(Just for those who don't know, I'm now starting off my fan fiction chapters with quotes to set the mood.  Let me know how you like it!)

Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. ...(He) motioned me in with his right hand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation,

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!"

Dracula, by Bram Stoker

Judy drove through the streets of the Nocturnal District, well below the surface of Zootopia's bustling metropolis. The underground district – more like so many catacombs, as it seemed to her – was lit by artificial lights as well as patches of glowing moss and fungus which leant eerie luminescence to the stone walls. She drove through great natural caverns of pale, flowing limestone, often connected by starker passages of dim sandstone or even dark granite which seemed to swallow up the light, and which lacked the beauty – such as it was – of the limestone, being artificially hewed from bedrock.

Some animals, she knew, might well have enjoyed the caves; certainly the foxes, occasional big cats, and other night creatures driving by her seemed to like living there, as did the bats which, though they sometimes drove, more often flew by overhead. Judy, though, wasn't a cave mammal; both by instinct and upringing, she preferred either the limitless open sky or the inside of a building. The yawning ceilings that stretched into seemingly endless blackness overhead, and the winding passages which gave so many corners around which to hide, didn't suit her very well. Not for the last time, she wished she could have brought Nick along, but Nick was at the courthouse trying to clear his way to enrolling at the Police Academy; a gamble even for him, if anyone did as thorough a background check on him as she had done. Besides, Chief Bogo had been very clear that this was to be a solo operation; just a quick Q&A. He didn't really expect much to come of it, but Judy had proven herself already at following thin leads – and wriggling out of tight binds in the PR department. Things were already in a muddle at City Hall, and word was that the object of this assignment had enough connections to make things difficult for anyone on her bad side, even the ZPD.

After a number of turns this way and that, she came to a gated tunnel with a speaker built into one wall. She reached out and pushed the call button next to the speaker.

"Name, please," said a voice through the speaker. The voice was deep and had a growl in it; definitely the tone of a predator.

Judy leaned out the window to answer. "Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD."

There was a pause. "There is no invitation listed for a Judy Hopps."

Judy rolled her eyes. "Did you miss the 'Officer' and 'ZPD' parts? I'm here to talk to Olivia Poisson."

Another pause, and then the gate opened. "Drive in," growled the voice.

She did, with the distinct impression that this was not going to be a very cordial interview.

About a half-mile beyond her, in a gothic mansion built up against the wall of a large cavern, the mammal to whom she had spoken turned from an intercom and caught the shoulder of a passing raccoon. The whole place was a bustle of activity, with all manner of night creatures setting up tables, putting out food, and attending to details. Olivia D. Poisson was preparing for a party.

"Someone is coming to see Miss Poisson," the larger mammal reported. "An officer from the ZPD; Judy Hopps. Tell her."

The raccoon balked. "Sir, she's not to be disturbed. She's, well... preparing"

"I know what her schedule is." Patience wasn't one of the larger mammal's qualities. "Miss Grey will be there to take messages. Tell her, and she'll tell Miss Poisson. Now get going."

Without further questions, the raccoon darted off to heed the order.

Miss Poisson was in one of the upper rooms of her sizable mansion, getting ready for the party just two hours away, when a knock came at the door. "Miss Poisson!" called an earnest male voice.

The striped skunk retreated behind a privacy screen which hid her from sight. "Answer it," she told Lillian Grey, her head maid. The spotted skunk was young enough to be Olivia's daughter, but no one would have known it. She was mature for her eighteen years, very capable, and as close to a best friend as Olivia had; indeed, some would have said as close as anyone could be when Olivia and a paycheck were involved.

The young skunk quickly bustled to the door and opened it just enough to poke her head out. "Miss Poisson is busy," she reported unnecessarily.

The raccoon, dressed in an immaculate bus boy uniform, was breathing hard as he nodded; he had run all the way. "I know, ma'am, but I was told to tell her that there's an officer here from the police to see her." Remembering the name mentioned by the butler, he added, "Miss Judy Hopps."

Judy Hopps is coming here? thought Lillian in disbelief. Like just about everyone in the city, she knew that name well from the news. Most police officers didn't attain celebrity status – in fact, they made all efforts to avoid it – but after the case she had solved there was little avoiding publicity.

Lillian turned back to the room. "Miss Poisson?" she called.

"I heard," came Olivia's voice from behind the screen. Calmly, she related a series of instructions. The final one was, "Tell Baracus to escort her to my office; the one for private interviews. I'll meet her there soon."

Lillian relayed the instructions to the raccoon, who made off to see to them at once. Closing the door, the young skunk turned to see Olivia emerge from concealment, busily changing her attire.

