Summary:

Nick journeys to ZPD headquarters to see an old wolf and show him last night's souvenir. He briefs Wolfard on his find, and they decided to visit an injured cat for more information. But before they can leave, they're intercepted by Chief Bogo. He instructs Nick to properly brief Agent Daman, and over Nick's objection, Hugo as well. He tell Nick that everything has changed, and so Nick must change as well. Meanwhile, down in Central Holding, Duke Weaselton's day starts out boring, but definitely doesn't end that way.

Meanwhile, across town at the headquarters of ZPD District 1

There was something magical about just standing there, just inside the doors. Just being a spectator to the mad circus that was this wondrous place. The tall windows on the northeast wall lit the ring before him like spotlights, and the large dome skylight above added to the expansive feeling of unfettered space. The tiers of balconies stood up from the floor like bleachers, just waiting to be filled with the audience's thunderous applause.

Around the ring a pair of dancing bears nimbly maneuvered on their unicycles, dressed their sparkling leotards and tutus, as they orbited each other and the ring. Or over by the wall, a trio of porcine clowns ran around trying to stuff themselves into a car three sizes too small for them. Above the ring swung nimble gazelles, hanging from the trapeze with just a single hoof as they defied death, thrilling the kits with their skill and bravery. And in the center of it all, at the very middle of the chaos and magic stood the ring leader, resplendent in his coattail and top hat. The mighty lion stood with his shoulders back, his paws on his cane and a grin on his face as the madness swirled around him.

Whirling chaos set to fey music.

Nick blinked, and the fantasy faded. The dancing bears resolved into two arson investigators arguing over a report. The three boars were simply pushing an overburdened cart filled with boxes and trying to keep the pile from collapsing on themselves. The gazelle clerks pranced and dodged through the mob of officers and civilians, hurrying toward their next assignment. And the lion was just the duty officer, Sargent Simba, greeting new arrivals and passing messages on through to dispatch.

He stood there in his slacks and varsity jacket, a plastic bag hanging from the grip of his paw. He wore a light grin on his muzzle as he cast his gaze about the room. He must have looked lost or confused, because more than once an officer would spy his presence and detour to him to offer assistance, only to break off at the last second upon their recognition of a fellow officer disguised as an ordinary civilian. They would turn away, and with a slight nod and a wave return to their duties. He would wave back at the officers, mammals he had known for decades.

He reveled in their respect.

To think that a fox could stand where he was and be recognized, not as a sly and shifty lowlife, but as an honored and honorable officer of the law. A sixteen year veteran of the force, a Sergeant of Detectives, but not for much longer. The rumor floating about the rank and file that he was in line for a bump to Lieutenant at the end of the year, and with it would come the leadership of the Special Investigations Division, a post currently held by his mentor and sponsor, Captain Snarlov.

Lieutenant bars would look just dandy on his collar, he knew. He blinked and stood up straight as he thought, Right, Sergeant Wilde. Enough daydreaming. Better get on with it, or Bogo will find someway to drop official paperwork on my aching head even though I'm off for the day.

The bag swung from his hand as he started across the lobby, seeking with his nose one mammal among many. After climbing a few stairs, and wandering down a few halls, he found that mammal sitting at a desk, chewing on a pencil as he contemplated a PD370-152 form. Ah… An unusual occurrence report, a responding officer's most common report.

"While I live and breath, Sergeant Wolfard. Is that paperwork I see in your meaty paw? Actual paperwork? I am shocked, truly I am, that you would stoop so low as to actually consign your wisdom to the proverbial page."

Wolfard chuckled as he answered, "Yeah, well my partner wasn't here, so somebody gotta do the heavy lifting. Bogo does like his reports served up on a timely basis."

Wilde climbed up into the wooden chair next to Wolfard's desk and sat down. He nodded at the form, "What's going down?"

Wolfard turned to him and held up the sheet, "This? Some ram punk got himself shorn." Wolfard gestured up to the north, "I was out with the training officer early this morning, working with a couple of rooks on proper search techniques up the Meadowland's back alleyways. The officer had figured that since it was a low crime neighborhood, it would be a great place for some safe night time training in crime scene management. Which was a great idea right up until the rooks stumbled on this shorn teenage ram shivering as he hid behind a dumpster, clad only in some dirty boxers and his naked skin."

Nick quirked an eyebrow, "Gang initiation? Or some kind of mob punishment?"

Wolfard just shook his head, "We don't know. The kid's not talking. It's obvious that he was assaulted, since he's gouged all over his skin by the buzz clippers that they used on him, but he won't say how it happened. We brought him back here for treatment, thinking that maybe some distance for the Meadowlands would make him feel safer, but nothing yet. Juvie's got an officer talking to him now, so we'll see." Wolfard turned back to his diminutive partner, "How'd the checkup go?"

