Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Burbank, California
Spring 2021

It was the start of another day of recording Zootopia: The Series, the still-secret TV spinoff Disney had ordered based on their 2016 hit film Zootopia. Originally planned to be airing by now on the Disney Channel, a worldwide pandemic in 2020 had caused unexpected delays. "Jason, Ginnifer, Tiny, good to see you this morning," director and writer Byron said to the voices of red fox Nick, gray rabbit Judy, and fennec fox Finnick, who had gathered outside the soundproof recording room.

"Good morning," the three said in near unison.

Jason took a sip of his coffee. "Remind me, Byron," he said, "which episode are we recording today?"

"It's the one where Bellwether and her henchmammals develop a mind-altering substance in prison, one that makes mammals believe they are other species, in an effort to create utter chaos and exact revenge on the city. It's called 'She Otter Know Better' because, as you may recall, her plot fails spectacularly when she accidentally starts thinking that she's an otter, a member of the hated predator family."

Tiny rolled his eyes. "Another episode with a vengeful Bellwether and a rehashed night howler plot? You didn't rip this one off some thirteen-year-old C student's fanfic, did you?"

"You do know none of us are allowed to read fan fiction, right?" Byron asked.

Tiny's eyes widened. "You were serious about that?"

"Just don't let it happen again," Byron said. "Please."

Tiny nodded. "Well, I suppose this could be an amusing plot after all. Deer howling at the moon, lions trying to squeeze into mouse tubes in Little Rodentia"—he turned to Ginnifer and Jason—"rabbits pouncing head first into the snow, foxes eating carrots. Romance could blossom."

Ginnifer laughed. "Yeah, right!"

"Actually, Ginnifer," Byron said, "Tiny isn't all that wrong. The other writers and I have recently revised the script to include a Judy and Nick love confession."

"Yes!" Jason shouted as he thrust both fists into the air. He had long been a supporter of his character and his co-star's character eventually ending up together, even going so far as to joke about them procreating in a 2016 interview.

"Really?" Ginnifer said. "With all due respect, Byron, the Nick and Judy relationship works best as a platonic friendship."

"The executives think it would be better for the show's ratings—to say nothing of the box office when we do the sequel—if the majority of fans get the 'WildeHopps' they've been tweeting at me for five years."

"At the box office? Zootopia grossed a billion dollars without romance!"

"Well, with romance," Jason said, "the sequel will gross two billion dollars. Before noon."

Ginnifer lightly groaned. "I guess I walked into that joke, didn't I?"

"Yes. Yes, you did."

Ginnifer sighed. "All right, I'll do it. I don't have to agree with everything my character does to be a professional and to put all my heart in my performance. After all, Jenny doesn't agree with shooting innocent creatures with a toxic blue serum."

"As far as we know," Jason said.

"Excellent," Byron said. "Glad to have you on board, even if reluctantly. And maybe, in time, you'll agree that WildeHopps is just so darn cute." He looked at the time on a clock on the wall. "All right. Let me give you all fifteen minutes or so to review the script before we get started." He handed copies to the three voice actors. "The major changes begin on page 8." He then left the three and took his place in a nearby control room.

After skimming through the script for a few minutes, Ginnifer turned to Jason, who was still looking at his copy. "So, besides the WildeHopps, what do you think?"

"There are some pretty good moments here," Jason replied. "Nick gets to sing again, which is always fun to do."

"Those are fun moments," Ginnifer agreed. "I hope someday Judy gets to sing too."

"You should ask Byron. If WildeHopps can be added to the script, I'm sure an Officer Hopps number could—"

"You're gonna die!"

Jason and Ginnifer turned to the source of the deep, angry voice, finding Tiny rolling up his script.

"What's up, buddy?" Jason asked.

"Who's gonna die?" Ginnifer wondered.

Tiny swung his script in the air. "This damn fly, that's who. It landed on my script, and I brushed it away. Then it landed on my wrist and bit me!" He swung again. "It's not gettin' another chance, it's gotta pay!" A third swing. A third miss.

"And in baseball, that's called an out," Jason said. He chuckled.

"You ain't funny," Tiny said. "You know, if I kill it, it won't bite you either. How 'bout some help?"

"Fair enough," Jason said. He rolled up his script and turned to Ginnifer. "You too, officer. Make the recording room a better place."

She hesitated for a second but then rolled up her script too. Almost immediately, the fly approached her. She swung, and nearly had it!

"Almost!" Jason said. "I think you grazed him, though."

Back and forth, up and down, the eyes of the three humans followed the pest as it zipped around the room. Every few seconds, one or more would take a swing at it, but so far Ginnifer was the only one to make any sort of contact.

Suddenly, the fly decided it was time for a rest and landed on a smoke detector in the center of the ceiling. The three watched it for ten seconds, twenty seconds, forty-five seconds. It wasn't flying away.

"Enough of this stakeout, officers," Tiny said as he stepped away. "Time to end this." He walked over to a chair across the room and brought it back, positioning it right below the smoke detector.

"Even if you climb onto the chair, you're still too tiny, Tiny," Jason said. "You won't reach."

"I'm not climbing onto the chair. You are. I'm climbing onto you."

"What!"

"C'mon, man. It's the only way we're gonna get this thing so we can get started on recording."

"I . . . well . . . all right, I guess so," Jason said. He set his rolled-up script on the floor.

A few moments later, after Tiny had climbed onto Jason's shoulders, Jason put one foot on the chair. He turned his head slightly toward Ginnifer. "Ginnifer, just, like, support my legs a little when I get up there, OK? As best you can."

Ginnifer nodded. "Got it." She set her script next to Jason's.

Seconds later, Jason was completely on the chair. Ginnifer held on to his lower thighs.

"Just a few more inches, Jason!" Tiny shouted as he reached as far as he could, rolled-up script in hand.

"Sorry, my parents didn't give me those inches," Jason replied. "This is as high as I can get you."

Tiny sighed. "All right. All right. I think I have another idea." He stuck the script in his shirt pocket and reached into his right pants pocket, pulling out a small bottle.

"Pocket-size Raid?" Jason asked.

"Breath spray," Tiny replied. He pulled the cap off. "One not for sale yet. A friend at a drug company let me try it." He aimed the nozzle toward the insect and chuckled darkly as he pressed the actuator down.

