A/N: Would you believe me if I told you this was the true story of how I met my little sister?... because it's not.

But seriously, if you want to check out the cover art in finer detail, then check out WastedTimeEE's deviantart page!


CA$H ONLY
Chapter 3: NICKLE$ and DIME$ and PICKLLE$
By: I Write Big

What separate law enforcement from vigilantes are procedure and accountability. For every trigger pulled a single-spaced form must be filled out by the officer. Not only did Zootopia's finest have to carry out the law, they had to obey it. Which meant respecting the authority of those above them. Judy respected Bogo. He was a tough but fair boss who played mean so as to maintain order. He viewed the cases with a clear conscious and made the calls he felt were right.

"You can't be part of the Big kitnapping investigation, Hopps," he had told her after she turned in her initial findings. "Both you and Wilde are fine officers but you're also too close to this case. Emotions cloud judgement and you're too green for me to trust you to not let that happen."

Her breath had caught in her throat and her focus locked on all the clues she had gathered from only one day of work on the desk.

A massive paw comforted her shoulder, "We'll find your goddaughter. Don't worry." Bogo waited for Judy to give some kind acknowledgement, but the bunny didn't move. Her no doubt crippling distress hidden behind those drooping ears. The job never got easier. He held back his heavy sigh and marched back to his office, making sure to never betray the storm of regret. It had to be done.

Nick waited for the Chief to go around the corner before he said, "Think he bought it."

"Good," Judy immediately snapped out of her melancholy and grabbed the car keys. "Let's move."

Judy respected Bogo. Which was why she wasn't going to disrespect him by lying to his face. That was Nick's schtick.

Overnight, the ZPD had been flooded with tips on the whereabouts of Judy Clawleone Big. Most were from clearly deranged lonely mammals looking for attention. Others were from sane citizens thinking they could get a reward from the notorious Big family. None had claimed to be the actual kitnapper. This was disheartening for every mammal involved. Surely, the kitnapper wanted to make their demands known.

So why hadn't they called?

This was the question Judy and Nick hoped to answer. To keep Bogo off their backs, the two had to keep their movements within believable proximity of the warehouses the printers were stolen from. This put them at the outer edges of the city which was lucky. Judy's working theory was the kitnapper wasn't holding li'l Judy in the city. The plan was to follow up on any tips pointing to the edge of the city limits. So far they had been led to an abandoned public pool, a diner called the R&R which served the most damn good coffee Nick had ever drank and a crazy homeless horse who claimed to be li'l Judy all grown up.

"This might not be the most efficient use of our time, Carrots," Nick sipped from his travel mug of R&R homebrew as he checked off the latest dead end. "We should call it a day before Bogo catches on." When his partner didn't respond, he sighed and took on a more softer tone, "I know you consider li'l Judy family—"

"She is family," Judy's paws clenched the wheel. She had always tried to stay optimistic, but all these wild goose chases were starting to wear on her. A quick moment to take a breath was all she needed to bring back her smile, "And, technically, that sorta makes her your family too."

Nick raised a playful eyebrow, "You proposing, Fluff?"

She pretended to consider the option, leaning back and forth as if weighing the pros and cons. Since she had kissed him the night of li'l Judy's christening, the two had been going steady. These little moments where they could enjoy each other's company had become some of her most cherished. However, it always seemed work got in the way. The job they did was important and Nick seemed happy but... Judy had never been in a serious relationship before.

That kiss had not only been Judy's first kiss, to her utter shame, but it was also their only kiss. She had done it in a spur of the moment and never regretted the gut decision. However, she found only flirting was easy; words were her sword. Everything else was terrifying unknown territory. Despite Nick's teasing about bunnies being overly emotional, all her teenage years were dedicated to her career instead of figuring out the opposite sex. What did they like? Beer, sports and… lingerie… That was her list so far. How fast was too fast? They haven't even held paws in public yet! Do guys care what she wore? Those teen magazines she never read think so. Simply put, she worried she might not be romantic enough for the smooth talking fox.

Before she could throw in a clever comeback, she spied the next destination. "One more," she flipped the turn signal as they approached the sign labeled 'Dump.'

"Cheese and crackers," Judy gawked. She couldn't tell where the destruction ended or where the trash began. The fence looked like it had been chewed up and spat out. Garbage was sprawled on the edges of deep tire marks that scarred the grounds.

"Clean up oughta be easy. The dump's right here," Nick joked as they stepped around a broken taillight.