Nick just shrugged, "It's in remission again, so the medico's have cleared me to work tomorrow. Other than that, it's the same old, same old – avoid stress, keep calm, eat and sleep regularly, that sort of thing, yah know?"

Wolfard just grinned at him as he turned in his swivel chair and leaned back to observe, "Well this is the wrong kinda of job for that, ya know?"

Nick slyly grinned back as he settle back in his chair, "Yeah… "

Wolfard jerked his chin up at the plastic bag that Nick held in his lap, "Whatcha got there, partner? You get something for little Judy Grace?"

Nick grimaced as he pulled out the coat he had gotten last night from the hut, "Not exactly...". He held it out to Wolfard, "Here, take a sniff of this and tell me what you think."

Wolfard reached across and took the coat from Nick. He held it up to his twitching black nose and took a gentle sniff. He furrowed his brow and drew up his lips over his teeth in disgust, "Where did you get this? A dumpster?"

Nick shook his head, "No, but close." He pointed to the coat, "I found that in an abandoned homeless mammal's hovel made out of wet cardboard and newspaper, under a bridge in the Rainforest district. I brought it in because I wanted to see if you smell what I smell on it."

Wolfard held up the coat and shook it out to examine it, "Well, it's a small mammal's coat, either that or a cub's coat. The fashion looks feminine, if a bit outdated." He held the collar to his nose and took another sniff, "Eh… Some mammal needs a bath… Homeless, you said?" Nick nodded. "Okay, yeah, that makes sense." He sniffed deep this time, "Smells like bacterial mange, common with street mammals… And a hint of ammonia? They piss themselves?"

Nick shook his head in negation, "No, I didn't see that in any of the other clothes there. I think the ammonia is something else."

"Malnutrition?" Wolfard sniffed again, taking in the ketones and pheromones present in the jacket, "Humm yeah, I'm getting that now. Filth, malnourished… Smells female, rodent… No, rabbit. Yeah, female rabbit, I'd say. Probably Eastern cottontail with a mix of Isles rabbit in there… I'd put her age somewhere in the mid thirties to mid forties." He handed the coat back to Nick, "Why'd you want to know?"

Nick gently folded the coat and slid it back into the bag, a gesture that Wolfard didn't miss. Nick looked back up at his larger partner, "I was wondering if you found the scent familiar?"

Wolfard narrowed his eyes and held his crossed paws up to his nose, the scent of the coat lingering on his digits. He gazed back at the little fox, "Okay, give. What's going on?"

Nick opened his jaw to reply, but closed it with a clack as self doubt took hold. He squirmed a bit in his seat under the steady eye of the older wolf, but finally blurted out an explanation. "I had gone to eat with Miki and Judy on Monday night down in the Rainforest district. There's this nice little place down on the canals that makes the best gazpacho, and I met Miki and Judy outside the restaurant for dinner. As I walked up them, and was in the process of getting Judy out of her stroller, I had glanced done the alley way we were standing in front of. Why, I don't know. Habit, I guess." Nick shrugged.

"It's a good one," Wolfard sagely agreed. Always check six when you're in an unknown situation.

"Anyway, I didn't see anything in the alley itself, but at the end of it, I kinda made eye contact with a homeless rabbit who was getting out of the hut where I found this coat. She was looking back at me, staring really, and I kinda got spooked. I reached back with a free paw for my backup piece, and she must of seen the motion and gotten scared. She ran off, and I never saw her again. I kinda stood there like a dunce for a moment, an arm under Judy and the other behind my coat, and finally Miki asked me what I saw. I told her I didn't know."

Nick was looking down at the bag held in his paws as he softly spoke, "I could swear that I recognized her though, that rabbit with her gray coat and white throat."

Wolfard let out the breath he had been holding. "Recognize?" Wolfard suddenly knew which rabbit Nick had to be talking about.

Nick looked up and met his partner's eyes, "She had purple eyes, Wolfard."

Wolfward looked back at his diminutive friend. He may have doubted Nick's nose, but he never doubted his eyes – he had some of the best in the force. "Judy Hopps..." He breathed out.

"Yeah…" Nick solemnly agreed.

Wolfard held out his paw, "Gimme. I need another whiff."

Nick pulled the coat back out and handed it back across to the grizzled wolf without further comment.

Wolfard buried his nose in the coat for a few movements, breathing in and out. He held it back out and scowled, "Maybe..."

Nick sat up in his chair, the plastic bag wrung between his paws, "Maybe? What do you mean maybe?" He asked with equal parts confusion and indignation.

