The beginning of the end is upon us! And other cheesy sayings from the desk of BerserkMind! Reynard arc, go!

Chapter 34: The Madness of King Reynard

Nick Wilde's 33rd Birthday

8: 34 AM

Nick's morning surprisingly started out a lot like a normal workday. He got up, showered, brushed his teeth, brushed his fur, got dressed, had breakfast with his temporary rodent family, got wished a happy birthday by every last one of them (even Priscilla), then headed out the door, still not even getting to wear his uniform.

The rodent family coming with him was his first reminder that this day would be special in more ways than one. Instead of taking a Zuber, Elizabeth piled them all into her minivan – which wasn't all that mini since it needed to fit Carla – and sat atop the absurdly high seat she needed to see over the dashboard. In front of her was a miniature steering wheel, throttle, and pedals that extended out from where their actual position should be all the way up to her level. The amount of customization that had to go into making the Rodentriguez's live comfortably in the same house as Carla was incredible.

The things some families would do for each other. Modifying a minivan, taking in hundreds of orphaned pups, holding up a police precinct to find a missing son, building an amusement park of doom to reign terror over the city...it was all so extreme. For Nick, who hadn't had a real family for two decades, the simple offer of a birthday party with his mom and friends was more than enough. But sadly, he had to earn that privilege it seemed.

"Is everybody ready?" Elizabeth asked innocently from the front seat.

"Si!" Nick and the rats called back.

"Ready to go on a field trip?"

"Si!"

"Ready to bust some skulls?"

"Si!" They all raised their makeshift weapons to the sky.

"Wonderful!" She raised her ladle as well. "Now, does anyone have to use the restroom? Where we are going will not help you hold it in."

Nick lifted his feet to let two rats exit the van. When they returned, Elizabeth set off. It was a nearly forty-minute trip, not at all helped by all the jubilant pop songs the rats insisted on singing along to, but they finally reached the Rainforest District.

"I couldn't get a GPS installed in here, so would you mind giving me directions, Nick?" asked the matriarch.

"This is my first time coming here too, you know." Thankfully, Nick knew where they were going and his sense of direction was still on point. He could easily lead the way from here to what was left of his old cabin, but they had a better destination in mind. "Right…..left…..keep going straight…...turn here….and right there…...the place that looks like a secret underground bunker…...no, the other one!"

They pulled up in front of a large metal door built into the side of a cliff and hidden by overbrush. It would've been better hidden if not for the multitude of bikes and other vehicles parked there, but for the very temporary hideout that this was, it would serve their purposes nicely. Nick emerged from the van, after letting the Rodentriguez's out first, and walked up to the door, knocking a few times.

A slot opened up, a pair of blue eyes narrowing at him through the opening. "What do ya call a fox who spends way too much of his time making cheap suits?"

"Tackier than a bulletin board, I reckon."

"Yer good." The door opened and Felix Dire Junior led Nick into the bunker, the Rodentriguez's scurrying in behind them as the door closed again. "Ya didn't hafta say the password with a hick accent though."

"Honest mistake."

"Happy Birthday, by the way."

"It'll be happier when this is over." Nick flinched as he felt Junior's nose start sniffing him closely, shoving him off. "Whoa there, boundaries! I know soap is a foreign concept to you guys, but sheesh."

"Sorry. It's just...have we met before?"

"Think I'd know if we had. But you've been around my dad, right? We'd have similar scents."

Junior shrugged, walking with them down the dark corridor. "Yeah, that's probably it. Anyone else coming?"

"Aside from the bite-sized battalion back there, I don't think so. Pretty sure I'm the last to arrive."

"As usual." Judy poked her head out from around a corner. "Come on, you're holding everyone up."

Nick jogged a bit to catch up with her, leaving the others further behind. "Hey now, I think a fox is allowed to be fashionably late on his own birthday."

"Or unfashionably in your case. Did you really need to wear the same gaudy shirt as usual today?"

"Don't fix what ain't broke, Carrots. Got everyone rounded up here?"

"Let's see…" She started counting off on her fingers as they walked. "I saw Jimmy cuddling with the Vixens, Carla wrestling the couch cushions, Fru Fru stabbing the tapestries, Fangs and Boomer streaking through the halls, Smokey taunting Gomez with a red blanket, Elise playing pattycake with Harvey, and this whole place is owned by the Lang Family, so that should cover it."

"What about the rest of the Precinct?"

"Still at the Precinct. Someone has to keep up appearances before we go on the attack."

"Riiiiiight, and if we're seen conspiring with the criminal element, it would be the least surprising coming from us. Especially you."

She stopped in her tracks. "What do you mean especially me?"

"Yeah, don't talk about my daughter's godmother like that!" Fru Fru yelled from around another corner. "Hi, Judy!"

"Hi, Fru Fru." She looked up to see Nick smirking down at her. "Hush, you."

"I didn't say anything," he insisted, still smirking.

The members of F.R.E.N.E.M.Y. all gathered into an underground living room even more cramped than their first meeting at Precinct 1. The Lang Family surrounded the perimeter, which seemed to be nothing more than pack instinct, but was a bit unsettling regardless. Not willing to let that tense mood stick, Junior sat himself at a coffee table in the middle and yelled out, "Alright, everyone, sit yer butts down!"

