The Life and Times of Bigby Wolf 1

"Bigby?"

The wolf didn't make a sound, as his eyes were closed in slumber.

"Come on, Bigby."

He had heard his name being called, but refused to fully wake up.

"I know you can hear me Bigby. I'm about three seconds away from taking a shit on your floor."

Finally, Bigby opened his eyes, growling in annoyance that he had to be woken from his slumber. He looked around to see his small, lived in apartment. He sat up slightly in his chair, before looking down. As he expected, he saw a very irritating talking pig.

"What do you want, Colin?" The Sheriff asked.

"I'm starving." The animal responded, simply.

"And you're telling me this....why?" Bigby asked.

"You don't have any food in your fridge." Colin said. "And as the owner of this establishment, it's your responsibility to feed your guests."

Bigby pinched the bridge of his nose, partly because he was half asleep, but mostly because of his house guest. "There was half a pizza in there." Bigby told him.

"What do you think I had for lunch?" The talking pig smirked.

Bigby sighed. He got out of his chair with a groan, before stretching. "Why didn't you call Flycatcher? Doesn't he get your food?"

"Well, he use to," Colin told him. "But I'm suppose to be at the farm, remember? And I like Flycatcher, I really do, but do you think he could keep his mouth shut about me to Snow?"

Bigby scratched his chin. Colin had a point. It had been a few weeks since Snow White had degreed that all non-human looking fables had to be sent to the farm. However, with Colin being Colin, he had decided to sneak off and hide in Bigby's apartment.

But they were friends, and Bigby had no intention of kicking one of the three little pigs out. Even though he was the sheriff, he just couldn't bring himself to enforce that law on the guy.

Bigby walked into the small kitchen nook of his apartment, and pulled out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. After pouring himself a glass, he looked over to Colin, who was staring up at him with round eyes.

"Fine, I'll get you some food," The Big Bad Wolf relented. Colin smiled in gratitude.

"I have a taste for Chinese." The pig told him. Bigby sipped his drink.

"Let me guess, you want the orange chicken." Bigby sighed.

"I guess that's why you're the sheriff. That intuition or whatever it's called."

Bigby downed the rest of the whiskey, before setting the glass down on the nearby table.

"Two eggrolls?" Colin asked.

"Two eggrolls." The Wolf confirmed. "And before you ask, no, I'm not pouring you a drink."

"Oh, come on Bigby..."

"No." Bigby said, sternly, before pulling out his signature pack of Huff N' Puff cigarettes, and sticking one in-between his teeth.

"Pft. Dick." Colin snarked, as Bigby lit the cigarette. He took a long drag, before making his way to the door.

"Just call in the food. And order me some General Tso's chicken." Bigby told him, before opening the front door and going into the hallway.

He made his way through the halls of the Woodlands, the apartment building for some of the higher up fables. As the Sheriff of Fabletown, Bigby's responsibility is to kept the fables protected from any danger presented by the mundane world, or each other.

It's been a few weeks since the latest case to rock the community happened. Bigby had gone after the Crooked Man, a fable who had made an underground crime syndicate. He was responsible for murders, drug trafficking, slavery, and just being an asshole. Bigby, fighting ever urge inside him to rip the man apart, had brought the Crooked Man to the Witching Well for his trial.

He was found guilty, and was to be thrown down the well. However, the Crooked Man attacked Bigby in a last ditch effort. Which led to Bigby losing control of his animal instincts.

He tore the fucker's head off. Like nothing. In front of everyone. Bigby regretted it immediately. He turned around to see all those shocked and terrified faces. The fear and disgust that he saw in Snow's eyes....

Bigby tried not to think about it, as he took another drag of his cigarette. He made it to the elevator, and rode it to the ground floor. When it opened, he saw the familiar sight of the knight armor, and Grimble sleeping behind his desk.

Bigby shook his head, before leaving the apartment building. He really should talk to Snow. She's been working non-stop ever since Crane, that perverted creep, fled to Europe. Bigby, to be honest, hasn't really been there for her.

He really did need some time to recover after the whole ordeal. In less than a weeks time, he was almost killed 3 times, thought his friend was dead, discovered his boss was a lowlife, killed three men, and toppled over a criminal organization.

That reminds him, he really should be on the lookout for the rest of the Crooked Man's gang. Tweedle Dee and Jersey are probably still alive, and will probably be causing hell eventually.

He walked down the dark city streets of New York, only lit up by the ominous glow of the street lamps. The Chinese Place was in walking distance, being stationed only a few blocks away.

Finally, the Sheriff of Fabletown was in front of the restaurant, it's only label being a neon pink sign reading "CHINESE" on it.

"Subtle," Bigby muttered to himself, as he threw his Huff N' Puff on the ground, and crushed it with his foot. Without another word, he went inside.

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Detective Brannigan was not a patient woman. Or an understanding one.

In fact, that's why she was so good at her job.

So when she was told that her entire precinct passed out due to a gas leak, she was a little suspicious.

She was even more suspicious when she realized that the surveillance tapes from that day were gone. She brought it up multiple times, but her fellow officers just brushed it off to being "misplaced."

But if they were misplaced, than she would've been able to find them. Which she hasn't.

Kelsey Brannigan had a hard time trusting people. Or just their instincts. She thinks there's something weird going on here. She has no memory of that day, no evidence from that day, no records of that day, nothing.

Except one thing. She found it after she woke up in the interrogation room. A pack of cigarettes.

Huff N' Puffs.

It was a very strange brand. Not a lot of people smoke them. Even less actually sell them. In fact, it seems only one neighborhood has establishments that have them in supply.

Bullfinch Street.

Kelsey Brannigan is going to get to the bottom of this. And she's going right to the source.