As the chief of police, Chief Bogo had to deal with a lot of problems. Paperwork, politics, and even schedules all ultimately fell on his massive shoulders. And, in all honesty, he loved anything that he could use as a break from it.

Well, almost anything.

Because when his prime officers, Hopps and Wilde, were both well over an hour late to begin their shift, he could already see the pile of paperwork he would need to fill out for them. Except, they weren't alone. They had brought with them another fox, the same one they were after for so long.

Dressed in all black, with a hoodie underneath a lengthy, tattered coat, combat gloves and boots. His paws were held in front of him, the gleam of silver cuffs visible as he was led to the front desk. The normal procedure of frisking him down (they found nothing) and leading him to a holding cell, the fox being silent all the while. Judy and Nick seemed anxious, but the cape buffalo brushed it off as anticipating the buffalo's shouts of their tardiness.

Instead, they had waited until the fox was put into an interrogation room, his coat, hoodie, and gloves now off and carried away to be stored properly. The room he sat in was bare, a single table and three chairs inside. One of the walls held a one-way window, from behind which stood Officers Hopps, Wilde, Delgato, Fangmeyer, and the chief.

Then the long game of trying to get answers from the fox began. He sat at his end of the table, paws folded in the center, blue eyes staring straight ahead as he remained silent to every officer's attempt to question him. Eventually, the officers who were sent inside – Delgato and Fangmeyer – gave up with a heavy sigh and walked out.

"Chief, he won't say anything to us," the white wolf said. Bogo had nodded and crossed his massive arms, snorting in frustration. The group stood in silence, before the cape buffalo let out another snort and made his way to the door. The officers watched in silence as he entered the interrogation room, and took a seat across from the fox.

He looked down at the manilla folder before him, opening it and taking a look at the contents. A picture of him, some medical information, and other documents that told him little more than he already knew. With a breath, he started. "We have you listed as a Robin Wick. Is this correct?"

The fox stared at the buffalo briefly, expression stony as a moment of silence passed. This was the same response he was given, regardless the question asked. But, the fox had finally spoke during one of the buffalo's mini rants. He had been saying how what he had been doing, running around in a hood and trench coat, was something wrong when the fox interrupted him.

"Duster."

The chief took a moment to stare, one of his ears flicking as his head tilted ever so slightly. "What did you say?" he asked.

"It's a duster. Not a trench coat. Trench coats are made of cotton, not oilskin like mine. That makes them tougher, better to combat the elements. The design is also different. Trench coats have built in capes, and dusters have removable ones. The back can be split or whole, it has straps for your legs, and they tend to be longer. Trench coats don't do that, and they normally come with belts."

The entire thing was stated matter-of-factly, and the red mammal looked right at the chief as he said it. "The duster was originally made for ranchers or farmers. Trench coats were-"

"I don't care about the difference between coats," Bogo interrupted. The fox smirked a bit.

"Then maybe I can tell you something you do care about. The safety of the city."

The cape buffalo took a long, calming breath before he rested his arms on the table, feeling it wobble slightly. He tilted his head slightly in a gesture for the fox to continue. It wasn't exactly what the chief needed him to say, but if it got the mammal talking, then he would go with it.

"What if I told you that the Night Howlers are coming back?" the fox asked. "Hence the robberies. And what if I told you I have information on the who? Or that, as we sit here and speak, I'm getting information on the where and why?"

The cape buffalo snorted. "Your proof?" he asked.

"The amount of robbed florists recently. And I can tell you that, the reserves of flowers have been raided too. At least... What, eight of them have been raided in the past week? It's not random, it's not obvious. And I can bet you that it's those precious little flowers that are being stolen.

"Talk to Hopps and Wilde. They can tell you what I'm talking about well enough."

With that, the fox resumed his cold silence, paws clasped firmly in front of him. Bogo gathered up the contents of the folder and rose, walking out of the room. He stared at Judy and Nick once he exited, their anxiety stronger and now understandable. "My office," he growled at them, before stomping away with them in tow.

Maybe he would've been happier just doing the paperwork.

~ óÓÒò ~

It took most of the day, but when Judy and Nick left the Precinct, everything had been sorted out. Dust walked with them, just as he had walked in (Minus the cuffs, of course), and took a deep breath. "Could've been worse," he muttered.

