Well, it's about that time again. My thanks to everyone for waiting, and for all the feedback. In the words of Mark Twain, "I can go for two months on one good compliment." I actually generally need more than six a year, but you guys are keeping me amply stocked none the less.
One thing I might as well mention is that I'm breaking off from the pattern of focusing chiefly or wholly on one POV per chapter. It worked pretty well for a while, but this chapter just didn't seem to flow right unless I jumped around a little. As Judy said in her speech, "real life is messy."
And one final announcement (in case I forgot to mention this) is that a friend has been drawing some very nice artwork of characters and scenes from my Zootopia stories. At his request I'm posting them on my gallery on DA, under the name DragonTamer2000. Feel free to stop by and check them out!
Proofread by Hawktooth
"So when I came to myself again I cried him mercy: but he said, 'I know not how to show mercy;' and with that he knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by and bid him forbear."
Faithful, Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan
It was impossible to miss that there was something off about Catano's demeanor immediately after their narrow escape. Even after a few checks proved that Nick and Judy had suffered nothing worse than the slit on Judy's front side (which hurt like the devil but was shallow and wouldn't need stitches), the cheetah still seemed really uptight. That in itself was no surprise, but Nick thought there was something... off about it. He couldn't put his paw on it, but their colleague was definitely off her game.
As soon as the air in the room was safe to breathe again, Catano took Judy in and gave her some first aid on the cut across her torso. "You're lucky this didn't hit lower," Nick could hear the cheetah say. "That wire could have cut a lot deeper."
A hiss of breath drawn painfully in told Nick that Catano must be applying antiseptic. He winced, imagining the stinging along such a long cut. When Judy came out, though, she looked little worse for the wear. All the same, Catano insisted that the two of them stay put a few more minutes before they set about putting the room – as best as they could figure – back the way it had been. The tanks were turned back to their slow leak to enrich the air for the death-sentenced plants. The tripwire was reset, and the fan and filter went back in their places.
"We'd better have the city maintenance crews watch this area," Catano uttered, "to make sure no one snooping around stumbles into this."
"Who would snoop in here?" asked Judy.
Catano frowned, clearly in an ill temper. Nick, who was somewhat more jaded and streetwise, guessed the gist of her answer even before she said it.
"When you've seen as many casualties of careless stunts as I have," she answered, "you don't underestimate how dumb mammals can be."
Privately, Nick wondered if Catano was thinking of how close Judy had come to being one of those casualties. Sure, Judy was no dummy, but did Callie know that? Come to think of it, there had been the thing with mouthing off to Mr. Big, and that reckless charge into danger with the other Night Howler lab. Judy had been lucky and sharp enough to get through both of those, but it was becoming clear that any careless move could be an officer's last.
Catano did most of the work of resetting the scene, and even when it came to poisoning the plants she did most of the grunt work even though her smaller partners were by now back to prime shape.
Can't say I mind the change, Nick thought, but I wonder why.
It was hard to say if he or Judy was more surprised when on the way back, Catano recommended that Nick drive.
Between having Catano in immediate earshot and the paperwork that followed, Nick didn't have a chance to express his thoughts much to Judy until after she had punched out. On the way out, though, Catano surprised them again by stopping them – or rather, stopping Nick.
"Wilde," she said a little sharply as they made for the door and she for the females' locker room.
Nick's ears pricked up at the sound, and he turned to see what she wanted. She looked around, though it was hard to say if she did this because she thought someone might see their actions or because she didn't want to meet Nick's gaze. Meet it she did, though, and her Pawker face could have matched Chief Bogo's for sheer stoniness.
"You may have saved our mission," she said, sounding as though she was about to drop a 'but.' In the pregnant pause that followed, both of the smaller sleuths braced for the other paw to come down.
At last she sighed, flicked her eyes to Judy, and then looked back at Nick. "Good job," she said at last.
Nick and Judy looked at one another warily, wordlessly asking one another if they were on Canid Camera. "You're welcome," Nick answered slowly.
As soon as the moment had come, it was gone. "See you tomorrow," the cheetah said almost robotically, turning on one foot and walking off toward the females' locker room.
A light impact on Nick's arm brought his attention down to Judy's infectious grin. "Nice going, Junior Detective. I think she's warming up to you."
Nick chuckled, not certain and not really worried about whether she was serious or just trying to lighten the mood. "Of course she is. There's not a female around who can resist the old Wilde charm."
She rolled her eyes. "Har har."
