"Alright, we see 'em now. Thanks, Officer Wilde."
"Don't lose 'em now, okay? I'd hate to have to bail everyone's tail out twice in one night."
The radio clicked off and the stag replaced the mic in its holder on the dashboard. He shook his head, careful to not entangle his horns with the car's ceiling while the aged box truck drove by their unmarked car. When it had made it a block ahead of them, the horse in the driver's seat quietly pulled out of their parking spot. They kept their headlights off as they passed through the islands of light cast by the streetlamps.
"I still can't believe they let a fox on the force," the horse said after several beats of silence. "I mean, I'm not like some big speciesist, I've got no problem with preds on the force, but a fox?"
"Hey, long as he can do the job, why not, right?" the stag replied. "He'd definitely be better at this than us." He attempted to focus on the vehicle ahead of them again, but it was still just a blurry white shape at this distance, and he knew his partner could only make out a little more. Damn preds and their hunting eyes. That was the problem with speciesism: the preds were better at most things. So Dennis Hoofer did his best to remain calm when he saw those teeth and claws and pointed snouts, and in return the predators of Zootopia did their best not to flaunt those features, and life went on—for the most part. His partner, Bucky Ronson, was not quite there yet.
"Yeah, but- shit they're going right. Now what?"
"It's another big street. We can make the turn too. Should we close and hit 'em with a tracker?" Bucky made the turn in silence before responding. Dennis watched the truck. It was slowing down. He turned to say something, but stopped when he felt Bucky apply the brakes. They rolled to a stop on the side of the street as the truck pulled into the driveway of a mechanic's.
If the two horses who stepped out of the truck had noticed the mammals following them, they made no notice of it. Instead, they calmly moved to the back of the truck and opened the cargo door. Bucky grabbed a camera with a telephoto lense, and Dennis picked up a pair of nightvision binoculars. He too was thankful for the tinted windows concealing him and his partner, although not for quite the same reason as the fox who had given them the truck's details. They watched as a light came on and the door to the garage opened. A ram walked out and began helping the horses unload their cargo.
"So, as I was saying, maybe he can do surveillance, but how can he be an effective cop? He's tiny. Besides, we can just use cats or wolves for surveillance. They're at least somewhat trustworthy," Bucky said, his face still buried in the camera. The lense clicked several times, recording the faces of the ram and horses, who were currently lowering an engine block out of the truck on a jack.
"Well if you've seen any of the news he's proven himself more than capable in a fight. He and Hopps took down three horses in a fistfight yesterday. And would you want to get rid of his partner too? She's just a meek little bunny." Dennis found nothing of interest in the back of the truck or the shop's garage, which appeared perfectly ordinary and legitimate. None of the boxes in the back of the truck were large enough to contain a mammal of any significant size.
"There's gotta be something funny going on there. That's ridiculous. The fox and bunny that is. This joint is just a dump." Now the mammals were pulling what appeared to be an axle or driveshaft out of the back of the truck.
"I'm sure either of them would be happy to spar with you tomorrow or when this is all over." Dennis chuckled at the thought of Bucky getting laid out on the mat. He loved his partner, but he could be an ass sometimes, and while he might be big even for a horse, he certainly wasn't the most graceful or skilled paw-to-paw combatant.
Twenty-five minutes later, when the mammals across the street had finished unloading the truck, Dennis and Bucky had yet to observe anything suspicious, and the truck was certainly empty. Around them, other businesses had begun or already completed their early-morning deliveries. It appeared this was merely an arm of one of the Neys' legitimate enterprises. The two radioed in their lackluster findings and prepared to trail the truck again when it left.
Silas and Al were sitting in another unmarked car several blocks north of Nick and Judy, observing the next corner of the wrecking yard. The two were startled out of their conversation on the merits of enhanced interrogation techniques when the radio squawked on on the channel Silas used to communicate with Ellie Oates.
"Silas, I just heard back from the pursuit team. Nothing of note. It seems like we just caught a routine delivery."
"Well, that's unfortunate," the ibex replied, leaning forwards in his seat to look out the windshield as if he would find something there to solve their current predicament.
"Technically, we do still have probable cause to raid the facility."
Silas rubbed his snout as he returned to a normal sitting position, still gazing emptily out the window. "That's true, but it's not exactly going to make them easier to find if we start raiding their hideouts. We purposely didn't do that from the start."
"They can't hide if we catch them here tonight."
"If. We have no proof that they're actually here."
"It's the best info we have, and we also know that they're probably going to disappear very soon if we don't catch them. We can't just leave and hope they turn up somewhere else."
