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
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Part Two:
Oxidizer
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He came from somewhere back in her long ago
The sentimental fool don't see
Trying hard to recreate what had yet to be created...
The Doobie Brothers
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Chapter 5—Meet on the Ledge
(Cont'd...Part 3)
"Hello...this Dr. Vignius." A deep frown creased the arkar sheep's face as he listened and he pressed the phone a little closer to his ear. "I'm sorry, this isn't the best connection...can you speak up, just a little? Yes, well I was just wondering... do you have an update for us?"
Watching him, Claudia Nizhang was also frowning, albeit for a different reason. She had never lost the old policemammal's intuition; knowing without knowing when someone was holding out on you. And it had been shrieking like a smoke-alarm ever since she'd entered this office. There was something Carl Vignius wasn't telling her—and whatever it was, it had nothing to do with either that malfunctioning restroom or a plumbing company called in to deal with it. The actual source of his reticence—the red panda was all but certain of it—was related to something she'd become aware of within seconds of passing through the entrance gate. The ZPD had the Gazelle Amphitheater staked out from here to downtown Meowria; plainclothes officers all over the place. A regular animal would never have noticed them—but to a former ZYPD sergeant of detectives, they'd been about as unnoticeable as fireworks in a funeral parlor. She'd even recognized two of them; members of the ZPD Cybercrimes Unit...and there could be only one reason why those nerdniks were here today.
So the rumors she'd heard were true. Okay, fine...it was a lead she'd have followed up on herself back in the day. But wǒ qù, THIS many officers...all to nab a 14-year-old fox-kid? It made her want to hunt down a certain Kaibab squirrel and give her an extra-large piece of her mind. "This is a student audition, you stupid turtle-egg, not a Cosa Nostra social club!"
She would do no such thing of course, but she was absolutely going to pay a courtesy call on Attorney General Sayanov's office, first thing, Monday morning. Unlike a few other mammals she could name, Claudia had a fairly good idea as to why he was backing Albert Tufts to the hilt.
But that was for Monday; this was today.
It should have been no surprise to anyone that Zootopia City Councilmember Claudia Nizhang was here. Had, or had she not been instrumental in bringing the Zootopia Academy of the Performing Arts to fruition? Heck, the arkar sheep sitting on the other side of the desk had taken the job as Academy President at her request. He had then promptly returned the favor–which was the bigger reason why she was attending the Academy tryouts.
It had started the year before, when she'd gotten a call two weeks before the student auditions were set to take place. "I want one animal on the judge's panel that's never in their life had anything to do with the entertainment business," Dr. Vignius had explained, "Just a regular mammal but someone who knows what they like."
Claudia had, at first, been dubious of the idea–but how could she refuse his request? On the actual day of the auditions however, her reluctance had vanished with the first performance and she'd loved every second of what followed. When Carl had asked her to sit on the judge's panel again this year, she'd said yes before he could finish even half a sentence.
"I see," the arkar was speaking into the phone again, his mouth becoming a thin, straight line. "Well please...keep me posted. The first guests are already starting to arrive. Yes, I know; I understand. Good-bye."
With a deep sigh, he rang off the call, tossing the cell-phone onto the desktop as if it were a losing poker hand.
"How bad?" Claudia asked him, already suspecting that the news was anything but positive.
Dr. Vignius let out a long, snuffling breath. "They say at least an hour, probably longer."
"Oooo," Claudia winced, and then decided she might as well get it out of the way. "I-I-I suppose someone has to say it, Carl. The City isn't going to like it when they find out you called in a private plumbing company to fix that problem—on a Saturday, no less."
The arkar-sheep only grunted, folding his hooves across his midsection.
"The City's got nothing to do with it, Claudia. I'm paying for those plumbers out of my own pocket." At this she felt her eyebrows jump, and it was an expression not lost on her host. "Penance for my sins, Councilmember; I should have had that restroom taken care of as soon as classes let out for the summer. But no, I was in a hurry to see the grandkids—and so, here we are."
More than ever, Claudia Nizhang was glad the Performing Arts Academy had this mammal as its President.
However that did not resolve the more immediate issue. Fortunately, she thought she had an idea.
"What say I go find Gazelle? Maybe she can keep the crowd entertained until the plumbers are done."
Carl Vignius grinned in spite of himself. "Are you sure you were never in show business, Ms. Nizhang? That's an excellent idea; go ye forth then, and seek out our champion."
Seek...and ye shall find. But that doesn't necessarily mean ye shall have immediate access. Claudia was able to locate Gazelle almost immediately. "She's in Dressing Room 'C' backstage," an okapi, one of the janitors, told her.
When she got there however, she found the pop-star's fursonal assistant, with her feet planted firmly in front of the door. Her name was Mirasol Jácara and she was an Olingo, a broad-faced cousin of the raccoon and a favorite of the employer to whom she was fiercely loyal. As always, she was decked out in a brightly colored dress and round-rimmed spectacles, a size too big for her face. Upon noting the red panda's approach, she swiftly held up a paw.
"I am sorry, Señora Nizhang," she said, as bubbly as if she were delivering the best news of the day, "but Señorita Gazelle is busy at the moment, speaking with her manager on the phone. A private matter and very important; I'm sure you will understand."
"I do," Claudia nodded. While never one to be overawed by celebrity, she understood that even public figures were entitled to a private moment every now and then. "Should I wait or come back later?"
Mirasol cocked her head towards the door before answering.
"It shouldn't be much longer; you can wait if you like."
Inside the dressing room, Gazelle was speaking on her cell-phone while pacing back and forth across the floor. This wasn't her being skittish; as an antelope from the plains, it was simply a habit of her species.
