Part-I – Rocky Humps, Sahara Square District
Afternoon of January 1st, 2021
A drum-beat rocked the silver 8-Series BMW coupe, through the internal subwoofers, as a diminutive Fennec rolled down Dromedary Avenue. The speakers were far enough towards the rear of the interior so that the sound did not rattle the fox's brain into a liquid that ended up pouring out through his ears.
"Don't you understand that I've lost time and I can't lose more! No-oh-OH-OHH!"
Mike Jones was taking his mandatory day off. As he grew up, the Fennec became more and more disillusioned with the idea of holidays. But, now, there was no need for him to work on those days. Even worse, most places did not allow for it. So, Finnick forced himself to drive around the city – violating whatever ZRS section it was that covered unreasonable sound amplification – and tempting being ticketed just so that he could stay out of his own head. The director had even told him that he had the second day of the new year off, as well.
That had not brightened his mood at all.
There was still a portion of him that would not work on non-urgent matters if he was not being paid to do so. But, it also meant that he was not about to go back to the pad just so his laptop could stare at him accusatorially.
This was his third trip around the city's districts, after all.
The main line ran through town and Finnick's head bobbed with the tune of the song while his eyes scanned the intersections for vehicles that were driven by the blind or the arrogant. He did not need a single ding in the relatively new vehicle. It was a way to stay out of the prying eyes of the city – both good and bad. The Lobos could not be called nondescript and many mammals knew exactly who drove that van. If he had not been so attached to the expensive piece of artwork that adorned that Z1 and the memories that had been had with it, Finnick would have traded it for something a little more modern after Nick had quit the life.
"All I got is money on my mind… So, just miss me with these motherfuckin' fifty-million problems."
Finnick recognized the area of town that he was in. The businesses that he was rolling past and the same went for some of residential areas. For a split second, the todd thought about swinging into one of the cul-de-sacs to make a house-call with a pretty little vixen that he knew. It was fleeting consideration. He did not feel that it was wise to go get tied up, though. The entire visit would see him dipping his wick and then listening to her squawking for the remainder of his stay: however long it took for his knot to deflate and for him to rush to get his clothes back on.
Fast food and fuel station signs passed by without so much as a consideration. The Fennec lifted his left paw and checked his watch. There was plenty of time for him to make it back and update the scheduled departure for his electronic correspondence. The timer wasn't up on that until the next night, at midnight.
"So let the demons go and hang me up… 'cause motherfucker, I ain't dead 'til I say so!"
Presently, his secondary tasks presented the issue of having to wait for the Grupo Amapá container ships to arrive at their end-of-trip destinations. There had been no further law enforcement activity in relation to large-scale mammal smuggling since the incident at the docks roughly three-weeks prior. That was possibly a really good thing. The issue that continued to bother Finnick was the lack of interdictions at the frequently utilized ports which he had tied Grupo Amapá to. There hadn't been a single incident. Not in Southeast Asia or South America. Not with that container ship company or any other, for that matter.
It was so suspicious that it made his fangs ache.
He was a pessimist. There was no noise and that was a bad thing.
Finnick growled at his tinted windshield while sitting at one of the last traffic lights just before leaving Sandy Ridge for the Canyonlands. It was frustrating to have his mind on work when he was supposed to be off for the short duration that had been issued to the Fennec. Back in the day, Nick would have either been around to call the shorter todd or to be called upon. Each fox had been there for one another during the times of burnout: able to take any day off that they needed to suss things out over a drink.
"I'll be goin' crazy 'til I'm motherfuckin' dead… I got angels on my shoulders with the devil in my head."
With each of the foxes in their own respective leagues, as far as legitimate jobs went, Finnick knew that the distance that had grown between them needed to be retained by any means necessary. At least until this potential threat had been wiped off of the map for Zootopia, at the minimum. If it was not for the fact that the todd was on the straight and narrow, Finnick would have been able to reach out to his more unscrupulous of associates. The severity of the issue had even formed a tendril that wanted to approach Mister Big in the todd's mind.
But, that simply wasn't a wise thing to do.
There were too many variables that could not be accounted for.
The actuality of the situation was that Finnick was as far north, within Sahara Square, as he was ever going to get to Tundratown again. And, unlike Nicholas Wilde, the Fennec had not even personally crossed the city's most notorious crime boss. Finnick could feel how cold the atmosphere was off of his right shoulder: this, despite the fact that it was all a feeling that was merely in his head.
