Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So we got a call about a large animal causing a disturbance?” said Zhu.

Wilde stood a ways away, uniform rumpled and his collar undone, holding a coffee cup in both hands. It had been a long day.

About to be longer.

“Yeah. Some idiot’s got… I don’t know, like a cow or something in his apartment, I guess? That’s what his landlady said on the phone.” His shoulders sagged in an "I took an oath for this?" sort of way. “This… this is what we’re doing.”

The landlady was incoherent with anger on the phone, and what they got was limited; but the downstairs neighbour let them in, and talked as they traipsed upstairs. “Yeah, I heard noise on the stairs, didn’t think much of it till it kept on going in his place. I went and listened at the door and I heard something sort of mooing?”

Zhu knocked on the door, and they waited. The sound of frantic scrambling and clattering emerged, doors opened and closed, and when the front door cracked, a smell of alcohol wafted out.

“Sir-” Zhu started to say, only to stop in his tracks.

A college student, because of course he was. Blond hair. Broad shoulders. Covered in a pale brown fur.

Zhu cleared his throat. “Are you Kristoff Bjorgman?” The guy nodded. “We’re here about the cow.”

The man actually looked confused. A better actor than either officer would have pegged him for. “What cow?”

Zhu raised an eyebrow and gestured to the front of his shirt. “Sir,” he said, “please don’t play dumb with me.”

“No, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We’ve had a report of a large animal in this apartment.”

“Oh, the-” Bjorgman’s eyes briefly lit up before he shut his mouth like a trap, and opened it again to say, “Sorry, no large animals here!” in a much less convincing tone.

“… We’re gonna need to search the property, sir.”

“You got a warrant?”

“Yes.”

“Damnit,” he hissed. “I was hoping you’d…” Sigh. “Whatever.” He stood aside.

The place was a mess. Not squalor, just clutter from wall to wall. There was more hair on the furniture, and on the floor were hoofprints, or what looked like them. Wilde looked over at Bjorgman.

“No large animals, huh?”

“Those are… orthopedic shoe prints.”

“I’m sure.” Wilde opened the coat closet door. Too small to fit a big animal in there. Same for the bathroom. Nothing in the living room. In the bedroom, however…

“That’s a coat rack!”

Zhu marched into the room and removed random articles of laundry from the thing in the corner, which snorted and started chewing his sleeve.

“Is that a… moose?!”

Wilde laughed outright at that. “What?!”

“I think it’s a reindeer,” Bjorgman offered sheepishly.

“Are you sure?” Zhu asked, flinching as the animal’s antlers tapped his cheek.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not a moose.”

“What’s the difference?! It’s got horns, it’s brown. Looks like a moose!”

“See, this is how I know you were born in the city. If you weren’t-”

“Oh, are we back on this again? Really? Can we not do this right now?!”

“… City boy.”

The homeowner in the meantime inched slowly towards the door.

“Hold it.” Wilde put out an arm, blocking his escape. “What’s with the caribou?”

“I thought you said it was a reindeer,” Zhu muttered.

“For God’s sake, Zhu, they’re the same thing!”

“Whatever! Where did this thing come from?”

“Um…” Bjorgman’s eyes darted back and forth. “I… found him?”

Wilde sighed. “And where did you find him?”

“Uh, you know, just… around. In a field.”

“In a field with a fence around it?”

“Well, now you mention it, there was a certain, slight, maybe, wire-like quality to the outside edge.”

“Decorated with candy canes and lights?”

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“So you stole from the petting zoo?”

“ ‘Stole’ makes it sound like, I dunno…”

“Stealing?”

“I mean… yeah.”

Zhu took a breath and sighed for a long time, kneading his temples with his free hand. “… Why?”

“Uh…”

“Sir…”

“I was… very drunk. Word to the wise, don’t buy alcohol from the Amish.”

“The Amish don’t drink.”

“I think that’s Mormons, actually…”

“Not the issue. You do realize you’re under arrest, right?”

“For what?”

Wilde looked from the man and back to the reindeer as his partner attempted to dislodge the beast from his sleeve.

“… Point taken.”

“I’ll deal with him,” Zhu said. “Wilde, get this beast downstairs and back to-”

“Uh, we may have a slight problem with that.”