All of this was fresh, hours old, Judy could tell. She grinned as she noticed her foot had started to thump. That only happened when they were onto something. She eagerly knocked on the security shack. The clatter of empty glass bottles sounded from inside followed by the groan of the door swinging open.

Nick spat out his coffee, "Duke?"

"Who?" the double-blackeyed ferret yawned.

Judy squinted her eyes, "...Travis?"

"Judy?" Travis gasped, suddenly awake.

"Travis?" Nick clarified.

"Judy!" Travis exclaimed in joy.

"You?" Judy couldn't believe who it was.

"Friend?" questioned Nick.

"Eh," shrugged Judy.

"Yeah," Travis chuckled at the fond school memories.

"Troubles?" Judy pointed a thumb at the mess behind her.

Travis nodded, "Shrew."

"Shrew?!" Judy nearly jumped. Could the Clawleones be involved?

"Kitnapper?" Nick's ears perked and he pulled out his notepad.

"Naw," Travis shook his head.

"Others," Judy suggested, eager to hear how many they were dealing with.

Travis plainly answered, "One."

"One?" Judy raised an eyebrow at the damage one mammal caused.

"Description?" pushed Nick.

Travis thought then pointed at his own chest, "Me."

"Ferret," Nick assumed.

"Weasel," Travis corrected.

Silence.


Duke jolted awake. He could've sworn he heard someone screaming his name in the distance. He could've sworn even harder the voice sounded like that crazy cottontail copper. The weasel spun around but those floppy ears of doom were nowhere to be seen. Only endless tall grass and the occasional tree. His pulse slowed to a calm as he regained his senses and he subconsciously scratched at his film anklet.

Last night was a nightmare. Death had come dangerously close before. Now, though, Death had a face and was chasing him like a demon. With no light, save the stars and the moon, every snapping twig was an angry shrew, every cricket chirp was the cocking of a gun. Duke had ran non-stop, clinging to the baby carrier until the sun came up and he collapsed from exhaustion. Thankfully, the crazy shrew hadn't found him in his sleep.

Duke rolled over and bumped into the last bottle of Phull Muun. Inside was the final wad of his cash. How much? He had no clue. Could be hundreds. Could be two bucks. Breaking it open now would leave a trail so instead he stuck the mystery bottle in his pocket.

A grumble came from the baby carrier. Duke stuck his nose close to the slumbering last source of potential cash he had left. What exactly could he do with her? Horn said he'd pay triple… Then again, Big had no limit to his wealth. He could ask for anything. Maybe even double triple! He just had to get in contact.

"WAAAAHHH!"

Duke snapped back and covered his ears. The ½ inch ball of horror's cries pierced the heavens. Never had he known such pain. Nails on chalkboards were lullabies compared to this. Using his toe, Duke shut the carrier's hood. The slight dampening was welcome relief to his eardrums.

"Christ almighty!" he shouted. Strangely, he didn't hear his own shout. There was only a light ringing. "Fuck! I've gone deaf!"

An unknown amount of time later, Duke was aimlessly trudging through the brush with the carrier hanging from his shoulder. There were no roads to be seen and his phone was dead so he couldn't even use the compass. He had to rely on the sun's position. Good thing the sun always rose in the East. Or was it the West? Crap... Before setting off into the great unknown, Duke had gotten a good whiff of himself and gagged. The lingering dump stench was horrendous. A feeble bath in a tiny stream nearby helped but he'd need a real shower. By that point, his hearing had returned and the baby had stopped her whining and gone back to sleep. That didn't mean she wouldn't start up again.

"GROAN…" went his belly.

And to make matters worse, he was starving. "Ugh, why does kitnapping have ta be so hard?" Duke demanded of the sky. The sky responded with a wisp of wind that carried the scent of fresh burgers. Duke drooled as he followed the intoxicating aroma to a thick line of trees. Just on the other side was a curious sight.

A paw-carved sign marked this place as 'Pickle Park of Podunk.' Duke muttered, "Podunk? How da hell did I go from one trash heap to another?" A single playground stood in the distant center of a green field. Closer to the sign was a congregation of various mammals gathered around a great wooden gazebo. A huge 'welcome' banner was strung across the party. At least, Duke assumed it was a party. Way too big to be a picnic, but too small to be a faire.

"Well hey there, Travis! Been a while!" welcomed a squeaky voice.

Duke looked down. In his hunger, his legs had carried him towards the smell of food without him noticing. He was directly below the welcome banner in front of a table manned by a single gerbil who obviously thought he knew him.

