Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Well, this sucks.

Rocket Raccoon, former member of the Guardians of the Galaxy, couldn't help but think that as he hung onto a piece of debris that used to be his ship, floating in the empty white void, unable to move or breathe, unable to do anything, really. It wasn't space as he knew it - Oh no, he would've died hours ago if it was, instead of stuck in this purgatory dimension. He didn't even know what happened - one moment he was on his way to Knowhere with Peter Quill, Drax and Gamora after surviving the Battle of Xandar, the next there was a massive explosion, the feeling of falling through space, and then waking up... here. Wherever here is.

What happened? He wondered, staring out at the same stretch of emptiness he'd been staring at the last unknown amount of time. It couldn't have been that bomb I left in the box, could it? I thought I deactivated the damn thing. Yeah, I must've. We had to have hit an asteroid or somethin'... What about the other one? Wait, why did I build another one?... Ugh, if the guys find out, I'm never going to here the end of it.

That was the big question though: Would they ever hear about it? Were they all dead? Was he dead? And Groot... Shit, where was he? No. No, not again! If anything happened to him, after all he'd done for them, after all he did for him...

Did this universe just experience a Convergence?

If the raccoon could, he would've jumped out of his fur. Someone was here, and it sounded like they were talking right into his ear. A deep, metallic voice that sounded powerful and malevolent, full of that cocky arrogance all supervillains seem to have.

Maybe, but it seems like there was some spillage. Another voice said, opposite ear. This one sounded older, gentle yet still enthusiastic. Why? Are you disappointed that you couldn't add another chunk to your Battleworld?

Don't patronize me, old man! You seem content letting the Beyonders run roughshod over the multiverse, leaving me to stop them and pick up the pieces. I would hope that you would be more appreciative of my efforts to salvage what's left of your work, from the DOOM that you let grow in your absence .

Ah, Victor. Even as a God, you have much to learn. Though you may think you've seen infinite worlds in your efforts to stop the Convergence, that is only a grain of sand in the vast expanse of Creation. Even if you were to become more powerful than me, One who is Above All Things, you would still be but a small player in the greatest of stories.  Everything that the Beyonders have destroyed is only a few branches in the great tree of the Creation, one that will grow back soon enough. And all the worlds that you have laid claim to will return to their rightful place, when all is said and done.

If this is your attempt to humble me, I'm afraid it is rather lacking. But I digress. Rocket felt the voices inside his mind now, energy building up around him like an Ion Cannon revving up to fire. His insides felt cold, as the void around him grew dark and dreary. In the distance, he could here the sounds of a battle - metal clashing, people shouting, explosions echoing all around. I take it this little... rodent here is for me? There's a place for everyone in Battleworld, even for one as inconsequential as him.

Not this time. The energy around him grew, but it seemed to change, like a negative to positive charge. Now he felt like he was on fire, everything around him melting and burning as he fell into a glowing light. There was the soft beat of music in the air, cheerful and full of life. I've been talking with... an old friend of mine. He's expressed interest in this fella here, something about a brand new world for creatures like him.

Oh, you mean 'The Mouse' is showing off one of his new creations?... Very well. It might just amuse me, watching him get the 'perfect' world he's been searching for.

Ha! My dear Doctor, there's no perfect world, even in utopias. For if everything in life was perfect, what would there be left to strive for?

With those words of wisdom echoing in his mind, Rocket passed through a blinding white light, and in a moment of agony and ecstasy, fell into deep slumber...

The raccoon slowly came back to consciousness, the ground underneath him vibrating with a gentle hum. A maglev train of some kind, Monorail perhaps? He opened his eyes, and saw that he was alone in the cabin, sitting upright and looking at a window displaying an ever-expanding prairie in all directions. He blinked, looking around in a disoriented haze.

"What?" He uttered, genuinely baffled. "Did that just happen?" There was no response - guess it wasn't one of those AI-operated trains, then.

Rocket noticed right away that he was in his orange jumpsuit again (his favorite one, come to think of it), but also that the cabin was empty save for a single duffel bag on his right, with a letter on top. He reached over to open it, and began reading aloud:

"To: Rocket Raccoon, proud member of the Guardians of the Galaxy,

As you may or may not have deduced by now, your original universe had recently experienced a multiversal event called a "Convergence". Fear not, for your friends and universe has survived, at the cost of another, nearly identical universe. As fate would have it, the chaos caused by two planes of existence colliding created some unexpected events - namely, your forced ejection from said realities."

Okay, so I'm in another world, then? Rocket sniffed the air, tapped the metal floor with his foot, flexed his arms, even gave himself a pinch. Everything seemed to be normal. "At least I'm not dead yet," He muttered, "That's a good start." He continued on;

"Fortunately for you, rather than spending all eternity floating in the void between realities or getting sent to the chaotic Battleworld of our compatriot, you have been specifically chosen to go the glorious and wonderful world of ZOOTOPIA, 'Where Anyone can be Anything!'" The raccoon rolled his eyes at that. "Sure, when a space rat becomes a mob boss, maybe I'll buy that." "What sets ZOOTOPIA apart from any other world you've visited, is that not only are there no humanoid species here, but it is also entirely populated by an-thro-po-mor-fic animals, such as yourself."

Rocket blinked, and reread the last sentence. And read it again. "'No humanoid species... animals such as yourself'." Could it be true? He could understand a world without humans and their lookalikes - he had visited a couple planets where the aliens were so strange that he couldn't tell whether he was talking to a face or an ass - but people like him? He was a one-off, a scientific experiment. A freak. In all of his years of traveling the stars, he had only ever met two other creatures like him: Blackjack o'Hare, famous bunny pirate... and Lylla, the otter that stole his heart. He hadn't seen either of them since way before meeting Star-Lord in Xandar, and most times he just accepted that, outside of his friends, he was truly alone in the universe. Only in his wildest dreams had he ever thought that he could find a place where he wasn't mistaken for vermin, considered a pet for some bigger, uglier alien. A place where, perhaps, he could just blend into the crowd.

Sure "normal" is boring, but it would be nice to experience it at least once in his life.

Shaking his head, he continued on; "Inside this bag, you will find all that you will need easily make ZOOTOPIA your new home. Alongside all the necessary paperwork, you have also bee given several mementos and tools from your home 'verse. While ZOOTOPIA isn't a po-dunk backwater world filled with wild beasts and primitive savages, it does possess technological capabilities and similarities to present day Terra - limited space travel, fusion power, wireless telecommunications, etc. Keep in mind, should you pursue a business or desire quick cash - spaceships are very rare, and making plasma guns and combat drones out of a box of scraps is going to get the attention of persons you'd rather not have right away."

"No spaceships?" He groaned, "No plasma guns? So much for raising my hopes up." He opened up the bag, looking around at all the worldly possessions he now has. He whistled in appreciation as the first thing he saw were a pair of shiny, chrome-colored Nova Prime model pistols. They were rather small - basically a derringer for larger people, but perfect for his hands. They were even complete with black leather holsters with the initials "R.R." stitched on the sides. At the bottom of the handle was a little switch, the top having the image of a face with x's for eyes, while the bottom one had a sleeping face with z's on the side.

"These are custom Nova pistols, upgraded with a 'stun' setting. Guns are technically illegal in ZOOTOPIA, but with your track record you'd probably make your own anyway. Like Xandar, using lethal force is definitely frowned upon, so at least this way you can defend yourself from the larger animals without becoming a murderer in the process."

Underneath that were several pairs of clothes, including a snappy-looking dress shirt that wouldn't look out of place on a pirate. There were also a pair of boots designed for his feet (and putting them on, they fit rather well), equipped with smaller versions of the mini-jets that Peter Quill had on his shoes. Rocket wasn't one to focus too much on clothes, but he could see the benefit of wearing more than jumpsuits all the time.

"You'll notice in ZOOTOPIA that most mammals wear clothes just like the humanoids back in your world. While that might not interest you, perhaps the jet-boots will. Many locals will be quite a bit taller than you, and parts of the city are built to accommodate them. Being able to talk with them at eye-level should help keep things fair, and get you places that might otherwise be out of reach."

Underneath that was a weird looking device - it looked like a cross between a small datapad, and Peter's cassette player, complete with speakers designed for his ears.

Zootopians haven't yet achieved the technological requirements to create datapads as you know them, but this smart phone does about everything a datapad does anyway - call, text, surf internet, play music, the works. Enjoy the library of local music and songs from your boy Star-Lord's playlist - something to remind you of home, past and present."

"Finally, we know that moving to a strange place can be a scary experience, especially when you're all on your own. With that in mind, our last gift for you is the ability to have your bodyguard and friend by your side."

At the bottom of the bag was something that brought a genuine smile to the outlaw's face - a pot filled with dirt, with a little stick coming out of it. The stick had a face, which blinked and smiled, and two little arms that gave a little shake.

"Hey, Groot," He said to the little plant, "How you doin'?"

"I am Groot!" The plant chirped, not at all minding having just been stuck in a bag for who knows how long.

"Great, I was startin' to worry." He put the pot up next to him on a window ledge, facing the sun. Groot stretched out and yawned, enjoying some good ole' fashioned photosynthesis. "I am Groot?"

"Nah, bud. Just you and me right now." He sighed. "How much did you here in there?"

"I am Groot." He nodded.

"Good, 'cause I'm almost done and I don't wanna repeat myself."

"With all that's said and done, our final word of advice is this - ZOOTOPIA will not be a walk in the park. There are many good things about it, just as there are many bad things too. You are no longer a freak of nature, but you are nonetheless subject to bias and preconceived notions as anyone else. Even in the most perfect of societies, prejudice will always exist, whether by explicit laws or unspoken consensus. No one can control how the many see the few, but you can control how people view you. Will you return to the criminal ways of your past? Will you become the hero you and your friends were destined to be? Whatever you choose, know that the future is yours to make, and we shall watch your progress with great interest.

Excelsior!

TOAA, VvD, MM"

The letter ended, and soon the only sound to be heard was the constant THU-THUK! THU-THUK! of the monorail heading down the tracks.

"I am Groot?"

"I dunno what we're gonna do now." Rocket leaned back in his seat. "I don't know where we even are! This is just a lot to take in, even for me."

The baby tree creature tilted it's head to the side, perhaps expecting a more definitive answer. The raccoon rubbed his tired eyes, and grunted, "Ok, as of right now, my only plans are riding this train to we reach this place, and keeping you by my side. Once we get there, I'll just have to wing it."

"I am Groot!" Groot nodded his head vigorously.

"I am pretty good at improvising, aren't I?" Rocket put on an earbud of his new phone, and started fiddling around with it until he got some music on shuffle, and started skimming through some of the pamphlets he found in the side pockets of his bag.

About twenty minutes later, he had gone through about 3 of the 5 pamphlets, and was adjusting Groot's pot to get more sunlight, when an overhead display started flashing, with text scrawling out, "Approaching Zootopia. Stop at Sahara Square in 5 minutes." Looking out the windows, he saw that the flatlands had been replaced with small hills and little rivers. Up ahead in the front of the cabin, the front window showed that they were rapidly approaching a giant bay. Rocket quickly put everything back inside the bag, leaving the zipper unzipped so Groot could see. Going to the front window, the phone had shuffled again.

"Uh-uh-uh-uh-UHHH!" Try Everything, by Gazelle.

Skip.

"Awugah-shagga, Wooga-wooga, Awugah-shagga-" Hooked on a Feeling, by Blue Suede.

Skip.

Electric, almost chimey music started playing, with the sound of an active rainforest echoing in the background. Welcome to the Bio-Dome, by "Foxy goes to Hollywood".

He placed his phone in his pocket, and let it play.

As the music started building up, he noticed the track become elevated as it went around a hill by the beach. For a moment, Rocket wondered if the letter was true, and if Zootopia wasn't just some ramshackle village of mud huts that was populated with whatever species of unintelligent animal he used to be. "Ha!", the song went - as if aware of his doubt - and a crescending sound rang out as the hill pulled away to reveal a beautiful metropolis. Dozens of skyscrapers rose above what looked like one massive island, but surely had to be different islands - even from a few miles away, he could see one part built on a desert, another built into a jungle, and another still built on what looked like ice. The buildings didn't have the extravagant, 3-dimensional sculpture feel of many of the buildings on Xandar, but still each one felt unique, perhaps even organic in design.

"Oh." Rocket uttered, a sound of understanding and acceptance. This place was real, and it gave him a good first impression. Perhaps things weren't going to be so bad, after all?

First the tracks went through the desert region - "Sahara Square", the "Tourist's Guide to Zootopia" pamphlet had said. To his left there was a massive structure in the shape of a palm tree, shining like a beacon in the noonday sun. To his right, there was a racetrack, where a variety of creatures - each of them easily as tall as a humanoid or taller, all covered in fur - raced each other. This area didn't seem to busy at the moment, most likely staying underground, underneath buildings that reminded the star-traveler of many inhabited desert worlds.

"Moving at one million miles on hour!
Using my power, I sell it by the hour!
I have it so I market it!
You really can afford it, yeah! Really can afford it!"

The track passed over a wall, which the first real piece of engineering that impressed Rocket. On the first side, there were easily dozens of giant heaters, each of them producing enough hot air that he could feel it radiating through the window. On the other side, there were an equal amount of air conditioning units, blasting out cold air fast and hard enough to actually change the temperature within the cabin. In this part of the city, called "Tundratown" (at least it's not "Iceburg", or something stupid like that), everything was covered in snow or ice, and down below(Rocket rubbed his eyes just to be sure he was seeing right), was a river filled with ice blocks, and many different creatures - either with white fur or covered in winter clothes - rode them up and downstream. Perhaps the river was artificial, and waterjets were pushing the two sides of the river in different directions?

As the train continued on, snow erupted out of these various pipes alongside the track, shooting the frozen powder into the air, and providing the illusion that it was a snowy winter's day.

"Shooting stars never stop, even when they reach the top!
"Shooting stars never stop, even when they reach the top!
"There goes a supernova! What a pushover, yeah!
"There goes a supernova, what a pushover!"

Once again the train passed over another wall. This time, on the other side there was nothing, but in front and around the tracks were massive, massive, trees. They were easily the biggest he'd ever seen, soaring hundreds of feet above the forest floor, each one big enough to have multiple houses. The trees were all surrounded by deep mists, and as soon as the train entered the "Rainforest District", it lived up to it's name with a mighty downpour. The canopies stood above them, and down below highways weaved around the trees as cars sped down the wet pavement.

"I will give you diamonds by the shower!
Love your body even when it's old!
Do it, just as only I can do it!
And never, ever, doing what I'm told!"

As before, the rainforest soon got blocked off, though now it was due to the hills leading up to the highest peak on the island. The mono passed through, and soon began descending into the center of the metropolis - Savannah Central. The train slowed down as it approached the station, and Rocket took himself and his stuff to the exit. The mono shuddered to a halt, and air hissed as the exit door slid open. As the door passed away, the raccoon's eyes widened, and Groot blinked in surprise.

All around the station were hundreds of creatures... like him. Well, not exactly like him: Yes, they walked on their feet, and many - if not most of them - were covered in fur, and all of them wore clothes or were fiddling around with their phones, tablets or carrying food and drinks. However, the similarities ended there. These people - these "Zootopians" - came in all manner of sizes and variations, more different from each other than most aliens born worlds apart. Many were much bigger than him, with long necks or horns or tusks, or with odd patterns and styles of fur. Many were smaller than him as well, as little balls of fur in suits and ties scurried around, going up and down these brightly colored pipes that carried them off to parts unknown. And more still were his size, but had giant ears or fluffy tails, often thin and lanky, or fat and fluffy. In all his life, he had never seen so many people look so different. And yet, the atmosphere within the station wasn't any different than the typical "civilized" spaceport - busy, but not hostile or dickish.

Rocket and Groot went off the train, up some escalators, past some vendors offering some kind of slushy drink, and out of the station. In the square, thousands more walked about, in even stranger shapes and colors, under dozens of billboards and advertisements and a giant TV screen. And not a single humanoid stood among them. Rocket smiled, realizing now that he had finally found a place to call home...

Now what?

"We're a long way from home!
Welcome to the Bio-Dome!
On our way Home!
Going home where mammals roam!
Long way from Home!
Welcome to the Bio-DOOOOOOOOME!"

Chapter Text

Starting a new life was surprisingly easier than Rocket initially thought.

It certainly helped that he apparently had $40,000 stocked up in an account with his name on it. He felt a smidgen of gratitude that the Powers That Be were kind enough to take care of any financial needs he'd have right away (they were responsible for putting him in this situation, the least they could do is ease him into it). They also had him in the system, with a birth certificate from "Xandaria", a driver's license, and social security number, among other papers. As far as anyone here knew, he was just a normal small town raccoon, just moving into the big city.

Within the first hour or so of arriving - after doing some sightseeing and trying this weird drink called "coffee" - he had worked out a general list of priorities and goals to live here: 1) Get a place to live/work in, 2) Get a source of income, 3) Get to know the neighbors (both potential allies and guys not to cross), and 4) Get rich. There was also 5 and 6 (make this world more advanced, and build a spaceship), but those were more long-term, optional goals - while the prospect of being stuck on a planet with no spaceships or superweapons made him a little antsy, it'd be bearable if he spent the rest of his days living the high life.

The first part was simple enough. There were plenty of cheap, affordable apartments he could've rented, even cheap houses in the Rainforest District. However, if there were two things Rocket enjoyed doing, it was shooting stuff, and building things that go boom. It wouldn't do to have nosy neighbors or landlords knocking every hour as he tried to rebuild a Hadron Enforcer. So, while he had to dig into his cash supply, buying an abandoned warehouse was really the best choice. The one in question was near the wall separating Tundratown and the Rainforest District, which made the insides muggy and moldy. Groot seemed to like it though, and it was far enough away from neighbors that he could work in peace if he wanted. A win-win, as far as he was concerned.

The second part was a little tricky. While shooting and building bombs may've been fine and dandy in the badlands of space, it didn't really fit here in Zootopia. Hell, even the frickin' cops didn't use actual guns, but tranq guns and repellents. He considered doing something like being a mechanic or inventor, but while he'd make cool little gizmos for the extra cash (he could build orbital weapons from scraps, after all; repairing cars or alarm clock/radios wouldn't even break a sweat), the prospect of just being stuck in a garage all day seemed... just too boring for a new career. Regardless, there was one potential career field that he could go into: Bounty Hunting. He could be his own boss, he could beat up bad guys, and he could make a lot of money doing something he was passionate about.

Of course, doing so required that he know the ins and outs of the laws around here, and building a rapport with the cops. The former was simple enough - it only took a few hours to learn what he was and wasn't allowed to do as a bounty hunter (and he thought the Nova Corps were a bunch of killjoys; These Zootopians had so many stars-damned rules for everything!). The latter, not so much. Bounty hunting was supposedly a token of a bygone age, back when Zootopia and the world was more wild, when predator and prey fought each other more often, and rule of law was more of a suggestion than a pillar of society. That the job still existed was only because the bail lobby was still strong in the legislature, and sometimes they could pick up criminals that the cops couldn't (either due to size problems or lack of resources).

While filing out the paperwork at the station, Rocket started noticing certain... things, in how this society worked. While every kind of mammal would come walking through the doors (either as criminals or to file reports), the police themselves always seemed to be big, often times predators. The smallest officers he ever saw were wolves, who were still twice his size. The biggest - or rather, the one with the biggest physical presence - was this big Buffalo guy called Chief Bogo. Rocket immediately didn't like him. He just walked around the place with a "someone just pissed in my Wheaties" expression, as Quill would say. There was a point where Rocket was going from one room to another, and Bogo walked passed him. Bogo looked at him, and the raccoon looked right back, each of them picking up that the other meant business. The Chief's look was one of "You better watch yourself", while Rocket's was more "I can handle myself just fine". The buffalo snorted, but kept walking.

And then there was the receptionist, Officer Clawhauser. He was by far the nicest guy he met since he got here. It was actually kinda weird, he'd never met anyone this perky before. Every time he visited the station - from the first time he signed up to the first time he caught a literal cat burglar - the "fluffy" cheetah would greet him with a smile and a wave, and go on and on about some gossip in the station, or something that the singer Gazelle was doing, with a box of donuts always by his side. Overall, he was harmless, and was as good a source of information as any.

"So, Ben - you don't mind if I call you that, right?" Rocket had asked him, about 8 days into his stay. He was on his third caught bounty, having caught a squirrel wanted for Grand Theft. How the little guy managed to steal an elephant's car he had no idea, but catching the guy and throwing him in a bag was almost insultingly easy. He didn't even have to use his zappers or rough him up - just spot him, grab his tail and toss in a sack. Done.

Clawhauser was taking a bite of a Maple Bar, but nodded affirmatively. "Right, Ben," He continued, "I've been noticing that I ain't seen that many little guys workin' 'round here. Haven't seen any little guys wearin' blue around at all, least here in the precinct. Is there like some kinda special Rodent Division or somethin'?"

The cheetah swallowed, and looked a bit confused. "Oh, you didn't hear? They just had a bunny officer recently graduate from the academy. First one in ZPD history, thanks to Mayor Lionheart."

"And there haven't been any other bunny or rat cops before because...?"

Ben gave an ignorant shrug. "Beats me. I guess no one believed a bunny could be an officer until now. Higher ups are probably worried that the little guys can't hold their own against larger mammals, being all 'fragile' and 'easily scared', or some hooey. But hey, it's 2016. Anything's possible, you know?"

"I knew a bunny once," Rocket said, taking a nibble out of a doughnut Clawhauser had offered earlier, "He may've been a lot of things - crazy, cocky, clever as hell. 'Easily scared' was not one of those things."

"Hey, come on guys! I didn't do nothin'!" The raccoon and cheetah turned to see a wolf cop carrying in a weasel in handcuffs, kicking his little legs in frustration. He looked like crap, wearing only a wife-beater and boxers, with an odor of BO and garbage easily picked up from the other side of the building. He looked over at Rocket, and shouted in a nasally voice, "Look at that guy! He's probably picked a dozen pockets on the way here, and I just found some seeds in the trash! Your grabbing the wrong thief, coppers! This is crap and you know it!"

"What part of 'You have the right to remain silent' don't you understand?" The wolf snapped, and marched him out to the back where the cells were.

"He did not just say that!" Benjamin gasped, placing his paws over his heart, "Rocket, I'm so sorry you had to hear that! The nerve of some people!"

"What? That asshole?" He snorted, "Why should I care what some idiot accuses me of? We both know he's full of it."

"Yeah, but still that's a low blow. You, a raccoon, being called a thief in a police station. Stereotyping like that can ruin lives."

Rocket looked confused for a moment, his mind taking a beat to process what he just said. Then, he had a look of realization, and let out a boisterous laugh so loud that the cheetah nearly jumped out of his seat. "It's the mask, isn't it?" He pointed to the black fur around his eyes, smiling like he just finally got a dirty joke. "I look like a bandit or somethin'. Raccoons are quick, we look like crooks, everybody thinks I'm a crook. Yeah, I get it!"

"Oh! Ha-ha!" The cheetah gave an uncomfortable laugh, not sure how to take this new development. "So, that didn't bother you?"

"Bah!" He waved off his concern, "Stereotypes, schmeriotypes. There ain't no thing like me, 'cept me! Guys that choose to underestimate me tend to get a nasty surprise."

As he left the station a little later, he couldn't help but chuckle. As bad as it might be to be considered a thief, he couldn't help but think that it might actually have a grain of truth to it. After all, he had stolen lots of loot in his time - he had even worked with Blackjack O'Hare on a couple missions capturing spaceships and taking everything that wasn't nailed down, and he felt absolutely no shame about it. Yes, he wasn't stealing anything now, but rather than be offended or horrified at the prospect, Rocket felt almost giddy. Here was something he could point to as being intrinsically him that wasn't something some dick scientists implanted in his body or psyche. As myopic and ignorant as it might be, it was his to own: Raccoons were thieves - quick, sneaky, resourceful, sly - and he couldn't be more proud of that...

It was nearly midnight under a heavy downpour when a spray-painted van sped out of Tundratown like a proverbial bat out of Hell. Not far behind, a white limo was in pursuit, driving in a much more casual and conspicuous fashion. The riders inside that vehicle were professional - they knew where their "prey" would be going, what they were capable of; why draw unnecessary attention when the situation was under control? Inside the van, however, the occupants were significantly less care-free.

"Damn it!" A little fennec fox swore in the driver's seat, narrowly avoiding driving a sedan off the road, "Nick, what the hell did you do this time?"

"Why are you always assuming it's my fault, Finn?" A lanky red fox riding shotgun countered, barely keeping the panic in his voice contained beneath a calm exterior, "I'd think after all our time working together, you'd have a little more faith in me."

"Nick," Finnick growled, his deep voice bubbling with anger, "What. Did. You. Do."

The fox looked away, embarrassed at how fast his little scam fell apart. "I-uh... Y-You know how Mr. Big has been looking for a new rug to put in his mansion, right?"

"...Yes?"

"And you know Joan Skunkmeister has been looking to sell that carpet made from her family's shed fur, right?"

Finnick tightened his grip on the steering wheel, to the point that Nick could see the whites of his knuckles through his fur. "You mean to tell me that you sold a rug - made from the fur of the STINKIEST family of Skunks I've ever met - to one of the most powerful mob bosses in all of Zootopia?!"

"...Yes... aaaand he gave it to Momma Big as a birthday present."

"WHAT?!" He took a hard right turn, nearly launching Nick out of his seat as they went up a poorly maintained road, "You've got to be frickin' kidding me! She's like seventy years old and two inches tall! The smell alone could kill her!"

Nick went quiet when he said that. Finnick didn't take his eyes off the road, as slippery and debris-strewn as it was now. But the sinking feeling in his gut told him that Nick wasn't done digging his hole yet.

"Momma Big died last night." There was a hint of sadness in his voice - Mrs. Big had always been nice to the fox, even giving him a job within the family at one point. She'd never replace his own mom, but she had been there when Nick was at his lowest, and they had been pretty close. "I went down there to pay my respects," He continued, "But Raymond and his goons started coming after me. I think they think I killed her. After everything I did for them, after everything I did for her, they think I'd do something like that because I'm-" He stopped himself with a growl, more hurt than angry.

"Craaaaaap." Finn slammed his head back against the seat. He didn't want to be dealing with this. He had hoped to be spending the night with a pair of snow leopard twins, a bottle of Hennessy and his Cubs to Males CD, and just let the magic happen. But nope, right before he was going to pick up his ladies, he gets a call from Nick, saying he was in big trouble and needed to make a quick gettaway. Fortunately for him, the fennec happened to be close by, and after grabbing him off the street, he spotted the limo tailing them, leading to the mess they were in right now.

For a moment he considered kicking the unlucky conman out of his van, and letting the bears do their business while he made his escape. He shook his head and thought better of it, mainly for two reasons. 1) Even if he did leave him for dead, the fact that he helped Nick out at all made him just as equally involved, and the polar bears would still come after him. And 2) Nick, despite this recent lack of judgement and general smug attitude, had been a real bro. Work had been getting harder to come by - even as a little guy like him went - and the fox asked him if he wanted to help in his scams for a cut of the profits. Sure it wasn't the most flattering job in the world, but it kept food on the table and gas in the tank, and on good days he could make it rain at the club as much as any other gangsta.

He could help him out just this one time.

Finnick slowed down as they reached the top of the hill, as they entered a poorly maintained industrial park. "You used to live in this part of town, right?" He asked.

Nick was already looking out the window, looking at the concrete and steel buildings. "Yeah," He replied, "I stayed in that warehouse up there, third one on the right."

"You still got a way inside?"

"Way ahead of you." The bigger fox raised an eyebrow as he drew a skeleton key from his pocket. "You never know when you have to hide out at one of your old haunts..."

xxxxxxxxx

"I'm an alligator, I'm a mama-papa coming for you!
I'm the space invader, I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you!
Keep your mouth shut, you're squawking like a pink monkey bird!
And I'm busting up my brains for the words!

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe!
Put your ray gun to my head!
Press your space face close to mine, love!
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!"

Rocket hummed along with the tune as he worked on putting the finishing touches on the "Rocket Blaster Mark 1". It was a lot like the old gun he used back home, only with a few extra non-lethal modifications. Namely, the use of "Zapper Rounds" (a pellet round that causes a strong static discharge upon impact), and a net launcher (which also came with an electrified option). He had considered using things like beanbags or repellent rounds, but beyond the obvious danger of getting the dosage wrong and killing the target unintentionally, part of him enjoyed watching some jackass wiggle around in pain as a few thousand volts ran through their body. It always seemed to warm his surgically augmented heart.

It had been a quiet night for Rocket and Groot - no big bounties to go get, no one stopping by asking to have random junk repaired. The raccoon had the entire night to just tinker, build and test out his gadgets on some wooden crates left in the corner, while listening to some tunes. Groot, meanwhile - already having outgrown his pot and now eye-level with his friend as he settled in a patch of dirt - kept himself snacking on some fertilizer Rocket picked up, and the rainwater dripping down from the pipes. Already the base of his trunk had split, beginning the formation of what would be his legs.

The clock chimed at Midnight when he put down his tools, more or less satisfied with the gun. He'd still need to clean and shine it, give it his own personal touch and style, but for all intents and purposes it was good to go. He picked up the gun, smiling as he felt the familiar weight in his paws. It was a bit big - almost as large as he was - and he'd only really be able to use it in the most dire of circumstances. But still, he felt a wave of achievement and nostalgia, knowing that he had built a little piece of home on his own. He held it to his shoulder and aimed it at a crate off in the corner, about 100 feet away. The Blaster telescoped out as he set it to "Stun Mode" first.

PING! PING-PING-PING!

Air-shot pellets fired. Upon impact, electricity arched and ran all across the wooden box, briefly crackling with energy before dissipating, leaving only small dents in the wood where the pellets made contact. Good, He thought, Actual damage is minimal. Wouldn't wanna cause any lasting damage, or the perps might start throwing lawsuits around. He then set the gun to "Kill Mode", and the gun began whirring with energy. Outside, there was a flash of light and the crack of thunder, and he pulled the trigger.

BOOM!

A ball of plasma shot out. The box exploded, leaving nothing but a black smear on the concrete, and tiny particles of ash raining down around him. Rocket took a whiff of ozone and wood smoke, and his smile turned into a grin. "Nice." He sighed, placing the gun back on the workbench. It was then that his ears twitched, and he heard a sound - the rattling of chains and metal. The only chains in the building were on the pulleys for the garage doors. Rocket's grin dropped to a scowl, and he picked up a pistol from one of his holsters.

"Groot? I am Groot?" His friend squeaked, looking concerned.

"No bud, you have to stay here," He replied, opening the door, "We can't risk anyone seeing you yet. But don't you worry, I can handle whoever or whatever is here, honest." Rocket closed the door, and the sapient tree huffed his displeasure. Rather than just stay in the dirt and miss out on any more action, Groot focused all his effort on absorbing all the nutrients the dirt had to offer. His wooden body began to creak and crack as it grew rapidly, and he began pulling on the limbs of his trunk, like a man dragging his legs out of quicksand.

Quickly and quietly, Rocket made his way across the building to the garage, where the inside door had been opened by the wind. Hugging the wall, he took a peak, and spotted a van spray-painted with two canines in vaguely Asgardian attire. Up front, two foxes - one his height, with red fur and a green shirt; the other tiny, with big ears and a black shirt - were pulling on a chain, bringing the garage door down.

"Nick, are you absolutely sure that no one's here?" The little one hissed, with a deep voice that had no business coming from that body, "I thought I saw some lights when we pulled up."

"Relax," The taller one replied, "It's the middle of the night, no one's here. They always leave a light or two on, so no one tries to break in."

"Oh, like you guys are doin'?" Rocket called out, stepping out of the shadows. The two intruders jumped, and turned to look at him. They saw a rather large, dirty-looking raccoon with beady eyes, wearing a red jumpsuit and resting a paw on what looked like a weird tranq gun. The foxes exchanged a look, and the small one slammed his paw to his face. The tall one put on a friendly smile, and replied, "Oh hey. No, it's okay, we have a key." He held a paw up, holding a key and padlock.

"So do I," The raccoon grunted, holding up his own key while the other paw stayed firmly on his pistol, "But I live here. You don't."

"What? Here?" He scoffed, "This place has been abandoned for years."

"It was abandoned. I bought it three weeks ago. Now it's mine." Rocket took a couple steps forward, his eyes fixed on them. "Now, I'm kinda new 'round 'ere, but I think that mammals sneaking around in the middle of the night, uninvited on private property, counts as trespassing."

"Yeah right," The little one sneered, "Like you actually live here. How do we know you're not trying to steal some copper wiring or something? You're just as suspicious-looking as we are!"

Rocket pulled out his pistol, the device whirring to life as he leveled it at the shorty's face. Finnick's eyes went wide, as he heard the whirring of energy within the gun. "Oh, I'm sorry," The raccoon smirked, "I didn't quite catch that. Would you mind saying that again?"

Nick gulped, desperately trying to think of a way out. "L-look," He stammered, "We're not here to cause any trouble. There's some very dangerous mammals looking for us, and we just need somewhere to hide for the night. As soon as the sun comes up, we'll go, and you'll never have to deal with us again."

"Maybe," Rocket grunted, "And maybe you're a pair of criminals on the run, and are worth a lot of money to the right people. Why don't you two come with me, and we'll see what's what?"

The foxes' ears fell back in fear, and held their paws up as Rocket pointed them out of the garage. He marched them into the living area, which at this point was only a couch and a tv on a table. He picked up his cellphone and was about to call the cops when he heard a knock at the front door. The foxes looked nervously at the door, already having a good idea of who was there. In the other room, the playlist had shuffled to some trashy Hyena Gomez song, it's peppy tune contrasting the dimly-lit and rather tense situation.

"You two," Rocket grunted, holstering his pistol as he went to the door, "Sit down, don't move." As Nick watched him go, Finnick looked around the rather spartan interior. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement out of the second hallway. He turned to look, and his eyes went wide in shock. Frantically, he tugged on his friend's shirt, pointing to the hallway as he got his attention. Nick looked, and jumped onto the couch in surprise. Hiding in the shadows was a tall... plant-tree-thing, easily three times Nick's height. It locked eyes with them, and raised it's finger-branch up to it's mouth in a "sshhhing" motion. Nick and Finnick looked at Groot, each other, at Rocket, back to Groot, and back to each other. What in the Hell did they just stumble into?

There was another knock at the door. "Hold on, hold on, I'm comin'." The raccoon growled, and cracked open the door enough to see two very large polar bears. These guys were easily as tall as Groot full grown, wearing these dark colored Italian suits. They held themselves up with a posture that demanded respect, but looked down at him like he was some loathsome bug they found crawling on a carpet.

Rocket, not one to be intimidated, demanded bluntly, "What do you want, big boys?"

"We saw van pull up to this building." One of them said, heavily accented and barely understandable.

"Yeah, so?" He leaned against the side of the wall, half his body hidden behind the door as he rested his paw on his gun.

"Do you know Nick Wilde or Finnick Fennec?" The other one asked, his voice sounding deep and rumbly, almost like Ronan the Accuser with a weird Russian accent.

"No," He said flatly, "Why, should I? Are you two clowns undercover cops?"

"Those two foxes have angered some very powerful people," The second one explained, "And we know they are hiding somewhere around here. It would certainly be beneficial for anyone who knows where they are to help us find them." The way he stared down at Rocket, he knew with 100% certainty that the conmen were hiding here in this building, with him.

"Yeah, like what?" He challenged.

"We won't crush you like bug for starters, vermin." The first one growled, barring his teeth in a veiled threat.

What'chu just call me, bitch? Rocket thought, his paw instinctively tightening on his gun. Part of him wanted to gun them down for that word alone - No one, fricking no one, was ever going to get away with calling him "vermin" or "rodent" or "freak" again. But at the same time, he had promised himself he would try to turn a new leaf, and not go back to crime or randomly murdering people just because he didn't like them. He balled his fists, deepened his frown, and soon his choice became crystal clear.

"Right this way, then." He said, doing his best not to give any indication of emotion. He opened the door, and the two made-mammals walked right in, quickly spotting the two foxes on the couch. As soon as they cleared the doorway, Rocket closed the door behind them, and locked it.

"So, little fox," The Ronan soundalike gloated, taking slow and measured steps to his prey, "You thought you could escape from us, hmm?"

"Raymond, listen," Nick pleaded, leaning away from the approaching bears, covering Finnick with his body unconsciously, "You know me. You know I'd never do anything to hurt Momma Big, or Mr. Big for that matter! They were like family!"

"Funny," Ronan - or rather, "Raymond" - chuckled, rolling up his sleeves in anticipation, "Because that is not what Mr. Big seems to think anymor-"

BZZZZZZT! BZZZZZZZT!

Two bolts of electricity fired out from Rocket's gun, slamming each bear in the back. Both of them yelped in pain as they fell to the floor, spazzing and twitching about like in a seizure. "How'd ya like that, huh?" He snarled, "Not so tough with 50,000 volts running through you, are ya? Who's vermin now, bitch?"

The one with the thicker accent growled at him, and with a surprise kick sent the raccoon flying back to the door with a SLAM! As soon as the bear did that, Groot ran into the room, unleashing a vast array of vines and branches upon them. The foxes looked on in shock as the still stunned henchmen were tied up and held aloft, who themselves were now screaming and terrified. Rocket got up, spitting a wad of blood on the floor, and glared at the offending bear with a flash of hate.

"Just for that..." Rocket pressed the gun against the bear's inner thigh, and pulled the trigger. Static visibly arched all across the bear's body, briefly giving the room a bright bluish-glow. He screamed, only for his jaw to get muzzled shut with vines. Nick unconsciously rubbed his own muzzle, briefly reminded of... bad memories. Finnick just instinctively covered himself from the sympathy pain.

"You've made a big mistake, 'coon," Raymond growled, vainly struggling against the vines wrapped around him, "I don't know what this thing is, or how you got that gun, but you've just made some very powerful mammals your enemy tonight. Do you know who we work for?"

"Nope," He declared, "And frankly, I don't give a shit. Now, I was going to deal with those two -" He nodded to the foxes, who were now just watching in scared fascination, "-Call the cops, see if they were worth any money, and go about my night like nothin' ever happened. But then you two show up, threatening me, insulting me! When you did that, these guys weren't my problem anymore. You were. I am not the one who should be afraid of you. You should be afraid of me."

He crossed his arms, and stared right into Raymond's eyes. "So here's what we're gonna do. My friend here is gonna let you go. You're gonna walk right back to your car like nothin' happened. Tell your boss that I showed you around the place, but that these guys-" He turned to the foxes on the couch, "-What were your names? Nick and Finny? Finn-Nick?" Nick nodded, and Rocket continued, "Yeah, these guys weren't here. You tell your boss that you lost track of them, and they must've gone underground. They won't go back to Tundratown, and you won't send anyone after them... or me, for that matter."

"Oh, and one more thing." He got right up to Raymond, and Groot rotated the bear so that they were face to face. Electricity arched through the "muzzle" of the pistol, giving his face dark and intimidating shadows. "If you or your idiot friend over there decide to tell anyone about what really happened... well, first you're tellin' people that you got yer asses beat by a lil' raccoon and a tree, so there ain't nobody that's gonna believe ya. Number two, if I find out you've been snitchin' on me - and trust me, I will find out - I'm gonna find you, kill you in the most excruciating way I can think of, toss your hairy carcass into a mulcher, and feed what's left to my friend here as fertilizer."

He could see fear in the bear's eyes, and he was going to drive this point as far as he could. Baring his teeth as menacingly as possible, he whispered, "This ain't a threat. This ain't even a promise. This is a simple fact. The sun rises in the morning, what goes up must come down, and anyone who messes with Rocket Raccoon will die regrettin' it. Got it?" Raymond nodded quickly. Rocket nodded to Groot, and he withdrew his vines from the bears. They got up on shaky, uncertain legs, and the raccoon unlocked and opened the door. "Now beat it." He ordered, like Big's henchmen needed any encouragement. They walked out of the warehouse, and he watched them casually get in a limo and drive away into the night. As soon as they were out of sight, he closed the door once again, and faced the two conmen and alien plant-man.

"Groot, what did I say?" He snapped, "I said 'Stay put', and what did you do? You went and did the opposite, and now people saw you!"

"I am Groot!" The tree sounded a bit offended and defensive.

"Oh please," He scoffed, "I had the situation completely under control." Groot crossed his arms, giving his friend an annoyed look. "Thanks for the assist, though." He quickly said, which earned him an eye roll and a hint of a smirk.

"Uh, t-thanks, I guess," Nick stammered, recovering himself after what just happened, "For saving us from Raymond. I guess we owe you one."

"Oh, don't think you're out of the woods yet," Rocket warned, pointing at them, "You two have already seen too much already, and you're the ones who caused all this commotion!"

"Whoa there, Sly Cooper! You don't need to get violent with us!"

"Number one, the name's Rocket, okay? You don't know me enough to start tossing around nicknames. Number two, why shouldn't I? You still broke into my home, saw my friend, and brought those big white nitwits into this mess. Why shouldn't I still call the cops? Hell, why don't I just kill you two and solve this whole problem?"