“What? Why?”

Wilde scratched his neck awkwardly. “Hoofed animals, well, they don’t like their centre of balance being thrown off…”

“Get to the point, Wilde.”

“They’ll walk upstairs, but not down. At least, not down stairs as steep as the ones in here.”

“What?!”

“Yeah…”

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“Is there an elevator?”

“Not one this thing would fit inside!”

“Well, we could try…”

“And what if it gets stuck?!”

“Okay, okay. We could call someone to pulley it out…”

“You think the city will go for that? It’s just a moose.”

“Reindeer.”

“Whatever.”

“Well, what else are we gonna do with it?”

“You ever had venison?” Zhu said, annoyed.

“Hey!”

Chapter Text

“I’m really sorry to call you about this, but they just won’t leave.”

The woman(?) telling them this was a big one. Deep-voiced, too, to the point that Captain Vachir rather suspected she was once he. At this point he rather hoped Sergeant McDowel didn’t say anything about this suspicion.

“It’s really alright, sir-”

“Ma’am,” the woman corrected, politely yet firmly.

“… Really?”

And here we go… “Not now,” Vachir hissed to McDowel.

“Well, he’s obviously a man-” McDowel hissed back, scratching his head and knocking his toupee askew.

“We do not have time for this. You can vent in the car.”

“… Is everythin' alright, officers?”

“It’s fine, ma’am,” Vachir said quickly. “What can you tell us about these trespassers?”

“Oh, there’s a young man and a young woman, and they’re both obviously ‘igh on something, though I don’t know what. Possibly multiple somethings.”

“Have they become violent?”

“No, but I can’t get them to leave and I don’t want to man‘andle them. I don’t think our insurance covers it if they ‘urt themselves.”

“What exactly are they doing?” Vachir could hear shrieking sobs coming from the waiting room.

“They… appear to expect me to ‘eal a hamburger.”

“… What?”

“Like I said, they’re ‘igh.” She sighed. “I was really ‘opin' that threatenin' to call you would be enough to get them to leave, but it ‘asn’t been, and I’ve ‘ad a long shift…”

Vachir looked inside and groaned. “It’s Andriana and Pie.”

“What, again?!”

“Wait, you’ve dealt with them before?”

“Nothing serious,” Vachir assured her. “But you made the right call to contact us.”

McDowel tutted. “If I was their father…”

Vachir prudently refrained from making any comments about McDowel’s son.

The two drunks were now weeping hysterically into each other’s shoulders, barely upright on the plastic chairs. Vachir, easily the weight of both of them put together, marched in and pulled them up by their scruffs. “C’mon, let’s get these two little lushes somewhere to sleep it off.”

“B-b-but the coooowwww!” wailed the pink-haired girl.

“Um… you two go get some rest, I’ll deal with your… cow,” the vet tech assured them, assisting the cops in pushing them out the door. It was quite hard keeping both of them upright and moving in a reasonably straight line at once.

Vachir was about eighty degrees of finished with the situation.

And that was before Pie began making mooing sounds to herself as they hauled her away.

“What do you suppose they’re on this time?” he mumbled to McDowel, as soon as he was sure the woman couldn’t hear.

“Same stuff as usual, I guess. Won’t remember anything tomorrow…”

McDowel didn’t notice Vachir’s brief smirk at that statement.

They never do, he thought.

Chapter Text

“Jenny! Jenny, are you busy?”

“Oh, hey, Abel. What’s up?” Jenny Seto took her coffee cup from the machine and sipped.

Abel Rango smiled, that smile that always reminded her of a car salesman. “Are you and Joy still looking to foster?”

She raised an eyebrow and said, “Yeah, why?”

“I have a bit of a weird case and I think you and she are perfect for the kids involved. You looking for young kids, or would you mind taking teens?”

“We wouldn’t mind at all,” Jenny said. “What do you mean, a weird case?”

Rango sighed. “Pretty bad abuse case, complicated by murder,” he said, and started checking off points on his fingers. “Two kids, girl’s seventeen, boy’s thirteen. Parents are first-gen Japanese immigrants, family’s bilingual. Dad was molesting the boy and starving the girl to ‘punish’ them for bad grades, and bashed in the wife’s head when she tried to stop him. So, well, you and Joy are Japanese and I’m thinking the kids probably don’t want to be around male parental figures, so I thought, worth asking.”

