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Officer Hopps was able to return to work two days later. Nick returned the day after but was put on limited duty until the soreness in his chest finally faded. In order to keep up with his exercise regimen he joined Clawhauser at the academy each morning for an hour of aerobic walking. Wilde even convinced him to wear a vest during the routine (once they could find one big enough). This actually helped because it got the chubby cheetah to sweat a lot more, resulting in faster weight loss.

By the end of the week, Team Wilde/Hopps was back in action. It was also during that week that the sightings of the mysterious "Axe Avenger," as the media was calling him, tripled in number.

Judy tossed the newspaper aside in frustration. "Axe Avenger? Why on earth would they be calling him the Axe Avenger? Not only isn't he avenging axes, but he uses a guitar to take down the bad guys."

"Lots of musicians refer to their guitars as axes," Nick offered.

"Why? Is it because they all live in their mother's musty old basements and want to secretly cut the chord?

The fox looked slyly at his partner. "Did I just hear you make a premeditated pun?"

"Maybe?" she offered. "Was it any good?"

Office Wilde shrugged. "Not bad for a first effort. Your set-up was a bit stretched out. You should never give your audience a chance to walk out in the middle of the pun."

"As if... Your set-ups aren't much better."

"They're more spontaneous. A technique taught me by the great masters of punology."

"And who, exactly would they be?"

"My parents," Nick replied. "Anyone who knows the first thing about puns knows that parental participation in primary punological pedagogy is professionally pertinent."

"That's not a pun, its alliteration and you cheated."

"Cheated? Me? And how exactly did I cheat?"

"I'm fairly certain you made up some of those words."

"When you find out which word, you can let me know."

The banter between the two officers was interrupted by a knock on their cubical. They both looked up to see Clawhauser. "Sorry to interrupt your discussion, but the chief wants to see you two in his office, now."

Five minutes later the fox and bunny found themselves standing at attention in front of Bogo. On his desk were several copies of at least three of the local papers and printouts from several online news feeds. The chief didn't waste any time.

"Effective immediately, I'm pulling you two off of normal patrol duty and assigning you to this 'Axe Avenger' case."

"Case?" asked Judy. "Are we seriously going to prosecute this guy as a criminal?"

The cape buffalo pinched the bridge of his muzzle. "No... Nothing quite like that. He's become popular with the media and developed something like a cult following. He hasn't really broken any laws, not serious ones, not yet. Arresting him will simply make the mammals of Zootopia think we're harassing him unfairly. I don't want them thinking we're the bad guys here."

"What do you want us to do about it, sir?" asked Nick.

"What you are going to do is use your skills, talents and connections to find out who he really is and get him to quit playing the masked hero, before either he or some innocent bystander gets seriously hurt."

"How do we convince him?" Judy asked.

"I don't know, but with the two of you working the case I'm certain you can come up with something to shut him down."

"That sounds like a pretty tall order," the fox observed.

"Maybe," Bogo replied, "but you have a reputation for successfully closing out cases that other officers can't solve." He turned back to his desk, pulled out two documents which he handed to the pair. "Sign on the bottom to acknowledge your temporary assignment to the plainclothes unit."

"Lieutenant Yakkoffski doesn't like me very much," Nick pointed out, applying his signature to the paper. "I'm surprised he agreed to this."

"He doesn't have anything to say in the matter, other than providing you with whatever field support you need. You'll be working directly for me. My secretary will put a copy of these orders in each of your files for the duration of this case."

The two officers handed Bogo the signed documents. "Anything else, sir," Judy asked.

The buffalo shook his head. "Take the rest of the shift off and be back here bright and early by 0800. Remember, you're plainclothes now, so dress appropriately." He looked at the bunny. "If necessary, you are to burn all his Pawaiian shirts if he even thinks of wearing one."

"You wound me sir," Nick replied.

"Stow it, Wilde. You are to look professional when you come in tomorrow. That's an order."

"As you command, Chief," the fox replied throwing him a cocky salute as he turned and left the office. Judy paused for a moment as if to say something, then thought better of it, snapped of a proper salute then jogged after her partner.