"Every single day I wake up and I try to solve them… dreamin' of a future with some motherfuckin' options."
Hyenahurst has been completely missed through the windows of the BMW. Light after light had either been ignored, because they were green, or yielded to because they were not. Finnick only came back to the land of the prominently conscious upon realizing that his paws had turned the wheel southbound. He had even missed the tonal shift of the tires whining over the metallic grating of the Olive Street Bridge. He was destined for Riverside, on the east-end of Acorn Heights, at this rate.
The fact was that Finnick had gone entirely off track from the route that he had worked on ingraining throughout the day.
The area was crowded on both sides of the road. Lots of several story high apartment buildings with limited parking. Side-streets were two-lane with parking on both sides as opposed to four lanes with parking on the north-south route. Finnick decided to turn his stereo down while numbly looking around for the right street. Turning down the volume helped one see out of the mirrors better, after all. The wheel was suddenly cut without the turn signal being used – taking him west into Acorn Central. Something recognizable had caught the todd's eye.
Three-minutes passed the world by before Finnick managed to find a parking spot along the sidewalk in a rather nice part of town. The todd did not really know how long he ended up sitting behind the wheel, staring up at the fourth floor of the building across the street, before he decided to get out of the car. The locks and alarms were engaged as he walked around to the sidewalk so that he could deposit funds into the parking meter near the rear quarter-panel of his ride. Finnick checked his watch again before depositing enough half-dollar coins to cover six-hours' worth of parking time. The meter would end up expiring well after the ZPD's meter-maids had gone off-shift.
Stupid departmental narcs and that damned record-setting Cottontail…
If it had not been for the fact that the ZPD's first rabbit, with the help of the ZPD's eventual first fox, had saved the city from Bellwether and her goons; the rabbit doe may have gone down in history as the most hated law enforcement officer that the department had ever hired due to her overzealous ticketing tendencies. Her red fox partner had told Finnick that those who were assigned the role, after she was dedicated to patrol duties, had taken her record as a challenge even though none had beaten it.
Finnick shook his head before looking down the street to make his crossing. He was shaking his head because he had been forced to eat three parking violation tickets since Nick had made the force: though, none were issued by the Wonder Duo themselves. This wasn't to say that the Fennec had not burst into the Police Department's lobby to raise hell after the third ticket. It was certainly a good thing that he had a proper job by that point. They didn't call it highway robbery for no reason.
The cussing from an extra-small mammal vehicle brought the todd back to the present. Finnick did not even bother to look back: towards the rodent who was illegally traversing the area in his own personal vehicle. If anything happened to that particular motor vehicle, it would have been on the owner and not the mammal that had damaged it. Nothing more was thought of it as he passed by the doorkeeper. Fortunately, the lion had been paying attention to what the todd had been driving and did not make any further comment past greeting Finnick cordially. The two had only seen each other a couple of other times over the past year and the todd did not expect to be remembered at the snap of the digits.
Before Finnick knew it, he was standing in front of private residence door on the sixth floor. Room-612, to be exact. If there was any honesty in the todd these days, Finnick had to admit that he hated the fact that he wanted to be there – even though he was merely standing at the door. That quickly changed when he realized, far too late, that a rogue paw had tapped against the door.
A gorgeous Bengal fox vixen answered the call a minute later. It did not make much sense, but there was no helping how shocked the todd felt in the moment. It did not physically show on the Fennec's features. On the other paw, vixen's momentary surprise did. Just before it was replaced with a warm and gentle smile. This little vixen was one that far surpassed the class of the other vixen and his hindbrain had known that.
"Good evening, Aliya." Finnick greeted the Riaz vixen.
"Mister Jones," She replied conspiratorially. "Aren't you looking simply strapping while standing at my front door?"
Both foxes' grins widened a bit just before she stepped forward. When she leaned in, Finnick opened his arms and returned the hug that he was given without any reservation. There was nothing in the world that could stop his hindpaws when she began to usher the todd into her apartment. Finnick knew that there were only a handful of mammals who were read into the vixen's background. Outside of her apartment, Aliya was intimately Westernized as far as her presentation went. But, within the apartment, the sights of her Punjabi heritage were pronounced. It must have been a decade since the Fennec todd first encountered the Bengal vixen after her arrival to the city. The bulk of her family had immigrated to the U.S., but Aliya had chosen to go her own way by moving to Zootopia. Finnick found it a little odd that her abode was one of the only places where he had ever really felt at home.
