"Bean counters said I couldn't fire a man just for saying 'but, all lives matter'. Did it anyway. Ignorance of racial issues is (morally) expensive." -Furry Johnson. BlackLivesMatter. LGBTQIA2+ Rights Matter.

I thought I would take the moment to discuss the 9 Peelian Principles, a concept for ethical policing that I believe needs more attention. I apologize, in college, I was a tutor, so, I love sharing knowledge.

1st Peelian Principle: To prevent crime and disorder, as an alternative to their repression by military force and severity of legal punishment.

Prevent crime, as an ALTERNATIVE to repression by force and severity of legal punishment. The meaning of this principle is, the purpose of the police is to discourage crime as an effort to prevent it. To look out for the community. The first 'bobbies' or 'peelers' (Both names originating from 'Sir Robert Peel'), were unarmed. They had a whistle and they walked through the community as members of that community. Surprisingly, it worked.

Nick now begins his journey through the application process and faces the trials and tribulations associated with being a former con-fox, trying to become an officer. He feels the doubt creep into his mind, despite the rabbit beside him supporting and pushing him towards his dreams. But, his confidence isn't the only obstacle he faces. As his application is bounced around the station, it becomes clear that being honest brings its own issues. The only question now is, why would any recruiter accept such an application, marred with suspicious activity? Meanwhile, Judy's own journey resumes, as she continues with her own police training.

Disney owns everything here, everything written is fictitious fan fiction meant to delight.

The Fox, the Rabbit. . . And the Coyote

Pant-Pant.

"F-fluff."

Pant-Pant.

"I. . .I'm not going to make it, Carrots."

Pant-Pant.

"Nick. . . J-just, keep pushing. . ."

Pant-Pant.

"No, I can't, Carrots. . . I-It's."

Pant-Pant.

"H-hold it togeth-ther. Almost, there!"

Pant-Pant

"No, I can't, I'm f- Finished. Augh!"

Nick's run staggered, as he abruptly slowed to a halt. He breathed, heavily, in and out, as he braced himself upon his knees. The rabbit slowed and turned around as she slowly jogged back to the panting fox. She slowed, and raised a hand to her jugular, timing herself with her watch.

"Three kilometres. . . Nick. . . You're doing better. . ." She panted out, as she quickly began to stretch. He knew she was trying to slow her heart rate and keep her legs limber as she danced on one foot, stretching her legs carefully.

Nick was a quick fox. He could run fast, there was no doubt. But, endurance. . . He wheezed slightly, as he attempted to calm his breathing. He wasn't exactly the best at it. Nick might've done better if he hadn't decided to be an asshole and show off at the start. Sure, he was ahead of the rabbit.

But then shortly the rabbit caught up. And then she started slowing her speed to his, as his endurance slowly drained. "C'mon, Nick, let's keep walking, we're almost to the end. We need to keep our heart rates up."

He wheezed, as he slowly started moving forward. Nick straightened up, shaking his head. "I can't do this, Carrots. . ." He murmured, before taking a deep drink of water from his water bottle.

The rabbit shook her head, as she lightly bounded beside him. Meanwhile, his walk was more of a drag, as he tried to cool himself off. The park was a great place for a run, and Nick had enjoyed it a lot before all of this started. But now, the rabbit had him out here every other day, running. And when he wasn't, he was studying, under the order of her.

She couldn't join every day, since she resumed her duties. But, she still made an effort to come out on her days off, something that Nick enjoyed. Even if it meant dressing in this ridiculous exercise wear and embarrassing himself in public.

Shorts were not his kind of thing. Ever, in his entire life. He didn't have very good-looking legs.

"Come on, Nick. You're doing fine! If you keep putting in this much effort, by the time you got to the academy you'll breeze through it!" The chipper rabbit continued, as she drank from her own water bottle.

Other runners passed him, as they slowly made their way back to where they had started. Nick shook his head, as they made their way up to a nearby bench. "No, Carrots. . . I mean. . . I can't do this. . . This cop thing. . ." He said as he made his way over to the bench.

But, the rabbit seized his arm and tugged him lightly towards the grass. Why did he even try anymore? He knew the rules, he had to stretch after running. He just wanted to stop everything right now. "Stop. You'll do fine."

Nick shook his head, as the rabbit sat down on the grass in front of him. She moved into a stretch and waved for him to join her. Nick lowered his eyes and sighed. "No recruiter is going to consider me when they read that application form. . . I can't even believe the intake mammals didn't shred it immediately."

When they started the process, Nick hadn't expected the Pre-Employment Disclosure form. Nor, of course, the polygraph examination that came with it. He thought not being convicted was enough, but, then you needed to answer numerous questions about your history.

