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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Somebody seen him hangin' around
At the old dance hall on the outskirts of town
He looked into her eyes when she stopped him to ask
If he wanted to dance; he had a face like a mask
Bob Dylan
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Chapter 5—Meet on the Ledge
(Part 7...Conclusion)
Once more, it was Violet who saw her first. "Look, there's Gazelle again."
Yep, it was her all right, returning yet again to center stage. At once, the animals heading for the exits turned a swift about-face and started back for their seats.
"I was wondering why they never took down that microphone stand." Erin observed, pointing.
"Yeah, and what's in that envelope she's carrying?" Sue Cannon queried.
"What envelope?" Tawny Lloyd asked, peering closer with her nose twitching.
"There," the young bobcat answered, pointing with a clawed finger, "Tucked under her arm, do you see it...big manila envelope."
"Oh...oh yeah." the girl bunny nodded.
"Shhh, be quiet." It was Violet again. "She's getting ready to say something."
Taking the microphone in her hoof, Gazelle tapped it twice to check the volume and then began speaking. "Attention...Attention, please everyone," She gave the crowd a second to quiet down and then cleared her throat. "First, I want to thank you all once more for coming here today." She paused to let the audience respond, and then continued. "And now, before we wrap things up, I have one more announcement to make. Each year, the Zootopia Academy for the Performing Arts awards a scholarship—which, for some reason is named after me—to the applicant we judge to have turned in the day's best audition performance." Pausing once again, she pulled an embossed certificate from the envelope, holding it up for the crowd to see. "And by a unanimous decision, this year's Gazelle Scholarship is awarded to—Ms. Erin Janelle Hopps!"
It took a second or two for the news to register...and when it did, it hit like a tsunami.
"Oh, my GAW!" the young doe-bunny screamed. So did all her friends; so did Violet and little Cotton.
So did her mother...and then the waterworks were flowing all over again.
From day one, Erin had been bound and determined to make it into the Performing Arts Academy.
But never, not in her wildest dreams, had she imagined that she might win the Gazelle Scholarship. Oh sweet cheez n' crackers, this was no token honor; all tuition and books covered, a food and transportation allowance, and, best of all, free lodging; the use of a guest apartment on the second floor of Ainsley hall. It was all covered, all of it, every last penny.
And it was HERS!
"Ms. Hopps," Gazelle was still holding the certificate on high and looking out over the crowd. "Ms. Hopps, if you're still here, please come down and claim your scholarship."
Erin heard, but she didn't move, remaining frozen in her seat. This couldn't be real. Any second now, she'd wake up in her bed, back in Bunnyburrow.
Then Violet nudged her on the shoulder.
"Erin, what are you waiting for? Go....go!"
That did it; she stood up and waved her paw, "I'm here; I'm here!"
All the way to the stage door, the young, white furred bunny was once again feted with praise. And if the crowd had somewhat thinned out by now, they more than made up for it with their enthusiasm. It was heady stuff for a thirteen year-old girl bunny...so heady that when she got to the stage door, she was unaware of the squad of ZPD officers, approaching at a distance.
Inside, she found Conor's three friends still hanging in the stage wings. When she came through the door, they gave her still another round of applause.
"Whoa, what the heck, you're back already?" Dana Alchesay asked her, raising a mischievous eyebrow and opening her arms...and it was only in the wake of their embrace that Erin realized something; she had just shared a hug with a coyote. It was only mildly disconcerting, though. After all, it hadn't been that long ago when she'd had equally negative feelings about foxes.
Foxes...
She looked out towards the stage, but not at Gazelle. Her eyes fell instead on the prompter's box. From here it was impossible to see inside of it, but she knew it was empty just the same.
Even so, she couldn't keep from thinking, "YOU made this happen, Conor Lewis; I only won that scholarship because..."
"Erin, what the...? Get out there," a voice from behind her hissed. It was Dana again.
And once again, the spell was broken.
Hurrying out onstage, the white-furred young bunny had no idea of what to say to Gazelle. Happily, it wasn't necessary; the popstar had it covered.
"Ms. Hopps...on behalf of the Zootopia Academy of the Performing Arts, it is my honor and privilege to bestow upon you, this year's Gazelle Scholarship. Congratulations."
