It was one of the first things Nick was told when he'd been assigned to Precinct One - Keep your cool, set a good example, and never go full mammal.
He hadn't really understood what that meant until he saw a cop killer ruthlessly hunted down by a pack of lupine officers, or an enraged McHorn charging full speed into – and through – a solid brick wall to apprehend a gang trafficking in kidnapped cubs.
~o~o~o~
Although not the type of thing spoken of in polite conversation, it was commonly accepted that every species had its own unique...eccentricities. The kind of built-in impulses that, for better or worse, they occasionally fell victim to. Lemmings tended to act in groups, bunnies preferred to live in burrows, and wolves? Always with the howling.
And as much as Nick Wilde hated stereotypes, even he had to admit that they came in handy every now and again. In his hustling days, he had considered himself quite adept at manipulating those instincts to his advantage, and those skills had carried over nicely to his new career as a police officer.
Need a deer to freeze rather than run? High power flashlight in the eyes. Trying to get a statement from an agitated black bear? A cup of spruce tea with a little honey will go a lot farther than coffee. Want to coax a witness out of a hyena gang? Don't try to intimidate an Alpha into talking; find a Beta with delusions of grandeur and appeal to their ego. He hadn't told Judy, but he'd received position offers from at least a half dozen other ZPD divisions; the academy wanted him to train recruits in interrogation techniques, SWAT wanted him to come over as a hostage negotiator, and he'd practically had to fend the Undercover Operations section off with a stick.
As useful as they were, those same instincts came with their share of weaknesses. That was why one of the first informal lessons he'd received after his arrival at Precinct One was 'never go full mammal'. He'd actually taken the implication a little personally until Daniel Wolford had pulled him aside to explain. ZPD officers were held to the highest standard and expected to stand as an example. More importantly, they were all highly trained and subject to uniquely high levels of stress; a risky combination at the best of times. If an officer lost control, they were a danger to themselves and to the citizens of Zootopia.
No matter what, they could not afford to be slaves to their baser instincts.
~o~o~o~
To her amusement, there was actually some contention over who had been the first friend Judy had made in Zootopia. Clawhauser had once hesitantly suggested it'd been him, and his face had been so hopeful that she hadn't had the heart to say otherwise. Privately, she thought that although he'd been the first mammal to be friendly to her, they hadn't become friends until much later. Nick was certain that it'd been him, of course. Judy disagreed, but she wasn't about to risk hurting his feeling over a technicality.
In truth, the mammal she considered her first Zootopian friend was the first one she'd had a friendly, non-professional conversation with; Fru Fru Big. After Judy had saved the smaller mammal's life and (unconventionally) restrained Weaselton, but before the transport van arrived to take them back to the station, she and Fru Fru had gotten to talking. Though she hadn't understood why at the time, the shrew had expertly steered the conversation away from anything related to law-enforcement. As a result, Judy had been able to enjoy a shockingly rare non-ZPD-related chat.
It was a friendship she'd come to value deeply, which was the only reason she put up with the absurd hoops she'd been forced to jump through in order to maintain it. For obvious reasons, the ZPD hadn't been thrilled about their most famous officer spending her free time with a member of an organized crime family, even when she'd staunchly insisted that the friendship she and Fru shared was entirely innocent. Putting her foot down on the matter was a luxury she had no delusions about; if she'd been anyone else, she was certain that Major Crimes would have had her head on a pike.
In the end, however, they'd come to a compromise. Although she'd flat-out refused to be their spy, Judy had agreed to wear a small recording device in plain view. She wasn't allowed to accept or offer any gifts, even something as simple as Fru paying for a cup of coffee. She didn't go to the Big estate whenever she could help it and – above all – did everything she could to avoid interacting with Mr. Big directly.
When she'd informed Fru Fru about the conditions, Judy had been pleasantly surprised at how well received they'd been. Apparently, Mr. Big was just as serious about maintaining a buffer as the ZPD was. In the last couple of years, she'd only seen the older shrew twice and both occasions were barely long enough to share more than a polite nod.
