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Chapter Six - Blackout
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WARNING: This chapter contains depictions of drunk driving, implied gore, and death.
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Tanaka willed herself in front of the door to Chief Bogo's office. She glanced up at the black lettering labeled on the frosted glass, unable to do more than release the air pent up in her lungs. As much as she didn't want to go inside, she knew she couldn't stand there forever. The Chief was expecting her.
He can probably see me through the door, she grimaced.
The feline raised her spotted knuckles to the glass and attempted to steel herself by shutting her eyes. When she felt ready, she sucked in a tense breath and tapped her pointer knuckle on the glass.
She waited.
"Enter," the voice inside beckoned.
Tanaka did as it commanded, turning the handle open and walking through the doorway. The Chief sat at the desk at the end of the room and peered at her through his readers. In his hooves was an open manilla folder labeled with a report number that she vaguely recognized. It was theirs.
"Officer Sato," he rose from his chair to warmly greet her, shutting the file and setting it flat on the desk.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" She dared to ask.
"Yes," he nodded, reclaiming his seat with a soft grunt. "There are a few matters that require your attention. Close the door, hang your jacket up, and have a seat."
Tanaka frowned with a nod and did as the Chief requested, shutting the door with a soft click and hanging her jacket on the coat rack next to her. The paw pads on her feet scrapped along the carpet until she arrived at the pair of empty chairs in front of the desk. She claimed the rightmost seat.
"Before we begin, I wanted to express my gratitude for coming on such short notice. I know you must be exhausted after your first week."
"More than you know."
"I'll try to keep things brief, then." Bogo removed his glasses, placed them atop the folder, and pushed them aside. He clasped his hooves in front of him. "How are things fairing with you and Detective Snow?"
"Peachy," spat her indifference.
The Chief raised a brow. Of course, he wanted specifics. She'd only give him the bare minimum, for her sake.
"He's cold and temperamental," she began, "but he's been helpful. There's not much to say beyond that. Whenever I've needed him for anything related to police work or parking duty, he's been there. Everything else, not so much."
"Care to elaborate?"
"To be honest, not really." Tanaka sighed. "I've been trying to make a conscious effort to make the most of our partnership. If he's keen on keeping things strictly professional, that's his prerogative. At least I'm doing what I can to get to know the mammal. No one else wants to do it."
"That's an understatement," he acknowledged. "I'm grateful for what you have done, Sato. Your efforts are not being overlooked, I can assure you."
"Thank you, Chief."
"That being said, I take it that you are still adamant about remaining partners for the time being?"
"Adamant is a strong word," she emphasized. "I'd say that 'tolerant' is more my speed."
"Noted," the bovine said.
Tanaka allowed herself a beat to collect her thoughts. If she still had a job by the end of this, could she consider Edward to be the worst outcome? Sure, she would be bored. There'd be nothing but work. However, it wasn't the end of the world.
"You said it yourself," she spoke candidly. "No one else in the department would've given Edward an opportunity like that. The least I can do is give him a fair chance. It has to be me."
"Right, you are." The Chief put his glasses back on. "It would be best to move on to why I've brought you here this evening."
The feline felt her body tense. She didn't like the vague connotation behind Bogo's meaning. Could this be it? How would she defend herself? She could feel her claws catch the exposed threads sewn into the cuffs of her shirt.
"It has come to my attention that you and Detective Snow filed reports on Tuesday concerning a distressed civilian who'd lost their child. Given that the child was found successfully—and relatively quickly with no further complications, might I add—matters such as these wouldn't be put under the microscope. Regardless, I thought it prudent to examine them thoroughly because this is your first documented incident."
Bogo flipped open the folder and placed the two documents side-by-side for Tanaka to see—her report on the left and Edward's on the right. She could tell immediately that one appeared emptier than the other—and it wasn't hers.
"While comparing the two, I noticed some… discrepancies that couldn't be overlooked."
"Discrepancies, sir?"
"In your testimony," he explained, pointing to the opening paragraph, "you begin by describing how you overheard a disconcerting noise in the immediate vicinity, prompting an investigation to ensure that the public's safety was not in jeopardy. Pretty straightforward," the buffalo shrugged the comment to himself. "You went on to clarify that you did not know who or what this mammal was at the time. After narrowing down the general area, you notified Snow via a 'strong whistle' and entered down an alleyway without backup." Tanaka reflexed and aimed her shame away from the Chief's watchful eye. "From there, you discovered that the distressed mammal was, in fact, a child who'd gotten separated from their guardian. Edward finally arrived, gave you a verbal warning for insubordination, and, well, we know the rest."
"What did Edward say?" She murmured, in favor of ripping the band-aid off rather than delaying the inevitable.
"That's where the problems begin to compound," the cape buffalo sighed, cupping his hooves. "It's not his claims that's a cause for concern. It's a matter of what he didn't say that worries me."
"Sir?"
"Unlike your, frankly, brutally honest report, Edward's report failed to account for several missing key elements. For starters, your failure to hold for backup and advancement into the scene was left out. There's no mention of a reprimand conducted against you. Furthermore, the most glaring inconsistency I found is the very reason that prompted you to begin your investigation in the first place—the commotion in the alley."
"What?" Tanaka failed to conceal her disbelief. That couldn't be right. There had to be some mistake.
"My thoughts exactly," the Chief nodded. "On one account, I've got, quote, 'a strange noise,' while the other, meanwhile, states that 'you witnessed the missing child's failed attempt at a howl.' I don't take you for the type to leave out or fabricate information in an official report."
"I wouldn't," she clarified with venomous offense.
"Then, can you think of why a detective, your superior, would blatantly omit those details?"
Tanaka sat like a livid statue in her chair. She was rightfully taken aback by the revelation. Who wouldn't be? Moreover, she failed to find an adequate reason through her astonished silence.
He had to have been banking on your honesty, her subconscious concluded. You take the hit so he'd look better on paper. Maybe he thought it'd be easier for him to get reassigned.
Tanaka couldn't argue that line of thinking. What other logical explanation would he have for doing something so unjustifiably cold? After what she just said to defend him, and how terrible she felt discovering his disability after the fact, no less. If that were the case, the blow from his hollow betrayal, although expected in hindsight, felt all the more devastating on principle.
Regardless, the bovine still sought an answer. Unable to consider other alternatives, Tanaka was forced to treat the rogue theory as fact. Chief Bogo appeared to see right through the wolf's deception. Oh how desperately she wanted to relinquish the moral high ground and throw him under the bus. The opportunity was right there. He deserved it. But, no. She'd only serve to tarnish her career if she did.
The cheetah masked her regretful discontentment and scoffed.
"No, sir," she sneered. Ire billowed and threatened to seep into her professional tone. "I don't believe I do."
"Perhaps he was trying to protect you."
Not a chance.
"Considering how he's been acting since day one, I highly doubt it."
