Fox Point

by MaveriKat

Those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it but so are those who cannot let the past go. With the rise of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, one vixen is going to be uprooted from what she knew to live and breath the tenants of the ZPD: Trust, Integrity, and Bravery. Even if the city doesn't believe she can. Rated M for Violence, Adult Language, and Adult Situations.

11. Fought the Law

Disclaimer: "Zootopia" is owned by the Magical World of Walt Disney Pictures and Walt Disney Animation Studios. The "Sly Cooper" videogame series is owned by Sony, Sucker-Punch Productions, and Sanzaru Games. There are also aspects that will be borrowed from or directly inspired from Zootopia's pre-production works and concepts from Nicolaswilde's "Zistopia" Tumblr blog. Said story itself is a fan-based non-profit work of fiction written strictly for entertainment purposes only. Please support the official releases. Thank you.

Fox Point

By MaveriKat & Nanya
Beta Read By Innortal

Chapter 11: Fought the Law

There was no argument that being an officer of the law was a high-stress job so to remain at his best for any emergency that might crop up, one Officer Patrick McHorn found he needed a moment of calm now and then to focus his thoughts and feelings. So when it came to relaxing, the rhinoceros found that there were three things a mammal needed more than anything else to actually try to unwind while working in the hectic atmosphere that was the Zootopia Police Department.

First and foremost, one needed a decent Gouda-darned chair! Even if the job kept him highly mobile, the horned herbivore found himself sitting in a chair more than any other aspect of work, whether it was sitting at a set of controls, behind a wheel, or working on the most tedious aspect of being a police-mammal: filling out the tedious amounts of police reports and other assorted paperwork. Sure, a number of his fellow officers at the ZPD had a wide assortment of oddities they sat on, including swivel stools and knee chairs for those with lengthy tails and a few animals whose posture was ailing them even had aerobic balls to relax upon, just to name a few of the items used for sitting down. But for Patrick, he was happy to have a decently cushioned chair that was actually wide enough to fit even his, 'wide load' as some of the junior officers referred to it behind his back.

Secondly, was an item the polar bear Officer Yohan Andersen had suggested to him: go out and purchase a portable fan. Even with the normally dependable air-conditioning the building had with its central air system, there were times where one needed to quickly cool down from a long day on the beat, especially if they had been stuck working the Sahara Square District. The use a small portable fan aided the massive rhino in maintaining a comfortable temperature, which allowed him to remain at ease even when he was stuck at his desk for long hours. The one the herbivore had ran quietly and circulated the air quite nicely.

Finally and most importantly... was a decent cup of coffee. Police were no strangers to coffee, the drink having long-since become a staple in the war against crime. Shoot, even Officer Benjamin Clawhauser at the front desk kept himself topped off with that large pink, 'I Heart Gazelle' mug of his. It was an experience of sensations that could ease the mind and soul before invigorating the body with a jolt of caffeine. There was the soothing aroma that would find its way through one's nasal passage before seeping throughout the lungs with a silken caress, the warm tingling it left along the tongue as it slipped down past the ever-welcoming throat, and the satisfaction that could not be described as no words in any language on earth had been invented that matched the sheer level of the appeasement, enlightenment, and joy it brought.

And that was how the rhinoceros policeman was enjoying his break from his paperwork: a cup of coffee as he leaned back in a chair while he had his fan on high, blowing air on him. A look of utter content was plastered over his face as he seemed to have zoned out on everything that was going on in the world around him, he and his cubicle the only things that existed...

At least until the sound of a hand knocking on the frame gently spurred the thick-skinned herbivore back to reality. Opening one of his brown eyes, his gaze was drawn to the opening of his workspace. Catching sight of the female red fox garbed in the standard-issue police uniform of pants, utility belt, shirt, and Kevlar belt–along with a Kevlar vest and bracers that were sized for her as well as a pair of steel-toed boots that looked suspiciously like real leather–instead of the outfit she had been given for the prostitution sting, the man reached his right hand out to his desk. Setting down his half-empty mug of coffee, he then turned his chair about to face the woman standing there. "Ah, Officer Fox. Come in, come in and take a seat," he said as he then made a beckoning motion with his right hand to show her it was okay to enter his office space.

Nodding her head towards the much larger mammal, the Latina vulpine replied, "Gracias, Officer McHorn." The woman then stepped past the entrance and into his space proper, her head turning left and right as she looked for anywhere she could settle down. Catching sight of a small swivel stool in the corner that seemed to be sized for smaller animals–one she assumed the man had for in any instances he needed to talk to any civilians in semi-privacy–the woman made her way over to it and set herself atop the piece of furniture.

Seeing the small predator get herself settled on the seat, the rhinoceros turned his own chair again, putting his back to the entrance of his cubicle so he could face the smaller policewoman completely. "Now then, what brings you here?" He smirked. "If you've come to help me out with the paperwork, I'd gladly accept it... but I'm almost done with the reports as it is. I only have one more to go and then I can see what else the chief has for me to do."

Nodding her head, the vixen replied, "Actually that is part of why I'm here." Seeing both the larger herbivore's eyebrows rise up in surprise, Carmelita continued to explained, "I'll start off with asking this: is the last report you have to fill out Mr. John Beaverton?"

His hands coming together and resting atop his abdomen, the rhino gave her a firm nod of his head. "Why yes, actually. His is the last report I need to fill out. Why do you ask?" He asked with an inquisitive tone to his voice, although the veteran officer already had an idea of what she was about to tell him.

Sighing, the Latina red fox confirmed his suspicion when she replied, "Don't bother. Chief Bogo's already throwing that arrest out and erasing it from the record."

Closing his eyes, the horned herbivore's chest expanded considerably as he inhaled through his nostrils. Taking a moment more to exhale slowly through his mouth, the larger mammal finally replied, "I thought he looked too familiar for comfort." Shifting his weight around in his seat to get comfortable once again, the taller animal continued with, "Let me take a wild guess: he's one of Councilwoman Beaver's kin, right?" The sarcastic tone in his voice proved he already had an idea as to who they had arrested.

"Yes, he's one of her nephews," the vulpine replied, the distaste she had for the situation obvious in her tone. "So, as I said... he's being let off the hook. The department is going to apologize for the inconvenience and we're going to pretend this never happened."

Nodding his head in understanding, the horned herbivore said, "I figured as much; part of why I saved his report for last." At least now he hadn't wasted his time writing it up. "So what's up? Does the Chief have another assignment for us to keep us out of the way when that Kenneighdy-wannabe comes around to spring her family so we don't get in trouble?"

Looking up to meet his brown eyed gaze with her own chocolate-toned orbs, the navy blue-tressed vulpine officer replied, "That's actually part of the reason I'm here." Watching as the larger mammal leaned forward in his seat to give her his full attention, she went on to explain, "We've also happened to get so much done today that Chief Bogo is letting us have the rest of the day off." Seeing a genuine look of surprise cross the man's features, the woman realized this wasn't an everyday occurrence. Giving him a moment to process that but of info, the female fox then went on to add, "However before we can take off, the Chief wants you to fill me in on the so-called, 'untouchables' of Zootopia... I think he's worried that I might get in trouble if I keep crossing certain mammals' paths again and again when they pretty much have free reign."

Shrugging his shoulders in acceptance, the horned herbivore replied, "Sure. I have no problem with that. Just give me a moment," he murmured as he turned his chair about to face his desk. Opening the main drawer above his lap, the police officer took hold of a couple of sheets of paper on the top of the small stack he had inside for immediate use before closing it shut before reaching out towards one of the few mugs he had on his desk. Retrieve a pen from the group of such writing implements that were stuffed into one mug that had the image of a four-leaf clover, a heart, and a lollipop after the old phrase for good luck of, 'Love, Luck, and Lollipops' the rhino began to make a few experimental lines on one of the sheets of paper with his pen to make sure it worked. Once he had the pen working with its black ink coming out strong, he flipped the paper over to start writing anew. "Now then, where do you want us to start?"

"From the top and work our way down," the vixen replied in all seriousness.

"All right then..." the rhino murmured as he wrote, 'City Council' at the top of the page before going down to write names. "Now, I take it you want to know about the big guns first, that means you're talking about the guys at the top of the political food-chain, right?" The police-mammal queried as she looked at the vixen through the corner of his eye.

The vulpine gave a single nod of her head in response. "Please. I mean, they're the ones that could make my life a living hell on a whim for the most minor of slight. That includes real or imagined," Carmelita muttered in irritation.

Watching the canid cop cross her arms over her chest in a show of annoyance, Officer McHorn nodded his head in agreement to her sentiment. "Quite so, Officer Fox. In fact, I can safely say that unless they've committed a major felony or a federal offense, they're untouchable." Then after a moment, he added, "Just like any other major politician across this planet." The rhinoceros shook his head in disgust. "Which means to start off with, you need to stay away from the Party Heads. For the Conservative side of things, we have Mr. Jumbo Loans... nice enough guy, really. Big elephant but he's getting on in years. No surprise really, considering he's been at this for damn near sixty years!" The horned herbivore spoke up. "His last big hoorah was in the mid-Nineties when he was the one to write up the Saddle Arabian Peace Accord that was signed by both then-Mayor Gerald Hippopottus and Lord Kahmal Punjob the Second who was the Representative for OPEC. He helped bring the oil barons into the city and helped the camels make the Sahara Square District into what it is today. In return, they got him a sweet gig at the bank Sahara Savings, which he currently works as the president of. Yeah, overall he's a big name with big bucks."

Raising an eyebrow at that, the vulpine woman couldn't help but feel a bit of hope. "So... you're saying he's not the kind of animal who would hold a grudge for an honest mistake then?"

"Not at all, but you know how it is; he's the sort that follows the, 'good ol' boy' system and fell into quite a bit of cronyism as he got older. It was just easier for him than trying to fight against the tide of popular opinion any longer." The rhino shook his head in disgust at that as the woman nodded in understanding. "It's just how it is. Playing politics while controlling the money..."

"And money is what controls the politics and politicians..." Carmelita sighed, idly remembering seeing a video that came out around the time that the entire Western economy nearly collapsed a few years ago about how banks and money lenders kept any meaningful money reform from happening. "Who's next? And please, let's stay with the same party for now."

That request caught Patrick off-guard. He had intended to start her off with both the big guys but if she wanted to stay with party-lines, then he would oblige her. Such would probably help her keep track of things. So turning his pencil over and rubbing out Hornaday's name, he began to write in another of the members of Zootopia's Conservatives. "After him, the most powerful member of the Right in Zootopia would be Ronald O'Hoggish. He's a self-made mammal in every sense of the word. Starting out with a small loan from his father, he began the Piggy Bank in the Downtown District two decades ago. He had the bright idea of actually catering to the predator population who had been all but an untapped market up to when the Tame collars came off. With his business being the first financial institution in the city to accept carnivorous mammals as clients, he was getting them from all over the city." The police officer frowned. "Heads-up though, in coming from a highly devout Christian background he has a lot of family and you might find yourself running into someone of the O'Hoggish clan more often than you might think; either in name or married into the family."

Looking over at the rhino with a raised eyebrow, the vulpine twitched slightly as she could only imagine just how large a group that was overall. "Oh joy..." Carmelita deadpanned, that was going to be fun if she ran into them. "Still, I suppose I should have some home. I mean from what you're saying, it sounds like he can at least put aside his biases if he's willing to at least cater to animals he doesn't like."

"He's a typical Conservative: doesn't believe in big government and prefers to have things done on a personal level," Officer McHorn explained to her. "Although we both know..."

The Latina vulpine cringed at what the larger herbivore was implying. "That it's probably just a public face," she offered. Getting a nod of confirmation from her fellow officer, the female red fox let off a small sigh. "All right, I get it... so who's next in line for the Right side of things?"

"The last of the Conservatives–in name–on the council would be none-other than Mr. Edward Velveteen," the rhinoceros policeman replied. "Despite being an Arctic hare, he's a surprisingly low-key individual. Really bucks a lot of the usual rabbit stereotypes. For example, while he's married, he's kept the number of children to a very conservative number: three. Both of the eldest sons are of driving age but they tend to stick to jetting around on snowmobiles in the Tundratown District. So unless you're stationed there for assignment don't expect to see them anywhere else in the city. Besides that though, he keeps himself and his family well-fed and cared for hence why a bit of his rotund shape is more than thick winter fur. If you haven't noticed the trend yet, then here it is: like the other two he is also the president of a banking firm. In this case, it's the aptly named, 'Snow Bank'. The bank specializes in the care of frozen assets in both figurative and literal sense of the term."

The vixen considered that for a moment, taking in the fact that he seemed to be a rather private individual. "Sounds promising. Who's next?" Carmelita had nothing to say about that one as–other than an unusually small family size for a lapin–Velveteen didn't seem too interesting.

Which likely means he's more dangerous than you think, a small part of the Latina fox's psyche harshly reminded her internally. After all, Officer Fox knew from personal experience that it was always the quiet ones you had to watch out for.