That was what made it all the more concerning when, upon arriving at a small Savanna Central cafe where she and Fru had planned to get lunch, she instead found Fru's father calmly perusing the menu. Glancing around the room, she immediately spotted one of his notorious polar bear bodyguards standing by the kitchen door, and another sitting in the opposite corner. Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, she began mentally plotting out the shortest route to the exit.
"Ah, Officer Hopps." The shrew calmly lowered his rodent-sized menu. "Punctual as ever, I see."
"Mr. Big." She responded evenly, taking a small but deliberate step backward. "I expected to be meeting Fru Fru and little Judy today."
"I'm aware of this. However, my daughter and granddaughter will not be joining us this afternoon."
The revelation sent a nervous prickle up her spine, though she managed to keep it from showing in her expression. "Then why did she invite me?"
"She did so at my request." He gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Please, sit."
"I think we both know that's a bad idea."
"If any mammal here meant to harm you, they would already have attempted to do so," he responded coolly. "Sit down."
She hesitated, weighing her options, then cautiously took a seat across from him. "May I ask why you wanted to speak to me?"
"Officer Hopps, we both understand that a mammal may occasionally find themselves in conflict with certain faucets of the law."
That's putting it mildly, Judy thought, nodding.
"I believe that this is the natural order of things," he continued, peering thoughtfully into the tiny drink in his paw. "When a system, any system, is imposed upon mammals, a measure of rebellion is to be expected."
"I suppose," she responded neutrally.
"The measure of a mammal, however, is found in the scope of that rebellion. The form it takes and the effect it has on society. One might argue that the only real difference between a revolutionary and a terrorist is a sense of morality."
"I'm not sure I follow."
Big sat quietly for a long moment; the only sound was that of his claw tapping on the arm of his chair. "I have recently happened upon information regarding a criminal organization operating in the city, and I have decided to share this information with the Zootopia Police Department."
That took her off guard. "Why?"
"Simply put, because I believe that the ZPD is in a position to inflict the greatest amount of suffering upon these...animals." Big answered grimly, balling one paw into a fist. "There are crimes which a society must not abide, Officer Hopps. Sins that even the basest savage would not commit, if only because doing so requires a mammal just civilized enough to have rejected the morals of civilization."
He half-turned and gestured to Koslov, who stood nearby. The polar bear came forward, moving with surprising grace for a mammal his size, and held out a small USB drive pinched delicately between two claws. Cautiously, Judy reached out to accept it.
"You will find the relevant information there. See that it reaches the correct mammals."
Despite the dozens of questions that threatened to burst forth, Judy held her tongue and nodded politely. There was a time and a place to press the issue; she strongly suspected that this was neither.
"I expect this matter to be taken seriously, Officer. If the ZPD is either unable or unwilling to follow through..." Big's lips curled back in a snarl, baring his tiny fangs. "...other ways will be found to resolve the situation. Do we understand one another?"
"Yes." She swallowed. "Yes, I think we do."
"Very well. Then our discussion has reached its conclusion." He gestured dismissively toward the door. "I will give my daughter and granddaughter your regards."
~o~o~o~
Despite the usual hooting and hollering that greeted him, Chief Bogo appeared uncharacteristically troubled as he entered the briefing room.
"Good morning." He paused, letting the room settle as he idly tapped a hoof on the file he'd come in with. "I won't mince words. We've recently received information regarding a mammal trafficking ring that has been operating out of southern Tundratown."
"Tundratown?" Grizzoli interrupted, looking dubious. "That's the Big family's territory."
Bogo briefly glanced at Judy , then looked back at the bear. "Your point?"
"Trafficking is way outside Mr. Big's MO and he isn't known for playing nice with others. How sure are we aren't being taken for a ride?"
"Although the information's source is confidential, it's been vetted by both Major Crimes and the ZBI." The Chief responded evenly. "Both have deemed it reliable enough to act on. Anything else, or may I continue?"
Grizzoli shook his head, and no one else seemed inclined to add anything.
