I know this is going to come as a shock to a lot of you, but I'm actually starting to lose interest in this project. In as much as certain well-respected members of the Zootopia fan community have advised me, repeatedly and with extreme prejudice, that WildeOC stories are never very good or successful, I'm going to abandon No Stone Unturned and just write WildeHopps. My thanks to you all for the encouragement and support, and I hope you can forgive me for ending it this way.
April Fools. lol I wouldn't do that to you guys. It's true I've been getting some less-than-respectful remarks from certain die-hard WildeHopps fans (I won't name names), but why spoil the fun for people who know how to enjoy something different because some people are prejudiced? Besides, I'm still mad at Cartoon Network for doing that to the original Teen Titans series, and if anything the attitudes of those other persons have killed my desire to give them what they want (or even hear about it).
Also, I'm pretty sure I mentioned before that I'm posting this on DeviantArt and ArchiveOfOurOwn as well. After some consideration, I've decided to focus on getting AO3 up to date, and getting DA caught up later.
Happy reading!
Proofread by HawkTooth
Vision: "That was of minimal difficulty."
Hawkeye: "Did you just say this was easy?! You never say 'this was easy.' Ever."
Vision: "Why?"
Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes
Out on the Meadowlands/Rainforest boundary, Officers Grizzoli and Delgato sat sipping coffee in a little nook off the middle strip. Hemmed in by thick foliage, the narrowness of the gap made it ideal to watch for speeders – if there were any worth nabbing on that particular day.
"Maybe the chief needs to change up our speed trap spots," remarked Grizzoli. "At this rate we'll never hit our quota."
Delgato took a long sip of coffee, uncurling one claw from around his cup to point out two dingoes in a yellow Volfswagon van. Swaying atop the vehicle was a haphazard pile of luggage, seeming to comprise everything from pots and pans to a kayak. The driver, who looked to be the older of the two, looked to be singing at the top of his lungs and driving to the tune of his own music.
"We could peg them for reckless driving and an unsafe load," he observed in a bored tone.
Not a second later, a different van blasted by doing easily three times the speed limit and nearly running the first one right off the road.
"Whoa!" yelped the lion, lurching forward against his seat belt and immediately yowling as he spilled his coffee all over his front side.
"Buckle up," ordered Grizzoli, putting the car in gear and moving to pursue. In so doing, he and his partner nearly 'intercepted' a muscle car about half the size of their cruiser. It veered sharply around them and shot off in pursuit of the van.
Delgato, still cringing from the searing heat soaking through his shirt and running down towards his lap, picked up the radio. "This is Officer Delgato. We have two four-eighteens, southbound on Sawgrass Street. Requesting backup immediately."
Clawhauser's voice answered back. "Did you say two four-eighteens?"
Suppressing a groan at the anticipated spazz attack, the lion verified that. "We need backup pronto or we're going to have a problem."
"Right, right, backup. Man, this has gotta be big! You think that Obearon guy's-?"
"Clawhauser!" snapped Delgato. "I don't care who's involved. I just want to catch these bozos and find out which one of them owes me a coffee! Now send us that backup!"
By necessity, police cruisers were designed to be the fastest cars on the road. The van ahead of them, however, was giving them a serious run for their money. Whoever was driving it gunned ahead, snugged up behind the tail of a tractor trailer, and then moved to cut off another in the passing lane.
"He's gonna get killed!" cried Grizzoli.
To their amazement, the van's driver managed to slip through the gap as if his vehicle were no wider than a piece of paper. The muscle car slowed slightly, and the police came up behind it.
"Dispatch, one of those four-eighteens is a runner. Van, roughly antelope-sized, and it had some kind of funky art on the side. We're closing in on the other."
"Okay Delgato. Backup's en route to intercept."
The driver of the other car had different plans, however. Ignoring the flashing lights and the blaring siren, the second quarry slipped over onto the shoulder, using its smaller size to shoot past the truck on the right in pursuit of its own prey.
"Shoot!" cried Grizzoli. "What's with these guys!"
Delgato leaned right. "We're hitting a curve!" he announced. "Cut to the shoulder!"
"But-"
"Just do it!"
The wolf whipped right, then corrected left as the cruiser skimmed by the guardrail. As he did, the tractor trailer loomed over them terrifyingly close, calling to mind images of an unstable cliff or a giant domino. However, as the cruiser vibrated along the rumble strip, the tractor trailer swung just a little to the left with the curve, giving them a gap just big enough for the cruiser.
