The ferret ran. They usually ran, to Nick's oft-expressed frustration. He'd chased down wolves, skunks, and even a couple of out-of-shape rabbit teenagers they'd caught smoking in an alley. A year on the job and he could already run faster and longer than he'd ever been able to in his twenties.
That didn't mean he had to like it, though.
He did have to wonder, in these times, why Judy always seemed to be bringing up the rear, rabbits' top speeds being what they were. If he hadn't known better, he might have suspected his partner of aiding and abetting these little workouts.
He'd show her he didn't need the exercise.
The ferret was a junkie, in lousy condition and fueled by wild desperation. It wasn't a fair match. Nick dove forward, catching his quarry at center mass in a tackle and bringing them both to a smacking halt on the asphalt.
Almost immediately, the ferret began to thrash violently, hoping to wriggle out a second shot at freedom. Nick leaned onto him, grabbing at the smaller mammal's arms to try and pin them. The ferret whipped his long neck around, snapping viciously at the fox's left paw.
Nick withdrew his paw quickly, grabbing for the scruff of the ferret's neck instead and jamming his head down. The ferret nearly thrashed free again, wheezing manically through bared razor teeth. Nick leaned in and shouted for his partner.
"Hopps!"
Before the word had left his lips she was there, expertly capturing the ferret's arms before he could claw her, wrestling them behind his back and cuffing him as Nick held him in place. Calmly, ZPD's first rabbit officer began informing him of his multitudinous and inalienable rights under the law.
Faced with his capture, the ferret had gone semi-catatonic, flopping listlessly as they hauled him to his feet. Nick frog-marched him back in the direction of the cruiser, still holding him by the scruff of his neck. Judy followed alongside, radioing back to central and maintaining some distance until their suspect was safely ensconced within their police cruiser.
Nick allowed himself to pant a little, tongue lolling out as they leaned against the car. His partner eyed him appraisingly.
"Hard time keeping up, hm? Getting a little long in the tooth?"
"Hmm." He gazed down his snout at her, imperious. "Funny you should mention that. Because. I seem to remember you being behind me the entire way. How many of our perps have I nailed this past week? Remind me. My memory's too old."
She rolled her eyes, forcing back a grin.
"Wait, wait," he went on, touching a paw to the tip of his snout. "It's coming back to me! It was all of them."
"Okay, so you've had a lucky week," allowed the rabbit. "I'll buy you a coffee."
"So generous," said Nick. "I'll drive."
By the time they'd finished booking their suspect, they'd been due for a break. The rabbit had made good on her promise, buying Nick a massive frappuccino that he was now sipping happily across from her in a cramped Snarlbucks.
Judy studied him carefully, looking like she wanted to say something for a half a dozen beats before opening her mouth.
"I'm amazed," she said finally, "that you can down those coffees so soon. I'm usually wired after throwing down with mammals like that."
Nick shrugged. "Hey, biologically speaking, I should be asleep right now. I don't begrudge you your vegetable addiction."
"I know, just—he nearly took a bite out of you a couple of times back there."
"Oh, that's no big deal. Once you've had rabies a couple of times, it's not so scary anymore."
She gaped, and he laughed. "Come on, I'm kidding you, Carrots."
Judy gave him a smile that was only a little forced, and they were quiet for a moment—the rabbit gazing down at the table, the fox slurping the ice from the bottom of his cup. Eventually, she looked at him again, a bit of worry creeping back into her eyes.
"You know—," she hesitated. "It's...okay to use the muzzle when you have to. It doesn't make you a—you know, a hypocrite."
Nick sighed, pushing his cup aside to look at her directly.
"I know," he said. "I—look, you know I don't care what anyone else thinks. Maybe you, sometimes."
She laughed. "Sometimes."
"Very occasionally," he grinned. "But no, I just don't like it. It's not personal."
The bunny raised her eyebrows. She was hard to lie to.
"Okay," he admitted, "maybe it's a little personal. But I don't judge you or, or anyone else. For using it. I just—" He searched his empty coffee cup for words. "If I can do my job without it, I will."
"All right," said Judy. "I just w—"
Their radios hissed. "One-Alpaca-One, One-Alpaca-One, report of four-fifteen, possible family violence at 565 Acacia, Apartment 4, handle code two."
"Crackers. Speak of the devil," she groused. "One-Alpaca-One roger, we'll check it out."
"You know, you're a grown bunny," Nick said, flipping his cup across the room into the trash. "You can say 'fuck' if you want."
She scooted off her big chair and made for the door. "'If I can do my job without it...'" she echoed back at him.
The fox cackled. "I'll drive," he said, following her back outside.
556 Acacia Street was an unassuming, middle-of-the-road apartment complex in Savanna Central with little to differentiate it from the surrounding buildings, or the dozens of other similar ones the two officers had shown up to in their short careers. It was familiar territory, too, only a few blocks from the neighborhood where Nick had grown up. Judy had run the address on the way. The unit in question belonged to an Alfie and Linda Chuckwood, a couple with a history of "domestic disturbances" but no arrests or restraining orders on record. Nick had paused with a twinge of recognition at the name, but said nothing.
The call was something to take seriously. Domestic disturbances often meant domestic violence, and all the associated miseries. They'd told Nick at the academy that domestic violence calls were the cause of a quarter of all police deaths in the line of duty. It had surprised him at the time, but he realized it shouldn't have. The abusers he'd known in his youth were insecure mammals who feared powerlessness more than anything—being arrested was the ultimate emasculation. Which was why they were responding code two: no lights, no sirens, as quickly and as carefully as they could manage.
