Chapter 5: Stories Shared

An unoccupied conference room was chosen as the suitable place to wait out the time in relative privacy and comfort. Fangmeyer and Wolford left to pick up lunch from a fast food joint down the street from the station, leaving Nick and Judy to watch over Count and Trigger. Despite the large table in the room with more than enough chairs for everyone, the coyote chose to pull out a chair and place it down besides the room's window, leaning his elbow on the windowsill as he stared outside.

Count, for his part, chose the more practical option of simply occupying a chair on the other side of the table from where Nick and Judy chose their seats. Knowing that the officers' eyes were on him, the deer flashed them a grin. "You know, this sucks," he suddenly said, "how much do you want to bet that whatever arrangement is going to be made, neither one of us here will like it?"

Nick, for his part, returned the grin with his trademark hustler's smirk. "Are you betting that one of us gets what they want? Hand the cash over, buddy." He smirked when Judy shot him an angry glare. "Don't look at me like that, Fluff. Unless I actually make a bet, I'm not violating the precinct's 'no gambling' policy." When she huffed at him in annoyance, he addressed Count again. "So, what do you say? Up for it?"

The deer played along with Nick's rebuttal. "Nah, I'll pass. Don't mind splitting the profits with you though!" He turned to his fellow pilot. "Hey, Trigger? What about you? Willing to put up a bet on the outcome of the meeting upstairs?"

"Hmm?" Trigger only seemed to realize that he was spoken to after Count had already stopped asking the question. And even then, the only other indicator that he was paying any attention to the rest of the room was by swiveling his ears to point more in the correct direction. Otherwise, his gaze was still very much locked out the window.

"I asked, what do you think the guys upstairs are going to end up choosing? Something at least one of us likes, or something we will all hate?" When Trigger again didn't reply, Count tried again. "Yo, Three Strikes? Awake over there?" This time, Trigger must have heard the question, because he lowered his ears at the noise, but when he still didn't answer, Count shrugged and turned away. "I tried," he told Nick. "You can keep your cash."

Nick mimicked picking up a stack of bills from the table and putting them into his pocket. "Gee, thanks for your generosity!"

Judy was eyeing Count curiously. "What did you just call Trigger? Why 'Three Strikes'?" For a moment, she swore that she saw a hint of fear flicker across Count's eyes before the deer relaxed back into his chair and pulled out his identification papers from the night before. "Remember how I have a line across my picture?" He showed the image to Judy, who simply nodded in turn. It was still the same picture that she saw already, so there was nothing actually new about it. Counted folded the papers back before returning them to his pocket. "Trigger has three. 'Three Strikes, as you were."

The bunny thought about it. "So what do the lines even mean then?"

Count was about to reply, but it was Trigger who beat him to it.

"Nothing you would care about," the coyote muttered gruffly, "so mind your own business!"

Count grinned slightly at Nick and Judy. "Don't mind him, he gets like that when someone asks about the lines," he explained, "It's a… 444 squadron kind of deal. Everyone's got lines. We're a fighter squadron, and those lines get added to the vertical stabilizers as identification markers. Most pilots there, like me, have one. Some have two. Trigger's the only one with three, so you can imagine that he stands out." He quickly motioned in Trigger's direction. "But seriously, don't ask him about the lines.

Judy was confused there. "Wait so are they lines, or 'strikes'? And, forgive me for my ignorance, but you said 'vertical -'?"

Count laughed. "Tails, bunny, tails! Planes have 'em too!" He didn't go into any further details about the three lines, nor did he really have the chance to as the door to the room opened next to them.

Fangmeyer and Wolford walked in, arms loaded with several bags of food.

"Lunch is here!" Wolford announced. "We've got everything: Plants, bugs, even some fish and poultry if you're into that stuff." When he saw that Trigger wasn't sitting at the table with the others, he called out "Trigger! Quit moping about by the window and join us! How does a nice hearty, completely unhealthy lunch sound? When was it even that you ate last?" The coyote finally was able to tear himself away from staring outside, and with an annoyed sigh, sat down on the same side of the table as Count, though still close to the window rather than next to the deer.

Judy in the meantime eyed the food with disdain. "Ugh, Bug-Burga, seriously, Fangmeyer? There wasn't anything better than this junk? Wolford, you too? You ought to know better than this."