Not noticing the woman's internal struggle on the concept of how to classify the lagomorph bureaucrat, the uniformed rhino continued, "While that's it for the members of the Zootopia Conservative Party on the Town Council, you should know there is, however, one more member that does have a rather Right-oriented leaning. That would be the single Independent candidate: Mr. Kahmal Punjob the Third. He's the eldest son of the same Punjob that turned Sahara Square into the golden wonderland you see today. After his father's passing a few years back to lung cancer, he took over the Golden Palm Hotel and has continued to be racking in money from the hotel's rooms, amenities, and services. He might not be running a bank but you can be damn certain he's making it." Taking a deep breath, the larger officer than warned the smaller predator, "There are two things you need to be careful of concerning him. First off, he is a speed demon; can't seem to take his foot off the pedal. So if you see a bright red luxury vehicle careening down the road in speeds that far outstrip the posted limit, the odds are two-to-one that it's him. Secondly..." he cringed. "The guy just won't stop making those Gouda-darned awful puns! They're simply terrible!"

The Hispanic vixen continued to stare at the taller mammal for a moment, her mind slowly processing what she'd been told. When it came down to it, one thing in particular stood out to the Inspector from Interpol. "...Punjob?" The vulpine officer queried, having trouble believing someone actually had a name like that. "Punjob?" She repeated. At the man's nod, the woman replied, "Dios mio, that's a terrible name. Seriously, how does that even happen? Did his ancestors work as court jesters and make puns for their jobs or something?"

Blinking his eyes a couple of times, the large African mammal considered that for a moment. "...That... that might be the first time someone came up with a legitimate reason as to why his name is Punjob..." Patrick murmured as he brought a hand up, idly scratching his chin. "Either way, because of his family's history with Mr. Loans, the elephant is in tight with the family. It's why despite being official part of the Zootopia Independence Party, the camel is more conservative-minded than he lets on. His business both makes money and nets him quite a bit of popularity with the locals, and he intends to keep it that way."

Carmelita shrugged her shoulders at that last part, not surprised that such was the humped desert animal's stance on things. Still, while the vulpine woman was grateful that the larger prey mammal was kind enough to share all this insight with her, a particular thought was tickling at the back of her mind. "Has he hit anyone with his car yet?"

"Miraculously... no," the veteran officer of the ZPD replied, sounding genuinely surprised that he could give her that answer. "If he was driving drunk, we could have at least had the ability to bring him to sober the guy up but he doesn't touch the stuff as part of his religion so..." he shrugged. "Our hands, hooves, paws, or whatever phrase you prefer... are tied."

Nodding her head slowly as she considered that about the camel, the Spanish beauty then raised her right hand and began rolling the paw on her wrist, motioning for him to continue. "So that was it for the right-leaning side of things at City Hall?"

Letting off a gruff snort, the rhinoceros nodded his head. He began to write the next section only to find he had to shake his pen; he'd been writing too fast and the ink needed a chance to well up towards the bottom. Giving a few experimental scratches, the larger mammal went back to writing. "Yep. That's it for the Conservatives... on the Liberal Party members on the City Council–which, for the record, you should know Zootopia is pretty much a two-to-one split along the part lines when it comes to the citizens in favor of the Left–we start with the top: Mr. William Hornaday."

And that simple name immediately triggered the memory the vulpine policewoman had of what happened the previous day, when Officer Fox's Inspector's Intuition was set off by that name flashing across the surface of the Mayor's phone. "Hornday!?" The vixen snapped with newfound energy. "Who is Hornaday?" She asked, sitting up on her chair. "Please, Officer McHorn! Tell me everything you know!" It could have been very important and she didn't want to be taken off-guard by anything!

Blinking his eyes at the much smaller woman's outburst, the much larger rhino was taken aback by her commanding insistence. Managing to straighten out his thoughts, Patrick began to carefully explain, "He is what some animals would say is the true leader of city. He is the Head of the Zootopia Liberal Party but more importantly he is the President of the City Council by the merit of the final vote tally. It's really of no surprise to the locals he managed it. Along with the Woolworths and the Slothmans, the Hornadays were one of the founding families of Zootopia, in their case they were also founders of the Zootopia National Bank, the first and oldest financial institution in the city, right here in Savanna Central."

The vixen nodded her head slowly, now realizing why such a name could trigger her senses, despite such minimal knowledge going into this situation. "So he's a major player in all of this?" He had to be. Her ingrained ability of Inspector's Intuition was odd like that, often triggering on clues or aspects of life she realized a normal animal wouldn't give second thought to... but everything it did was important in one way or another.

"The biggest," Patrick replied. "He's also been at this for a long time too; like Mr. Loans, he's been at this for sixty years! Going back that far, you'll find that the antelope and his father were some of the mammals that aided the institution of the Tame Collar Initiative back in the Fifties. Heck, his family personally funded it the first two years... they also got a major tax write-off for doing so too, if I'm not mistaken," he added as an afterthought.

And from that little bit, the vulpine policewoman was already getting a solid idea of just what kind of animal this Hornaday was. "So... his old man and him had the shock collars put on predators then?" She asked with a visible grimace. After seeing all those pictures Bentley put together for her, it wasn't something she liked to think about.

The man's left ear twitched as if swatting at a fly. "For the record, it's taboo to refer to the things outright as, 'shock collars'. The locals prefer to call them by the name of, 'Tame collars'. But besides that... Well yeah! It was pretty much the Hornadays that spearheaded it. Although the way things were, it was the sheep bureaucrats on both sides of the political spectrum that got the blame for it because they were the majority of the party leaders and politicians in power at the time, even though such had been instituted damn-near unanimously by the Liberal Party as a whole..." the larger horned mammal explained. He had to shrug his shoulders for a moment, loosing up the joins as he went back to writing the list. "It's probably why the current members of the Left are the ones in particular who are pushing to get predators into better jobs and give them a happier lot in life... especially Mayor Lionheart with this whole Mammal Inclusion Initiative thing he got going."

"...Lovely..." Carmelita sighed. "Much like other politicians I've met like him, they push for something, get it passed and then force the blame onto whomever has the majority if blowback comes rushing back at your face." Knowing her luck, Hornaday probably preferred the state to have all the power and all the other animals to be good little worker drones who never questioned authority at all while giving the citizens the illusion of having freedom.

Nodding his head, the rhino looked at her with a somber gaze. "Yeah... trust me though, it isn't safe to talk about him or his family openly like I just did with you..." he then offered the vulpine woman a small smirk. "On the plus side? I'm not afraid to open my mouth as I'm registered on the Right and proud of it.

The vixen couldn't help but chuckled slightly at the man's rather blunt attitude towards the affairs of politicians. It was surprisingly refreshing. "So, you're one of those mammals who is into defending your right to bear arms and freedom of speech?"

"Damn right, especially bearing arms!" Patrick chirruped. If the bears could use their clawed arms, then the herbivores had to have something to even the field! "Now, as for the other Leftists on the City Council, we have the newcomer Mr. Woodrow Chipper. The prairie dog comes from a long line of left-leaning large rodents who were big into public program scene back when the city was founded, the family members going from public-work to public-work until finding their niche in the 1950's. Hell, they loved the, 'Leave it to Beaver' era so much that they've been trying to instill pure Fifties American beliefs into the youth of Zootopia up this day, using childhood programs such as the Bunny Scouts and the Junior Ranger Scouts. Both programs are still going strong thanks to funding from the Chipper family through their sister loan offices of Daylight Savings and Loans in both the Downtown and Little Rodentia Districts. For once we also have someone who ISN'T the owner of their financial firm as Woodrow's father, President Flint Chipper is still well and good, making sure his son continues to follow the family legacy of a brighter, better capitalist agenda."

Mulling over that bit of information for a moment, the Latina vulpine eventually nodded her head in acceptance. "While that theoretically sounds good..." and she wasn't saying it didn't, as anything to help guide children to a better tomorrow was a good thing in her book. "But, let me guess..." she raised her head up to look directly at her fellow officer. "This includes the out-and-out specism that the Fifties had as well?"

Officer McHorn twitched. "To an extent, yes," he replied in a rather guarded fashion.

The woman's jaw tightened as she felt her anxiety rise. Specism was one thing but to have it directed to children!? "To what extent are we talking about here?" Carmelita asked, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell me that they try and drown predators or something like that."

Now the man looked particularly uncomfortable. The horned herbivore took a deep breath to not only brace himself but to give the smaller mammal a chance to brace herself as well. Finally, he began to explain, "While the Bunny Scouts have always been an upstanding organization, it was up until 2004, that predator children entering the Junior Ranger Scouts would suffer a hazing." Seeing the look of horror on her face, the man trudged on to continue, "We only found out such had been going on when the boys caused a tiger cub to slip into a coma by using a Taser on him. They claimed they didn't know it would hurt him so badly that it was a, 'Tiger Away' Taser..." he snorted. "The little idiots didn't realize that it was meant for an adult and not a cub only one-eighth the size at best." He took a deep breath. "Noticeably, once word of this hit the news, the enrollment for both those programs took a nosedive in the years that followed... and are still showing record lows."

Bringing a hand up to her face, the canid cop groaned and rubbed her forehead, feeling terrible for the child. She was honestly surprised that the predator population hadn't revolted with all of the indignities they had been forced to suffer at the paws of the prey mammals of Zootopia. "How many kids are left in these programs?"

"There are a few hundred in both the Bunny Scouts and the Junior Ranger Scouts... mind you, these programs used to be in the thousands," Patrick replied firmly. "But enough about how we've been failing the children..." he murmured, trying to bury his own feelings of guilt. "Let's move onto the next rodent on the list: Mrs. Harriet Beaver." The gray-skinned mammal turned his head to look at the vulpine. "You a fan of the whole JFK Era of America? The Sixties with free move, moon landings, and all that jazz?"

Shrugging her shoulders, the orange-pelted vulpine officer replied, "Not particularly..."

"Well the Beavers sure damn do... no pun intended," he added as an afterthought. "That little rodent tries to emulate Jacqueline Kenneighdy every which way she can... and tries to act soft and sweet to everyone she meets, no matter what political party they're associated with. Harriet just has something of a motherly aura about her that is hard to ignore. It's probably what made her and her husband's business of the River Bank over in the Rainforest District so successful. She could talk anyone into taking whatever loan or mortgage deal she offers them, no matter how bad it is for them and their needs because she told them to." He shook his head as he let off a little grunt. "I tell you, I don't know if she's that way to be nice or to be devious."

"Probably both," the Interpol Inspector replied, mentally putting Mrs. Beaver HIGH on the list of mammals to avoid angering if at all possible–if she even could, considering she had arrested her nephew earlier today. Oh yes, Carmelita had met a few criminals that were a lot like how Officer McHorn described her. Lack of evidence prevented Carm from arresting them, but they were damn good at convincing people to go against their best interests. Taking a deep breath, the vulpine continued to inquire, "Anyone else?"

Nodding his head, the horned herbivore replied, "Of course! Besides, 'Woody' there's another recent-comer but I tell you, I personally feel she's the worst of the whole lot. Ms. Monica Harshwhinny: President of the Zootopia branch of the international banking firm J.P. Mare-Gan and self-proclaimed premiere third-wave feminist of Zootopia."

The vulpine woman blinked her eyes once, twice, thrice. "Third-wave feminist?" She queried in confusion at such a term. "Granted I know what a Feminism is, but what is this, 'third-wave' spiel you're talking about?"

The way the other mammal groaned made the vixen realize that she wasn't going to like the answer he had for her. Slowly, his attention turned back to the much smaller carnivore cop. "Do you really need me to explain it in great detail or I can save my breath and give you the cliff notes version?" He asked hopefully.

"Cliff notes if possible," the Hispanic vulpine answered, not sure she could survive the rhino going into such promised in-depth detail either.

"Okay," Officer McHorn replied, sounding a bit relieved. "To the point, third-wave feminism claims to be about equality... but if you've ever read the book, 'Insect Farm' or heard the phrase, 'some bugs are more equal than others' line, then you know the basic idea behind it already. To quote one of their most prominent members, 'everything is specist, everything is sexist, everything is homophobic, and you have to point it all out'." He shuddered, feeling dirty at having to quote that woman.

"...What?" Was the vulpine's rather deadpan response. That was the most ludicrous statement she had ever heard in her life. "Do you mean they... actually..." she trailed off as he was already nodding. "Ugh. What else do they do? Surely there has to be some silver-lining." After all, historically feminism got women the right to vote and better wages! It must have been doing something good in the modern age.

McHorn snorted. "They often say that male animals, straight male animals, and so-called 'cis'-gendered male animals have it way better than females and animals that are from national minority backgrounds."

The vixen with navy blue tresses blinked her eyes again, completely lost at all her fellow officer was telling her. "...Cyst? If there's men out there with infections, they should see a doctor if they have one of those things forming."

The silence was unnerving for the moment it existed... only for the quiet and dull noise of their surroundings to be broken as the rhino belted out with roaring laughter at that. "Oh no, no..." he replied, still chuckling. "Not cysts, Officer Fox, cis. C. I. S," he spelled out for her. "Basically if you think you're the gender you're born with."

Carmelita blinked her eyes lovely brown eyes once, twice. "...So most animals then?"

Nodding his head, the rhino firmly replied, "Yep."

"...Fun..." the Latina red fox drawled out, already guessing she wasn't going to like what she heard about Ms. Harshwhinny's chosen sub-political class.

