Chief Bogo sat at his desk. He recently reassigned both Officers Wilde and Hopps to a cold case, and because of that he was confident that they would be out of his fur for a while. The Chief felt a bit guilty for putting two good officers on a case which hadn't had a lead on in over two years, but the sense of relief he felt at not having to read anything submitted by the pair far outstripped any guilt me may have felt.
He would keep the two assigned to the case for a couple days perhaps, and then put them on something where they could be productive. The water buffalo felt a twinge of sadness when regarding the case, as it had been one he worked on personally with no results. It was a failure of his. A young bunny had gone missing one day, no one knowing where she had gone.
Her husband, a young business mogul and bunny, had called police almost immediately when he saw signs of a struggle within his home, but could not find his wife. There was no DNA evidence upon arriving at the scene, except for the victim's, and thus began a city wide search for either the doe or her body. It yielded no results. Not even a trace. From there the case had quickly gone cold as there were no reliable leads, the husband had an airtight alibi, and there weren't any real suspects.
The office door opened as the Chief was contemplating the case, and feeling increasingly guilty for manipulating his two officers into being on something that the best minds in the department couldn't solve. In walked the very vulpine the Chief had been thinking of. He never knocked. The Chief liked when people knocked first.
"What is it, Wilde?" Bogo asked gruffly.
Wilde leaned against the door frame, looking incredibly relaxed. Chief Bogo knew it was a problem that even the most mundane and innocuous actions of the fox angered him, but he could not help but feel somewhat irate at the incredible casualness of his employee. The fox yawned, his mouth opening wide as his teeth were bared. Somehow yawning made the Chief hate him even more.
After smacking his lips loudly, he responded, "Nothing. Carrots just wants to know when you're going to assign us our next case."
Chief Bogo snorted. "I believe you and your partner were already assigned a case," he said, sipping coffee from his mug.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, we solved that one a few of hours ago." He replied.
Chief Bogo dropped his coffee mug in surprise. The hot contents spilled over his lap as he yelped.
Just kidding. That would be stupid, even for this story. He put the coffee down on the table like a normal person. Hearing crazy news doesn't make your muscles stop working, people. Well, unless someone tells you that you're having a stroke.
The Chief spoke, unsure of his words. "You…what?"
"I'd be happy to kick back the rest of the day if you want though." The fox continued, acting as if he hadn't heard his employer's question.
"You…you solved it?" The water buffalo spoke with uncharacteristic surprise.
Nick cocked an eyebrow at Chief Bogo. He had seen the Chief with many different emotions before. Anger. Disbelief and anger. Surprise and anger. Sadness and anger. Happiness and anger. Remorse and anger. Anger and anger. Never had he seen him with this combination of emotions. Disbelief and surprise. He took a mental picture of the scene before him, savoring it.
Nick, still a bit taken aback by his Chief's reaction, replied to him like a normal mammal would. "You assigned it to us, Chief. So we solved it. You know, doing those things called our jobs."
Look at that. He was only slightly snarky. The poor fox must've been stunned.
Closing his gaping mouth, the Chief spoke. "I assigned it to you seven hours ago."
Nick grinned at the Chief. It was unsettlingly wide. "Sorry for taking so long. Carrots was insistent we get started on the case right away, but I really needed to catch up on some light reading and get a little beauty sleep."
Upon hearing Wilde speak in a very Wilde-esque way, the internal rage which had briefly subsided made itself known to Bogo again, allowing him respite to collect himself. He truly did not believe Wilde. This had to be a trick of some sort. He would call the fox's bluff. He snorted and, while glaring at Wilde, said, "I want to see Hopps' case report on this, then."
If the Chief had found Nick's earlier smile irritating, the one the vulpine currently had on was simply infuriating. The fox moved from the wall and walked into the office, pulling a file from behind his back as he did so. His emerald eyes sparkled at the water buffalo as he held the file up in the air in front of the Chief.
Chief Bogo then realized that Wilde had been carrying the file on his person. Which meant that Wilde had known he'd ask to see the report. The look on Wilde's face was one of mischievous glee. If Wilde was happy about the Chief asking for the report then that could only mean-
"Actually Sport, we opted for a joint report this time around, and I volunteered to write it up." He paused for a moment to glance at the file. "There isn't a single breach of protocol in here. So really, I could just send it down to records." The smug, nonchalant tone Nick normally used crumbled for a moment as notes of pure joy seeped into his voice. "Do you still want to see it?"