Nick's expression had changed. Gone was the look of shock and fear from witnessing an alien plant fight bears, replaced now with half-lidded eyes and a knowing smirk - that shit-eating grin that made it seem that he had an ace up his sleeve, that he could sell sand to a camel. Finnick smiled - Nick was in hustle mode, and there was nobody better at the game than his boy.

"Two reasons," He said, holding up two claws. "One, if you called the cops, they'd have to look around the property to document the 'crime scene'. You could try to hide the Giving Tree here, but those dirt footprints are going to lead to a walking 10-foot tall plant-thing. Not the easiest thing to explain away." Rocket looked at the ground by Groot. Sure enough, there were little patches of dirt behind him, in the vague shape of his root-feet, leading all the way back to his workshop.

"The second thing," Nick continued, "Is that if you're so eager to kill us, right here in your living room, why did you let Raymond go, when you had him tied up like a birthday present?"

Rocket sighed. He had him there, though now they were stuck at an impasse. If they couldn't be killed, and he couldn't risk them talking, that only left one other option...

"Let's make a deal then," He said, leaning against a wall in resignation, "What can we do to keep you guys quiet?"

Nick reclined back on the couch. "Well, Stripes, I take it you've worked as muscle before, right? You seem pretty casual with violence and hurting mammals."

The raccoon shrugged and smirked. "It's a living. It just so happens I'm really good at it."

"Right. Finnick and I are... entrepreneurs of sorts. We engage in many different business ventures and-"

"He means we're street hustlers." Finnick interrupted. "Let's not bother trying to make us out to be any different than what we are. We scam mammals out of their money with cheap products and tricks."

"Hey," Nick defended himself, "We don't do anything illegal. We strictly operate within the letter of the law. Just not always the spirit. And sometimes, certain mammals may take our actions the wrong way, like the ice squad back there."

"So you want to hire me as your security, then?"

"Basically."

Rocket nodded. "How much?"

"Ten percent. All you gotta do is be somewhere nearby, keep a lookout, and keep anyone from starting trouble."

The raccoon snorted. "Do I look like an idiot to you? What do you guys do, the spinning cups game? Sell bootleg movies? I bet you guys don't even make five thousand dollars a week! I ain't workin' as two street criminal's muscle for a hundred bucks a day, when I've got other jobs that make me that an hour!" Nick raised his paw to counter that, but thought better of it. They only made a thousand dollars a week on average. Rocket continued, "If there's going to be three of us, we should split it three ways!"

"I am Groot!" The tree-man demanded, reminding everyone that he was still here.

"Four ways?" Rocket translated. "Groot, look, we've talked about this. If someone out there sees you, the primitive morons at the government will take you away and dissect you to see how you work. You don't want that, trust me. That's no weekend spent at a Skrull brothel, man."

"I am Groooooot!" He whined. He'd been stuck in the warehouse for weeks, and he craved having the sun shine on him again.

Rocket sighed. "Look, give me a little time. Once I get the right parts, I'll... I dunno, build you a holographic field so you can look like a mammal or somethin'. I'm not gonna keep you here forever." Groot huffed, but seemed to accept his words.

"Ok, 33% for now," Rocket turned back to Nick, "with the caveat that Groot and I get 25% each when I find a way to make him blend in. Sound good?"

"Oh come on!" Finnick declared, "That's a ripoff! All you're gonna do is stand around and rough some guys up when we need it!" Nick placed a paw on the fennec's shoulder, and asked, "You said you could build a hologram. Did you build that gun, too?"

"I build guns," Rocket replied, "And if you give me enough materials, I can build anything you want. Anything."

Nick's smile grew. "So you could build stuff like, say, some cheap electronic toys and trinkets?"

"In my sleep." Rocket gained a smile of his own, "I'd think that making a couple dozen cheap phones or dancing toys-"

"-Would be worth that extra twenty percent," Nick got up, and offered his paw, "Do we have a deal?"

Rocket didn't have to think too long or hard about it. He needed to keep an eye on these two. He wanted to get some connections with the people that live in the city. And it was definitely good to find sources of income that didn't have to involve the cops. He grabbed the fox's paw, and shook.

"Deal."

Chapter Text

"Zootopians. What a bunch of losers. Mindlessly running from somethin' stupid, to nothin' at all."

"Tell me about it." Rocket up a square of clear plastic in front of himself and Finnick, the latest model of the "Zoogle Glass Tablet" - which in reality was just Rocket's larger bootleg version of the Zoogle Glasses that came out last season.

"Look at her," Finnick zoomed in on a sheep with wool dyed a bright pink walking down the street, "They have the nerve to call us criminals, when she's the one assaulting us with that coat."

"Yeah, whoever told her that was a good look should get fired or shot. Preferably both." Rocket turned it over to a tiger cub waddling next to her parents, stomping around crushing imaginary bugs. "Look at this thing. He thinks he's so cool. I bet he still needs diapers!"

"It's embarrassing, man! Gazelles and zebras can start walking the day they're born, but everybody else gotta do it the hard way and practice!" The fennec shook his head. "The world just ain't fair, you know?"

"If there's a fair one out there, I haven't seen it yet." Rocket zoomed in one last time, this time on a rather old lion in sunglasses, chatting up a she-wolf in a clearly flirtatious manner. Interestingly enough, the young wolf seemed to be flattered and reciprocating, though neither fox nor raccoon could make out what they were saying. "Look at this geezer. Where's your wife, old timer? That wolf's young enough to be your granddaughter. Creepy-ass perv!"

"Whoa, hold on there!" Finnick held his paws up defensively. "There ain't nothin' wrong wit' dat! Just 'cause he's old as dirt don't mean he can't still be a playa! The game don't stop if you got snow on the roof, so long as you got fire in the furnace!"

"Alright you two, I made the call," Nick said at the back of the van, "My contact has just gone on break. We've got thirty minutes to load up the van and beat it before anyone spots us. We all know the plan, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Rocket confirmed, "We're gonna park the van in front of the alley. You two are gonna load up a bunch of shorn wool from this sheep boutique into the van, while I keep watch up front."

"Right, and what do you tell anyone if they ask what we're doing?"

"That we're turning the wool into sweaters for furless mammals and chemo patients."

"That's the ticket, Stripes," Nick smiled, using his new nickname for the merc, "Let's get to it." Finnick started up the van, and they were moving.

Rocket had been working with the foxes for a few weeks now. In that time, the three of them got to know each other some while hustling. It was difficult to say who was more surprised: Nick and Finnick, when the 'Coon told them he was an extra-dimensional outlaw that saved a galaxy from a madman with a cosmic weapon; or Rocket, when Nick told him they made millions of dollars over two decades just selling tiny popsicles and cheap, bootleg crap. At least you could kinda see it coming with Rocket, having a giant talking tree chilling at home (though he remained rather mum about aliens in general - while most races looked roughly the same, if you didn't know what a "human" was it was hard to then describe what a Kree or Asgardian or Chitauri looked like). Both of them insisted they had "apartments" they lived in, but Finn's van had a bed and mini-fridge in it, and he'd only ever seen Nick wear that green button-up and tie. He was almost certain that the two of them were poor and/or homeless, which seemed at odds to the amount of money they were pulling in on a daily basis.

So far, the job of being their security had been... rather uneventful. Whenever he wasn't collecting bounties or tinkering at home, he'd be out spending the day with the 'Nicks. Most times, he would just hang back in the van or on the other side of the street or room, always within line of sight. Rocket expected there to be a lot of trouble from the get-go - he had picked up that foxes were known for their "sly" and tricksy nature, and there's always one sore loser that takes things too far - but surprisingly the Zootopians were a much more restrained and polite people than he was used to. It was very rare that Rocket would have to get directly involved, and it usually meant either him coming in to prove a product or game wasn't rigged (in which case Nick and Finnick purposefully manipulated things to have Rocket win), or he'd show off his zapper gun, have it discharge some static, and scare away any would-be trouble makers. Most of the time, though, he'd just spend the day tinkering on gadgets, or using his phone to read up on the world.

Today, they were going to collect shorn sheep's wool from a "groomer's boutique", have the wool processed and knitted into clothes for various sizes, and eventually sell them to vendors near Savannah Central Station. It was somewhat skirting the law and ethical practices, but everyone would be told that the sheep gave it up willingly, and even if the sheep found out (which they wouldn't), how many of them would care what happens to the wool after it comes off their bodies?

As they drove across town, the radio began playing Gazelle's "Try Everything" for the third time in one hour, making Finnick groan in annoyance before searching the stations. Why do radio stations have to keep playing the same damn songs over and over again? Rocket shook his head. It wasn't like Gazelle was a bad singer - Hell, all three of them thought she was great. But she had other songs that were great, too, that never got any airtime - "Whenever, Wherever", "La Tortura", "Hips Don't Lie" (Finnick's favorite), etc. Why did disc jockeys have to play good songs so often that the listeners would get sick of it and not buy any albums?

"Hold on," Rocket finally grumbled, plugging his phone into the stereo, "Let's try something different." He scrolled down until he selected a familiar tune. Finnick's ears perked up as a drum began to beat, and a guitar started to strum.

"Aw dayum, Rocket," The fennec crowed, his head already swaying to the beat, "I didn't know you listened to the classics!"

"You know this song?" The raccoon inquired, surprised.

"Hell yes I do! 'Come and Get Your Love', Red Bone, 1974. Best coyote band of that decade. Pop's used to play this song all the time when paychecks came in."

"Oh yeah, I remember this song," Nick declared, "This was on the mix-tape my dad gave my mom back in the day."

"This song belonged to my friend Star-Lord," Rocket explained, "He said his mom made a mix-tape of her favorite songs from Earth, and he brought it with him when he went to space."

As they drove on, each of them took a turn at the lyrics, and they joined together at the chorus;

(F): Hey (hey) What's the matter with your head? Yeah!
(N): Hey (hey) What's the matter with your mind and your sign?
And-a ooh-ohh!
(R): Hey (hey) Nothin's a matter with your head, baby, find it,
Come on and find it.
(F):Hell, with it, baby, 'cause you're fine and you're mine,
And you look so divine!

(All): Come and get your love!
Come and get your love!
Come and get your love!
Come and get your love!

(N): Hey (hey) What's the matter with your feel right?
Don't you feel right, baby?
(F): Hey, oh, yeah, get it from the main line, alright!
I said-a find it, find it, darling, love it,
If you like it, yeah-eh!
(R): Hey (hey) It's your business if you want some,
Take some, get it together, baby!

(All): Come and get your love!
Come and get your love!
Come and get your love!
Come and get your love!

(All): Come and get your love, come and get your love
Come and get your love, now!
Come and get your love, come and get your love
Come and get your love, now!
Come and get your love, come and get your love
Come and get your love, now!

By the time they reached the sheep boutique, the three of them had that earworm of a song firmly stuck in their heads, and still humming the tune as Finnick parked the van in front of a back alley behind the shop. As the Skulk of Foxes got out, and Rocket switched to the driver's seat, Nick reminded him, "One honk for cops, two honks for Big's men. We shouldn't take longer than ten minutes."

"Gotcha, Red." He used his own nickname for the fox, and nodded as he left. Rocket put his phone on speaker, playing some music as he grabbed a pen and napkin, and started jotting down schematics for a drone similar to those used in the Kyln. It would have a modular hook at the bottom, allowing it to switch in different components - from guns and missile launchers, to cameras and passenger compartments for rodents, and more. He kept his eyes up on the street, scanning around, but nobody seemed to give him any mind.

About five minutes in, he spotted a tiny little sheep looking at him. At first he thought it was a lamb, considering how small it was. Then he realized - based on the pant suit she was wearing - that the lamb was actually a really short ewe. She was walking in his direction, and she was clearly making eye contact with him. She stopped maybe three feet away from the door, and gestured for him to roll down the window. He sighed, but complied anyway. "Whatcha want?" He asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then squinted as she started to recognize him. "Are you that new bounty hunter they've been talking about at ZPD?" She asked. "Rocket Raccoon, is that it?"

"Yeah, that's me. And you are?"

"I'm Assistant Mayor Dawn Bellweather. And I'm just hoping to have a couple minutes of your time." She said that so casually, as if it wasn't a big deal.

He sighed. Crap, a politician! He wasn't prepared to talk with one of those yet, especially right in the middle of a job like this. Nothing could be more beneficial or dangerous than having a public official turn their attention upon you - they were practically crime bosses of the state, with deep pockets, long memories and the entire system at their beck and call. He had to play this safe, polite, and get her out of here before his associates came back with loads of wool, and raise all kinds of questions.

"Okay," He replied, staying in the van, "What can I do fer ya?"

"Well," She began, "I couldn't help but notice that you've been rather busy in the month since you moved to Zootopia. Bought a warehouse on the edge of town, caught nearly a dozen criminals, running an all-purpose repair shop on your days off."

"What can I say? I like to stay busy."

"Oh, I understand. 'Idle Paws are the Devil's Toys', and all that. But I also heard that you're also something of an inventor, and you've made your own weapons. Is that true?" Rocket bit on the side of his cheek, unsure if he should answer that or not. The sheep giggled, "Don't worry, I'm not going to have a citizen's arrest on you. It's actually really impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's something really inspiring about us little guys doing something to even the playing field with those big guys, you know?" Rocket nodded in understanding. "Say," She asked, "You wouldn't happen to have one of those guns on you right now, would you?"

"I have a concealed carry permit, in case you're trying to set me up," Rocket warned, "And I believe it's skirting the law to show or give my weapon to an untrained civilian."

"Good thing I've got a permit, too." She brought up a permit from her suit pocket, looking just like the one he had. "C'mon, you can trust me. I just want to see what all the hype's about."

Rocket sighed, and got out of the car. Dawn seemed rather surprised at how tall he was - raccoons in Zootopia were usually a head shorter than he was, though Rocket didn't know if that was because of the augmentations, or raccoons from his world were just bigger. The sheep looked him up and down, not expecting him to be wearing the floral-pattern shirt and brown khakis Nick gave him. But then her eyes settled on the pistol in the holster on his side, and they lit up like fireworks. Rocket took his weapon out, set it to stun, turned it off, and took out the battery before giving it to the ewe.

She held it with both hooves, cradling it like it was an Infinity Stone. "Wow," She cooed, "This is so cool!" Holding it up, she aimed it at passersby on the other side of the street, and made "Pitchoo! Pitchoo!" sounds as she fired at them.

"You know what's the best part about guns like this?" Rocket asked rhetorically, and Bellweather looked up at him. "It's the fact that they are universal equalizers," He explained proudly, "It's the fact that it allows creatures like you or me fight to back against giants like elephants, polar bears and tigers. To me, nothing guarantees peace and stability more than everyone having the ability to defend themselves."

"I couldn't agree more," Dawn said, inspecting the blaster closely, "You know, despite what we may put out on media and bumper stickers, Zootopia is actually a rather dangerous place. It's very easy for predators and big mammals to take advantage of smaller mammals and prey, and the ZPD don't always have the best equipment to maintain the streets."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes. There's only so much you can do with tranquilizer guns and repellents, you know? It would really help the city if, I dunno, we were able to get our paws on stun guns like this. I dare say that Mayor Lionheart would write a pretty hefty check for the manufacturing rights to these, if a certain inventor and bounty hunter were to sell the blueprints. He might just make enough money to move into a penthouse at the Palms Hotel, if he were so inclined."

Rocket smiled. He couldn't believe his luck - here was someone in power who got it, who understood how awesome guns were. And she was willing to pay big money for his inventions, which was a double win for him. Finally, he could start making some real changes around here.

"Tell you what," He said, taking back his gun, "Why don't we get back together at city hall tomorrow, and have somethin' put down on paper to make it official?"

"Does that mean you'll do it?" She asked, her little sheep tail starting to wag.

"If the pay's good, and everything's patented under my name, sure. I'll do it."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Rocket!" Ms. Bellweather shook his paw graciously. They spent another minute working out the schedule between them, exchanged calling cards, and then she left, going about her merry way. Good timing too, as no sooner was she out of sight did Nick and Finnick return with a cart full of several bags of wool. When they finished up, Rocket switched seats, and Nick noticed the proud little smirk on his face.

"You seem awfully happy," The fox observed, "Did you get a pretty girl's number?"

"Better," Rocket bragged, "I got a pretty girl's number, and I'm gonna make a lot 'o money, too." He showed them the card, and told them about his conversation with Bellweather.

"Whoa, dawg," Finnick said, "You tellin' me that you're gonna make guns fo' the cops?! Are you crazy?!"

"Don't worry, guys," He soothed their fears, "I'm only goin' to give them the basic stuff, and crap that'll be useful for everyone. But here's the thing you gotta remember about us inventors." He broke out a wicked smile, and lightly tapped his boots together. The little engines began whirring, and little orange lights came from the bottom of the boots as air slowly pushed outward. "You always keep the best stuff for yourself..."

"You sure you want to do this?" Rocket looked uneasily at his compatriots as Nick helped Finnick into the elephant costume. "This guy's a real asshole. He could just call the cops on you, and I don't plan on making a habit of breaking people out of jail."

"Don't worry, Stripes," Nick waved off the 'Coon's concern, "We've done this dozens of times. We know what we're doing, and if things don't turn out our way, we can just bail." The fox then smiled, and quipped, "Or maybe you can pull some strings with your ewefriend at Town Hall and get us a lawyer. Discrimination lawsuits go for a lotta money nowadays."

"I don't date politicians," Rocket grunted, "But I'm sure she owes me a good lawyer after she got the credit for my contract."

"How much did you make on that again, bro?" Finnick asked, before he stuck a pacifier in his mouth, and placing the trunk on his face.

"$50k for the first batch," He replied, scanning the street once again, "$10,000 for each batch after that. Already made enough to get all the parts for Groot's hologram field."

"I can't wait to see what kind of disguise you give our Happy Tree Friend." He zipped up the fennec's costume, and smirked. "If you want, I can teach you some tricks I've learned over the years. I'm sure I could teach you and Groot how to hustle, too."

Rocket chuckled. "I'll think about it, Red. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye out back here. If I spot any trouble, I'll pull you guys out."

"Don't do it too early, Rocket," The fox smirked as he opened the backdoor of the van. "There's nothing worse than a hustle that ends prematurely. Isn't that right, Finn'?"

Finnick glared at him, but said nothing as they both got out. Rocket watched them walk down the street for a bit, before he noticed movement in his peripheral vision. Looking over at the sidewalk, he spotted a small grayish blur move from car to car. Each car it went to, it left a small slip of paper on each windshield. Rocket brought out his Glass Tablet, and zoomed in on the blur.

HONK! "Hey, watch where you're going, FOX!"

The blur stopped moving as it turned to look at the truck and Nick. Rocket finally got a good look at the thing, and his jaw dropped as the first thing that went through his mind was, Oh crap, it's Blackjack!

"Hey Rocket, wanna see a dead body?!"

The memory of his crazed pirate friend saying that was so intense that the raccoon actually looked over his shoulder to see if he was there. He shook his head, getting that stupid thought out of his mind. This wasn't Blackjack - for one thing, it wasn't that weird shade of blue his fur was, but rather gray with a white underbelly. For another, this rabbit (or hare, he still didn't know the difference) was shorter, too, only reaching his shoulder when not including the ears. The Zoogle quickly identified this purple-eyed, orange-vested meter maid as Judy Hopps, Zootopia's newest police officer and first bunny cop.

Oh, so that's who Clawhauser was talking about, He realized. The meter maid gave a suspicious squint, and he followed her line of sight to Nick, who had Finnick hidden by his side, already well into hustle mode. She kept her eyes on them as she crossed the street, and it was then that he noticed she was wearing a strap. It was too far away to get a good view of it, but Rocket immediately thought of some of the designs he had sold to Bellweather. It had been more than a week, and the first batch of blasters and stunners were already sent to ZPD.

Rocket started to panic. Zootopia had this dumb idea that bunnies were weak. There was this notion that rabbits were dumb, easily broken and quick to frighten. Rocket disagreed with that - he believed the opposite was true. He had spent his first couple years traveling and working alongside Blackjack, and he was everything that these mammals thought rabbits weren't. He was brash, headstrong, scary smart, tough, violent, and not a little bit insane. He knew how brutal and cruel a rabbit could be against an opponent, and the fact that this bunny had a badge to give her immunity from retaliation just made things even worse.

Without even thinking about it, he got out of the van, and followed the rabbit and foxes into the ice cream shop. The manager was chewing him out and telling him to leave, and Nick was acting all calm and collected. The rabbit was reaching down for her holster, and Rocket already had his paw on his weapon. He was damn certain he could draw faster than her, take the cop out, and then... well, he hadn't planned that far ahead, but-

"But sir," Nick told the manager, "I just want to get an Icepop for my son here. See, he's always wanted to be an elephant." Finnick trumpeted his little trunk. The rabbit placed her paws over her heart, and went "Awww," touched by the scene.

Wait, is she buying this? Rocket couldn't believe it - this scam was not being bought by the elephants at all, but this cop (this rabbit cop, who he thought would know better) was taking it hook, line and sinker. Nick went through the rest of the script - being a single father, struggling with work and money, trying to do something nice for his son, all that schmaltzy stuff. None of the elephant customers or employees made any move to help them, but he could see in them the meter maid's body language that she was moved by the fox's sob story. Rocket couldn't help but smile, a mammal in on a prank of epic proportions.

"Hey, read the sign, fox." The manager pointed at the sign on the counter, as he recited, "'We reserve the right to withhold service to anyone.' Now beat it."

"Now hold on, sir." The officer - Ms. Hopps - finally spoke up, stepping forward. Oh god she isn't, Rocket thought, his smile turning to a cheeky grin, holding back snickers, Please tell me she's not gonna play the hero. Please tell me she's not that naive.

No, she was. She more or less called out the manager for breaking some kind of discriminatory law or another, and threatened to bring in the health inspector to close the place down for using their trunks to scoop ice cream (Rocket had thought it was pretty gross, but never mentioned it before because he thought it was a cultural thing) if they didn't serve the foxes. While she was talking, Nick spotted Rocket behind the cop, desperately trying not to laugh. There was a brief flash of surprise and nervousness as he motioned for him to back away. The raccoon did so, stepping outside, but still able to see and hear everything just fine.

The manager finally acquiesced to the bunny's demands, and asked for payment. Nick felt around his body, and feigned surprise and disappointment as he couldn't find his wallet. "Ah, I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached to me," He sighed, "I'm sorry, lil' buddy, looks like I can't get you one today." Finnick gave a sad trumpet sound, looking so sad and on the verge of tears. Judy saw this, her face grew firm as she made her decision.

"Oh frickin' hell," He snickered, "If she actually pays for them I'm gonna-"

She hopped up and slammed a fistful of dollars on the counter. "Keep the change." She declared, trying to sound so cool like it was a one liner.

The bio-augmented ex-outlaw burst out giggling, desperately trying to hold back the flood of laughs bubbling from within. Nick had completely and utterly fleeced her, playing her for a fool. He even got the cop to buy the Icepop, even though he had money on hand. How frickin' gullible was she? How could they not hear his laughter from outside? Before the three of them left the store with the giant-ass popsicle, Rocket hid behind a strategically placed car, peeking around the side to continue watching the show.

"You know, you're a really good dad," She complimented him as she handed the Icepop to Finn', "And for a fox, you're a real, articulate fella."

"Thanks," He replied, completely straight-faced the entire time, "And it's really nice to meet a rabbit who isn't condescending." Rocket went into full-on belly laughs, as the sarcastic compliment completely went over her head.

"And you, little guy," She said, kneeling down to Finn's level, "Just keep believing in yourself, and I bet one day you'll grow up to be an elephant." She gave them both ZPD badge stickers, did a little Toot-toot! with Finn, and went on her way.

"Oh my god," Rocket snickered as all three got in the van, turning the AC to full blast to keep their haul from melting, "That was the funniest thing I've ever seen! I wish I had a camera with me, Groot would love to see that."

"Thank you, Stripes," Nick called out from the back, speaking up over the drone of the fans, "I always knew I had a future in acting if the hustling business ever went south."

"I almost feel bad for her. She was just so completely played, so damn naive, I think even I could've hustled her."

"She's a sweetheart," Nick agreed, "just a real bad judge of character."

"Let's hope she's not smart enough to figure out what we did," Finnick warned, driving the car down the street, "I'm almost hoping we can do this again with you and Groot, just to see it from the other side."

Rocket didn't. If there was one thing Blackjack taught him about rabbits, it was that they were always full of surprises. And if that particular rabbit was resourceful enough to become a cop like Clawhauser said, he'd definitely need to keep an eye out for Officer Judy Hopps...

Chapter Text

As luck would have it, Rocket and Judy would meet face to face the next day. He had left the foxes right after they had finished making their little popsicles, collecting his share of the money and heading back home to finish up Groot's cloak. The rest of the day and night had been spent looking into prospective cases, and writing the codes and algorithms for his buddy's hologram. It was gonna take a lot of downloading to make it look as real as possible, so much so that it wouldn't be done until the next night. Groot was still happy about the prospect of being able to go outside, even if it was disguised as a giraffe. He received a text later that night that Nick and Finn were followed by the cop after he left, but Nick dealt with it, and "took the bunny to school", whatever that meant.

The next morning, he received an update on his phone that some guy named Weaselton - the same dude that called him a thief in the police station - had a warrant out for his arrest, and a bounty of $500 for theft. Hey, a job's a job, might as well keep at it until those gun royalty checks start coming in. His latest string of robberies were primarily garden shops, florists and botanical supplies, so the raccoon parked himself across the street from Porky's Petunias (ugh!) and waited. Well, not so much "parked" as "drank coffee and pretend to read a newspaper at some hipster cafe".

It was only 9:30 in the morning when he spotted a familiar meter maid driving around in an adorable golf-cart-turned police vehicle. He watched her park the cart between two bigger cars, and got to issuing parking tickets. However, there was something different about her. Little Judy Hopps didn't have that speed from yesterday, that pep in her step that made her hop from place to place. The happy smile she had last time was gone, replaced with a downtrodden frown. She just looked so sad and defeated, like part of her childhood got torched and tossed in a ditch.

Rocket couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for her - which was weird, 'cause he never felt sorry for anyone. Was it because she was cute? Was it because she seemed as out-of-place in this town as he did? He couldn't say. But curiosity was getting the better of him, and he wanted to know more.

When the first mammals started complaining to her about getting tickets, he moved seats to be closer to the sidewalk, and waited for her to pass by. She crossed the street, and he whistled to get her attention. She spotted him quickly, the oversized raccoon wearing a polo shirt and cargo shorts with a backpack at his side - a clever disguise to look like some well-to-do yuppie.

"Rough day, huh?" He called out, waving her over.

"I'm fine, sir," She replied, though she didn't sound like it, "But I appreciate the concern. It's the first nice thing I've heard anyone say to me all day."

"Why, haven't paid for anyone else's food lately?"

The rabbit's eyes widened, before squinting suspiciously. "How do you-"

"Wilde hired me as backup. Guess he had a better handle on the situation than we thought. The name's Rocket, by the way."

Her ears perked up with recognition. "Rocket Raccoon? The guy who made all those new guns the department's getting?"

"The one an' only." He smiled and held his arms out. "And you must be Judy Hopps, ZPD's cute new bunny cop."

She sighed in exasperation, clearly having had to say this before. "Just so you know, a bunny can call another bunny cute, but when someone else says it, it's a little-"

"Like someone calling me a thief," Rocket finished for her, offering his own sly smile, "Or calling a fox sly, am I right?" Judy blinked, and he shrugged. "At least with you or Nick it's a compliment. A cute bunny is adorable, a sly fox is clever. Me? Apparently I got sticky fingers and quiet feet. It's not the worst thing anybody's called me, and if I had to zap everybody that ever gave me crap, there'd be a city full o' twitchy spazzes." This earned him a scoff and an eyeroll, but still he asked, "So, Long Ears, what's got you down?"

Judy lowered her eyes, and her ears drooped. "Nothing, really," She mumbled uncertainly, not really knowing why she wanted to tell this stranger anything, "I just had a... a talk with your boy Nick. He said some things that really got to me. Things I never really thought of before."

"What, like why do rodents have little toy cars?" He quipped, "I never got that either. Why don't they just take those little tube things everywhere, and turn their little road into a bike lane? I don't wanna pay for a car accident every time I take a wrong step." This got a chuckle out of the bunny, and she smiled. It was a nice laugh, and a nice smile.

"Look," He continued, "I don't know what Nick told you, and I don't know if it's anything like what people have said ta me. But a little bit of advice: don't let how others treat you get you down. If a predator or big mammal chooses to underestimate you, that just allows you to surprise them, and show off how awesome you really are. Yeah, life can always get worse - Hell, my life has been worse - but when you're told you can't do somethin', you gotta stand back up, raise a middle finger, and shout, 'Up yours, Life! You're not the boss of me, and I can do whatever I damn well please!'"

That seemed to resonate with Judy, who squared her shoulders, and stood a little taller. "You're right," She agreed, that spark returning to her, "So what no one thought a dumb bunny could be a police officer? Look at how far I've gone! Even I'm just a meter maid, I'm still going to be the best darn meter maid in Zootopia! If I could write 200 tickets yesterday, I bet I can make 250 today! Before 11:30!"

"That's the spirit!" He cheered, surprised and happy his little motivational speech actually worked. "Hey, and for the record, including you, I've only met two rabbits in my whole life. Neither one of you are what I'd call dumb." You're just naive and gullible, He thought, and Blackjack is just crazy. How he survived fighting that Tuskiviiran with only a sponge is beyond me.

Off in the distance, a parking meter went PING! Judy's ears perked up, and she spotted it way down the street. "Duty calls," She chirped, "See you later, Mr. Rocket. It's been really nice talking with you."

"Ditto," He nodded over in the direction of the empty meter, "Now go out there and do your thing, Fluffybutt." Judy nodded in return, and went bounding off down the street.

Well, there's my good deed for the day, He thought, sensibly chuckling to himself as he returned to his stakeout. Good thing I don't own a car. Having her ticket me would be kinda awkward.

Minutes pass. The sun rises higher as the rabbit and raccoon continue doing their jobs. More mammals sneered and complained at Judy, but this time she takes it much better, not letting those words get to her. Rocket continued to watch that particular flower shop, though now he had to order a Mocha Cappuccino from some snot-nosed opossum, and pulled out his phone, resorting to scrolling around the internet like every other loser in this city. Ugh, the things I do for this job, he grouched, Like actually having enough time to look up what those "SnapRat" and "Timbr" apps are. I think part of me died looking at this stupidity.

Eventually, he spotted his target. Duke Weaselton snuck into the flower shop at a moment when he hadn't been looking, but he spotted him just as he was carrying away a bag full of... flowers? Seeds? Money? Who robs a flower shop anyway? He unzipped his backpack, and pulled out his Rocket Blaster, loading a shot with an electrified net, and took aim, not even bothering to get out of his seat.

"Don't worry, I got him!" He heard Judy call out, quickly closing the distance between her and the crook, ripping off the meter maid outfit, and revealing a much more professional-looking SWAT getup.

Rocket saw this, and mentally kicked himself. "Goddamnit!" He swore, getting up and slinging the weapon on his back, "The one time I try to do somethin' nice, and it almost costs me a job!" He engaged his jet boots, and took off into the air.

Getting about fifty feet up, he followed the weasel and bunny as they went through the street. A cop car came by and stopped, and a rhino came out talking on his radio as the weasel slipped past them. "Officer Hopps in pursuit! WOO WOO!" Judy cried, clearly enjoying her first foot chase. "Don't worry boys," Rocket shouted as he zipped overhead, "I got this!" The rhino and his partner just stared at them - it's not everyday you see a mammal fly around like Astro Wolf.

He desperately tried to line up a shot with Weaselton, but the bastard just kept zipping around, dodging traffic and slipping between tight spots. Compounded by the fact that Rocket had never tried to shoot while flying through the air, he couldn't line up a shot without risking hitting pedestrians or oncoming cars. The thief rounded a corner, jumping onto the back of a young polar bear cub, and pushed off him as he went down the street. Judy made a hard cut as well, but didn't see how far the bear cub got launched into the street, practically landing in the middle of the lane with oncoming traffic. He looked a little ruffed up as he started getting up, but when he saw the first car coming at him, he froze like a deer in headlights (Was that a common thing? How many deer got hit by cars in Zootopia to make that a stereotype?).

"Son of a BITCH!" He cursed, as he sped up and grabbed the cub by the collar, and pulled him back onto the sidewalk. The cub was a little heavier than he anticipated, and both of them took a tumble on the ground. Both of them got up rather quickly, and Rocket snapped, "Don't just stand there when a car's comin', you dummy! Dodge!"

"T-thank you, sir!" The polar bear cub looked down at himself, and mewled in shock and despair at his clothes, his school uniform torn to shreds by the asphalt. "My shirt! I can't go to school like this. Dad's gonna kill me!"

The bounty hunter only half-heard this, looking to see how far his target had ran. Both the weasel and rabbit were halfway down the block, heading to this walled-off miniature of the city called "Little Rodentia". The subconscious part of his mind - the part that had been re-engineered to process tactical situations within milliseconds - realized that his current disguise was only going to slow him down as he flew, increasing the risk of his escape. Quickly he took the polo shirt off off his red jumpsuit, absent-mindedly tossed it at the cub, and took to the sky once again. "Thank you!" The cub called out, waving at the 'Coon even as he was promptly forgotten.

Rocket increased the power to his jetboots, speeding up enough to tackled Weaselton midair as he jumped over the wall. Both of them went tumbling across the ground, nearly crushing several rodents and their cars even as his shorts came off. Duke kicked Rocket away, slamming into the front of a tiny apartment building. He got up, rolled his shoulders, and sneered, "You know, for a hardened criminal, you hit like a chump."

The weasel blinked as he recognized him, and immediately scurried over to his bag. "Hey buddy," He hissed, "I stole this haul fair and square. Get your own."

"I'm not here for the bag, dumbass," He growled, pulling out his blaster and aiming it at the crook, "I'm here for you."

It was then that Judy hopped the wall as well. She looked surprised to see the raccoon she spoke to an hour ago had caught up, changed clothes, and leveling a giant gun at her perp. They also both became aware of all the dozens of tiny mice and cars zipping around everywhere in a panic, forcing them to tiptoe around to not crush anyone. Duke took this opportunity to grab the gun, and try to wrench it out of the 'Coon's hands.

"Hey, let go asshole," The bounty hunter barked, "This is my gun!" When Duke couldn't take the weapon away, he started angling at Judy. Hopps quickly rushed in, and she tried to take it from both of them. In the midst of their struggling, fingers slipped, a dial turned, and a trigger got pulled.

THWOOM!

A ball of plasma shot up into the air, easily climbing over a hundred feet as everyone within Little Rodentia looked up. Duke took this moment to escape, pushing both of his pursuers away, and pushing down a row of apartment buildings as he jumped onto a passing mini-train.

"I got it, I got it!" Rocket shouted, raising his gun and eyeballing the shot. When he aligned it just right, he fired, hitting the projectile with another ball of plasma, causing them to erupt in a booming fireworks display. Meanwhile, Judy went to the last apartment building, and used all that lower body strength to push them back into position (while unknowingly giving one lucky rat a full-window view of bunny butt). Realizing their target was getting away, both then quickly rushed off in pursuit - Judy by foot, Rocket by air.

Rocket caught up first, landing right in front of the weasel. "You know what's funny?," He growled, "It's been two months since I've been here, and you've gone and committed what, twenty acts of robbery? And yet I'm the thief!"

"Yeah, so?" The thief jeered back, "You're a 'Coon. You're sneaky kleptomaniacs! You're worse than foxes - at least they're brave enough to look you in the eye when they take stuff!"

"Sounds like someone's projecting," Rocket retorted, "And as for taking stuff, the only thing I'm taking is you to the precinct, so I can get my money. And I'll be sure to look you in the eye the entire-"

WHUMP!

Rocket slammed into a veritable wall of those stupid, brightly colored tubes the rats travel in, getting stuck in the pipes as Duke snuck through the openings. He growled out his pain and frustration as he used the boots to brute-force his way out of the pipes, not caring as he broke three or four pipelines on his exit. Ah, that's why they don't have pipes runnin' everywhere. Zooming up overhead, he spotted Weaselton duck and weave through the pipes, only for Judy to somehow still be way down the line, and tackle him into another street. Duke again got up first, and spotted a large fake donut on top of a mini bakery.

"How about a donut, copper!" He shouted, ripping it off the roof and tossing it at her. Judy dodged, but then sprinted after it as it went barreling down the street. She barely caught in time to avoid crushing a shrew in a silly wig, whose survival instincts were limited to "scream and cower in fear".

"I love your hair." She said, trying to sound casual - yeah, I do this all the time.

Above them, Rocket broke through the pipes as he leveled his shot. "I live for the simple things in life," Rocket mused, resetting his gun as he took aim from above, "Like how much this is gonna hurt."

PING-PING! BZZZZZT!

Two pellets hit the weasel right in the middle of his back, causing him to yelp and seize up as he fell on the ground. He wiggled and flopped on the ground like a fish, electricity arcing through his body in visually pleasing ways.

"Yeah," He murmured as he landed a few feet away from him, grabbing a plastic cinch-band (the ones that need a knife to cut through once put on), "Writhe, ya little shit. Makin' me zip around town like a goddamn delivery boy."

Duke tried to get up, and Rocket readied to fire another shot for shits and giggles, when Hopps made her presence known by slamming the fake donut on him, trapping his limbs within the hole. When she brought out her own handcuffs and placed them on the weasel's legs, Rocket demanded, "Hey, whoa, what're you doing? He's my catch!"

Judy looked at him, and said defensively, "I'm arresting him, Mr. Rocket. I'm a cop, it's my job."

"No," He retorted, "You're a meter maid. I'm a bounty hunter. My job is to catch this clown, and yours is to give him a ticket for leaving his car out too long."

Judy gasped, and gave him that "how dare you" look people get when they're all offended - something Rocket was learning he was really good at. "What happened to all that talk about not letting others tell me what I can or can't do?"

"That was before you decided to go after my target. He's worth a month's rent, I'm not just going to let him go just so you can build your self-esteem!"

"He's committed theft, running from police, resisting arrest, attempted assault with a deadly weapon and attempted mammalslaughter, when he nearly crushed that poor shrew with this donut."

"You don't have the authority to make those charges," He countered, "Chief Butthole won't be too happy that his two-day old rookiee left her designated zone to steal a bounty."

"I was the one who spotted him first," She insisted, "I was the one who started this chase. You were interfering in a police pursuit - that's grounds for losing your license!"

"I was the one staking him out all morning," He snapped, "I was the one who caught him. You were the one messing with my job, and you went and left your zone. That's dereliction of duty, and that's grounds for losing your badge!"

"You both could just let me go, and we could pretend this didn't-"

PING! BZZZZT!

Weaselton shut his mouth after receiving 10'000 volts to his neck. The rabbit and raccoon stared each other down, not giving the other an inch. The standoff held for nearly a minute, as neither one moved, and both were drawing a crowd of mice spectators.

"I can't let you leave with him," Judy said finally, a hint of desperation and finality in her voice, "I need this. I have to prove that I can do this."

Rocket groaned - now his good deed turned this into an ego trip. Normally, he'd just tell the cop to "fuck off and know your role", but for the life of him he couldn't bring himself to do it now. It was really vexing - Why should he care about this bunny's feelings? Was it because she's attractive - maybe, but not enough to render him stupid. Perhaps it was because he felt sorry for her - she was obviously idealistic and naive, desperate to seek any kind of validation for her career path, willing to do anything to prove she has what it takes to make it with the big boys. Maybe it was because now that they stood so close, he could see that her eyes were purple - the same color as Lylla. Whatever it was, Rocket felt something give inside as he did what he did next.

"Look," He said begrudgingly, "I don't care who gets the credit for bringing in this guy. I just want the money. What if we... brought him in together? Would that make you happy?"

Judy squinted at him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"Simple. We bring this guy in. We'll tell them how you helped me catch him-"

"You mean how you helped me catch him," She corrected.

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, babe. We go there, we tell them we worked together to catch him - that's not even lying. You get the credit for the catch on your record, and I get the 500 bucks. It's a win-win for the both of us. Whatcha say?"

Judy thought it over, tapping her foot rapidly. She didn't like it - nope, she didn't like it one bit, having to settle with sharing an arrest with a bounty hunter. But he was right, she was skirting the edges of the law, and she probably would be in a little bit of trouble because he couldn't let this thief go. His offer was a good one, and if he was willing, perhaps he could corroborate her report to justify her actions. And at least he backed away from telling her to piss off and leave.

She crossed her arms and sighed. "Fine," She relented, "We'll do things your way. But if this is your attempt to hustle me-"

"Bunny please," He scoffed, "I'm not that kind of mammal. When I make a deal with someone, I keep up my end..."

Somewhere in the multiverse, the Collector sneezed.

