They drop off Gizelle at the hotel before they meet with Sam again.
"It's to an unused door in a restaurant," she tells them. "Place had the door blocked off since they couldn't get in."
"They couldn't break down the door?" Judy asks.
"It's three-inch steel surrounded by cement. I don't think getting into it by force would be practical."
Nick's skepticism rises briefly. "How do your sources know if it goes there for sure?"
"They don't, but the door is branded with Yewl just like the key. Nearly nothing else like it in town so although it's not a sure thing, it's most likely." Sam fears that the key might actually belong to a strongbox tossed into the ocean, or nowhere at all, because Carrion loves messing with the police.
When they arrive, the restaurant thankfully already cleared the path for them. The steel door is in the storage room behind some shelving, which they had politely moved aside. They find it strange how well kept the storage room even is, lined with steel with a wall of strongboxes but the owner explains that that place used to be a local storage until the previous owner made a deal with the former mayor to build the warehouses so a safe storage hadn't been necessary in years.
"Then what did they say was in that room?" Judy asks as the manager walks them into the back.
"I wish I could tell you but I'm afraid the previous proprietor is no longer with us." The illustrious skunk is upright and well-formed, and Nick almost mistakes him for a Frenchman were his heavy Italian not evident.
"Old age?" Nick guesses.
"If only that were true, but they say the creature Dead Horse snatched him from the night." He says almost in a rhetoric fashion, as if he had been practicing it but they account it as him simply being a dramatic individual, a flare that he shares with his own restaurant.
"You mean Carrion?"
"Are they not one and the same? Myth or no, both are the same malign entity. I see no reason why they cannot exist in the same plane."
Nick shrugs as he offers, "because one's not real?"
"Is it? In some manner, that myth has taken shape. More real to me and the people of this town than most anything else. An idea given life, terrifying as it may be."
He does make a good point, they agree, Carrion's legend is more alive than the man himself, snaking into the town like a miasma, planting ideas of him even in the children who never knew to fear him as the uncatchable serial killer. In the years that would come since the first kidnappings came the mythology of Bronc Town, of unspeakable cults and a horse skull crows, demon in the night, the devil's work in motion. He'd come to embody an idea of a monster rather than a person, and the idea became the picture the town would recognize him as. Because imagining one of their own to be this sick bastard is much too disconcerting. And adorning it on a beast, a fictional creature, is much easier to sleep on.
There was a theory about Carrion, one that said that perhaps Carrion stopped killing because he died, be it by age or unexpected circumstance, but if that were true, then it's clear that the killer lived on despite. Because the hate for him birthed something else, more than just legends of a specter that stalked the nights. What came was a hate that morphed the cheery town into one far more somber, a distinction so clear that it spurned a worthless drunk to become mayor to save it.
"My apologies if I appear crass but when will you be done?" the skunk asks, hands tucked neatly together. "Fine as your work may be, your presence does indeed… unsettle my patrons."
"Just as soon as we're done," Sam replies, patting Nick and Judy's shoulders. "And with these two, I'm doubtful it'll last longer than an hour."
"Ah, yes, most excellent."
When they reach the steel door, the skunk stands next to it, presenting it like a piece in an auction. "Here it is, the enigmatic scourge to my artistic balance in this room," he says as he rolls his hand in a showy fashion. He then eyes the key Nick pulls out of his pocket, gloved hands pulling it out of the ziplock. "Perhaps when you are done with it, we might… commandeer that key? Make use of the room underneath ourselves?"
"By legal right it's yours," Sam says, placing her fists on her slender hips, "but you can't touch it until it stops being a crime scene."
"If it is only a matter of time then I will be most patient."
Sam realigns her gaze to the door then toward the room. This would all be much easier if they had the old surveillance footage but she's doubtful Carrion would let such a thing slip by. He probably cleared all the data too, making this as difficult as possible for them.
Before Nick places the key in, he sees a slight indent in the wall beside. A gentle touch reveals that the wallpaper is hiding a hole underneath. "What happened here?"
"We tried to get through the cement to pass the door but… we only found more steel."
Judy rustles underneath her shawl, tilting her head to the manager then Nick. "That means this isn't a storage room. If it's fully lined with steel then it's a bomb shelter!"
"Well, I won't lie, the previous owner was rather… lavish. It would make sense if he built one with all the money he had."
"But why would he build it at his business rather than home?"
Sam sighs, rolling her shoulders before falling onto the wall as she leans on it. "It's so he could steal from the strongboxes if things ever got dire."
They look to her as if she'd grown a second head. Against their collective gaze she only tilts her lip, trying to decide if she should explain herself or not but she supposes they need context. "Look, I met the guy on a few cases before. Real greedy deer who went by Basset "Big Money" Melburne at the casinos in Sahara Square. He was a liar and a cheat so it should be no surprise that he'd pull off a stunt like that."
The skunk is the most taken aback, unsure how he should approach it but he isn't one to stay silent. "Does it not bother you that the man is dead?"
"Of course it does. Irate as the man was, he was still a citizen of the state, a victim to a case. Even criminals deserve some sympathy and he was no exception to that."
"Is this Carrion not a criminal?"
"Basset, Wolfgang, Bellows, they're criminals. But Carrion…? He's not a criminal, he's a monster."
Nick takes initiative to unlock the door, placing the key into a lonely little slot on the side, springing hydraulics behind to life, twisting around the key as it rotates it in a full circle. Nick heard about these needlessly complicated locks before, the kind with too many gaps inside to make a mold and the hydraulics alone would shatter most lock picks. It is a mechanism for the rich and extravagant, not at all subtle or elegant, nothing like Carrion would usually be, which does spawn some doubt in him.
And yet, as the pressurized door finally releases and it swings open, showing them the side of the apparently five inch (not three) steel door as it nearly slams into the adjacent wall.
"I suppose this is where I'll be off," the skunk announces as he leaves the room.
Judy's flashlight is the first to pierce the downward dark beyond the door. Nick and Sam follow after, their night vision working in their favor for only a little while until it becomes much too dim, prompting them to pull out their own lights.
The descent takes a full five minutes over the large, almost sloped, steps. "Looks like it was designed for an elephant, not a deer," Nick comments as he skips over some of them.
"Uh… well…" Sam awkwardly rubs the back of her head. "I guess it makes sense. Basset was into very large women."
Nick honestly didn't know how to react to that, so he nods instead. "At least we know he custom built it."
At the bottom of the steps is another door, also steel but it has no nob. Sam presses into it, jolting the pressurized door to open for them.
Inside, the lights flicker on, flushing out the dark.
Aside from the dull cement walls, the room would have looked rather homey, pleasant even.
They find a wooden bed, king-sized for obvious and best left unspoken reasons, a desk with an old green typewriter that seems to be covered in paperwork with a corkboard above it. Asides from the cabinets and an old widescreen accompanied by even older movies and a shoddy sofa, there is another large steel door set on the far wall. Curious, Judy ambles toward it but quickly realizes that the window of it is too tall for her to see through.
Nick on the other hand makes his way to desk, clambering upwards from the seat and onto the desk's face. Immediately he notices a name tacked onto the surface of the paper. "Raymund Buckle?"
Sam immediately joins his side as Judy hops onto the desk with him. "That's one of the old victims," Sam says. "Holy fuck did we just hit the jackpot?"
Quickly, Sam searches the papers herself, the two following after.
The papers are detailed descriptions of the victim-to-be. None of it is handwritten however, only meticulously typed. "He clearly didn't want this being traced back to him," Judy comments, pulling out a swab to dab the ink with. They can at least see if the ink manufacturer could lead to anything.
They detail his daily pattern, where he regularly eats, who he knows, where he visits, when he's alone. He seemed to have been watched like a hawk before Carrion even considers striking. "So this is how he does it," Nick comments.