She didn't. "You don't agree with them, you're a misogynist, even if you're a woman." He shrugged at her stupefied expression. "Don't look at me, that's just some of the things the louder part of the crowd likes to claim. If you say something that could be seen as offensive, they get upset at you, saying it's a micro-aggression or some nonsense. They also tend to talk down to anyone who doesn't hold their explicit world-views and—"

"Enough!" Carmelita snapped, interrupting the larger herbivore. "I get it, I really do. Basically, what you're telling me is that the brand of feminism ignores real oppression in order to focus on minor things and come off as hypocrites because of it, right?"

Although he was surprised to have been cut off like that, Patrick felt he couldn't really blame her. Such was a sore-point for him and when he got on the topic of the female mustang, it often became a full-on rant. "Pretty much," he continued much more calmly. "They also use a bunch of made-up terms and don't like to deal with any disagreement."

Shrugging her shoulders, the orange-pelted vixen didn't argue. Still, she couldn't help but comment, "I'm honestly surprised anyone could hold those views. Have they not been out in the real world?"

The rhino snorted at that. "Most of them are rich or fairly well-off animals who have never faced oppression and feel like they're guilty of doing so without realizing it. Whatever you do, don't look it up online. Trust me, you'll want to strangle someone. Just do what Officer Clawhauser does and look for cute kitten videos to pass the time." After all, everyone thought kittens were positively adorable and so many proud yuppy feline parents were into uploading phone footage of their kids.

"Thanks for the warning," the Hispanic vulpine replied as she grimaced in disgust. The mere idea animals could be that... well, that idiotic? It was just asinine. Yes, there were problems in society but treating every little thing as if it were a big deal only caused mammals to turn away from real issues and ignore them.

She wanted to use the phrase, 'the lamb who cried wolf' to describe just what would happen with such attitudes but even that much was feeling specist.

However, as the vixen tried to push thoughts of all this third-wave nonsense out of her mine, it was then another realization hit the poor woman. "Wait... did you say she's the president of the Zootopia branch of J.P. Mare-Gan?"

Nodding his head, the rhinoceros replied, "That I did. Why do you ask?"

Lowering her head in defeat, the navy blue-haired vixen could only mutter, "Crap." Taking a deep breath, the woman then spoke in a more audible voice, "That's where my bank account is tied to while I'm here in Zootopia."

"While I am tempted to say, 'sucks to be you' and leave it at that... I wouldn't worry too much if I were you," the muscular officer said in all seriousness. "Like I said, she's the bank president. They aren't known for doing much work outside of kissing up to those mammals whose accounts earn four digits in monthly interest and listening to the pitches of up-and-coming business-mammals who need loans in the five digits-and-up range. I doubt she would come down from her office just to give you hell: you're a woman! Sure, she might be cross about you spreading a better message of equality and NOT being a prey mammal while doing so but your gender might get you a pass."

Slowing inhaling a breath for a moment, the Hispanic cop filled her lungs before exhaling in an effort to calm herself down. "Let's hope so," she finally replied to the ZPD veteran that was giving her a hand in getting caught up with the major players of the city. "Just please tell me she doesn't have kids..."

That got a snort of laughter from the larger rhino. "Believe me, if she did, there would be a fund to get the guy and kids out of Zootopia." He replied seriously. "And finally when it comes to the City Council, there is one more I should mention... although I believe you've met him already."

Carmelita frowned at how the horned mammal phrased that, already getting a feeling as to who the large herbivore was referring to. "Lionheart?" She offered in response, the woman's disgust for the mane-adorned feline rather evident in her voice.

Chuckling a bit at the woman's... enthusiasm... the larger officer replied, "Got it in one. He's the low-mammal on the political totem pole. While he holds a lot of power outwardly and in such a lofty position that makes him the face of Zootopia, he only has as much power as the City Council allows him because he didn't have the most votes. As I mentioned earlier, that honor went to Mr. Hornaday. Honestly, a lot of us in the know figured he got in on being the token predator. He's the first to actually attain the office of Mayor but he had a lot of help and backing from his partners to get there. No surprise, really when you consider that the prey animals in this city outnumber the predators nine-to-one. As such, there had been nervous rumbling in the city as of late and they figured they would settle things by showing the citizens and the world, 'look how progressive we are: we elected a lion'." The rhino snorted in annoyance. "Big fat hairy deal if you ask me."

"...You know, after hearing about Ms. Harshwhinny, I almost feel sorry for him." The vulpine could only imagine what kind of hell she put him through if he had to brown-nose her and the rest of the City Council.

"Believe me, I'm certain she's annoyed they couldn't get a lioness or some other majestic female predator," he said in understanding to what the smaller carnivore was getting at. "Anyway those are the untouchables overall but there are a few other names to watch-out for... and yes, it's nearly all bankers. You've got Misters Lawrence, Leonard, and Landon Lemming of the Lemming Brothers Bank in the Downtown District and their giraffe neighbor Mr. Long Term, president of the FURS National Bank. And speaking of families, you've also got the sisters Miss Janine, Miss Clarice, and Miss Kenda Bonnét and their married sibling and brother-in-law Mr. & Mrs. Sycamore and Diana Flopsy of the Borrow Burrow; a lending firm set up in the very southern area of Savanna Central. There's Ms. Winona Wideload who is president of Hippo Loans in the Canal District and let me tell you, she's a doll. Then you have the Very Small Business Administrations in Little Rodentia that is seen to by Mr. Mortimer Mouse and his very, very large family... in numbers not their physical size," he made sure to differentiate. "There's also Mr. Jonathan Molasses, President of the Slothman Brothers Savings Bank over in the Rainforest District. There's Carmine "Chuckles" Gulo, the wolverine being a so-called, 'completely legitimate business-mammal'. Of course, I can't forget to mention Officer Pennington's brother, Mr. Jerry Jumbeaux Jr. of the Jumbeaux Ice-Cream Parlor..." he murmured, the gray-skinned mammal writing as quickly as he could. "And then finally..." the rhinoceros frowned. "There are two particular business-mammals you need to steer clear of for your own safety!"

Needless to say, that last statement caught the Interpol-turned-ZPD officer's attention. "Who are they?" Oh yes, Carmelita was rather glad that Officer McHorn was putting together a list for her to study when this was over. And I here thought I was done with homework when I graduated college, the navy blue-tressed vixen thought with a bit of annoyance tinged with nostalgia. It had been some time since she needed put her nose to the grindstone like this.

"Both of these mammals are settled in the Tundratown District and have something of a rivalry going, even though it's obvious the larger of the two has no interest in playing turf-wars. The latter I am referring to is Mr. Kozlov Kholodno aka, 'Mr. Cold'... he runs the off-the-records loan office known as, 'Zootenial'... a business firm that has been known to cause great bodily harm to animals if not make them outright disappear if they don't keep up with repaying their loans in a timely manner." The horned herbivore frowned. "The actual amount of money if not resources Mr. Kholdono has access to is something that has been a bit difficult for the department to discern as the polar bear runs two other successful legitimate businesses. The first is, 'Kozlov's Place' a small carnivore-centric Russian-style restaurant and bar. It's always a tough crowd in there too; a lot of ursine former Spetsnaz usually hang out there. The second is the Snow Palace Hotel, the premiere resort stay in the Tundratown District. As with the Councilman Punjob and the Golden Palm, the Snow Palace has a floor that serves as Kozlov's private residence."

Bringing a hand up to the side of her head, Officer Fox rubbed at her left temple. "Lovely..." she murmured sarcastically. It wasn't like she was a wide-eyed idealist who thought cops should arrest all criminals. That wasn't possible. Heck, as much as she hated it, some organized crime bosses did make cities a better place to live by taking the undesirables off of the streets and into their organizations while letting the citizens build up a decent living for themselves, even though the criminals ran everything...

...

...I've definitely been hanging around Sly and the others for too long if I'm genuinely thinking like that, the canid woman thought irritably as she then also brought her right hand up to the other side of her head. "And the other?" The Latina vulpine asked aloud before lowering both her paws and giving her fellow officer her full attention once more.

Nodding his head, the horned mammal continued to explain, "The other is one is the known Mafia boss, Don Antonio Corleone Grandé... or as he's more commonly know, 'Mr. Big'."

Needless to say, that caught Carmelita's attention. "Mr. Big?" She chirruped in surprise, feeling as though a ball of lead were forming in the pit of her stomach. "This Mr. Big wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the Tundratown Limo-Service, would he?"

Blinking his eyes in surprise that his fellow officer already had an idea of the rodent, Patrick gave a nod of his head in confirmation as he replied, "The very same! That's the legitimate business the Arctic Shrew funnels his own likely illicit funds through."

Bringing a hand up and smacking herself on the face, the orange-pelted vixen groaned in aggravation. Well, that was just peachy! The first friend she actually made around here was working for a local crime boss. "Oh Renato, what have you gotten yourself into..." she muttered under her breath.

Raising an eyebrow, the large and bulk prey mammal looked down at the female red fox in concern. "Did you say something?" He wasn't going to go prying per se but the rhino was going to offer the vulpine a chance to open up to him if she wanted to.

She didn't. "Nothing important," was Carmelita's guarded reply. She just hoped that Mr. Manchas only did business for his boss that was on the up-and-up and was never asked to do anything on the illegal side of things.

Staring at the woman a moment more, the rhinoceros finally gave her a nod of his head in acceptance, realizing he wasn't going to get much more out of the woman on that. "Anyway, Mr. Big has had a rivalry with Mr. Kholodno since the Arctic shrew set up shop there. There is word from trusted sources that the polar bear was part of the Bratva–the Russian Mafia–before he retired and made his way to Zootopia. Apparently Mr. Big doesn't want to take the chance that this guy isn't going to one day give him problems and has been trying to start trouble with the much larger mammal. As is stands both employ a good deal of the polar bear population in Tundratown in one form or another so you're not likely to find help from the locals should something go down and you need witnesses to make arrests or even find out what the heck happened." He frowned. "For example, we've had more than one instance of no one knowing how or any idea why a frozen corpsicle ended up beneath the ice in the District's public skating rink. Even relatives of the deceased would remain close-lipped."

"...Oh joy..." the canid beauty groaned out in response. She had dealt with similar situations before in her career. It was always a pain to find evidence to stick on someone one way or another when the locals were unhelpful or even went as far as to actively impede an investigation. "Funny, Zootopia never mentioned it had a healthy gang-war brewing in any of the public brochures," she bit out sarcastically.

"Because it's not what City Hall considers active," McHorn stated firmly. "A lot of the bad blood is strictly on Mr. Big's side of things... the little bugger has trying to goad ol' Mr. Cold into have once icy throw-down for control of the District but the bear won't bite. The Little Rodentia District wasn't big enough for the damned shrew and now he intends to aim for much loftier goals." Turning his seat to face the vixen, the rhino put his hands to his belt, taking a stance of an Old West gun-mammal. "Cold, I'mma callin' ya out! This town here ain't big enough for the both of us!" Patrick said, using his best John Mayne impression, knowing that it was something the legendary actor would have done in any one of his Spaghetti Western movies.

Although she rolled her eyes at what the herbivore was trying to do, the Latina vixen still shook her head good-naturedly. "Stick to the police-work, Officer McHorn. Impressions ill-suit someone such as you..." she trailed off, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Nice try, though."

His nostrils flaring as he gave a snort in return, the muscularly bulky mammal replied, "I thought it was damn good." He then reached his left hand over to the desk and picked up the paper. "Anyway, here you go, Officer Fox," he said, changing the subject as he then leaned over in his seat and outstretched his hand, offering the paper to her. "A list of who's-who in Zootopia... patent-pending." He added with a small smirk.

Nodding her head as she reached out with her own arm, the woman looked up to meet her fellow officer's eyes. "Thank you. This will make things easier for me," Carmelita said as she took the list. Giving it a once more, the vulpine woman nodded her head and began folding it as she stood up from the stool. "Again, thank you for your hard work, Officer McHorn," the vixen said gratefully as she slipped the paper into her back pocket. "As for me, I'm going to head home, unwind for a bit, and read over this tonight."

He smiled in return. "And thank you for helping us attain so many collars that the Chief is actually letting us go early," he barked out with a hearty laugh. "Now we both of us better clear out! The longer we end up hanging around, the more likely the Chief will find something else for us to do."

"Right," the vixen with navy blue-tresses replied as she brought her right hand up to the side of her head, giving her fellow officer a salute before heading out of his cubicle and into the police station proper, taking the shortest path she could think of that would lead her back to the parking garage. Everything was becoming second nature to her from how many times she kept going back and forth around the building and the red fox was coming to recognize faces along with the layout.

Such as how she made certain to wave good-day to Officer Clawhauser as she passed the front desk on her way down the stairs to make her way to the building's rear entrance on the ground floor.

Upon reaching her custom Humvee police cruiser, the female red fox made certain check mirrors before buckling her seatbelt. As she turned the key and pulled out of her spot and eventually out of the parking garage all together, the canid cop let off a sighing as she drove down the busy streets of Zootopia. Although she was paying attention to traffic, Carmelita couldn't help but think back to everything she had learned from Officer McHorn. "Sometimes I almost wish I was German. At least then I could get away with saying, 'Mein Gott' in frustration." She chuckled to herself as she tried to let the stress bleed away.

Granted, she was Spanish and so she had a whole other lexicon of curse words and bad phrases she could tear into to portray her full level of annoyance... but before she could express some rather colorful words that some of the locals would consider exotic, the woman's radio crackled to life with Dispatch reporting something about a 10-90 in progress, making the vulpine beauty realize she had forgotten to turn it off. "Oh what now..." she murmured as she went to hit the button and get further information.