Chapter Text

Whump-bump-bump! The plaster doughnut - with the surprise weasel filling - bounced it's way into Precinct 1. He rolled all the way to the front desk, where Clawhauser was showing off his silly Gazelle app to a wolf who was wishing the other officers would take him to a cell already. It came to a stop and fell to its side, Duke Weaselton looking particularly green from all the spinning he had to go through. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the weasel, wondering what the hell happened to him.

"We got him!" Judy announced, proudly bounding into the station, "We got the Flower Bandit! Judy Hopps and Rocket Raccoon, Zootopia's new crimefighting duo!"

"Long Ears, what did I say?" Rocket complained, "You're supposed to be the professional one, and I was gonna be the one who gloated!"

"Sorry, I'm just excited. It's my first arrest, how cool is that?! Weren't you excited the first time you caught a bad guy?"

"I was more nervous than excited," he told her, and then murmured, "Mostly because there were bodies everywhere."

"What was that?"

"Nothin'. Come 'ere, I promised a friend of mine I'd send a picture of each guy I catch, and I think he'd want to see you." He handed his phone over to Clawhauser, and motioned for Judy to join him on the other side of the weasel. Before she got to them, Rocket whispered to Duke, "You frickin' bite one of us while we take this picture, I break yer jaw in front of everyone." Duke wisely remained still, as the bunny and raccoon posed on either side of him, and the cheetah snapped a photo of them with their catch. Rocket took the phone back and sent the image to Groot while Hopps explained the deal they had made. Groot had asked for a cellphone from Finnick so he could keep tabs on everyone even though he was stuck at the warehouse, and surprisingly the tree-man was becoming rather savvy with the little device. The only downside was that he learned texting from watching TV, meaning that he texted like a child - with gratuitous use of abbreviations and emojis.

"Officer Hopps!" Bogo shouted through the intercom, getting everyone's attention, "In my office! Now!"

"Serious question, guys," Rocket asked, hopping onto the counter and helping himself to a doughnut, "Has there ever been a time when he didn't sound like he was pissed off about somethin'?"

"Oh, that's just the face he has on at work," Benjamin explained, "He does that to keep everyone in line. He's really a sweetheart once you get to know him."

Yeah, and I'm a Shi'ar cookie salesman, The raccoon thought. Judy looked at both of them nervously, before heading off to the Chief's office. Rocket sent the image to Groot, and while Clawhauser typed away to give Hopps the commendation and him the cash, he felt compelled to ask, "Hey Ben, why are you fat for a cheetah?"

Clawhauser - having gotten used to the bounty hunter's abrasive nature and insults from criminals all the time - merely smiled at the screen, and retorted, "Dunno, why are you tall for a raccoon?"

Rocket, without missing a beat, answered, "Growth spurt." And cybernetic and genetic augmentations.

"Slow metabolism." Clawhauser replied, tapping his tummy. "My family was poor when I was a kid, and we didn't always have enough to eat. I have a sweet tooth, and now I have the money to eat whenever I want. I've tried to watch what I eat, dieting and whatnot, but these things are just too good to resist."

"That sucks." He gestured to the cheetah's phone, still showing Gazelle dancing with the muscular tiger with Ben's face crudely pasted over it. "How do you ever plan on dancing with your favorite celebrity if walking ten feet exhausts you?"

"Hey, I can still bust a move! You should've seen me at the last policeman's ball! I could dance just as fine as any one of those tigers!"

"Mmhmm, and I'm sure Gazelle would love to dance with someone who has bigger boobs and butt than she does. You know what..." He leaned over and grabbed the box of donuts off the counter next to him. "I think you've had enough donuts today!"

"Hey!" Clawhauser exclaimed, reaching to grab the box, "Give that back! I'm not done eating!"

But Rocket was too quick for him, and took it out of his reach. "No way, buddy," he told him, "You're never going to be a world-class dancer if you eat donuts and cereal all damn day. Besides, you still have one under your cheek." And these things are frickin' Space Crack. No wonder he's such a fat ass.

As Clawhauser searched his body and did indeed find one last glazed doughnut, Rocket took the box and jumped off the counter, and went off to sit in a nearby vacant seat. "Let me know when the money comes in." He called out, taking a seat and snacking on the remaining doughnuts as he received a text from Groot.

GrootyRoot: Who dat bunny? lol ;)

BigRR:  That was Judy. The one we tricked yesterday.

GrootyRoot:  N now u2 partners? :o ROFLMAO!

BigRR:  No doofus. She helped me get the target. She got credit. I got money. Win-win.

GrootyRoot:  Aww, dat nice tho! xoxo YOLO!

BigRR:  Groot, stop it. Yur not a teenage girl, u dont kno wat dose words n signs mean.

GrootyRoot:  :'( sry

"Excuse me, sir, can I please talk with someone?"

Rocket looked up at the front desk, and his heart stopped. For a moment, he saw the ghostly image of the one person he had ever really loved, the one being in all the galaxy who could bring the not-asshole part of him out with no trouble whatsoever. My god, that's Lylla.

Indeed, the resemblance between otters was uncanny. Yes, she had whiter fur signifying greater age, and Lylla was eye-level with him while this otter was even shorter than Judy. But still, she looked like her, sounded like her, and held herself like her as well. All that was missing were the subtle scars and cyberware of their augmentations.

As he watched and listened from a distance, Clawhauser looked down at the little otter and sighed. "Mrs. Otterton," he began, "We've been doing everything we can, but you've got to let our officers do their work."

"But it's been two weeks," She pointed out, "and I haven't heard or gotten any updates from any of your officers. My children are worried sick, and I don't know if I can tell them that my Emmett is being searched for, or if he's been forgotten!"

It took a second or two for Rocket to realize he had gotten up and started walking to the desk and distraught otter. Dude, what are you doing? That inner voice of greed and caution demanded as he got closer, and the otter brought out a picture of her and her family. The otter didn't notice his approach as she said, "Just let me show them a picture of my family. Let them see the children they're ignoring, and the mammal that I've been searching for!"

Nerd! He couldn't get over the stupid sweater and the dorky glasses he wore. It boggled his mind that this female would be attracted to that old fart, let alone reproduce with him. She could do so much better than him, easy. At least the children looked... cute, maybe?

"Please," She begged, "Let me speak with someone who can help me."

He was about to speak up, when the inner voice spoke up again. You don't plan on actually helping her, are you? Why? You don't know her. You don't owe her anything. If she's just goin' to a police station rather than a PI, then she's clearly not goin' to pay you enough to make it worth your time. On top of that, not only does she look like an older, mini-version of your girlfriend, but she's married to a loser with loser kids. You have no reason to help her, just walk away.

You do have a reason, Dude. A different voice - one he hadn't heard in a long, long time. A softer voice, from a point in his life where everything didn't come off as a dozen shades of crap, and it wasn't so hard to give a shit about something other than himself. Just ask yourself: "What would Lylla say? What would she do?"

Rocket's mind went back, remembering the last time he saw his first and only love...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

" Are you sure you can't stay with us a little longer?" Rocket asked, doing his best not to sound like he was begging.

"Aww Rocket, I was going to ask if you could come with me." Lylla read him like an open book, as she always had. "I'm sure Dyvyne would be ok with hiring additional security."

He sighed, "We both know I can't do that. I promised Blackjack I'd help him settle his score with the Blue Suns. He was there for us in some really bad times, and I don't wanna have that kind of debt hangin' over my head."

A chill wind blew through the spaceport of Gainel, under the three moons of Fiego. It had been three years since Rocket, Blackjack and Lylla had escaped the labs where they were created, and they had been doing rather well for themselves. The rabbit and raccoon were making tons of money doing hits, raids and other odd jobs, while the otter managed them and got them contacts and contracts. They traveled the galaxy, made loads of money, had some good times along the way. It was the closest thing he had ever been to being part of a family.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Lylla had met Lord Dyvyne, a rather rich and famous "toy maker" - a clever euphemism for weapons manufacturer. The guy, oddly enough, seemed more interested in her than them: while the boys were great fighters and hunters, she had a knack for negotiating, finding patterns in galactic trade, being a real moneymaker in the civilized sense of the word. Lylla, while a fair combatant in her own right, always wanted to make something more of herself, to break away from their original "purpose" as fighters (and in her case, "entertainers"). He had offered her a position as the manager of a new factory opening up on Sigma Prime, and she jumped on it.

Blackjack didn't mind - he was already planning on going his own way soon enough, making his own band of outlaws without them. Rocket didn't want her to go, but he wasn't going to stop her. This was her chance to leave the criminal life behind, and he cared for her too much to keep her down in the underworld with him.

"I understand," She demurred, pulling her coat tighter against her thin body, "But... If this is the last time we see each other-"

"Hey, don't think like dat," He rebuffed her, pulling her closer as the wind picked up, "I'll come see you whenever I'm in this neck of of the galaxy."

"But if we don't," she continued, staring into his eyes, "I want you to promise me something." She placed her paws on his chest, right above his heart. "Stay good for me, Rocket. Don't just be the killer they wanted you to be."

Rocket couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, I think that ship has flown already, babe," He said, placing his hands over hers, "We can't all be awesome business ladies like you."

"It's never too late to change!" She insisted, "Last night, I had a dream. I saw a city on top of a hill. The place was filled with creatures like us - animals that walked on two legs, wore clothes, could speak like us. You and I were there, and no one looked at us funny, or gave us a hard time. We owned a little shop, and had a little house, and we were happy together."

"That does sound nice," He agreed, "But I don't think there's enough mad scientists and science experiments in the galaxy to make us fit in."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I do believe that there is a place for creatures like us. A place where we can belong, where we're not outcasts. Somewhere where you don't have to keep up a cynical front, and where we can both be happy. I want you to promise me that you won't completely give in to the violence and hate that our maker wanted us for, that Blackjack is falling to. I want you to promise me that you will still keep a part of yourself good, so that when I find that place for us, I can still have part of the Rocket I know and love with me. Can you do that for me, baby?"

Rocket sighed. He didn't know if he could do that - hell, he didn't know if the High Evolutionary left enough wiggle room in his mind to even allow him to not answer every problem with violence. But whenever he looked into her eyes - those purple eyes that poured into him like a waterfall - he couldn't help but at least try for her sake. She was the first good thing to happen in his life, and she deserved that much.

"Okay, Lylla," He said, bringing up her paw and kissing it, "For you, I promise." She smiled and hugged him, nuzzling the side of his neck. He returned in kind, sharing the warmth in the cool alien night. "Just remember, when you find that perfect place for us, there better be a bar. The first round's on me."

She laughed. "I love you, you fluffy pirate."

He smiled. "I love you too..."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Rocket blinked, and looked at the lady otter before him. Her eyes were olive-green, not purple. She was less confident than Lylla, more down to earth. The type who only asked for help when every other avenue had been used up, but wasn't a charity case to be pitied. She was married with kids, living a humdrum life in a city where crime was minimal and adventure was even less so. By all accounts, Rocket had no reason to help her, and should've just walked away from the whole scene.

But then part of him makes a realization. This place, Zootopia; this was what Lylla had in mind when he made her that promise. She hadn't known about this place, but it was so close to her vision that it might as well be one in the same. This was the place she meant when she said he no longer had to be a dick. Here, it was finally possible to truly reinvent himself: He was still a fighter, but now he no longer needed to be just a weapon. Now he could do something like help a random stranger, not because he'd receive treasure beyond his wildest dreams, but because, as Lylla would say, "It's the right thing to do."

Would it be easy for him? Hell no! This went against everything he had been taught and programmed from day one. Even as he cleared his throat to get their attention, that small part of his mind screamed about how much of a fool he was. He was being an idiot, leaving himself exposed - going out doing nice things and being a goody two-shoes would make things harder on himself. But since when has anything in life worth doing ever been easy? Changing any aspect of yourself is a pain in the ass, but sometimes doing so was worth it, if only to prove to yourself or others that you can.

Lylla believed he could do it. His time with Quill and Gamora and Drax gave him a taste (and proved you could get rewards for it, too). Why not try the "hero" path in his own little style?

"...Life isn't some whimsical fairy tale where you sing a little song and your insipid dreams come true!" They heard the buffalo shout from inside his office. "You earn your respect and your job. You can't just expect to bust open the door and get everything you want!"

Taking that as their cue, Rocket kicked the door open, and shouted, "Who's horns do I have to shine to get some assistance here?!"

The buffalo and bunny looked over as the raccoon entered, quickly followed by the rather flustered Mrs. Otterton, and Clawhauser gasping for air as he finally caught up.

"Chief!" The cheetah panted, "I tried-ugh!-I tried to catch them! Ugh! They're too fast!"

"Told you!" Rocket barked smugly, "We weren't even goin' that fast! This is why you need protein bars and some dance lessons. Don't go nowhere - oh, and catch!" Remembering he was in an office, he tossed his blaster gun to Clawhauser. As the cheetah caught it, the raccoon closed the door.

"Mr. Raccoon," Bogo demanded as forcefully polite as he could reigning in his emotions while the civilian was still present, "You better have a good reason for barging in like this, into my office."

"I'm glad you asked, Chief Bozo." He placed a paw on Emma's shoulder, speaking nonchalant in spite of everyone's stares. "While I was waiting for my paycheck, and you were likely telling Long Ears to 'Know Your Role and Get In Line', I met this lovely lady here. Mrs. Emma Otterton tells me that her husband has been missing for over two weeks, and yet no one has told her anything about how the case's been goin'."

Bogo's gaze softened as he looked at the little otter. "Ma'am," He started, "We're doing everything we can-"

"Oh, I'm sure you are." Rocket pointed at the map of the city on the wall, with pictures of Emmett and thirteen other mammals on it. "Fourteen missing mammal cases in the same month, all predators, all over the city. Must be serious, and you guys must be really busy. Perhaps, I dunno, busy enough to forget about updating a distressed loved one from being kept in the loop."

"Mr. Raccoon-"

"Hold on there, Big Boy," He cut him off, "I'm getting to my point." He couldn't help but smirk, though, as the police chief was looking increasingly annoyed, and the bunny kept switching her gaze between both of them. "Now, I may be a cold-blooded bounty hunter, but I do have a conscience. It's not much of one, but it's there. Mrs. Otterton here is in need of some help, and the police weren't doing enough, so I offered my services. We negotiated a bit, found a fair price, and gave Spotty back there a little exercise getting up here. I will take up the Emmett Otterton case, so you can focus on what you usually do, like beating up catnip dealers, or abusing steroids."

The two ladies looked at him uneasily as Bogo fumed, and Rocket's smirk grew bigger and bigger. "I can't just give you the case files," He glared at the overgrown raccoon, "You're not a cop."

"Fine," He retorted, "Then get the guy assigned to it and make him tag along. You do have someone working it, don't you?" All eyes turned back to the chief, who looked rather uncertain. "We, uh-"

"I'll do it," Judy stepped up, looking rather bold, "I'll help you find Mr. Otterton!" The males looked at her with genuine surprise, but Emma jumped up and hugged the bunny. "Thank you," she said, "Thank you for bringing my husband back." Judy awkwardly returned the hug, and looked over at Rocket. He shrugged, giving her a look of curious amusement, and mild approval.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Otterton," Bogo interrupted, "Would you mind leaving the room for a moment-"

"Knock knock knock," Came a rather cheery voice from the other side of the door. It opened, revealing the perky face of everyone's mutual friend/associate, Dawn Bellweather. "What's this? Zootopia's first bunny officer and ZPD's new weapons supplier? I was just looking for you two."

"Perfect timing!" Rocket declared, stepping in front of Bogo and sidelining him from the conversation. "Have you got the schematics for my drone system?"

"Yes we did." The sheep brought out a folder, containing diagrams and images of drones with various modifications. "I was hoping to have you stop by city hall sometime this week, so we could discuss installing emergency response modules inside. It'd be really useful having the drones that carry rodents or cameras all over the city also double as EMTs in times of crisis."

"I hear yuh," Rocket agreed, "but I'm gonna be a little busy the next couple days. Chief Bogo has just assigned Officer Hopps here to assist me in a missing mammal case." He placed a paw on the bunny's shoulder, and pulled her a little closer. Judy was a little surprised by this, but she was catching on to what Rocket was trying to do.

"Oh, that's spectacular news!" She cheered, putting the folder away and pulling out her phone, "The mayor's Mammal Inclusion Initiative is really starting to pay off. Let me tell Lionheart about it, it'll make his day!"

"No no, Ms. Bellweather," Bogo pleaded, stepping over to the Deputy Mayor, "You don't need to do that!"

"...Aaand I've sent it, and it's done." She announced, and reached out to shake both their paws. "Good luck out there, guys. Us little guys are rooting for you!"

"Don't you worry, Bells," Rocket assured her, "In forty-eight hours, we'll have our guy, you'll have your drones, and everybody in this city will know our names."

"Ooh, confident. I like that."

"Excuse me ladies," Bogo said, using the most forced smile Rocket had ever seen, "Would you mind leaving the office so I could speak with Mr. Raccoon and Officer Hopps about... the case... in private, please?"

The sheep and otter left the office. Bogo closed the door, and when he looked back at the bunny and raccoon, he gave them such a frustrated and angry glare that Judy's ears dropped, and she took a cautious step back. Rocket, however, stood his ground, and held that gaze.

"You think you can just inject yourself into police business?" He growled, "You think you can get away with making me look weak?"

"I jus' did," Rocket stated, whiskers twitching in a smirk, "It's called 'hustling', buddy. It's one of my many skills."

"You want to see hustling?" The Chief challenged him, a menacing grin growing on his muzzle, "Alright then. You and Hopps? You have forty-eight hours to find Mr. Otterton, BUT-!" The last word was a shout, cutting off Judy's premature cheer. "Officer Hopps, if you fail, you must resign."

"What? Why?" Judy asked.

"Insubordination!" He explained. "If you think you can just assign yourself to any case you want - especially in front of civilians and myself! - then you clearly learned nothing from Academy. As for you, Rocket-"

"You've got nothin' on me, Ox." Rocket told him arrogantly, "I'm a civvie with no rap-sheet, I'm friends with your boss, and I'm supplying you and your boys with new equipment. You can't touch me."

Judy cringed, and Bogo's eyes bulged in fury. Just as bunnies had their no-no words, other animals had some, too. For a buffalo, being called an "ox" - a bull without testicles - fell somewhere along the lines of being called a "bitch" and a "faggot" simultaneously, and under most circumstances would result in a massive fight. Bogo took a breath. Two. Three. On the fourth breath, he regained most of his composure, stood straight up, but kept the smile. "As for you, Mr. Rocket Raccoon, if you fail, you will either surrender your bounty hunting license, or be arrested."

Rocket scoffed. "On what grounds?"

"Using excessive force on criminals," Bogo started saying, "Using experimental technology on non-consenting mammals. Entering a police station with a loaded weapon. Interfering with a police investigation. Breaking and entering into a private office!"

"It wasn't locked, but-"

Bogo slammed a hooved fist into the wall, actually putting a sizable crater into the drywall. "Ok-ok, it's a deal!" Judy stammered, hoping to calm her boss down. "We'll find Otterton in 48 hours or I'll quit!"

Rocket kept his gaze with Bogo, wiggling his whiskers in thought. Losing his right to go out and shoot people for money would be a downer, no doubt about it. Maybe even a little worse than being proven wrong by this musclebound asshat. But then again, this would make things interesting, wouldn't it? A little bit of a challenge, for an otherwise mundane missing mammals case, give it a little bit of an edge. And worse comes to worse and he actually fails (which he wouldn't), he'd still be set to become one of the richest mammals in all of Zootopia. Have one last hunt under the belt before riding off into the sunset with a pina colada and a couple of hookers. Sounded as good a way to end a career as any, right?

"Bah, what the hell?" He sighed, "I accept your challenge. Might as well put a time limit to keep things interesting."

"Splendid," Bogo replied evenly, opening the door for them. "Clawhauser will hand you the case files downstairs."

The two of them got out of his office, but Rocket stopped and turned back to the Chief. "Just so you know," He warned, giving him a cocky little smirk that wouldn't be out of place on a certain fox, "No matter how this goes down, this is jus' the beginning between us. You're gonna see a lot o' this mug around here, and I'm jus' gonna love-love-love pushing your buttons every, single, day." He winked and clicked his teeth, and got out of the way just before the door slammed. He couldn't help but smile at the sound of a bellowing buffalo, and the crash of a desk being flipped.

"Sweet cheese and crackers, did you have to antagonize him like that?" Judy groaned, "He could've crushed you like a bug!"

"Hell yeah it was!" He laughed, "Trollin' aside, I've been too nice lately. Gotta 'balance my chakras' or 'adjust my karma', or whatever New Age mumbo-jumbo the kids go on about."

"Oh, that makes sense!" She remarked sarcastically, "You help me out twice today, and each time you nearly cost me my job? Is that how this works?"

"Yeah, pretty much," He answered with a straight face, "But I wouldn't worry too much, Fluffybutt, 'cause we're gonna find Emmett Otterton, we're gonna do it in less than two days, and we're gonna rub our success in his face."

"...Orrr we can just take pride in a job well done, and bringing a family back together, without further aggravating my boss."

"But where's the fun in that?"

Chapter Text

"You've got to be frickin' kidding me. That's it?" The raccoon stared in disbelief at the Otterton file - all page and a half of it. "I could get more off a quick Zoogle search for Odin's sake!"

Judy matched his sentiment by slapping a paw to her face. The folder contained Emmett's personal information (which would've been easily accessible via Muzzlebook) and the last picture of him taken on CCTV, on some street corner in Savannah Central. It was by far the smallest case file she had ever seen, and a horrible start for what may be the most important case of her career.

"Hang on," She murmured, "we can still do this. Rocket, do a quick search for him on social media, see who he's connected to. Clawhauser, paw me that water bottle." The raccoon already had his phone out and looked up Emmett, while the overweight cheetah gave her the bottle. She placed the bottle at an angle above the picture, using the refraction to magnify the image.

"'Kay," He began, "The guy's a florist, rather popular too. He's done a lot of jobs all across town, for all kinds of mammals. Been in business for twenty years, graduated from Zootopia University back in '75... Over three thousand Muzzlebook friends, goddamn. The mammal's popular for a nerd."

Judy gave a little gasp, as she spotted something in Otterton's hand. "Pawpsicle," She muttered, and looked over the rest of the picture. "Ha!" She declared, "We've got a lead!"

"Really? Who?" She gestured for him to come look, and switching his phone the magnifying glass app, he was pointed to one corner of the picture, where a fluffy red-white tail and green shirt was walking offscreen. The same shirt he had seen Nick wear every single time they were together.

"That's Nick Wilde alright." He stated. Judy crossed her arms and scowled at him, but Rocket pointed at the time stamp. "I wasn't working with him that day," He explained, "I was working on a job. But I know where he's goin' to be today..."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It was 1:55 in the afternoon by the time they reached the edge of Savannah Central, crammed in Judy's little maid-mobile. It was a miracle they got there as fast as they did, considering the vehicle didn't get faster than a brisk running speed. Nick and Finnick were heading the opposite direction into the SC, planning on opening a stand for pawpsicles and Rocket's cheap holographic projectors (nothing too fancy, just a three-dimensional image of a picture or ten second video file).

"Hey Nick!" He waved and pointed at the red fox, who was pushing Finnick in a stroller alongside a bag of the projectors. "Gotta minute?"

"Hey there, Stripes." The fox looked over at him, and he smiled when he saw his driver. "And if it isn't little miss meter maid," he said in that smugly sarcastic tone of his. "Taking up a taxi service, eh? Guess a policewoman's salary wasn't cutting it for you?"

"Actually, we were hoping you could spare us a few minutes of your time." Judy cut in front of the two foxes, parking right there on the sidewalk.

"Not right now, sorry," Nick faux-apologized, trying to get around them, "I've got a busy schedule today, and I can't afford to play 'Guess who?' with an overgrown plushy."

"Funny you say that," Rocket countered, stepping in front of the stroller, "'Cause you told me you were jus' gonna sell some of my product, pay me in a couple hours, and get free drinks at the dance club while Finnick DJ's."

"Hey, I am not that kind of fox, okay!" He declared defensively, "I just wanted to offer emotional and moral support to my friend for getting his first legitimate job in months."

"True that," Finnick agreed, eyes still closed in the stroller, "For all your talk about bein' sly, you got the game of a nerdy wildebeest. Dance moves of a brain-damaged lemur, too." Nick kicked the stroller right where Finn's butt would be, but otherwise kept a straight face.

"Do you know an Emmett Otterton?" Rocket asked, holding up the family picture Emma gave him, "Florist, old as dirt, Muzzlebook friends with everybody?"

"I know everybody, Stripes," Nick answered, "And I also know that I make it a point to not get involved with any kind of investigations. Whatever it is you two are up to, I want no part of it."

Rocket hummed, casually unholstering his gun, and giving it a quick inspection. The gesture was innocent enough, but it also had the tone of the bounty hunter establishing power and control over the conversation. "C'mon, Red," He said in an almost sing-song voice, "is that any way to treat a buddy like me? After all I've done for you? Don't you think saving your life from those polar bear thugs is worth helping me find one little otter?"

"Funny you say that," Nick countered, still wearing that cocky smirk, "'Cause I recall the deal being you keeping us safe from Mr. Big's mammals, and I don't tell anyone about Groot."

Rocket's face fell, and Judy looked at him in mild confusion. "Who's Groot?" She asked.

"Nobody!" He snapped, glaring at the fox, "You sure you want to go down this road, Red?"

"Sorry, Stripes," Nick grinned, "You've got nothing on me I can't also put on you. Now step aside, please."

"Alright then, Wilde," Rocket warned, leaning against the cart, putting his gun back on his back. "Don't say I didn't warn ya. Your turn, Fluffybutt." He extended a paw, and Judy slapped it, tagging herself into the foray. Quicker than either three males could blink, there was a CLINK! of metal as a tirejack latched onto the stroller's front right tire.

"Did you just jack my stroller?" Nick demanded, utterly bewildered on how she did it so fast... as he was looking at her. "How the hell did you do that?"

"Nick Wilde," She announced, "You're under arrest."

"For what?" He sneered in a baby voice, "Ruining a wittle bunny's first day at work?"

Judy smiled, and said, "Patent Infringement." Nick raised an eyebrow, and she explained, "See, on our way here, your 'bodyguard' explained to me that you've been selling his inventions without his consent."

"No I didn't!" Nick gestured to the raccoon. "Rocket, we both agreed I'd sell your inventions for a cut of the profits. Finnick was there, we shook hands and everything!"

"We did," Rocket agreed, "But see, verbal agreements don't hold up in court. It just boils down to he-said she-said nonsense."

"Well," Nick crossed his arms defiantly, "Then it's our word against yours."

"True, true," Judy continued, "Buuut, even though you're both predators, one of you has the patents to each item sold, and thus the final say on who gets permission. That certain someone also happens to have a mask on his face, is working with just a 'typical dumb bunny', and is on very good terms with the Deputy Mayor. Gee, I wonder who the judge is going to side with?"

Rocket gave a big smile and pointed to himself. Nick was not amused.

"Patent Infringement carries a rather hefty fine with it, too," The bunny continued, "Amounting to a complete refund of all profits gained from the products, with an additional 0.8% interest rate. Which, in your case-"

"Basically everything you own and then some," Rocket answered for her, "You can claim that you were makin' 'hundreds of dollars a day, every day since you were twelve', but that outfit you've been wearing since I met you says you're more broke than Finnick!"

"Hey, I just rented an apartment!" Finn objected, "I moved out of my van last week. I'm not forced to live under a bridge like this dork."

"I don't live under a bridge," Nick corrected, "I live in the basement of the Palms Hotel, right next to the boiler room. I get free breakfast and wi-fi in exchange for hitting it with a wrench twice a day. I'm in the lap of luxury."

"Well, if you don't help us," The cop threatened in a sing-song voice, "The only place you'll be selling pawsicles and getting free meals is in a jail cafeteria. What was it you told me yesterday? 'It's called a hustle, sweetheart'? Well, us dumb bunnies know a thing or two about that game, so you'd best check yourself before you wreck yourself."

The three males looked at her in surprise. They were quiet for a moment, but then Rocket began clapping, and Finnick started laughing. "Dayum, girl," The fennec giggled, "You got some game. I've never seen anyone hustle my boy like you just did. Rocky, did you train this cop, or is that all her?"

"It's au naturale, buddy," He answered honestly, "I'm just as surprised as you."

"Well, looks like you won't be needin' me today, Nick." Finnick got out of the stroller, and slapped one of the little ZPD stickers he had on Nick's shirt. "Good luck, bro. You a cop, now." He walked down a nearby alley, laughing the whole way, leaving the red fox alone with the cop and bounty hunter.

They looked at him expectantly, and he sighed. "I don't know what happened to the guy, I just know where he went."

"Great!" The cop exclaimed, getting back in her vehicle, "Then you can take us there." Rocket moved to the back, allowing Nick shotgun so he couldn't escape.

Nick smirked, and stated, "I gotta warn ya, it's not the kinda place a cute bunny like yourself would be cool with. Rocket, however, I think this'll be right up your alley."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" He demanded, as Judy growled, "Don't call me 'cute', get in."

"Whatever you say, Carrots." Wilde got in, and Rocket scratched his chin in puzzlement. Carrots? He thought, What kind of nickname is that? Dat's like calling him Blueberry, or calling me... I dunno, Booze or somethin'...

Their first stop was Otterton's last known location - the Mystic Springs Resort. It was an ornate looking place, with beautiful statues and bushes and the scent of incense wafting in the air. The three mammals were dwarfed by the door, beautifully carved and meant for larger creatures. They entered the building, which was decorated with Oriental monastic totems and artifacts, but never so much as to seem busy or overblown. Towards the back of the building, their was an office of sorts where a super-hairy, super-dirty yak was meditating. That, or humming in an annoying fashion to pretend they weren't there, Rocket couldn't tell.

"Excuse me," Judy called out to the yak, trying to get his attention. Alas, the yak continued meditating and humming. "Excuse me!" She called out louder. Again, the yak didn't acknowledge her. Rocket stepped forward, clapped three times and shouted, "Hey Stinky, wake up!"

The yak snorted and coughed, and moved his dreadlocks from his eyes. "Oh hey there!" He greeted them rather lazily, "Just so you guys know, I don't have a problem with you Jehoofa Witness types doin' your thing, but you should knock first before just walking onto private property like this. Some of our customers don't like preachers or Bunny Scout types waltzing in on their chill-time, you know?"

"Actually," Judy explained, "We're here for Emmett Otterton. He was last seen entering your establishment. Do you know him?"

The yak squinted at the picture, and gave a weird-sounding bark of laughter. "Oh yeah, he was here a while ago," He explained, "Had a yoga class with our instructor Nagi. She's out back. I'll take you to her."

"Perfect!" Rocket exclaimed, turning to give a condescending look at Nick. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? All we need isohfrikin'god! Where are your clothes?!"

Rocket and Judy looked away as the Yak went and exposed his... well, bits and pieces. The yak noticed their reaction, and laughed as he shook his hips. "Don't worry, dudes," He cooed, "We're a naturalist club."

"You're a what now?"

"Rocket," Nick murmured to the confused and embarrassed raccoon and bunny, "You know how anyone can be anything in Zootopia? These guys? They be in the buff."

The yak opened the doors, and both cop and bounty hunter were mortified by the sight they saw. Mammals everywhere, big and small - playing volleyball, scratching their backs on trees, swimming, and a dozen other recreational activities. And there wasn't a single scrap of clothing as far as the eye could see.

Judy's ears dropped. "Oh... my... go-"

"Holy shiznits!" Rocket exclaimed, pointing in amazement, "Look at the size of those things!"

"Does this make either of you uncomfortable?" Nick looked at them, all smug and condescending, "If it does, there's no shame in just leaving and going about our day like nothing happened."

"What? No, of course not!" Judy snapped defensively, "I'm not going to be scared off just because of all these giant... saggy... wrinkly-"

"Come on, guys," The yak interrupted, not even bothered in the slightest bit, "Nagi's this way."

And so the four of them walked through the garden. The yak droned on about their nudist lifestyle, how animals wearing clothes was more weird than not wearing them, but none of them were listening. Nick just kept his eyes on his compatriots, enjoying the looks on their faces as they walked underneath a giraffe's downstairs. Judy was practically covering her face with her ears, desperately trying to avoid eye contact and not look. Rocket, however, had the opposite problem. Part of him realized it was very rude to look and stare, but for the life of him he couldn't not look. It wasn't even a physical arousal thing, it was just medically fascinating. Later on, he would describe the nudist colony experience being like a mix of an art exhibit, a freak show and a shopping mall rolled into one. Everything was just so odd, so mesmerizing that he couldn't look away.

Except for that one panther, licking himself while making "come hither" eyes at them. "The hell you lookin' at?" He growled at the perv, not knowing if he was looking at him or Judy, and not liking either version. The big cat wisely looked away and went about his business.

They reached Nagi the elephant, posing this way and that as she was doing a class. She was bending over, giving them all a great shot of her ass. Goddamn, Rocket thought, You could smuggle a city's worth of crack in that cr-... nah, too easy.

Judy and the yak interviewed the elephant, Nick leaned over to Rocket and whispered, "You know Finnick likes bigger women, right?"

Rocket scoffed. "Yeah, but all women are bigger than him. Copper here's bigger than him, for god's sake!"

"No, I mean big women." Nick nodded to Nagi the elephant. Rocket grimaced. "Wait," He whispered, "Is that why he keeps goggles and rope next to the scented candles in his van?"

"Yeah," The fox chuckled, "Why? What did you think he was keeping it for?"

"... I just thought he was into kinky stuff. Guess it was a different kind of kink."

"Smooth, Stripes."

"Hey, I'm not the one who took us to the Pants-off Dance-off Club with Rape face panthers and the Grand Canyon!"

"Stripes, you just need to chill," He hissed, "Here, why don't we follow everyone's example and work it the old way." He started going for his belt, working to open it up when Rocket leaned over and grabbed his tie. Pulling him close, the raccoon growled, "If you take off yer clothes and start runnin' around like a damn idiot, I'm gonna shoot 50,000 volts up yer 'foxhole'! Got it?"

"Jeeze, Rocky, don't be such a prude!" Nick pushed himself off, straightening his tie, "I'm just trying to have a little fun, here!"

"We can have fun when her job, my license and my pride aren't on the line! Now come on!" Judy had finished speaking with the yak and elephant, having come back with a full page of notes, including the make and model of a the car and a license plate number.

"Okay, the good news is we have another lead," She announced as they left the building, "The bad news is that I'm not in the system, so I can't run the plate."

Nick looked at her with that smug hustling smirk, and suggested, "I know someone at the DMV who can run a plate lickety split."

"Oh no you don't!" Rocket challenged, stepping in front of Hopps, "Don't listen to him, Long Ears. I know the guy he's talkin' about - he's the last person we want to deal with. He'll only slow us down!"

"If you'd prefer we look it up at your place," The fox pointed out, "and introduce Cottontail to Groot, then by all means, let's go to your place."

"Seriously, who's Groot?" Judy asked again.

"Nobody!" Rocket answered. It was at this moment that Rocket realized he could either go back to one of the worst places he'd ever been to, or be forced to introduce Groot to a cop he had just met. While there was no easy choice, he knew what he had to do...

"Wait, they're all SLOTHS?!" Judy exclaimed as they entered the DMV. Indeed, every person working behind the desks was a sloth - horrid, matted furred creatures that moved like someone was holding down a slow-motion button in a film.

"What?" Nick challenged her innocently, "You think just because they're sloths doesn't mean they can move fast?"

"I hate you," Rocket grumbled, anxious and frustrated and not having any of this whatsoever, "I hate you so much right now."

"Oh come on, Stripes. Flash has always treated us right. I don't see what the problem is."

"Nick," Rocket growled, voice brimming with surprising amounts of barely repressed anger, "I have been to the worst prisons imaginable. I've survived explosions, battles, heists. I've see my best friend blown up to tiny little pieces. I've seen and done things that would scare the crap out of you. But THIS, going to the DM-frickin'-V, with THESE mammals, is one of the worst things I've ever been through!"

"It's that bad, huh?" Judy asked, both sympathetic and worried.

"It's not JUST the sloths," Rocket explained, "I don't like that you have an office building full of people doing something that should be automated. I don't like having to wait around for hours to get an ID or license. I don't like waiting around with mammals as miserable as I am. And I hate, hate, HATE that they only have the radio on some goddamn easy-listening, jazzy, snooze fest of a station! It makes me feel like I'm in a hospital."

"Let me guess," Nick guessed casually, "You hate hospitals too?"

Rocket glared at him, baring his teeth ever so slightly. "You have no idea, fox-boy."

Sensing that he was striking a rather touchy subject, Nick switched his gaze to the sloth in front of them. "Flash, Flash, Hundred-Yard Dash!" He greeted, "Nice to see you again!"

Flash moved - raising his head ever so slowly, eyes widening slightly in recognition -and with the patented slowness that just got right under the bounty hunter's fur, greeted, "Nice...to...see you...too." Then he looked over at the raccoon, and continued, "...and you...as well...Rock..."

"Yeah, a real bla-"

...y."

Rocket's eye twitched, and he balled his fists in a desperate fight to control his anger. I will NOT go postal, He repeated mentally, I will NOT go postal. I will NOT shoot him in the face. I will NOT shoot him in the face.

"What..." Flash drawled, "Can I... do... for you..."

"Well," Judy started, "We need to-"

"-Today?"

The bunny paused. Nick had the smuggest damn smile on his muzzle, and Rocket ground his teeth as he forced his paws to stay away from his gun.

"...Rrrright." She continued, "We need to ID a plate number, and it's really important that we get this done as fast as possible. Can you do that for us?"

"Sure... Thing... What's... The plate-"

"Hey Flash," Rocket shouted, pointing to something behind the sloth, "Look, it's Gazelle!"

It took three solid seconds for Flash to register what he heard - Stars, how do you survive?! - his eyes widening in recognition and surprise. Slowly, he began turning his body around. Rocket carefully snuck out of the sloth's field of view, and as soon as he was out of it he jumped over the counter, rapidly typing away at the computer.

"Rocket!" Judy half-whispered, half-shouted, "What're you doing?!" Nick's eyes widened as he stepped back, equally surprised. Many of the other mammals were looking at them in curious interest, while the sloths were taking their sweet time to notice.

"We don't have time for this," He hissed, putting in the plate number, make and model in the search engine, "I don't have time for this. Whoever thought of this should get shot into a star for being a cruel little troll."

Many mammals in line turned to him and gasped at this break in the rules - why hadn't they thought of it? This would've been soo much quicker! - while the sloths continued doing their business. Flash had only fully turned when Rocket printed out the owner and address of the limo, quickly ripping it out. He blinked, and grew the same smug smile as Nick had as he came up with a nasty little idea. Quickly, he pushed Flash's chair, sending the sloth gliding a couple of feet down the way. Flash, only just now realizing something was up, turned his smile into a frown.

"Heeeeeey..."

"Quick, cheese it!" He shouted, making a run for the door. Nick and Judy looked at each other, then at Rocket, and then bolted as well. They didn't even bother looking back to see if anyone was after them (even though this was the one DMV in town without a security guard), they just ran for the parking lot, loaded up in Judy's cart, and booked it out of there.

"I can't believe you just did that, Rocket!" She chastised him as they drove away, "That was so mean! You can't just do stuff like that!"

"I don't remember any law saying that we couldn't do somethin' like that!" He countered, "And besides, we got in and out before sundown. Last time I went there, I entered at noon, and got out as they were closing... At 8 at night! So you're frickin' welcome, Fluffybutt!"

"Okay, fine," She conceded, "What does it say?"

Rocket read the paper, and he blinked. He read it again, and a pit started forming in his stomach. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh?" Nick uttered. Rocket showed him the paper, and his eyes widened. "Yeah, definitely uh oh."

"What?" Judy demanded, "Where is it?"

"It's a limo service," Nick explained nervously, his fur already standing on end, "Owned by Mr. Big. In Tundratown."

"Great!" Judy declared, throwing her fist in the air, "To Tundratown it is!" She slammed her foot on the accelerator, pushing the cart as fast as it could, as Nick and Rocket exchanged a nervous look. It was only now that both of them realized - this could go bad very quickly...

Chapter Text

For what seemed like the tenth time today, both Nick and Rocket felt that they were stuck in a pickle. And for the first time that day, they were both in agreement.

"Absolutely not," Nick stated defiantly, "Not on your life, Cottontail."

"Yeah, I gotta side with Red on this one, Judes," Rocket agreed, "We genuinely can't go into Tundratown."

"What, why?" Judy demanded, stopping the cart at an intersection, "The plate is in Tundratown. We've got a lead here, and we need to follow it up!"

"I get that," Rocket conceded, "But we have an... Understanding with some of the big players in that part of town. If we go down there, someone's gonna come after Nick, I'm gonna have ta drop some bastards, and it's just gonna slow us all down."

"Guys, we're all in this together," She reminded them, "Nick, I can still get you for fraud. Rocket, we both promised Mrs. Otterton that we'd find her husband. Our jobs depend on us finding Emmett. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to give up just because some bad guys want to give us a bad time."