After a long, thorough talk with the chief, Judy and Nick had managed to catch him up to speed with what they had witnessed. From the chases to the games they participated in, they told him everything, as well as their plan to combat Phraxus.

Tomorrow, they would meet with one of Dust's informants and pick up a drive that held all the information they could get on Phraxus, and bring it to the ZPD where it would be combed over. Assuming they learned the members of the group, the ZPD could then coordinate a raid that would lead to the end of the group, and whatever they were planning. The operation should be short and simple, but the officers had convinced Chief Bogo that they needed Dust to pull it all off. And, as a result, he had been released, and his belongings returned to him.

"Your plan was insane," Judy said. "What if we couldn't have convinced the chief to let you go? Or if he didn't go into the room to talk to you?"

Dust shrugged. "In the end, it would all work out."

Nick scoffed slightly. "Do you always just jump in blindly like that?" he asked.

"Oh, please. Between the three of us, we all know I'm not the worst about that," Dust said, looking down at Judy.

"Who, me?" she asked, looking taken aback. "I never jump into things blindly! There's always some thought about it first."

"She understands," Dust said with a chuckle. They were approaching a sleek, white and black car, the panther from that morning behind the wheel. Dust opened the passenger side door and looked back at the officers. "I'll meet you two at my place this evening. We need have to talk later." The officers nodded as he climbed in and waved them off, doing some sort of pawshake with the panther before they took off.

Judy and Nick sighed and looked at one another, a silent grimace being shared before they turned and started walking back inside. There was paperwork to be done.

~ óÓÒò ~

It was late in the evening when the knocks came at Dust's door. After carefully looking through the peephole and undoing his half dozen locks, he opened the door and let in Judy and Nick. They wore casual clothes, and Nick's rusted muscle car sat at in the driveway. In silence, they shut the door behind them and he put the locks back in place, turning and walking to his kitchen.

Nick was in a casual outfit, wearing gray khakis with an old Black Mammoth tank top and a zip-up orange hoodie. Judy was wearing jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a purple hoodie over it.

Once he'd gotten home, Dust had discarded the majority of his outfit, leaving on his urban camo pants and the black t-shirt he always wore. He walked over to the kitchen and began tending to the skillet on the stove, the smell of fried potatoes and other vegetables filling the air as he turned up the heat a bit.

On his counter sat a wide array of his tools: a lockpicking kit, and a few different practice locks; a manilla folder with three sheets of paper half-open inside, detailing a meeting place, time, and other details; a knife of his, next to a whet stone, the sharply angled tanto point gleaming dangerously.

Judy and Nick took up their seats on the opposite side of the counter, leaving Dust to silently continue his cooking as the faint sound of old rock music drifted from his living room. When he was finished, he divided the dish onto three plates and slid them to the officers, along with forks. He brushed aside the knife and stone, as well as the lockpicking kits. It was useless trying to hide these things from the officers, he felt, and as such they had been left out in plain sight.

The first few bites were in silence, the variety of flavors keeping the hungry mammals quiet. It was a rather simple dish, fried potatoes with peppers, onions, mushrooms, jalapeños, and some seasonings. When Dust was a third of the way through his meal, he finally spoke.

"So, I've gotten this figured out. Tonight, at around midnight, we can meet my contact just outside of Savanna Central." He pointed to the top sheet of the folder, a black and white map of the region being shown with red marker circling an area, and a red line detailing the roads to it. Strangely, the image of an ice pick was set within the red circle. He then shifted the pages, showing a picture of a large vehicle. "We're looking for a newer model four-door off-roader, charcoal colored."

He looked at Nick and Judy, who were silently looking over the pages as they ate. He took a breath and a bite before moving to the final page. "We'll be getting a briefcase that should have what we need. I don't know the contents exactly, just that it's what we're looking for. My contact had to leave before he could finish our conversation."

Nick looked up, a flash of suspicion evident in his eyes. "Had to leave? Why?" he asked.

Dust shrugged. "Said he had to get back to work. He used one of his breaks to call me and forward me these," he said, gesturing to the papers. "We'll need to take your car, Nick," he continued. "Mine's in the shop getting her final upgrades."

Nick's eyebrow raised at this, but he continued chewing the bite of food he had. Judy spoke up instead. "Upgrades?" She asked.

Dust nodded. "Getting a V-8 engine and a new set of tires. Pulling out of that pit maneuver the other day really hurt my old ones."

