The Northeast Projects were a corner of the city that had been in the process of demolition before T.A.K.O.S. Tuesday, and so had for the most part been ignored during the reconstruction of the city. It was a good place for a criminal hideout. Bad Cop had tried to dig out Duplos from there before, with little success. The Projects were a mess, full of hidey-holes and alleys, and Bad Cop didn't have the resources to do a thorough search, not while the Duplos were kicking up a fuss in other parts of the city as well.
Even with the knowledge that the hideout was in the Northeast Projects, finding the hideout in the allotted amount of time wasn't going to be a simple task – not only for the aforementioned reasons, but because, with such an obvious clue, Kinzel probably had more in store for them. He may not have known how quickly they would find the big darn arrow, but he had definitely known that they would find it. It was the only reason he would have been so obvious about casing those particular construction sites. All the sites he'd attacked before had come out of the blue, with no warning whatsoever.
Finding the arrow had been easy, and if Bad Cop was sure of anything, it was that Kinzel was not going to make this easy.
He rounded up a squad of officers and got into his car, Wyldstyle riding shotgun. "When we find Good Cop," Bad Cop told her as she buckled up, "I want you to understand that it's unlikely we'll find Emmet with him."
Wyldstyle glared at him. "I know that," she snapped. "If Kinzel's playing a game like this, he's not going to keep all his pieces in the same spot."
"Good," Bad Cop said. "But I want you to listen to me very carefully now." He waited until Wyldstyle looked him in the face before continuing. "You may have been fighting a war for the past eight and a half years and you have incredible skill, but you have no formal training. There is protocol. So when I give you an order, I need you to follow it."
Her gaze darted away.
"Wyldstyle," Bad Cop said, his tone hard. "I need your word that you will follow my orders."
Reluctantly, she looked back at him. "Fine," she muttered.
Bad Cop sighed. He supposed it was the best he was going to get. Suddenly, his phone rang, and they both jumped in surprise. He pulled it out and flipped it open. "Hello?"
It was the hospital. A very harassed-sounding receptionist was trying to talk over shouting in the background. "Is this Benjamin Chu?"
"Uh," Bad Cop said. "Yes."
"Please come to the hospital," the receptionist said. It was less a request and more a cry for help.
Alarm shot through Bad Cop. "Is there something wrong?"
"Your friend is feeling much better." The statement was delivered like bad news.
"Unikitty?" Bad Cop asked.
"That's the one."
Sure enough, some of the background yelling included Unikitty's rather unique voice. He was able to pick out enough words to realize that Unikitty was insisting they were fine now and was demanding to be released. Bad Cop felt a brief pang of pity for the hospital staff. He glanced out the window at the other patrol cars waiting for him to give the signal to go. "I'll be right there," he told the receptionist.
"Thank you," she replied, seeming ready to cry with relief.
He hung up and gave orders for the rest of the squad to go on ahead and begin the search.
"What's going on?" Wyldstyle asked.
"We're going to rescue the hospital from Unikitty," Bad Cop said, and turned on the sirens.
Fortunately, the hospital was only a short distance away. When they entered the lobby, it became instantly apparent that Unikitty was, indeed, feeling much better. They had gone completely scarlet, and the ponytails on either side of their head had burst into flame. There was a doctor cowering in front of them, flanked by two security officers, struggling to explain all the reasons Unikitty should not be discharged yet.
Unikitty wasn't having any of it, shouting over the doctor every time he tried to speak and waving their right arm around to prove just how fine they were. They'd managed to get their original clothes back, and there was still a bloodstained hole in the right shoulder of the dress.
Then Unikitty caught sight of Bad Cop and Wyldstyle hurriedly approaching, and they immediately flushed back to their normal pink, the fire in their hair going out. "It's about time," they huffed, stomping one foot. "Let's get going."
Bad Cop held up a hand to stop her. "Whoa there," he said. "Mind explaining exactly what's happening?"
"I saw the transmission!" Unikitty replied, clenching their fists at their sides and jutting out their chin stubbornly. "I'm going to help you find Emmet and Good Cop."
"You're injured!" Wyldstyle said, stepping forward. "There's no sense in-"
"But I'm not!" Unikitty protested. "That's what I've been trying to tell everyone! I'm all better!"
"You were impaled by a metal bar," Bad Cop cut in. "You don't recover from that overnight."
"Nobody's listening to me!" Unikitty wailed. "I heal fast! Look!" They tugged at the neckline of their dress, pulling it to show their shoulder. The only sign of the wound was a fresh-looking scar.
"And I've been trying to say that just because it looks healed doesn't mean there isn't still internal damage!" the doctor wailed back. "If you'd just let us do some scans-"
"No!" Unikitty shouted, stomping their foot. "I want to go!"
Bad Cop stepped in between the two. "We'll keep an eye on them," he said to the doctor. The doctor looked about to protest, but Bad Cop interrupted him. "I don't have time for this argument. If they say they're good, then they're good. If something happens, I'll bring them back. Alright?"
The doctor threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! Just fill out the discharge papers and you can get out of here." He spun on his heel and stormed off. The security guards lingered, watching suspiciously until the three of them left the lobby.
Unikitty got into the backseat of the patrol car as Bad Cop and Wyldstyle buckled in up front. "So what are we doing?" they asked brightly.
Bad Cop pulled away from the curb, explaining the situation as he drove. When he finished, Unikitty asked, "Is this Projects place bad?"
"Yeah," Wyldstyle replied. "Right now it looks kind of post-apocalyptic. No one legit goes there anymore – we've got other construction stuff to worry about."
"Oh," Unikitty said.
They were getting closer to the projects now, and Bad Cop narrowed his eyes at the skyline. "Is that…?"
"Oh, man," Wyldstyle said.
There was a thick column of black smoke rising up out of the Projects. Bad Cop picked up his radio. "Squad nine, report in."
He waited for a response, but didn't get one.
"Squad nine," he repeated. "Report."
Nothing but static.
"Darn it," he muttered, and stepped on the gas, speeding in the direction of the ominous pillar. It was deep in, but Bad Cop was good at driving fast, and they made it there in under a minute. He spun the wheel, squealing around a corner, and then he slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt.
"Oh my god…" Wyldstyle breathed.
There was a pile of burning patrol cars in the middle of the road, some of them crumpled flat, and one of them nearly ripped in half. Scattered on the ground around the pile were a few very dead officers. The asphalt was splattered with blood and other things Bad Cop didn't want to think too hard about.
It was a massacre.
Before he could react, Wyldstyle was out of the car and racing towards the scene. Bad Cop scrambled out after her. "Wait!" he shouted.
"We have to look for survivors!" she called back, raising one arm to shield her face from the heat as she tried to peer into the wreckage.
Bad Cop caught up to her with Unikitty on his heels. "Look at this mess," he hissed at her. "You really think anyone made it through? We need to call for backup now, before whatever did this finds us, too."
Before Wyldstyle could retort, a different sound reached them over the crackling of the flames. Snuffling, clicking claws. And then a high-pitched, childish giggle.
Bad Cop felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him. The blood drained from Wyldstyle's face, and the trio looked at each other with growing horror.
"Hounds," Bad Cop whispered.