Andrea stared at the report for the thousandth time. The report that said she killed a suspect. She was sitting in a chair across from the chief, and he wasn't making eye contact. The old dappled horse looked as if he bore a great weight on his shoulders. Andrea knew she had put it there. While she waited for him to speak, her eyes drifted to the calendar on the wall. April 15th, 2006, it read. Her last day on the force.
"This is it, Andrea. This is the day that I take your badge, and you know that. Do you have anything to say that I haven't already heard?" Horson asked. He was looking at the badge pinned to Andrea's chest, knowing that it would soon be on his desk.
"No, sir, Chief Weller." Andrea's response was curt. To the point, like she always was.
"Then listen. I'm… I'm only doing this because I have to. A lieutenant has never been discharged from this department. But what you did, Andy, it was too much. Too much for the civilians, too much for the news… Too much for you, too, I think, if your psych evaluation is any indication."
Andrea rolled her neck and sighed. "Both the psychiatrist and internal affairs didn't find anything. It wasn't excessive force; it was uncivilized force. You're taking my badge because of how I did what I did, not why."
Horson knit his brow. "The mammal who killed your partner was still a mammal. He deserved due process."
"I don't need to tell you again that he had already shot me once, Chief Weller." Andrea's tone stayed level. Horson's did not.
"I don't care if he shot you ten times, Andrea! We protect and serve. We do not use our teeth to butcher suspects under any circumstances. There is procedure! There are already mammals who think predators shouldn't be police officers. When they heard a spotted hyena ripped a zebra to shreds that gave them ammunition that could affect the way this entire department works!"
Andrea stared straight forward. "You're not telling me anything I don't already know. And it won't change anything, either." Guilt never came into the equation. Andrea felt she did what was necessary. Grisly, and horrible, and motivated by revenge and the deepest dark of her animality, but necessary.
Horson snorted and closed the file on the desk. He tapped the desk with a hoof. He couldn't look at her; instead, he hung his head.
"Your badge, Officer Sarchus."
Andrea reached her paw up to take her badge off one last time. She set it on the desk, then stood to leave. When she reached the door, she heard Chief Weller's voice. It was lower, softer:
"Say hello to John and your boys for me. Tell them I'm sorry."
"They have a game tomorrow. It's too bad you won't be there." Andrea replied, "Goodbye, Chief Weller." She passed through the door and into the precinct's halls.
Outside the chief's office, precinct one was operating normally. Mammals in uniform passed in front of her, the rookies staring because they didn't know any better. Andrea was in uniform, but her chest bore no badge. She made her way to the locker rooms, where for the final time she changed into her civilian garb. A dull ache throbbed in her right shoulder as she slipped her arms into a black tank top, a memory of the bullet that had hit her just a few months ago. The shirt and jeans felt strange on her fur, not like her uniform.
When she closed the locker door, the mirror hanging on it stared back at her. She took stock of the marks on her face and her powerfully built body. Twenty-five years of living as a cop, with all the scars and stress to prove it. One thought repeated in her mind.
'How am I going to provide now?'
One voice took her by surprise as she stepped out of the locker room, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. That of her friend, her colleague – Mansa.
"We're not going to be the same without you, Andrea." He said, his deep voice catching her ears as it had so many times before at departmental meetings and during shift changes.
"Lieutenant, I'm not going to be the same either." Andrea replied, her eyes swinging up to meet the cape buffalo's.
He put his hoof on her shoulder. "Some of the others are saying you're lucky. That a discharge is the 'easy way out.'"
Andrea's brow knit, the first sign of frustration she had allowed herself to show. "Bogo, there is no easy way out of this job... Let's grab a drink sometime."
"Right. To your future employment in the private sector. Bring John along."
Andrea sighed. "I'll do that." Her future employment was exactly what she was worried about. Few jobs were more thankless than private security, where you chased packs of adolescents for throwing soda off the escalator at the mall.
With their conversation finished, Andrea and Mansa turned their separate ways. With her paw on the doors to the station, she turned and looked at the lobby, stark and emblematic of the oath she had once taken. It had been her home away from home for decades. Leaving it was harder than she ever expected it would be. The buzz of incoming calls, arrests, and uniformed banter fell quiet as the doors closed behind her for the last time.
The walk home was full of confusion. Regret. She had teeth, and she had used them. She replayed the scene in her head over and over: She was disarmed, shot with her own weapon by a cop killer. The only tool at her disposal were her teeth, and she had used them to frightening effect. Not only was it against policy, but it was against society's very nature. Bitter wondering flooded into her mind. If she were a prey, and she had used horns or hooves to fight back, would she still have lost her badge?
"Honey, I'm home." Andrea called as she entered the modest house on Acacia Street. She leaned down to let her bag fall off her shoulder. As soon as she did, the lights of her life came running out of the living room to hug her. Two ten-year old boys, sweet as sugar. They threw their arms around her neck.
"Hyenry! Dylan!" Andrea cooed, wrapping her arms around her little hyenas.
"Dad said you're getting a new job?" Hyenry said, pulling away and looking into his mother's umber eyes.
"Does that mean you aren't gonna get bad guys anymore?" Dylan added, nestling into her chest.
Andrea thought about that. She didn't know. She wasn't sure what she would be doing, but it was good of her husband to tell such an innocent lie.
"Mom's always going to be stopping bad guys, sweetie. Now boys, go wash up; it smells like your father's almost done with dinner."
At this, the two boys freed her and rushed to the bathroom, racing each other to wash their paws.
Andrea stepped into the kitchen to find her husband John, clad in an apron and stirring a large pot. The scent of spice filled the kitchen. Just over his shoulder, she could see the drawings her children had done of her wearing blue and with a big golden badge on her chest.
"Whatever that is, it's going to be delicious." Andrea said fondly, kissing the spots on her husband's cheek.
"You know it Andy." John replied, closing the eye on the side where she kissed him. "Are you going to be okay, hon? I know this is going to be hard. We're going to have to live off savings for a bit. But you are always going to be my hero."
Andrea stood behind John as he cooked, her paws on his shoulders. She was a head taller than him, and she rested her snout between his ears.
"We'll make it work, John."