"And I don't plan on giving up," The raccoon countered, "but there are better ways of doin' this than headin' straight into a shootout."

"Like how?"

Rocket weighed his options. He either had to go with Judy to the frozen part of town, and risk all of them getting into the fight with the mob... Or take them to his place to use his computer and resources, and be forced to introduce her to Groot.

On one hand, he hardly knew this rabbit - letting anyone else know about his friend was risky business, and he had no guarantee that the hologram would be ready in time. He also had no idea how she'd react to a giant talking plant-man, and had little in the way of a backup plan if she freaked out.

On the other hand, if they went to Tundratown, he knew there'd be a fight. If anyone saw him or Nick, those polar bears would be on their ass faster than a quark. If they survived that fight (which of course they would), they'd have to deal with days of paperwork, investigations over all the dead bears, accusations of racism and legalized murder and whatnot. None of which would help him, Judy or Emma.

It was really a simple choice for him. He could force himself to go through the DMV, but going to Tundratown was just more risky than letting Hopps in on the secret. He had to bite the bullet.

Rocket sighed, "I've got some resources back home. We can look up who works for the limo company, see who's a driver, and who was driving that car that night. Then we can find that guy, talk to him, and see what happened. And we don't even have to worry about gettin' cold or shot!"

Judy crossed her arms, thinking it over. The bounty hunter had a point - if he could do the research at his place, it would save them time, a trip, and a possible fight. At the same time, though, she really wanted to personally check out the limo - her gut was telling her that something important happened in that car, and she wanted to look it over before the limo company could tamper with it, if they hadn't already.

She didn't get a chance to give her say, though. No sooner had the light turned green and they began to move, a large white limousine sped up from behind and rear-ended them, sending all three off and hitting the pavement. Rocket, having sat in the back, got launched the farthest, rolling several feet before coming to a stop below a streetlight. He groaned in stunned pain as he tried to focus his vision. Three big polar bears got out of the back seat of the limo, and one of them went to pick up the limp-looking bodies of Nick and Judy while the other two made a beeline for him. Rocket had just barely managed to recompose himself and stand up when one of them kicked him right in the gut. He bounced off the streetlight and landed on the concrete with a THUD!, wind knocked out of him. He dry-heaved once, twice, unable to breathe.

The one who kicked before got behind him, and again kicked him right in the small of his back. Again the raccoon bounced against the lightpost, but this time there was the sound of a CRACK! as the bear fell, clutching his foot in pain. "Damnit," He moaned, "What his spine made of?! I broke my toe!"

Having enough awareness now to realize he needed help, Rocket put a paw into a pocket, and pressed a discrete little button. One that activated a signal and alarm all the way back at his warehouse, where Groot would still be waiting for his cloak. Rocket was picked up by his tail, and lifted to eye level with one of the polar bears. "Remember me, vermin?"

Rocket remembered that voice - the Ronan soundalike. "Raymond, was it?" He coughed, looking at him upside down, "How's your buddies' balls feelin'?"

The polar bear scoffed. "You just don't know when to shut your mouth, do you?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," He felt his breath coming back to him, and he said, "Tell ya what, you let me and the fox and bunny go, I'll go easy on you and yuh boys fer ratting me out."

"You're in no position to demand anything from me," Raymond growled, "especially without your pet plant to save you."

"Ohh, give him time, he'll show up. If you think it was bad before, wait until I tell him to cut loose."

"I'm sure he's very scary, but he's not here now, is he? Come, Mr. Big and Mr. Koslov would like to speak with you."

"Well, I don't feel like talkin' to anybody right now, so why don't ya kiss my-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Raymond swung the raccoon against the lightpost, his skull bouncing off the metal with a loud PING! And then there was blackness...

xxxxxxxx

In Rocket's warehouse, a certain sapient tree was watching a Paw and Order marathon when his phone got a buzz. Looking at it, a pop-up text read: Rocket in danger! In need of rescue ASAP! Then a little map of the city popped up, showing a series of directions leading from the warehouse to Rocket's current location. He was moving, heading into the heart of Tundratown. Perhaps those nasty polar bears from before got him?

Groot got up, and went to the workshop to see how the holographic cloak was doing. His friend had been adamant - don't leave the warehouse until the cloak is finished. Rocket didn't want him to be seen, and risk being taken away by government types. But at the same time his little buddy was in danger, and he needed to get going now. If something happened to the scrappy little mustelid, Groot had no idea what he would do with himself. What could he do with himself on this world?

Fortunately, he had little to fear about waiting. The holo-cloak - which was more of a backpack that produced a holographic field around him - read out 98% completion in the downloading process. 98%? He thought, Might as well be finished. He unplugged the device from the charging station, putting it on his back as he went for the front door. He didn't know how long the battery would last, nor did he have a plan in mind to break out his buddy. All he knew was that the quickest way to get to where Rocket might eventually be without being detected was through the sewers, and it so happened that a mammal-hole entrance to the sewer was right in front of the warehouse, easily big enough for him to slip through.

With determination and single-mindedness, he activated the cloak, opened the door, and stepped out into the humid evening air...

Fly me to the moon
Let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On a, Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me

It was some time later when Rocket finally regained consciousness, lying on the cold floor of the limo with a splitting headache, listening to the crooning voice of some big band singer.

Looking up, he saw Nick and Judy were sitting between a pair of bear muscle men, bruised and scared but otherwise in good condition. The Bears had their eyes on him, glaring at him maliciously as he slowly woke up. One of them held his gun on his lap, pointed in his general direction but not exactly aimed.

"Good," Raymond sneered, "You're awake. I was starting to fear I hit you too hard."

"I ain't that easy to kill, dude." he winced, rolling on his side. His bones were made out of super-tough space metals. His muscles, less so. A minor healing factor didn't just make getting tossed around, kicked in the back or slammed into steel magically go away. 

"Guys," Judy whispered, hoping not to raise the attention of the other bears playing on their phones, "What did you two do to get this Mr. Big so angry?"

"Oh, he hasn't told you yet?" Rocket snickered, propping himself up on an elbow, "Dipshit tried to sell a mob boss a rug made from skunk ass. He sold it to his mom, and she went and died on it. Everyone blames the fox - 'cause why wouldn't you, right? He runs and hides at my place. Ninnies of the North tried to intimidate me, they got themselves some shock therapy instead."

"You left a nasty burn on poor Kevin's leg," Raymond barked, "You've been breaking your word on never entering Tundratown, and now you break Kevin's foot, too? Your hole is getting deeper, my friend."

"First off, not as deep as your hole will be when Groot comes in to kick your fluffy white asses," He snarled. "Second, hey Kevin, I've been meaning to ask - after I zapped you, does your junk still work? The last thing I want is for other criminals ta sue me for givin' 'em impotency from zappin' too hard."

"Screw you, asshole!" The polar bear growled, "It still hurt to make love to wife!"

"Well, I'm sorry to hear about that, buddy," He apologized sarcastically, "Maybe the first thing you say to someone shouldn't be a threat and an insult! As for number three, none of us have even gone to Tundratown since that night. I held up my promise jus' fine, but you chicken-shits were the ones who wanted a Round Two."

"Oh really?" Raymond grinned, and turned to Nick. "Hey Wilde, have you told your friend how you've been freezing all your pawsicles? You don't have your own freezer, I know that."

Rocket and Judy looked at Nick, who was suspiciously averting his gaze. "Nick," The raccoon growled, an edge of frustration in his voice, "Please tell me you haven't been entering Tundratown. Please tell me you aren't that stupid!"

"W-we barely entered Tundratown," He tried to explain, "Finnick and I kept right at the edge, in the alleys. We never entered Big's turf or anything. Nobody saw us!"

"Oh my god," Judy murmured in horrified understanding, "I got stuck with the two biggest idiots in Zootopia."

They drove on for another ten minutes, before the limo pulled into a long driveway, leading to a massive mansion. The polar bears grabbed Nick and Rocket by the tails, while Judy was picked up painfully by the ears. Each of them tried to kick out, but the bears held firm as they took them into a well-furnished den. Each of them was dropped unceremoniously on the ground, and as they got up a side door opened up. Two more bears much bigger than the rest walked in, with the smaller one holding something in his giant paws, the bigger one dressed like a Russian mobster. Nick was already wringing his paws nervously, though Judy and Rocket were much less bothered by the display.

"Alright," Rocket started, dusting himself off, "Which one of youse is this 'Mr. Big' I keep hearing 'bout?"

The smaller one placed his paws down on the desk, showing a tiny chair. He spun it around, revealing a tiny, old shrew with big, bushy eyebrows. Rocket snorted as he bit back a laugh, earning himself glares from everyone, especially Nick. Really? This was the mammal everyone was afraid of? His left nut was bigger than this hairball, for gods' sake! Why were these giants working for him, when they could pop him like a pimple?

"Mr. Big, s-sir," Nick stammerd, clasping his paws together, "I-I can explain wha-" The shrew hemmed and extended a tiny hand, an oversized ring on one finger. Nick kneeled down, and gingerly kissed the ring. A rather emasculating act in the 'coon's eyes, but he was a bit familiar with mob etiquette and the like. "Sir," He continued, "You know I didn't try to kill Mama Big. I'd never do anything to hurt her. I-"

"I know this." The shrew spoke, his voice high yet raspy. Nick's ears went up. "You... you do?"

"Of course I do," Big waved a hand dismissively, "Gran-mama, bless her heart, she suffered a stroke in her sleep the night the rug was put in her room. The rug you sold had nothing to do with her death, and she wouldn't want me to blame you for what happened. So I won't... But that's not the reason why you will die tonight."

The fox's eyes widened, and his ears fell back. Big continued, "Raymond and Kevin weren't sent to kill you the night of the funeral - they were sent to bring you personally to me, so we could talk about your future in the family. Gran-mama welcomed you in, you broke bread with us, you were one of us. Instead, you ran. You left Tundratown without paying any respects, but kept coming back like a thief in the night to continue your petty scams. I thought she taught you better than that, to be something better than a common conman. But I guess foxes always turn back to their old ways, don't they?" Nick couldn't look him in the eye.

"But what really bothers me," he said, an angry edge growing in his tone, "Is that you now choose to associate yourself with that mammal over there." He pointed at Rocket, his voice thick with disgust.

"Me?" Rocket protested, "What did I do? I haven't even met you before!"

"Half of all the bounties you collected were employees of ours!" The polar bear growled, "Whether you knew it or not, you were interfering with our business. On top of that, you assaulted two of my males, to the point where I had to force them to tell me what happened! For months you've been a thorn in our side, rocking the boat without a care in the world!"

"Hold on, who the hell are you?" Rocket demanded.

"I am Koslov, and I am Big's majordomo," The bear told him, "You and those foxes have been pains in my ass for a long time. And now you're here, unannounced on the day of his daughter's wedding and my son's bear mitzvah, with this stripper. Tell me, why shouldn't we just kill you three right now, and solve all our problems?"

"Hey, I'm no stripper!" Judy protested. Nick hissed at her to shut up.

"I can think of a couple reasons, actually," Rocket stated, "First off, that's no stripper, that's Officer Judy Hopps. ZPD's new best and brightest, media darlin' and favorite of the police chief and the mayor himself. We all know what lengths cops will do to avenge one of their own. Imagine what they'll do for the first ever bunny cop. Secondly, my boy Groot is on his way here right now, comin' to rescue me. If I'm dead, there's nothin' to keep him from killin' everyone and everythin' in this building. Long Ears and I are all dat's keepin' you from meetin' a long an' painful death."

Mr. Big and Koslov glanced at each other. Koslov went into his jacket, and pulled out a can of hairspray and a lighter. "We have ways to take care of your friend, Mr. Raccoon. And we also have ways to deal with loose ends like you two."

"All I ask," the shrew declared, "is that you say hello to gran-mama. Ice 'em!"

The henchmen went and grabbed the fox and bunny, as a trapdoor opened in the middle of the room, revealing a pool of icy water. But as they reached Rocket, he pulled something out of one of his pockets.

"Hold it right there, ya big bastards!" He shouted, holding a small, cylindrical object above his head. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him, as he himself grew a mad smile. "Ohhh, I'm never one ta go anywhere without havin' a backup plan. In my hand is a Strong-Nuclear Destabilizer, another fine weapon in Rocket Industries. This little grenade, when it detonates, causes the Strong Nuclear Force that holds atoms and molecules together to turn off and turn to Weak Nuclear Force - Radiation, for you scientific illiterates. Everything within a ten foot radius is broken down to the sub-atomic level, creating an explosion big enough to destroy everything in this room, this building, maybe even the entire city - I've never tested it before, what can ya do? Now, you guys are gonna put down the fox and bunny, you're gonna give me back my gun, an' we're gonna walk outta dis house wit' no trouble. Anyone tries to move on me, I pull this pin, this thing goes BOOM, and we all see what species God is."

"You're bluffing!" Koslov challenged him, "That's just a bodyspray can you modified! You wouldn't be crazy enough to pull that pin! You'll die, too!"

"Wanna bet?" Everyone stood silent and still, as they waited to see who would move first.

"DADDY!" Two voices called out, as two more mammals entered the den. It was a little polar bear cub, wearing oddly familiar clothes, holding a tiny shrew with poofy hair and a wedding dress, looking nonplussed by the whole thing. The cub placed the bride on the desk, who rushed up to Big.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" The cub asked, his voice only slightly accented, "Mommy's about to bring out the cake, and everyone's waiting for you to give me the Adult Necklace." Each polar bear besides the cub had a gold chain-necklace, the sign of made-males in the mob.

"What did I say?" The shrew snapped at her father, "I said there was gonna be no icing anyone on my wedding night. And now you're trying to ice three of them?!"

"We're in the middle of a stand-off, Boris," Koslov explained to his son, "Please, take Ms. Fru-Fru back to the party. We'll be with you shortly."

"Wait a second," the cub exclaimed, "I remember you two!"

"Oh yeah!" Fru-Fru pointed at Judy, "That bunny saved my life today!"

"That raccoon saved me, too!" Boris went up to Rocket, not paying any mind to the grenade in his hand as he placed a paw on his shoulder. "He pulled me out of the way of a speeding car, gave me the clothes off his back when mine were shredded. He is a hero!" Rocket blinked, as it took him a second to remember the cub. Sure enough, he was wearing the polo shirt and pants he had on earlier this morning. Judy was quicker on the uptake, as she said, "Oh yeah! I love your dress, by the way!"

"Is this true, merc?" Koslov asked, "Are those your clothes?"

"Yeah, they are. He can keep 'em, though - it looks better on him."

Big and Koslov exchanged a look. Big nodded, Koslov waved his paw, and Nick and Judy were released. "You two have done a great service for our families this day." Koslov thanked them, "Out of respect for saving our children's lives, we shall spare yours as well. Come, we welcome you to join our festivities. Kevin, Raymond, show them the way in." The two bears glared at the 'coon, but said nothing as they led them to the party several rooms over. During the walk, Rocket put the grenade back in his pocket, and slapped Nick up the back of his head.

"Don't you ever do somethin' like dat behind my back again!" He barked, "You made me look like a liar and a wimp, and I put my neck out to save your ass! You do dat again, and you're on your own. Got it?"

"Sorry!" The fox apologized, "I admit, it was a stupid mistake. I should've told you before we did anything. We thought we could do it without getting anyone involved, and I was wrong. I messed up, and if it weren't for you, Fru-Fru and the birthday boy we'd be dead. I'm sorry, Rocky."

Nick was very genuine when he said all this, and the raccoon sighed as he placed a paw on his shoulder. "Just give me a head's up before you do dumb shit next time," He said, "You and Finn are the first dudes I've met here that I'd consider friends, and it'd suck somethin' major if anythin' happened to either of you." Noticing Judy eavesdropping, he spoke up, "Don't you worry, Long Ears, you're gettin' there, too. Xandar wasn't made in a day, and neither's trust."

"You weren't really gonna use that grenade, were you?" Nick asked.

"Hopefully I wouldn't have to," Rocket said with a shrug, "When I said I hadn't tested it out yet, I meant it. I have no idea if this thing can clear out a room or a building - hell, I don't even know if it works."

"Then why do you carry it around?"

"Intimidation purposes, duh! Speaking of..." The bounty hunter reached into another pocket, and pressed the tracker button to deactivate it. Groot wasn't going to be needed now. "Now, let's go to the party. I hope they have an open bar, I still got a headache..."

Groot had been exploring the sewers for several hours now, and was finally at the halfway point. He got lost once or twice, but once he found the subway lines, things got a lot more simplified. And roomy - he no longer had to hunch over the entire time to avoid losing branches. This must've been an abandoned part of the system, as he never saw nor heard a subway for over twenty minutes. At least the lights were still on, so he didn't have to deploy his firefly lights.

As he turned down another passageway, his phone buzzed. Looking down, Groot got an update text: Rocket safe. Return home. A series of directions popped up, showing him a way back. This time, though, it looked like it would take longer getting back than it took getting here. Groot sighed - he liked that he finally got out of the warehouse, but he didn't want to spend the whole night skulking through the underground. And now he had to backtrack through the veritable maze of tunnels and tracks to get back home, before the battery in his phone gave out. Ugh.

Groot took a left down a nearby tunnel, and came across a rather strange sight. In the middle of the track was a derelict subway car, purple lights shining from within. Being cautious, he reactivated the cloak and kept to the shadows as the illusion took form. Slowly and silently, he approached the train car, and peered into a window.

Inside was a veritable drug lab. Two rows of bluish flowers sat under nourishing ultraviolet lights, with various gardening utensils scattered about. In the middle of the car, a chemistry set filled with blue liquids was being automated, filling little paintball sized pellets. The back wall had a section dedicated as a workshop, while the other had a map of the city, with pictures of various mammals stapled and X'd out.

Groot didn't know what all of this was for, but he was cognizant enough to see that it might be important, and so he brought out his camera-phone to start recording all of it. He remained in the shadows as he heard a phone ring, and a fluffy, horned mammal walked into view. "Black Panther, Rainforest District. Got it." The ram said, a hoof pressing into an earpiece. "Look, I've been meaning to ask you something. Are you sure we should be bringing the 'coon into this?... Yeah, I know no one's told him, and we should keep it that way. I'm just concerned about your apparent interest in his gadgets... Well, just look at them!"

The ram picked up a cylindrical object off the work desk, and Groot recognized it as being an altered version of Rocket's gas grenades. "This hardware is right outta the Special Services. I'm talking stuff that Jack Savage would have the nerds at MK-9 work on. This guy built weapons and devices that took years for our best and brightest to make in days... You don't understand. He built a fully functional plasma gun in a WAREHOUSE, with a box of SCRAPS! No military on this planet has built anything like it, and they've been working at it for decades!... My point is I don't trust him, and I don't want us using a Predator's inventions to accomplish our plans! And I don't like how suddenly you're taking a liking to-"

The ram stopped, and Groot realized he was looking right at him through the window. As the ram squinted to see better, the plant man stopped recording, and pulled back into the shadows. He booked it away from the train car, not wanting to risk being seen even in his disguise. He got far enough to round the corner of the tracks when he came across another ram.

Woolter was just having a normal day as a racist drug-dealing terrorist - making fun of interspecies couples online, beating up uppity predators (smaller than him, of course), getting coffee for his buddies. But he hadn't been prepared for seeing what he was seeing right now. Unbeknownst to either of them, while Groot's hologram was almost complete, the final 2% was for the most important part of the disguise - the face. So what should've been a rather nondescript, preppy giraffe, was instead a well-dressed, tall and lanky being with no snout, but instead with two dark, souless eyes, and a mouth that looked like a thin line on a jack-o-lantern. For the average Zootopian, the juxtaposition took it past the Uncanny Valley and straight into Nightmare Fuel Land.

"Sweet Christmas!" He screamed, "It's Slendermane! Slendermane is real!"

Groot stepped forward, raising his hands to calm the panicked ram. However, the program glitched out at just the wrong moment, giving him the shadowy illusion of keeping his "arms" in place, while growing two tentacles out from his shoulders, raising them and reaching for the criminal. Woolter ran off screaming, leaving a trail of spilled coffee and piss in his wake. Groot in turn escaped down the tunnel he came - if Rocket was safe, then it was important that he showed him the video. Who knew if this was part of something bigger going on...

Chapter Text

It's kind of hard to transition from "we're about to kill you/die" to "let's party together". Thankfully, Fru-Fru and Boris kept things cool between everyone, handing out lots of cake and keeping the beverages non-alcoholic. The shrew's wedding occupied a single table at the polar bear mitzvah, and Nick and Judy stayed close to the bride while Rocket was bounced from group to group, many Mafiosi interested in obtaining some of his sweet tech. Even before they spoke to Mr. Big about Manchas, it had become a very profitable night.

Surprisingly, the polar bears were rather impressed by Rocket. He had shown himself to be both a technical genius, and a badass brave enough to risk a fight with multiple bears, or even fight his way out of a mob wedding. Everyone wanted to talk with him, offer to buy some of his inventions, take selfies with him. Some of the older momma bears - gossiping matchmakers, one and all - were trying to set him up with some of their nieces and daughters. Dating a non-bear might not be kosher, but it'd be ok if the mammal in question was going to be rich and handsome like he was. He didn't know how to really feel about that one - flattered, maybe? Bears might not be his thing, but it always inflates the ego knowing that a bunch of people might find you attractive.

After about a few hours of that, both parties were wrapping up, and he was finally able to link back up with the fox and bunny. They told him about what happened to Mr. Otterton - how he had gone crazy in the limo, attacked the driver, and then ran off into the jungle. Kinda surprising that an old-ass nerdy otter was able to terrorize a panther like that, but hell, Emmett was apparently full of surprises. Mr. Big said Manchas lived up in the Rainforest District, and Koslov was kind enough to provide transport to that part of town - after returning Rocket's guns, of course. He was even kind enough to have one of his men drive him down to the Rainforest District, to the same neighborhood that Manchas lived in.

It was getting close to midnight as the three investigators were dropped off in the rainforest, a light drizzle leaving everything moist and damp. It took some time to find the right address - Manchas lived in the Rainforest District's equivalent to an apartment building: a giant, semi-artificial tree, with multi-room flats carved into the trunk on every single level. The panther happened to live close to the top of one tree, which was also interconnected to several other complexes.

When they found the right place, Judy rang the doorbell - a series of wooden wind chimes from higher up the tree. The fox and bunny stood close to the door, while Rocket held back a little bit, keeping guard. He'd been surprised once already today, he didn't want to go through it a second time. They waited a few moments before the door finally creaked open, and a hoarse voice asked, "What do you want?"

"Mr. Manchas," Judy asked, "We're here to find out what happened a few weeks ago, with Emmett Otterton."

"What you should be asking," He whispered dramatically, "Is what happened to me?" He opened the door some, enough to allow the three of them to show a rather nasty series of scratches over one of his eyes. It was closed and purple and puffy, the scratch marks still a bright pink as if it happened only a few hours ago.

"That doesn't look good, fella," Rocket remarked, "You gotta put some Neosporin or somethin' on it. It's all infected n' shit."

"Wait, Otterton did that to you?" Wilde asked skeptically, "But he's two-foot nothing, and you're... well, you're a panther."

"He wasn't just an otter, that night," Manchas murmured, "He was a savage! He walked on all fours like a beast, biting and clawing and tearing at whatever he could get his paws on. I open the window to check up on him, and he leaped at me, nearly causing me to crash! I pulled over to the side of the road, getting out before he could take the rest of my eye, and he ran out into the forest. The whole time, he was screaming about Nighthowlers, how dangerous they were."

Nighthowlers? Rocket's ears perked up. That word sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before?

"Oh Nighthowlers!" Nick said, "So you know about them, too? That's great. Why don't you let us in? You can tell us what you know, and we'll tell you what we know, ok?" The panther nodded in agreement, and proceeded to unlock the door.

Pitchoo!

Rocket's ears perked up as he heard the tell-tale sound of an air-powered gun firing. The door had opened slightly before Manchas squawked in surprise and pain, and furniture was knocked around. Rocket stepped forward, raising his gun and setting it to Stun as he opened the door. The three of them looked in, and saw the panther writhing around in pain, making increasingly animalistic sounds.

"Mr. Manchas?" Judy murmured, a chill running down her spine.

Manchas looked up at them - only it wasn't the eyes of the panther they were just talking to. Instead, it was the eyes of a feral beast, filled with hunger and rage. Judy gasped as he barred his teeth, turning himself to face them and-

"Nope!" Rocket aimed his gun, and fired a pair of stun rounds. PING-PING! The panther roared in pain as he collapsed, electricity arching all across his body. He leaped forward, getting on the panther's back, binding his arms together with a pair of zip-ties. He looked up at his compatriots, who were just staring at him. "What?" He demanded, "You saw that look in his eye. He ain't right in the head. He was comin' right for us."

Pitchoo!

Manchas thrashed at just the right time, knocking Rocket off him just as he felt the pellet brush past his ear, and impact the wall in front of him. Judy knelt down and pulled Nick behind the door, her own combat training kicking in. Rocket crawled over to the window, and snuck a peek. One branch over, he spotted him - the shooter. He couldn't make out much from the distance and the rain, but he could see that he was tall, in a trench coat, and using a gun similar to his own.

"Shit, we got a shooter!" He declared. Noticing the panther continue to struggle, he shouted, "You two stay here and call for backup! I got this bastard!" Lifting his gun over the edge, he fired a trio of shots at the shooter. PING-PING-PING! The shooter got up and ran, and he activated his rocket boots to pursue, leaving the bunny and fox with a hyper-aggressive, barely contained panther...

xxxxxxxxx

Back in Precinct 1, it was a slower night than usual, to the point that even a certain overweight cheetah was taking a quick catnap. Or rather, full-on sleeping on the job.

"Oh Gazelle," He mumbled in his sleep, "Thank you for making me one of your dancers. I won't let you down... Chief Bogo, what're you doing here? Oooh, you're a dancer, too? We're dancing buddies, now."

The police scanner's light lit up, indicating that someone was trying to reach the station. Benjamin, however, remained asleep. "What's that? What're you guys doing with all that peanut butter? You want me to do what? How did you know I always wanted to-"

Clawhauser awoke with a start when he felt his cellphone vibrate. It took him a second to realize that no, he wasn't with Gazelle, Bogo or the backup dancers, nor were there giant tubs of peanut butter anywhere in sight. Aww, He thought sadly, right when it was getting to the good part. He pulled out his phone, and answered with a "Yello?"

"Clawhauser!" Judy shouted into the phone. Ben winced in pain from the loudness as she reprimanded, "I've been trying to contact you through the radio, we've got a mentally unstable suspect and an armed assailant on Tahaanga Street-"

"That's Tahunga!" An unknown voice shouted over shrill growling in the background. Judy continued, "Rocket is in pursuit. We're requesting immediate assistance. We-"

Suddenly, there was the sound of something snapping, a lamp crashing, and an angry roar. "Shit, run for it!" That different voice shouted, and the line went dead.

"Judy?" Ben already knew she couldn't hear her. "Oh kitty litter." Quickly, he used the office phone to reach Bogo. Whatever he heard on the other end of the line was big, angry and needed to be dealt with before it got loose...

xxxxxxx

Rocket flew through the canopy, chasing the figure from branch to branch as he continued firing. PING! PING! PING-PING-PING! The shooter, however, was surprisingly quick and agile, nimbly dodging his shots and jumping from branch to branch as quickly as Rocket could fly. Occasionally the runner would take pot shots back at him, but the bounty hunter easily dodged the attacks.

The tree building was structured rather strangely. While there was one road that the heroes used to get to Manchas, there was a second road at the top of the tree, which also had the water silo for all the apartments. Not wanting him to escape, Rocket sped up as the shooter attempted to reload, and tackled him. The two of them rolled across the platform, biting and throwing punches as their guns clattered away from them. The shooter threw him off, and Rocket got to see who this bastard was.

It was a wolf, tall and gray, tightly wrapped up in a light brown trench coat. It was dark and his collar was up, so he couldn't make out any details of his face. He could only see were the strangely reflective eyes, flickering white and gold in ways he'd never seen with other wolves.

"Why're you shootin' at us, asshole?" Rocket demanded.

"Wouldn't you like to know." The wolf growled, in a voice that didn't sound right, either. It had a tone and inflection that sounded forced, like someone trying to sound like a wolf from Tundratown when they weren't. He reached his paw into his trenchcoat, and Rocket quickly tackled him again. There was a click, and he heard an object fall and roll in the direction of the water storage.

WHACK!

Rocket received a nut-shot strong enough to toss him back onto his own gun. The raccoon felt the wind get knocked out of him, and curled up slightly. As he lay there, wheezing and struggling for breath, that object then fell into the water storage.

WHOMP! Water shot upward, turning blue as it splashed on the wood and frothed within the container. Rocket, in the back of his mind, briefly considered the possibility of it being a smoke grenade or something. The wolf looked at the detonation, and though his face betrayed no expression, his voice was one of surprise and fear.

"Huh, that wasn't supposed to happen... Whelp, you're fucked. See you later, Thief!" Without further preamble, he turned and ran off, heading for the street.

"Up... yours... asshole." Rocket croaked, slowly getting to his feet. He'd have to remember that bastard, find out who he was, and give him a plasma shot to the face for that. No one goes around giving out nut shots - only he can do stuff like that. He took a moment to catch his breath, and for the pain and queasiness to dissipate, when he heard screaming from down below. Shambling over to the edge of the platform, he spotted Nick and Judy desperately running for their lives, with Manchas in pursuit.

"Goddamn this night!" He growled in frustration, reactivating his boots, "Just one frickin' thing after another!" He flew down to them, paying no mind to the water behind him as it turned a dark blue. The weird additive flowed through the pipes, connecting with mammals' sinks, showers, and the all-important fire sprinklers connected to each apartment and every room...

Nick and Judy were halfway across the plank bridge when the thing that was Manchas got to it. As he crossed it, his massive size violently shook the bridge, launching the two much lighter mammals into the air. They would've certainly fallen to their doom, had a friendly neighborhood cyber-raccoon not snatched them from out of the air.

"Need a lift?" He quipped, holding both of them in each arm, his gun slung over his back.

"Wow, I can't believe you caught us!" Judy shouted, holding on tightly as they sped through the air.

"Oh come on, none of you are that heav-AAHHH!" He screamed, as four sharp claws raked his sides. The panther had jumped up and struck both he and Hopps, cutting into his flesh and shredding her vest and belt, hitting them with enough force to knock him out of his shoes. They crashed and rolled onto the gondola platform Nick desperately held onto a railing to avoid falling, and Hopps was left dazed from the impact, leaving Rocket on his own as Manchas made his attack. The panther pinned him to the ground - unable to reach his gun - barely being kept away from his throat with the strength of one arm. The other arm desperately clawed around to grab any kind of weapon. He struck gold when he felt Judy's belt, and the holster on the side. Hoping it was one of the new Tasers he sold to PD, he took it out, shoved it right into the panther's face, and pressed the button.

PSSSSSSSSH!

Manchas screamed in pain as his good eye had an orange liquid sprayed right onto his retina. He got off Rocket, clawing at his face to stop this unknown pain. Rocket looked down at the little container in his paw - Fox Repellent, it read. Huh, that's something to bring up with Judes later. He tried to sit up, but grunted in pain from the stabbing sensation in his side. Looking down, he saw that his side was bleeding, forming a tiny pool beneath him. The cuts weren't deep, just the type of flesh wounds that bleed a lot. Shit, that's not good. Let's just wait a minute for the healing factor to kick in.

Manchas was now between the raccoon, fox and bunny, both eyes now completely swollen from injuries and chemicals. He blindly flailed about, unable to see or strike at those that hurt him. As he began getting close to Rocket again, Nick's face lit up as he asked loudly, "Hey Carrots, you ever play Marco Polo?" The panther turned in Wilde's direction, and started walking his way.

"Nick, go get Rocket!" Hopps ordered, "He looks really hurt!" Manchas turned around to Judy's direction, and jumped. She jumped out of the way just as the panther came in, breaking some of the railing and pounding the platform. Nick shouted to get his attention, but then the panther sniffed the air. The scent of scared prey was strong, as was the scent of blood. Manchas ignored the fox, and began stalking the rabbit.

Meanwhile, Rocket was watching this, and several things became rapidly apparent in his mind: He had not killed anyone in almost eighty days; His gun was unholstered, held in one hand; Unlike the countless mooks or guards he had killed over the years, Manchas was the first person in a long time that had a name and face and personality that he would have to kill; Manchas was already dead, replaced with some homicidal beast, who fully intended to kill (and probably eat) all of them if given the chance; Judy's eyes were purple - not just any kind of purple, but the purple of a nebula, bright and powerful and beautiful. The same color as Lylla's.

In that moment, the choice had become abundantly clear.

Bracing himself against the railing, he raised his gun up and aimed in one swift motion. "Hey Manchas!" He shouted, getting the panther's attention. Manchas stopped, looking up as Judy ducked beneath the raccoon. The two hunters met each other's gaze, and Rocket desperately tried to think of a one-liner. He couldn't, and instead settled for a classic. "Fuck You!"

BOOM!

Rocket fired a ball of plasma, impacting the panther's face instantly. His skull exploded like a rotten pumpkin, showering everyone with blood and bone and brain matter. The ball flew past his body, past Nick, over the platform and into a far-off tree branch, causing it to explode. Nick and Judy looked at the body and busted tree in shock, and Rocket groaned as he fell back on the ground, the recoil exacerbating the pain in his side.

"Oh my god, Rocket!" She rushed over to his side, fur standing on end at the puddle beneath him. "You're bleeding!"

"It's just a scratch." He grumbled, waving away their concern. Wincing, he tried to sit up. "By the way, you've got a bit of panther on your shoulder." Judy looked, and sure enough there was a piece of black fur and skin on her shoulder guard. She yelped and swiped it off her shoulder, shivering from the touch.

"Holy crap, Stripes!" Nick shouted, coming over to help him up, "You just killed him!"

"I do have a knack for blowing people's minds." He chuckled, cradling his side.

"This is serious, Rocky! You're injured, our lead is dead, we've got property damage, and did you even get the shooter?"

"Nah, the bastard gave me a nut shot and ran away. But we're all alive, so it wasn't a complete failure, right?"

It was then that they heard the sound of fire alarms. Turning back, they saw that the plasma from the explosion had splattered onto the side of the treehouse, causing fires to erupt. The sprinkler system for that property kicked in, soaking everything inside and out with bluish-tinted water. And then the one above it turned on. And then another, and another, up and up the tree. The three of them were too far away to get any mist or water from the spray, but anyone and everyone that was inside the apartment complex was getting soaked.

And then the roaring started.

"Uh oh."

They looked on in horror as the inhabitants of the apartments began pouring out of their homes. They came in all shapes and sizes - lions, leopards, elephants, rhinos, meerkats, cheetahs, and many more. They ran down the stairs, branches and bridges on all fours, feral glowing eyes filled with rage and hate bearing down on them.

"...How many shots do you have in that gun?" Nick whispered.

"Not enough," Was Rocket's response. He looked down at his side, red lines still running down his jumpsuit. "Won't outrun them either. Where the hell are my shoes?"

"Crap, what're we gonna do?" The fox was starting to panic, looking desperately around for a means of escape. Judy, more focused and calm, spotted several large vines on the edge.

"I've got an idea," she said, grabbing both of the males' paws, "Come on."

"Hold on, you don't plan on us-" Rocket started to protest, before she grabbed onto a vine, and pushed off, taking both of them with her just as the horde of mad mammals came down to the platform. They swung around the platform, holding on for dear life as the horde ran from one end of the platform to the other, trying to grab them.

"Carrots!" Nick exclaimed, holding onto Judy in one paw and Rocket in another, "Whatever you do, don't let go!"

"I'm letting go!" She shouted, eyes locked onto a mass of vines easily a hundred feet away.

"It's not gonna work!" Rocket shouted, "It's not gonna work you stupid BIIIIIIIIIIII-"

Hopps released the vine just as they reached the apex of their swing. They flew through the air, flailing and falling until they all slammed into a net of vines. "Huh, it worked." He grunted, modestly impressed. "Good call."

"Look!" Nick pointed back at the platform. The rampaging animals were at the platform, sniffing around and growling angrily. A tiger roared, and they started running again, heading further down the pathway away from the platform down to ground level. Their howls of rage echoed through the canopy, sending a chill down their spines.

"Oh god," Judy gasped, "Oh my god. They've gone loose. Those savages are out on the street! What if they catch someone?!"

"You're cop friends are on the way, right?" Rocket pointed out, "They should be coming here any minute now. They'll spot the crazies, catch 'em, and that'll be the end of it. Besides, at least we don't have to worry about them getting us up he-"

SNAP!

Once again the trio fell, sliding across giant leaves and mossy branches before coming to a halt fifty feet above the ground, tied together in a mass of vines. Now Judy was upside down, head dangling between their legs and tails, while Nick and Rocket were practically nose tip to nose tip. The vines bound the three of them tight, unable to move yet still keeping them out of danger on the ground. Nick and Rocket looked into each other's eyes, and the fox smirked.

"Hey now, Stripes," He joked, "If you wanted me to give you a kiss, you could've just asked."

"Oh aren't you cute?!" Rocket snapped, "Put that mouth to use and help me chew through these vines."

"Eww, I'm not having this slimy stuff in my mouth!"

"Do you want to hang here all night?!" He growled, "Start chewing! You too, Long Ears!"

"What the hell, Rocket?" Judy hissed, feeling something on the back of her head. "Why do you have multiple grenades?!" She moved her head back.

"Ow! Those aren't grenades, you dumb bunny!" Neither male could see Hopps as she grew silent, blushing profusely in embarrassment. The three of them went silent as they followed Rocket's lead, biting into the binding vines. Hopefully the cops would eventually come here to answer Judy's call, and someone would come down to get them out soon... right?

xxxxxxxx

Thirty minutes later - as their mouths were coated with the foul taste of jungle vines, and they had to stop before being forced to puke - red and blue flashers finally came down the road. Several cop cars came up, stopping in front of them, revealing several various officers, including Chief Bogo himself. He looked just as grumpy and grouchy as always, as if miffed that he had to come out here to see if one of his own might be injured or dead.

"What took you assholes so long?" Rocket shouted, spitting a wad of fiber from his craw.

"There was an accident on the road," Bogo explained, motioning for one of his men to cut them loose. "A leopard ran in front of a car and caused a pileup. Had to move the cars aside and provide medical assistance. Whatever it is you called us for better be good."

The trio were cut down from the vines, and led them up the tree. The jungle had gone eerily quiet as they went up the road. Rocket's cut had healed just enough that it wasn't bleeding, but it still hurt a bunch to climb the tree.

"You wouldn't believe it, sir," Judy started to explain, "But not only did Manchas go savage, but the entire complex did as well. We're lucky to get out alive."

"You're right," Bogo responded, "I won't believe you. Not unless you have some substantial evidence to prove it."

When they got to the platform, the mammals were gone, including the body of Manchas. There was a fair amount of blood on the wood, both where Rocket stood and where Manchas died. The pathway was severely trashed by the stampede, so it was blatantly obvious that something had happened.

"See, look at this?" She pointed, "Look at all this blood. This is where we were attacked. The horde must've taken Manchas' corpse and ate him!"

"Officer Hopps, don't be ridiculous!" Bogo scolded her, "It might look like that to a scared little bunny like you, but predators don't eat people anymore. This is clearly just Rocket's blood and wood rot."

"Dat's not all mine, yuh idiot!" Rocket snapped, "Look at all of it! If dat was from me, I'd be dead!"

"So what are you saying, then? Are you admitting to killing Manchas?"

"Yeah, I am. It was self-defense. He hit me, he was going after all three of us, and if I hadn't acted, we'd be in his stomach right about now. I believe law enforcement and bounty hunters are allowed to use appropriate force to defend ourselves, and in this case, lethal force was needed. I'd think you'd be a little more grateful that I saved one of your officers."

"Maybe I would, if I didn't half-think you're lying. There's blood but no body. There's signs of a fight but no victims. There's-"

"What're you saying, meathead? Are you trying to imply that we made this up!?"

"I'm saying the words of a timid rookie bunny, a loose-cannon vigilante and a fox hustler about a zombie horde are questionable at best, and the evidence presented isn't good enough to back up your claims."

"And I find it 'questionable' that a police chief took his sweet-ass time coming to an emergency call from his newest recruit! It only takes ten minutes to drive from the station to here. You got here in forty! Even if you and your 'beasts of no competence'* actually had to deal with a crackhead on the way here, that still leaves twenty-five minutes left unaccounted for. What were you doing, stuff in' yer fat face with doughnuts and apathy?!"

"I'd watch that tone if I were you, 'Coon," Bogo warned, "Before you find out how easily I can ruin your night."

"Oh buddy, you've got no idea. I've been visually assaulted by naked yaks, got in a car accident, beaten up by mob goons, survived being attacked by a crazy cat, and spent the better part of an hour dangling from a vine like a goddamn keychain. There's nothin' you can do to make this night any worse for me!"