"Uh..."

The gerbil laughed, "Actually got the day off for the Pickle, Picklle, Pikel Family Reunion, huh? That's great! Probably should've stopped for a shower, you still kinda smell like work." The rodent made a note on what appeared to be a guest list and then slid a marker and a blank nametag to him. "You're just in time. We were about to start lunch."

Duke stared at the blank sticker. All the mammals around the gazebo wore one. More importantly, they were eating food. FOR FREE! He uncapped the marker, put down 'Travis' and slapped on the pseudonym.

"Wouldya look at that." The gerbil leaned over the table and smiled, "What about your little one?"

Hungry 'Travis' mistook the nosy fella's pointing finger to be aiming at the Phull Muun bottle poking out of his pants. "What, ya mean my cash?" he asked.

The gerbil quirked his head, "Cash? Quite the unique name. That short for Cassandra?"

Only then did Duke realize the gerbil meant the baby shrew. "Uh yeah!" He scrawled 'CASH' in big blockly letters and slapped it on the carrier. "That's her name. My precious Cash… Picklle! Cash 'Cassandra' Picklle! And I'm Travis Picklle with 2 L's. Where's da food?" He pushed passed the table and dove into the crowd. Through elephant legs he slithered and over muskrat heads he jumped until he found the source. Nothing could've been more beautiful. Piping hot, greasy burgers stacked in a pyramid surrounded by a moat of pickle jars. Duke felt more wolf than weasel as he scarfed down three whole patties. He could feel the early signs of a food coma taking hold.

"D'aww!"

Duke stiffened. He knew that coo. He knew that sickening coo well. It was the God awful coo broads made when they saw a cute baby! He snapped around to find a swarm of females surrounding the carrier. They were fawning, making kissy faces, and raising cameras!

Duke leaped in front of the lenses, "Ladies, please, my li'l girl don't do well with flashes."

"You're her father?" questioned a squirrel.

A deer gasped, "He adopted! How sweet!"

"And he's single," purred a lioness.

"Not lookin' ta mingle, sista'," he hid his ringless paw behind his back and closed the carrier's hood. "Now, if you'll put da cameras away, my legally adopted daughter, who I love very much, needs some sleep."

"WAAAAAHH!" the cretin shrieked as if to make him look like a liar.

"Sleep? Babushka hungry," a towering, slender cow with graying spots and a husky accent parted the gaggle and fixed Duke with her hard blue eyes. "You feed, yes?" Duke had faced many broads he would consider scary but this one… there was something about the way this one carried herself that told the weasel that if he said the wrong word, she'd tear out his tongue.

"Sure, I mean, 'course, I mean, a dad's gotta take care of his kid, am I right?" The cold bovine said nothing. Duke realized with dread that she was waiting for him to feed the shrew. His forced smile started to crack as he slowly reached for another burger.

A beefy paw swiped the paddy out of his grasp, "Nyet." She picked up the carrier in one arm, Duke in the other and took them away.

Duke was plopped on a wooden bench and the wailing baby shrew was forced into his hold. He could feel the ear ringing come back full force.

"Hold child," the broad ordered.

From a purse he hadn't noticed before she produced a glass bottle labeled 'Pikel Milk'. She poured a couple drops into what looked like a thimble with a nib on top. She gave the thimble to Duke.

"Feed."

Still worried she was gonna rip him apart with those thick, sinewy arms of hers, he held the thimble to the baby. The shrew ignored the food and kept trying to break the sound barrier.

"Tilt head up."

Duke obeyed. Within seconds, the shrew latched onto the nib and suckled. The rush of accomplishment and newfound knowledge washed over Duke. It seemed so obvious. The baby couldn't cry if there was food in her mouth.

He gaped, "Holy shit..." The cow cuffed the back of his head. "Ah! The fuck—"

"Watch language!" the cow scolded. "Babushka learn words from parents. Must teach proper." Duke wanted to tell her off but her intimidating presence kept his trap shut. It wouldn't surprise him if this old broad was the great-grandmother of that Chief Buffalo Butt.

"You new father," she stated.

A flare of anger shook Duke and the film around his ankle tightened, "Whatya talkin' 'bout? 'Course I knew him! You think cuz I'mma weasel—" Duke choked as he remembered Travis was supposed to be a ferret. "I mean, cuz I'mma..." He stopped as the cow's knowing smile told him the jig was up. Her stone-hard glare softened and she placed a beefy arm on his shoulder.