"Help me out of this," she instructed. "This party dress is nothing for a meeting with an officer."

"Yes, Olivia." Of all the staff, only Lillian had the privelege of calling the lady of the house by her first name, though even she didn't do so in front of temporary help like busboys. As she helped with the back, she asked, "What would Judy Hopps be coming here for?"

"You should know as well as I do," Olivia answered, browsing her wardrobe and selecting a much more formal gown. "What with all that's been happening, it was only a matter of time before the ZPD sent someone knocking on the door – though I am not pleased that they chose to do it at this hour."

Judy was greeted at a wide circle in the front of the mansion by a tall, canine-looking figure whose features were hard to make out, backlit as they were by the house itself. The scent, however, was unmistakeable: hyena.

"Pull around to this side," the same voice that had greeted her on the intercom instructed as the hyena pointed one finger, and one arm, straight out like a signpost. "I will take you to see Miss Poisson."

Judy did as she was advised, taking stock of the place as she did. It looked as though the place were being set up for a party. The house was whiter than the limestone around it, and of an elaborate style resembling a palace. The white walls, tiled with marble, struck an odd contrast to the gothic style. She did a quick once-over of the gargoyles on the roof, with the eerie feeling that some of them were more than statues.

Get ahold of yourself, Judy, she told herself. She didn't know it, but many high-end places in the Nocturnal District had cameras hidden in statues – and rumor had it that Miss Poisson also sometimes hired bats to disguise themselves and keep watch.

Oblivious to all of that, Judy followed the figure's instructions. Once she got around to the side of the mansion where the lighting wasn't such an issue, she could see the figure better. Contrary to the usual rough-and-ready look, this hyena's hair was combed back and slick with gel – no doubt one of the many Pwasson's Passion varieties, if the hint of Nighthowler hanging about him was any clue. His tailored suit bulged, making no effort to disguise the muscles beneath, and a well-outlined jaw boasted the species' formidable biting strength. Of course, hyenas didn't go around biting anyone much these days – and not many mammals knew it, but female hyenas were actually stronger than males – but Judy was well aware that this guy could easily, and literally, crush her skull with his hands tied behind his back if he wanted to. She made a mental note to keep her taser ready, just in case.

The hyena, either unaware of or unimpressed by her mental preparation, raised a hand and flicked his index finger, beckoning her with the least expended energy he could manage. "This way," he told her. "Miss Poisson is busy, but she's taking the time to meet with you."

"Much appreciated," Judy replied brightly, not letting on how wary she was.

The hyena led Judy up several flights of stairs to a spacious, well-lit office. The furnishings were impeccable; wood paneled walls hung with paintings and tapestries, an antique desk in spotless condition, a fire burning in a fireplace (no small mark of status, when chimneys in that district had to be carved upward through bedrock to the surface), and a loveseat facing a sizeable armchair, both upholstered in velvet. Several potted plants adorned the room; a few small trees, but mostly flowerpots full of nighthowlers. On the loveseat, with the air of a queen on her throne, was Olivia Poisson.

The skunk wore a dress resembling a Victorian-era evening gown; a pleated skirt reaching down to the floor, long sleeves, and a collar which covered most of her neck. The fabric, which was of a pine green shade, was embroidered with patterns of vines and flowers, and a simple gold necklace set with diamonds hung around the skunk's slender neck. Yet it was not how she was dressed that caught Judy's attention; it was her expression. The look on the skunk's face reminded her of the hyena who was at that moment leaving; not overtly hostile, but none the less commanding – if not demanding – respect. Next to the love seat and a little behind it stood another skunk, this one of the striped species and wearing a much less elaborate green dress with no jewels. Her expression was passive, though the angle of her shoulders suggested just a hint of apprehension as if she wished this whole situation weren't happening.

Olivia gestured to the armchair. "Please, have a seat." Her voice, though soft and low, was as commanding as her expression, and had a touch of French accent to it – though the impression it generated smacked more of Transylvania. Judy had a sneaking suspicion that Olivia was trying to hypnotize her.

Shaking off her paranoia, the rabbit walked to the chair and jumped into it, taking care not to scratch or track on the velvet. Although she didn't think a civilian – even one of Olivia's status – would take issue with a law officer over a chair, she suspected that the article of furniture cost more than she made in a month.

"Do excuse the size," Olivia added, hinting that she seldom conducted such interviews with individuals the size of a footstool. "If I'd had more notice I could have prepared better. Would you care for something to drink?"

"No thanks, I'm fine."

"Very well." Olivia put her hands together, her fingertips raised like a steeple. "Now, I think I know why you have come," she said, opening the discussion. "I can only assume this is something about your recent case, Miss Hopps?"