"All right Bert, when are they planning to air it?" Listening to the answer, she halted in her tracks and shut her eyes, taking in a slow lingering breath. When she spoke again, her voice was dripping with battery acid; "Ahhh, tomorrow night... how considerate of ZMT to wait until today to notify us! Have you spoken to Geoffrey yet?" It was a silly question and she knew it. Of course Bert would have consulted with her attorney; he was ever the soul of efficiency. Still, she had to be certain.
The koala's response made her wince yet again, although his answer was hardly unexpected. Yes he had spoken with Geoff—and the reedbuck had said, point blank, that she had no legal recourse to stop the piece from being broadcast. She could have flung her phone across the room. Ohhh, why did this have to happen now?"
Oops, Bert was speaking to her again. "No...no, I should be the one to tell Renato," She said. "Yes, I'm sure. All riiiight, so now...what should I do after that? Should I just keep quiet and wait until....?" Her left ear began to flicker. "Eh, try to get out in front of it...mmm, what do you mean?"
There was silence in the room for a moment, with Gazelle drumming her fingers on a knee as she listened.
"Come on Bert, you know the Academy auditions are happening today; I can't just walk...Yes, I know you're not asking me to...All right then, what ARE you suggesting...?" She stopped, listening for a moment, but this time with a thoughtful expression. "I-I see what you mean, Bert. Yes, but...I don't see how I would be able to... Well, we're on a very tight schedule...many more young mammals auditioning than last year. All right, I'll try. Yes, I know...be subtle..." Her ears locked in place and her brow suddenly furrowed. "What? Yes, I'm still here but I just thought of something. Someone needs to figure out what we are going to do when that el loco Guinea pig gets wind of..." She stopped, drumming fingers again, and this time rolling her eyes. Taking the phone in both hooves, she held it in front of her face, as if preparing to tell it off. "Yes, I know he's not a Guinea pig; does it make a difference? When he latches onto this story, he'll be all over it. Look at all the mileage he got out of... YES, exactly! " The phone went back to her ear again. "Yes, good...see what you can do. In the meantime, I'll try to figure out if there's any way that I can, er...get in front of it, as you say. Only please understand, I will not do anything to jeopardize the auditions. Yes, I know you wouldn't ask that of me, but I needed to say it, just the same. All right Bert...I will get back to you later. If I'm not able to get in touch myself, I'll have Mirasol call you. All right then, Adios for now."
She disconnected and immediately punched in another number; one that, once upon a time, she'd had on speed dial, though not anymore. In fact, this was the first time she'd called it in more than a year. When the line connected, Gazelle knew right away that she'd gotten his voice mail. She sighed with relief—through clenched teeth—as the away message played. Though he needed to know sooner, rather than later, she had no wish to speak to him directly. Those feelings were buried, let them stay that way.
The line beeped and she spoke hurriedly in Spanish. "Renato, es Gazelle. Tienes que escuchar esto, así que, por favor, no pases al siguiente mensaje..."
When she exited the dressing room a couple of minutes later, there was Mirasol, waiting patiently as usual. Ah, and there was Zootopia City Councilmember Nizhang. Hmmm, she would have to wait until later to tell Milagro about her conversation with Bert—and the message she'd left with Renato.
The look on her face did not escape Claudia's notice, and once again the red panda felt her cop instincts kicking in. Whatever Gazelle had heard from her manager just now, it had not been good news.
It was also nobody else's business...and so she turned to the subject at paw.
"Hello Gazelle, have you got a moment?"
"Yes, certainly," the pop-star replied, her smile appearing just a little bit forced. "What can I do for you?"
Claudia swiftly decided not to beat around the bush.
"Well, I'm sure you heard about the trouble they're having with the privy over by the rehearsal room."
Gazelle's mouth crinkled and she reached up to pinch at her nose.
"I not only heard about it, I smelled it when I came in. Uf, Hermano...did those plumbers El Presidente called ever get here?"
"They're working on it now," Caudia answered, suppressing a smile. She could not have asked for a better opening. "But it's going to take them a while, and that's why I wanted to talk to you. Dr. Vignius and I were wondering if you could see your way clear to, erm, extending your performance until they get things squared away."
"Hmmm," Gazelle thumbed her chin, looking thoughtful. "I only have the one recording with me today, so it would have to be unplugged... Ai, I haven't done a solo acoustic set in a long time...not since..." Her musings halted and she looked to her assistant.
"Milagro, I will need a guitar. Can you go find one for me, a six string acoustic...in large-mammal size?
At once the olingo's face lit up. It reminded Claudia Nizhang of a feline species, catching sight of laser-dot—or Dr. Vignius, contemplating the new school year.
"Leave it to me, Señorita Gazelle, there must be one around here somewhere."
She was gone without another word.
Claudia watched her go and then turned to the pop-star with a raised eyebrow.
"Milagro?"
"That's what I call her," Gazelle replied, in a voice rich with affection, "She is my very own miracle worker." Her ears flicked and her expression turned serious. "Just don't ask me to hold the crowd for more than two extra songs, three at the most. I've seen some of the kids coming in to perform today, and they're...ah, how do you say it? They're raring to go."
"Just like last year," Claudia answered with a knowing nod, "But you know who won't be unhappy about the delay? A certain ZPD police Lieutenant."
"Ah yes, him." Gazelle responded with her brow and mouth both flat-lining. For just a hint of a second, her eyes darted up and away to the left—and once again Claudia Nizhang was left with the distinct impression of someone holding out on her. Odd that she should be getting that vibe when she hadn't even asked a question.
Her best move, she quickly decided, would be to go off on a tangent.
"You know, there's one thing I just can't figure out," she said, "I know why Tufts is here and who he's looking for. What I can't figure out is, why does he think the Lewis boy is planning to attend today's auditions?"
