It was when one of the thieves he was in the process of arresting somehow managed to grab the back of his pants and yank them painfully upward that Félix, Captain of the Guard, really questioned his career choice.

True, he had felt completely over his job for a while – in fact, his hate for his job was quite possibly born during the first week he had been forced to work for Judge Claude Frollo alone. With the king gone to who knows where, the crazy man was running rampant. Sort of. The main reason that Félix hated being under Frollo's command so much was the fact that he was supposed to be doing the running part.

Frollo had suspicions that the court of miracles was somewhere on the outskirts of the city? Off he went with him. Frollo had heard that there were gypsies frequenting a local tavern? Duty called again. Frollo had found that gypsies were arriving to their part of Paris by the docks in the middle of the night? Well, up and into the armour he had to go, no matter how warm the bed was and how freezing the streets were!

The captain sighed, with a tired, resigned sort of anger and expertly punched the face of whoever decided to pull his pants into his unmentionables. Apparently, it didn't matter much, as most of the passers-by were greeted with the man awkwardly picking out his massive wedgie through his armour. Laughter chorused through the streets.

This was just another humiliation that he could blame on the judge.

How on earth did someone so obsessed with one group of people be appointed in such a position of power? For someone of such status, Judge Claude Frollo seemed extremely inefficient in actually attending to Paris and protecting it from criminals. Félix was almost positive that there were at least two serial killers running around free, thanks to the efforts of the guards being concentrated on bringing in petty thieves and smugglers.

For goodness sake, one of the reasons he thought that the whole guardsman path was a good idea was because he was looking forward to the whole 'helping people' thing getting him discounts in certain shops. The other reason was the insistence of his busybody mother, who was quite possibly also the reason why no woman of good status wanted to marry him.

Instead, most hated him as much as they hated the judge. When he signed up as a bright, idealistic young guard, he was pretty sure that snark, shunning and ridicule was not in the job description.

It was all the Judge's fault.

Admittedly, Félix was like many a man in Paris, and his mindset was that one had to watch their pockets around the roaming thieves. Still, that there were far more pressing criminals lurking in the streets, and far better glorious job stories that were potentially out there.

His proficiency in battle was instead used in wrestling matches with struggling pickpockets and his equestrian skills were wasted in steering a horse through stifling city streets while trying to catch a group of petty, pickpocketing acrobats.

Quite frankly, it was insulting.

On top of feeling insulted, there were more negative emotions afflicting him. The job was tiring, repetitive and boring. The idealism and optimism that he had five years ago was instead replaced with a cynical, bitter and lazy individual; a Captain of the Guard that loved his position just as much as the French loved the English.

Damn it all, he thought that the position was all glory, with fancy captain armour and fancy white stallions and fancy noble women fawning over him as he told of his achievements. Instead, there he was spending his day wrestling with indignant, angry gypsies.

While being apprehended, they'd spit at him, call obscenities at him, throw things – you name it! Sure there were on their way to being tortured and whatnot, but it was Félix that was suffering the most. Working under Frollo himself was the most torturous thing he could think of. The pay and the well-bred horse was the only thing that eased the negativity that had consumed his life.

"Alright," He said, finally relieving the pain in his nether regions and turning to the struggling gypsies. "If you all come quietly, then I can get the afternoon off, and you can go… to the dungeon… Well, it's a good deal for me! Come on, I'm exhausted."

A spit in the face was his answer from one of the women, and she kicked the guard holding her in the groin and took off running. Félix made to run after her, before flinging his hands in the air in surrender.

"Oh, sod it," He muttered under his breath, and only few could hear him. "Sod the girl. Sod the judge. Sod everything."

"Don't just stand there! A gypsy is escaping!"

The Captain's face turned from exasperation to an expression akin to a bulldog swallowing a lemon. He knew that slimy voice from anywhere, unfortunately, since he was forced to listen to it every day of his life.

"I'm sorry, Minister Frollo," Félix said, turning to the judge and giving him a pained bow of feigned respect. "My eyes were clouded by… saliva. I could not see."

"Incompetent fool!" He snarled, sitting all high and mighty on his black horse that constantly looked as though someone had insulted its mother. "You let a girl of all things escape?"

Captain had half a mind to strangle him with the red ribbon of that stupid hat of his. "Once again, so sorry, sir."

"Just take the gypsies to the Palace of Justice," Frollo said, waving off his apology dismissively. "Idiot."

Bristling, Félix turned to walk towards his horse. Unfortunately for him, a gypsy stuck his foot out to trip him, and he landed awkwardly on the stone road.

Taking advantage of the element of surprise, the to-be prisoners assaulted the men holding them in various ways, and made a run for it in several different directions. His soldiers made to pursue, but they either collided with each other or tripped over the Captain himself. What resulted was a pile of groaning guards and a very ticked off judge.

However, Félix was angrier at the world than even Frollo. It was one humiliation too much for the man, and five years of indignation was starting to pile up, and it burned like the fire he was still feeling between his buttocks.

"Captain, get up immediately! They're escaping!"

The seething man picked himself off from the road, dusting off his armour. "Of course, sir."

"Run the streets, I want those heathens found!" The Judge declared.

"I will send out parties immediately, sir," Félix said, clenching his fists.

"If it takes all night, they will be apprehended!"

"As per usual, sir," He said, resisting the urge to grit his teeth as he began to prepare his horse. Some thief had gone through the saddle-pack when the horse was unattended, and it only fuelled his annoyance.

"I must bring these vermin to justice!"

"Indeed." The Captain stood still now, taking a deep breath. Was all of this worth it?

"Captain, what are you waiting for, you idiot? Find the criminals!"

Félix didn't respond. He stood, stock still, a rare moment of clarity through his anger occurring. He began contemplating his life, and if he really had anything to lose. Was it all worth hearing this self-righteous man talk down to him for the rest of his career?

"Captain? Captain?! You idiotic, dim-witted fool!"

Deep breaths. In and out.

"CAPTAIN!"

"Yes, Satan?"

The entire street froze in a stunned silence at these uttered words. The now former Captain had turned as he had said his doomed words, a sarcastic, almost manic grin on his face. Frollo's expression was a mixture of his horse's and his own feelings of surprise at the insult. After a moment, Félix spoke again, knowing that he had just figuratively thrown his life and career off the bell tower of Notre Dame Cathedral.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir! You sounded like someone else!"

"Ease up! Wait between lashes, otherwise the old sting will dull him to the new!" Said the minister somewhere down the corridor, in thinly veiled sadistic enjoyment.

Félix hung, shackled to the wall. As he heard the torturer approach, the former captain turned slightly to try and converse with his captor.

"Hey, who's the judge meeting? Was that the arrival of the new captain, eh?"

There was no answer, but Félix new he was correct. He gave the black-clad man with the whip a wry look from under a swollen black eye.

"Hah, poor sod. Just wait, after a week working for the judge, he'd beg to trade places with me- ARGH!"

A/N: Aaand that was the result of a viewing of Ace Ventura: Pet Detective with a friend of mine. I turned one joke into an entire fanfic, go me.

I just wrote this to get the writing flowing, but I'm kinda proud of it, and I loved torturing poor Félix, haha. Don't worry, this is Disney, so he gets a happy ending. He gets released from the dungeons after Frollo dies, makes peace with the people he previously persecuted, and is forever glorified as 'That Guy that Called Frollo Satan'.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

[Edit: I forgot to put up a cover image, but then I saw that my icon is oddly appropriate for this story, so I'll leave it.]