A tag hanging on the gas mask read: “For use by foxes only.” It was near the bulletproof vests, some of which were scattered around as if after a hurricane.
Nick blinked several times to clear the haze from his eyes.
He was lying on the metal floor inside the truck.
There was a bitter taste of pepper in his mouth.
Nick tried to get up, but everything in the truck suddenly lurched, jerked to the side, and crashed to the floor with a clatter, adding its small contribution to the general chaos inside the truck.
Under the force of these sudden movements, Nick also flew up a bit and landed hard, flipping in the air from his back onto his stomach.
As soon as he hit the metal floor, a small metal canister landed next to him.
A lot of them had spilled from a nearby box.
Nick automatically read the inscription on the canister lying beside him: “Medicinal.
Use in case of gas exposure.” “Right on time, as always!” he sneered out loud.
Nick got up on his knees, leaning on his front paws.
The truck he’d ended up in by chance was dimly lit.
Light came from long lamps hanging from the ceiling.
They were firmly attached and sat inside grilles that protected them from unexpected impacts.
The truck’s door had apparently jammed after the impact.
It was closed.
But daylight seeped through the cracks, which meant they were badly deformed.
Nick stood up to his full height and instinctively moved toward them, stepping over a huge number of things scattered on the floor.
There were enormous bulletproof vests for large rhinos and hippos, and smaller ones for smaller animals.
Apparently, the police had only recruited certain animals back in the day.
Big and massive ones.
After all, proportionate equipment had to be bought for someone like Nick.
Which, in turn, increased the police budget.
Nick carefully stepped over scattered rifles loaded with poison darts.
Probably the most extreme type of ammunition in Zootopia.
And it was used only as a last resort.
Neither society nor the authorities approved of its use, but it was still in service, albeit in very limited quantities.
And naturally, every piece was accounted for.
Usually, darts with tranquilizer were used to subdue criminals.
They had been developed and improved by the military laboratory.
The tranquilizer substance inside them worked so fast that any animal lost consciousness almost instantly.
Initially, though, they’d had to use different types of darts with different amounts of tranquilizer.
But after a series of accidents, their use was called into question.
The diversity of Zootopia’s population created a host of complications regarding the use of tranquilizers.
For example, a dose of tranquilizer for a horse could permanently put to sleep a squirrel or a fox.
Not to mention a hamster or a mouse, which a single needle would pierce right through.
There were no recorded cases of darts being used against small animals, though.
But it clearly worried the small inhabitants of the metropolis.
And then, after the aforementioned series of accidents involving “over-sedation of animals,” as the police called it, trying to soften what was essentially death from a tranquilizer overdose — they were banned.
The police went back to old methods of catching criminals.
However, the idea of tranquilizer darts was sent back for refinement, as they saw great potential in it.
A year later, the military laboratory (Nick tried to remember its name but couldn’t) finally provided the police with a new formula — not for the tranquilizer substance itself, but for the principle of the tranquilizer charge.
Now the dart was empty, and all the tranquilizer was in a special capsule in the magazine.
Before firing, the officer determined the dose of tranquilizer himself, guided by what kind of criminal was in front of him and a special table that all officers were supposed to know by heart.
It described in detail the amount of tranquilizer for each species in Zootopia.
Nick didn’t even want to know how the military laboratory had come up with that table.
After a series of tests on the new weapon, it was once again made mandatory for the police to carry, amid a huge hum of discontent from Zootopia’s citizens.
But despite all the protests, the weapon proved highly effective.
And later, an improvement to the tranquilizer substance arrived — one that, by its formula, would break down on its own if there was an excess in the body, without causing fatal harm.
Small animals were still unhappy about the danger of getting a huge needle stuck in their tiny bodies, but the police and the metropolis administration found a way out again and introduced gas canisters.
First with tranquilizer for the police, and later civilians were allowed to use them for self-defense.
Then entrepreneurs got involved.
Corporations developed their own gas formulas based on the military laboratory’s gas, as well as their own prototypes that strongly affected only certain species of animals without touching others.
But the military laboratory’s inventions didn’t stop there.
They went even further and created a deadly poison for subduing especially dangerous criminals.
At one point, they tried to replace tranquilizer darts with them, since then there would be no need for a tranquilizer dosing system.
This simplified weapon use.
But, fearing strong public backlash, Zootopia’s administration rejected the idea.