"Enough of this. Hopps!" This whole time, Judy had been standing there, unsure of what to say or do in this situation. Her shirt was starting to fall apart on her from the tearing, and she seemed extra meek and helpless as she held her outfit together while the buffalo loomed over her. "You have failed for the last time. Give me your badge!" She looked down at his hoof, and slowly her paw went to her badge. Before she could get it, though, Rocket placed a paw on her shoulder, and stepped in between them.

"Nuh-uh," He growled, "You can pull this bullshit on dumb civilians and spineless subordinates, but you won't pull it on me." Gasps went through the crowd, and even Hopps, as he said that. Heedless of Bogo's reaction, he went on, "I get it, Nick and I are hard mammals to get along with. He's a sly fox, I'm a shifty 'coon. He's a deceptive street hustler, and I'm a bounty hunter and cynical asshole. We're not gonna win personality contests. But Hopps? I don't think I've met someone as genuine in intentions as her. She really wants to make this place better, and yet it seems like you've gone out of your way to dump on her. Parking duty? Giving us two days to do something none of your men have done in weeks? I can accept that you don't like me, and want to take me down a peg - I don't like you either. But she's done nothing to deserve this, and it's a dick move that I'm not gonna stand for!"

"Get out of my face before I put you in handcuffs, boar**!" Bogo snapped, clenching his hooves, every bit of self-control barely keeping him from stomping him into the ground.

"Boar?! Do I look like a pig to you, ox?!" Rocket snapped, a day's worth of anger and frustration coalescing into this one moment, resisting his own temptation to waste this fool. Here were two alpha males tired of each other's shit, and it was about to come to a head here and now.

"Smile for the camera, boys," Nick called out, turning on the light on his phone. Everyone turned to face him, as now he approached the two irate males. "Hope you don't mind if I record this. I'm just here to hold everyone accountable in case there's any hampering of investigations, excessive use of force, unlawful arrests or assaulting of officers." He shot a look at Rocket on the last one, a clear warning to step back and let him handle it from here. Rocket glared at him, but took a few steps back.

"Now then," The fox continued, "Last I checked, we still have thirty-six hours left to find Otterton. And as of now, there's easily over a hundred savage mammals currently running free, and an empty apartment complex as evidence. I think it'd be best for the both of us if we parted ways and worked on our separate cases without any... incidents, tonight. Officer Hopps, Mr. Raccoon, our ride awaits."

With that, Nick went down to the gondola. Hopps looked like she wanted to say something, but opted not to, and followed the fox. After a moment, Rocket followed in turn, but kept his gaze on the buffalo the entire walk. They stared each other down, even as the three of them entered the gondola, and Rocket slammed the door closed. The gondola began to move and ascend up the line, yet neither of them broke. After about ten seconds, Bogo finally looked away, and appeared to be talking to the other officers.

"That's what I thought, punk," Rocket murmured, pleased that his opponent broke first. He went and took a seat on one of the benches, feeling the cool metal on his back and feet. Wait, feet? He looked down, and finally noticed that his jetboots were still gone. He sighed, knowing that they couldn't go back. Hopefully the cops would find it and he could get it in the morning, otherwise he'd to go across town barefoot like everyone else.

Thus, Nick, Judy and Rocket rode the gondola in silence, as it passed through the late night mists...

Chapter Text

The gondola ride was a quiet one at first. None of them really knew what to say or where to start on everything that just happened. It was also late into the night, each of them starting to feel the tug of sleep and drowsiness pulling on them. Footchase, nudist club, mob shakedown and wedding, surviving a horde of berserkers, standing up to Chief Buffalo Butt - the three of them had been through a lot this past day and night. It had finally started setting into their minds, and what could you say after experiencing all that?

"Whose fox repellent is this?"

Nick and Judy - who were both up front looking out as the morning fog was starting to build - turned around to see Rocket gingerly resting on a bench, holding a little pink canister in his paw. He wasn't looking at them, but inspecting the device in his hand, only observing them through his peripheral vision. Hopps looked so embarrassed, her ears drooping, as she nervously glanced at Nick. Wilde's face hardened, a mask unwilling to show anything, but still speaking volumes.

"Nick, I-" Judy started, trying to explain.

"It's fine, Carrots," he stated flatly, "I understand. You work a dangerous job, rabbits fear foxes, you want to protect yourself. I get it."

"Nick, I'm not like that!" She protested, "My dad gave it to me before I moved here. I only took it so he wouldn't worry about me. I would never even think about-"

"It's actually a good thing you had this on you." Rocket interrupted, looking at them. Judy's ears shot up in surprise, and there was a brief flicker of offense on Wilde's face as he explained, "I grabbed this after I got hit by Manchas. It says fox repellent, but I guess it works on anyone if sprayed right in the eyes. It gave me enough time to grab my gun and put a crater where his face used to be."

He leaned over on one side, favoring the one not gashed by panther claws. With a little bit of pain and a lot of seriousness, he continued, "If this spray hadn't fallen off you and into my hand, I'd be very dead right now. I owe yuh, Hopps."

Judy shuffled her feet, unsure of how to take that. Saving someone via barely acknowledged personal flaw was different, to say the least. After a little thought, she settled with, "Well, I'm glad you're okay. And, I want to thank both of you, for standing up for me back there."

"You know, it's kinda weird," Rocket mused, gently reclining back against the wall, "I would think dat, you, bein' someone nobody expected to be a cop, got picked up through government shenanigans, spending your whole life not wanting to be judged by others like you - you'd be the last person carryin' 'round a weapon meant only for the most stereotypical enemy a rabbit can have. Kinda weakens the whole 'Anyone can be anything' vibe if you still treat predators like they're gonna eat ya at da drop of a hat. You tell us one thing, yet you do the opposite. Why?"

Judy looked away, taking a seat on the bench opposite of them. She held her badge in her hands, and sighed. "When I was about 8," She began, "I did a play for the Bunnyborough harvest festival. I wrote it, directed it, starred in it - it was the biggest project I had ever worked on. It was about how all of us mammals used to be savages like those guys back there, but over time we evolved to be civilized and eventually built Zootopia. It was also when I first revealed to everyone - including my parents - that I wanted to become a police officer."

"I take it they didn't like it too much." Nick said, more a statement than a question.

"They came around to it... after awhile," She admitted, "It probably helped that I have 270 other siblings, so if I turned into a disappointment, it wasn't the end of the world or anything." Both males blinked in surprise at that - 270? God, her poor mother! - but she continued, "But there was one guy there that wasn't as supportive as everyone else. He thought becoming a bunny cop was stupid."

"Five bucks says he's a fox," Rocket murmured.

"Gideon Gray was the school bully, and a fox who hated bunnies. After the play, he came up to some of my friends and took away the tickets they won at the fair. I demanded that he give them back, but just laughed at me and said that foxes ate rabbits. We fought, and while I got the tickets back... he left me a little mark as a reminder." Her paw went up to her cheek, where Rocket noticed that, just under her gray-white fur, there was a trio of thin pink scars. He nodded approvingly - scars built character, even ones that no one ever saw.

"I still dedicated myself to becoming an officer," She continued, "And I've tried not to let what happened effect how I interact with... other foxes. I guess I'm not as over it as I thought." She sounded uneasily, embarrassed as she said it - that she was just starting to accept the possibility that she hadn't worked out all her ingrained prejudices.

"At least you try." Nick said, leaning against the railing. His back was to them, his voice even. "I appreciate that, really. At least you're aware enough to try not to let what happened stop you from being a good person. I wish I had friends like you when I was growing up. When I was at that age, all I wanted to be was a cub scout. Learning survival tricks, selling cookies, doing community service, that kind of deal. My father has been in jail most of my life, but my mother, she worked two jobs in one of the worst neighborhoods in town. She managed to save up enough money to get me a uniform. We were so happy that day... but the only troop in our neighborhood was entirely prey. I didn't have a problem with them, but they had a problem with me. That night, when I was supposed to swear the oath to become a member, they..." Nick stopped, gathering himself. He breathed once, twice, three times as he buried those emotions once more. "They pinned me to the ground, and muzzled me. I begged them to let me know what I did that was so wrong, and all they said was, 'If you thought we'd ever let a fox join us, then you're even dumber than we thought.' That day, I learned two things. First, I was never going to let anything get to me again. And second, if all the world was ever gonna see was a sly fox, then there wasn't any point in being anything else."

Judy gasped, absolutely shocked. Rocket raised an eyebrow, not impressed. "That's it?" He asked, looking at them incredulously, "That's supposed to make me feel sorry for you and your painful trips down Memory Lane?" The fox and bunny looked at him like he started speaking Shi'ar. "Oh boo-hoo-hoo!" He cried mockingly, "I was bullied when I was a child! A bunch of punk kids beat me up and called me names! No one has ever had it as bad as me! My life is a complete and utter tragedy!"

They looked at him, aghast at what he was saying. "You two have no idea how good you had it," He grunted, "Parents? Siblings? Friends? Bah, there were times in my life where getting picked on by a bunch of little dipshits would've been a nice reprieve."

"How dare you!" Nick snapped, clearly offended. "What's wrong with you?! We just opened ourselves up, and you just go out and say that it isn't a big deal?"

"I didn't say dat," The raccoon countered, "I'm sure all of dat was very painful for youse two to go through. I'm jus' sayin' dat if we're goin' to the 'Crappy Life Olympics', I'm takin' home da gold. Neither of you, or Finnick, or Bogo, or anyone else in dis city or dis world has gone through da thing's I've been through."

"Oh I'm sure," Nick huffed sarcastically, "No one can ever have it worse than you. There's nothing that makes mammals act racist more than a Space Raccoon."

"Racist?!" Rocket shouted, standing up and getting in the fox's face, "You think da shit I went through in life came from racists?! Buddy, I've had more shit done ta me in my first month than most people will experience in their entire lives, and none o' that has anything ta do with jackasses having problems with raccoons. And I ain't gonna stand bein' judged and condescended to by some whiny lil'-"

"Rocket!" Judy interjected, getting between them, "Ease up, you're bleeding again." They looked down, and sure enough his injuries had opened up again, oozing blood down his side. "We have to take you to a hospital."

"We are not going to a hospital," Rocket hissed, both in pain and annoyance, "Look... Hopps, do you know how to stitch a wound?"

"I have EMT training and I grew up on a farm," She explained, "Of course I do. But I can't do it here in a rickety gondola."

Rocket sighed. It was becoming increasingly blatant in his eyes - the "gods" who sent him here were pushing for him to bring the bunny into his circle. If he wanted this wound taken care of, and he didn't want to go to a hospital, his only other option was to bring her to her home and take care of it there. Which meant introducing her to Groot.

"Tell ya what," He said, clutching his side, "Since we're all havin' a little therapy session, let's head to my place to get patched up. There, I won't just tell you about my past, I'll show you..."

It was about 2 in the morning when the trio got to his warehouse. Groot had already been back for half an hour, watching a different TV marathon - Paw and Order. He was a little surprised to hear a knocking at the door, but hoped it was Rocket. He wasn't disappointed.

"Okay Judes," The wounded raccoon warned her, "Whatever you see in there, promise me you ain't gonna run away or freak out or anythin' like dat."

"Oh please," She scoffed, "After everything that's happened today, I don't think there's anything that can surprise me."

"Oh sweet bunny of summer," Nick chuckled, quoting from Game of Bones, "You've got so much to learn."

Rocket opened up the door, and as Judy looked in, there was a brief moment when she made eye contact with something sitting on the sofa. Something big, brown and thin, with scary-looking holes for eyes. Her eyes widened in fear, and she quickly hid behind a wall outside. "Rocket?" She asked nervously, speaking in a whisper and standing stock-still, "What the holy hell is that thing on the couch?"

"Wow, that's really judgmental of you, Fluffybutt." Rocket teased. He grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, Nick closing the door behind them. "Hopps," He introduced, "This is Groot. Groot, this is Officer Judy Hopps. The one I caught the weasel with this morning."

"I am Groot." The plant-man squatted down and extended a hand to the bunny, palm up. Within his hand grew a small flower, the same color as her neck fur. "Oh," She stammered, hesitantly plucking the flower, "Thank you."

"Groot."

"He says 'Nice to meet you'." Rocket translated, "He no speak good like you and me - he can only say "I" and "Am" and "Groot", in that order. I know what he says by how he says it, so don't worry about any confusion. He's also learning to communicate through texting, but let's not make that a habit - data's expensive."

"How... How did you make him?" She asked, staring in apprehension at the giant man-tree.

"Make him? Ha! I hired him!" Rocket started to laugh, but winced at the pain in his side, "Hey bud, can you clear a table and get the medical kit for my friend here? Took a beating on the job today. Nick, can yuh get us some drinks? You know where the fridge's at." Rocket and Groot led the bunny into his workshop, moving aside some junk as Nick brought out some sodas and a bottle of vodka for disinfectant. Judy was given a medkit, and quickly went through it to find the necessary needle, thread and cotton balls.

As he reached back to unzip his jumpsuit, he paused, and warned Judy, "Look, Long Ears, I need you to promise me that you won't go tellin' anyone about what you see. It's gonna be weird, but I need to know you won't bolt or tell Bogo or literally anyone, ok?" Judy wanted to make a crack about him being oversensitive and repeating himself, but after seeing the walking talking tree, she realized that yeah, this raccoon was serious. She nodded. Convinced, he turned his back to her, and unzipped the top half of his jumpsuit. He heard Judy gasp, and Nick, upon entering the workshop, uttering, "What the hell?!"

"Rocket?" Hopps asked, apprehensively.

"Yes, Judes?"

"What are those... things on your back?"

"Good question," He explained, and began pointing them out, "This one at the base of my neck is connected to both the computer in my brain and my larynx, and helps me speak so purdy. These things along my spine help me walk upright, and maintain the structural integrity of my bones. This one by my liver monitors my body for toxins and poisons and whatnot, and helps keep me healthy. This one at the base of my tail... I dunno what that one does. Never got the chance to find out."

There was a silence, before Judy asked, "What are you?"

"I'm a raccoon, duh." He replied cavalierly.

"Rocket, I'm dead serious. If you want me to stitch you up, you need to explain yourself right now."

"Wanna know the truth?" He shrugged, "Well, for starters, I'm not from here. Not just Zootopia, Hopps - I'm from another world, another universe. You can ask Nick, I've told him part of this. I come from a world where mammals were still unevolved, savage beasts. See I wasn't always this cultured, sophisticated devil you see now. When I was young, I couldn't walk, couldn't speak, couldn't think beyond basic instincts."

"You mean… you mean you were like those mammals back in Tahunga?" Judy poured a little vodka on a cotton ball, and started cleaning up the wound.

Rocket winced from the sting, but answered, "No, not really. At least, I can't really remember a time I was that… I dunno, single-minded. I ate when I was hungry, I slept when I was tired, chased tail when it was dat time o' year. I didn't really feel happy or angry or sad, I just… was. I survived day to day, and that was it. I couldn't tell you how long it went on, every day seemed pretty much the same as the next. Until one day, when everything changed.

"I remember I was in a giant metal trashcan, going through half a pizza someone just threw out, when I was hit by a bright blue light in the sky. There was a lot of wind, and I felt myself getting pulled up into it. The next thing I knew, I was staring up at the light, my limbs bound to a table. I couldn't move, I could barely breathe. I had never been as scared as I was at that moment. I saw the shadow of a man come in front of me, and a dozen little mechanical arms came down on me and… started operating on my head. While conscious."

Judy stopped when he said that. "Do you know what it feels like to have your brain cut into and messed with like silly putty?" He asked rhetorically, "I do. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. Like a nuclear bomb was exploding behind my eyes, in my teeth, pushing against my eardrums. I was stabbed with a bunch of little needles, shooting me up with hormones and chemicals and all kinds of shit. I screamed and screamed and screamed in pain, and I could hear my voice get deeper. I could feel as the additives began to change my body - my muscles burned, my gut felt like a toxic dump. Words and images flew through my mind, filling my head with information and knowledge I never had before. When the initial download and operation stopped, I looked up at the guy, and my first words were, 'Why? Why are you doing this?' You know what he said? 'To see if I can, of course.' Like it was the most obvious thing ever. 'I'm going to make you into a weapon, and you will be the deadliest creature in existence. You should thank me when I'm done.'"

"It went on after that," He continued as he nodded for Hopps to stitch up already, "Don't know if it went on for hours, or days, or years. Time was a damn blur in that place. The guy workin' on me was a mad scientist type who called himself 'The High Evolutionary'. Pompous piece of shit. He kept me strapped to that table, having his machines cut into me for god knows how long. He insisted that he kept me conscious to make sure all the nerves and connections were working properly, but I 'spect that he just liked watching' animals suffer, the sick fuck. He infused some kinda space metal into my bones, makin' dem much stronger. He put all kinds o' things in me - different chemical compounds, cybernetic augmentations, a wet-work computer in my brain. I'm pretty sure he even gave me a minor healing factor, to speed up my recovery times. I would beg for him to stop, curse him out, demand that he just fucking kill me and get it over with. You know what he'd say? 'Oh, Subject 42-' That was my name back then "-I can't kill you now. I have a contract with the people of Ro-Kekt to make an army of supersoldiers out of other planet's vermin. What kind of scientist would I be if I backed out of a deal just because one of my subjects was feeling sad?' Goddamn I hate that guy."

The bunny briefly paused as he growled, but continued stitching as he continued talking. "Eventually, something happened. The place we were in was a space station near an asteroid belt, and an abnormally large meteor shower was striking it. The main reactor had gone out, and the place switched to auxiliary power. The transfer somehow turned off the security features of the wing I was in, and the straps unlocked as the door to my room opened up. I got off that table, and I ran outta there faster than I'd ever moved before. My first kill was some security guard guy with tentacles for arms, holding a Mark 12 XK-035 lasgun with an added semi-automatic mini-rocket shooter. He tried to shoot me, but I got to him first. Ripped his throat out with my teeth - blood tasted like extra salty fish, real nasty stuff. I took the gun and just started running.

"I have no idea if I would've made it out of that place, if I hadn't met Blackjack O'Hare and Lylla. Blackjack - Subject 37 - was, well, a hare, but blue, and always wearing these big orange goggles. Lylla - Subject 69 - was an otter. Think Ms. Otterton, but taller, and with your eyes. A real beauty. They were stuck in a shoot-out with a bunch of robot guards, and I came in and saved them by killing them all. Center o' mass, pop-pop-pop! We recognized each other as fellow experiments pretty quickly, and after a brief talk decided to work together to break out of the place. Blackjack had picked up a heavy machine gun, and was just mowing down bitches left and right. Lylla was the smart and sneaky one - she only had a little laspistol, but she was deadly accurate with it, and she knew how to operate the doors and other machines.

"We made our way from one end of the station to another, even as it was starting to fall apart from the constant bombardment. We had just about made it to the hangar bay, when the Bastard that made us stood in our way. He had such... such a happy expression on his face. He couldn't be more proud of his experiments, how they had torn through such tough security. Sometimes I wonder if our breakout was something he allowed, like it was some kind of graduation test to see if all his 'work' had paid off. There was a moment where it looked like he was about to say something - maybe try to convince us to work for him, rule the galaxy together as his puppets, that kinda crap - but Blackjack and I, we didn't give him a chance. We filled that bastard with more plasma and hole than most star engines. Didn't even bother makin' sure he was good an' dead afterwards, just ran for the nearest spaceship and hightailed it outta there. The place got torn up by the shower, but by then we were already on the other side of the galaxy, trying to start our lives over."

Rocket reached for the bottle, and took a swig. "Found out pretty fast that we were the freaks of the universe. Took us days to find someone to help us who didn't think we were literal vermin, and even then the bastards didn't take us seriously until Blackjack pointed a gun at his head. Hell, that seemed to be his only way of dealing with people outside of the two of us. I never asked him, but I think he remembered more of his past than I did - rabbits fear everything instinctively, and he got picked because of his jumpy nature. At first, I figured that, I dunno, him being so aggressive and trigger-happy was his way of makin' sure he never felt that old fear again. Now though, lookin' back, it's more likely that he got a kick giving others the fear and pain he went through. He never turned on me or Lylla... but damn, there were times when he'd go in a frenzy, and I'd keep my paw on my grip 'til he cooled off.

"Lylla, now she became the brains of our little group. She was created for more of an espionage angle; seduction and interrogation, stealth and hacking, spy stuff, you know? She kept us employed and kept us out of trouble - for the most part, anyway. She knew economics and contracts like I know guns and bombs. Once she established herself in the markets, money just flew our way like a neverending waterfall of credits and jobs. You'd like her, Hopps; ever the optimist, and always the smartest one in the room. I don't want to imagine what the Evolutionary had done to her or had in mind, but it sure never seemed to effect her. She got me out of some real dark places when things got rough, and nothin' could brighten my day more than her smile... except maybe building a killer robot. Depends on my mood."

"Sounds like you two were pretty close," Nick observed.

"Let's just say I haven't met a girl like her since. And I'm not just sayin' dat 'cause she's a one-off like me."

"What happened to them?" Judy asked, putting the finishing touches on the wound.

"We all ended up heading our separate ways. Blackjack went and formed his own pirate gang, and headed off to the Outer Rim. Lylla got a job working with Lord Dyvyne's weapon manufacturing business. She actually went legit, she made something of herself. Me though? Pfft, I met this big blockhead a month after Lylla left, bein' sold as an exotic pet... like I might've been. I admit, I felt sorry for the lug, and so I bought him. I wanted to set him free, but I guess Groot's are a sentimental bunch, 'cause he hasn't left my side since. I give him a cut of the profit, but it's not like trees can just go out and buy stuff you know?"

"I am Groot."

"I know, I'm about to get to the good part." He then told them about his adventures with the Guardians - getting sent to the Kyln, meeting the Collector and the fight at Knowhere, the battle of Xandar, all that good stuff. Judy had finished stitching him up, but both of them just sat there as he went into detail about Quill, Gamora and Drax, what an Infinity Stone is and does, how dangerous Ronan and Thanos were, and all other kinds of things about his galaxy. Even for Nick, it never really occurred to him what it meant to live in a place like that - so dangerous and vast. It kind of made sense now, why Rocket could be such a jackass at times.

You had to be a little shit sometimes to survive in the depths of space.

Rocket eventually looked over his shoulder, and spotted the stitches. "Oh hey, you're done," He grunted, getting up, "Thanks. I know goin' to a hospital would've been easier, but between the augments and-" He waved vaguely to indicate the whole story he just told, and sighed, "-There's no way it would've worked out. Dat's two I owe yuh, Long Ears. At dis rate, I'm gonna have to keep a Tab."

Judy gave a half-hearted smile, as her mind went a mile a minute. All of this new information just got dropped on her, and she had so many questions - Was he really a mindless savage once? How many people had he killed? Who were those two godly voices speaking to him? How was he able to make all these different gadgets scattered across the room with just scrap? All these and more ran through her brain, before she hesitantly ended up asking, "S-so... uh, what's the plan now? Where do we go from here?"

"Plan?!" The raccoon scoffed, "It's two-thirty in the morning! I've been up since dawn, got in a car wreck, beat up by mobsters and nearly got eaten by a crazy cat! My only plan now is to get some sleep, recharge and come back at our case in the morning." He got off the table, and turned back to the two of them. "Y'all can spend the night here, and we'll come together over this over breakfast or somethin'. Nick, you've got the couch. Groot, see if we still have a spare Insta-Mattress around for the lady."

"Groot!" The floral colossus agreed, leaving the room to find the sleeping gear. "I'll text Finnick," Nick yawned, "See if he can drive us to... wherever it is we need to go. Night, guys." He in turn left the room, leaving the cop and the former lab experiment alone. Without prompting or so much as a goodnight, Rocket went over to the back wall and began climbing a ladder to his bunk.

"Wait, Rocket!" She protested, reaching out to stop him. Her paw grabbed his shoulder, and he stopped to look back. "Thank you... for telling me," She said, "I know you didn't have to, but it means a lot. I can't imagine what it must've been like-"

"Don't," He sighed, pulling her paw off, "You couldn't understand what happened to me. No one on this rock could understand. I wouldn't want you to understand, 'cause I wouldn't wish what happened to me on my worst enemy, let alone someone like you." His eyes grew distant and hard, looking away as he continued, "What happened to Manchas... what happened to all those mammals... I can't help but think of me and all those animals the High Evolutionary experimented on. When we find the bastards who did this, you better get them first. 'Cause if I get 'em first, I'll give 'em a fate far kinder than what we were given, and put a hole where their face used to be..."

Chapter Text

It was approaching five in the morning when the three crimefighters began to stir. Judy, ever the early riser, got up first. It took her a moment to remember that she had spent the night here in the warehouse rather than her apartment. It also took a moment to realize her current uniform was falling apart, the sides of her shirt and vest finally torn open while she slept. She quietly crept out of bed, picked up some needle and thread, and went to the bathroom to sew up her clothes so they wouldn't "malfunction" until she could get over to her place to change. Her pocket contents were left on a counter in the workshop, right next to a little coffee machine.

About a few minutes later, Rocket also woke up, though with much less pep in his step. The raccoon was never a morning person, and yesterday didn't help things one bit. Slowly and carefully, yet still bleary-eyed from tiredness, he came down from his bunk, and went over to the "kitchen" part of his workshop. It was very basic - hot iron, microwave, mini-fridge and a new deluxe coffee maker to help jumpstart the day. More out of muscle-memory than conscious thought, he pressed a button to brew a fresh cup, and started rummaging through his supplies for a quick breakfast. It annoyed him to no end that meat products were so hard to come by in Zootopia - the Prey Folk were so timid and skittish about Predators engaging in their old, dangerous ways that only certain specialty stores carried genuine meat, and even then it was the not as good meats like fish, reptile, or if you had money, bird.

He was grumbling absentmindedly about the lack of red meat and the throbbing pain in his side when he heard a phone ring right next to him. Not even looking, he picked it up, accepted the call, and in a voice even more scratchy and husky from sleep, growled out a "Y'ello'."

"Uhhh, who're you?" The caller asked, surprised and with a slight accent, "Where's Judy?"

Rocket looked down at the phone, and was immediately wide awake. In his stupor, he had answered Hopps' phone by mistake, which was also set to MuzzleTime. He was on a live videofeed with a pair of middle-aged rabbits, dressed in farmer attire in a brightly lit living room. Several smaller rabbits could be seen in the background, though they didn't seem to be paying attention. It was in that brief moment that Rocket - half naked, fur messy and scraggly, answering a call from a policeman's parents, on a phone which he didn't own, in crappy-looking warehouse, and a raccoon - realized that this looked pretty bad.

Quickly, he adjusted the phone's position so it only showed his front, and put on his best friendly face as he said, "Ohh, hey, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Hopps."

"Uh, yeah - I mean yes, we are! How do you know our daughter?" The father demanded, trying to sound tough and yet failing horribly.

"Verne, hold it. We don't have to be so confrontational." The mother hissed, tapping his shoulder to stop.

"Me?" He said, he began walking out of the kitchen, looking around to find the bunny in question, "I'm her..."

Partner-neighbor-drug dealer-work associate-pimp-

"...Roommate." He internally cringed as his mouth went with the weakest excuse he could think of.

"Roommate?" Verne repeated skeptically, "She didn't mention anything about a roommate last time we spoke."

"It was a recent arrangement," Rocket continued lying, "Her place-"

Collapsed-burned down-was robbed-infested with fleas and ticks-

"-Had a major sewage backup in her bathroom. Completely covered the place in feces. I lived a couple doors down, and I'm letting her crash while the cleaners, well, clean it."

He must've been channeling Nick's hustle, as both of them were taken aback by the "news". Rocket glanced up at the living room, and saw that both Nick and Groot were sitting on the couch, snacking on cereal while some children's cartoon was playing (what else was good to watch at 5:30?). He angled the phone away from them, and continued, "Yeah, let me find her real quick. She's prob' busy getting ready for work n' stuff. Hey Judes, where you at?"

"I'm in here, hold on a minute!" The bunny called out from the bathroom. He went right over, and quickly opened the lockless door. "It's your parents." He explained, quickly tossed the phone at her, and closed the door behind him. It was only as he started walking away did he realize that he had caught a glimpse of her... topless.

Huh. So that's what bunny boobs look like. Nice.

Several minutes after that, Judy emerged from the bathroom, her uniform sewn up but red in the face. She glared at the fox and the tree, who looked at her curiously. "Where did he go?" She growled.

"Roomie went that way," Nick pointed down the hall. Hopps groaned in angry embarrassment, and went to the workshop.

"Sewage backup?!" She shouted, "That's what you told my parents!? That we're roomies?!"

"What, and telling them that you spent the night at an outer space bounty hunter's bachelor pad sounds better? It's the best thing I could think of at the time." He turned to face her, and she stopped in her tracks. He was in an old-fashioned suit, with short pants stopping at his shins, a belt, red gloves, and a dark blue jacket with red highlights and buttons. He noticed that she was staring at the outfit, and shrugged. "It's my only other outfit, don't judge."

"I-I'm not," She said quickly, "That just, it looks really good on you."

"Thank you. Nick just keeps saying it makes me look like a pirate. He's jus' jelly that I've got more swag than him."

Hopps rolled her eyes. The two of them went back to the living room, and she asked, "So, what's the plan now? How are we gonna find hundreds of bloodthirsty mammals?"

"We could check the jam-cams," Nick suggested between bites, "There are cameras along every road and every major intersection. We could start at Tahunga and work our way out to see where they went."

"Yeah, But," Judy pointed out, "With all the mammals missing, Chief Bogo will be going through all the footage. And after last night's escapades, we'll be the last ones he allows to see them."

"You're forgettin', though," Rocket countered in between sips of coffee, "You an' I have a certain wooly lady-friend on the inside. If we can meet up wit' 'er-"

"She could get us private access to the vid-feeds!" Nick finished.

"Exactly, my dudes. All we need is a ride over to the capital building."

"I know a bus route that passes by here to Savannah Square," Judy volunteered, "Should pass by within the hour."

"Then let's get to it! We've got work to do!"

As they left, it was only then that Groot happened to look at his phone, and only then remembered the video he took last night. Oh well, he'd just have to show them when they come back...

Following that little incident, Rocket, Nick and Judy fetched a taxi, and made their way to Town Hall. Rocket just hoped they'd get there before Chief Butthole and his gunslingers* did.

Even at 8 in the morning, the place was abuzz with activity. Every phone was ringing, as mammals desperately searched for answers about missing friends and relatives. Judy visibly winced when she heard the stark news - the missing mammals number had jumped from 16 to 474 overnight. It wasn't just predators now, either - the vics ranged from elephants and gazelles all the way down to meerkats. The apartment complex had been quarantined after blood and "tissue" was found, and all of Tahunga Street had been placed on lockdown. The media was in a frenzy, as reporters and cameramammals were pestering anyone they could catch. The trio were lucky enough to enter through a backdoor, as they searched for a certain sheep.

It didn't take too long to find Dawn, though it wasn't exactly a good time to show up. Bellweather was gathering up a large stack of folders which had fallen on the ground, while she and Mayor Lionheart were having a rather heated discussion.

"Sir, I know you're busy," She insisted, "But you need to sign off on these contracts. They're essential to-"

"I don't care, Smellweather!" The lion growled exasperatedly, "We're in the middle of a crisis here! I don't have time to fill out business deals with trigger-happy vigilantes!"

"Hey, Mister Mayor!" Rocket called out as they approached. Like someone flipping a switch, Lionheart's entire demeanor changed.

"Ah, Mr. Raccoon!" He turned to face them, all smiles, "How wonderful it is to see you. I-"

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine." Rocket said in a smarmy, verging on explicitly sarcastic tone. Nick smiled and nodded approvingly as he went on, "I couldn't help but overhear that you're about to sign on those contracts. Say, you given any thought to funding that Arc-Powered Titanium Plant I suggested?"

Lionheart just stared blankly at him, not having the slightest clue on what he said. "You didn't read that part? Bah, it was way in the back. What about the Stasis Nets for the drones?" Still nothing. "Ok, what about the Holographic Displays for traffic and advertisements? The Antigrav engines for mass transit? The Full Body Scans for clinics and hospitals? Surely you must've read some of all that paperwork Ms. Bellweather's been giving you, right?"

The lion looked at him quizzically. He was about to respond, but then Rocket snapped his fingers, and continued, "You know what? I bet it just slipped your mind. No hard feelings, I get it. I mean, all that campaigning and press conferences and talking with special interests must really eat up all your time and energy." He placed a paw on Dawn's shoulder, who was looking bewildered by this entire display. "I tell yuh, you're really lucky having this lil' ewe working for you. Well organized, great negotiator, sharp as a tack. I can't imagine how difficult it would be running this place without someone as capable as her backing you up, you know?"

The Mayor glanced over at the sheep, who was in turn glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Yes," Lionheart admitted, begrudgingly, "I suppose it would be very difficult without S-... Ms. Bellweather."

"Oh, that reminds me," Rocket stated, wrapping up the hustle, "I believe the paperwork needs to be signed today. We would also like Dawn's assistance for a teensy-weensy bit - kinda workin' against the clock on a case connected to all this confusion here." He gestured to all the panicking bureaucrats running about the office. "We'd wait, but surely you can handle signing a bunch of papers on your own, amirite? We'll do our thing real quick, you do yours, my people talk with your people, and uh, who knows? Maybe Rocket Enterprises will be making a sizable donation to your next campaign."

Lionheart looked at them, and then at all the files on the ground. "Fine," He growled, miffed at this inconvenience, "Five minutes. Go do whatever it is you need. Make it quick."

"Thanks Lionshart-heart! Lionheart!" Rocky said, turning and nodding to the others, "Let's go, guys."

The four of them started heading to Bellweather's office - a good distance away from a grumpy lion signing way too many forms than necessary - when the ewe pulled them off to the side. She gazed at Rocket, like it was the first time she was really seeing him him, and her eyes glistened. "No one has ever stood up against Lionheart like that," She murmured, "Especially for me."

"Hey, us little guys gotta stick together," He said causally, "You've got my back, and I've got yours, right?"

His answer came as she reached out and embraced him in a bearhug, her poofy hair brushing against his chin. Rocket tentatively returned the hug, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion. "Thank you," She whispered, sniffling, "You don't know how nice it is to get recognition for anything that you do. To be noticed by someone, you know?"

"Don't worry about it, Bells," He said, patting her back, "Who cares what your boss thinks? He's just a figurehead. We all know who has the real power around here."

Dawn blushed, and shyly looked away. "Oh, you're just saying that."

"Don't sell yourself short." He broke off the hug, and placed his arms on both Dawn and Judy's shoulders as they went down the hall. "You've already got us started on making huge changes for this city. We're all going to be heroes once we're done."

"I dunno about lil' ole' me," The sheep chuckled, "But you and Hopps? When I think about the future, you know what I see? I see you, Rocket Raccoon, wealthiest philanthropist and businessmammal in Zootopia. I see you, Judy Hopps, as the first police chief of ZPD to make this us a crime-free city."

"And I see Mayor Dawn Bellweather, rising star in politics who made it all happen." He insisted, smiling internally as her eyes lit up like fireworks. Looks like someone has a dream.

"Ahem, forgetting someone?" Nick interrupted, mock-indignant, "What about me?"

"You can do whatever you want. I don't leave friends out to dry. Lil' bit of advice, though - somethin' I've learned over teh years, there's no bettah revenge than success. Nothin' will feel bettah than drivin' by where those punks live in a big shiny hovercar, courtesy of yours truly."

"Careful now, I may just hold you to that."

They came to and entered Dawn's office, which in truth was little more than a refurbished broom closet. There was a large boiler, multiple servers, cleaning equipment, boxes of files, one five-watt lightbulb dangling from the ceiling, and way in the back was a tiny desk with a decent-looking computer. "This is where you work?" Nick observed sympathetically, "The Assistant Mayor of Zootopia does business in a supply room? I'm surprised they even shilled out the money for a sticky note on your door."

"Ugh, don't get me started," Dawn groaned as she sat at her desk, opening the programs, "Sometimes I think the Pred' only hired me to get the sheep vote. Now, which cameras do you need?"

Judy tells them the location, and the sheep begins typing and scrolling through the footage. As she did so, Nick glanced between her, Rocket and Judy, and slowly and carefully raised a paw to Dawn's poofy hairdo. The cop and cyborg looked at him like he was high, and Rocky mouthed, "Dude, what're you doing?"

"It's so fluffy," Nick whispered, "I've wanted to do this for ages, but they never let me get this close. Here, you feel." He nodded to Rocket. Judy looked at them like they were crazy, but the raccoon shrugged, and started feeling the wool as well. Damn, it is really soft. He thought, biting back a chuckle.

"Who's touching my wool?!" Dawn demanded, glaring angrily at the fox. Nick quickly pointed to Rocket, who's hand was still outstretched. Bellweather's blush came back, and she looked away bashfully. "Oh," She said, "Do you... do you like it?"

"Uhhh... yeeeeaah," Rocket improvised quickly, "It's uh, soft like silk, and fluffy like, like freshly picked cotton?" He hadn't meant for it to come off sounding like a question, but he still hadn't really mastered this "flattery" deal.

"Thank you. I've been using a new conditioner. Ah, here's the camera feed." Onscreen, there was the feed from the camera above the gondola.

"Hold on," Rocket asked, "Can you switch to the one by the water tower at the top of the building? That's where the asshole that kicked me in the nuts and poisoned the water." The ewe glanced up at him, but did as she was asked, and switched it to an overhead view of the water storage platform. They looked at the footage of Rocket and a tall, thin wolf fighting, talking, Rocky getting a nutshot, and a big blue explosion in the water. "Zoom in." The sheep zoomed in on the wolf, and they all looked in to get a good look at the guy. Alas, the lighting was too low, and he was looking away.

"Damn, can't get a good look at the guy," He grunted, "Can we follow where he went?" Dawn glanced at him, and scanned through several nearby cameras along the nearby road. They could see the wolf cross the road, scamper into the underbrush, and disappear from sight.

"The cameras only cover the streets," She apologized, "I can't find him."

"Might've gone into the subways," Nick suggested, "They cross all over the city, and there're no cameras down in the tunnels."

"What about all those savages?" Judy reminded them, "We need to know where they went." Dawn typed away, and soon it switched to the bottom roads as the hordes rampaged everything in sight. They had passed by three cameras when several vans pulled up and stopped several hundred yards in front of them. Dozens of mammals in security gear jumped out, holding advanced weaponry that looked awfully familiar.

"Those're my guns," Rocket grunted.

The wolves began firing into the crowd, bolts of energy stunning the berserk mammals, falling onto the ground and each other. The guns fired rapidly, and soon piles of bodies began to collect in front of them. The wolves continued firing, never having to reload for the entire two minutes that the horde charged against them. Eventually, they ran out of bodies to shoot before they needed to cool down their guns. Several of the wolves began tying up the savages and tossing them into their vans, while others went up the road, picking up various scraps of clothes and items, removing any potential evidence of their disappearance. Rocket's eyebrows raised as the camera feed went briefly back to the platform they were on, and one white-furred wolf picked up a tiny pair of-

"Those're my shoes!" He declared, "Those bastards took my flying boots!"

"Oh, now that's a step too far!" Nick quipped, "Won't someone think of the shoes!"

"Quick, switch camera angles," Judy ordered, "Let's see where those vans drove off to." Dawn switched the camera angles, following the vans down the twisting roads of the Rainforest District. They followed the vans up until they entered a tunnel, where they failed to exit the other side after a minute of waiting. "Where'd they go?"

Both Dawn and Nick spoke up, glancing at each other as they realized they were thinking the same thing. "There's a secret side tunnel there," The ewe explained, switching to a different feed that showed the vans going down a lonely road. "They lead to the Cliffside Falls Sanitorium, which has been abandoned for several years. It'd have enough room to store... however many Savages are out there."

"Then that's where we need to go next," Judy concluded, "If that's where they went, that's where they're keeping Otterton as well. We don't have a moment to lose." The three of them got up and were heading out the closet door. Before Rocket could leave, though, Dawn placed a hoof on his shoulder.

"R-Rocky - Y-you don't mind if I call you that, right?" Dawn stammered, looking nervous all of a sudden.

"Uhh, yeah, sure," He said quickly. 

"Yeah, so," She continued (Is she blushing AGAIN?), "I was thinking. Maybe, after this case is done and you have a little free-time, we could go out for a cup of coffee?"

That sounds like she's... Naw, that can't be it. "Oh sure," He replied quickly, "We can do that. What other things do you want to discuss?"

"Ummm..." She shuffled her feet a bit, and she was looking away from him rather nervously. "I actually meant more like just the two of us, hanging out and stuff."

"What, like a date?"

She steeled herself. "Yes, like a date."

And there it was. The offer, hanging in the air between them like a spray of musky perfume. Rocket stared at her as his mind went through all the options and possibilities. Part of him wanted to say no: She was shorter and fluffier than he usually went for; She was a politician, and by that alone it should've disqualified her from any romantic interest; she was technically a customer and an employer, so adding a more-than-friendly subtext would just complicate their relationship even more. But then he considered the pros: She was in a position of power, and should be exploited if the opportunity presents itself; doing this could cement the relationship between them, giving him a bigger advantage in business and negotiation; it's been months since he's got some and (to be perfectly honest with himself) she was rather cute.

