0540 hours Monday, Nick Wilde's Apartment
"I can almost welcome the otherwise-nearly-intolerable creature that is Monday … this time, at least," Nick said, as he brushed the fur on his neck.
"Glad you're enjoying yourself in the mirror, Nick," Judy said, as she took a buffing cloth to her badge for the tenth time in less than three days.
Nick smirked, and looked over his shoulder at the lapine doe. "You should talk, Carrots. If I weren't using it to make sure I'd caught all the rough spots, it would be you here – standing tippy-toe atop the trash can – to check your loveable, fuzzy, adorable…"
"Skip the 'c' word, Wilde, or I'll do something nasty…" Judy interrupted.
"I was about to say, 'cuddly' – self in the mirror," Nick finished. He took a deep breath, and snarled at the mirror. Then he relaxed for a moment, and struck as fierce a pose as he could manage; his muzzle was wrinkled back in a silent snarl, the white of his carnassials exposed, his jaw slightly open as if he was preparing to bite, and one paw up, claws out. He held the pose for a long three count, then shrugged.
"Just what are you trying to do, Nick?" Judy asked.
"Practicing intimidation. If I don't practice, I might not be able to manage it when I really need it."
"Why?"
"I've been away from the street so long, now, that I'm afraid that I'm going to lose my edge – that I'll just become such a warm and cuddly…OUCH!" he jumped back and to one side, nearly tumbling backwards into the tub, as Judy poked him just under the ribcage.
"I will 'warm and cuddly' you, if you don't stop teasing me."
"I wasn't teasing, Carrots – I was deadly serious!" Nick said, as he straightened himself up and tucked the ends of his uniform tunic into his pants. "You're making me into such a 'lovable critter' that I have to work at remembering what it is to be a fearsome predator…"
Judy threw up her hands and walked away, shaking her head, muttering "incorrigible, utterly incorrigible."
"I'm being honest with you, Carrots – if I don't exercise my 'war face', I'm going to turn into a milquetoast simply for lack of practice."
The only sound from the kitchenette was a lapine bilabial fricative.
0700 hours Monday, ZPD Precinct 1, The Bullpen
"We have four items on our agenda today. First, Lieutenant Hopps has completed her testimony in the Ivanov case – welcome back from your paid vacation, Hopps, now you can get back to real work," Bogo said.
Nick bent over slightly and whispered next to Judy's ear. "Bullbutt is in good form today."
Judy poked the back of Nick's right leg with the claws on her left foot, keeping an attentive eye on the Chief.
"Next, we have two new recruits – our second fox, and another wolf. I should mention their names, but I just don't care. Our new fox will be on loan to Vice for a couple of days. Francine – you will take what-his-name, our new wolf rookie, under your wing until I can get around to assigning him a final training officer."
"An excellent motivational moment, sir, if I do say so…" Nick began.
"Shut up, Wilde," Bogo said, and resumed the briefing.
"Third, we have a street racer problem – again – in the Rainforest district. Hopps and Reynolds – you're on this one. And since Officer Wilde has been doing such a wonderful job assisting in the DA's office, he will continue his paid vacation in an air conditioned office there again today. The rest of you are to take these packets," Bogo began handing out case folders to the other officers, "and trace down the leads that Officer Wilde's imagination and CIs[1] have provided us from his last week in City Hall – there is something very unpleasant going on out there, and City Hall and I want the matter resolved." Bogo resumed his position at the front of the bullpen, and put away his reading glasses. "And all of you, remember – stay safe out there!"
1147 hours Monday, ZPD Precinct 1 (Clawhauser's desk, whatever it's called)
"O-M-Goodness! Nick! I thought you were going to be in City Hall all day!" Clawhauser exclaimed.
"No, lawyers take long lunch hours – so I'm 'on my own' until 1:30 today," Nick replied.
"But wouldn't you still be organizing and correlating reports for them, even if they're out to lunch?"