"Alright, and if they're here and we catch them, then what? We don't exactly have anything to charge them with yet." Silas caught the exasperated sigh before it exited his muzzle when he noticed Al giving him a knowing grin. The working relationship between him and Ellie was just that, and nothing more. Silas was an intellectual. He slowly and meticulously built a case through careful detective work, then, once it was airtight, he requested a TUSK raid, and was yet to have one of his marks get away. Ellie opted for a much more brute force method: her organized crime squad had practically turned into a SWAT team, rushing in guns—not tasers—blazing at the first tipoff. It had worked, to an extent, against the brutal Neys, but Silas still found it unbecoming of a detective.
"They've got to have some of those guns around, that's enough to pin them while we pick their whole organization apart and put them all away for life." She had a point, but his conscience demanded he play devil's advocate a little longer.
"But why would they keep contraband at a hideout?"
"Because they think no one will find them there."
She's got me there, he thought.
"Look, it's your precinct and your call, I'm just not sure it's a good idea."
"Not sure. That means I've almost convinced you, and that's good enough for me. I'm bringing in some backup so we still have someone watching each exit. We'll be going in in about an hour." This time Silas did audibly sigh, but before keying the mic back on.
"Roger that. I'll tell my other car."
Nick and Judy were now creeping along the external wall of the compound. They had worked out a rough plan over the last hour, and were about to execute it. A total of fourteen mammals would be moving through the compound, along with one car full of four in backup, and six more distributed with two at each exit. They were creeping towards the service entrance, where they would meet up with Silas and Al and begin working through that side of the wrecking yard. Nick was carrying one of the shotguns they had brought, but Judy had forgone a longarm in favor of just her tranq pistol.
The two quietly approached the other, larger pair at the opening, and after a brief exchange of hand signals—conducted by Nick on their end and Al on the other—the two pairs moved in, Nick and Judy on the left and Al and Silas on the right. As they did, the cruiser from precinct 8 pulled up to block the exit, a horse and pig climbing out and taking up firing positions behind the vehicle.
Nick and Judy pulled up on either side of the door to a small shack next to a car crusher. Their eyes met.
"Carrots, you hear anything in there?" He twitched his ears towards the building. Judy pressed an ear up against the door, the other flopping down behind her. She listened for a few seconds before pulling back and shaking her head. Nick had found similarly little from his attempt to sniff out the building.
Just dust, metal, and oil. Shocker.
"Alright, stack up behind me."
Judy shifted over behind him, pistol held high. Nick reached up for the handle and slowly pushed the door open. He stepped in, sweeping his gun from the open side towards the hinge side of the door. Something caught in the corner of his eye, and in a flash he side-stepped to a crouch, tail sending a bucket and mop flying as he pivoted, gun trained at the corner. Judy popped up right behind him and silence returned as the bucket came to rest. They both realized they were staring at a small mirror mounted over a desk in the building's corner. The two let out a breath in unison as they relaxed.
"Little on edge, huh, Slick?" Judy tapped his belly with her elbow. His stomach muscles were still clenched rock solid.
"Yeah, just trying to make it through the night alive." After a quick look around the room, he reached out and ruffled the fur between her ears as he headed for the door. Judy tapped her foot twice, gave the room one more look, then grabbed the radio off her belt and keyed it.
Not that it does much good for me to look around here in the dark.
"Silas, the shack by the car compactor is clear. No one's here, and there's nothing of interest."
Al and Silas were working their way through what appeared to be the main administrative building in the yard. They were approaching the stairs to the second floor when several gunshots rang out from across the lot.
"Shit, there goes the element of surprise," Al grumbled. He brought his revolver to bear and began ascending the stairs as quietly as a hulking, hoofed mammal could.
"And there goes the rest of it," Silas muttered as he followed him up the stairs, leaping lightly from step to step. His sidearm, an automatic, was also out and ready.
At the top of the stairs they came to a hallway lined with doors on either side. They approached the first on the left and Al motioned for Silas to take position behind him.
"You stay behind me at all times, 'kay, Silas?" he whispered.
"That's unusually kind of you, Al."
"Nah, it's just Bogo'll chew my ass out if you get shot on my watch." Silas answered Al's cheeky grin with a quiet smirk as the two prepared to enter the room. After the door proved to be locked, the boar raised his left leg, and kicked forward, putting all his weight into the door right next to the jamb. Despite the building being built to horse standards, there was more than enough force behind the boar's tough hooves to shatter the wood around the locking mechanism, sending the door swinging open. As he stepped into the room, gun sweeping, a pipe came crashing down on his revolver, wrenching it out of his grasp. In a practiced motion, Al quickly reversed directions, his forward leg slid backwards to bring him fully into the cover offered by the door, one still-throbbing arm shoved Silas further away from the danger, and the other reached into his coat.
By the time the pig stepped into view of the open door, brandishing the pipe again, Al had assumed a fighting stance, a truncheon held on one hoof.