"Good. The ZBI believes this operation is connected to a larger criminal organization based out of Eastern Ewerope called Syny Shakala – loosely translated as Sons of the Jackal. Although this organization has been primarily concerned with bringing in foreign mammals, there is..." Bogo paused again, clearly focused on maintaining an outwardly calm appearance. "There is evidence that it has recently begun exporting juveniles overseas. According to intelligence provided by INTERPOL, juveniles taken out of country by Syny Shakala are funneled into illegal brothels across Ewerope and Asia."
The general attitude, which had already been grim, took a dark turn. Around the room, some officers began subconsciously baring teeth and flexing claws.
"We have an address for their supposed base of operations." Bogo pressed a button on the podium and a projector screen descended to cover the whiteboard. The projector mounted at the back of the room lit up, displaying a marked map of a Tundratown neighborhood. "The ZPD will be providing officers to support a raid on the building, primarily from Precinct Nine. If the raid goes forward, their job will mainly be to secure the block, preventing any traffic from moving in or out, while ZBI sends in its Hostage Rescue Team.
"The majority of Precinct One's contribution will be securing the Climate Wall tunnels between Tundratown and the Downtown core, as well as the bridge at Taiga Street. That said, we'll still be sending a number of officers to participate directly." He paused, glancing down at the podium. "Officer Wolford, I want you on site to coordinate with the pursuit teams, should they become necessary. McHorn, you'll be there as liaison to the ZBI's Hostage Rescue Team. As the department's smallest officers, Hopps and Wilde will be going along to deal with any close-quarter pursuits." He glanced around the room. "Questions?"
Again, he was met with silence.
"Alright. I want this raid to go smoothly and by the numbers. Stay sharp, keep your wits about you, and those bastards won't know what hit them."
~o~o~o~
A lot of mammals imagine a police raid to be an unrelenting storm of noise and motion. Lights, sirens, shouting, and doors being kicked in left, right, and center. In reality, a correctly executed raid was really just a few minutes of intense activity that came after a long and meticulous set up and staging period.
That period was absolutely critical. It was what kept a raid from dissolving into a hostage situation or even a full-blown firefight. The greatest tools that law enforcement could wield in a situation like that were teamwork, coordination and initiative. If all went according to plan, they'd be able to sweep in, clear the building and take down the suspects without a shot fired.
Even so, the wait could be maddening.
In a closed auto garage across the street from the target building, Nick and Judy stood with McHorn and a dozen ZBI agents in full tactical gear. They were all clustered around a dimmed LCD monitor, watching the video feeds come online one at a time and waiting for the go order. To Judy's annoyance, her partner looked as composed as ever. Leaning against the wall, he alternated between calmly glancing up at the screen and idly inspecting one of his claws. She, on the other hand, had to exercise more willpower than she cared to admit just to keep her foot from thumping out a nervous staccato on the floor.
Waiting on the ZBI surveillance unit, a team of chipmunks specially trained in covertly entering a building to set up remote audio and video feeds, felt like an eternity. Although the tiny mammals weren't actually ZBI agents, they took their role seriously and were nothing if not thorough in the performance of their job. It was critical to have every inch of the building covered, not just for the safety of the officers conducting the raid but so that the footage could later be used in court. Nobody wanted to see any of the traffickers get off for lack of evidence.
For a moment, she couldn't help but picture the Chief standing in the raid's command center – a collection of hastily connected computers and communication systems set up in a warehouse a block away – scowling at the entire room and grinding his teeth in frustration. She let out a faint chuff of laughter at the image, drawing a curious look from some of the gathered mammals, her partner included.
"I was just thinking about the Chief," she explained. "He's probably breathing down some poor technician's neck right now."
A few of the others chuckled at the image. Just behind her, McHorn gave a distinctly unamused grunt, not taking his eyes off the monitor. Finally, the unmoving standby screen flickered briefly before changing to a black and white high angle shot of the warehouse's interior. Judging by the uneven edges, the footage was likely being taken from a ceiling vent.