"It's never impulsive," Judy says as she weaves between papers about his job at the construction site on the east side of town and another about his personal relationship with a sheep girl, "he finds out everything he can so he can decide when to take them."
"We're dealing with somebody far worse than we thought…" Sam bites her nail, unsure if she should feel excited for knowing more or fearful for the same. "Because if he did this everyday, even if he planned days ahead, it still means that he poured in hours of work to do what he does and just as long to appear doing everything a normal person does."
The documents seem to end abruptly on a note about him visiting a flower shop. "That's where he was last seen," Sam comments as she scans the paper.
"He leaves nothing to chance," Judy says as she settles down a fanned set of papers, looking over them in broad strokes. "Carrion makes sure he can get away with it first before doing anything."
They gather the evidence, praying to some force beyond them that they might hold a finger print. They even dust the typewriter for prints which, unsurprisingly, comes out fruitless.
"If Carrion lost his key, then he left this all behind when he couldn't get back in," Nick comments as he dusts the drawer handles for prints. Again, nothing.
Judy nods, Sam merely huffing her approval.
Nick then pulls out the drawers, most of them empty, one with a stack of unused paper. But at the very last drawer at the foot of the desk is a large folded plastic map. Pushing the typewriter aside, he lays it out for them to see.
The map contains waters and trees of a likely local forest. There is a set of drawn lines that cut through the plastic print, weaving outward from a single entrance then snakes into the waters. "What's this for?" Sam asks, looking at it at different angles until it becomes clear.
"Judging by the water density, I'm assuming it's a swamp," Judy replies, running her finger over it. "Think it might have something to do with the hunting club?"
"He could be using it to frame them," Sam deduces, hoping she's right. She likes the hunting club here, even if she won't admit it. Thinking of any one of them being Carrion leaves a sickening sensation in her gut.
They disperse then, pulling away with the map in another bag.
Nick and Judy decide to go for the steel door whilst Sam offers to take charge of the rest of the room.
Again, the door has light hydraulics that give way at just the right nudge, but unlike the previous room this one leads to a dry and heated. Inside is a threshold of something unpleasant, a hint of it is a light stench in the air that wafts uneasily over their sensitive noses.
When they step in there's a low echo that thrums through the room, and they can imagine Carrion's own menacing footsteps trailing along this floor toward its nether.
Judy notes the exhaust over the upper end and the streamers that run over it, having long since been broken. "This is probably the cold storage where they store the food."
But there's nothing that fills the empty shelves. "No food though," Nick speaks too soon when he finds a wide freezer.
Even here there are no prints.
Nick then places his hands firmly on the lid, nodding to Judy who eagerly waits to see what's inside. But before they can even look into it, they quickly discover that the freezer's AC is broken and what they find is a horrid odor that seeps through over the open freezer and pours into the next room until even Sam can smell it. "Oh, sweet Jesus, what is that!?" she calls out from the next room.
Braving the stench, Judy tugs at Nick's shoulder who has already tied his snout shut with a handkerchief. With her shawl guarding her face, Judy then hops onto Nick's shoulders then peers into the freezer.
Inside there is a slush of something rancid, its scent so incredibly dense that it almost physically pushes her off her perch. They aren't completely familiar with it just yet but they've already had an encounter with the smell just last night. They're no experts but it's familiar enough to discern. "That's the smell of decay," Nick points out.
Judy takes a closer look into the freezer. She sees sludge on the floor of it that she can't make sense of. That is until she sees the stump of some bone. "It's a limb." It's only the one piece but it's certainly more than what they were expecting.
"Chop up a body and it's easier to get rid of," Nick comments as he shuts the freezer for them. "If the map is in any way related, then we can assume he fed the bodies to the crocs."
"It isn't as thorough as it could be," Judy adds, thankful for the breath she can finally have after she unwraps her shawl, "having crocs eat the bodies is no guarantee they'll do the job cleanly but it's certainly a theory to go on. But why is there only the one limb?"
"Maybe he missed it?" Nick isn't satisfied with his answer either, but since Carrion can indeed make mistakes, it can't be completely debunked.
Sam, having resisted all temptation to join them earlier, finally walks into the room. "Carrion never slept here. There's a rise to the bed that means that it was never touched and neither was the sofa. He was here on business and nothing more."
Nick shakes his head, clearing away the stench that still lingered in his keen snout. "That business apparently involved a severed limb. It's wrapped up in cling wrap but done in a hurry since the stench is pouring out of the gaps."
"Another limb?"
"It's decomposed in there, but the bone is unmistakable," Judy answers, uncomfortably shifting in place as the scent still mildly lingers.
"Do you know what kind?"
"If we had to guess, a wolf's lower leg if I'm getting the length right. There's a thin gap in the bone so it doesn't belong to most other mammals. It's otherwise definitely canine or a large vulpine. Too small to be most felines too, but it could belong to a lynx or something."
Sam manages to contain her elation. Certainty, it is the stable ground for which all her confidence is born. It's empowering, makes her feel like she has control of the chaos that this case bleeds into her. "This is good," she says quietly. "We know that he chops them up and likely tosses them in the swamp. We can now be one-hundred percent certain that he studies his targets before taking them,"
Nick and Judy don't comment, keeping to themselves as they let Sam revel in their new evidence. Because, yes, they now know what Carrion does, grim and sick as it is, but they are nowhere closer to finding out who he is.
Carrion's identity is what they need, it's what ends the nightmare they've stepped into. And it feels so close somehow, nearly within their grasp but there's nothing to suggest that they have. Hope, it seems is what finds them, fills the cracks and makes the room feel like somewhere they can relax. But it is a desperate hope, begging what powers there be that what they've found will lead them to Carrion.
Tiny victories win the day after all, Creed would tell Sam. So she delights in it, because this is certainly not tiny.
So they take their time to gather what they need, samples upon samples, braving the stench in the freezer, and are glad when it is all over.
Judy calls Terence by accident, asking for a team to canvas the place and take out the freezer, forgetting that he's out of town. The tiny conversation it sparks lightens the air as Nick calls Liz with his own phone. And even Liz is elated, saying that Reeder has asked her to dinner to cheer her up after the fiasco that morning.
Perhaps it is the long day they've had, having run around the town when it isn't even two yet, but then they relax in a corner in the room, laughing and talking like they hadn't done in what feels like an eternity.
Silently Judy wonders if they could stay there, lost in the mirth that is elsewhere, and nowhere near town. Because beyond the steel door just above is the world Carrion thrives in, where his shadow is clear and grave, where the town sputters and bumbles as they struggle to stay sane, and she would give anything to forget that world existed.
Nestled in the crook of Nick's neck, she makes to remember times much simpler and kinder, breathing in his scent as she remembers days left waking up next to him when they were feeling particularly friendly with each other.
She only hopes that she'll find those days again, to live them so she can tell herself that they aren't dreams, that they were real and will one day be again.
After an hour in the restaurant, Judy gets a frantic call from Liz while they're in the parking lot.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call but we've got a major problem," Liz says over panicked breaths.
Nick is all but certain that Ross is somehow to blame.
"Slow down, Liz. What's going on? Tell me slowly." Judy's tone is leveled, calm, recognizing Liz's harried tone like the ones her younger siblings used to make.
Liz takes a deep breath, biting her lip before she speaks. "It's Ilia Mellivora. She's here in City Hall. I would have called sooner but I only recently found out how upset she is. Tali's here trying to talk her down but she's not doing too well and Ilia's so adamant to speak to Calvary once she musters up the courage to walk in there. I don't know how she knows about An but it's clear that Ross failed. We need help here, someone to talk her down cause we can only hold her back for so long. Please tell me you can come here and fix this!"