There was a small sizzle and then a louder thud as the three voice actors were thrown to the floor. The peppermint mist tingled after it drifted down to meet them.

Chapter Text

Jason was the first to regain consciousness from whatever had happened. As he opened his eyes, everything around him was a blur. "Ginnifer! Tiny!" he shouted for his friends and co-stars. "Where are you? Where am I?" He stood up and began walking with his arms extended forward, hoping to find the others or at least a wall that he could follow to the exit. After several steps without locating anything, he stopped and rubbed his eyes. "Ow!" He didn't remember his fingernails having been so long and sharp. He grabbed the chest of his shirt and pulled it upward to rub his eyes through the fabric for protection.

After a moment, the blurriness began to clear up. He looked down and then jumped up in fright at the creature he saw lying still on the floor. It was only because it was unexpected and unexplained that he was startled by its presence—he didn't usually have a fear of bunnies.

"What the—" he said as he took a few steps back. "How did you get in here? Where'd you get the detailed Judy costume? Who's playing a trick on—Aaahh!" He fell backward.

"Aaahh! Getoffame!"

Jason rolled off whatever he had landed on, finding a fennec fox wearing a bowling shirt and shorts. "F-F-Finnick?"

"N-N-Nick?" the fennec mocked as he held a paw out. "Just help me off the floor, Jason. I can't see anything."

"What's going on?" Jason asked as he held a hand out for the talking African fox. "And how do you know my name?"

"What do you mean, how do I know your name? We've known each other for how many years now?" He started rubbing his eyes, and like Jason, accidentally poked himself. "Ah!" He finished rubbing with the backs of his hands, which felt especially hairy to him. His vision became clear. "A fox!"

Jason chuckled. "I know you are, but what am I?"

"You're a freaking fox wearing a freaking police uniform and you're freaking talking to me! What's going on?"

"Tiny? Is that you?" Ginnifer asked.

"It's me, Ginnifer," Tiny replied, turning toward the voice. His jaw dropped. He turned back to the red fox. "What kind of sick joke is this, fox? You look and sound like Nick freaking Wilde and she looks and sounds like Judy freaking Hopps! Where are Jason and Ginnifer?"

"I am Jason."

"You're a liar!"

"I am Jason, and you look and sound like Finnick."

"I am not Finnick! I'm an actor! Finnick isn't real!"

"Well, pull out your phone and take a selfie if you don't believe me. Or just look at your 'hands.'"

Tiny looked down at his hands, finding sandy fur, four digits, and claws. "No. Freaking. Way." He looked up at Jason. "Look at your hands too, Jason."

Jason did so. "Oh my God."

The two foxes turned toward each other and then turned toward the bunny cop. "Ginnifer!"

"Thanks for remembering me!" The bunny rubbed her eyes. "Ow!"

"Yeah, watch those claws," Jason said as he and Tiny walked over.

"Claws?" Ginnifer said. "My nails are a bit long, but I wouldn't call them—Oh." She started reaching behind her head. "Then I probably have"—she discovered long, furry ears—"yup. And a"—she felt her rear—"mm-hmm, a cute, fluffy tail." She looked at the foxes in front of her. "And you must be Jason and Tiny."

Jason nodded. "In the flesh. Well, more or less."

"Somehow we became our characters," Tiny said. "I have no idea how, but I'm fighting an urge to threaten whoever is responsible with a baseball bat."

"Weird, Tiny," Jason said. "Like something out of one of those fanfics you weren't supposed to read."

"Shut up, Nick. I mean"—the fennec paused—"you know what? I do mean Nick. You're just as cocky as that smug bast—"

"Let's not fight, please," Ginnifer said. "We're all good friends, and we need to work together if we're going to figure out what happened and how to get back to our normal selves."

Tiny nodded. "You're right." He turned to Jason. "Sorry, Jason."

Jason brushed it off. "No harm done. I've been called worse than Nick Wilde, and I do love the character." He thought for a moment. "You know, maybe that's part of the solution."

"What is?" Ginnifer asked.

"Like how you said we need to work together and how Tiny called me Nick. On the show, Nick and Judy work together all the time, obviously, and Finnick sometimes helps out as a mammal still on the street. At the end of the day, our characters always get the job done no matter what challenges face them. Maybe we need to embrace this weird situation by fully getting into character, working together exactly as the partners and friends we are animated to be."

Tiny stared. "Surely you can't be serious."

"I am serious." Jason smirked. "And don't call me Shirley."

Tiny rolled his eyes.

For a moment, two moments, three moments, silence filled the room.

Ginnifer was the first to break it. "Sounds like our first fox has learned a lot on the force. I'm proud of you, Nick." She saluted.

The fox returned the salute. "I learned from the best, Carrots. And I had practice a few years ago when I delivered that excellent commencement speech to the academy graduates, which I wrote myself." He lowered his paw.

The bunny lowered hers and chuckled. "You mean the speech that you dreaded giving for weeks? The one that you told me you would have answered a few questions on your final exam incorrectly so you wouldn't become the valedictorian if you knew it meant having to give the following year?"

"Yeah, that one."

"All right, all right, I'm Finnick," the fennec said. He pointed at the taller predator. "But if you kiss me, I'll bite your face off! And no more elephant costumes!"

"I can promise only the former, not the latter."

"Nick!"

"Fine, no elephant costumes."

"All right, everyone," a familiar voice said through the speakers in the room, "let's take it from scene 1."

"Cheese and crackers!" Judy exclaimed. "It's Byron!"

"We'd better split," Finnick said.

"I concur, little buddy," Nick said, "but we can't exactly go down the hall like this."

"Hey, what's all that racket?" Byron asked. "It sounds like a rabbit whining and two foxes barking in there."

Nick nodded approvingly. "The man knows his animal sounds. I'm impressed."

"Nick, focus!" Judy yelled. Her eyes darted all over the room. Suddenly, she pointed upward. "I got it! Through the ductwork!"

Finnick groaned. "Another cliché."

Nick looked up at the grate in the ceiling. "Only one problem, Carrots. Cranky canid here and I couldn't reach the ceiling in human form. There's no way even the three of us could do it as animals."

"No, but if you stand on a chair and throw me toward the grate as I hop, I could probably reach it. Then you and Finnick can climb up."

"How?"

"Take off your shirt."