Eh, why not?

"You know what? That sounds great," He answered, bringing out his winning smile, "I would be more than happy to, uh, share a few drinks."

"Great!" She agreed, "Uh, great. I guess I'll see you later, yeah?" They exchanged their awkward goodbyes, and Rocket quickly left to catch up with his partners.

"Well aren't you a charmin' lil' devil?" Nick jeered as he came back to them.

"Don't be jealous 'cause I'm a striped Casanova," Rocket replied with a cocky smirk, "We know I drive dem ewes crazy."

"Well, I think you two would make a cute couple," Judy observed, silencing them both. "You were really supportive back there. I bet if you were in her corner, she really could become the first sheep Mayor of Zootopia. And maybe she'd help bring out that sensitive side you've got deep inside."

"Me?! Sensitive?! Do you even know me, Fluffybutt?" He chuckled, as they walked out of the Hall. Meanwhile, Dawn had remained within her "office", pulling out her phone and rapidly typed away.

Doug, there's footage of you in costume. Rocket and Hopps are getting close. Lay low for awhile.

We could settle this whole thing right now if you let us do our work.

Excuse me?

You know perfectly well how things can go south fast if word gets out of our operation. That bunny and raccoon can cause just enough trouble to get us both in jail. Let me go to the asylum. Take out the loose ends.

Fine. Go to Cliffside. Killed the Infected. Be discrete. Hopps and Rocket remain UNHARMED. Everyone else is irrelevant. Screw this up and I give Woolter's internet history to CPS.

Copy that.

"So," Woolter asked, sipping from his coffee, "What's the plan?"

Doug put the phone on the table, and turned to face the opposite wall. Hanging from a pair of hooks were an airsoft gun, and a rubber wolf mask used for Halloween parties.

"Get prepped," He grunted, grabbing both, "We're going hunting today."

Chapter Text

A storm had blown in during the late afternoon, as the team made their way to the cliffside asylum. And they had brought the big guns for this operation. Finnick (after a modest bribe) was kind enough to take the gang down to the place - including their newest addition, the Mighty Groot. He wouldn't go further than the last curve of the road, though - he didn't want to get implicated in whatever it was that they were planning to do, if things went south. Not that any of them could blame him, though - breaking into an abandoned government facility filled with homicidal giants wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

Sticking to the trees and shrubbery, the four of them got to the edge of the woods, stopping at the bridge over the waterfalls. "I am Groot."

"The walkway's crawling with guards," Rocket translated, "We're gonna need an alternate route."

"How?" Nick asked.

"Come on," He started heading towards the edge of the fall, "Time to show you what a Floral Colossus can do."

The four of them went to the edge of the falls, just below the bridge itself. Groot rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms silently across the chasm. The fox and bunny stared in wide-eyed amazement as he stretched himself hundreds of feet, spanning the length of the falls in less than a minute. Without hesitation, Rocket climbed onto the living tree, and got onto the arms, motioning for his friends to follow. The fox and bunny exchanged glances, and shrugged. They were just getting used to the craziness their friend kept bringing into their lives, and it at least gave them an alternative to trying to sneak around the guards on the bridge where they can all see them.

So they began climbing on Groot, carefully balancing on his limbs, dangling above the rapids when-

"Hey, Gary!"

They all stopped, holding perfectly still as they dangled above the falls. Hopps leaned her ears out to listen, careful not to go too far, lest she be seen or take a very long fall.

"Hmm? Oh, hey Larry," Another voice replied, "'Nother boring shift, right? Wanna go have a couple drinks afterwards? It'll be happy hour."

"Nah, sorry bro," Larry said, "It's been a long week for me. I'm gonna head home and get some sleep before the next shift."

"Oh... Ok, then." Gary sounded pretty disappointed, but then perked up as he said, "Well, maybe we can go out later, yeah?"

"Maybe later," Larry agreed, before walking away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Gary whined pitifully. "C'mon," He murmured to himself, "When will you just grow some balls and be honest with him? Goddamnit, I'm such a puss."

Rocket snickered, desperately covering his mouth to avoid detection. All their hearts skipped a beat as they heard Gary stop, and began sniffing the air. "Ugh," He growled, "What's that smell? It's like...*Sniff Sniff*... Eucalyptus bark soaked in Old Spice." Rocket gulped nervously, deeply regretting putting on so much body spray before putting on his new outfit. Poor Groot, now that he thought about it, always had a strong tree odor around him, which masked his home's stale stench of dust and grease. Of all the ways to get caught...

Fortunately, the bunny cop next to him was much more resourceful than he'd given credit for. Turning herself around, she began to howl into the strange, echo-y tunnel beneath the bridge. The strange acoustics of the structure and the roar of water made it sound like it was coming from the other side, diverting the attention away from them. Before any of the males could do anything to stop her, Gary started howling above them. Rocket gave Judy a look that could best be summed up as, "Wut?"

"Gary!" Larry came back, sounding very surprised, "What're you doing?! Stop it, you'll start a howl!"

"B-But I didn't start-" Before Gary could defend himself, Judy started howling again, louder this time. Again, Gary began howling again. This time, Larry began to howl as well. Then another wolf joined, and another. Within seconds, the entire detail started howling in unison. Hopps looked at them smugly, folding her arms proudly. Nick and Rocket opened and closed their jaws in surprised awe, the coon gave an F' It! shrug, and tapped Groot to continue. This little bunny just never seemed to be out of surprises.

They made it to the sewer tunnel on the side of the cliff, and started making their way into the asylum. Groot struggled to get through the tunnel as they snuck into the facility. Nick and Judy climbed up a ladder through a mammal hole cover, while Rocket had to help the Floral Colossus through the passageway. He got stuck briefly in the tunnel, and all three mammals had to grab hold and pull him up into the room with them.

Looking around, they realized they were in medical storage, with a single door leading out. Rocket went to the door first, opening it ever so slightly with his pistol at the ready. The adjacent room (a surgery room by the look of it) was empty, and he motioned to the others that it was clear. A chill ran down his metal-infused spine as he took in the haunting sights.

"Looks like the place is still in use," Judy observed, looking at the various lit-up X-Rays and MRIs. Rocket stood silent, staring at the empty table in the middle.

"I am Groot."

He shook his head. "Right, right, remember the plan," He reminded himself. He gave Nick and Judy their own pistols, and readied his own. "Groot and I will look for the control room, you two look for Otterton. We'll meet back here in ten minutes. Got it?"

"Got it. Stay safe, Rocky."

The group went down a nearby hall, and split up - the fox and bunny going left, the raccoon and tree going right. The former Guardians roamed through the hallways, following the signs to a control room. Groot carried Rocket down the halls, going left or right at his friend's direction. It took them some time before they saw a sign pointing to a door, reading out "control room", with a big camera above it. Busting out his omnitool, Rocket jacked into the lock, running an advanced algorithm to hack the system. It only took five seconds to figure out the lock and open it up. Groot had to duck to enter the control room, which was filled with multiple computers and dozens of camera feed screens.

Rocket spotted Nick and Judy, stealthily moving down the halls while recording on their phones. They had just entered the "containment wing", where a monitor indicated the whole wing was "occupied". He checked the computer, and rapidly looked through the various files attached to each patient. There were well over a hundred just in that part of the building alone, with even more wings filled with the savages. Rocket's eyebrows raised as he spotted the total number - 1,045 patients.

"Oh shit."

"I am Groot."

"Right, right. Gotta see if Otterton's here." He continued typing away at the computer. Groot looked at the various camera feeds, trying to find the otter. But he blinked as he saw two figures running past the camera on the other side of the building. One of them was a big, muscular-looking and very familiar ram, dressed up in a doctor's outfit. The other...

"Groot?" He nudged his furry companion, pointing at the screen. Rocket turned, and spotted the same trenchcoat-wearing wolf from the night before. "You sunova bitch," He growled, "What're you doin' 'ere?"

"I am Groot." His friend nodded, and pointed to the sheep.

"You've seen that sheep before? Where?" Rocket demanded.

"I am Groot."

"The Sewers? The hell were you doin' down there?"

"I... am Groot."

"You got lost tryin' to get to our beacon? Ohhh... look, I'll have to fill you in later. Tell me about what happened."

Groot explained what had happened the previous night through pantomime and inflection, and showed him the video he took of the subway car. By the time he was done, Rocket's eyes grew steely. "Change of plans," He said, tapping some controls on his arms. A stylized planet symbol appeared on both the computer screens and his wrist display, showing that remote connection had been established. "Let's go find that sheep and wolf, and have ourselves a little chat."

They left the control room, heading in the direction of the shooters. As they approached that door, they could hear the sounds of an argument. Rocket creeped up to the door, and listened.

"Now what do we do?" One voice shouted, "The fox and bunny have found the Savages. The coon's not far off, I know it."

"Yeah, and?" Another voice challenged.

"I don't want to end up like that driver, dude." The first voice hissed.

"I wouldn't worry about that. In about sixty seconds, they're gonna have their own problems."

"How?"

There was a loud click, and then the alarms started going off. Down below, doors were heard opening, and screams of fear and rage echoed throughout the halls.

"...What the hell?"

"I'm sorry, bro." The first voice said, "But the boss can't know I was here, and you're a bit of a snitch, so..."

There was a solid THUD! and a choked gasp, and then something fell on the ground. Groot punched the door, splinters firing out in all directions. As they entered the room, there was a CRASH! of glass, and Rocket spotted a familiar shape leaping out of a window.

"HEY!" He shouted, firing a shot at the figure, only to shatter the glass. On the ground, a ram was gasping and wheezing on the ground, grabbing his throat in panic. Groot looked at him, and instantly recognized him as the guy with the coffee down in the subway. Vines extended outward, wrapping themselves around the ram until he was wrapped tight like a mummy.

"Who was dat?!" He demanded. The ram didn't respond, but wheezed and passed out.

"Right. Useless." Rocket sighed, and looked around the room. It was a break room, several rows of tables and chairs filling the emptiness while a few vending machines, a sink and microwave hugged the walls. Rain and the roar of the falls emanated through the busted glass.

His omnitool beeped. It displayed an alert.

Lockdown Protocol overruled. Level 1 cell doors unlocked. Level 2 cell doors unlocked. Level 3 cell doors unlocked.

"Shiiiiit." He started tapping away at his wrist, accessing the systems and trying to override the previous orders. Even as the doors began to slow down, the larger mammals forced them off their rails, as the smaller ones squeezed through the openings.

"Crap!" He swore, "Crap crap CRAP!"

Alarms began blaring. Rocket typed in more commands, telling the doors and elevators on each floor to lock and shut down. It wouldn't keep the berserkers trapped forever, but it'd give him and his team enough time to escape before SWAT showed up. He saw Nic and Judy running through one of the halls in the security feed. Thinking fast, he activated the intercom.

" Run guys! They're breaking out!"

As soon as the announcement rang out through the speakers, there was a HISS! of air as the safety doors opened. The Berserkers roared and charged, their attention focused on the lion and the badger. Nick and Judy hid behind the giant toilet as Lionheart and the doctor closed and locked the door behind them. Berserkers slammed into the door, scratching and punching the door in enraged futility.

"We need to get out of here!" Nick whispered, pulling Judy behind a toilet so they couldn't see them, "Rocket's guns won't be enough to cut through this horde."

Judy looked around, scanning the cell for anything to help them. Her eyes settled on the elephant-sized steel throne. "Can you swim?" She asked.

"What?" Nick grunted, "I mean, yeah, I guess I can swim. Why?"

The bunny hopped onto the seat, placing her phone in a zip-lock bag. "The plumbing leads outside. It's our only way out."

"What about Rocket?"

"The crazed cyborg with a walking tree?"

"Right, dumb question."

"He'll be fine." Rocket announced, watching the unconscious ram dangle from the outside wall via a nest of vines. He wasn't going to go anywhere, not until they were done with the job. "We'll come back and run his record when we come back. Now, where is Old Man Otterton?"

There was an angry hiss, and Rocket instinctively ducked as an elderly berserker leaped at him. Groot shot out his vines, wrapping Mr. Otterton in a rapidly knitted net.

"Hah, there you are!" He got up, searching his jacket. Finding a can of aerosol chloroform, he went up and sprayed the old mammal in the face with it. The otter struggled and hissed for a moment, and then went still.

"Ugh, finally found you," He grunted, further containing him with zip-ties to his wrists and ankles. "You know, you should be thankful you married someone that looks like my ex. I'm saving Hopps from a mediocre career, I've got a future mayor all kinds of thirsty for me, and I'm gonna get stupid rich while saving the city and being a hero. All 'cause your wife's a MILF."

"I am Groot?"

"What? No, I'm not actually gonna do THAT to her, or them! I'm not some home-wrecking side piece. I have some standards. They're not high, but I got 'em. Now, where's the exit?"

They began going down a hall, which would take them to the main atrium at the front of the asylum. It didn't take long for them to make it to the main lobby, but upon reaching it, they found that they weren't the only ones there. Those two wolf guards from before were blocking the door, guns at the ready. They spotted Groot, and their eyes went wide, raising their weapon instinctively upon the trio.

"Hold it! Freeze!" The gray one - Larry - shouted, "What're you doing with... with-"

"The walking tree? Or the unconscious otter?" Rocket nodded to Groot and Otterton. "They're comin' with me, and unless you wanna stay here and get ripped apart by the crazies back there, you're gonna open those doors and let us out."

Larry and Gary exchanged a look, but kept their weapons raised. Rocket sighed, and fished out his bounty hunter badge.

"Look, see? I'm here on official business."

"How did you get in?" Gary demanded, "This is a restricted area."

"That's what concerns you? You really want to waste all of our time askin' dumb shit like that?" Before either wolf could respond, there was loud uproar far behind them.

"Ugh, what now?" Turning around, Rocket could hear the roars and screams of Berserkers racing down the halls.

"What the heck is that?" Gary called out, looking like a ghost, "You didn't let them out, did you?"

"Wasn't my idea." Rocket raised his gun, spotting the shadows racing across the far wall down the hall. "Just one thing after another today. Groot, keep an eye on these two lovebirds. I've gotta thin the herd."

"W-what?!"

His weapon charged. As it did, he tapped at wrist display, activating his Panda music app. Music over the PA as he pressed "shuffle". A piano began to play accompanied by a bass guitar, as the Berserkers entered the field of view. "Oh snap," He declared, "This is my jam!"

"Company, Always on the run
Destiny is the rising sun.
Oh I was born, 6-gun in my hand
Behind a gun, I'll make my final stand.
That's why they call me..."

BAM BAM BAM! Shots shot forth into the oncoming horde, mowing them down as the chorus sang:

"Bad Company
And I can't deny.
Bad Company
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die."

Confined into the tight little hallway, the teeming mass of enraged mammalians were trapped within a killbox. Blood and body parts flew freely, illuminated for the briefest moment by red emergency lights and the flash of gunfire, before splattering against walls, the ceiling, other rampaging beasts. Even as berserkers fell, more continued to climb or trample over their bodies, unphased by their awaiting death.

Amid the muzzle flashes and emergency lights, a grin was spreading on Rocket's face.

"Rebel souls,  Deserters we've been called.
Chose a gun, a nd threw away the song.
Now these towns, w ell they all know our name!
Six-gun sound, i s our claim to fame!
And I can hear them say..."

BAM BAM BAM!

"Bad Company
And I can't deny.
Bad Company
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die."

As the song began to wind down, and his gun began to steam, Rocket got a better look at the work he'd done. Bodies and pieces of bodies littered the ground before him. Blood splattered across the walls, on the ceiling, pooled before his feet. His gun was beeping. He checked it: Low fuel. The ground began to shake. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Whoa, hold on now." Rocket turned back to the end of the hall, just to see a tall, lumbering shape emerge from the smoke. It stood taller than Groot, with massive ears, large tusks and a fat belly. A meter-long trunk swished angrily before him, as he trumpeted and bellowed with drug-induced fury.

"Big Hoss comin' in." He laughed, blood and tinnitus ringing in his ears, a fearsome grin on his muzzle.

Groot came closer, firing his arms at the berserker. Wooden spikes and tendrils struck the elephant, impaling the belly and wrapping around his limbs. The beast trumpeted angrily, shrugging off the stabbings, and snapping off vines almost casually. Thick hide and enraged mind dulled the sense of pain, and he lumbered on with immutable hate.

"Alright, you wanna boogie?" Rocket sneered, cocking his gun, "I can boogie! Let's boogie!"

He opened fire on the approaching behemoth, tiny balls of concentrated plasma burning and piercing the elephant's tough hide. His skull was tough, and many rounds ended up ricocheting off his head and slamming into the walls and ceiling. He slowed, stumbled, fell to one knee. Rocket roared his fury, jumping upon his tusks, emptying the remaining rounds directly into the elephant's face. Blood and roasted skin flew off in random directions, until one shot struck true and pierced straight out the back of his head.

Rocket jumped off, as the elephant collapsed and fell face-down on the floor. Panting, he looked down at himself. His outfit was covered in blood, soot and dirt. His fur felt sticky and stuck out in random directions. Adrenaline and dopamine ran through his veins, and he felt as alive now as he had fighting in Xandar and the Kyln. This was what he was made for, and as much as he'd try to move beyond it, it felt so good to get back in the action.

As the elephant went still, another terrifying roar came down the hall. More Berserkers were on their way.

"Oh for god's sake!" Rocket groaned, "I've had enough of this!" He reached into his pocket, and fished out a familiar little grenade. He flicked a switch with his thumb, and threw it as far as he could. "Now let's get the shit outta 'ere!" He climbed onto Groot, as the Floral Colossus grabbed the two wolves and otter and ran for the door.

Groot ran out the lobby, smashed through the front door, and was halfway down the bridge when there was a bright purple flash behind them. Then came the shockwave and cataclysmic BOOM!, tossing them to the ground as the lobby (and much of the first floor) was consumed in brief atomic destabilization, their structures rearranging in strange and new ways. Purple flame danced, flickered and died, and the night grew quiet and still once more.

Rocket got up first, shaking his head and blinking away stinging tears. His mouth tasted of iron, his fur and clothes wet from landing in a puddle. Groot had already gotten up, splashing some water on his blackened and smoking back. Gary and Larry were lying on the ground, struggling for breath as the shockwave and the fall winded them. Old Man Otterton hissed and wheezed, banged up but still alive.

The damaged cyborg looked into the dying flames, and saw them. The Berserkers had been petrified, frozen in place by the unnatural nature of the explosion. They glittered and shined in the light, their fur replaced with uniquely metallic surfaces. Something about the way they shined caught his attention. Something… otherworldly. Curiosity piqued, he approached the statues as he activated the scanner on his wrist.

"Whoa!" His scanner was going wild as he panned over the charred wreckage, "Titanium, uranium, rhenium... Adamantium... Holy shit, is that Vibranium!?"

Rocket's tail twitched with excitement as he went from body to body. Some of the materials he was detecting would go for thousands of credits per ounce back home, as they were essential to a functional interstellar society. Little amounts like this would make him richer, but by using the grenade, he could make more. Maybe enough to advance this civilization a hundred years. It didn't matter what he had to do: He needed to have these bodies.

Twenty minutes later, long after the cop cars came in and sealed the location off, A van pulled up at the gate, and even from a distance he recognized it as Dawn's. By the time the tiny ewe got out of the car, he had already rushed to her side. "Hey Dawn," He began, "I need you to-" His explanation was cut short by the ewe's strong, sincere hug around his waist.

"I came as soon as I heard," She explained, pressing the side of her face into his chest, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dawn looked up, and he winced as her face came away wet and dirty with mud and blood from his clothes. "Sorry."

"It's alright," She waved away his concern, pulling a handkerchief out of her purse, "This is my emergency suit, anyways. I've got a dozen back home."

Rocket had the mental image of the little ewe changing between suits. Nice... Not now, Rocky. Keep it professional.

"Hey," He started again, "I need you to release those bodies to me. It's important. Can you do that?"

The ewe started. "I-I mean I can. Easy, if they don't have next-of-kin to release to. But why? The drug won't turn them into zombies, will it?"

"You don't understand," Rocket pressed, "There are elements that don't exist anywhere else in the universe in those bodies. I could jumpstart a technological revolution that launches this civilization into a golden age. But I need to harvest it, and I can only do that if you release the bodies to me."

"Consider it done," Dawn answered immediately, "And I want regular updates on your progress."

"Perfect. Thank you."

She smiled, and looked away shyly as Nick and Judy approached. They were wrapped in thick, warm towels, their fur becoming extra poofy as they dried.

"Did you get him?" Nick asked.

"Him who?" Dawn replied.

"Lionheart," Judy explained, "He was just here. He's behind this whole thing!" She nodded over to Chief Bogo, busy getting statements from the wolf officers. "I just showed the chief a recording I got from Lionheart and one of the doctors here. They weren't being treated, they were being imprisoned, studied!"

Bellweather recoiled in surprise. "Oh my god," She gasped, "Are you sure? I know he can be a bit callous, but-"

"We both saw him," Nick added, "We had to go through a stinky slip n' slide to escape."

"We also have one of the bastards who attacked us," Rocket said, "He's hanging out in the back. He should still be there, hopefully. Down in the break room."

A SWAT team marched passed them, weapons drawn and laser pointers shining through the mist and smoke. Some stopped to look at Groot, eyeing him cautiously before moving on. Rocket's gut sank, as he realized that his friend's existence was no longer a secret.

"Hey uh, Dawn," He started, "About Groot-"

"He's a genetic experiment, isn't he?"

"...Sure, let's go with that."

"Which means he's your property," She suggested, "Right?"

"What're you... oh. Yeah, definitely." He agreed, already understanding her plan.

"I'll have the copyright and patent paperwork filled out by tomorrow," She said, taking his paw in her hooves, "You don't have to worry about your friend."

"Thank you, Dawn," He sighed, smiling, "I owe you one."

"It's a date, then." She smirked.

There was a loud trumpeting from behind them. They turned around in time to see an elephant bull rush through the crowd. It was Francine, the elephant cop. Rocket somehow knew where she was going before she got there, and stomach started to turn on him. The lady elephant rushed to the largest body bag, pushing aside the coroners and other policemammals. The corpse hadn't been fully zipped up, and she stared down at the bloodied and petrified body. She dropped to her knees in the dirty water and rain. She bellowed her grief, a sound so deep and mournful they could feel it reverberate through their bodies.

Something felt very wrong in Rocket's gut. A twisting, sinking pit grew inside, sapping all the warmth and energy from his body. It made him feel sick, weak, empty.

For the first time in his short life, Rocket felt shame.

Chapter Text

The police station was abuzz with activity, as the media tried to fill every square inch of the Atrium. News of the Raid and the Shootout and the Mayor's arrest had spread like wildfire, and everyone wanted to get the big scoop. Neither Hopps, Wilde nor Rocket got much sleep in the few hours since, and between this and the debriefings they only had enough time to freshen up with body sprays and a comb.

"You guys ready for this?" Dawn approached Judy and Rocket, who had been selected to talk with the press. Judy, because she was an officer and thus the most "official" of the three. Rocket, because he and Groot were the Big Heroes of the Day, having saved two officers and Otterton from being eaten by a horde of rabid beasts. Nick was offered a spot to speak, but he declined - he didn't want to take up the spotlight or attract unwanted attention.

Even so, Judy had extra ideas in mind.

"Guys, I've been thinking," She began, pulling out a sheet of paper from her pocket, "We make a really great team together. It would really mean a lot to me if I could have one of you as my partner. What do you guys think?" Both of them looked at the bunny, touched that she would offer them such a position, and extend that level of faith and trust in them. Nick picked it up, looking at it with wide, surprised eyes, but Rocket shook his head.

"As much as I appreciate the offer," He said, "I've got it made with my future. Between the three of us, the only reason I'd go through a police academy would be just to prove I could do it and how easy it would be."

"You'd only be a cop just to prove that you're better than everyone?" Nick asked, confused.

"No, I technically already was a cop with the whole Guardians business. I don't need to get trained to do what I do. I'd jus' wanna rub it in Bogo's face that I could do everythin' his big beasties could do wit' only half the effort and time."

"Anyone ever tell you you've got a giant ego?"

"Hey, if yuh got it, flaunt it."

"Alright, everyone," Dawn approached them, looking cute-yet-professional in a blue pantsuit, "Ready to go?"

"Yes, we are," Judy turned to whisper as they left the fox alone, "Oh my goodness, I'm so nervous right now."

"You remember Nick's trick of turnin' the questions back on the reporters?" Rocket murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Just do that, and let me do most of the talkin'. I've watched enough vids to know how to BS my way through it."

Dawn, Judy and Rocket went up to the podium amid a flurry of flash photography. "We will now be taking some questions," Dawn announced.

"What can you tell us about the victims?" One reporter asked, "What do they have in common?"

"Well, uh..." Judy started, "Were they all drugged? Yes, yes they were." All the reporters started scribbling and typing notes, and the flashes continued.

"Are there any survivors from the Cliffside shootout and explosion?"

"One," Rocket answered, not taking the bait, "Emmet Otterton, who was reported missing two weeks ago. He's currently in the hospital undergoing examination."

"Is it true that you went to Cliffside specifically for Mr. Otterton?"

"Not entirely," He said, "After our attack in the Rainforest District, we wanted to find out where the hundreds of Berserk mammals were taken to. We were surprised by how many there were, but it was no biggie."

"What about rumors of a walking tree figure spotted accompanying you?"

Dawn leaned forward, and said, "That is copyrighted property of Rocket Industries and is not subject to discussion at this time." Rocket looked at her appreciatively, and nodded. Thank you.

She nodded in turn, smiling. We stick together, right?

"Do we know what drug caused them to go Savage?"

"Berserk, not Savage." The cyborg corrected the reporter, "'Savage' implies they reverted to an earlier, primal state, number one. These victims were sent into a state of mindless rage, behaving in ways no animal would ever naturally act. Secondly, we don't know what kind of drug did this to them, but we know who did this." The projector clicked, revealing the pictures of cloaked wolf and the hospitalized sheep. The sheep was in a neck brace, a tube going down his throat.

"We've ID' this ram as Woolter Bighorn," Dawn explained, "He has a history of violence and drug trafficking, and has been arrested and detained at Zootopia General following his, uh, injuries during the outbreak."

"Are any groups being targeted in particular?"

"We... believe that," Judy began, "They have been targeting Predators because of their natural weaponry and aggressive nat-"

"What Officer Hopps means to say," Rocket interrupted, "Is that any mammal of sufficient size, strength or ferocity can become a target. What these little worms want is to spread fear and chaos. Your friends and neighbors, whether they're wolves or rhinos, lions or elephants, anyone can be turned if they get hit with this drug. No one is immune or extra sensitive to this scourge, and that is what makes it so scary."

His eyes went over the crowd, taking in the looks of curiosity, fear, dread. Way in the back, the police stood ill at ease - some of them having been at the asylum, some having just found out this morning. They looked tired, stunned, drained. Francine was noticeably absent among them. Rocket thought back to her kneeling over her brother, and that odd, stomach-twisting feeling threatened to rear its ugly head again. Rocket swallowed, and that nauseous shame transformed into indignant, burning anger.

"I've got..." He growled, staring directly into one of the cameras pointed at him, "I've got something to say to the mammals responsible for this menace. I'm going to look for you. I'm going to FIND you. And I..."

He caught himself, as he looked into the crowd. They were staring at him in fear, suspicion, concern. Camera operators were nervously glancing between him and the cameras, no doubt worrying how this was playing out across the city. He was getting angry, he knew that, but maybe anger wasn't the right attitude to run with right now. How would Quill handle this? No, scratch that, bad idea. How would Gamora handle this?

"...I will bring you to Justice," He stated, reeling back his emotions behind a wall of confident professionalism, "That is my promise to you, citizens of Zootopia."

There was a pause, as the reporters and officers looked warily at each other. Then someone in the back started to clap. Then another, and another. Soon, the entire crowd was clapping appreciatively, a few even giving scattered cheers. Rocket relaxed, feeling the mood change around him. He looked at Dawn and Judy on either side, who now looked cautiously optimistic. It wasn't enough to tell people the truth: You had to reassure them, tell them that someone was in charge, that they knew what they were doing.

They all gave a final wave to the cameras, and made their way off the podium. "So, how'd you think it went? Were we good?" Rocket asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Dawn assured them, "We knocked it right outta the park."

"I feel really good about this. Those asshats are quivering in their shorts right now," Rocket smirked confidently, pointing and posing to a few distant cameramammals, "You know what, I feel like celebrating. Know any good clubs with good booze?"

"I think I know a couple places. Might be able to get the three of us a VIP suite, if you ask nicely."

"'Three of us'?" Hopps asked.

"Yeah, sure," Rocket agreed, "We're a team, aren't we? The City, the Law, and the Private Sector, comin' together to everyone safe and happy? What's not to like?"

Dawn smiled. Judy's ears drooped.

Bellweather's pocket chimed. She checked it, and gave an annoyed bleat. "I've got to take this," She apologized, "But I'll call you later, okay?"

"'Kay. See yuh, Dawn." They waved as the ewe left, and they went over to where Nick stood. Something was eating at him, Rocket could tell. His eyes zoned in on the bunny, both as someone who's been deeply offended, and... well, a predator spotting prey.

"Hey Nick," Judy said, trying to sound upbeat, "Did we knock it out of the park, or-"

"Hopps," Nick cut her off, his voice dead serious, "What were you about to say up there on that stage? About Predators?"

The bunny stopped walking. Her expression was one of confusion, followed swiftly by embarrassed anxiety. "Nick," She tried to explain, "C'mon, you know I wasn't talking about y-"

"You weren't about to say Predators were more likely to go Berserk, were you?" He accused, "Even when we know for a fact that the drug affects everyone the same way?"

"Nick, you've got to admit Predators are much more capable of doing violence than Prey are. That's just common sense!"

"I'd be more afraid of Big Prey than Little Predators," Rocket interjected, "I took out Emmett with a net and a bop to the head. That elephant took forty rounds to go down. I know who I'd target if I were these guys."

"What, so you're saying we should be more afraid of Bogo than Nick?" She challenged.

"Duh!" He slapped the top of his head in a "are you stupid?" gesture. "Your boss could step on you and not even notice. Nick here wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Thank you, Rocky-" Nick said.

"'Cause you're a pussy."

The fox, bunny and talking tree froze, and turned to stare at him. "...What did you just say?" Nick asked, certain he misheard. Suddenly, it seemed like the room had gotten so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"Lemme run somethin' by you," He asked, feeling the beginnings of a rant coming on, "If those Berserkers had cornered you and Hopps, would you actually use the gun I gave you? Would you have been able to take another life to save yours and those around you?" The fox just stared at him, confused.

"No answer?" The raccoon pressed, "Okay, let's try again: If I wasn't with you at Mr. Big's place, what would've you have done to save yourself and Judy?"

"Rocket..." Judy said worryingly, but the cyborg just kept going, "Hell, what would you've done that night we met, had I not been there to save your ass from those bears?"

"What's your point, Stripes?" Nick demanded irritably.

"That day when you went to that Scout Meeting, and all your so-called 'friends' were beating you up, did you fight back? Did you throw a punch, kick 'em from the ground, use your claws? Anything?" Nick was silent, but the look on his face showed that the coon was now cutting to the quick.

"Oh-ho-ho!" He declared, wagging a finger at the fox, "I think I'm detecting a pattern here. It seems like every time something takes a turn in your life, you either freeze and take the beating, or hope for someone - namely me - to come in and save your ass. That doesn't strike me as something a self-respecting Predator would do, does it?"

"Rocket..."

"Are foxes known for being such spineless cowards? Do you have to rely on your silver tongues because you're absolutely useless in a fight? Or is that just you? How does your mother feel, knowing she raised such a gutless tool?"

This finally got a rise out of the fox. Nick grabbed him by his lapels, pulling him close enough to see the genuine anger in his eyes. "Stripes," He snarled, actually baring his teeth at the coon, "Don't you ever speak about my mother like that again!"

Rocket shoved him back, pushing him several feet. "Touch me again," He growled, pointing a claw at the fox, "And I'll put your ginger ass in the ground."

"I'd like to see how tough you are without any of those damn guns!" Nick spat, balling his fists.

Rocket glared at the fox, and unbuckled his belt, and held it off to his side. "Groot, hold my guns!" He demanded, "I gotta show this bitch why I was top dog in the Kyln!"

"Trash Panda!"

"Momma's Boy!"

"I AM GROOOOT!" The Floral Colossus stepped between them, and dozens of vines came down, wrapping up the cyborg and con-man in binding knots. The two of them struggled against their bonds, clawing and biting and swearing angrily, both intent on attacking each other.

"ENOUGH!" Judy shouted at them, "Stop it, both of you!" She glared at Rocket, who struggled the most against his bonds. "Rocket, what the heck's your problem?"

"What's MY problem?!" Rocket snapped, "Nick's the one with the problem! Nick Wilde, the perpetual victim! You've spent your whole life bitching and moaning about how unfair it was that everyone only saw you as a liar and schemer, and what did you do about it? Nothing! You became exactly what they expected you to be, and never bothered trying to be anything else. That's what pisses me off! Fluffybutt was told her whole life she couldn't be a cop, and she proved them wrong. I was a science experiment and a freak, but I turned myself into a professional badass. Now I'm gonna be the richest dude in Zootopia. You wanna know why? Neither of us want to just settle being what anyone told us to be! 'Cause I won't settle for being life's bitch! And anyone who would, ain't someone I have any respect for!"

Nick recoiled, taken aback by his friend's venomous outburst. Judy put a paw to her mouth in surprise, and even Groot was looking increasingly uncomfortable. Rocket stared at them for a bit, and sighed.

"You can let me go, now," He said, "I'm good."

Slowly, reluctantly, Groot obliged and let them both down. Judy looked nervously between them, the two males catching their breath, staring each other down. Rocket held firm, standing tall, confident. Nick, however, was slouching, deflating, staring past the raccoon as his mind processed those words. He could almost see the gears turning in his head, as his tail dropped, and he sighed.

"You're right."

Without explaining what he meant, Nick turned and walked away.

"Nick," Judy reached out to the fox, but he had already slipped into the crowd of the news-mammals. "Nick!"

"That's it, run away!" Rocket shouted after him, "Tail between your legs like always!"

"What's wrong with you?!" She snapped back at him, before turning to run after Wilde. She made it about three steps before she was swarmed by reporters, asking all manner of leading and demanding questions. He felt it again, that twisting, sinking feeling of guilt in his gut. This fueled the flames of anger in his heart. Why should he feel bad? He didn't say or do anything wrong! He wasn't going to waste soft talk on a coward, not even on his friends.

"Mr. Raccoon, who was that?" A reporter called out as the swarm approached, "Did that fox try to attack you?" Rocket shot him as intense a death glare as he'd given anyone in his life. The reporter wilted under the intensity, and made a hasty retreat.

"C'mon, Groot," He growled, putting his belt back on, "I've had enough of this circus show." He climbed onto his tree friend, and they strode out of the lobby. He had things to build, guns to shoot, and a whole lot of anger and aggression to work out...

Chapter Text

It started with City Hall. With Lionheart implicated in the kidnapping of berserkers, everyone inside his inner circle (as well as anyone who knew about the project) was removed, if not put on trial. Dawn moved quickly to fill those positions with small mammals and those she thought would "have integrity". The people wanted leadership more "diverse" and "representative" of the population, and who was she to deny them this?

Then it moved to the Police Department. One day, Rocket was on his way to pick up some more bounties, when he spotted Chief Bogo coming his way. He was handcuffed, being escorted by a squad of rams and a couple of his drone models.

"Don't do this!" Bogo protested, "You know me! You know I wouldn't do-" He stopped as he made eye contact with Rocket, and he grimaced in anger. "YOU!" He growled, "Rocket, you bastard! You set me up!"

"What're you talkin' about?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"You son of a bitch!" The buffalo spat, "You're not going to get away with this! I'm not-"

"You know your rights, Chief," The ram warned, "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

Bogo continued to growl as they passed, but kept walking.

"Oi! What's going on?" Rocket demanded, "Where are you takin' him?"

"To prison," The cop explained, "Where he belongs."

"What, why? What'd he do?!"

One of the goats stopped, stepping aside to tell him, "We found documents linking Bogo with Lionheart's project. He was in on the whole thing."

Rocket had never heard such bullshit in his life. Bogo was a hardass of the highest caliber, there was no denying it, but flaming racist and terrorist? That didn't fit his character at all. But when he called Dawn, the evidence seemed pretty damning. Several dozen documents of incriminating text messages, bank transfers and paperwork painted a picture of Bogo and Lionheart knowingly letting Nighthowler attacks occur, kidnapping Berserk citizens and forcibly keeping them in the asylum for experimentation. It was hard to deny when laid out in front of him. While something continued to feel off about the whole thing, he didn't press the matter.

The next thing he noticed were the attacks. All across Zootopia, Predators and Prey were getting hit by Nighthowler rounds, going on violent rampages and attacking everyone around them. Dozens and dozens of mammals were injured, but thankfully between the drones and other mammals with guns, fatalities were kept down to single digits. The ones the drones caught were being kept in more secure facilities to hopefully be cured later. The rest... well, most considered them "already dead", so putting them down was often considered a mercy.

Then came the tension. Groot told officers where he saw the subway car and Woolter, but it was nowhere to be found. They continued looking around for it, but it and the terrorists had seemingly pulled a vanishing act, and so long as they were at large, mammals were nervous. There had always been some unspoken resentment and fear between preds and prey, remnants of the ancient feud between them. The surge in berserker attacks only served to rekindle that mistrust and animosity. What made things different, however, was the introduction of a new dynamic: Large mammals versus small mammals. Rats, rabbits and squirrels looked up at elephants and rhinos and giraffes with the same suspicion as one does with a bomb. Cougars and maned wolves stared down koalas and armadillos across subways, wary that someone could pull out a dart gun with the drug, start shooting and turn the whole place into a bloodbath.

The police had a rough time of things of course. With all the fights and attacks and protests, they were getting called out all over the city at rates they'd never experienced before. Often times, things would escalate to the point that Rocket's drones would have to be deployed, providing such a show of force that protestors would back down and break rather than incur the wrath of those intimidating machines.

Not that it made things better. Drones the size of armadillos and just as armored flew about the city every day, with modular attachments for transporting small mammals and machine guns or tasers. A pleasant public service for some, a nightmarish terror for others. Mammals would stop in place when one passed by, watching fearfully as it hovered and whirred, sometimes carrying over a dozen rats or shrews. Rocket could see it everywhere he went, it was like his machines sucked all the air out of the street. Again that sinking feeling would hit his gut, but he'd remind himself that it was all necessary. Even as tensions rose, the number of confirmed Berserker attacks remained low, and each time they learned a little more of this cell's MO and profile. They were getting closer and closer to nabbing the bastards. It was all going to be worth it when he caught them, he told himself. Once the shooters were gone, and the security measures were loosened, everything would go back to normal.

Right?

It had been almost a month since the press conference and a week since Bogo's arrest, when Rocket returned to the Department with another bounty. The mood he'd been under had been getting worse, so he figured going out catching criminals again might snap him out of it. As he approached the front desk, noticed something different about the cat manning it.

"Whoa, hey, Clawhauser, look at you!" Rocket declared, taking a step back, "You look... amazing!"

Indeed, it was like the cheetah had emerged from a cocoon to become some radically new person. In the few weeks since he last saw him, Clawhauser was noticeably slimmer, more cheetah-like. His puffy cheeks had shrunk, no longer billowing over his collar. His gut had shrunk, his arms starting to show hints of muscle. He was still a chunky cat, but now his uniform was starting to look a little loose on him.

Clawhauser smiled at the compliment, but it was a sad smile. "Thank you, Rocky," He said, "I've been taking Zoomba classes. I've got to work on my dance skills, now that I won the opportunity to be onstage with Gazelle."

"Wait, really?" Rocket asked, "You're gonna dance with Gazelle? Not on some silly app, but for real?"

"Yeah," The feline explained proudly, "I entered a contest a few weeks ago to be a part of her Peace and Love Concert next month, and I won. I got a call from her and her agent and everything. They said I was good to go, but I've been meaning to get back into shape anyway. I'm not going to be in front of all Zootopia in anything less than my best personal shape!"

"That's... actually kinda cool." Rocket admitted, handing off the perp to an adjacent officer. For all the shit he gave the cat about his weight and eating habits, he'd actually come to like the fluffy secretary. Seeing him work on improving himself filled him with a strange sense of pride. But still, that frown...

"Hey, what's eatin' you?" Rocket asked, "I'd figure you'd be happy 'bout this. Isn't this, I dunno, a dream of yours?"

"It is," The cheetah insisted, "And I am, happy about this I mean. It's just... This is my last day in the front office."

"What?!" He exclaimed, "Why?!" Several mammals turned to look at the outburst, but wisely went back to their business.

Clawhauser looked down, fiddling with his badge. "They, uh," He sniffed, "They considered me a security risk, because of my size. My height, I mean, not my weight. A lot of smaller mammals don't feel comfortable with a cheetah working the front desk. I'm going to be working on files and paperwork... in the basement."