Nick and Judy's eyes meet, a determined look to them that means they have to follow through with their original idea. It's a little much, asking help from someone they've only known for a few days but they don't know Calvary well enough to be much help on their own. "We have an idea," she tells Liz, "but we'll need time to get help. How long can you hold her?"
"I'm sorry, I really can't say."
Sam huffs, a poisoned breath escaping her. "I'll do it. I'll hold her off so Calvary can keep his integrity. Thirty minutes is all I can guarantee so whoever you bring to him better be the best you two can offer." Quickly she leaps into her convertible, a red Savannah Svelte, and is gone in a flash.
Nick and Judy waste no time hopping into their Austin Terrier and ending their call with Liz before speeding off to Stable Village to the Hector residence.
When they arrive, Savory is closed for some reason. A few knocks on the glass door yield nothing as all inside the bakery is dark, closed in the middle of the day.
They fear the worst.
Instead, the two go around, greeting the guard to the neighborhood, then looping to the back of the bakery to the Hector home.
"Think they're home?" Judy asks as she approaches the porch. She doesn't wait for his answer, knocking on the door soon after. "Marcus!? Marshal!?"
As Nick kicks his feet over the grassy front yard, he notices that the garage door, which is made of surprisingly thin and lightweight wood, is slightly ajar. It is a delicious opportunity, a call back to his days as a con man.
He looks around and quickly spots a rather portly cheetah cub, one that reminds him of a particularly jolly friend of his back in Zootopia. He grins at the sight, calling out to him. "Hey, kid!" This catches the his attention.
Nick gestures for him to come over. Children are usually taught to not talk to strangers, he knows, and he really shouldn't be encouraging them, but being told not to do something is exactly how you get kids to do them. So when the kid quickly runs towards him, there is some pyrrhic satisfaction that the world, more or less, still works the same.
"Nick," Judy asks as she walks down the porch, "what are you doing?"
"Getting us in." Nick presses his foot under the garage door, raising it slightly, steals a quick glance at the size of the oncoming child, then raises it just an inch higher.
"How?"
He winks at her as he pulls out his wallet. "Trust me."
When the child arrives, Nick licks his thumb then swiftly pulls out a twenty. "Wanna make twenty bucks?"
"What's the catch?" the boy squeaks, eying him with mild suspicion.
"You have to catch it." Nick's deft hands fold the bill into a rather rotund box.
The kid fixes him with a determined look, one that tells Nick he's ready. With a nod, Nick raises his hand with the box, then underhand tosses it under the garage door.
The cheetah tries to pounce after it but it's already inside. So he scampers forward, tries to crawl under but is suddenly stuck under the door. This doesn't scare him, however, making to wiggle out of it and into the garage but the width of his body presses under a little tightly.
"Oh, you poor thing!" Nick announces a little too loud in mock concern. "Let me, an officer of the law, help you, with that." He then grabs the garage door full in his grasp then, with a little more effort than he thought he'd need, pulls it upward just enough for the kid to scamper in and the pair to follow after.
"Nick, this is trespassing," Judy scolds in a grit whisper, tugging at his arm.
"I don't know about you but I just saw an endangered child, a citizen, and came to help—" flips down his badge which is pressed inside his wallet, tapping its golden surface, "—like I was sworn to do." He then puts it away when she gives her an unimpressed look. "Besides, not like you haven't pulled off anything similar."
She doesn't make any further argument, tilting her lip in surrender. Because time is of the essence and wondering if the Hectors are home is a question best answered sooner rather than later. So his grin grows and all she can do is sigh and punch him in the shoulder.
Then the cub pushes the adjacent door open as he curiously steps in a little further in the house.
"Hey, don't do that!" Nick nearly shouts, scaring the child.
"Sorry…" the kid shrinks before twiddling his thumbs over the ball. "So… do I get to keep this?" He waves the folded bill to them.
"It's yours, kid," Nick says, shrugging, "you earned it. Now go on, we got police business to do."
He nods happily. "Thanks Officer Wilde!" he shouts before leaving.
Nick isn't actually surprised he was recognized, and with the barely contained excitement the cub holds while staring at Judy a little too long as he jogs out, Nick can tell he recognized her too. There aren't many times when they'd be alright with being recognized for their fame, but this is a rather pleasant exception. The allure of childish ignorance is bliss after all, and glimpsing it after everything is a breath of fresh air.
They hear footsteps behind them. Through the now open door and down the steps is Audrey, pulling down her shirt over her breasts in a hurry to answer the knock from earlier.
Nick and Judy politely look away but it's too late. She spots them and screeches, then covers herself meekly. "Uh… uh…!"
"Audrey, hi!" Judy greets, walking to her nonchalantly. "We're looking for Marcus, have you seen him?"
She doesn't respond, still much too embarrassed to speak any of the many responses that run through her panicked brain.
It only worsens when Marshal runs down the stairs in only his boxers, calling out "Audrey!? Are you alright!?" before stopping dead in his tracks as he watches the officers with a shocked stare. The usually calm and collected pig is suddenly a blushing, frozen mess.
Nick, not wanting this silence to last, claps his hands and speaks slowly and calmly. "How about me and Carrots—" he places a hand on her shoulder, "—go into the garage while you two get tidied up and we'll meet back here in five minutes and forget all of this even happened?"
"I won't lie," Marshal says finally, "I do like the sound o' that."
"Great!" Nick claps his hands again, turns around, then ushers Judy back into the garage.
The door shuts behind them and the pair lets out a held breath. "Look at that, Judes," she thumbs in their direction, "we made that happen!"
She leans against the wall, rather content with herself. "Yeah, we did."
Most normal people would remain embarrassed by what just happened, but they aren't most people and there are certainly more pressing matters at hand anyway. But Judy does envy the bliss of what everyone else is sure is romance, and yet the envy is fleeting, there and gone in the next moment because when she looks to Nick, she realizes that she has no need for their mysticism. She is content where she is and what she has.
Nick on the other hand is adrift in the idea of her. Because what he has with Judy is so much more than he deserves or can fully comprehend but he does not envy the bliss of romance. It is an emotion all the world tells him he needs. But love is a sensation described as irretrievable joy, a sense of security and lack of want, because all you could ever want, and all you've ever looked for is with that other person… and Nick is almost certain he already feels that way.
There is no need to confuse what they have with love. What they have is enough. No need for want. And yet the thought still lingers between them, a smile exchanged that is simple and familiar, alight in those lingering emotions that they cannot yet gauge or explain.
Minutes pass and the footsteps trailing down the stairs draws the pair's attention. But when Nick finally takes his eyes off Judy, he sees a familiar sight: a white boat engine with a red streak, the brand Seaworthy on its side.
When the door opens, Nick cannot contain his excitement. "This is a Seaworthy engine! My dad used to have one when I was a kit. Do you guys use this one?" He looks to Marshal who is more than a little surprised about his eagerness.
"'Fraid not," Marshal replies with a tilt to his lip, "broke down due ta' disuse."
"Disuse?"
"Ain't much in town that can accommodate it. Maybe Logan's Passage but only madmen tread that river's waters now. But Pa used to take me to Orca with it and we'd strap it onto a rental boat then sail off inta' the open ocean. Ma even used to go with us when she was still alive. Made the best pastries ta' take with us." Marshal spares no hint of sadness at the mention of his mother, clearly having been over it for the longest time.
"Now, I know ya'll ain't here fer' small talk," Marshal begins, a little embarrassed to segway right to the point, "so I'll get right to it, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"
"Marcus, actually," Judy says, "we're here to ask for him. Is he home?" They try their best not to appear rushed because there's sense in inciting any more panic than there already is. Though they know that Marshal can keep a leveled head, it's clear that shy little Audrey might be less resilient.
