“Fresh Juice,” read the label on the button.
Nick made a displeased face and said: “No, that’s not it.” Next came a button labeled “Cool Aromatic Lemonade.” “Nooo…” Nick shook his head in disagreement.
Next — “Gazelle’s Drink.” “Not bad,” the red fox began in a somewhat sad tone, “but not now.” Next came a chocolate drink, which Nick also turned down.
Finally, he got to what he wanted most right now.
The button labeled “Coffee.” “Eight twenty-five…” Nick muttered, automatically patting his pockets with a paw in search of money.
The top one — empty.
His trouser pockets.
Aha!
Luck.
Something jingled in the left one.
Nick carefully pulled out the contents of the pocket.
Holding a handful of change on his palm, he counted it carefully.
“Ten…” he said quietly.
“Okay, twenty-five plus another ten…” Nick was standing by the drink machine.
But it didn’t last long.
His meticulous counting was cut short when a large shadow fell over him.
Nick slowly looked up.
Ahead, right in front of him, stood two enormous tigers.
They were dressed in strict black suits.
On the right side of both their chests, Nick noticed a small chevron reading “Agent No.
8, SOOB Department, Zootopia Administration” and “Agent No.
14, SOOB Department, Zootopia Administration,” respectively.
Two pairs of eyes from broad faces looked down at Nick.
Their paws were clasped behind their backs, causing the lapels of their jackets to pull slightly apart at the chest.
The straps of bulletproof vests peeked out from there.
A thick, wide strap also ran across their chests, from the left shoulder to the right hip.
Submachine guns were attached to it, which Nick spotted as soon as his gaze reached the top.
He stared at them, wide-eyed.
His paw with the change was extended forward.
The fox couldn’t understand what he’d done to deserve such attention.
He was standing by the drink machine, which in turn stood by the wall, and Nick wasn’t bothering anyone at all.
Not bothering — meaning he wasn’t blocking the way.
In Zootopia, this had historically developed for some natural reasons.
But one way or another, in all his life, Nick had never seen a larger animal yield the right of way to a smaller one.
And the greater the size difference, the more confident the larger animals were in their rightness.
As they saw it, their rightness consisted of the fact that large animals had to be given a wide berth.
And preferably done with great respect.
Maybe it was all down to simple eyesight.
After all, a hippopotamus, or even more so a giraffe, would have trouble keeping track of small animals.
Or an even more truthful version, often used as an argument by the “large” representatives of Zootopia.
Their position stated that in this case, small animals should give way to large ones, because it was they who faced the greater danger of being crushed.
On one hand — Nick agreed with that assertion, but on the other — when yielding the way, Nick noticed how proudly and leisurely these large animals walked past him.
They instinctively felt more important.
Over time, he stopped paying attention to it, but the very fact of such an attitude existed.
And now, standing before two tigers, he didn’t understand how he was in their way, until it suddenly dawned on him.
He said loudly, but with a slight tremor: “Uh…
want some coffee?” He involuntarily glanced at the drink machine and immediately took a small step to the side, but stopped.
Right after these words, the tigers moved apart, clearing the space between them.
The puma standing behind them walked through gracefully.
She was dressed, like the tigers, in a dark, strict suit.
On her chest, just like the tigers’, was a chevron that read “Deputy Head of the SOOB Department, Zootopia Administration.” Her right paw was behind her back.
She approached the fox and stood opposite him, turning her face slightly to the side.
The puma watched the red fox’s behavior with interest.
Nick, meanwhile, hesitated, shifting his gaze between the puma and the drink machine.
His first instinct was to give way to her.
Then, glancing at her expressive face, he realized she was deliberately waiting her turn.
And that flustered Nick even more.
He tried not to show he was nervous and quickly began counting his coins in his paw.
The puma watched him patiently for a few seconds as Nick moved the coins around on his palm.
And then she couldn’t help herself and, leaning slightly, said: “What, not enough money?” There was no sarcasm in her voice, no haughty joke, or even a hidden smirk.
She said it with a touch of light irony and even a hint of kindness and concern.
After her words, Nick felt conflicting emotions.
On one hand — it wasn’t entirely pleasant, as the whole situation reminded him of childhood, when adults would gently tease him, like a little fox cub, about trivial things.
On the other — the feeling that arose right after the first was expressed in his thoughts: “Not enough.
If you’d crossed me, lady, back in the day, you’d be the one short on cash.” But maybe it was for the best for Nick that fate hadn’t brought them together earlier.
Judging by her status, it would have ended badly for a small-time con artist.
And on these emotions, Nick couldn’t force anything out of himself, just made a face that could be read as “well, kind of, yeah.” However, the awkward moment the puma had created, she just as quickly fixed.
Though Nick looked confused on the surface, he actually understood the whole situation and was analyzing it, trying to figure out the character of this puma standing before him now.