"Then allow me to entertain the thought for a moment and shed some insight," the bovine offered. "Perhaps you might learn something."
The bitter feline, stuck in her chair with nothing better to do, attentively listened to what her boss had to say.
"In a perfect world, crime would be nonexistent. There would be no need for officers or the ZPD, and the world would be better for it. Unfortunately, the world we occupy is far from perfect. We chose to be keepers of the peace. We're dutybound by the state of Zootopia to uphold the law and to keep the public safe. With that comes a caveat." He paused. "Consider this: What would happen if we incarcerated mammals for every infraction they made, no matter how severe?"
"Outrage. Riots in the streets," the spotted mammal listed.
"A misplacement of trust," the cape buffalo corrected. "Without that, citizens would have no one to turn to. Then there would be disorder." A bleak beat separated the Chief's thoughts. "At the academy, you were instructed to treat broken laws as matters of 'black or white.' 'Did they, or did they not?' At Precinct One, I train my officers not to be overzealous on their patrols and to embrace 'gray' areas where applicable."
"Give mammals the benefit of the doubt."
"Precisely," he nodded. "Take Snow's circumstance, for instance. Some information obtained via testimony may not be vital to include in an official report—even if it pertains to the other officer on duty, a breach in protocol, etcetera. Depends on the severity. It's plausible that some officers could omit certain details to protect their partner from scrutiny."
"That's a thing?"
"Supposedly."
"And you allow that to happen?"
"Officially speaking, no," he said. "Unofficially speaking, so long as those details aren't critical to the sanctity of our investigations, I implore officers to use their best judgment when compiling their figures to make their accounts as truthful and accurate as possible. Integrity goes a long way in the halls of this precinct."
"Easy for you to say—"
"Don't take me for some naive fool, Tanaka," the booming voice ignored, "all reports land on my desk one way or the other. If I glean something major's amiss—because, believe me, I will find out—there would be hell to pay. A thorough review would be conducted, where the officer (or officers) would be audited to the fullest extent."
Her spite fell in an instant. Concern pulled back the lids of her eyes. She was suddenly more aware of her condition.
"I-Is," she stammered, swallowing hard, "is this what this is?"
"Not necessarily," her commanding officer answered. "That depends entirely on you. Would you prefer it to be?"
Tanaka sat in her chair and thought long and hard about that. Far longer than she would've liked. Frustration wrought shivers down her spine. Her paws coiled themselves around her forearm.
Her voice was meek and quiet but resolved. She couldn't look her boss in the eye. "Yes."
"What?" Bogo's brow furrowed. "Why?"
The cheetah took a steadying breath and shot an unyielding look laced with her lament. "Because that would contradict how I got here. I'm not getting an ounce of special treatment. Even if it means tarnishing my career, I'll take the hit."
The cape buffalo pinched his snout and rubbed his face. He let out a tired sigh. "Are you certain this is what you want?"
"Yessir."
"Then I'm afraid I have no choice." The Chief extended his open palm.
Officer Sato blinked at the hoofed extremity. The longer she looked, the more hollow she felt. She didn't want to believe it. Was this actually happening?
The feline glanced at the hardened face of her boss, her uncle, finding little solace in his lack of sentiment. It was hard to keep the tears away from her eyes. She asked for this, after all.
She looked back to the arm of the cape buffalo. Vision struggling to focus through the blurring, the rookie resigned herself. It was time to lie in the bed she made.
This is it, Tanaka declared. This is how my dream dies.
Spotted paws reached for the hunk of metal pinned to her chest as the first tears began to fall. She snapped her eyes shut.
I'm sorry, Reggie.
"Stop." Tanaka froze. Her watery emerald gaze met the sheer might of his rusty browns. "Not that."
"What?—"
"Your arm, Sato."
Her puzzled, tear-stained look failed to grasp his meaning. Without questioning it further, she reluctantly offered her arm to the bovine.
Adrian Bogo, without skipping a beat, gently clasped Tanaka's fingers with his left hoof. With the spotted paw secure in his grasp, his right hoof delivered a faint tap to the top of her wrist.
The feline recoiled in response and took her arm back at once. His paws returned to the desk as if nothing happened.
"That should be sufficient," the content cape buffalo settled.
She shot a vindictive glare at the prey mammal as her fur bristled. "What the hell was that?!"
"What you requested," Bogo answered matter-of-factly. "Based on the severity of the infraction—excluding multiple factors, such as tenure, extenuating circumstance, and growth potential—your punishment," he said, emulating the discipline on his own wrist this time, "was deemed fitting."
"Are you serious?! You mean to tell me a slap on the wrist was all you could come up with?" Tanaka fumed. "How's this fair?"
"I wasn't the one who devised the punishment."
Tanaka stared at him and raised a brow. "You didn't?"
"No," his head shook. "Your wishes aside, the ZPD upholds various policies that bar me from getting involved in sensitive disciplinary matters concerning close relatives. Even if I could pardon you, I would have to answer to the representatives of City Hall for a breach of protocol, the likes of whom I'd rather avoid meddling with whenever possible. Therefore, I appointed someone else to handle matters—a mammal I could trust. Someone who had no connections to you or with the incident."
"Detective Hopps," Tanaka answered.
"The one and only," he confirmed. "Hopps has been making massive strides to advance her career as of late. If her future endeavors involve succeeding me, why not put those skills to the test?"
Tanaka felt a pang of mute jealousy as she brushed her claws over the cuffs of her shirt.
The Chief explained. "Hopps was given next to nothing—no names, dates, or means of identification—only the information we had on file: Two instances of insubordination, this being the first offense with no other infractions documented, and a reprimand openly delivered by the supporting higher-ranking officer on the scene. Like myself, Officer Wilde was barred from getting involved in any way. He remained out of earshot a few doors down. I commandeered Higgin's office and continued my current work."
"And?"
"Hopps pulled me back into the room a minute later. She asked the right questions and made an informed decision."
Chief Bogo reached into one of his desk drawers and laid another pair of documents out for Tanaka to examine. The first, aptly titled "Documented Internal Affairs Incident," briefly summarized the incident. At the bottom of the page were several boxes that outlined the type of reprimand an officer could incur. One, in particular—and the only one ticked with a checkmark—stood out to her. It read, "No further action required."
The explanation, written in the neatest penmanship she'd ever seen, "The officer in question was notified and verbally coached by an outranking officer at the scene. The matter has been resolved."
The second was an appeals form, filled out in the same gorgeous handwriting as before, requesting that the incident be stricken from the record.
Each form was signed and dated by one Judith Laverne Hopps.
"Detective Hopps was only made aware of names until after both forms were signed."
The stupefied cheetah struggled to reread the documents that stared back at her. It didn't make sense. Why would Detective Hopps go to such lengths for someone who had clearly broken the rules?
"I don't understand," she expressed, formulating her thoughts aloud. "Why would she do this for me?"
