Zootopia belongs to Disney. Spider-Man belongs to Sony.

Duane ran down the hall toward the gym, keeping on the lookout for security guards and porcupines. He did not want to get impaled on any spines like last time. He had to get to Juan quickly before security caught a "pregnant" jaguar running through the halls of the university student center. Alcoholic beverages were, obviously, forbidden on campus, though the penalty for a civilian was far less than for a student. Good thing the rules in this school were so lax that the list might as well consist of the words "Anything goes". He pushed open the door into the gym and was immediately blasted by loud music.

The Homecoming Dance. It was early this year. The only reason he could think of was that the school board was growing more anxious about increased incidents of NH-Plus being released by the ever-elusive Zsander Lukagi, or as Duane referred to him, Lucky-Guy, since he had yet to lose the upper hand despite all the effort being put in to catch him. Funny enough, he always seemed like such an idiot. At least he did when he met the guy. Yet the effect he had on the city was only matched by Dawn Bellwether.

Duane looked around fervently, eager to find the deer and set these drinks down.

"There you are!" a voice behind him cried over the music. "I was about to call you."

Duane handed a pack to the adolescent buck. "Got held up trying to get my hands on these! You know how long it takes to get Danny to do anything. Huh!"

"Mm... I been waitin' for some a-deze!" he said as he slipped one out of the pack, snapping open the tab and releasing the supersaturated gas dissolved in the beverage. He took a deep swig of the... drink. "Ah, that hits the spot right on the mark! But we might wanna get all the party-hype outta me before we get slammed, huh?" he joked, lifting another can in a mock-toast.

"Yeeeeees!" he said with a chuckle, knocking his own can into his friend's. It was what one might call "a forbidden friendship." All enforcers were forbidden, absolutely, from forming any kind of relationships with prey whatsoever. And Jean-Lucas wasn't just any prey - he was the definition of prey.

It wasn't too hard to stay away from them in the first place; Duane's albinism - his pale fur and red eyes - made him even more of a target for ridicule by both sides. Not all of them, but more than he'd care to admit. Jean-Lucas was a rarity. He didn't prejudice or judge anyone. It made it easy to be friends with him.

"Tell me you've asked that girl out you've been ogling for years now," he teased. "Gotta tell her sometime."

He briefly shook his head in silence, leaning on his elbows. "I don't know, man. I mean, she's ten years older than me and... if anything, she's been more like a big sister."

"Ha! Ok, this conversation just got weird."

"No, I mean, she's not actually like a sister, she just... I don't know how to get past our friendship is all."

"What's stopping you? You're a cool enough guy. I mean, you think she likes you back?"

"How would I know that?!"

"Dude, come on! All you have to do is watch!"

"For what?"

He sighed. "You work way too much."

The current song ended and another one started.

"Oh, now this is the song of the century. Be right back, man. Hey, watch the ladies, you'll see what I mean!" Jean-Lucas took his can and went out onto the floor to dance with a bunch of his school peers. Duane bobbed his head to the music as he drank his beer. Hip-Hop wasn't really his thing but it was a good song nonetheless.

"This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill, fifteen percent concentrated power o'will. Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain, and a hundred percent reason to remember the name."

He snorted as he noticed... there was something to it! Several female deer had migrated closer to the area where Jean-Lucas was in the gym. He stood up to get a closer look. The girls were either:

1. Whispering to each other while ogling him

2. Making sultry faces while ogling him

3. Just ogling him

4. Brushing into him in an attempt to get him to return an ogle or two

A few minutes later, Jean-Lucas came back to Duane, who gave him a bro shake. "Not bad, deer!"

"See, man, it's all about being you. Whatever you guys have in common, talk about that!"

Whatever you have in common, talk about that, he repeated in his mind.

He saw behind Jean-Lucas...

"Uh, hey buddy, why don't you show off more of those moves, huh? I don't think they got enough."

He snapped his fingers and went off.

Duane turned his head to the side to pretend he hadn't seen Jamie. If he was seen mingling with any prey, he was dead. The fact that most of the mammals in here were prey was bad enough.

"Hey, can I grab one of those?"