“Oh, gee, that sounds awful,” Seto said, wrinkling her nose. “Poor kids. I think you’re right… I’ll call Joy on my break. What are their names?”

“Masaru and Mayu Sugimori.” Jenny’s intake of breath was very slight, and her coffee didn’t spill. Rango noticed, though. As both a cop and an amateur actor, he noticed things like that. “You know them?” he asked.

“Not directly, but San Fransokyo isn’t a big place. I’ve run into them before, and I know their mother is- was popular in the homeowner’s association.” Jenny shook her head. “I just thought Mayu happened to be small… stunted growth?”

“Looks like it. Waiting for the doctor’s report though.”

“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry, if only I’d known, I’d already-”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry, okay? Guys like that…” Rango swallowed. Jenny didn’t think anything of it. “They’re really good at covering up what they do.”

Chapter Text

“Um, hi there. I’m Copper Slade, I’m here to pick up the gun Uncle Amos lost?” Copper dug in his capacious coat pocket and pulled out a wad of papers. “Here’s my ID, his ID, his gun license, my gun license, that gun’s registration paperwork, and a note from him saying I could pick it up. Is that enough?”

“Sure, sure. Let me get that…” Shawn McDowel set the bagged gun on the counter; but when Copper reached for it, the officer put his own hand in the way. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“I’m… taking the gun?”

“You can’t carry it in your hands in public, that counts as brandishing a weapon,” McDowel said. “You need to put it in a holster.”

Copper patted his coat nervously. “Ah, crap, I don’t have one.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m living in the college dorms, we’re not allowed weapons in there. The marksmanship club keeps all the guns in their lockers. Can’t I just carry it in the plastic baggie?”

“No!” McDowel shook his head vigorously. “Do you want people to think that you’re a crack dealer?”

“Um…?”

“You know who carries things they shouldn’t have in plastic bags? Crack dealers… and the Mafia.”

“Isn’t that a little redundant?” Copper bit the inside of his cheek, stepping back. “Look, I won’t go anywhere with it. How ‘bout I just put it in my car and-”

“No!”

“What?”

“You have any idea how unsafe it is to have a loose gun rattling around in a car? Not to mention illegal in this state.”

“Good point… I guess that means I can’t stick it in my pocket either?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay, can I borrow a holster?”

“Sorry, we need them to carry our guns.”

“Then can I go buy a holster and come back? I know the gun shop’s not far-”

“You can’t leave a loaded gun unattended in a public place!”

“It’s not unattended, you’re here!”

By now, quite a crowd was gathering. Officers and waiting civilians alike lurked on the fringes of hearing range, snickering amongst themselves as the argument continued.

“I have work to do, I can’t just babysit your-”

“Well, what do you want me to do?!”

“I don’t know, call your uncle or something.”

“I can’t! He fell in a bear trap.”

“Don’t you have another-”

“He got hit by a car.”

“Well, call someone! Neighbors, or-”

“Or you could just let me take the gun! Come on… can’t I just, I don’t know, put it in the glove box? Or unload it-”

“Is that a threat?”

“What? No! I don’t mean by firing it! I was just gonna take the bullets out - can’t I even pick up the gun to unload it?”

“How do I know you’re not gonna fire it?”

“Because I’m not insane!”

“Are you sure? I have met your uncles.”

“Can I go beat my head on the wall and scream? Is that leaving the gun unattended?”

“No, but it would be causing a public disturbance.”

“Are you just… You’ve got to be fucking with me!”

“I never ‘fuck’ when it comes to justice.”

“You must be the only one, all things considered…” someone muttered.

“If I were you I’d just run.”.

“What?” someone else snickered. “And leave his gun unattended?”

The cuffed man being led towards the holding cells leaned over and slurred, “Hey, if he can’t take the gun-”

“No, Mr. Sparrow.”

“Shawn, what the hell are you doing?”

The other McDowel stomped up to her husband’s desk, frowning.

“Well?”

“Bullying the redneck,” Officer Zhu said.

“Shawn!”