"He's actually in the basement right now. Pa went down there to tidy up. I'll go get 'im." Marshal then ushers them into the living room before walking through an arch into the hallway out of sight.
There is a large yellow sofa here, an ugly color that clashes with the green and white floral walls. The drapes here are also a gaudy purple, made of some silk and woven with a light floral design, which sadly clashes with the golden drapery rod.
Audrey notices the way they eye the room and giggles to herself, catching their attention.
"She was colorblind," she tells them, making them give her a look that asks her just who "she" was, making her laugh lightly again. "Karvina, Karvina Hector. She was colorblind so she just picked anything that felt nice. This room is really more functional than it is decorative."
"You seem to know her well," Judy comments, smiling at the elated young badger.
"I did. I loved her very much too, like a second mother." She walks around as the officers sit, tracing her fingers over the furniture in reminisce. "I remember the first time I came in here as a child. I loved the colors then, reminded me of all those cartoons, so I walked through this space thinking I'd stepped into one."
Hers is a quiet little smile, curved over her tiny lips in silent reverence of the days gone by. She is adrift in the mysticism of days now gone, of times in childish ignorance that boiled the world down to meal times and naps.
Judy sees it, that sparkle in her eye and the thinly veiled bliss, and fears that it means that her budding love for Marshal is only serving as an escape to those days.
"You're here to catch the killer, right?" Audrey asks suddenly.
"We will, yeah." Nick's immediate and nonchalant response surprises her and Judy both.
The smirk he shoots Judy earns him a soft jab, followed by a collapse onto his shoulder. Because his laidback attitude is the foil to her weariness, able to pull her back when she's thinking too hard. A contrast to her own altruism that spurned him to become an officer of the law.
Marcus then walks into the room, dusting off his hands over a particularly dirty part of his arm, Marshal following after him.
The older pig quickly regards them, before sending off Marshal to go off with Audrey, the couple waving goodbye to them.
"Well I ain't usually one ta' welcome trespassers into my own home, but if ya'll are here, then I'm guessin' it's somethin' important?"
"Yeah," Judy responds, giving him a solemn nod. "We need your help."
He tilts his head in confusion, more than just a little worried. "What about? What happened?"
"We'll show you," Nick says. "We're also kind of in a hurry so maybe it's best we continue this conversation in the car?"
Marcus doesn't make to argue, quickly walking them out to their Austin. They explain the situation to him then, lamenting about the state of the town which, to their surprise, Marcus already knows very well about. They aren't sure if Marcus is part of an inner circle tasked with the stability of the town, but he certainly fits the bill if there ever was one.
He tells them that he knew this would happen sooner or later. He's also fairly sure Creed saw it coming too, but of course he'd remain silent. "Denzel always did trust Calvary a little more than he really should have. I can only imagine what he's feelin', knowin' that he was wrong about the one thing he was certain about."
It isn't long until they reach City Hall, but when they arrive they are greeted by the apprehensive looks of Barnaby and Clementine who frantically call them over to the front door.
"Liz said you two were bringin' someone who can help?" Clem quickly asks under harried breaths.
"We have," Nick says as he hops out of the car. He looks between the two. "What's wrong?"
"Sam was too late," Barns replies, "Ilia's already in there!"
Judy reacts quickly, taking Nick's arm then ushers him inside, Marcus, the dexterous pig that he is, follows quickly behind.
Inside they meet the concerned looks of deputies and a few of the staff. But when they reach the top of the steps, they find some of the deputies crowding the door to the mayor's office. Liz is trying to disperse the crowd but the tiny otter isn't making a dent in the mob, even if Reeder is helping. Because two otters aren't any more threatening than one. Which prompts Sam to come out of the corner to growl at them, finally scaring them off.
"This is fucked!" Sam says to Nick and Judy through grit teeth after scowling once more at an approaching deputy. Then she spots the portly pig jogging after them. "You brought the baker?"
"He's impartial and a lot smarter than he looks," Nick offers quickly.
"I already know that! I've already met Marcus, but do you really think he can fix this?" She doesn't sound accusatory, her tone laced with a silent plea. The look she gives them tells them that she'll back their decision, whatever it may be, but she only hopes that they have the strictest confidence that this will work.
Marcus is already by their side and he meets Sam a dignified but apprehensive expression that tells her that he isn't sure himself. "I don't think we rightly have any other choice at this point."
He eyes the door, knows the hell that breaks in there, and braves it. Nick and Judy follow suit, quickly shutting the door behind them as Sam gives them an affirmative nod and stands guard.
Sobbing, barely contained, is what greets them at the door. They expected to find a furious mess and a lot of screaming, but instead they are met with the wreck of a woman crying endlessly in front of an equally ruffled man.
They also find that Ilia Mellivora is a lioness, not a badger. Which raises a flurry of questions they intend to ask later on.
She is tall and lanky, almost as pale and thin as Calvary himself, might have even been mistaken as his sister under different circumstances. Even their expressions match in some odd symmetry as the lioness is seething and aching inside, Calvary is much the same, face twisted in a feeble attempt to contain the poisonous emotions brewing between them.
"What about me isn't good enough, Cal? What's wrong with me?" She isn't sobbing anymore, her voice only quaking with the torment she feels trickling down her harried throat.
"Nothin's wrong with you, darlin'."
Ilia has already asked about why her, why Liandra. And the answers still burn, the telltales of old friends winning over what she felt was a much finer match. And to that lies the question she didn't want to ask, because it means reevaluating who she is, a question she is too young to grasp well enough when she was so certain of what kind of person she is just yesterday. "Then what is it, Calvary? Tell me…!"
Marcus spots the quiver in Calvary's lips and knows well the venom even the kindest words from him will manifest. So he steps in, his footsteps intentionally louder to grab their attention.
Calvary looks to them as they approach, whilst Ilia doesn't even bother.
"Marcus, now is not the time…"
"I happen to think it is," he says calmly, a look to him that is serious yet soft, "I happen ta' think it's about time."
Marcus takes Ilia's hand and rubs over the back of it with his thumb. She wipes a dry tear as she looks down at him, and is so embarrassed that she looks away. He cradles her hand in his with his gentle touch, a show of strength he wants to pass on to her. One that is familiar.
"Lia," he says slowly, "you're an excellent woman. A fine young thing that most men would clamor for. You're a scholar, smarter than most folk I know, wiser than any other young adult your age, but you've hitched too much on the heart of one man, and you've all but forgotten about yourself and the strength you were meant ta' have."
She meets his gaze and does her best tense in his grasp, pooling her heart into his hands as she wrestles with the ache that burdens her heart. She is quivering, teetering off the edge of her once steely, impenetrable resolve, now writhing in the flood of herself as her rationale dwindles but struggles still to find it.
"This ain't you," he says, barely above a whisper, leaning in toward her as he fixes her a solemn, soulful gaze, "this aint the Ilia I know, the girl who saved her batch from bein' jobless and pull 'em off the streets, ain't the girl who helped save this town from fallin' apart. You can't forget that strength. Ya can't forget what makes you who you are. The you that's brave and kind, the bulwark ta' this town."
"Now I know you're fixin' ta' find love. Trust me I know what it's like to put yourself out there in the hopes that something great and life changing will happen. But ya' gotta take that hard step like a big girl and accept that he might very well not be that man for you."
She doesn't want to think that, unwilling to accept that the center of her life was nothing more than a conjured illusion she kept fooling herself with. But then she sobs again, finding no reason to deny the truth.
She kneels, collapsing into his arms as he caresses her back.
Marcus then gestures for Nick and Judy to approach, then he hands her to them, leaving her cradled in their arms instead, whimpering as she scolds herself for her own foolishness.
Then Marcus rises, turns to Calvary who is a quiet mess brooding against his desk.