The message was clear. He had wanted him to read the report. This had been a trap from the beginning.
The Chief sat in silence for a moment, only able to stare at his officer and the file in front of him dumbly. He had been tricked. He weighed his options mentally.
No. I can say no…but If I say no I'll never know how they solved the case, or if they ever did at all. I have to see the report…but if I see the report I have to read it. If I have to read it... no... Damn that russet furred mongrel! What do I do? I have to know the truth. And he knows it!
Nick could hear the cogs in the Chief's head turning as he watched him grind his teeth together. The satisfaction he derived from this moment had never been matched by any other feeling. Unless his partner asked, in which case their nights were great and not at all repetitive and too vanilla for the fox's taste.
"I can't hold this report like this forever now. Are you going to read it? I wrote it special for you." There was a mirthful edge to Nick's tone as he leaned over the Chief's desk. "Just the way you like it."
The glare Bogo fixed his officer with was chilling. The heat of a thousand suns burned behind his eyes as all his frustrations, hatred, and fears were focused on that single being in the universe.
"Give me the file." The Chief whispered, hardly audible above the quiet hum of his desk fan.
"What was that Chief?" The vulpine asked as he leaned in further towards his superior. "I couldn't quite hear you. Do you think you could speak up?"
"Give me the file. Now." The water buffalo responded, his voice dangerous and warning.
Ignoring the tone of his voice, Nick placed the file in front of Bogo, an intense smugness schooled on his features. The Chief, if he were asked in that moment, would say it was emanating from the vulpine in visible waves of energy.
Still smiling, Nick said, "There you go." He slowly leaned up from the desk and walked back to the door of the office. As he stood in the doorway he looked over his should at the Chief, and added, "It was a pretty easy case. I hope the report doesn't bore you too much."
Nicholas Wilde was known for pushing his luck. Right then, it seemed he may have pushed it too far. Chief Bogo was trembling with a barely contained rage that seemed as if it had reached its melting point right then.
The tension in the air was thick as the two mammals stared each other down, one feeling prideful in his victory, the other only enveloped in the warm forces of the dark side. They had already gone beyond whatever there are words for. In all talk there is a grain of contempt, and contempt was far too weak to describe their feelings.
Finally, the vulpine gave a wink to the Chief before walking away, leaving the buffalo with the report he had been forced into reading. Nick Wilde smiled for the rest of the day.
Chief Bogo made several futile attempts to calm himself before he read the file. He breathed in and out slowly, and learned something very important. He closed his eyes and imagined himself trapping Officer Wilde somewhere and leaving him there. He shouted for help, and no one came for him. He would stay there. Forever.
After a few minutes of this he felt good enough to actually open his eyes again. He looked down at the report and flipped the front cover open. Maybe it was normal. Maybe the Chief had nothing to fear from his officer.
…
From the joint desk of Officers Hopps and Wilde, November 18th, Rescue of the Forgotten One, Bridget Barnes, abandoned by the city she loved and the ZPD until she was saved by two brave, determined, intelligent, perceptive, sexy, desirable, caring, amazing, dreamy officers
…
Chief Bogo closed his eyes and went to his happy place. Officer Wilde. Trapped. Alone. Scared. No one to help him. Officer Wilde. Trapped. Alone. Scared. No one to help him.
…
First, though, I want to talk about a movie. I saw it and now I have to tell someone about it. You're that someone, Big Guy.
Carrots and me watched this really amazing movie yesterday. It was called "Birdemic: Horror and Shock." Wow, was it hilarious. A true masterpiece. The main character was just great. I heard originally a brick wall was supposed to get the role, but he had to bail out at the last second. They ended up replacing him with a block of wood. It was the most convincing performance I've ever seen. Woody really knocked it out of the park.
Plus, and this was really sweet of 'em, they were all progressive and hired a cameraman with no eyes. At least I think that's what they did, based on some of the shots in the movie. It's a gripping action/romance/thriller story with birds. Kamikaze birds that explode. Birds that spit acid. Birds that ninja slice people's throats. I'm already feeling the Horror. The Shock comes when you realize someone made this movie.