"Should have paid attention this morning, Ben. I've pretty much wrapped up all that I can do with the reports in so far – until I get the results of the legwork that everyone's doing right now, I'm just helping ADA Carolson with her paperwork."
"You're a paralegal, now?" Clawhauser asked.
"Hardly. No, I'm just moving boxes, carrying books, and shuffling papers around to get signatures. Oh, yeah, I did have to carry a bunch of stuff to one of the judges for her – and the judge will be reading through the pile to give some kind of answer about some legal 'thing' by tomorrow morning sometime. Just 'strong back, weak mind' kind of stuff."
"But I thought your ribs were still on the mend…"
"They're ok as far as I can tell – the medicos are just a bit too anxious, or I'd likely be back on real duty today. Anything happening out in the real world?"
"No, not really. No one's reported in on anything important."
"No sign of the street racer in the Rainforest?"
"Well … Lieutenant Hopps and Officer Reynolds have crisscrossed the whole district – Hopps has even started complaining about the lack of leads."
"Hmph. If Carrots is stuck, maybe the street racer's gone to ground for the day?"
"Who knows?"
"Also – what can you tell me about the two rookies we got today?"
"Officer Joseph Wolf is an ex-Navy MP. Did four years, took the exam here rather than re-enlist. Seems like a nice enough guy. The vixen? Don't know about her."
"What have they got her doing in Vice? I thought that was kind of a cushy job posting. She … ah … do something … to get the temp assignment?"
"O-M-Goodness, no! But they have her running a 'John trap' over by the docks. You should have seen her when she left!"
"I hope she's got decent backup – the docks are kind of 'rough territory'. Worse than Foxtown, that's for sure."
"I guess you'd know about that, Wilde. But she's got two officers from Vice backing her – a wolverine and a honey badger."
"Ok, the wolverine must be Nat – Nathaniel Woodruff. There are a couple of honey badgers in Vice – anything more that you know than species?"
"Why, Nick? You going to try for a transfer to Vice?"
"No, just curious. There are … like … five possibilities. Two males, three females. All of them thoroughly badass types. I always like to have the answers is all."
"And that's why you're at The Lion's Den three times a week?"
"Hey, it pays to get to know everyone, and the best way to do that around here seems to be to share a drink or two. And what better place to do it than at a LEO[2]-bar? And when the owner names his bar The Lion's Den, what could be more natural than that we all pass through it a few times each week. Though I haven't seen you there, Ben. Why is that, hmm?"
"Before Carlos retired and opened his bar … we didn't exactly get along."
"Oh? He have a problem with other cheetahs?"
"No – he just didn't like my eating habits. That and he didn't like my choice of drinks."
Nick cocked his head to one side. "Your 'choice of drinks'? What does that have to do with anything?"
Clawhauser crouched low on his seat, and his voice dropped to a near whisper, "he said I liked 'sissy drinks'."
Nick shook his head. "Of all the things to get upset over. I take it you prefer the kind of drinks that have little umbrellas in them?"
"Well … yeah … do you think that makes me a sissy?"
Nick shook his head in the negative. "Not from where I sit. We have different tastes – I prefer hard cider. That and strawberry daiquiris. Of all the things to get upset…"
"Bravo 21, in pursuit, requesting backup," interrupted the two officer's impromptu bull session.
Clawhauser grabbed the microphone and pulled it close. "Bravo 21, this is dispatch – what is your location?"
"Dispatch, Bravo 21, we are heading North on Topanga Canyon in the Rainforest District."
"Bravo 21, this is Dispatch. Where are you on Topanga Canyon?"
Nick muttered, half to himself, "that road is a good 20 miles long – it runs clear out of town into the hinterlands."
"Dispatch, Bravo 21. Hold!"
Clawhauser began muttering himself, but he carefully kept his thumb claw off the transmit button. "And people wonder why I eat so much – this job makes me so nervous. It sounds like…"
"One of the rookies – Reynolds, the coywolf," Nick supplied.
