[Continued from Analysis – Pt I]

"What in the hell happened?"

Nick winced at Bogo's pointed question, trying to formulate a response that didn't make both Judy and himself sound like idiots.

"I asked you a question, Wilde. I expect an answer." The buffalo pressed. "It's natural to want to protect your partner, but trying to cover up a substance abuse problem is no way to help her."

"What?!" He yelped. "No! No, it's nothing like that!"

"Then what is it?"

"She...we were in the trailer and there were these boxes of these ugly-looking wax vegetables, and I made some remark about how fake they looked, and..."

"And?"

Nick sighed. "And Judy picked one up and took a bite out of it. She w..."

"She did what."

"She was just trying to get a laugh out of me! We were off-duty, and I was pissed about stopping to investigate the truck, and..." His shoulders sagged helplessly. "She just wanted me to smile."

"Good lord. Better it was substance abuse." Bogo muttered, gently massaging his temples. Refocusing on the fox, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Wilde, are you really going to sit there and tell me that one of my most capable officers, while standing in the middle of a potential crime scene, picked up a piece of evidence and took a bite out of it?!"

Nick nodded uncomfortably.

Bogo held his scowl on the fox for a full minute, watching the smaller mammal fidget uncomfortably in the too-large chair. "The lab report on the wax vegetables hasn't come back yet. I will reserve judgement until it does."

"I..."

"Given the circumstances, I'm also going to set aside Hopps' monumental display of idiocy. For now." Bogo leaned over the desk to glare at his second-smallest officer again. "But rest assured that when she recovers – and she will recover, Wilde – we'll all be having a nice, long chat about proper crime scene procedure."

"Yes, sir." The fox nodded meekly, just as someone knocked lightly on the doorframe. Nick turned to see a scruffy-looking hyena, his unkempt appearance juxtaposed with the silver detective's badge that hung around his neck.

"Come in, Clayton." Bogo summoned, gesturing to the empty seat beside the fox. "Wilde, this is Detective Davis Clayton from the Precinct Four Vice unit."

"Nice to meet ya, Wilde."

"You too." Nick nodded.

"Would you mind bringing Detective Wilde up to speed on what we're dealing with?"

"No problem." Handing Nick a case file, the hyena dropped into the other seat. "You and your partner managed to stumble on a shipment of a new designer drug. A powerful neuro-stimulant that dealers are calling Night Fury."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The fox muttered as he flipped through the file, earning another glare from Bogo.

"Yeah, well, don't let the name fool you. It's got nothing in common with the original Night Howler serum. This stuff is one-hundred-percent synthetic."

"Then what's with the catchy name? Was 'Derivative Bullshit' taken?"

"Watch your mouth, Wilde!" Bogo snapped. "I'm keeping you on this case because I believe you can be an asset in solving it, but if I believe for a second that you aren't able to act like a professional, I'll have you on administrative leave and out the door so fast your tail won't even touch the ground. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry." Nick turned to Clayton. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it." The hyena shrugged. "Besides, you're not really wrong. Night Howlers lit up the news cycle for weeks after Bellwether got arrested. Even though nobody's gonna pay for a drug that's guaranteed to send them off on some savage rampage, it's still got a pretty serious rep. At the end of the day, this new drug's name is really just a marketing stunt."

"If you say so."

"Anyway, one hit of this stuff and all of the user's fears and insecurities fade away. They feel like they can do anything. Like nobody could stand in their way."

"Sounds like something mammals would pay good money for."

"And they do, believe me. We've had it show up in at least five districts."

"Must be all the rage with the party-all-night club crowd."

"You'd think so, but it turns out that's not where the money is." Clayton admitted. "The real market is with stress-cases; investment bankers, high-level executives, and even university students...especially the post-grads. These mammals get themselves so spun up that Night Fury is practically a downer for them. Smooths them out, makes them able to cope with the pressure."

"And the catch is..."

"The catch is the nasty side-effects of a user taking more than one hit. If one makes a mammal confident, two could make them arrogant and three could make them downright reckless." The hyena smirked. "Assertiveness becomes aggression, aggression becomes frenzy, and that's usually when the ZPD gets a phone call."

"What? When some mammal starts going off the rails?"

"Pretty much, but even that isn't a one hundred percent indicator. An overdose shows all the same external signs as a nervous breakdown, and since a lot of users are already chronic stress-cases, an actual overdose can be ridiculously tough to spot."