Who created this cinematographic work of art you ask? Don't ask.
Also, I'm doing movie reviews now. Tell your friends.
Anyways, I just thought you'd appreciate if I shared that first, since this case was so boring and all. I know how much you appreciate a good movie.
…
Chief Bogo massaged his temples thoroughly. He just couldn't win. Not even once.
…
I'm sure for a lesser investigator than myself it would have been a supremely difficult case, but luckily, both myself and Officer Judy Hopps are mammals of the utmost quality and capacity. It would take an apocalyptic deluge to incapacitate our perfect faculties and diminish our abilities to solve any case.
Immediately, we went about the investigation in a professional, unique, and efficient way, just like I do all my police work. We began by questioning mammals with connections to Bridget, starting with her husband, John H. Erf. E. L. Barnes.
Where you concerned had I stroke there? Because no, that's actually his name. His name is John H. Erf. E. L. Barnes.
Those aren't even initials. That's just his actual name. There are periods in his name. How does that exist? What family is this even? Did something happen? Is there a story to it like this:
"John Herferdareel Barnes was inspecting his company's oil fields one day, when a freak accident occurred. One of the pumps malfunctioned, spraying boiling hot oil from the depths of the earth all across his family's land.
Everyone began to run, except John H. Barnes. John was a hero, and he rushed in to the fray to save the remaining workers that had been too close to the blast to run. He dove into the muck head first to pull the three men out by himself. He threw the workers fifty feet away to safety. Then he shut down the oil pump with just his bare hands. And an off switch. Searing oil rained down on John, but he ignored the pain. Those men he saved got to live without any injuries, but John…
Poor bastard. His name used to be so beautiful before the accident."
So we went to John Barnes' house and questioned the guy. Turns out he's got a new girlfriend and a new life. Nice house too. Really good interior decorator had been through there. I was impressed. He also had this nice stack of vinyls, which was cool. Also, he's insanely rich. I mean, stupidly so.
Oh, and he had no information on his missing wife, except for a picture he took of them on main street the day before she went missing. Carrots suggested that we follow up on that and talk to every single shop owner on main street. Every. Single. One. I suggested that we don't do that, because I valued our collective sanity.
Carrots did see something else in the picture though. There was a figure in the background watching Bridget. Everyone had already seen this, since a copy of the picture was already on file, but it took the trained eyes of a brilliant and magnanimous officer, who could recognize the tacky rain coat the culprit wore, even at a distance. It took the my perceptive eyes.
It was a knock-off coat sold by a shifty and dubious individual, known for his lack of integrity and complete disregard for all type of morality. There are mammals who do bad things. Then there are mammals who are bad. This mammal transcended that, and when looking into his scowling features, one could swear it was the face of true evil.
Nah, I'm just kidding. It was some guy name Paul who used to sell crap on my street corner. He tried to sell me a Rolex once. It was pink and had ladybug stickers on it. It's part of their new product line, I guess.
I was in uniform when he did this. That Paul. Real smart guy. He's no Hoofdor Doofington or anything, but he's pretty great. He had like twenty coats and a bunch of other things with him when we found him. He had this one item, though, that I thought you would like it. I bought it as a gift for you. I thought you could use. It's in the manila envelope in the folder.
…
The Chief pulled the manila envelope from the folder staring at it. As apprehensive as he was of a "gift" from the fox, he stuck his hoof into folder and felt a narrow, plastic-like object. He quickly pulled it out and saw that it was a car freshener. It was black all over and the name on the label was, "Black Ice." Bogo looked back to the report quizzically.
…
Your office smells like anger and tears. I thought it would freshen it up some. I'm not actually sure what "Black Ice" means, but I'm also pretty sure it's not completely illegal.
So anyways, Carrots goes all Rent-A-Cop on Paul and threatens to lock him away for…I don't remember. Collusion? Something like that.
Amazingly, Paul didn't remember who he sold a knock-off trench coat like that to a year ago. My partner didn't believe him, because that's just one of those things you remember.
Who could forget the time they met the love of their life? Or their wedding day? Or when a child took its first steps? Who could forget their favorite childhood home, the breeze, the smell, the altogether joy of being there? And who could possibly forget when they sold a dingy knock-off coat to someone in a dark alley for twenty big ones?
I know I'll never forget my first time.