They did, after which he continued. "Now, before we go charging into Wilde Times all willy-nilly, I knew you guys were gonna need a good layout of the place. So before we all ditched, I took the liberty of nabbing-"

"The blueprints?" Judy asked excitedly.

"Nah, too well-guarded. But I got the next best thing!" Junior reached into his biker jacket and pulled out a colorful, folded map, spreading it out on the table. It looked just like the kind of map you would pick up at the ticket booth before entering an amusement park. It depicted the interior of Wilde Times, which included a central plaza that served as a hub and six themed attractions branching off from it.

The theme was obvious.

"Mr. Big's Frozen Funland?" Judy asked incredulously.

"Damien Thornbrush's Outback Safari?" Nick raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Lady Lang's Bumper Bike Circuit?" Even Jimmy managed to pull himself out from between the Vixens long enough to be surprised.

"Believe me, that one pissed us off more than you," said Junior.

Carla scoffed. "Wow. I've heard of killers who turn their victims into trophies, but theme park attractions? That's a new one."

"And a fun time was had by all," Junior drawled. "But if you wanna know where our main target is, look for Count Reynard's Future Foxtrot."

They crowded around the map, looking down at the numbered key. "Where is it?" Fangs muttered.

Harvey pointed eagerly. "There! Number 33!"

"Of course it is." Nick rolled his eyes. "Was gonna be that or 12."

"Now look on the map! Find it!" Carla shouted.

Junior drummed his fingers impatiently on the table until they were all finally on the same page, looking to a darker, space-themed attraction at the far right. "Oh, that one?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes, that one!" Junior took a second to calm himself. "If it were anyone else, I'd never say to look for him in the place named after him, but this is Reynard we're talking about, so…"

"Seems simple enough," Nick agreed with a nod. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is getting there, namely this." Junior pointed vaguely to a large area below Wilde Times itself.

"The...parking lot?" Carla asked. "I know we've got a lot of vehicles, but I think we can find some space."

"More the couple hundred suits we're likely to encounter in said parking lot, directly between us and the front gate. That place makes the perfect battleground, so it's gonna be lit up like a warzone the second we go on the attack."

"And here we are trying to cross that warzone on foot," Nick said. He looked up at the Langs. "Well, some of us."

Junior smirked back. "Hey now, do we look like the kinda guys who are gonna leave ya hangin'? Don't worry, nobody's going in there on foot."

Wilde Times

Control Room

9: 16 AM

"Alright, does everyone understand their assignment?" asked Count Reynard, leaning back in a padded chair. A whole wall of monitors surrounded him, showing nearly every visible space of the park, and in front of him were Koslov and five other suited polar bears standing at attention.

"Yes, sir," one of the lesser bears answered. "We need to grab the things…"

"...then take 'em to the place…"

"...and do the stuff."

"Yes, exactly!" Reynard confirmed. "Take the things to the place and do the stuff! And be sure to only use those terms when talking about it. You wouldn't want to give away the plan too soon."

"But we're the only ones involved. Who's gonna-?"

There was a knock on the steel door and Reynard promptly dismissed the bears. They bowed and took their leave, barely paying any heed to the small fennec fox they could've very well flattened on the way out.

"Was wondering where I'd find you," Finnick grumbled, stepping inside and taking a look around. "Shit, do you think you've got enough cameras in this place?"

"I should, but thanks for the concern." Reynard was paying significantly more attention to them than him. "What's up? Not still mad I kicked you out of the secret lab, I hope. I don't like spoilers."

"Eh. I'm more curious about how you're gonna get Nick here, to be honest. Hope you're not expecting to lure him in with cotton candy and ice cream."

"Says the guy with the white van. Whatever happened to the original one anyway?"

"I don't wanna talk about it. And stop trying to change the subject!"

"Fair enough." Reynard put his cane to the floor and spun himself around in his chair a few times before finally stopping to face him. "As for Nicholas, I'm pretty confident he'll be here just in time for the party tonight. Could've held it earlier, but I wanted him to spend the day with his mother first."

He snorted. "After all the shit you've pulled, you still wanna give him some quality time with Mom, huh?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Reynard asked, leaning in closer. "Don't forget why I'm doing all this. My family means everything to me, and there is nothing I won't sacrifice for their benefit. That bright, beautiful future my son is headed towards? It can wait till' dusk."

Finnick took a step back. "Yeeeah, I hate to break this to you, but I really don't think you and Nick are on the same page with all that."

"Oh, we will be," he said, quite assuredly. "But in order to do that, everything must go perfectly tonight. Narwhalter was a blunder I can live with, but I've come too far to fox this all up now."

"Sounds to me like you've got everything under control," Finnick said, starting to feel like any attempt to draw information from Reynard was akin to pulling random puzzle pieces out of a box when he wasn't even sure they were for the right picture.

"Perhaps I do." He leaned back in his seat, letting his eyes wander from screen to screen. "But here's the rub, Rader: there's no such thing as a foolproof plan. Oh no, I have far too many fools working under me to expect that. That is why I'm a gambler. My plans work not on certainties, but probabilities. When the only one you can trust is yourself, your ability to rely on others factors entirely on how well you know them. And once you know a mammal, you can predict exactly how they'll react to any given situation, sometimes down to the letter, and all without telling them a damn thing."

"Nice corporate policy," Finnick remarked. "Sure explains why you're so damn stingy with info."