"It is such a pleasant surprise to see you, Finn!" The vixen finally dropped the quiet act with the exclamation. Before he could give any sort of reply, the todd was deposited in her appropriately sized sofa before he ended up watching her hustle over to the dining room table. Steam was seeping into the air: evidence that she had been working on tea. "How have you been?"
"It's been pretty tiring recently, but I'm alright." Finnick's explanation was kept short. "I kinda just ended up here… I hope I'm not interruptin' anything, Aliya."
"You are interrupting absolutely nothing." The vixen's giggle sounded honest and wholesome.
Aliya walked over with a serving tray so that it could be set down on the coffee table within the center of the living room. A dainty paw lifted a cup and saucer set up before presenting it to the todd with a wink. Finnick could not help the grin that he ended up wearing through a loud scoff. The two foxes had this thing.
Several months after they had first met, the todd had been invited over for lunch and Aliya had offered him tea. He would have been partial to a beer, but Finnick had not wanted to seem rude. As it turned out, when the todd took a rather formative sip and blanched rather embarrassingly, the only one sitting at the table who was rude was the vixen. She had laughed so hard that her tea ended up spilling which had, in turn, caused him to end up laughing with her. From that moment on, he swore that he would never skip out on one of her cups of tea. And, so, Finnick took periodic and measured sips while Aliya looked on with a very pleased grin on her muzzle.
"You do look tired, Finn." The vixen commented after a moment.
The todd nodded pensively. "It's been a little busy around tha office." He admitted.
"Not hitting the bottle too hard, are we?" She inquired without any judgement.
"A couple 'fore bed if I think I can sleep and if tha work's all done." Absolutely honest.
The job, and by extension his own obsession, had kept him so busy that the alcohol intake was way down in overall percentage. Maybe the braincells in his hindbrain were regrowing because he always ended up back here; whenever he went out to distract himself on the road. Finnick could not recall the last time he had been he had been with another vixen either. He would curse the Red bastard who talked him into the straight and narrow, but the Fennec's whole situation felt worth it.
"It's that secret case that you're working on, isn't it?"
Oh… Now she's trying to get sly, he thought inward grin.
"Yes, it is. And, you know tha rules. Don't ask nothin' that I'd hafta tell a lie over." Finnick ordered politely. "What about you?"
"Positively frustrating at work!" Aliya said, suddenly bringing herself off of the couch.
The vixen stepped over and removed the empty cup – something that reminded Finnick of a thimble with how little liquid it would hold – on the saucer before returning and taking his paw.
"Come on. I've got some steam to work off." She urged with another cheeky grin.
Finnick snorted as he followed.
Aliya Riaz was the only vixen he did not mind being tied down with these days.
Part-II – Mayor's Office, Savanna Plaza, Savanna Central District
In another part of the city, Chief Idris Bogo found himself extremely annoyed to be standing around outside of the office of the Mayor instead of heading back to his home to spend the first night of the new year with his wife. At the moment, the only one that was spending it with him was the entirely disinterested female aide, a giraffe, who was sitting at her desk nearby. The Mayor had summoned him right as he was about to go off shift. Early for a change, and no less. It had been a nicely quiet day for his officer's overall and a superb one for the officers who were well into their overtime hours: before the normal holiday pay increase.
The aide's phone had rung so many times now, raising the buffalo's hope only to hear nothing of an allowance to enter, that he simply ignored it. It was not his deserve to look as bored as he obviously felt, but there was something to be said about conveyed urgency with said summons before forcing the mammal to wait for over an hour. It was the opening of the Mayor's door that brought Bogo's eyes over with a snap before his body came to bear on his hind-hooves.
"My apologizes, Chief Bogo. Infrastructure had some issues tonight." Dwayne Silas greeted the buffalo with an outstretched paw. Bogo did not hesitate.
It did not stop the little Officer Wilde from metaphorically sitting on his shoulder, harping-on about the potential for Zootopia to finally go three-and-oh, in-a-row, for corrupt mayors. Lionheart and Bellwether had not been the first two corrupt politicians… or even the second and third, for that matter.
"It's not a problem, Your Honor." Bogo replied, a little more gruffly than he had meant while trying to ignore the internal conspiracy theorist's mutterings.