"If you're asking that, you haven't a clue what kind of mammal she is," the Chief remarked. "Because this was a first-time offense, she couldn't find a reason to punish you more than Snow had. 'Further disciplinary action could hinder the officer's progression going forward,'" his hoof pointed at the quote. "In her words, 'A slap on the wrist should do.' I just so happened to take that literally."
"What's going to happen now?" She asked meekly, wiping at her eyes.
"Concerning the report? Nothing," his eyebrows raised with a brief shake. "Those documents will be sent over to our records department, where they will be submitted, filed, approved, and shelved before you return to work on Sunday. Rest assured, your career is safe."
"No black mark?"
"Nothing at all. Your record will be untarnished."
Tanaka didn't know what to say. She settled on expressing her gratitude to the bovine in Hopps' stead.
"Thank you, Uncle Adrian."
"Don't thank me," he declined. "Thank Detective Hopps. She was the one to vouch for you. It's only right."
"I'll be sure to let her know on Sunday."
"Good mammal," he nodded. "My advice moving forward is to coordinate with Snow and confirm which bits of testimony are vital to your investigation when compiling reports. Snow has already been notified and should be aware of what's happened."
Tanaka grimaced. What sort of punishment would he be subject to? She didn't want to think about how many 'slaps on the wrist' he'd received in his career.
"You are both responsible for ensuring the accuracy of case information upon submission," Bogo continued. "Put aside your differences and continue to work as a team. Repeat offenses will not be tolerated. Is that clear?"
"Yessir," she said, though not entirely confident of that becoming reality.
The cape buffalo softened his features and let out a sigh. He snuffed out her lack of conviction right away.
"This is your dream, Tani," came a lighter, passionate inflection. "Integrity is something I expect in all my officers, but don't allow it to blind you from the bigger picture. What you did that day was exemplary. You discovered the child's whereabouts. You opened the door. Without you , there would've been no reunion. Give yourself some credit. Be brave. Fight for that dream. Don't allow anyone the satisfaction of abusing your good nature."
Bolstered and in better spirits, the rookie allowed her assertiveness to shine through. "Copy that, Chief. I won't let this happen again."
"I expect as much," Chief Bogo said. A change in topic was in order. "I don't know about you, but I think it's about time for some good news. Wouldn't you agree?"
"There's good news?"
"Compared to what you were just reduced to, I'd go so far as to call it a godsend."
"Oh, so you crack jokes now?
"Occasionally," the cape buffalo smirked. "Perhaps I've been around Wilde too much."
The cheetah released a chortle of her own. After a beat of silence, Bogo got down to brass tax.
"Beginning next week, you and Detective Snow will be assigned a patrol. Details concerning your route will be revealed during Sunday's roll call."
Tanaka felt almost compelled to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Moreover, you'll be pleased to know that your credentials are now active in the system. You can now access databases and resources, including traffic cameras and state records. Should your future investigations require you to utilize these resources, you can access them on the computer in your own cubicle—located in office pod 'A,' row one, seat fourteen. Pod A will be the first door on the left, just past the leftward arch. Snow's assigned to the cubical adjacent, seat thirteen. Have him tour you around the offices at the end of your shift. Get acclimated to the layout. Don't get lost."
"Yessir."
The cape buffalo collected the documents regarding the incident back into their respective folder. "That'll be all, Officer Sato," he said, motioning to tackle the other documents piled on his desk, "Go and enjoy your night."
"I will, sir," she nodded. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
The spotted feline hopped off her chair, making a staggered beeline for the door.
Tanaka could feel her claws digging into her palm pads while her paws balled into fists.
Any sensible mammal would be relieved about the turn of events. A fuckup that severe would've landed anyone else in serious trouble—or, worse, fired on the spot. Good faith saved her job. Not her partner nor the chief himself. She counted her stars lucky.
Though, she'd be remiss to overlook what landed her in that meeting to begin with.
Cheeky fucking git, she ground her teeth, echoing the crass she'd picked up from her uncle over the years. He'd rather risk sacrificing what little reputability he had left, all to push me away and end up… what, anywhere, or nowhere else?
Tanaka scoffed.
What a moron.
If Edward was hellbent on sabotaging his career, she wouldn't stop him. Whatever hang-ups he still clung to before her were in the past and, frankly, none of her business. But if he assumed that he could get rid of her using the same cheap, dirty tactics that probably landed him the role of detective in the first place, he had another thing coming.
She wouldn't let him defame her a second time.
Tanaka raised her paw to the door handle and motioned to twist it open.
"And, Sato," the hefty voice of her Uncle hailed from behind.
The officer turned back to her commanding officer. "Yes, Chief?"
They were both on the same wavelength.
"While you might be free to terminate your partnership at any point, that does not mean our agreement prevents me from stepping in should things get out of hand," the cape buffalo warned. "Do not let thorns fester. If you don't take action for the sake of yourself and your dream, I will. Do not let it get that far."
"I won't," the cognizant cheetah promised with a half-smirk.
O O O
"Officers' Sato, Snow."
First in the pecking order, the former of the two mammals sat up in her chair, paws clasped together, attentively awaiting their first assignment.
The latter, on the other paw, couldn't have cared less.
Edward had his paw supporting his chin, unfocused gaze trained toward the leftward windows, distant and uncaring in the corner of her eye. The coffee she'd made for him went untouched, growing colder before him.
They hadn't bothered to speak with one another since she caught the silver wolf strolling through the front doors. Edward didn't overstay his welcome when she offered him the coffee. Instead, he opted to continue on toward the bullpen. Tanaka didn't expect anything less. She paid him little mind.
Instead, Tanaka remained with Fangmeyer and Wolford. She hadn't been able to enjoy her friends' company since last Sunday. They giddily recanted the highlights of their beats from the previous week, all while sipping at the delectable coffees her family had made for them—all of their favorites. She found resonance with their retelling of their spicy interaction with a speciest goat who prompted a public disturbance call, all because a wolverine didn't hold a door for them. Luckily for everyone, the altercation didn't escalate beyond a barrage of slurs and vein attempts at intimidation. The prey mammal was detained, and natural order was restored.
Tanaka couldn't wait to tell them stories of her own.
Another famous pair would find her before the beginning of roll call—Detective Hopps and Officer Wilde. Although they wouldn't be present for today's assignments, Tanaka made a point to thank the rabbit officer for her intervention last week. Of course, Judy was as modest as she now knew she'd be. The world needed more mammals like her.
Tanaka wished them luck and shared a fist bump each when they ultimately parted ways. The rabbit-fox duo would be off for the Canal district by the time she got her assignment, following up with a lead for one of their ongoing cases.
Speaking of…
At the podium, Bogo lingered on the dissociated wolf (a little too long) and huffed. Tanaka kept her eyes forward. Her outward appearance would be as emotionless as he was.
