood against the far wall, flanked by two height-adjustable couches, each fitting two; the room was no wider than that, and only a little space remained between the table and the door. The ceiling was two fox-sized heads above Nick; the floor was carpeted blue. This nook must have been tailored for small and medium mammals.
Judy voiced her opinion. "This is pretty cosy, but why all the trouble in going here? We could have grabbed lunch." She expected some snide remark, but that didn't come.
"You know there are cameras, right?" he said.
"Yeah, but..."
"They cover almost every square metre, and most can likely detect sound. None of that in here."
"Since when have our lives become top-secret?" Judy said.
"You really don't get it, do you?"
"Hey! You don't need to be mean about it... But I guess I deserve it..."
"Let's just say that there are eyes and ears everywhere, and we have both been on the news enough lately. But... what is this 'I deserve it' business about? You never were the self-deprecating kind."
"And where has your snark gone, Wilde?" Nick smiled before closing his lips immediately; his teeth sent a shiver up her spine, and to her great dismay, she couldn't hide it.
"I guess we both changed," he said.
"Yeah."
"That's why I need to talk to you. I've thought a bit about some things and I am glad you are taking the risk to hear me out; I wouldn't have met in person if the situation was any different."
"That's... kinda the reason I wanted to talk to you, too."
"But, first of all, you aren't getting out of this, Judy: what's got you feeling so blue? I don't like it."
"Do you have to know? I... kinda don't want to talk about it."
"Of course not," he said with a frown. Nick didn't continue but simply looked at her for some time before breaking eye contact. Judy felt like she had to at least try and tell him.
"Your kind likes riddles, don't you? I heard that once. I think."
"You could say that."
Judy thought for a moment before speaking. "Say, a certain someone might have focused on something too much, so they lost sight of everything else."
"It's about me, isn't it?" he said instantly.
"Yeah..."
"I know what it is."
"How could you?"
"Judy, it's really not that hard. The only thing that you're infatuated with are the mammals in blue. You are not unreliable, so you wouldn't just forget something; no, you lost your integrity with recruiting me, and now you feel sad about it. I'm right, huh?"
Judy frowned, and Nick mirrored it. "Yes," she said, "but if it were just that..."
"What is it, then?"
"Look, I don't think I've been moral throughout all of this."
"Morality? Are you kidding me?"
"I'm not a grey grifter!" she retorted.
"So I am one, huh? Well, not everyone can have an easy life; be pitied Prey."
Silence hung between them, and Judy couldn't stand to look at him. "I am sorry," she said at length. "That wasn't very considerate of me."
"It's okay."
"Nothing about Blood?"
"I see you learned a bit." He continued gravely," But, uh, after, you know, I don't think I have any right to complain ever again. But regardless, Judy: I am my own mammal—I wanted to join. You don't need to feel bad about assuming I was miserable; I've been at times, sure."
Judy held her words for a long minute, and then it all spilt at once. "It's worse: After I gave you the application it was fine at first but time went by and I didn't get a partner so I kinda banked on you more and more because I just wanted to be respected for once but it still gets worse because what I wanted to tell you today is that I kinda am suspended now and uh it's somewhat of a thing with me and Bogo that I'll help you with graduating so I can get a partner and return to work because you were the only thing left I could say so I was so caught up with myself and what I wanted that I didn't treat you like I should and I had the chance time and time again not to be a selfish idiot about it but I just didn't and even now I tell myself I want this just for you but I mainly just really want to succeed and to get my dreams to become true and I don't know what I would do if you would leave and all that just makes me a terrible mammal and I know it but I can't change it and I am so so very sorry but it's the truth.
"Now. Now I'm done. Now you can hate me." A single tear ran down her cheeks; she did not dare look at his expression. It seemed that an eternity had passed, but he spoke at length.
"I can respect that."
"Say what now!?" Judy jerked upright and found his non-plussed muzzle, her jaw all the way on the floor. And yet, he was deadly serious.
"You heard what I said."
"So you're not mad...?"
"Mad? Oh, yeah: I am."
"But...?"
"But I'm not stupid, Judy. We all look out for ourselves, and there is nothing inherently wrong with that. I could tell you wanted something like this." Judy quickly nodded and agreed with great relief. "But," he went on, "you aren't giving yourself enough credit. You aren't a narcissist; I highly doubt you want to do this for fame or money; you don't want to hurt anyone, and that's painfully obvious. We had quite the ride; when you recruited me, you didn't have any of the intentions you told me about now. That was before all of this. We are a product of our circumstances, after all. But that doesn't excuse your behaviour and brings me to why I wanted to talk to you." Nick paused. She could tell the following words lay heavy on his tongue. "I wish things were different, but I think we'll have to go our separate ways..."
"I know the academy is difficult," Judy said.
"The understatement of the century, but it's not that... I just... don't like how risky the gig is. This meeting is already riskier than I'd like."
"I mean... the job is like that. And I suppose meeting is, too," she admitted. "What can I say? You've read me like a book. No selfishness and no assumptions: I genuinely think the work would be a good fit for you; I wouldn't have finished the case without you. And from what I heard, you are doing quite well in the ZPA."
"Me? I'm alright, I guess... Well, I know some things—and the studying is surprisingly easy—but I don't do well with a lot of other stuff. The physical exercises, for example; how did you ever do that?"
"I honestly don't know. I just... pushed through, I guess? I needed to do a lot of stuff in the evenings and when we were on leave. I had to learn harder or more advanced things on my own just to get an edge...
"But hey, are you really gonna throw away the past three months like that? There is the cause, too; don't you care about that?"
Nick averted his gaze in response. She had a feeling he wasn't telling her even half of the truth. "I just don't know, honestly," he said.
"You are already halfway done."
"But it's gonna get more difficult."
Judy frowned. "But I can help you get through it."
Doubt lay on him, but he held his tongue. "I guess."
"And isn't it interesting, too?"
"Interesting how exactly?"
"Well, everything. The work, the regulations, the equipment... and the mammals. I doubt you had any Prey around you in your hometown."
"I've been born here."
"Oh! So sorry, Nick. But yeah, the Predator and Prey aspect."
"You are aware that that's what's gotten us into all of this, right?"
"It's not like that; the job... the Predators aren't really like that."
"We aren't like what?" he said carefully. "So you know more about us than we do?"
"No, I..." She trailed off.
Nick exhaled firmly. If she likend his earlier words to granite, then these were tungston. "Judy, I mean this in the kindest way possible, but we are not friends; in fact, we couldn't be friends if we wanted to. I can't guarantee what I'll do because I don't know—and... it's not your business anyway. We had a good run for a time, and I am grateful for this opportunity... I'd like it if things were different for you, but I... I can't help you here; I-I shouldn't."
Nick stood up and left. She sat for many more hours and thought. When she came home, there was a paper slip with a phone number just beyond the door.
Judy smiled in recognition of it.