Part 2
Scorched
The Sahara heart sweltered upon the earth, the oversized heaters blasting their insistent heat upon the streets below, the walkways of desert and sandstone, the pavements of concrete burning upon the feet.
A blue-grey figure lay dead in the front seat of her car, her limbs and thought processes ground to a halt by the high temperature, her mouth open and her pink tongue lolling out as her chest rose and fell against her body armor in sharp, small beats.
It wasn't natural for mammals of her species to pant, but a friend of hers who she knew well had personally recommended it for the extra chance to help herself against the elements. It stopped her turning into a car-baked piece of coney... but didn't help her keep her faculties in check, or her attention on the shape of the flat-roofed, low building down the street.
"Hopps, come in." The rabbit mentally crept to the cruiser radio, her sense of duty bubbling until it outweighed her heat-exhaustion, and she took the final inches of radio in her paw.
"Hoohh— Hotts here, mm... Chief."
"Calling in for an update, Hopps. What's your status? Have you tracked down where those crates came from?"
"Yes, Chief, a disused sorting office in the Sahara. I've done some scorching around. I'm pretty certain this is the place."
"Scorching?"
"Yes, Sir. I've scorched high and low. Location's hot right now, but I've boiled down the perp's identity. I've given Officer Sweltov and Delburnto a request for backup."
"Good work. When they arrive, don't try to engage, you seem a little out of it. Let Delgerto and Snarlov handle the take down. Also... don't worry about the interrogation, Hopps. You bring him in and, eh... I'll give him a roasting."
"Uh," she sighed, pressing her paws against her cheeks. "Please, Chief. Don't be torrid— horrid, don't be... uhh."
The minutes passed, the heaters heated and the empty sorting office across the street showed now outward signs of movements. Officers Snarlov and Delgerto arrived shortly after and listened to Judy's professional, if somewhat breathless, account of what had gone down. Snarlov had made a somewhat-irritated remark about why Judy had called her, an 'arctic' bear, for backup in this boiling place, and then the two officers had broken into the building across the street and taken the suspect away in their cruiser-big.
Judy Hopps thanked them, standing on the egg-roastable pavement and trying to ignore the pain, telling herself that it was perfectly fine for the fur on her feet to fume a burning smell.
With their departure, Judy Hopps looked at the now-empty building before her. "Search the place," she check-listed to herself, "look for any crates with a matching ID address to the ones found before. Find any evidence of counterfeit money… or the equipment used to make it." She raised a paw and slipped her fingers into her ear, the inside of which glowed red like a plumb, for the flaming blood circulating under the thin surface.
Her wince of discomfort was inevitable. "And try not to pass out from a stroke," was the final note as she broached the door into the building and stepped inside.
...
The air was stuffier than the one of the desert winds, though the chance to escape the direct heat of those gigantic heaters was relished. The floor wasn't so hot as to singe her fur anymore, so Judy sighed with relief at those first footsteps into the comparative coolness of the building. It was still far warmer than Precinct One ever was, though the surrounding darkness of the unlit interior gave off a sense of cool comfort.
After a minute or two searching, the rabbit's phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and looked upon the name, a smile drawing across her features as she pressed to answer. "Hey."
"Eh, come in Officer Hoppity-Hopps. We've received a large number of complaints about an overzealous officer going above and beyond one too many times and making the rest of the PD look bad. Know anything about that?"
"Oh really?" she answered, her voice thick with teasing. "And who am I speaking to? Mister Slicknickton of the department of Foxable Affairs?"
The male voice chuckled, but then the tone dropped to seriousness, "Ya busy, Carrots?"
"Not right now. I can talk a little."
"Heh. How's the city holding up? Fallen apart into chaos without me, hmm?"
"The ZPD certainly has for sure, there's practically no crimes to investigate."
"Yeah-yeah, Sly-bun, very slick. So, you're on paperwork duty?"
"Nope. Out on an assignment."
"Chief Buffalo Butt assigned you the toughest partner in the force to keep an eye on you, I hope?"
"Oh, Nick, come on," she retorted to his level of concern. "I can go out working solo, you know."
"So where are you? You told me you were on the beat in Precinct One, yeah?"
"Sahara Central, actually. Some boar flagged me down, showed me this big stash of money he'd found. Turned out to be counterfeit."
"Huh. Much?"
"Probably about fifty thousand zev? All in wads of six hundred, small notes." The rabbit waited through an incredulous whistle on the part of the fox. "He said he'd seen them unloading it in crates from a van. He took down the number plate. I recovered the crate and copied its tracking number, and... Wait, Nick, it's... twelve thirty-six?
"Ehh... yeah."
"Did they change timetables?"
"Eh, I honestly have no idea, Carrots. No, not that I know of."
"Half past twelve, Wednesday. Shouldn't you be out on the racetrack right now?"
"Yeahh, about that. Well, eh... you see— slight problem with that, Carrots."
The rabbit paused in thought, her trepidation rising because of the audible discomfort his answer carried. "Nick," she asked, her voice completely steady with apprehension, "what's happened?"
"Judy, before I—"
"Now, Nick. I want a straight answer."
"Gonna... turn the camera on. Alright, Carrots?"
"Sure."
"Alright. Don't get startled and go into a swoon over my handsomeness now, not while I ain't there to catch you as you fall."
"Nick, just—" The screen on her phone changed, the image of the fox appearing upon it. Judy's words froze within her mouth, the fox smiling sheepishly and lying upon his back, while her eyes fixated upon the cylinder of red in his paws.
"Oh, Nick, your... your tail! What—"
"It's just a sprain, Fluff, nothing worse. The bandages are just precautionary, they'll be off in a few days."
"What happened?"