Sure, she may have been done for the day but as she had come to learn from her years following Cooper around: crime never slept.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Zootopia was a thriving metropolis that had a distinct advantage over many of the Zoonited States' largest cities by having direct ties to Saddle Arabia for fixed oil prices. With cheaper fuel and thus cheaper shipping, the overall costs in the city were kept down to affordable measures even as inflation and the strengthening of the gold coin standard began to ruin the value of the dollar over the rest of the country. This allowed many enterprising mammals of the city to continue on with a, 'business as usual' agenda to expand and employ a work-force to keep the local economy stable and thriving. As long as the cash could keep flowing into the pockets of the Zootopia citizens rather than into the price of shipping the goods about in an efficient manner, the city-state maintained a strong level of clout on the stage of the world–even with recent shake-ups caused by the Mammal Inclusion Initiative as of late.

However, it should be noted that it wasn't just the major retailers and their customers that found great benefits in the low costs that were brought on by cheap gasoline. Local street-vendors could find themselves making a decent buck if they were savvy enough as well as the local discount store. These smaller retail stores had all the benefits of the big chains and could sell their products at even lower prices than even the typical discounted market value. As such, Zootopia, while giving high praise to brand names in both its bright lights and larger-than life advertising, was itself simply lousy with full-line discount store or 'mass merchandisers': the establishments of small business mammals that offered a wide assortment of goods with a focus on price over their appearance, quality service, and variety choice.

That included the Downtown District's infamous, 'Cash Cow Super Store'. Built into the remains of a former gas station, it was a schlock house of the so-called highest caliber, it was a place filled with cheap and inferior goods; some would even go as far as to say the place was filled with outright trash. However, what gave the place its infamy was not the fact that it was pretty much undercutting everyone other business by selling its merchandise for pennies on the dollar, but the fact that it catered to those who were considered the dregs of Zootopian Society. This was a place that thrived on the untapped market of undesirable predators: rats, skunks, raccoons, possums, hyenas, weasels, and–of course–foxes. It gave these otherwise ignored if not despised mammals a place to go to get what they needed without having to face the usual specism they would be forced to deal with in the rest of the city.

And today, the red fox Nicholas Piberius Wilde and his partner-in-somewhat crime the fennec Finnick Zerdan were doing just that! It was their first day off since they began working for one Officer Carmelita Montoya Fox, the vulpine woman finally not having had a need for the local pair. Before the policewoman came along, free time usually meant it was time to begin a new hustle... but now? They needed to do some shopping of their own. After all, they had gotten paid and paid well! The duo had more cash than usual burning a hole in their pockets and it was time to unload some of that hard-earned wealth so they could focus on earning more and saving it. One had to spend money to make money, after all. It was how things had always been with the pair and once their current meal ticket headed back to Europe, they were going to need everything they got from her to go back to successfully hustling.

And yet as the red fox pushed a shopping cart that was more sized for an animal like him unlike those massive carriages at Good Migrations, the taller of the two vulpines couldn't help but gaze over his usual haunt for cheap groceries from a new viewpoint. After having been in a place that at least tried to be professional with its appearance and treatment of customers, Nick's eyes had been opened to just what he'd been putting up with for so long as part of his normal routine. The store was simply a dirty hovel and not the good kind like a fox's den either. There were smudges from dirty paws all over the cracked windows and mirrors, cobwebs visible in the corners of the ceiling, a thick layer of dust that had built up on all the shelves worse than the place he went shopping for Carm, thick dirt caked into the cracks of the old floor tiles which gave them a pitch-black pattering all over, a visible film of grease on various sports across the store–again, particularly on the floor–and crumbs all over the place. To top it off, the male vulpine could see the whole idea of having as much as they could for cheap was actually a hazard! Cash Cow had so much crap stacked down the set of aisles and around the store that it was difficult for even smaller mammals like Finnick and himself to move around freely about!

Yes, Nick had to admit, "This place is a dump."

Standing by one of the lower shelves with a can in either hand, the desert fox's left ear raised up at that comment. "Huh?" Raising his head, the smaller of the two vulpine men turned his head to the left and looked up at his taller friend. "You say something, Wilde?"

His ears flattening back as he realized his partner had heard him talking to himself, the red fox let off a tired sigh. He leaned over the handle bars of his cart, using the plastic carriage to keep himself propped up and get comfortable. "Not much, big guy... I just can't help but think."

Rolling his eyes at that particular phrase, the smaller sandy-furred vulpine male let off an amused snort. "There you go doing that thinking stuff again," he said as he shook his head. "How many times do I have to warn you, Wilde? That's just going to get you in trouble."

Frowning slightly, Nick straightened up and looked down at his partner in the art of the hustle. "And there you go again," the pawpsicle hustler said in return. "Every time I try to bring up my feelings or at the very least question my lot in life, you—"

"Ignore it so you can maintain whatever little shreds of dignity you have left," Finnick piped up, interrupting the taller fox. He narrowed his eyes as he turned around one of the cans in his left paw, looking over the label with a scrutinizing stare. "I, on the other hand question nothing about life unless it actually affects the bottom line. For example, here's a real question for you," the smaller of the duo chirruped as he held up the can for his friend to see, revealing the smiling dolphin face on it. "I think this is tuna... how about you?" He waved the can a few times, offering it to his somewhat-friend to take from him.

Catching onto the smaller predator's attention, the taller fox reached out, taking the aluminum can from the fennec's grasp. Turning it about in both his hands, the crimson-pelted canid raised an eyebrow as he tried to make heads or tails out of it. "What does it even say on the label?"

The petite desert fox shrugged his shoulders in response to the other vulpine's inquiry. "No clue; just that it ain't English or Spanish." At the look his semi-friend gave him, the tiny carnivore defended his choice of food with, "Hey! It's got a picture of a dolphin on it! That's usually an icon used as advertisement for tuna fish."

"...Well, that or an indicator that it's made of dolphin..." Wilde said rather solemnly as he handed the can to the shorter fox. "Seriously, we can do better than that!" The Hawaiian shirt and tie-clad mammal stated firmly. "I mean, just because we're foxes doesn't mean we have to eat everything that is remotely edible!"

As he took the aluminum can from his illegitimate-business partner, the smaller predator used his other arm to thumb back at the sign hanging from the shelf behind him. "It's also selling at four-for-a-dollar," the fennec drawled out in his deep baritone.

Nicholas blinked his eyes once, twice. "...We'll just mix it with some shrimp-flavored instant ramen cups. The salt and artificial flavorings should be enough to hide the taste of whatever the hell is actually in these cans."

"That'a boy," Finnick chirruped as he handed the can back to the taller fox before the pair began to unload the bottom shelf of the sale item. He might not have been much for ramen but at least Wilde hadn't suggested top ramen. At least the cups offered a little more in the way of nutrition with their dehydrated and salted vegetable bits. "I'll re-teach you to shop smartly yet!"

With the shelf emptied of the four dozen cans that had been put out for a sale price, the pair pushed their cart down the aisle where the two came upon the next section of cans that appeared to be another meat or meat-like product. Taking one off bottom shelf, the petite vulpine flipped it about in his paws, getting a good look at the thing. "Hey Wilde... I think I can actually translate this one..." he said slowly, as it had more common alphabet letters than it did Asian markings like the four-for-one dollar cans did.

His ears perking up, the red fox couldn't help but ask, "Oh really now?" Taking a step away from the carriage, the mammal came beside his fellow shopper. Hands coming down to his thighs, he bent over, getting closer to head-height with the desert fox. "What does it say?"

Gnawing slightly on his bottom lip, the petite predator did his best to make out some of the words he knew from memory. "Well, for starters, I can make out that it contains vegetable matter–not the actual type vegetable but vegetable matter–gluten, and jellyfish."

"..." The male red fox twitched, wondering what the hell they'd been eating from this place all these years.

Seeing the hesitance in his partner's eyes, Finnick could only nod his head in agreement. "Right, let's see if we can find some gluten-free stuff," he replied as he put the can back. Like ramen cups, for example. Not like there was any gluten in those noodles. Hell, the desert carnivore was pretty certain the card-board pre-processing had more gluten... fiber too!

Realizing that he and the rest of the dregs of Zootopian society were being happily fostered with the dregs of the seven seas to get by with, Nick could admit that he wasn't feeling all that hungry anymore... and had a better understanding of just why Bug Burga was as successful as it was. "Maybe we should leave this crap here and go to Good Migrations for—OW!" He yelped as he jumped back upon being punched in the shin by his smaller partner. "Goddamn it, Zerdan! What the hell!?" He cried out angrily, demanding to know why the little prick did that.

Turning his head to glare at the taller vulpine, the vertically-challenged carnivore snorted in annoyance. "Idiot. Working for this po-po is making you soft. You would have never turned you snout up at this before you had us become Officer Fox's errand bitches. Getting good meals regularly and getting paid well is spoiling you more rotten than the produce Cash Cow has for sale out front. It's going to make you useless for pulling cons if you start thinking inside the box like all those suckers working a nine-to-five!"

Still using his right hand to rub his shin while his left grasped firmly onto the shopping cart to keep him balanced, the taller of the two canid con-mammals glared down at the petite vulpine. "I would hardly call getting Chinese and some breakfast burritos good meals." He frowned. "And weren't you the one that was saying I had to eat better anyway!?"

"You can eat better without breaking the bank," the desert fox said seriously. He walked along the aisle before coming to a stop at a can with the image of a tomato on this. "See this? You don't need that brand name Lambell's when you can have a can of soup that is of the ketchup variety!"

Narrowing his eyes as he took a look at the can in his partner's paw, all the taller fox could answer was, "It actually says, 'ketchup' on it, buddy. Seriously, who the heck would put ketchup inside an aluminum can?"

His eyes gaze becoming a bit more menacing, the fennec heatedly responded, "Well it makes more sense than putting tomato sauce in a glass jar!"

"You're still harping on that!?" Nick cried out in exasperation as he released his leg and tentatively set it back down on the ground to support himself with. "What do you have against tomato sauce in a glass jar!?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, the desert fox was now outright glaring at his taller partner.

Blinking his bright green eyes a couple of times, the red fox turned away after a moment. "... Right..." he murmured quietly. "I forgot about the time you got your head stuck in one when we were kits."

"Glass jars are the tool of the goat devil!" The vertically-challenge vulpine sneered. He then climbed up the side of the carriage and leaned over the edge and into the cart, sifting around through some of the items they had already picked up before retrieving a bottle marked with a trio of X's and pushing it into the other male fox's face. "The only glass containers you should trust are the ones that contain liquor!"

Stepping back a bit to get the bottle out of his face, the red fox was about to yell at his partner to calm down when something floating in the bottle caught his eyes. Reaching out with both his hands, he took the glass container of alcohol out of his semi-friend's paw and held it up to the flickering fluorescent bulb of the ceiling light, gazing at all the particles that were floating within. "This is either tequila... or very dirty vodka."

Again, the fennec snorted. "Newb," he said before bending over into the carriage again, searching through their groceries. "That's what the coffee filters are for." So saying, he straightened up, showing off the circular stack of white papers that were covered in a faded plastic wrapper; obviously excess merchandise from years back as it looked like it had been a name brand once upon a time.

Setting the bottle of alcohol back into the shopping cart, Nick could only mutter, "I was wondering what you wanted those for." After all, neither of them made their own coffee. Snarlbucks was about the one actual luxury they afforded themselves and so the actual implements were something that was missing from their lives. "Still, I feel we could be doing far better than this stuff..." he murmured as he looked at the wall and noticed a cockroach skittering across it... a cockroach that had a ten cent sticker plastered to its back. Admittedly, that is a good price for roaches, the red fox thought with interest. He might have not been much of a bug-eater but he could appreciate a good deal. Big one too.

Nodding his head as his partner understood the method behind the madness, the petite predator decided to toss Wilde a proverbial bone in return as he finally acknowledged his semi-friend's incessant whining. "We could be... but not here. Not in Zootopia." Jumping off the side of the cart and landing gracefully on his feet, the sandy-furred vulpine brought his paws up, wiping off the dust of the carriage that had gotten rubbed into his black shirt in an effort to clean up his appearance some. "But hey, it's not like this place is all bad. I mean, take a look!" He motioned towards the central area of the story that had a broken down display that had been a former greeting card rack that was filled with re-packaged magazines and coverless DVD cases. "This place sells used porn! You aren't going to find that at Good Migrations!"

His shoulders staffing in exasperation, the red fox could only nod his head. "No, it certainly won't," Nick murmured in irritation as his emerald eyes shifted over to where the smaller vulpine was pointing at. However before he could go into a rant, he found himself genuinely surprised to see a prey mammal in the normally carnivore-centric store–although he appeared to be a tough customer nonetheless. Standing by the greeting card stand turned dirty magazine rack was a piggy patron, although the developed canine teeth that protruded from the bottom corners of his mouth were testament to the fact he was of a wild boar rather than any of his species' softer-skinned swine cousins. The Central European Boar was medium-sized in height and overly portly thanks to having a short trunk with massive pectorals that looked even larger while standing on hindquarters that were comparatively underdeveloped. He was covered in a coat of rusty-brown fur, although his short mohawk on his head and the muttonchops on the side of his face were dyed a neon-purple with pink frosted tips.