"Yes, but that's not all," he continued. "Once you've reached that level of familiarity, you begin to pick up on things. Little oddities, inconsistencies in behavior, details that many wouldn't notice, but someone with decades of experience could spot from a mile away. Such as, for example, why you seem so keen on getting information from me." Reynard's eyes slid down to focus on him.

Shit. "Professional curiosity. Why wouldn't I want to know what my own employer is up to?"

"See, that's what I assumed at first," he replied, still not taking his eyes off of him. "But as I got to know you better, and looked into your past escapades with my son, I started to wonder. 'Would a guy so self-serving and desperate to get out of prison really want to pry this much? No, I believe he would know better than that. He'd keep his head down and go with the flow. Should be easy at his height.' That was my analysis anyway."

"Then maybe you don't know me as well as you think," Finnick said, struggling to keep his expression neutral. But maintaining a poker face against a guy he'd personally watched clean out a casino was no easy feat.

"Maybe you're right. I wouldn't know you as well as Nicholas does," Reynard admitted. "He was your best and only friend for a while. I doubt there's anyone who knows you better, or by extension, anyone you'd be more willing to confide in than him..."

"That's not true!" Finnick snapped, baring his teeth. "I don't want anything to do with him anymore!"

"What a reaction!" Reynard observed, not the least bit shaken. "And one I would expect. No, the unusual one is that I made a blatant crack about your height back there and you didn't so much as bat an eye. A little distracted, perhaps?"

Finnick's fangs were still bared aggressively, but he didn't know what to do next. Should he lower his guard or raise it? What would be more suspicious? And the more pressing question: did he have any kind of escape plan?

No. No, he did not.

Reynard stood up abruptly, making him jolt in surprise. "Jumpy! Relax, Radar. Like I said, I deal in probabilities, not certainties. All I'm saying is that, statistically-speaking, if I had to put a percentage on who among my henchmammals is most likely to leak information, it would have to be you, Mr. 85."

"What the hell are you-?!"

"Careful now. Wouldn't want me to 86 you."

Finnick froze up. Maybe this was why Reynard had never bothered to give him a gun. Wasn't really his thing anyway, but he should've at least brought his bat. No one would question him just carrying it around. It was too late now. He'd been rumbled and he could feel his flight or fight response starting to kick in.

He'd never picked flight and he wasn't about to start now. If he was going down, then he could at least drag Reynard to Hell with him. Closest thing you're getting to an apology, Nick. But you know I suck at those.

"Anyway, it's no big deal." Reynard casually turned his back on the fennec fox ready to lunge for his throat.

"...It's not?"

"Nope! Because if there's one thing I am certain about, it's that all of this isn't going to matter after tonight, whether I get my way or not. You are simply…beyond my concern."

Insulted as he was, Finnick started to relax.

The next thing he knew, Reynard cleared the space between them and had him pinned against the wall, his cane pressed into his throat. "Even so! I really really want to get my way! So show some courtesy and play along, just a bit longer! Be a sport, will you?!"

Finnick didn't get the chance to answer before Reynard dropped him again. He gasped, clutching his throat and struggling to stand.

"Ooooh, that does look like it hurts. I would know, of course, but it's interesting seeing it from this side."

"You...goddamn psychopath!"

"Name-calling is very hurtful, Radar." He wagged his finger at him. "Just for that, I'm not letting you be on TV anymore. I'm gonna give your part to RJ. He never hurts me. Emotionally."

Finnick stood back up just as Reynard sat back down. He knew then and there that he wasn't even considered a threat. He didn't feel like one either. "What do you want from me then?"

"I just need you to hold on to a little something for me tonight. For now, you can go on your merry way." He smiled. "Maybe later we'll have time to go on the coaster again. I lowered the 'you must be this tall to ride' sign just for you."

"Bastard."

"Now that's more like it."

The Rainforest District

The Bunker

10: 40 AM

The infrastructure of this place was truly impressive. For a bunch of hick wolves, Nick had to give credit where credit was due. The underground complex had few entrances, but plenty of space, making for an ideal spot to hang out when the end of the world, or the cops, came knocking. It was fully equipped with enough bedrooms, clothes, and food rations to accommodate a large chunk of the Lang Family for weeks, and even had cable.

Of course, when he'd brought all this up with Carla, her response was a flat, "I've seen better." She refused to elaborate.

Of particular interest was the bunker's garage, with a big enough tunnel to the outside world to still bring in and work on vehicles. Nick held back a snarky quip on the Langs being unable to keep their paws to themselves even while hiding out, as it proved to be a tremendous help preparing for the attack. Since their meeting that morning, he could already see them busily going to work on a variety of vehicles intended for the other members of their team. He had some doubts about them being ready by the end of the day, but not many as he'd seen what they could do in a month.

The effort was headed by one Danielle Redding, apparently the wolf responsible for their current trend of attaching weapons to anything on wheels. She was a short red wolf with orange fur, darker on her back and ears, lighter on her face and belly, with a yellow t-shirt under blue denim overalls and a pair of thick brown boots. She didn't even seem to notice him come in, too engrossed in sketching out new vehicle designs with all the finesse of a three-year-old on a sugar high.

And yet, he couldn't argue with the results. All around the garage, he could see their monstrosities coming together, twisted fusions of metal that looked so dangerous he wasn't sure if he'd feel safer on the inside or out. The chatter he could overhear from the other mechanics didn't help him decide.