And on page three, right at the start, was the question 'Have you ever lied about your income in forms submitted to the Zootopia Revenue Agencies, or evaded paying income tax for any undeclared earnings?' Nick had wanted to stop the moment he saw that question, but Judy told him to answer truthfully, and honestly.

So, he did. And then Judy encouraged him to contact the revenue agency and attempt to resolve the issue without criminal charges occurring. That was a stressful phone call. . . They agreed, however, the late fees were. . . . extravagant.

For once, Nick was very glad he'd been conservative with the money he'd earned over the years, as he ended up having to surrender all of the remainders over to the ZRA. He was also glad that he exaggerated how much he made to the rabbit because otherwise, that would've been truly horrible.

He barely had enough to live on anymore. . . In just a few months, he wouldn't be able to afford his apartment, even as cheap as it was. Nick had told Judy as much, but she told him not to worry about it.

Easy for her to say. It'd been a month since he'd put in the application, and there was nothing but silence from the ZPD. And, he didn't expect more than that. He told her; they just threw it out. But she seemed so adamant that hadn't happened. Just wait she said. But, he was about to be between a rock and a hard, and cold place.

She shook her head. "C'mon Nick. Your application is on a recruiter's desk, in a pile of other applications. I've seen the stacks, they suck. But they'll get to it, trust me. And when they do, you'll get a phone call to schedule your tests. Now, get down here and stretch."

She muttered as she stretched carefully.

Staring at the bunny, in her yoga pants, and a sleeveless shirt, the fox regarded her carefully. She looked incredibly cute in that outfit. He shook his head, turning away as he sat down with a groan. He mirrored her stretch. Staring at her was rude. "I wish I had your confidence, Judy."

Judy shook her head at the fox. "I'm confident that you're going to get in, Nick. But, believe me, confidence has nothing to do with why I'm certain you're going to get a phone call."

Nick shook his head, as Judy shifted into another stretch. He followed suit, trying not to look at the rabbit's form too much. It was one thing to make sure you were copying their form; it was another to admire her. And objectifying Judy was the last thing he wanted to do, even if he meant nothing by it. "How's your field training officer treating you?"

He muttered, changing the subject. Since being rehired, she was once again placed with an FTO to finish out the on-the-job training she'd started so many months ago. That is after she found the missing mammals, and Bogo suddenly deemed her worthy of having on-the-job training. Wolfard was an interesting officer, according to what Judy had told him.

And, a hard ass. "It's going okay. He's tough but extremely fair. And, he's teaching me a whole lot of things. It's a lot of information to digest. . . But, I think I'm doing all right." She nodded, as she moved to the next pose. Nick followed suit, with a sigh. . .

"So. . . If I get in. . .."

"When" She interrupted, raising a finger. He smiled at her, as she stretched deeply into a pose.

He shook his head at the bunny. "Okay, 'when'. . . Are you going to be my field training officer?"

She let out a chuckle. "Maybe. It'd certainly make it easier for training. Wolfard can't even go into some of the houses we are called to, so I end up on my own a lot."

Nick nodded. "Are you going to be a hard-ass, too?"

"I won't be soft on you, slick. That I promise."

Nick chuckled, as Judy smiled softly. . . "Nick. . . Don't worry about your application. They're going to look at it, and you're going to get a phone call. I guarantee it. . ."

About a month ago. . .

"Nick Wilde's help was indispensable in the trial of Bellweather-"

"Yes, it was." Judy interjected, sitting in Bogo's office. The bull looked tired, as he rolled his eyes slightly at Judy's comment. In her hands, she held the large application file against her chest. On it, the name Nicholas P. Wilde was written on the front in bold felt pen.

"Yes, he was. However, I do not have control over the recruiters. I cannot tell them who to hire, and who not to hire. And, I am sorry, but I do not think his application will make it through the process. His past-"

"Is the past, sir. . . He's been in this life since he was twelve years old. . ." Judy interrupted again, making sure that was mentioned. It made her sad, to imagine twelve-year-old Nick, trying to make a living on the street.

Bogo sighed. "Yes. . . I will let this application enter the system, Officer Hopps. . . I don't have any control over stopping it. . . You know that as much as I do."

Finally, Bogo relented. The bunny had been pestering him for a few minutes, and she knew eventually he would cave. The moment she'd mentioned that Nick was submitting his application, Bogo had called her into his office to talk about it. And, the entire conversation was him trying to convince her that it was never going to happen.

However, Judy was way ahead of him. Eleven steps ahead, to be precise. She had her own plan for making this happen. And, thanks to Wolfard reminding her, she knew exactly what to do. "Thank you."