"Glad you're open to WildeHopps now, but this really isn't the time. Also, we're both married."

"To make a rope, dumb fox! If your necktie, your shirt, your duty belt, and my duty belt are tied together, it should be long enough to reach you on the chair."

Nick nodded. "Well, you bunnies are good at math," he said as he started loosening his tie, "so if you say it'll work, it'll work."

Judy removed her duty belt, whose purpose was to carry various police equipment and which was not necessary to hold up the "pants" portion of her one-piece uniform suit.

Nick gave his pants a few downward tugs after taking off his own duty belt to be sure there wouldn't be a uniform malfunction. He took his shirt off next.

Judy took Nick's items when he was ready. She slipped the end tip of her belt through the buckle of Nick's to join the two belts at the buckles. She tied the tail end of Nick's tie tightly to the end of his belt, and then tied the blade of the tie to itself after slipping it up the sleeve and out the neck of his shirt.

The result looked ridiculous. But it just might work.

Nick brought the chair over.

Judy coiled the makeshift rope so she could more easily hold on to it. "All right, Nick," she said as she put the coil over her right shoulder. "Pick me up and climb onto the chair. Hold one of my feet in each of your paws. When I count to three, throw me upward as hard as you can. Just before you let go, I'll start to hop as hard as I can from your paws. With that and a little luck, I'll reach the grate."

"Luck is for leopardchauns, Carrots," Nick said as he picked his partner up. "You'll make it because no problem has ever beaten us." He climbed onto the chair.

The bunny smiled. "Thanks, Nick." She raised her arms high like she wanted to be doubly sure the teacher would call on her in class. "OK! On three! One . . . two . . . three!"

With the combined force, Judy launched like the world's furriest missile. "To infinity and beyond!" she couldn't help but exclaim. The fingers on her left paw hit the grate, causing some pain and bouncing off. The fingers on her right paw, though, slipped through three of the openings. As she clenched her paw, her weight pulled the grate open, and the bunny began to drop.

"Carrots!" Nick yelled. He shot his arms up to catch the bunny.

But the bunny never reached him. The grate dropped only as far as its hinges would allow.

"I'm all right, Nick," Judy said. "I just didn't know the grate opened that way." She slipped the fingers of her left paw through the grate's openings and climbed upward, disappearing into the ductwork.

A few seconds later, the makeshift rope dropped through the opening.

Nick held his right arm up and jumped up. His claws grazed the dangling belt. "I can just reach it if I jump, Carrots. Maybe you should tie the other end to the end of the grate instead of holding it."

Judy popped her head through the opening. "Too risky. I'm not sure the hinges can take your weight."

"Are you saying I eat too many blueberries?"

"I'm saying I know I can take your weight because I carried you down the mountain when you dislocated your ankle on our skiing trip."

"Gotcha. All right, I'm going to send Finnick up first because he's tiny—literally." He got off the chair and bent down to Finnick's level. "All right, get in here, little buddy," he said as he held his arms open.

The fennec groaned lightly as he approached the red fox and allowed him to scoop him up.

Nick climbed back onto the chair. "Hold on tight, Carrots!" Holding Finnick in his left arm, he tried jumping a little harder and reaching a little farther than he had a minute earlier. Finnick's added weight, though small, resulted in three failed attempts, but the fourth time was the charm. "Got it! All right, one fennec coming up."

Finnick climbed out of Nick's loosened hold and made his way upward. His toenails accidently grazed one of Nick's ears as he was climbing onto his head.

"Do watch the ears. They're my second-favorite part."

"Yeah? Well, I don't want to know what your favorite part is."

"Yes, I'm a very dirty fox because my tail is my favorite."

Moments later, Finnick reached the top of the rope, and Judy helped him into the duct. Nick climbed up after.

"Hello again, partner," Nick said as he reached the top. He smiled. "Can I have my shirt back now?"

"In a moment," Judy said as she helped Nick inside. "Let's get the grate closed first." She pulled up the rope and then returned the grate to its closed position.

And not a moment too soon. Just as Judy shut the grate, the door to the recording room opened. "What's going on in"—Byron suddenly paused, surprised to find the room empty—"here?" He shut the door and began to walk around the perimeter of the room to confirm it was indeed unoccupied. "Huh," he said as he made it back to the door, "they must have gone on a coffee break or something."

He was about to exit the room when a small object on the floor caught his attention. He walked over to it and picked it up. "'Dr. Refresh's Breath Mist,'" he said, reading the container's label. "'Experimental formula—not for public issue.'" He sniffed the nozzle and then sprayed two shots into his mouth. "Mmm, minty." He then pocketed the container and left the room.

Nick sneezed. "Ugh. It's so dusty in here." He stopped for a moment and then sneezed again.

"Don't quit now, Nick," Judy said. "We're almost to the roof." She paused for a moment. "We might need your shirt again when we get there."

"To clean the cute dust bunnies off your cute bunny head?"

"Don't call me cute. And, no, to jam the fan blades in the air handler so we can get through without being chopped up like the carrots in so many of Mom's tasty recipes."

The fox's eyes widened. Which allowed more dust to get in. "But it has to be my shirt?" He blinked rapidly and snorted some dust out his nostrils.

"You're the biggest one of us, and we need the biggest piece of material we can get. I'll take the heat from Bogo. We may even need Finnick's shirt too to be safe."

"No way!" Finnick said. "This shirt was a gift when I bowled a perfect game."

Less than a minute later, they arrived at the rooftop unit. The three—especially Nick and Finnick—were relieved to find that the spinning blades of death contained within it were still. After a tight squeeze through the damper, the mammals emerged on top of the building.

Nick took a deep breath. "Ah, fresh air."

"Well, we made it," Finnick said. "Now what?"

"A very good question," Judy said. "And I also wonder if we're the only ones or if the rest of the cast was affected too."

Nick pulled out his phone. "Let me just check the news to see if a lion was reported inside City Hall."

Finnick turned toward him. "Put that thing away, man. Byron didn't turn into Travis or Bucky, so I think we're just the unlucky few."

"Good point," Nick said as he put the phone back in his pocket.

"Well," Judy said, "since the three of us are all inside our characters' bodies and our predicament is similar enough to what Bellwether orchestrated in the episode we were going to record, maybe we can get back to normal in a way that's similar enough to the episode's solution. I didn't get to that point in the revised script myself, but does anyone else remember what happens near the end of the episode?"