“I… Honey, I was- I…” He stared at the floor like a castigated child. “… I was bullying the redneck.”

The second Officer McDowel tutted and turned to Copper. “Okay, what exactly is going on?”

“Apparently I can’t carry the gun without a holster,” he sighed. “I mean, I can see the point, I don’t want to drop it or something, but…”

“How ‘bout this? I’ll carry it out for you.” The second McDowel took her own gun out of its holster, wrapped the baggie tightly around the claimed gun, and pushed it into her holster, placing her piece on the counter. “Honey, would you mind my gun for a moment?”

“Yes, dear.”

Copper relaxed. “Thanks… Can I drive with the gun in the glove box even if it’s not in a holster?”

“If you unload it first,” she said and, with a look at her husband continued with, “It’s only illegal to transport a loaded firearm.”

“And I… Okay. Okay, should I do that outside, or… ?”

“In the - parked - car is probably the best idea.” She nodded. “Um… best of luck.”

Chapter Text

“Kid, what do you think you’re doing?!”

Captain Guard stopped his cruiser and shouted at the girl on the side of the road. She was younger than Cassandra, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with long red hair - completely matted with twigs and leaves - and one arm up in a way which suggested, from his view of her back, that her finger was in her nose.

“Haven’t you heard about the curf-”

She wheeled around to face him. “Police! You’re police, right? Fuck, man, you’ve gotta help…”

Blue eyes and freckles and- Oh great. The uniform - dark green blazer with Tatzelwurm crest and long striped socks - was a dead giveaway; she was from the reform school. Alexander Nigma was a problem. As if Calisota didn’t have enough of those…

Wordlessly, he opened the door. “Jennifer Jergens?”

She blanched. “Huh? Y-yeah, how did you-”

“How’d you think? Your school reports its runaways,” he said slowly. Of course, she was the first one they’d ever caught…

“My school?! Look, dude, you don’t understand-”

“I understand that you must have done something to get yourself sent there.”

“But they-”

“Look, you’re lucky I don’t bring you down to station for breaking curfew! It’s dangerous at night, especially-”

“It’s dangerous there! C’mon, you’ve gotta listen! I… my friends… They’re gonna-”

“You’re lucky you have someone looking for you, a lot of kids don’t.”

“They’ll kill me!”

Teenagers.

Chapter Text

“Calisota City Police Department, who’s calling?”

“Um… Is Mr. Tuttle there?”

“I’m afraid Officer Tuttle isn’t working today. Can I ask what’s going on?” Ordinarily, Vachir would be annoyed with these kinds of callers. But it was clearly a kid’s voice on the other end of the line.

“My dad told me to call him.”

“Your dad?”

“They’re friends from work.”

Okay, police officer’s kid. Not one of Taiyang’s girls, thank goodness. “He asked you to call? Is he okay? Are you in any immediate danger?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Can you give me a name?”

“Lambert Berhan.”

“Okay, Lambert, what’s your address?”

“Park Avenue. Apartment 113.”

They sent Bronco with him.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?” he asked for the third time since they got in the car. Vachir scowled at the road in front of him.

“So we’re headed to Brice’s place, huh? You familiar?”

“No.”

“It’s right down this way,” Bronco said, pointing down one of the side streets. “Surprised, though. He invited the whole station to Lambsey’s bar mitzvah.”

“Must’ve been working that day.”

The building was… well, nicer than the tenements going up and down Outland Avenue. Not quite as nice as the ones on Main Street. A fairly normal brick building. With a lobby and an elevator. And a doorman who looked at them a little oddly before giving directions to the top.

“A111, A112… A113.”

Vachir stepped forward and knocked on the door. “Police! Open up.”

The man who ‘opened up’ was vaguely familiar. One of Vela’s friends. Big and stocky. Holding a gun in the wrong hand. Instinctively, Vachir reached for his own.

“It’s not for you,” the man - presumably Berhan - said testily. “He’s in the kitchen for you.”

“Lambsey?” Bronco asked. But Berhan shook his head.

There was a man at the kitchen table. Not the boy who he’d spoken to on the phone. Skinny White guy, tatty brown hair, suspenders hanging off his pants. Shaking. Nose bleeding, freshly broken.