"But. Do not be surprised when the application is turned down. Recruiters are looking for the best possible applicants. . ." Bogo warned her, as she hopped off the chair and started walking towards the door.

She turned her head as she walked and nodded to him. "That's okay, sir. All Nick's asking for is a chance."

The rabbit walked out of the office and made her way back to the ground floor. Wolfard wasn't back from the lunchroom yet, as she checked her watch. With a nod, she headed for the front desk in a calm, collected manner. This was it, the big play. If this didn't work. . .

There, sat behind the desk, was Benjamin Clawhauser. The loveable Cheetah, the purest soul she'd ever met. He saw her coming and instantly smiled as he turned in his chair.

"Hello, Judy! How are you today?" The cheery cat asked as she walked up to the counter. Ben had been so happy when he'd been moved back to the front desk, and so had many of the people who came through the front doors.

He was friendly, sociable, and harmless. Exactly the kind of public relations you needed. "I'm doing good Ben, how are you?"

Ben shrugged, smiling. "Good, good. . . Well, they're still finding some of my stuff down in Records. . . The other day, they found a whole box of donuts I'd lost. They were a little dusty, but they held out really well." He spoke in his upbeat tone. Judy did her best not to think about what he'd just said. . . Ew. . .

Judy hopped up on the chair beside him and put on a genuine smile. "That's good to hear. . . Speaking of Records. . . You made a lot of friends down there, didn't you?"

Ben nodded, as he looked away for a moment. "Oh yes, I did! They're just a great group of mammals down there! They were all so friendly and welcoming! We're even going to play some board games together next weekend."

"Yeah. . . So. . ." She murmured, as she held the file out towards him. "I was wondering if, maybe, you might be willing to do me a favour?"

Ben looked at her, curious. "I'd love to, but, how can I help?" He lifted his pop bottle up and began sucking the last few drops

She smiled. "Well. . . I was wondering if you might, I don't know, have a friend down in Records and Filing who might be able to make sure that. . . A 'certain' application, lands on a 'certain' recruiter's desk?"

The cheetah paused, as he let the straw fall from his mouth. He took the file from her hands and looked at the name scrawled across the front. "This sounds. . . Interesting. . . . . I know of someone who could probably do that, she works very closely with the people in applications. But. . . What's in it for me?" Ben asked his voice turning up as he held the file to his chest, mischievously.

"How about the new Gazelle CD, and a dozen donuts?" She asked, barely able to react as the feline's paw shot out and shook hers quickly.

"Deal! . . . But, I need to warn you, I'm sure that they can try. . . They do have access to that ordering system, but I don't know how much they can change things. I don't want to promise it'll work." He asked, looking at the rabbit curiously. That was all that she could hope for, wasn't it? A chance.

"As long as they try, that's all that matters. You'll get your donuts."

"Okay." He replied, smiling widely. But then, he cocked his head to the side curiously. "But. . . Whose desk do you want it to land on?"

Judy grinned. "Inspector Torrance Zredyote."

One month later. . . 'present time'.

The old coyote closed another file and moved it over to the 'Try again later' pile with a grumble. They were all over his cubicle, covering it like an infectious disease. Stacks upon stacks of applications he had to pour over, every day, every week.

He was a police officer. Of several decades, to be exact. He was first a part of the military police, then he moved to regular policing and ended up a police chief in Podunk, and now, after over forty years, he was sitting at a table pouring over applications written by complete children, compared to him.

He was tired. . . Every time he thought he could retire something would draw him back to this sphere. An assault. A police misconduct investigation. And, as much as he was a tired, angry old coyote who wanted to be a street cop again, he also knew that the best he could do for the ZPD was right here, reading these damnable things over and over again.

Someone needed to do the right thing. He thumbed the bridge between his eyes, disturbing the glasses he wore. He'd never needed reading glasses before this. Maybe it was age. Maybe it was the forceful wearing out of his eyes as he scoured these applications.

They called him 'the' hard-ass recruiter. He declined more applications than anyone else here, even some that a few thought was 'fine'. He also took on the most applications, to even that out. He was the oldest recruiter on the force; he wasn't going to sit on his ass while the young guns stole his job. Even if he'd been denied promotion several times for it.

He took another application off the top of the heap and read the name out loud to himself.

"Nicholas P. Wilde." He grumbled through half-open lips. Yet another stack of some teenager's desire to be the cops on television, no doubt. Probably liked the way 'Officer Wilde' sounded.

When you read numerous applications repeatedly, it helped to speak aloud to enforce your memory. Or, at least his waning memory. It was impossible to do it without that much. He may have poured over dozens of applications today, but, he remembered each one of their names.