"And what do you have for me, Marcus? I ain't got the woes you can fix with honeyed words."
"Those problems only they can fix—" he gestures to the officers, "—but the ones I can are the ones that you don't know are even there." Marcus speaks softly like he always has, approaching the lion slowly so he doesn't feel threatened.
"Now An's a fine woman, I'll tell ya' that much, but right now she ain't right for you or this town. At least not yet." Marcus's eyes are filled with regret, tearing at him from the inside because he's asking a friend to surrender his happiness for the good of the town. It is a jab at his heart he can't deny, one he can't avoid because it's important. "I don't want ta' have to tell ya' to give up what you love… but I got no choice Calvary. Ya' need ta' see this for what this is."
The words sting Calvary, drive hard until he's sure he can't contain it but he does. Because Marcus is a figure of stability and wisdom, a man he has long since regarded as a dependable, altruistic friend. And he's always right. But God, does he wish he isn't. "I love her, Marcus. I got no one else without her." It comes out of him like a whimper, gritting his teeth as he holds back the weight in his chest.
"You're grievin', Cal. How on earth can you call yourself an honest man when what you call love could very well be a lie you tell yourself. Now I've always wanted An and you to find each other, but this, right now, it ain't love. It's desperate, it's grief, for the both o' ya. Ya' knew this would happen, ya knew this could tear this town apart! We'd talked about this…"
"I've no illusions of what you done, Cal. You didn't forget, ya' never do. Ya' just didn't care. And how could you not? Losin' what you did… hell, I'd have done the same." He then takes a steady step toward Calvary, then clenches a fist to his chest, a plea in his eyes that draws Calvary to face Marcus with all that he hides and lays it bare. "But we ain't here for us. Not you, or her… nor the folk we lost. We're here, in this room, for the town we were raised in."
"And you can't forget that, or tell yourself that you did. Cal, we need you back with us, we need our mayor again, watchin' this town. There's less of us now, and every loss is a knife in the gut, killin' us too just the tiniest bit, sometimes a little more than that. Cause Carrion's still out there doin' what he does, and unless you're willin' ta' shape up, and keep doin' them hard, entirely unfair, yet selfless sacrifices… we ain't gonna be able ta' keep this town together."
Calvary clutches his mane in his fist, writhing as he sobs and shakes his head. When he drags his paws off his face he is completely distraught, gritting his teeth as he fights a scream. "He's won, Marcus. We tell ourselves that we've kept this town in one piece. But we can't deny it, we're already on the verge o' losin' this town."
"Just last week I got a report about a high schooler with a revolver, armed with it cause he wanted ta' protect himself. Folk here are scared, Marcus, and I am too. I just lost Kayla and I don't think I can stand losin' anyone else. She was everythin' ta' me! Sometimes I wonder what the damn point is anymore…!"
"We're still losin' ta Carrion. And he's gonna keep winnin' until this town disappears. And roots be damned, Marcus, it ain't worth stickin' around anymore. Don't ya see? We lost. And we'll only stop losin' people if we leave." Calvary knows he should never leave, the weight of the town still on his shoulders, but should is very different from can, and he can feel himself very leaning in that direction.
"Don't!" Ilia shouted, stepping between them. The red circles around her eyes are laced with a pinch of anger, the kind she'd use to slap him were she any less gentle a soul. "Calvary you can't abandon us. I don't know how I feel about you and me but this town needs you."
"But what's the point, Li? Another one of us is gonna be gone tomorrow. And it could be you, or me, or that scared little boy. And there's nuthin' we can do about it!" The worried look she gives him is mirrored in his own, and perhaps she would have conceded then, because he's right. The scared child was Bucky's own son, and she'd seen him just before then, happy as ever, then she saw the light in his eyes fade the very next day, cracking a hole in his heart as his very innocence was torn out of him. But she doesn't want to believe that all is lost.
"You could keep this town afloat," Nick offers, quickly waving his hands to placate Calvary before he can retort. "Now I know what you're thinking, it's not that simple. Trust me, I know. But we're close, I can feel it. Carrion isn't infallible, he's a person, like you or me, and he makes mistakes, and he can be caught. When I first came here I never expected to get as far we did, but here we are, so much closer to Carrion than anyone else has in eleven years."
The revelation of their progress shocks the room. Because even if Nick is stretching it, he isn't wrong. They are so much closer to the truth and Judy feels it too. She can sense that Carrion's identity is just within reach, not too far down the road. But perhaps it's only a feeble hope, but hope is exactly what they need.
Judy takes a step beside Nick, his tail whipping behind her to press against her lower back, letting her know he's got her. "But we can't do anything if this town spirals out of control," she says, "And I know it's a lot to ask of you… of all of you, really, but for the sake of this town and everyone in it, every man, woman, and child, we need you to take this stand."
Calvary does not know how to respond. In part, he doesn't want to. He wants to give up, let the town fester cause he's already had too much heartache. But then Marcus speaks again. "Listen to them, Cal. We're close. It won't be eleven hard years of keepin' a mask on. We've dealt with worse. All we gotta do now is keep the bedlam at bay until they finally catch this bastard."
"Carrion took my brother, he took Kayla, and he took a lot more folk that don't deserve whatever the hell he gave them. He tore the heart outta this town, and I think he's done enough. It's about time we put him away. And we can only do that together."
The lion's response is caught in his throat, tangled in ambivalence and some semblance of doubt. But he fights it off, heaves a few hard breaths, then manages to pull out what remains of his resolve, nodding slowly.
Ilia hugs him suddenly, thankful for his strength. He takes only a moment to respond, hugging her back as he buries his face in her shoulder.
Nick then takes Judy's hand, feeling himself getting a little emotional. When she looks at him, he gives her smirk, though not quite as smug as he'd usually be. She responds by resting a head on his shoulder, tracing her fingers down his arm.
There is some appeal to hope, one that is infectious and grandiose, alight in something familiar, telltale of a time before all this madness. And to Marcus, that is more relief than he's had in years.
Marcus would never say it. He'd all but given up on this town days ago. But now he sees that maybe, just maybe, this town still has a fighting chance. That the days that will follow, hard as they might be, may finally pave the way to Carrion. That the end of this nightmare is soon to come. That his tired bones that feel older than they actually are can finally rest.
Triumph.
It is the idea that whatever Ross had planned by coercing Ilia to talk to Calvary has been averted, and that brings some sense of solace. That the town feels quieter and the noises have fallen into the backdrop. But with this ease comes some steady dread as they drive toward the station to report their success to Creed, because Ross himself will be there.
Nick tells Judy about Ross in the car, Ilia listening closely in the back alone.
Judy doesn't doubt him, suspended in disbelief only for a moment as she contemplates the evil that entices Ross to send Ilia directly to Calvary. "Just how does any of this benefit him? If he's trying to accuse you of being Carrion then why risk the town?"
"Wish I knew. He's crazy, I doubt he has any rationale left."
"I'm sorry to interject," Ilia says, leaning in between the front seats, "but I've known Ross for a while. He's smart, really smart. If he did this to spite you, then I don't think he's done."
Nick would have scoffed at any compliment made to the madman but he knows he's unpredictable. "What makes you say that?"
"They don't talk about it cause it was unorthodox but there was a drug bust down in Orca. A massive shipment that included all sorts of narcotics staffed by prominent figures of the Luciano crime family, and Lorenzo Valentino, their associate drug dealer." Usually she'd tell the story with some high praise, but the knowledge of Ross's talents now only scares her. "He… he snuck in, and set controlled fire to one of the shipments. Cannabis filled the air and he flooded it into the ventilation. By the time the smoke settled, the whole cargo ship was incapacitated. No one got hurt and the Lucianos were nearly destroyed by the loss of shipment and men. The whole thing was never made public so Ross and his family would be safe from the ire of the mafia…" She looks away embarrassed, thankful that Nick can't keep his eyes off the road and that Judy is content to regard her with pointed ears. "I guess, with all that, I was so taken by him that I didn't see how conniving he could be. Even now it feels wrong thinking about him that way."