Rocket stared at him in disbelief. "But... they can't do that." There was something almost pitiful in his tone, like a cub told his parents were the ones putting money under his pillow, and not a tooth fairy.

The cheetah shrugged sadly. "It's a department decision. I can't really do anything about it."

"Yeah, but... they can't do that."

"I know." He sighed, "I'm gonna miss being up here. I'm gonna miss our little chats, too." He took out a little card, and scribbled something quick. "Here," He handed him the card, "If you ever need help with cold cases, or if you just want to come down and chat, give me a call, alright?"

Rocket took the card. He read it as they took his guy to holding, and Clawhauser went off to lunch. As he left the department, driving back to his penthouse, he couldn't help but wonder; Was this his fault?

When Mayor Bellweather called Rocket and Judy over to her office, he didn't know what to expect. Certainly not all the attorneys and goat officers standing behind her shiny new desk, in her new office overlooking the city.

"What's going on, Dawn?" Rocket asked, as they took their seats, "What's with the goon squad?"

"These guys are here," Bellweather explained, "To be legal witnesses."

"'Witnesses'?" Judy asked, "What for?"

"Well, Judy, between the Berserkers and the species tensions, everyone's really scared. And with Bogo having been involved with this whole thing, the city really needs new heroes. It needs mammals that they can look up to, mammals that they can see themselves in. Mammals that stand up for the little guys. Mammals like you two."

Two goats in suits stepped up, placing multiple boxes and papers on the desk. Dawn opened up two of them, revealing two slightly different badges. One looked like a smaller version of the police chief badge, sized for a bunny. The other badge had a fisted paw holding a lightning bolt, with the words "Guardian of Zootopia" underneath.

"Rocket," Dawn began, a touch of pride in her voice, "We've sat down and talked about this long and hard, about how to help each other out and put your talents to use. You're not just a brilliant inventor, but also a paragon for justice, and guardian for everyone. You're so much more than a mere bounty hunter, and we at City Hall want to recognize and support your efforts in clearing our streets of crime."

"Wait, hold up," Judy interjected, "Are you going to be legalizing vigilantism now?"

"We prefer to call him a 'Municipally-Sanctioned Superhero'," Dawn explained, "And it's only going to apply to Rocket. Our most recent surveys have him as the most trusted mammal in the city - more than this Office, more than the Police, more than anyone. This city needs someone to believe in, Rocky. Someone like you." The rams shifted uneasily, as she took on a fawning tone. Rocket picked up the badge, inspecting it, turning it over in his paws. He felt something odd in his chest, holding this little piece of brass and gold. Was it Humility? Pride? Vindication? He couldn't say.

"...Thank you," He said, having a genuine moment, "This means a lot. I promise I won't let you down."

Dawn smiled, then turned to Judy. "Officer Hopps," She continued, "You have the biggest responsibility out of all of us. A lot has happened these past couple weeks, and the Police Department's been shaken to it's core. Rocket's a trustworthy mammal, but we need people to trust the system again. You represent what Zootopia PD should be. As such, we would like to make you our new Chief of Police."

The bunny picked up the badge, staring deeply into the reflective metal. She looked back and forth between Dawn and Rocket, who were waiting for her to respond.

"... Thank you, Mayor Bellweather," She said apologetically, "But I can't accept this." She placed the badge back on the table, and then started fiddling with her own.

"Judy, what're you doing?" Rocket demanded, "You're turning this down?!"

"Hopps, what's wrong?" Dawn asked, concerned, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Guys, I wanted to become a police officer to help people." She explained, taking her own badge off. "But ever since I started working in Zootopia, it feels like everything's been getting worse and worse. I can't help but think some of this is my fault. I don't... I don't know if I can do this anymore. Thank you, Mayor Bellweather, for the opportunity." With that, she placed the badge on the desk, got up, and walked out. Everyone looked at each other in confusion and surprise. What was that dumb bunny thinking?

"Hopps!" Rocket called out, getting up and running after her. "Hopps, come back! What the hell are you thinking?" He caught up to her in the hallway, almost at the elevator when he tugged her arm. "Don't go giving this up. We need you."

Hopps turned, her eyes glistening, her smile polite and forced. "Rocket," She sniffed, brushing aside her ears, "This isn't what I signed up for. The world's changing. We weren't trained to handle problems like this."

"What are you talkin' about?!" Rocket demanded, "You're the smartest and bravest person I know in this town! Together wit' me an' Dawn, there's nothin' we can't do, an' no problem we can't fix!"

"Not every problem can be fixed with money or gadgets." She shook her head. "Sometimes, the one thing you can't fix is what's inside people's hearts. I just... I need to go home, back to Bunnyburrow. Clear my head. Figure out what I want to do next."

Rocky was about to protest, but the look in her purple eyes gave him pause. She'd already made up her mind, and no amount of negotiating or pleading would convince her to stay. Admitting defeat, he sighed. "If you think you've gotta go, then you gotta go. We're really gonna miss you, though." He extended his paw. Judy glanced at it, then up at him. Before he could react, she took him in a hug. He stood there, almost paralyzed, surprised by the gesture. Slowly, hesitantly, his arms lowered and wrapped around her drooped ears and back. It felt... strange, being held like this. He tried to think of any other time someone had hugged him, and all he could think of was Groot, Dawn... and Lylla.

"If you ever want to talk," She said, "You give me a call, alright?"

"And if you ever change your mind," He replied, "You shoot me a text."

"I will." She pulled away, slowly walking over to the elevator. "Maybe you could visit the farm, one of these days? Some of my brothers and sisters are fans of yours."

"Smart kids," He chuckled, "And maybe I will. Take care, Hopps."

The bunny gave one last smile, and then the elevator doors closed, and she was gone. Rocket was alone now. It wasn't an unusual feeling for him - he'd been on his own before, without friends or allies in a vast cosmos.

So why do I feel so empty inside now?

He went back and explained the situation with Dawn. She looked saddened by the news, even as her guards visibly relaxed. With Bogo and Hopps gone, there was no one with enough "pizzazz" to calm things down in the city. She groaned, lamenting that they'd have to call nearby cities for a replacement chief. Rocket only paid half-attention. All he wanted to do was go home and process these new, complicated feelings with alcohol and explosives. He'd already gotten halfway down the hall when he heard hooves behind him.

"Hey, Rocket," Dawn asked, catching up with him, "I wanted to ask, are you free tonight? I've got a reservation at the Watering Hole."

Rocket raised his eyebrows. The Watering Hole was one of the most exclusive clubs in the Central District, a hotspot for the rich and famous. He could've gone whenever, but he'd been so busy that he didn't have the time or interest to go. Now, with his thirsty mayoral benefactor offering free drinks and entertainment?

"Yeah, I am," He replied, lips curled in the hint of a smile, "Just you and me, or...?"

"Well, I had a reservation for three, but with Hopps..." She shook her head. "...So if you have anyone else you want to bring along, that won't be an issue."

"Great, cool. I appreciate it." They stared into each other's eyes for what felt like a long time, before saying their goodbyes and separating. As Rocket went home to get ready, he could only think of one person that he knew would enjoy a night on the town as much as he would...

Several hours later, Rocket sat in the back of a limo, driving down the brightly lit downtown streets. On his left sat Dawn, out of her professional power suit and for a stylish blue dress. On his right, a long-eared vulpine was already helping himself to the minibar, a devilish grin on his muzzle.

"Dudes, we're gonna get so faded tonight!" Finnick declared, as he helped himself to a tequila and Red Bull, "Thanks for invitin' me, Rocky! I'm gonna show you how we party in Zootopia, dawg!"

Rocket smiled. "Course, Finn. You're the one friend I know who can keep up with me! Plus, you probably know which celebrities to keep an eye out for!"

"I heard Gazelle's going to be here tonight," Dawn said, crossing her legs and scooting closer to the raccoon, "If you want, I think I could arrange a meeting if you guys want."

"Hell yeah, babe!" Finnick declared, rubbing his paws together, "Gonna work my magic on the finest lady in the whole city, just you wait and see!"

Rocket rolled his eyes. The fennec had been bragging all day about his "mad charisma", and how many ladies he wooed, and how he was the life of the party, and all that kind of crap. Rocket thought he was starting to sound like Star-Lord, trying to overcompensate to make himself more appealing. Finnick did have more swag than Peter, sure, but he didn't believe for a second that he was going to land a celebrity like Gazelle anytime soon.

"It's a little quiet in here," Dawn noted, reaching over to the limo's stereo, "Why don't we play a little music to set the mood?" She turned on the radio, set on some rock station.

"I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun,
I must confess that I feel like a monster"

Monster, by Skillet. The ewe and raccoon frowned, and they changed the station.

"A monster, a monster, I've turned into a monster,
A monster, a monster, and it keeps getting stronger"

Monster, by Imagine Dragons. Rocket squinted at the radio, leaning over to pick another station.

"Gossip, gossip, Preda' I got it,
Everybody knows I'm a mother-bucking monster,
I'ma need to see your freaking paws at the concert,
I'ma need to see your freaking paws at the concert

"Whoa whoa, hold on!" Dawn held her hoof up, "I love Canine West!"

From there, the mood was saved as all three of them took turns rapping and freestyling along with the rappers. Finnick and Rocket were caught by surprise as Dawn managed to nail Menaj a Trois' part, copying her almost perfectly as they approached the club. The cyborg and hustler were, needless to say, rather impressed with the ewe's skills and musical knowledge. What other secrets was she hiding?

They got out of the limo in front of the Watering Hole, in front of a long line of clubbers trying to make their way inside. The elephant doorman moved to stop them, but upon recognizing the mayor, quickly waved them inside. The lights inside were blinding, strobing rainbows that buffeted them almost as hard as the wall of music from the speakers, and they had to squint and flick their ears back as their bottle-lady led them through the building, upstairs to their VIP suite. Overlooking the dancefloor below, the suites were all full, each booth occupied by some famous celebrity, powerful politician or rich businessmammal. The music was bopping, the food and drinks were top-notch, and Rocket could feel himself relax, at least for a little while.

"Holy shit, Gazelle's here!" Finnick alerted Rocket, elbowing his side. He looked up. Sure enough, there was the famous musician, surrounded by her handsome backup-dancing tigers and other security guards. She was rocking a thigh-length red dress with bare shoulders covered by her blonde hair. "God-dayum, she's lookin' fine tonight!"

"Easy there, dude," Rocket chuckled, "She's way outta your league. Hell, she's outta my league."

"Wanna bet?" The fennec growled, "I'm gonna go talk to her."

"No you're not."

"Yes, I am. In fact, I'm gonna go talk to her right now." He finished his small beer in three gulps, hopped off his seat, and waddled his way over to the singer's table. The guards moved to step between them, but Gazelle motioned for them to stop. Rocket and Dawn couldn't hear the ensuing conversation over the music and ambient chatter, the vulpine hustler and graceful singer talked rather animatedly for almost a minute. She laughed, and Finnick smiled as she reached down and picked him up, placing him on the seat next to her. He gave them a cocky smile and wink, and Rocky offered a toast in congratulations.

"I guess it's just you and me, now." Dawn said, scooting a little closer to him. Rocky looked back at her, noticing the shy but friendly smile, the twinkle in her eyes.

"Yeah," He agreed, "I guess so."

"Wanna dance for a bit?" She asked, perhaps a little nervously, "It's been awhile since I've cut loose, you know?"

"...Yeah, why not?" Rocket chuckled, "I can show you some of my moves."

They went down to the dancefloor. It'd been a long time since either of them had done something like this (though in Rocket's case, the partygoers were often bigger and more exotic), but it was fun all the same. Moving to the beat, rubbing up against each other, looking into each other's eyes and smiles as lights flashed around them. Rocky was feeling something deep inside, something he hadn't felt since Lylla. He wasn't just attracted to Dawn now - truthfully, he was starting to like her, too. Better still, she liked him back - or at least, they both seemed to want the same things. That simplified matters between them, especially for what they had in mind.

"Hey," Dawn shouted over the din of the rave, "You think we need to check in on Finnick?"

"Nah," He replied, "He's a big boy. He can take care of himself!"

"Cool! Hey, this place is pretty loud! Can we head back to your place, keep this night going?!"

The 'coon smiled. "Girl, you're reading my mind! I've got a bottle of Fireball whisky I've been looking to share with!"

They managed to get back to Rocket's penthouse a little over a half-hour later. Hours of talking, drinking and flirting culminated into something definitively more, and for all that things seemed to crumble around him, the former Guardian could at least take comfort in ending a night on a high note...

Jesse watched as his boss went into the limo with that Pred from the safety of his van, a disgusted sneer on his face. Things were far worse than he feared. It was one thing when Dawn had told him she was manipulating an up-and-coming genius to build a city-wide police state for them, but now it looked as though she'd become just as smitten for the mangy little shit. He knew there were a lot of degenerates out there that were into interspecies pairings, but he didn't want to think that Bellweather was one of those freaks.

Until now.

This was all getting out of hoof. When he and the boys started this project with her, the plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Harvest a drug from an innocuous flower; buy some long-range paintball guns; shoot some Preds and have them go on rampages; use the resulting panic to seize power and put those damn meat-eaters in their place. It was a foolproof plan - after all, Prey animals like them outnumbered the Preds ten to one, and any resulting race war would become an utter stomp.

But that mangy trash-panda went and complicated things. It wasn't just Predator vs Prey anymore; it was big vs small, too. Jesse hadn't counted on his sheep friends suddenly becoming afraid of their rhino and elephant neighbors, whom he'd count on in the inevitable revolution. Nor had he considered having to be extra careful with his hits, now that there were drones flying around and recording everything and everyone.

Everyone walked on eggshells now. Jesse and his boys wanted to stir up hatred in Zootopia, but all they've gotten was fear. Hatred was predictable, controllable: with the right words and actions, and an obvious enemy to rally against, you could get any mammal, pack or herd to attack anyone or anything you want. But when there was no obvious enemy (or the enemy was so big and broad as to be anyone and everyone), people start to freak out and focus on themselves and their closest circles. Sometimes a frightened mammal will fight, but other times they'll just panic and flee, or hide in the deepest, darkest holes they can find.

Their future coup was looking more and more like a timebomb of anarchy, and every day Jesse saw his dreams of a sheep utopia slipping out of his hooves more and more.

It was becoming increasingly clear that Ms. Bellweather couldn't be trusted anymore. And she especially couldn't be trusted with him around.

As he drove away in disgust, Jesse was already concocting plans on how to handle these two "loose ends"...

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight streamed into the loft, as the raccoon donned a bathrobe and went to make some coffee. He felt a little tired, sore, yet a lot better than he was yesterday. Looking at the scattered clothes between the bedroom and the balcony, he remembered why.

Professional on the streets, He thought wryly, Freak in the sheets. Just the way I like my women.

He sipped his coffee (vanilla cream with sugar, 'cause black coffee's for working) and walked to the balcony, staring out the city as it woke up. Distant traffic could be heard down below, and the sun was finally cresting the distant mountains beyond the bay. It was a beautiful sight to wake up to, no doubt about it.

His phone chimed. He checked it, arching an eyebrow. Guess who got lucky last nite? Finnick had texted him. Below were a series of pictures of him and Gazelle, after they split off in the club. The fennec fox wasn't kidding about his seductive skills (or his discrete picture-taking skills), as he and the larger celebrity had paws and hooves all over each other from the club, to her limo, to a hotel room. Each pic became more risque than the last, and the last one had Finnick taking a selfie in bed, grinning proudly as the pop star cuddled him like a favorite stuffed toy.

How bout u? His friend asked, U n Dawn hookup?

Rocket sent him a pic he took later in the night, after he and Dawn had their fun. The little ewe held onto his arm as she slept, a dreamy smile plastered on her face. U know it!

My Preda. *high-five emoji*

He smiled, sipping his drink. He heard the floor creak behind him just before small, soft arms wrapped around his chest. "Morning, stud," Dawn murmured, "You sleep well?"

"Yeah," He scoffed, "You could say that." He could feel her wool rubbing and tickling the bare skin of his back. He shivered, as he felt a light kiss on his shoulder. No one had touched him like that since... well, since the last time he was with Lylla. The thought made him feel a little uneasy, oddly enough. He was coming to like Dawn Bellweather, sure enough, but comparing the ewe to his ex made him realize that he'd never feel that way over her. Hell, he didn't know if he could feel that strongly about anyone, after she left.

Still, I'd better lay down the ground rules, He thought dourly, Before either of us get hurt.

"Hey, Dawn," Rocket started, turning around to face her, "I want to-" He was interrupted as the ewe pulled him down to her level, firmly pressing her lips to his. He rolled his eyes, but returned the kiss.

"How'd you get so darn good?" She giggled, as she took a breath, "Because you, sir, could give TED Talks on how to take care of a lady. I haven't been with a lot of guys, but you're easily the best out of all of them."

The cyborg scoffed, a little smile on his muzzle all the same. "Glad I could be of service," He chuckled, "But before we get too ahead of ourselves, I feel like we should clear things up." Dawn leaned away with concerned eyes, even as they held each other.

Rocket sighed. "Dawn, I like you. You're a great partner, and a good friend. And I don't want to wreck what we have by leading you on. I'm just..." He curled a paw into a fist, trying to find the words, "...I'm not looking for anything serious. There's a lot of personal issues I still have to work out, and I don't drag you down into that muck. I'm all for keeping things casual, but if you want to call it quits here and now, I wouldn't blame you one bit. I just... want to be honest with you, like you've been with me."

The ewe looked away, sadly. "Oh," She said, mulling things over, "Well... Thank you, for telling me how you feel. I really like you, too, and you're right. We are good partners and friends. I admit that I... might want more... but if I had to choose, I'd rather keep what we have now than risk losing it all."

Rocket sighed. "Good, good," He said, rubbing her shoulder, "That's a relief. As long as you're cool with it, it's all good."

"Speaking of which," She cooed, her hooves sliding down to his hips, "Do you wanna go again? I sent some texts while you were up. I'm free until the afternoon."

Rocky chuckled. "Guess it's a good thing I'm self-employed. The boss won't mind if I clock in a little late today."

With that, he picked up the little ewe, and carried her back to bed. Dawn laughed - who said you couldn't have the best of both worlds?

"Yo Rocket, where you at?!" Finnick called, as he entered the warehouse. There was no response. His ears twitched, as he picked up the sound of music and welding coming from further inside. The living room, where his friend saved him from the polar bears so long ago, was refurbished with new furniture and decorations, but lacked the subtle touch of a room used or lived in.

He felt his guest approach from behind, but he motioned for her to stop. "Wait up," He instructed, "Let me talk to 'em first. He's been different lately." He carefully walked through the front of the warehouse, quietly entering the cyborg's massive workspace. Groot was leaning against a wall, looking pensive and nervous as the fennec walked past. But the Floral Colossus, now a minor celebrity in Zootopia, wasn't what made him stop and stare with wide-eyed disbelief.

Before him was a starship, the size of a dozen of his minivans from front to back. At least, that's what he thought it was: at the moment, only the skeletal structure and frame of the vessel was up, but the large wings and rear engine ports made it clear that this thing was supposed to fly. It had the shine and color of titanium and adamantium alloys, reflecting the overhead lights in almost oily rainbows. Deep within what could be the cargo bay, the blinding light of a welding torch shone and sizzled. An ethereal ballad played from the overhead speakers, and Rocket's deeper, raspier voice sang along with the androgynous, melancholy singer.

I'm not in love

So don't forget it

It's just a silly phase I'm going through

And just because

I call you up

Don't get me wrong, don't think you've got it made

I'm not in love, no no, it's because...

"Hey yo Rocky! What're you doin', boy?" Finnick called out, approaching the frame of the ship. The welding stopped, and the cyborg flipped up his welding goggles. Spotting the hustler, he frowned.

"What're you doin' 'ere, Finn?" Rocket asked, putting aside his welder.

"You've been quiet for a week, dude," Finnick told him, sounding concerned, "You've been dodging our calls. Nobody's seen you in days, dawg."

"It's been a week?" The raccoon sounded genuinely surprised, as he checked his omni-tool. "Shit, it has."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, what he said."

Finnick glanced back and forth between them. He motioned for Rocky to translate. "Oh, I haven't been here the entire time. I've been hanging out with Dawn a lot."

"Oh, we know," Finn harrumphed, "We've been seeing all the pics and videos of Bellweather coming in and out of your place like it's a Motel 6."

Rocky smiled, as he deactivated the sound system. "Yeah, yeah," He admitted, climbing down from the rigging, "We've been having fun. She's helped a lot with..."

"With what?" Finnick prompted.

The air changed. The happy spark of a few seconds ago had been replaced with a wet rag of malaise. He grabbed a clean rag, wiping the soot and oil off of his fur. "You've been watchin' the news, lately?" He asked.

"Nah, most of that shit's fake, anyway."

"True, true," Rocket admitted, tossing the rag and tapping at his omnitool, "But this shit's real."

On the far wall, a TV screen turned on. It was playing a news report from a few days ago, the snow leopard and moose anchors commenting over copter footage from the desert district. There was an angry mob tearing into the nearby shops, the remnants of what had started off as a peaceful protest. Some were flipping cars and starting fires. Some were running in and out of shops, carrying TVs and clothes and entire bags of loot. Here and there, packs of mammals were surrounding and beating up others - sometimes small mammals swarming a large one, sometimes large ones charging through gatherings of small ones like angry kaiju. Cops and drones were pushing their way into the chaos, wailing on combatants with batons and spray, zapping them with tasers and carrying them away in massive police APCs.

"That," Rocket declared solemnly, "Is my fault."

"Dude, come on!" Finn snapped, "Get real! Zootopia's had riots before. Shit, when I was a kit, a couple Preds were killed by the cops, and the Rainforest District had riots every night for almost a month!"

"Maybe, maybe," He sighed, turning the TV off, "But now you guys have guns. I've seen what happens when a primitive society gets guns for its first civil war. This place is about to blow, and I don't wanna be 'ere when it does. Dat's why I'm buildin' this spaceship. Soon as it's done, I'm outta here."

"...Dawg, you serious?" Finnick asked, actually sounding a little hurt, "You're just gonna leave us like that?"

"Just like that," He replied sullenly.

"But we need you, dude," Finn pleaded, "We still haven't found those terrorists. We don't-"

"I can't stay here!" Rocket snapped, tossing a wrench against a wall, "I know what's gonna happen to this place! I can't be here when shit goes down! I gotta go out there, to the stars! That's where I belong!"

The fennec stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" Rocket didn't answer. Silence filled the warehouse, the distant sounds of nature and the city blocked with newly installed insulation.

Finnick rubbed his temple, and sighed. "I was hoping we didn't have to do this." He walked over to the door, giving it a knock before opening it. Out stepped a familiar otter lady, dressed in a modest tan work dress. Rocket gave her one look, and ice ran through his veins as his stomach churned with nerves.

No, He thought ruefully, Not her. Not now.

"Hello, Mr. Raccoon," Mrs. Otterton greeted him, smiling as she took his gaze, "It's been a while."

"...Hey, Mrs. Otterton," Rocket replied, suddenly uneasy, "This isn't about Emmett, is it? He hasn't-"

"My husband's okay, Rocket," She assured him, "As okay as he can be, at least. He's been held in quarantine, while they try to figure out how to cure him. Hospital care's pretty expensive, though. If it weren't for a very generous Good Samaritan paying for our bills, I don't know what we'd do." Her smile became a little larger, lighting up the room. "It's always surprising how big a stranger's heart can be."

Even the cyborg couldn't resist a little smile back. "Yeah, well, maybe some mammals have a lot to make up for."

The otter merely nodded, gesturing to the nearby couch. "Can we sit down and talk for a bit? You look like you need it."

Rocket felt an angry response bubble up, but one look doused the fire within. He sighed, and joined her on the couch, which squeaked under their combined weight. How is she doing that?

"I heard you had a fight with that nice Todd at the police station," She said without a hint of judgment, "It was on the news. We couldn't hear what you three were saying, but he looked pretty hurt when he left. What were you fighting about?"

"I was... just telling him something he needed to hear." He steeled himself for more of an explanation, but the otter merely nodded.

"You know," She said, "I work as a school psychologist. It's my job to know how mammals are feeling, and understand what they're thinking. I've been watching you for awhile now, Mr. Raccoon, and I know when someone has a guilty conscience."

Rocket was about to protest, but stopped himself. He thought about the last couple months - the shootout in the hospital, the fight, the deals he made with the city and the drones and what happened as a result - and things just seemed to be going down a downward spiral. Yes, he'd been making a fortune. Yes, he'd been getting laid. Yes, he was one of the most powerful people in the whole city. And yet all of it meant less and less, as the pit in his stomach only seemed to grow by the day.

"I don't understand," He murmured, shaking his head, "I feel bad for these guys. I never feel bad for anyone. What is the deal?"

"I take it that you lived a very hard life before you came here," She said, more a statement than a question "Sometimes, when you're no longer having to fight for your life, you have time to think and process and reevaluate your choices. You're feeling guilty for the things you've done, because now you're seeing the consequences of your actions. This is a strange feeling for you, and you respond by lashing out and running away because that's kept you alive before."

Rocket dared not look at her. He felt like a bug under a microscope. This lady was reading her like an open book. "...How-?"

"I recognize a troubled soul when I see one," She explained, smiling faintly, "But that does leave me wondering one thing." Rocket glanced over to her.

"When we first met," She said, "Back in the police station, you didn't have to help me. I was a stranger to you, yet you came in to my rescue, promising to find my husband free of charge, going all the way to the top to get things done. I've learned enough about you to know that you don't go out of your way to do charity work. So the question I have is, why? Why did you help me?"

Rocket stared at her, and she looked back at him with no sense of judgement, only curiosity and empathy. It reminded him so much of... of...

"What's your name?" He asked, "Your full name, I mean."

"Lisa. Lisa Otterton."

"Lisa..." He chuckled, rubbing his face. Of course. Of course it'd be Lisa. Why wouldn't it be? The multiverse loves messing with me, doesn't it?

"Do I remind you of someone?"

He nodded.

"You two were close?"

"Very. Very close."

"And what would she be saying, if she knew what was going on?"

Rocket sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "She would say that I've done well for myself here," He answered, "And I shouldn't let everything fall at the first sign of trouble. And she'd also say that if I'm smart enough to get myself into this mess, I'm smart enough to get out of it."

"Sounds like a smart lady," Otterton chuckled.

Rocket smirked. "The smartest. Only being in the universe who could pull a fast one on me."

"Then you know what to do." She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Rocket blinked in surprise. "Solve this case," She said, holding his gaze, "Save this city. Bring my babies their daddy back. Prove that you're everything she believed you were."

Rocket nodded, the gears in his head already starting to turn. He was back on the case, mind focused on the mission. "Groot, Finnick, get ready," He announced, getting off the couch, "I've got to make some calls... and then we're gonna pay a ram a visit..."

Chapter Text

A large farming van came to a stop in the parking lot of the abandoned indoor theme park. Coming to a stop in a worn parking spot, the door opened up, and a bunny in a farming blouse and jeans hopped out. Judy Hopps checked her phone one more time, making sure this was indeed her intended destination. Confirming it was, her ears went up, and she Listened. Wind rustling, birds chirping, and... grunting?

She walked over the closest hill, looking down at a walkway crossing an empty drainage ditch. Down below, she saw a makeshift gym had been set up, with dumbbells and a Bowflex and a TotalGym and the like, with yoga mats and coolers of sports drinks and energy bars. When she spotted Nick, Judy gasped.

Nick Wilde had transformed himself in the weeks since she'd last seen him. Gone was the green button-up and slacks, as the todd wore only black exercise shorts. He was working out on a pullup bar jutting out from the wall, and as Judy started coming down the hill, she could almost see the muscles shifting on his back beneath her fur. His red and white fur shined in the sunlight, and Judy briefly wondered if foxes could sweat, before she spotted a small fan with a mister blasting him with cool air. Nick grunted as he worked out, his expression one of focus and exertion. He made no reaction or movement as Judy came down, stopping just a few feet from him.

The bunny cleared her throat. The fox's ears flicked back, and as he turned to look back, he stopped. He dropped to the ground, slowly turning around to face her, his expression softening the tiniest bit.

"Hey there, Cottontail," He greeted her, neutrally, "What're you doing here?"

"Nick," She explained, "I discovered a lead on the Savage Case." She pulled out a bag of seeds out of her pocket, shaking them briefly. "I know what they've been using to make the drugs. It's from the Nighthowler plant. We have a bunch of them on my family farm to keep out pests." She put them back, as the fox grabbed a bottle of water from the chest. "There's even a cure for mammals that're poisoned by it!"

"Oh, is that all?" Nick asked, his tone sarcastic and skeptical as he took a drink. "Why aren't you showing this off to Rocket-Boy? I'm sure he could just, I dunno, mass-produce an antidote and put them in all the drones, and stop anyone from going berserk?"

Judy looked away, her ears drooping with embarrassment. "We... haven't talked in a while," She admitted, "Not since I left the force. I-"

"Whoa whoa, hold on!" Nick interrupted, looking genuinely surprised, "You QUIT being a cop?!"

Judy sighed. "It's... complicated," She said, "But the point is I'm on my own right now. If we can find out who's been selling Nighthowler seeds in the city, we can learn who's been buying. And if we do that-"

"We find out who's turning everyone Berserk," Nick concluded, the ghost of a smile on his muzzle, "Not bad, Carrots. And I take it you wanted me to come along and be your muscle?"

"I need you for your street smarts, Wilde," She smiled, pulling her sleeve back to reveal her bicep, "Besides, we both know I've got strength enough for both of us."

The fox laughed, the tension between them starting to melt away. "Well, I guess one of us has to be the smart one."

"So," She asked, "Does that mean you're in?"

"I'm in, Cottontail," He agreed, "I'm in..."

Woolter was snapped out of a peaceful slumber by a harsh slap to the face. "Wakey-wakey time!" A harsh, raspy voice ordered. The ram opened his eyes, and to his dismay, the infamous Rocket Raccoon stood over him, a malicious grin plastered across his face. His eyes went wide, his blood ran cold, and if it weren't for the catheter still in him, he would've pissed himself on the spot.

"Hey there, Woolter," The cyborg said cheerfully, "How's your recovery goin'? Pretty good, right? Must be nice, havin' the fine people of this city pay for all dis expensive medical care, right?" The raccoon leaned away, stepping back to the edge of the bed. Woolter realized he wasn't the only one in his room. There was Groot, the living tree he encountered in the sewers as "Slendermane". The ominous shadow he cast still sent shivers down his spine. In the opposite corner, a fennec fox stood in a waiting chair, a baseball bat in one paw, a boombox at his side.

He'd seen enough crime dramas to know they were ready to dish out a beatdown. Though for the life of him, he couldn't understand why they chose such a lame, unintimidating song:

I was tired of my lady;  We'd been together too long

Like a worn-out recording,  Of a favorite song

So while she lay there sleeping,  I read the paper in bed

And in the personal columns,  There was this letter I read:

"If you like Pina Coladas,  And getting caught in the rain

If you're not into yoga,  If you have half a brain

If you'd like making love at midnight,  In the dunes on the Cape

Then I'm the love that you've looked for.  Write to me and escape."

"Y-You guys can't be in here!" Woolter protested. "Where are the guards?!"

"Ah, don't worry 'bout those guys," Rocket waved away his concern, "Nothin' that a few hefty bribes couldn't handle. But recently I realized that you an' I, we haven't had a chance to talk to each other. You know who I am, obviously, but I didn't know anything 'bout you. So I had to do a little digging, and whoo boy, was I in for a surprise."

The raccoon reached into his pocket, pulling out a small stack of photos. He started going through them, tossing them onto his chest one by one. The very air seemed to suck out of Woolter's lungs, as he recognized who was in them. Cubs, pups, kittens, calves. Many illustrated, some actual photos. Some innocuous and innocent, some in compromising positions, some that wouldn't look out of place in Playbuck or Playdoe mags.

"Quite an interesting search history you have, Mr. Woolter," The cyborg observed, slowly and methodically tossing each one down, "I never saw the appeal of children myself, but you seem to like them more than most. In fact, it looks like you've got a fetish for them." He stopped at the last one, his smug smile briefly dropping to a disgusted sneer.

"Now, this one," He said, squatting atop the ram, holding the picture up for him to see, "This one is my favorite. Can you guess why?"

Woolter looked at the picture. It was a polar bear cub, running around a swimming pool in bright blue jammers. It was shot from the back at an angle, just discrete enough that it wouldn't raise alarm bells on a casual inspection, but still giving a good shot of his backside. Rocket leaned in, practically nose-to-nose with the bound cervine.

"I know that kid," He explained, his voice ice-cold, "I know his dad. I know his dad's boss. The Ice Mob might be dicks, but they protect their own. They find out about this, you're not gettin' iced, buddy. Nah, that'd be too quick and painless for what they'd do. Of course, I also have the Mayor on speed dial. I have connections to the Police. One phone call, and your fluffy ass will be in jail. I've been in jail before, and I know what they do with guys like you. Kree war criminals have a longer life expectancy than child-touchers."

Woolter sank down into the bed, trying to get away from the bounty hunter. There was a fire in his eyes, a glint of menace and violence that pictures and film were never close enough to capture. This raccoon had killed people before, he could tell. He killed a LOT of people. He could feel himself sweat under his wool, terrified at whatever horrific tortures he or his associates could come up with.

The raccoon softened his expression, going from a 9 to a 6. "Of course," He continued, leaning back, "It doesn't have to be that way. I don't have to tell anyone about your dirty little secret. But here's da thing, Woolter Boy: I ain't cheap. You want to keep me quiet, you bettah start talkin', and tell me everythin' I want to know 'bout your operation. Who you're working for, who's giving you the drugs, why you're doin' this, all of it. You do that, you might just walk out of this alive."

Woolter swallowed. "I... I can't," He whimpered, "They'll kill me."

"And you don't think I won't?" Rocket growled. He stepped off, pulling the blanket off the sheep's body. He drew out his claws, unnaturally sharp and glinting in the light almost like they were made of metal. "What are you drugging mammals with?"

"I-I dunno," He stammered, "I n-never made the s-stuff. I-I just got everyone coffee and drove them around!"

"Driving WHO around?" Rocket demanded, "Who were you working for? Who was that motherfucker in the wolf costume?!"

"I ca- I can't tell you!" The ram was practically hyperventilating at this point, "They'll kill- Y-You wouldn't believe m-me if I told y-!"

His answer became a howl of pain, as the cyborg dug his claws deep into his thigh. Finnick turned up the music, drowning out the cries of pain with happy lyrics about infidelity. Rocket squeezed tighter and tighter, even as his expression remained set in stone, even as blood began to leak out and stain his paws.

"Tell. Me. Who. You. Work. For." He demanded, holding his gaze.

"Jesse Ramahorn!" Woolter cried out, "I work for Jesse Ramahorn and, and-"

"AND WHO?!" Rocket shouted, his bloodlust starting to rise again.

"DAWN BELLWEATHER!"

The room went quiet - Finnick turned down the stereo, unsure of what he just heard. Rocket released his grip on the ram, blood dripping from his claws and oozing from the wool-covered wounds. "What did you just say?"

"Ah! I work for Dawn Bellweather," Woolter whimpered, grasping at his injured leg, "She and Jesse came up with the whole scheme. Jesse and I... we're part of the Rammsteins. They, uh, they wanted to cause, uh, tensions between Preds and Prey. We've been buying up this flower called a 'Nighthowler', and using a poison from it to turn Preds crazy. They were going to use the crisis to put Dawn in charge of the city, and make rams and sheep at the top of the new order or something. But then, then you showed up, with your cool gadgets and your meddling and your, your, pelvic sorcery!"

"You lie," Rocket murmured, ears flicking back, "You're lying. She wouldn't-"

"Wouldn't what? Play you like she played Lionheart? Like she played the city? What do you actually know about her beyond her favorite positions?!"

Rocket took a step back, looking at his bloodied paw as the pieces came together. The ram continued on, "We heard about your drones and your guns and stuff, and they thought they could use your technology to help secure control of the city. Dawn was gonna seduce you and make you her toadie, wrap you around her hoof while you make us more gadgets. Once we set up Lionheart and Bogo, and get them out of the picture, we'd have complete control of every part of the city government. But then you had to go and make things complicated! You started following us, sent that giant tree to our base, and then you turned Dawn against us! Jesse was worried she was starting to think she didn't need us any more, and now that you two are banging, he and the boys can't trust her anymore. They're plotting to get rid of her and take over the city themselves, I'm sure."

"Son of a bitch." Rocket swore, his paw balling into a fist. As much as he wanted to accuse the ram of lying, deep down he knew this to be true. He'd been seducing her at the beginning, after all, looking to sweet-talk his way into better deals. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Dawn would do the same to him. But then, why did he feel so betrayed? Maybe he was getting a little closer to the ewe than he thought. Or maybe he was learning that being on the other side of a honeypot wasn't so nice...

"So what're they plannin' to do next?" Finnick demanded, snapping Rocket out of his momentary funk.

"I don't know," Woolter said, "I've been in here for weeks! I haven't been talking to them or-"

"You know your boys," Rocket growled, holding his claws over the ram's thigh, "You have a TV in here. You've been watching the news. You know plenty."

Woolter whimpered, stammered, struggled to gather his thoughts. "Uh, uh, um, oh, the concert!" He said quickly, "The Gazelle concert! That's tonight, isn't it?"

Finnick's ears shot up. "They goin' to hit the Peace and Love show?!"

"I mean, probably," The ram admitted, "That's the type of thing we've been trying to go for. Large crowd in a confined area, few exits, in the dark. That's a recipe for a ton of chaos and carnage. After something like that, you could get away with-"

"Pretty much anything." Rocket finished, nodding in understanding. He turned to Finnick, "What time's the concert startin'?"

The fennec checked his phone, and blanched, "Shit, three hours now!"

"Then we better get going," Rocket concluded, hopping off the bed, "Thank you Woolter, for your cooperation."

"Oh, uh, sure?" He replied uncertainly, "You, uh, you're not going to tell anyone about... you know... right?"

"Don't you worry about that," He told the Ram, "I already told the polar bears." He opened the door, and three large, offended-looking ursines walked, staring daggers at the bedridden pedo. They brought in brass knuckles, knives, rope, a blowtorch, all number torture instruments meant to cause and prolong pain.

"Alrighty, boys," Rocket announced to the bears, "I've already bought out the hospital, and had everyone in this wing of the hospital take an early lunch. You've got about twenty-five minutes to do whatever you guys want. Just make sure to clean up afterwards, alright? None of us need people asking questions."

"Not a problem." Koslov agreed. As Rocket and Finnick started to leave, he stopped the fox. "Leave the stereo," He told him, "We need something to drown out the noise." The fennec blanched, but handed him the box.

So I waited with high hopes

And she walked in the place

I knew her smile in an instant

I knew the curve of her face

It was my own lovely lady

And she said, "Oh it's you."

Then we laughed for a moment

And I said, "I never knew."

"No! Please!" The ram begged as they left, "I wasn't going to do anything! I've never touched a cub! You can't do this to me! I helped you! I- NO, NO NOOOOO-!" Behind them, the music turned up:

THAT YOU LIKE PINA COLADAS

GETTING CAUGHT IN THE RAIN

AND THE FEEL OF THE OCEAN

AND THE TASTE OF CHAMPAGNE

IF YOU'D LIKE MAKING LOVE AT MIDNIGHT

IN THE DUNES OF THE CAPE

YOU'RE THE LADY I'VE LOOKED FOR

COME WITH ME AND ESCAPE!

"You should call up your girl," Rocket advised as they walked, "Tell her to cancel the concert."

"She won't," Finnick replied, "Gazelle doesn't scare easy. Besides, shouldn't you call up your girl and hear her side of the story? Or if she wants to take a plea deal? Or-"

"Where do you think we're going?" He said quickly, as they entered an elevator, "You heard him. They're gonna go after Dawn now. She's our one lead we have. We need to find her before they do."

"She has ram bodyguards, though. They follow her everywhere she goes... Well, except your place. Were you two gonna meet up today?"

The doors closed, and Rocket sighed. "Not until tonight. We don't have that kind of time."

"So what do you want to do?"

The raccoon paused, then hit the Open button. A couple polar bears were waiting in the hallway, keeping watch. He could almost hear the screaming over the music now.

"Hey boys," He shouted over the noise, "How'd you like to be heroes for a day?!"

"What's with the workout stuff?" Judy asked, as her van rattled down the suburban streets.

"Hmm?" Nick's mouth was full of blueberries - he'd been snacking on them ever since he found the box of them in the back. He asked Hopps to take him back to his place to clean up and change, and was now back in his trademark green tropical shirt and slacks. His window was down as well, so now he only slightly smelled of wet fox and sandalwood.

"Back there in that gully," She clarified, "You had a full gym under that bridge. Put up a couple posters of models and bodybuilders, and it'd look like my brother's garage." Nick scoffed, and they both smiled. As much as their time knowing each other had been filled with drama and mayhem, Wilde still found himself being drawn to the feisty little bunny. With or without Rocket, he was sure they could and would remain friends after all was said and done.

