Red lanterns jerk and swing over the streets of Bamboo Quarter, their glowing innards flickering defiantly against the storm. Rain batters the colonies of superstitious decorations that hang from houses and shops, tearing down signs of good fortune and prosperity to leave them soaking in the gutters alongside cigarette butts and wrappers. Shoots of bamboo line the curving streets, waving in the howling wind as crickets chirp under thick, damp mud. Storefronts guarded by rusted barricades shun the few who pass by in the early hours of the morning. WE are CLOSED. An old panda looking out her window swipes a paw over her heart, pushing it away afterwards—a sign to ward off evil.
Purrsia lets the squad car crawl over the asphalt like a hungry beast, scanning the streets with ferocious intensity. Her head swivels like a spotlight, precise and focused. Quietly, her breaths slip between her lips, even and controlled. She grips the steering wheel with anticipation.
Slouching in the passenger seat, Judy watches as cheap, faded signs inch by as she leans her head against the glass, ears twitching in bored intervals. Wu Yan's Walk in Wok. Da Shen Jade and Jewelry Trade. Lung Family Market. Ao Jian Footpaw Massage—All species accepted! Authentic Antique Blades and Weapons. Unlike her feline partner, her eyes do not adjust to the darkness that curtains alleyways and slips between the bamboo stalks. Limited to flickering neon signs, street lamps, and stoplights, she finds herself staring into an empty landscape. The citizens of Bamboo Quarter either don't know or don't care about the blackout surrounding the metropolis. Glancing at the speedometer, she sees the red needle barely passing above the ten-mile mark.
"Speed it up, Kuldreski. We're looking for people who need help, not criminals."
No response.
Judy pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut against the sting of sleeplessness and frustration. God dammit, she thinks, work with me for once, just for tonight, please. Leaning closer, she claps her paws together in a muffled slap.
"Kuldreski," she says, harsher this time.
Purrsia snaps out of her trance, blinking once. A tight frown stitches over her lips as she gives Judy a sideways glance—wordless acknowledgement. Frustration coils in Judy's gut, snaking around her insides, and she has to bite her lip to keep from lashing out. You are a child, she thinks, a child in an officer's uniform. When Judy first received Purrsia's file from Bogo, she had been confused. The rookie's profile was filled with marks of excellence. Tranquilizer shot score: 90, paw to paw combat: surpasses average, tactile thinking: above average, TUSK; highly recommended—a checklist of near perfection—until she reached the bottom.
Struggles to collaborate.
Roused from her trance, Purrsia accelerates, the engine vibrating with new life as the car rumbles down the street.
Their patrol takes them by the Yin Han fishery—a narrow warehouse that cramps itself between the other buildings that crowd the wharf. Judy scrunches her face as the overpowering stench of leftover seafood invades the squad car. On Saturday mornings, the wharf transforms into an open market filled with stinking, wriggling specimens—their prices shouted aggressively at the people browsing the various fish, crab, squid and shrimp. But tonight the wharf is vacant, the metal skeletons of stands and tents sitting quietly next to each other as rain falls through their hollow structures.
Judy finds herself reminiscing on a date Nick had taken her on in the wharf when they had just started dating. Chuckling softly, she remembers how embarrassed he was when they found out the smell of seafood made her nauseous. He had apologized profusely as he held back her ears while she vomited in the restaurant's bathroom. They ended up ordering from a food truck on the corner before driving back to her apartment.
Vibrations pull her from the memory. Reaching for her belt, Judy unzips a pocket containing a burner phone, staring at the display. 1 message from: Grandpa V. She taps the message app.
Grandpa: Family dinner in an hour. Fish and broccoli. All your relatives coming and want to see you.
Judy rushes out a text.
You: A little busy tonight, but fish and broccoli sounds good. How bad do they want to see me?
Grandpa: Very bad. Uncle John is coming. Heard he has a new girlfriend. He'd be disappointed if you couldn't make it.
Judy breathes out. Shit.
You: I'll come, but you have to remind me what your new address is. Where's a good place to park?
Grandpa: 228 Kelpsi Drive, and anywhere's fine, just leave space for the roofer.
You: On my way. Love you grandpa.