Although, she did indulge in a smug smirk on his off-side.
"Sahara Square," the cape buffalo inevitably commanded, waving their dossier.
Tanaka was the first of the two out of her chair. Her superior took his sweet time departing with the view and lingered like a shadow behind her. She would be the one to collect the folder with a "Thank you, sir." The Chief gave her a departing nod, and the cheetah and wolf left the pen without much fuss.
Tanaka strode with purpose, her gaze trained forward, unwavering from the path that led to her destination—the armory. From there, they would get their gear and keys to their cruiser and then be cast out to the clutches of her city, where she could finally put her skills to the test.
She was rushing, of course. There was nothing she could do to tame that excitement, and she had no intention of slowing down. The sooner they left the building, the sooner she could start being an actual cop.
Behind her, Edward audibly struggled to match her speed. The cheetah marched a touch faster than he walked normally. Every bit of that was intentional.
"Sato," he called out.
Tanaka flat-out ignored him. There was nothing she could think of that warranted saying. A curse grumbled leftward behind her.
"Sato, slow down," Edward pleaded.
She didn't.
The silver wolf growled lightly and picked up the pace. He eventually managed to catch up with her and match her speed. Tanaka acknowledged his presence with a momentary glance.
"Look, about that report—"
She rolled her eyes and spat an uninterested, "What about it?"
"Aren't you wondering why I left out those details in my report?"
"Not really," she answered. "But if there's something you want to get off your chest, I'm not stopping you."
The lupine pondered that for a moment, then frowned.
"I never thought in a million years that you'd be stupid enough to write the things you did."
Ouch.
"You mean being honest?"
"No, committing career suicide," he corrected. "The only reason I wrote what I did was that I assumed you'd have the right mind to protect your job."
"You thought that I'd lie on an official report?"
The silver wolf rushed forward to successfully stop her. Fury was laced in his features.
"That is not what I said."
"Then what did you mean?" Tanaka inquired, arms crossed, hip popped. "Because, the way that I see it, with how you've been acting, you're not even trying to hide the fact that you want to get rid of me. Why not get it in writing? To be honest, I'm surprised it took this long."
"Please," the canid scoffed to himself. "If I wanted you gone, you'd've been out of my fur after the second day."
"What you're saying is that you want me around, then?"
"Don't flatter yourself."
"That's funny," her sass chortled airily, "because I'm still here! So, I'm gonna go ahead and call bullshit on that. It's like you said, 'I'd be gone already.'"
"Whatever," Edward muttered, motioning to leave.
Tanaka grabbed his arm. He wasn't running away from this.
"You think I'm dumb enough not to notice how you've been acting?" The lupine yanked his arm back and faced her. "You've been waiting for this chance since last Sunday. I can barely get you to look at me—let alone talk with me."
"My life—"
"'Is none of my goddamn business.' I get it," Tanaka groaned. She was close to seething.
"Don't blame me," Edward said, "I'm not the one who's constantly getting into everyone's business. It's not like I wanted that or," he motioned at them both with his pinky and thumb extended, "this to happen."
"News flash, dipshit: I didn't either."
Officer Sato stared daggers at him, half expecting him to show her some respect and yield. Instead, Edward stared at her with a smug look.
"What? We got another problem or something?"
"You swear like a sailor when you're angry," he pointed out. One could assume he struck gold. "Can't imagine that'd be something the Chief would find becoming."
Tanaka felt fire ablaze in her eyes.
She constantly got into trouble for her language when she was younger, especially around her father and uncle. Edward couldn't possibly have known that, but it struck a nerve regardless, and she wasn't thinking clearly.
Tanaka got close, sticking her pointer claw to his chest.
"Fuck you."
"No thanks," he declined with a sneer. "You're not exactly what I'd call a catch."
Fur stood up on the back of Tanaka's neck. She turned away and fumed. She mumbled another curse to herself. It took her everything she had from imploding in front of him. What a disgusting, deplorable excuse of a mammal!
"At least I'm not harassing a rookie to make themselves feel something for once in their miserable lives," she snapped back.
When Tanaka turned around, she saw that the shocked lupine brought his ears back a touch. He kept his gaze on the floor.
"Didn't it cross your 'brilliant' mind a single time that something like that might happen?" Tanaka added. "This wasn't even something personal. This was an official document that we submitted and just happened to be reviewed by Chief Bogo himself."
"That won't happen again."
"I'd hope so. Because I'm not going through that again to stroke your fragile ego. Your whole 'lone wolf' act is exhausting, and it's seriously getting old."
Edward didn't respond to that. Tanaka released an exasperated breath.
"Look, you don't want me to get into your personal life? Fine. I won't give a shit. It's none of my business. But taking your anger out on me isn't going to solve anything. And you know what? You're right. What happened before I got here isn't relevant, not to me anyway. I'm trying to start a career. You've made it clear that I can't jump over you—even if all you've done is do that to me. My goal now is to try and be better."
"Better than what?"
"Better than you, asshole," she clapped back, "not that that's a high bar to clear in the first place."
Tanaka brought her free paw to her hip.
"You might not care anymore, but I do. I have to. I just don't have the patience to learn, do my job, and play babysitter at the same time."
Detective Snow did not enjoy that comment. Yeah, she remembered. He wasn't the only one born with good hearing.
"Don't look at me like that," Tanaka said, playing innocent and shrugging. "All I did was what I thought was right. Be thankful you didn't have to meet with Bogo yesterday; he feels the same way, FYI."
"Is this the part where you tell me I need to get my act together?"
"Kinda, yeah." Witnessing Edward's teeth-bared rage morph into head-tilting conflict brought Tanaka a small fraction of joy. "The only difference is that I'm not forcing you to do anything. You're an adult. Make your own damn decisions."
The wolf sneered and scoffed, turning his gaze away.
Now for a teeny lie. "For the record, I'm more than willing to continue having you as my partner. Told Bogo that, too. You might be a pain in my ass, but you do know what you're doing. And that's enough for me."
"Get on with the point."
"The more you treat me like another jumped-up rookie, the more we risk Bogo stepping in and separating us for good," Tanaka explained. "I don't want that. It'll look bad on both of us. I doubt that there's another mammal left in this Precinct willing to go the extra mile for you, and I doubt you have the means of moving to another district—let alone the main isle. Whether you like it or not, it's me or bust."
Before the wolf could hurl another rebuttal her way, the cheetah offered up an ultimatum via the folder.
"Either you keep teaching me how to be a great officer and make this city a better place, or I'll go straight to the Chief myself and tell him this partnership isn't working out, just to save us both the trouble. Your call."
Edward spent the better part of a minute to himself. He took turns staring down the object, then ruminating outward into space.
When he came too, his voice was low and strained.
"When you put it like that, what other choice do I have?" The lupine mumbled.