"This one took a bit of a beating, but should still be in working condition. I think we'll have to make the sidecar bigger though."

"Hey, need some help reinforcing the shield over here! It needs to hold up against ramming speeds!"

"Think this'll be big enough to fit 'em all? Gonna be pretty high above ground, especially for them."

"The hell should I know what naturalists drive?! Just go for something casual! With heavy artillery!"

"Someone get me a gas mask! I ain't filling up this thing without one!"

"Does this vehicle even make sense? Well, I guess the rider don't either…"

"Hold on, I forgot to put spikes on the tires. This thing's gonna be running over a lot of toes."

"Pretty sure this is 'sposed to be a land battle, but sure, I like a challenge!"

"Holy shit, is that what I think it is?! This really is a warzone!"

But Nick couldn't help but take note of one in particular. "Is that Finnick's van?" The artistic mural on the vehicle's side was hard to mistake.

Danielle looked up briefly from her sketch, at the van and not him. "Who?"

"Fennec fox with an attitude problem?"

"Gonna have to be more specific."

"Threatens to eat faces and enjoys dressing as a small child more than he'd like to admit?"

"Ah. Yeah, we got this from a guy like that. He was doing some kind of drug running job for Thornbrush and this thing stuck out too much, so he traded it to us in exchange for something more discrete. Not the greatest choice though. I mean, a white van? How obvious can you be?"

Nick forced a chuckle. "That's what I said too."

"Right? He was planning to pay us off to get this bad boy back as well, but then he got himself arrested, so our customer service policy says we get to keep it. Little shit should've bought the warranty. Anyway, I had a couple ideas for what to do with it, but I'm not sure I really-"

"Can I have it?" Nick found himself asking. "For...the attack, I mean."

Danielle looked back at him curiously, but like most other things that didn't have to do with building stuff, she quickly lost interest. "Sure, I guess. I was gonna fix up your cop car, but if you want to downgrade, I won't stop you. Just don't even think of keeping it until it's paid off. We might be on the same side right now, but business is business."

"I understand. Thanks." Step 1: Arrest my dad. Step 2: Get my job back. Step 3: Hope I make enough birthday money to buy back this sentimental rust bucket. Step 4: Hope Finn actually gives a damn.

His phone rang, and speak of the devil, he recognized the number instantly. "Oh boy."

Danielle, as expected, went right back to work and ignored him.

"Hey, Fi-"

"Your dad is crazy!"

He blinked. "Yes, like a fox, I know."

"No, not like a fox! I've known plenty of foxes in my time and this is a level of crazy far beyond that! Foxes ain't got NOTHING on this shit!"

"Thank you for the insight," he replied, his calm tone not betraying the minor emotional turmoil he'd just experienced. "So are you calling to rub this in my face or something?"

"Don't tempt me. No, I'm calling to share some info."

Now he was intrigued, enough to take a few steps away from Danielle even though she was clearly tuning him out anyway. "Info? You trying to tell me you're not on Reynard's side anymore?"

"I never was." Nick didn't respond, but his sheer skepticism must have been audible. "Okay, fine, I was! At least at first. Guy's a smooth talker. Look, you turned your back on me, but at least you kept things simple. None of this super syndicate shit. I always knew where I stood with you, Nick."

"Do you know where you stand now?"

He didn't answer. Nick almost asked again before, "Do you want the info or not?"

It was so much easier interrogating him when he was actually in the room and chained to a table. "What is it?"

"Alright, so check this. What Reynard's got over here is this big amusement park type of place. It's split into a central plaza and six main attractions each themed-"

"-after a crime lord."

"But the place you wanna focus on is Count Reynard's-"

"-Future Foxtrot. You're a little late to the party, Finn. The Langs already told us all of this. Maybe next time don't wait a month if you're gonna turn traitor."

"Don't YOU preach to me about turning traitor!" he snapped. "I'm sorry if His Majesty wanted his old friend to help him in a more timely manner, but how about you try spending a month constantly looking over your shoulder while having to micromanage a construction project and see how much free time you have then!" Through his anger, Nick could also detect a hint of fear in his voice. "I tried my best to be subtle, but he caught on to me anyway and he doesn't even care. He's got cameras goddamn everywhere, so I had to hide under the bridge outside. You remember the one?"

"Of course I-"

"Don't give a shit. You want other news though? Cause' I've got more. See, I managed to overhear some of what Reynard and the bears were talking about earlier. Some big plot of theirs."

"Yeah?" Nick asked, actually a bit interested again. "What did they say?"

Finnick started to speak, then suddenly broke off. It was the distinct sound of someone coming up with a point too quickly and realizing too late that it wasn't actually a good one, yet was now stuck in the uncomfortable position of having to say it anyway. "He...told them to bring the things...to the place...and do the stuff."

"Thank you, that was very helpful. We'll get right on that."

"Listen, smartass, you know your dad! Anything I can get out of him is a boon and no way in hell am I trying it now! Besides, there's still more!"

"Oh please, do go on."

"I know something that even the Langs don't. He's got a secret lab."

That caught Nick's interest again, though he found himself not as surprised as he probably ought to be. "How secret?"

"Not secret enough obviously. He's got it towards the back of his space land, through a door painted to look like stars and shit. There's this old rabbit working there...no, I think he was a hare. Wouldn't wanna get specist now."

"And what was he making?"

"..."

"You don't know that either, do you?"

"...I got kicked out before I could see."