Once again, Gazelle's eyes made a quick left turn, but this time her answer came forth at once.
"Because apparently, el zorrillo plato made a promise to one of today's applicants, swearing that he would be here to see her performance."
Claudia's eyes widened and she felt her ears go up. "Really...who?" She did not expect an answer and when she actually got one, it came almost as a shock.
"A young conejo from Bunnyburrow, Erin Hopps is her name."
If it were possible, Claudia's ears went up even further; now she was certain that Gazelle was keeping something back from her.
Because..."Hopps, you say? Any relation to...Judy Hopps?"
The pop-star's ears flicked once again.
"Yes...I-I think so, though I'm not certain. Umm, why do you ask? Do you know Judy Hopps?"
It was perhaps the clumsiest way possible to turn a conversation around; Claudia had seen it perhaps a zillion times while interrogating a suspect. In this instance, however, she was willing to go along with it
"We've met," she said, "and I like her...a lot. " She felt the corners of her mouth turn downward, "That being said, I find it hard to believe that the Lewis boy is going to risk showing up here today over a promise."
Gazelle only shrugged, looking mildly exasperated.
"Si, I agree...but El Tiente Tufts seems to be under the impression that he has a very big crush on the Hopps girl."
"Well if he does," Claudia snorted derisively, folding her arms, "he couldn't have picked a worse time for it."
"How do you mean?" Gazelle was lifting an eyebrow.
"I mean," Claudia answered, unwinding a paw and turning it upwards, "right after all that hype and hysteria on the TV and the radio...you know, 'pred and prey—keep away,' all that silly nonsense. That fox kid won't just be asking for trouble if it gets around that he came here to watch a bunny-girl perform, he'll be begging for it on bended knee. And it'll be just as bad for...Erin, did you say her name was? And it'll be just as bad for her as for him. Look at what happened to Judy Hopps; she and her partner had to quit working together because of that mud-storm. And now they can't see each other, even on a casual basis....all because he's a pred and she's a prey species."
It was meant as nothing more than small-talk...but for some reason, Gazelle appeared more uncomfortable than ever. Not to put too fine a point on it, she looked almost ready to bolt for her life. Claudia quickly decided to give her an out...or at least what she hoped would be an escape hatch.
"And if Erin Hopps is Judy Hopps's sister, the Lewis kid has to know it. He won't come anywhere near the Academy today, not if he has half a brain."
"Even if he does, he won't stay long enough to watch her perform." Now it was Gazelle folding her arms and nodding grimly. "I've met young Señor Lewis and trust me; he has MORE than half a brain in his skull. When he sees how many policias are here searching for him, he'll be gone like that."
And to emphasize the point, she slapped her hooves against each other.
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Gazelle was almost right; that was exactly what the fugitive young silver fox would have done if he hadn't bumped into Mike Daehan. And right now, sitting back against the wall of this...whatever-it-was, beneath the stage, he was wondering; why hadn't he bolted for home when he'd had the chance? Was he afraid that his rat-buddy would give him away?
Whether or not that had been his motivation, Conor's inner voice had a few choice words to say on the mater.
"Well, if he gives you away NOW, ya dumb fox, you'll really be caught in a sucker-box. At least back there in the tunnel, you had a way outta here. But now...heck you don't even know what this place is. All you can do here is sit tight and hope that the ZPD doesn't decide to lean on him. Jiminy-Criminy, you KNOW how scared he is of the cops."
"Maybe," the young fox countered, answering back for once, "But at least now I'm not flying blind. Inside the escape tunnel, he'd been cut off from the internet...not so this time; he had full Wi-Fi access here.
Still...his inner voice did have a point. Mike was way scared of the police; it was almost a phobia with him. If Tuff Guy Tufts decided to haul him in and tighten the screws, he'd crack like a rotten peanut shell.
Or...would he? That stinkin' squirrel had already questioned his rat-buddy at least once, and he hadn't come away with anything of significance—at least not as far as Conor was aware.
True enough, but Lieutenant Bushy-Tail hadn't had any juice to play with that first time around. This time...welcome to Mr. Tufts' neighborhood; can you say 'aiding and abetting a known fugitive?'
Agggggh, grrrrr... Why did it have to be Mike? You could shove Dana Alchesay's tail in a furnace and she wouldn't talk; ditto for Jason m'Beke. Of all his friends, why did it have to be..?
Wait, what? His phone was buzzing; good thing he'd set it on vibrate.
When he picked up, well speak of the Devil, it was Mike on the other end.
"You okay, fox?"
Before answering, Conor opened his laptop, double-clicked the TAUR Icon, and then opened up his backpack. Now, where had he put that headset? Ah there we go.
Smoothing down his head-fur, he fixed it in place, and replied to the rat—via text, not voice.
"M OK, Do U have Ur laptop?" He thought he had seen it, lying atop the control console, but couldn't be certain.
Mike's reply was both short and sweet...and also via text, "Ys."
Conor quickly thumbed his cell.
"Gt off phne. ZPD mayB wtchng. Go 2 Slype N wait. Wll cntKt U thr."
Without waiting for a reply, Conor disconnected the call and—and just to be doubly certain, powered off his cell. While his phone had been modified and encrypted to make it almost untraceable, his friend, Mike's was likely another matter.
"Looks like I'll have to talk to The Beast after all," the young fox muttered, flipping open his laptop. At first glance, his wisest course of action would be to avoid any and all further communications with Mike Daehan—except that his earlier declaration about not flying blind hadn't been entirely truthful. There were so many things he didn't know...and that he would need to know if he hoped to make it out of here without getting busted. At the very least, he needed to find out where the heck he was right now.
