Zootopia: ZPD Mysteries: Case #2: On Dimm Avenue

Chapter 1: Caught Like a Cat Up a Tree

The morning sun high above the city of Zootopia shone down on the hundreds of steel-and-glass-clad buildings, reaching its warm rays onto the mammal metropolis below. For animals who were looking forward to starting a brand-new day, to work or to school, the sight of the glowing orb in the sky was the hinting of a new day; a new dawn.

And then there were those who went complaining to their parents about having to go to school. That was common for high schoolers.

Zootopia wasn't just a city; it was the crown jewel of the Free Lands. Animals of all kinds, from the mammals and reptiles of the land and sea to birds of the air; all sizes, all shapes, all heights, all fur colors, all species, predator and prey, male and female, boyfriends and girlfriends, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters—animals of every kind dwelled in this enormous megalopolis. They thrived in the unquenchable light of its freedoms.

To visitors, the city seemed like a place where anything was possible.

Split into a total of sixteen massive boroughs, the city itself gleamed, whether during the day or at night, with lights that never went dead. Buildings of all kinds, from massive claw-like structures, to glass boxes to elegant twisting, horn-like structures, rose to the skies like a million chrome-and-steel blades of grass. A patchwork of colors from all over the rainbow painted the exteriors of the buildings, making it appear from a distance to be a construct of pure crystal. On top of some buildings, greenery and plants hung from rooftop gardens, keeping the city's design still tied to the natural world around them. On the streets, armies of cars and trucks and other vehicles rumbled back and forth like battalions of insects on the march. Railroad tracks of all sizes, from diminutive rodent trains to the massive broad-gauge trains that shuttled over 4,000 animals at a time, crisscrossed the city like a patchwork of iron and steel. High in the sky, massive cargo blimps flew like lethargic whale sharks through the sea, but without any intelligence whatsoever. (Plus, they had to dodge around helicopters, VTOL passenger jets and other aircraft to keep from crashing into them.) Ships great and small puttered around the Zootopia Sound and into Bayou Bay Harbor, each on some urgent mission on their own.

On a quiet street in Savanna Central; the heart of Zootopia, in the early morning hours, a lone police cruiser sat in front of a shoddy apartment building, idling like a black-and-white panda. The sirens dull and quiet as it sat at the curb.

Judy Hopps, Lieutenant of the Zootopia Police Department, drummed her fuzzy rabbit fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. She'd been sitting in her car listening to a Furry Force 5 mixtape CD she'd bought, and she could only take so much of Saw Blade Activatur singing about cranking the tunes like a chainsaw before she got annoyed. Then again, listening to Futon singing about glowing in the dark a few times was just as annoying.

"Where is he?" she asked herself. "He should be here by now. He better not have confused his toothpaste with his furgel again."

Judy Hopps was a 26-year-old, grey-furred, violet-eyed rabbit, the only rabbit on the police force. Dressed in her slick uniform, blue like the morning waves of the ocean, she looked the part of a true officer, even if she was very short by comparison to most of the rest of the ZPD's finest. She was slim and muscular and perhaps the best officer on the ZPD. Her small size allowed her to slip through smaller spaces, and her excellent hearing allowed her to catch noises from across the busy streets of Zootopia. Her violet eyes always shimmered a bit, gazing upon the world with an outlook of redemption. No matter what was happening around her, she always saw the good in animals and in her world, never being too far beyond redemption. For every evil thing, there were two good things to repulse it, she believed.