"Well, I can't imagine why Reynard doesn't think your spying is a threat."

"Okay, you know what?! Screw you! I don't need this! I risk my life to leak info for you and this is the thanks I get?!"

Nick honestly expected him to hang up right there, but Finnick still wasn't done yet. "Hey...just making sure...you ARE taking Reynard down tonight, right?"

"That's the plan."

"Good. For you, I mean! You might be in trouble if he's in power much longer. Really serious, life-threatening trouble. You get what I'm saying?"

Nick smiled. "Loud and clear."

Only then did Finnick hang up.

Bunker Bunkroom

10: 52 AM

"So that's all he told you?" Carla asked, hanging out in one of the bunkrooms with Nick, Judy, and Jimmy.

"That's it," Nick replied. "What do you think? Should we be worried?"

"Probably." She threw back a can of beer that the Langs kept in bulk. "But if worry stopped us, we wouldn't be doing this in the first place. We can question Reynard on what he's planning after we arrest him."

"I just can't believe it's almost over," Judy said. "After all we've been through."

"Don't jinx it, Carrots. But that reminds me." Nick grinned at the two rookies, rubbing his paws together. "I'm not the only one getting presents today!"

"We're getting presents?!" Jimmy exclaimed, sounding absolutely ecstatic.

Carla was less so, squinting suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

"Now that we've been working together as long as we have, I feel you are both long overdue for something Carrots has had since our first case together. Drumroll, please."

Jimmy pantomimed Wallace's arms to start beating on an invisible drum. "Badadadadadadadadada…"

"I am proud to present both of you with…" Nick spread his arms dramatically wide. "Consistent nicknames!"

"Wooooooooooooo!"

"What?"

Judy clapped politely.

Nick pointed at Jimmy. "Jimmy Frost, you should be nicknamed not by your age, or your maturity, but by your strength of character! So from this day forward, you shall henceforth be known as...Snowball!"

"Awesome!" he cheered, his tail wagging hard enough to hit an unamused Carla repeatedly in the leg. "Does Wallace get a consistent nickname too?"

"No."

"Plushist!"

"Hold on, you just stole that nickname from Reynard and made it sound nicer!" Carla accused.

"I can assure you that is not where I stole it from." He pointed to her next. "As for you, Carla Hyenandez…"

"This oughta be good."

"Too long have you been straddled with laughter-themed nicknames that are no longer funny or ironic! To befit your newfound development and place in the world, I grant you the honorable nickname...Pe-!"

"If you say 'Perra', I am shoving this can into a very improper receptacle." It crumpled in her grip.

"...pper. Pepper! That one works! Exactly as I thought when I first came up with it!"

Carla nodded thoughtfully, tossing the can against the wall instead. "Alright, I'll accept that."

"Good, because it's stuck with you forever now. Don't worry, you'll grow to like it. They always do."

"He's not wrong," Judy admitted.

"I like mine already!" Jimmy declared.

Nick shot him a thumbs-up. "Ahead of the curve again! Good job, Snowball."

Judy's radio went off. With neither Nick or Carla still being officers, she had to step outside for a moment.

This did not stop her from coming back in to spill the details. "Okay, so we've got a bit of an incident to investigate, some suspicious activity in Tundratown. I'm just not sure how major it is considering what we're planning now…"

"Well, the last time we heard the phrase 'suspicious activity in Tundratown', it was about Mr. Big's murder," Nick pointed out. "Might wanna look into it. I mean, unless you trust Precinct 3 to do their jobs…"

"We're barely doing our own right now!" Jimmy said cheerfully.

"I guess you're right." Judy straightened herself up. "Nick, want to come with? Jimmy can stay here and help prepare while Carla goes to update Precinct 1."

Nick didn't know if that was kosher in his position, but he wasn't about to turn it down. "Sure, I could stand to stretch my legs a bit. And freeze my feet."

"I'll watch things here!" Jimmy agreed, saluting her along with Wallace.

"I'll do what you say just because I've got nothing better to do," Carla agreed as well.

Nick unenthusiastically pumped his fist. "Go team."

Tundratown

(Formerly) Mr. Big's Compound

11: 28 AM

"Now this isn't a place I ever thought I'd be again." Nick shook his head as he stepped out of their (replacement) police cruiser and onto the cold walkways of Tundratown, hiding the vehicle behind some trees while they carefully approached the estate on foot. "It's kinda funny when you think about it. Mr. Big was the closest thing I had to a dad for a while, and now this place is controlled by my actual dad."

"The place and everything in it," Judy confirmed. "Getting nostalgic?"

"Yeah, but not because of that. Do you even realize how long it's been? You and me, the dynamic duo, taking on a case all by our lonesome. No rookies to train, or splitting up, or one of us getting horribly injured. I kinda missed it." He made a show of patting down his pockets. "Kinda miss having a taser too."

"You know you're not allowed that yet," she said patiently, her own tranq gun at the ready.

"Not sure I'm allowed here at all, to be honest. This doesn't seem like a job for civvies."

She frowned. "You're still a cop in my book."

"What about the ZPD Code of Conduct? Because no offense, but I feel like that book holds a little more sway."

Judy chose to ignore him, which Nick found a little disappointing. Even if the subject matter was grim, he had been hoping for a classic duel of witty banter just like the old days. He'd missed that too. But he should've known better. A true return to normalcy wouldn't be possible until this whole thing was settled for good.