To the cheers of the remaining audience, she dropped down on her knee and held out the certificate to the young doe-bunny.
Erin took it with a pair of trembling paws...and that was when her voice cracked.
"Awwww, I promised myself I wouldn't cry." She snuffled, and then jumped up and threw her arms around Gazelle's neck, hugging her tight. For just a hint of a second the popstar was taken aback, and then she returned it.
And then the young doe-bunny heard her whispering, in a voice so soft that only she could hear, "Please...don't disappoint me."
"...like the LAST kid to win this scholarship." She heard these words in her head, rather than her ears.
Ohhhh, what would Gazelle say if she knew...?
Meanwhile the young doe-bunny's posse had taken up the chant again.
"Er-IN! Er-IN! Er-IN! Er-IN! Er-IN!"
The three young animals standing in the wings might have joined the chorus, had not the stage door swung open right then and a troop of police officers come marching into the wings. In police parlance, it was what was known as a strongarm squad, a female pig and a trio of heavyweights; a lion, a bear, and rhinoceros. Backing them up was the cheetah security-guard from earlier.
At first, no one seemed to be in charge...until a diminutive figure spoke up from atop the rhino-cop's shoulder.
"All right you three, over here...and right now."
He was speaking to Dana, Jason, and Saad.
The trio of young mammals just looked blankly at each other.
"I said over here...right NOW!" Albert Tufts repeated, pointing to the ground directly in front of Officer Krumpansky.
They complied, and then Dana looked up with folded arms and an expressionless face.
"Is there...some kind of problem, Officer?" Her voice was empty of emotion, so much so that it might have been artificially generated.
The squirrel responded by cutting directly to the chase,
"That's Lieutenant, young lady, not 'Officer'...and where's Conor Lewis?"
The three only looked at each other again
"Conah...Lewis?" Jason m'Beke repeated the name as if trying to remember where he'd heard it before.
Once again, Tufts wasted no time.
"Don't play games with me, son. We have an independent witness who saw you interacting with him. We know he was here and we know that you spoke to him, and also that you addressed him by name. Now, where did he go?"
The young Afurican Wild Dog only lifted his muzzle and thrust out his chin. Tufts gave him a quick, hard look and moved on to Dana.
"I don't think you realize how much trouble you're in, young lady. Conor Lewis is an escaped felon...which makes you a felon if you know where he went and decline to inform us. Now, what happened to him?"
"Can't help you," The young coyote replied, staring straight ahead, completely motionless and still speaking in that same toneless voice.
"All right," Tufts' tail flipped as he turned his gaze on the sand-cat at the end of the line. "What about you son, do you have anything to tell me?"
Saad lifted his paws and shrugged. "Qus ummak."
"What was that?" Tufts demanded sharply, and the feline shrugged again.
"Apologies, Bey; it means 'I don't know'."
Tufts chittered in anger, gnashing his incisors. Dana Alchesay was standing like a statue, but Jason m'Beke was standing on his own tail—apparently to keep from laughing. Whatever that smart-mouth cat had said just now, it hadn't been 'I don't know.'
"All right..." he said, sweeping his gaze from one young mammal to the other. "One! Last! Time! Where did Conor Lewis go?"
This time, he was met with only silence.
"All right, you had your chance. Swinton, read them their rights..."
"Wha...? What is going on here?"
Everyone turned...and saw Gazelle standing open-mouthed at the stage threshold, looking shocked, and even more bewildered.
Tufts immediately assumed his most formal manner.
"Ma'am, please move along; this is police business."
"I will NOT," she answered, standing her ground. From the way she was looking at the squirrel, it was obvious this wasn't their first encounter. "What are you doing?" she demanded, waving a hoof at the three young mammals. "Are you...arresting these students, Lieutenant?"
At once the Kaibab squirrel shed all pretense of decorum, reverting instead to a cold condescension. When he spoke to the popstar again, he addressed her as if she were a particularly slow child.
"Conor Lewis was here earlier Ms. Gazelle. This isn't speculation, it's a fact; we know it. And these three..." he waved in succession at Dana, Jason, and Saad, "These three saw him and are refusing to say where he went. And so, yes—much as it pains me, I'm ordering them to be placed under arrest—for obstruction, and aiding and abetting a known..."
