Chapter Text
The lazy light of late afternoon shone across Sahara square, casting dappled shadows beneath the park’s trees, branches now laden with russet leaves. As the working day drew to a close, the citizens of Zootopia lounged on benches or walked leisurely in the sunlight, their fur and horns glistening gold in the autumn sun. The air still held the warmth of the summer, but the chill of the shadows had some mammals wishing the city would hurry up and turn on the underground heating for the winter. It was as peaceful a scene as could be imagined, the murmur of amicable conversation broken only by the occasional outburst of laughter from the young mammals playing on the green.
It was scenes like this that Judy needed after a long day on the job, particularly after a shift where she was confined to her desk. It reminded her what all those hours and paperwork were for.
Hands on her hips, she inhaled deeply, tiny chest thrust forward in pride, as if she aimed to breathe in the peaceful atmosphere. It was enough to bring a smile to her face.
Her partner on the other hand, didn’t feel quite so fulfilled at the end of a long day.
Nick let the door of the precinct swing closed with a sigh, more than a few steps behind his exuberant partner. He also stopped at the top of the steps to the square and surveyed the scene. However, his intake of breath wasn’t the prelude to a sigh of happiness, but one of tired relief. With a casual flick of a paw, he snapped open his sunglasses, hiding eyes that were weary behind their cool mirrored façade.
“I don’t know how you do it, Carrots,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he led the way across the square, “standing there looking like you could take on a charging elephant at the end of a 10-hour shift.”
Judy smiled as they fell into step, the same easy pace they used when on foot patrol. Fast enough to know they were on business, but not so quickly that they couldn’t take in their surroundings without being rushed.
“What can I say, Slick, it’s all about the little things.” She gestured to the park in general, the happy mammals, the kits playing soccer, oblivious at this age to the species of their playmates. “Seeing all these mammals safe, even after a hard day, makes me feel it’s all worth it.” Nick looked at her, eyes hidden behind his glasses, and shook his head.
“Sure, Carrots, if your idea of making the world a better place is filing reports on pickpockets and jaywalkers all day long.” He said, but his voice suggested that his complaint was half hearted. “And she wasn’t a good pickpocket either,” he added.
“And how would you know , officer Wilde?” Judy asked, mock seriously, finding herself laughing as Nick pulled an exaggerated innocent expression, complete with scandalised paw over mouth.
“I’m sorry if catching petty thieves isn’t as exciting as the world of popsicle hustling ,” she teased, “did you think police work was going to be all car chases and shootouts?”
Nick gave a smile and a one-shouldered shrug, beginning to shake off the weariness of work as they bantered.
“Well fluff, what can I say, between being coerced into solving one of the biggest missing-mammal slash prey-supremacy conspiracy this side of the decade before I joined the force and discovering my good buddy flash was a speed fiend by car chase on my first day…” he gave her a sarcastic grin, “you could say these past few months have been a little…slow.”
Judy chuckled and conceded defeat “Okay, okay, maybe you came into this with high expectations,” she gave him a friendly punch on the arm, “but at least we aren’t on parking duty, right?” she said with a wink, and Nick had to admit she was right with a laugh.
As they passed the natural history museum, he gave her a nudge and pointed along the street, to a favourite restaurant of theirs, a noodle and sushi bar run by a family of Red pandas.
“You in the mood for noodles, Carrots?” he asked, “Because I don’t know about you, but after all that paperwork I could drown in some ramen.”
“Carrots and noodles, that's a good mix,” joked Judy, earning a weary groan from Nick, as it did every time she made it. She led the way into the restaurant, the warm, umami-scented air rolling over them as she pushed open the door, not noticing that behind her Nick was lending a quiet hand. He slipped in as the heavy door shut just short of his tail, following his oblivious friend to their usual seats on the counter.
“Well,” said Judy as, with a hop, she hoisted herself onto a stool that was built to accommodate every animal from a mouse to an elephant, “at least you know that at least one criminal is off the streets for a while thanks to you, today.” Nick, who had reached his own seat with less of an effort, gave her a flippant look as he leaned against the counter, removing his glasses.