As if agreeing with that sentiment, Judy only spoke up again when they reached the front gates and it was time to get down to business. "Alright, according to the report, several black trucks were seen heading into this compound recently. It's not much to go on, but with most of Reynard's goons concentrated in Wilde Times…"

"...it suddenly becomes super suspicious," Nick finished. "In we go then. Let me just get my nonexistent weapon out." He held his paws up in a 'finger pistol' gesture and followed her through the open gates.

Indeed, the interior of the compound was practically deserted. Nick and Judy stuck to the shadows regardless, sneaking around the sides of Mr. Big's main manor. "Any idea where they would take a bunch of trucks?" Judy asked.

"Well, not inside his house, I'll say that much. Not unless they were rodent-sized trucks. I'd hedge my bets on the old warehouse towards the back."

They completely circled the perimeter, eyeing the building in question. They exchanged a series of vague paw signals and started to approach.

But before they could even begin to ask how they would get inside, they stopped in their tracks as one of the metal shudders began to open. Quickly retreating back to the shadows again, they watched as one of the very trucks they were looking for pulled out of the building, a polar bear behind the wheel. This was soon followed by another, and then another. "The things," Nick realized, looking at the trucks, then back at the warehouse. "And the place. But what stuff did they do?"

"Only one way to find out," Judy replied, seeing the last truck leave the warehouse. "You go investigate the building, I'll check out the trucks."

"Yeah, I'll...I'm sorry, check how?"

He looked to his side, where Judy was no longer standing. He followed her footprints around the corner, soon finding her taking off after the last of the trucks. His eyes widened and he tore off after her. "Carrots, what are you doing?!"

"Just taking a page from your book, Nick!"

"That is a terrible idea! Of all the books you could follow, that is the absolute worst!"

"I'm doing it!"

"Carrots, no! Do not jump on top of-!"

Judy jumped, grabbing onto the back of the truck and pulling herself onto the roof as it left the premises with its comrades.

Nick sighed, pulling out his phone and dialing up Clawhauser. "Benji? Concerned Citizen Wilde here. Carrots is pulling a Carrots while trying to pull a me. Keep a lookout for five black trucks traveling from the vicinity of Mr. Big's compound. Thanks."

He put the phone away, shrugging to himself. "Guess I might as well check out that warehouse."

"Don't bother. You will find nothing."

Nick had no idea how Koslov of all mammals had managed to sneak up behind him. Staring wide-eyed up at him, he slowly lifted a thumb and pointed it over his shoulder. "Think you missed your ride."

The giant bear chuckled, but made no move to harm him, smiling like an old friend. "Always with the jokes, Nikolai. So much like your father."

"Please never say that to me again."

"But this is no joke," he said. "The Count has big plans for big day."

"Heh, I get it. Because Mr. Big...um, no?"

"Stay out of way, Nikolai," Koslov warned, leaning over him. "Until the Count's preparations are complete. You will know when."

"Thanks for the advice," Nick said, feeling a little bolder knowing that he (probably) wouldn't actually hurt him. "But you know how foxes are, always getting into places we don't belong. Ask your master if you don't believe me. We're vermin and all."

"I can relate," a familiar voice said from behind him.

BANG!

A bullet whizzed past Nick's head and struck Koslov in the kneecap, toppling the bear with a roar of pain. Nick barely backed away in time to avoid being flattened.

Once again, although his life was in much less danger this time, he apparently owed it to Simon VanDal. The raccoon was back in his brown aviator jacket again, though now opened at the front to show off his orange Delta Fox shirt underneath. As far as endgame wardrobe changes went, he'd seen better.

"Speaking of late to the party, where have you been?" Nick demanded. "Do you have any idea how many voice messages I've left you this past month?"

"57."

His anger deflated quickly. "Why...do you know the exact number?"

"Having some trouble with your phone there, Dad?"

Simon looked up from the device with a frown as Kyle sat next to him on their latest rooftop. "A little. Your mother chewed me out earlier. Said she left me a message to pick up a drop over in Sahara, but I never received it. I'm trying to figure out what happened."

"Have you cleaned out your voice mailbox recently? It might be full."

"The hell's a voice mailbox?"

"I know many things," Simon answered, keeping his Silver Centurion revolver trained on him. "Like how you have a message for me from Piers Narwhalter, correct?"

"Which of the 57 voice messages told you that?" Nick asked sardonically. "Yeah, I do. You're lucky I still remember it. But…" He glanced back at Koslov, still bleeding on the ground and still snarling hatefully at the raccoon. "I was told pretty vehemently to only share it with you alone. Or your wife, or your son. Ring-tailed folk, which he is not."

"I understand. Simple solution." Simon redirected his gun at Koslov's head.

"Whoa there!" Nick quickly stepped in front of it, a reflexive and reckless action he blamed on his time with Judy. "I may not be a cop again yet, but I'm gonna have to ask you to not shoot someone in front of me, thank you."

"Fine." He gladly kept it pointed at Nick. "Then talk."

I guess if the guy GETTING the message doesn't care, then neither should I. "Alright, but don't get your hopes up, okay? It's not much. Narwhalter's message was…"

Simon narrowed his eyes.

"A camouflage undone. A venom that spreads as one."

Simon stared at him, then looked behind him at Koslov, then back at Nick again. "That's it?"

"That's it. Told you it wasn't much."