Nick smirked. "Besides my fabulous singing?"

Judy rolled her eyes. "Yes, besides your fabulous singing."

"Honey," Nick said.

"Nick, I don't want to be called 'cute,' and I don't want to be called 'honey' either."

"No, Carrots, I was referring to that lovable crackpot Honey the badger. She assembled a crude shock device in her bunker that quickly reversed the effects of the mind-altering substance on you, me, and a few others while chemists were still working on a drug for the rest of the afflicted community to take. She didn't want us to have to wait, and as you know, she's as paranoid about pharmaceuticals as she is about contrails and gluten."

Judy chuckled. "Yes, every time we see her, she always says, 'I wasn't vaccinated, and I turned out all right.' She's nuts, but she does come in handy sometimes."

"So if we shock ourselves the right way, we go back to normal?" Finnick asked. He shuddered. "It makes me think of some alternate universe where us predators had to wear shock collars. It sounds painful. There's no other way?"

"Like Carrots before me, I had to be tased at the academy. I've never lied in my life, and I won't start now: Being tased is painful, and Honey's contraption is probably no more pleasant." The fox sighed. "There are risks, but I think Carrots is right that we should try to get out of this based on the script. So unless we can figure out exactly what happened down in the recording room, I think our next step is to head to the hardware store."

Finnick lightly nodded. "Right." He paused for a moment and then walked toward the edge of the roof. He whistled as he looked down. "So, how do we get down from here?"

"Another shirt, tie, and belt rope?" Nick said as he started walking over to his former hustling partner. He looked down when he arrived and also whistled. "Wow. Forget that. We don't have enough stuff even if we all strip down to nothing."

Nick's current police partner walked over. "Yeah," she said as she looked at the ground below, "we bunnies usually land on our feet, but this is much too high." She looked at the side of the building itself for a moment and noticed an electric wire about two feet down. She followed the wire to a utility pole across the street. If they used the pole's old metal steps and their own claws, she thought she had found a way down. "Hey, Nick, ever go ziplining?"

"I would have in the scouts if they had let me join."

"Well, take your belt off," Judy said as she started undoing her own buckle. "You're about to earn an overdue merit badge."

Chapter Text

"Are you sure this helps us blend in, Carrots?" Nick asked. "We look like the type of individual we usually arrest for selling bootleg watches—or, uh, doing highly inappropriate things in the park."

To avoid detection as they made their way down the busy streets of Burbank, the three had just commandeered a Lakers hat, a trench coat, and a pair of boots from a man, now temporarily unconscious thanks to a small dosage from Judy's tranq gun, who was sitting at a bus stop bench. He wouldn't be making his 11:20 connection.

Finnick, acting as the head of the faux human, adjusted himself on Judy's shoulders. "And do cops usually steal? I know you two have mob connections and ask for my help sometimes, but still."

Judy, sitting on her partner's shoulders, sighed. "It's not stealing. You heard me deputize him right before I shot him. This is official police business, and he's helping."

Nick chuckled. "Shouldn't you at least give him one of those junior ZPD stickers?"

"Nick, do you live to annoy me?"

Nick smirked, but no one could see it. "Yes. Yes, I do. What, you thought I became your partner because I wanted to make the world a better place?"

The bunny rolled her eyes. "Let's just get going. Onward, Feet."

Nick stepped his booted foot forward. "You got it, Ribcage."

About fifteen minutes into their walk to the hardware store, a car traveling down the street came to a stop at a red signal. The loud gangsta rap playing inside, not wholly unlike the French stuff that Finnick often listened to, became a bit louder as the window on the vehicle's passenger side then partially opened, just enough to allow the twentysomething male passenger to toss several pieces of garbage out onto the sidewalk.

"Hey!" Finnick yelled, but he was in little position to do much else.

"What's going on up there, Eyes?" Nick asked.

"Oh, just some loser tossing garbage from a car. Stupid litterbug." As the car pulled away, Finnick glanced at the trash the passenger had thrown: a Big Mac box, a crushed-up cigarette pack, some soiled plastic utensils, and a small green object. "Hmm," he said. "Nick, move about ten feet forward."

Nick carried the threesome until they were right over where the green object had landed. "Nick," Finnick said, "reach down and pick up that green container."

Bending down, Nick reached through the front of the trench coat and picked up the object carefully so as not to drop the others in the process. He shook it, but it was empty. "It's just an empty bottle of breath spray," he said.

"That's what I thought it was," Finnick said. "Why do I feel that it means something?"

Nick laughed. "Breath spray means something? How hard did you hit your head back at the studio?"

"Well, it just does, Nick! I have this weird feeling."

"You should get that checked. There are some great vets in this city."

"You know what I mean! I think it's somehow linked to what happened to us. Shouldn't we still try to find a better solution than possibly electrocuting ourselves?"

"You know what? You're definitely right," Nick said with a nod that no one could see.

The other two, especially Judy, felt the nod, though. "Whoa! Careful there, Nick," she said. "But I agree, let's hear Finnick out."

With Finnick's guidance, Nick moved the trench coat man down a nearby alley, where the three jumped out of their disguise and gathered behind an overfilled dumpster.

"All right, little buddy," Nick said, "let's try to figure this out quickly because it smells worse next to this dumpster than your van after Taco Tuesday."

"Well, that's the last time I invite you over for guys' night," the fennec replied. He held his paw out. "Lemme see the bottle."

As Nick handed Finnick the empty bottle, Judy batted at some flies that had left the rotting refuse to try to assault the officer. "I wish I had some of that insect repellent Dad made from watered-down Midnicampum holicithias right now." She shooed many away, smacked one on her left arm, and saw that one had landed on the red stripe of Finnick's bowling shirt. "Hey, Finnick, right there on your stripe, you might want to . . ." She trailed off as she pointed.

Finnick, however, had no idea Judy was talking to him. He was too focused on the bottle, trying to figure out the connection between breath spray and their current state.

A paw smacking into his chest jolted his attention away from the bottle. "Hey!"

"Sorry, Finnick," Judy said. "You had a fly on your shirt, and I didn't want it to bite you."