Levity aside, Nick's mind drifted back to Catano's strange behavior after the trap went off. "Well, I've got some time to kill before I go after our little buddy from the judge's office. Mind if I pick your brain about something for a while, or are you anxious to get back to Tweedledum and Tweedle-dumber back home?"
Smirking at the quip about her neighbors, Judy readily agreed. "Sure thing."
Feeling the familiar sensation of being watched, Nick glanced around and caught sight of Clawhauser watching them wistfully.
Wish I could do something to help the guy out, he thought, an idea taking shape in his mind.
"Hey, Carrots, hold up a second. I need to talk with Benji for a second."
Before Judy could answer, Nick dashed over to the desk and waved Ben to lend him an ear. Even rabbit ears couldn't catch everything the fox said, but Ben's expression lightened.
"You really think that'll work?" he asked, his face an odd mix of doubt and hope.
"Worth a shot," Nick said a little more loudly. "I mean, look at Officer Callie. Between you and me, I think she keeps from sweating what she can't do by never letting up on what she can."
Judy felt a pit starting to form in her stomach. What's he up to?
The sense of worry deepened when she realized Chief Bogo was watching the exchange too.
When Nick elected to chat out in the plaza around the fountain, Judy expected that the topic would be fairly casual; something about the particulars of getting onto the force, maybe. She was a little surprised, then, when he opened up with, "So, what do you think is up with Spots?"
She stared up at him. "What?"
Misinterpreting her expression, he amended. "Sorry, What do you think is up with Catano."
Reflecting that they would need to work on the nickname thing, Judy focused for the moment on his question. "You noticed it too, huh?
"Yeah, the way she acted after you, uh, found that trap."
Judy considered. "Well, I'm still not clear on what happened outside. All I know is she wasn't happy about your going in." She paused. "Why did you come in?"
"Because the alternative was shooting out the lock with her gun," he reasoned. "Not exactly the subtle approach we were trying for, so I sold her on my going in."
"Oh."
Nick nodded, guessing she must be connecting the dots. "I'm no mind reader, but if I had to guess, I'd say she's steaming mad inside – definitely at Obearon for almost killing you, probably mad at herself for sending a civvy in to do her job…" he paused thoughtfully, then shrugged. "And maybe mad at me for being the one to remember that we were up against the threat of more Night Howler attacks."
She nodded. "That was pretty brave of you," she admitted. Lowering her voice, she added, "Between you and me, I think she wishes she had gone in."
"Yeah, I got that message, too." Nick was glad they agreed on that. The question bugging him was whether that was from Catano's pride or her badge. "What do you think her problem is, anyway?"
Judy frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Nick sighed. "Carrots, nobody's like she is unless they've got some damage. When you've been on the wrong side, you learn to pick 'em out."
The thoughtful look in Judy's eyes didn't invite Nick to interrupt her musings. Instead, he retreated into his own.
She definitely acts like she's got too much to prove, he reflected. Kinda like me and Carrots, if we ever got all cranky and our sense of humor died. It could be that Catano wasn't being honest about never having lost a partner – or maybe it wasn't a fellow cop, but someone she cared about at any rate. It was hard to imagine that cheetah caring much about anyone, but the more he thought about it the less sense anything else made. Catano had to be bugged about the near scrape in the tunnel, and pride made no sense despite what he had said to Ben. Mammals who used pride to cover a weak spot – or whose pride was their weak link – had this telltale habit of flaunting somehow or other. Some stopped and checked themselves every time they passed a mirror, or made a point of mentioning if they were off to the gym. Others flaunted their achievements by how they dressed or something, like politicians who wore overpriced disposable outfits. Catano, though… she was as quiet as a mouse (as dumb as that phrase was, given some of the noisiest mammals he knew were rodents). Any time she talked about her accomplishments, it was in a 'this is how serious I am, so don't make me say it again' kind of way.
So what happened to get her so uptight? he wondered, rubbing his chin.
He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Judy talking to him until she poked him in the shoulder. "Huh?"
She looked annoyed, but only just. "I said it's probably none of our business." Glancing around, she added, "And we probably should have talked about this somewhere more private."
"Like on the Sky Tram?" Nick ventured, smirking. Then he snapped his fingers. "Maybe we should take her up there."
Judy snorted and got up. "Huh. Take your girlfriend up there, why don't you?"
Nick raised an eyebrow. "What, and risk spilling my guts a second time?"
The joke was ill-timed, as just at that moment the cut on Judy's front gave a twinge of pain.
"You alright?" asked Nick, pausing and looking at her quizzically.