Wilde couldn't help but feel that there was something oddly familiar about the man, yet the prey mammal's choice in hair-styling was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to how much he stood out. His short and stubby legs were clad in a pair of overly baggy black cargo pants that were only held in proper place by a thick Kevlar belt; the waistband of his boxers visible above the pants. The male suidae's torso was clad in a red sleeveless vest yet he had no shirt, allowing the porcine individual to show off his rather out-of-shape physique, particularly his potbelly. He had a gold chain necklace on with a trio of pendants, a hamster skull with a pair of fangs hanging from either side of it. Such wasn't the only jewelry on the warthog though, just the only one of any worth. He had set of spiked bracelets on either of his wrists and his head was decked out in a myriad of piercings: his eyebrows, his ears, his lower lip, and one sizable nose ring.

And that was when the crimson-pelted canid saw it. He could have forgiven this mammal's crime against fashion if it hadn't been for one single thing: he was wearing a purple pair of those stupid slat visor sunglasses that were popularized by rap musician Kaninye West! It took every ounce of the vulpine's willpower to simply avert his gaze and ignore the desire to slap the porker. Not that the boar had done anything to personally offend him nor would he want to be arrested for a hate crime, but Nick could hardly stand the sight of those things. They were just so Goddamn stupid that it physically hurt to actually look at them!

Raising an eyebrow at how his partner-in-conning suddenly looked as though he was physically ill, the fennec queried, "Hey! You okay there, Wilde?" He tilted his head to get a better look at the red fox from underneath. "You look like you just bit into something that disagreed with you."

Sitting at the lawn chair set up next to the register counter, an older male coyote decked out in an open red and black flannel shirt, white t-shirt, a bead necklace with a feather pendant, and an old pair of denim jeans with the knees worn out slowly lowered the newspaper he was reading. "You better not have! Cash Cow may be focused on, 'mo~ooooooving merchandise to get you a better deal' but you need to pay for what you want to eat first!"

Beside crotchety old man's right and standing behind the counter at the register, an elderly female coyote worked fervently as she nodded her head in agreement. The woman was busy counting out the transaction device's drawer but she was a still a lovely thing despite how harried she was at the moment. She had a turquoise bead necklace and was dressed in a simpler cut but more elaborately designed garment than her husband: a sleeveless gray dress decked out with a pair of Native American dream catcher designs printed on it. The canid woman didn't even take her eyes off the money she was tabulating as she merely replied, "Mmm-hmm! We accept cash, credit, or debit; no personal checks."

Rolling his eyes, the viridian Hawaiian shirt-clad red fox slowly exhaled in tired acceptance. As usual, even among his fellow predators, he found his species to be distrusted by them. "Don't worry, I didn't eat anything yet!" He called out towards the back of the store where the proprietors were set up, one working hard while the other was hardly working. Stepping away from the carriage, Nick made a beeline for the end of the aisle he and his buddy had been standing in. Looking at the end-cap and all the shrink-wrapped six-packs of ramen cups–selling at a buck-fifty a package or two for three dollars–the vulpine male picked up one set of shrimp and another of miso before bringing them back to the carriage, his emerald eyes gazing to his partner in a silent plea to just finish this trip up.

Sighing at how thin-skinned Wilde was acting as of late, the smaller predator of the duo nodded his head. "Fine, fine," he told the taller fox. "We got more than enough for a week here anyway..." he grumbled as he motioned for his somewhat-friend to get to moving shopping cart, signaling that he was good to go. Not like he needed to take time to peruse the porn rack thanks to having Cherry but he would have felt a lot better if Nick at least checked it out. The guy was obviously becoming sexually frustrated and Finnick would have like some proof that his partner still swung towards the ladies.

Nodding his head firmly, Nick gratefully told the desert fox, "Thank you." Stepping behind the shopping cart and grasping the handles, the canid con-mammal began to push the plastic carriage towards the check-out in the back...

...Only to yelp as the wild boar came stomping forward from the former greeting card rack, using his right arm to push the carriage over, sending most of the contents sprawling. "Hey!" Wilde shouted, only to watch as the porcine prick continued onwards towards the cashier. "Friggin' asshole," he muttered under his breath as he grasped the cart and turned it upright once more. Once he had it stable the fox bent down to one knee, grasping the fallen items that were in his immediate vicinity while his shorter partner went after the cans that had gone rolling. I swear to God, the vulpine thought in disgust. That jerk's no better than—

His train of thought violently derailed as Nick suddenly realized where he remembered the damn warthog from; his danger senses now ringing in his head. He quickly reached out and grasped his partner by the shoulder; a little harder than he meant to but he was acting on instinct rather than thought. "Zerdan," he hissed under his breath. "We need to go."

Blinking his eyes, the desert fox was taken aback by his fellow fox's rather abrupt actions. Wilde was a bit of a wimp, so to see him take command was a bit startling. "What the hell you talking about, fool?" He queried in annoyance. "We still haven't bought our stuff."

Gritting his teeth as his friend wouldn't lower his voice, the red-furred vulpine hissed, "It's him! We need to get out and ASAP!"

Raising an eyebrow, the sandy-furred fennec whispered, "Who is 'him'?"

Her ears going straight up at all the noise, the female coyote behind the counter looked up to see the clutter of merchandise all over the floor; the pair of vulpine men arguing with one another while the taller of the duo motioned over to the tusked boar that was making his way towards her with a self-important strut. Quickly putting away the money she'd been counting back into its proper slots of the drawer, she slid it back into the cash register just as portly porcine individual threw the reading article onto the countertop: a shrink-wrapped copy of the May '89 issue of Heat Magazine. Nodding her head, she rang up the five dollar price-tag before the faded golden-furred canid woman turned her attention back to the herbivore that now standing in front of her. "That will be five dollars and thirty-three cents with tax. Will there be anything else, Sir?" She asked, staying civil with the customer.

The corners of the European boar's lips curled up into a smile. "Yeah actually," he replied in a nonchalant manner as he made a showing of looking up and down at the wall behind her that had rolls of lottery scratch tickets and shelves with cigarette packs. He then reached into his right pocket and threw a black sack atop of the countertop as well. "You're gonna empty the register and put the money in that bag. No fudgin' around now..."

That statement startled the both the elderly woman and her husband, the male coyote once more lowering his newspaper to look up in shock at the boar. Blinking her eyes a couple of times, the woman looked up at the tusked prey mammal, making sure she heard him right. "Excuse me?" She asked in clear disbelief of the man before her.

"I said gimme your money, all of it, and don't fuck with me!" He then pulled a matte-black submachine gun out of his pants, the roominess of the garment having hidden the firearm well. With a visible magazine box and a thumbhole fore-grip, it was an imposing weapon, especially as he aimed at her like a handgun. "Now move!" He smiled in a haughty fashion as the older male coyote practically fell back in his seat in his attempt to put room between him and the gun-toting mammal while his wife did as told, emptying out the register into the black bag. Grasping the sack with his free hand, the boar lifted it up and down, noticing that it was much lighter than he thought it should have been. "That's it? Seriously!?" He demanded in clear disbelief.

Narrowing her eyes as she stared down the barrel of the gun being aimed at her, the canid woman frowned. "What do you mean, 'seriously'?" The elderly cashier asked with apparent annoyance at the felonious porker's expectations. "You're robbing a discount store... are you really that surprised at how little cash we have on paw?"

"But this place is always busy!" The boar roared as he waved his gun and fired off a few shorts into the ceiling, making both coyotes cringe at the damages and the two vulpine men that had been trying to sneak out drop to the floor in panic. "Do you see those damned foxes there? They're paying customers, ain't they!?

As bits of ceiling tile finished sprinkling over him, the desert fox tilted his head upwards to glare at the idiot wild boar. "Yeah, it's called paying with debit cards, asshole!" Finnick shouted from his place on the ground, his temper getting the better of him. He then let out a surprised if not frightened yelp as the armed porker began firing overhead once more, this time low enough so that he was blowing out the front windows of the store.

With the angry prey mammal's attention pulled away from her, the female coyote quickly brought her right hand underneath the counter, pressing a red button as firmly as she could over and over again to activate the silent alarm. However, seeing the man step towards the two downed vulpine, the Native American mammal quickly piped up, "He's not kidding. A lot of our locals pay in cash or credit of some sort; a few even have a running tab. We just don't have the sort of cash that would get you that grand larceny charge you seem so desperate to get on your record."

Gritting his teeth, the tusked herbivore growled in a way more befitting a predator. "Oh, think yer so damn funny, don'cha bitch? Whatever! Get over with the other old fart! NOW!" He shouted as he motioned to the male coyote still on the floor. When she started to move over to her husband, the armed prey mammal turned around and took aim at the two foxes directly with his submachine gun. "And that goes fer you dirty Yiffers as well! Everyone over here where I can see 'em! No one leaves 'til I get my money!"

Slowly getting up off the floor, the red fox carefully raised his arms up in a show of submission. As he and the smaller vulpine made their way over to the back corner of the store with the elderly married couple, Nicholas could only mutter, "I told you we should have left when we had a chance..."

Snorting as he walked over towards the warthog while the firearm was trained on him, the sandy-furred desert fox couldn't help but quip back, "Well sorry! Please forgive me for thinking you were just having another one of your existential crises. You'd been a whiny bitch since we practically got here and I thought it was best to ignore you like I had—"

"SHUT UP AND GET OVER HERE ALREADY!" The wild boar roared out, interrupting the petite fennec and making both male foxes cringe and lower their ears as they ducked their heads. When he had everyone lined up within his immediate field of vision, portly mammal nodded his head and looked at the elderly male canid that was being helped up to his feet by his wife. "All right, now open the safe, old man!" At the confused look that came over the male coyote's face, the porker took aim at him with his gun and demanded that he, "Open the Goddamn safe!"

Bringing his hands up between himself and the firearm trained on him, the Native American mammal tried to explain, "We... that is, we don't have a safe! Honest!" He motioned to the counter his wife had been working at and declared, "We only have what's in the register!"

"Bullshit!" He snarled as he raised his right arm and pulled the trigger once more, firing along the back wall. He waved his outstretched limb wildly, putting numerous bullet-holes into the surface in an uncontrolled fashion until the pinging noise of ten-millimeter slugs ricocheting started sounding out as the line of fire focused on a poster of superstar Gazelle advertising Pepsi-Cola's citrus soda, Mountain Ewe. Unclipping the now empty magazine the boar reached down and pulled another from the left pocket of his cargo pants, reloading it into the bottom box feed of the weapon. Walking up to the now ruined poster, he reached out with his left hand again, his hooved digits grasping the paper and tearing it down, revealing the steel door with combination lock. "There's your Goddamned safe!" He roared as he turned about once more and aimed the weapon at the elderly predator. "Now open that piece of shit up!"

The older coyote looked left and right, his eyes darting between his wife and the thug that intended to take them for everything they had. The male predator was completely torn on what was going on, as this was their livelihood that was being threatened. It was bad enough that the damages already inflicted on the building were going to set them back but if this porcine prick took the contents of the store safe, he was going to ruin them outright!

Seeing the hesitation in the man, the Central European boar shouted, "Quit stalling, ya damned Chomper! You better open that piece of shit!" Seeing the man stand there stock-still like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car, the tusked thug threateningly roared out, "Come on! Either you open that fucking thing or I'm gonna blow their brains out!" He shouted as he motioned his gun in the general direction of the older canid's wife and the two foxes.

His arms rising up as high as they could, Nick was quick to shout out, "Don't shoot! My brains are quite important to me!"

Nodding his head In agreement, the sandy-furred vulpine couldn't help but point out, "No kidding! He certainly isn't getting by on his good looks!" He then let out a small yelp as the taller fox gave him a solid kick in the butt, making him fall forward flat on his face.

While normally an out of character action for Nicholas, the fact was he knew of his partner's temper all-too-well and he didn't want the smaller predator to give the obviously hardened mammal any reason to blow them away.

Seeing so many people in danger – particularly his wife–the old mammal's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Okay, okay..." he replied in fearful resignation. "I'll open the safe. Pleasure, just don't hurt anyone!"

"Good boy, now get crackin' and no funny business!" He shouted as the canid male made his way over to the wall-mounted safe, working the dial of the combination lock. As the elderly store-owner continued to spin the numbers back and forth repeated, the irritable prey mammal growled out, "Faster! I ain't got all day!"

Taking a moment to look over his shoulder, the Native American carnivore replied, "It's not that easy! You need to be precise with this or it won't—"

"You open that thing on the count of three or one of these useless pelts drops!" The tusked prey mammal threatened, interrupting excuse the man was trying to give him as he trained the submachine gun on the woman in particular. "One... two..."

"FREEZE!" A female voice shouted. "PUT THE GUN DOWN AND PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST, CRIMINAL!"

Everyone turned about to see that standing by the entrance at the front of the store was a uniformed and armored member of the Zootopia Police Department. But not just any police-mammal, oh no! This in particular happened to be one...

"Carmelita!" Nick shouted the name of the vixen standing there with her shock pistol aimed at the villainous warthog. He could feel the relief flooding him as he realized help was already there! The male fox didn't know how she knew to come but he sure as hache-eee-double hockey sticks wasn't going to complain!