It took a minute or two to set up the connection, but when it was done, Conor couldn't help feeling a sense of smug satisfaction. He immediately shoved it back in its box. That kind of overconfidence was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
He moved the cursor and clicked; Mike's face appeared in a corner of the laptop screen.
He did not look happy.
"Conor?" he said, peering so closely that only the top of his head was visible. "Conor, I can't see you; you're all blurry."
"That's the general idea," the young fox informed him, expanding the window to fill the screen. "If the cops show up and start peeking over your shoulder, you don't want them seeing MY face on your laptop screen."
In response, Mike quickly pulled back from his webcam; his whiskers were twitching and his right eyebrow had pulled up until it was barely visible.
"Wha...? If you're that worried about the cops, what the heck are we talking on Slype for?"
Uh-ohhhh...now, where had Conor seen this before? His rat-buddy wasn't quite ready to go into panic mode–but he needed coolin' and I'm not foolin'.
"Because the ZPD can't track us from my end," the young fox replied, getting his Zen on as best he could. "Trust me; if they could, we wouldn't be chatting here." He allowed himself a hint of a smile. "And if they try to trace it from your end, it'll take 'em to a server in Gwangju; they'll think you're talking to one of your relatives or something."
"What the...?" Mike was staring into the screen with big, wide eyes. "I don't HAVE any relatives in Gwangju!"
Conor flipped a paw even though he knew the rat couldn't see it. "Sure...but Tuffguy Tufts won't know that?"
"Who?"
"Never mind...listen, I..."
"And it's three in the morning in Korea, you dumb fox. Who the heck in Gwangju's going to want to talk on Slype with me now?"
Oops, good thing Mike couldn't see his face; he would have been treated to the spectacle of a young fox with his eyes screwed shut and a paw planted firmly in the middle of his face; smooth move, chump. "D'ohhhh-okay, shake it off and get down to business."
"Listen Mike, I don't have time for this. First thing; we're gonna need a safe word."
Mike looked at him with his whiskers quivering.
"What do you mean a safe...?"
"If you see the cops coming, say 'wicked-sick' and shut down your laptop. And shut down right now if you hear ME say it. Does your computer have a fail-safe key?"
"A what?"
"Never mind, hold on a sec."
He typed a fast round of instructions and then spoke again.
"Okay, it does now. If you see the cops coming, hit 'tab' and 'backslash' at the same time. That'll shut down your laptop and wipe this conversation from your hard drive. Got that? "
"Tab...and backspace. Okay, I got it."
Conor felt his ears prick sharply upwards. Huh? 'Okay, got it', that was it? Mike should be drenching him with questions right now. 'How the heck do you KNOW all this stuff?'
"Never mind, just be glad he ISN'T bugging you."
For once, the young fox chose to heed his inner voice.
"Okay Mike, first thing's first; where the heck am I right now?"
"What, you don't know?" The black rat's nose and whiskers were twitching faster than ever. But then he winced and slapped the side of his head. "Oh right, right, right; you didn't work on Phantom of the Opera."
"No, I didn't," the young fox answered, nodding. Ahhhh, that was good for at least a partial explanation. As part of the school curriculum, every student at the Zootopia Academy of the Performing Arts was required to pull stage duty on at least two productions in which they, themselves did not appear. It was not a popular assignment and for Conor Lewis, it had been a decidedly mixed bag. He had loved every second of helping out on Spam-a-Lot, but his stint working on A Chorus Line had been a season in Purgatory. When that play had finally closed, he had almost gone out for a private celebration. "Sooo, this is where they run the theatrical FX from?" he asked.
"That's it fox," his friend answered, smiling. "There's two more trap doors, right under the stage." His whiskers began to quiver again. "Uh...dumb thing, but I have to say it..."
"I won't go near 'em, don't worry." Conor answered, drawing an invisible 'X' across his heart. He had to admit though; something like that would have come in seriously handy for a stage production of Phantom. He almost wished he could have seen it...almost.
Whoops, Mike was talking again.
"There's another door, like the one where you entered, at the other end of the stage, opens up onto the left side wings. But stay away from that passageway, just left of center. That leads up to the prompter's box. You stick your head up there and whoever's onstage will be able to see you, no problem."
"Well DUH!" Conor almost groaned. What the heck was a prompter's box for?
Mike did not appreciate his tone of voice.. "Hey Conor, I'm trying to help you, 'kay? Would you rather have found out the hard way...while there's a cop onstage?"
"No, no you're right, I'm sorry," the young fox answered, feeling his ears droop like melting candle-wax. Dangit, what the heck was the matter with him today? Ohhhh not much, except for nearly having been... Never mind, there was the first puzzle solved anyway.
Before he could get to the next one, Mike beat him to the draw.
"Okay fox, I answered your question but you never answered mine. What the heck are you doing here? Is this about that doe bunny, Erin Whatever-Her-Name-Is, the one you played with at the Carrot Days Fair...or however you called it?"
Conor grimaced and his head snapped sideways. An observer might have concluded that something particularly grisly had just appeared on his computer screen.
...Which, in a sense, was exactly what had happened; dang that rat and his perceptive insights.
Even though Mike couldn't see him, he seemed to take the fox's response for a 'yes'.
"Mwong-mi, dude...a rabbit-girl...seriously...NOW?"
At once Conor's ears went stiff again—at the same time turning backwards. When he spoke, his words came out as a near growl.
"Mike, I better not be hearing...what I think I'm hearing. You follow what I'm bringing out?"
"Oh give it up, bud." The young black rat looked mildly disgusted. "You know I'm no speciest. Rats are wangtta animals, same as foxes." He closed his eyes, seeming to compose himself. "But come ON...right after all that crazy stuff about preds and prey keeping away from each other? Fox, this is no time to get a crush on a bunny."