Judy cleared her throat. "Yes, I came by to ask you a few questions – and by the way, I prefer Officer Hopps."

Olivia looked as if she were thinking about calling Judy "Miss Hopps" again just to irritate her, but she didn't put it into words. "So be it," she agreed, "although I think I know the nature of your questions already. Let me save you some time: yes, my company makes considerable use of nighthowler extract as a key ingredient in many hygenic products. Yes, I know what the extract is capable of in high dosages – and in the hands of fools. However, neither my company nor its products are in any way related to the recent drugging scheme. You wasted your time coming here."

If there was one thing Judy didn't like, it was others acting like they could just read her mind. The fact that Miss Poisson had been exactly right didn't make things the least bit better. Still, she kept her cool. "I'm just doing my job. If the nghthowlers aren't effecting anyone," she asked, "what do you use them for in your products?"

"I didn't say that they did not effect anyone," Olivia answered calmly, as if speaking to a child. "I merely said that they were not causing animals to go savage." An odd look crossed her face. "At least, not the way of which you are thinking. The concentration is far too weak for that, and I have gone to great lengths to keep it that way."

"So what do they do?" Judy wanted to know. "What do you mean, 'not the way I'm thinking of?"

Olivia reached out and picked up a pot of the flowers on a table next to the loveseat. She held the flowers up and studied them. "My father, the founder of Pwasson's Passions, was an expert in the study of these plants. He knew their more dangerous properties, of course; in fact he even helped to create an enhanced version of the then quite lacking antidote for those under their effects." She paused, as if to let Judy consider that this meant her father was to be thanked for the recovery of those same creatures who had recently been druggd. "He also realized, however, that with the proper management, the flowers' extract could also be used for aromas, confidence, and even for... well, romantic purposes."

"You mean you are drugging your customers?" asked Judy, incredulous that the skunk would admit that so readily.

"No more so than someone who sells coffee," Olivia reasoned. "The effects of nighthowlers are a key selling point of Pwasson's Passions; it has been from the start, and the essence is carefully controlled to ensure no negative effects."

Judy scratched out a few notes in her notebook. "What about an overdose?" she asked.

Olivia shrugged. "Water is deadly if you overdose," she reasoned, "and anyway, with how weakend the essence is, the other ingredients combined – of anything we make, mind you – would poison someone long before they got enough nightholwer into them to have any side effects. My father made certain of it; he and Mother personally tested many of his formulas before selling them to the public, and they are still well and active. Equally well and active is the commitment to safety and careful testing. As heiress, I have made it my priority to maintain that."

"Well, it's nice to know you take the public's safety so seriously," Judy answered insincerely. "All the same, I'd like to do a little checking up; I have to, you know, for my report. Could you provide me with a list of your suppliers; intake, output...?"

Miss Poisson folded her arms. "Do you have a warrant?"

Judy bit the inside of her cheek. "Not really. I could get one, but it would probably go a lot better for you if you just cooperated."

The skunk stared cooly at her for a long moment, clearly unimpressed by "it would probably go a lot better for you." "If you must know," she said at last, "barring unforeseen demand, Pwasson's Passion produces its own nighthowlers to ensure the best quality and to eliminate the hassle which comes from inter-company negotiations. We own several farms for that very purpose on the outskirts of Zootopia."

Seeing that the skunk was stonewalling, Judy decided to try a slightly more "good cop" approach. "And is it possible that someone might have made off with some of your crops?"

"Unlikely. Several of the farms are located by residential areas, and no one on earth knows better than I how powerful the flowers can be – except perhaps the unfortunate victims of the recent poisoning." This last she added as an afterthought, her tone conveying neither sympathy nor guilt. "Let me assure you, the farms have the best security money can buy."

Again, her tone was ambiguous; Judy wasn't sure if Miss Poisson was saying that no one would be foolish enough to try to break into the farms, or daring Judy to disprove that. "I see. Well just in case, I'd like copies of the records from your farms – purchasing, yields, sales – for the past couple of months, and a look around them if you don't mind."

The half-closed eyes looking back at her promised nothing – except more blockading. "I will provide you with the papers as a courtesy," she answered calmly. "If you wish to enter the farms, however, or tour any of my facilities, I'll expect your ticket to have a judge's signature."

This one's a tough nut to crack, thought Judy. She's definitely hiding something. "Thank you," she answered, doing her best to look less bothered than she was. "Your help is appreciated."

Olivia clearly didn't believe that for a second. Taking the silence from the skunk as a cue that their conversation was done, Judy got up to leave.

"Officer," Olivia called to her back, "I would like to ask you something."

"What's that?" Judy wanted to know, half-turning.