The council of scientists in the military laboratory didn’t like this, but they didn’t argue.
All the manufactured poison darts were counted, but not destroyed — they were kept just in case.
“BioGen.” Nick remembered the lab’s name, looking at their logo stuck on one of the boxes.
It contained the poison darts that were lying around him in such abundance.
Trying not to accidentally step on the poison darts, Nick mentally pitied whoever would have to clean up this mess, checking against the inventory list.
Slipping further, Nick climbed over a huge police shield and was almost at the door.
His paw touched the handle, and he immediately heard a loud voice from one of the officers: “Got it hooked, pull!” Two huge black armored jeeps from the Lemur Bank security tore off from their spot.
Nick just barely managed to figure out what was happening and grabbed the left door handle with his other paw.
The huge truck seemed to be tossed into the air and flipped over, or so it felt to Nick.
And again, everything inside, along with the unfortunate red fox, flew up and crashed down, several times over.
The cable attached to the police truck stretched taut like a string.
The two jeeps lurched forward sharply, spewing white clouds of smoke from under them.
The huge truck, stuck in the doorway, resisted at first, but then couldn’t hold out and slowly began to pull away from the building.
“Keep going, I think it’s moving!” said the hippo Jonsi, who was watching.
And indeed, a moment later, the truck, scraping against the edges of the concrete and the shattered grille, began to slide faster and faster until it finally broke free.
With a loud crash, it rolled down the bank’s steps.
Sange Ace raised his paw, signaling his subordinates to stop the tow.
Completely mangled, dented, clanking iron against asphalt and dragging part of the armored door and chunks of the building behind it, the truck with its completely smashed front end came to a stop not far from the stairs.
As soon as it stopped, Nick flew out of the back doors by inertia.
He looked quite a sight.
During his tumbling inside the truck, a huge hippo-sized protective helmet had slid onto him, his hind legs were tangled in weapon straps.
In his front paws, he held a megaphone that let out a dying “scream” and shattered; in his other paw, trying to grab onto anything during the tumble, he clutched a huge baton.
Along with Nick, a pile of various police junk flew out too.
Falling onto the asphalt, Nick got up, trying to keep his balance.
His head was spinning badly, making him sway a little from side to side.
The huge hippo helmet blocked his entire view, hanging from his head down to his elbows.
On his back, tangled together and with Nick’s body, hung three rifles.
A holster with a pistol also hung from his hip, slightly open, like in old westerns.
In his right paw was a black baton, and in his left — a hissing, broken megaphone.
And at the last moment, a huge bulletproof vest fell onto him like chainmail, as if “dressing” him.
In this super-combat form, Nick appeared before the astonished public, making everyone freeze and fall silent for a second, staring at the fox.
“So, did we win?!” Nick said, still in his getup.
While many of the police officers couldn’t help but smile, Sange Ace remained true to himself.
He cast a contemptuous glance at the red fox and, walking past him, headed into the broken doorway of the Lemur Bank.
Beside him, on the right side, a ZPD special forces group entered, aiming carefully, and on the left side — his own security.
A laser beam pierced the dark lobby of the bank, where the tragic events had unfolded, fortunately ending quite well.
A cold breeze, as if from Tundratown, blew over all the guests.
As soon as the special forces entered the lobby, they immediately assessed the situation.
Two of the officers rushed to evacuate the hostages from the hall.
They even had to use force to do it.
Strangely enough, even after being rescued, the hostages weren’t eager to leave their place of captivity.
“Move, move!” the hippo Jonsi commanded as the frozen hostages began to be led past him.
“Get the sappers in here, fast.” A pair of mole sappers immediately got to work, determining the state of the dynamite and whether it posed an explosion threat.
Two members of the bank’s security team, noticing the little rabbit in the middle of the hall, automatically aimed their weapons at her.
A pair of green laser dots ran over Judy’s fluffed-up fur.
Quickly determining she posed no threat, they moved deeper into the hall.
Sange Ace cast a cold glance at the rabbit.
“Sir,” whispered the hedgehog technician standing next to him, “the building might still be rigged.” Sange Ace simply pointed two fingers at the door that was blocked and led inside the bank — to the basement, to the money vault.
The hedgehog technician saw his gesture and quickly, carrying a small armored laptop that looked more like a metal briefcase, rushed to the door.
Two panthers were already waiting for him there, taking positions near the locked door.