"So, if we've been investigating this stuff, why didn't it come up when forensics ran it through the ZPD database?"

Clayton gave a half-shrug. "Compartmentalization."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that not everyone needs to know everything, Detective." Bogo cut in. "Now, if you're going to insist on continuing to work this case, I want you to work with Detective Clayton. The two of you will pick up where Hopps left off, follow up on that truck, and see if this is the loose thread we've been looking for. Dismissed."

"These notes are insane." Clayton complained, flipping through the paperwork they'd recovered from Judy's desk. "Would you look at this absurd level of detail? Just how amped up was that bunny?"

Looking up from his own work, Nick skimmed over the notes in question and smiled fondly. "Actually, her notes always look like that."

"Like deranged stereo instructions?"

"Whatever you say, Clayton. Anyway, those are from a pawn shop robbery last week. These are from yesterday." Handing over a few partially crumpled sheets of paper, he watched the hyena's eyes widen at the collection of untidy scrawls, crossed-out sentences, half-formed ideas and contradictory theories.

"Yikes."

"Yeah." Nick responded dryly as he rose from his seat. "I really don't think we're gonna get much from these."

"You're probably right." Clayton nodded, dropping the sheets on his desk. "C'mon, let's go grab something to eat. I know a great place in The Square."

Signing an unmarked car out of the motor pool, the pair left the Precinct One headquarters and headed toward the heart of Sahara Square. They were merging onto Gobi Avenue when Clayton finally broke the slightly awkward silence. "I gotta ask, Wilde. Why're you out here with me and not at the hospital with Julie?"

"Judy."

"Right. My bad."

"She wouldn't want me hanging around the hospital." Nick answered simply.

"Ah. I gotcha."

Nick turned to peer at him curiously.

"It makes sense how a fox and bunny wouldn't really be that close." The hyena continued. "It's awesome that you guys can put all that aside when you're on the job, though."

"Gee, thanks."

Clayton shrugged, apparently oblivious to the fox's sarcasm. "Gotta be a drag, though. Working with a bunny? I mean, I always figured the two of you just got paired up for the size thi..."

"Actually," Nick interrupted. "We're pretty close."

"Oh." The hyena coughed uncomfortably. "I didn't..."

"It's fine."

"Seriously, I..."

"It's fine."

"Right. Well, we're here anyway."

Climbing out of the car, Nick eyed the establishment dubiously. Bright neon outlines of various provocatively-posed females adorned the building. "You brought a fox to a place called The Henhouse? Really?"

"Hell yeah." Clayton laughed. "It may look like a one-star strip joint but the lunch specials are outta this world."

Nick hummed noncommittally, peering at the overflowing dumpster beside the building and the homeless mammal sleeping next to the door. Unlike foxes, hyenas evolved from scavengers and carrion-eaters; his stomach probably wasn't as strong as Clayton's.

Grabbing a table inside, they didn't have to wait long before an unusually busty jackal sauntered up to them, smiling when she recognized Detective Clayton. "Hiya Clay. How ya doin', sweetie?"

"Can't complain, Lizzie. You?"

"I could complain, but who'd listen?" The jackal winked. "What can I get ya?"

"Two lunch specials, extra hot sauce on mine."

"C'mon, Clay. Who do ya think you're talkin' to here?" She collected their menus, flashing an unnecessary amount of cleavage in the process. "I know how you like it."

"I'm...uh..." Rising from the table, Nick gestured vaguely toward the back. "I'm gonna go wash my paws."

Staring at the jackal's rump as she walked away, Clayton gave him a distracted nod. "Yeah, sure."

Moments later, staring at his reflection in the small bathroom mirror, Nick let his mind drift back over the last twenty-four hours.

After Judy had been...incapacitated...he'd practically gone into a frenzy. Apparently, he'd tried to bite Fangmeyer a few times before Francine brought him back with a couple of well-place slaps to the muzzle. He hadn't been very happy watching Wolford handcuff his partner, but at least he'd been lucid.

They obviously couldn't put her in the general holding cells so, for want of a better alternative, Judy had been locked in the drunk tank. By that time, Clawhauser had already placed a call to the city's mental health department, and they were sending some specialists in a transport van to transfer her to Zootopia General's mental health ward.