Annoyance kindled in his chest. Like he was going to just give away these drinks he'd already risked both himself and Danny to nab for himself. He turned toward the silver fox. But the words died in his mouth.

"So..." he took a long sip of the beer before exhaling loudly. "Who's your friend there, Spoteseller?"

Duane's muscles tensed. He tried to think of an answer but his mind had frozen cold as ice. What was Jamie even doing here? How did he know where he was?! "Ehm, uh..."

"You hesitated," he pointed out with a lopsided smile that hid the smallest hint of spite. "You do know the rules, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know the rules! I'm here by myself!"

"Not what I saw."

"Yeah, I'm sure you see a lot of things through that coke powder you're constantly using. So clamp it, Clampitt." Duane smiled when he saw Jamie's smug expression subtly turn sour. He hated any corruption of his name, couldn't stand it. "You didn't see nothing! Maybe, unlike you, I don't have a problem sharing a drink with a decent prey every once in a while." For a second Duane thought he'd have to throw down right then and there. He wasn't drunk just yet.

But then, his eyes darted down to Duane's left. Then, he smiled. "Fair enough. Anyway, I'm here because Boss has a job for both of us."

A job for both of us? He's not exactly an enforcer, per se. Did he get demoted or something?

"...Ok...? Who's the lucky sucker?"

Jamie laughed. "Nah, it's... it's a bit different from the Shark biz. He took out his phone and handed it to him. One look at the message was enough to know that whether he took the job or refused...

...he'd regret it.

Jamie smiled at him in a way that made it clear to Duane he was fully aware of his apprehension. "We're going in half an hour. Be ready."

He spent the next who-knows-how-long wondering whether he'd be able to get passing-out drunk before the time came to go do the job. He had considered just leaving, but if he bailed, then it would be clear he was not up for it. The job Boss had given them... that was the last thing he wanted to do. There were innocent mammals involved, children! How could Boss ask them to do-

"Hey!" a still-all-too-familiar voice called out over the music, which had mellowed out over the time since he'd last spoken with him.

He groaned inwardly, turning and looking at the silver fox.

"Come on, Spots!"

He shook his head. "No."

"Is there a problem?" asked Jamie, walking slowly toward him. Duane thought he saw him reach for his pocket. His muscles tensed. He and Jamie were always fighting. Testosterone at its peak. But he at least had his limits. Jamie did not.

"I'm an enforcer. This is above my pay grade," he said while taking another hard swig.

"So... you're gonna sit this one out."

"Yup," he answered nonchalantly, trying to hide his cracking boldness. Jamie just stood there. He dreaded what his answer would be.

"Ok." Duane's eyebrows raised in surprise. Honestly, he'd expected him to throw a punch. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. Just meet us back at D1 when you get a message from me. I'll keep it from the Boss."

Duane's muscles relaxed in relief. He turned back and grabbed three more beers.

The drink went down smoothly. What he would give for it to burn! He downed it so quickly that he fell into a coughing fit before downing the second one. He winced, then went for the third. It was directly after the third that it struck him. No one... no one in their right mind would think that Jamie was letting him off the hook. Which was worse: guilt or humiliating beat-down? He tensed up. He knew what this meant - the lot of anyone who refused a job. After the third mistake, the penalty was directly up to the boss. If he resisted... he hoped never to go there.

Sorry, Dan, I gotta. His conscience stung him at the thought. But the one mammal he didn't want to piss off was the Shark. He drank one more can to drown out the sting before running to catch up with Jamie.

"The money, it's counterfeit, all of it! Boss knows that the police heard Danny give away your name. He said a warning message was sent out to the police... they'll be on the lookout for you two." After giving the news, she stared at him to wait for a response, any response. John simply stared back at her with wide eyes as if she had grown a second head right then and there.

"Counterfeit..." John said blankly.

"Yeah! Counterfeit! It means-"

"I know what counterfeit means, I'm not a child!" he growled, leaning over the shorter feline. He turned around, slapping a hand over his eyes and squeezing them with a groan of bewilderment. He turned back around to say something, but nothing came out. His mind, however, was tossing like the ocean in a typhoon. His eyes stared past the ocelot toward the floor, his mouth hanging open.

