It’s a quiet morning in Zootopia. The sun hangs lazily over the skyline, casting long amber shadows through the alleys of Savannah Central. Shops open, traffic hums, and animals stroll with coffee and chatter — all blissfully unaware of the stranger who walked their streets just 3 weeks ago. No name. No ID. No smile that meant anything.

The mammals of this city have learned to move faster around him. Some say he never sleeps. Others whisper he does things in the shadows that the ZPD doesn’t even report. His pale face never changes. His stare lingers too long. He doesn’t blink enough. He doesn’t... fit.

Somewhere between an alley and the mirrored doors of a Metro station, he stands — motionless — as a light breeze tousles his black, shoulder-length hair.

He hasn’t said a word since sunrise.