"Calling Nick Wilde to Chief Bogo's Office." Clawhauser's sweet voice rung over the intercom.

"Huh. I wonder what he wants?" Officer Wilde asked the air, scratching his chin.

His partner narrowed her gaze. "What did you do?"

The russet furred mammal rolled his shoulders in a motion part way between a shrug and a much snarkier shrug. He stared at the fox with half lidded eyes as he stood from his desk, languidly stretching his tired limbs.

He let out a yawn. If Judy was not aware that you could not physically yawn in a smug way, she would say he was being smug. Actually, scratch that, he had found a way to make yawning seem smug. Her mouth drew into a tight line as she watched her boyfriend.

"Honestly, I don't remember doing anything, Carrots. Probably something routine," Nick eventually responded. He scratched a spot on his neck. "Too bad. I'm pretty bored."

"Oopsie, I forgot the special message Bogo left. Ahem. Calling Nick Wilde to Chief Bogo's Office."

There was a small cough over the intercom as Clawhauser took a deep breath. Both mammals in the office looked up, eyebrows raised.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!"

The room shake with the reverb as the speaker strained under the proximity and volume of the rotund cheetah's vocals. The word was drug out as far as possible. Nick Wilde heartily regretted standing up earlier, his tired limbs unable to keep him standing with the sheer gale of force as he fell backwards, landing with a small exclamation of pain on his backside.

Officer Hopps had wisely folded her ears down, though if you looked closely you could see small whirls in her eyes. Like a cartoon.

It is a cartoon, you buffoon. You don't need the simile if you just explained what happened.

The shout ended with a clear set of clapping hands through the intercom. Judy was unsure how exactly Clawhauser was clapping when one hand needed to be pressing the button to actually activate the intercom.

"Oh, that was fun! Now, I see why the chief does that. Thanks, guys!" There was a short pause over the intercom. And then the sounds of chewing. And more chewing.

Nick was rubbing his sore head as his partner leaned up from her position of curled safety, ears unfolding with a relieved sigh.

She looked to her partner on the ground. "Well you should—"

"Nom, Nom, Nom, wow, that was a juicy one!"

Clawhauser's chewing rang over the speaker.

"He forgot to depress the intercom." Judy muttered. Inwardly, all she could think was: What kind of donut is juicy?

Nick pushed himself up from the floor. His bushy tail whipped up to an alert position for a brief second, before relaxing back to its natural state. His dark red fingers were pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to shake out the brief ache.

Yet as Judy was able to see his face again, she noticed that characteristic smirk on his face. She met the smile with a raised eyebrow. They'd known each other long and well enough that the simple gesture was all she needed to show him to send a message: What?

"Looks like the meeting is gonna be a little more fun than I thought," He answered, green eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Should I start boxing up your things, now?" The corners of her own mouth were curling up now.

"Har-de-har-har, Carrots, very funny. I'll have you know I'm perfectly capable of getting myself fired."

"I wasn't arguing that."

He laughed. It was a short one, but genuine. "Well, how about instead of that, you brew me a cup, m'kay, Carrots? I'll be back before you can say-"

"'Homeless and unemployed mongrel?'" Judy offered.

Nick clutched at his chest with one hand as having been delivered a fatal blow. He stumbled back, a beckoning and begging paw shot out towards his partner. Mirthful green eyes met amused violet. He smirked. He suddenly straightened and walked from the room with a noncommittal wave over his shoulder, the other paw in his uniform pocket.

"Ciao, Carrots."

His attempt to look cool cost him, as he failed to see the smile on Judy's face. No, not the amused and playful grin she had sported during their banter. This one was much darker. Sinister, even. Her eyes were narrow and the terrible grin stretched to her ears.

"Your time is nigh, fox."

Wait, she doesn't talk like that, Author. What are you doing? Did you think that was comedic? I miss when you were gone. I was a much happier person. Life was so much more grand. I used to narrate Shakespeare, Juvenal, Seneca, Euripides, you know. Now, I'm here. Alas…

"Mmmm, that was a spicy chocolate one! Wowzer!" Clawhauser's hefty gulp sounded over the intercom.

Judy looked up at the speaker in the room, hoping he'd realize he was still pressing the intercom button. Her head cocked to the side as something came to her. It was a nagging wonder, pressing at her investigative abilities like no mystery before. A question. A single question.