Silver-gray digits took hold of the folder. Tanaka felt a smirk pull at the corner of her maw. She could feel herself on the cusp of victory. She thought she had him right in her grasp. The celebration came back to bite her.
Edward took the folder and allowed his blasé demeanor to slip.
"Who would I be to argue with the goddaughter of the Chief."
That was all it took for Tanaka's confidence to disappear. She could barely sense her mouth completely agape. Was his resignation before all an act?
When she found her bearings, the most she could formulate was a measly "H-how did you—"
"You're not as smart as you think," his smarm chastised. "And, for the record, I'm not about to let someone who frauded their way into Precinct One tell me how to do my job."
"I didn't fraud my way into anything," her venom spat. "I earned my badge, fair and square, same as you."
"Uh-huh, right," the unconvinced detective rolled his eyes, "I'm sure being related to the Chief had nothing to do with you getting a job at his Precinct."
Spotted fur stood on its ends. Unbridled rage threatened to spill over. Tanaka pointed a claw at him. "You don't know me."
"And you don't know me," he calmly fired back, stepping into the extremity.
Edward's overbearing presence forced Tanaka to take a couple defensive steps back. She could feel beats pound faster in her ear.
The canid huffed humorously to himself. Edward must have counted on the calculated retreat.
Tanaka gave him a hardened look. She might as well have been looking death in the eye. She wasn't winning this.
"Tell you what," his pretentiousness bargained, "you let me know when you've got something actually incriminating, and I mean something damning against me, and I'll let you know when I've decided to give a shit. Until then, keep your baseless assumptions about me to yourself. Thanks for wasting my time." The proud, wrathful wolf turned tail and left his partner to her own devices. "I'll meet you at the cruiser."
The cheetah eyed her superior until he rounded the next corner. Seconds passed Tanaka alone in the hallway.
They both played their hands. Tanaka thought that she'd had him pegged. Turned out that she was playing against a loaded deck the entire time.
When Tanaka's mind caught up with what'd happened, she felt her two internal dialogues clash.
Fuck - Shit.
O O O
Tanaka stared outward at the sidewalk from the comfort of the police cruiser. Warm and rhythmic breaths fogged the passenger side window, her arm supporting the over-encumbered weight of her scrambled head while pregnant silence consumed the void of the car's cabin.
Small talk was pointless. Hollow words and meaningless drabble weren't worth the energy when the end result would only land Tanaka in yet another round of senseless coaching. The wolf in the driver's seat enjoyed every second of her suffering. Perhaps she'd be in better spirits if the Chief hadn't made it a point to charge him with mentoring her after last Tuesday's debacle.
She'd been the one to ask for conversations to be tabled entirely for that reason. Edward didn't complain. He welcomed the silence with open arms. The atmosphere beyond their lifeless box was far more enticing anyway.
Oranges and yellows melded with the deep blues of the mildly cloudy Wednesday sky. Dusk was eager to claim the beauty of the setting sun that inched ever closer to the horizon. The buildings she recognized from the city's skyline reflected a bright, warm glow one couldn't find anywhere else. She felt tempted to cave and let her optimism try to convince her that the day—or, more accurately, the week — wasn't so bad.
The officer felt a notepad-sized hole burning itself into her chest pocket. Lest she forget the paperwork that awaited her back at the precinct.
The cheetah shoved that to the back of her mind. That was future-her's problem.
Besides, it was better than any alternative.
Tanaka took another look at the sky. It was getting late. Was it six? Seven o'clock? The clouds wouldn't tell her, and she didn't feel like pulling out her smartphone either. She staved off a nasal sigh.
Tanaka risked stealing a momentary glance at the onboard dash for confirmation.
She caught the wolf detective at the edge of her peripheral. The last thing she wanted was to insinuate that her aim was to converse. Thankfully, he didn't take notice. His eyes were firmly planted on the road ahead.
She was pleased to discover that her internal clock was still somewhat functional. The actual time read just over a quarter to seven. Nearly an hour away from the end of her shift, and it couldn't come soon enough.
Tanaka's day went about as well as it could get. Their assignment was the same—look out for common offenders and conduct routine traffic stops. Not that it got them anywhere. Detective Serious spent more time developing new ways to teach her what she already knew rather than allowing her to gain first-hand experience. Even when she attempted to take what chances she could, she couldn't get a word in without him overstepping.
It was always…
"Take the passenger side," ordered the lupine.
Officer Sato opened her maw to attempt to debate the order. But she hesitated. The detective was out of their parked cruiser and stepping towards the green sedan in front of them before she could get a word out.
The cheetah sucked in a sharp breath and followed the command.
Tanaka flanked the smaller car and arrived at the passenger side window when Edward requested the pair of stoats inside, "License and registration."
Front windows on either side were cracked open enough to talk and sufficient to pass items through but enough to make them feel safe. The passenger had both of their paws on their lap. All lawful acts under Zootopia law.
Strong-scented air freshener pervaded the wind long enough to discern that neither occupant was under the influence or possessed anything illegal (to her knowledge). They looked like decent mammals. She put stock in the wolf's nose. Edward would've smelt something by now. For now, these were just two ordinary ermines driving around the city with a taillight out.
From the opposite side, she could hear the stoat driver ask the canid while presenting the already prepared documents, "Is there a problem, officer?"
While Detective Snow took the items and jotted down the mustelid's details in his notebook, Tanaka seized the opportunity to ask, "Do you know why we pulled you over this evening?"
They didn't hear Tanaka right away. It took the driver several moments of contemplation to respond, the passenger having to repeat the question for it to finally resonate.
"I do not," they answered plainly.
Edward aimed an unfocused look at Tanaka. There wasn't an ounce of emotion when he decreed, "I'll take it from here, Sato. It'll be easier for him to hear me from here."
The dejected feline took it on the chin and swallowed her pride.
"Copy that, sir."
Eighteen. That's how many traffic stops the pair conducted, and not one where Tanaka was granted the opportunity to lead.
What did she expect? That he would receive some saint-like message from the gods on high and have some life-altering revelation overnight? Bogo was the closest thing to that, and all he gave her was a slap on the wrist. Something told her he got similar treatment if her experience now was anything to go by.
Tanaka released a pensive sigh.
Out of those eighteen traffic stops, only two led to arrests. Tanaka coordinated the finer details of those detainments—towing, gathering evidence, conducting sobriety tests, and collecting testimony from other mammals inside the vehicle. Sounds simple, right?
There was a zebra who thought it wise to get shit-faced at eleven in the morning on a Sunday, climb into a truck, and proceed to tear through Savannah Central without a care in the world. After nearly taking out a herd of sheep, someone had the sense to call it in. They were the closest patrol available. Edward was the first to respond.
Tracking down the prey mammal's truck and getting them pulled over didn't take long. That was the easy part. The hard part was the confrontation that soon followed.
