His eyes cracked open just a sliver. His ears were ringing in waves, leaving him nearly to completely deaf occasionally. He smelled burnt rubber and tasted blood. He was sore, neck, back, head. Especially his head, which rested upon the steering wheel. No airbag, not because of a deployment malfunction or the wreck being minor, a sixty plus mile-per-hour wreck head-on with another car being anything but minor, his car simply had a problem with the dash display. Ringing gave way in waves and he could hear something familiar to his right; a low, miserable whine. A glance confirmed his rising fears, his dog lying in the floorboard of the passenger seat with blood dripping from the dog's nose.
Forcing himself to move, he sat up and unbuckled himself, testing for broken bones and, once again thankful, found none in his search. A quick check confirmed his dog still had a strong pulse and no broken limbs, the collision appeared to have only discombobulated the animal, but not too much as to stop the dog from licking the man's hand in an attempt to draw comfort.
His focus on the well being of himself and his dog didn't stop him from catching the sounds to his left, footsteps, conversation and glass being disturbed, a rush of adrenaline ran through him and his heart pounded. The pain pushed out of mind temporary, he reach down to his side to retrieve his weapon from between the seats. It had saved his life before and, operational or not, was fully capable of doing so again. It had also taken life before and, operational or not, he was confident in his ability to club the shit outta whoever was stupid enough to mess with him.
It was a shotgun, years old and reliable in all of his needs. A twelve gauge pump action with a overall length that was a full inch shorter than the legal minimum barrel length. Seventeen inches of lethality in form and function. Two shells could fit in the magazine, regardless of their length, while one was loaded in the chamber. A wooden pistol grip, familiar to him from years of use, fit the palm of his hand seamlessly. Tensing his finger around the trigger, mindful of its light pull weight, he slowly aimed the weapon at the window with his right hand while sneaking his left to the door handle.
A face appeared, but that wasn't what caught his attention. He saw the blue uniform and badge. His weapon, reflected in the pair of aviator sunglasses, was leveled right at the surprisingly human expression of shock, confusion, understanding and, finally, pure fear on its inhuman face. He waited a second, a mere tick of the clock, before he pulled the trigger.
The window shattered and everything in the immediate vicinity was reduced to fine particles; nearly vaporized by the twelve gauge bird-shot.
Author's note: Anyone here wanna go for a run? Try and keep up officers. Next chapter will have some more background for our human friend. Be warned, I doubt you'll have read many Zootopia fanfics that'll be as... well, colorful might work. Violent. Criminal even. Enjoy, this was just a teaser.