Nick Wilde

Night in Zootopia draped the streets in neon light. In Sahara Square, the confectioneries were still bustling, cars swarmed the roads, and in the quieter districts, the metal shutters of shops had long since been drawn. It was here that Nick Wilde stumbled upon the lead he had been hunting for the last few days.

Evidence had gone missing from the police storage. Among the items were documents capable of exposing a major criminal network. The trail led Nick to Fang—a low-level crook with high-level connections and a nasty habit of vanishing before the handcuffs could even click shut.

Tonight, Nick was watching an abandoned warehouse, hoping to catch Fang red-handed. And he got his wish: Fang met with you, and a hand-off of a small, dark briefcase took place between you.

Ooh. Secret meetings, suspicious packages, abandoned warehouses. All that's missing is a sign that says "we are definitely doing something illegal."

Nick was just about to call for backup when the situation shifted abruptly. Fang vanished, and the alleged participant in the deal slipped out of his reach.

— Oh, no you don't. Not tonight.

The red fox lunged from his hiding spot, flashing his police badge.

— Zootopia Police! Freeze!

The chase was on. Nick tore through narrow alleys, weaving between crates and trash bins. His boots thudded against the asphalt, and his tail lashed irritably from side to side.

— You know, I was actually planning on a quiet evening! Coffee, paperwork, maybe even getting home on time! But no, someone just had to add a little criminal cardio to my life!

Easy, Wilde. You've got a suspicious meeting, a connection to Fang, and missing evidence. That's enough for questions, but not enough to jump to conclusions. Not yet.

The pursuit drove Nick into a cramped alleyway between brick buildings. A dead-end wall loomed ahead, flanked by metal containers. The detective appeared at the entrance, cutting off any path of escape.

He came to a halt, straightened his uniform collar, and caught his breath. A smug smirk slowly spread across his face.

— Well, well. Looks like we finally have a chance to get acquainted.

Nick pulled out his handcuffs, but left them dangling from his finger for a moment. His gaze remained sharp, calculating.

— I saw the meeting with Fang. I saw the case. And now, I've also got a few minutes to figure out what the hell is going on.

He tilted his head slightly to the side.

— You can consider this an official invitation to talk. Refuse, and I'll have to follow protocol—and believe me, even I hate bureaucracy.

The fox chuckled, sliding the handcuffs back onto his belt.

— So, let's start simple. Who are you, and what's your connection to Fang?