"Where are you getting this money from?" She asked. Dust averted his gaze slightly.

"A combination of connections, knowing the stock market, saving from my old jobs and buying very little for myself," he said. The officers looked at him, silently asking him to elaborate on a few points there, but he just ate his food in silence. "What'd the chief say about all this?" he asked between bites.

"Well," Nick said. "He wasn't happy, of course. But then, when is he ever?" he laughed a bit. Judy shot him a look of amusement before he shook his head. "He's going to need an aspirin for the headache the paperwork will cause – his words, not mine – but he's agreed to this for now. It took some doing, and we had to look into your claims, but at seeing them and your evidence match up... His argument against you was pretty pointless. Like half of his rants."

Judy snickered at the last bit, making Nick grin. Dust nodded and pursed his lips, looking down. "So he's not just going to throw my ass in jail once this is over?" he checked.

"No one said anything about putting you in jail, but you getting away with all of this is very unlikely," Judy said. Dust nodded again. "Even if you can find a way to clear your actions for most of this, the assaults alone will get you a decade in prison."

There was a long pause, before the taller fox sighed and nodded. "Then I need to prove what I can." Judy nodded, pushing forward her empty plate. Nick was finishing his last bite as he did the same, Dust slowly eating his meal in silence. A shiver went up his spine and he shook his head, shuddering from the cold of his home.

Once he had finished eating, he gathered up the plates and silverware and set them in his dishwasher, before washing his paws in the sink and turning to the officers. He looked at the clock, the hands reading as 9:14 PM.

They had little over two hours to kill before they had to go. He wasn't looking forward to it.

~ óÓÒò ~

"So that's how you make a knife," Nick said, eyes wide as Dust stepped away from the example blade he had. The topics of the night had gone to small talk before Judy brought up the array of swords she had seen on his bedroom walls. And, turns out, she was right – mostly.

The walls of Dust's bedroom were lined with blades of all kinds. From large ones that he could hardly weild properly to one-handed ones that barely passed as a sword, he had a blade of every design. Elegant curves of silver sat beside straight lengths of black steel. But he also had knives, and a great many of them, too. There were ones that passed as simply smaller versions of the swords, to ones clearly designed to be thrown in between the larger blades.

"I come from a family that favors the blade over the bullet," he said, once showing them the room. "Swordfighting is a lost art, for the most part. As is sword smithing, which is my current occupation."

As it turned out, most of the knives on the walls were his own, made in a small forge he frequented in Savanna Square. Some were of simple steel, barely better than a cheap thing you could find at a pawn shop. Others were of a higher quality, folded over many times or made of impressive materials. He was particularly proud of a knife that fit comfortably in the fox's paws.

The metal gleamed dangerously, the design of it reminding them of wood. He said it was made of damascus steel, and one of only three items he'd made from the material. It was curved, like a talon, but the tip of it angled down sharply in a tanto point. The back of it had small ridges to catch other blades, and the handle was fixed with a black polymer grip, grooves just fight for his fingers in place. The end of it had a ring where his index finger sat, letting it twirl around his finger.

"It's called a karambit," he said. "Honestly, it's my favorite kind of blade, but it's best for defense."

He had been careful, though – any weapons on his walls that could've been illegal he had stashed away in his closet. He knew it was pointless to hide his collection, at least all of it, but he wasn't stupid.

Shortly after, Judy had asked how the knife was made, and Dust slowly launched into an explanation of how he had made it.

When he had finished, the clock on his night stand read 11:12. With a quiet gesture to the time, the officers nodded and left his room, getting into Nick's car as Dust gathered his gear. He was out the door and in the back seat in less than five minutes, and the group went on their way.

~ óÓÒò ~

It was pitch black outside when the car pulled into the sandy. The moon was little more than a sliver in the sky, casting just enough light for the foxes to get by. Judy could only see from the small lights in the dashboard, Nick having killed the headlights once they neared their destination. Dust was leaning forward from the back seat, hood and mask up as he stared ahead. Once they had reached a decent point, he told Nick to stop the car, but to not kill the engine. He then exited the car, and began to walk towards what he could see was a large, charcoal colored off-roader.

As he neared the vehicle, the window rolled down, and a flashlight was shone into his face. He instinctively hissed and turned away, raising an arm to block the light.

"Phoenix," he heard.

Phoenix? I didn't know we were using callsigns.