"Silas, stay back. Make my fucking day, Fatass!" The pig growled in response and raised the pipe for a downward swing. Al lunged in, club going high to parry the pipe at the base while he drove his tusks into the pig's neck, simultaneously headbutting him. The pig squealed and staggered back, bringing the pipe down to guard his front.
Again Al advanced, one hoof grabbing for the pipe while the other brought the truncheon crashing down on the pig's wrist. He screamed, and his grip on the pipe went limp. Al jumped back, twisting the pipe out of the pig's grasp and narrowly dodging a right hook. He threw the pipe and club down behind him, raising his hooves in front of him.
"Tough guy, eh?" the pig asked, rubbing his wrist for a moment before assuming a similar stance.
"Al, is this really the best use of our time?" Silas glanced up the hallway again to make sure there was no one lurking in the shadows.
"Let me have this, Silas. It'll be over in a sec. Hrgggh." He took another blow to the ribs before a jab and an attempted foot-stomp sent the pig scurrying back. Silas reholstered his automatic and drew his tranq pistol.
"You have thirty seconds, Al. Starting… now." That prompted a flurry of blows, backing the pig towards a file cabinet. When he hit the drawers, he lowered his head and charged forwards at Al, arms coming around for a tackle. Al's dodge wasn't fast enough to escape completely, but he hit the ground to the side of the pig and wriggled out, stunning him with a sharp kick to the top of the head.
He wheezed as he got to his feet. "I am getting old."
"Thirteen seconds, Al."
"Fuck you, watch-man," the pig grunted out as he struggled to his feet. Al took a couple jogging steps forward and delivered a full-force punt to the pig's head, sending him rolling over onto his other side, still.
"There. Time?" Al was resting, his hooves on his hips. His breath came heavily through his snout, making a snuffling noise. After a moment he trudged over to where he had thrown his truncheon and squatted down to pick it up.
"Seven seconds. Rather crude, though, don't you think?"
"Eh, got the job done. I need to spar with Allen more."
Silas had just zip-tied the pig's legs and arms when they heard the crack of another gunshot, followed by a return shot. Al was leaning in the doorframe now.
"Let's doubletime through these rooms and get out there." The boar nodded and moved out into the hallway.
Nick and Judy were walking through one of the rows between the mounds of junk when they heard the gunshots. The pair froze. Nick's head instinctively snapped to the direction of the sound, straining for more, but there was little forthcoming. The two went back to checking their immediate surroundings. They both attempted to key their radios, but got only static for their effort.
"We really should have gotten longer-range portable radios," Judy said. They began tentatively advancing again. Judy kept close to Nick, barely able to see anything in the dark patches between the infrequent lights in the yard.
"And we should have synched channels with the Precinct Eight guys. Why didn't we, exactly?"
"Probably because this whole thing was thrown together in the last forty minutes."
"Yeah, but shouldn't better radios be, like, standard issue? The radios we have on the beat are way better than this." Nick made some inarticulate gestures of frustration before coming to a stop. They had reached an intersection, with another building in front of them and a crossroad stretching off in either direction. They stood still while Nick considered their options.
"Those ones only have a range of a few hundred yards, then they relay through the cruiser radio," Judy said, her ears swiveling.
I gotta try and be helpful somehow.
"Are we really more than a few hundred yards from Al and Silas? I mean…"
Wait, what was that?
"... and the junk shouldn't interfere…"
Shit, that's definitely-
"Nick, get down!" Judy jumped forwards, tackling Nick. Before they even hit the ground the boom of a rifle filled their ears, kicking up a spurt of dust behind them. Nick wriggled up to an elbow and fired back in the direction of the muzzle flash, a second story window in the building before them. He and Judy scrambled up against the front wall.
"Alright, guess we gotta go in there," Nick said, dusting himself off. Once he had finished, he grasped his shotgun in two paws again and held it in a ready position. Judy likewise lifted her tranq pistol as they slid along the wall to the front door, straining to make out the footfalls of the mammal above them.
Finding the door locked, Nick took a step back. "Get outta the way, Carrots." Instead, she instinctively stacked up behind him once again while he held his shotgun with the muzzle a few inches from the door and aimed at the locking mechanism between the handle and the doorjamb.
This better fucking work.
Nick pulled the trigger. The door shook in its frame as the lead pellets ripped through the wood, the twisted metal of the locking mechanism protruding from the jagged hole it had punched out the back of the door. A shoulder check finished the job and sent the door swinging open. Judy immediately went into the gap with her dart gun raised, followed by Nick.
Inside they found a large, dark room with several desks laid out in the open floor space. At the back of the room a hallway led further into the building, and on the far end of the same wall there was a door whose small window pane revealed a stairwell. They quietly ran to cover behind one of the desks as footfalls began sounding in the room overhead. The mammal above them appeared to be milling about rather than heading for the stairs.