Eventually Carrots and me settled on a different approach and asked him where he got the coats. He was reluctant to respond after being threatened with forty-four consecutive life sentences by Officer Dredd, but we coaxed him into telling us who his manufacturer was.
And by we, I mean me. I did that part. My partner wanted to play good cop, bad cop, except bad cop was replaced with crazy-psycho cop instead. Now, I would tell you how I did it, Boogie, but it's a trade secret.
On and unrelated note, I need to be reimbursed for a pink fake Rolex with lady bug stickers on it I had to purchase as a part of a different, unrelated case. It cost about-
…
Chief Bogo's eyes bulged slightly as he read the number in question. He leaned back in his chair, blinking away the tears creeping into the corners of his eyes. He marked down the cost of the watch on notepad with a message attached saying, "Pay bribe. Leisure Expense."
The large buffalo could not help but groan loudly as he did so, for he had recently learned that the Leisure Expenses came directly out of his end of year bonus.
The place Wilde was to be locked up in had just evolved from a pit into an underground dungeon in the Chief's mind.
…
Turns out he got these fake coats from a warehouse in Sahara Square. We were there in like minutes because Officer Speed Demon drove the car 80mph with the sirens blaring. She didn't even give me time to buckle up. But yeah, it was good to get there fast.
It's not like the case went cold two years ago or anything, right?
When we get there, it looks empty, except for a truck out in front of it. Which I think is silly. If you're gonna run a fake business, at least have a front or something. Nothing looks more suspicious than an abandoned, unused warehouse with a bunch of trucks out front. Seriously, if I was a criminal, I would do it way better than that.
Technically the place is private property so we can't enter without probable cause or a warrant. Luckily, the geniuses inside had the best business mantra I've ever heard. I'll just transcribe what Carrots and I heard them say through the doors of the warehouse.
"1, 2, 3, GO DRUGS! YEAH!"
There's probable cause. Then there's hearing this:
"I can't wait to sell all these illicit drugs!"
"Great job everyone! If we had any more drugs to sell we could have a pool made of money!"
"I'm so glad we got into the illegal drug trade business!"
"Me too! It's way better than illegally making knock-off designer outfits!"
"Alright guys that's enough! Let's get out there and sell these 40 kilos of cat nip, 20 kilos of adrenaline, and 10 kilos of refined carrot sugar! Go team!"
I'm gonna need a stronger word than probable here.
Hopps and I burst into the place and find three guys together, standing next to tables of drugs, clothes, and Pringles- only the pizza flavor for some reason. I guess that was their other business. It's important to diversify your portfolio and extend your product line, Chief. We were dealing with titans of the industry.
They turn around and just kind of freeze up. Now, normally that's a bad sign. When I see a guy freeze up I duck for cover because that means they're thinking. And when people like that think they remember that thinking is hard and then they just try to kill you…I'm guessing. I was a law abiding citizen before I was a cop.
Their leader stepped up anyways, waving his two guys down, while me and Carrots are standing across from them, tranquilizers drawn. He has this frown drawn on his face and is looking pretty grim. I was worried we might actually have a firefight, but luckily one of his two guys was an expert at diffusing hostile situations.
This guy, a bear with 2 kilos of catnip under his arm, asks"Ya think they know about the drugs, Bill?"
The world is a beautiful place, Chief. It's just beautiful. And it's full of so many gorgeous things. I don't want to ever have to leave it.
…
Bogo disagreed with that sentiment more and more each day.
I feel the same way with every new chapter of this story that gets posted. Someone please hire me for a different story. I'll narrate anything. Help me, please.
…
It was hard, but I managed to keep my gun steady. "Bill" looked at us up and down and then just got on his knees. His two guys followed suit. To the bear's credit, he never put the catnip down even when he was on the ground. That's real work dedication. Admirable.
Carrots and me moved pretty quickly to cuff them. We lugged up them up to a sitting position against one of their tables. It was at this point we tried to question them. Bill was non-cooperative and said nothing. He probably figured he was screwed anyways, and didn't want to give the cops anything else…I'm guessing. I was a law abiding citizen before I was a cop.
Whiskers asked him if he wanted to help save a missing young lady who could potentially be hurt or dead, and Bill asked her if she wanted to bury herself in the nearest ditch. Based on her reaction, I'm gonna say that wasn't the answer she wanted. I'll just transcribe the short interaction that happened after that.
