Hey everyone. Sorry to take so long, but I got this one in and hopefully a couple more in before Halloween. Good thing, too, with so many people staying at home this year.

"Up and down, up and down
I will lead them up and down
I am feared in field in town
Goblin, lead them up and down"

Puck, A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare

Although it was now clear that the shot had not been fired from the theater floor, protocol still required a lengthy process of photographing and collecting everything from the crime scene. To avoid any trace of presumption or carelessness, not a popcorn bucket or gum wrapper could be ignored. So even with special focus given to the area between the elephant and the door, it was decided that the more basic equipment for treating the elephant should be brought to the scene, and further care given at the hospital if necessary.

As the smallest animal on paw and least likely to trample something important, Judy had been appointed to assist the medic who arrived a few minutes later. Officer Catano hung back and was monitoring evidence gathering along with Bogo and Higgins in the other quadrants of the theater, but she kept throwing wary glances Judy's way. Judy understood, though she suspected in the event of a crisis it would be up to her own reflexes to bail her out.

"Nicole Tailbott, PA," announced a slightly anxious voice, causing Judy's ears to flick in that direction. She turned to see a red wolf in hospital scrubs clutching a large medical pack with one arm and showing an ID badge to the officers guarding the entrance.

She was admitted, and spared a brisk but not unfriendly nod to Judy as she knelt by the patient. Their still-nameless elephant lay under the net, far less frisky than before but still watched by two elephants and a rhino. Miss Tailbott barely paid them any mind, focusing strictly on the patient and on Judy.

"How long has he been drugged?" she asked, kneeling and opening her bag.

"Incident started about half an hour ago," Judy reported. "Suspect has been pinned down for the last ten."

"Patient," the red wolf corrected. "If the suspect were still around they wouldn't let me in."

Judy felt instantly chastened for her mistake, but only briefly. She followed the action anxiously as Ms. Tailbot donned gloves and a mask, then swabbed up what remained of the Night Howler extract and bagged it for analysis later. Changing gloves and putting the used ones inside-out in a waste bag, she scrubbed disinfectant over a patch of skin on the elephant's shoulder right by his neck.

"Get off," groaned the elephant. "Get away."

"In good time," promised Ms. Tailbott calmly, as if she tended to neurotic elephants on a regular basis. She filled a syringe three times the size of Judy's arm with a clear yellow liquid, then pushed it through the skin with a rather significant effort and emptied it in. "Officer, if you would?" she asked, gesturing to some much smaller gloves and a box of gauze pads.

Judy quickly readied herself and pressed a pad of the loose white cloth to the injection site, thence to wait for any change in their patient. She knew from her training that, even with the doses being larger, most drugs and medicines took longer to show any impact on megafauna. All the same, she was half sick wondering if the elephant would be alright.

At last, when the pachyderm's struggles had slowed visibly, the red wolf laid a paw on his temple and spoke into his ear in a slow, steady tone. "Sir, my name is Nicole, PA from Zootopia Central. Can you understand anything I'm saying?"

The elephant rolled an eye towards her; about the only movement he could manage.

"Can you tell me your name?"

At first the silence continued. Then in a croaking, rather dry voice the elephant grunted, "Ivan. Ivan… Tuskersson." Then, almost as an afterthought, "Is there water? I'm thirsty."

Nicole called for a bottle from the ambulance crew behind her, who had been keeping back to stay out of the officers' way. They couldn't give it to him the usual way with his trunk still pinioned (not that he could have gotten it into the bottle had he been free), but Judy managed to squirt some through the sport-style top into his mouth.

"Thank you," he said when the bottle was empty. "But… why am I bound? Where is-"

"Hey, hey, one question at a time," Judy broke in.

"It's nothing," replied Judy, glad to see the patient showing signs of recovery. "And, uh, sorry about the net. We gave you an antidote, but things have been a little fishy lately with this stuff so the chief says not to take chances." She jerked a thumb over in Bogo's direction, then realized that their paralyzed pachyderm couldn't see that way at the moment.

"This… stuff," mused Ivan. Then, before they could say anything more, his face took on a crestfallen expression. "You mean I was…?"