Tanaka had never seen a wolf's nose wrinkle like Detective Snow's when he stepped out of their cruiser. The driver's side window was only cracked open a hair. When she got closer, the pungent smell of alcohol was overwhelming. Inside the pick-up, the sloshed zebra tried to persuade them that he was sober enough to continue. He did not like the notion of having to prove it.
Ten minutes later, having completed (and failed) each portion of the sobriety test, becoming more belligerent each time, it took a combined effort to get them into cuffs and placed into the back of the cruiser. The zebra, Mr. Martin Stripeson, sobered up fast when he realized the gravity of his situation. Tanaka wasn't sure what broke her more, the anxious shaking and sobbing or the case he pleaded—a failed marriage and a lost custody battle. He didn't want to admit it, but despite his right to remain silent, the culprit of it all was the alcohol—poor mammal.
The detective didn't share that same level of compassion. He held the striped mammal accountable for his reckless actions and didn't mince anything. Mr. Stripeson should've been counting his lucky stars that he didn't end up seriously injuring or killing somebody in the process. Otherwise, their interaction would have panned out entirely differently. But Edward didn't stop there. He should have.
Edward blamed him for his lack of control. A simple apology wouldn't sate the irreparable damage Martin caused. He broke the law. Any chance of fighting for a semblance of the life the zebra once knew got ten times harder, all because of one terrible decision. He was the reason why his marriage failed; he was the reason his child was taken away. He should have stopped when he had the chance.
Tanaka was horrified. She couldn't believe that Edward would even think about saying that, let alone actually doing it. Right or wrong aside, he should have recognized that condemning the mammal wouldn't solve anything. Let the courts handle that mess. Their job in his eleventh hour was to be his voice of reason.
Tanaka implored him to reach out and get the help he deserved. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like he was fighting his battles alone.
She recalled the ZPD having some of the best resources available for mammals struggling with addiction. Rehab centers, group therapy sessions, anonymous counseling, anything one could imagine. There's always someone in Zootopia ready and willing to lend a helping hand. He just had to take that step. She told him that his shortcomings didn't define him, but his actions beyond what happened would. He would have to accept and overcome the outcome over time.
But the damage was already done. Mr. Stripeson exercised his rights, kept quiet in the back of the cruiser, and chewed on Tanaka's advice. Judging by his sullen expression, she wasn't confident she'd broken through to him.
Tanaka wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. There was nothing more to say. It was up to Mr. Stripeson to take the initiative and start himself on the road to recovery. She couldn't be the one to do that for him. But, fuck, did she feel helpless.
Out of all the riff-raff that lurked in the city, she didn't want a former Junior Ranger Scoutmaster down on his luck to be the first arrest of her career.
Their ride back to the Precinct was met with not an ounce of fanfare.
Her second arrest came the very next day. Thankfully, the situation wasn't anything spectacular. Just a coyote with a bad case of road rage.
If they'd just phoned the police instead of trying to play hero, the elderly rabbit driver going ten miles an hour below the speed limit in front of them would have received a citation, and both would have driven away scott-free. Because the dingo ran the lagomorph off the road, used their car as a battering ram, and bared their teeth when she and Edward confronted them about it, charges were placed against them, and they spent the rest of their workday stuck in a jail cell.
Tanaka wasn't sympathetic. 'Fuck around, and find out,' as the saying goes. The coyote shouldn't have instigated.
Edward shared the same sentiment, finding the teeth-baring the more intolerable offense for some strange reason. She couldn't explain how elated she was to be on the same page, even if it was temporary.
The remaining traffic stops until mid-afternoon went smoothly—no more than tickets and warnings for the mammals involved and no push-back to speak of. All in all, not a bad first two days of their work week.
By the time four o'clock rolled around, Tanaka and Edward struggled to find anyone to pull over—which wasn't a terrible circumstance. Safe streets are happy streets, in her opinion.
They were cruising down a moderately clear Baobab Boulevard, basking in each other's silence, when a loud black coupe blew past them. Scared the daylights out of Tanaka. Edward, disgruntled and collected, swore in protest.
The lupine activated the flashers and barreled down the road after the sports car before Tanaka could call it in.
"141 to dispatch," the cheetah officer announced into the transceiver, "We've got a 10-80 eastbound down Baobab. Suspect is in a black Boarsche. We're in pursuit."
Dispatch copied the message. Tanaka took a moment to take a breath and tighten her seatbelt. This was going to be a rocky ride.
Edward pushed their cruiser to the limit. The tanky vehicle flew through a couple of intersections at an alarming speed. If not for the bellow of their sirens, the cars ahead wouldn't have known they were coming. Even those in their path couldn't entirely give them the right of way.
There was no point downplaying the danger of their chase. Tanaka took a hard gulp and turned to her commanding officer.
It was scary to think how great a driver Edward actually was. Intense focus alone drove their cruiser forward. Her brother would've been impressed.
Officer Sato returned her gaze and stared down the sports car further up the road. She couldn't make out the plate, but the car seemed familiar.
Tanaka dared to ask, "Is that the same coupe we pulled over—"
"Yesterday, yes," Snow finished for her.
An unsettled huff left her. How could she forget?
They were at the tail-end of their Sunday route and slated to cover the Savannah Central quadrant of I-615—commonly referred to by Zootopians as the Loop. Out of nowhere comes the coupe pushing a recorded 112 miles per hour on a limit of 70, weaving through traffic like a thread through a needle. Considering that it was the peak of rush hour, it was a miracle that they hadn't managed to hit anyone.
By the time Edward and Tanaka had caught up and pulled over the sports car, they'd found themselves at the outskirts of Savannah Central. They were close to the Palm District, nestled at the mouth of the Lion's Tail, the delta located toward the southwestern border of Sahara Square.
Tanaka could feel the radiating heat of the encroaching desert climate upon her and Edward's approach. She never liked the warmer districts. The air was always too dry, too sticky. The aridness was almost unbearable, even at a distance. The gear on her person and the long-sleeved button-up she donned didn't help, but she wouldn't give those up for anything.
Speaking of not giving things up…
From the comfort of the cooled air-conditioned cabin of the black coupe, the male hare that operated it, one Félix Conejo, appeared content, jubilant even. Tanaka found it difficult not to show how furious she was. What triumph was there in risking the lives of so many for a cheap thrill? Edward shared that sentiment, outright scolding them for their callousness.
The lagomorph remained calm and collected and only answered, "Am I being detained?"
Tanaka had half a mind to say 'yes.' They should have. They could have easily arrested him for reckless driving based on the erratic lane switching alone, save the blatant speeding. Five days jail time minimum.
The detective, however, thought otherwise.
"No," the detective spat. "We're close to the end of our shift, and I don't think you want to spend the next week or three behind bars, so, on top of a ticket for the maximum fine I can give, I'll give you a lecture instead—because you are not going to be given this chance again, I can promise you that."