Wolfard shrugged, "I mean maybe." He looked down at the agitated fox, and shook a claw tip at the crimson canine, "You know how this works, dude. Scents are never static. They change as a mammal ages, in response to what they eat, how they practice hygiene, or where they live. It could be her, it smells right for a bunny her age, taking into account the homelessness and malnutrition, but it's been years." He dropped the coat to his lap and shrugged, "You'd think that after all that time, she would have popped up sooner or something, reached out to her family, or even to you again." He gestured across at Nick, "Besides, you're the one who convinced me she was dead."

Nick just shook his head, "Not dead. I just didn't see how she could have survived, not without help, anyway..." Nick grimaced as he stared at the floor.

Wolfard cocked his head as he looked at the tormented fox. Nick's experience with Night-Howler had scarred him to an extent that even Wolfard had found hard to understand, even with his training and experience. It had been unpleasant enough when Wolfard had to take the Night-Howler training, but at least he knew what was coming when he had the injection given to him. Nick's experience with Night-Howler during the Species Riots had been much more non-voluntary and longer lasting. Three days of snarling and spitting, restrained in a padded room with a straight jacket and a muzzle, before the ZPD medical staff had found a working cure and applied it to the incoherent fox.

Three days of pure hell… Wolfard thought, and he managed to make it out mostly sane. Not all of the victims had been so lucky, as many had been driven to self harm and even suicide by their experiences on the poison. No, he wasn't sure that his partner was fully recovered, and while he could report this obsessive behavior to the department shrink, Nick would never forgive him for the breach in trust. Besides, that's not what you did to a fellow officer in the blue.

Wolfard accepted that Nick might believe this was Judy's coat, and so took the path of patient wisdom as bestowed by a senior cop. He asked, "So, tell me about the scene, where you found this."

Nick told him, about the wet cardboard and organized newspapers, the stickers and the lack of booze bottles. He told him about the chase across the city, chasing a ghost found two days too late. He told him about the empty alley way where the trail had gone cold, both literally and figuratively.

Wolfard absorbed it all. He briefly considered ratting out Nick's sojourn to Miki, but quickly dismissed the thought. Nick was supposed to be doing more exercise anyway, and a jog around the city qualified. And asking Nick to give up his obsession with Judy Hopps was like trying to get him to stop breathing. It just wasn't in Nick's nature. He just didn't understand why Nick found her so fascinating. It's not like the fox had ever even met the rabbit. He had, when he had tracked her down as a little kit, and he hadn't found her all that memorable a mammal, just a kicking and biting little twerp. No accounting for taste, I suppose…

"So… No booze or drugs?" Nick just shook his head. "But she was organized, even obsessively so?" Nick nodded. Wolfard scowled, "It could be schizophrenia, ya know? She the right age for it, right?" the wolf asked Nick.

"28." Nick nodded, "Could be. The symptoms fit. It just wasn't in her files, so I don't know if was missed during her treatment, or if it developed later, or even if it's a side effect of Night-Howler."

"Well, you could always ask the expert, right?" Wolfard gave a little dig with that suggestion.

"Oh, Hell no! He'd be so pissed at me. Hell, he hates my guts as it is, and if he found out about her now, he'd go ballistic." Nick shivered for a moment.

Wolfard cocked an ear at him, "And whose bright idea was it to not tell him, hummm?"

Nick glared at Wolfard, gritting his teeth, before answering, "Mine..." He bit out.

Wolfard sagely nodded, having won the point, he could accept his victory with grace. He thought for a moment before asking Nick, "Monday night, you said?" Nick nodded. "Hum… Clawhauser was supposed to be on patrol that night. He switched shifts so that he could be free when his husband came back to town." Wolfard cast his eyes around the bullpen, but he didn't see the jocular cat. But he did see a cat that could help him.

"Yo! Fangmeyer!" He yelled across the desks, "Where's Clawhauser?"

The tall tigress looked up from her files in mild irritation at being interrupted before locking gazes with the wolf. "What?" She asked incredulously, "Don't you know?"

Wolfard smiled sweetly, and in a tone of complete innocence replied, "Know what?"

She tossed down her pencil to the desk in front of her, and leaned back to stretch. She let out a sigh, already knowing the answer to the question she was about to ask, "Don't you read your emails?"

Wolfard looked confused, "Emails? Why would I read my emails?" He pointed over at Nick, "That's what he's for." He turned back to his terminal, and tried to call up the email program. He pecked out his login and password with two claws, and tried to scroll through the emails hiding in there. "I don't see it?!"