Tasers, though highly effective, didn't have the lasting effects of the ZPD's preferred tranquilizer darts. It had only taken her a few minutes to recover, after which she managed to fracture three toes trying to kick the cell open. They'd listened to her rage and pound on the steel door for nearly fifteen minutes before deciding that something had to be done. It had taken three officers to wrestle the bunny into a straightjacket, and one of them had been injured in the process. Judy had only needed a split-second to get a solid kick in, rewarding Grizzoli's momentary carelessness with a broken jaw.

With her limbs secured, she had alternated between screaming curses and snapping at anyone who got close enough. He couldn't remember who had made the suggestion to muzzle her, but it made Nick sick to his stomach that he had agreed. He kept telling himself that it was what Judy would have wanted, that she would have considered the safety of her fellow officers to be a priority. Not just because this screaming, rage-filled version of Judy scared him to death.

The transport van had arrived not long afterward, and took the thrashing bunny away.

Rather than travelling with her, Nick had gone to Chief Bogo and asked to be the one to contact Judy's parents. He insisted that his relationship with the Hopps family might soften the blow. The buffalo agreed, and let Nick use his office to make the call. Pressing his phone to his ear, he'd been going over the carefully prepared sentences in his head when Bonnie had answered the phone. All his words had vanished in a heartbeat, taking his once-impenetrable composure with them, and he just said the first thing that came to him; Judy was in the hospital, and he didn't know what to do.

If he'd had any lingering doubt about whether Judy's forceful personality came from her mother, Bonnie had dispelled that in an instant with a barrage of rapid-fire questions.

What happened? What condition was Judy in? How fast did they need to be there? Would the train be enough, or should they fly in from Bunnyburrow Airfield? Judy had a rare blood type, but she had 19 siblings that shared it – should they bring any of them along?

He'd answered them as well as he could, mostly with 'I don't know', before the next salvo nearly floored him.

Was he alright? Was he safe? Where was he? Was there anything they could do to help him right then? Did he need them to call anyone for him?

He hadn't meant to start crying, but Bonnie's last question had suddenly reminded him that his own parents were long gone. Judy was the centre of his entire world, and the sudden thought that she might be lost left him feeling utterly directionless. It had taken him a second to realize that Bonnie was still talking, and the last thing she said before hanging up still echoed in his ears.

"Stu and I will be on the next train into the city. Go to the hospital now and we'll meet you there. We love you, Nick. Everything is going to be okay."

By the time Nick had arrived at Zootopia General, Judy had been moved to the high-security area of the mental health wing – the same place that held the predators affected by the Night Howler serum. He'd stood at the window to Judy's room for hours, staring at the heavily-restrained bunny fought against the straps holding her down. Even after Stu and Bonnie arrived, taking up the spot beside him, his eyes had never wavered from his partner.

The medical staff had run every test they could think of but, though no one had said it aloud, many officers feared that she'd just suffered a nervous breakdown. Her tendency to take on tremendous amounts of work was infamous, and there had been some speculation as to whether the bunny might be working herself into an early grave.

When the results came back on Judy's blood test, he'd nearly wept with relief when her condition was revealed to have been chemically-induced. In the wake of that joy, however, came a smoldering rage he was all too familiar with.

The only thing Nick hated more than drugs were the scum that sold them. As a rookie, he'd nearly ended his career with the ZPD by beating the hell out of some nip dealer he and Judy had caught selling in a schoolyard. Bogo had suspended him for a week and ordered him to attend six months of anger management counselling. He'd been lucky that was the worst he got, but although his temper had eased over the years, that hatred burned as strongly as ever.

Though his heart was desperate for him to stay at Judy's side, his brain demanded that he hunt down those responsible for putting her there. He'd felt like he was being ripped in two, at least until he'd eventually accepted that there was nothing he could do for her where he was. Like he'd told Clayton, Judy wouldn't want him moping around the hospital when he could be out in the city, making a difference. He'd tried to apologize to her parents, but they weren't having any of it and told him to go do what he knew was right.

It hadn't been easy to convince Bogo to keep him on the case, but he'd summoned up the same tenacity his partner was so well known for and eventually prevailed. The only flaw was that he'd been tied to a hyena who seemed more concerned with his stomach than with solving the case they'd been given.