"Dispatch, Bravo 21, just passing Summit Road headed North on Topanga Canyon."
Nick shuddered. "That's two lanes with no stop lights, but with some cross traffic, Ben. They're maybe two and a half miles from a really twisty section – weren't Delgato and Fangmire checking out leads up there, around Dumetz and Canoga?"
"Right – they could set up a block at Topanga and Cezane," Clawhauser said, and called up the other two officers, redirecting them to set up a roadblock at that "good" location at the end of a straightaway. Almost as an afterthought, Clawhauser suggested that Fangmire lay out a spike strip "just in case" as well as blocking off the Southbound traffic.
"Isn't Reynolds paired with your partner, today?" Clawhauser asked.
"Yeah. You don't mind of I just stay here and listen in, do you?"
"No," Clawhauser said, "but if Chief Bogo sees you…"
"I'll just sit down then," Nick said, settling into a spot where Clawhauser's desk would hide him from the upper landing and the Chief's office. A minute later, the radio comm came alive again.
"Dispatch, Delta 15, at Topanga and Cezane. Fangmire is putting out the spike strip, and this is Delgato – I have blocked off traffic heading South. Standing by."
"Dispatch acknowledges. Bravo 21, this is Dispatch. Delta 15 is in position at Topanga and Cezane, roadblock and spike strip laid. Delgato and Fangmire standing by," Clawhauser was all business on the mike.
"Dispatch, Bravo 21 acknowledges – Delta 15 standing by at Topanga and Cezane. ETA two minutes."
Nick took a deep breath, and let it out with an audible "whoosh". This was always the hard part; the wait. Hope that Carrots keeps in control – I know she's a good driver, but … if she gets distracted it won't be good. Seconds seemed like hours, but Nick glanced at his watch as the mike came alive again after only ninety seconds.
"Dispatch, Delta 15. Suspect hit strip, tried to dodge around block – hit a tree and rolled. We're going to need a bus – he's gone down into the gully. Bravo 21 arriving."
"Dispatch, Bravo 21, at scene."
"Bravo 21, Delta 15, Dispatch acknowledges. Sending bus," Clawhauser said. He took out his city issued phone, typed a short message, and keyed it off. "There. The ambulance will be on its way shortly."
"How 'shortly'?" Nick asked, and he began breathing again.
"It's from station 19 – this app picks the nearest available station. It should be there in a minute or…"
"Dispatch, Delta 15, shots fired … shots fired!" Delgato screamed, and the speaker went to "dead air".
Nick stood up and glared at the radio, as if his expression would suffice to elicit a more pleasant response from the responders at the far end of the link.
"Delta 15, this is Dispatch. What is your situation?"
"Dispatch, Delta 15 – Delgato here. The fracking perp fired something that damn near tore my ear off. It hurts like blazes, I am behind the car. Fangmire is getting out …"
Seven, eight, ten shots could be heard over the speakers in rapid succession, then the dull booming sound of a shotgun, then a few seconds of silence before Delgato resumed. "Officer down, repeat, officer down. Hopps and Reynolds have both been hit. Perp is also down. Where the hell is that bus?!"
"Delta 15, this is Dispatch. Bus is en route, ETA one minute."
"Ben – where will the Station 19 EMTs take people?"
Clawhauser looked at the fox. "They'd take them to CUZ[3] medical…"
"Tell Bogo that I'm on my way there, Ben," Nick said, as he set his own personal best for the 400 meter dash to the police garage and a waiting patrol car – any patrol car.
CUZ Medical Facility, Patient Room 215
"Geez, Delgato – you look like you've been through the wars. Were they able to put your ear back together, or what?" Nick asked. One side of the tiger's head was swathed in bandages. The tiger was sitting up in his bed.
"The sawbones said that they'd stitched it together – rather more or less. I'm supposed to stay here until tomorrow – they're afraid that I might have a concussion."
