Many Deals

Chief Bogo's copper tinted smartphone broke into blaring chirps in his palm, interrupting a text message he attempted to send. He grunted and put the phone to his ear, "Yes?"

"Chief Bogo. This is Jack Savage. I heard about the attack." The Chief suddenly stood up straight. In a strong voice, he said,

"Yes, I was about to begin my interview until you called, sir."

"Judge Hilo is a good one. Whatever the cost for protecting him, I will cover it. Just keep him safe and fill me in on the details later. Goodnight, Chief."

"Yes, Agent Savage." The Chief's response would go unheard as Jack had swiftly cut the call on his end. Chief Bogo hung up the phone and shook his head. Why would Jack be interested in this? He surely must have bigger jobs to be concerned with. Whatever the matter, the chief always appreciated Jack's help. The generosity of Jack seemed illimitable. After resuming and finally submitting his interrupted text message, he entered the interview room to speak with the victim.

"Alright," Chief Bogo sighed and inhaled deep, forcing air to his brain. "Let's start from the beginning." The judge slowly leaned forward in his seat and rested his arms on the gray table in front of him. He winced at his wounds then pressed his lips together, teasing out the tingling sensation of pain from his swollen bottom lip. Kneading his clasped paws, he recalled the events that had transpired just three hours ago,

"I entered my apartment and was ambushed by three masked figures. I could not make out any details on them. They were covered up well; tails, ears, everything." The Chief wiped his wide snout with a palm to relieve an itch and nodded. His short curved horns pointed toward the judge off center like an awkwardly placed radio microphone.

"You mentioned when coming in that you believe these goons were sent by Big?"

"That was what I was told by one of the attackers. He was short. They all were, in fact. They all looked equal in height. I think the three of them were of the same species." Bogo picked up the tiny notepad that rested patiently on the desk next to the judge's arms and hurriedly scribbled down the description. "It was a scare tactic. Big is trying to scare me away because I refuse his influence," concluded Hilo. He wiped his wet nose with the back of a paw.

"Off the record, it's why you're so important to me. You are incorruptible. You don't squirm in the presence of scum bags. You're my best judge." The judge smiled appreciatively. Before putting his notepad and pen away, Chief Bogo asked, "Is there anything else that you can think of?"

"At the moment, no."

"You really should get checked out for your injuries."

"Bah! I'm old but I'm not made of glass. Those small fries can't hit for beans. And I don't want to scare my daughter with having her come get me from a hospital." Bogo's ears twitched, bemused.

"Since you've become a target, we will not be taking any chances. For the next six weeks, I will arrange for a security escort. A good friend of ours would expect nothing less than your safety. And I agree with him." Judge Hilo's ears fell back then went up again. He turned his gaze away from Chief Bogo and said,

"Fine."

Clouds blanketed the morning sky over Savanna Central. They hungrily stole the sun's light and glowed from the feast. Nick calmly stood up from his lawn chair and stretched his muscles. The artificial city stream in front of him endlessly looped the cold ambient sounds of water rushing past rock. The small arched bridge above was a private comfort. It served as a secondary shelter he had grown attached to over the years. He had even added some furnishings to make the place cozier. He placed a small ottoman and a desk with a wireless mobile lamp just in the shade of the bridge. Despite having a fair amount of wealth - obtained through questionable activities - he preferred to keep a low profile and lived in a rather small beat-up apartment. The less attention, the better, he thought. The closest he came to achieving a respectable place of his own was derailed years ago when he was thrown in jail. Nick's only lifeline of sanity through those trying times had been the hard-headed Finnick. And now Nick made his way through the streets to find his friend, in an effort to keep the promise he made to Jack just last night.

From what he remembered of his conversation with Finnick, they agreed to meet at Jumbeaux's café. Shops were still opening as Nick walked up the streets. A pair of elk put a little extra distance between themselves and Nick. He only smiled at them and said, "Good morning." There's that good old fox treatment I expect. He grew hardened to the wary looks, the fearful stares. At least he tried to convince himself of this. "Never let them see that they get to you," he mumbled. A pair of joggers across the street entered a nearby park. A row of piglets trailed behind them. Just another block later, Nick approached the front of Jumbeaux's. Inside he saw Finnick waiting in line behind a giraffe. As he opened the door, Finnick approached the counter. He made an effort to control his tail to keep it from wagging happily. Seeing Finnick always put him in a better mood. Grinning, he quietly walked up behind Finnick.

"A strawberry sundae," said Finnick.

"Make that two," said Nick as he placed an elbow on the fennec's blonde head.

"Oh, hey bro didn't see you down there." Finnick shook his head and hid a smile.

"So what's going down, pal? What's up with this rabbit?" asked Finnick, skipping past greeting Nick yet not resisting the elbow that still rested on his head.

"No idea," said Nick, finally supporting himself with his legs and releasing Finnick of his duty as an armrest. Finnick turned to acknowledge the clerk behind the counter as he reached out to get their order. "Just some weirdo. But he pays well."

