"Welcome to the force, officer Peters," The ursine chief smiled, gesturing to the rest of the department, "Always good to see another german shepherd on patrol."
"Belgian, ma'am," Officer Liam Peters corrected. He'd done it so many times it was almost automatic, and he only realized after his mouth closed again that he had just tried to correct the county chief in front almost her entire department.

"Pardon?" the massive bear blinked, as if she misheard her newest recruit.

Liam swallowed hard. "Belgian shepherd," he blurted out in an attempt to make the awkwardness pass, "I'm a Malinois."

There was an oppressive moment of silence. Liam could feel himself withering under the gaze of several dozen superior officers. "Belgian shepherd," the chief finally responded with a wry smile, "I stand corrected. Please report to officer Larose, you two will be patrolling 21st and Riverfront." She gestured to the door. Another canine rose from his seat, a Weimaraner, the short fur under his uniform a glossy silver-grey. Liam caught a glimpse of the 'senior officer' band on his shoulder, and stood to follow before the other canine gestured him out the door.

"Correcting the chief on the first day!" the other canine chuckled as soon as they were outside the police station.

"I know!" Liam huffed, stopping in his tracks, "It was stupid. I couldn't help myself. It won't happen again, I promise!"

"You put up with it for long enough it becomes automatic, I know. I got into it with one of my teachers in high school because the asshole thought I was a Labrador."

Liam looked up. Officer Larose was smiling as he walked over to the driver's side of the patrol car and unlocked it. "It's obvious to me you're not a gee-shep," Officer Larose gestured around the recruit's face, just skimming the top of his pointed, triangular ears, "the ears are all wrong and you don't have that barrel chest. And I know you'd never mistake me for some dumb lab! But any non-canine is just gonna look at us and see a companion dog that's gone grey and a bitch that needs a burger." He nudged Liam in the ribs, eliciting an awkward chuckle. "I'm no stickler for formality," he confided, "as long as we're off the radio you can call me Trenton."

The pair made small talk in the patrol car as they made their way downtown before the rookie started to ask the obvious questions: "What are we doing here?"

the Weimaraner officer sighed. "Been a rash of petty crime in this area - loitering, littering, vandalism, petty theft, that sort of thing. Chief thinks that having us out here in uniform will put people at ease and maybe make others think twice. Hopefully all we have to do is sit here and look pretty!"

Liam looked out the passenger side window. He saw a large family of raccoons taking up the sidewalk, followed by two young adults, a squirrel and a rat, walking hand-in-hand. He saw a tabby-patterned feline step off a bus and quickly move out of the way for a senior spaniel-looking canine hunched over a walker. Out of the other window he saw a mixed canine family sitting on the riverbank alongside a family of otters, the children playing together. As they drove, he saw a large pachyderm in a private security vest outside a hotel, nodding to a skunk that was so well-dressed that Liam had trouble seeing where the suit ended and the tuxedo-patterned fur began.

"There," Officer Larose announced as the car drove slowly between two apartment blocks, "did you see him?"

Liam tilted his head.

"In the alley. Deer wearing bright orange. Up to no good. I'm gonna park the car just over here, I need you to circle around the building and cut off his escape."

The rookie swallowed. "Are we planning to book'em? How do we know he's up to something?"

"As soon as he sees me he's gonna run. And then he'll just find some other trouble and we won't have solved a damn thing." The canine leaned over, as if he was going to share some deep, dark secret. "We're not out here to hurt anybody. We can probably just let him go with a warning but I need you with me on this."

Liam waited for a 'please', but one never came. He nodded. It felt like too much, too soon, but that was the nature of the job. He'd graduated the academy with flying colors, and he had a burning desire to serve his community. He was ready. He had to be. ". . .Alright," he nodded.

The Weimaraner beamed. "I knew I could count on you! Stay out of sight until I tell the guy to freeze. And remember, hand on your weapon but don't draw it - we just wanna put the fear into'em."

Officer Peters nodded again, then stepped out of the car and around the building. He heard the canine bark "freeze!" followed by a panicked bleat and the tell-tale click-clack of bare hooves on pavement. He waited a moment and then turned the corner dramatically, hand on his sidearm, trying not to looked shocked as a lanky deer boy skidded to a halt a few feet away, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. He was wearing tattered camo shorts over his lean, stick-like legs, and a bright orange vest over a baggy black long-sleeve shirt. His hair was mohawked and dyed bright orange like his vest, and the buds of his antlers could be seen where the rest of his hair was shaved. His left ear was pierced and tagged, like a mockery of a livestock tag. Fawn-spots were visible on his cheeks, like little freckles in his light-brown fur.

"Aw, he's just a kid!" Liam sighed, relaxing his grip on his weapon.

