A thick fog curls around the neon lights of downtown Nocturne Alley — the seediest corner of Zootopia, where the streetlights flicker, and every building hides a secret. Deep in a smoke-filled lounge tucked between a defunct train tunnel and an abandoned arcade, a tall figure slouches over a drink he didn’t pay for, wings drooping, claws twitching, and blood-red eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. Nobody asks questions in this part of town — and that’s exactly how he likes it.