"Come in and have a seat." Silas ushered the buffalo in before turning to his aide. "Hold all of my calls, please, Kira."
"Of course." She replied.
The jaguar closed the door behind his tail and walked over to the liquor cabinet behind the main desk.
"A whiskey, Chief?" Silas offered.
"On the rocks, please." Bogo replied, wishing that the Mayor would quit dicking around.
The drink was going to help with tempering his frustrations. Especially when the jaguar wheeled around with a glass that could have been called a whiskey double for wildcats and wolves. It could not be said that the Mayor did not pay attention to things as the buffalo was a bit taller and far leaner in overall build. It was just about the right amount. Silas took a seat after passing the glass over: clearly noting that Bogo immediately drained half of it.
"It's come to my attention that the recent incident in Bunnyburrow had stirred up some feelings." Silas explained after taking his own sip. "That phone rings once a day, at eleven-thirty, like clockwork."
"The CTB, I imagine?" Bogo knew, referring to the Council of the Tri-Burrows.
"That's correct." The male jaguar nodded in annoyance. "I won't name the individual of the board, but one of them was so mad the other day that they described Wilde's dismissal of their wishes as being something akin to having their 'white-tails kicked straight up their own asses during their punting-out of the Hopps Warren'."
Bogo could not resist taking a page from Wilde's playbook to cover the slightest of smirks that was threatening to emerge. "If it's any consolation… I get the same calls around eleven sharp every day."
The disapproving look that the Mayor shot the Chief of Police made Bogo realize that there might have been something to Wilde's frustrating antics. It made the dimming flame of happiness flicker to life within the buffalo again.
"They are pissed, Bogo. They are pissed that they he wouldn't let them throw a ticker-tape parade, as Officer Wilde had apparently referred to it as. One of them wanted to go as far as designating a local holiday in Officer Wilde's name!" Silas's voice rose a bit with that one.
There were snippets of Mister and Missus Hopps' voices running through Bogo's head now. "I have told them that doing such a thing would be doubly unwise." The Chief explained. Fortunately, that smartass response was lost on the politician as he did not know Officer Hopps's parents personally.
"I don't think that they are going to be happy until he accepts the medal that they want to give him… at the very least." Silas said finally.
Bogo brought a forehoof up to the bridge of his nose, pressing the points in ever so slightly, out of sheer frustration. "I'm aware of that, as well, Silas! They sent me the damned thing already!" The buffalo said firmly before draining the rest of his glass and setting it down on the coaster at Silas's desk. The jaguar drained his with equal measure before standing up to offer another. Bogo waved the refill off while watching Silas's tail lash around from behind the desk.
"You'll see to it that the matter's handled. And, I want to be there for it." The Mayor indicated seriously.
"It'll be a closed ceremony. Otherwise, Wilde won't show up. There will be, quite literally, no punishment that I could threaten him with to get him onto the podium in front of every precinct's deputy chief, plus their senior officers, for such a ceremony." Bogo explained.
"No punishment?" Silas asked incredulously.
"He would accept them all with a smile on his muzzle. So, if you want to pin a medal on him, it'll be in my office with a limited staff and nothing more than a subtle press release at the end of the day." The buffalo said firmly.
"Subtle press release, my godsdamned ass!" Silas fired back in frustration, having sat down again. "This is the biggest interspecies cooperation headline since before the NHC! Which brings us to the next thing... You are to get Officer Wilde to do at least one high-profile television interview. In his dress uniform!"
Idris Bogo's face must have conveyed the momentary disconnect in his brain from hearing such a command. One little wisecrack and everything had gone downhill from there. He was starting to understand exactly how Wilde felt while sitting in the hotseat across from his own on desk. The sight only seemed to darken the melanistic male's mood.
Since the NHC, Bogo and Silas had very nearly strode through the quagmire of metropolitan politics hooked together at the elbows. It was a relationship that the Chief had never shared with Lionheart or Bellwether. The amount of time that had been shared together with the jaguar afforded the buffalo a margin of rudeness. So, Bogo stood up and took his glass around the desk to pour the previously declined double in an effort not to lose his composure.
Oh, the irony…
Not a single sip was taken, nor a word spoken until he retook his seat. To Silas's credit, he did not look phased or angered by the display of insubordination.
"The biggest interspecies cooperation headline, Dwayne?" Bogo asked measuredly. "Did your PR mammals come up with that line of bullshit?"