Moreover, Nick felt that she too fully understood the situation and controlled it.
And credit where it’s due — she skillfully manipulated words, intonations, and their shades.
Nick’s deductions were interrupted when the puma pulled a bill from her jacket pocket with her left paw and held it out to Nick.
“Two coffees,” she said politely.
“Medium size, please.” She smiled softly as she said these words.
Nick inserted the bill into the slot, and the machine’s display showed “20.” At that moment, he was again thinking about how deftly she had pulled off her manipulation.
Now, from an embarrassed “child,” he had turned into a gentleman helping a lady who had asked him a favor.
He smirked slightly, barely perceptibly, on the right side, so as not to give himself away.
Two medium-sized cups, which barely fit in Nick’s paws, slightly burned his palms.
A pleasant aroma came from them.
He looked at them carefully and, trying not to drop them, carried them toward the puma.
Having finished the action, he looked up.
“Thank you, sir,” the puma said modestly, with a small hint of playfulness.
She didn’t keep him waiting and quickly took one cup from Nick, also with her left paw.
Nick watched her go, holding the hot drink in his paws.
The puma disappeared into the chief’s office, leaving her two subordinates by the door.
But the police chief was in no hurry for a heart-to-heart talk with her.
Nick watched, standing by the drink machine, as Bogo talked about something with Clawhauser.
And only after Clawhauser ran off did Bogo slowly head toward his personal office.
From his face and gait, it was clear he definitely didn’t want this meeting.
Nick didn’t stare at the police chief for long and hurried off about his own business.
Bogo, meanwhile, stood by the door to his office.
A gleaming sign on the door read: “Chief of Police, Zootopia Main Precinct, Bogo Bogo.” Bogo stood there indecisively.
He didn’t want to open this door, even though it was his own.
His whole soul resisted it.
He would have given a lot to put this moment off.
But that was beyond the power of the massive Bogo.
And he had to accept the inevitable.
He needed to finish with the past.
He needed to go through the door.
The first thing he did before entering his office was glance at the two tigers standing on either side of his door.
Seeing his hesitation, one of the tigers said: “You’re expected, sir.” “I know,” he replied.
He took a small pill from his pocket and, coughing quietly, swallowed it.
His large hoof gripped the door handle firmly and opened it quickly.
He entered the office swiftly, slamming the door behind him.
Bogo, due to the nature of his species, didn’t have very good eyesight, so his office was always brightly lit.
But now, twilight reigned there.
It was all because of the blinds hanging on the windows, tightly closed.
They didn’t let in the sunlight from outside.
Of all the light, only a small desk lamp remained.
But it was doing a poor job of illuminating the entire room.
And also — the monitor of the computer, which was on, casting a pleasant blue light onto the desk and the papers scattered on it.
In the semi-darkness, the police chief strained his eyes, trying to make something out.
He was trying to find the puma.
Bogo knew that, unlike him, she could see perfectly in the dark.
And she knew his weakness perfectly well.
She had deliberately created the darkness in the room.
He boldly stepped forward, into the center of the room.
Whether he wanted to or not, Bogo had to play her game.
He peered intently.
Almost in the middle of the room, closer to the window, stood his desk.
It was piled with paperwork that Bogo never had time to sort through.
And his instincts told him that after today’s incident, there would only be more of it.
Behind the desk stood a huge, soft armchair with high armrests.
His first thought was to see the puma in it.
But she wasn’t there.
Before Bogo’s gaze moved to the furniture against the far wall, his sense of smell outpaced his sight.
Coffee.
It smelled of coffee right next to him on the right side, where two small armchairs and a table between them stood.
Bogo turned toward the armchair from which the smell came.
And there, in the semi-darkness, he made out two green feline eyes looking at him.
He immediately clicked a small button on his desk, located at the very edge.
The blinds slowly rotated and rose upward, opening the window.
Bright light slowly but surely filled the office.
“Hello, Maina,” he said.
As he had assumed, the puma was sitting in the armchair.
She was drinking coffee in slow sips and, with her paws crossed, squinted from the bright light.
“Hi, Bogo,” the puma Maina replied sadly, smiling barely perceptibly.
“Haven’t seen you in a long time,” Bogo continued.
He walked around the desk and sat down in his chair.
“Yes, a lot of time has passed,” Maina replied.
“And I see — you’re already deputy head of the special department.
You’ve moved fast.
Must be a dream life, huh?” Bogo remarked.
“And I see you’re still in the chair of your dreams,” Maina hinted at Bogo’s true dream.
She knew his long-standing dream.
He had been the best in school, then at the police academy.
And he simply dreamed of the position of police chief of Zootopia.
And he repeated it so often to himself and all his friends when he was still a patrol officer that everyone eventually stopped doubting that he, and no one else, deserved that place.