Her reaction only brought laughter from the Tiger. "You wanted to wait an additional who knows how long to get something slightly better? I would rather be called back up with a full stomach rather than an empty one," she teased, "besides, Bug-Burga is the closest establishment that I know off the top of my head that has something for everyone. I'm a Tiger – we need our meat protein. Just as you and Count don't. Unless he wants to eat crickets or fish."

Count, for his part, was already grabbing one of the vegetarian meals and tearing it open, grinning widely at the smells coming from the food. "Me? Meat? No thanks, but you have to give it to Bug-Burga – they know how to make something for anyone!" Finally getting to his burger, he bit into it, just about positively moaning in delight at the flavor. "Oh, how I missed this. So much better than the waste they would give us back at base!" He continued to eat his burger with his eyes closed and a childlike smile of delight in between bites.

Nick also dug into his own burger, purposely making sure that the smells from his meat went into Judy's direction. "You really need to learn how to relax and enjoy life, Carrots," he teased, "what's the point of living a long, healthy life if you don't enjoy it?" Delicately, he pinched out a bit from his burger and brought it over to Judy's direction. "You can start with trying this bit of delicious, greasy cricket. Yummy!"

Judy groaned and shoved his paw away. "No thank you, Nick!" she complained, trying not to gag at the stench coming from her partner's burger. "I am rather enjoying my greens and plants." She grinned. "And yes, the carrots too!" From across the table, she saw something rather unusual. "Uhh, Trigger, why are you taking apart your burger like that? Something in there you don't like?"

From the other side of the table, Trigger was squinting at his lunch, separating all the layers and looking over each one with a critical eye. "Quality control," was his simple reply.

The rabbit stared back blankly. "What?"

Count chuckled. "Ever flown a plane while suffering from food poisoning? Try several times."

Without looking up from his inspection, Trigger corrected Count. "Six. In roughly as many months. Then I learned to take my time and filter out all the bad stuff." Now apparently satisfied that he wasn't going to regret eating the burger, he put it back together before taking an experimental bite of his own. Much like Count, his reaction was that of overwhelmed joy at the flavor.

Wolford couldn't help but stare at the coyote's reaction. "Gee, what did they feed you two?"

Count shrugged as he reached across the table for more food. "Whatever would arrive in the supply train. Always too little and too late, half the time spoiled as well. And Trigger here, well he can never do things subtly, can he? Sure, the 'pilot with the three strikes' wasn't the only one who suffered from rotten food, but he had it the worst. Gave everyone else a good laugh, though."

Next to him, Trigger was glaring at his burger. "Glad you can make it count, Count," he muttered coldly.

Count winked at the other pilot. "Anytime, grumpy pants." He grabbed two drinks from the center of the table and slid one of them in Trigger's direction. The coyote was able to catch it at the last second before it rolled past him and fall to the floor.

Judy watched the event, feeling stupid for wanting to ask such a silly question, but it was something that had been bothering her for the entire lunch. "Why are the two of you sitting so far apart? Wouldn't be easier and more convenient to sit closer together?"

Count quickly glanced at Trigger, who only continued to stare at his burger as he ate. "Can't say that we like each other, if you might have guessed," the deer answered plainly. "We never sit next to each other if we can help it." Satisfied with his answer, he resumed eating his own lunch.

Trigger then spoke up. "If it will make you feel any better, bunny, I did try that once," he said quietly, "sit next to Count, 'get to know him better' that sort of deal. Didn't go well at all."

"What happened?" Judy asked, feeling rather curious. She noticed that Count was now glaring at Trigger with genuine anger, and felt a pang of worry that if she was going to get an answer, it wasn't going to be a good one.

Trigger, still staring at his partially eaten burger, didn't notice. "We had just gotten back from a mission, one that went okay. Well, except that there was an accident. Full Band got misidentified as hostile, and Count shot him down. Plane exploded before he could eject."

The answer Trigger gave got all of the officers' attention, just in time to see Count slam a fist hard on the table.

"Trigger? What the fuck?!"

Seemingly realized what he had just said, Trigger let out his own curse of regret, eyes wide with fear. "Count… I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Count stood up, stomping over to Trigger. "Did you even listen to yourself just now, you dumbass?" The deer was fuming as he stopped next to his fellow pilot. The sight of Trigger, a predator, shaking at the sight of the fuming prey mammal next to him would have almost been funny if it hadn't been so serious. "You moronic… stupid Ka-yote!" Count swung a hoof hard at the back of Trigger's head, resulting in a bone-shacking thud that sent the coyote falling to the floor.