"It's alright," promised Nicole, laying a paw at the top of his trunk. "We've given you a dose of the antidote, and now we just need to see how well it's working. We'll still have to take you back to the hospital for tests, but with any luck you can walk out of here in the next ten minutes or so."

Ivan nodded as best his position allowed. "What should I do, then?"

Nicole flicked her eyes to Judy with a hopeful expression. Judy didn't have to even guess what the medic was thinking; the elephant's cooperation was almost too good to be true.

"Can you tell us who might be looking for you?" Judy asked, stepping in. "We need to contact them and let them know what's going on."

A pained expression washed over the elephant's face. "My wife. Her name is Rebecca. Tell her gently; she has a nervous temperament."

Further questioning demonstrated that, when it came to being almost too good to be true, Ivan's case was definitely a big time 'almost.'

"It doesn't make any sense," Judy acknowledged later at the hospital, sitting next to Officer Catano while doctors privately examined and consulted with the patient. Their presence was a given; even if Ivan hadn't been hit with an insanity-inducing drug, it was normal practice for the police to do all in their power to keep a post-traumatic patient calm. Having friendly faces nearby – even if they'd only met half an hour before – was just what the doctor ordered, so to speak.

"A lot of things about this don't make sense," Catano agreed. "If it wasn't for the serum still on his skin I would think the whole thing was staged."

Judy shook her head. "He doesn't seem like the kind of mammal who would go on a rampage if he had any say in it," she countered.

"Just like Bellwether didn't seem like the type to mastermind a terrorist plot," answered the cheetah. "Or like Lionheart didn't seem like the type to engage in an illegal cover-up and worry dozens of innocent relatives."

As much as Judy had to admit that was true about Bellwether, she still held her ground about Ivan. Besides, she hadn't entirely forgotten her visit to Lionheart Manor either, and how genuinely grieved the former mayor seemed over his crimes. "Well, even if it was staged, it wouldn't make sense. He's basically put himself right into police custody, and they're analyzing the serum and his blood samples now," she pointed out.

Catano nodded. "Which brings us back to the case," she affirmed slowly. "It's possible that the vixen who fired that dart simply underestimated Ivan's skin, or his size."

Both of those were valid points, but Judy couldn't help thinking that Vanya was too shrewd to make that kind of mistake. Much as she would have liked it to be so simple, her better judgment firmly barred any underestimation of the enemy. It didn't help, either, that she was still keeping her mouth shut about knowing it was Vanya who fired the dart.

Further speculation ended as a mare came up, tailed by Nicole. The red wolf held two clipboards stacked on one another while the equine had her hooves behind her back in a crisp, businesslike manner.

"Officers," the mare greeted, "I'm doctor Clopwell. You must be waiting on the bloodwork?"

"And the serum analysis," Catano agreed, getting up. "Officer Catano, and this is my partner, Officer Hopps. What do you have for us?"

"Well, you'll be pleased to know the patient is recovering just fine. In fact, if you have no need to question him they're waiting on word to let his family in to see him."

"We don't," answered Judy quickly. Catano gave her an annoyed look, but aside from suspicions that the bunny was acting out of sympathy for an anxious couple and their kids, they really had no questions at the moment. Until some evidence fingered Ivan as anything other than a mere pawn in Obearon's sadistic game, there was no reason to think he could tell them anything useful.

Catano waved a paw as if fanning away a smell. "We can talk to him later if necessary. What do you have for us on the blood work and serum?"

"Well, it's the strangest thing," Doctor Clopwell explained, taking one of the clipboards from Nicole. "Plant toxins are my specialty, and there's something odd about the serum we collected off of Ivan."

"Another formula?" asked Judy.

"Actually, no. In fact it's very much like the formula used in the earliest attacks with one major difference. The botanical compounds in the extract aren't pure like before. As best I can tell a lot of them had already started to break down when the dart was manufactured."

Catano frowned in confusion. "They used rotted flowers?"

Judy lit up like a Christmas tree. "Which means they must be running out of ammunition!" she exclaimed.

All three stared at her, so when Nicole ventured to ask her for an explanation she pressed on. "Midnicampum blossoms are only effective when they're fresh. When they wither or get sick, the toxins in them lose their punch."

"How do you know all that?" asked Nicole, scrunching her face.