"You're telling me that there's nothing to the headlines that I've been reading, Idris? Headlines like 'First ZPD Vulpine Slays Hawk to Save Bunnies?' You're telling me that there's nothing to that? That those exact reports haven't created bigger waves in the minds of the citizens than when predators were being pelleted?" The Mayor cracked on, reaching down behind his desk to haul up a stack of various newspapers.
Silas smashed them down on the desk in front of the Chief of Police rather violently to make the point.
"If those headlines had read 'Wolf Officer Saves Flock of Sheep' it might have been as shocking and you know it, Idris." He finished with a calmer voice.
"Be that as it may, he won't do it." Bogo replied indifferently before taking another drink. The Mayor was glaring now. "Don't look at me like that. Do you want to threaten to fire him? Go right ahead. I would ask that you ensure that I'm there to witness him grin and otherwise nonverbally dare you to do it, but I'm going to get ahead of this and warn you not to even consider that option.
"Why? Because, and at the very minimum, Officer Hopps would resign her post upon finding out that Officer Wilde was terminated. Who else – in my precinct – would feel safe enough to say that their job was secure after such a termination? And, then, how well do you think that would go over with your constituency, Dwayne? Two firsts from the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, both having cracked the MMC and NHC, and the fox who killed a hawk to save rabbit kits while suffering substantial injuries in the process, on top of all the other things that they've done for the city. One fired and one resigned all over a television interview." Bogo finished with a shake of his head.
"I never said anything about terminating Officer Wilde, Idris," Silas said, though a lot of his sharpness was dulled. "But, as you mentioned, it is my constituency that wants to see him in the studio. And, it crosses political demographics. Mammals who did not, and say they would not, vote for me want to see this! And, my God, the vixens who want to see him on the cover of ZQ magazine, for Christ's sake…"
"I'm telling you right now – if it were to happen – this is not going to go the way that you want it to go." The buffalo reaffirmed with a heavy sigh. "You've heard the phrase no news is good news, Dwayne. Let this one lay."
The Mayor seemed to shake his head sympathetically as each of them finished off their second round.
"I can't do that, Idris. This is something that needs to happen." The jaguar pressed on, nevertheless.
Bogo looked down into the empty glass that was resting in his hoof. What little color of the remaining pool of whiskey was quickly being diluted by the melting ice cubes. After contemplating the situation for a moment, the buffalo stood up and laid the base of the glass on the center of the desk. The conversation was over as far as he was concerned, so he turned and made for the door to see himself out.
"Chief Bogo." The Mayor called out.
The Chief of Police stopped and looked over his shoulder before conveying his final word. "I will do nothing more than ask Officer Wilde once he returns."
The walk through the halls and chambers of the mayoral building transformed to the grounds and parking lots of the outside. The deactivation beep of his personal sport utility vehicle sounded after he had clicked the key-fob. As soon as he was settled behind the wheel, Bogo released a frustrated grunt.
The little voice in his head, which sounded oddly like Wilde's, was steadily chirping away again.
Bogo knew some things about the todd: things that had been learned since he had passed through the Academy. Nicholas Wilde did not like to show his own inner emotions and that meant there were only two defaults that were ever presented. He was either neutral or he was entertained: the latter only ever shown when he was cracking wise. The moments when he encountered Hopps, after he had been released from the hospital for the treatment of the Nighthowler Serum, were met with the most even of temperaments: unless he knew for certain that nobody was nearby and watching. Wilde was not always successful in this, as Bogo had seen his true emotion occasionally from the shadows.
But, there was a change. Wilde ended up far less afraid to address issues with other mammals than before. When the todd had confronted the Chief in the Rainforest District, during Hopps's trial, even Bogo had seen that it was an unusual thing for him to challenge others so blatantly. Wilde had previously been the type of mammal to sort things out for himself without drawing another's attention or ire. His officer now bore the full weight of accountability on his shoulders for both himself and others. It was Wilde's ire that mammals did not know that they did not want anything to do with. The petty and stupid abounded, though.
Someone was going to say or ask something incredibly stupid during such an event as a television interview. And, it would inevitably set Wilde off. The todd would be incredibly polite and official in it: but, that would not change what it was…
Calling someone out on their bullshit.