The warthog felon stared for a moment, blinking his eyes behind the lenses of his slat visor sunglasses as recognition began to dawn on him. "You..." the sinister swine snarled as he took aim with his rapid-fire gun. "Yer the bitch that hurt mah boy yesterday! I'm gonna fuck you up big time!"

The vulpine policewoman didn't notice nor possibly hear the angry boar's threats and condensation of her actions. Oh no, as soon as he turned to face her, Officer Fox's ingrained ability of the, 'Inspector's Intuition' went wild; the weapon in his hand setting off orange fireworks in her vision. Her mind began processing information a mile a minute as it recognized the firearm on a subconscious level as an Agram 2000: a Croatian submachine gun based on Beretta's model M12 although it had a fore-grip and a faster rate of fire than the M12. The vast numbers available after the Croatian War of Independence ended, as well as the ability to customize it with a sound suppressor made it a popular choice among criminals–although it seemed this thug preferred to let it be a loud son of a bitch.

With the firearm being so recognizable combined with her personal experience facing criminals with such a weapon helped Carmelita a lot as her natural vulpine ability of the body working faster when not in perfect sync with the brain went into action, the woman already rolling to the right and dodging under the spray of fire that blasted where her head would have been. It was a roll that didn't stop as she quickly got to her feet again, using the furthest aisle to the left for cover as the tusked prey mammal continued to unload bullets at the speed of eight hundred rounds-a-minute!

Realizing that shit had hit the proverbial fan as the boat let his anger run away with him–as was stereotypical for the tusked pigs–Nick quickly sprang into action as well. The red fox grabbed the older woman and helped her to get flat on the ground in an attempt to avoid getting hit by any stray bullets. The last thing he needed was a trip to the hospital and he doubted that the older couple could take a ten millimeter slug hitting them either.

The female coyote gasped in surprise as the fox helped guide her to the floor but she wasn't about to complain, considering her reflexes weren't what they used to be with her advanced age. She pressed herself up against the male vulpine in the Hawaiian shirt as she took up his unspoken offer to be used as an animal shield.

"Damn coppa!" The wild boar yelled angrily as he continued to spray bullets out while reaching down to his pants, feeling about for another bullet clip before his current one ran out. "Mah boy didn't deserve dat! Yer gonna pay for blasting him!"

Gritting her teeth as she did her best to dodge and weave, the vixen was already coming to a conclusion by how he talked about just who this was... she had come across the one that Chief Bogo had named the other day as one, 'Beebo Pig'.

After a little bit longer, the Notorious P ran out of bullets and unclipped his gun.

At the sound of silence, the petite predator lifted his head up to try and look at what was going on. "Thank gouda, he's out..." Finnick muttered in relief. Watching as Carmelita raised her head up and brought her shock pistol up to take aim. Great, he thought with ease for once in his life glad a cop was taking charge. Now this whole thing will...

"But wait! There's MORE!" The tusked thug yelled, interrupting the petite predator's train of thought as he slammed another magazine cartridge into the loading box. With his weapon reloaded, the wild boar continued where he left off, pulling the trigger and showering a hail of bullets at where the vixen's head had been just seconds prior.

...Never end, the fennec thought as his eyes filled up with unshed tears. "This can't possibly get any worse, can it?"

Poor Mr. Zerdan really should have kept his mouth shut as God always loved to take a bet. In trying to hit the Hispanic vixen that was running back and forth along the left wall to avoid the gunfire, the ten millimeter slugs managed to blow away enough of the wooden wall that the plumbing behind it was exposed. Water was now starting to spray out, which not only made it a hazard for the policewoman to run on, but exposed more metal that bullets could ricochet off of.

*Thwink*!

"AAUUUGGGGGH!" The fennec roared in sheer agony as he felt the intense burning bite of a bullet finding purchase in his body.

"FINNICK!" Nick shouted as he continued to cover the woman with his own body, the elderly lady pressing herself tighter against the vulpine at the combined oppressive racket of gunfire and raised voices. "WHAT HAPPENED!?"

Rolling about on the floor in an attempt to deal with the pain and merely succeeding in spreading blood across the tiles, the desert fox looked towards his friend with wide, blood-shot orange eyes. "I GOT SHOT IN THE ASS!" The vertically-challenged vulpine screamed as an intense level of pain shot out through his body from the site of the bullet wound.

"Oww..." Nick muttered in sympathy, remembering the time he took a BB gun to his rear, this had to hurt worse. Still, of all the places to get shot, at least it was his friend's butt, almost nothing but padding there. "You're alive at least."

"RAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGH!" The little fox screamed unintelligibly in complete and utter suffering.

Ignoring the suffering going on around him at the destruction he caused, the gun-toting mammal was snorting through his upturned nose at how heavily he was breathing; his nose ring fluttering constantly. "Give it up, coppa! If you don't surrender, I'm gonna start turning my gun on these nice folks in here!" The warthog yelled out into the air as he began to pick up and try to move around after his target. "Face it! That puny pistol of yers may pack a punch but you need a clear shot! You ain't gonna get that with me, that's fer sure!" He snarled as he took out another clip from his cargo pants and fed the ammo magazine into the loading box. The boar was making his way to the furthest aisle had the woman running around in, waiting for the moment to strike and take the bitch down for sending Rock to the slammer.

The Hispanic policewoman frowned, realizing this could be it. Still, Carmelita wasn't about to go down without a fight, innocent mammals were depending on her, including Nick and Finnick–the later needing immediate medical attention. So holding her index finger on the trigger, the vixen continued charging a shot just in case one last attempt at diplomacy failed. "Give it up, felon! You're in serious trouble as it is! You've committed armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, resisting arrest, and attempted assault of a police officer just to name a few of your crimes! If you surrender now, this won't have to get any worse for you!"

"IT'S ONLY WORSE IF YOU CATCH ME!" The Central European boar bellowed out angrily as he pulled the trigger of the firearm again, letting off another hail of gunfire into the shelving which he was now starting to actually see his intended target through as his submachine gun blew away more and more of the shelves and merchandise that had been stacked on it.

Her heart beating a mile a minute, the navy-tressed vulpine officer pumped her legs, thankful that she had a lot of experience needing to push her body past the limits from the years spent chasing Sly. Unfortunately, was broken pipes continued to pump water, the soles of her boots were having difficulty getting the traction the vixen needed, and even being slowed down a few milliseconds was deadly. She hissed as she felt pressure against the back of her Kevlar vest as was tagged by more than a few of those bullets, making the woman nearly stumble as the Latina police officer made her way to the next aisle, which still had some cover thanks to the mostly untouched rack of...

...Discount porn? Officer Fox thought in shock before shaking her head in disgust. With new cover and some dryer floor attained for her feet, the vixen brought her left hand to hold the pistol as well. She needed both hands to not only steady the weapon but to free up her right thumb so she could press the special button on the side, the 'R1 Button' as it were called, which caused both green bulbs at the end of her shock pistol's barrel to begin to spark wildly.

Chuckling evilly, the boar began to step towards her once more. He had one more clip, but the one was all he was going to need. "Face it! Yer number's up, you Yiffing Chomper Bitch!"

Her eyes narrowing angrily, the vulpine lost all the hesitation she had about what she was about to do. Now or never, Carmelita thought as she rushed out in from behind the porn rack in a lunge as she released the trigger. While this would normally let off a single shot of charged ions, the fact she was holding the first right button allowed her to use one of the weapon's special functions, the Triple Shot–her shock pistol firing of a trio of projectiles that spread out in an arcing motion with a single blast!

As the shots came flying at him, the Central European boar's eyes widened in horror behind the lenses of the sunglasses created after a style popularized by infamous rapper Kaninye West before he went jumping to the side and through an aisle wall of shelving in an attempt to avoid the three energy blasts. As he did, the warthog let loose a howl of pain, both from having to smash through a solid barrier and the fact he wasn't fast enough to dodge, one of the shots managing to tag the hand that was holding the submachine gun. "SONNUVABITCH!" He roared, electricity arcing across the surface of the boar's body as he went stumbling against the wall, smashing through the glass doors to one of the cooling cabinets, some of the bottles and cans of various liquid refreshments breaking open and splattering their contents over him.

Carmelita was panting heavily as she watched the carnage from where she lay on the ground. The vulpine policewoman may have only been able to tag him once, but that seemed to be enough to screw him up as he simply lay there inside a refrigeration unit; a fog a cool air misting out into the store as the floor through the broken display door as the floor around the prey mammal's feet became soaked from the different drinks. "Thank God..." she whispered in relief.

The relief was short-lived as Beebo, a now soaked and sticky mess, pulled himself free from the enclosed space. Gnashing his teeth in anger as glass either fell off from or stuck to him thanks to the moisture, he whipped his head back and forth, looking for the woman that caused him so much pain. Catching sight of her on the floor, he was seeing red. "I'M GONNA SKIN YA ALIVE!" He yelled as charged towards her, bursting through through yet another set of shelves in his blinding rage, the explosive force sending goods flying everywhere as he brought himself right up to the downed police officer. Pointing his gun at her, he grinned in a maniacal fashion. "Game over, you Yiffing cunt," he snarled as he took aim with his machine pistol. "I'm gonna use your pelt to rub my feet on when I get home." He promised as he pulled the trigger.

*Click*!

Blinking his eyes once, twice, all the thug could query was, "Huh?" The warthog looked down at his weapon and pulled the trigger a few more times before realizing that his gun was jammed; damaged beyond the point of functioning due to the blast of the shock pistol. "DAMN IT!" He shouted as he kept pulling the trigger and shaking it over and over again, trying to make it work.

Straightening up from where she had landed on the floor in her flying dive to shoot the perp, the Latina vixen holstered her electronic firearm. Closing the distance as he took a few steps back from her, the policewoman cracked her knuckles as she glared at the punk porker with a newfound anger blazing her brown eyes, making them flicker with an amber gleam. "Beebo Pig," she stated his name firmly. "You are under arrest for armed robbery..."

Seeing the angry Chomper getting pumped up to do some damage of her own, the now surprised boar kept backpedalling away from her. "Nuh-now, wait a minute! Wait a minute!" He shouted as he saw her rear her right fist back. "Yer an officer of the law! You can't just—"

A punch smashed him straight in the face, breaking his slat visor sunglasses and causing him finally drop the Angram 2000. As he stumbled back from the blow, he brought both hands up to rub his face to make sure he didn't have any glass in his eyes.

Taking another step towards him, Carmelita reared her right fist back once more. "Assault with a deadly weapon," she continued as she then sucker punched him, making the wild boar squeal out like the little piggy he was as she smashed him hard across his upturned nose. "Destruction of private property with malicious intent," the vixen added as she brought that same fist back across his nose a second time for a vicious backhanded strike.

"Don't forget that he shot me!" Finnick cried out from his place on the floor towards the back of the store with the others; the coyote couple and Nick staring on in shock as the police officer threw everything she had into taking down the porcine perp.

Her heart pumping faster in pure rage at hearing that, the vulpine police officer reared her right leg back. "Causing grievous injury to another mammal!" She shouted as she then kicked him in the crotch with her steel-toed boot, making the solidly built prey mammal squeal again–at a much higher pitch–as he dropped to the floor like a sack of bricks. He curled up into a fetal position, both of his hooved hands reaching down between his legs to try and protect his now possibly cracked family jewels.

Staring down at the mammal thug that had called her a Yiffer, injured her friend, shot at her, and hurt so many others, that the policewoman couldn't bring herself to let up. "Destruction of private property with malicious intent," she continued to list off as she kicked him across the face. "Resisting arrest," the vixen kicked him in the stomach when he brought one of his hands up to rub and try and protect where she had made contact with her steel-toe across his ugly mug. "Assault of an officer of the law with a deadly weapon, intent to murder, and so much more than I can say right now because I! AM! SUPER! PISSED!" She roared out as she planted her foot firmly on the side of his head to keep him down on the ground.

Officer Fox stood there in silence for a few moments, breathing heavily as her chest heaved within the now tight-feeling confines of her Kevlar vest. Her nostrils a number of times with each deep breath as she just remained in that position, glaring down at the fallen thug; time seemingly having stopped for the female red fox. Finally though, time began to speed back up once more as her adrelaine rush began to ebb. However, before the Hispanic officer could say anything else, her heart jumped in her chest as she felt something touch her shoulder. She spun around, intent to backhand this new opponent... only to stay her strike as she saw it was Nicholas, the vulpine cringing in abject fear...

...Fear of her.

She lowered her first, the woman trembling slightly as she saw just how terrified the man was. "Nick, I..." she trailed off as she removed her foot from Beebo's face so she could turn to face her fellow fox fully. "How is everyone?"

Lowering his arms as he realized the possibility of getting slugged had dropped tremendously, the con-mammal brought his hands down and wiped at his Hawaiian shirt in an effort to straighten it out. "Other than being scared out of my mind right now..."

"MY STORE!" The male coyote screamed as he got a look at the destruction that surrounded him.

Cringing at the man's cry, Nick schooled his features but still gave her a pained expression. He was trying to hide how scared he was but it was immensely hard to do when the only thing he could during all of that was keep his head down and pray to whoever may be listening that he survived. "Well, that and the store... we're mostly okay... but, um," he trailed off for a moment, taking second to look over his shoulder at his partner once more before his fully attention turned to the vixen once more. "Do you have a cell phone? I think Finnick will try and cut your butt off and use it to replace his if he isn't treated right away."