Hoo boy, that did it...
"I do NOT have a crush on her!" Conor was barely able to keep his voice down.
Mike only smirked. "Yeah, suuuure you don't. The ZPD's looking for you and—like I said—they expected you to be here today and they're waiting for you." His dark eyes narrowed into needle slits. "And, you know what I think? I think you knew they were going to be here, but you showed up anyway. Noooo, you don't have a greenlight for that Hopps girl...and when did you put that check in the mail again?"
Conor felt his fangs unsheathe.
"Hey smart-guy, lemme tell you something. I was on my way outta here when I ran into you. If that hadn't happened, I'd be long, foxin' gone by now!"
"Then why aren't you?" Mike demanded, showing all four of his incisors, "I wasn't stopping you."
Conor ceased his tirade and took a long, slow breath. Loathe as he was to admit it, that last rejoinder had hit dead center. Had he gone for the tunnel when he'd first had the chance, Mike would have stepped aside in heartbeat. But then, THAT wasn't why he hadn't bolted for it in the wake of their encounter; there'd been another, harder reason.
Ohhh, this was so going to sting; is there anything harder than delivering a painful truth? He coughed into a fist.
"Mike, right now nobody knows how I got in here—or how I'm planning to get out. But if I'd made my escape right after I ran into you, there's no way you wouldn't have seen which way I went, and... Look, you're one of the best friends I ever had, and I love you like a brother, but ...oh heck, everyone knows how scared you are of the cops..."
"No way fox; I'd never snitch on YOU." Mike had caught the drift immediately and he sounded more than a little hurt.
Ohhhh, why did it have to be him?
With a foot already in it, Conor knew he had no choice but to press forward. So saying, he summoned up every last ounce of his resolve.
"Bro', listen to me. I wouldn't call you a snitch no matter..."
"I'd never give you up, Conor...NEVER!"
What the...? It had been a total no brainer that Mike wasn't going to like this—but holy foxtrot, he was practically in tears.
He was also getting a little too loud for comfort. Conor lowered his own voice to a guttural growl.
"Chill dude; you're gonna give me away without even trying."
That put a cork in it. Mike shut up and looked away shamefaced, muttering something under his breath, over and over, like a meme. It was clearly not meant for anyone but himself—but if a fox's ears aren't exactly as keen as a rabbit's they're still pretty darn sharp in their own right.
"You know...what, bud?"
Mike turned back to face him. His eyes were moist and glistening and his whiskers were quivering in a way the fugitive young silver fox had never seen before.
"I know," he sniffled, quietly wiping his nose with the back of his paw. "I know where my dad got that money when no one else would give him another loan."
Conor's head slammed back against the wall as if yanked by an invisible cord; his thoughts were a ragbag, let loose in a whirlwind.
Mike...KNEW about that? How the heck had he found out? It had been more of an investment than a loan, really; a completely different script from the young fox's other lending sorties. For instance, it had been the first and the only time when he hadn't worked with Guild. And it had also been the only instance when his actions were perfectly legal, no computer hacking required and...speaking of hacking, so that was why Mike hadn't been surprised when he set up that fail-safe-key.
Mother-foxin'-A, he knew!
"If it hadn't been for you and The Phantom, Impawssible would have gone under," Mike was staring into the screen, with a trembling chin. "No WAY would I sell you out to the police."
Conor reeled back again, but more slowly this time. He had known Impawssible Meats was in trouble when he'd fronted them that money...but they'd been teetering on the edge of bankruptcy? Okay, THAT was something new in the mix.
"Mike," he said, trying to keep his voice on an even keel, "You and your dad don't owe me a thing, you follow what I'm bringing out?"
His friend only sniffed and nodded—and that was probably the most blatant lie the Asian black rat had ever told him.
And there'd be no such thing as talking him out of it, at least not in the next five minutes...and right now, they had more pressing issues to discuss.
"Are any of the other guys here?" the young fox queried. Mike would know who he was talking about.
"Everyone's here," the young black rat replied, offering a small shrug; he seemed genuinely startled by the question.
Not as startled as Conor was, when the news hit him. Ouch, he was going to get a concussion if his head kept banging against the wall like this. "What, all of 'em?"
Mike twitched his whiskers again, but this time it wasn't a sign of apprehension. "Yeah, all our guys; Dana and Jason are working the registration tables, and Saad's helping out as a translator."
"Right," the young fox nodded, for once unsurprised. His sand-cat buddy spoke something like four different languages. Something else, however, was a surprise.
"So...you're all here today; s'okay if I ask what for?"
For the first time since Conor had stumbled into him, Mike's face broke open in a toothy grin.
"School says we can check off one of our stagehand requirements if we help out here today."
Conor laughed, clapped, and threw up his paws. "Whoa, say no more my rodent, I get it." Oh yes, that more than explained it; he'd have volunteered himself if he wasn't on the run from John Law. Whoops, bad thought; it wiped the smile right off his face. He refused to let it go any further that that, however; what was done was done. And now that he knew the gang was all here...
"Mike, I want you to promise me, right now, that you won't tell anyone else you ran into me, especially not the guys in our crew."
His friend looked away for a second. "Conor, I can't..."
"Be quiet and listen to me, rats. If the cops find out you helped me, they're gonna throw the book at you. Their guy in charge wants my pelt REAL bad. That's reason number one why you gotta keep it zipped. Reason number two, if you tell the others you saw me, they'll probably want to help out too—especially Saad; he still thinks he owes me for helping to get his guitar back." He felt his neck stiffening, and with it, his resolve. "Nuh-UH...no way; I am NOT putting anyone else's tail in a sling. So you keep this to yourself, got that? Swear you won't tell anyone else you saw me; do it now, Mike."