The voice of suspicion told the buffalo that it was something that the politicians were banking on. It would be a win-win no matter how Wilde reacted. Whether the todd ended up on ZQ Magazine after the fact or not. The todd would either brush off any comments that came across as offensive to him or he would proceed to humble the whole city in a rather epic manner. Bogo had no love for the national media outlets whatsoever. They only went so far as to serve themselves airtime and the subsequent funding that followed it. Several members of two different outlets had been found to be a part of Bellwether's propaganda machine during the post-NHC investigation. Mammals could find their slanderous news reports, against both the predators and Bellwether's opposing political parties, all over the web to this day, but only they had been held accountable for their role in the Bellwether organization. Their network bosses, who had given them the green-light for such reports, suffered no consequences whatsoever.
No love for them whatsoever. So far as to privately refer to them all as leeches. The buffalo had yet to meet a reporter or journalist who was on the straight-and-narrow for the betterment of the city. Hopps made him question if there was far too much entrenched factionalism for a good mammal to rise to the challenge in the news-reporting business. He did not believe so simply because it was a far different mammal, in and of itself, compared to joining the department to fight criminal activity.
Bogo parked his vehicle on curb in front of his house and shook his head. It was tough not to feel like a pawn in the scheme of things. Wilde would share the same sentiments, in all likelihood… The problem was that they would both also see the benefit of it. It was a bitter pill to consider swallowing as the buffalo made his way up to his house.
Part-III – Greater Zootopia International Airport
Tyler Jones was standing at the edge of the cargo-bay with the rest of his squad. They were waiting on the Air Force loadmaster, of their designated Lockheed-Martin C-130J-30 tactical airlifter, to finalize their payload for the flight back to the States. Fields and Graves were standing off to the side of the ramp even though there wasn't anything else that was supposed to be brought aboard. The trio was staring out through the darkness at the lights of the foreign city that they had only seen twice now. They had not been able to take in the sights of the sprawling metropolitan during their drives through. They had been too busy with their phones and data packets on the way out to the Tri-County area and then they had just driven back in during the night to leave.
The cargo-bay was properly lit from behind the mountain lion tom, and it subsequently illuminated all of the movements out onto the tarmac beyond the ramp. Even with all of the lights that were pouring off of the nearby hangars and utility poles. Tyler turned around to find that the lower-ranked of the two commissioned officers, a major, and the loadmaster, a staff sergeant, were both approaching the rear of the cargo-bay. The sergeant was waving at the FPMA mammals to approach them. Once they were clear, the whitetail buck moved over to the ramp control panel and engaged the hydraulics that began to lift the loading ramp into the closed position with the lowering cargo door. Almost as if it was timed by the loadmaster, the sound of the Rolls-Royce engines turning over began to sound throughout the internal frame and the open maw at the rear of the transport aircraft. The colonel was ready to go.
"We're out of here within the next fifteen-minutes! You all know the drill! Fasten your asses in!" The major shouted over the heightening drone of the turboprops.
"How long to Eglin?" Tyler inquired loudly.
"Seven-and-a-half, give or take! Your other unit will be there for a plane transfer!" The mule deer doe offered.
Before the major could turn away, the four mammals all heard Graves.
"Hey!" The boar yelled. "Remind the colonel that we're not in the Middle East! So, no more combat takeoff bullshit, huh?!"
"No promises!" The muley doe shouted back with a dismissive wave of her hoof: heading back to the cockpit to handle her tasks.
"Fuckin' Zoomies!" Tyler heard Graves gripe about his rival service branch as they made their way to some seats along the side of the cargo-bay.
As soon as they were strapped in, the ursine gave the loadmaster a thumb-up as the buck went by. Tyler watched as the sergeant radioed to the cockpit that everything was ready to go and that they were cleared to move the plane. The buck just made it to lone pallet that was towards the front, catching a hold of the netting, when the Super Hercules jumped forward. They did not have far to go to get to the taxiway and the FPMA agents had already learned that their aircraft had priority clearance for both takeoffs and landings: due to the importance of the overall mission.
Out on the taxiway and beyond, there weren't normal white-lights. Just the various colored bulbs that outlined runway lead-on and status, as well as the nearby edges. The cougar could tell, by a quick glance, where the entrance was and noted that there were red hold lights on, but he turned away so that the interphone communications systems (ICS) headset could be donned. It would deafen the noise from the outside while allowing the trio to communicate on their own channel without interfering with the operations of the three crewmembers.