As she was about to answer, Carmelita's ears began twitching as she heard the sound of sirens starting to close in. The woman nodded her head in understanding, retrieving her handcuffs from her belt. "We'll call for an ambulance..." the canid cop promised her fellow fox as she made her way over to the downed porcine thug. Sitting him up, she pulled his left arm behind him as she began to apply the handcuffs to his wrist. "Beebo Pig, you have the right to remain silent," she brought his other arm behind him and clasped the other handcuffs, restraining both of his arms behind him. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," she said as she helped raise the wild boar up to his hooved feet once more, leading him towards the entrance of the store. "You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you..." she continued to quote off the Miranda Rights as she exited the store front with the whimpering felon just as a trio of police cars rolled up onto the scene.

Watching her head outside to get the damned boar settled with the arriving officers, Wilde was absolutely torn on how to feel. What he had witnessed had been some of the most vicious out-and-out police brutality ever, made even worse was that he Carmelita had been the one to administer it. Yet at the same time, that had been the same jerk who had robbed Finnick and him so long ago, not to mention just shot his poor pal in the keister as he held them hostage and fired around like he were playing a game of GTA! And of course there was the fact he had literally tried to murder the woman in cold blood then and there; he had even watched helplessly as she got nailed by a few of those stray bullets near the end.

Could he really hold her rage at the insufferable prey mammal against her?

Sighing, the crimson-pelted canid shook his head and made his way back over to his pal, the smaller vulpine being attended to by the elderly coyotes; the wife of the duo pressing an entire paper-towel roll against his butt to put pressure on it and hopefully stem the bleeding. "How're you holding up, big guy?"

"MY ASS IS ON FIRE!" The petite predator screamed. Tears were streaming down his face, leaving it a mess of salt water and mucous from his runny nose. "HOW THE HELL DO YOU THINK I'M HOLDING UP!?"

Cringing at how one of the toughest mammals he knew was reduced to a quivering wreck, the taller fox of the dup sighed miserably. "Well, we're alive at least," Nick chirruped in response. At the forlorn expressions the faces of the elder couple attention to his bleeding partner, he asked them, "And how about you two?"

"We're ruined," was the male Native American mammal's response before he sighed and slumped down onto the floor, burying his face in his paws. "We can't afford to fix all the damages that guy did. We were always hovering just above red, but this..." he motioned around at the destruction of the Cash Cow's interior. "It might have been better if we just let the fiend take our hard-earned savings."

Wilde couldn't help but cringe as he heard the man put it like that but he wasn't too surprised. That was Zootopia for you. A dog-eat-dog world, that would chew up the predators and spit them out, punishing them for any slip up even if it wasn't their fault. He had seen it happen far too many timed in his life, particularly with the first-paw experience his own family went through. "I... I'm sorry," he said, feeling genuine sympathy for the two as he settled himself on the floor besides his partner in hustling.

As he sat there, the red fox merely waited, wondering when the hell someone was going to come and take care of his friend. Granted, there were far worse places to be shot but he could tell the fennec was in a state of suffering. "Hey, Finnick?" He began speaking to his friend, making sure he was staying conscious. At the grunt he got from the petite predator in response, he told him, "There is a plus side to all of this for you. Once Cherry hears what happened, she's going to be babying you while you recover."

That caused Finnick to perk up, even if only a little. That blasted fool was right about that much at least. "Well, something good came out of this, I guess." He tried moving before screaming in pain as the bullet wound flared up again. "SHIIIIEEEEFUUUSWEEEECHEEEE!" He screamed out a rather unintelligible mix of swears, the fennec unable to focus on one curse word as he dealt with the agony that rocked through his body.

"Hold on!" Carmelita called out as she walked back into the store with a couple of officers–a tiger and a timber wolf–as well as an antelope paramedic that was rolling an ambulance gurney into the building. Noticeably, the vixen was now sans her Kevlar vest, leaving her torso in just the blue uniform shirt adorned with her golden metal badge and name-tag. "We're here for you, Finnick! They're going to take you to the hospital and—"

"NO HOSPITALS!" The fennec roared out, surprising everyone. Hissing, the carnivore raised his head up, looking at the female red fox as he pleaded, "No hospitals. I can't afford it."

Cringing, the Hispanic vixen looked to her fellow officers, both appearing rather puzzled by the man's refusal to get professional help. Realizing they weren't going to be of much assistance, she turned her gaze to the female antelope. "is there anything you can do for him?"

Although she had been taken by surprise at the injured fox's refusal to seek medical help, the feminine herbivore seemed to be considering something. "It's a flesh wound, right?" Seeing the tiny predator nod his head and motion to his posterior, the cervidae woman replied, "It's highly unorthodox but we might be able to do something for him in the back of the ambulance." She looked at the man and smiled sympathetically at his plight. "I just hope you don't mind a little intense probing and some deep stitches. We aren't as equipped as Zootopia General proper is."

Raising his eyebrow at the woman's explanation, the male red fox tilted his head as he looked at her with a speculative gaze. "Don't you have to cauterize the wound when it comes to bullets?" The taller male vulpine queried, not noticing as Finnick's eyes widening as he asked at that. "And that requires... what: temperatures well over two-hundred degrees or something when it comes to flesh? Might need to shave that part of his butt too, if only to keep him from being set completely on fire..."

Noticing the shocked look on the petite vulpine's face, the policewoman realizing that such was exactly what doing an on-the-spot job would entail. "Uh, why yes... that's correct," Carmelita replied, suddenly feeling incredibly sympathetic to poor Finnick's plight. It was going to hurts like the dickens, but it would be worth it, both to make certain he didn't bleed out and so the wound didn't get infected.

Seeing how upset the desert fox was becoming at hearing all this, the antelope sighed. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to tell him until he felt it. I was trying not to upset the little guy."

Zerdan's jaw dropped. "...Wait... you mean Nick wasn't pulling my leg? You really need to... to..." his pupils dilated into pin-pricks. "Burn my bottom?" He squeaked out, his usual deep baritone voice having vacated the premises for the time being.

The female herbivore nodded her head somberly. "I'm afraid so, Mister. It's an emergency fix we can do for those who are in danger of bleeding out. Since you refuse to go to the hospital, we'll need to remove the bullet and cauterize deep into the tissue as to stop the bleeding and then use stiches on the epidermis for a more subtle healing. That way, you can at least have your fur grow back more naturally as you heal up."

His ears flattening back in worry, the desert fox looked up at the female red fox with a pleading gaze. "Do you mind giving that asshole that did this to me a swift kick in the nuts?" He wanted to add, 'again' but he had no idea how the other officers would react and he didn't want to get her in trouble. She was about the only police-mammal he liked!

Shaking her head in a negative fashion, the Hispanic vixen explained, "I'm sorry, Finnick, but I can't. He's currently in police custody. At this point, doing so would be considered an unwarranted, let alone unethical measure of police brutality." It was part of the reason why the canid cop was certain she wouldn't suffer any blowback from how forcefully she took him down in the first place. It had been immediate self-defense.

Growling as he couldn't even get that much satisfaction, the sandy-furred fox turned his gaze back to the leggy paramedic. "Can I just leave it in there?" Maybe it wouldn't be too bad once he got some stitches at least.

The pale-furred cervine woman nodded her head. "Sure, if you want to contract tetanus and allow infection to set in," the paramedic replied. "I can assure you that we have some anesthesia on hoof, and it will dull the pain of the procedure considerably," she replied helpfully. "Otherwise those are your choices: suffer, suffer and heal, or go to the hospital where the physical suffering will be minimal... but not the monetary blow you seem so frazzled over."

Gritting his sharp teeth together in growing frustration, the vulpine finally barked out in aggravation, "FINE!" He lowered his head and then more calmly replied once more, "Fine... take it out... just..." he cringed. "Just be careful. My girl was rather fond of my butt."

The female medical professional nodded her head as she walked up to the male carnivore and carefully raised him up in her hooved hands. Holding him aloft, she gently placed him down on his stomach atop the gurney before she came around to the headrest. Unlocking the wheels by pressing her right foot down on them, she then carted him off towards the store entrance, telling him, "We'll be as careful as possible..."

Watching the small vulpine head off, prepared to bite the bullet as the paramedics removed one, the vixen turned about towards her fellow red fox to give him her attention once more. "So, Nicholas Wilde..." she began slowly as she met his emerald eyes with her own chocolate orbs, her gaze a lot calmer now. "I hope you don't mind sticking around to give us a few words..." she trailed off, noticing as the male tiger was already retrieving a notepad and pencil from one of the pouches on his Kevlar belt.

Despite having so many members of the ZPD around him, the male fox waved it off. "No, I don't mind. But after all this..." he trailed off, his shoulders slumping as he let off a small depressed sigh. "Well, that's it for this store." It had been such a nice place, even if it was a dump. It gave animals like him who lived on a shoestring budget a place to go and get some cheap eats and other goods. He knew there were other businesses out there, but it would take time to find them. Zootopia was a big place.

"Thank you," Carmelita said in genuine gratitude at how compliant he was being. "Tell you what... I'm going to be off for the day after this..." she shrugged. "Hell, I was supposed to be off until my radio went off about the robbery!" Shaking her head and causing her navy blue tresses to bounce a bit, the Latina vixen then got back to her original point by offering, "How about when we're done taking statements and the paramedics finish with poor Finnick's butt, I take you two out for a pizza? You've had a busy day to say the least..."

Raising his head to meet the woman's gaze once more, Nick gave the woman a small but genuine smile. "Sure. I know just the place," he replied. What could the red fox say? Despite the seriousness of the situation, he sure as heck wasn't one to turn down free pizza!

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Hearing a knock at the door that had been affixed to the entrance of his office just twenty minutes prior, the Chief of the Zootopia Police Department raised his head to look up from the paperwork he'd been in the middle of filling out. Narrowing his eyes, the man's jaw tightened as he saw a familiar outline of two large horns that extended into two and a half twists through the opaqueness of the green glass. He had been expecting this face-to-face eventually but he hadn't thought it would be so soon; apparently they really had it out for his latest recruit. When there was another knock sounded out at his door, the water buffalo inhaled slowly before calling out as calmly as he could in a controlled tone of voice, "Come in."

The handle turned and the door swung into the office, revealing the man that Bogo wished he wouldn't have had to meet again in person so soon; the reddish-brown pelt with white chevron pattern that ran between the mammal's eyes were a unique pelt trait that helped the antelope stand apart from his fellow Kudu. The mammal was currently clad a dark gray trench-coat that practically hid his black velvet suit and pressed white shirt underneath but his golden and silver tie still managed to show its presence as it reflected the ceiling lights of the police chief's quarters. The finely-suited cervidae didn't even bother to make introductions, knowing full-well that the other herbivore he was here to see knew exactly who he was. Instead, the man used the finely crafted cherry wood cane topped with a solid gold handle–one shaped like an eagle talon holding the planet–held firmly in his gloved hooves to keep him steady as he made his way over to the closest chair placed in front of the desk and sat down.

Putting his pen down, the African buffalo straightened up in his own chair, puffing up his chest to try and put on an impressive if not intimidating display of strength. "Councilman Hornaday," he greeted in a somewhat pleasant manner, his deep brown eyes meeting the pale slate blue of the bearded bovidae before him. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence today?"

"One to cut to the chase, huh?" The older herbivore snorted. "Fine. I'll be brief with you, Chief Bogo." Bringing his wooden cane down in front of him, the horned herbivore placed both of his hooved hands atop the gold handle. He leaned forward in the chair, staring deeply into the police chief's eyes. "You've done a number of things against the Council's wishes. First of all, you had been given an order and you didn't follow through."

The cape buffalo didn't even flinch at the accusatory tone. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said firmly. "I did as you requested. I assigned her to work Vice over in the Rainforest District. You can check in with Officer Rhinowitz if you want to watch the video surveillance for the Bullpen from this morning. You'll see and hear me clear as day giving her that assignment." He then turned his head down and picked his pen back up. "Now if that is all, I need to get back to my work, Head Councilman. I'm a very busy mammal."

The leather gloves Hornaday was wearing hooved hands audibly creaked as he clenched his hooved digits around the handle of his walking stick. "I'm not one to simply brush off so quickly, Bogo..." he said simply, letting the threatening tone of his voice hang in the air before he continued. "I have been putting up with a lot of the idiocy from Lionheart lately; this little Mammal Inclusion Initiative of his having taken the cake. Yet I am able to deal with it. I know the lion is undependable and needs someone to watch over him to make sure the idiot gets his work done but I had expected far better of you!"

That caught the ebony-skinned herbivore's attention. Taking off his glasses, the muscular prey mammal glared at the frail old codger sitting across from him. "If you have a point to make, Head Councilman Hornaday, then be quick about it."

The corners of his lips pulling back in a sneer at the firm tone the policeman took with him, the African antelope retorted, "She didn't go to the Rainforest District where I had Edward tip off some of the local reporters that there was a most interesting sight on the streets... instead, it turns out she'd been working the Downtown District..." the Greater Kudu trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the brawny piece of beef sitting behind the desk. "She ended up arresting Mrs. Beaver's nephew!"

The African buffalo scoffed at the other bovidae's anger. "Don't worry your head, Mr. Hornday," he said as he lifted the paper up in both his hooved hands and started to smack the bottoms against the top of his desk, trying to make a neat stack. "I've already personally put Officer Fox's report into the shredder, and Mr. Beaverton has been released from custody without ceremony. No one will ever know."