Angry Bunny: "You think you're cute, huh?"
Billy: "[Redacted: Expletive], I'm adorable."
My partner marched off in a huff to call it in to the rest of the force so they could pick these guys up, which just left me alone with three suspects. She's so cute when she's mad.
I tried to schmooze the guy and he wouldn't bite. I pulled out all the stops too. I gave him a shoulder rub, I told him I'd get his inevitable sentence reduced if he helped, I offered him a stick of gum, and I told him I'd give him Satan's Finger. I love Satan's Finger. I've had it forever. It's my favorite. He still wouldn't budge.
Course, I didn't factor his bear friend in. Mr. Bearington was a very helpful individual. His exact question for Bill was, "Do you think they know about Don Herald helping her fake her death and start a new life?"
Police work has been easier than I originally anticipated.
As soon as Officers McHorn and Trunkaby were on the scene, my partner and I left. Gotta say, I felt a little bad about leaving Horny and Trunks with 60 kilos of drugs, hundreds of clothes, three suspects, and three hundred pounds of pizza flavored Pringles, but Officer Rambo had the scent of Don Herald and was not going to let go.
Turns out Don Herald owns a repair shop in Sahara Square. Gotta say, for a rat who makes people disappear for a living he was very forthcoming with information.
We walked into the shop and before Judy asked him one question, he offered us a deal. No introductions, no denials, nothing. Technically the only crime committed was by Bridget Jones. He was just an accessory. He told us he'd let us know where she was if we happened to drop any charges that might be against him and leave him out of any public announcements about finding her. He wanted it in writing.
We could've waited it out and just interrogated him. Then again, if we tried to play it that way he could just stay quiet and we'd have nothing. Plus, he could get a warning off to Bridget and she'd run again. Then we'd have nothing and we couldn't hold him to anything. At least with his deal we got the bun.
Conniving little rat.
He didn't tell us exactly how he did, but as far as Hopps and me figure, it went something like this: He was friends with the drug dealers we'd arrested earlier, which is why he had one of those knock-off trench coats. He tried to get captured on picture watching Mrs. Barnes so that the disappearing looked more like an authentic kidnapping and less like a runaway. Then he got her out of town. Why did she want everyone to think she was kidnapped? No clue.
It's lucky this Don was friends with those dealers, though. If he had just bought the coat on the street we would never have found him. Instead he decided to get one for free from his friends. Thanks for being cheap, Don. Thanks. He gave us her location just like he said he would, and we left him alone just like we said we would.
Bridget Jones was a barista at a coffee shop in Podunk. She's been living under the name "Jane Doe." Don was smart, but apparently lacking in imagination. If I had a new life I'd want my name to be something that sounded suave or cool. Then again, my name already flows pretty well off the tongue. Nick Wilde. Damn, I'm smooth.
Anyways, Some local officers picked her up when we called them. She's in a room downstairs. She got there about twenty minutes before I gave this report to you. No idea why she wanted to disappear. I wanted to question her, but Officer Fangmeyer was very insistent that he had it handled and didn't need my help in interrogation. Fangs has been so jumpy around me lately, for some reason.
It was a pretty easy case. I'm surprised no one solved it sooner. But I guess it did take us a four hours, so I shouldn't be too mean.
Yours forever,
Nick Wilde
…
The report sat on his desk. Chief Bogo was not paying attention to it anymore. He spent weeks on that case. There had been no leads. There was absolutely nothing. In less than one work shift Officers Hopps and Wilde had cracked it.
They had literally stumbled on leads. Half of what Wilde described wasn't even police work. They just got lucky. The Chief was fuming. He had never felt so utterly inadequate as he did in that moment.
He simply refused to believe it. There was no possible way. It was a joke. It was Wilde trying to get a reaction out of him. That's all.
The Chief buzzed Clawhauser, practically smashing the phone as he brought his hoof down. "Clawhauser. Where is Officer Fangmeyer?"
There was a pause on the speaker before the cheetah's light voice broke through. "He's in interrogation room, uhhh, 3, Chief."
The water buffalo's tensed a bit. "Who else is in there?"
"What do you mean, sir?"
Bogo rolled his eyes and grunted. "Clawhauser. Who is he interrogating in room 3?"