“Yes, I can’t believe that you,” the police chief replied, “are now my boss.
How quickly the world has turned upside down.
Honestly, I thought your career was over.” “Thanks for the honesty,” she replied dryly, “I agree.
Yes, the world turned upside down very quickly.
But, oddly enough, I still missed our precinct.
Even after all these years.
Even despite everything that happened here.” Maina looked around Bogo’s office sadly.
“You know you don’t fit in with us,” Bogo said.
“But I used to fit in.
And on top of that, I was the best,” Maina said, smirking barely perceptibly.
“Used to be,” Bogo clarified, “I can’t even believe you used to work here.
For me, it was just a nightmare.” “But my dream was reality,” Maina cut him off sharply.
Bogo was silent in response; he didn’t want this conversation.
And that’s why he’d been running from it his whole life.
Maina put her coffee on the table and said resentfully: “And do you remember how you got this chair?” She pointed at the police chief’s chair with her left paw.
“Let’s not,” Bogo switched to a threatening tone.
“There’s no point in stirring up the past.” “Oh, right, of course, you never wanted to talk about it,” Maina said nervously.
After these words, she bared her teeth slightly.
“I knew it,” the chief couldn’t help himself, covering his face with his paws and trying not to look at her, he continued: “I knew I couldn’t escape this.
I knew you’d knock on my apartment or office door sooner or later.
You’d find me and, like a terrible nightmare, you’d keep picking at my wound.” Now the police chief began to rage.
“And you’d be happy to forget it all,” Maina said angrily in response, “but you can’t, just like me.” “And what did you expect?” Bogo flared up.
“What were you hoping for?
Did you think I’d get down on my knees in front of you and beg you to forgive me?
Is that how you imagined it?” Bogo flared up again, then cooled down a little, and continued in a clear but still threatening tone: “And again I ask you, don’t start this conversation.” Maina heard him breathing deeply and with a slight wheeze.
She knew she was standing on a volcano that was about to erupt.
But she wasn’t afraid of that.
She had imagined this conversation for so many years.
She had dreamed of it just as many times, and now she had no intention of backing down.
“And I thought partners always had each other’s backs,” Maina began to get angry now.
“They do,” Bogo raised his voice.
“I agree, unless your partner is a hypocritical liar who was scheming behind my back.
I thought I could trust you.
Yes, you were like a sister to me.
But what you did can’t be undone.
You betrayed me.
You betrayed our friendship.
And I won’t apologize to you.
And even after what was done to you.
I didn’t blame myself.
You’re the one to blame.
You chose to do it.
It’s not my fault.” With every word, Bogo wound himself up more and more, and by the end of his speech, he was already standing up from his chair, completely on edge.
“Is that so?” came the retort from Maina.
“Tough officer Bogo, fearless, the terror of all criminals!” She also raised her voice and half-rose from her chair.
“Tough as a rocky cliff.
Always true to his word, noble and strong.
But in reality — a short-sighted and hot-tempered egoist, incapable of calculating even two steps ahead of his opponent.
And a coward to boot!” “Stop it right now!” Bogo shouted, trying to calm the raging puma.
“Maybe you’re right.
I’m not perfect, but at least I was always true to myself, the law, and my friends.
Whom I never betrayed.
Whom you once were to me!” Bogo lost his temper, his blood boiling again.
And his huge, powerful chest heaved sharply.
Only on the last words did Bogo falter.
A spark of kindness flickered in his voice.
But not for long.
In response, the puma sat down on the edge of the couch, holding her posture gracefully, and continued quietly: “You say you’re not perfect, but what was I like then?
Back then, long ago.
I was still an intern back then.
If you’re not perfect, then I was completely stupid and clueless at the time.
And you became my first partner and mentor.
A naive, foolish puma.
Back then, you were a hero to me.
Someone who would come to the rescue at any moment, someone who would take the hit for me.
You could be relied on like a rock.
You were my ideal, I…
I…
I…” Maina even smiled a little sadly.
“I was even in love with you.” Bogo cooled down a bit and seemed to stop breathing.
He sat back down in his chair and looked at Maina.
“You think I didn’t know?” he said quietly.
“But you’re like the weather in the tropics.
You can never predict it.
You can’t read your feelings.
You were as mysterious as you were treacherous.
And at first, I was shocked and confused.
But soon I uncovered and read you, finding the key to you.
Your eyes.
Eyes don’t lie, Maina.
Your eyes, Maina, your eyes gave you away.” Few animals had ever seen Bogo the way he was now.
Sad and truly open.
“But I knew,” he continued, looking into the cat’s green eyes, “that you didn’t love me, but my image.
You made it up for yourself and fell in love with it.
And then, when your silly dreams shattered against reality, you found an enemy in me.
