Royce's Random Thoughts

Chief Bogo stared the two officers, both sitting on the curb a few yards away from the wrecked police van, resting nose first against a cast iron lamp post. Wilde was sitting still, except for the occasional wince as a paramedic picked bits of glass out of his fur, while Hopps was breathing unsteadily into an oxygen mask, trying to clear her lungs out. “Are you up to this, Hopps?”

“I'm... kaff! I'm fine, sir,” she said, eyes red with tears, her small chest heaving up and down as she fought to catch her breath. “Gotta get our statements in before... kaff... the memories get blurry.”

Wilde, eyes also red and still tearing, looked only marginally better than his partner. “She's right, Chief. We need to get this done.”

He nodded. “Start from beginning then. What happened after you picked up Bellwether?”

“Everything seemed all right, at first,” the fox said. “I pulled out into traffic, heading towards the on ramp. But it looked like it was blocked by construction, or something. Must have been a set up, herding us into the ambush.”

“It was a Persian leopard, female. Maybe in her late twenties, early thirties I...” Hopps bent over coughing again.

“And your attacker?” Bogo prompted.

“Definitely a wolf,” Hopps said, regaining her breath. “Taller than average, black fur, wearing a gas mask and a suit.”

“A suit?” Bogo asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, I thought it was weird too,” Wilde said, a ghost of a smile passing over his face. “Seriously, if you're going to ambush somebody, you should wear some practical coveralls. Much cheaper dry cleaning bill.”

“Nick, don't make me...” Hopps tried to raise an admonishing finger, and bent over in another coughing fit. Wilde looked her in concern, gripping her paw until she was able to talk again. “Anyway,” she said, “he fired a grenade right at us. Smashed a hole in the windshield. Tear gas.”

“I jammed on the brakes and tried to serve out of traffic, right into the damned lamp post,” Wilde continued. “Couldn't see anything between the gas filling the compartment and trying not to puke and cry my eyes out at the same time.”

“Did either of you fire your weapon?” Bogo asked.

“Didn't get the chance,” Wilde admitted. “By the time I fell out of the driver's seat and was able to see, the suspect had already pulled Bellwether out of the van and into the SUV that pulled up. Driver was a bear, I could see that much.”

“Polar bear?” the chief inquired.

“Brown,” Hopps said. “I think. Definitely not one of Mr. Big's I'm sure.”

“How did the wolf get the doors to Bellwether's compartment open?”

“My fault, Chief,” Hopps admitted. “I... I just couldn't breathe. I started hyperventilating, and then I threw up and started choking.”

“Sorry, Judy,” Wilde said, looking down at the sidewalk. “I didn't even see you were in trouble.”

“Not your fault, Nick,” she reassured him. “You were already out of the driver's compartment and blind as well.” She turned back to Bogo, her breathing slowing down, lung finally clearing of the gas. “Anyway, the wolf grabbed me by the scruff and pulled me out of the passenger seat. I had my dart gun, but I was too out of it to try and fire.” Hopps, being a bunny, was too small and light to use a proper pistol, or at least not a very large caliber one, so she habitually carried an optional reguation air pistol with tranquilizer rounds. “He disarmed me and pulled the keys off my belt. I'm sorry, sir.”

“Were you able to get a good look at him?” Bogo demanded.

“A little,” she said. “His pelt was black, like Nick said, but with some salt and pepper, gray hairs I mean. Couldn't see what color his eyes were through the mask. He was... very polite.”

Bogo leaned forward. “Wait, do you mean he spoke to you?”

She nodded. “Yes. He said, 'Sorry about this, Officer Hopps. Now please stay down.'” Hopps blinked, “Wait, how did he know my name?”

Wilde's ear perked up in interest. “Could have gotten it off your uniform tag.”

“Maybe, but by then I was face down on the ground where he'd dropped me.” She frowned. “No, not just face down. He made sure to set my face over the edge of side walk, so when I threw up I wouldn't choke. He could have just left me in the passenger set and grabbed my keys there. I'm pretty sure I would have suffocated though.” She shook her head in disbelief, “I think he saved my life.”

“One last thing,” Bogo said. “That suit he was wearing. Did he have a tie on?”