“Pfft, that petty pickpocket, if she even deserves the phrase, was no harm to anybody. I mean,” he couldn’t help but chuckle as he shook his head, “who would even try to steal a purse from a cheetah, and then try to run away when caught? Beginner mistakes.”
“Oh yeah, slick?” said Judy, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, “and you would be an expert on this how ?” The mischievous smirk that Nick gave her in reply was a hint.
“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself an expert, not exactly,” he said, his smug smile growing as he spoke, ”but you sure haven’t noticed that your pride and joy has been gone for the last five minutes”
In a flash of a paw, an all-too familiar badge hung between his fingers, polished to a high shine, just as Judy liked to keep it.
Nick actively held back his laughter as Judy, still staring incredulously at the badge, patted herself down in a series of increasingly rapid movements, finally snatching at his paw for the badge she had finally admitted was missing. Nick let the laughter spill out of him as he twitched it out of her reach, keeping his complaining partner at arms-length as he stood on his stool.
“Carrots, have you ever heard the saying about wearing your heart on your sleeve? You gotta be more careful with it!” he teased as he ducked and dodged to avoid her tiny paws. She glared at him, trying in vain to hide the grin that was crinkling the corners of her eyes.
“When did you even take that?” she gasped, ears rigid in annoyance. Nick’s smile took on a proud tilt.
“Just in front of the natural history museum,” he said, giving her a wink, “and you never even noticed…Guess they don’t call me “Slick” for nothing.”
“Nicolas P. Wilde, if you don’t give me my badge back right now!” she muttered, trying again to reach said accessory, her attempts at jumping for it quelled by Nick’s paw to the face. Nick’s expression changed to one of mock shock and hurt.
“Bringing out the full name now, huh, officer Hopps?” he said, with a solemn shake of his head, “Well, you’re serious now. I guess the next step is arrest? How’re you gonna do that without your badge, may I ask?”
Judy pushed him playfully in the chest, chuckling slightly despite her frustration, and stepped back.
“C’mon Nick, we’re both adults here, give me back my badge,” she said, reaching out a paw expectantly. Nick raised his eyebrows in a challenge, paw holding the badge still held above his head. Damn, she was so adorable when she was mad!
“Oh, adults, now, are we? Well how was I supposed to know that’s what we are, after being attacked for keeping a bunny from her favourite toy?” he said with a smirk. Judy folded her arms, her foot thumping twice against the wooden stool as she gave him a look that was more frustration than amusement.
“Nick, this stopped being funny, like, five minutes ago,” she said, a statement which elicited a shrug from the fox.
“Well Carrots, I’m of the opinion that the mark doesn’t get to decide if the prank stops being funny, buu-uut I guess I’ll let you off,” he agreed, tossing the badge over in a soft underhand throw, “let’s get some food.”
Judy sighed in relief, securing her badge again and making a mental note to find a way to get back at him when the opportunity arose. Turning back to the counter, the pair were met with the stare of a panda that had been watching the whole exchange in some sort of trance. A pen hovered over their notepad, the owner of the stationary staring at the pair with a slightly dazed expression, a puzzled frown gracing their features.
As they stared at Nick and Judy and the pair stared back, they blinked slowly and pointed their pen at the two.
“Are…Are you guys ready to order?”
Pan back, back from the warm, wood-panelled restaurant walls, where Nick and Judy finally settle into their seats at the counter. Back, through the large window behind them, which spilled warm light out onto the street as the sky grew dark. Up, over the city as street lights lit, bathing the walkways of the districts white, and yellow, and blue. The temperature drops as the sun sinks in the sky, until an exhale of breath could be marked with the slightest hint of ice crystals, even in Sahara square. But in a certain district these clouds were noticeably denser, and the night sent the temperature dropping to well below zero celsius. It is here we stop.
The docks of Tundra Town were a hive of activity, day and night. Huge barges carrying produce to feed the massive population were shipped in from farming communities like bunnyburrow and Podunk, and fish freshly caught at sea. The frigid temperatures were ideal for maintaining freshness in all products. They could be stored with the minimum amount of cost in perfect condition, in huge, freezing warehouses right there on the dock. Most of the workers on the dock were polar bears, arctic foxes and moose. The rumours that a certain crime boss had installed a large number of his mammals as workers and slowly taken over the run of the warehouses were, of course , false.