Her paw strayed to the injury. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just gonna sting, that's all."
Nick chuckled and cupped his paws to his mouth. "It's just a flesh wound!" he barked out.
Judy rolled her eyes and 'accidentally' stepped on his foot. "Should I show up tonight?"
"Hmm…" He rolled his eyes heavenward in thought, then shrugged. "Eh, probably not. You've had a long day and I can manage for myself." He didn't add that in his experience, getting into and out of any kind of closed organization required passing a test of courage at some point. Having a connection was good. Having that connection hold one's paw the whole time… not so good.
Speaking of which… he thought, looking towards a figure on a bench. The figure was small and mostly hidden behind a newspaper, but the paws sticking out were familiar enough.
This time he managed to remain enough in the moment to catch Judy saying she'd see him later. "Break a leg tonight, okay?"
He laughed. "Who, moi? Tonight I'm only twisting arms. You know that."
Her eyes widened a little, and she raised a finger to her lips. "See you later, Junior Detective!" she called, and then turned and headed off herself.
Nick waved back to her, affecting an air of cheer. Without turning his head, he glanced over to the bench again.
The paws and the newspaper were gone.
Ay yi yi, he thought, pulling out his phone and opening the contacts. He fired off a quick text message to Mr. Big.
"Sorry, sir. Need one small favor," he vocalized under his breath as he typed.
Bing! An incoming text disrupted his typing.
"Speak of the she-devil," he uttered in annoyance, dismissing the text for the moment. "Say hi to V, and tell her to-"
Bing!
How she texted that fast he'd never know. The vixen had thumbs like lightning – as, alas, he knew all too well. Again he dismissed the text and continued. "…work on the subtlety."
His own message finally sent, he considered whether or not to dignify Vanya's text or just erase it out of paw. She was an informant on the case, and any news she had might be important. However, since she knew her intel was important, she would of course use that opportunity to send him a lame pickup line or tell him he had a cute tail or something. Skipping that kind of opportunity would be… well, not her.
The snag was that, as he knew she knew, he knew passing up any leads wasn't an option. So with a sigh, he went back to his messages and opened her texts.
'Hey Cute Tail.'
'You know running only makes a chase more fun, right?'
He groaned and smacked himself in the face. He should mention this to Mr. Big, but since the old boss was on better terms with Judy, it would probably be best not to text too much at once.
If she calls, I'll-
The phone started to chime in his paw.
Darn it! He answered and put the phone up to his ear. "Vanya, if you're going to contact me could it be about something important?"
There was an awkward pause, and it dawned on him in that split second that the tone hadn't been Vanya's.
"Who's Vanya?"
He groaned on the inside. "Oh. Sorry Taelia. Long story."
By the tone in her voice, Taelia was debating whether to ask again who Vanya was even as she changed the subject. "It's alright. Is this a bad time?"
"No, not really." Actually, thinking about any female but Vanya at the moment was a relief. "What's going on?"
"Well, I needed a break from staring at the screen, and I remembered that I didn't have anything to do tonight. So I thought I'd just let you know that I'm… available."
Nick got the idea. She was pitching him an opportunity; trying to ask him without asking him to ask her out – or something like that. Females could be strange that way.
"Aw, darn. I wish I could, but I've got…" he hesitated, pulling up short of explaining about the sting. "I've got some things going on tonight; ZPD stuff. I'm sorry."
Judging by the tone in her voice, she was trying to sound chipper even as her ears drooped. "No, it's fine. I shouldn't have pushed it. What are you busy with anyway?"
He smiled, trying to lighten her up with some good cheer. "Well, if I told you that I'd have to kill you."
A slight laugh came through at the joke, lame as it was. "Oh, no, please not that. It'd totally ruin my schedule. Well, hope you do great at whatever it is."
"Yeah, you and me both." He thought again of Catano's odd behavior. He'd obviously impressed her; now he just had to sell it once and for all – somehow. Risking his life would be a tough act to follow, but if that was what it took…
Suddenly he realized Taelia was talking again. "Sorry, what was that?"
She laughed. "What, getting distracted? I asked if you were allowed to say how things were today with the project. Not too hard, I hope?"
No, not aside from me and my best friend nearly suffocating. "Oh, yeah," he said offhandedly. "Today was a breeze. A real gas, you might say."
Based on her tone, she had an eyebrow raised and her face kind of scrunched. "If you say so. Well, I guess I'll leave you alone now. Happy hunting!"
He thanked her and hung up. Females all around me, he thought, and here I'm trying to keep 'em all happy.