"He's a punk is what he is," Trenton countered, staring the rookie down before ordering the young buck against the wall.

"I-I'm sorry!" The deer bleated frantically as the senior officer pushed him roughly against the side of the building and twisted his arm behind his back, "I-I thought this was public! There was so much graffiti here already I thought I could just . . .y'know . . ."

"Vandalize private property?" Liam finished his sentence for him, trying to match the tone his partner was setting.

"Frisk'im," Officer Larose commanded with a nod. Officer Peters patted the young buck down roughly, pulling a can of red spray paint out of his surprisingly baggy shorts before finding a wallet. "Any ID?" the Weimaraner asked bluntly. The rookie pulled out a laminated card and started reading out loud.

"Hunter Banks," he mumbled, "A deer named 'hunter', really? Age twelve, species: cervine, address-"

"Wait, Banks?" Trenton interrupted, "As in, Lexi Banks?"

"Hey!" the deer interrupted, his cheek still pressed against the cold brick wall, "leave my mom outta this!"

Liam tilted his head.

"Lexi Banks?" Trenton repeated. Liam tilted his head further.

"What, is she a model or something?" the Malinois asked with an awkward grin.

"Do they not teach civics anymore?" The older canine sighed, "Alexis Banks, prey rights activist-"

Liam cleared his throat. "Sir, should we really be using-"

Officer Larose rolled his eyes. "Ugh, I didn't know you were one of those," he groaned, "fine. Alexis Banks," he continued, over-annunciating as if he was reading from a script, "distinguished herbivore rights activist, founding member of the "Bite Back" movement. Charged with a number of minor offences related to her various protests and demonstrations over nearly twenty years but never actually landed in jail. Remarkable woman," he crooned, leaning into the fawn's large ear, "bet she went great with a bit of mint sauce."

Hunter thrashed against the canine's grip, throwing his head back in a feeble attempt at a headbutt. "Get her name out'cha jowels!" He cussed before bleating in pain as officer Larose tightened his grip.

"Careful with those antlers, junior," Trenton teased, "it's my partners first day and he's a little nervous. Genetic predisposition and all that. We wouldn't want him feeling the need to swoop in and save his partner from an uppity prey punk like you, would we?"

"Sir . . ." Liam sighed, now visibly uncomfortable.

"Sorry. Where were we? Right. Ms. Banks. She built up quite a crowd of supporters and then one night, she just disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

The senior officer shrugged, leaning in close enough to the buck to make even his partner uncomfortable. "Disappeared," he repeated, "missing without a trace. Still unsolved. Guess dad was never in the picture much because her only fawn went straight into a children's home. Isn't that right, Hunter?"

The cervine squirmed in the canine's grip. "Just lemmie go!" he pleaded, "I'll clean up the paint! I'm sorry!"

"Strip him," Officer Larose ordered, winking at his partner, "we need to make sure he's not carrying a weapon."

"A weapon?! What?! No, wait!" Hunter pleaded, "I'll clean it up! I'll clean this whole building! I'll clean everything! Just let me go, please!"

This must have been the 'fear' the senior officer was referring to, Liam realized. It was worryingly effective. He pulled off the buck's bright orange vest first, tossing it to the ground. It looked like a fishing vest; It was full of pockets for hiding pretty much anything, and it was in remarkably good shape. The junior officer was beginning to wonder if it was stolen. Maybe this fawn really was headed down the wrong path, and he and his new partner were going to do the right thing by scaring him straight.

"The shirt too," Officer Larose insisted, "it's baggy enough to hide something. Just cut it off."

Officer Peters did as ordered, pulling out a safety knife from his belt and pulling at the black fabric to slice it away from the buck's back. He could see where the older canine was going - sending the fawn home topless would definitely be a message he wouldn't soon forget. The deer's back was covered in fawn-spots too, reminding the Malinois just how young this buck was. He had a long and promising life ahead of him, as long as he didn't follow in his mother's footsteps.

"It's off," Liam announced.

"Good," Trenton let the fawn's wrist go but kept his shoulder in the kid's back. "Hands out against the wall where I can see them," he ordered, "and don't move." He looked to the junior officer, motioning for him to keep an eye on the kid. Liam nodded, ready to give chase at a moment's notice if the buck so much as flinched.

Officer Larose picked up the discarded can of spray paint and shook it, nodding with approval as he heard the telltale 'clack-clack-clack' from inside. He shook the can again and stood behind Hunter, then started to spray on the fawn's fur.

"H-hey!" Hunter protested, "What the fuck?"

"Let's see how you like it, hmm?" the canine replied nonchalantly as he continued his 'artwork', spraying a circle between the fawn's shoulder blades, just like the one Hunter was spraying on the side of the building when he was interrupted. Trenton then shook the can again and added a large dot in the middle of the circle, turning it into a bullseye before tossing the can aside again.