Grizzoli needed no signal. Slamming the pedal down, he shot after the muscle car. As they came out past the truck they could see it cutting across the right-hand lane towards the left.
"Where'd the van go?" asked Delgato, looking around.
"I don't know," Grizzoli reasoned, locking onto the target in sight, "but I'll bet you anything our little friend up ahead is looking for it too."
Delgato relayed the update, and a moment later the muscle car shot forward as the van made a break for it. Delgato resisted the urge to say it was a miracle that no one had been hurt, partially because he was too tense and partially because he didn't want to jinx it.
"The traffic's getting thicker!" cried Grizzoli, as if fate had decided to spite his partner silence or no silence. "Ask where that backup is!"
In the van ahead, Finnick ran through his options. He had a barrel of gunky old oil in the back for such emergencies – though he'd never had to use it – but with Nick out of the picture he had no way to throw it out the back gate. To make matters worse, the traffic further ahead was looking thicker – and he knew there was an intersection coming up that was always busy this time of day.
The muscle car inched closer. Finnick's van was fast, but the car behind him was closing in, helped by a lower profile and better handling on turns. He had no doubt about what they'd do if they caught up to him, and he had to find some way of making sure they didn't get the chance.
As the muscle car was getting closer, the police car was closing in on it. If he had looked a bit closer he might have thought the police cruiser had taken some damage, for at a glance it seemed like the front grill had dropped down like the tines on a forklift.
There was a busy intersection coming up, and crook though he was, Finnick wasn't interested in causing a million-dollar pile-up.
"Last time I do any favors for Nick!" he snapped aloud, wracking his brain. "Come on, thin-!"
All of a sudden, there was a terrific racket behind him. He'd heard tires squealing before, but this was more of an out-and-out scream. The sound took him so off guard that he had to slam on his own brakes when he nearly ran into a bus.
When the smoke cleared, it became clearer what had happened – sort of. Somehow, a length of strapping strong enough to tie up an elephant was protruding from the front end of the cruiser to where it wrapped around the left back tire of his pursuers' car like a noodle spooled up on a fork. Whatever had happened, it was clear the police had coordinated it. A lupine police officer was already out of his car with a gun in paw.
Unfortunately, the officer wasn't the only one packing heat. From his vantage point, Finnick could see the sheep in the driver's seat slipping a magazine into a small pistol.
The fox swore, casting about for an option. He wasn't a fan of cops, but he sure as heck didn't want to see one shot – especially not if he was probably going to be next. Casting about, he grabbed the only thing he could find and slid out the door.
Grizzoli was as tense as a mouse about to cross a freeway, crouching behind the cruiser door as he eyed the snared car. The cruiser's mechanism – affectionately known as a fishing rod – had worked perfectly, but they had to be braced after a chase like that. The van had stopped too, and that had him on edge. Were the two drivers working together, or was the van's driver planning something against them both?
"This is the police!" he shouted, his voice audible even over the noise of the passing traffic. "I want both of you to come out with your hands in the air right now!"
The driver's side door opened, and a sheep stepped out facing away from him. He wobbled a little on his hooves as if he was injured, grabbing his car door with one arm and leaning on it.
Grizzoli hesitated, and a half-second later had to duck as a bullet whizzed through his window.
On the other side of the vehicle, Delgato popped his door open and rolled out, gun in one paw and remote mic in the other.
"Delgato to dispatch! We are under fire! Request immediate backup!"
The ram jumped back into his car as a bullet ripped into the inward side of the door just about where he'd been standing. Crouching low where the vehicle gave him some protection, he weighed his options. Escape was impossible with his tire snared, and the place would be swarming with officers any minute at this rate.
He seized onto one desperate idea. The fox had stopped his van as well, though why was anyone's guess. If he could just get to it and take out their little spy, that could be his getaway car – not to mention the end of their security breach. All he had to do first was take care of the fuzz.
He cocked his gun, glancing up at his rear-view mirror to get a view of the officers. As he did so a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see a blur shoot toward his face. With a terrific crack, his head snapped to the side and he tumbled into the passenger seat foot space.
The gun in his grasp went off, sending a bullet flying out the still-open door and through the offending object. He heard a swear in a gruff voice, but before he could get his bearings three things happened at once. One was that Grizzoli, having seen the fox's attack, darted in and snatched the vulpine out of harm's way. The second was that Delgato, having slipped up to the back of his car, rushed the door behind the sheep and yanked it open, seizing him in an iron grip. The third was that the air was split by a thundering honk, a screech of tires, and a crash.