The impact also sent Judy into action, leaping up onto the table, tranquilizer gun already in her grasp and ready for action. "Back off, Count!" she ordered loudly, aiming at his center of mass to make sure that there was no way in the world that she was going to miss.

The other three officers were also standing, with Fangmeyer emitting a low growl to get everyone's attention. "Count, calm down!" She then glared at Judy. "You too, Hopps! And put your weapon back in its holster where it belongs. The nerve to pull it out!" To her credit, Judy re-holstered her tranq gun before hopping back down to her seat.

From the floor, Trigger groaned as he used the table to support himself back up, legs shaking as he steadied himself. He winced as he brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing where Count had hit it. "It's all right," he said, "it's… it's my fault. It wasn't my right to tell that."

Count glared at him. "You bet your ass it wasn't." The deer faked another swing at Trigger, smirking when the coyote shrank back quickly to avoid another blow. Snorting in contempt, he returned to his own seat, glaring at the officers around him. "Oh get over it!" he complained, "dumbass needs to learn to keep his mouth shut!"

Trigger didn't return to his seat. "He's right," he mumbled miserably, "just let it go." Picking up what was left of his lunch, he carried it over to the windowsill and sat back down where he initially was before the food arrived.

While the tension in the room was still incredibly thick, the other officers could see that there was more risk of violence, so they also sat down.

Nick glanced at Judy, and grinned his hustler smile when a good plan comes together. She saw his expression, and shook her head, begging him not to do it, but too late. "Boy," Nick announced, "that escalated quickly. I mean that got out of hand fast." He was rewarded with a painful punch to his shoulder from his partner, this one far more to tell him to tone it down rather than the usual playful exchange, and he grimaced at her, rubbing the bruised area.

Judy rolled her eyes at his direction. Dumb fox. Should have kept his mouth shut.

Count picked at the last of the remains of his lunch. "Yup, it sure had," he finally said, far more calmly than he was able to speak just moments ago. "Gotta hand it to you lot, you sure do react fast. Especially you, bunny. Thanks for not shooting me." He let out a long sigh, and for the next several minutes, the room remained in a very awkward silence. Eventually, it was Count again who ended the quiet. Tapping on the table impatiently, he glared in the direction of the window. "Okay, fine! Trigger, you can come back to the table. I'm not even that mad at you."

The coyote didn't budge. "But I like it here," he replied simply.

Another sigh escaped Count as he grabbed a drink from the table. "Yeah? Well, you look like a real dumbass sitting over there. How old are you, ten?" He ignored the looks of anger coming from some of the officers, but particularly from Judy. In fact, just to spite her, he took his sweet time tilting his head back and consuming the fluid.

Trigger's answer then nearly caused Count to choke on his drink. "Sixteen. And a half."

The deer glanced at the officers with a very strong 'see who I have to deal with' type of expression. "Trigger," Count began in a very impatient tone, "don't be a moron. I know for a fact that you are older than that."

Next to the window, Trigger finally got himself to walk back to the table, wearing an expression of complete misery. "No," he agreed with Count, "I'm older than that. By more than ten years." He took a final bite of his food and crumpled up the remaining wrappers, tossing the lot into a nearby bin. "But, would you believe me when I say that I used to live here when I was that old?" His revelation gave him some gasps of surprise from the officers. Trigger then motioned out the window at the cityscape. "Well, not Zootopia itself, but close to it. Lynxmore, if any of you are familiar with it. About an hour, hour and a half away. I… I did visit this city on a couple of occasions, so I am not completely unfamiliar with it." He rested his paws on the table, leaning over it as he glared at Count. "So you can imagine that being this close to what used to be almost home, but not being able to reach it… it's rather frustrating." He glanced at the deer next to him. "Laugh about it all you want, Count, but excuse me for feeling homesick." He then waved an arm angrily at the direction of the officers. "And combine that with two guys upstairs deciding my future, add nervousness on top of that. So go ahead and call me an idiot, but I'm going back to sit by the window and at least try to pretend that I'm somewhere else." Doing as he just said, he returned to the windowsill, making a rather exaggerated show of sitting down on it.

Count shrugged from behind him. "Could be worse," he commented casually, smiling as he said it. "if you want to be a miserable sob, you can do so IN SOLITARY!"