Another text came in from Vanya. 'Who was that on the phone?'
He sighed in annoyance. Then, knowing she must be watching him from somewhere, he smiled calmly and texted her back.
'I don't think I'll tell you that,' he told her. Then, for good measure, he erased the call from his history and sent another text informing her of that.
She didn't answer, but he could smile at the look on her face. At least that's one lady I don't have to make happy, he thought to himself.
Over in her apartment, Taelia looked at her phone as if it could somehow tell her what had been so strange about that phone call. 'A real gas,' he had said. Who still used that joke? For that matter, who was Vanya? Was Nick seeing someone else?
Good grief, girl, she thought to herself. It's nothing to get insecure over. There's got to be a logical explanation.
All the same, she was pretty antsy. Maybe settling this would be a good idea, if she could figure out how to do it without sounding needy or paranoid. The problem was, even asking him out too many times in a row wasn't her style and would probably put him off. Initiative was important, right?
She felt her gaze drifting over to her computer. That was one thing she knew how to handle. There were no bad computers; just bad programming or bad handling. Guys were more complicated, but also more satisfying.
I wish I did know what was going on in his head, she mused.
Rising from her chair, she stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles above her head. If she was going to have a quiet, boring evening, she might as well make it useful. Some days before, she had talked with Nicole about some research going on into using sound to stimulate or numb parts of the brain. Nicole had been iffy on the ethical implications, but also wondered if that kind of tech could replace or enhance things like anesthetics, or maybe be used to bring someone out of a coma. Taelia had been looking further into it for her, but wasn't finding anything about medical uses yet. Neither had she seen anything about military use, except for a Meowthbusters episode. Maybe she was just looking in the wrong places, but it seemed like all anyone was using it for so far was music; tuning songs to hack the pleasure centers of mammals' brains and stuff.
That's pretty messed up, she'd thought when she read it. It's like a drug or something – or tricking everyone into liking you, at least.
She would have occasion to reflect later on the irony of this insight.
Officer Catano strode to the gym, having traded her uniform for a tank top and knee-length biker shorts. She passed by the leonine officer who had tried to flirt with her setting up the sting, and before he could open his mouth her paw was on it.
"Don't start," she said, hardly aware of her own words. She was functioning on automatic, her mind lost in abstraction as she mulled over the events of the day.
Wilde was good; very good, actually. He'd remembered the larger objective even when she had lost sight of everything but the moment, and he'd figured out a way to do it without sacrificing an officer. It had been risky, though. If he had been killed, or even permanently injured, she'd never have forgiven herself for letting him take the chance.
There was no getting around it: she had made an exception. She had broken one of the most sacred rules of law enforcement: never jeopardize the safety of a civilian. Yes, it had worked out, but she had crossed a line.
She had to recoup that spot on her conscience somehow. While she was at it, she had to figure out what to do about him. He had potential, but he also had a record. Somehow she had to balance those two… and she wasn't going to bend the rules this time. Not after what nearly happened this time… or after the incident in Precinct Three.
Maybe I could nudge him more towards becoming a private detective, she mused. He and Hopps could still collaborate that way, and he'd have more wiggle room for his conn…
She broke off in mid-thought as she entered the gym and came face-to-face with something strange enough to break even her out of her thoughts.
There on an exercise mat lay Benjamin Clawhauser doing… something. Lying on his back and flopping like a beached fish near expiration, he seemed to be attempting either a sit-up or some kind of stretch.
"Clawhauser?" asked Callie, frowning in confusion.
Ben turned his head. "Oh. Hey."
She studied the scene out of habit, wondering if he had fallen. A treadmill nearby with a battered control panel – as if some large weight had fallen on it – suggested a means of injury, but he was too far away. "What are you doing?"
"Exercising," he replied feebly. "Francine said it might be easier getting through my diet if I focused on doing something like losing weight, instead of on not… not…"
Catano almost finished the sentence, but stopped herself from uttering the words 'eating donuts.' She also managed not to remark on how doubtful it was that Francine actually expected Ben to heed her advice. If he was actually trying to work out, either she had underestimated him… or he was just getting desperate.
"So, what are you trying to do right now?" she asked.
He looked pretty sheepish – especially stuck on his back as he was. "Uh, crunches?" he ventured, trying to smile and looking more like he needed to use the bathroom. His body executed a prolonged upward twitch which, under close scrutiny, loosely resembled the maneuver in question. "Am I doing it right?"