Though there were obvious signs of motion, the image was still blurred. A moment later, the small fiberoptic camera's autofocus did its job and the picture resolved to reveal a large open space.
Inside the warehouse, some two dozen cages were set out in several long rows. They were of all sizes, and each one held a young mammal. Some of them looked frightened, some were crying, and some just stared blankly. As they watched, an ugly kudu with a cigarette hanging from his lips walked over to one of the cages and drew a small tazer from his pocket. Sneering at the crying kit inside, the kudu thrust the tazer between the bars, jabbing it into the kit's side. There wasn't any audio, but every officer watching could practically hear the poor kit's pained screech as the small mammal retreated into the cage's far corner.
"Oh no..." Judy whispered softly as the kudu returned the tazer to his pocket and walked out of the frame. She might have said more, but for the deep and growing rumble coming from behind her. Turning, she found McHorn glaring at the screen, his fists clenched to the point of shaking, giving off such an aura of rage that the other officers began to unconsciously move away from him.
"McHorn? Are you...?" She didn't bother finishing the question; he was very clearly not okay.
The rhino didn't even look at her, his nostrils flaring.
"Hey, big guy," Nick tried, his tone a little nervous. "Just take it easy."
McHorn didn't react to the fox's words, either. Letting out another loud snort, he turned his head toward the warehouse across the street; his pupils were two huge, dark pools in the center of his eyes. Turning his body in the same direction, he scraped his foot on the concrete floor once, then twice.
"Okay, buddy." One of the ZBI operators said calmly, slowly inching closer to the agitated mammal. "Don't go doing anything stu-"
She never got the chance to finish. With an enraged bellow, McHorn charged toward the garage's door. It was made of steel and well constructed, but in the face of 2,300 pounds of charging mammal it might as well have been made of tissue paper; McHorn slammed into it with one shoulder, ripping it right off its hinges. Not even slowing down, he carried on across the street. His fellow officers watched with a combination of awe and horror as, rather than going through the warehouse door, the enraged rhino simply smashed through the nearest brick wall.
Cries of shock and pain, mixed with the sounds of wanton destruction, came from inside the warehouse. A few seconds later, the call came over the radio for all officers to deploy and the team in the garage rushed to follow the trail of destruction that the rhino had left behind.
~o~o~o~
"All units, stand by for...er...stand by."
Peering at his radio, Officer Jim Weiss cocked his head to one side in surprise. He'd only been with the ZPD for a few years, but in that short time the young wolf had never heard a ZPD dispatcher sound nervous before. Usually they were the textbook example of cool, calm professionalism. He gave the officer beside him, Daniel Wolford, a questioning glance and received only a shrug in response. If anything, it made Weiss feel even more uneasy. He wasn't accustomed to seeing his former training officer looking just as confused as he was.
When Weiss had graduated from the academy, the older wolf had brought Weiss under his wing, taking an inexperienced rookie and shaping him into one of the Zootopia Police Department's rising stars. So much so that Weiss became one of the youngest officers ever be accepted onto one of the ZPD's Pursuit Teams.
Comprised almost entirely of canine officers, the Pursuit Teams specialized in tracking and running down fugitives across district borders. In preparation for the raid, the members of Weiss's team - along with those of a half-dozen other teams - had been positioned around the Tundratown warehouse. It was their job to cut off and apprehend any mammal that tried to make a run for it.
When Weiss had been assigned to cover an alleyway behind the building, he'd been thrilled to discover he'd be working with Wolford again – this time as a peer, rather than a trainee. It was the perfect opportunity, he'd thought, to show how his mentor far he'd come.
Crouched in their standby position across the street, Weiss gestured to his radio. "What do you think that was all about?"
Wolford gave him another shrug, turning his eyes back to the warehouse. "Beats me. Maybe dispatch needs to ease up on the coff-"
"ALL UNITS, GO GO GO!" The radio barked, cutting him off.