"A fly?" Finnick said. He paused for a moment and then jumped up half of Judy's height. "A fly! You're a genius! I know what happened!" He sighed. "And, unfortunately, it's my fault. Back at the studio, I wanted to kill a fly that had bitten me on the wrist. You and Nick tried to help me, but the fly escaped to a smoke detector on the ceiling. So I climbed onto Nick and he climbed onto a chair so I could try to reach the smoke detector while you held on to Nick to help support us. I still couldn't hit the fly with my rolled-up script, though, so I sprayed it with my breath spray. Then we were all thrown to the floor. I think something in the smoke detector reacted with something in the breath spray."

"Americium," Judy said.

"Amer-what-ium?" Nick asked.

"Americium-241 is a radioactive isotope used in certain smoke detectors. My younger brother Jake followed me into public service and is a firefighter in Bunnyburrow. I helped him study for his final exam."

Nick nodded. "But shouldn't we be calling it antlericium?"

Judy lightly punched his arm. "Not everything needs to be a pun, Slick."

"And we turned into our Zootopia characters even though we've all had other roles probably because of the episode script I had with me?" Finnick asked.

"Very likely so," Judy replied.

"So that means we don't need to shock ourselves—or fall in love with beasts or kiss frogs or whatever—to be humans again," Finnick continued. "All we need is a smoke detector, a bottle of breath spray, and, I don't know, maybe a printed photo of the three of us together as humans to hold while spraying the smoke detector?"

"That would be as close as we can get to doing the opposite of what got us this way," Judy replied. "But where are we going to get a photo of us? I have one at home, but I'd scare my husband to death if I went back there looking the way I do. Though my kids would probably find me so cute that I'd never be able to leave."

Nick smirked. "You'd let them call you 'cute' even though they're not bunnies?"

"They're my kids, Nick! Of course the 'cute rule' has some exceptions."

Nick chuckled. "You're cute when you're mildly irritated. But I think I have a solution. If we head over to Targoat—I mean, Target—we can not only pick up a smoke detector and some breath spray but also use a floor model computer to download a photo of us from the Internet, as I doubt our smartphones would be compatible with just printing one at the photo center." He chuckled. "We could even get some mugs and mousepads made for each other for Christmas and Hanukkah gifts."

"Let's just stick with the essentials for now," Judy said. "To Target we go."

It was less than a two-mile walk to Target.

"All right," Judy said as the three entered the store, once again inside the trench coat man, "let's head over to the electronics department first. After we download the photo, we can have it printed while we get the other two items."

With that, the mammals proceeded to the electronics department and quickly located the aisle where some laptop computers were on display. Nick was about to stick his paws through the front of the coat to type on one of them when a Target employee came over. "Welcome to Target," the young lady said. "What can I help you with today?"

Finnick lowered his head so that the brim of the hat would hide his fennec form from showing. He had already turned up the collar on the coat.

The employee stepped a little closer. "Sir? Did you hear me? Do you need any assistance?"

Finnick shook the hat to indicate that no assistance was needed.

"Just browsing?"

Damn, she was persistent.

Finnick was about to nod the hat when a deep voice came from inside the coat. "Shut your tiny mouth now!"

The employee stared at the customer for a moment. "Well, if anything changes, ask for me, Rachel," she said before turning around and walking away. "Why do I always get the weird ones?" she muttered to herself.

"Was that Chief Bogo?" Judy asked once the employee had left the aisle.

"Yup. In a clip from that documentary film about us," Nick replied. "Most of my apps are gone, but I surprisingly found that my ZooTube one opened up YouTube."

After Finnick checked that the coast remained clear, Nick proceeded to use the computer to access the Internet as planned, peeking out through the front of the coat. After just a few minutes, he found a photo of them at the Zootopia premiere that a fan had submitted to Reddit's r/zootopia. He downloaded it and cropped out some other cast members who had also been in the shot—sorry, Shakira, Nate, and Idris!—and then uploaded it to the Target Photo website. "And done!" he said. "Our 8×10 color glossy should be ready for pick up in an hour."

"Great work, Nick!" Judy said. "Now let's get that smoke detector and breath spray while we wait."

"So, I just thought of something," Finnick said. "How are we gonna pay for these things?"

"I was thinking cash," Nick replied. "And we'll go to a self-checkout so we don't have to interact with a cashier."

"Well, unless you know a bank that will exchange Zootopian currency for American currency, we won't be able to."

"Surely you can't be serious," Nick said.

"I am serious. And that joke isn't even from Zootopia. Stop."

"That does make things more difficult," Judy said. "And I'm sure they won't take my Animalian Express card either." She paused for a moment. "I hereby deputize the manager of this store. Whatever we need, we're just going to have to . . . take it."

"Shoplifting," Nick said with a sigh. "You know, I've applied a hustler's discount on a lot of things in my life, but I've never applied a four-finger one."

"What about those blueberries from the street vendor?"

"Sampling to see if I liked them enough to buy a pint later with my hard-earned pawpsicle money."

"What about when you were younger? You never stole a piece of gum as a kit?"

"Not once. Did you?"

Judy blushed. "Uh . . . I plead the Fifth."

Nick chucked. "Oh no you don't! This story I must hear!"

Judy sighed. "Mom wouldn't get me a five-cent piece of carrot-flavored Bunzooka bubble gum, so I just put one in my pocket. I was four years old, Nick!"

"Tsk, tsk. That's no excuse. I'll never look at you the same way again."

"At least I pay my taxes!"

"Touché."

"Will you two knock it off down there?" Finnick said. "Let's just get these things."

"Right," Judy said. "Nick, take us to the home improvement department. Finnick, guide the way."

A few minutes later, the three were in front of a shelf with a few different smoke detectors. Though any choice would cost them nothing, they still chose the cheapest model that included a nine-volt battery.

"All right, Nick," Finnick said, "our back is toward the nearest camera. Make like you're tying your boot and sneak the smoke detector to Judy."

"Well, I was an honest fox, for a little while," Nick said as he bent down. "I'm sorry, Mom." He passed the smoke detector to his partner inside the coat.

"Got it," Judy said. "And don't worry, we'll anonymously mail the store some cash in an envelope when we get back to being human. And if your mother knew our circumstances, there's no way she'd be disappointed in her wonderful son."

Nick smiled. "Thanks, Carrots." He stood back up.

"All right, Finnick," Judy said, "guide Nick to the front of the store so we can get some breath spray from the impulse items by the checkout lanes."