Fangmyer rolled her eyes as she pushed back from her desk. Nick stiffed a snicker. His partner's aversion to any form of computer technology was well known, if not celebrated, by the other officers on the force. She sauntered over to his desk, and delicately set her powerful frame down on the cluttered surface. She laid her paw over his and admonished him, "Stop that. You'll just going to hurt yourself, doing things you don't understand." She gazed sweetly down at the smaller wolf.

Wolfard sat back, but didn't removed his smaller paw from under her giant paw, as he gazed back at her with a smile. Nick had to choke back a laugh. Their flirting was so sickly sweet that he was going to get a sugar buzz just by watching them hold paws, and in the bullpen no less.

She explained for the slightly ignorant wolfs benefit, "Clawhauser's down in the Tundra town central Hospital with cracked ribs, Wolfie. He went down yesterday to interview a patient about some vandalism, and it all went sideways. He ended up taking an angry goat in the ribs, and the goat got bodily fluids on him as well. The docs all freaked out over this, and declared a lock-down."

Nick sat up, "Hey! Miki said something about that. She asked me what it was all about."

Fangmeyer reluctantly slid her paw from atop Wolfard's, and nodded, "Yeah, they declared a for real bio-hazard alert and everything. Locked the entire wing down, covered it plastic, dug out the space suits, the whole nine yards. Captain McHorn even deployed the tactical unit to help. It seem that there was some concern that that the goat was strung out on Night-Howler."

With that mention of those two words, Nick and Wolfard's faces froze, especially in light of what they had just been discussing. They shared a quick and knowing glance with each other. Nick looked back up at her, "Night-Howler? Why didn't I get an alert?" He was the Number Two mammal on the Task Force. He should have gotten a flash alert the moment it came out.

Fangmeyer just shrugged, "I guess Bogo wanted to downplay the whole thing. The docs eventually rescinded the alert, and McHorn ended up calling the whole thing a training exercise. As for why, you'll have to ask the Chief." She looked up for a moment before continuing, "You might have to wait on that though. I think he's over at City Hall this morning, meeting with the Comish."

Wolfard and Nick traded a quick look. Wolfard asked, "TTCH?" Nick reluctantly nodded, "Yeah." He hopped back down to the floor, and grabbing the coat off of Wolfard's lap, he stuffed it in the bag as Fangmeyer looked on curiously. Wolfard patted her paw, "Thanks, Officer Fangmeyer! Yer a doll!" She looked down her muzzle at his paw, and then turned her cat's eye to stare at him before snorting in negation. She pulled away from him and stood up. Wolfard slid out of his chair, and trotted after Nick who was already bee-lining for the door. The wolf waved goodbye to the silent big cat, "Later, Toots!"

As the two canines hurried down to the elevator, Nick turned to him and asked, "Are you trying to get her to gut you?"

Wolfard just shook his head, "Noooo! I just had to make her annoyed enough that she didn't try to tag along. It'll be hard enough to get into to see Clawhauser and ask him about rabbits in the snow without her looming over him. Besides, she'd just tell Bogo about it afterwards, and if he doesn't want you to know about Clawhauser, that will really piss him off."

Nick grimaced, "Yeah, but she's still gonna be pissed at you."

Wolfard just waved a paw, "Na, it'll be fine. I'll find some way to make it up to her. Just being my cute and adorable self usually works."

Nick just started back at his rather dense partner with one eye. Yeah, right… Nick knew full well the power of an irate female, especially one who's annoyed with her favorite male. Wolfard was going to have to grovel in the dirt in order to please her now. Still, he was grateful for the interference the old wolf ran on his behalf, especially since he wasn't going to have to pay the butcher's bill afterwards.

The elevator reached the lobby floor, and they hurried across the lobby floor for the front doors. They were brought up short, halfway across, by an irate bellow.

"WILDE!"

They both skidded to a stop, and Nick actually cringed for a moment before turning to look up at the balconies hanging over the open space. Chief Bogo stood up on the second level, a smirking Fangmeyer just behind and to the left of the police chief. Nick croaked out a tentative response, "Sir?"

Bogo pointed with his left hoof, "MY OFFICE! NOW!"

Wolfard whispered to him, "I'll go wait in the cruiser."

"Coward!" Nick bit back at him.

Wolfard just smirked at him, and hurried out the door as Nick slunk back toward the elevators and his doom.

Nick rode the elevator to the executive floor in silence, contemplating the unfairness of life and mortal existence. He didn't know what had Bogo so pissed off, since he had only come in to visit. He wasn't really trying to work on his day off, really, he wasn't. Not officially. There wasn't a reason for Bogo to yell at him.

Yet.

As he neared his stop, his phone dinged at him, demanding his attention. He pulled it out, and scrolled down to the newest message.