Without another word, Weiss and Wolford burst from their position and made their way down the alley. Determined to impress his former mentor, Weiss was so focused on looking like a seasoned professional that he failed to notice the sound of rapidly approaching hoofbeats from inside the building. That was why, when a frantic deer came bursting out the emergency exit, it took the younger wolf completely by surprise and knocked him clean off his feet.
Distracted by Weiss's sudden fall, Wolford's reaction was a half-second too slow when the deer pulled a gun – an actual gun – and put two bullets in the senior officer's chest. Before Weiss could get back up, the deer had already taken off down the alleyway.
"Wolford? Danny?!" Scrambling to his feet, he rushed over to check Wolford's injuries, his mind trying to catch up with the fact that his mentor was slumped in a Tundratown alley, blood slowly seeping through his uniform. Grasping his radio, he managed to clear his thoughts long enough to report a downed officer. The EMTs seemed to appear the very next moment, shoving Weiss aside as they went to work; a half-dozen of his fellow Pursuit Team officers followed close behind.
Weiss barely acknowledged them, staring at the blood that stained his own paws as a strange feeling bloomed in the centre of his chest. It radiated outward and made his fur feel as though it was standing on end. Every sound seemed to get a little clearer. Every scent a little sharper. He didn't even realize he was growling until he heard it echoed by the other officers.
Any mammal could tell you that wolves worked best in packs. That said, knowing a thing is a far cry from experiencing it first-hand. Moving together, they crept down the alley, noses tracking along every surface. It took less than a minute for them to locate the shooter's scent and wordlessly begin their pursuit.
Most prey mammals shared the same mental picture of an ancient predator; a creature shrouded in darkness, silent and unseen until they attacked with an intense burst of savage fury. A prowling soulless monster. An avatar of blood and death. The kind of image that made up the worst nightmares and the best slasher movies.
In many cases, this was somewhat close to reality. Most big cats had evolved from ambush predators, and ancient bears had often relied upon brute force to take down their prey. Wolves, on the other paw, were a completely different story. Nature didn't equip them to take down another mammal with raw force, but what they lacked in size and power they easily made up for with collaboration and intelligence. They relied on natural endurance to run their target down, harassing them tirelessly for miles, waiting for the right opportunity to strike.
Weiss was right in the thick of it, snapping out orders like some battlefield commander. Even if he hadn't been, though, it wouldn't have made a difference. They all seemed to know exactly what to expect from one another, and what was expected of themselves, moving together like a well-oiled machine. Before long they had the shooter in sight; the mammal was making a frantic break for the district border.
Later, witnesses would report that most of the wolves did little more than harass the edges of the deer's vision, moving just closely enough to spook him and prevent his escape as they aggressively herded their quarry onto a narrow snow-packed trail that ran parallel to the cooling wall. Though the deer's pace was slowed by the snow, they made no immediate effort to catch up. Their mere presence, following close behind, had already begun to panic the fleeing mammal. Soon his movements began to grow erratic; it didn't take long for him to get bogged down in the deep powder. As his sharp hooves broke through the snow's icy crust, the lighter wolves closed the distance, their wider and softer paws carrying them effortlessly over the frozen surface.
Unable to run, the deer clumsily pulled the pistol from his waistband and fired a pair of poorly aimed shots at the closing officers. Neither landed, and he was just lining up for a better shot when Weiss reached him. As he threw the full weight of his body against the shooter, Weiss viciously clamped his teeth down on the deer's shoulder. Any fight the downed mammal had left in him vanished as blood seeped out between the wolf's teeth, his weapon tumbling from his suddenly numb grip.
For a heartbeat, everything froze. Biting – not nipping or teething or nibbling but really biting – was an unparalleled act of aggression among canines. Just baring their teeth in anger could get a canine arrested. Biting hard enough to actually draw blood could result in actual prison time. It wasn't just an attack; it was a statement. A willful declaration of intent.
Your life is mine now. Mine to spare; mine to take away.