However… At the very end of the huge, hulking line of storerooms that stood off the port, was one that looked a little different from the rest. It was sheltered slightly behind its brethren, the metal it was made of considerably more rusted and aged, the panes in its windows smashed and sloppily boarded with plywood. The bright, cold lights that shone like beacons down on the courtyard of the other silos was absent on its frame, the light of the others only serving to wreath it further in shadows. It was the most battered and ill-kept warehouse of the port. Rarely used to hold stock anymore, the other revenue it brought convinced the harbourmaster to turn a deaf ear to questions on its usefulness or rebuilding. And in any case, he knew any misstep in the case of the warehouses could lead to more than just an icy word from his totally-not-a-crime-boss-boss, and he had kits to think about.
Due to the 24-hour nature of the business of the dock, the site was gritted with salt, wide pathways in the snow to let cargo be dragged and rolled easily into nearby warehouses. Coincidentally, it also meant that the tracks of cars and animals couldn’t be seen as they congregated en masse towards a certain metal bunker.
Now, as the moon rose in earnest and made her way across the sky, certain animals slunk their way across the dock towards the warehouse. Animals bundled against a climate that they weren’t accustomed to, animals that avoided the security cameras with ease, as if they’d been informed of blind spots. Some came in casual street wear, some in immaculate suits; there was no defined class. There were groups friends that made their way to the lot as if it promised a good time, stifling their laughter and nudging each other in anticipation, and solitary figures that came in two types, weathered and serious, or young and hesitant, but excited.
The few night workers on the dock knew better than to question the unidentified animals that passed them. At this point, some of them were as familiar as old friends, striking up banter as they passed. Sometimes even an occasional bet was placed, if they knew the right mammal. As the slow trickle of animals reached the warehouse they were greeted by polar bears considerably larger and nastier-looking than the guards that sat outside the other silos. And if the word that a nervous mammal mumbled wasn’t what they wanted to hear, said animal would get a taste of the most feared punishment in tundra town by way of being thrown into the icy waters of the dock, with promise of worse if they tried again.
However, if the word whispered with a furtive glance around was correct, the heavy doors would be pulled back enough to allow access to the speaker. The scene beyond the threshold contrasted the peaceful cold night outside. Noise, voices of several different species, raised and shouting echoed off the walls in a cacophonic mass. The air was thick with heat and the expelled smoke of cigarettes and cigars clenched in paws and muzzles. A crowd of mammals, enough to make the warehouse’s cold walls sweat with their combined body heat, stood in a group in the centre of the space. A circle in the centre, the boundary marked only by the wall of animals packed around it and a smattering of sawdust on the floor was the focus of everyone’s attention.
The crowd was mainly predatorial, the few herbivores amongst them the type that would crush you if the word “prey” was even considered as a descriptive. The circle swayed and flexed like a living thing, the crowd around it shouting and hollering, placing bets as they watched.
Occasionally the circle would break, like a fence under the blow of a bull and the pair of animals inside would crash across the concrete, blood smearing the floor as they slid to a stop, never ceasing in their onslaught of each other. The crowd, unperturbed, flowed around them to form the makeshift ring again and the huge beasts, both staggering slightly, broke away and squared up once more.
This rhythmic pulse would continue until one of the contenders could no longer rise, and the winner turned to greet the replacement. Usually this meant that by the end of the night, the floor was slippery with blood and the only two left standing were two weathered heavy-hitters.
Tonight, however, the bull with an eye swollen shut that had just defeated a lion a good head taller than him turned to the part in the crowd and found himself looking down, and down again to meet the eyes of his next match. Despite his surprise, he couldn’t suppress a sneer that revealed a cracked tooth. He turned his face and spat, the quivering glob of blood splattering on the floor the only sound in the sudden hush.
Leaning down, he looked his would-be contender in the eyes, a dull rumble of laughter emanating from his chest.
“I get its pay to play, but…”he tilted his head, one ragged ear flick betraying his annoyance, “are you serious, kiddo?”
Every eye in the place was trained on the pair as they sized each other up, and the usual hubbub of whispered bets that preceded a fight was absent, not one mammal willing to risk this underdog.
In light of the chaos that followed, perhaps it would’ve been better for the bookies if they had.