Anthropomorphic

Pitbull Character

Portrait

Aye Genteightonesix

Having had his badge removed on the first day on the job for gross misconduct and made to file paperwork in the purgatory of the back office until further notice, the anthropomorphic pitbull, Officer Aye Genteightonesix, had become a forgotten entity at Anthroxville Police Department (APD). This wasn’t just any office – it was a purgatory of pen-pushing, a sepulcher of bureaucracy. Entombed under a mountain of reports and documents, he hadn’t seen anybody in weeks, and was slowly coming around to the prospect that further notice would never be coming his way: his fate seemed sealed on his very first day due to a rather unfortunate incident. This seemed excessive: one little slip-up, and he was consigned to oblivion.

Aye had been a rookie then, green behind the ears and eager to prove his mettle. But in the chaotic dust-up at a Miff Inconvenience Store, involving Mario Miff, and the hostages, Graffen Gruntsqueeze, Herbert Whiffpop, Binky Pettifogger, Oskar Knullrufs, Bella Imbroglio, Fruma Putz, Squiff Flonker, Gideon Rumspringa, Raymond Windpipe, and Zofia Squits, among others, Aye’s idealism had met a harsh reality. As he had tried to explain to top-brass during his tribunal hearing, Mario had tried to grease his palm, offering a bribe that Aye, in his youthful indignation, found insultingly meager. Rejecting it vehemently, he had declared that it wasn’t just an affront to him but a disgrace to the entire department. Unfortunately, his passion got the better of him, and a self-inflicted pepper spray mishap had sent him into hysterics, an episode that his partner on the job had unsympathetically noted started seconds before the spray hit. Making matters worse, not only was also quoted as squealing in an increasingly higher pitch, "whether he looked like some sort of cheap floozy?" over and over, but he'd also fallen over and soiled himself in confusion.

With the doorway blocked and the phone long since lost to the staggering stacks of yet-to-be-filed reports and documents, Aye wagered that he would only last a few more days at best until he would succumb to the monotony, and would transition into an unsalvageable cog in the APD's machinery. That was until, by the graces of some miracle, Sheriff Bobby Lockjaw came to his rescue, not merely kicking, but ramming his way through the door and hacking his way through the sheaves of paperwork with a machete. Upon finding the anthro pitbull in a catatonic state, eyes flickering and muttering under his breath on matters of color codes, categorizations, and the alphabetical order of the universe, he grasped his collar and slapped him back to the side of sense and sanity.

“This is Lieutenant Larry Mooch’s doing,” Bobby rumbled, visibly pained by Aye's plight. “Listen to me – you're not a cheap floozy...nor do you look like one." Aye, tears welling up, listened as Bobby revealed that not only had he not been forgotten, but not a single day had passed without Bobby thinking about him. The Sheriff had a mission for him, a chance to reclaim his honor. It was a career-defining opportunity: to infiltrate Victor Wallop’s criminal outfit, Wallop Solutions, and gather irrefutable proof that Lieutenant Mooch was on the take. "Mooch is connected to that mob of mongrels," Bobby proclaimed with a clench of the fist. "But we need irrefutable proof." This would be an unconscionable development if true, for Victor and his clan had long made it a point of honor to never, under any circumstances, make any kind of deal with the police. Without exception. No bungs, bribes, or backhanders. They were far too principled for that. So if, as Bobby feared, Lieutenant Mooch had somehow managed to do the impossible and wrangle some sort of deal with Wallop and was now in cahoots then Sheriff's rank and reputation would be in tatters. He needed to know for certain.

Since the incident with Mario occurred within an hour of his first-ever patrol, few would have seen Aye in uniform, making him the perfect candidate for the role. In fact, Aye didn't have a choice in the matter. It was more an obligation than an opportunity, for the Sheriff informed him that he had already taken the liberty of removing Aye’s original name, Beejay Needer, from all office rolls and his personnel file; so that on the already unlikely chance that someone would call and ask for him, they would be told that no one by that name was ever employed there. His new name was to be Aye Genteightonesix, leaving no room for confusion as to his new sole purpose in life. "It's just you and me now, Aye," said Bobby, squeezing Aye's shoulder. “And what exactly am I supposed to look for?” asked the anthro pitbull, coming to terms with his new identity. “Proof, you floozy" responded the Sheriff. "Any proof. Proof is proof, and when it's proven, it's proof.” Aye paused. “Okay, so you want provable proof?” Bobby sighed before reiterating, “I want you to prove to me that you can get something proven.”

Aye nodded, absorbing the Sheriff’s tautological wisdom. Bobby then outlined the plan. He had been trailing Victor for months and knew his routine. Every Wednesday, before visiting his babushka, Victor would pick up a freshly-clipped bouquet from Quincy Sow-Sow located near The Wild Wilds on the edge of Anthroxville. The setup would involve Aye posing as a felon on the run, bashed up and in cuffs, with Bobby in hot pursuit. Bobby might even need to fire a few shots for realism, though he promised to try his best to miss. If Aye gets lucky and is unscathed, he'll then burst out of the thicket of The Wild Wilds, and shout to Victor to help a fellow roughneck in need, whose natural instincts will kick in and will impel him to assist by offering him a getaway ride. If Victor took the bait, then they would have the...