Just about having enough of the deer's antics, Judy crossed her arms. "There's nothing funny about-"

She stopped when she heard Trigger's reaction. More specifically, how he started to chuckle despite clearly being in a terrible mood just moments below.

"Add more time for laughing about it!"

Judy stared dumbfounded as Count joined Trigger's chuckling, and soon both pilots were laughing their head off. There was no doubt that this was a private joke between them, but surely it couldn't be that funny! She turned to her partner, wondering if he had any insight about it.

Nick was shaking his head in an amused manner, also finding humor in the bizarre situation. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Judy looking at him, eyes pleading for help in explaining just what in the world was going on. "Don't look at me," he whispered over to her, "only they know why that's funny."

The laughter was only stopped by the crackling of the room's intercom system. Bogo's voice filled the room. "Hopps, Wilde, Fangmeyer, and Wolford. Get the two pilots back here in ten minutes."

Fangmeyer stood up, chair squeaking on the floor. "I'll clean up the mess." The smiled slyly. "Also, I claim any leftovers." The smile turned smug as the other officers complained , though it was rather moot since there was hardly anything left. Though she was getting a spare plate of fries out of it, so Fangmeyer wasn't going to complain about the lack of leftovers. And she was definitely not planning on sharing. Well, maybe Wolford can get a little, seeing as he is her partner after all.

Wiping her paws after tossing some greasy wrappers in the trash, the tiger noticed Nick waiting patiently nearby in order to grab her attention. "Wilde, what is it?" Fangmeyer asked.

Nick tilted his head in Trigger's direction. "I want to talk to him. Just him, me and Carrots."

Fangmeyer raised an eyebrow, confused. "You don't need my permission to do that. Why ask?"

"Well, I need you to keep Count occupied," Nick answered back casually. "I would rather not have him interrupt us." He looked at where Judy was waiting next to Trigger. "Her idea, by the way," he hastily explained.

The tiger waved the fox off. "Nick, you seriously don't think James and I can keep one single deer in check?"

She was rewarded with Nick's patented smile. "Last night you didn't. Carrots and I needed to pull overtime to pull you out of a hustle as I recall."

Fangmeyer made an act of looking hurt by his comment. "Just get out of here, Wilde!" she replied, "and don't be late! I don't want to have to rescue you from Bogo's wrath."

Nick shrugged. "And miss sitting in on another endless meeting? You know, I'm starting to think that there is more paperwork and meetings planned out than there is time before the heat-death of the universe." He turned and walked off, getting Trigger and Judy before herding them out of the room.

The trio occupied a small bench inside a lone corridor, flanked by a pair of fake miniature palm trees. Trigger didn't seem to be comfortable sitting in the middle, packed in by the fox and bunny officers on either side of him. To his credit, he played along with whatever they wanted out of him.

"All right, so you got me alone," he muttered, "what is it?"

Judy took the imitative. "Several things, but first, as a formality: Would you like to file an official complaint against Count?"

Trigger looked at her, confused. "Huh? Why?" He seemed to catch on as he nervously rubbed the back of his head where he was hit, wincing slightly. "Oh, that… No, I don't want to," he finally said. "I really did say something I shouldn't have. Had Count really wanted to hurt me, I wouldn't be talking to you right now," he admitted.

Judy shook her head. "Still doesn't give him a right to hit you like that. Whether he wanted to or not, he could have seriously hurt you there." She crossed her arms sternly. "Before any of us would have reacted."

Trigger looked nervous. "I said I don't want to file a complaint!" he repeated, agitation creeping into his voice. "We might not get along too well, but Count and I want the same thing out of this! It's best we stick together, and we both know it." He looked away from Judy when he caught her looking disappointed at him, leaving him staring at the ground so that he wouldn't have to look at Nick waiting patiently on his other side.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Judy let it slide. "Okay, so we will ignore that incident for now," she said. "But what about the way he treats you? Does he always act this rude? And that slur he used against you, just going to let that one go as well?"

The coyote looked at her, ears folded back in nervousness and even a slight fear. "What's with all the questions? Are you part of some Spanish Inquisition?" he asked. Judy didn't reply, letting him get onto answering her. "But as for Count, no, he's usually better than this. Just… when he gets angry, scared, or nervous… or any negative emotion, really, he takes it on by getting mad at the world. Just his way, I suppose." Trigger scratched an arm nervously, glancing at a nearby clock, looking displeased at the lack of progress of time. "As for the names… he wasn't even the one to come up with 'Dumbass' about referring to me, so you can't blame him for that one. As for the slur, as you put it," Trigger looked at Nick's direction. ""You just get used to it, you know. Mammals call you names just to rifle you up."