Even the ones he didn't want to. But, with a sigh, he shook his head again. It wasn't going to read itself. He opened the file and looked at the first page. Usually, that first bit of info was all he needed to know how bad the application was going to be.

"Male. Fox. . . 32 years old? . . . Unmarried."

That was interesting. An older applicant. . . But, why?

"Savanah Square, Zootopia residence. Born and raised."

He turned the page and quickly glanced down the consent section. All declared and consented to with initials. He moved onto the first set of declaration questions and passed through them quickly. Questions about skipping class, of which there was nothing new there.

He turned another page, onto the employment section. Another boring one. There was never anythi-

Wait.

The coyote leaned in a bit as if being closer would somehow change what he saw written on the page. Of course, it did not, as he scanned it through a few times.

"Huh."

Approximately an hour later, the coyote stood up from his little cubicle, one of six, and stretched with a yawn. Then, with the file under his arm, he walked out of the cubicle and headed for the place of Black Gold. Suddenly, the rest of the recruitment team popped their heads up, smiling as the coyote made his way over.

They always liked to ask what he was doing. . . Especially when he went so quiet.

"Find any good ones, Inspector? Or, any funny ones?" The nearest one asked, a wolf. The coyote nodded his head, as he approached the coffee maker. No one had made a new pot, unsurprisingly, so he went straight into the routine of changing the filter, filling the water from the nearby sink, and filling it.

These damn kids today, they didn't understand a lick of responsibility, did they?

"Yeah, I found one. A Nicholas Wilde. . . An interesting mammal." As he watched the coffee maker hum to life, he pulled the file out and looked in it one more time. He shook his head slightly. The wolf rolled his chair out of the cubical, looking at the coyote with a curious expression.

"Wait. That's that fox, right? Isn't he like, a criminal, as usual?" The wolf asked, cocking his head sidewise. It wasn't new for the other recruiters to peek at each other's files every once in a while. And, they were always trying to 'lighten' his load anyway. They claimed he made them look bad, but in reality, it was Zredyote who had the waning hiring numbers. He didn't hire lightly.

However, no one could take a file without permission from the assigned recruiting officer. And Zredyote never passed on an application.

The wolf was one of the more senior members of their recruitment team. However, Zredyote could've been his father, something that the old coyote was always quick to remind the people here. They may all be the same rank, but, he had way more experience in life than they could dream of. And, it was time for a lesson, he figured.

He walked over to the wolf and placed the open file on the wolf's desk. He pointed a claw to the first page, sternly. In the file was a picture of the applicant, smiling in some cheesy department store photo room. "You see this mammal?" The coyote said, making his point clear with the mammal comment. Species didn't fucking matter to him. It never did. And mammals talking like it did was disgusting.

There were a lot of mammals that thought a coyote couldn't be a police officer because they were 'shifty'. Yet here he was, still around, and still trying to do right by mammals. And he was tired of this 'speciesist' shit. The wolf nodded, as he looked at the coyote carefully. Same rank maybe, but the wolf had no balls at all. And he shouldn't. "This mammal was working on the street from the time he was twelve years old. He went into crime, homelessness, and eventually fell into an organized crime group."

The wolf just stared back, as the coyote continued his rant. "But, somehow, he managed to not murder anyone, or commit any act of violence, and got out of there. From there, with no diploma to fall on and no one to help him, he tried to survive. With nothing, he managed to scrounge out a living on the street without harming a soul, besides a few false tax forms. He's had encounters with the law, with homeless people, and with criminals." Zredyote was there when the computers came for them. And, he praised their existence, every day. It wasn't hard to look up the police file on Nicholas P. Wilde, and the information that they had on him. . . Zero convictions, but a lot of stops.

Zredoyte had seen files like this before. And dealt with them time and time again. "He knows what it's like to be on the other side of the badge, being questioned about what he's doing. Being questioned why he's breathing. He knows what it's like when police step over their boundaries and judge people based upon what they were born as. And yet, in all that despair and grief, the moment a single officer judges him to have more worth than fucking dirt, he helps them bring down a criminal mastermind that the bozos we have now couldn't find in weeks."

At this point, the wolf's ears were pinned back, and he was looking down a little sheepishly. "Give me this mammal as an officer over every one of the fresh-eyed high school graduates and college dropouts you keep approving. He has life experience, in so many places, that he can empathize with the people we interact with on a personal level, not just resorting to tranq dart guns and physical force. If I wanted people who only knew the police from fucking television, then I might as well not care about who I hire at all."

He turned the application file to the very end, where a single slip of paper lay. "And when one of the best officers I've ever hired writes him a recommendation letter, you'd better believe I am going to listen and read it." Sure, there was that bit of a scandal. . . But, there was learning in that.