Nick doesn't like the sound of that at all. Ross is a legend, it seems. Of the heroic tales most kids dream about, the kind that captivates the youth, the motivating force which most new recruits derive their inspiration. And infiltrating a cargo ship guarded by the Lucianos is no small task. Ross is armed with investigative knowledge, stealth attuned to the first hunters of his kind, and perhaps even an incredible apt for manipulation.
And with that comes a sudden realization, an idea that Nick feels is as mad as Ross is. His eyes take an apprehensive look to them, one that tightens his grip on the wheel as he seeks to find enough reasons to deter the thought.
But then the words slip through his lips, tainting the air. "Judes, you don't think—"
"—that he might be Carrion?" she finishes for him, matching his troubled stare.
And before there could be silence, Ilia falls into her seat, the same idea blooming gravely in her head. "Oh my god…"
When they arrive at the station, they are met with the slightest of fanfare from Liz, Barnaby and Clementine.
When Judy slides onto the street, Liz leaps into her arms. "You guys did it! You saved the station!"
Judy pats her head as she sets her down. "We owe most of it to Marcus, really, but we're glad we got to them before things got worse."
Clementine then scoops the bunny up. "Ya'll are the best things that ever happened ta' this station!" Barnaby glomps the two from behind, earning a deep blush from Clem.
Nick comes around the car, arriving too late to joke about how he wanted to take all the credit, but shrugs it off and takes to Judy when Clementine puts her down, prompting him to hug her too, earning a yelp from his partner. "What? Everyone else was doing it."
"Real funny, Slick." She elbows him from behind, him feigning pain in response.
Liz then meets the embarrassed glance of Ilia. "Oh, Lia, I'm—"
"Hey," she stops her midway, "don't sweat it. I'm over it. And don't worry. I won't be going anywhere. This town needs us together, I know that now."
"I'm so very glad to hear that." Hers is a soft, gentle smile. One that reminds Ilia about Kayla.
Ilia was very jealous of Kayla when it came to Calvary. She was always perched on his shoulder, the center of his world, the fuel to the fire in his eyes. She knew it was familial more than anything, because Kayla was the daughter he always wanted, but that didn't stop her from wanting what she had.
And she knows now that she can never be his lover or be close enough to be considered family, and even though it pains her, she does find comfort in knowing she's always welcome in his home. And she's embraced by Barnaby and Clementine who do what they can to comfort her, she knows that she has the backing of her batchmates who will pull her through this till she's ready to move on.
Then the doors of the station swing open as Nietly, the dispatcher and "secretary" to the Sheriff, walks out with a blank stare. She looks about the tiny mob and ignores the stagnant gazes of all present until she finds Nick and Judy among them. Once spotted, her eyes perk up only the tiniest bit as she claps her hand in some silent affirmation to her internal conversation with herself.
She walks towards them with her thin arctic fox legs and gives them a slight bow in greeting. "I suppose some praise is in order but I regret to inform you that there is another form of disorder that might require your attention."
The looks they give her tells her that they have no idea what she's talking about but it appears that she couldn't care less, because it will all make sense soon enough.
She takes them into the station, and there is an eerie still in the air.
The deputies mull about, whispering to each other. They're usually rather loud, making a fuss and flooding the room with conversation, but instead there's this.
Nick would normally be rather thankful for this but it leaves him at unease, no longer conscious about how he appears as all his senses struggle to pick out the elephant in the room. But their gazes are everywhere and nowhere at the same time, leaving nothing for him to discern. And a room he can't read always leaves Nick feeling vulnerable.
It's even more concerning for Judy because her adept ears pick up faint hints of conversation. She hears the slightest mention of Ilia and Calvary, but only once. The whispers carry one name much more prominently, sharpened by the loud "s" in it. A name that floods her with distress.
"Ross?" she whispers.
They make their way through the room and toward Suther through the arch toward the break room, who is perched on a counter, waving at them as he taps a heated mug with a giraffe deputy.
"Reese," Nick begins as he hops onto the counter with him, "what's going on here?"
He shrugs with uncertainty. "I don't know, but a good chunk of us don't know what the rest are talking about. Almost half of us are confused, and anytime we ask we get turned away."
Judy catches a deputy staring at them, a hare. He seems to eye the crowd intensely, bobbing his head as he looks for something. But then his gaze lowers, finding Judy, causing him to blush as their eyes meet before quickly turning away, going completely still, then excusing himself from his friends rather loudly in the quiet room, clutching his chest all the way.
Nick's head then pivots about. "Hey, where's Nietly?"
"Aw, don't mind 'er!" says the giraffe with her apparent southern accent. "Here, take a mug. Ya' done good so ah' think we oughta celebrate." She's cheery, and that's something they can appreciate under this tense atmosphere.
"I hear that," Reese says, downing his mug of hot cocoa.
Judy's ears strain to pick up more from the whispering, sipping her own mug beside Nick as she does her work as discreetly as she can. But then she hears the rolling tap of rain pouring heavy outside the building. It makes it harder for her to hear, making her shift uncomfortably in her seat in annoyance.
Then her eyes do the work instead, finding Ilia at the other end of the room, having an intense, and rather aggressive, conversation with a male lion. He makes to point angrily at her but a hippo steps in to make him back off, prompting a female wolf to join Ilia's side as well.
Then Ilia herself begins speaking, gingerly approaching the situation with a steady hand. Judy can tell that it's practiced, the way she moves is neither meek nor oppressive, but calm and collected. She is a trained conversationalist, controlling the weight of her words, whatever they may be, making them come out gently.
But it seems to work for only a moment as the lion's eyes soften, but the spell is broken when the other two speak. In that moment, Judy can see the shock in Ilia's eyes that would have been fury for the other two for ruining her framing with whatever they said.
The lion is agitated again, shaking his head slowly as an anger in him builds before erupting. "So that's it!?" he shouts. "You're just gonna let him play your heart like that!? I can't believe I fucking stood up for you."
He walks away then, leaving the lioness in dismay. Only the hippo seems to apologize, the wolf girl, however, makes her way toward the lion.
Ilia places a hand on her shoulder instead, stopping her. When their eyes meet, the wolf's eyes drop, killing her ire.
Judy nods at Nick who had been following her examining gaze, both leaving the group to join Ilia.
She immediately regards them when they meet, making the young woman shake her head as she blinks away what could have been tears.
"What happened?"
"He called me a hypocrite. That all my talk about persistence and confidence were all just colorful lies to keep them in line so I can fuel my ego." The word comes distastefully, filling her mouth with disgust as her face twists over the pain that cracks her features. "That I should be ashamed that I've already given up on Calvary…"
"Look," she continues, "I admit I still love him but I know I have to get over him. I can't have him and I'll find somebody else! What's wrong about letting myself look for love elsewhere?" It hurts even more when the very lion she'd just spoken to was her date to the prom, a friend she would have loved were it not for Calvary. And with him storming off into a crowd that is equally baleful, she feels more and more alone.
They are disillusioned by her, no longer hitched to her back like they used to, earning her their ire. Someone had spread rumors about her, speaking terrible, venomous things that do nothing but ruin her in their eyes.
And even though not all of them have fallen victim to the lies, most of them, she can see, are no longer with her.
Nick and Judy see it then, their eyes no longer at each other but on Ilia instead. And it is predatory, ousting, turning her into a pariah under their scrutinizing gaze. She feels trapped within these walls and amongst these people, cornering her where she no longer feels welcomed, ripping through her core till her heart hangs by a string, causing her to gasp.