He wasn't sure when his eyes had fallen shut, but when he opened them to look into the mirror again he wasn't surprised to find that his face had twisted into an angry snarl, ears flat and lips curled back. There was no way he was going to play second string to some knucklehead from vice who probably didn't give a damn if Judy lived or died. Not when he had the knowledge and connections to run these bastards down.

Opening the bathroom door as quietly as he could manage, he crept down the hallway and glanced around the corner, confirming that the hyena he'd been saddled with was distracted by something on his phone. Approaching from behind on light paws, Nick got to within reach of the jacket Clayton had draped over his chair. Once again, the skills he'd learned on the street came in handy as he reached into the jacket's pocket and nimbly extracted the car keys.

It wouldn't be the first time his relatively small size proved to be an advantage as he made for the exit, rushing between chairs and wilting potted plants, thankful that Clayton had chosen the seat facing the kitchen rather than the door.

Bursting out into Sahara Square's bright sunshine, he didn't hesitate to sprint for the unmarked cruiser they'd arrived in. Pulling out of the small parking lot, Nick opened the car's GPS terminal and punched in the address for the receiving and distribution warehouse used by Spring Harvest. In the process of trying to decipher Judy's scattered case notes, his research had led him to an interesting lead - it just so happened that they knew someone who worked there.

"Douggie!" Nick shouted, smiling when the ram turned to scowl angrily at him. "It's been too long, pal!"

"Oh, hell. What do you want this time, Wilde?"

During Bellwether's trial, the DA's office had offered Doug Ramses a plea bargain; testify against the former Assistant-Mayor in return for a lighter sentence. Naturally, Doug hadn't hesitated to look out for his own interests. He'd turned on Bellwether in a heartbeat and delivered the damning testimony that put the ewe behind bars.

That never sat well with Nick, particularly considering that Doug had been the one actually darting predators. The Assistant District Attorney Nick had spoken to pointed out that the only evidence they had of that was circumstantial at best. No one had ever seen the ram do it and there was no recording of his last conversation with Bellwether.

It was at Ramses' own trial that things started to unravel.

The charge for the possession & manufacture of illicit drugs was the first to fall apart. The ram's lawyer argued that under Zootopian law, the Night Howler serum didn't qualify as a drug. Rather, it was a perfectly legal botanical extract from a flower that was sold in florist's shops all over the city. Once that was out, the testimonies of Weaselton and the other two rams involved, Woolter and Jesse, became almost useless.

The map and photographs Nick and Judy had seen in the subway car had been lost to the fire, and what little equipment that had been recovered from the crash could be found in any high school chemistry class.

Attempted assault of a police officer went next. Unlike Woolter and Jesse, Doug had never even attempted to harm them. Also, since both Nick and Judy had been civilians at the time, the city hadn't been willing to push that one.

They'd even tried going after him for impersonating a reporter during the now infamous press conference, but that was handily dismissed as well. The ZPD lobby was a public place, and Doug had never explicitly stated that he was a reporter.

The only charges the Assistant District Attorney managed to hold on to were conspiracy to commit a felony and illegally trespassing on city property, and that was only because a bank security camera caught Doug exiting a restricted-access subway tunnel. In the end, a judge had handed down the most severe sentence he could justify – two years on probation and time served.

That being said, the ram's face had still been plastered all over every newspaper in the city, so although he managed to evade formal charges, he didn't fare as well in the court of public opinion. Even with a Ph.D. in bio-chemistry, he had no chance of finding work in that field; the same was true for every level of academia.

The best job the infamous ram was able to get was as a warehouse laborer in South Savanna Central, which was exactly where Nick found him.

"What? Can't I just check in on an old friend?"

"We aren't friends, officer."

"Mammals these days; no time for pleasantries." He shook his head in mock-disappointment. "Fine. What do you know about a company called Spring Harvest?"

"Nothing." The ram answered curtly.

"You sure?"

"Bite me."

"Thanks, but I already ate." The fox smirked.

"Y'know what? Screw you. I've been keeping my nose clean and steering clear of those that don't." The ram jabbed an angry hoof toward the detective. "I may not like preds, but I'll take them over the inside of a prison cell."

"Still looking out for number one, eh?" Glancing around the warehouse floor, he was quick to notice all the eyes that watched them.

"You're goddamn right I am." Doug muttered, returning to the conveyer belt where he began labelling each box as it rolled by.

"Well, if you've been so good about avoiding trouble, I bet you've got a pretty good idea about where trouble is."