All of it.

Sarah gestured for him to spit it out! He looked at her and immediately snapped out of his stupor. "It wasn't him."

"Why do you think I'm here?" she asked, her voice swelling from soft to loud. "Aside from telling you what Boss said! I know he did his best. We're all doing our best, but the police are catching up with us! The Boss doesn't see it that way, though!" she spat, making sure to inject enough venom into the title.

Immediately, John marched past her. His face had hardened into anger.

"Where are you going?" she demanded as she followed close behind.

"I'm gonna go talk to him."

"And tell him what?! Assuming you actually make it to that island and get past the gates!"

"I'll tell him none of this was his fault. He'll listen to me; I'm general manager of this factory."

"John, that's not a good idea. Trust me, I-"

"I've known him longer than anyone else here; I can change his mind."

"Yeah, by phone! How many times have you actually spoken with him face to face? You'll just make things worse!"

He about-faced and glared down at her, stopping her cold. "Then why did you come to tell me this if it wouldn't help?"

"I..." she seemed to fold for a moment but regained her voice. "If Danny is Oid, then this is the best place for him. But if Boss wants him..." she hesitated "...you know... then we gotta keep him safe."

John exhaled as if deflating, turning around as he did so. "Oid. I still can't believe anyone follows that old religion," he grated with a curse under his breath. He'd been religious growing up, even in prison, but he'd left it altogether after his daughter disowned him.

"You've seen for yourself how strong he is! He's the Apex Predator! He's already probably the strongest mammal alive and he hasn't even hit puberty!" she sounded way too excited given the circumstances. "How does that not convince you?"

"Does he know that he's 'a god'?"

"He will when he's ready."

John shook his head. "Ready for what-?! Ugh! I don't care about any of that stuff. I'm not here to 'restore' anything." He made quotation symbols with his fingers. "I'm just trying to make my way in the world. And help Danny along the way. That's all I want. If El Jefe wants to get rid of him, I'm going to change his mind, and I don't need any god's help doing that."

He turned and left Sarah where she was. Walking quickly toward the exit of the warehouse.

He resisted the urge to roar in frustration. Sarah and her religious upbringing. Oid here, Oid there, Oid everywhere, Oid, Oid, Oid, everything is about this god that "gives power to all who worship him" or something... phht!

He didn't need that in his life again. He already had enough to worry about. But he wasn't going to let Danny pay the price for something he didn't do without a fight. He wasn't going to let that happen to a kid.

"Will you just listen!" Sarah growled as he scanned his card to open the door. He turned right around to face her.

"Listen to what, your propaganda?"

She stared at him, her mouth open in frustration. "I just want Danny to be ok."

"You think I don't?"

"That's not what I'm saying! Just..." She jumped around his legs and pushed him back.

"Boss is not happy. If you just go to him and confront him about it, he won't punish you. He knows you can take it."

John looked down for a second. He tried to think of a way around her point, but he couldn't; he knew she was right. There was only one thing Boss could put him through that he already hadn't.

Danny... what couldn't he put him through?

He put his hands on his hips as he mulled it over. "Fine. I'll call his office." He turned into a nearby room with a landline.

"No, I keep telling you, you'll just make it worse! Don't say anything at all!" she yelled. She tried to follow him but he slammed the door in her face and locked it.

"If it's already this bad, then somebody needs to do something instead of just sitting around!" he said firmly through the door. "Like you just told me, Boss told you to tell me to send Danny to the game room."

"And you know it's not going to help... I thought you cared about him," she said spitefully.

"Oh no, you are not going there."

"It's true! If you try to reason with him... you know Boss won't listen. Just like you're not!"

He closed the door and blocked her out as he dialed the number.

He was not going to let anything happen to him. The phone rang once before it was answered.

He didn't hesitate to open his mouth.

"Boss, you're seriously...?" He hesitated, then groaned quietly in frustration. "Danny is new at this. He made one mistake. Charge that to me, but not to him."

There was silence on the other end of the line. For a moment, John wondered whether he would or not. Then the Boss's voice came through: "Three."

"What?!"