Finnster:

Yo, Hustler! You gotta sec?

SlickNick:

Not really - I gotta see Bogo.

Finnster:

K, Call me when you get out. It's important! Okay?

SlickNick:

Sure thing.

With that brief interlude completed, he pocketed the phone in his pants. He walked down the short hallway to Bogo's office door, and paused for a moment. He looked down at his bag, and briefly considered what to do with it. He was worried that Bogo might demand to see what was in it, so he decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He put the bag down beside the door, and shucking his coat off, he laid that over the bag to conceal it.

He plastered a sunny, sloppy, grin on his face and pushed the door open. "Boss! How ya doing?" Bogo glowered down at him. Nick scrambled to come up with a smoke screen to explain why he was in the precinct when he wasn't supposed to be, "I can explain everything! Ya see, I had to come in and..." Nick ground to a halt at the display of Bogo's upheld hoof.

"Don't care." He pointed over at the chair in front of his desk. Nick quickly scrambled into it. He sat there, beaming away at his chief with a pleasant grin to complement the bright green shirt he was wearing. Inward, he was hoping that Bogo would keep the grilling and roasting session to a minimum today. He needed to go see Clawhauser and ask the cat some questions.

Bogo sat back in his chair, templed his hooves upon his desk, and gathered him self to project serenity.

Nick wasn't fooled.

Bogo began, "I have a problem, Wilde. And by me, I mean you. You have a problem, Wilde." He paused for effect.

Here it comes. My ass reaming of the day. It's not enough that the docs had to stick their paws in all my various orifices today, oh no. No, Bogo's gotta do it too. What's next Boss? After you give the tongue lashing, are you going to give me the shaft too? Make me bend over and take it from behind? Geez, buy a fox some dinner and a movie first. He snarked internally, leaving nothing to leak out on to his sunny disposition.

Bogo locked both eyes onto Wilde's, "Our dearly beloved Agent Daman has felt that your briefing materials have been leaving him feeling a tad overwhelmed. To this effect, he has asked that you give him a proper briefing as to the appropriate information as it pertains to the case at paw, namely the status of the Bellwether investigation."

Oh, that's not too bad. I thought Bogo was going to piss all over me for being in the office today. This was better. I should be able to whip a presentation to cover everything in the next few days that should leave the dumb bunny's head reeling. Nick mused, his grin widening.

"Tomorrow." Bogo added.

Owww…. Nick's grin fell off his face. Yup, I'm getting the shaft.

"First thing in the morning." Bogo tacked on to the end.

Nick's jaw dropped open.

"And..." Bogo held up a hoof. He could read the emotions that were playing across his officers face, and while he was sympathetic to the plight of the fox, he also saw no need to prolong the inevitable. "And… He wants you to brief Doctor Wiedii. Fully."

"Boss!" Nick sat up, objecting to the coming sand bag, falling directly towards his head.

Bogo held up a paw, "Agent Daman feels that Doctor Wiedii understands the material better, and more importantly, can explain it to him in the small words that the rabbit can understand. And while I have my reservations about the rabbit, I don't have those same reservations about Doctor Wiedii. He's smart, he's articulate, and he's painfully honest."

"But..." Nick tried once more.

Bogo's expression softened as he gazed down at one of his favorite officers, "Nick… Some wounds take time to heal, and some just fester. This thing with you and Hugo has dragged on long enough. It can't last forever. I can't have a functional task force where two of the participants won't talk to each other. It's not professional, and it's not productive. It has to change. You know that."

Bogo also knew that if Nick couldn't figure out how to defuse this situation, he wouldn't be able to handle the politics that came with Bogo's chair. And he wanted make sure that the little fox learned how to do exactly that, because he wanted Nick to sit in his chair one day. Nick had to learn this lesson, now, or he would never learn it in the future.

Nick slumped back down into his chair, his empty gaze staring at the front of his desk

Bogo spoke again, softly, "Go. Go with Wolfard to see Clawhauser. I know that Fangmeyer told you about him, and the lock down at the hospital yesterday. Clawhauser can fill you in on some the details of the case. And while you're there, talk to Dr. Muskat. He was the responding surgeon who worked on the goat that attacked Clawhauser. He's cleared to know everything about the Night-Howler case, and he can fill you in on the latest developments. Go."

Dejected, Nick slid from the chair. He slowly made his way to the door.

"Nick…" Bogo sighed, "Nick, I'm not doing this because I don't care. I do care. And I agreed with your reasoning at the time. It was better to keep that information to ourselves. But now… Now the situation has changed, and we can't keep it hidden any longer."

Nick turned back to look his chief in the eye, "Changed? Changed how?"

