Chapter Sixty-One
The Baneful Mr Banes

The air outside was still and calm. The slight wind, which blew through the empty city streets, was chill and refreshing. It came, like respite, to the officers of the ZPD after the exhaustive and nerve-shaking tribulation of the raid that had finally ended.

Breathing deeply of the reassuringly cool air, Chief Bogo carefully oversaw, as the last of the workers, the former workers of Erkin Electrics, were loaded into the back of the armored truck, which would be used to take them back to the PD. "Keep moving," Grizzoli muttered, shunting a pawcuffed bloodhound into the back of the van, and slamming the door shut behind him. He dusted-off his paws and paced away, but then he spotted Bogo watching him; thus, halting and calling out, "That's the last of them, Chief. You want me to set-off back to the HQ?"

"No," Bogo deflected, "we'll wait until we've all regrouped before setting off. Rhinowitz and Francine might've caught—"

"One more for you here, Sir," Rhinowitz called, appearing from around the corner and ushering a shackled beaver just in front of him, with Francine en suit. "This little one tried to escape out the back way. Everyone else turned and fled when they saw us, just like you said."

"Let go of me, brute," the beaver shot, trying to pull away from his irons. "I am not a 'little one'! I am perfectly average-height among my people."

"I don't know," the rhino chuckled, "I think we could add a few more inches onto you. Right now, you're just laughable."

"I will not stand for this insufferable treatment any longer. Who's in charge here?" he barked. "I demand to know!"

"Shut your trap," Rhinowitz ordered. "There'll be time for you to argue later. From the inside of a cell."

"But we haven't even done anything wrong," he growled, resisting frivolously, while he was pushed further towards the van, "we're just a simple electrics company. You had no right to come in here! Do you even have a warrant? I bet you don't even—" His words were cut short, when the reinforced door of the van was slammed shut.

"All clear, Sir," the rhino reported, pacing towards his chief. "Hopps and Wilde call in yet?"

Bogo's expression darkened. "I thought they were with you."

Rhinowitz' brows gave into fluster. "What?"

"Hopps," Bogo bellowed, pulling out his radio, "report in. Hopps, come in. Wilde, are you there?"

"We're here, Chief," came Nick's voice a second later, his tone oddly smooth and calm, given the situation. It raised Bogo's suspicions instantly.

"Report, Wilde. What's taking you?"

"Nothing's taking us," he replied, easily. "We just figured it would be better to hang back, while the building was being searched, in case anyone had been hiding during the raid and tried to scarper."

"That's acting without orders, Wilde," he grunted, "but I guess I can't complain at you for taking the initiative. Anyone come past?"

"Actually, we have had one visitor: a fella by the name of 'Banes'. Hopps and I heard his name mentioned by the receptionist when we sniffed the place earlier. As far as we know, it's him who's the manager of this place."

"Alright. Hold there until the others finish the sweep of the area. Then bring this 'Banes' character back to the truck."

"Understood."

"Think you can handle him on your own, or do you want me to send Rhinowitz over to collect him?"

"Sir, please," Nick replied, "it's just a fennec. Hopps has him in cuffs at the moment. I don't think he'll give us any trouble."

"Enough with being cocky, Wilde. Just see you and Hopps get back here safe. We've had one serious incident already. We do not need another. Bogo, out." Pacing forwards, the chief of police made towards the armored van, checking on the collection of criminals inside. Behind him, the Chief heard the emergency medic's van being opened, the sound of the metal door, leading into the back of the ambulance-like vehicle, lowering on pistons to create a ramp to the ground.

Soft footsteps approached down the ramp, and then a voice cleared its throat politely, but expectantly, behind him. The buffalo turned, and looked down into the intelligent, sharp eyes of blue that belonged to a tall, white hare. Chief Bogo nodded respectfully down towards her. "Nurse Flo," he greeted. "How is he?" She wasn't taller than most hares especially, but the long lab coat she wore, and the sure and upright way, in which she held herself, gave off the continual impression of greater height.