"Three mistakes, John. Three, not one," said the Shark in his deep, buttery voice, not a hint of a growl anywhere. The leopard, despite his enormous size, was known more for his business prowess than his strength, though he was not lacking in either. "On his first assignment, he alerted the police-"

"Not on purpose, if you remember! Besides, I handled it!"

And during this job, he allowed the police to hinder you, he allowed an officer to live, and both of you failed to ensure that the money was legitimate currency - as both of you were trained to do. Have you not been paying attention? You're his caretaker."

"Boss, you're punishing him... you're getting rid of him because he's not very good at stealing? There is so much he could do! The factory could always use another worker; or he could help in the lab, whatever you want him to do! But don't do this to him because he's not meant to be an enforcer. You're making a snap decision!"

"I'm protecting my assets, Mr. Serpiento," he cut him off.

"Your assets," he repeated with a degree of disdain.

"Despite the fact that my decision appears sudden... you know the rules. Insubordination and incompetency are not tolerable. Either my assets are useful or they are not useful. It's simple mathematics."

"Mathematics, huh? I think it's been pretty clear to me since he first arrived that you never wanted him here in the first place. You were just using him! And then once you're done with him, you start looking for a reason to waste him. After two bad runs?! Are you serious!" he grated him. "He's not just an asset, Jefe, he's a kid! And I can promise you that I'm not going to let anyone hurt him, do you hear me?!"

"Yes, he was useful in that regard but I didn't need to keep him even before he became a permanent resident at Department 1. I treated him just as fairly as you and all my constituents."

"If you hurt him-"

John gasped quietly at the sound through the phone - the sound of his palm slamming hard against the tabletop. He raised his voice. "I gave him a chance, Serpiento. Two chances, and so far, he has proven to be a FAR greater liability than an asset. A mammal with the power and natural senses that he possesses should have had no problem with those runs. Would you want someone with that kind of incompetence working to produce AMMUNITION?" There was a hint of a growl behind his voice now. And he could hear the desk surface creaking as the Boss's fingers curled from a flat hand into a claw on his desk, as cats did when they were angered. But no marks would be left behind from his claws. Because he had none.

No claws... because he didn't need them.

John didn't know how to argue. No matter how much he tried to rationalize, he was devoted to this job. This was a business dependent fully on competent enforcers. And Danny had wasted more resources than gathered, not matter how hard he tried to overlook it. There were plenty others who could replace him. But that didn't mean... "Even if he can't be an enforcer, or even work here, that doesn't mean we get rid of him. He's just a kid!"

"And you're just a lion. Do you think that your apprentice can't be replaced? I've thought about assigning Jamie to you-"

"Please, don't assign me to that lowlife," he growled. He rebuked himself, actually putting the job above a little boy under his care. "Danny's not going anywhere. And if you hurt him, or if you-"

"If I do what? What will you do? Badmouth me? Like you and Danny do every chance you get?" John shivered at that. How did he...? "What?" he asked, daring him. "Will you... tear me open? Like you did to your first cellmate? I'm always ready for a fight, John," he said with a tinge of hunger in his voice.

"I know you've been hiding things from me. You are simply a very bad liar, Serpiento. Always trying to hide what you and your protege are really thinking. Pensabas que nadie mas conocia tu lengua materna?" he asked sarcastically. (You actually thought that no one else could understand your native language?)

John's lower jaw quivered. His eyes widened.

No sea pienses que estoy acurriendo, terminare esta conversacion en tu idioma. (Lest you think I'm bluffing, I'll finish this conversation in your language.) Esto es lo que va a pasar, Serpiento," said the massive cat. (Here's what's going to happen, Serpiento.) John's breath quickened. He could imagine the Shark's penetrating orange eyes as if they were locked right onto his own: cold and calculating. "Vas a enviar el jaguar a la sala de juegos lo antes posible." (You're going to send the jaguar to the game room as soon as possible.) "Si tienes algun problema con eso, tendre que hacer una agradable visita a la Avenida Blunsten." (If you have a problem with that, I'll have my enforcers pay a nice visit to Blunsten Avenue.)

...where his... his... "NO!" he shouted, pounding the desk with his fist.

"Then do it! Anything less, and you will certainly never see her again!"

