Jack Savage
"Cognac, on the rocks."
The weasel behind the counter leans in, gazing down her crooked nose at me. She's aggressively unattractive, with her snaggletoothed grin and knobby features. Must really help her rake in the tips. A face like that would just encourage her customers to double down on the hard liquor.
At least she's clean and well-groomed.
"You know, if it's cognac y'want, I could make you a French 75. Nice and sweet, just like you bunnies like. Even got some carrot syrup I made fresh this morning."
"I don't have much of a sweet tooth."
"Well! Aren't you special, then?" she says with a snort as she pulls out a glass and scoops a few glistening ice cubes into it. "So what's eatin' that fluffy little ass of yers, cottontail?"
"The thirteen charred bodies I have sitting in the morgue."
She blinks, almost filling my glass to the point of overflowing, before she catches herself and tips the bottle back. The bartender carefully slides my drink towards me.
"I... don't even know what to say to that," the weasel says.
"Good."
I take a sip. Stuff's from a young bottle: its floral and smoky aromas are wild as I breathe it in, yet to be tamed with age. But as I swallow I get something fruity beneath the burn, reminiscent of a grilled peach.
If she thinks I'm being a dick now, wait'll I get another three glasses of this stuff in me.
My ears turn back when I hear the footsteps. I don't need to look to recognize who it is. The first is a weighty presence, though the hard clop of his hooves is muted somewhat by the carpet. The mammal with him has a bit of a bounce in his step, like he still has some energy to work out of his system tonight.
"Can't you see I want to be alone?" I ask Elkredge as he takes the seat next to me.
"If you wanted to be alone you'd be sulking in your apartment."
"Sometimes I really hate our relationship," I mutter into my glass. Miles never could let lie any excuse I toss him to do things my way. "So any word?"
Lenny glances down at me. "Yeesh, Jack... you sure you wanna talk shop right now?"
"Hey Lenny," the weasel says with a familiar grin. "Singapore Sling, right?"
Lenny barks a laugh. "You know me too well, Donna!"
"Oh GOD!" I moan, gesturing towards the weasel. "Don't tell me you've slept with that!"
"I'm standing right here, cottontail," Donna snorts as she starts mixing Lenny's drink. "Plus you'd be surprised how many wolves at this bar decide to try a little coyote ugly. Not that Lenny here would give me an old toss in the sack or anythin'. Don't think he's bendy enough to try gnawing his own dick off to get away in the morning."
Lenny's slaps the countertop with his paw, cackling. I swear he's got some hyena in him or something.
"Cognac on the rocks," says Elkredge.
"Another killjoy on ice, got it," Donna says with a grin.
I polish off the last of my glass and gesture to Donna for a refill while she's at it. "So you find anything, Lenny?"
The smile slips a bit from Lenny's face. "At least lemme order something to eat first Hey Donna, the kitchen still open?"
"Always. You know we cater to the nocturnal crowd."
"Smoked Grub Deluxe Burger then."
"Lenny..." I say with an edge of impatience.
"All right, all right," he huffs, "Jeez, Jack, you really gotta learn when to step away from the desk sometimes, y'know?"
Elkredge stands up and nods towards an empty booth. Giraffa's Grille might cater to the nocturnals, but at this time of night the crowd is pretty thin. I toss a fifty into an empty glass as we move our stuff. That certainly puts a smile on Donna's face.
Once we're a bit more private Lenny leans in. "Well, we couldn't ID our main sheep from dental records. Guy's teeth were extracted with a pair of pliers while he was still kicking, found the fragments of 'em in a wastebin. But we were able to run DNA. Looks like our body is Jesse Lyserod, along with a bunch of his associates. Best we can tell is he broke free while he was burning, but once the heat blistered his lungs he couldn't make it far."
"We also found this," Elkredge says quietly, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his photo gallery. "Dusk or one of his cronies left it on an old barrel on the other end of the factory."
I don't have to look at the photo to know what it was. A black rose in an evidence bag, with hints of blood red at the edges of the petals, like the still-blistering ends of a sheet of paper that'd been blackened by fire. It was Frisk's calling card for whenever he ordered a kill: the Sanguine Shadow.
"The City hasn't seen one of these in over twenty years..." I murmur, taking my drink again.
Elkredge snorts. "Like you'd know. You were a kit when that crap went down."
I give him a hard glare. He always ribs me for my youth, but the fact is that I know more about Rufinius Varius Frisk than any other ZIA agent. I've tracked every rumor about him, faced off against a few of his Praetors, and Seraphine's even bumped up my security clearance just so I can access all the files we've got on the old bastard and the Vulpes Sanguinis.
"What about the DNA sample I got you?" I ask, turning towards Lenny. He's hunched in even closer to me now, and I can smell the grenadine and Cointreau on his breath.
