In an anonymous yet well-appointed room, a meeting was being held- a very unusual meeting. The middle of a large, rectangular boardroom-style table was brilliantly lit by overhanging lights, but the chairs that surrounded it- and their occupants- were cloaked in shadow, invisible to one another. Many of the participants were known to each other, but mostly as aliases or from stories in the press about the latest ‘diabolical crime committed in Zootopia!’. In fact, on any other occasion if they HAD met each would almost certainly have tried something to take the others out. If the POLICE had happened to raid that room and arrest the occupants, they would have cut Zootopia’s crime rates by at least 75%. The occupants of this room RAN Zootopia’s crime, more or less, each having built up their own organisations and carved out their own territories across the different districts, under the sunny skin of the city.
But here they all were. It was an extraordinary meeting.
One anonymous figure leaned forwards and rested his elbows on the spotlit table, chin jutting into the bright light. He might have been feline- certainly predatory.
“Thank you all for coming. I am sure you are aware of the reason. Simply put- we have got to Do Something about Chief Bogo.” With a rattle, an old-fashioned projecter chugged into life, and across the far wall a photograph appeared of Zootopia’s famous ZPD buffalo, in uniform,trademark scowl in place.
There was the impression of nodding from the other attendees.
“He’s a menace to all right-thinking criminals,” one agreed sagely. The shape of their shadow suggested a canine.
“Far too enthusiastic about solving crime,” another nodded. Perhaps in the minority around the table, they may have been a herbivore. “The clean-up rate these days is ATROCIOUS.”
“More than half of my boys are in the slammer,” another- sitting on the dark,shadowed edge of the table in a tiny chair- contributed.
“I am glad that we are agreed,” the first speaker said. He needs to be stopped.” More nodding. “And so I propose that- for our common good- we set aside our business differences and co-operate to achieve this.”
There was a rather stunned silence as they considered this audacious concept. Co-operation was not in their nature.
“I realise this is unusual,” the first speaker said drily, “but it would be to our mutual benefit. None of us has been able to neutralize Chief Bogo acting alone- as many of us have purportedly learned to our cost”
“He’s incorruptible.” One of the other attendees practically spat the word.
“Un-outwittable,” another chimed in bitterly.
“Un-coercible,” a third growled.
“Unstoppable,” a fourth drawled with finality. The shadowy figure’s pose suggested scepticism and amusement. “Before we proceed, I’d be interested to hear your proposal as to HOW we could take this policing paragon down.”
The first speaker’s face moved slightly more into the light, revealing a smile.
“Unstoppable by conventional means, maybe. Invulnerable, no. I propose that we must take… unorthodox measures.” He gestured towards the flickering image- as always the Chief’s collar was undone to accommodate a chest almost as wide as he was tall, tapering to a trim waist. “Note his physique, my fellow criminals. Achieved through iron willpower, determination and a rigorous workout-ethic. The same traits that underly his devastating effectiveness as Chief of Police. But therein too lies his Achilles Hoof. They speak of a hidden weakness-”
Click.
The slide changed- a snap of Chief Bogo, hand held up vertically, refusing a proffered box of donuts.
Click.
The slide changed again- Chief Bogo at a ZPD function, refusing a slice of chocolate cheesecake being offered.
Click.
Another slide- Chief Bogo angrily refusing a pie, the unlucky ZPD officer who offered it being dangled by their uniform lapels.
“A weakness for food. He IS a grazer, after all. I propose that we exploit that weakness- if we can break his willpower over THIS, we have a lever we can use.” The speaker snrked. Another click, and the slide changed again- to Chief Bogo yelling at a distinctly overweight ZPD rhino officer, who was clearly struggling to keep up with the buffalo on patrol. “At the very LEAST, a weakness for food will substantially slow him down. “
There was muttering around the table, a general thoughtfulness..
“Alright. I agree that this plan MIGHT be worth taking seriously,” the sceptic from earlier conceded grudgingly. “But HOW exactly do you propose that this… novel goal… might be achieved?”
The first speaker’s lips produced a thin smile.
“I propose that we all conspire to-“