At the bottom of the recommendation letter, the name was clear and legible. When their application hit his desk, he didn't question them then. He certainly didn't question them now.

Constable Judith Hopps.

"But sir. . . I looked at the file, he committed tax fraud. . . The rules are he can't be involved in criminal behaviour in the last year before the application?" The wolf question, as the coyote nodded his head.

"That's true. However, the last 'incorrect' tax form he put in was over a year ago. . . Last month, he filed an 'honest' one. . . By my reckoning, that's a year without an offence, isn't it? Now, I've got some paperwork to do." The coyote finished and picked up the file again. As he started out of the cubicle, the officer spoke up.

"Sorry." The wolf said. Whether a genuine sorry or not, Zredyote wasn't sure. But, as he looked at the wolf's face, he couldn't help but feel a little bad about his outburst. Even if that earlier fox comment was still going to go in a report. . .

He sighed. "Sometimes, people just need a chance, son. It'll come to you in time, how to tell those that deserve it. . . From those that do not. And you need to learn that species means nothing, who they are is what matters."

"Yes, sir." The wolf nodded, as the coyote walked over to the finished coffee. He poured himself a cup and went back into his cubicle. He didn't really want to get into an argument with his fellow recruiters, but prejudice was something he couldn't stand. The rest of them had remained quiet and gone back to their files as soon as the coyote had marched off. Like the cowards they were.

If it wasn't for the officer who took a chance on him, he'd never have gotten to where he was. He'd never have the chance to try and make a difference.

Nor would Judith Hopps, the saviour of the city. Or Officer Wolfard, one of their best patrol officers of all time. A damn good officer.

He threw the file back on the desk, as he drank the black hot liquid with what was the closes thing to delight, he had. He sat down with a grunt and scooted himself up to the table.

He flicked the file back open to the first page and took another deep sip of coffee.

Then, he reached over and dragged the phone closer to the paper.

"555-421-. . ." He mumbled as he typed the number into the phone pad.

It rang twice before it crackled as someone answered the call.

"Hello, is this Mr. Nicholas Wilde? . . . . . Ah, good. My name is Inspector Torrance Zredyote. . . I'm the recruiter assigned to your file."

One week later. . .

Nick straightened his tie, as he sat outside in the hall. Waiting. Nervously tapping his foot.

He nailed the written test like it was nothing. Nick didn't know what the final score was, but the test proctor said that it was one of the better ones he'd ever seen. It was good to know that the fox's hard work had actually paid off. Not to say the rabbit didn't force him to do that hard work, though. . .

The test was a little bit of math, a little bit of writing and English, and a whole bunch of memory-related questions. The rabbit spent days drilling him over the last two months, over and over. She had practice sheets, mental training techniques, and a whole bunch of stuff he didn't understand.

Thanks to her, he wasn't afraid when he'd walked into that test. She gave him the thumbs up as he went in, and he slew it exactly like she'd trained him to do.

And, to be honest, he wasn't even that concerned about the physical training tests to come up. That rabbit had run him ragged, and he was certain he'd nail at least the targets he needed to. The polygraph. . . Well, it made him nervous. But, that was just telling the truth. So long as he told the truth, he didn't have anything to worry about.

Psychological assessment, that wasn't something you could prepare for. And despite his age, his medical examination was likely going to go off without a hitch. He was in good shape, he walked a lot in his life. And, he'd managed to avoid destroying his body with drugs, alcohol, and body-taxing hobbies like 'sports'.

However. . . This part. This part was the scariest part. And the one that had him dreading every single officer who walked past him in the hall. He only knew the Inspector's voice, and anyone of these mammals could be him. . .

The interview stage. . . One of two, actually. The first interview, with your recruiter, was the start of the nightmare. It was here they talked to you about your past and checked to see if you fit the values of the police force. Then, there was the panel interview, where you would face several interviewing officers. . .

He didn't think about that one. This was terrifying enough, let alone three of them. . .

Nick could just leave. . . Dip right out, never come back. Carrots would hate him so much, though. . .

"Mr. Wilde?" A voice called out, the fox jerking his head toward the sound. It originated from a male coyote, dressed in the uniform of a patrol officer. That seemed. . . Odd. But, Nick was still glad he'd dressed up for the part.

Instinctively, his hands went to straighten his tie, as he swallowed nervously. "Hello, Inspector sir. Yes, I'm Nick Wilde." He stood abruptly and nodded to the older canid.