Nick poked his head over the top of the desk to survey the room, while Judy was forced to peek around the side. Although he could see the room fairly clearly in the near-complete darkness, broken only by the dim glow coming from the few windows, there was little to actually be seen. Miscellaneous papers were strewn across desks, a commercial printer sat against one wall, and there were no other mammals lurking in any corners. His nose, however, was more useful.
"There're at least two mammals in this building: the deer upstairs, and an opossum somewhere down here," he whispered to Judy. He turned to fully look at her and saw her intently focused on the hallway. He rotated back to face the hallway, catching a hint of a hushed murmur, and the sudden glint as a pair of eyes moved out of sight. "Move!"
He and Judy sprang apart as the first shot ripped through the ceiling and hit the desk they had been crouching behind. Several more followed, then abruptly stopped. Nick was sure if his ears weren't still ringing he would have heard the opossum telling the deer his-
No, her. Definitely a her.
targets had moved. He looked for Judy, and upon finding her clicked his teeth once. The sound drew her attention to him, and they exchanged "all good" paw signals. She pointed first to the ceiling, then the hallway, then shrugged. Nick responded by pointing at the hallway. She nodded and began quietly crawling towards it. Nick followed suit, and the two met on either side of the entrance, and were about to enter when a voice called out.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." They froze in their tracks.
"And why's that?" Judy demanded of the void.
"Because if you enter this hallway my friend upstairs and I will make sure it's the last thing you ever do. So, we'll give you a choice-"
"You know, it's really hard to take someone seriously when they try to threaten you from the shadows with no proof that they can follow up on those threats," Nick said. The voice continued, seemingly unperturbed.
"As I was saying, either you die here, or we let you out the front door and you and your cop friends give us safe passage out of here." Nick noticed Judy's face had gone from worried to annoyed to that Judy face you never want to see looking at you. He shot her a glance that said don't do anything stupid while he opened his mouth to reply.
"Look friend, I'm sure we'd all-" Judy flew out of his vision into the hallway. Her jump placed her three-quarters of the way up the right wall, and from there she bounded across to the other one before racing down the rest of the length of the hallway.
Judy knew exactly where the voice was coming from and as she approached the last open door on the right she leapt again, her feet bracing as she impacted with the door frame. She attempted to frantically scan the room in the split second between her connection with the wall and her next jump.
Of all the times to not have night vision…
She found herself almost muzzle-to-muzzle with a shocked opossum, who recoiled as Judy flew past him into the room. She had rolled to her feet and put two tranq darts into him before he even finished fumbling with the pistol tucked into his waistband. At almost the same time Nick and the deer upstairs called out, and the phone fell out of the opossum's limp grip.
"Judy, you good?" There was tinge of real worry mixed in with the 'police voice' he insisted on using when dealing with suspects.
"Mike, you okay down there?"
As the opossum slumped over on the ground, Judy turned to the hallway to respond, "You really thought I couldn't take out some punk hiding in the shadows, Nick? I'm offended. And you, upstairs, why don't you come quietly? I hear that at best tranq darts give you a helluva hangover, and bullets tend to be far worse." To her and Nick's surprise, the deer assented. With both their weapons trained on the open door, she came down unarmed just as Silas and Al ran up, with two Precinct Eight detectives not far behind them.
Fifteen minutes later, all the mammals involved in the raid had come together by the front gate. Those arrested, and one killed in the first exchange of gunfire, were with some of the gate watchers waiting to be picked up by reinforcements. Silas clapped his hooves together.
"So, to sum it up: we found nothing immediately actionable, didn't find the animals we were looking for, and completely tipped our hand to the Neys. Brilliant." Ellie looked at the ground as Silas swept his gaze across the assembled mammals, daring someone to correct him. No one did.
Archibald Ney slammed his cell phone down on the desk he was sitting at, the glass body audibly cracking under the force. The three other horses in the room were all unfazed.
"ZPD just raided the wrecking yard," he said, spitting the words from between clenched jaws.
"Well then, we need to go. Now," one of the other horses said.
"We can't just leave everything," replied Angstrom Ney.
"You have one hour."
I'm going to be writing a Thanksgiving-themed oneshot after this chapter, so no promises of a quick release for chapter 11. After the oneshot though, it'll be full steam ahead to finish this, which should only take two, or maybe three, more chapters.
If you're worried about the story ending, I can say I will almost certainly do a prequel about Nick's life in this continuity at some point, and probably a fluffy epilogue about Judy learning more about Nick and foxes (and maybe his parents), and probably the dreaded meet the parents arc. And probably more cases will be solved by our favorite dynamic duo once I get inspired to properly plan a mystery.