Zootopia: Where The Wild Things Are

Chapter 5 - Super-Terrorizer

"Sir, what are we going to do? This bear, and his case, is dangerous to the fabric of society we have created for this country! People are going to see into our world we've created!" A weasel informed a large black sphinx, who sat back in his leather seat behind a perfectly organized mahogonay desk.

The sphinx held his hand up, flexing his fingers into his palm, thinking angrily. His deep yellow eyes burned holes into the weasel, who was sweating profusely. "This bear, Hammet, cannot do anything. He has no information on the D.P.C.U, or anything that goes on with us. We sure as fucking hell, are not going to let anyone in now."

The weasel held a finger up to say something, but was interrupted by the sphinx raising his hand up to stop his talking. "All he has a case based on ethics. Ethics don't win court battles. Facts and information does. This bear is going to crash and burn, just like his case. I warned him, I sent him a message to his wife, and he didn't listen. I'm going to make sure they receive..."

He leaned over the desk, looming over the small weasel, his gums splitting apart to show pearly white fangs.

"...The bitter end of things.." His voice trembled with venom, and the weasel smelled his carrion breath, shaking in his place.

The weasel gulped, and finally mustered out words amongst a fit of stuttering. "Th-That's the thing s-sir. A p-police officer by the name of J-Judy Hopps, she and a-a few other officers went and searched th-through the information room at the complex. T-they have info on our in-inner workings!"

The sphinx's expression flatlined, before carving into pure fury. "Are you serious? Tell me you are joking."

The weasel quietly whined in fear, shaking his head.

The sphinx roared, digging his nails underneath his desk, flipping it over. The weasel flinched at the sound of papers, glass, and his desktop being crunched and shattered.

"Kill that bitch who let them in, call the security now and tell them to take her to the fucking shredder!" He roared down at him, claws retracted, his voice crunched and gainy.

The weasel held another finger up, keeping his head down, staring at the mess on the floor, along with the overturned desk. "T-to be fair sir, you told her to let them in."

The sphinx thrust his claws around his collar, holding him up to his face. "I told her to call security, to overpower them, and throw them in the shredder, and apparently the bitch didn't do it!"

The weasel turned his head away, avoiding those thin, razor fangs that armed his jaws.

"Y-yes sir. I will tell them. Is t-there anything else you need d-done?"

The sphinx stared intently into his eyes, and sighed contently. He set the weasel down gently, and straightened out his own tie.

He took a moment to calm his rage induced breathing, before exhaling narrowly. His eyes turned back to the weasel in a more business-like manner. "Tell the Investigative team to start snooping through Ms. Hopps' files, anything you can get on her. Also, get one of them to spy on her. I'd like to know as much about her as possible."

The sphinx put his finger to his chin intently, thinking carefully. "If somehow fate decides Ms. Hopps and that son-of-a-bitch Patrick Woods cross paths, the D.P.C.U. is going to be ruined. So will the fabric of this country I have so easily created."

The weasel waited patiently on the floor, twiddling his fingers together. "Anything else sir?"

The sphinx looked out to his window, which chopped light into thin lights by the blinds. He held his hands behind his back.
"Yes. If at anytime, inform them that they find Ms. Hopps, or Mr. Woods' wife alone, kill them. Violently. And tell them to send me a picture. I'd be more than happy to set them up as examples of "predators that got out of hand because they had their collars removed" by a third party."