Next to him, Nick nodded. "That's just how life is, Carrots. You might not have grown up with others using the 'c' word with the sole purpose of getting on your nerves, but to us foxes, it happens all the time." He leaned over around Trigger to look at Judy. "Remember when we first met? How I called you a dumb bunny? I let you get away with calling me a dumb fox all the time because, hey, I call you things all the time too. But we both know that it's all in jest, and that we're friends and partners first and foremost. But without this uniform on and talking to someone you never met before, and most likely won't meet again? A whole new meaning comes to 'dumb fox'."

"And coyote," Trigger added.

"And coyotes." Nick agreed. "And a lot of others as well. You just learn to let it go into your ear, and straight out the other. Not worth getting your feelings hurt over silly mammal's comments." Trigger nodded along to Nick's comments.

If anything, Judy looked hurt by this revelation. "Still doesn't make it right," she muttered, "he used a slur against you. That's never okay! If mammals are to get along better, they can always start by not purposefully insulting one another." Trigger grunted quietly, sounding like he disagreed with the rabbit. Judy looked at him curiously. "What? You don't agree?"

"Well, no, not really..." Trigger went back to staring at the ground in front of him. "I just think it's better to just not make a big deal out of being called names. You can't please everyone you meet, but you don't need to hate them either. Names can't hurt you, you know? And for me personally, well, if all I can be is some stupid coyote, then I can at least do something where I don't have to listen to them."

That got Judy's attention. This story reminded her far too much of why Nick had turned to a life of hustling before meeting her. On the other side of Trigger, the fox was also paying closer attention than before. "Is that why you became a pilot?" Judy asked.

Trigger gave Judy a slight smile. "Yeah, at least… partially. Maybe." He looked uncertain as he thought for a few moments. "I always wanted to fly, for as long as I can remember. Was always into aircraft. You know, typical pup stuff… But with me it never really went away, so being a pilot always felt like a good choice…" He paused to gather his thoughts again, attention returning to Nick. "But there's also, with me being a coyote and all, I guess a part of me figured… so long as I'm up in the air, where they can't see me? Guess they won't mind what I am." This last part, he almost whispered as though he was convincing himself that what he had just said was true.

Nick stared at the coyote, eyes filled with compassion. After all, it only took him about two decades to sort his own life out due to the way other mammals treated him. By all measures, Trigger seemed to do rather well for himself. Although, Nick thought rather selfishly, coyotes probably had it slightly easier than foxes. But comparing who had it worse wasn't what he was interested in. "So apart from Count, who I already gathered makes everyone around him out to be like dirt, how do others in your squadron treat you?" Nick asked, "did it work out? Being a coyote pilot?"

He got confused when Trigger reacted in fear instantly, ears folding back as he visibly shrunk at hearing the question. Nick glanced at Judy again, conveying to her with his expression that he had no idea that his simply question would garner such a reaction. It also meant that the answer was not going to be a good one.

Slowly, Trigger's scared expression morphed to one of a silent anger, eyes boring a hole in the tiled ground in front of them. Almost to himself, he whispered, "Not when it mattered."

Nick watched the coyote, analyzing him, years of experience reading mammals automatically at work. Comparing the two pilots, there was a clear difference between Trigger and Count.

The deer was rude, brash, and if Nick had to voice his option, he would have said that Count simply didn't care about their current situation. Almost as if that if the deer was going to have a bad time in Zootopia, or wherever he would be sent, as long as he can make everyone else miserable as well, then Count will at least be satisfied. Odd, perhaps, but Nick had run into plenty of such mammals during his time as a hustler, and sadly, still occasionally butts heads with them as a cop. Some mammals are more than happy to just watch the world burn.

But Trigger was different. The coyote was troubled by something, that was obvious, but there seemed to be something deeper than just uncertainty for the future. Part of his job as a cop was to take statements from mammals. Sometimes, Nick might even be asked to interview someone brought into the station, either for a detective's case, or just a mammal that was brought in for a crime. The fox took pride in being able to tell when someone was lying, whether it was because they were straight up making things up, or because they were getting creative with the truth. Okay, he wasn't always correct with that intuition, but Nick couldn't help but feel that Trigger was hiding something from them. Possibly even something big.