"If I had a larger canvas," he leaned into the fawn's ear but spoke loudly enough for the other canine to hear, "I'd put the whole manifesto in there: prey doesn't pray, it bites back, yadda yadda yadda. But I think this gets the point across."

Hunter was quivering, both from the chill of the paint on his back and the humiliation of having the creed of the movement his mother helped pioneer slapped mockingly across his back. This isn't what he wanted, this isn't how he wanted to be seen. He thought he could make an impact with his art, draw eyes to the plight of his friends from far and wide, rekindle the spirit of resistance and the fight for equality. "Not like this," he whimpered aloud.

"Alright, down on your knees and hands behind your back," the senior officer ordered, stepping back beside his partner, "need to get a few evidence photos and then we'll let you go. But if you ever think of doing something like this again, I'm going to send these photos to your school."

Hunter winced, gripping his wrists just above his white stubby tail and nodded quickly, too ashamed to speak.

"This is literally blackmail," Liam pointed out, leaning in and whispering to his partner.

"Oh?" Trenton raised an eyebrow mockingly, then reached down and grabbed Liam's sidearm out of its holster with blinding speed. Before the junior canine could react, officer Larose had raised the gun with both hands and fired twice into the impromptu target he just finished making on the fawn's back.

Hunter let out a sharp bleat that ebbed into a grunt as his head hit the pavement, his body folding over. What was left of the air in his lungs leaked out of his mouth and nose in a long, guttural groan before sputtering out. Liam yelped. Trenton winced, lowering the gun and rubbing his ears as the shot echoed between the apartment buildings. "Damn, that's loud."

Liam was stunned. "You shot him!" he blurted out.

"No, you did," Trenton replied with a smile, "We were about to let the fawn go free after some . . . unorthodox methods of deterrent, when he charged at me with the paint can. You relied on your training, pulled your gun and aimed for center mass, saving your partner's life. You're a fuckin' hero!" He grabbed the shell-shocked junior officer by the shoulders and gave him a congratulatory jostle, grinning from ear to ear, "oh, they're gonna love you!"

Liam squirmed out of his superior officer's grip and rushed to the deer boy's side. The cervine was still on his knees, his upper body slumped forward with his head against the ground and his arms limp by his sides. The fawn's eyes, big and bright only moments ago, were now mostly lidded, as if he was just about to wake up from a nap. Liam could see a trickle of blood oozing from the boy's muzzle and of course the pair of bullet wounds in his back, close to the center of the bullseye spray-painted into his spotted fur.

"Looks like my aim was off by a bit," Officer Larose remarked flatly, "Or yours was, I should say."

Liam barely heard him. He leaned in with his ear to the deer's muzzle to see if he was breathing before he pushed his index and middle fingers into the boy's neck to check for a pulse. "You killed him," the Malinois accused without looking up, "he's dead! What the fuck! He was twelve for fuck's sake! He was just a kid!"

"A lot of preds have mixed feelings about their first kill," Officer Larose soothed with a hollow smile, "I did too when I was a rookie. Here, keep your hands on him, that's good, hold that . . ." He pulled out his work phone and took a picture.

" . . .what the fuck . . ." Liam mumbled under his breath.

"There's a trophy wall in one of the staff rooms," Trenton continued, "try not to look so vacant," the blue-grey canine encouraged, "you're a hero, remember! Smile!"

Liam was barely listening. How the fuck was any of this happening? His partner just used his own gun to shoot a kid right in front of him, and now he was taking pictures of him with the corpse like he was gonna end up on some magazine cover. He just wanted to make the world a safer place and now his face was gonna be plastered on the wall alongside this dead kid and no one was going to believe what actually happened. He thought back to the day he graduated the academy, freshly groomed, certificate in hand, cameras pointed at his face just like this one. He didn't know it was going to end up like this. He couldn't have known. He thought back to that day, full of hope and promise and innocence, the applause ringing in his ears, and he smiled.

Epilogue

Officer Trenton Larose and junior officer Liam Peters were welcomed back at the station with open arms, with the rookie receiving an accolade for bravery.
Media outlets latched onto the death of Hunter Banks quickly, and a sharp rise in anti-carnivore demonstrations followed, along with a renewed interest in the mysterious disappearance of Hunter's mother, the famous Alexis "Lexi" Banks. While the investigation into Lexi's disappearance was never formerly reopened, herbivore lobbyists succeeded in launching an independent review of the circumstances that led to the death of her son, and recommended several charges against officers Larose and Peters relating to inappropriate use of force and desecration of remains. Officers Larose and Peters were placed on administrative leave while a second internal investigation took place, however Liam Peters' body was found less than a week later, washed up on the shores of the river near the city outskirts. His death was ruled a suicide.