"My family used them for pest control. Mom was very careful to get rid of the withered ones and replace them ASAP, and if a flower so much as had a bad petal we had to pull that off before it spread to the rest of the plant."

"I hate to interrupt your mother's flower garden," Catano quipped, "but do you mean to say that the decaying toxins mean Doug's running out of Night Howlers?"

"Yes!" Judy exclaimed. She was so stoked about the good news that she hardly even noticed the cheetah's biting sarcasm.

Catano hummed thoughtfully. "Well, that's good news at least. I think Chief Bogo will want to hear about this."

Late that evening, Nick reflected that there was one small upside to going on such an awkward date with a long-ago flame. For the first time since he could remember, it was okay to act as guilty and unsure as he felt. Sure, actually letting himself feel guilty at all really stunk, but he knew better than anyone that you had to take your good where you could get it.

Much to his relief, Meesha had not gotten herself especially dolled up for the occasion. Some light perfume – store brand rather than Poisson – coupled with a skirt a little past the knees, a sweater, and just a few touches of makeup here and there. Everything was nicer than she usually wore, but not so anyone would notice unless they knew her usual manner. With an intense sense of conflict, he opened the passenger door for her.

"Nice car," she observed noncommittally, buckling herself in and looking around at the interior. "You must be doing pretty well these days."

"Actually, it was more of a gift from a friend," he replied with a shrug. Then, hoping to change the subject, he added, "You look nice."

"Thanks."

Nick chewed on his lip. Every fiber of his being rebelled at the prospect of discussing their history, but he figured he should acknowledge the elephant in the room before she dragged it out and dropped it on him.

"I just want to say," he opened up, "I'm really, really sorry about the last time. I was a jerk. I know that."

If he'd been hoping for some cheerful response, he must have been thinking of some other mammal. "Yeah, you were a jerk alright," she agreed.

He rubbed his thumbs anxiously against the steering wheel as he drove. "So, uh, where was it you wanted to go?"

"I'll direct," she replied. "So why did you come back – besides the fact that you need my help?"

This was clearly not shaping up to be a cheery kiss-and-make-up type of reunion. "Well, could I convince you if I said I've been trying to turn over a new leaf?" he ventured.

She thought about it. "Not easily, but I might decide to believe you even if I thought it was crazy."

Nick had to wonder why females were always so darn enigmatic – unless of course it was just their way of getting back at him. "Look, I know I've been a jerk in the past," he said, crafting his answer to avoid mention of the ZPD or Judy. "Honestly I'm still kind of a jerk, but I don't like it. I'm not happy with the way I am, and I'm trying to fix that."

"Your not being happy, or your being a jerk?"

He let out a quiet breath. "Both," he admitted, "but not in that order."

She was quiet, staring out the windshield with her paws folded in her lap. "Turn left here," was all she said.

Nick could feel his ears slipping back. Was he really telling her the truth? Besides needing to get to Miss Poisson, was he doing this for her sake, or just to please his own guilty conscience?

"I know that I hurt you before," he added, turning. "I tricked you, I played you, and I let you down."

"Don't forget using and losing."

Truth be told, Nick hadn't used her in the sense one often heard mammals say it euphemistically. However, he knew she had a point. He'd never taken physical advantage, but he had certainly manipulated her for his own enjoyment. "Yeah, that too, I guess," he allowed. "Anything I forgot?"

"No, I think that covers it."

He winced inside at her not-so-subtle dig. On the bright side, though, at least now he knew something he could genuinely tell her. "Well, I'm sorry, seriously. I shouldn't have treated you like that."

For an uncomfortably long moment, silence reigned in the car. "What about now?" she asked at last.

'Question of the hour,' he thought to himself. Telling her about the police thing would obviously be a really bad idea. "I'm… I'm trying to rethink how I look at relationships," he offered, his conscience pricking at him again. In truth he'd been avoiding that very train of thought. "I want to be more honest and responsible, like I should have all along."

"That's a pretty tall order." It almost came across as an insult, but something in her tone made him stop and think. She had a point – and not just that being those things would be a challenge for him. No one did things the right way on a regular basis expecting it to be easy or convenient. Doing the right thing meant a lot of hassles, like backing up someone who saw you as a shifty lowlife, or risking your neck to save mammals who wouldn't know you from Adam, or… or, heck, even forgiving someone who had betrayed you and treated you like dirt right when you trusted them the most.