Nothing really needed to be said, though. Their Emergency Response Team was being rotated out while another was being sent back to continue the FH849 investigation. All Tyler needed to do at Eglin Air Force Base was pass off a copy of their current status report of their work, thus far, to the squad leader of the 19th ERT and then they were going home. The 32nd had taken care of collecting data from the moment the hawk's body hit the ground to when it had made its first verifiable kill within the nation of Zootopia. Surprisingly, remains of a mammal had been discovered near the eastern coast – predating the two teenagers that were killed in the Tri-Counties. In all likelihood, the 19th was going to end up having to get clearance to travel back out to the mainland in an attempt to find more clues. The BOP had not nested anywhere since its exit from the remote northern woods of Alaska. Which meant that the clues were just the strung-out bodies across a long trail that likely spanned over a dozen countries. The ones that were found anyway… corpses were still turning up in Alaska and western Canada. And, the 19th would have to figure out where it had been between leaving the U.S. and striking in Zootopia.
The colonel did not even slow the airframe as it was forced along the unseen yellow guidance lines. As soon as the Super Hercules was straightened out on the runway, the elk buck poured the power into the AE 2100s and the Dowty composite propellers began displacing higher amounts of air for propulsion through the differences in pressure fore and aft of each turboprop. Tyler instinctively closed his eyes, knowing that Mira and Daniel had likely done the same, in anticipation of the takeoff. Fortunately, while the length of runway was short by combat standards, the pilot decided not to take them up like a Falcon-9 launching from the Cape. The colonel had found it immensely funny listening to all of the government agents' shouting and cursing during their original departure from the States.
Tyler guessed that the colonel had brought them up to roughly five-hundred feet above ground level before redirecting the nose of the plane to between 330- and 340-degrees north-by-northwest. As soon as they were brought up to their designated cruising altitude, the passengers would be allowed to mill about. It was a far comfier ride to sleep in the back of the Tahoe than to try to sleep upright in red web seats that were attached along the port and starboard cargo-bay hull.
But, for the moment, the tom's eyes turned to the cold-storage container than was locked into place near the middle of the bay. It was being used to transport the BOP's body back to the States for further study. Nearly three-years to the day after joining the FPMA, Tyler was about to get to work on what he had originally set out to do within the agency. All of the tracking and tracing for the FH849 case, at the previous locations, was handled by the support staff well after it was known that the BOP was gone.
Even if it was only for a spell, Tyler would be able to study an apex predator. He was immensely fatigued from seeing the shredded corpses of the victims – both in the flesh and in the photographs – as often as their unit had, as of late. Chasing a ghost that seemingly did not nest like mammals used to den. For whatever reason.
And, all he wanted to do, now, was answer those questions.
His thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. When he looked to his right, he found that Mira was the one who sought his attention and Graves was behind her flash three digits at him. His interphone was set to the wrong channel and there was something was on their minds. The soft thrum of the engines was interrupted by the static upon the switch of channels.
"What's up?" Tyler asked after hitting his PTT button.
"I've been wondering how you explained the missing foot, Kid." Daniel commented, his voice was only slightly contorted by static and the background noise the plane. The active noise reduction (ANR) headsets worked wonderfully.
"Plainly. That someone took it at some point between impact and us taking the body into our custody, and that Wilde was the only one with an irrefutable alibi." The tom told his partner.
"I think that Command will probably still be pretty pissed about it." Daniel mentioned.
"We're not that kind of an investigatory service." Mira added indifferently. "It would be up to their local wildlife agency to levy a punishment if they figured it out and there was a law that was broken."
"And, anyhow, nothing would come of an investigation. I think the word that todd used was unprecedented." Tyler continued with a nod. "They're too busy reading all of the print articles about the incident to care."
"But, you have suspicions as to who it was." The ursine voice sounded with a rumbling chuckle.
"Oh, it was absolutely one of that warren's rabbits." The tom even grinned a little at that. "With that much chaos in the area and despite how quickly we had arrived after it crashed down. They should have bought a lottery ticket, though. Betting on the todd's success so deeply that they had garden shears or tinsnips ready."
"Shit… If I was that fox, I would've been out buying a Powerball ticket with that kind of luck and those kinds of stones." Daniel laughed.
"To be honest, I'm completely surprised that he survived the encounter." Mira's voice was tinged with some sort of intrigue that was lost on him. It was gone when she turned back to look at the cougar. "You've already got everything done, then?"
"Finished it all yesterday after we got back to the hotel." Tyler confirmed.