The coyote looked him up and down, what looked like a permanent frown plastered on his face. "It's Inspector. Or sir. Not both. Or, Officer is also acceptable. I am Inspector Torrance Zredyote, the one assigned to your file. . . Come with me." He muttered, as he turned and headed down the hall. He held a file in his hand, undoubtedly Nick's, as he quickly followed behind him.

Of course, he'd mess that up. . . Geez, why was Carrots so excited to know he was Nick's recruiter? This coyote seemed like a real hard-ass. . .

The coyote walked to a door, labelled Interview Room 4-S, and held the door open for the fox. "Thank you, sir." He quickly added as she slipped through the door.

At first, he thought it was the same as the other interview room he was in. However, this had more comfortable chairs. . . And the walls had wallpaper. The ground had a rug. This. . . This was a different kind of interview room.

The coyote walked past him, as he looked around the room. The officer threw the file on the table and gestured to the other chair as he took a seat at the table.

Nick quickly took the chair and sat as straight and proper as he possibly could. The coyote wasted no time, as he opened the file and started to speak. "So, Wilde. . . This is how this normally goes. We talk about your history. We talk about why you think you are a good fit for a police officer. We talk about other details, yada-yada, the regular script. But, I've got some questions before we start that. I've been a police officer a long time, and I do things my way. . . Understood?"

Nick nodded along, avoiding the strong desire to quip back at him. As if Nick would even know how this was supposed to go normally. Officer Zredyote could start asking about his sexual partners (which he knew were kind of on the file, weirdly), and he would've never known different.

Still. . . If Zredyote was going to go off the rails. . . Why didn't Judy warn him? She could've told him something, right? In fact, she was incredibly evasive when he asked what to expect during the interview. . . She was just so excited that he was being interviewed by the coyote. . . For some reason.

"Good. . . So, how do you know Officer Judy Hopps?" The coyote asked, as he slowly turned the pages of Nick's file. The officer pulled out a pair of glasses and placed them on his nose. Nick was suddenly very unsure of everything in that file. . .

"Well, we met when she was working on the Nighthowler case. She approached me to help her find the culprit, due to my conn- Er, the connections I had at the time. . . She's also the one who convinced me to apply. . . I guess we're friends, now?" Nick spoke, more nervous than he'd wanted to.

He could talk the talk with anyone, anytime, anywhere. But, not here. This. . . This mattered, and he was nervous. The coyote looked up from his paper. "You think?" He spoke, harshly.

"Yeah. I mean, I haven't asked, but. . . Yeah, we're friends." Nick said, nodding confidently. Which, was a farce. What the fuck was that rabbit to him? Not that he didn't want her around, or anything, just. . . God, his life had gotten so damn weird lately.

The coyote shook his head slightly, as he closed the folder. "Alright then. . . . Well, to start, I have a hypothetical situation question for you. . ."

Nick nodded. He was familiar with these. It was a test of who you were, right? What you would say to a given situation? Judy had told him they would appear a lot in the second interview, not now. But, maybe that was why this officer was different.

"Say you are driving with your superior officer, your field training officer maybe. . . And he makes a speciesist comment. For instance, 'All lemmings are brainless', or worse. . . Maybe even all foxes are shifty. . . What would you do?" The coyote asked, gesturing with an open hand.

Nick's brows fell. . . He couldn't hesitate, he knew, but that seemed. . . "I would tell them that I do not approve of what they're saying. . . And that they shouldn't say stereotypical things about, other mammals?" He spoke, cautiously watching the coyote's expression.

It didn't change, as he pulled out a notepad and began writing silently. At first, Nick was wondering if he'd fucked up. That was the right answer, right? Should he have been more forceful, or less? Wait, specifically his superior? "Alright, next question then. . . You are responding to a call, and one of the people you are interacting with is arguing with your partner. You know that your partner is prejudiced against the species of the person, and after a short time, your partner grabs them and arrests them without just cause. The person struggles and your partner takes them to the ground. What do you do?"

Holy fuck, that was escalating quickly. Nick looked down at the table for a second, as he tried to think about what Carrots might've told him about this. . . Looking up at the coyote, he realized that waiting would probably make him look bad. . . Just like it would in the situation. . .

"Um. . . I would. . . Arrest them?" Nick answered, nervously. Nick didn't know everything about police procedure, not even a little bit. But he did know from his time on the street that, if a police officer arrested a mammal without reasonable belief they committed a crime. . . Then the officer was committing the crime of assault just by touching them.

The coyote's brows raised, even so slightly. "You would what?" He asked, looking at the fox with a curious expression.

Nick cleared his throat. "I would arrest them, sir. If a police officer doesn't have reasonable grounds to believe that the person is committing an offence, then they are abusing their power and committing an offence. . . Likely, at least assault, sir. I'm not an expert on laws relating to the police though, so. . ."