"Well, Chief, he's interrogating Bridget Barnes." Clawhauser spoke matter-of-factly.
The Chief's blood froze as Clawhauser said that. It was true. It was all true. The Chief looked up to ceiling, whispering, "Why is it that you hate me?" There was no response to his question, and all that he could see was the eggshell colored roof staring back at him. The silence was deafening.
"Chief?" Clawhauser's voice broke Bogo out of his unpleasant trance.
The Chief asked, "What is it?" His voice was free of any emotion.
"Are you going out to the press conference now?" Clawhauser asked.
"What?" was the only response the cheetah received.
"The press conference, Chief. They just finished setting it up outside and they're all ready for you."
"What press conference?" Bogo asked, feeling fear begin to creep into his skin.
"The one you set up to talk about finding Mrs. Barnes," The cheetah said, not sounding altogether sure of himself. "They're all set up and the mayor is waiting on you."
"The mayor is here?" The Chief desperately tried to hide the sense of horror that was overtaking him.
That fox. That fox was somehow responsible for this. He'd set this up somehow. He'd set the Chief up. There was a press conference downstairs on a case he hadn't worked in over a year, and the only information he had to go on was from Officer Wilde's report. The buffalo was loathe to trust a source such as that.
He would have words with that fox later. But for now, he had to go deliver a message in front of the mayor and dozens of reporters on this case. He had no idea what he should say, or how much everyone already knew. If there were any sort of mercy in the world, Chief Bogo would manage not to embarrass himself in front of his boss.
However, someone had recently taught the Chief that there was no mercy.
"I'll be right down," The Chief growled over the speaker, frightening the receptionist. He began the journey towards the entrance of Precinct 1, dreading what was about to come.
It was going to be a disaster.
Two Hours Earlier, Room 234
Erin Deckard was in her office, leaning back in her chair with an expression of intense interest painted on her features. On the other side of her desk sat a russet furred fox who wore an expression of smug disinterest.
"Can you do this?" The vulpine asked her, almost lazily.
Erin smirked. "It could be arranged in the next couple hours, if I get what I want."
Nick raised his eyebrow quizzically in response.
"The betting pool on you and Hopps is up to $2,600 now." Erin said.
"Which one?" Nick asked. "It seems like that's everyone's favorite topic."
"Oh, don't flatter yourself." Erin scoffed. "Everyone's betting on where you're going to get caught."
Nick had a puzzled look on his muzzle before the realization of what she meant hit him.
"Hate to break it to you, but Carrots and me aren't dumb enough to be all over each other at work." Nick replied. Then he flashed a devilish smile at Miss Deckard before adding, "But let's pretend she and I were to break that rule just once. Where do you think we'd be doing that?"
Deckard leaned forward, matching Nick's smile with one of her own. "I'd say the bullpen."
"Sounds kinda' bold there, sweetheart." Nick said, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his feet on her desk.
Erin gazed at the fox intently. "Very. In fact, I was the only one bold enough to bet on such an open place." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Or I will be, once my bet is placed after this meeting."
Nick chuckled lightly. "Fortune does favor the bold." There was a slight pause. When he next spoke the mirth had crept away from his voice and his eyes were narrowed at the coyote in front of him. "Just so long as none of this comes back to me."
A harsh laugh escaped from the coyote's lips as she said, "Believe me. The last thing I want is for anyone to know I agreed to do this. All this stays between us."
"We have a deal, then?" She stuck a paw out to the fox in front of her, which he promptly took. Nick rose from his chair and as he turned to leave, Erin said, "I'll make a few calls and it'll all be in place by the time your shift's over. Take care, Officer Wilde."
Nick Wilde peered around the sides of the entryway to her office, ensuring their were no curious onlookers, before swiftly moving down the hall to set the rest of his plan in motion. He offered a quick glance back as he heard the door shut behind him. The bold, black letters on the glass read, "Erin Deckard, Director of Public Relations, Precinct 1."
Nick Wilde could hardly contain his excitement as he settled down to write his case report. He really, really loved his job.
AN: Hey everyone, I just thought I should let you know that my current narrator is taking a personal day. So tomorrow I'm going to have a new narrator for the story. It's only for tomorrow, though, and I'll have my normal narrator back soon. Thanks for understanding!