At that moment the call ended. John stared wide-eyed off into space.

He knew... he knew what they were saying the whole time when he listened in on them...

A part of him wanted to rip the bugging device right out of his inner ear.

"John?" asked Sarah warily from behind the door. "What did he say?"

Sarah paced back and forth in her room. She clasped her hands over her head. Her brain hurt. One dozen of ideas after another was filing through her mind like an overclocking CPU. She breathed heavily through her hand, which cupped her mouth.

She wished she didn't have all these old posters of 90s bands up on her wall... they were just so distracting.

"THINK!" she yelled, kicking her futon. If she couldn't come up with something, then her friend would be dead by this time the next day. "Ugh! There's gotta be some way to keep Boss from..."

Ok, ok... just slow down, Sarah. John already tried talking to him, which only made it worse... Danny can't pay Boss back because he's a pedantic jackwad. What to do? If she could just get Danny out of here for even one day... she froze. Her eyes turned to the pamphlet that she had been given just the day before. Picking it up, she smiled.

"That's it!"

After dialing a number, she put the phone to her ear. He answered on the second ring. "What's up?"

"I need you to come by my room. I need to talk to you."

She set it down and breathed deeply to calm herself. Ok, now you have a plan. Tomorrow morning. Early tomorrow morning, I'll get him out of here. If John had a problem with that, then she'd tell him to go ahead and try to off him. But she was going to do what she could to keep him safe.

"You can see behind me that the building... it's coming down now..."

The apartment complex was beginning to crumble behind the Bengal tiger. "Fortunately, the majority of the residents in the apartment building were safely extracted, including nine-year-old Arya Nichelle, who was a resident at this apartment complex, and who was not present when the building had burned down. Exact numbers and any possible fatalities remain unclear. Giselle 'Gazelle' Glossihorn has come to provide assistance, which is now being ruled an act of arson." The Bengal tiger turned toward the pop star. "Gazelle! Gazelle!" The Bengal tiger jogged toward her. She turned to face the camera, a look of pure dejection on her face. "It's been confirmed that Dawn Bellwether's daughter lived in this apartment, but witnesses say she left minutes before it came down. Can you give your thoughts on the matter? Do you think there may be a conspiracy against the Bellwethers?"

Gazelle opened her mouth and stood still for a moment. Her eyes were downcast. After a few seconds, she looked up. "For whatever reason someone would try to do this, it's nothing more than another act of senseless violence. I love this city, but lately it's been getting harder and harder to have to watch mammals do things like this. So all I can say is what I said several years ago, 'Give me back the Zootopia I love.'"

Turning the news app off, Duane hugged himself. The air outside was hot and humid, but he felt cold and dry. His heart stung.

"Sorry..." he whispered to no one in particular. He had done something awful. He had tried to rationalize to himself that the building was home to evil's very offspring... but none of the other residents deserved that, and he knew it. He'd known it the very moment Jamie had shown him that blanking text! His mind was clearing up. He desperately needed a drink. A big one. But first he needed a shower to wash this dirty feeling from his soul. The only comfort he had was the he had managed to send an encoded warning over the ZCloud to Bellwether's daughter before leaving that the specific apartment she lived in would be burned down.

Why had he been told to go on this mission anyway? His job was taking money from animals, not... that! It wasn't like he was needed for it. He much preferred his own job, where the guilt was at least manageable. How Jamie did it all the time was beyond him.

As soon as he entered the factory, his phone pinged. Oh, he dreaded the sound. Please, please don't be another job. He held the phone screen downward so he couldn't see it to prepare himself for whatever Boss wanted from him. He turned the screen up and looked at the message through one eye.

It was a message from Nigel, Jamie's caretaker. "Boss wants you in the game room. Be there in ten minutes."

Strangely, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought that that would be worse than this job. But it... didn't. The fact that he felt much more at ease, ironically, felt much worse than the anticipation of what he was facing.

On the way, he grabbed a bottle of water to ease the inevitable hangover, which would be topped off by what was coming in the game room. He normally worked to avoid regret, but he couldn't stop it. He almost couldn't get to the game room fast enough.

He made it to the game room and opened the door slowly. He peeked in.