Grandpa: Love you too.
Judy clicks the screen off before putting the cellphone back into its pocket before turning to Purrsia.
"Plan's changed. My contact told me there's a meeting tonight. Reconnaissance, not a sit 'n watch. You think you can handle that?" She asks.
Purrsia nods. Judy holds her gaze.
"Good. But you need to do what I say when I say it. Got it?"
Purrsia nods again, but Judy shakes her head.
"I need words, Kuldreski. Promise me."
Agitation breaks through her stony demeanor as her face scrunches and twists with annoyance. Her lips stretch over her gums, revealing the sharp, white fangs that hang in her mouth like vicious stalactites. They duly reflect the multi-colored dashboard.
"Yes, officer Hopps, I got it" she growls.
Judy nods as she brings up the GPS on her phone, typing in the directions to the meeting.
It turns out that Kelpsi Drive is only fifteen minutes off their regular patrol route. The GPS leads them to a massive warehouse at the end of the wharf, next to the docks that import fish and other seafood. Purrsia pulls the squad car into an alleyway two blocks from the warehouse. The pair exit the vehicle, grabbing their gear. Two tranquilizer guns, four tranquilizer darts and one elephant dart each, binoculars, flashlights, and twenty feet of sleek black rope. They slink through the shadows of crumbling back alleys until they reach the fence that surrounds the docks. It rattles with disapproval as the pair climbs over. Purrsia shakes her head, flicking water off her coat. Her fur is matted to her frame, outlining the muscles that run underneath her skin.
Judy checks her phone. 2:37 am. They have twenty minutes to find a vantage point.
The docks are dark and wet. Colossal ships lull gently as waves slap against their rusting, barnacle-caked hulls. Algae soaked ropes tug as the boats rock in the black waters. Pools of rain flash as streetlights flicker weakly. The smell of brine, gull shit, and rotting kelp saturates the place, and Judy has to concentrate to keep herself from vomiting.
They make their way to the edge of the warehouse. It is a grey, dying building. Cracked cement winds along walls of the structure. Ivy crawls over the windows, leaves shivering in the wind and rain. Shards of broken glass crowd around the edges. Judy surveys the area, looking for a vantage point. Just leave space for the roofer. Their entrance would be up high, but how would they get there?
Signaling for Purrsia, they stride towards the back of the building where they find an old, rusted ladder lying broken on the cement, it's rungs chewed by years of harsh weather. Purrsia steps experimentally on one of the few intact bars, easily breaking the handhold. Clicking on her flashlight, Judy shines the beam up to wear the ladder used to be connected. Near the top of the wall, she finds that a quarter of the original ladder still remains attached to the side of the building—about fifteen feet up—enough to get them on if they are able to reach it. This can work, she thinks.
Kneeling, Judy ties one end of the rope around her ankle, letting the rest of it trail behind her like an elongated fuse. She swings her leg, pleased to find that the rope doesn't impede her movement.
"Kuldreski, I need you to boost me," she says, stepping back a few yards.
The snow leopard pauses, staring at the gap between the ground and the ladder, doubtful.
"You sure? I won't be able to catch you if you fall from that high."
Judy shakes her head.
"You won't have to worry about that if you get me high enough."
Another flash of annoyance plays across Purrsia's face. Scowling, she turns to squat against the wall underneath the ladder, cupping her paws and hanging them between her thighs. She grunts in affirmation. Bouncing twice, Judy launches herself at Purrsia, measuring her steps. The snow leopard tenses as Judy makes her approach. Judy's foot connects with Purrsia's paw, and the snow leopard throws her up with every bit of her strength. Judy vaults upwards, kicking off her partner's paws, rope trailing behind her. The momentum is enough to carry her to the second rung. The rusted ladder groans with sharp displeasure as the rabbit clings to it, wobbling under her weight. Judy doesn't pause as she scampers up the remaining rungs, clambering over the top. Purrsia calls from below.
"Good?"
Leaning over the roof, Judy gives a thumbs up.
"Good. Just need to find something to secure the rope."