Nick's gaze followed the path of Trigger's arm as just something to look at while he thought, only for the gaze to pause at a thin, differently shaded stripe of fur on both of the coyote's wrists. No, not differently shaded, but differently textured too. Like something hard had pressed down on the fur long enough to damage the hairs.

As a cop, Nick knew the look of long-term pawcuffs when he saw them. He hesitated about bringing it up... Judy might murder him later for it, but he simply had to know. "Um, Trigger?" Reaching out slowly, Nick grabbed a wrist firmly enough to maintain grip when Trigger instinctively pulled his arm back. "How did you get these?"

Sure enough, Judy leaned over to berate the fox for touching someone else without asking, but her words froze in her mouth when she saw what Nick was asking about. Her eyes widened in shock when she too recognized the telltale marks of a mammal who had to wear cuffs for more than just a brief time. Especially for someone who prided herself in her attention to detail, this was something that she didn't know how she missed before.

Trigger tried to free his arm from Nick's grip, but restrained from doing much more than trying to flex his arm to an uncomfortable angle for the fox. Besides, it was too late to unsee the damage.

Nick repeated his question, a bit more firmly. Still, he did not answer.

Judy chose to opt for the softer approach. She stood up on the bench to be more or less at an equal level with Trigger's head and placed a paw on his shoulder. His struggling with Nick weakened. "Trigger," Judy spoke softly, like she wanted to console a friend. "If there's something we need to know, you better tell us earlier rather than later." She held her gaze, filled with concern, eye locking onto the coyote's. He stared back without answering, his own gaze betraying something inside of him that, while she wasn't able to discern exactly what, told Judy that there was indeed something there.

Trigger lost the staring contest. "It's nothing," he eventually replied. "Absolutely nothing." He stood up off the bench, with Nick this time allowing him to reclaim his arm. "I'm uh, just gonna stop by the restroom," Trigger announced, "before we need to head back up." Forcing a nonchalant look on his muzzle, the coyote wandered in the direction of the nearest facility before disappearing inside. There was no need to follow him right away, that room had no windows or other doors to anything but storage closets. And unlike in action spy flicks, the ventilation in the roofs was far too small for Trigger to fit inside without alerting the whole building of his whereabouts.

Nick glanced at Judy, grinning slightly. "Never let 'em see that they get to you," he said, referring to his trademark statement.

Judy, for her part, did not smile back. "Nick, there's something wrong here," she told him sternly, "mammals in the military don't just walk around wearing pawcuffs." Her mind raced through different scenarios, theories, and memories to try and piece something, anything, together that can make sense. Her eyes lit up in realization. "Count! He also has cuff rings!" Well, without looking directly, she wasn't able to confirm, but her memory was telling her that he also had narrow bands of discoloration around his wrists.

Nick nodded in agreement. "I think I saw them on the deer too." His eyebrows drooped as he also tried to come up with an explanation. "POWs?" he asked suddenly, "Count was rather insistent on not being stuck in a camp. Could it be that they escaped from one? Or were released?"

"I don't know Nick," Judy replied, "your guess is as good as mine here, but it does makes sense. If it was a release, and no, I don't think they escaped, not into a transport plane, then it explains a lot of their hesitation to be caught by cops rather than coming to us for help. But why be so scared about admitting to being from one?"

The fox shrugged. "Maybe they aren't allow to tell us? Shame? I dunno, but something's freaking me out about all of this. I've never been in a POW camp myself, but perhaps I'd be scared about returning to one if I had just got out. Scared enough to not want to talk about it, even." He raised his paws in a 'I dunno' gesture. "Most reliable answer will have to come from Trigger, but I don't think he's gonna talk anytime soon." Nick suddenly groaned in a terrified realization. "Carrots, this is going to have to go into our reports, isn't it?" He didn't need to glance down at Judy to know that she was nodding. "Ugh, Bogo's gonna get real mad when he reads about that." He shrugged. "Well, I hope for our sake's, and theirs as well, that they'll be long gone before those reports get written up and filed." He glanced up at the clock, not liking the time he was seeing. "Well, I'll go and fetch him. No doubt Count's already upstairs with Fangmeyer and Wolford."

Judy hopped off the bench and followed her partner. "Hey, Nick!" the fox turned his head to look at her. She smiled back at him. "No matter what, we're going to help as much as we can, right? Make the world a better place?"

Nick grinned and flashed pistol fingers at the bunny. "Sure thing, Fluff!"