The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One

The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One: Fuel - 90

Disclaimer: Zootopia stories, characters, settings, and properties belong to the Walt Disney Co. This story is written under Fair Use Copyright laws.

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The Fire Triangle—A Zootopia Fanfiction

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Part One:

Fuel

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Chapter 10 –When A Fox Goes Rabbit
(Continued...Pt. 5)

Zootopia, 02:07 Hours—An Undisclosed Location

Conor Lewis stumbled out of the elevator and into his loft, propping himself up on his bike, like a feeble, old fox with his walker. He had run out of adrenaline more than an hour ago and the crash had hit him hard. His limbs felt like overloaded sash-weights and his joints cried out for mercy with every little movement that he made. When he blinked, his eyes kept trying to stay shut.

He had never wanted sleep so badly.

Looking back on the past few hours, the young silver-fox might have felt elated; he had done it, he had pulled off a successful jailbreak and made it safely home.

On the other paw, even if the ZPD somehow never caught up with him, (an unlikely scenario, even he had to admit,) the life he had known was effectively over. He'd be expelled from the Performing Arts Academy, his apprenticeship at the guitar co-op was done, his partnership with Finnick was finished, and the next time he saw Nick Wilde and/or Judy Hopps, he had better see them first, unless he wanted to go back to jail.

And on a related subject, he would probably never see Erin Hopps again—except from a distance, and without her knowing he was there. Instead of euphoria, he might have felt deeply depressed.

In fact, Conor was experiencing neither emotion, only an all-consuming desire to crawl into bed and bury himself under the covers for the next ten thousand years.

At the moment however, sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford. He had tasks to perform and quickly—before the ZPD discovered his release order had been a forgery.

Closing the entrance-gate behind him, Conor shambled into the kitchen area, leaving his bike propped up against the wall of the Furaday cage he called home. (He could stash his ride in the bike-rack later.)

After a yawn that felt like it would go on forever, he took off his backpack and extracted his laptop computer, laying it on the kitchen table, and flipping it open. Entering the decryption code, he typed in a set of instructions, activating the loft's voice command system and clicking on the button marked MVO, (My Voice Only.)

Then he spoke aloud.

"Mother, lockdown the loft; digital-fortress mode. Winnie, Tangled, Foxtrot—Seven, Three, Six."

A series of audible clicks followed and then the LED lights beside the Furaday cage door and the elevator controls shifted from green to red.

Conor's living space, always secure to begin with, was now doubly protected against all possible intrusions, electronic or otherwise. Any incoming phone calls and texts would be blocked, anyone trying to email him would get a 'mailer daemon' reply, and loft's database was now ringed by a firewall so impenetrable, it could have served as the Tenth Circle of Hell. On the floors below and also on the exterior, the CCTV cameras had come fully awake, along with the motion and scent detectors placed discreetly throughout the structure. If the team that torched the Interspecies Recycling plant were to show up here right now, the alarms would trip before they could even begin to find a way inside. (Not a huge surprise; the animal who'd set up and outfitted this place had been an engineering genius.)