He'd been down that road. He knew this was hard on Meesha. "Look," he said quietly, stopping at a red light and turning to face her, "I know I'm not the easiest guy to trust. I get that. I'm not asking you to believe that I've cleaned up my act just out of nowhere. I don't even deserve to have you let me prove it, but please, let me."

He braced himself for the kind of ripping he'd gotten on other occasions like this, when a girlfriend found out about his career or his connections or his other girlfriend. He was even willing to admit that she had every right to verbally blast him into next year. He owed her that much if she decided to do it.

Instead he heard words he'd barely hoped to dream he'd ever hear from someone he'd crossed. "Go ahead."

A breath he hadn't known he was holding in escaped his lips. "Thanks."

She pointed to the traffic light. "Go," she repeated.

"What? Oh, green light. Right."

As they rounded another corner, Nick spotted a very familiar-looking car and cringed. 'Taelia!' he thought as the instinctive fear of one girlfriend catching him with another came right back like old times. A wave of relief came when he caught sight of the driver and realized it wasn't Taelia, or any vixen at all, or even female for that matter. The passing lynx caught his startled gaze and answered it with confusion, prompting Nick to wave an awkward apology.

"Who was that?" asked Meesha, puzzled.

Nick shrugged. "Oh, uh, friend of mine," he fumbled awkwardly. Come to think of it he was pretty sure he owed the guy money, though evidently their passing had been too brief for the cat to recognize him. Good grief, would he ever break this habit of lying?

'Not tonight, Wilde,' a voice grated in the back of his mind. Its disparaging, ironic tone reminded him uncannily of Finnick. 'You sure ain't breaking it tonight.'

He took a deep breath and mentally drew his lips into a tight line. 'Someday,' he told himself, 'I'll get around to making up for the stuff I've done to make up for my past.'

Meesha's directions ultimately led them to a luau-themed restaurant, complete with an authentic flamenkoala group on stage and cups made from real coconuts. Nick couldn't help feeling a little out of place in his businesslike suit, but pushed the thought aside as he and Meesha considered what to buy – and what to make of one another.

Meesha, taking only a little time to make her selection, turned her focus promptly back to him. "So, what kind of business are you planning to pitch to my boss?" she asked, a bit guardedly. Her tone was only half curious, with the other being unmistakably interrogative.

He shrugged, glad at least to see the conversation shifting away from his checkered past. "Tailoring, actually. I call it Suit-opia."

She snorted. "Suit-opia?" she asked skeptically. "Where'd you come up with that name?"

He flinched a little at her derision. "My dad, as a matter of fact. It was kind of his dream."

At this she stopped and hesitated. Then a look of recognition came over her face. "Oh," she said quietly. It had taken her a moment to remember that Nick's father was dead. "Sorry."

"Eh, forget it," he advised. "He was all puns anyway, but he was a great dad. He wanted to go into tailoring because he wanted a job where he could be close to me and Mom; not a desk job, but something we could walk into anytime."

Obviously this touched Meesha, and looking back on the bit of homework he'd done on Poisson Nick reflected that this was one aspect where his pitch, while true to the facts, also echoed the history of Poisson's Passion. Not too differently from his old fox, Arthur Poisson had worked hard to make his business a family affair; his wife's flowers, his chemistry, and eventually their daughter's shrewdness and ambition. Now one had to wonder if the admiration growing on Meesha's face was shared by the company for which she worked; the one he was secretly working to probe for signs of weakness and guilt right under her nose.

"He sounds like a great fox," she said quietly. "And, um, what's your interest in tailoring?"

He shrugged. "Oh, trying for a business my family can be proud of, I guess," he offered offhandedly.

She frowned slightly. "You have a family?"

"Well, my mom anyway," he clarified. "She even dug out Dad's old plans for the business."

"Oh." She thought about that. "I don't think I ever met your mother."

Nick couldn't help thinking that his mom might be a little bugged about him dating a raccoon. She wasn't too pushy about it, but she had remarked here and there about hoping for grandcubs. "Maybe one of these days I'll introduce you," he suggested. 'In passing, strictly as a non-date,'added a voice in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure if that was himself hedging his bets, or his conscience prodding him for hedging them. Sheesh, this was getting annoying.