At first there seemed to be no reaction; his friend only sat there motionless. If Conor hadn't seen him blink, he might have assumed his screen had locked up. But then, finally, he saw the black rat raise a shaky paw.
"I swear...I won't tell anyone I saw you, not just our crew but anyone...so help me..."
"Ever, bud," the young fox cut him off, "You can't talk about this, ever...not after the auditions are over, not at your graduation party; you can't even tell your grandkids about it, got that? No one word to anyone—ever; let's hear it."
"I promise, I'll never tell anyone, ever, that I ran into you today," Mike's voice was a choking squeak—but then he cleared his throat. "But I'm still helping you, fox."
Conor growled a sigh and rubbed his eyes. Who'da thunk this loyalty thing could be such a pain in the tail?
"Mike," he started to say, as patiently as he could, but this time, his friend shut him down.
"If the ZPD's going to throw the book at me anyway, what else do I have to lose by helping you some more?"
That put things into neutral for a minute; like it or not, Mike did have a point.
But still...the more his rat-buddy tried to help him, the better his chances were of leaving here in the back of a police cruiser.
All right, Conor decided, he wouldn't refuse the offer outright, but at the same time...
"Okay, Mike...if I need your help, I'll call you. But please, please, down-on-my-knees, don't you try to contact ME. I don't care if the stage collapses, don't try to call me again, okay?"
"Okay," his friend nodded unhappily.
"And one more thing; when you see Erin's performance today, trust me, you'll know why I had to be here." Whoa, where the heck had THAT come from?
Again, the black rat hesitated, but this time for a different reason.
"Wow," he said, "wicked-sick, dude," and then his face disappeared from the screen.
Conor instantly closed his laptop, sending it into shutdown mode...and then he was sitting back against the wall of the tunnel, thinking.
He might as well forget about watching Erin's audition performance; that was off the table. But from right under the stage, he'd sure as heck be able to hear her. With a little luck, he might even be able to see her through one of the surveillance cameras. It wouldn't be the same thing as watching her in furson, but at least he'd be able to say that he'd kept his promise.
And at this point it was a promise he'd have no choice but to keep. No way in heck could he make it to that hidden tunnel with the auditions about to get under way; maybe later, when they were done, but not now, he couldn't.
"Unless...!" the thought came down like a crushing weight, "unless there's a way to get into it from HERE."
Ohhhh...Aggghhhh, grrrrr, Conor wanted to slap his inner-voice from one end of the stage to the other. That not being possible, he slipped his laptop back in his pack and prepared to go have a look-see.
"Dumb fox; you should NEVER have promised that bunny-girl you'd be here!"
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Right then, 'that' bunny-girl was feeling every bit as frustrated as he was.
"Dangit, where are they?"
Shading her eyes with a paw, Erin looked out over the gathering crowd, feeling her foot trying to thump. The amphitheater was only about a third of the way full, but that was enough. There was no sign of her family and friends anywhere, at least not that she could recognize; the only things visible from where she was standing were the backs of numerous heads. Here and there, the young doe-bunny thought she saw rabbit ears sticking up. But not in any bigger gatherings; the largest group she saw was a party of three.
Dangit, where were her folks and the others? A bunny-herd that size should be easy to spot; instead there was nothing.
It was Erin's own fault, and she knew it. She should have found out where they were planning to sit before she'd left them. But no, she'd just been so eager to go get signed up...DANGIT!
The most frustrating part was that she had a lifeline available but didn't dare use it. If she really wanted to find her group, all she had to do was grab her cell phone and bingo; she'd know exactly where they were. Yeah...and then get teased by her girlfriends from here to Podunk. Ohhh, she was beginning to wonder if bringing her posse along today had been such a good idea.
"Dangit, where ARE they?"
Okay, this was getting her nowhere, so...time to put her thinking cap on. Alllll right, quite a few of the animals seated down below her were members of a large-mammal species; perhaps they were blocking the young bunny's view of her group. So...obvious solution; hop on down to the front of the theater, turn and look upwards and then she'd be able to search for some faces in the crowd. Good thought, girl.
Erin was eight rows away from the stage when she stopped in her tracks and began looking over the crowd.
But not to search for her family and friends; something here was...she didn't know what, but it was making her nose want to twitch.
A whole lot of seats on either side of her were occupied by kids—kids ranging in age from about the same as her to...she wasn't sure, high school seniors, maybe? They came in just about every size and species and were dressed in even more diverse fashion; emo, punks, metal-heads, gangstas, sidewalk surfers, you name it.
And yet...something here was tying them all together, something they shared—but what the heck was it?
Never mind; she could worry about that after...hey-y-y, waaaaait a minute; no adults. That was what these kids had in common; they were all here by themselves.
What the heck, now? Why were there so many young mammals in the audience without any grownups accompanying them? Had they come to cheer on one of their buds, the same as the young bunny's posse was here for her? Nooo, there were way too many of them here for that; at least half the kids she'd heard talking while waiting to get signed up had hailed from somewhere other than Zootopia—or at least that was how it had sounded to her. These kids weren't here because they knew somebody performing onstage today.
So what were they doing here? The ZAPA auditions were hardly the sort of place where a young mammal might choose to spend their Saturday–at least without any adults riding shotgun. Had the word gotten around; something awesome was about to go down here? Erin frowned at the thought; it was like the most super-mega-farfetched possibility she could think of–but it was also the only game in town.