The roof is a pitiful landscape. Layers of cheap stucco rest in uneven valleys and hills over the surface, grating roughly against her feet. Holes big and small pepper the roof, only a scant few covered up with soaked cardboard and duct tape or loose sheets of tin. Water flows freely into the open holes, cascading down in slapping collisions on the warehouse floor. Surveying the area, she spots a row of steel chimneys, but they're too far away to be of any use.
Car brakes screech on the other side of the building, and panic ricochets in her chest as she leans over the side to see headlights cutting through the rain. No! We're supposed to have at least ten more minutes! Doors open and slam shut. Rain patters against open umbrellas.
She scans the roof again, desperately searching for something more solid, but finds nothing. Voices echo from the side of the building. Rushing back to the ladder, Judy unties the rope from around her ankle, attaching it to one of the rungs in a sloppy knot before flicking the rest over. Gripping the arching bars, she lines her feet against the lip of the roof, pulling in hopes to keep some of the big cat's weight off.
Please let this work.
Purrsia grasps the rope and begins to climb, wrapping it around her paw as she ascends.
This time, the ladder shrieks in metallic agony, pulling Judy forward as Purrsia's full weight settles on the rope. The sound pierces her ears, and she curses as the ladder slips further out of her grasp, the rain making the metal slick. Flakes of rust chip, cutting through the soft fur and skin of her paws. Hot pain rips into her palms. Old bolts creak, threatening to burst from their positions. The ladder shakes, clanging against the side of the building. She presses her legs harder, arching her back to gain leverage. Her muscles tremble. Come on, come on. Get your ass up here Kuldreski. Slow, screeching seconds go by.
Judy spots the snow leopard's paw as it rises over the edge, grasping the ledge as she pulls herself up, collapsing onto the stucco roofing. The ladder rattles one last time before settling against the building. Judy releases the metal handhold, cradling her paws against her stomach. Blood and rust mix with rainwater, dyeing her fur a deep, charred brown. She cups her palms, flinching as another stab of pain races through her paws. Purrsia unties the knot, slipping the rest of the rope over her shoulder as she crouches low against the ledge. A pair of clopping hooves makes their way around the corner. Her thoughts are a streamline of panic.
Please don't send anyone up here oh god please just walk away you assholes oh god oh shit no no nononono—
Judy's heart almost stops as a shaft of light flares skywards, casting the shadow of a pointing hoof. One of the voices calls from below—deep and annoyed—a buffalo, probably.
"What'd I tell you? That thing's a fuckin' menace. Nearly killed Vinnie when the bottom half broke off last week. Thing sounds like it's 'bout to give way."
There's a chuckle and a higher pitched cackle—a hyena, female.
"Shit, you try and knock it down?" the hyena asks.
"Actually, Vinnie took his daughter's softball gear and tried to bat it loose—looked like a fuckin' idiot, too," he says, chuckling again, "standing outside with a tiny pink bat and a couple of softballs, cursin' up a storm. God damn, he was pissed."
The pair shares another round of laughter before continuing their way around the rest of the building. Judy exhales with relief.
Standing slowly, she signals for Purrsia to follow her across the roof. The big cat pads quietly over the stucco, making sure to avoid small gaps. Judy leads her to the cardboard covered hole that sits over the middle of the roof. Crouching, she taps the soaked cardboard gently, mouthing the word "pinhole" to her partner. Purrsia extends a claw, digging it into the soft material until it breaks on the other side. She wriggles her finger, making a dime-sized slot before retracting her claw. Judy peers into the room from her new vantage point.
The warehouse is surprisingly devoid of crates and barrels, housing mainly chairs and tables that are scattered across the room. Light stands glare accusingly at the people who walk in. Species of all kinds file through the huge double doors. Zebras, jaguars, bison, rats, lions, rabbits, hippos—more species than Judy can count—all dressed in lavish clothing. Disgust and disapproval plays over the crowd as they enter the dank space, some cursing as they step in puddles of muck or feel a drop of water burst over their head. An otter gathers a pawful of water before splashing it over his face while the lioness next to him wrinkles her nose in disgust. As far as Judy can tell, most of them are henchmen—goons waiting until their bosses arrive.
Judy sits back, letting the rain pelt her face as she stares at the clouds.
Two can play at that game, she thinks.
AN: Thanks for reading this chapter.