Releasing his hold, Weiss let the deer slump bonelessly to the ground with a pained whimper, standing over him while the shocked mammal's blood stained the snow. Slowly, gradually, the other wolves began circling the pair, snarling and unconsciously snapping their teeth. Though it hadn't been his intention, Weiss' act had awoken something in them; something undeniably primal, but far from savage.
It's hard to say what might have happened next. Maybe the wolf pack would have finished the fallen mammal off. Maybe cooler heads would have prevailed. Either way, before Weiss could take another step the entire area was bathed in near-blinding light. Gradually, the roaring in his ears gave way to the sound of the ZPD chopper that hovered just above them.
A second later, SWAT officers were descending on rappel lines. They secured the deer right away, taking up a position between the wolves and the suspect. Though they were trying not to be too obvious about it, the sight of armed ZPD officers standing between him and a wounded suspect shocked Weiss like a bucket of ice-cold water over the head. Around him, the other wolves seemed to be having the same reaction as the fugue of the hunt wore off.
They looked at one another with a mixture of shame and fear, all sharing the same thought.
What have we done?
~o~o~o~
The media had a field day after the raid, gleefully vilifying several of the officers involved. Internal Affairs got involved not long, handing down a wave of suspensions. The entire incident was being held as a black mark against the ZPD, and although no formal charges were immediately brought forward, several officers were strongly advised to resign.
Jim Weiss was one of the first ones to hand over his badge. He cleaned out his locker, said a few awkward goodbyes, and quietly left the Precinct One building; he took the exit near the motor pool to avoid the press. Lacking a specific destination, he let his feet take him to Zootopia General Hospital. A nurse pointed him to the right room, and he spent several minutes standing outside as he mustered up the courage to go in. Eventually he raised a paw, knocking lightly as he stuck his head inside.
"Danny? You awake?"
"Hm?" Inside the room, Daniel Wolford turned his gaze away from the window. "Hey."
"Hey." Weiss shuffled his feet a little. "Er...how're you doing?"
"Fine." The older wolf responded shortly. Fumbling with a remote control near his paw, he whined softly as the hospital bed raised him into a sitting position. "Vest took the worst of it."
"Good. That's good."
"I guess. What about you?"
"I'm okay." Weiss tried to muster up a smile. "Better than you, right?"
Wolford didn't respond, eyeing the younger wolf critically.
"Right." Weiss awkwardly scratched at the back of his neck. "So, I...uh...I guess you heard about what happened?"
"Pretty sure everyone in the city heard about what happened."
"I was just..."
"Don't," Wolford interrupted, holding up a paw. "I don't want to hear justifications, Jim. I definitely don't want to hear excuses."
Weiss nodded, feeling like a rookie getting told off by his Training Officer. "Okay."
"Dammit, Jimmy." Wolford sighed, shaking his head sadly. "I thought I taught you better than that."
"I was just..." He trailed off at the older officer's hard glare. "Yeah. Yeah, you did."
"So, you got the word yet?"
Weiss nodded silently.
"Still got your badge?"
He swallowed, not quite able to meet Wolford's eyes.
"No, then." It wasn't a question.
"I resigned." Weiss murmured. "Bogo said it'd be best."
"He's probably right."
"I wanted to be a cop since I was a pup, Danny." Weiss sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"
"You take your lumps like a grown mammal, then you keep moving forward." He leaned forward with a pained wince. "Look at me, Jim."
The wolf reluctantly raised his gaze to look his mentor in the eye.
"I'm not gonna sugarcoat it; this is probably gonna follow you for the rest of your life. From now till the day you die, there are always gonna be mammals who look at you with suspicion. You're gonna have to learn to live with that." He reached out to place a paw on the younger mammal's arm. "But you'll get by."
"I will?"
"Sure." Wolford shrugged tiredly, leaning back again. "When push comes to shove, wolves always get by."
~o~o~o~
"You...uh...you wanted to see me, Chief?" McHorn asked quietly, peering into Bogo's office.
Glancing up from his desk, Bogo eyed the rhino gravely. "Come in. Shut the door."
McHorn hesitated almost imperceptibly before doing so, moving to stand stiffly in front of his superior's desk.