"What kind of chocolate donuts are spicy?"

…

Chief Bogo was sitting at his desk. One would be forgiven for assuming that he might be angry then. After all, the message forwarded by Clawhauser would fool anyone who knew, didn't know, or any other types of knowing of Chief Bogo into thinking he was angry.

And one could be equally forgiven for thinking the laziness of the author would extend into a proceeding such as: No, Chief Bogo was not angry; Chief Bogo was furious.

That was not the case, in fact. Chief Bogo was serene, calm. A cup of tea sat at his hooves. There was a stack of paperwork, all processed. The day had been kind, good. a light dripping of sunlight was filtering through his newly installed skylight. His scowling features were unwrinkled bliss as his large, muscled shoulders rolled back into a slouch that would have the even the most hedonistic of the muses sighing in pleasure.

Today, was the day. It would be a day like no other for Chief Bogo. A day of true happiness. He could cherish it—grasp it like a small hummingbird on a spring breeze—forever. For days so glorious could only happen once, and thus to forget them ever would be a sin of the highest order, an affront against justice; justice was something Chief Bogo believed in without faltering.

He had two files in front of him. Though one, in actuality, was a simple page. It was short and concise, free of any stray or unnecessary marks. It was deliberate. One of his officers had signed off in it with great readiness and the buffalo had received it with uncharacteristic gusto. He could only smile at the document.

To its left, sat a much larger file. It was pages long, in fact. Detailed in every regard, down to the word, time of day, expression on the faces of individuals involved—everything. Some would have called it too detailed to the point of having useless information. The cape buffalo would've been one of those naysayers naught but a few days ago. Now he could appreciate the document. Reverence, some might call it.

There was a knock on the door. Even through a layer of wood, he could hear it. The slow, but not too slow as to sound nervous, knocks rung out. The deliberate laziness of each tap on the door let him know exactly who it was. Beyond that, the self-satisfied energy radiating from behind it—like a star going supernova—could only ever have been one mammal.

The Chief took a moment to push down his growing smile, doing his very best to replace it with a sharp scowl. He brushed the fur away from the scar over his eye, making it as visible as possible. It was intimidating, he had always thought.

Yes, today would be the day. What a day Chief Bogo was going to have.

"Come in." The Chief's deep voice rung through the wood.

The door opened and in stepped a short red fox, eyes lidded as he lazily stared at his police chief. A corner of his mouth was drawn up as his whiskers twitched. "You rang, Bogs?"

Bogo pretended to be annoyed at the nickname, scowling back. He motioned to the chair in front of his desk with a snort. He crossed his arms over his chest waiting for his officer to oblige him.

In far too slow and deliberately aggravating a way, the vulpine did just that. He pulled the chair out with a quick motion, letting himself fall on the seat as he reclined in a non reclining chair. He folded both paws behind the back of his head as he lifted his feet to the desk. His green eyes were affixed on Bogo, the buffalo simply staring back at him with that lovely scowl which Wilde assumed to be a permanent fixture.

His eyes were sparkling, as if challenging the Chief to tell him to remove his vulpine feet from his desk. Strangely the command never came. Flashing a frown that lasted but a microsecond, he pulled his feet from the desk. Oh well, he could surely raise the buffalo's ire in other ways.

He yawned, white, predatory teeth flashing at his boss. "What's up, chief? You want something or did you just want to see my beautiful—"

A hoof raised in the air silenced Nick. It didn't remove the smarmy look from his face, but silence was a close second. Bogo brought the same hoof to his lips and coughed quietly. The hoof fell to where his spectacles lay on his desk.

"In point of fact, Officer Wilde," He began. "We're here to discuss an arrest made by you and your partner."

"Gotta be more specific, Bogstone. Carrots and I are prolific and accomplished officers, dont'cha know?" He rubbed a paw against his chest as he puffed it out with mock pride, looking away from the chief.

Despite it all, there was no tension in the Chief. There was no building hatred. Nothing of the sort. The mask fell but only for a moment. But it fell. A smile graced Bogo's lips. His eyes had been alight with…ecstasy. Beyond that, there was a fire there. Not the raging, angry inferno that usually so delighted the fox, but a determined flame reviving from the embers of a destroyed psyche.

Wilde saw it—was perceptive enough to catch it. Years playing on other mammals had led to a sort of instinct for such things. He might not be able to see for certain how he was going to lose, but there was an intense feeling building inside of him. Fear. Unadulterated fear.