It'd been a little undignified, having to dig through the bastard's trash to find something that'd serve. In the end I settled on an old wad of wintergreen gum that'd been balled up in its foil wrapper.
"It's a match," Lenny says, setting down his half-finished Singapore Sling. "From the pattern it's gotta be Jacob Frisk's son."
I knew it. The moment I saw his stupid pointy face I knew he was the whelp of Jacob Frisk. The Sanguinis' Master-at-Arms. The Prodigal. The bastard who put a bullet in my mother's brain without even flinching.
"Tell Adrienne I want Wilde put under immediate surveillance. Car at his apartment, bugs and hidden cameras in his room. Get her to access his email account, tap his phone. The works."
"That why you selected him for the task force, then," Elkredge says flatly, "Just so you can keep an eye on Wilde."
"Do we even know if the Sanguinis has recruited him though?" Lenny muses, "I mean, he's a bit high-profile to be a member. Guy's been in the news for the whole Night Howler thing. Plus he's got a good service record."
"He doesn't seem the type," Miles says, rubbing his chin. "Before he joined the ZPD the worst he's ever done is small-scale gray market cons."
"He's a Frisk," I growl, "It's in his blood."
"Hey he's no angel, that's for sure," Miles agrees, "But if he isn't one of them we're splitting our focus with these extra measures watching his Reynard ass. Even if he's innocent he's a liability because of this crap."
"We could just remove him from the task force," adds Lenny.
"Better yet we can find a way to get Conall's notes released. Once that gets in the public record we can jail him over setting up Shepsfield," says Miles. The wolf's notes had been a treasure trove of information. "Toss his little ass in Cell Block Six at Highwatch. A few days of trying to fend off Greasy Carl... he'll be more than pliable for questioning."
"No. This is an opportunity we never had before," I say quietly. Director Seraphine wouldn't approve, but with the Vulpes Sanguinis involved we'll have to be even more cunning. Playing it safe never worked in our attempts to take his empire down. "I've positioned him exactly where I want him. We'll be feeding Wilde false intel, see if it works its way back to Rufinius. The Prince thinks he's smarter than anyone else, and that's how we'll get him to slip up."
Lenny goes quiet, edging back a bit. He's a scientist, not a spy. The guy has no mind for tactics and intelligence.
"It's a risk," says Miles. "Safer to just jail his ass."
"You don't get a vote." I stand up and grab my jacket. "I'm going home."
"Aren't you gonna get something to eat?" Lenny asks.
"I had a light dinner," I tell him as I throw my jacket on and head out. Behind me I can hear Lenny asking Elkredge if I'm gonna be all right, but the rest of the conversation vanishes behind me as I leave the bar.
.
.
The moment I enter my apartment I know someone's in here.
In a flash I have my gun unholstered, the safety flicked off. With my back to the wall I sidestep along the floor, ears flicking like radar arrays, trying to get a bearing on who's in here and where. Something's bearing down on the crisp scent of lemon and pine cleaning solution... it's a faintly pungent smell, and thick.
When you're a ZIA agent in this sort of situation, the smallest decisions can save your life or get you killed. Where to leave a cigarette butt. Whether to leave a door open or closed or slightly ajar. Whether you turn on the lights or not. If the intruder's got night vision I'd cut off his advantage by turning the lights on and working from my superior hearing to determine where he's hiding. If he doesn't though, I've got the advantage in the dark.
With almost ten years of ZIA experience beneath my belt it takes a split-second to run the tactical calculus in my head. The Vulpes Sanguinis employs fox assassins, so that's what I'm banking on. Who is it? Mr. Smythe? Jacob Frisk himself?
I flick the light switch, and once the LEDs bloom overhead, illuminating my whole apartment, I notice the pizza box on the kitchen counter.
God damn it.
Relaxing a little but not daring to let my guard down just yet, I head to the bedroom while glancing at all the doors, just in case I'm wrong. There, sprawled on my bed in a naked pile of cream-colored fur is Skye. She looks up to me, and gives me a warm, mischievous grin.
"Thought you might like some company tonight," she purrs. "Maybe you can put the gun down already?"
"Damn it, Skye..." I grumble as I re-engage the safety, "I thought you were past this."
"Hey, I have to keep my skills sharp. Besides, I brought pizza."
With my biometric scanner at the front door Skye must've slipped in from the apartment above and climbed down from the balcony. And with her talent she was probably able to keep the box upright somehow, so the slices wouldn't flop around and the cheese wouldn't stick to the lid. Note to self: install new biometric locks on the balcony door. And replace the sliding doors with ones made of impact-resistant resin that'd break any glass cutter a Praetor might try to use.