Immediately, the door flew open, causing Duane to nearly fall forward. He was grabbed by the collar and thrown forward several feet. His face scraped against the mat upon landing, pulling some fur from his face. He groaned in agony. A pair of feet stood in front of his face. Looking up, Jamie's ugly, vicious smirk greeted him.

"Strike one," articulated the deep voice behind him. He stood up and turned around to see Nigel Whitfurrell standing in a combat stance in front of the entrance to the rec room. Jamie grabbed the back of his shirt and shoved him forward.

"Don't touch me!" he screamed at Jamie before turning back to Nigel. "Strike one?! How was that insubordination?! I did my freaking job!"

"You did what was asked, but you warned the lamb so that she was able to escape."

Duane shoved down his hesitation. "Oh yeah, says Jamie!"

"Says the Boss."

Duane shook his head. "Uh-uh, no. Jamie's lying through his fangs. I did my job. I can't control when she's there or not! Apparently someone made a mistake!" he shouted. He hid the cringe that tried to force its way up. He wished the job he'd completed were the reason he was here; he had helped burn that building down. He was a mess. The least Boss could do was show some common decency.

At that moment, Duane's phone rang. Keeping his eyes on the polar bear, who just smiled and crossed his arms, he answered the phone. "What."

"'Get out or die. The building is coming down.' That's what you told someone in that very building, fifteen minutes beforehand." Duane's eyes widened. The exact message he'd sent. How did he have access to a private, heavily encoded account on a track phone?! "You will fight, Duane," said the deep, smooth voice that made his fur stand on end. "Fight, or you're of no use to this organization." Duane's eyes widened. Why would he believe Jamie over him!? How would he know everything that his enforcers did?! The second the words had left the speaker of the phone, the door behind Nigel clicked. The lock had slid snugly into place. He had no choice. Yes, the "game room" was not for games, it was a combat center: large, open space; hard, unforgiving floors; knives, staves, and firearms covering the walls.

He was so busy with his raging thoughts that he didn't notice until it was too late that a fist was slamming into his cheek.

"UNH!" he yelled. Saliva was flung from his lips. Nigel's arms caught him as he stumbled backward. The polar bear shoved him forward. He fell to the ground and grunted from the impact. He pushed himself up to one knee and glared with rage at Jamie. A pinching sensation overshadowed the heavy soreness in his jaw. He tasted copper. Putting his fingers inside his cheek, he pulled it out to see blood coating his fingers. He opened his maw and stretched his masseters, popping the joints. At the same time that his lip flared into a sharp sting, Duane realized something about himself that caused his determined anger against Jamie to solidify.

There was no fear in coming here because he'd give anything - face the game room ten times over - just to take it back, even though he knew there were probably no casualties. What he'd done had hurt innocent animals - predator and prey. He knew what the streets were like, and he had helped spill them all right into it during a time when mammals had little chance out there. This... this would be his penance.

But he would do what he could to educate Jamie too.

"Fine."

He strutted to the wall and grasped a bow staff. There was a reason he was one of the most successful enforcers, and this room had molded him into that man. Every enforcer was trained in this room. But this wasn't training. This was punishment. His partner and rival... "forced" to carry out strike one on the Boss's behalf. Duane scoffed silently at the thought. Jamie loved carrying out strikes, from first strike to last strike. The most loyal enforcer the business had ever seen.

Duane stared down the silver fox. He'd accept the chance to kick this guy's donkey any day, no offense to donkeys everywhere. They'd trained together for years, gotten to know each other very well. But the one thing that made Jamie so effective a fighter was exactly what Duane lacked: bloodlust.

Jamie grinned at the challenge. He had been a part of Mr. Big's own staff in his manor, along with Nigel. He had a thirst for combat training. But the shrew never provided any real chance to develop fine combat skills; Boss wasn't lazy enough to make that mistake. He went so far as to allow him to train with all manner of weaponry. It wasn't traditional martial arts, but it was effective. Duane trained alongside him, but he knew very well that Jamie's bloodlust and patience forged him into a deadly force to be reckoned with.

