Rick slowly opened the door and walked in. He had been running nonstop for a while, and was exhausted. He closed the door and slid the bolt in place. He turned and leaned against the wall, letting out a deep breath. The raccoon opened his eyes and took in the view of his room. The decrepit and depressing view was far different from the bleak and white hospital they practically held him hostage in. He looked down at his right arm, or where it should have been. A few years ago when he worked as bomb disposal for Zootopia, the Palm Hotel was in danger of a bomb. While nobody was killed, quite a few were injured when the bomb detonated, including Rick himself. He lost his entire right arm, two ribs, and suffered a fractured skull. The healing of his skull was nearly complete, but the hospital had done almost nothing to restore his lost arm. Fed up with the placebo medications and lack of progress, Rick left and went back home.

With another sigh, the raccoon walked to the couch, sat down, and rested there, wondering what to do. His handicap would make it hard to find employment, and his bank was already unhappy with the small debt he put on himself over the surgeries. He laid there for a few minutes, waiting until his breathing slowed and his muscles stopped aching.

He looked over and saw a small recording tape on arm of the couch, addressed to him with a note zip-tied to the device. Curious, he reached over with his left arm and took it in his paw. After studying it for a few seconds, he hesitantly pressed the play button.

"Hello, Rick." the radio spoke through the static with a female, Irish accent. "I have been watching you for a while. I've watched you struggle with how unfair life can be. I have been working on a very special project for quite some time, and I think you're just the mammal to help me out. I will keep it very brief."

Rick watched and listened intently, intrigued by the voice.

"You see, I myself am a victim of how our own biology is just too insufficient for us to live how we were meant to. Sometimes we want more than what nature intended for us. It's never fair to leave our aspirations up to random chance. And that's why I feel I can help you. You and I both have something for each other. You need an arm, and I need test subjects. Perhaps we could work together for the greater good. If you are interested, the tag on this recorder will show you how to find me. Thank you for your time."

The tape came to an abrupt stop, leaving the room in a stale silence. The raccoon sighed yet again as he took the recorder by the zip-tie and opened the note with his thumb. It was an address in Zootopia, not far from where he was. Despite the vague message he got, he was all too interested. He put the tape recorder in his jacket pocket, got up, and walked out the door