Olivia regarded her as calmly as ever. "I am not an expert on the police department," she admitted, "but something tells me they don't hire many rabbits. I assume you worked hard to earn your position, and that you were not just hired to fill the Mammal Inclusion Initiative's quotas."

Judy bristled. "For your information, I was valedictorian of my class. Yes, I worked hard."

"I see. Then I can only assume you faced a great deal of species stigma, much as my father did. Perhaps, then, you will understand that I too have worked hard to continue the company he started, and to continue convincing the simpletons of the world that being a skunk does not limit one's options in life. Do you understand my purpose?"

The fact that Olivia had guessed correctly about her background and the trouble she'd gone to to get where she was did little to settle Judy's anger. "Yes, I see what you're getting at."

Olivia put a hand to her chin. "Then I am sure you will also understand that I am willing to go just as far to preserve my father's dreams as you have gone, and as far as you will ever go, to accomplish yours."

Judy's nose twitched. "Yes," she answered. "I do understand." She'd gotten the message, alright; Miss Poisson wasn't going to pull any punches if her corporation was on the line.

Well, she thought, I never did so well at pulling punches either. Then she remembered something else. "One other thing," she said, turning back toward Olivia with a slight edge in her voice. She didn't like to throw her weight around, but she felt the need to subtly remind Miss Poisson who was wearing the badge here. "What can you tell me about Doug Woolard?"

Olivia jerked as if she had stuck her finger on something sharp, and a brief look crossed her face; too brief to interpret if it had not been so intense. It was a look of absolute rage.

"Doug Woolard, did you say?" she asked, regaining her composure. Though her face was once more calm, her voice carried an undertone which seemed to ask, "Why do you speak of him as though he's still alive?"

"That's right," Judy affirmed, sensing that she was on the trail of a strong lead.

Olivia turned to her assistant. "Lillian, if you would?"

The younger skunk dipped at the waist. "Of course." She left the room swiftly, but without a sense of hurry – as if she were just naturally accustomed to moving quickly.

Miss Poisson looked back at Judy, her eyes looking as though they were barely holding back a raging inferno. "Woolard once worked for my father," she explained. "Lillian is bringing you his file now, but to be brief, he was one of our leading chemists, second only to my father and myself.  He was fired, and had the law allowed it we would have done much more."

"Why?" Judy leaned forward. "What did he do?"

Medusa herself would have withered at the sight of the skunk's scowl. "It is all in his file – including much which may be news to you at the ZPD, for reasons also detailed in the file."

"Sounds like a pretty thorough file," Judy remarked.

Olivia snorted and sat back, folding her arms. "I don't forget grievances such as he committed easily," she answered. "Nor do I forget favors – and I would consider it a personal one if, should you find Woolard, you would make his arrest as... unpleasant as possible."

Judy shook her head. "I don't modify arrest procedures," she replied. Then she thought back to the two times she had snagged Duke Weaselton. "Well, no more than I have to. I just do my job and bring 'em in."

"A pity," Olivia uttered under her breath. Then she turned her head as the door opened, and received the file from Lillian. She rose to her feet and crossed the room, looking like she was about to hand the folder to Judy.  She stopped, however, about three steps short.  "Understand," she said, her voice dead serious, "that the information in this file must not appear in any official case; I give it to you only if I have your word that none of it will be circulated."

Judy wasn't sure she could promise that, and she hesitated just a little.  "All ZPD report are confidential," she assured the skunk.

Olivia shook her head.  "You misunderstand.  This is for your use only, and by use I mean tracking down Woolard.  Do you understand?"

Judy nodded.  "Okay, I guess that's fair."

Olivia handed the folder to Judy. "This will get you started. I'll mail you the rest of what you've been promised as soon as possible." Glancing at the clock, she added, "Now if you have no objections, I have something to prepare for – and I am already behind schedule."

"Thank you," Judy replied with as much sincerity as she could fake. With that, she left.

Her products may eliminate odors, she thought to herself, but something here definitely stinks.

A short time later, back in Olivia's dressing room, the heiress voiced her thoughts to Lillian.

"If Judith Hopps wants to chase after Woolard, I can live with that. All the better if she brings him to justice – or as near as she dares. Still, I can't have interference with the family business, so I'll have to make certain she is satisfied with the information she gets."

Lillian said nothing, knowing that whatever she thought, this was a business matter to Olivia – and Olivia always won in the end when it came to business.

"Now then," said Olivia, studying herself in a mirror and making a few adjustments to her jewelry, "let's get back to the party. Enough unpleasantness for one evening, yes?"

This time, Lillian heartily agreed.

So, that's your start to my first Zootopia fanfic. What do you think?

Please read and review! Suggestions welcome.