"Everybody's a weirdo these days," said Finnick, rolling his eyes. His large ears swayed gently as he walked. He picked a corner bench near the entrance to the shop, prompting Nick to follow. The white light of sun-soaked clouds was blocked sporadically by blinders. Nick eagerly dug into his sundae. The morning had cursed him with a sweet tooth that demanded satisfaction. Finnick dug his spoon into the bowl of ice cream. Nick paused for a moment and looked at him. He took a breath and said,

"Listen, Finnick. I'll confess, I don't like what's been going on." Finnick didn't outwardly acknowledge his concern. He just gulped down a spoonful of a melting sundae. The shop's fridge had been poorly tuned and customers were being served half frozen bowls of ice cream. He knew Finnick was listening. "We haven't had this much attention drawn to ourselves since that stupid raccoon attacked you and got me arrested."

"Oh yeah, that judge was a real jackass. You get nearly a year in jail for protecting me from those raccoons. Claiming you 'started it'. What a load..."

Nick waved his paws frantically, "I'm not going down that road, it's over with."

"I've never seen you raise a paw to anyone in spite or anger, ever. You big wuss!" Finnick chided fondly.

"Between cops bugging me and weirdo's asking for favors, and everyone wanting your side of things, it's getting a little noisy on the streets," said Nick.

"So what?" shouted Finnick. "We'll deal with it like we always do. With your brains and my backbone, who is going to put a leash on us?" Finnick asked, rhetorically.

Rhetorical or not, there were two forces that could derail their already unlucky lives; The ZPD, should the foxes end up in something deeper and dirtier than they would ever wittingly get into, and Big. A power-hungry old shrew no longer satisfied with merely pulling the strings in the Tundra. Nick's brows furrowed,

"I wouldn't get too close to Big if I were you."

Finnick wiped his muzzle with a napkin, leaving a multi-colored stain on its face from the ice cream, "Aww come on, Nick. He's not so bad. A little creepy, sure. But he did help me out. He's helped you out a little too."

Nick couldn't deny that. But knowing the reputation of Big as a ruthless trader and crime boss made Nick's skin crawl. When Nick partnered with Finnick in his shop, he had sold rugs and some home furnishings to Big. When Nick decided to operate his own food stall and break away from Finnick's Fabrics, it was Big that helped supply him with enough product to be a competitive street vendor. But the stock he often used came with heavy stipulations from Big. The ill-gotten product was to be sold and Nick couldn't question where it came from or how it was acquired. Nick preferred to keep his distance and only deal with Big just enough to keep him satisfied and out of his hair. He wanted no part of Big's so-called "family" and slowly worked on bringing in his own product from legit sources. Although, he did continue to rely on Big for the fish.

"Just think before you accept anything from Big, is all I can ask of you," Nick said in a worried voice.

Finnick avoided pushing the discussion. it was always annoying when Nick got all panicky and mushy. Finnick forced a change in subject, "So what is it that the rabbit wants?"

Nick put down the near-empty bowl from which he slurped up his melted sundae to say, "He wants you to sell him rubber and latex materials. For costumes, apparently. But he wants the raw materials. Nothing pre-made. And he requests that you do not record this transaction in any way in your log books."

Finnick raised an eyebrow, "That is weird. What could be so secret about it? Is he playing superhero or something?" Finnick bubbled with hearty laughter.

Nick grinned and shook his head, blinking a comical image in his eyes of Jack in some strange costume.

"Whatever it's for is none of our business." He pushed his empty ash-blue ceramic bowl to the side, "We are being paid, so all is well." Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out the $300 given to him by Jack, "You're the one with the shop and the materials so" - Nick split the money and handed Finnick two of the three $100 bills - "you should take two hundred."

"My pal!" Finnick graciously snatched the money. "Tell the rabbit to meet me tomorrow morning, a day before I open up shop. We'll meet in my shop in private to talk about his goods."

Finnick felt his phone vibrate on his left hip. He reached into his pocket and curiously checked his phone.

"Oh, look at that!"

"What?" Nick asked.

"Big wants me to help him unload a shipment of rare chocolate imports coming in from the Rainforest District."

Nick closed his eyes and tilted his head upward. He slowly ran a paw over his ears and said, "What does he want from our lives now?"

"Well," Finnick began, "he wants you to help him sell these chocolates. And he expects 40% of the profits from the sales."

Nick crossed his arms and simmered in silence. Finnick put his phone away and folded his hands on the table, also brooding to himself. They briefly played a silent mental game of, "What should we do?"

A loud customer complaining about her order broke them from their thoughts.

Finnick looked at Nick and said, "Nick, I'm going to accept."

"I figured you would," Nick rolled his eyes. "That means I have to as well. Through good and bad decisions, we do it all together, right?"

"Ya damn right, buddy," Finnick cheerily replied. Nick nervously smiled at Finnick, the stubborn fool.