He didn't look up, but Nick could hear the scowl in the ram's voice. "You're not gonna let up on this, are you?"

"Not as long as I think you're holding out on me."

"Look, all I can tell you is that every couple of weeks we get a truck in from Spring Harvest that only certain workers are allowed to unload. When they're done, the cargo goes on another truck and leaves."

"Where's it going?"

"The hell if I know. They don't tell me, and I don't ask."

"You sure that's everything?"

Doug hesitated. "There's this ram that came in a couple times to oversee the transfer. Definitely in charge, but it was like nobody wanted to talk to him."

"What'd he look like?"

"Didn't see him too close, but he looked like an ugly fucker. Big scar on his neck, missing some wool on one shoulder. Looked like an old burn."

"That all you got?"

"Yeah. Now piss off before you get me fired."

Backing away, Nick scowled and raised his voice. "C'mon, Douggie! The ZPD uncovers a Night Howler grow op in an old subway tunnel, and you expect me to believe you don't know anything about it?!"

Doug blinked in surprise, but caught on quickly. "I already told ya, I got nothing to do with that! And if you keep coming around here every time someone grows one of those fucking flowers, I'm gonna get you charged with harassment!"

"Good luck with that." The fox snarled. "I know you're involved, Ramses! And I'm gonna pick that tunnel apart till I can prove it!"

Just as Nick reached the exit, Doug briefly shot him a look that could almost be called grateful. There was no doubt in Nick's mind that the ram was a piece of garbage, but he'd provided some halfway decent information. Keeping him from getting pegged as a snitch was the least Nick could do in exchange.

He still needed to know more, though, and the best place to follow-up on Doug's tip was with the most deeply embedded information network in the city's underbelly. He always told Carrots that he knew everybody, and took great pride on keeping one paw on the city's pulse. It helped keep him one step ahead of things, and he'd lost track of how many times that step had been the difference between a profitable day and an icy swim. His information sources, though – newspapers, online forums, and good old-fashioned rumor mills – were never quite as effective as the direct-from-the-source knowledge gleaned by the working girls in Happytown.

If you showed a mammal a good time, he (or occasionally she) tended to start running off at the mouth. That was why those girls had access to the kind of information that the Major Crimes division could only dream of, and the leverage to keep just about anyone from messing with them.

Nick just had to find one that wasn't too pissed off at him to share.

"Hey there, Roxxie. How've you been?"

"Hey bab...oh. It's you." The vixen shot him a disdainful look. "How can I help you, officer?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Good for you, Nicky, but I don't snitch. Bad for business."

"Trust me, this one is no customer of yours. Big problem with sharp teeth. I don't have a name, but I'm looking for a ram with a big scar on the neck and a bald patch on one shoulder from an old burn – tough to miss."

Roxxie's eyes briefly widened in surprise, then her scowl deepened. "I don't know anything about him."

"You sure? Because I last time I checked, there wasn't much you girls didn't know."

"Look, Wilde. You're either buyin' or you're not. If you're not, then quit bothering girls who're just tryin' to earn a buck."

"Just give me a name and I'll be on my way."

"Not happening, Nicky." Rolling her eyes, she began to walk away from the annoyed fox.

"Wait!" Nick scrambled after, running to catch up with the vixen. "Roxxie, hold up! Look, I know it's been a while but..."

"Yeah, Nicky. It has." The vixen responded flatly. "I haven't seen you since you traded your old friends for that badge."

"Please, you must have something you can give me."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Why's this so important to you?"

"My partner got hurt. She got exposed to some new drug, and I think this ram is the one bringing it into the city."

"How's that my problem? Is taking down some drug dealer gonna make her all better?"

"No." He admitted, sadly. "But if I can't do anything to help her recover, at least I can do something about what hurt her."

"C'mon, Nicky." She shook her head. "We go way back, but giving you what you're askin' for is a great way for me to end up floatin' in the bay."

"Please, Rox."

It was the note of desperation in his voice that caught her attention. Taking a moment to look him over, she stepped forward and delicately sniffed the air around him, eyes widening in surprise. "Your partner is that bunny, right?"

He nodded.

"And she got hurt by this ram you're after."

Nick nodded again, a little more seriously.

"And you need to do something about it. Because she's your..." She briefly glanced over his shoulder at another pair of vixens who'd begun watching the exchange with interest. "...partner."