Angling her head a little, she scrutinized the crowd a little more closely, watching them from the corner of an eye, an easy feat for a rabbit. Hrmmm, what now? Quite a number of these kids were carrying backpacks. And those that weren't seemed to be either cradling bundles in their laps or else had them parked beside their seats. Here and there, the young doe-bunny's eyes caught sight of a splash of bright chartreuse. What the heck; were all these kids packing safety vests or something? No wait, look there...about three rows down, a skunk and a muskrat, both of them wearing hoodies in that same loud color.
Erin felt her nose begin to twitch even faster. Hoodies...in the middle of summer; what the heck was...?
"Excuse me, can we get by here?"
Oops, she was blocking the entrance to one of the seat-rows. Muttering a fast apology, Erin moved out of the way to let a quintet of rodents pass. As they trooped on by, the young white furred bunny noted that at least three of their members were adults—and that none of them seemed to be toting packages.
That meant something but she had no idea...
"Oh, get OVER it and go find your mammals."
Thumping her foot in concurrence, Erin turned and headed once more for the front of the theater, moving at a brisk pace. When she got there, she turned a quick about-face, looking up at the rows of seats. There; maybe now she could...Nooooo!
"Stupid sun, get out of my EYES!" The young bunny grimaced and turned hurriedly away. Great, fine, now what...oh wait, over there...by the far left side of the stage; there was shade in that area. From that spot, she should be able to find what she was looking for.
Eager as she was to locate her family, Erin didn't put a rush on it. As long as she was down here, she figured she might as well take the opportunity to scope out the stage where she'd soon be playing. And so she moved at a leisurely pace, giving it a close inspection, close enough so that her scent would be detectable by anyone on the stage above her—or hiding beneath it.
The Gazelle Amphitheater's stage-front wasn't quite as broad as the one erected for the Carrot Days Festival...but what it lacked in breadth, it more than made up for in depth. Erin might almost have been staring into the mouth of a cavern. The construction here was a lot more solid as well, but then that was hardly a revelation. The Carrot Days stage went up with the festival's advent and came down as soon as it closed, whereas this was a permanent structure. Angling her gaze upwards, the young, white-furred bunny took note of a lighting scaffold, and what looked like a giant coin hanging beneath it. Hmmm, what was that all about?
Coming to the end of the stage, she stopped in her tracks and felt her ears shooting upwards. Wha...what the? That noise; it was a sound familiar to any rabbit, but...here? And where, exactly, was it coming from? Wait a sec, that clump of bushes by the corner-end of the pavilion; yeah, that was it.
Pulling the foliage aside with her thumbs, Erin peered within, feeling her nose start to twitch. The digging noises had ceased, but now she could hear someone talking. She was unable to recognize the voice and couldn't make out the words—but whoever it was sounded seriously bummed and appeared to be speaking to themselves.
But where the heck was the hole? Shouldn't there be a...? Wait, there it was.
At that instant, someone emerged from it.
Suppressing a gasp, Erin hurriedly pulled back and let the branches close behind her—but not before catching a glimpse of deep-gray fur, frosted with white, creating the effect of a silvery coat.
Silvery, as in... Oh-me-GAW, it couldn't be—could it? No...it wasn't quite right, gray where it should have been black, not the same as she remembered from Carrot Days, and yet... Could it BE? It had been a while; he could have changed his fur color since then.
Without thinking, she pulled the branches open again. And this time he heard her, spinning on his heel with his mouth agape.
"What the...Erin ?"
Erin winced, grimaced, and thumped her foot. "Ohhh, NO!"
The color phase known as silver fox is not, in fact, limited to foxes. On rare occasions it shows up in other species...such as bunnies, for example.
That was what Erin Hopps was looking at right now, a silver-fox buck-rabbit; a bunny from the Burrow by the name of Zack March. It wasn't HIS presence that was making her wish that she was somewhere else however. Zack was okay, but wherever he went, there went his cousin...
"Max!" He was calling down the hole through a cupped paw, "Max, c'mon up, you're never gonna believe who's here."
Erin could have booted him over the band-shell. It took every ounce of her self-control to keep from turning and running away when Max March's head popped out of the opening.
Max was big for a bunny. His rangy frame and long ears occasionally caused him to be mistaken for a hare instead of a rabbit. He was lean, and hard muscled, with not an ounce of fat to spare. He had fur the color of oat-straw, dusted with brown around his eyes, ears, and muzzle; his rugged, chiseled face was guaranteed to melt the heart of almost any young doe bunny–almost.
He was dressed, as always, in a soccer jersey, this one in the familiar red, white, and yellow of Hamchester United. It was an entirely appropriate piece of clothing; he was the star player on the Rogers Raiders, the team representing both his and Erin's school.
Opinions regarding Max March were as sharply divided as the Grand Canyon; there was no middle ground here. You either worshipped the ground he walked on, or else you wouldn't touch him with a 100 foot pole. Erin had initially been part of the first camp, but after getting to know the bigger bunny a little better, she had quickly gravitated to the other side. Simply put, Max was an arrogant jerk; the jock who's managed to figure out that his status as a star athlete is basically a get-out-of-all-responsibility-free card. It was Erin's GF Tawny Lloyd who'd best summed it up. "Like it or not, when he plays, the Raiders win; when he doesn't, things get iffy." That kind of prestige could convince a lot of animals to look the other way, and for a lot of different things.
If Max's ego was as big the average weather-balloon, it was twice as easily burst. The summer before this one, he'd competed in the Carrot Days Rabbithon, managing a fourth place finish. Considering that he'd been a first-timer, the youngest racer to finish, and competing against seasoned veterans, it had been an impressive feat to say the least.
Not to him it hadn't; Max had spent the rest of the festival cloistered in his hutch, sulking over the fact that he hadn't won.
But the thing that most aggravated Erin about him was...dangit, wasn't he supposed to be at soccer camp right now? Oh great, he'd just noticed her.