"I understand. Stay, please. You not Picklle but you are welcome." Duke stared back at the broad, hoping against hope this wasn't a trick. "I do not ask you knew father. I see you are new father." The abrupt kindness she showed... It was like seeing a wildfire bent on consuming the forest die down to a candle wanting only to help him read a story at night. "You do not know how to raise child. Yourself like child."

"It's not like dere's instructions," Duke grumbled, feeling it was finally safe to talk back.

"Wrong. Many books."

"Oh, ya mean dose overpriced 'how not ta drop a baby' novels?" he spat back. "Dose scams are bigger than dictionaries! Babies already cost an arm and a leg. I don't need no fifty buck book ta tell me babies only do three things: eat, sleep and cry!" He sniffed the air, "And crap." That earned him another cuff to the head. Thoroughly pissed off, Duke excused himself. Before he could get far, the Pikel Milk bottle was shoved back into his paw. Duke grumbled and dropped the free baby silencer into the carrier.

With no judging cows looking over his shoulder, Duke peeled off the rancid used diaper. The thing was tinier than a postage stamp. It waved like flag in a gentle gust he couldn't even feel. A weird theory popped into his head and held the diaper up in the air. As soon as he felt a slight wind, he let go. The breeze easily carried the mini biohazard to parts unknown. Until the air currents changed and plopped the diaper on a burger just as an elephant took a big bite. Duke almost hurled.

He then unsheathed a claw and sliced out a strip from his wifebeater. With a few quick knots he had a fresh shit basket. "Now Cash, your name is Cash now by da way, you're probably used ta gettin' powders and high-end wipes and stuff. Unfortunately, due to a tonna bull, I ain't droppin' nothin' fancy on ya. Only junk I can swipe or junk I can make." He slipped the MacGyvered diaper on Cash and held her up. "As my ma used ta say, ask me again after I get paid."

"Fuck it!" Cash gurgled and smiled.

Duke frowned, "Ya laughin' at me?" She reached past the weasel who followed her paw to the gazebo. Hidden in the crowd were tables covered with dioramas of farms, maps of the country around them and hundreds of family photos. The pictures ranged from recent to clearly ancient black and white with crinkled edges. They told the history of how three different families with oddly similar names joined together to found Podunk and how over the generations the three tribes had stood by each other's sides through thick and thin.

And Duke didn't care.

"Ugh, never fall for museums, kid. They're a buncha tax scams for da rich." He shouldered the baby carrier and looked around. With both their stomachs full, what he needed next was a way to charge his phone so he could make the ransom call. Trees sure as hell ain't got plugs. He eyed the warm, caring mammals. Maybe one of these suckers could help out old Travis Picklle. After all, what's family for?


To a shrew, tall grass is more like a great untamed jungle. With nothing to stand on that reached above the grassy canopy, Donny had to rely completely on his nose for navigation. It wasn't that easy. Despite shrews having some Grade A sniffers, Donny had let the weasel get too far ahead. He had lost his wheels so he could only chase on his stubby legs. What he wouldn't give to have one of Big's polar bears. On top of that, his phone had gotten cracked in the scuffle. The screen wouldn't recognize his finger and the damn Furi AI could never recognize his voice. He had no way of letting pops know he had found his niece and to get his boys to back him up. Donny was gonna have to do this Lone Shrew style.

Eventually, the showdown at the dump caught up to him and Donny had collapsed. He woke when the sun was high and baking. He dove under a thick patch and tried to cool off in the shade. A few minutes later, he noticed something wrong. His nose twitched. There was something missing. The weasel's scent was gone!

Donny roared and tore up the grass around him. How had he let that nobody, lower than dirt weasel get away?! He's Donny Fucking Clawleone! Nomammal got away from him! He saw red and charged in a random direction, his anger driving him blind. It didn't end until his foot caught on a stray root and he tumbled to the dirt. The painful skid put an end to his rage. He took a deep breath like his therapist had instructed. It helped a little. His mind clearer, he decided it was best to find a phone first, then worry about tracking li'l Judy. He looked up and saw he laid at the foot of the first wooden sign of civilization for miles.

"Podunk?"


Seems being a Picklle had its perks. Not only did Duke immediately get a charging bank handed to him from the first mammal he asked, the meerkat had also offered him a ride to the Pickle, Pikel, Picklle Reunion After-Party. "Always willing to help out a fellow Pikel," he had said with a smile. Duke didn't know if the Picklle he was pretending to be was from the same family but the sucker didn't seem to care.