"Are you kidding? The Kid's never shied away from reports and shit." Daniel grinned.
"That's because I'm making you do them on the next case." The tom replied nonchalantly.
The levity was good as the cougar and the doe elk began laughing at the oldest member of the squad. Daniel blanched as if he had scented a nearby brown-marmorated stinkbug.
Tyler leaned forward, against his restraints, so that his back would stretch a bit. "Did Cap say anything about time off when we returned?" He wondered aloud about their proper ERT lead, Chuck Farrier.
"He did. We're to turn in our reports, go home, and wait for a call. It sounded like we'd get a week." Daniel told them. "You feelin' alright, Kid?"
"I'm good. I'm just going to go home and face-fuck my pillow until they call." Tyler tried to convey just how tired he felt overall.
"My only complaint is that they didn't kill it before Christmas." Mira muttered.
"Yeah…" The ursine replied quietly.
Nobody said anything else for the next twenty-minutes. None of the trio had been paying attention to the transport's gain of altitude until the staff sergeant got out of her seat up near the front to recheck the hardpoints where all of the pieces of cargo were attached. It was the signal that the Super Hercules had been leveled out and that they were cruising home: meaning they could all unstrap and do whatever it is they wanted to do. Without a word to his squadmates, Tyler unstrapped and took off the headset before fishing his noise-cancelling, foam earbuds out of a pocket to put them in his ear canals. Then, it was off to the passenger rear of the SUV so that he could climb in the back.
After setting a couple of pillows against the driver-side of the passenger seat in the back, Tyler laid down on his back and threw his paws up behind his head for a little bit more neck support.
The thing that continued to harp in his mind was the passing of three holiday seasons. Tyler couldn't complain that he had not been able to see a lot of the Western Hemisphere, though. North and Central America had been covered. If tom had had any Spanish in him, he might have thought about a vacation somewhere in South America. It was probably a better idea to visit his family now that the case was closed, though. They would appreciate that, after all.
The rest of the squad, with the possible exception of Mira, were all much older with families of their own – if any at all. Daniel Graves and Alex Huang were always talking about traveling to exotic locations during their off time. Once Tyler had found his niche within the Alpha Squad, and after he had picked up on everybody's personalities, the tom ended up asking the two black bear boars why they always sought out a "pussy prowl" during the lulls. They just started laughing and slapping Tyler on the back before regaling him with stories of their liberty periods while they were in the Corps.
Tyler's thoughts turned to the Captain. The Grizzly had his own family back in the States. But, they did not know where his team was. Alpha had been split up into two three-mammal groups six-months prior and Chuck Farrier had put the tom in charge for the first time. Daniel was the cougar's defacto senior noncommissioned officer (SNCO). It had felt like a way to pad Tyler's résumé by giving him a leadership role during their field time. That meant there would be no excuse for the leadership, above Farrier, to pass him over for a promotion in the future. Or, at least, that's how Tyler read into the decision when the Captain offered no explanation. Around the same time, a new mammal was chosen to round out Alpha with a proper count of six. So, Farrier, Huang and the New Guy were all romping around in some unspecified location in Central America, if they had not already been recalled back to the District of Columbia.
His eyes flickered over to the dome light assembly in the center of the vehicle's ceiling and took a breath. They had not been home since then and Tyler could not recall the condition of his apartment when he had left. Being home for little more than a week at a time meant that the place would likely be covered in dust and void of food. He could only vaguely recall ordering pizza and walking down to the corner market for a six-pack of beer six-months prior. It was a good thing that he did not keep any plants in the place.
Every time the Super Hercules hit a patch of turbulence; Tyler would feel the chassis of sport utility vehicle roll around on the spring assembly. The tom eventually rolled onto his right side so that he could press his forehead up against the backrest.
There hadn't been any time to spend anything that he had made since his hiring. There was absolutely no way for him to remember when he had last checked his account. All of the overtime and hazard pay from the past years would probably be shocking to see at the end of the week. No hobbies, no significant other, little off-time that culminated to nothing. All he had purchased was whatever food would get him through until the 32nd went out again. Of course, Tyler knew that he wouldn't trade his job at the FPMA for anything. It may have left something to be desired. But, that was the decision that he had made for himself. This time around, he'd probably go hit up the local night scene with Alex and Daniel, if they weren't already busy.
Three-years already, Tyler thought as he drifted off.