Tali walks into the room then, spotting the writhing lioness before rushing to her aid. It's only in the kangaroo's arms does she start to quicken her breath. And when one of her hands drops to her side, Judy takes it, feels it clench around hers as soft bunny fingers cradle her and her pain.
When she successfully fights off the tears and her hyperventilation, she musters the strength to stand upright. She isn't embarrassed for nearly breaking down, having fallen deep into her emotions enough times today. Instead of a sob, out comes one last whimper as her throat clears and her eyes dry under a wipe.
Nick, who is unsure of how to act, is drawn away from them when Ross enters, a blank stare to him as usual. He dares not call out to him or accuse him of what he's done. Not yet, at least. But then he passes them by, his ominous gait spelling a confidence Nick is unsure he's keeping up anymore.
"Did I fail?" Ilia asks Tali, "Did we lose them?"
Ross hears her ask as while he's just within earshot. He turns to them with a grave smirk, one that scares Ilia when she realizes he's there, only confusing Tali.
"Oh, don't worry," Ross answers, "they're not leaving the station. I got that covered."
Nick and Judy struggle to decipher what he means, but then they hear the angry booming voice of Denzel Creed, stomping into the room with Nietly quickly behind.
"I don't care if Terence isn't here!" he shouts. "Just tell him about the complaint tomorrow when he is. I've no time to deal with this, Nietly."
The sheriff makes his way to his office but Ross is quick to follow, curving towards the door as Creed weaves through the crowd, which he readily scolds with all the restraint he has left.
By the time Creed arrives at the door, Ross is already there, standing in his way.
The polar bear looks him up and down, an irked scowl that already says what he means to say but when Ross doesn't budge, he asks aloud instead. "What in bloody hell are you doing, Ross?"
"You know, Creed, you've been real tense lately." Ross says calmly, irritating him, "Maybe you should go home and... relax. Let me take over the case."
He shoots him an incredulous look. Is this a joke? "I do not have time for your crap, Ross."
Nick and Judy watch in horror. They already know what he's doing.
One look about them, they realize that many of the deputies have entered the open room, and most of them watch Creed with daggers in their eyes while the rest of them spare those same glares at Ross.
Of course Ross knows that that would not have worked, so to emphasize his point, he steps forward, sizing him up. "I'm going to lay this down simply, Creed," he splays out his hands in a gentle manner, as if to placate him. "You're old, with too many ties to this town. So many that you've gotten shortsighted, barely able to discern what's right in front of you. Me on the other hand," he points to himself, "I'm still young, in my prime, and I've worked on enough cases in Orca to know what I'm doing. So just do yourself a favor, take a backseat and relax with your wife while you still have her." His tone shifts then, pointed and antagonizing. It isn't a plea. Not a request. It's a command.
It's then that Creed growls, scaring some of those present, but then he grits his teeth, crossing his arms with a heavy sigh. Because he knows why Ross is doing this because it's the only thing that's motivated him, his only reason left to live. One he'd share if he ever lost Mona. "Ross, I understand that you're grieving," he pauses giving him a pointed look of his own, "but I will not allow your grief to turn against me in mutiny!"
"It's not a mutiny, Creed. It's..." he rolls his hand as he looks for the right word, "…reappropriation."
Creed huffs, puffing his chest as he pulls his full height to tower over Ross. It's clear that he's getting angrier, his muscles tensing with a twitch to his eye. "You're not pulling me off this case, Ross. Because I'm not just older than you. I'm stronger, smarter. That is every indication that I should be at the helm of this case, and not. you." He points a claw at Ross, pressed against his chest that he almost dares to plunge into him.
He moves the claw away, tilting his head up at him. "Here's the thing, Creed, I don't need either of those things. As you can see…" he gestures to the room, "I've got the bulk of the station at my back."
Creed then finally gets a read of the room, and sees the looks their getting from the deputies and the veterans. They look just about ready to tear each other apart.
This does not deter him, however, making Creed growl louder but lower this time, seething as he struggles to hold himself back. Those more meek and those who know him well enough reel at the sound. Because Creed is historically very dangerous, and his ire is only stalled for basic animal decency, the kind he didn't have in the mafia. But Ross is pushing all his buttons, pumping blood into his temple as his fury pulsates through his every muscle. Then his claws pull from his paws as his head tilts under his scowl, daring the puma to keep going if he wants this to end in violence.
But then Ross answers the challenge, never baring his claws or his teeth because he knows he'd lose that fight. "You can bare your teeth and claws at me all you want, Creed. You and I both know that if you so much as touch me you'll start something neither of us can ever hope to stop." This quells Creed's anger because he knows it's true. "Look at 'em, Creed. These people, yours and mine, are dying to tear each other apart the minute you give them a reason to."
When Creed settles his anger till it's not visible, Ross finally takes a step back as to no longer appear threatening. "And I'll admit, you are smarter than me. But that means that you and I both know that you standing down right now is the wise thing to do."
Creed can't argue. Ross's impeccable logic had always worked in the station's favor. He'd never imagined that it would ever turn against him. This burns his temples as his undercut anger is only teetering on the verge of eruption, gated only by his own steely resolve.
Javan steps in beside Creed, but he never gets to speak, the polar bear halting him immediately as to not rile anyone else up.
When the rhino backs down, Creed spares Ross another baleful look that threatens to answer his mutiny nonetheless, shifting under his pointed glare. "I swear I will make you regret standing against me."
Ross scoffs at that, shaking his head. Because Creed doesn't know how far he's fallen, doesn't yet understand just how much he's given up. "Don't you get it, Creed? You can do whatever the hell you want with me when this is all over. Cause without Elira, I just don't give a shit. All I care about is putting Carrion away, and I'm not about to sit on my ass as you dance around leads, forgetting that Carrion could be right in front of you."
The whole room hears him then, the conversation filling the quiet tension in the air.
Ross's elegant visage is exchanged by a fury of his own then, cracking as he speaks with venomous tongue that Creed withstands. "You think much too highly of everyone around you, never taking that solid dive into an idea like you used to. But I'm not about to be hindered by personal biases like you are. And we agreed, didn't we? At this point, every theory is feasible, and everyone is a suspect."
Creed hears it loud and clear, hears it echo back at him like he told Ross all those years ago at days most desperate. At the height of the abductions he'd uttered those exact words, and now he feels them stab him in the back.
One last time he feels himself answer Ross, leaning toward him but speaking loud enough for the room hear him as well. "By that very same logic, you could very well be Carrion yourself."
But Ross responds immediately. "And let's not forget, Creed," he peeks at Liz who is mortified by his glance and the words he is about to utter in a singular, terrifying moment before turning back to Creed, "so could you."
Creed doesn't answer, has no more words to spare for a man gone insane. So he stomps away, leaving the puma to enter the sheriff's office with a few veterans who have sided with him.
The tension in the air disperses but does not dispel, the room now clearly divided as everyone still looks like they're ready to hurt everyone else. The tension is so thick that it's suffocating, strangling the life out of anyone sane enough to see it for what it is, prompting Nick and Judy to leave the room.
When they enter the hallway, Sam follows after them. "Come with me," she tells them as she quickly walks ahead with Ilia, Liz, and Reese in tow.
She takes them to the roof in a wide clearing under a colorful, metallic palm tree. There is a decent view of the town from up here, misted in the thick downpour that showers the vast expanse before them.
"This is where they take the kids when they visit the station," Sam explains, "I was here a lot before. It's open but lonesome."
When she goes off, she doesn't wait for them. And none of the rest gather either.
It's then that they realize that they haven't been brought here to talk about what just happened. Everyone right now seems content to sit in silence.