The battery bar was slowly filling. There was already enough juice to make a call. Duke eagerly opened the dial pad, practicing in his head the menacing speech about how Big would never see his precious granddaughter again only to realize he was missing a crucial detail...

He had no idea what was Big's number.

An online search turned up the Big limousine company. He figured it was better than nothing. "Tundratown Limo Service, it's the ride you can't refuse. Were you interested in our Sleeping with the Fishes package?" answered a bored voice.

"Uh, hi, I was hopin' I could talk ta your boss."

"I'm sorry, sir, the manager is unavailable at the moment. Can I take a message?"

"No, not your manager. I mean…" he made sure no Pickles, Pikels or Picklles were listening and hunched over the phone. "I wanna talk ta da real guy in charge. You know, da Big guy."

"Mr. Big isn't here, sir. He's taking a leave of absence for a family matter."

Duke grinned, "Right! Exactly! Dat's what I'm callin' 'bout. Let's just say he's been expectin' ta hear from me." He poured on the confidence.

"Are you saying you're the kitnapper, sir?" the voice asked in the same bored tone.

"Maybe."

There was no response.

"Hello?"

"I'm still here, sir. I'm just writing down the unprivatized phone number you're calling from."

Duke hanged up.

The world swirled around him. That was a joke, right? It had to be a joke! The asshole sounded like they couldn't care about anything even if their house was burning to the ground in front of them! Then again, Caller ID did exist! There was a chance that Big and therefore the ZPD now had his number and could track its last known call and come straight to Podunk! Or was that crazy NCIS: ZPD TV shit?

Just to be safe, Duke decided it was best to get out of town. Just in case. He grabbed the baby carrier and looked for the nearest opening in the treeline. If he was quiet enough, he could get outta here without returning the charger.

A familiar rodent's head poked into his vision, "Hey Travis!" the gerbil said, "Get off your phone. Mama Pikel is gonna say something." A mob of Picklles, Pickles, and Pikels charged the gazebo, pushing the weasel towards the center. There, on a small stage, stood the grumpy, graying cow from earlier. The three families surrounded her on all sides, showering her with undying attention. Duke was at the uncomfortable front row.

The cow, or Mama Pikel, waited for the mammals to quiet down. She started solemnly, "Over zhree hundred years, family grows strong. Roots deep as oak in wild. We aid family. Protect family. Love family."

"Family!" chanted everyone.

"Suddenly gettin' cult vibes here. Is dis a cult?" Duke whispered to the gerbil.

"What? No," the gerbil gave him an odd look but was quickly swept up again by the chant. Duke noticed how motherly the cow watched over them all. In half a second, that care vanished.

"Zis is lie!" she proclaimed. That gentle candle had grown back to an unstoppable wildfire. "Not one Pickle live in Podunk. Not one Picklle. Only one Pikel. Only I remain! You write me. You come here every year. Not because family. Because recipe." Duke thought the dozens of mammals were silent before. Now, it was like they had been replaced with tombstones. Mama Pikel continued, "Zis what you care about! Greed! Lies! Money!" She quelled her disgust and put on an amused smirk, "Fine… I give recipe." At the word, everymammal took a simultaneous step forward. Duke saw hunger in their faces. Mama Pikel was astonished, "You zink I have? Ha! I give already."

The crowd faltered in their advances. "To who?" demanded somemammal.

Mama Pikel let out a throaty cheer as if the very question affirmed the contempt she was showing to the once loved ones, "To one not in family!"

Duke's ears folded back.

"The hell does that mean?" the squirrel from earlier yelled.

Duke's throat went dry.

"Ramsay's sister married into the family. She's not a Pickle!" the deer accused the lioness.

The feline growled back, "Oh yeah? Well, you're mom's a horse!"

The clink of the glass bottle in Duke's baby carrier resounded louder than a jet and he instinctively grabbed at it. His movement didn't go unnoticed. The gerbil stared at his reaching arm and then back up at him. As the Pickles, Picklles and Pikels devolved into chaos, Duke tried to casually walk out.

The gerbil stepped in his way, "Hold up, Travis. Which family are you from again?"

Duke gulped, "Look, I don't know what dis recipe is and I don't care! I only lied for the free food! Here, take it!" He held out the milk bottle for the gerbil.

The gerbil blinked at the bottle before smacking it out of his paw. "Hey!" the gerbil squeaked to the crowd, "This guy ain't in any of the families! He's gotta have the recipe on him somewhere!"

