It was the dead of night.
The streets of Zootopia were quiet and peaceful — about as peaceful as possible in one of the larger areas of the city. Baobab Boulevard was one of the more affluent sectors of Savannah Central. It was never particularly crowded, but it was also never empty; just the right amount mammals to populate the place during the day and not leave it completely deserted at night. The exception of course being times like these when the moon had risen so high in the sky that it had crested its peak and was making way for the sun.
Little hooves click clacked along the sidewalk. After a long night shift, the young gazelle was exhausted and looking forward to a good night's rest — or day's really, since she likely wouldn't be waking up until late in the afternoon. She sighed inwardly reading over the article on her smart phone as she walked.
With less than a year until mayoral election, the battle lines remain consistent. Coleson leads by nearly thirty points with Johnson behind. His substantial lead is believed to be attributed to the brewing tensions surrounding Regulation 647, a widely unpopular bill among the predator community. Johnson's support for the legislation has garnered the attentions of the prey community, but further alienates —
She rolled her eyes with a huff, closing the window with a tap of her hoof. That was all anyone was talking about these days. Not exactly surprising considering the importance of Zootopia's leadership. The gravity of the situation wasn't lost on her, she was just tired of hearing about it. Following the infamous Night Howler incident, Mayor Coleson filled the vacuum of power after Bellwether's arrest. While she wasn't particularly thrilled about having a panther in control of the city, it couldn't be denied that he hadn't done a terrible job thus far, as evidenced by his lead in the polls as incumbent.
The only thing pulling more attention in the headlines was the upcoming games, falling on the fourth-year mark. Interesting that the biggest sporting event in the city was running parallel to the elections in the coming year. The gazelle had thrown her lot behind the camel team. They tended to perform consistently, and never failed to entertain. Some would argue that the lion group pulled in more viewership, but she would be willingly turned into a taxidermy before she supported a pred.
With her building coming into sight, she put her phone away and began the arduous task of locating her keys. The darned things were always so difficult to find in her large handbag, only made worse by being an ungulate. Hooves weren't conducive to searching bags. She grumbled quietly to herself while she fished around, impressing even herself at her ability to continuously misplace the items. And this was despite attaching a hot pink accessory to the keyring in the hopes of making it easier to find. A lot of good that did her.
"Come on… where are you…" she muttered, pausing near the steps. Her ears twitched in frustration, eyes narrowing and lowering toward the opening for a closer look. Perhaps they had slipped in between the files. Crouching, she lowered her bag to the ground and set it upright, the opening widening before her. With a larger area of sight to work with, she was now confident that she could find her missing door keys. The gazelle was so focused on her search, that the sound of rapidly approaching paw pads didn't catch her attention. By the time she noticed the assailant, it was already too late.
The quiet street was quiet no more as an ear-piercing scream rang out into the night.