Pilot (16/?)
Julia fired. Dave didn’t see where the shot went, but he could hear it ricochet. Julia was already hopping over the bar to run after him. "Wilkins!" he heard her call.
He had barely left the place. The bell jingled madly as he barreled through the doors, company in tow. Dave turned into the hall and ran for his life.
Something was telling him that his only way back home was getting his wallet back. He didn’t like what he had seen in Officer Wilkins. The feeling he’d gotten was not a trustworthy one.
Also, he could stand to wash his sweaty-ass paws.
He couldn’t see Kara. She was much too far, but he might be able to figure out where she went. Unless, of course, this hall was a dead end. Which would really suck.
The footsteps behind him were like an earthquake as he turned one corner, then the next, and descended a short flight of stairs. What kind of bar had such a long hallway?
And exactly what had Kara done to warrant an armed squad of ten policemen, anyway?
He found one of his answers in the next corner. The hardwood floor stopped short as an expanse of concrete found its home in a gigantic open hangar. Dave squinted as late afternoon sunlight streamed in. There was a black shape flying away in the distance - probably Kara. And there went his wallet.
In the next second, he was tackled to the ground. He hadn’t remembered stopping. They must have caught up to him. His chin hit the ground, hard, and he was also once again aware of the wound in his arm. Everything hurt. His hands were pinned behind his back.
Wilkins laughed hoarsely from above. "What are you trying to do, dine and dash?"
"She’s got my wallet…" Dave offered weakly. He couldn’t explain himself. With a gun at his forehead and a heavily armed cop beside him, the only thought in his head had been to run. He hadn’t even eaten anything; how the hell could he have dined and dashed?
Wilkins chuckled again. "Hey, wait a second...aren’t you that hostage they told us about? We might be able to get some use out of you yet…"
"Actually," Dave mumbled, "I think I’m going to pass out…" His vision was tinged with black. Specks danced in front of his eyes, and a dizzy feeling rushed over him.
"What’s going on here, guys?" a new voice demanded. It sounded younger than Wilkins.
Wilkins got off Dave and stood up. Dave rolled onto his back, and could barely make out the fact that he was surrounded by the other nine officers. The owner of the new voice stepped into the circle.
"Kessel? What are you doing here?" Wilkins growled.
"I’ve got jurisdiction, Wilkins. You know that. You found it out the hard way last time," said the new person. "And I run into you guys the second time around and you’re beating up some kid?"
"He’s an accomplice."
"An accomplice, huh?" Kessel grunted. He bent down to get a closer look. Dave, half conscious, could make out just a little more - a mop of blond hair, floppy black ears - Kessel didn’t look older than twenty-five. "Well, I guess that means he’s also my jurisdiction. And I’d really prefer it if you didn’t beat up my lead. Got it?"
Dave didn’t hear whether or not Wilkins "got it." Everything went black.