Angela stuck her head inside the office just after the officers left. "Mayor's on line three," the giraffe reported. "Do you want me to transfer the call or put him on hold while you fume for a bit?"

**********

Duke Weaselton blew warm air into his cupped hands, rubbing them together furiously. His breath fogged before him and he sneezed violently. He hated Tundra Town and wished fervently that he could have arranged the meet somewhere a bit more to his liking. Still, business was business, and if he played his cards right he'd finally be able to move out of small time hustling and into the big leagues.

The mammal looked at his watch for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes. They were definitely late. He wasn't surprised, but he was more than a little disappointed. He could only afford to give them fifteen more minutes, then he'd have to contact his suppliers and tell them it was no deal. The stress was beginning to eat away at his initial confidence. They wouldn't like hearing there was no deal. It would mean having to bring in other, less lucrative buyers who'd insist on marking the price down. If that happened, the suppliers would likely fire him, or maybe even try to kill him to keep him silent.

Thinking on that Duke came to understand why the middle man always took such a big cut of the deal. Caught between suppliers and buyers he took the biggest risks and lived farthest out on the limb. Either side could, at a whim, cut him off and leave him holding the body bag, with him in it.

Weaselton's reverie came to an abrupt end as a large, black sedan pulled up next to the curb. The front passenger's side door opened and a large moose climbed out, ducking his head so his antlers fit through comfortably. He stood next to the door holding it open for the weasel. Taking a deep breath, Duke quickly skittered across the sidewalk and up into the car. The moose closed the door, then turned and climbed in through the right rear side door.

The vehicles interior was dark with a mirrored window separating the driver from the rear passenger compartment. As they pulled away from the curb, the occupants failed to see the plain looking, dark green, two-door hatchback also pull into the flow of traffic three cars behind them. Duke looked around nervously then focused on the driver.

"So... Where are we going?"

The driver, a petite female caribou dressed in formal chauffer's attire gave the weasel a sideways glance. "You'll know when I know," she replied.

Duke swallowed, trying to get a grip on himself before he accidently blew the deal. This was where he'd prove himself. He was either ready for the big time or he'd spend the rest of his life as a low lever hustler. He unexpectedly began thinking of Nick Wilde. The weasel actually found himself envying his former rival. There was a cool operator if ever there was one; a street-wise entrepreneur who knew how to work the deal. He closed his eyes and wondered what the fox would do in this situation. The answer came back clear as a bell... The traitorous bastard would bust every mammal in the car while his "girl-friend" looked on admiringly. Never trust anyone who had a moral code, his father had warned him, and that included Nicolas P. Wilde, ZPD.

The partition between the driver's seat and the passenger's abruptly rolled down and a voice, thick and smooth as oil filtered through the open window. "Weaselton... isn't it?"

Duke nodded, "Yeah, that's me. Have you considered my offer?"

"A small time hustler trying to play in the big leagues. It's funny... No?"

"Yeah, yeah... fricking hilarious. But I've got what you want, and at a very good price."

"It's too good a price," the voice said. I could get the same merchandise at almost the same price if I bought it straight from the distillery."

"You could," Duke replied, "but then you'd have to shell out over three quarters of a million in taxes. This way you get the product, tax labels included and save yourself a bundle. Plus, I've been authorized to offer you a ten percent discount on our original price as a good faith incentive for possible future deliveries."

"Interesting... Your supplier has ready access to the product?"

"Not twenty-four seven, but he can guarantee a quarterly delivery, if you're interested."

"Do you have a sample of the product on you?"

"No... But I can take you where you can sample it for yourself."

"When?"

"When do you want?"

There was a long, thoughtful silence. "Now!"

Duke swallowed nervously again. "Right now?"

"Yes... Just give instructions to the driver."

"I take it you're prepared to make payment and take delivery now as well?"

"That will depend on what I see."

"I'll need to call ahead and let my supplier know we're coming."

"Then do it." The partition silently slid up once more. Weaselton took out his phone and placed a quick call. When he finished he looked over at the driver.