"Ehh..." his face now upon the screen, Judy was able to witness the sheepish look and averting gaze. "You figure it out. Don't wanna say."
"I'd guess you did it during combat training, but..."
"It wasn't self-defense class, Carrots."
"Something on the wall? You were climbing, slipped and—"
"Hey, you think I can't handle climbing that little ice-pick?"
"Well how?"
"Changing rooms. Four fifteen. Some dumb jerk of a camel put his hoof down right on my tail." Nick chuckled, turning a glinting emerald towards the rabbit. "Bet you've never had such issues, that fwuffy little cotton bud of yours."
"Wait," she sidestepped, trying to avoid blushing, "let me... let me see the room."
The fox turned the phone around in his paws, and slowly panned it about the rest of the room. Judy scouted the sight, remembering the layout of the dorm and the objects within it. A small prickle of a giggle crept upon throat. "Nick, that... that bed you're lying in, your bed?"
"Yeah?"
"It's my bed, the bed I slept in when I was there."
"I know," he replied, easily.
"You know? How could you know?"
"'Cause a certain sweet-little-bunny leaves a certain sweet-little-scent behind her is how."
"Nh— Nick, you... you mean you know, that you can tell me by my—"
"Stalker-fox. I know. Whatever is your poor Ma and Pa gonna say when they find out your best friend in the city is a fox?"
"Best friend in the city?" Judy drew.
Raising a brow, the fox just gazed at the face of the rabbit, his expression as warm as the Sahara heat. "You tell me, Carrots. All I've got to go on is little signs and things I pick up. Can't say for sure."
"You, eh... you're not my best friend in the city, Nick." While she hadn't intended it to happen, the rabbit soon realized the reason behind the subtle twitch of hurt which flinched across his features. Licking her lips, she made good on her omission, "You just... are my best friend."
Nick softened, fondness and delight spreading across him. He opened his mouth and tried to find something to say, but just stuttered a response, so he closed his mouth again and just allowed the soft grin to grow. "Dumb bunny."
"Eh, Nick... I'd better get back to it, really. Bogo's exp—"
"You're the sweetest, kindest person I've ever met, Judy. You mean a heck of a lot to me. You know that, right?"
Judy stared back upon the image of the fox, his fondness shinning from him and his earnest jades taking in her face, to the reaction of the same infecting her in bliss. She tilted her head, one ear standing up while the other lowered. "Did you smell for my scent when you first arrived? Don't tell me you picked it by chance."
"Eh-hem," he chuckled, scratching at his collar. "Yeahh, I may've... sniffed around a little. Be grateful you don't have my sense of smell. Some bad things in these sheets."
"Be grateful you don't have my sense of hearing. You'd know when those 'bad things' were happening."
Nick gawked. "You serious?"
"I've heard it before. Seen it, too. There's only so long you can share a house with over two hundred teenage rabbits without... walking in at... an inopportune moment."
"Wow, okay. Note to self: always knock first when visiting the Hopps' farm."
"So the doctor said your tail was just sprained?"
"Just sprained, there's no panic, Fluff."
Judy nodded, smiling sweetly. "Take care of yourself, Nick."
"Trying, Hoppsie, trying. Not easy when you're taking self-defense classes against a rhino. But hey, least I'm not out there on the streets doing it for real. You look after yourself, Carrots. You'll have me to answer to if you get yourself beat up."
"I'm being careful, Nick. Promise! Speak soon?"
"Sure, sure... nothing I'd rather be doing on this off time. Nice to get a little privacy with ya, actually. Not having two dozen other nut-jobs listening in on our every word."
"They know who you are, any of them?"
"Know me?"
"That you saved the city with me!"
"Huh, guess so. They've been... a little funny with me, actually."
"Funny how? 'Cause if they're mistreating you, Nick, I'm taking the next train to—"
"Like offering me first go in the showers. Like letting me go to the front of the queue for the caff. Like falling silent when I walk in the room. Huh, like coming to me privately, like several of them have, and asking me for some quiet advice or words of wisdom about the city... and what you were like in person."
"Well, ehm," she responded, trying to hide her smugness behind her professional impartialness. "It's... just sensible they'd want to know how someone who had already passed the Academy had handled vari—"
"No-no, Hopps. They're interested in meeting you, knowing you. You, eh... well, you may not be the most popular officer among the rest of the PD, but let me tell ya something: after the next generation or two of new officers start working down at HQ, that's allll gonna change."
"And for you too, Nick. Once you're working alongside me, I thin—"
"Hopps!"
"Eh, gotta go, Bogo wants me!" Nick just winked, his image upon the screen disappearing in a blink. "Yeschief?" Judy babbled, pulling the radio from her belt.
"Hopps, you've had more than long enough to search the premises, why haven't you reported yet?"
"There eh, well, you see, there was a snag?"
"Snag? What snag? I'm sending you backup."
"No! No, Chief, we, eh— I was—"
"Trunkaby, McHorn, Higgings, Delgerto, Officer Hopps requires immediate—"
"Bogo! It, I was just—" Judy paused, her phone buzzing. She reached to her pocket, took out the electronic device and read the text just then received. "Tell Buffalo Butt that..." She smiled, reached back to her radio and said, "There was a small incident of a lost civilian who asked me for directions. I just took out a couple of minutes to show them where they were and which way they were headed."
The voice of the buffalo grunted. "Very well. Report in as soon as you've finished your search.
The radio fell silent; the rabbit returned it to her belt. Beaming to herself, she shifted about to the warm interior of this Sahara Central sorting office, and searched throughout the contents of the boxes for any signs of counterfeiting, or the tracking ID she had found upon the box of counterfeit money that had been provided earlier that day.
Author's notes:
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