"Fire away," Félix said with a shrug.
"I've been in this line of work for three years. I know your type—hotshot racer with the need for speed and a death wish. I'll admit that you've mastered pushing your car to the limits, but you've been lucky until now. I've been on the other side of what happens when a driver goes too far. It's not pretty. You're on a public road full of mammals with their own lives. You're a speeding bullet. Being careful will have nothing to do with it when you're charged with vehicular mamslaughter—or worse, dead yourself. That harness you're wearing? It'll do nothing when your car is already a piece of glass. Don't throw your life away for something so trivial."
Edward passed the prey mammal back his license, registration, and ticket.
"Understood," said the hare. "Anything else?"
"If you're deadset on chasing that high, schedule a session at the Zootopia International Speedway. That way, you're off the streets and in a controlled environment. Leave other mammals out of it."
"I'll look into it," they said.
And that was that.
Or so they thought.
Who would have thought that the hotshot racer would be a repeat offender? Tanaka caught the faintest growl in her throat. She wanted so much to tell Edward off. Why, in the name of the gods above, did he let him go?
She quickly recalled the conversation between her and her uncle:
"I train my officers not to be overzealous on their patrols and to embrace 'gray' areas where applicable."
Tanaka scoffed. How many tolerant officers would it take? How many second chances had the hare abused before she and Edward came around? Snow couldn't have been the only one.
Regardless, what the hare was doing a day after the fact was utterly heinous. Speeding on the highway was one thing, but speeding on city streets? Now, he crossed the line. At least on the highway, there was more open road to play on and zero chance of pedestrians.
This lapin was worse than scum. Félix was a danger to themselves and the citizens of Zootopia. He needed to be stopped.
She would enjoy putting this vile excuse of a mammal behind bars.
Up ahead, the light to the next intersection turned a bright yellow. Several hundred meters away, the black coupe showed no signs of stopping. The gap between them and the hare was closing fast.
Sat at the right of the intersection was an impatient moving van, slowly creeping behind the height of a giraffe-sized vehicle (illegally) parked along the side of the road.
With over two hundred meters of road left, the light in front of them changed to a brilliant red.
Officer Sato felt a strange pit in her stomach. She struggled the find the words to speak.
"Moving van," she muttered. Her breath felt ice cold. Before Edward could ask, she repeated urgently, "Moving van. One o'clock. Right street."
Less than one hundred meters away, the moving truck was given the green light and began its crawl to reach the other side.
"Shit," Snow swore. His voice cracked.
Everything happened so fast.
The lupine didn't have the luxury of warning her when he locked the cruiser's breaks. Rubber squealed violently against the pavement below them.
Forces pulled Tanaka's head forward. Her upper body tensed when her seatbelt locked in place. Her feet and claws supplied delayed support and allowed her to regain her balance. She couldn't forgo the opportunity to regain sight of their target when the car stopped braking.
She wished she hadn't.
The coupe entered the intersection at the exact time the bed of the truck arrived at the center. It didn't matter if the Boarshe wanted to stop. Braking was irrelevant. Félix was going too fast.
BANG.
Metal, glass, and carbon fiber exploded from the side of the moving truck. The deep sound of the impact—metal warping metal—was hard to swallow.
"FUCK," Snow screamed into the steering wheel.
Not a word left Tanaka's maw. Not a breath left her. Not a breath entered her. The rest of the world became a blur. Sounds melded together into a dull ring.
She'd never witnessed anything like that before in her life.
Maybe the hare was still okay? The accident may have looked worse from her angle than it actually was.
Their cruiser closed the remaining distance and parked inside the intersection a short distance between them and the accident. Tanaka couldn't look away.
The unsuspecting truck ate the coupe like it was a piece of candy. Half of the vehicle was wedged underneath. The top half opened like a sardine can. It never stood a chance.
Maybe the hare was still okay. Félix must have had time to unstrap his harness and dive into the back seat in the nick of time. He was a lagomorph. Hares were just as fast as rabbits or cheetahs—
"Sato!"
Tanaka came too and shot her head in Edward's direction. He had their cruiser's transceiver in his left paw while the other grabbed the side of her arm.
"Breathe," he said.
The cheetah struggled to draw air. Tanaka felt light. Her eyes darted away from the wolf to and from various points on the center console.
Edward gripped her arm tighter, lulling her frantic mind back to reality. "Look at me," he ordered. Tanaka locked her gaze on the detective's hardened features. "Breathe."
Slowly, the feline relaxed enough to pull in a shaken breath. When had Tanaka started shaking?
"You can not shut down," Snow stressed, "we've got a job to do, and I can't wait on you. Citizens are counting on us. You have to be strong. Can you do that?"
"I… I—"
"Can. You. Do that?"
"Y—," the officer squeaked, the word caught in her throat. Not good enough. Tanaka pulled another steadying breath to ground a shred of resolve. "Yes."
"Then think. One step at a time. What's our first priority? Make it simple."
"We need to confirm the status of the driver."
"Get on it," Edward affirmed. "I'll work crowd control while we wait for backup."
"Backup…" Tanaka must have missed him calling it in. "Copy that," she weakly nodded, reaching for the handle.
"This is an active investigation now," he reminded her, the cheetah pausing to absorb his words. "If you need to step away, step away. Don't contaminate the scene. If the driver has already passed, call it."
The most Tanaka could muster was a feeble "Copy."
Detective and officer motioned out of their cruiser posthaste. Despite time slowing to a crawl for the latter, Tanaka spent every waking second in meticulous calculation.
Gloves. Tanaka needed to minimize the risk of contamination.
She pulled a pair of nonlatex gloves from one of the pouches on her belt and put them on.
Mammals began approaching from the other side of the street. They couldn't get near. Snow was busy engaging with the truck's driver and passenger and the bystanders surrounding them. Phones were up; cameras were rolling. Some brave mammals dared to try and help.
"Please, back away," she commanded in the kindest tone she could muster, which wasn't much considering her adrenaline, "fire's still a risk, and there's still a danger that it could spark up. Give us some space to work."
Those brave souls who stepped forward took several steps back. She wanted to pretend that it was her order that compelled them.
Looking back, she recalled most, if not all, of them looking ill. That should have been her first clue.
Tanaka, too dialed to pay the detail any mind, didn't think anything of it at the time.
The closer she got to the impacted vehicle, the stronger the scents of gas and metal became. Steam rose from the engine block at the rear of the car. Beyond the searing heat of the car's innards that evaporated whatever came into contact with it, the coupe was quiet. No signs of ignition imminent. That would expedite extraction when the time came for that.
Tanaka spotted an opening between the seam of the door and the frame. She needed to know if he was okay. He had to be.
She took a cautionary peek inside and called out, "Mr. Conejo if you can hear me—"
The officer couldn't even finish her sentence.