Not understanding that you yourself had become the enemy of your own fantasies.” Bogo paused briefly and continued: “And even if you loved me or respected me as your mentor, then why, why didn’t you listen to me?
Why did you go against orders and even my advice?
What were you trying to prove?
That you were just as brave?
That you were worthy of working alongside me?
By not only breaking the regulations but also setting up your friends and colleagues?” Maina sat with her paws neatly folded on her knees, listening to him.
She lowered her head, as if she were his intern again, not his boss.
Bogo finished speaking and also lowered his head.
After a couple of seconds, he heard the puma’s quiet words: “I dreamed that you would be proud of me.” “What?” he didn’t catch it.
“I,” Maina repeated a little louder, “dreamed that you would be proud of me.” “And that’s why you disobeyed my order.
And that’s why you betrayed me, and that’s why animals died.
Maina, you have no idea what you’ve done!” Bogo said harshly, with notes of insult.
He seemed to be passing judgment on her.
“That kind of thing isn’t forgiven.” Maina barely held on; she let out an almost inaudible sob.
“Yes, that’s right,” she confirmed.
“I made a mistake.
A monstrous mistake.
But at that moment, the choice was limited.
And I chose.
I’m a stupid, dumb puma.” Maina became stricter with herself.
“I chose between bad and very bad.
I made it.
The choice.
You hear?
I made it!
And now for the rest of my life, I’ll live with its consequences.
At least I didn’t run, like you.
You, fearless patrol officer Bogo, always taking the hit.
You ran like a cowardly coyote.
You didn’t break my heart back then; you broke my dreams.” The puma lowered her head and covered her face with her paws.
“Left me alone,” she continued speaking through a groan, “with all the horror I had caused.” Bogo sat silently, looking down, a pencil in his hooves.
He twisted it nervously, remembering those events.
Then he slowly raised his gaze.
“You know how much your dreams cost?” he said quietly, then continued.
“And I remember it all.” A flame flared in the buffalo’s eyes.
“Please, don’t,” Maina almost begged.
If not physically, then psychologically, she was literally on her knees in tears before Bogo.
“Wendy…” Bogo said grimly.
He looked straight at the puma, cruelty burning in his soul.
“Stop!” the puma said quickly, as if these weren’t names, but sharp, red-hot needles piercing her head.
She squeezed her head even tighter with her paws.
“Korno,” Bogo continued mercilessly, his lips trembling.
He was naming everyone he loved and who, because of her, were no longer with him.
Everyone he had lost.
“I beg you…” she whispered, like a small child, and pressed her ears tighter with her paws, not wanting to hear the names.
“Rango!” Bogo finished her off, like a cruel executioner.
Maina squeezed her ears so hard that now there was a ringing in her head, like after a strong blow.
Complete silence reigned in Bogo’s office.
He looked at the puma writhing in pain.
The pencil cracked in his hooves, and its fragments fell onto the desk.
Maina slowly removed her paws from her ears through her tears.
“Thank you,” she whispered sincerely.
Because she knew the list wasn’t complete.
“That’s why I didn’t want this conversation,” Bogo said cruelly.
“Now do you understand why I didn’t come to you after what those monsters did to you?
I was burying my friends.
And you were among them, Maina.” Maina lowered her paws and sniffled.
It was clear that she was completely crushed, broken.
What she already knew, what haunted her every night of her life — Bogo had said it all.
Her hero.
The one she dreamed of becoming.
Behind every name Bogo uttered stood her colleague.
The truth stood there.
And he was right; she was wrong to have dreamed of this conversation.
Old wounds only brought more pain.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Bogo said dryly.
The coffee sitting on the desk in the cup had long since gone cold.
The bright rays of the sun hid behind a small cloud, bringing coolness to the entire metropolis.
It was getting cloudy.
Most likely, rain was approaching.
A barely perceptible shadow of the graceful puma fell on the armchair.
Maina lifted her gaze to Bogo.
Her fluffy paws, which had been lying so modestly on her knees, rose up.
She raised them not high, right in front of her face, as if she were surrendering.
Bogo could see her perfectly.
Maina slowly spread the fingers of her paws.
If you didn’t know where to look, you might not notice.
But Bogo knew where to look.
On her left fluffy paw, four cute little fingers were visible, and if you looked closely, you could even see the puma’s hidden claws.
But Bogo wasn’t looking at Maina’s left paw; he was looking at her right paw.
There was only one grasping finger there, the thumb.
The other fingers weren’t just missing; they, along with the claws, had been torn out.
Not even cut off, but torn out with the flesh, alive from her paw.
And even now, after so many years, under the fur that had grown back, in the place where her fingers and claws had once been, terrible wounds were hidden.
Bogo swallowed the lump in his throat.
“There,” Maina said, tears streaming down her cheeks, “that’s what the price for your dream looks like.”