After getting the breath spray from the front of the store, Nick moved the trench coat man behind a nearby display of Oreos so that the bottle of minty liquid could be passed inside to Judy without drawing the attention of store security. The man then browsed around the store for a bit to kill the time remaining until the photo was ready. Among the aisles they strolled down was one in the toy department, where they found a single Zootopia-related playset consisting of a Nick figure, a parking meter, and a red convertible, which Nick never drove in the movie. They hoped that months from now, the shelves would be filled with merchandise from the TV series—and eventually, the theatrical sequel.

An hour after the order was submitted, the threesome went up to the counter at the photo center. Nick was ready with some words already written on a text-to-speech app.

The photo center clerk, a man in his early twenties, looked at his new customer for two seconds before greeting him. "Good afternoon, sir."

Finnick nodded with his face hidden by the hat's brim.

Nick tapped the button to play the words. "I would like to buy a Pentax K100D camera, but I didn't see any on display."

"I don't think we've sold that model in years," the clerk replied. "Not since I've been working here."

"Could you check in the back?"

The clerk knew he'd find no such digital SLR in "the back," but because "the customer is always right," he knew he had to at least go through the motions of checking. "Sure," he said as he began to step away from the counter. "I'll be right back."

Once the clerk was gone, Nick moved the trench coat man behind the counter. With Finnick's help, the envelope containing their 8×10 print—ordered under the name of Laverne DiVulpes—was quickly located and slipped into the trench coat. Nick then began to move the threesome away from the photo center.

When they were about thirty feet from the photo center, Finnick felt a hand tap him where the shoulder of the trench coat man would have been if he were real. "Excuse me, buddy," a man said from behind in a way that was both calm and authoritative.

Finnick had Nick turn the disguise around so that he could see whoever had tapped him. There stood a man who at first glance might have been mistaken for a cop if it weren't for the Target logo on the patches on his sleeves.

"I'm Sean with Target's Assets Protection team," the man said as Finnick again used the brim of the hat to hide himself. "Is there anything in your coat that you would like to tell me about?" Another man wearing the same style uniform then appeared from what seemed like nowhere.

Despite their best efforts, the mammals had been caught shoplifting.

"Carrots," Nick whispered, "what do we do?"

"On my signal," Judy said, "you and Finnick get us out an emergency exit."

"OK," Nick replied. "What's the signal?"

Thwack!

Thwack!

Thud!

Thud!

A nearby customer looked on in horror as the two security guards dropped to the floor, each with what appeared to be a tranquilizer dart in his thigh.

"I think that's the signal, Nick!" Finnick yelled. "Turn left and run!"

Following the escape, the three took off their disguise in the nearby parking lot of a furniture store that had long gone out of business.

"That was a close one," Nick said after catching his breath. "We still have our three items, right?"

"Got 'em," Judy replied. She was already holding the photo and the smoke detector and then pulled the breath spray out of a pouch on her duty belt.

Nick shuddered. "Seeing you pull out the breath spray like that, I just had a bad memory."

"Sorry!"

"Don't worry about it. You didn't mean any harm. I just have to work on some of my triggers a little more." He pointed at Judy's tranq gun. "And speaking of triggers, nice shots back there. That gun sure would have been great to have back when Manchas was chasing us. When do I get mine?"

"When Bogo thinks you're ready."

"So February 30 then. I'll be looking forward to that."

After putting the three objects on the ground in front of her, Judy removed her tranq gun and its holster from her duty belt. "Here, Nick," she said as she held it out for him. "Happy super leap year."

"You sure?" Nick asked as he took it from her.

Judy nodded.

"Cool," Nick said. He secured the non-lethal weapon to his duty belt.

Before any human would be able to hear them, the three began to hear sirens in the distance.

"Bet that's because of us," Finnick said. He picked up the smoke detector in front of Judy. "Let's get this over with."

Using his sharp vulpine teeth, Finnick cut through the clamshell packaging of the smoke detector and removed it and its battery. The battery was an Energizer, but unlike Nick would have done, Finnick didn't take the time to make a bunny joke. After inserting the nine-volt power source, he pressed the test button. The sharp beep—and Nick and Judy jumping up and covering their ears—confirmed the unit was in good working order.

Judy handed Finnick the breath spray.

Finnick put the smoke detector under his arm and then removed the breath spray's protective seal, popped off the cap, and sprayed two shots into his mouth. "Meh. Not as good as mine was, but it'll do." He looked up at Judy. "All right, now the photo."

Judy took the 8×10 out of the envelope and handed it to Finnick.

Holding the smoke detector and breath spray in his left paw, Finnick took it in his right. He looked at it for a moment and smiled a rare, genuine smile. "That was a great night, wasn't it?" He looked up at his same friends in their current state. "I hope like hell that this works so we can have another, and that it's even better. I'm sorry for getting us all into this mess."

"We all make mistakes," Judy said.

"And there's no way that anyone could have ever known," Nick added.

"We're not mad," Judy said.

"Nope," Nick agreed. "In fact, we're all going to be a little stronger for having had this experience, on screen and off."

Finnick smiled again. "Thanks, guys." He cleared his throat. "All right, this is getting too sappy for my character. Like in some of those fanfics I shouldn't have read."

Nick chuckled lightly.

Finnick put the photo under his left arm. He held the smoke detector in his left paw and the breath spray in his right, a finger positioned over the actuator.

"Join paws, and let us spray," Nick said as he took Judy's paw in his.

Judy put her free paw on Finnick's back so that they were all connected. "Ready when you are, Finnick," she said.

Finnick nodded. "Spraying on three." He took a deep breath. "One . . . two . . . three."

Tsst.

Nothing happened.

"Try it again, Finnick," Judy said.

Finnick gave the device a second spray. Nothing. A third. Still nothing. A fourth. A fifth. He then pulled the cover off and sprayed a sixth shot directly onto the ionization chamber, but there was not so much as the faintest sound or the slightest indication of a chemical reaction. "Ah, it's hopeless!" he yelled as he launched the smoke detector like the world's smallest quarterback, which broke into a hundred pieces when it crashed upon the asphalt twenty yards away.

"Finnick!" Nick exclaimed, his eyes and mouth wide.

"I got us stuck for the rest of our lives! Honey's shock treatment isn't going to work either! We're screwed!"

