-Bunnies Don't Do That- by Toga

The leaves crinkled loudly underfoot. Too loudly. He checked the brush line twenty meters out and shimmied his way around the other side of the tree trunk, holding his weapon at the ready all the while. He smelled her faintly, her scent only just discernible, as if she was neither upwind nor downwind. She was a ghost.

It was not supposed to have gone like this. Nick thought she’d be an easy mark. He thought he knew how she moved, how she thought, how her tactics and strategies matched up with and against his own. All this knowledge gathered over the course of the partnership, and in the span of a mere two hours, all of it had come crashing down around him.

The bunny was a killer. Cold-blooded, efficient, methodical. She had cleaned up half the department on her own–Snarlov, Grizzoli, even Bogo failed to stop her rampage. In fact, a betting fox would say she had saved Nick for last on purpose. Maybe even out here she remembered the relationship they shared, something that made her think that in the midst of all the cat-and-mouse manuevering that she’d toy with him a bit.

To have the roles so blatantly reversed terrified Nick. This wasn’t like one of the nights were Judy would take charge and the big mean fox would submit. No, this was nothing less than a perversion of nature. The prey had become an apex predator, absolutely in her element and entirely immersed in her newfound predatory abilities.

“The leaves crunch awful loud,” he heard her say. His ears swept back reflexively towards the source. “Don’t they, Nick?”

The game was up. Somehow, he now felt at peace enough to breathe easily. No more running. No more looking over his shoulder. “Where were you?”

“In the tree, right above you. I was watching you for a good five minutes. It’s so odd; predators almost never look up.”

“Bunnies don’t climb trees.”

“They don’t become cops either,” she said. He could so clearly hear the smile in her words.

“So, what now?” said Nick. His arms hung at his sides. He only loosely gripped his weapon. She was surely watching it closely.

“What kind of question is that?” she said with a laugh. “The game only ends one way. The same way it ended for everyone else.”

“I don’t get any special treatment? Come on,” he chuckled uneasily. “It’s–me.”

“I know. That’s why you’re still here after all this time. You lasted this long because of me. That’s your special treatment,” she said. “Do me a favor. Can you turn around? I want to see your face at the exact moment you realize you lost to a prey. How lions, tigers, and bears have nothing on the only bunny to wear the badge.”

“Speaking of lions, I saw how Delgato went down. Two in the chest, point blank. Was that necessary?” Nick said as he slowly turned, his paw tightening around his weapon.

“He startled me. Once was clearly enough but my trigger finger twitched,” Judy said, eyeballing Nick’s gun. She nodded in its direction. “You gonna try something or what?”

The wind whispered around them, gently rustling the scattered leaves littered across the ground. A moment later the air and everything riding it fell flat and dead, as if gravity had been switched on to maximum and the crushing weight threatened to press Nick to the dirt.

“You don’t have to do this,” Nick stammered, as if his own switch had been flipped, one that allowed him to finally recognize how dire the situation truly was. The minuscule, primitive part of his brain which dictated survival screamed to the front of his mind, the fear of pain threatening to override his better judgement. “You’ve already won. Right? This isn’t necessary. I can help you out.”

Judy’s stance relaxed considerably, her head lolling left. She smiled in much the same way a parent would watching their kid about do something stupid; let them do whatever it is they’re going to do–they’ll learn not to try it again. “How could you possibly help me?”

“I know you liked this whole…” Nick struggled for words, his gaze fixated on the business end of Judy’s gun, waiting for the trigger pull. His ears folded fearfully against his head. “This whole thing. You, the prey, finally knowing what it’s like to be predator. I can see it plain as day in your eyes. You’re having fun! That’s cool, great, really. We can do it again! I could be your partner, we could set this up again, do it all over another time.”

Judy’s smile grew sinister. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

She pulled the trigger and a sharp pain hit him square in the chest with a wet smack. His eyes registered shock for only a moment before he realized it was all over. Honestly, he had thought it would hurt a bit more than it actually had. He lazily touched his paw to his chest, as if expecting something other than the obvious. A red stain seeped through the fur around his pads.

“Ugh, red paint? Seriously? Real morbid of you, Carrots.”

“I asked for pink! They gave me the closest thing they had.”

He scratched at his chest to dispel whatever pain remained from the impact. “I was trying to tell you–no one is going to want to play paintball with you again. If you had let me win then everyone else might’ve thought they stood a chance next year. Now, though? Mark my words, they’re gonna choose bowling or something.”

“Yeah, but then I would’ve had to listen to you tell everyone you won.” She stuck her tongue out with a gagging noise.

He smirked and wiped his paw on his sleeve, smearing the entire length of it red. His ears pricked to a whistle in the distance.

“Huh. Guess I really was the last one.”

“I told you,” Judy said, hooking her arm through his as they walked. “Saved the best for last.”