"I had a light dinner."
Skye sniffs at that. "Meaning you had a couple drinks. You can't work on cognac alone, Jack."
"What are you, my mother?" I say as I set my gun down and tug my tie loose.
"If you like. But I imagine that'll make what we're about to do kinda fucked up," Skye says with a grin. "Besides, after Elkredge cockblocked us this afternoon I think we owe each other a little playtime. So you want to eat first or...?"
For the first time tonight, I break into a smile. What is it about Skye that she's able to make me feel this way? When we first met she'd been a cat burglar lifting art pieces and historical artifacts from mammals with too much wealth. She'd been on a one-way ticket to a high-security cell in Highwatch when Seraphine stepped in and threw us together for a mission. We'd almost gotten killed on that jaunt in Bearut. Hell, we'd almost killed each other in Bearut. But somehow we got past trying to fill each other with bullets and, by some bizarre miracle, we've become... well, not lovers. Not anymore. But something close.
I begin unbuttoning my shirt, and with a sigh I slip into her open arms. Her touches knead all the tension out of my muscles, tension I hadn't even known I'd been carrying with me. She's warm, and soft, and I soon I'm feeling the heat of her mouth on mine.
.
.
Nick Wilde
"Sorry, Carrots. I'm just not really in the mood."
"Well, so long as you don't think I'm weird for wanting to... you know."
I can feel her skin flushing beneath her fur. I suppose it's a bunny thing, to get frisky when they're stressed. Gotta work even harder to pump out kits and survive as a species if they know that things are getting dangerous for 'em. I'd used my paws and my tongue, did my best to please her even though I couldn't get it up tonight. It was nice to lose myself, even for a little while, in the scent of her. Her paws toyed with my ears as I licked, and her muscular thighs had pressed inward, squeezing the sides of my skull.
I'd had to work quickly, especially with the computer being slow as molasses. Maybe if I'd had more time, if I hadn't been in a panic, I could've done a better job. I did what I could though, deleting the incriminating video and replacing it with a copy from the same hour and a different day. The only copy showing his face now has been transferred to my phone, and I'll have to consider storing it away somewhere safe. Maybe I could give Marcus a call and get him to help me... get some encryption protocol to lock it up nice and secure.
It'd taken every ounce of self-control, every scrap of deception I'd learned in my twenty years as a con artist to be able to plaster a relaxed smile on my face and pretend that everything was normal. When we continued our rounds and finished interviewing the businesses in the area we returned to the warehouse and met up with Benjy and Savage.
Only then did I let myself feel the panic. Once I was surrounded by the corpses and the smell of cooked meat I had the perfect excuse to freak out.
"Nick? When I chose to become a cop... I didn't... I never thought I'd ever see something like that."
Judy shudders, and I squeeze her more tightly. My muzzle's planted on her skull, right between her ears. She's so small against my body, so delicate, like a little stuffed animal.
Pulling myself away from her I slip out of the bed. It's a warm night, and we've gotten used to seeing each other's naked bodies so she doesn't do that female thing where she pulls the sheets up to cover herself. Grabbing my pants from off the floor I begin to get dressed.
"You're not staying the night?" Judy's ears droop as I pull on my shirt.
"I... I just kinda need to process this on my own," I say quietly. "Will you be okay?"
"Sure. Guys need their personal time, don't they? Besides, I do have this little guy." She picks up the plush fox on her bed. Judy's sisters had sewn him a little Pawaiian shirt and tie, along with a pair of slacks. He even has a lazy, half-lidded gaze. Over his chest on the front pocket Judy had stuck an old wrinkled police badge sticker. We both know where that'd come from.
"Thanks, Carrots..." I smile, and leaning in to cup her face I plant a kiss on her forehead. "I promise I'll make it up to you."
"There's nothing to make up, Nick. I'm tougher than I look. I can manage on my own for a little while, at least."
"You're never on your own," I say as I approach the door, "Not when I'm a text away."
Judy holds up the plush fox, and gripping his right arm with two fingers gives me a little goodbye wave. Chuckling, I close the door behind me. I haven't taken two steps when I hear Bucky and Pronk shouting through the walls again.
"That was beautiful, Fox!"
"Yeah! You take good care of our girl tomorrow!"
Yeeeep. Another reason why she's never alone.
Sometimes I'm glad there aren't many nocturnals on this street. It's quiet, and the night air is crisp and clean. The faint chill has helped settle most of the dust and grungy city-smell that thickens in the day. I can just walk on my own to the bus stop, the line of street lamps lighting my way.
Even though I value my alone time, I find my paw slipping into my pocket to feel at my phone. I guess there's no time better than the present.