So Sam leans over a railing and watches City Hall from a distance, battered by rain, shrouded in mist. Ilia, Liz, and Reese congregate at a wide glass lined steel table and wallow in the events that came.
Nick and Judy decide to sit under the base of the steel tree on the real grass that surrounds it.
Judy wastes no time crawling into his arms, head pressed firmly under the crook of his neck.
Because things have only gotten worse as the town feels more and more visibly mad. Even though they've prevented collapse, they aren't certain if Ross being in power is any better an alternative. A mad man at the helm, a widower with nothing left to lose.
The demon that is Carrion is still out there, watching the town coil miserably into itself as it struggles to stay in one piece whilst beating itself in some senseless rampage. They do not know if Carrion delights in it, but he easily serves as its catalyst regardless.
And as the town is plunged into the mist, the pitter patter of rain fills the air and drowns out all the noise. Judy can tell herself that it's all a dream, a nightmare that will soon come to pass if she shuts her eyes long enough.
Nick then whispers to her gently, a one-sided conversation about a home that is so very far away. Because he cannot sing her to sleep, not enough confidence in his ability to do so. So the conversation carries on, and he can feel her every nod, and hum of approval. She doesn't speak herself, sparing only affirmative noises before giving up and nodding instead, rubbing her cheek against his chest.
She is tired, it's clear, and a half an hour of that passes before he realizes that she's fallen asleep.
Sam approaches the two while Nick wraps Judy up fully in her shawl to keep her warm.
Nick isn't tired, his mind racing as he works to uncover the secret to Carrion sooner for all their sakes. The answers do not come and it's impossible for them to, but he tries to anyway.
He looks up to Sam who eyes them with a smirk, and perhaps he would have had a witty comment to respond with, but none come. Instead, he gestures to Judy and for Sam to take his place down there.
"Uh… what?" Sam asks.
"Could you take over? I need to go and think somewhere and I can't really leave her alone."
"Why can't you do that here?"
Nick wholly expects lightning to strike but he believes gesturing the rain will suffice. "It's too loud."
With a sigh, Sam concedes and slips into his place as he holds up Judy's head. Sam nearly wraps herself up with the shawl with what she can but it smells like Judy and, as more than is reasonably appropriate, smells too much like Nick.
Nick heads down, braving empty hallways until he reaches the first floor again. He can still hear the conversations down here buzz about through the walls. And as quiet as some of all this feels, it isn't what he's looking for.
He then finds another set of stairs that lead even lower, toward the basement, and into where the cells are. As expected, it's empty. A basically crimeless town like this would certainly have days with empty cells. He did the same back in Precinct 1 in Zootopia, but he usually had to weave his way through the massive holding area to find a quiet corner amongst the cells.
Here he sits at a monoblock chair, reveling in the silence so he can think, shutting his eyes as imaginary images of the day flood the backs of his eye lids, assessing the events and the evidences.
But then, like a ghost from the night, he hears a voice pierce the steady silence. "Picking a favorite?" he hears the baleful tone of Ross.
He opens his eyes and only shoots him a menacing glance but Ross only waves it off.
He laughs lightly. "You don't need to answer, John," he takes the bars in his hands, leaning into them as he looks down at Nick from his side. "I just wanted you to know that I'm getting closer, and closer to exposing you. It won't be long now."
When Ross realizes that doesn't work – Nick continuing to ignore him – he changes pace. "And not even that little woman you call your partner can save you. She's legit, I admit, it's clear that she is, but you? All you've got is that viper's tongue, the same one I'm sure you've used to get that little bed bunny of yours to work with you."
"Bed Bunny?" Nick glares at him incredulously. "Why you little-!"
"What're you gonna do, Wilde? Hit me? Do that and you'll only prove me right."
Ross's grin against Nick's scowl makes him realize that that is what Ross had been looking for, just to check if Nick still has the same cracks. He can tell now for sure that Judy is his weakness, and Nick can see it there in his eyes that he will use that to his advantage if it ever comes down to it.
Then as quickly as he came, Ross disappears, but Nick doesn't stay, mind no longer working the case, flooded only by thoughts after Judy.
So again he takes the steps up to the palm tree and finds everything is exactly how he left it.
Sam doesn't even crack an eye open for Nick, content with easing into the grass with her arms behind her head, a forearm serving to simulate Nick's chest for Judy.
When he sits beside them, Judy shifts to his lap instead then into his waiting chest again, following his scent in her sleep. She knows if it's him or not, and he allows himself to smile down at her, forgetting what came, what has come, and what will follow.
Because the world could end tomorrow, and he honestly wouldn't care less for as long as she'd be beside him, pulling him out of the dark and into her light, flooding his senses with all that is her and nothing else. Where he drifts into the symphony of her rhythmic breathing, and the paradise of her everlasting warmth.
All of it, a reminder of who makes him vulnerable, and how he wouldn't have it any other way.
Bogo takes a sip of his coffee on that rainy night. It is cold, much to his displeasure, because it had been sitting in the car for almost an hour because he was on the phone with Sam.
"Bleck," he mouths as he puts the paper cup back onto the cup holder. "Remind me to bring a thermos next time," he says to Fangmeyer, the wolf at the wheel of the APC.
"I think Clawhauser may have prepared one to dip his donuts into," he responds.
"Did he now?" Bogo leans into the slit window in the back, looking passed his employs until he sees the portly cheetah at the very back. "Clawhauser!" he calls out to him.
"Yes, Chief?" he immediately responds, looking up from a bag of chips.
"You have coffee back there?"
He doesn't waste time responding, quickly pulling out his bright pink Gazelle-themed thermos, then passes up toward the expectant buffalo. "Very good," he says as he takes a gulp of heated relief, "I'll see you get a raise after this."
"Really!?" intoned Clawhauser and perhaps a few other officers.
"I'm joking," he says, earning a chuckle from those who didn't buy into it in the first place, laughing at those who did. "Maybe," he adds, shutting them up before an uproar of laughed at questions pours out of their collective chatter.
To tease them, he shuts the slot between them as he watches the road again, seeing it cut through the dark and the rain.
Bogo then pulls up his phone, scrolling through the frantic texts he'd gotten from Sam. He knows about the situation there, in the Broncs, and worries after her and Creed both. He also knows that Nick and Judy have found more than he and Sam ever did, closing into Carrion in only a matter of days.
He is sure that it was by no means an easy task, and those few days must have felt like an eternity, but he is proud nonetheless.
He gets a text then from Senior Officer Higgins, the hippo that has readily served under him for as long as he can remember.
Settled in well enough here, Chief. I won't let you down while I'm here. I'll keep things in order until you get back. Good luck and tell Sam that Higgs says hi.
Bogo has half a mind to tell her that right now, but a part of him wants to see her face when she finds out.
He then leans in toward the bulletproof glass as he eyes the valleys about him, spotting an old tank. "That's Old Henry," he tells Fangmeyer, "we're almost there."
In the distance he eyes the thick tree line of a forest sheltering its secrets, one that cradles a place of madness and old torments, of sleepless, grueling nights and turmoil darker than the night sky. A place that holds his star officers and a partner he wishes he never let go of.
And as they cut through that stretch of road into the forest, it isn't long until they find the large sign that bitterly welcomes him back to the place of his oldest demons: Bronc Town.
~o~~~o~
Everyone else was just another victim to Ross's madness, the cause and effect of a man who had nothing left to lose, all alone in the world as all he had left with him was the whisper of crows, telling him terrible, maddening things. It was the phenomenon of that madness that still lingers to this day, immortalized in tabloids and whispered often in their Autumn Festivals. All serving as grim reminders of the man who had taken Carrion's curse to new heights. And, perhaps, under different circumstances I would have pitied him but… after what he did to us, I don't think I could ever bring myself to forgive him.
~Judy Hopps