They went on talking, he doing his level best to be as winsome as possible while the voices in his head called him out for a loser. It didn't even help – at least not much – when he at last texted Judy to tell her he'd gotten the appointment to see Olivia Possion.

"Faust, I'll get straight to the point. What's the status report on our project?"

The hornless ram clenched his teeth, irritated beyond words at these endless interviews. Obearon knew very well what had happened, especially after micro-managing the affair to the most infuriating degree anyone could without direct knowledge of how the process actually worked. At least, however, this conversation was in the lab where Doug had some iota of control. He stuck a vial of the blue liquid – now much clearer than previous extracts – into a machine and began tapping away at the attached computer while numbers scrolled by on the screen. "I've changed the mixture like you said, and we should be able to stretch out the supply enough for what you're talking about. Only problem is, like I said, the mix is too weak now. It'll cause irritation, heightened aggression, but the damage to higher mental functions is right through the floor." He glanced at a cage of kidnapped rodents, all shaking with rage but otherwise motionless. "Even the mice I tried it on didn't actually go insane. Of course it might have helped if I hadn't been wasting my time making dummy extract with a bunch of half-rotted flowers in the compost pile."

If this last accusation had any impact, there was no sign of it. "Of course the mice didn't go mad," the distorted voice droned. Doug was getting so sick of that digital alteration. Even if he wanted to risk ticking Obearon off – which he didn't, at least not as much as he wanted to stay breathing – who would he tell in this dump of a 'safe house' even if he knew the boss' identity?

"The mice haven't gone insane because I don't want them to yet. As long as you're certain the liquid will cause greater aggression, everything is going according to plan."

The white vixen holding the speaker from whence Obearon spoke smiled, adding to the sheep's displeasure. She didn't know the entire plan; it was true. Obearon kept a tight lid on things to ensure no one could foul them up, and overall she respected that. Besides, it wasn't the plan that appealed to her half so much as the power. Truly this boss was a mammal after her own treacherous heart.

Doug ground his teeth. "Look, boss," he argued with forced submissiveness, "I don't want to be disrespectful, but what's the game here? If we start pulling off half-baked attacks like today, mammals are gonna stop fearing us, right?"

If it had been a movie, the laugh that came through in answer would have been deep-throated, bold, and echoing, possibly rising in pitch and volume as it went with an inverse decline in sanity. Instead it was cold and measured; calculated almost as if for a production with a kind of minimalistic dramatic effect. Somehow this theatrical approach made the effect far worse, as its digitally twisted chuckles crept into the sheep's very bones and marrow. Then he said something which surprised both ram and vixen.

"Oh, my most excellent Faust," asked Obearon slowly, "who ever said we wanted them afraid?"

Shoot. Looks like all's not on the road to recovery after all, is it? What's Obearon up to now, and will the ZPD catch on in time to stop it?

My information on the effects of medicine where elephants are concerned stems, as in other cases, from wildlife shows I used to watch way back when. Contrary to popular impressions, drugs like knock-out darts can take an insanely long time to actually put an animal under. The counter-drugs – which are often necessary to keep an animal from dying once they've been fitted with a tracking collar or what have you – are similarly slow-acting. The bigger the animal, in general, the longer the wait. So if you're ever faced with, say, an attacking wildcat and have to choose between a tranq rifle or bullets, the tranq rifle may not be as helpful as you think.

It's good to be back in business. Things have been crazy hectic, and I'm still trying to get to publishing an actual book. I figured you guys had waited long enough, though, so I managed to carve out some time and put together this little chapter.

On one final note, I'm looking for a new proofreader if anyone's interested in getting the first look at these chapters as I write them. I'd particularly like someone who can respond in a timely manner to messages on here.

Guest: So far, at least.

ff: Y solo está comenzando, como puede ver.

Easter Egg Answers, Chapter 39: Fox Keyblader and dispix tagged it, but I'm guessing everyone caught the cameos of Kanga and Roo as nods to Winnie the Pooh. I'd practically bet money if Disney goes to Outback Island in a future installment, they'll be in there.