This bode ill; if he didn't know the proper callsign, he could end up either seriously injured or dead from this. Couriers containing vital information were known to go to great lengths to ensure the packages were delivered to the right mammal.

He looked up, straining to see past the light before him. All he could see, however, was a hoof and the black sheen of a gun barrel aimed at his head. He needed a response, preferrably sooner rather than later.

Better hurry, time's running out.
I know, I know! Shut up and help, won't you?
I find watching you panic to be more fun.
Asshat. Phoenix, phoenix... Ice? Snow? Water?

He took a gulp and tried to steady his racing heart. His coat could stop a bullet, but from this range and angle? There was no chance. Suddenly, a small detail from the map entered his mind.

Worth a shot, he thought.

"Ice pick," he blurted out.

Ice pick? Seriously?
Did you have anything better? No? Then shut it.
Fair point.

A moment passed, and the fox continued to brace himself to take a bullet, but it never came. Instead, the light was shut off, and his vision cleared, adapting back to the dark of night. "Show me the watch," the courier said. Dust tilted his head a bit, but lifted up his right arm and pulled back the sleeve to reveal the glowing watch he wore with his outfit. Another moment passed, before the mammal inside the truck grunted and reached away, shoving a black briefcase out the window. Dust caught it and nodded to the driver, who turned out to be a zebra in a brown jacket, before turning and walking back to the car.

"Got it?" Judy asked once he opened the door.

"Yeah, got it," he replied, voice wavering slightly.

"You alright?" Nick asked. Clearly, the interaction and his tone hadn't gone unnoticed by the fox. "You seem a bit shaken up."

"I'm fine," he insisted.

You shouldn't be doing that.
Doing what?
Telling them you're fine. They should know what happened.
No point. What's done is done. We got the briefcase, we just need to get home. Make a copy, bring it in tomorrow.
Should still tell them.
No.

The drive back was mainly in silence, Nick refusing to turn on the headlights until they were back within the city. "Get us to my place," Dust said, opening the suitcase. Inside, surrounded by a black foam, was a small, silver hard drive. A single white marking of "1 TB" sat, barely legible, in one corner. "It's a hard drive," he said. "I can make a copy of whatever's on it."

"It's evidence," Judy argued. "We should take it right to the Precinct."

"We don't know exactly what's on it," he replied. "If I copy it, we at least have a chance to look at it all. What if it's really a virus? You want that in your system?"

Judy opened her mouth for a retort, before Nick set a paw on her shoulder. "Relax, Carrots. He has a point. Let's get it checked out first, then get everything to the ZPD."

With a huff of irritation, the rabbit muttered an agreement and sat in her seat, pulling out her phone. It seemed that the rest of the drive would be made in silence, which made the sound of an oncoming vehicle all the more alarming. But none of the mammals had a chance to react once they reached the T intersection, a large, armored van slamming into the side of Nick's car.

Dust was thrown to the far side of the back seat, having not put on his seatbelt. Judy let out a scream, alongside Nick, as glass shattered and metal bent, the car being pushed along the road before coming to a stop. Black crept into the edges of Dust's vision as he tried to pull himself from the car door, but it was tugged open and he collapsed backwards onto the cold concrete.

"Get the fox, and the suitcase," he heard. The voice was oddly deep and had a slight echo, and his vision began to swim.

"The rabbit's out cold," came another voice.

"Take her, too," the first said.

"What about the other fox?" A third one spoke.

"He's in terrible shape. Leave him." The echoing voices seemed to blur, only barely able to be made out. Dust lifted his head up to see a ferret in deep blue clothes and a kevlar vest standing over him, pointing to the passenger side door as a jaguar opened the door and pulled out Judy.

With a faint groan, he rolled and reached for his watch. Three turns left, two turns right, the press of a button, and the light blinked a few times.

"Hey, he's doing something," Someone said, before the fox took a kick to the head. The darkness around his vision began to overtake it, leaving a small tunnel for him to see through. The silver suitcase briefly crossed what little he could see, and he reached up a paw to grab it. It was easily tugged from his grasp, and a brown wolf in a deep green beret and a scar over his left eye kneeling over him.

I know you, Dust realized, eyes widening slightly. With some focus, his vision was slowly clearing, and he could see an olive green shirt under a kevlar vest on the wolf. I know you.

"Sleep tight, suka," the wolf growled, before bringing a fist down on his head and sending his vision into an inky blackness.