Her eyebrows raising, the hare reached up and took the pair of black, wide-rimmed glasses away from her face, wiping the lenses on the sleeve of her white coat. Bogo waited, patiently. "In all honesty, Sir," she said, repositioning her glasses back onto her face, "it couldn't have been much worse." The voice was calm and matter-of-fact; unhurried and sure of purpose. "He's lost a severe amount of blood from a number of wounds all across the body. I've patched him up as best as I can, but he needs the treatment of a full medical unit. We may also need to operate on his eye. I've attempted to inspect it, but if liquefaction has already occurred, it would be hazardous to attempt to open it. And so I will be unable to make a full examination on the palpebral, or 'eyelid', until I get him back to the clinic. Either way, it's not the eye which is the real problem right now."

Sighing, the Chief leaned against a lamppost. "Do you think he'll make it?"

"He should be stable," the hare deducted, her paws slipping into her white coat pockets, "but we'll just have to see if he lasts the night. If you want my professional opinion, from what I've seen so far, I shouldn't think this'll be fatal. But... well, we'll just have to see. There's really very little more we can do for now."

Bogo nodded and gazed off at nothing through the blackness of the sky. She wondered down in thought for a moment, and then breathed a sigh, turning back towards the buffalo and making her voice heard. "You know," Flo said, a trace of rare uneasiness about her voice, "some serious questions are going to be asked. That polar bear made a real mess of him. I realize that he was armed at the time and that Snarlov was only acting in defense of Wolfard, but... if they can get a good lawyer, I've seen far less get passed as police brutality."

"Well," Bogo grunted, distantly, "I'm sure I can find a way to word the report to make the whole thing sound like an accident. You can always bend the truth a little in these situations."

"My thoughts entirely."

"How is Wolfard holding up, anyway?"

"He's shaken: showing standard signs of shock, disappointed at himself for not being able to avoid the situation, and also angry at himself for jeopardizing the safety of the mission and your officers."

"So no damage physically, then?"

"He has some pretty bad bruising about the torso," she said, raising a paw and adjusting her glasses. "He'll need some ice packs, a few days of taking it easy, perhaps a week or so on paperwork duty. And I don't know if his third rib might've been bruised, but it's nothing more serious. You can thank the armor for that. Did you recover the pistol?"

"Yeah, it's nothing special. He'd had it stuffed in his jeans. It'd been there the whole time. He'd pulled it out and taken a pot shot at Wolfard before we could do anything. You sure he'll be okay? No long-term adversities?"

"I'm positive. Don't worry about him. It's the badger who shot him I'd be more worried about if I were you. The fatality of a citizen during a raid, even a guilty one, is going to be far harder to brush over in a report."

"In your capable paws," Bogo said, "I'm sure that badger will be able to pull through any injury."

"That remains to be seen," she responded in flatness. "And, on the subject of injuries," she added, her head tilting to one side, "I see you have a set of three claw marks on the lower side of your left leg."

"Hey? Oh, that. It's only a slight injury. I'm surprised you noticed."

"Yes, well. Care to let me take a look at it?"

"It's just a flesh wound. I'll stick a plaster on it, later."

"That wasn't a question, Chief." Flo stood, waiting with her arm directing the Chief towards the open back of the EMT van, with the same expression and posture of a school headteacher directing a child. Bogo reacted in much the same manner: resisting and making as though to argue back for a moment, yet grunting agitatedly and then marching, head low, into the back of the van. A thin smile crept onto the hare's face after Bogo had disappeared inside — a thin smile she attempted to control, as she turned smartly and paced back inside after him, pressing the button to pull the door to the EMT closed.

"Off with the trousers."

"Flo, I can just roll up—"

"I said off."

The Chief grumbled, the sound of jingling emerging as he undid his belt. "This is humiliating," he muttered.

"It's for your own good. Just close your eyes, and pretend I'm your mother."

"Yeah, like that's gonna help…"

"Sit down. Straighten your leg. Put it on this."

"— treating me like a damn six-year-arh!"

"Oh, don't be a baby. Sit still and let me disinfect this wound."

"Will I need stitches, Doctor?" he jeered at her through his dislike.