He gulped audibly.

"There were a few discrepancies between yours and Officer Hopps reports on the arrest of this particular suspect." His voice was calm. "You're just going to clarify a few particulars. For the sake of transparency, Officer Wilde."

There was a hint of something under that calm. Something that told him he was in the eye of the storm right now—no, he had not even hit it yet. Intuition had merely made him think so. The vulpine remained silent. Self-preservation had kicked in and the smirk had dropped to an intense focus.

"Do you recall a Mister Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII, Officer Wilde?"

The russet furred fox's mask cracked. Glittering eyes widened and drawn together lips parted. Lounging paws tightened by his head, matching the sudden twitch of his tail bushy tail. His whiskers stiffened. In the span of but a second, the wall was up again. The mask was anew as he resumed a lazy pose.

Chief Bogo noted with no small sense of satisfaction that his officer had averted his gaze, however.

"Can't say it's familiar." The answer was not rushed, but it was delivered without the usual authority-averse confidence that colored all his interactions with the buffalo.

Chief Bogo smiled. Nick Wilde shuddered.

"Then we'll have to review your report, Officer Wilde." There was a barely concealed delight in the now smug bovine. "To jar your memory."

Officer Wilde did not respond.

Bogo lifted his spectacles from the table, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with a hoof. The file on the desk was flipped open and raised to reading level. The single page in the file was brief, but oh such joy that laid in that ink.

…

From the desk of Officer Wilde, August 4th, Arrest of Suspect Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII,

Officer Hopps and I were alerted to a disturbance at a local theater. Suspect was a male lion who had reportedly taken over the stage and begun his own performance in place of the actors or prepared play. Hopps and I arrived on scene during the performance.

There was a minor altercation between myself and the suspect, after which they were promptly subdued and arrested.

-Officer Nick Wilde

…

Chief Bogo leaned back. He stared at Officer Wilde, looking for any sort of reaction. The vulpine's face was impassive. He didn't speak.

That was alright with the Chief. He didn't need to speak to suffer.

"There are a few missing details from this report, Officer." Bogo said in the most commanding voice he could muster in such a pleasurable moment.

"Such as?" The reply was as stone.

It did not matter. It didn't matter what the fox said. The trap was set, and he was here. His paw was caught in the mechanism and he couldn't even gnaw it off to get away. No, he was stuck here with the Chief. Bogo leaned over his desk with a smirk of his own. Seeing the mammal actually smirk—a true smarmy, self-satisfied one—was absurd. Terrifying.

"The altercation, Officer Wilde. Such matters are of great to concern to the force. Reports and records must be of the greatest specificity to ensure proper see through of law and order, Wilde."

The anticipatory look in his eyes told Nick that this was a lie.

"Perhaps we should move on to Officer Hopps report for those details." He had the other file opened and ready before he even completed the sentence.

Nick wanted to raise a paw in protest. He wanted to run, to scream, to fight. But he could not run for he had no legs, he could not scream for he had no voice, and he could not fight for he had no strength. And so he sat, bare and afraid. He was Fate's now. Her long, slender fingers had finally found him, wrapping him in an embrace some might have mistaken for gentle and loving. He knew the truth, however. That embrace was possessive.

…

Upon arriving at the "Burlesque Theatre, Club, and Home of the Finest," Officer Wilde and myself caught sight of the suspect. He was on stage and proceeded to identify himself as Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII as soon as my partner and I had entered the building.

Officer Wilde commented on the clothing worn on the suspect, claiming it was odd.

...

"It was a thong, Carrots." Nick muttered.

Chief Bogo continued.

…

I chastised my partner for his insensitivity as did several audience members who were more perturbed by his comment than the situation at hand. I would petition that Officer Wilde be put through sensitivity training for these remarks.

…

"I didn't know what burlesque meant, alright," Wilde answered, as if he were being accused of something.

…

The suspect, Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII, had overheard Officer Wilde's comment and gasped audibly. Suspect performed a flourish on stage involving several flips and one half somersault ending in fourteen consecutive pirouettes. He then gasped more audibly at the end of this.

Officer Wilde made a vaguely smarmy comment as to the athleticism of the suspect, but mostly just looked impressed by the feat of agility displayed. It was very impressive.