"I've spoken with the precinct's union representative. He and I agreed that you're to be placed on unpaid suspension, during which you'll co-"
"What?" McHorn interrupted. "Chief, I don't need to be put on-"
Bogo silenced him with a particularly icy glare. "As I was saying, during this suspension, you will cooperate fully with Internal Affairs' investigation. You will answer any questions they have for you, truthfully and professionally. Assuming you're lucky enough that they choose not to pursue formal charges and you do return to duty, you will still be restricted to administrative work while attending mandatory anger-management counselling until such time as I say otherwise. If you fail to meet any of the terms I have just laid out, I will personally see you thrown out of the ZPD with little more than the shirt on your back. Is that clear?"
"This is ridiculous! You ca-!"
"Shut it!" Bogo snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You are in absolutely no position to be indignant, Donald. You went on a rampage that hospitalized three mammals. It's pure bloody luck that none of them were killed."
"Am I supposed to feel bad for them?" The rhino countered. "You know what they were doing in there! Those sick bastards were...were..."
"You're damn right I know! Everyone knows, and that's the only reason we're even having this conversation!"
The rhino let out a disdainful snort. "I would've thought you'd have my back on this, Chief."
"Have your back? Have your back?" The room's temperature seemed to plummet. "I called in more favors than I care to think about, spent years worth of political capital, just convincing Internal Affairs to accept these terms rather than pursue formal charges. Now I'm beginning to question whether you were worth the effort."
That seemed to cut through the rhino's haze of anger, leaving him slack-jawed and silent.
The buffalo leaned back into his seat. "I swore an oath to uphold the law. If official charges are levied against you, the ZPD will cooperate fully with the investigation – without hesitation or bias. If that happens, you may very well have to watch your children grow up from a prison cell."
"I..." McHorn let out a slow breath. "Yes, sir."
Bogo's features softened slightly. "This is no time to be proud, Donald. Consider this an opportunity to spend some more time with your family. You'll be called in if IA has any questions for you."
Nodding, McHorn left Bogo's office without another word. Rather than head for the doors, though, he detoured through the bullpen. Standing off to one side, he stood for a moment and just watched his fellow officers going about their jobs. As much as it killed him to admit it, the Chief was right. He'd lost control, allowed his anger to rule his actions and, regardless of what the perps had been doing, responded with excessive violence.
Fourteen years in uniform, and suddenly he found himself questioning whether he still deserved to wear it.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice Hopps walk up to him; in fact, the bunny had to clear her throat a few times to get his attention. Looking down, it was obvious there was something bothering her. "What's on your mind, Hop-Along?"
"I'm having some trouble with what happened." Judy hesitated, shuffling her feet. "During the raid, I mean."
"Not surprised." He commented, not bothering to ask what she was talking about. "Violence can be part of the job, though."
"I'm not talking about that. It's..." She trailed off.
"Spit it out, Hopps."
"I don't...I can't support what you did." Her brow furrowed, eyes fixed on the floor. "It was wrong, but at the same time, I can't say that it was...y'know...wrong. Does that make sense?"
"It makes enough sense, I guess." He chuckled humorlessly. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that whole morals versus ethics dilemma never goes away. It'll be right there for as long as you wear that badge."
If anything, the bunny looked even more unsettled. "But..."
"Here's a benchmark for you. I fucked up bad. Don't do anything like that. Got it?" She nodded and he leaned down, holding out his fist. She slowly reached up to bump her own against it. "Go get back to fixing the world, Tiny. Don't you worry about me."
~o~o~o~
A/N: It turns out that COVID isolation has its upsides, because I'm back, y'all!
I'm sure some of you thought I'd given up on this collection, but I just took some time off so I could write a 160,000-word backstory for one of my D&D characters. Because that's how I roll, I guess?
Anyway, I'll be the first to admit this one is a little rushed in places. It honestly reached the point where I just wanted to get Charge finished so I could move on, particularly considering the next three chapters (one of which was guest-written) have been finished for months.