“No, no, tilt your head forwards,” Bronco said, stepping up to take charge. “You’ll choke like that… What’s going on, Milt?”

Milt, apparently, let Bronco show him how to adjust his grip on his bleeding nose, but said nothing.

“Hold on,” Vachir said. “Where’s the kid?”

Milt flinched. Berhan didn’t, but his hand curled into a fist and he set the gun down on the table. Safety on, but pointing at the man on the other end.

“Lambsey’s waiting in my room,” Berhan said. “He shouldn’t have to see this. He shouldn’t have to see him ever again.”

“Brice-”

Before anyone could stop him - or even try to - Berhan’s arm shot out, driving Milt’s head into the table. Cracking it twice before Bronco could get him by the arms.

“Hey, hey, Brice, stop! What are you-”

Milt held up a hand. “It’s fine,” he mumbled.

“Milt, this isn’t okay, what’s going on?”

“Uh…” Milt glanced around and sighed. “I guess I should take the responsibility of explaining…”

“Tell them, you son of a bitch!” Berhan shouted, voice crackling like TV static. “You bastard! Tell them what you did to him!”

Milt kept his eyes on the table, shoulders twitching. He blinked back tears. “I’m turnin’ myself in,” he said. “I want to… For-”

“For rape of a child under thirteen!” Berhan thundered. “Fucking say it! You fucking coward! You son of a bitch!”

Bronco went still. Vachir clenched his fists.

“What?”

“… Yeah.” Milt’s voice cracked. “I did.”

“I…” Bronco seemed nonplussed. “Lambert?”

Milt nodded.

“I… I can’t believe it. I saw you with him, I thought you loved that kid…”

Milt’s eyes watered and he said, “I thought I did too. I thought this was love.”

Bronco let go of Berhan. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. He’d been wetting the bed and asking me to lie down with him… I thought something was going on. A teacher at school. Or… or… something. But it was him.”

“How long ago…?”

“Few weeks. It happened the night before his party.”

Bronco’s brow had been furrowing deeper and deeper throughout the conversation. His fiancée had two teenagers, Vachir remembered, not much older than Lambert. Well… one teenager and one question mark. Barley Lightfoot’s face was on the Missing board. Bronco seemed to be hesitating, not trusting himself to cuff Milt; Vachir did the job for him.

There was an engagement ring on his finger. A matching one lay on the floor.

Chapter Text

“Shibuya Police. How can we help you?”

“Hi, I’d like to report a murder.”

“Okay…?”

“At least, I think he’s dead. Pretty sure I got him good with that last strike. Lotta blood.”

“Wait. Ma’am, are you saying you killed someone?”

“Yeah! Sure did!”

“… Alright, can you give me more details?”

“Like what?”

“Your name, ma’am?”

“Easy. It’s Mai Iwatani.”

“And the name of the deceased?”

“Motoyasu Kimura. Fuck him. He deserved to die like the pig he is.”

“Ma’am, can you please provide some more details about what happened?”

“I caught the piece of shit jerking it off to child porn that my husband made, that’s what. I can’t believe I have to look at that shit while I’m waiting.”

“…”

“Hello? Mr. Police Guy?”

“I apologize, Ma’am. Can you stay on the line?”

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do? I’m all yours. Nothing else to keep me busy but either stare at a dead body or naked little girls on his computer.”

“Alright, let me circle back to something you said earlier. You said your husband made the, er, material in question?”

“Yeah, a whole lot more than just that. I was actually going to call you guys about it before, well, this. Heh, you think you really know someone.”

“Okay. Do you know where your husband is?”

“At home, duh. Don’t worry, I dropped our kids off with a neighbor. He won’t be fucking them again any time soon.”

“Ma’am, are… are you saying that your husband sexually abused your children?”

“I mean, I had a feeling something weird was going on, but I never wanted the little shits anyway. Then I caught him fucking my ten-year-old last night, so yeah. Should have left his child-raping ass years ago.”

“Ma’am, I’ve noticed you’ve been remarkably composed throughout our talk.”

“Of course. Nothing really matters anymore, though, does it? I married a pedophile, had an affair with another pedophile, and all anyone ever has to say is I’m a huge fucking bitch. Might as well be exactly what they all think I am, right?”