(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