"Don't give me that! You and I both understand leaks can happen because some animals can't keep their fudging traps shut! But worst of all we know," the bureaucrat said firmly. "The City Council and I now know that her nephew is a Gouda-damned Predo!" He snapped out angrily. "And you're the one that put the temptation in front of him! Mrs. Beaver isn't going to live this down amongst the rest of us. Sure, we won't do anything to Harriet or give her a hard time but that is a shame she is going to have to live with." The glare he leveled at the Chief of the Zootopia Police Department was filled with pure, unadulterated hate. "And it's your fault for not keeping that Yiffer on a shorter leash!"

The horned herbivore clenched his fists atop his desk, roughly crinkling up the paperwork he'd been holding as the muscular bovine met the other mammal's hate-filled glare. "That Mrs. Beaver's nephew has a... we'll call it a, 'healthy fascination' with—"

"THERE'S NOTHING HEALTHY ABOUT IT!" William damn near bleated out as he screamed at the top of his lungs, interrupting the municipal mammal. His frail frame trembling, the antelope continued to stare at his fellow African herbivore. "It's sick is what it is! And we don't have any established programs like the Cliffside Health Retreat around anymore to fix his unnatural urges!"

And with that, Idriis had enough. "Oh for the love of Crackers!" The cape buffalo shouted loudly, startling the other prey mammal. "Just listen to yourself, Hornaday! You sound like that stereotype of the specist bigot you claim the Right to be come election time. So what if Mr. Beaverton wanted to pork a fox? What was wrong is that he wanted to pay for sex!" He snorted angrily. "He should count his blessings such that we're covering his tail for him! The only way this will get out and cause trouble for him is if one of you squeals, so please, talk to the rest of the damn Council if you feel there's a real Gouda-damned problem!"

The Greater Kudu looked absolutely livid at being talked back to like that. "Then we come to the second problem," he growled out, continuing on as if the horned herbivore hadn't made his case then and there for that the real problem was. "You didn't keep that Chomper bitch to the task at paw!"

That caught Bogo's attention. "What are you talking about?" He said slowly in a guarded fashion. "She worked Vice... did a damn good job of it too. Thirty arrests before noon; a new department record."

Glaring, the Head Councilman demanded to know, "Then why is it that damn Yiffer caught Beebo twenty minutes ago?"

Blinking his eyes, the beefy bovidae stared at the older herbivore with an incredulous stare. "...Come again?" He finally managed to ask when the impact if what the antelope was telling him actually registered in his brain. "You're telling me Officer Fox—"

"Arrested Beebo Pig," the Zootopia politician harrumphed irritably. "It's already all over the news; they're even turning it into some sob story to raise a fund for this elderly couple who's story got ruined," he explained with a snort. "So yes, the other 'golden boy' we had been setting up over the past few months to be a really juicy takedown and credit to our capability as leaders of the city? POOF! Up in smoke!" The twisted-horned mammal snapped. "Two days, two perps! Two specific criminals whose arrests we were saving to give us that extra boost to our credibility before election season began because of this one damned fox!"

Needless to say, Bogo was genuinely shocked at this. "...But that doesn't make any sense. I gave her the rest of the day off..."

That response made Hornaday absolutely livid. His eyes were blazing with fury but the horned bureaucrat had his tongue for the time being, considering the other mammal's angle. "Oh, I get it..." he said slowly. "So she just HAPPENS to catch the two criminals that we've been slowly building up during her off time when you just happen to have no authority over her?" He leaned back into his seat, both hands relaxing atop his cane. "Tell me something. Do you remember back when you were a first indoctrinated as rookie officer of the ZPD, Idriis Bogo?" The Greater Kudu questioned, purposely showing a lack of respect as he dropped the other mammal's title completely. "Back before you and McHorn became a successful duo of close-knit partners on the beat? Who did you have as your superior officer? A Longhorn fellow, I believe it was..."

Frowning, the heavily-muscled cape buffalo nodded his head. "Yes, one Officer Michael Longhorn. He was a stand-up, by-the-books kind of steer that taught me everything I needed to know to be a successful police officer." It was as straight-forward an answer as he could bring himself to give the accusatory politician that had been blowing his top since he stepped into his office. Thinking back to the older bull was always something of a sore-spot for the ebony-skinned bovine and he tried to keep him out of mind.

A deep if not outright insidious chuckle escaped the African antelope's throat at the rehearsed response he was given. "An interesting choice of words, considering how the man ended up, wouldn't you say Idriis?" He smiled at the frown he elicited in response from the bovidae behind the desk, knowing the Chief would never call him out for the purposeful disrespect he was tossing his way. "Tell me, just why was he drummed out of the force again?"

A guttural growl reverberated in Chief Bogo's throat as he glared at the smirking cervidae sitting across from his desk. "It was the summer of '94: a crime-wave taking place in Zootopia on a scale unheard of at the time. Officer Longhorn and I were put on the case. Over a solid month was spent chasing down leads across this city, and they all kept coming up short; particularly because a number of them kept bringing us to the Meadowlands District and the locals were less than accommodating. I tell you Hornaday, frustration is the only way to politely describe how those damned sheep made me feel."

The prey mammal with long twisted horns interrupted the Chief of Police. "The sheep are fair, tax-paying herbivore citizens of Zootopia. Their time in the spotlight may have passed with the Woolworth's legacy being tainted by the rest of the world's response to the Tame Collar Initiative but they are due all the same measure of respect and liberty afforded to all prey of this city. If you couldn't get a warrant from the DA to search anyone's premises than that was your own damn fault for being a lousy police officer." He tilted his head, making certain he was looking into the other mammal's eyes. "Although that should be no surprise that you lost so much control of the situation, considering the way this whole debacle had escalated out of control was his fault, right?" He asked in an accusatory manner.

Closing his eyes, the African buffalo breathed deeply, his face contorted with barely suppressed anger. With his eyes still shut, Bogo went on to explain, "It turned out that it was underage pick-pockets living on the streets; a number of little lambs and a predators mixed in. Children who would frequent the areas their victims were doing any major shopping. They would slip out wallet or wads of cash from men's pockets while others would slice the straps of purses, letting them fall off and catching them before running off with them. I only got word of the truth about all this when a child, a young tiger cub–who couldn't have been more than seven-years-old–came to the station and asked to see me, saying she was worried about what her brother had been getting up to."

"A cub that would one day become Precinct One's Officer Julia Fangmeyer, right?" William chirruped as she sat back in the chair, his as he tapped his hooved fingers together.

Opening his eyes, the cape buffalo nodded his head. "The same. She let me know that her older brother was bringing in a lot of money for the household but that he was doing it the, 'wrong way' and she wanted me to keep him from getting into trouble. I figured I could cut a deal with the kid, find out where this group of teens and children were operating out of and put an end to the crime-wave that was plaguing Zootopia... only by the time I drove the girl, I discovered his dead body on the floor of the living room in his family's apartment in a pool of his own blood; three bullets in his abdominal cavity. Someone had gotten to him first. However, that gave me what I needed to break up the group once and for all. I had forensics trace the bullets: nine-by-nineteen millimeter Parabellum slugs." He sighed heavily. "The same ammunition that was being issued to police officers for their then-standard Beretta M9 side-arms..."

"Ah yes, the M9's..." the Greater Kudu sighed wistfully, his eyes going distant as he got caught up in a memory. "The semi-automatic was a Godsend in helping many a fine officer bring down savage predators that broke free of their Tame collars back in the day..." his eyes refocused and he looked at the police chief before him in an accusatory manner. "I believe getting them phased out and replaced with those ineffectual tranquilizer dart guns had been your doing, Bogo..."

Ignoring the tangential criticism the other ungulate was sending his way, the ebony-skinned herbivore continued, "The bullets were all grooved the same way from the firearm barrel, pointing to a solitary weapon and shooter. Asking around the area to find if any of the locals witnessed anything suspicious, I found a recurring theme. A police presence had been seen in the area constantly, in fact the latest having been approximately a half hour before I arrived. A number of them mentioned it being the same officer too..."

"Your partner and superior officer," Councilman Hornaday stated firmly. It wasn't a question.

His hands coming together before his face as he settled his elbows on the desk, Chief Bogo gazed at his fellow prey mammal over his hooves and nodded his head. "Yes. Officer Longhorn was behind the crime-wave and then murder. He had been my best friend on the force, took me under his proverbial wing and showed me how things were done at Precinct One; even took the heat when former Chief Wallace Russ would come down hard on me for being a, and I quote, 'square peg refusing to go through a round hole'." The horned herbivore took a deep breath once more as he could feel the return of those sensations of dread from so long ago. "And suddenly I knew that he had been a dirty cop all along, abusing children and had murdered a minor in cold blood to keep his secret."

"Minors seem to have a bad habit of dying around you, don't they?" The African antelope viciously quipped.

Gnashing his teeth as he felt a spike of rage surge through him, the Chief once more had to take a number of deep breaths to calm himself, knowing full-well that the Head of the City Council was trying to goad him into doing something stupid to use against him. So swallowing his pride, the African buffalo continued to speak, "I did what needed to be done. I didn't want to do it, but all the facts pointed to him. I arrested Officer Longhorn, he was sent to the Zoo over in the Canyonlands District, and a lot of the younger kids were given to their parents for punishment or put into the foster care system while the older ones were sent to Juvenile Hall."

"Oh yes, you wrapped that up quite nicely, didn't you?" Hornaday cooed. "Still, it's quite an inspirational story... although it does leave one to wonder if you were in on it or not."

And with that, the cape buffalo became livid. Pushing his seat back as he stood up, Chief Bogo slammed his hands on his desk as he shouted, "What the HELL are you talking about!?"

Bringing his right hand up, the cervidae extended his index finger and waved it back and forth. "Temper, temper... you really don't want the trouble that would come with assaulting the defacto leader of the Zootopia Liberal Party, would you? Now calm yourself and I'll explain why the suspiciousness of recent events paint you in a bad light," Watching as the much taller and superiorly muscled herbivore's chest expanded and contracted considerably from the heaving he did to control his anger, the African antelope continued, "Bogo, I'll be brief. This woman is a fox. She is Pred. A Chomper. A Pelt. A Yiffer. And you are giving her the opportunities to show that she can nearly match us hard-working prey mammals! You let that sultry vixen keep that up and she is going to make the predator population pretty uppity and that's a problem for us since they've got something these days they didn't have back when I first got into the Liberal Party: the political pull to back up their uppity attitude. Now we've done things here and there to placate them and it's worked so far. We gave the Chompers a little things to feel important, just enough to quiet them down but more importantly not enough to make a difference in the grand scheme of things."

Staring at Hornaday as the other herbivore's spiel slowed down, the ebony-skinned mammal crossed his arms over his massive chest. "And this has what to do with me, exactly?"

"You're the one allowing her to rock the boat, Bogo. That idiot Leodore may have brought her over to be a pretty little face but you're the one who gives her the opportunity to actually spread this damnable message of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative because of some illogical sense of loyalty to a crusty old badger you knew back in your army days." the politician stated firmly. A small smile split across the antelope's muzzle. "And if you won't reign her in, we will reign you in. It wouldn't take much to get you out of the way; there are a lot of questionable moments in your first major case, Idriis, particularly a corrupt police officer who personally taught you. Internal Affairs might need to take a good look into things for us. After all, you might have picked up some of his bad habits..."

Bogo's eyes narrowed into pin-pricks. "Are you threating me?" The horned herbivore growled out, gritting his teeth as he did.

"I'm merely giving you fair warning. Up until now, your loyalty to the prey mammals of this city had been unwavering, Idriis so you still have some clout," the African antelope said as he put his can forward and firmly planted it into the floor. Using it to balance himself as he sat up from his chair, William returned the firm brown eyed-gaze of the larger mammal with his own, cold gray-blue eyes. "Not a lot but enough that I feel you deserve one more chance to straighten up your act. Either you take care of her personally or the rest of the Council and I can find someone who will. I'm certain Captain Razorback would be more than happy to show the Yiffing bitch her place." Turning about, the old politician made his way to the entrance of the Police Chief's office. As he opened the door, he held it open for a moment. Without turning back to look at the uniformed herbivore, he calmly said, "I'll be seeing you around."

The door closed behind him with an audible slam.

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Author's Notes: Holy crud... this was another chapter that went straight to the final minutes. Not really a surprise as I lost five days of the two weeks I could have used for writing. I ended up taking time to close the pool and winterizing the outdoor pipes and faucets alongside my father, the old man wanting to get things done before my sister had her kid.

Which also happened during this period. I'm an Uncle again.

But yes. Spent a good deal of what free time I could to put in the usual amount of effort into this chapter. I just hope it's enjoyable. Touched upon so many aspects, including some political slant once again.

To answer Cerberusx's question: yes, 'coming out of the den' is the animal version of the phrase, 'coming out of the closet'. Also, Carmelita hasn't reported Officer Lupus from the armory because she hasn't had the time and she needs to get a lot of things done.

Also, I'd like to give a big thank you to my two Beta Readers Nanya and Innortal as well as my readers. While I enjoy writing this story greatly and sharing a tale that has been in the back of my mind for a while, it's your words of kindness that give me the will to keep on trudging even as live keeps me super busy.

Thank you all and remember: Try Everything.