Zootopia Cops Novels & Stories

They’d beat her at her own game as a team. When he got there Heath found they’d taken up a bench with drinks. Parker saw him first. He said something to Kathy, who sat with Ivy, who looked murderous. It was faster than expected. What happened?” “The zoo is covering their butts on this one. There’s some rule protecting kids from being photographed inside a zoo. A pedophile ring was caught taking photos at a zoo. Anyway, they’ve called the police, but they’ll be here whenever they have time.” “Okay, are you planning on talking to the police? Charging the guy?”

said a field reporter. The camera then shows how the police cars were parked and several policemen were waiting near their car. Reporters covered from afar. It seemed that some of the police had gone inside to pick up Boston. Claire, Leon, and Fox didn't speak a word. They waited for Boston to actually come out, handcuffed. A moment later what they were waiting for happened. “There he is, viewers! The police have caught a big criminal, Boston Hopkins!" exclaimed the reporter. Claire felt her legs go limp with excitement. She hugged Leon. Maybe this is what it felt like a long-missed victory.

the cop said nonchalantly. "I want to talk to your boss because you cops ain't doing anything!" "Madam, you don't need to worry. I assure you, if we find evidence that what you're saying about Lorenzo and Ann is true, then the police will find a way to bring him back and rescue Ann," the cop assured, but this only angered Silver more. "Ann is sick, and she doesn't know what she's doing! You cops should do better!" The cop scoffed, dipping his thumbs in the waistband of his pants. "Just like saying a 5-year-old can't cry," he said sarcastically, causing the two cops behind him to laugh.

They’ve taken the lives of too many of my kind, so I will take their pups. Ten bodies lay sprawled in the middle of Millennium Park, in an open area for anyone to see. I may be a ruthless killing machine, but I’m smart. We do our business in the dark of night, careful not to draw attention we don’t need. We may be demons, but we look as human as can be, so being arrested by these worthless cops really puts a damper on our plans. It’s near impossible to explain to a judge why a cop goes from questioning you for murder to becoming a lifeless zombie and letting you walk. Been there; done that. “Alistair,” I call out to the most senior of my personal security.

This was all his fault. Aaron Bridges was my captain back at the fraud department. He volunteered one of his detectives for a temporary transfer to homicide, and I managed to be the lucky winner. I silently curse him and everything else before making my way up the front steps. Making my way towards the captain’s office, eyes start following my every move. I knew they were talking about me. I tried to pretend that it didn’t bother me, but man was it hard.

I shouted over the angry growl of the engine and squealing tires. "Hold on, baby!" Zac shouted, bracing for the impact, as I held my Glock up on the ready. We hit the barricade and wood flew high into the air, landing across the street. Human agents jumped out of the way and a few vamp agents stood right in the way. I unloaded my clip into them, knocking them to the ground, but not killing them, hating myself for doing it. They were just on the wrong side now, to no fault of their own. A second later, Zac expertly cut the wheel to the right and we were speeding toward Cooperstown. Once we were safely back on the expressway, Zac took the first exit.

But Carrie is frantic, looking over her shoulder as she drags her ex-boyfriend across the cracked pavement in front of the hospital. Trent’s head flops forward, and we see what frightens her: a dozen men in hazmat suits trot in our direction, followed by the uniformed cop. Detective Banks, having stopped at the barrier, climbs out of her vehicle. Beside her, the chipmunk descends from the van and removes his oversized head, revealing—no surprises here—the sweaty head of Detective Mott.

HOLY SHIT. “Move,” Bastian said. “No,” Zara said. “We run, we look guilty. We sit, we look ready.” “They’re coming,” Bastian said. “Let them,” Zara said. “Cops are here. Cameras are here. Vivienne wants private. She wants a parking garage. A hallway. Not this.” The two cops by the door looked at their phones. Then at Zara. Then at each other. One touched his radio. Didn’t key it. Just touched it.

Zachary was raised, unconscious and bathed in blood, practically faint. I couldn't see where all that blood came from, especially because my attention was called to the police officers who were returning from the open door, pulling the injured mobsters in tight handcuffs. Among those who wore dark vests and helmets with the acronyms of the FBI, I recognized the robust figure of Dennis, Zachary's co-worker. The policeman pulled with unnecessary brutality a person smaller than him, covered by black robes and with an arrogant air in his footsteps. When the person raised his head and found me being immobilized by the team of first responders, about to be placed on a stretcher, my blood froze.