"There's always a solution," Judy said. "Like with the problems we face in those fanfics."

Finnick shook his head. "Sometimes authors abandon them, leaving everything in limbo." He looked at the sky and pointed. "If someone's out there right now writing this story, please, please, please don't do this to us!"

"Let's all just think for a moment," Judy said. "Maybe we're missing some small detail that could make this work."

"And we just lost a pretty big detail here in the parking lot," Nick said.

"A smoke detector with americium-241," Finnick said. "A nine-volt battery to power it. Breath spray. A photo of us to have the opposite effect of the script. I doubt the fly mattered. We were connected when I sprayed. What could we be missing?" He looked at the breath spray bottle, examining the label, desperate for clues. "All right, maybe," he said after a moment. "Maybe."

"Whatcha got?" Nick asked.

"This breath spray isn't as good as the one I had at the studio," Finnick replied. "This label lists all the ingredients, but the one I had before just said 'experimental formula.' I don't know what was in it. Do you think that might be it?"

"It just might be," Nick replied. "We'll have to go back through that dusty ductwork, but once we get back into the recoding room, we can get your breath spray off the floor and figure out a way for all of us to reach the smoke detector on the ceiling."

"Uh," Judy said, "that might be just a little more complicated now."

"I know, I know, Finnick and I might have to sacrifice our shirts to stop the fan blades."

"That's not what I meant. When I was closing the grate in the ceiling, I watched Byron for a moment after he walked in. He took it."

"He took the breath spray?"

Judy nodded. "He did. He even tried it."

Finnick shook his head. "That's just disgusting."

"Yeah," Nick said, "sharing a smoothie straw with somebunny you love is one thing, but breath spray you just found lying around?"

"Regardless," Judy said, "we're going to have to get it back."

"I know, Carrots. Any thoughts on how we should do it? Shoot him with my new tranq gun?" He chuckled completely unthreateningly as he pulled out the device.

Judy chuckled nervously. "Well . . ."

Nick's eyes widened nearly as much as his jaw dropped. "Oh no, you're not serious, are you? I was joking! We can't do that! The guy uses breath spray he found on the floor, but he's still a good guy! He helped write our documentary and co-directed it! And most importantly, he loves WildeHopps! I won't do it! I won't do it! I won't—"

"I'll do it," Finnick said, snatching the tranq gun from Nick's paws.

"Little buddy, listen," Nick said.

"No, Nick," Finnick said. "This is my mess, and I'll clean it up." He put the gun in his right pocket, careful that the dart's sharp tip didn't poke him. "Besides, he parked in my spot last week."

Nick hung his head and sighed. "We're all getting fired."

Chapter Text

Byron always took his lunch at 1:30 sharp. Being Friday, it was his day to head over to his favorite nearby pizza shop for a few slices and a cool drink. It was a routine he never broke.

Until today.

Although it was more broken for him than by him.

"This is so wrong," Nick said. Finnick had just darted Byron as the poor Disney employee was unlocking his car in the parking lot.

"Relax, man," Finnick said as he handed the gun back to Nick. "I gave him the quarter dosage that Judy told me to give him. He'll be fine."

Judy nodded. "He should only be out for ten minutes."

Byron rolled his head a little and smiled like a happy drunk.

"That's normal," Judy said. "He may be dreaming."

"Maybe about WildeHopps," Nick said, a slight smile betraying his unease, but only for a moment.

Finnick reached into Byron's right pants pocket but found nothing but a small clump of lint. He then reached into the man's left pocket, pulling out the bottle of breath spray they were after. "Got it," he said. He gave the bottle a quick kiss.

"Thank God," Nick said. "All right, let's get inside."

And with that, the three left Byron behind and headed for the utility pole.

Nick and Finnick stood shirtless in the recording room. "Sorry again about your shirts," Judy, herself without her usual bulletproof vest, said. "If I had thought a little harder, I would have realized that my vest would have worked better to stop the fan blades from the beginning, and the fan probably wouldn't have unexpectedly restarted like it did."

"You acted when it mattered most and threw your vest perfectly," Nick said. "I'm just happy we're all alive."

Finnick's body still trembled, his eyes so wide it hurt. "I no longer fear hell."

Nick looked up at the smoke detector on the ceiling, though it hurt his neck a little to do so. He had volunteered to be the first one to jump back into the recording room from the grate in the ductwork so that he could catch Judy and Finnick when they jumped. Though he had tried to avoid it, he had landed directly on the back of the chair that was still below the opening, causing it to tip and the fox to tumble backward, hitting the floor head first. Judy and Finnick, though, were able to arrive in the room without a scratch. "So," Nick said, "any thoughts on how we can reach the smoke detector? It's a bit too far from the grate, and we don't have my shirt or tie anymore to help make another rope anyway."

Finnick glanced over the room to see if there were enough objects that could be stacked, but there really weren't.

"No, we can't reach it from the grate," Judy said as she joined Nick in looking up. She pointed at something protruding from the ceiling. "But I think we could just reach from that sprinkler head." She looked at the recording equipment in the room. "We can use the cable from a microphone or two to make a rope." She turned to Nick. "Nick, if you can toss me up to the grate again, I can use the cable like a lasso around the sprinkler head. Then I can swing over on it, and you and Finnick can climb up." She paused for a moment. "If you can, Nick. I don't want you to hurt yourself more."

"Oh, this?" Nick said as he rubbed his neck. "Don't worry, Carrots, I've had much worse."

"He has," Finnick said. "I've read the fanfics."

Judy went to the area of the room where her human self recorded lines. After a big hop up to the angled stand where her scripts were held, she looked at the microphone hanging above her. The microphone and its cable were permanently attached.

But not for long.

After another hop, Judy grabbed on to the microphone and put the cable near the end of it in her mouth and brought her buckteeth—or rather, her doeteeth—down. "Hey, Nick," she called to her partner as she started climbing up the cable, "I need you to catch me again." When she reached the ceiling, she followed the cable a few more feet as it ran across the ceiling before again acting as wire cutters.

She fell into waiting paws.

"So, how are we gonna explain this damage to Byron?" Nick asked.

"Mice," Judy replied as Nick set her down.

"Mice?"

"Uh . . . a squirrel? That we've been chasing around the studio all day?"