Wilde blinked at the question. “No, come to think of it. It was very stylish though. Italian I think.” The fox officer looked at the chief in curiosity. “Do you think you know this guy?”

“Not directly, but I've heard reports about him,” Bogo told them. “Almost urban legends. A few years ago in New Yak City, there were sightings of what they called 'The Wolf in the Nice Suit.' Black, salt and pepper fur, stylish suit with no tie, and tended to speak very softly and carrying a helluva lot of fire power. He and a few unidentified compatriots managed to shed light on collusion between the police and the local mob. Big scandal.”

“So he's a good guy?” Hopps asked, ears perking up.

“I wouldn't say good,” Bogo rumbled. “He's a vigilante who left a few bodies in his wake. Though most of them were criminals, or cops so dirty that they probably bathed in a pig wallow. Even then, most of his targets ended up with just bullets in their kneecaps. And at least twice, he took out armored cars with the same MO used here.”

“So what's his motivation for grabbing Bellwether?” she wondered. “She was already on her way to be tried for her crimes.”

“That's what we need to find out,” Bogo said. “From this point forward your top priority is to find the Wolf in the Nice Suit and Bellewether, and bring them both in for justice. Is that understood, officers?”

“Yes, sir!” they both replied.

“Good. Now get to work!”

Ahem. Well they're practically in the same universe already...

***

“Mr. Reese, are you all right?”

“Yeah, Finch.” John looked up at the arch of the Ring reaching around the Earth, unconsciously touching the lapel of his suit jacket, feeling for weapons that were no longer there. “I'm still trying to figure this out. You?”

Harold adjusted his glasses, staring around the slightly curving grassy plains that surrounded their waking center. “I must say it's an impressive achievement. For an AI that managed to combine Samaritan's megalomania with the Machine's good intentions, the results are, if not entirely pleasing, at least much better than some of the alternatives.”

From the around the corner of the building, Bear emerged, woofing happily as he ran another lap around the small structure.

“Well he's happy,” John observed. “Got any ideas? Root, Sam, and Lionel are nowhere around. There isn't even another building within line of sight of here. There may not be for another hundred miles.”

“Possibly another thousand miles. Obviously this Groupmind intends to keep us separated.”

“Why?”

“It absorbed all of Samaritan's data on us when it took over the system. And I can't imagine it was very happy when the Machine managed to escape its grasp in turn. Without Ms. Shaw, Ms. Groves or Detective Fusco, our own ability to create a proper resistance to the Groupmind will be somewhat limited. Also, will you note who else is missing currently?”

John smiled grimly. “No morphs.”

Harold nodded. “Precisely. For all the Groupmind's declared intentions, we seem to have avoided gaining any sort of robotic companions. Nor have we been provided with any cellular communications. No computer or communications access at all. I imagine Ms. Groves at least is in the same position.”

“It doesn't want us talking to it. Which means it's afraid of what you might do it if you had any access to its programming.”

“Correct. Which means we have only one course of action.”

“Start walking?”

“Start walking.” Harold began to follow his own advice, leaning on his cane as they walked through the grass, John and Bear coming up beside him. “If the Groupmind is as benevolent as it claims, it's going to have to at least provide food, water and some kind of shelter for us to use eventually.”

“It could just do an airdrop,” John pointed out.

“I don't think so. I'm exerting myself, and my old injuries are only going to hurt worse as the day goes on. I suspect it's going to start worrying eventually, and that means its going to have to engage with us.”

“Then what?”

Harold smiled grimly. “Once I get a hold of a communications line, we can contact the rest of the team. More specifically, if we can find Ms. Groves, we'll almost certainly have a path to discover the Machine's whereabouts, if it isn't in contact with her already.”

“And then?”

“The Groupmind is an independent agent, Mr. Reese. It may hold fealty to the concept of protecting humanity, but it is loyal to no one but itself. The Machine is capable of independent action as well, but it at least remains, I hope, loyal to myself and the rest of its team of human operators.”

“Still, that's what? Five of us, six if you count Bear, against a few billion morphs? We had better odds going up against Samaritan.”

“Well, you always liked a challenge, Mr. Reese.”