The coyote snorted. "You'd arrest them. . . Even knowing that it would vilify you to every policemammal on the force?"

Nick paused, as he thought about it. But, did he really need to think about it? The right answer, was always the answer, right? "Yes, I would." At least, that was his moral choice.

The coyote shook his head. "You're going to speak up to your field training officer when they say speciesist things. You're going to get written up. Poor performance. Not doing as expected. And they are going to get you fired for it." The canid muttered with a sigh.

Nick sat there, as he looked at the officer standing in front of him. Was he suggesting that. . . Standing up for his morals was going to stop him from being a police officer? How did that make any sense? Wasn't one of their values integrity, or something?

Zredyote took advantage of the silence and continued. "Are you sure you're going to do that, and not just sit silent, let it pass, accept that you can't do anything about it? Tell yourself that when you're on the street alone, you'll be different, and you'll stand for the right things?"

". . . Being silent doesn't change anything, sir." Nick responded, shaking his head. "If I don't stand for my morals then, what does it matter if I tell myself I'll stand for them later?" That was the right response. . . Not that it was a question with right answers, that was the answer he believed was morally right.

The coyote shook his head again. "You're going to arrest a fellow officer, get fired. You're going to stand up for what you believe in, in anti-speciesism, and you're going to get fired. Wouldn't it be easier to just let it slide, and continue trying to make the world a better place by yourself?"

Nick's brows narrowed. He spent a lot of years, being watched by police officers because he was a 'shifty fox'. Even when he wasn't doing anything. Even when he'd never done anything wrong. Okay, maybe he did do things wrong, but, that wasn't the point.

It was him, and every other fox. And many other species out there. His mother was judged as shifty, and she was the sweetest, nicest fox in the entire world. And they judged her for it. He wanted to become a police officer to change that. He wanted to do it to be on the right side for once, with Carrots.

But was this what it meant to be a police officer? If it was. . . "If that's the case, why would I bother becoming a police officer at all?" The fox said as he felt the anger building inside him. The anger, the memories, of all the times that he'd been judged for what he was, rather than who he was.

He felt the urge of tears but killed it as he shook his head. "If becoming a police officer means I have to sit around and allow that kind of shit to happen, then I don't want to be one. I'm sorry for wasting your time, sir." The fox growled as he stood up suddenly. Fuck it all. He didn't want to be a part of this. He was sorry, Carrots, but he wanted to do the right thing.

The coyote regarded him coolly and spoke sternly. "Sit. Down." Nick froze at the sound, as he looked at the canid's face. It wasn't angry. . . Or happy. "We're not done yet." He continued, as he opened the application file again.

Nick wanted to march out. But. . . At the same time. . . He felt strange. The look the coyote was giving him was strange. Something was up here. And, Nick found himself sitting back down quietly, as he watched the coyote carefully.

"Good. . . I have made mistakes in my time as an officer. I've been speciesist, and I've sat by while others did it to decent mammals. . . That's why I'm here in recruiting, rather than out in the field. . . I need mammals who know where the line is, and what to do when someone crosses it, because I failed in that. In all my years in recruiting, not a single officer I've hired has failed me. . . Minus, Officer Hopps little newsworthy moment. . ." He muttered, shaking his head for a moment.

"But. . . Given her heartfelt resignation, she didn't truly fail me there, either. I need officers who will hold the mammals around them accountable, as well as themselves. . . Every mammal who has answered that question correctly has become an officer. And, if you've got the heart to hold onto your values, enough to walk out that door on me. . ." The coyote spoke, gesturing towards the door.

"Then my name is Officer Torrance. . . I am the recruiter who is going to get you hired. . . Now, shall we talk about your 'history', Mr. Wilde?"

As with most days, they were driving around in silence, for the most part. Not that there was any animosity between them or any arguments. No, in fact, she and Wolfard got along very well. But, in the early mornings, it always took a while for the coffee to kick in.

Until it did, their conversations would be brief. Which, she figured, they were both glad on. He, while his coffee finished kicking in. Judy, while she thought about what Nick might be going through at that very moment.

His interview with the inspector was today. She remembered the day she walked into the room herself, and how nervous she'd been. As confident as she was on a normal day, it was always a bit unnerving to walk into an interview, especially when it was her dream job that she was doing it for.

And then, the Inspector 'went off' of what she'd expected and asked her those deadpan questions right at the start. If she hadn't gone to college before she applied. . . he'd never have to know what the right response was.

Part of her felt bad for not warning Nick. But, at the same time, Nick needed to face those questions honestly. And freely.