The raccoon slipped his gun back into his jacket, nodding. "Thank you." Without another word, he turned around and began to walk off.

"Is that really all you're going to say?"

"Oh right. Happy Birthday." He kept walking.

"You know, I can see why Tall, Dark, and Grizzly here doesn't like you. Isn't that right, Kos….lov?"

He turned around. Koslov had vanished, leaving behind only a bear-shaped snow crater and a pool of blood that trailed off a bit before stopping abruptly. "Now that's both rude and improbable. But seriously, Charles, we really need to talk about…"

He turned around again. Simon too was gone, not even leaving bloody tracks of his own this time. "Well, at least it doesn't surprise me coming from you."

Now all alone again, Nick threw his paws up and looked around. "Anyone else have business with me? Anyone at all? Going once, going twice-"

"Nick!"

He jumped, turning around once more and now finding a worn-down Judy standing behind him. She had several bruises and was covered in a fine layer of snow. "I fell off…" she admitted. "Did you know that it's actually really hard to keep your footing atop a moving vehicle?"

"You don't say."

"What about you? Find anything?"

"Nothing that'll help us."

She poked her head behind him, quickly noticing all the blood. "Are you sure about that?"

"Sadly, yes. Come on, let's see if we can find any of those trucks on the Jam Cams. I'll explain on the way." Truthfully, knowing full well how Mr. Big's bears operated, he had little hope that any of those trucks would be caught on camera, or by the patrol he'd just sent out. He just found himself really wanting to get out of there now.

Nick followed Judy out through the front gates just as a little red dot was starting to center on the back of his head. The dot was left to stick to the wall, now without a friend.

"Shit." From around the corner that Nick had just been standing in, Felix Dire Senior lowered his gun. All that time tracking down his scent for nothing. No matter. I know where he's going.

Savannah Central

Zootopia Police Department - Precinct 1

12: 46 PM

"And that's the story of how we took a detour to Tundratown to accomplish absolutely nothing," Nick concluded. "Good ending, but it dragged a little in the middle."

The rest of the bullpen was less interested, especially after Chief Bogo had called a meeting about this pretty much as soon as they walked through the doors. In Nick's humble opinion that he chose not to share, perhaps he shouldn't have jumped to conclusions about the importance of this incident.

Bogo pinched his brow, looking almost comical sitting at a normal desk with the other officers (and Carla) while Nick and Judy took the podium. Nick chose not to share that either. "Damn. I thought this was going to be a real lead. What about the others? How are the preparations coming along?" He hadn't once referred to the 'others' as 'criminals' since they started, probably to make this easier on himself. Judging by the exasperated look on his face, he needed all the help he could get there.

"Oh, that part's going great." Nick answered. Bogo glared. "Not sarcasm, really."

"The rest of the vehicles, or as the Langs like to call them, 'weapons of fast destruction'', are almost finished," Judy explained. "We should be ready to launch the raid by dusk."

"Please don't call it a raid, Hopps. Makes it sound too official." Bogo stood back up. "But I suppose that's all that really matters. Whatever Reynard is doing with those trucks, we're going to shut him down at the source before he gets the chance."

The door suddenly burst open and a very out-of-breath Clawhauser rushed in. "Chief….big news!"

Bogo was unimpressed. "Did it really take you that long to catch up with the rest of us?"

Clawhauser raised a paw to take a few more gulps of air, then spoke up again. "You gotta...turn on...the news….it's the bad kind!"

Bogo raised an eyebrow, but knew better than to question something like this. "Delgato, Rhinowitz, get the TV set up, now!"

They wasted no time wheeling the bullpen's personal television out into the room on a cart and turning it on to ZNN. The station's cameras appeared to be in the middle of Savannah Central, pointed up at one of the oversized monitors that Gazelle used to welcome visitors to Zootopia through the power of song. There was no Gazelle though; just a 'technical difficulties' screen featuring an otter pummeling a computer with a shell.

Bogo grit his teeth. "Clawhauser, I swear, if you're just upset about not getting your Gazelle fix, I'm putting you into rehab."

"No, no, there's more! Just listen!"

A rather unreliable-looking skunk was giving the report. "As you can see, pop star fever has really gone down today. We're not yet sure of the cause, but have been given assurance that trained experts are going to try everything to resolve this. They will not give up, nor give in, until they reach the end of this matter. Then your daily entertainment will start again."

A much louder voice boomed from the monitor above him. "With all due respect, Mr. Stinkman, music puns are not your forté. And if I have to hear one more rendition of that foxing song, I'm going to make sure Gazelle NEVER starts again!"

Clawhauser nearly lunged for the TV until McHorn wrestled him back into his seat. "What do you want, you MONSTER?!"

Nick's claws dug into the podium. "Goddamn it, Dad."

Steven cleared his throat. "In related news, we are periodically getting interference from an unusually-chipper radio hijacker.""Now why wouldn't I be chipper?" Reynard's voice replied. "It's a very special day! But if you all want some music so badly, then we here at 23.4 'The Count' are proud to present a true classic, one that is now public domain so I can't be sued for it!"

Nick paled in horror. "He wouldn't."

"Happy Birthday to you!"

The fox groaned. Judy patted his arm sympathetically.

Happy Birthday to you!"

Bogo nearly broke his desk in anger. Clawhauser had already broken his earlier.

"Happy Birthday, dear Nicholas!"