Now it was Bogo turn to look worried, "Changed. Because unless the doctors over at TTCH are complete wrong, I'm afraid Dawn's Legacy has come back to haunt us."

Those two words caused Nick to stand up ramrod straight, "You mean?!"

Bogo nodded, "Yes. Somehow, somewhere, some mammal has managed to develop Dawn's fabled Night-Howler Mark Three."

Nick whispered, "And the goat is..."

"Patient Zero." Bogo completed the sentence for him.

"Oh… Shit!" Nick exclaimed.

"Yeah. Now go." He pointed at the door.

Nick just nodded, and slipping through the door, he snatched up his coat and bag, and pelted for the stairs in a dead run.

Downstairs in ZPD's Central Holding

Duke Weaselton scowled up at the concrete ceiling, painted in a cheap shade of institutional gray. A few moths idiotically circled the blinking florescent lights that flickered over his head. He idly wondered what they tasted like, not that he was really hungry. For all that this was a ZPD city jail, the chow was pretty tasty here, unlike the slop over in County. It was the same all over – the closer you were to the ones in power, the better everything was for you, even if you were just a prisoner.

No, actually, Duke was plain bored. There was nothing to do while in ZPD-CH lockup but to sleep, stare at the wall, and talk to your cellmates while you await your time in court, which in Duke's case was for another round of bootlegging. Or so the cops said. He snorted in derision.

What were they gonna do to him? Nothing they haven't done before – confiscate his stock, throw him in the slammer to cool off before sending him before a judge who was just gonna give him a lecture and probation before k icking him to the curb to start the whole fucking cycle over again. It never fucking changed in this city. He grumbled to himself.

No, he wasn't hungry, he wasn't sleepy, he wasn't particularly afraid of the heavy hand of the law. He was just plain bored. He could talk to his cellmate, but the stupid snowflake just stared at him like he was a fucking rat or something. What was the idiot coyote's name again? Duck racked his brain. Josh stupid snows or something. In the slammer for underage drinking or some shit.

No, the damn coyote just sat there, in his expensive shirt and shredded pants, looking like some damn yuppy puppy who got lost last night. Except for those eyes, those yellow glaring eyes. They were creeping him out big time. He wasn't afraid, cause Duke Weaselton wasn't afraid of nobody, it's just that they gave him the shivers. Like the damn coyote had thought of something funny, but nobody else got the punchline. He could swear that they didn't even blink.

There was a rattle at the cage door, and Duck glanced over. Some damn lion in ZPD's blue uniform was unlocking the door. He slid the door aside and step through. Behind him, half hidden by the bars, a tall fox stood silently. He was dressed in a style that Duke's Mama would have called distinguished, a tailored black suit, a blue silk shirt, a purple tie, and even a cane. Duke just sneered. All that meant was the fox had money. He was sure the stupid vulpine was just as full of shit as every other mammal that thought they were better than him.

The lion called out to the coyote, "Joshua Bittersnows? I'm Officer Delgato, here to escort you out. You've made bail."

The coyote unfolded himself from the bench where he had been sitting, muttering, "Finally..." He slid to the floor and walked towards the door. Delgato stood to one side, and gestured for him to walk out. But before he could go through the open portal, the fox slipped from the shadows and stood in the gap, bringing the coyote up short.

Duke watched as the taller canine greeted the shorter one, "John..."

The fox, his eyes narrowing, replied, "Joshua..."

Joshua smirked down at the irritated fox, "Sent you on an errand, did he?"

"If it had been up to me, I would have left you here to cool your heels."the fox retorted.

Duke watched this interplay, not out of fascination, but because there wasn't anything on the TV, and entertainment was entertainment. Besides, there was something about the fox that struck him as being familiar, but he just couldn't place the prick. He must have seen him out on the streets, or some bar or something. He'd run into a lot of foxes in the city, some gutter trash and some better than thou. He even knew that fuck face Sargent Nicholas Pee-his-pants Wilde. But this fox… This fox he couldn't quite place.

The coyote cocked his head coyly, "Well, what's the point of living if you don't live a little?" he asked the fox.

"You can explain that line of reasoning to him if you desire. I will simply watch." The fox coolly returned.

Delgato coughed, and they turned to look at him, having forgotten the lion's presence in their interplay. He pointed at the two of them, "You want to get a refund on your bail monies?"

John breathed in deep, and let out a suffering sigh. Joshua just flicked his ears and grinned as John turned to the officer. "No, I'm afraid." He turned to leave the cell.

There was a clang at the end of the hall, and a shout, "Hold that cell!"