"No, I'll take the blame for it," Finnick said. "You say that your microphone wasn't working, and I'll say that I didn't know my own strength when I shook it to try to get it to work for you."

"You sure?" Judy asked.

Finnick nodded. "I'm sure."

"Thanks," Judy said with a small smile. She then picked up the cable and tied a honda knot at one end. Like she had with the first makeshift rope, she coiled the cable and put it over her right shoulder. Finnick then gave her the breath spray and the photo to take up with her. She put the breath spray in a pouch on her duty belt and slipped the 8×10 between her belt and her pants.

When ready, Nick picked Judy up, climbed onto the chair, and projected her upward as before.

Already being open and thus a little lower, the grate was easier for Judy to grab on to than it had been the first time, and she took it with the fingers of both paws. After a moment, she let go with her right paw and allowed the coiled cable to slide slowly down her arm. Like a professional rodeo bun, she then swung the loop around in the air a few times and then released it at her target. "Yeah! First try!"

"Way to go, Carrots!" Nick cheered from below. "You've gotta teach me that, and we've gotta take it on duty!"

"Cool," Finnick said.

"Thanks, guys," Judy said. She gave the cable a few tugs to be sure the lasso was tight and then took a deep breath. "OK, here I go!" She let go of the grate with her left paw, moving it quickly to join her right in holding on to the cable. As gravity rushed her to the right and downward, she felt like she was swinging on a vine. "Judy, Judy, Judy of the Jungle, strong as she can be!"

Nick chuckled. "It's pronounced TA-HUNGA!"

The vine—the cable—carried the swinging rabbit upward after she had reached the lowest point in the curve. Up and down she went a few times until Nick grabbed the end of the cable, stopping the furry pendulum. Judy then climbed all the way to the top.

Once she got there, Nick started climbing up, and when he had gotten a few feet off the floor, Finnick began to follow. In no time, the foxes had gotten as high as they could go.

Nick smiled at his partner. "Heard the weather's pretty good up here, so I decided to check it out for myself." He let go of the cable with one paw and put his arm around Judy's ankles so that they would be connected when it was time to spray.

Finnick took Nick's left ankle in his left paw. "Cut your toenails, man. It won't kill you."

Nick chuckled as he wiggled his toes.

"Cut that out!"

Nick tipped his head back. "You ready, Carrots?"

The photo was still under her belt and the breath spray was now in her paw. "Ready, Nick. Finnick, you ready?"

"Let's do it," the fennec replied.

"All right," Judy said. "On three, I'll spray. One . . . two"—she took a deep breath—"three."

There was a small sizzle and then a louder thud as the mammals were thrown to the floor. A peppermint aroma filled the air as three friends awoke heaped on top of each other.

Nick rolled off the others and then opened his eyes. His blurry vision became clear after just a few moments. He smiled and then felt his face to confirm it. "We did it!" he said as he sprang to his feet, his hand having made contact with his nose. "We're back! We're back!"

Judy—or rather, Ginnifer—reached behind her head. "I don't have droopy ears anymore!" She felt her rear. "Or a tail!"

Jason held his hand out to help Ginnifer off the floor, but before she could take it, he felt himself moving upward.

"Yeah, man!" Tiny cheered as he lifted Jason over his head. "We all rock, man!" He started spinning himself and his co-star around.

"That we do, buddy! That we do!" Jason said.

Tiny started spinning faster.

"All right, getting a little dizzy up here," Jason said after a moment. "Careful now."

Tiny tossed Jason up a few feet, caught him, and then returned him to his feet.

Both were quickly embraced by Ginnifer. "Best friends and co-stars ever! Wow! What an experience!"

"Someone else may get the physical trophies," Tiny said, "but we all won our first Emmys today."

"Today's win is actually my second," Jason said, "but I'll high-five to that. We were beyond awesome!"

Ginnifer let go, and Jason held each of his hands up for the others to slap.

No sooner had their hands met than the three heard the sound of a clearing throat across the room. They stopped their celebration abruptly when Byron walked up to them. "I've been looking everywhere for you," he said. True to what Judy had said, he didn't appear to be suffering any ill effects from the tranquilization. He spoke, though, in a tone of calm frustration. "What are you doing? And more importantly, where have you been?"

"It's hard to explain," Jason said. "One minute, we were just taking a brief break from looking at our scripts; the next, we all turned into our animal characters."

"We've spent the past few hours trying to get back into human form," Tiny added.

Byron rolled his eyes. "Right. And I share a small apartment with an oryx and tell him to shut up all the time. What really happened?"

"Well," Ginnifer said, "it is true that we were really getting into our characters and ad-libbing from the script. Some things got carried away, but from it, I think I understand why you and Jason like WildeHopps so much. Nick's a tease, but I don't think Judy would want it any other way."

Byron smiled and chucked. "Well, if you're on Team WildeHopps now, I suppose going AWOL can be forgiven this once." He looked at the clock on the wall. "But do you think we can get through at least a few pages of the script today?"

Ginnifer nodded.

"Yup," Tiny said.

"Of course," Jason said. "But may I make just one suggestion to improve it?"

"All right," Byron replied.

"Make Nick's song a duet with Judy. Ginnifer's got a nice singing voice too, and I think viewers would enjoy it."

Byron nodded. "I'll talk to the other writers and see what we can come up with." He looked at the others. "Anything else?"

Ginnifer weakly raised her hand. "Well, I was having a little trouble with my microphone."

A street in Sahara Square
Summer 2014

Finnick answered the raps on the back door of his van in his usual way. "Who is it!" he yelled, striking a pose that would make a great shot on a baseball card, bat and all.

"Easy, slugger," Nick said. "It's just your friendly neighborhood hustler."

The fennec lowered the bat and rested it on the inside of the rear door that hadn't been flung open. "Well, you shoulda texted first."

"Oh, I did. Several times, in fact, for ninety minutes. But you never replied."

Finnick got his phone from where he had left it on the passenger seat. Sure enough, there were eleven missed texts from Nick. "Sorry. I have a bit of a headache, and I must have been really out of it. And I had the strangest dream."

"Really? What about?"

Finnick went to slip his phone into the right pocket of his shorts, but the bottom of it hit something hard already inside. He reached in and pulled out a small bottle of Dr. Refresh's Breath Mist, an experimental formula. His jaw dropped. "No. Freaking. Way."