"Aw, man!"shrieked the outraged Fennec fox. "You gonna pay for that, all a ya!"
By the end of the thirty minutes it took to get Finnick to an interrogation room at the ZPD, his mood had not improved. If anything, it had worsened – and as much as it impressed his arresting officers that he had demanded to be taken to the police station, it didn't impress Catano much hearing that a fresh arrest was demanding to talk with Nick.
"Listen, listen," Nick pleaded, raising his paws in defense, "I promise this is all a big misunderstanding. Just let me talk to him, and we'll have this all smoothed out in no time." Not that the pleading was getting very far with the cheetah leading them.
When they got to the room and saw the look on Finnick's face though, Nick's confidence crashed like the Howldenburg. An assortment of bruises and scrapes only amplified his natural charm.
"Whoa, buddy, listen," he began as his ears fell back, "I promise, whatever it was I'll fix it."
If looks could kill, the Fennec fox's scowl would have been an atom bomb. "You better be a dang good mechanic, boy," he snarled.
Nick gulped. Please don't mean what I think you mean, he thought. "The van?" he asked timidly.
"The van," Finnick affirmed. "And that sheep put a bullet smack-dab through my best bat."
Catano looked up at Officer Grizzoli, who had drawn the short straw to be present in case Finnick refused to explain anything.
"The ram chasing him tried to shoot us," the wolf explained, "so this little ball of vi-"
"Who you callin' little?!" snapped Finnick, whirling on Grizzoli. Such was his fury that Catano instinctively tensed for a pounce.
"Whoa whoa whoa, just calm down," Nick broke in, dashing between the other two canines. "And you, do not call him little. He hates that."
"Yeah, almost as much as getting my van busted up," Finnick broke in.
Judy groaned, looking on at the exchange. "Finnick, listen – please," she broke in, walking up to him. "We're sorry this got so crazy, and we promise we'll do everything we can to settle things, but we need to know exactly what happened."
If this appeal to reason assuaged the diminutive fox any, he hid it well. "Last I checked, I got a right to keep my mouth shut."
"That's true," Catano agreed, "but from what your two friends here tell me, you were collecting information for us – information which could lead to the arrest of a herd of domestic terrorists. It would be a shame to trade the reward money for charges of reckless driving, assault, and negligence just to make a point."
From the deadly glare Finnick used to pan over Nick and Judy both, he was of a mind to question the use of the word 'friends.'
"Look, buddy," Nick pressed, "whatever happened to the van, I'm good for it. I promise. Just tell us what happened."
Finnick shook his head and growled. "Last time I do you any favors," he muttered, and it sounded like he meant it.
Judy drew in a breath and glanced over at Nick, whose eyes widened slightly as his ears fell.
"Well, I'm sure Junior here told you coppers already, but I'm pretty good at gettin' into places unnoticed. Word was that you all wanted information on the sheep, so I… well, I got hold of a disguise and started casing the joint. That tip you dropped me was right, Nick. The gang you're after was holed up under the Cloven Hoof."
"Was?" asked Judy.
"Under?" asked Officer Catano.
Finnick nodded. "Rumor has it the place has a bunch of secret tunnels and all that jazz underneath from back when they outlawed booze," he explained. "I planted a listening device on a waitress, and by the sound of it she went down there to tell those bozos to pack it in."
Catano seemed divided on which point to question first, but she ultimately pursued the case at hand. "Packing it in?" she echoed.
"Yeah. Sorry about that, but today was the first chance I got to plant a bug on the skank as she was going downstairs. Your old gal, as a matter of fact." He turned his gaze to Nick with this last remark.
Nick looked ill.
"I didn't overhear a whole lot, and nothing sayin' where they were headed next. Then she tipped me off that they knew I was listening, and then the whole place tried to jump me."
"How'd you get out?" asked Judy.
"Fought my way out. I'd be surprised if any of them called you guys or the ambulance, though. I was on my way here with that ram glued to my butt when the howler here and his buddy started chasing us."
Grizzoli didn't seem upset by the fennec's ill will. "We were after speeders. How were we supposed to know?"
Folding her arms, Officer Catano let out a huff. "I'm guessing they'll be gone by the time we get there," she uttered dismally, "but we'd better get officers over there. Maybe we can at least find some evidence."
"Yeah, well good luck with that," Finnick snapped. "Look, I told you what I know. Can I get outta here now?"