Duke started running long before the gerbil finished. He scooped up the milk bottle and pushed through the masses. Thankfully, most were too confused or too deep in their own arguments to take notice of him. As he reached the edge, he could feel the following eyes and accusatory glares. The gerbil's claims were being heard. A few paws reached towards him but he squirmed past and finally broke free of the crowd.

With no destination in mind, Duke went through the treeline and found himself in a parking lot. Several cars were his size but there wasn't any time to hotwire. The angry voices were growing closer.

Over those voices came the distinct toot of a train whistle. About a hundred yards ahead were a set of railroad tracks. He didn't need wheels after all! Duke booked it straight ahead just as the Pickle, Picklle, Pikel stampede charged out of the park. Thunderous footfalls chased him but he maintained the lead. The train was still coming.

The squeal of rubber turned Duke's head just in time to see one of the parked cars speeding right for him. "Shit!" Duke hopped on another car's trunk. A wombat hit a button on their key fob and the trunk popped open, launching Duke and Cash. His waving paws caught something metallic and he clung hard. Opening his eyes, he found the chasing mob to be much smaller than before. Oh wait… he was just really high up. REALLY high up. He was three quarters of the way up a wooden telephone pole.

The entirety of the park population was now gathered around the pole. Some smaller mammals were climbing. "Da hell is wrong with ya mammals?!" Duke cried. "What's so special 'bout dis shit anyway?!"

The pole shook. Duke grabbed both the pole and the baby carrier. Was that an earthquake? The pole shook again. He looked down. An elephant was repeatedly ramming the base like a hoofball player. "Ya mammals are insane! Help!" he screamed towards the distant buildings of Podunk.

CRACK!

The gut wrenching sensation of gravity made itself known as the pole fell over like a tree. Halfway down, the wires pulled taut, leaving the once perpendicular pole at a 45 degree angle. Perfect incline for running at a weasel.

"Fuck!" screamed Duke.

As the Pickles, Picklles and Pikels clambered onto the pole, the train started loudly passing. Duke watched it and a crazy plan formed. It was stupid! It was idiotic! It was his only choice! Balancing on his feet, he faced the high end of the pole and sprinted.

"Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap!" he blubbered with every step until he finally jumped!

The only sound Duke heard was his own heartbeat as he flew through the air. Treetops skimmed his toes. He shut his eyes and waited for what felt like far longer than it should've taken. He considered the idea that he had already died from the suicidal leap and endlessly falling was what being dead felt like. That would suck. Would also explain the whole flying up to heaven claims mammals who come back keep spewing. But he wasn't rising, he was falling… Crap… Duke concluded he was going to the other place.

BAM!

His feet hit solid metal and Duke tumbled, the baby carrier hugged against his chest. Whipping wind made it hard for him to see, but he could tell he had made it! He was on top of the last train car!

"HAHAAHAA! So long, suckers!" he cheered. He got a good look at the families' stunned faces just before the telephone wires snapped and the pole crashed behind the trees. They and Podunk soon disappeared into the distance. He smirked in triumph and checked on the shrew. She was asleep. "Seriously, Cash," Duke rolled his eyes as he climbed down the service ladder, "All dis snoozin' ya do. It ain't healthy."

He missed the sign that would've informed him that the next town on the train's route was Bunnyburrow.


A stone's throw past the border sat a sleepy town. All day the sun burned and the wind howled against dirty windows lining its one craggly street. Despite the municipality's proximity to the crossing, the place had an average of twelve tourists a year. These twelve usually came by accident and turned back when they realized their mistake. What was this town's name? Horn didn't care. To Horn, this was 'the spot.' An impossible combination of unknown and easy to find. Hidden in plain sight. You'd never know anymammal was there unless you were looking, which was why it was the spot where Duke was supposed to make the drop off today. Horn's most trusted mammals were there, waiting for his arrival.

Horn sat in his office enjoying the refreshing desk fan blowing against his fur. Today had been a quiet one. The printers were running smoothly and his new favorite tech mammal took the bribe without a single question. Yes, the prep stages were coming along nicely.

His desk phone rang. Putting down his half-finished Phull Muun, he picked up the receiver, put it to his ear and waited.

"The weasel didn't show."

Horn turned to his office TV which was tuned to ZNN. Headlines about the ongoing search for missing Li'l Judy Clawleone Big painted the screen. The corners of Horn's lips tugged upwards until his lucky golden fang was gleaming in the TV's reflection. He said one word and then hanged up.

"Good."

END CHAPTER THREE

Readers, you could solve it right now. I've given you so many clues.