Carla flipped off the screen.

"Happy Birthday to you!"

Everyone else murmured uncomfortable amongst themselves.

The image on the monitor changed, now showing a video feed of Count Reynard himself in a gold suit that made everyone cringe. Behind him were several suited crooks dancing in sync to a lively carnival melody that started to play all across the city. Reynard reattached the headpiece of his cane to cover its microphone attachment. "Just to prove that wasn't prerecorded. I go above and beyond for my boy, but I suppose that much is clear already."

"You think?!" Nick yelled at the screen. This is it. Forget my IA hearing, I'm never going to find work again after this.

"Yes, my dear son, Nicholas Piberius Wilde, who I'm sure is at this very moment repeatedly banging his head against the nearest surface. Let's give him a round of applause for being such a good sport!"

No one in the captive audience clapped, but Reynard's mooks sure did. It was almost loud enough to cover up the dull thumps coming from the podium.

"Now, you're probably wondering why I went through all of this trouble to abuse Narwhalter's resources and take over the airwaves just to reach out to you. In short, I'm tired of hiding flashily in the shadows! I want the whole world to see what I've got planned tonight! But lacking the funds for that, I'll settle for this strange and self-aware version of Zootopia we all live in! And what I've got planned is….a birthday party!"

"Really. A birthday party," Nick said dryly, rubbing his head.

"Yes, a birthday party! And I am personally inviting you to attend tonight at...whenever you feel like it! No pressure!"

"Damn!" Bogo swore. "He's going to try to get Wilde to come alone. That could ruin everything."

"And don't worry about coming alone," Reynard assured. "By all means, invite your friends! Or your enemies! Perhaps both!"

"No…" Judy gasped. "He already knows exactly what we're planning. How did he find out?"

Every head in the room turned to Carla. "It wasn't me!"

"Oh, don't worry, I don't have any more moles planted there. I just know you too well, son. I even know exactly what you're thinking right now."

"No, you don't," Nick muttered.

"Yes, I do."

He looked up in surprise. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don'!"

"Yes, I do!"

"...Yes, you do."

"Ha! Nice try, Bugs!" Reynard laughed. "But if you REALLY want to challenge me, you'd better get your tuchus over here and receive your birthday gift. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to give out gifts to everyone else instead!"

He stepped aside and a few thugs pushed a very large present into view. A present that made a distinct and ominous ticking sound.

Judy's ears shot up in realization. "Wait, is that-?"

A chorus of gasps and screams from the TV confirmed her fears. Reynard gasped too. "I know, I know! Bombs, really?! Am I actively shredding the last bits of originality I ever had?! Say it isn't so!" He sighed, putting a paw over his chest. "But it is with a heavy heart that I must cheerfully announce the presence of explosive presents all around Zootopia! Could be a half-dozen to two dozen, could be bootleg fireworks to literal blockbusters! That's for you to find out! Gifts are wrapped for a reason, after all!"

"Wait, what?" Nick asked. "He already knows we're going to attack, but feels the need to threaten us into attacking? This doesn't make any sense."

Judy shrugged. "It is Reynard."

"So, I trust I'll be seeing you all tonight then! Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Nicholas! I'll leave you off on a word from our mutual friend, RJ!" He held up the suited Wallabeanie with a smile.

"Come on, don't put the mini-me on TV!" Nick yelled, ashamed on every level.

Reynard pulled the cord. "You wanna shut me down so bad, then go ahead and try! But be waaaaaaaaarned...I know kung fu."

"Thanks for that ominous parting note, RJ! CATCH!" Reynard threw the plushie offscreen.

"Oh god, my eye!"

The feed cut off after that.

An uncomfortable silence spread over Precinct 1, brought to an end by Nick once again banging his head against the podium.

"Wilde, knock it off," Bogo ordered. "We need your brains intact now more than ever. What do we do now?"

"I...don't think there's much else we can do," Judy admitted. "This is obviously a trap, but we have no choice but to spring it. Reynard's made sure of that."

He nodded. "I had the same thought. We all knew what we were getting into. It was never going to be easy; all that changes now is any doubt that Reynard needs to be stopped tonight."

His phone rang in his pocket. The entire precinct looked down at it, then back up at him. "Chief?" Wolford asked gently. "You gonna get that?"

"Nope." Bogo ignored the ringing until it stopped. "Like I said, we all knew what we were getting into. That includes myself. Whatever consequences await me for this, anything less than that madmammal getting what he wants is an outcome I'm willing to accept."

Nick clapped his paws together. "Right! On that note, everyone take your posts, make peace with your loved ones, and get ready to commence, 'Operation: Let's Fox Him Up!'"

Have I mentioned how incredibly eager I am to actually explore Wilde Times? You get a nice little teaser here of what exactly to expect from the place, partially in hopes of giving you a similar hype curse I admit. Likewise for all the new Lang vehicles that will be revealed in full next time.

Danielle Redding belongs to Mind Jack. Like Dr. Hareison, expect to see significantly more of her outside of BtBW.

Shoutout to LionKingAlex for coming up with the nickname "Snowball" for Jimmy. It was originally used in his story "The Sound Designer" that also features Jimmy and I found it really endearing for him. Shoutout to J Shute for coming up with "Pepper" for Carla. That works on at least three different levels and I love it!

Next chapter begins the final assault. Not much of a spoiler to tell you it'll take more than one to finish it.