The three predators stepped into the hall and turned to look at the sound. It resolved into into the bulk of Officer Pennington escorting a bizarre skinny pink colored ram with patchy wool in a ZPD prison smock. "Hold that cell, please!" She called again.

Delgato stepped back and gestured to the open cell. Distracted by her motion, John and Joshua took their eyes off the prisoner. He sniffed the air, and with a bleating scream, he launched himself down the hall, headed not toward the lion or the coyote, but to the fox. He lowered his head and rammed into the gut of the surprised canine, who's breath exploded out of him in a whoosh as he flew back down the hall.

Delgato snaked out his claws and grabbed the back of the ram's prison smock as he passed by. He whirled and sent the screeching ram sliding on his stomach into Duke's cell before slamming the door closed with a bang.

Ohhhhh great, Duke thought as he scrambled up onto his bench while the ram slid past him, he locked me in with the crazy fucking sheep!

Pennington rumbled up to the scene and bent over, her trunk probing the air as she sniffed around the fox, probing around for injuries. He batted her trunk away as he sat up. He let out an oof, and scrambled to his feet. She held out his cane for him and asked, "Are you alright, sir?"

He smile painfully, and with a slight wheeze, he assured her, "Quite alright, my dear, quite alright. I have been hit far worse before by fellows like him, I assure you."

"Hanging out with street gangs, are we?" Delgato asked curiously.

John turned to the tall cat and replied with a smile, "Rugby, my dear fellow." He turned to look at the cell, "That being said, he does seem rather aggressive for a sheep, don't you think? Is that normal here?"

Delgato nodded, and then cocked his head at the cell, "The local gangs can get rather rough with predators they don't like. He'll probably get points or something from his herd members for taking down a fox. Do you want to press charges?"

John turned and accepted the gold capped cane from the pachyderm, "What do you have him in for?" he asked the officer.

She answered, "He's gotta couple of outstanding warrants for aggravated assault and grand theft auto. He likes to joyride around in people's trucks, trying to run over pedestrians, that sort of thing."

John adjusted his cuffs, "Well, I suppose that means he will be a guest of your establishment for a good while then?" She nodded. "Then I don't see a point to adding to his pile of demerits. In any case, I can't stay in the city. I have a business I must attend to in the Sunshine State."

She waved an ear, "Oh?" she mummered curiously.

He smiled up at her and indulged her, "Yes, my dear. I am a fashion designer and entrepreneur. My chain of clothing boutiques is headquartered in The Magic City, and we are having a rather large show in two days." He placed his paw over his heart as he bowed to her. "I'm in town to visit an old friend, and he asked me to come bail out his miscreant ward while he was occupied with offical business. I was more than delighted to be of service to this young pup in his time of need, I assure you." Sarcasm dripped from his tongue as he waved his paw at the coyote's face.

Joshua smirked at the description given by John, but as the paw waved past his nose, he grabbed it and sniffed, "Blood." He said simply. He let loose the paw and turned toward the cage.

Delgato grumbled, "I thought I smelled something too."

The fox frowned, "Well, it's not mine. He didn't hit me that hard, I assure you." He looked down at his suit, before pulling out his tie. "It's on the tie. Did the ram have any open wounds on his crown, I wonder?"

Pennington nodded, her ears flapping, "He had gotten himself shorn, some sort of gang initiation thing. They did a bloody job of it, or he just squirmed a lot and caught the clippers."

"Oh… Well, I supposed it's a lost cause then." He pulled the tie loose and slipped it over his head, holding it out in front of himself distastefully.

"Don't say that, it looks expensive." She held out her trunk, "Here, let me have it cleaned and returned to you." He looked up her and cocked his head. "At no charge, I assure you. It's the least we can do!"

"Well, I must fly out tomorrow," he temporized, but after catching her crestfallen expression, he finally relented, "But if you insist..." He held up the tie. Delgato pulled out an evidence baggy from his pocket and dropped the tie in it, before handing it over to Pennington.

"Oh… You'll need a..." He fished around his coat for his billfold and pulled it out, "Here, dear, you'll need this, if you wish to contact me." He held out a slip of card stock to her.

She slipped the baggy into a chest pocket, and reaching down with her trunk, she delicately plucked the embossed business card from his paw. She drew it up to her face, and in the flickering hall light she read, "Wyeld Fashions in Magic City". She flipped it over and saw a phone number on the back.

John turned back to Delgato and asked, "Will there be anything else, Officer Delgato? While I can certainly appreciate the minimalist aesthetic appeal of a prison cell, I do find it rather depressing to be here as it is rather lacking in color, and I was wondering if we might depart?"

Delgato laughed and nodded, "Yeah, Sorry…" He gestured down the hall.