It was then the following occurred: Officer Wilde's remark caused a reaction from the suspect, who challenged him to come on stage if he were a fox at all and engage in a "Thespian Throw-down." Officer Wilde, believing the event to be a game (or as he said, "Lighten up, Carrots. It'll be fun. Relax, I can outfox this guy, no problem. I'll just go up for a little bit, m'kay honey?"), entered the stage from the right.

In the sake of accuracy, what follows is a full transcript of Officer Wilde's on stage altercation with Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII.

…

"Oh Carrots, no…" Nick whispered, face flushing such that he could've been mistaken for an arctic fox.

Chief Bogo leaned in, his great towering mass dimming the skylight and all sources of light in his office. The great shadow loomed over the sly cop. A chill fell over the room as brown eyes seemed almost black, and flaring nostrils were upturned in a sneer. A smile completed the display, large blocky, white teeth cutting through the darkness.

"Oh yes, Officer Wilde. Yes, indeed."

…

Officer Wilde(Cocky): What's up, slick?

*Instanced Pause as Officer Wilde appraises suspect. I (Officer Hopps) feels slight amount of jealousy over how long he stares.*

Officer Wilde: Or oily, in your case?

*Suspect draws up to Officer Wilde, kneeling with outstretched hand*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Ah, my vulpine friend, are you, perchance, here to dance with me—

*Suspect lifts Officer Wilde into the air as he performs a pirouette. Officer Wilde is surprised.*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Or to sing—

*Suspect tickles Officer Wilde*

Officer Wilde(Much Less Cocky): AHH!

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: To love with me, even—-?

*Suspect draws Officer Wilde close to his breasts*

Officer Wilde (Diminutively): Please, no!

*Suspect places Officer Wilde on ground before turning away, paw clenched to chest*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Then what ever on earth did you come to the stage for, darling, if not for a show?

Officer Wilde(Struggling for Breath): Carrots, Judy, help me. Tranq…Tranquilize—

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII spins to face Officer Wilde*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Ah, that is it, is not. Comedy! Comedy for comedy's sake. Muses of tragedy avert thine eyes, for mortal thespians love lie with you, my dear Thalia. Life from you, through you, and now—

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII proffers a hand to Officer Wilde*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Through us~

Officer Wilde (Frightened): Judy, now! Shoot him, please. He's insane, please.

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Why my dear, how I know you! Insult comedy. Yes, yes, that shall do, shan't it?

Officer Wilde (Begging): I don't want to die.

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Oh darling, I would hardly call what you have life.

Officer Wilde: Wha—

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Speaking right now, sweetie. Perhaps you can keep that ruddy colored snout of yours closed for a moment, though you might find that difficult with a mouth full of mud.

Officer Wilde: What does that even mean?

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII pulls out a bucket of mud*

Officer Wilde: Where did you get—

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII launches mud at Officer Wilde*

…

"See, Chief. Being the good cops that we are, wouldn't I have tried to have the suspect detained after a violent attack like that. Therefore it couldn't have happened." Wilde said, hiding a nervous twitch of the tail.

...

Officer Wilde: Carrots. I swear. Shoot him now.

*I (Officer Hopps) does not shoot him*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Hmmm. Its a good start, but not quite complete.

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII looks to audience*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Well, darlings, do you think our art piece is done?

*Audience collectively denies completion of piece*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Ah, then I suppose it is not. I don't think mud suits you as well as I thought it would, darling.

Officer Wilde: I'm going to shoot—

* Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII throws a bundle of (hopefully) synthetic feathers on Officer Wilde*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: A touch of that, and a touch of this—

* Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII pulls a highly convenient rope, dumping red paint on Officer Wilde*

Officer Wilde (Irate): WHY ARE YOU SO SPECIFICALLY PREPARED FOR THIS EXACT SCENARIO!?

…

"Can't be true then, Chief. I don't get 'irate.'" Wilde said with a coolness he did not feel.

…

*Audience laughs. As does Officer Hopps*

Officer Wilde (Most Definitely Irate): STOP ENJOYING THIS!

*Officer Hopps and crowd continue to enjoy the assault*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Oh, lighten up you silly little sweet tart, you. The paint was red. You looked practically normal. In fact, I'd say you look even more dashing now that I can't see that terribly gaudy outfit.

* Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII strokes chin thoughtfully*

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: I will admit it is missing something though…

Officer Wilde (Scared like a Small Kit):

…

"I don't appreciate these descriptors, Carrots," Wilde muttered to himself.

…

Officer Wilde (Scared like a Small Kit): No more, please.

Renault Albion von Dwartzhold VIII: Aw, choosing to submit already? Well, that should teach you not to insult an actor on their stage, hmmm?

Officer Wilde (Collapsing onto Ground): Carrots, stop laughing and shoot him.

END OF ALTERCATION

…

Chief Bogo was positively grinning when he reached the end. "That clears up a few details of your— 'altercation,' was it?"

Nick Wilde was struggling to remain collected. He could not hold up the smirk, instead settling his face down such that the buffalo couldn't see past his snout or his eyes. If he couldn't hold the mask, he would fake holding the mask. He raised an eyebrow in affected amusement, through the existential dread welling in his breast.

"I think you may need to update your report, Officer Wilde. You might need to include these, crucial details." The Chief slapped the file for emphasis.

There was a prolonged silence as the fox sat there, looking thoughtful. He was running over ploys, tactics, anything he could use to get out of this—no, to win. If he lost to Chief Bogo, the big buffalo himself, he wasn't sure he could ever recover.

There was a sigh. The defeat so present in that sigh was so easy to hear. It could even be felt, a deep echoing cry that rolled through the body, threatening depression and overwhelming sadness just from hearing the noise. It elicited sympathy in anyone. The sound of pride shattering. And to Chief Bogo, it was music. Sweet, sweet music.

The fox held up a paw, momentarily looking defeated. Chief Bogo, as smug as he had ever looked, handed the outclassed vulpine both documents on his desk. First was his own report, to be edited. After that, was Officer Hopps accursed report.

Bogo's face took a on a sternness he was much too eager to feel. "I'll expect your updated report to be on my desk by the end of the day, Wilde. With all particulars of that event signed off and—ahem—admitted to by you."

Wilde lifted himself off the chair, his entire body slunk over. His tail was dragging across the ground as moved towards the door. His arms were slunk to the side as he walked. His movements were slow, not from a self-assuredness and innate confidence, but from a lack of will.

What a wonderful day it was.

The fox stopped. His shoulders straightened. He turned his head towards Chief Bogo with a smile and twinkle in his emerald eyes.

Chief Bogo felt his blood freeze.

"Ya'know the theater is pressing charges on the suspect, Chief?" Nick started, pretending to examine his nails as he delivered the question off-handedly.

Chief Bogo did not respond. He felt a growing unease. And a growing migraine.

Nick smirked, and let out a small laugh. "So that means the only one pressing charges on ole' thespian here would be me, if charges were pressed at all."

The buffalo only stared at the fox. There was a flare of the nostrils.

"We don't need a case report if charges are dropped. Not relevant to the public interest or the interest of suspect. And I'd hate to see his reputation ruined." The vulpine had not retreated, but made a countermove.

"Officer Wilde." It was said as if it were a warning.

The warning slipped past the former con-mammal. All his instincts were telling him to go in for the kill, to flaunt this. And if there was one thing Nick Wilde was good at, it was flaunting. What a victory.

"Ya'know, I don't mind shredding these for you. Hate to see false information released, eh, Chief?" Heat was emanating from the Chief's chair. Anger was released in waves towards the arrogant creature daring to question the Chief. The creature had to take it a step even further, however. "It's a good thing you handed these reports to me before they got out, huh, Chief?"

That was it. There was a snap. Bogo's face clenched down and Wilde thought for a moment he might have taken it too far. He thought he might not leave the office alive. Then something happened.

That's because stuff happens in stories.

Chief Bogo let out a boisterous laugh. It was jovial, unencumbered by the weights of life. It was pure. It was true. And most importantly, it was a simple laugh at a joke meant for him. His eyes watered as his he beat his chest, leaning over his desk as he gasped for breaths through each quaking guffaw.

Nick Wilde figured he'd just finally driven him crazy and shrugged. He prepared to continue his exit and his move to the office for important shredding business. Victory had been his, despite the odds, and now he was going to go get that coffee that Judy probably hadn't even made for him. She never did.

"Aha…ha. Officer Wilde, did I say you were dismissed?" Bogo said, voice even.

Officer Wilde stopped. Something about the look on Bogo's face made him nervous.

"You can come in now," Bogo said, slightly louder and to someone outside.