"Huh? I thought you said that it tore up your ear. How…"
"Bullet creased my skull and tore the base of my ear up. At that, I was damn lucky."
"Lucky? How? I'd have thought 'lucky' would have been not to be hit in the first place."
"Lucky in that the thermally sensitive round didn't detonate."
"Detonate?"
"Yeah. If a thermally sensitive round hits something cold – like metal – it remains in armor penetrating mode. If it hits a 'warm' target, like a mammal, it detonates. The grazing shot of my head didn't set it off – or I'd have ended up headless. So, yes, I'd call the result 'lucky'. I'm here and I'm alive, rather than dead and on a slab with a toe tag."
Nick shook his head. "Yes, I suppose you could call that being lucky. But why isn't Fangs visiting?"
"He was here a few minutes before you showed up – but his wife came along and dragged him out. You should have heard them – or rather, her," Delgato said, and then chuckled. "She was a bit … 'disturbed' … by what nearly happened to 'fangiepoo'."
"'Fangiepoo'? Oh ye Gods and Little Fishes! What a name for Fangs. He tolerated this?"
"Have you met his wife?"
"Not in circumstances like these. She seemed to be so quiet and unassuming…"
"Well, she was anything but quiet and retiring – she practically dragged him out by the back of his neck."
"Oh, for the lack of a camera! You didn't happen to get a snap of it, Delgato?"
"No, sadly. My camera is in my pants pocket – and they took my pants before they wrapped me up in these things," Delgato said, pointing to the patient robe. "These things," he pointed at the partial covering robe, "don't have any pockets – so it's just as well."
"It could have been worse. Anyway – you take care of yourself, and I'll be by to bring something edible for you next time."
"Yeah, hospital food is only food by a big stretch of the imagination."
CUZ Medical Facility, Patient Room 345
The lapine doe was resting on her stomach, her left rump wrapped in bandages.
"Hello, Carrots. I brought you a J-Juice."
"Oh? I can't move right now…"
"I can see that your ass is in a sling. That's where you were hit?"
"I. Am. Going. To. Hurt. You!"
"Kill me later, Fluff. Have a carrot-wheatgrass-strawberry smoothie first," Nick said, and laughed as he handed the small smoothie over.
"You're pardoned – this time."
"Figured as much. But you're ok?"
"Yes – though this is not going to be a scar that I'll be showing off."
"Except to select personnel?"
"Which, if you keep ribbing me, isn't going to include a certain fox."
Nick laughed again. "Ok, no more jokes, then. You were lucky this time – I checked on Delgato, and he said that the perp was using some sort of funny bullets."
"Yeah – 'thermally sensitive rounds'. I was lucky. The bullet that drilled my rump must have been a dud. Reynolds wasn't as lucky."
"Oh? Where's he at? I thought I'd…"
"He's dead, Nick."
Nick turned and looked away from his partner. He took several deep breaths. Barely got to know him, and *poof* he's gone. And but for some good luck, it could have been…
"Nick?" Hopps waited for a long five count. "Nick, are you still here? I can't see anything but the bed beneath me in this rig. Answer me? Please?"
Wilde took another deep breath and shuffled over to the side of the bed, where his partner would have a chance to see him. "I'm here," he managed to say, careful not to let his voice break. Never let it show.
"I know it's hard, Nick. But Reynolds was doing what he loved – and he was working to make the world a better place. What more can any of us do?"
"Maybe," Nick answered, with a voice suddenly grown cold. Never let them know that they've gotten to you. "I have to get back to City Hall. Let me know when you're going to be released? I'll help you get back to your apartment."
Judy took a sip from the contraband smoothie. "I will – but you'll visit in the meantime, won't you?"
"Yes, Fluff. Wouldn't want you to get bored."
[1] CI = Confidential Informer.
[2] Law Enforcement Officer.
[3] City University of Zootopia