I haven't really bothered to store the number in my contacts. It isn't often that I call, which I'm pretty sure I'll get some complaints about. But I've memorized it anyway. For some reason it feels more natural to type it out manually, though granted it's a little weird to call her right after having sex with my girlfriend.
"Nick?" Mom says as she answers the phone. "What's wrong?"
"Wh-" I start, "Why do you think something's wrong?"
"When have you ever called this late without something having gone wrong?"
Okay you think your mom is bad? Try having a fox as a mother. They're able to tease out even more about your life than your average mammal.
"It's..." I begin, and let out a sigh. "It's... hard to say."
For a long while she's quiet on the other end of the line. "Are you eating well, Nick?"
"Better than before," I say, glad she's changing the subject. "Judy's helping make sure my diet's a little more balanced, though we're still eating out a lot."
"I keep telling you to bring her over for dinner. You're young... you can't keep wasting your money going to restaurants all the time. Besides, the only time I got to meet her was at your graduation ceremony."
"I'll think about it. It's just that right now we're so busy with this case..."
"The ZIA task force?"
I stop walking. "How'd you hear about that?"
"Judy was kind enough to call me. Congrats, Nick." Of course the underlying message there was that I need to call more often. Mom has always been a master at gently chiding me without sounding like a nag. "She really is such a sweet girl. Almost worth you ruining my dream of ever having gradkids."
"Yeah. She... she really is," I sigh. "We've talked about adopting, you know. Once we get settled down a bit more, but right now it's just... we have a lot to deal with right now."
"Something to do with the warehouse fire I suppose?"
I let out an annoyed huff. "Jeez, Mom. Do you really have to keep throwing curveballs like this? Maybe you should've joined the ZPD instead. You seem to be strangely on top of things."
There's a bubbly laugh on her end. "Oh Nicky you always made things too obvious. Besides, I saw it on the news and put two and two together."
"Well I can't talk about it. Classified, you know."
"Fancy," she says dryly, but her tone softens into one of concern. "Nick... was it bad?"
I can still see it. The blackened bones, the grinning skulls, the chains. They'd been spread out, their bonds pulled taut, like they'd been thrashing and struggling to escape, even as they burned. Then there was the smell of char and the savory sweetness of roasting meat, a thick and greasy aroma that'd made my mouth water despite myself...
"Yeah, mom..." I murmur. "It was bad."
There's a long, pregnant silence before she speaks again. "Nick... I want you to come home. Just for tonight at least. I've got some leftover cobbler, and you can sleep in your old bed. I'll even make you some hot chocolate."
"With marshmallow bits?"
"With marshmallow bits."
As nice as that sounded, I can't rest right now. I can't get too comfortable... there's so much I need to mull over, so much I need to figure out. "I can't, mom. I'm sorry. But really, I called because I needed to ask you something about-"
There's a faint click on the line.
"-dad." Something's wrong, I realize. "Mom? Mom are you there?"
"Your mother can't hear you right now, Mr. Wilde."
The blood freezes in my veins. The voice is cheerful and friendly. Playful, even. But a cold terror spikes through my chest, and I freeze on the spot as the panic rises in me. "Wh- who are you? What've you done with my mom?!"
"Remain calm, Mr. Wilde. As far as your mother knows the call simply dropped. We're just piggybacking off of her line. If anyone looks into your cellphone records, they'll just see a continuing phone call to your mother right now. I'm a friend. My name is Sebastian Dusk."
"I... I don't know who you are."
"And yet you're supposed to know everybody. That's quite all right, I try to keep a low profile. Mr. Wilde, I would like you to face the other end of the street. Once you do, at a thirty degree angle to your right, eighteen inches away from you, you'll see a discarded soda can."
"Wh- what?" I gasp. He's watching me. He's watching me right now. My eyes flick back and forth as my heartbeat quickens, and I scan the surrounding buildings trying to look for him. Yet most of the windows are dark, and in the few that are lit I see no one.
"Mr. Wilde? The can."
I glance down, and indeed there's a little cola can lying on its side. The moment I notice it though it bounces away with a faint piff, and a cloud of concrete dust rises from where it'd rested.
I leap back with a choked yelp. A sniper. There's a sniper trained on me at this very moment.
"Wh... what do you want?" I pant. I'm spinning in a circle now, scanning the buildings with increasing desperation. Even when I was being chased by a savage Manchas, even when Shepsfield held me against that lamppost with his hooves around my throat I hadn't felt so terrified. Right now, I can't even see the mammal who has a gun aimed straight in my direction. "Please, I- I don't want any trouble..."
"Don't worry, Mr. Wilde," the voice continues as bright and cheerful as before. Sebastian's mood hasn't altered a hair. "As I said: I'm a friend. Now follow my instructions to the letter, if you please. It's time for you to reunite with your father."