Not far from them, about three meters away, the ZPD special forces stopped, keeping their sights on Harry Drago’s unconscious body.
The hedgehog technician instantly connected his laptop to the security panel on the wall next to the door.
Despite being scared, he tried to do everything quickly and professionally.
The snow leopard Sange Ace’s fluffy paw slowly and carefully stepped over Judy’s body, trying not to touch her.
He slowly and very carefully surveyed the room.
Approaching the body of the huge crocodile, he noticed the fearsome police chief, covered in cuts, wounds, and bruises.
His chest was heaving heavily; it seemed he still couldn’t catch his breath.
Steam came from his mouth.
The snow leopard looked intently at Bogo.
Their eyes met.
The black buffalo looked at the snow leopard, trying to understand what this cat was feeling.
He didn’t even want to talk to him; he just stared into the snow leopard’s cold green eyes.
Bogo could have said a lot, of course, but then he realized that this snow leopard didn’t care at all what he said.
Sange Ace was completely indifferent to what had happened or would happen; he didn’t care who died or how much blood was spilled.
He would simply carry out orders from above, from his masters, like a machine.
And no reasonable arguments would convince him otherwise.
And even with his authority, Bogo couldn’t remove him and his team from here.
And it didn’t matter anymore anyway.
The main thing was that he had still managed to do his duty and stop the criminal.
He was proud of that.
“Sir, it’s ready,” said the hedgehog technician.
“Sir?” Then came the sound of a slowly rising grille that had blocked the entrance for his team.
Sange Ace heard these words and, looking over the crocodile’s body one more time, moved to his group.
Bogo just snorted displeasedly after him, also turning his gaze to the crocodile.
“Alright, guys, we’re going to need Hornsworth,” Bogo finally said, meaning the huge elephant for carrying out the crocodile’s body.
“So what about the hostages?” “Evacuated,” his subordinates, now bustling around, answered him.
Two rhinos put a steel muzzle on the crocodile, secured with a huge number of leather straps.
They held the crocodile’s jaws shut tight.
Next came his paws.
Two huge paw-cuffs bound the front and back paws of the enormous reptile.
And finally, poor Rhino was freed from captivity.
The squirrel, whose neck was now free and a bit longer, in a completely unconscious state, started walking around the lobby collecting documents that had fallen from his briefcase.
Surprised by this sight, the officers immediately stopped him and led him out into the bright, warm street, handing him over to the medical ambulance.
A huge number of reanimobiles had gathered around the bank.
While the huge crocodile, bound from tail to jaws, was being dragged out of the bank building, a few desperate journalists tried to run into the bank, taking advantage of the general commotion.
However, they were stopped in time by the police, who were again restoring the cordon that had been broken during the assault.
This didn’t stop the journalists from all channels and newspapers from filming a ton of material, though.
So today’s news would be full of the most varied camera angles and different reports for a long time to come!
“Yeah, the chaos is about to start…” said one of the hippos, trying to help Nick get rid of his gear while simultaneously scanning the crowd of press that had shown up.
Nick, finally coming to his senses as soon as he took off all the equipment, immediately rushed straight to the bank.
Trying not to get in the way of his larger colleagues, who were at that moment pulling out the huge body of the criminal, he stepped aside.
Passing by the very railing of the stairs, Nick saw the crocodile — a huge and ferocious monster.
He hadn’t imagined him like that when he was lying on the phone.
Even now, shackled with paw-cuffs, a muzzle, and straps, he inspired fear in Nick.
What must it have been like for poor Judy… A dark thought flashed through his mind, making him feel sick.
The hostages had been evacuated, the criminal had been pulled out too.
But where was Judy herself?
Following the removal of the criminal, a group of moles carefully carried out bundles of dynamite.
And again Nick stepped aside, trying not to get in their way.
“How much longer?!” flashed through his mind.
He tried again to break through to the entrance, dodging first one officer, then another.
This kept getting him in everyone’s way and earning him displeased snorts.
His desire to find out about his partner’s fate grew with every second.
And those seconds he spent climbing the stairs irritated him immensely.
And then, on the threshold of the entrance to the Lemur Bank, which looked more like a hole in the wall, he saw Bogo’s bent figure.
Judy lay limply in his paws.
A chill ran down Nick’s spine, and his legs gave way; he rushed to them instantly.
“Stay with her,” Bogo said quietly, handing Judy to Nick.
“I’ll call the doctors.”