"Stitches? I've seen paper cuts more life-threatening than this. And I'm not a doctor," she added, sharply, "not yet. I'm a nurse."

Not far away, a rabbit wearing ZPD raid armor sat on the fifth step of the fire-escape staircase, with her head in her paws. She raised her head, slowly, and gazed down upon the figure of the small, tan straggler in the gray hoodie, who was sitting on the lower step, his paws attached securely to the rails of the staircase by a pair of pawcuffs, which the figure of a red fox, also in armor, was unlocking.

"But this is ridiculousness," Judy shot, in response to Nick's proposition. "Apart from everything else that's wrong with this, they'll just straight-up recognize him!"

"They can't recognize him, Carrots, they've never met him. Remember when we pulled him in for questioning earlier. We did it on the QT? That was for exactly this reason. Come on," he continued, lifting the small frame of Mister Banes onto his feet, "we can't tarry any longer. They'll come looking for us soon." Banes grunted but didn't resist, as he was pulled up, making his way slowly along the path, being steered, with his arm securely held onto by Nick who paced just behind him.

Judy followed beside them. "This still isn't going to work, Nick. If they question him, and he starts to talk, all it'd take—"

"I ain't saying nothin'," Banes muttered with the struggles in shackles, just in front of the fox. "And if I am made to open up," he added, "I'll be sure Wilde here ends up—"

"We all know the situation here," Nick cut in. "Now, it's up to Hopps and I how we're gonna proceed. We need time to work this out and how this all fits in together. And that's time we don't have right now. So, for the moment, we're gonna play along with this little charade... and you're not gonna say a word." The pawcuffed straggler grumbled under his breath, kicking away a small piece of brick as he walked; thus, sending it skittering down the alleyway.

"I don't like the way this is going," Hopps opined, watching the fennec cautiously. "This has the potential for gigantic damage. Not for Zootopia or for the ZPD, but for you, personally."

"I'll work something out," Wilde answered in dryness. "I talked my way out of tighter situations back in The Firm. I just need time to think this through. I... I think I can fix this... I think."

"But at what cost?" Judy said, softly.

Wilde's pace falling to a stop, he turned to the rabbit stood tentatively beside him. "Whatever it takes to keep this, what we have, from being broken apart."

"You're gonna lie to them? To your chief of police?"

"It's no worse than straight-up telling the truth."

"I'm sure if you're completely honest with Bogo, he'll understand. He's tough on the outside, but he's forgiving underneath."

"I'm sure he would understand," Nick replied, tersely, "and yeah, he may even forgive me. But that doesn't change the fact he would still have a legal obligation to hurl my arse in a cell."

"If they find out you lied, they..." Judy sighed, bitterly. "I don't even want to think about it. But if nothing else, you'll lose your job, and they're sure to charge you with a criminal conviction."

"That they will," Banes mocked, a sick grin forming as he turned at the rabbit, "but if ya do nothing to help me out, I'll tell 'em everything I knowz anyway. An' Wilde'll be sent to lock-up, just the same."

Judy scowled down at the tan fox. "You're a little git, Finnick. You know that?"

Banes grinned at her, easily. "Can't argue with that, but at least I'm a little git who ain't going to jail. Leastways," he added, his eyes locking with Nick's... "not on my own."

Wilde shoved the small fox's arm, which made Finnick to stumble as he was forced onwards. "Keep moving, Banes," Nick ordered, hotly. "Until we figure out what's going on, you're gonna behave just like every other prisoner. So stop talking, and keep walking."

The tan fox chuckled dryly, yet carried on pacing down the narrow alleyway — Judy glowering at him though the darkness. "You've got me in chains alright, Nickie, but boyye I could 'ave you banged up quicker than you can imagine. And there ain't nothin' youse can do about it. Face it: you ain't got no choice but to help me out."

"That remains to be seen," Judy hissed, blackly.

"Babe," Finnick retorted, grinning, "if you can use that dumb little bunny brain you've got between them dumb, bunny ears to think of a way out've this... well, you're a smarter hick than Wilde and I put together."

Author's notes:

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