John tapped Joshua with his cane, "I thought you wanted to leave?" He asked the coyote.

Joshua looked over his shoulder at the smaller fox before turning, "Yeah, I'm done here." He led the way to the door, with John and the officers following him.

The bleating sheep slid past Duke's bench to stop at the other side of the cell. The door slammed shut with a bang, causing Duke to jump. He turned to complain to the officers, but they turned their backs to him to pay attention to the stupid fox. He turned back to stare at the aggressive ram. The ram turned to look at him, fear and anger radiating off his posture.

He better not fucking rush me, Duke grumbled to himself. He smiled a big toothy smile at the ram, "Stay on your bench, Pinkie, and I'll stay on mine, and we'll get along just fine." The ram snorted and stood, sliding backwards onto the bench, staring at Duke. Duke just ignored him, and closing his eyes he tried to tune out the stupid cops as well. He'd had enough of their yapping.

After a few moments, Duke became aware that somebody was standing at the cell bars. He looked up and saw the stupid coyote was standing at the bars, staring into to the cell. Not at him though, but at the ram. He looked over at the ram, and he was shaking like a leaf. Duke turned back to look at the coyote. He was working his jaw, softly growling.

Duke strained to hear, and he realized that it wasn't growling that the coyote was doing, but very soft singing. Something guttural with lots of vowels. Duke didn't understand any of it, but that wasn't what made his fur stand on end. It was those crazy eyes. They were alight with something fey, a terrible glow that danced without wavering, bathing the ram in their intensity. Duke wasn't in their direct gaze, but he felt a terrible primal fear in his bowels none the less, and when those eyes finally broke their hold upon the ram and left, Duke suddenly found he could breath again. He hadn't realized that he had been holding it.

He watched as the bat shit crazy coyote and his prick of a fox leave the holding cells, followed by the cops. He glanced back at the ram, but he had moved. He was now huddled in the corner, curled into a ball and shivering violently. He kept mumbling something about the air. Duke sniffed, but he didn't smell anything in the air other than the mammals who had just left. He shivered as he sat up straight. Gawd, that was creepy.

Duke shook himself out as he leaned back, but his respite didn't last long. The muttering ram was talking louder and louder, working himself up to a right screaming session. Duke yelled at him, "Shut up, you stupid furball! The coyote bastard's gone! You can shut up now!"

The ram locked eyes with the weasel, and for a moment Duke was once again filled with dread. Those eyes, filled with rage and despair, stared back at the smaller carnivore, before they filmed over and the ram slammed his head back into the solid wall. He started to twist and shutter in the corner, blood streaming from his mouth where he had bit his tongue. He moaned and screeched as he rolled around on the concreted floor.

Duke had enough of this display, and darted to the door. He stuck his muzzle through the bars as far as he could and yelled at the top of his little lungs, "Yo! COPPERS! The fucking ram's having a convulsion! Get in here, NOW! Get me outta here!" Duke turned back to look at the writhing ungulate, but he wasn't on the floor anymore. He was standing, legs splayed and arms held akimbo, breathing in great gasps. He opened his maw and screamed a challenge, his teeth stained crimson red, his flopping bloody tongue a horror. He looked like one of those demons Father Timothy had always warned Duke that he would meet one day if he continued his evil ways. He just never expected to see one in the fucking ZPD!

The ram dropped his head, the skin over the ivory skull split from where he had hit the wall, and with a snort and a shudder, he charged the small mustelid. Duke scrambled up the cell door, trying to escape the mad rush. The ram hid the door with a spray of blood and spittle and it shuddered under the impact, almost throwing Duke to the floor. He held on for dear life as he stared, horrified, down at the mad ram below him. A scream started to work it's way up Duke's throat.

As the ram reached for the door, trying to climb the bars, blood streaming from his face, Duke stared down into those open jaws. Jaws that promised him a most painful death.

He was sure the ram was going to eat him.

The door yanked open, throwing Duke to the floor as ZPD officers in riot gear rushed in to restrain the writhing ram. He bleated and screamed incoherently as they struggled to bring him under control, but eventually one found a place to drive their tranq home and the ram mercifully slipped into silent unconsciousness.

Duke felt himself being lifted up by the large paws of Delgato. He could hear the officer asking him questions, asking him if he was alright, but he couldn't answer. He was so terrified that he was struck mute. He could only shake his head, causing blood to fly from his whiskers and onto Delgato's face. In horror, Duke wiped his paws across his face and down his muzzle. He glanced down to look at them. They came away crimson.

Duke started screaming.

Notes:

And... the magic's back. The stream of consciousness just flows now. No more writers block! Yay! As for Grand Theft Auto: Zootopia, check out Loopydave's work on DA!