"Erin? Erin! Whoa, you're right Cuz, I don't believe it."
And leaping out of the hole like a jack-in-the-box, he came crashing out of the bushes as if rushing to save her. "Sweet cheez' n' crackers, angel-bunny, I never thought I'd actually run into you here. Yowza, is this like Karmen or what?"
"Heck yeah, Max!" his smaller cousin whooped; ever the faithful toady.
Erin didn't know in whose face she most wanted to plant her pawlm, Max's, Zack's, or her own. "It's KARMA, you jockstrap moron!" she thought, but refused to say, "And if it IS Karma, she's a stinking little psycho-snot from Hell!"
What she DID say was. "Max, what the heck do you think you're doing?"
It was spoken in exasperation but, judging from the bigger bunny's reaction you'd have thought it was a question he'd been hoping for all week.
"Hey," he said, leaning an elbow against the stage front, "You don't think I'd miss out on MY girl's audition, do you?"
Oh brother, not that...again! Erin wanted to scream in his face, "I'M NOT YOUR GIRL!" She would have too, if they'd been alone and if she hadn't been afraid for her singing voice. Besides, trying to discourage Max March that way was like trying to get rid of ants by painting the baseboards with maple syrup. So instead, she waved a paw towards the hole that he and his cousin had been digging. "Nooo, I mean that thing; what the heck were you doing back there?"
She might never have gotten an answer—at least not an honest one—were it not for the fact that Zack March, like all good stooges, occasionally had trouble keeping his mouth shut.
"Ahhh, we couldn't really see good enough from the theater seats, so..."
"...so you tried to dig a tunnel and go watch from backstage." Erin finished the sentence with her paws on her hips. Ohhhh, brother, who did these idiots think they were fooling? It had taken her all of three seconds to figure out their plan; tunnel their way backstage, hide in the wings, watch her performance from up close and fursonal and then surprise her when she came off again.
As!
IF!
Sweet cheez n' FIRE-crackers! She could only shake her head in disgust. "Bad idea, guys. Maybe you didn't notice all the police here today? You'll get caught and then get kicked out—if you're lucky," she nodded at the hole again, "And if you're not lucky and somebody notices your little excavation project...In that case, you'll probably both be arrested for vandalism."
The reaction to this was mixed. Zack tugged at Max's sleeve and his nose began to twitch, but the bigger bunny only folded his arms and thrust out his chin.
"And just how would YOU know that, little Miss Genius?" He was beginning to get angry with her–good!
Erin thrust her chin right back at him.
"Hello? My sister Judy's only a ZPD police detective—and guess what? She's here today. If you don't want to believe ME Max, go ask her!" It was pure bluff; the young doe-bunny had no idea if there was any kind of police presence here today.
HOWEVER...!
It was a pretty safe bet that Judy would be sitting with her mom and dad right about now. And while she might never have met Max March, THEY sure as heck had—and they took a very dim view of him. Not only did he like to put on airs, he also had a habit of grabbing carrots off the Hopps Family farm-stand without paying for them. 'Hey, what's the big deal? I only took ONE.'
Max would NOT be calling her out on her gambit; if he didn't know by now to steer clear of her folks, he never would.
In the meantime, Zack was pulling on his sleeve again, harder this time. "Uhhhm, yeah she's here, Cuz. I saw her sitting up yonder, with Erin's mom and dad."
He was pointing up into the audience, and while the young doe bunny pretended not to look, on the inside she was jubilant. Ahhh, so that's where they were; maybe this little groveler was good for something after all.
Max, however, remained unconvinced, regarding her with laid-back ears and a raised eyebrow.
No problem; she still had plenty of arrows left in her quiver.
"I mean it big guy, you're not in Bunnyburrow anymore; this is Zootopia." She waved a paw up into the crowd, "And these folks aren't going to care HOW many goals you scored this season."
That seemed to do it; Max threw up his paws in surrender...but then it turned out to be only a partial admission of defeat.
"Okay...Okayyy, no more digging back there, I promise" he said. And then cocking a thumb at the bushes behind him, he raised his other paw in a bunny-scout salute. "We're done with that, I swear; happy now?" Zack pulled at his sleeve again but this time got the brush-off. "Happy now?" the bigger bunny demanded again.
No...Erin wasn't happy, but that was all she was going to get out of Mr. Superstar and she knew it—and at least now she wouldn't have to worry about him turning up backstage. It wasn't much, but it'd have to do.
Besides, now that she knew where to find her friends and family...
"Yeah, okay. Gotta run Max; my mom and dad are going to be wondering what the heck happened to me. Talk to ya later."
"Break a leg, Erin." he answered, offering a thumbs-up. It was a heartfelt wish for good luck and from anybody else it would have been touching.
But Max March wasn't anybody else.
"Thanks," she told him, in a voice empty of inflection. And without another word, she turned to go.
The moment she passed out of earshot Max spun on his cousin with a thumping foot.
"All right, WHAT?"
Zack seemed to shrink down into himself.
"Wh-Why didn't you tell her about that wall we ran into down there?"
He was pointing into the bushes where they'd dug the hole.
Max batted his paw aside. "That's right, dumb bunny, show everyone what we were up to. Crikes Zack, why don't you put up a sign while you're at it?"
"S-Sorry," he was clutching his paws like a penitent in a confessional.
"And the reason I didn't tell her," the bigger bunny replied, nodding in the direction Erin had gone, "is because then she would have made me promise not to dig any more holes."
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Author's Note:
Any similarities between Max March and Max, the bunny from from the Disney Silly Symphonies 'The Tortoise and the Hare' and 'Toby Tortoise Returns' are entirely NON-coincidental.