And, knowing the fox. . . He'd probably do just fine. Even if he needed to go and calm down somewhere after it was done. The inspector was harsh.

She couldn't wait until it was her break, and she could check in with him, and know how it went. Surely he'd be fine, right? Judging what Wolfard had said about Inspector Torrance in general. . . If anyone got to the interview phase with him, they were nearly guaranteed that they would get in.

In her short time on the force before, she hadn't had the opportunity to interact with the Inspector, nor had she had any time since she got assigned a field training officer.

Which was a welcome change. In the short time between the news conference, and when she resigned, she'd been passed back and forth by some of the other field training officers, as they were all shuffled around trying to deal with the protests happening in the city.

She didn't want to think about back then. . . But, when she got back, she was nearly immediately assigned to Wolfard. A strange mammal, by all accounts.

At least he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. And, had taught her a lot in the last few months. Things that she'd have to remember if she ever got assigned as Nick's FTO. That would be so fun, being able to order the fox around. . . And, just, you know, hang out with him during the day.

He was an interesting fox, and they were good friends by this point. Hanging out with him would be a great day, no matter what happened.

And, she kind of owed it to him now. First, she said all those terrible things, that hurt him so much. But, to top it off, he was more or less unemployed now because of her, and running out of money quickly.

Most applications took awhile. Sometimes several months, to a year. But, If he didn't get hired in the next few months, and start getting paid, he'd be out of a home. She didn't quite know what to do if that happened. . . she'd feel very bad about that. And she didn't have a lot of ways that she could support the fox if that came to pass.

Her place wasn't exactly big enough for one bunny, let alone a fox as well. And, she was pretty sure that would violate her lease, so, it really wasn't an option. . . Maybe he could move back in with his mother? He did mention her way back then. . . Were they still-

"Wilde has his interview today, doesn't he? With the Inspector?" The wolf asked, as the coffee slowly began to rouse him. As per usual, of course.

Judy nodded, smiling. "Yeah, he should be in there right about now, if I'm not mistaken. . . Thanks for. . . suggesting the Inspector to me. . . without you, I don't think anyone would read his file. . . I hope he does well."

The wolf glanced at the rabbit, as he slowly turned the car towards the curb. As he parked the cruiser, he shrugged. "Don't mention it. Everyone deserves a second chance. . . Or a first chance, for some of us. . . Dredyote doesn't waste his time. If he agreed to have an interview with Wilde, then I am sure he's seen something in your friend. If he manages to survive the interview and these next few months, he'll make a good officer. . . C'mon, we're going to walk the beat today."

Judy's brows narrowed, as the wolf unbuckled and popped open his door. They were assigned to drive around Sahara Square, on patrol. Not walk. "Aren't we supposed to stay in the car?" She asked, as she unbuckled herself and opened her own door. She was asking, but, she knew full well that this was what they were doing today.

She didn't question it in a bad way. Judy just wanted to know why as she stepped out of the car. Wolfard closed the door behind him and waited for the wolf as he walked around the car. "Well, I was always taught that the police were a part of the community. And, you can't really interact with your community, driving around in an office on wheels. The first officers did it by walking around, there's no reason we can't either." He said with a shrug, as he clicked the lock on the police cruiser.

"The car'll be here, should we get a call on our radios. But, until then, we're going to enjoy the day for once. C'mon, let's go meet and greet the mammals of this city, together." The wolf continued, with a smile.

Judy smiled back, as she followed the wolf down the sidewalk. Interacting with the community, on a nice, sunny day in Sahara Square. That was the kind of policing she could get behind.

The wolf walked down the sidewalk smiling at all the people they passed. Saying hello. Having brief, good conversations with the mammals of the city that he was a part of.

With the rabbit he was assigned to, following quietly behind him. He glanced back at the bunny, who was happily bounding down the sidewalk, interacting with the community with a big smile on her face.

A genuine smile. She liked doing this, didn't she? Going through the park, interacting with everyone. Being a part of her community.

He remembered back a month ago when she was rehired by the police force. He'd barely noticed her at the department when she first started. He wasn't in the room when Bogo assigned her to parking duty, a job that she never should have gotten.

And yet, here she was, hopping along with that smile stuck on her face.

He recalled when the old coyote approached him when she was rehired. . . And he remembered what he had been told when they were there in the breakroom.

"Constable Judith Hopps. . . I want you to volunteer to be her Field Training Officer. . . Can you do that for me, Sergeant Wolfard?"

Several years ago, he sat in that interview room with the coyote. . . And listened to what the coyote had said when they went over his file. His past. His future. Who the wolf was.

He narrowed his eyes. Yes, sir. Yes, I can.