She sighed. His sit-up was perfect… as an impression of a beached whale, anyway. How does he even get out of bed in the morning? she wondered. It would make the most sense to let him figure things out for himself while she did her own workout. Maybe she'd let him watch and learn a bit. On the other paw, that would be kind of like watching someone starve while she ate a four-course meal.
"Maybe you should try free weights instead," she suggested, mentally adding, Very, very light free weights.
That night, Mr. Stangahoof closed up the office ill at ease and ill of temper. The load of work currently going on had been especially rough today, and to make everything worse he'd had to waste much of his time searching for that blasted present his boss had misplaced. It had never turned up, and at length the bothersome thylacine who called himself a judge had bustled out on the pressing errand of buying a replacement.
And of course I had to lock up, he thought to himself. He really needed to find another job. Somewhere – anywhere – there had to be better work.
Checking the knob to make certain it was secure, he shook his head and started on his way home.
I hate walking home at night, he thought to himself, flicking his eyes around warily. Even though the area near the courthouse was for obvious reasons a very low-crime zone, the deep shadows all around made him uneasy. He blamed it on his nature, for despite being a fairly stocky animal for his size he was strictly technical support. He'd never once been in an actual fight, and was pretty sure he'd be utterly useless at it. The fact that the city had apparently not yet replaced several street lights added to his unease.
A drop fell on his head, and he paused hoping it was just his imagination. More drops killed that hope, and what little remained of his mood. Perfect.
He quickened his pace to get through a particularly dim area, and plowed right into a figure just as it stepped out of an alley. The figure braced for the impact. Stangahoof didn't.
"Ahh!" he cried, falling back on his tail. In his paranoid imagination, he expected the flash of claws or a switchblade at any moment.
"Whoa, whoa, shimmer down there," said the interloper, raising empty paws. He spoke in a nasal tone and accented his s's in a peculiar way, somewhere between a 'j' sound and a 'sh.' "Stangahoof, right?"
Stangahoof nodded, then hastily caught himself. "Who wants to know?" he demanded.
The stranger laughed in a tone probably meant to sound disarming. On closer inspection, he could only be a fox. A toothpick protruded from his mouth, wobbling as he spoke. "I'm not here to hurt you, pal. My buddy and I just have a couple of questions."
The nyala looked around. "Buddy?" he asked.
One of the fox's paws calmly descended into a pocket. The other curled into a fist and then calmly flicked out one claw, pointing up and over the cornered mammal's head. At the same instant there was a faint grating, flicking sound behind and well above him. The secretary turned and let out a cry, lifting his hooves in a feeble attempt at defense as a large feline loomed overhead. The cat – something of the spotted persuasion – held a lighter in one paw with the other shielding it against the rain.
"Easy, Tonto, easy," Nick urged, waving back the cat. "Listen, Stangy. Can I call you Stangy? Word has it you've been up to some shady doings in the courthouse. Covering up for someone; that kind of thing."
The nyala looked back and forth between them. "I don't know what you're talking about," he blabbered.
Nick shook his head. "Pal, I trust my sources. Look, I'll throw my cards down. We've got a boss we answer to, answers to Senor Slitz." He made a meaningful gesture of miming a claw across his wrist to underscore the point. "He doesn't like rackets and whatnot going on on his turf without him knowing about it. So you fork over a fifth of your take, and we'll call it even. Deal?"
Tremors shook the secretary's entire frame. "L-look," he stammered, "I haven't been taking anything. Some guy's making me do it; knows where I live, where my family's at, all that stuff. Said if I went to the cops it'd be my word against his. I'm just doing this for my skin, I swear! There's no racket, I promise!"
A growl escaped the cat's throat, but the fox threw up a paw as if to push him back. "Settle down, pal," he urged. He looked at the nyala thoughtfully, making a show of stroking his chin and swishing his tail in contemplation. Then he threw up his paws.
"You know what? Maybe I'm off my hinges, but I believe you. I've been there before, and we all need a friend in the courthouse, so I'll cut you a deal. You tell me who you're covering for and who threatened you, and I'll smooth things over with Senor Slitz. Whoever it is'll never know you squealed. In exchange, you owe me a favor. Deal?"
This was getting way too deep for the secretary's liking, but what else could he do? "Uh, yeah," he agreed. "Th-that sounds f-f-fair."
Nick Wilde nodded. "Alright, then let's talk."
Once they had finished their business with the nyala and let him go, Nick and Officer Clawson returned to one of several unmarked cars the ZPD kept on hand. It was dented, rusty, and decidedly unremarkable; perfect for a duo posing as low-level criminal errand boys. It made Nick wonder just how many vehicles Precinct One kept for undercover work.