Jamie grabbed his own bow staff and returned to his place. Both stood at the ready, prepared for the brutal lesson about to be dispensed on the eighteen-year old jaguar. His burning crimson eyes bore into Jamie's cool teal. Nigel stood off to the side, ready to provide aid to the fox if it was needed. But there would be no need. Jamie was among the most skilled martial artists within the whole of the organized crime world in Zootopia.

Jamie raced toward him. Duane blocked his staff strike, shouting from the effort of parrying the fox's staggering blows. For a fox, he had the strength of a lion. He dodged a downward swipe and spun to swing for his head, but missed. Jamie ducked and spun away from the jaguar, but he kept his footing. He put up his defense against Duane's counterattack. The dark-furred vulpine roared in an effort to overpower his assault.

They traded blows for several minutes, neither getting the upper hand. But Duane's rage was tempered. Jamie's was insatiable.

Duane's bow staff was twisted from his hands by the fox and tossed to the side. Duane dodged an upward swing from Jamie's own staff, allowing the fox to deliver a punch to his cheek. He was launched backward from the impact and rolled on the mat until he stopped in a kneeling position.

"Should've just done what you were told without question, Spoteseller!" spat Jamie, though Duane saw clear glee in his face.

Enraged, Duane spit out deep red saliva. "You'd kill an innocent girl!" he growled. "If it had been Bellwether herself, I wouldn't have hesitated! But you wanted me to murder a child who never did anything?! And what about the other animals who had nothing to do with it?!"

He looked down his nose at the jaguar who didn't know how to take punishment with dignity. "Collateral, Duane," he said with a cold, even tone.

The jaguar tensed at the fox's apathy, burning rage blazing behind his eyes. He charged jamie with a roar, but he found himself flipping onto the floor on his back, tripped by Jamie. His eyes were closed, so he didn't see the staff land on his stomach, making a loud thwack! Duane froze with his mouth open, but nothing came out. He grasped his belly and rolled onto his side in agony. He coughed loudly and fought with everything to keep from throwing up.

"Law and order. That's how we do things around here. Law and order. You break that law and order, and you allow it to continue unabated, what happens?"

There was another strike against his leg. "Ah!" he yelped. His leg twitched.

"Predators like Bellwether rise up. Arya Nichelle is her wool and blood. If she find the same opportunities that her mother had, she'll be sure to take power just like she did. I'm not going to see that happen again. Not in our world."

Tears fell from Duane's eyes as the silver fox landed blow after blow with the bow staff, but he bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out again.

"By the way," he said during a pause in the beating, "you're no longer a candidate."

He covered his head as Jamie continued. How long until it was over, he didn't know.

But when it was, strike one was spent.

Two to go.

Nick took a drink of his coffee and continued typing his report of the day. Judy walked to the printer and grabbed a stack of papers that had just emerged.

"What'd you print off?" he asked.

"John's report on the arson; I'm going to look into it."

"You know that you already have an assignment, right?"

"Doesn't mean I can't do some research and see if I can't find anything out. For her sake."

"Ugh, sometimes, Carrots, I feel like somebody's made you chief without anyone knowing except you." He fluttered his eyebrows with a smug grin.

"Well, maybe no one's figured it out yet." She shrugged.

He chuckled to himself while sipping his coffee. He sat down and swiped through Furbook on his phone. "I almost miss the beat. Didn't have to take more than one job," he muttered.

Oid is not pronounced the way it looks, like human-"oid." It's pronounced "oh-id." I forgot to bring that up earlier.

This is some hard stuff. Don't worry. I'm not here to write a bleak story. Bleak first, then the good times will come later. Some of you who read some of the first draft of this know this is how I write. Still, I hate writing all this stuff. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But it keeps me looking forward to the best.

Forgive me, one thing I am not good at is time management. The events are kind of all over the place right now in terms of order and flow. I'll fix it once this chapter is up. Hopefully it won't mess the story's flow up too much.

A cry for justice:

Do you indeed decree what is right, you gods (sarcasm)? Do you judge the children of man uprightly? No, in your hearts you devise wrongs; your hands deal out violence on earth. O God, break the teeth in their mouths; tear out the fangs of the young lions, O Lord! Psalm 58:1,2,6