Nick looked out the window, his smile disappearing as quickly as it came. "I've been thinking a lot," He explained, "About what Rocket said to me, back at the station."

Judy frowned, her ears drooping. "Sorry about that," She apologized, "What he said to you was just awful."

"Oh, absolutely," He agreed, "Completely out of line. But somewhere within that asshole's tirade, there might've been... a kernel of truth." Judy raised a confused eyebrow, but kept her eyes on the road.

"I've been letting others tell me what I can and can't do most of my life," He continued, "I became a con artist because it seemed like my only option. It's the one thing I can do where I can put my skills to good use. Until Rocket showed up, I never really thought of being anything more. But now?" He paused to pop in another blueberry, chewing on it in thought. "Rocket was cool enough to set up an account for me before our fight, so I don't have to worry about money for a long, long time. I don't have to hustle anymore. I had nothing to do for days. So I went back to the old Fun Fair my dad used to own, bought some workout equipment, and started doing reps."

He stared out the window, flexing his paw. "It's like my mom used to say, 'You can't control how the world treats you, but you can control how you treat yourself'. In a really messed up and convoluted way, Rocket reminded me of that. So, I've been working out everyday, so I can better defend myself. Two hours a day, every day for the past month. I've even been adding more protein to my diet - fish only, Cottontail, don't worry. I'm a pescatarian, anyway." Hopps had shot him a look at the mention of protein, but now had to bite back a snort.

"Well, for the record," Judy complimented, "Whatever you're doing is working. You look good, Nick."

"...Thanks, Hopps." He smirked, and they rode for a time in silence. Eventually, they parked their car just down the street from a little stand, where a familiar-looking weasel was trying his hand at street vending. As they approached, Judy explained that Weselton had been caught moving and selling the same plants used to make the Berserker Drug. Odds were, he was the one supplying the terrorists, which meant he knew where they were hiding out.

"DVDs! Get 'em while hot!" He called, holding up a thin box with two dancing coyotes written in Spanish, "Classic movies from overseas! All your favorite kid's movies! Watch next year's blockbusters from the comfort of your own home!"

"I prefer to watch movies in a theater," Nick said from behind him, "The crowd and overpriced popcorn add to the experience."

"Mr. Weselton," Judy said, walking around to the front of his table, "We have some questions over your selling and distribution of Nighthowler seeds within-"

"Hold up hold up hold up," The weasel snapped, gesturing with the discholder, "First off, my name is Weaselton, Hoops. Second, I have no idea what you're talkin' 'bout. I'm just a humble street vendor, tryin' to make a livin' selling bootleg movies like everyone else. And third, I see no uniform, no badge, no drones, and gun-toting bounty hunter around. As far as I'M concerned, I don't have to talk to you at all, and there's nothing you can do to make me. So why don't you and your friend here go fall down a foxhole and beat it?" He tossed a toothpick from his mouth at the bunny, bouncing off her forehead.

Judy stared at the weasel, considering what to do next. Nick, however, stepped up to take the lead. "You do know who she is, right?" The fox asked, gesturing to the bunny. "She isn't just friends with Rocket Raccoon. She's got the Mayor on speed-dial. She's also friends with the Big Family. One phone call, and we can have PD or the Ice Mob here in five minutes to shut your little operation down. Now, do you want to go for an ice bath, or do you want to help us catch the terrorists who're trying to destroy this city?"

Weaselton stared back at them, thinking it over. He grimaced, sitting back on a stool. "Fine," He growled, "I tell yuh. But you didn't hear it from me. And once you find them, you're on your own."

The duo nodded, and smiled at each other. They had this. They were going to blow this case wide open, and save the city all on their own...

Chapter Text

With the location of their quarry in hand, Nick and Judy drove down to the subway station at Fifth and Haysview, which was listed as abandoned and out of service for nearly a decade. Everything was rusted and dirty as they descended the steps, entering the dimly-lit catacombs of the city.

"You ever see that one movie about the killer alligators in the sewers?" Nick prompted, as they reached the rail-line, "The one with Kevin Foxner and Jody Fowlster?"

"Not now, Nick," She replied, taking a right down the line.

"What?" Nick protested, "It's a classic. Besides, the good guys win in the end. And that young Jody Fowlster, mmm-mmm-mmm..."

Judy was inclined to think Kevin Foxner had gotten better looking with age, but didn't want to encourage the fox's distraction and said nothing. They continued walking through the deep, dark subway tunnels, lit by their cellphones and the fluttering overhead lights. After a few minutes of enduring the creepy ambience, they found their target: a large railcar, resting on its own in the middle of the tunnel. Purple light shone ominously through the windows, bathing the walls in an eerie glow.

"Looks like the place," Nick whispered, crouching down as he got up to the back entrance. He checked one of the windows, and motioned Hopps to come over - no one was inside. Judy went up and gently pulled the door. It was unlocked, opening with only the slightest creak at the end of its swing. They walked inside, closing the door behind them, and stopped in their tracks at what they saw.

Dozens and dozens of Nighthowler flowers filled most of the carriage, split into four rows of greenery stands that stood as tall as the fox. Purple overhead lights lit the room, providing the much-needed ultraviolet light for the plants to grow. The walls were lined with gardening equipment and chemistry sets, tubes filled with a suspicious purple liquid. Along one wall in particular was a map of the city, lined with pictures of dozens and dozens of mammals. It didn't take a super-detective to determine who they were.

Nick and Judy took out their phones, taking pictures and filming the entire setup for evidence. Hopps, being lower, managed to stumble upon a thick briefcase on one of the lower shelves. Opening it, her eyes went wide as she saw a paintball gun, complete with several vials filled with purple rounds the same color as the liquid in the tubes.

"Jackpot," Judy closed it again, picking it up and showing Nick, "We got them, Wilde. This is all the evidence we need to shut them down for good."

Nick was about to respond, when they heard someone walking by outside. They quickly ducked underneath the rows, huddling into the shadows as the door creaked open.

"Everything good over there?" A tall, thick ram said, speaking into a phone as he walked in. The fox and bunny held their breath as he moved past them, fiddling with the chemistry set as he continued talking, "Look, be careful with that thing. It's got enough juice in it to turn the whole concert savage. You let it go off in your car, you're dead rams."

Hopps and Wilde glanced nervously at each other. Did these guys build a Nighthowler bomb?

"I don't care WHAT Dawn thinks!" He snapped, even as he started fiddling with one of the chem sets above them, "We're going to deal with that species-traitor soon enough. You just take care of your part, and everything else will be fine."

The ram grabbed something off the table, and they heard the click of a gun loading. "I've guards manning every exit," He continued, "And all the doors will be locked. The drones won't be coming without authorization. You just wear your gasmasks and find a place to hold up, and we'll come get you once they've stopped killing each other." The ram snorted and chuckled. "Oh, I bet it'll be. Make sure to take some pictures when it's done. I always like admiring my hoofwork after a job well done."

Judy's paws balled into fists. This asshole was planning on killing hundreds, if not thousands, and enacting a coup on her city. This ram and his followers had caused untold amounts of death, pain and suffering for months, turning her childhood dream into a soul-crushing dystopia. She had to put a stop to it all.

"Oh for god's sake, quit being such a little bitch about this!" The ram shouted, walking towards the back exit. Judy got up and followed him, her steps silent and swift. Nick bit his paw, afraid of what this dumb bunny was about to do.

"All you need to do is-" The ram was cut off as he approached the backdoor. In one fluid motion, Judy jumped up, kicking him out of the train, and pulling a lever to slam the door shut as he fell out. The ram below skidded across the gravel, and the door sealed shut with a hiss.

"Hopps, what're you doing?!" Wilde shouted, getting up from his hiding spot, "Now we're trapped here! How are we gonna get this evidence to the public if he calls in his buddies on us?"

Judy looked around, considering her options. This train had to get here somehow, She thought, moving to the front of the train. There, she found a small control room, with many buttons and panels and a rather conspicuous-looking switch. She smiled, turning back to the fox. "You ever ridden a train before?"

"What kind of question is that?" Nick snapped, closing the door behind them, "Yes, I've ridden on the subway before. But this trolley hasn't moved in months, maybe even years. You can't just-"

Hopps pulled a large switch, and the cabin lurched forward as the brakes unlocked. She pushed a lever forward, and it began moving. She shot the fox a "told you so" look. Nick rolled his eyes - of course the universe would go out of its way to make her right.

"Hold on," She warned, as the train sped up, "We're taking this to the Police Station. We're putting an end to this today!"

The Peace and Love Festival was perhaps the biggest concert Zootopia had held in years. Gazelle pulled a lot of strings, used so much of her influence to get this event going, and put in a fair amount of personal funds to get this show going. But as far as the pop star was concerned it would be worth every penny, if it helped bring the mammals together and overcome the fear and hate that had grown and festered in her home.

Ten thousand mammals of all kinds had bought tickets, and were slowly filling up the arena. She managed to secure the permits to use one of the largest parks in the city, allowing them to host the event outdoors. Being rich and famous helped a lot, but she couldn't deny that her new paramour being bestie's with the new mayor's lover didn't make things move a little faster. Even as her assistants put makeup on her, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of Finnick. She hadn't ever put much thought in being with smaller males, but that fennec fox had quite a few tricks up his sleeves. Gazelle wasn't sure if the charming little cholo was boyfriend material or not, but she fully intended in finding out in time.

"Hee-hee-hee! That tickles! Stop it!" She glanced over to her side, where several makeup artists and assistants were putting the finishing touches on a rather large, jovial cheetah. While still a little chubbier and "green" for her typical backup dancers, Officer Clawhauser had shown amazing commitment and improvement in the brief amount of time he had to prepare. He'd even managed to fit within one of the speedos meant for her tigers, and made it work... in his own way.

"Gazelle, thank you soooo much for letting me be part of this show!" The cheetah said as the assistants finished their work and left, "This is a dream come true!"

"The pleasure's all mine," She assured him, patting his thick biceps, "Out of all the people who applied to be our guest speaker and dancer, I'm glad my managers picked you. We need someone from the Police who can share their story and tell it how it is."

"Oh, absolutely," He agreed, "Everyone's been affected by all this crazy crap. We can't give up our freedom and community spirit because of some terrorists running around with a rage drug. What's the point in living in Zootopia if we're afraid to leave our own homes?"

"Exactly." She glanced out to the hall, where a couple of rams in police uniforms were talking rapidly. "There seems to be a lot of ram cops working lately."

"It is a little weird that so many of them are working the concert," Clawhauser added, "Bogo would always mix up the roster to avoid the appearance of favoritism, but..." His smile wavered.

"I'll have to talk with Dawn about this later," Gazelle sniffed, feeling her phone vibrate, "This doesn't send a good message." She took out her phone, reading a text from Finnick.

Bae, watch out for the rams. Bellweather's been causing the Berserkers. They're planning an attack on the concert.

She glanced up at the doorway, catching the two officers splitting up. WDYM? She texted back.

The Rammsteins are behind all the attacks. We just got word that they're looking to hit you. Don't trust any ram or sheep. I'm sending some guys to help you out.

Gazelle took a breath. She glanced up at Clawhauser, who'd already gotten up and was posing in front of the mirror, chuckling to himself. The show was about to begin in ten minutes, far too late to cancel and get everyone out in time. It all seemed so crazy and outlandish, but despite only knowing the fox for such a short time, she trusted what he said. And if what he said was true, she had to warn her boys.

"Hey, Clawhauser," She said, getting the cheetah's attention, "Can you bring the boys in here really quick? There's something we need to talk about..."

"C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon!" Rocket ranted into his omnitool, as they drove through the streets at breakneck speeds. "Pick up pick up pick up pick up!" The dial tone was his only response.

"God damn it!" He swore, slamming his fist, "She's not answering!"

"What did you expect, dawg?!" Finnick retorted, speeding past intersection after intersection, as Rocket's program changed the lights and kept the streets clear. "She's in on the whole thing! She's been in it since the beginning!"

Rocket was still trying to accept the truth of the matter - not just mentally, but emotionally. That the sheep and rams were attempting to take control of the city through fear made sense to him. He'd seen it plenty of times on dozens of worlds. That someone he thought he pulled a fast one on had gone and done the same to him stung in a way he hadn't felt before. But he couldn't focus on that, not now. If he was to find and seize the Rams' HQ, he'd need more backup. Growling, he dialed a different number.

Come on, Fluffybutt, He thought desperately, Don't leave me hanging. Not now.

The phone rang. And rang again. And rang again. On the fourth ring, there was a cacophony of wind and thumping metal and heavy breathing, before he heard Judy's voice. "Rocket?!" The bunny cried out, barely audible over all the noise, "Can you call back?! Now's not a good time!"

"Hopps! Listen!" He shouted over her, "I know who's behind the Nighthowler attacks!"

"We found their hideout!" Judy replied, as metal screeched in the background, "They tried to stop us, but we got their subway car base moving! We're being pursued, but-" There was a loud THUMP! of metal, "-I don't know how long this thing will hold up!"

Rocket worked his omnitool, triangulating their signal. They were travelling fast, crossing through the Central District. He brought up a map of all the subway and rail lines in the city, calculating which directions they could take.

"We're going to try and get this all to the station!" Hopps continued, "We're gonna blow this whole thing wide open!"

"Don't go to the station!" Rocket shouted over the noise, "Dawn and the rams are in on it! Look, I'm gonna need you to change tracks in thirty seconds, alright?"

"Dawn's what?" Nick shouted, his voice distant and barely audible on the phone.

"Nick, hold my phone!" More shuffling and scraping sounds, and then he heard Nick say, "Cottontail, where'd you get that?!"

"I grew up on a farm, Nick," She retorted, "We used slingshots to scare off birds. Now hang on!" There was a snapping sound, followed by the rumble and scraping of metal, and the line went dead.

"Shit!" Rocket checked their position again. They were going right, heading in the direction of the Museum of Natural History. "Finn, take this turn! We're going to go visit a museum!"

A dozen moving vans pulled into the already crowded parking lot of the Peace and Love Concert, paying no mind to the smaller cars they ended up smashing along the way. The doors slid open, and dozens of polar bears, arctic foxes and timberwolves hopped out, armed with bats and clubs and (in some cases) the latest models of Rocket's Zap-Guns. The two to hop off last were Koslov and Groot, overseeing the tracksuit-wearing taskforce as they made their way to the entrances.

"Alright, comrades," The bear barked out to his fellows, "This is it! This is where we make history! Today, we rise up against those sheep bastards and show the world who runs these streets!"

"I AM GROOT!" Groot declared, raising his fist to the air. The arctic mammals looked at him in confusion, then raised their fists and roared back in solidarity. Together, they made their way to the side entrances, where several ram officers had only just noticed their approach.

"Excuse me, sirs," One of them said, stepping forward with a hoof on his waist, "This way is closed to-"

ZAPZAPZAPZAP!

In a wild flurry of shots, the rams were on the ground, convulsing as electricity ran through them. One tried to get up, only to get a baseball bat to the head for his troubles. With their thick skulls, it was enough to incapacitate, but not enough to kill.

The mob made their way through the door, and were immediately buffeted by waves of deafening sounds and scents. Lights flashed from the stage a quarter-mile away, the roar of the crowd muffling the music into a cacophonous din. Some of them covered their ears and eyes for a few moments, as they struggled to adjust to all the stimulation. Groot looked around, easily the tallest of the bunch, scanning the crowd and concert for any more rams. Already, he could see several pushing through the crowds, pulling out their batons and stun-guns and pepperspray. They weren't looking to check their tickets or read them their rights, that was for sure.

Fortunately, Groot had that covered.

The Floral Colossus dug his arms into the ground, roots quickly digging and shooting forward. They undulated and rumbled forward, shooting up beneath the hooves of the approaching rams, wrapping half-a-dozen of them in thick vines. The vines intertwined into a large ball, before Groot snapped his arm free, trapping them all. As several bears and foxes moved to strike them with bats, Koslov shouted, "Leave them! There's more of them to take care of!" The mobsters glared at the rams, but they continued walking by them, following the tree's lead into the crowd.

The partiers noticed the force coming through behind them, and started moving aside to let them through. Way up on stage, Gazelle was wrapping up one of her songs, as several chiseled tigers and a slightly-chubby cheetah danced around her. More rams were starting to form up, creating a perimeter around the stage and drawing their weapons.

"People of Zootopia!" Gazelle cried out, the cheers of the raptured crowd, "There are mammals out there who want to divide us! There are mammals in here who want to divide us!" Boos rang out through the crowd. The rams bristled. Spectators noticed Groot and the mobsters approaching, and stepped aside.

"But there are heroes!" She continued, "Men and women who dedicate themselves to helping us every day! Brave souls who stand against the darkness! Heroes who don't always wear a suit or uniform! Today, there are heroes and villains among us!"

Gazelle pointed to the largest group of rams, as they were forming a block and clearing a path through the crowd. "The rams of ZPD are part of the Rammsteins!" She cried out, "They've been responsible for the Nighthowlers the whole time! THEY are the ones responsible! Get them!"

The attitude of the crowd turned immediately. All at once, mammals around them started to boo and jeer, throwing bottles and bags of food at the team. Most bounced harmlessly off their armor or shields, but some struck true on their helmets, causing them to duck and cover up. This distraction allowed Groot and Koslov's army to shrink the distance between them, and soon the arctic mammals met the armored ones in a pitched melee. The crowd, thinking that they were partiers like them, quickly joined the fray, and soon the middle of the concert became a bloody moshpit, with claws and teeth and sticks flying hard and fast.

"I AM GROOT!" Groot shouted, his limbs shooting out and slapping rams down. Around him, mammals were being maced, zapped, bashed in the head with horns and sticks and bats. Tasers crackled and zapped, howls and bleats of pain and fear and anger combined into a chorus of violence. The Floral Colossus stood in the middle of a battlefield, furry bodies crashing against him like waves of a storm.

The fate of his new home depended on him, and he wasn't going to hold back to save it...

Nick and Judy ran up the stairs, out of the subway and into the Museum of Natural History. They'd successfully managed to make the turn on the tracks, slowing the train down enough to make a jump for it with a briefcase full of Nighthowler rounds and a paintball gun in tow. The train crashed and crumpled into a barricade, but thankfully didn't explode in their faces. They checked down the line, not seeing any rams coming after them. They were following them further back down the line, but it looked like they might've lost them (in that they were so far behind they might've missed them taking the turn).

With heading to the police station now out of the question, their immediate priority was to make it outside and get to Rocket. If he could help them go public, they could put an end to this whole conspiracy today!

But when did anything go exactly as planned?

They made the final turn for the main entrance, when they saw Dawn and a pair of rams blocking the path.

"Judy!" She greeted cheerfully, "Nick! How wonderful to see you two again! How've you been?"

The fox and bunny stopped in their tracks, Hopps quickly putting the suitcase behind her (and hopefully out of view). "Oh, hey Dawn," She greeted, trying to hide her nerves, "What're, what're you doing here?"

"Funny," The ewe remarked, "I was going to ask you the same thing. You know the museum's closed today, right? And that rail line you came out of has been shut down for a year."

Nick and Judy looked at each other.

"Before either of you do something we all regret," Dawn warned, "Why don't we just take a moment to just calm down and-"

The fox and bunny turned and ran. They didn't get more than a dozen steps, before a hidden ram came at them from the side, knocking them into a pit display. They both landed with a hard THUD! Judy cried out in pain, grasping at her ankle.

Dawn sighed, rubbing her eyes with exasperation. "Why do you have to make things difficult?" She demanded, shaking her head as she approached the enclosure, "I gave you the chance to join us. I gave you the choice to stand up for the little guy. And what did you do? You left us." Dawn glared down at them down in the pit, betrayal and anger evident on her face. "You. Left. Us."

"So, what, you're just gonna kill us?" Judy demanded angrily, "Just because I didn't want to join your wannabe fascist fiefdom?!"

"We could've brought change to this world, Hopps! REAL change! Prey would never have to fear Predators hurting them ever again! There would be Order, Peace-"

"And what does Rocket have to say about all this?" Nick interrupted. Dawn stopped, her expression falling. The rams all turned to her, expecting and judging.

"You haven't told him yet, have you?" Nick pressed, smiling wickedly, "You've been sharing his gadgets and his bed, and you still haven't told him your grand master plan?"

"He's... He's just a pawn," She insisted, "A tool. A useful idiot, nothing more."

"Is he?" He challenged, "'Cause last I heard, you were spending an awful lot of time at his place. A lot of late nights, too. Makes me wonder who's playing who."

"He's just a horny little male who can't resist the aura of a powerful woman."

"Funny," Judy interjected, "I seem to remember you blushing when he touched your wool."

The rams all gasped and stepped away from Dawn. "You let a Pred' touch your wool?" One demanded, "In public?!"

"Oh yeah," Nick added, "She was making googly eyes at him every time you met. Face it, girl, you're a Predophile."

The ewe gasped, and snapped, "I am NOT a-"

She never got to finish, as one of the rams pushed her into the pit. She bounced off a tree and rolled on the dirt, ripping her suit but leaving her unharmed. They all looked back up, as the rams readied their guns at them. "What the hell, Jesse?!" She shouted.

"Sorry, ewe," The ram said, "But you've gone native on us. All that power went to your head, and you've forgotten that we gave it to you. You're just as replaceable as any other politician, and once the city hears that the mayor and star-cop were killed by a pred, they'll do anything we say."

"And once our little gift goes off at the Gazelle concert," Another added, "Everyone will be begging us to take over things. The preds will be dealt with, and the rams will be the ones calling all the shots."

"We don't need you anymore, you traitorous little whore," The first one finished, raising his gun down into the pit, "Now you can-"

CRASH!

All heads turned as a painted van crashed through the museum's front door, spinning and sliding across the marbled floor. The driver's side door opened up, and a little fennec fox leaned out to vomit, before collapsing back into his seat, moaning in pain. The passenger's side door opened, and a raccoon in an orange jumpsuit shambled out, stumbling onto the ground.

"DAWN!" Rocket shouted, getting to his feet, "DAWN! You've got some 'splainin' to do, ewe bitch!"

"R-Rocket?" Bellweather glanced back and forth between her rams, Hopps, and her bedraggled boyfriend, "Are you okay? What're you doing here?! You just crashed through-"

"You know," He cut her off, "I want to be mad over the betrayal, but the more I think 'bout it, I can't help but laugh. Here I was, thinking I was pulling a fast one on the innocent, overworked secretary who just wanted a little recognition. But nope! Turns out, she's just as much a sneaky, manipulative hustler as I am. Congratulations, Dawn! You hustled Rocket freaking Raccoon!" He clapped sarcastically, mockingly.

"Rocket..." Dawn couldn't look him in the eye, let alone finish her sentence.

"Hey, Fleabag!" Jesse snapped, "Turn around and head back to your lab, if you know what's good for you!"

"Don't worry, mutton chops," He replied, "I haven't forgotten about you OR that nutshot. I'll get to you dipshits in a second."

"I think that tumble of yours messed with your head, Pred," Another ram jeered, "There's four of us and only one of you!"

"Then call in another dozen and maybe we've got a fair fight," He retorted, his paw stealthily reaching for his sidearm, "If any of you have a braincell in those thick skulls of yours-"

The cyborg hero was cut off when one of those thick skulls came up from behind him, plowing into his ribs and tossing him into the pit with the others. He landed with a THUD!, rolling across the ground and stopping in front of them. Dawn started to move to him, but several guns cocked and aimed at her, and she froze. Rocket wheezed as he got up, glaring up at the ram who tackled him.

I'm going to kill that guy first, He thought.

"You can't do this to us!" Dawn protested, "I'm the Mayor! You can't run this city without me!"

"Sure we can," Jesse replied, "I can just pick any one of the lackeys I suggested you pick to fill those vacancies in the office, and run the city through them. We don't need you anymore."

"So what're you going to do?" Rocket demanded, "Kill us?!"

"Us?" Jesse laughed, "No, we won't kill them... You will." The ram raised his gun, and fired a round at Rocket. A blue ball struck and splattered across the raccoon's cheek, earning a grunt of pain. He rubbed the side of his face, his paw stained blue with bits of red blood.

He snorted dismissively. "It's gonna take more than one dose to-"

The rest of the rams raised their guns, and as a firing squad, unloaded their rounds into Rocket. Like a scene out of Robocop, he screamed as dozens of blue spots bloomed across his body. He dropped to his knees, more rounds riddling his back.

"Rocket!" Dawn and Judy shouted together. Nick grabbed them both, holding them back as the cyborg began to seize and shake. The shots petered out, and soon the museum was silent again, save for the pained grunts and growls emanating from the pit.

Rocket looked up, but it wasn't the same raccoon that looked back at them. Any light of intelligence was gone, replaced with a blank stare from black, soulless eyes. His teeth were bared in an angry snarl, blue saliva dripping and foaming. Claws were drawn, fur stood on end, and an angry, menacing growl rumbled in his throat.

This was not the Rocket they knew.

This was the Rocket his creator had wanted.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" The ram swore, his hooves rapidly moving across the device. "This is bad. This is bad. This is very very BAAAAAD!" Behind him, the sounds of combat and pain were getting closer. The Ice Mob was here. Gazelle knew about the plan. Everyone was trying to get him now. He had very little time to fulfill the mission, if it was even feasible at this point. If he was going to do this, he had to do it here and now.

Deep, plodding footsteps thumped some distance behind him. That THING was coming for him. Slendermane. The Moving Tree. Rocket's pet monster. The ram wasn't going to let it get him. He plugged in some wires, typed in some commands, and pressed the button. The timer clicked on. Thirty seconds to activation. He got up to run, but the monster was already on him. With a swing on his massive limb, the ram and the box went flying, through the backstage and onto the stage proper. He and the box skidded across the stage, the crowd gasping at the sight. The ram started scrambling to the box, but a hefty cheetah in a speedo stepped in front of him.

"I don't think so, toots!" The cheetah tutted, before giving him a swift kick to the ribs. The ram fell to the side, gasping and wheezing.

Behind them, the machine began to beep.

Groot approached the device, inspecting it. On one side, a tube was filled with a thick blue liquid. Groot had been around Rocket enough to recognize the device as being an aerosol-type explosive, meant to spread the liquid as particulates as far as possible. In bright red numbers, a timer read out twenty-two seconds.

Groot didn't have to be a genius to know what would happen if that thing detonated.

He kneeled down, placing a large hand over the device. Branches grew rapidly from his arm and body, taking the shape of a dome.

"Wait, what're you doing?!" Gazelle asked, stepping back, "That's a bomb! It'll kill you!" Groot curled up around the device, only his head sticking out as his body contorted into a ball. As the bomb started to click to the final seconds, he said three words:

"We... Are... Groot..."

There was a dull WHUMP!, and for a moment a purple cloud started to seep out through his branches. There was a giant sucking sound, as the cloud went back in the large bushlike structure. A POOF! of green smoke sprayed out the top, and those closest to it caught the hint of mint and pine as it wafted in the air. Gazelle froze, but as she stood and waited, no sense of rage or fear overtook her mind. Aside from coughing away the intense minty cloud, she felt fine. Everyone did. Relief filled the crowd, as they suddenly realized they were going to live.

The thicket of branches began to shift and shake, crackling in the back. After a few moments, Groot pried himself away from the bush he made, and stood proudly on stage, grinning like a loon.

"Hell yeah, Groot!" Someone shouted from the crowd, "Groot saved us all!"

"Woo! Yay Groot!" Another mammal cried, "Groot! Groot! Groot!" Soon, a chant began to spread across the crowd, growing louder and more insistent. "GROOT! GROOT! GROOT!"

The Floral Colossus smiled, giving a tentative wave. The crowd cheered even louder. Groot smiled, as he realized he wouldn't have to hide at the warehouse anymore.

It'd be so nice to feel the sun on his bark again...

Foreign Agent detected.

Analyzing. Testoterone and adrenaline spiking. Aggression increasing. Pain receptors inhibited. Biological cognitive function impaired.

Extraction and Filtration engaged. Estimated time for 100% Detoxification: Four minutes. Auto Combat Mode engaged.

Assessing for threats. Designation: Judy Hopps. Status: Trained LEO, high agility, injured ankle. Threat Level: Minor.

Designation: Dawn Bellweather. Status: Afraid, untrained, ringleader. Threat Level: Minimal.

Designation: Nick Wilde. Status: Physical Improvement, natural weaponry, fearful. Threat Level: Moderate.

Designation: Rammsteins. Numbers: Five. Status: Armed, aggressive, trained. Threat Level: High.

Analysis: Rammsteins pose greatest threat. Prioritize and terminate.

The thing that was Rocket stared at the three trapped mammals, a deep growl and piercing stare awaking a deep, primal fear in them all. His gaze went from Judy, to Dawn, to Nick, a deep growl rumbling in his throat as he stared at each in turn. Then he looked up at the rams above him, his lips curled upwards, and his growl became a snarl.

Target acquired.

Even as the rams caught on and raised their weapons, Rocket had leapt onto the wall, scaling his way out in two massive jumps. He leaped onto one of the rams, claws and teeth bared. Before he could get a scream out, Rocket bit down on their throat, ripping it out in one go. Blood spurted out in quick jets, coating his face in red. The rams turned and fired at him, but he jumped off the dying mammal, skittering away into the darkness.

"Circle up!" The lead ram barked, raising his gun and scanning the room, "Don't let him get an opening!"

From the darkness, a vase flew out and struck another ram in the side. This was quickly followed by several shots - blue pellets hitting another ram in the unprotected face. The stricken ram fell to the ground, crying out and growling as the drug started taking effect. As the vase-struck ram raised his gun again, a spear was thrown from the darkness, striking him in the chest and pinning him to the floor several feet back.

"Where the hell is he?!" Another ram cried, stepping away from his boss, wildly swinging his guns around as he started making for the door. He didn't get very far, before he was tackled from behind, driven to the ground. Strong, sharp hands grabbed his muzzle, and pulled back. The ram screamed and struggled, desperately grabbing at those incredibly strong hands. Rocket growled, pulling with all his might. There was a wet CRACK!, and the ram went limp, hooves falling from Rocket's grip. He tossed the head away. Standing up, he looked around. Something was missing...

The air was knocked out of his chest, as Rocket was tackled into a concrete pillar. He had a moment to recognize the ram that he shot, his eyes filled with feral rage, as he was pinned against the pillar. With an angry, bleating roar, he slammed his head down upon Rocket's. Instead of the thudding sound of skull-on-skull, the room rang out with the sound of bone striking metal. The ram leaned back, momentarily stunned. Rocket bared his teeth, and slammed his head back at the ram. They fell backwards, and the cyborg was immediately on top of him. He grabbed the ram's horns, pinning him down to the floor, and started slamming his metal skull against his.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Metal met bone again and again. The ram struggled to free himself, but the smaller raccoon proved to be heavier and stronger, and soon the terrorist became dazed from the continuous assault.

WHAM! WHAM! CRACK! SPLAT! Rocket paused, taking a moment to observe his handiwork. The ram's skull had a noticeable indentation on his forehead, where his skull had caved in. Blood pooled and leaked over his face, as he stared blankly at the ceiling. His chest still rose and fell, so he was still alive, at least. Whether life as a vegetable was a life worth living was very much up for debate.

The raccoon's head ached, as he scrambled off the body. He licked his lips, and tasted iron. Rocket tapped his head, and winced as he felt the metal through the laceration of his scalp. Blood was dripping down his head, onto his clothes, onto the floor as it mixed with the ram's. He stood there, focusing on his breathing, his mind slowly coming back to him as the drug was being filtered out of his body. Odds were he'd be sweating and pissing blue tomorrow, but he wasn't going to be that mindless beast anymore.

Still fighting off the last bits of rage, Rocket went and broke open an emergency fire hose, tossing it down the hole. Slowly and shakily, each of them climbed up out of the display, only to stop in their tracks at the sight of all the death and devastation around them. Dawn, Nick and Judy stared at the raccoon - teeth bared, breathing heavily, covered in blood - and perhaps finally understood the primal fear their ancestors had of a True Predator.

After a time, the raccoon began to relax. His fists unclenched, the snarl on his face bleeding away into an exhausted frown. With careful, controlled steps, Rocket walked up to the little ewe, staring her down. He reached for his belt, and she flinched. He paused, but pulled something out of his pouch. Rocket stepped behind Dawn, grabbing her hooves. With a click, she was bound in a zip-tie.

"Rocket..." She started, "I-"

"You have the right to remain silent," He said, flatly reciting her reciting her rights. When he finished and asked if she understood, she merely nodded, as silent tears began to fall. Task complete, he sat down between them, focusing on his breathing, the feral aura of a few minutes ago gently fading away.

"...You okay there, Rocky?" Judy asked, still eyeing him warily.

The raccoon exhaled, long and slow. "Yeah," He replied, "I will be. Thanks." He glanced over to Nick, and his expression softened a tad. "Nick..."

"Yeah?"

"I... owe you an apology," He sighed, "For what I said at the press conference."

"Did you mean what you said back then?" Nick asked.

"Oh, I meant every word," Rocket said, "But I didn't have to be a dick about it. And - if I'm being completely honest with yuh's - I might've been the teeniest, tiniest bit jealous."

The fox blinked, surprised. "Oh yeah," He continued, "I'm man enough to admit it. Your mom's still around. Mine's not. You had a childhood. I didn't. You weren't tortured and reassembled. I was. And to see you just let yourself be held down by what other people told you you had to be..." The raccoon took a deep breath, spitting out a wad of blue spit away from all of them. "I said some shit that I shouldn't have, maybe. I've got a bit of a mouth, I know that." He glanced at Nick, and smirked. "Though maybe some of the things I said were things you needed to hear."

The fox's ears flitted, as he looked down at himself. "Maybe," He admitted. "I had to take some time to figure out some things."

"You're a good dude, Nick," Rocket concluded, placing a paw on his shoulder, "You're capable of a lot more than you think you are, if you put in the work." Nick smiled, closing his eyes and resting against the wall. Rocket turned to Judy, and he smiled. "And look at you, supercop. Found their secret base, got your evidence, made your escape with no backup or weapons. All in one day. Damn impressive."

"I couldn't have done it without you guys," Judy admitted, nursing her injured ankle.

"Sure you could," He replied, "You got the evidence, didn't you? All I had was a pedo's word."

Hopps scoffed, pulling the suitcase onto her lap. "At least it's over now," She sighed, joining them against the wall, "Now we can worry about normal police stuff."

"Normal." Rocket repeated the word, considering it. He nodded, a slight smirk on his muzzle. "Yeah, I'd like normal."

"Normal it is, then." Nick agreed. There, all three sat, waiting for reinforcements to come in. Whatever else came after - no matter how crazy or mundane - Rocky knew he had a team that'd help him through it...

Chapter Text

Zootopia is a big city, full of tough and adaptable mammals. Once a problem has been addressed, its people are quick to adapt and overcome anything that comes their way. This proved to be just as true with the Rammstein Scandal as it had with every other crisis that had once threatened the majestic city.

With Dawn's help, the Rammsteins were pulled out by the roots, completely and utterly culled from every organization and government body they'd attempted to infiltrate. Over the next several days, multiple police raids were launched, and dozens of rams and sheep from the PDs, Fire Departments, all levels of municipal government, even hospitals and corporations were rounded up and arrested. Only a few were eventually released, their connections too tangential or circumstantial to place. Only as the trials began and the evidence started becoming accounted for did the depth of the conspiracy truly become known.

Dawn Bellweather, the ringleader and would-be dictator of Zootopia, took a plea deal. In exchange for providing everything she knew about the organization and their connections, she would end up avoiding jailtime. Probably for the best - the sheer number of Preds she helped put behind bars over the years (whether they deserved it or not) that wanted to kill her meant she wouldn't last a day in the general population. Instead, she'd be sentenced to house arrest for eighteen months, followed by five years probation, as well as a $100'000 fine. Though none of this stung as much losing her relationship with Rocket. For all the good times they had, for all that they understood they'd used each other, her heart broke as she knew what they had was gone. Her best hope now was to simply fade away into the background, hope that mammals forgot about her, and hold onto the memories of what were and could've been (with him).

Though that is not to say that everyone else had a bummer ending, far from it. Bogo was cleared of wrongdoing, and his position as Chief of the Central District was restored. Rumors abound that Rocket pulled some strings to help make this happen, but that was never confirmed nor denied. What was confirmed, however, was that Bogo brought Clawhauser back behind the front desk, much to the rejoicing of everyone else in the department. The officers held a party in their honor, happy to have one of their own brought back into the fold.

With the old mayor and the deputy mayor both gone amid scandals, the position of leadership fell to Head Treasurer Yax - the yak who also ran the Oasis Nudist Club. An unorthodox mammal, to be sure, but what's a "flower child" running an exotic naturalist club compared to a kidnapper and a terrorist? He had no secrets to hide (besides the ones that anyone with a pair of braincells to rub together could guess), and unlike all other politicians, seemed incapable of lying. Better still, he had a knack of picking replacements for the lost rams, seemingly at random and yet always perfectly suited for the job. Rocket met with him a couple of times, and both came to a mutual understanding regarding the future usage of drones within the city.

With the Berserker situation dealt with, and tensions between the species finally starting to simmer down, there was less of a need for combat/pacifying-models. Instead, Rocket presented the Mayor with new models, more focused on civilian use and infrastructure repair. Some of these were even large enough to transport large mammals, replacing buses and taxis alike. Yax liked that, and put in an order for 300 units. At the same time, the PD/Combat models were placed in storage, being consigned to "emergency measures" and "martial law-level situations". There was no need for the average Zootopian to be afraid of a robot cracking down on them.

As it turned out, Hopps' termination had never been completed, meaning that she never stopped being a police officer. For her hard work and commitment to peace and justice, Judy received a number of awards and commendations, and was promoted to detective. No more parking ticket duty for her, thank god.

Groot, meanwhile, in recognition of his efforts in thwarting the attack on the Peace and Love Concert, was granted personhood and citizenship within Zootopia and beyond. No more would he have to hide within a warehouse or a high-end lab - now he could walk the streets like anyone else, and be welcomed and treated as a hero and a celebrity (even if nobody could understand what he was saying).

Following the events of the Peace and Love Concert, Gazelle and Finnick officially announced that they were dating. While some were skeptical and confused as to why a famous musician would want to shack up with a male only a quarter of her height, the issue wasn't going to be a financial one. With Rocket's help, Finnick used his shares in the cyborg's corporation to start his own businesses, starting up multiple autoshops and car dealerships. Soon, he became the biggest in the Zootopian auto-business, becoming a multimillionaire by the end of the year.

As for Nick and Rocket? Well...

"Why couldn't we do this indoors?" Rocket whispered to Nick, tugging on his collar, "I'm sweating like a Tuskaviran in this outfit."

"I don't know what that is," Nick whispered back, his sunglasses reflecting the bright summer sunlight away from his sensitive eyes, "But I didn't know raccoons could sweat."

"This one does," He replied, adjusting his black uniform, "I've worked next to fusion reactors in full protective gear, and I haven't felt this hot. I should redesign them and make them out of a material that breathes, for the Celestials' sake."

"I dunno, I think we look pretty slick in these," Nick brushed the sleeves of his black uniform.

"Guess we'll have to find out once we get outta 'ere," Rocket smirked, "You an' me, we head to a bar - you in dat, me in my gear. We'll see how many chicks we have wit' us at the end o' the night."

"I don't know how fair that is. Everyone knows who you are. How many mammals know me?"

Rocket was about to respond, when he spotted a familiar bunny taking the podium atop the stage. As Hopps started doing her speech, he thought about the last couple months. Judy had finally convinced Nick to give up working the streets, and become an example for foxes by joining law enforcement. Wilde didn't intend on going alone, however. He asked Rocket if he could join him in the academy. To everyone's surprise, Rocket accepted. Sure, there was the reasons he stated before (about wanting to graduate early just to prove how easy it was, as well as doing his part to be a registered superhero). But there was another, arguably more important reason for him: He wanted an excuse to hang out with his friends.

What was the point in being a do-gooder if you weren't doing it with your buds?

"When I was a kid," Judy began, "I thought Zootopia was this perfect place, where everyone got along and anyone could be anything. Turns out, real life is a little bit more complicated than a slogan on a bumper sticker. Real life is messy. We all have limitations, we all make mistakes, which means, hey, glass half full, we all have a lot in common. And the more we try to understand one another, the more exceptional each of us will be. But we have to try. So no matter what type of animal you are; from the biggest elephant, to our first fox, I implore you: Try. Try to make the world a better place. Look inside yourself and recognize that change starts with you. It starts with me. It starts with all of us."

The bunny looked at them as she spoke, offering a gentle smile. Nick lifted his shades and winked, and Rocky smiled and nodded. Her speech was filled with the positive, kumbaya nonsense that would've made his eyes roll into his skull not so long ago. But now, as she handed them their badges, he believed her. He could believe that together, they could make this city, this world, a better place. Together, he believed there was nothing they couldn't do.

Because he was Rocket Raccoon, and they were the Guardians of Zootopia.

The End