Knowing the city, Nick had anticipated there would be no open parking for blocks, and he was proven right, to his partner's frustration. Luckily, he'd quickly learned that, as a police officer, certain problems only existed if he acknowledged them as such. He stopped the cruiser in the right lane and set the emergency brake.
"That's not a parking spot..." grumbled his small partner as they climbed out. The pavement was hot against his paw pads.
"It's a police car, Carrots," he explained. "Anywhere we park it is a parking spot."
As they made their way toward the building, she grumbled something about abusing the badge, and the fox laughed. The bickering was cathartic—he knew Judy hated these calls, as brave and tough as the rabbit was. She cared far too much about people. So he was happy to tweak and irritate and just piss her the hell off every day, if that was what it took to keep the real darkness out.
The job was unavoidable, though, and they fell silent as they approached the front gate. Listening for shouts or signs of violence, or—there it was. Muffled female sobbing, further up the entrance way. Nick felt his teeth grind. He looked at his partner. The rabbit was moving toward the sound, big ears cocked intently. He followed.
The sobbing was intermittent, hard to make out, and there was a male voice, not raised but not friendly. Words were indistinct. They might have missed the action, he decided. Or, just maybe, arrived in time to head off a second round.
Judy, ear pressed to the wall beside the door, could hear more than him, and the fox watched as her face went from worry to focus to righteous outrage. She pushed away from the wall and set her jaw.
"Ready?" he mouthed, inclining his head toward the door. She nodded.
Nick was bigger, but Judy was better at shouting, so he pounded on the door as she announced their arrival and demanded entry. Curses made their way to the officers' ears, along with muffled scrambling. Nick gave it a moment and pounded again.
"Police! Open up now!"
There was an odd grunting and the jangling of a belt buckle, followed by thudding footsteps. Nick raised his fist again for another round of hammering—
The door opened, and a messy-faced groundhog peered out at them. He was nearly as tall as Nick, and looked to weigh more than twice as much, though it was hard to distinguish fur from fat from muscle. The resident was dressed in what might have been described as business casual, only half-buttoned and rumpled to hell. He paused for a moment, as mammals usually did, to take in the fox in uniform, squinting at the badge as if to determine its authenticity. Seemingly satisfied, the groundhog straightened up.
"Hi, officer," he slurred with a grin he apparently felt was ingratiating. Nick wrinkled his nose. The groundhog reeked of spirits. Not that it mattered—the fox had had a lot of drinks in his thirty-odd years, and a lot of girlfriends. He'd never laid a paw on any of them.
"How ya doing," Nick said with practiced politeness, even as he stepped forward to press his way into the apartment before the other could object. "Alfie Chuckwood?"
The groundhog nodded, and seemed to catch sight of Judy for the first time.
"Hey, there's another one. You the rabbit from TV?"
The rabbit from TV ignored the question. "Is your wife in, Mister Chuckwood?"
"Uh, yeah," he mumbled. "In the back."
"I'm going to need to speak with her,"
Alfie licked his lips. "She's not really feeling well right now."
Judy gave him a hard look. "I'll bet," she said, crossing the room past him.
"Alfie," Nick cut in, before the groundhog could protest. "I have some things to discuss with you while my partner talks to your wife, if that's all right."
"Officer Wilde, huh?"
"That's right, sir."
The groundhog gave him another drunken grin. "What you want to talk about?"
"We got a call about screaming from this residence. That might be a good place to start."
"Oh, yeah." He sighed. "Yeah, the wife gets a little loud when she's upset about something. She's a little, you know." He circled a finger by the side of his head.
"Mister Chuckwood, was there violence involved?"
"Look, I'm just a regular guy. I'm a mammal resources manager."
"Was there violence involved?" Nick repeated.
Alfie licked his lips again. "C'mon, man, no. Did you have any other questions? Or-"
The groundhog glanced over Nick's shoulder, and they both looked to the hallway as Judy stepped back into the living room. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes.
"Just one," said Nick. "Could you face me? And put your paws behind your back, please."
Nick had to give Alfie credit for the speed with which his flash of fear was buried by his drunken, affable facade.
"Hey, buddy, I'm not trying to give you guys a hard time," said the groundhog, backing away. "You know...it was Wilde, right? Do I know you from somewhere? You look very familiar."
There it was.
"Yes," answered the fox. "You do."
Alfie frowned. "Recently, or..."
"A ways back," Nick said. "Junior Ranger Scouts."
Over the groundhog's shoulder, Nick saw Judy raise a paw to her mouth. Alfie's throat bobbed. Now they all knew. Nick stared, hard-eyed, at his former bully as the other seemed to catch up with the reality of his situation.
"Oh, yeah," Alfie murmured. "Yeah, look. I'm sorry about that, man. Kids make mistakes, right?"
"Not just kids," Nick said. "Paws behind your back."
Alfie bit down on his lower lip and reluctantly did as instructed, eyes flicking around nervously. Mammal resources manager or no, childhood history or no, something about him was getting Nick's hackles up. Judy stepped up behind the groundhog, cuffs out. He twisted to see what she was doing.
"Eyes front," Nick snapped, feeling his snout start to curl in a snarl. Alfie looked back at Nick, there was a jangle of metal as Judy reached up with the cuffs—
And the big groundhog struck, throwing an elbow hard into the rabbit's face.