"May I?" he asked, in his usual voice gesturing to the radio.
Officer Clawson rolled his eyes. "Go ahead."
Nick picked up the radio – which was a bit big for his paws – and squeezed the Talk button. "Operation is a win," he reported. "No surprises, but we confirmed our guesses. Our little buddy was working on orders from Bruce Barracus to block any investigation of Poisson."
A voice crackled back. "Good job. Return to base and get some shut-eye. You've earned it."
"Ten-four," Nick replied, signing off. He sniffed and glanced at Clawson. "By the way, I never realized cops used specialized cologne."
"Eu de Lowlife," Clawson answered, sarcastic and clearly annoyed. "And thanks so much for reminding me that my wife doesn't care for the smell of cigarette smoke either."
Nick shrugged. What sane mammal does? he wondered idly. How anyone got stuck into that habit, he'd never know. You'd think it'd be easy enough to break. However, that wasn't the question at paw. He knew a bit about Brucey; mainly that he had his share of petty crime under his belt and had maybe stolen a car at some point. Rumor had it he'd done worse in some bar fights but always managed to avoid charges. For the past few years he'd stuck to the straight and narrow… as far as Nick knew, anyway. If it came to a guess, Nick's gut told him that Poisson had hired Barracus for his fighting abilities and secured his loyalty by smoothing over his checkered past with greenbacks.
All of which brings us to the question of what he's up to now, he mused. Blackmailing someone to run interference didn't seem like something Barracus would do on his own.
Unless that was how he avoided charges for those bar fights. Hm… nah. Having always had a good gut instinct for criminal matters – when greed didn't impair him as in the Rug Incident – he was willing to bet money that wasn't what happened.
Something here, he mused, smells worse than Officer Clawson's Cologne.
Oh goody. So many questions, and so few answers. Will the mystery never stop? Well, sadly it will… but not yet. Lol
The Mythbusters reference is too obvious to list for a hunt, but just to fill you guys in the episode I touched on was an actual thing. Apparently the Mythbusters took on an urban legend called the "Brown Note," an alleged sound frequency the military could use to… well, it's actually kind of gross so I won't say it. Anyway, they dubbed it as busted, but other research along those lines does exist and has been used in music (on which, frankly, I share Taelia's view). I have not heard of any medical applications yet, but it wouldn't surprise me if such research was kept under the radar (or sonar) and thus would not yield to the prying of someone in Taelia's field.
I previously alluded to Officer Clawson foregoing showers when necessary for an incognito assignment. It occurred to me that, scent being so much more significant to most mammals than it is to us, false scents would likely be as much a part of Zootopian disguises as false hair is in our world. Cigarette smoke seemed a fairly obvious and easy-to-duplicate scent for someone posing as a hood, and paved the way for a nice little Easter Egg.
Guest Comments:
Guest: Indeed he is.
Thanash: And here you have more. :) Nice to know I've got you hooked.
Easter Eggs:
Pokemon
Home Alone
Calvin and Hobbes
Previous Easter Eggs:
Chapter 21:
Nick's Sherlock reference, caught by Catano, is a nod to A Study In Scarlet, the first of the Sherlock Holmes adventures by both publication and chronology (if I'm not mistaken), when Holmes - like Nick - ironically jokes that it would be presumptuous for him to make any suggestions or remarks about the investigation conducted by Lestrade and Gregson into a bizarre murder.
Chapter 22:
The deleted scene was, as Beecroft guessed, the elephant keyboard scene (I do like the replacement that made it into the movie, but I'm also kind of bummed that they didn't keep that one. SO much fun to watch).
I'm pretty sure quite a few people caught the reference to a popular game show; Beecroft I know, and I think The Mr. E noted it in a PM. The answer is, "The show to which Nick alluded when he spoke of taking William Shakesbear for $500." The question is: What is Jeopardy?
The play referenced, which contains the name Oberon/Obearon, is A Midsummer Night's Dream, and while I haven't read as much Shakespeare as I wish I had, that play is incidentally my favorite.
And the Back to the Future reference, as noted by Beecroft, was Catano's quip contrasting tasers to plutonium and saying that, in Bunnyburrow, one can buy them in any corner drug store. There's also a subtler one when Nick reflects that they're like baby's toys compared to other weapons like guns (please note: never EVER let a baby get near a taser). Do I like referencing that movie? Yes. Yes I do.