"Turn right up ahead and head for Happytown. I'll guide you from there."

The black sedan wended its way through the streets of Zootopia for the next thirty minutes, eventually turning into a run-down warehouse district in the center of Happytown. The vehicle slowed, then turned into a side alley leading to a large access door. A figure with a flashlight stepped out of the shadows, and blinked his light twice. The freight door opened and the sedan drove through. Not far behind it, the green hatch-back circled behind the warehouse block and came to a stop.

The interior of the loading bay was small and efficient, but not well lit. The first thing that the sedan's headlights revealed was a large freight tractor-trailer rig of non-descript design. The vehicle stopped and three of four doors opened. The driver remained where she was. Weaselton, the moose and a large reindeer all stepped from the sedan, closing the doors behind them.

They were approached by an artic wolf wearing a black leather jacket, polo shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He was flanked by a pair of dingos, each armed with a machine pistol held at the ready but pointed up. The wolf looked down at the weasel. "These your buyers, Duke?"

Weaselton nodded. "They said they're ready to pay, if they can sample the product first."

"Fair enough," the wolf replied. He gestured to one of the dingos who walked over to a nearby station wagon and unloaded a small crate. He pried the top off of it, then pulled out a bottle of expensive, single malt whiskey. He walked back over to the reindeer, who waved him away, then the moose. The large antlered mammal took the bottle, broke the tax seal on the cap, unscrewed it, then filled the cap with the amber liquid and drained it. He rolled it around his tongue, then turned back to the car and nodded, putting the cap back on the bottle.

Placing a hoof to his ear, the moose listened for a moment then looked at the wolf. "Open the trailer," he ordered. "The boss wants to see your cargo."

Weaselton seeing the moose speak for the first time recognized the smooth, oily voice from the back of the car. His hackles suddenly rose as years of street-smarts and instinct abruptly kicked in. Something about this wasn't kosher. Carefully, and very slowly Duke began slide-stepping towards the sedan as if he were impatiently rocking back and forth on his heels. As he did, he heard the door locks engage.

"You can see inside the trailer just as soon as we see the money," the arctic wolf growled.

The moose nodded to the reindeer who calmly strolled to the back of the sedan and opened the trunk. He pulled out a grey briefcase, laid it on the floor and slid it towards the wolf. The lupine stopped its slide with his foot, then, keeping his eyes on the moose carefully reached down and popped the latches on the case. He glanced down and saw a single bundle of cash, all ones. Angrily, he grasped it and held it up for the others to see. A second pair of dingos, also armed with machine pistols, stepped out from the back of the warehouse and leveled their weapons.

The moose started chuckling. "I thought there was something fishy when I saw your truck. It's got to be empty. Am I right? The wheels aren't nearly as flat on the bottom as they would be with a real load." He turned and looked at Weaselton. "You're still a small time huckster, Duke. You didn't hook up a supplier and a buyer. You hooked up a pair of hijacking gangs."

The arctic wolf glared at the small mammal. "You idiot. You told me you had connections!"

"EEP!" Duke reacted by diving under the car, the only cover within reach.

"You know," the moose offered. "We have an opportunity here. With your guts and my tech, we could put together one hell of an outfit."

"What tech would that be?" the wolf asked.

The moose looked at the driver. "Max... Show the gentle-mammal what we've got."

There was an abrupt whirring sound and a twin .50 machine gun turret deployed from the roof of the passenger compartment.

The wolf's eyebrows shot up. "Impressive."

"And that's just the start of it. Tell you what. Why don't we break out that excellent whiskey you brought, sit down and discuss terms rather than kill each other over essentially nothing. I think we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The wolf grinned. "I think that's a good idea, but first, I think I want to start by skinning that stupid weasel."

Without warning the warehouse lights suddenly went out. Two pistol shot echoed through the loading dock and both of the sedan's headlights shattered, plunging the room into complete darkness.

"HOLD ON THERE... I'LL DO THE THINKING AROUND HERE! Seconds later the room exploded into chaos.