What stared back at her…
Tanaka shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
No, she wasn't ready to recall that yet. She wasn't confident that she ever would.
Her stomach did flips, trying hard not to remember the harsh scents of iron on the wind or the gruesome images that would probably haunt her for the rest of her life.
Tanaka understood there would be differences between her training at the academy and real-world scenarios. She thought she was ready for that.
Félix wasn't some slide in a lecture. He was a person. A mammal, like everyone else. And he had a story, too.
To many, Conejo was the definition of a racer. In the world of open-wheel racing, he was revered. An up-and-coming rookie fighting to earn his place amongst the giants. He drove the world's stage, piloting some of the best machinery known to mammal-kind in the upper echelon of his series. Fellow drivers—including former champions—agreed that he was one of the most remarkable rookies to hit the scene. He had a great shot of winning a race as soon as next year or the year after.
Félix was visiting relatives in Sahara Square in between race weekends. It was his father's birthday, and he insisted on flying halfway around the world to see him on the day rather than wait until the Zootopia Grand Prix in November.
Naturally, he was running behind that afternoon. Someone leaked to the media that Conejo was in town and was staying at the Palm. Hotel security earned their paychecks that day. Ravenous fans and a tight schedule—such was the life of a professional athlete.
The staff would eventually usher Félix to his car, escort him off the property away from the hubbub, and then set him off on his final drive.
Sports are the lifeblood of any city. Residents worshiped their hometown heroes and celebrated their district's teams. With the millions that roamed Zootopia's streets, you couldn't go a day without someone mentioning something sports-related, fútbol more often than not. The sport was a global phenomenon with enough stories and drama to spare for the common mammal.
There was a saying her father used to tell her: fútbol wasn't something you watched; it was something you lived (go Eagles!).
Little did she know, motor racing shared that same sentiment.
Being one of two Zootopia natives on the grid, when the news caught wind of Félix's passing, everymammal felt the aftershocks, including her family.
Kei took the loss the hardest. He'd followed Conejo since the lagomorph's start in professional karting eleven years ago. Funnily enough, that year was little-kid Kei's first time watching a race. It was there when he met his hero face to face. The hare was kind and found her brother inspiring in a way. They had the same perseverance; the same drive.
Félix gave him one of his old tyres, signed, as a gift. His advice? Keep pushing.
Meeting Félix that day opened the door for Kei. Although her brother couldn't become a racing legend, he'd have a hand in creating the machinery that made those drivers legends. He was going to be an aerodynamicist.
Tanaka knew Kei loved racing. She knew that he favored some teams and mammals over others, but she hadn't gone about memorizing them all. She wasn't even aware of the full story until her mother and father explained it to her later that night.
Tanaka never could have expected to run into a high-profile mammal like that, let alone her brother's hero. If she had known, perhaps things could've turned out differently? Maybe she could have persuaded Edward to deliver a harsher punishment or even arrest him?
Tanaka exhumed a deep sigh. Who was she kidding? Edward wouldn't have listened to her anyway. Their relationship was strained as it was. There was no getting through to him.
All she knew was that there wasn't anything more she could have done.
In her eyes, Detective Snow was to blame. He allowed Félix to walk away. He chose to toe the line and save himself the burden of more paperwork instead of following protocol. And who could blame him? The Chief explicitly said that letting mammals walk away was a choice. Edward's actions, as a whole, were justified. But that didn't make it the right decision.
They had every reason to arrest the drunk zebra. His report took hours. That coyote got arrested too. Twenty minutes and his case was closed. Conejo should've been an open-and-shut report, ten minutes maximum of writing.
Tanaka pointed a sad, weathered look at the lupine. If Edward had arrested Félix, none of this would have happened. Maybe he'd still be alive.
That was the final straw.
She couldn't justify being partnered with someone who played with mammal's lives.
Detective Snow had no integrity, no interest in her or her progression, nor did he care about what his actions amounted to. Fangmeyer and Wolford were right; he was only in this for himself.
They now stood in the wake of devastation. Tanaka alone stood at the edge of the unknown. She wouldn't let herself be caught in his game any longer.
She wasn't afraid. She was ready.
The cheetah steeled herself and sucked in a breath.
"Detective Snow," she started.
"What, Sato," he spat with indignation.
"I can't—"
Their radios interrupted the feline and chimed to life.
"Calling units in the immediate vicinity," dispatch called. "We have reports of a 10-46 at the intersection of Prairie Road and Oakhaven—suspect is not responding to commands. Officers on-scene requesting backup."
Tanaka stared at the intercom intently. She scanned the street signs ahead of her. Oakhaven and Heywood. She did the math in her head. They were close. Straight-shot, even. Ten minutes, give or take, but close enough.
She reached for the radio, only for her wrist to be grabbed by her commanding officer. Tanaka would've been carted away herself if looks could kill.
"What the fuck are you doing?" She steamed.
"Wait," Edward asked.
"Wait for what?"
"Wait."
"I'm not leaving dispatch hanging," she snapped back, freeing her wrist from the lupine's grasp. "Are you nuts? We're one of the closest units available. You're not about to rope me into a breach of protocol. We're going."
"I'm driving," claimed his weak argument. "Someone else will take care of it."
Fur bristled on the back of Tanaka's neck. She wouldn't let his complacency claim another life. Not on her watch.
Tanaka reached for her personal radio, activated the microphone, and said, "Cruiser 141, responding to that last. We're en route."
Edward looked utterly taken aback. She ignored him.
"Copy, 141. Officers on the scene will provide you with additional information upon arrival. The situation is still ongoing. The suspect is still noncompliant."
Tanaka's brow furrowed. Something about that didn't feel right.
Could they be…
"Dispatch, do we know if the suspect is hearing impaired?"
"Standby. Getting that for you now."
Tanaka shimmied upright in her seat and waited. Meanwhile, their cruiser lacked the detective's rapid pace. Sirens were silent, and their flashers were off. To her left, Edward was as still as a statue. He wore a vulnerable look, his resolve clearly shaken.
They were stopped at the next intersection when Tanaka decided to speak up.
"Edward," the younger officer said, breaking the detective's trance as she activated the sirens and the flashers, "we have to go."
Detective Snow peered at the cheetah for a split second, then returned to the road.
"Right," he said.
Their car roared to life, peeling around the corner and straight into the fray.
Partway down the road, their radios chimed once more. "Update to officers responding to that 10-46," the same dispatcher said. "Suspect is confirmed to be hearing impaired. Requesting an interpreter."
"141 to dispatch," Tanaka replied instantly, "I'm well-versed in sign. We're seven minutes out."
"Copy, 141."
The feline could feel the nerves that crept into her determination. Tanaka shoved that to the back of her mind.
All her training and life experience had led her to this moment. Every second hung in the balance.
Nothing would stop Tanaka from saving them, even if her commanding officer refused to. She would not lose another mammal.
She would not fail them.