"That's right."

She took another light sniff. "Does she know that?"

"I'm not sure. I think so." Nick looked away in embarrassment. "We haven't really talked about it."

"Damn it, Nicky." Roxxie muttered to herself. "Fine. Babe's Diner in the Meadowlands. Now get outta here."

"Thank you, Roxxie. I owe you one!"

"Oh, shut up. I didn't do it for you. If she's kept you around this long, she probably needs you as much as you need her. We vixens gotta look out for each other."

"But she's a..."

"Know when to stop talking, Nicky." Taking his paw, she gave it a gentle squeeze. "Good luck."

As Nick took off down the street, the nearby vixens wandered over to Roxxie.

"What was all that about?" One of them asked. "Ain't he a cop?"

"Yeah." She replied. "But we go way back. He's from the neighborhood."

"What'd he want?"

"He was asking about Manger."

"What?! Rox, you didn't say anything, right?"

"Sure I did. Told him to go to Babe's."

"Are you fuckin' insane?! Why the hell would you do that?!"

Roxxie turned to glare at them. "Because that scarred bastard put his mate in the hospital."

"He did?"

Roxxie nodded, and the girls' expressions darkened.

"Fuck him, then. I hope that tod rips him a new one."

Driving north toward the Meadowlands, Nick took the opportunity to call Judy's doctor for an update. The badger had been kind enough to give Nick his personal phone number, and answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Doc."

"Detective."

Nick, not interested in wasting time on pleasantries, got right to the point. "How is she?"

"She's stable." The doctor responded patiently. "Her heart rate is almost back to normal and she appears to be sleeping naturally."

"Is she...has she woken up at all?"

"Not yet, Detective. When she does, I assure you that you'll be the first one I call."

"Okay. Are her parents still there?"

"No. I sent them back to their hotel to get some sleep." The doctor chuckled softly over the line. "They didn't go quietly, though. Detective Hopps' mother certainly has a formidable personality."

"She sure does." He spotted the sign for the Meadowlands exit and let out a weary sigh. "I've gotta go. When you talk to them, tell them I'll be there as soon as I can be."

"I will."

"Thanks." Hanging up, he tucked the phone back into his pocket as he guided the car to the off-ramp. The cruiser's GPS guided him onto Clover Way, which in turn took him through several miles of open fields. He briefly considered checking in with Precinct Twelve, but decided not to bother; it was doubtful that they'd have anything new to offer him. Not to mention that, considering he had technically taken an unmarked cruiser without permission to go off on his own unauthorized investigation, they might actually have orders to detain him.

He eventually arrived to discover that Babe's Diner, nestled on the side of a road and surrounded by acres of pastoral landscape, wasn't a particularly remarkable looking place.

Truth be told, though, few places in the Meadowlands were much to look at. Even having lived in the city his entire life, he'd still only come out this way a pawful of times, most of them since he'd joined the ZPD. The entire district was a rather sleepy place, where most of the mammals there were the kind of herd-prey that lived in small, tight-knit communities – the kind of communities with modest homes, immaculate lawns, and high fences.

Putting on an air of cool confidence, he moseyed into the diner and calmly took a seat at the counter. Picking up a plastic-covered menu, he barely had an opportunity to read the lunch special before the waitress yanked it from his paws. "We don't serve yer kind here."

"Predators?" He flipped his wallet open to reveal his badge. "Or just cops?"

"Either." The ewe responded flatly, turning her head to spit a fair-sized wad of cud into a nearby sink.

"Good thing I'm not here for the food, then. I'm looking for a ram."

"Plenty of rams come in here."

"Oh, I think you'd remember this one." Nick insisted. "Scary-looking fella, scars on the neck and shoulder."

"Never seen him." She answered shortly.

"That's a shame."

"Ain' it just." She drawled. "Now get out."

"Actually, I think I'll hang around for a bit." Nick's phone buzzed and he unlocked it to find a message from Bonnie, asking where he was. "Maybe he'll come by."

"Actually," The ewe echoed mockingly. "It looks like you won't have to wait."

Looking up, he found the waitress wearing a nasty grin that immediately set off every alarm bell in his head. The ewe's gaze shifted to something behind him as a shadow fell over them both, but before Nick could turn to defend himself a hammer-like blow landed on the back of his head and the world went dark.

END PART II