Judy knew this wasn't looking good. They had to get something substantial out of this, especially after it had started with such a mess. "Can you at least tell us who was involved?"
Finnick scrunched his face and thought a minute before rattling off the names of a dozen or so sheep and goats who had been involved, including Mary Surramm, the manager of the place. Most of them he matched up to various bruises adorning his body.
"And these back here," he finished, tilting his head forward to indicate a set of scratches, "are thanks to that Amelia White."
Catano surveyed the marks, pondering the name. "Arctic vixen?" she inquired. "Probably in the company of Nick's 'old gal'?"
"You've met, huh?" asked Finnick. "Can't say I'm surprised there."
The look that followed this caused Nick's insides to shrivel. "Look, I had no idea either of them would tag up with Obearon," he insisted, crossing his arms and then sweeping them out as if to hastily clear a table. "And I'm sure Vanya's boss doesn't know either."
Judy was pretty sure that was true, but this was getting uncomfortably close to revealing other things about Mr. Big. Having it known that Nick was once all but family to a mob boss couldn't do him any favors. Letting Catano figure out that she was pretty much family to a mob boss would probably be at least as bad, if not even worse.
"Can you think of anything else useful?" pressed the cheetah, looking back to Finnick.
The fox shrugged. "I've told you all I know. Now when do I get out of here?"
"Are you sure you want to?" piped up Grizzoli. "If that sheep was willing to try gunning us down, how's that bode for your future?"
Silence fell over the room.
"We can put you in witness protection," Catano pointed out, sounding a bit more kindly than before. "The less anyone knows about your whereabouts, the better."
He scowled. "They can send whoever they want," he said in a snarl. "I'll just bite their faces off."
Judy didn't know Finnick well enough to tell if he was serious, but given how mad he looked right then, she wouldn't put anything past him.
Given the silence that followed from the two larger officers, Judy was worried that they might just book Finnick anyway for his own protection – and to ensure he'd be on paw if they had any more questions.
"Well," she broke in, "you have been very helpful. I'll tell you what: why don't you help us check out the Cloven Hoof, and after that we'll drop you off… wherever you want to hole up?"
He regarded her dubiously, then shrugged in assent. "Okay, but you guys owe me for this." Looking straight at Nick, he added coldly, "Especially you."
"Noted," Catano nodded, turning to her smaller compatriots. "Let's get over there and have a look around."
Nick hesitated, practically bleeding from the daggers Finnick was glaring at him. "Uh, actually," he pointed out, "I think I should sit this one out."
Judy stared at him. "What?"
It didn't take a genius to realize that such a retreat wasn't going to do Nick's chances in the ZPD any favors. All the same, he didn't much care at the moment. He needed time to think, and he took it, stepping quietly out of the room.
"I think Wilde has a point," Catano chimed in. All eyes turned to her, but her gaze remained fixed on her main addressee, Judy. "As of now, we need to consider The Cloven Hoof as an active danger zone. There's no telling what we may find there or who might still be watching it. It's a risk even taking one civilian there, but two is unnecessary."
Taking a deep breath, Judy nodded at the logic of this. "Okay. Um… mind letting me talk to Nick for a minute before we go?"
The cheetah's look was classic deadpan. "Make it a fast minute," she said impassively.
Judy found Nick around the corner, leaning sideways against a pot as tall as himself. Even though the plant should have cast virtually no shadow in the well-lit corridor, the fox seemed to be shaded in gloom all the same. His ears were down, his tail tucked low, and his shoulders sagged like a withered flower.
She walked up to him, putting a paw on his back as near his shoulder blades as she could reach. "You okay?" she asked quietly.
He didn't answer at first. His body hardly seemed to even move. Save for the feel of his back, it was as if he had turned into stone. Even after the press conference he hadn't been this withdrawn. She hadn't seen him like this since the gondola ride.
Say something, she thought, but what could she say? That everything would be alright? That Finnick would get over it? That Nick would find some way to make everything right? All of these came to mind and started towards her mouth, but every time they fell short of egress. The truth was, she didn't know that. She didn't know what to say, and if she couldn't back up what she said he'd just knock it down. He did that when he was hurting; knocked things down, like a cub or kit in so much pain you couldn't calm them down enough to help.
"I never saw him look at me like that," he said quietly. She couldn't see his face from where she was, but she could hear his expression in the gloomy tone of his voice. Mouth turned down, eyelids probably hanging low beneath the weight of his burden.