Oh, no.

One half of a moment passed of nothing happening. Nick Wilde got quite bored. He shrugged, assuming it was just the ramblings of a now crazed buffalo and not a real threat. Bogo tapped his hoof his on the floor, and brought another to his head with a sigh. He mumbled something inaudible to Nick's ears.

"You can come in now!" He exclaimed, even louder this time.

Oh, no?

"Uh, Chief. Can I go—"

"NO, YOU MAY NOT. DELGATO, FANGMEYER, HOPPS. GET IN HERE." Bogo shouted through the door.

The door opened in a rush, the large mammals and one tiny, tiny mammal falling inside the room quickly. They looked quite alarm.

"Sorry, Chief," Delgato answered, "We told Fangmeyer to keep a hear-out."

"Fangmeyer's eardrums are ruptured, Officer." Bogo replied.

"Decision making as poignant as always, Delgato." Nick said with a raised eyebrow. He glanced over at his lover, hesitantly interested in this turn of events.

"Delgato, Fangmeyer." Their names were spoken like commands.

Both officers stood at attention. Nick felt his stomach drop as he realized what was about to happen.

Ohhhh, no.

"Where were you on August 4th?" Bogo queried.

"We were at the 'Burlesque Theatre, Club, and Home of the Finest,' sir." Their response was simultaneous, rehearsed.

"You planned this…" Nick mumbled, staring at his Chief. "Dwartzhold was an actor…"

The vulpine looked around the room. First to Fangmeyer. "Fangs, why…?"

The fact that Fangmeyer was unable to hear the question reminded Nick exactly why. Okay, that's fair.

Next he looked to Delgato. "I thought we were friends, Delgato!"

"Our benevolent and overseeing leader had a command, and any functioning society is at the whim of its leader, for any purpose. Thus order and happiness are maintained." Delgato breathed in the space of a second.

Oh, right. Delgato is just crazy. Wilde reminded himself.

Finally, Nick Wilde looked on the one person he trusted more than anything the world. He looked to her, someone he loved and cherished so greatly that it hurt. The only person he could call partner in every sense of the word.

"Carrots…?" He asked, defeated.

"Maybe next time we have to chase a suspect through a strip club, help me when the strippers tackle me instead of trying to record it with your phone." Judy replied, an evil smile on her face.

"That's cold, Carrots."

"Yeah, but the strippers weren't." Judy answered solemnly, a distant, desperate stare in her eyes.

"What would you describe as having happened that night, officers?" Bogo continued, ignoring the fox's calls for help.

Fangmeyer answered. He answered much louder than he meant to. "We took video sir, as eyewitness testimony is unreliable!"

Chief Bogo's smile grew tenfold as he turned on his most snarky, and now most shocked, officer. He met those emerald eyes. There was nothing there, a soulless, lifeless glaze covering once vibrant and spirited orbs.

This had not been a game of wit, as the fox had thought. No, this had been a simple slaughter.

And as he stood there, looking down on the fox amongst his officers, he smiled. A simple smile. His mouth opened, and quietly, ever so quietly, he said:

"I win."

It was the best day.

…

After a great deal of mocking, teasing, and enjoyment of the video (and a great deal of questioning where police resources were being focused by one snarky, grumpy vulpine), the day ended. Judy and Nick began their trek home, one small rabbit having a pep in her step as she bounced down the street. Her companion was relatively less happy.

Well, not relatively. He was most definitely less happy. Actually he was going through a crisis of faith.

"I lost." Nick said.

"Yup!" Judy chirped.

"To Bogo…" He said the name like it was venereal disease.

"Yup!" Judy repeated, beaming at the beautiful day before them.

"He…he hustled me." Nick spat the words like he couldn't believe them. He had lost. Him. To Chief Bogo.

He felt a touch on his arm. Looking to his girlfriend, he received a sympathetic smile back. At least he had her. She would always be there for him, even if she had been involved. He couldn't stay mad at her for that. She gently pulled him down such that her mouth was next to his ear.

"Sweetie. What you do are hustles. That was a humiliation." And with that, the rabbit released his ear and hopped off ahead, smiling so brightly one might think world peace had been announced.

Nick followed. It was a terrible day.

AN: I was inspired after watching my favorite parody video: 07/27/1978. If you're new, welcome. If not, well you're already here so, eh.