This isn't good, she thought quietly. "Is there anything…?" she ventured.
"I don't know." The reply cut her off, each word as defined as a door bolt clacking into place. His shoulders tensed, then relaxed again. "We always had each other's backs, Carrots. Yeah, I got him mad. I get everyone mad. This time, though… I don't know."
'I don't know.' It was incredible how much despair and emptiness those words could carry. Even Judy, normally bright and hopeful as she was, felt helpless at those words.
"Can I do anything?" she asked tentatively.
She almost expected a biting reply like at the conference. 'What? Talk things over with the buddy who won't talk to me anymore? Maybe go job hunting for a guy who hasn't done a nine-to-five in fifteen years?'
He didn't say that. He never even raised his voice or left the dismal monotone. Instead he just sighed. "Solve the case, Carrots. Just… just solve the case. It's about the only thing we have left to shoot for now."
Judy felt a twist in her stomach. "Okay," she said softly. "Do you need anything before I go?"
Nick finally managed to look over his shoulder and give her a smile, but he didn't fool anyone. He didn't feel better. He was smiling for her. Smiling to make her think everything was okay.
"Thanks for offering, Carrots, but… I think I'll just take a walk."
He was a pretty good liar, but not that good. Judy reached for his paw and gave it a squeeze. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" she asked quietly.
Nick nodded somberly. "Will do, Officer Fluff."
Sometimes Judy liked his flippant nicknames, but right at that moment, she hated it. Hated the way he hid behind a mask of glibness. It was just another way to lie.
Hoo boy. Are Nick and his old buddy over and done? I must admit this was not at all how I originally envisioned the chapter playing out, but after thinking it over I realized it would be too much of a stretch to have a fiasco like that unfold without at least one damaged vehicle. So, rather than sacrifice innocent bystanders, I had Finnick forget to set the brake on his van, leading the unattended vehicle to a little fender-bender. The upside is that his loss will probably lead to a kinder viewing in the eyes of the law, but somehow I don't think he likes the trade.
It may surprise some readers to know that the method which officers Delgato and Grizzoli used here to apprehend their quarry is based on actual police technology. As described in this chapter, some police cars are equipped with a mechanism called a grappler which can be deployed from the front of the cruiser. Using two prongs with strapping loosely laced back and forth between them, the driver of the cruiser comes up behind a fleeing car and brings the strap into contact with a tire, which snaps it right up. Once that's done, all the police have to do is step on the brakes. Special thanks to HawkTooth for finding the name for me. I'd seen a video showing the mechanism, but I never caught the name and was busy enough with work that asking my police connections about it didn't happen either.
Here's one thing I did pick up from them, though. The call numbers police use to signal one another (most famously 'ten-four') are not necessarily constant. Some precincts do keep them constant to make them easier to remember, whereas others change them periodically in case of people listening in with police scanners. After all, what's the point of having a code if everyone and their mother knows it?
Incidentally, the "Volfswagon" manufacturer alluded to in the first scene is a merging of "Volkswagon" and a German-accented version of "wolf." (incidentally, it ties into one of the Easter Eggs)
Easter Egg Answers:
Chapter 25:
Pretty sure nobody caught the Easter Egg in this chapter - and admittedly maybe I pushed it too far that time. The clue "Timing is Everything" related to the release date: April First.
Chapter 26
Lionheart's descent from a king is, of course, a nod to Richard Lionheart as seen in Robin Hood. (points to Beecroft for spotting that nd to dispix for taking a stab at it). The elephant ear togas are kind of a two-for-one, mingling the concept of Dumbo with a Greek style borrowed from Hercules. The rock standing in for a diving board in the Lionhearts' pool is a loose takeoff of Pride Rock from The Lion King.
Guest Reviews:
I'm not quite caught up on Easter Egg answers yet, but I'll tackle chapter 33 now since it ties in here. Congratulations to "Guest" for nailing the Star Wars reference in the last chapter. Finnick's attire and his fake name, "Hans," were both nods to a certain other bar-crasher, Han Solo. Nobody seemed to catch the Back to the Future II nod, the use of a collapsible baseball bat for a brawl in an eatery. I personally agree with your thought, though: Harrison Ford would be proud.
Easter Eggs:
A Goofy Movie
Zootopia original concept
Historical references (2)
A real American hero
P.S. Kudos to Berserker 88 for the phrase "furry ball of violence," which I used in this chapter. I hope they have someone call him that - or a furry ball of pretty much anything - in the sequel. I really do. XD