"What? No, you CAN'T!" A new voice cried out, and then a white-furred young rabbit with black feet and paws appeared from behind Gazelle. "They didn't do anything wrong, you can't!"
"Erin, please." Gazelle moved hastily sideways, attempting to block the way, but the lithe young doe-bunny had already slipped past her.
"Erin...Hopps, is it?" Lieutenant Tufts inquired cautiously, gazing down at her with his tail flipping.
"Yes, that's right," she nodded, looking up with a dogged expression. "Judy Hopps is my older sister."
"Well, that may be," the squirrel replied, making a throwaway gesture with his paw, "but this is still none of your concern. Officer Johnson, would you please escort these...?
"Yes it IS my concern!" the young doe-bunny cried, leaning forward with her ears laid back and a pair of fists thrust down at her sides, "I SAW CONOR, TOO! I talked to him!"
"Erin, no!" Dana's stony façade had finally cracked, revealing a look of pure distress.
"Wha...What is this?" Gazelle was staring down at her wide eyed. "E-Erin...are you serious, mi coneja?"
"Yes, it's true," she sniffled, holding up her scholarship certificate for all to see. "If it hadn't been for Conor, I'd never have won this; I'd never even have made it out onto that stage."
"Erin, don't..." It was Dana again, and once again the young doe-bunny ignored her.
"I didn't want to go on last." She said, "I COULDN'T go on after Carrera and Natasha...but Conor...he made me get out there."
At this, Gazelle shifted her gaze from Erin to Lieutenant Tufts. And if looks could kill, she would shortly have been facing a sentence of life without parole
The look Erin that was giving him was none too friendly either, although hers was more defiant than lethal. "So, if you're going to arrest them, you'll have to arrest ME, too."
But the Kaibab squirrel had already recovered his composure. "That depends; did you see which way Mr. Lewis went?"
"No, she didn't; she didn't see a thing!" This time it was Jason whose composure broke.
"All right," Tufts nodded at Erin, looking like...did he actually appear to be a little bit relieved? "In that case, you can go," he said, and then turned his attention to the Afurican Wild Dog. "But you...you did see where he went, didn't you?"
Jason tensed as if preparing to bolt. At once the big cats, Catano and Johnson closed in on him...and in that instant, one of the others made a break for it.
It was Erin Hopps. Dashing frantically back onto the stage, she leapt up and snatched the microphone from its stand.
"Judy!" she cried, "Judy, please, you've got to help. They're arresting a whole bunch of kids back-stage for helping Conor to get away. Judy, please do some..."
"Boooo!"
What the...? It was one of the kids in the hoodies, a badger. And now two others joined him, a deer-buck and a porcupine. "Boooo! Boooooooooooo!"
Another young mammal stood up and booed; a young vixen...and then another and another, a bunny and a young she-wolf. Erin recognized the last one.
"Oh my God, that's Carrera Garnett!"
Now more and more kids began to stand up and voice their displeasure. On the upper right side of the theater, a pair of youthful elephants were blowing trumpet blasts through their trunks.
In less than a minute, it seemed like every young animal in the audience was on his or her feet, venting their resentment—and not all of them were wearing hoodies.
"BOOOOOOOOO!"
And then a marmot-girl down front called out something that sounded like 'Hay-Cadge,' and some of the others took it up as a chant. "ACAJ! ACAJ! ACAJ! ACAJ!"
That was when Erin realized...they weren't booing her, they were booing the ZPD; ACAJ—All Cops Are Jerks.
Unable to look, she turned away. On the far right side of the stage Mike Daehan gaped in horror for a second and then hastily ducked down behind his console. Erin frantically turned her gaze back the way it had come...just in time to see a wave of chartreuse begin surging towards the stage. On the left-paw side of the crowd, a dozen or so kids had broken off from the main group and were moving in the direction of the stage-door. And now a new chant began to make itself heard.
"We're not gonna TAKE it! We're not gonna TAKE it!"
This one swiftly went viral:
"WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT! WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT! WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT! WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT!"
Dazed and bewildered, Erin gazed out at the spectacle before her.
"Oh please, no, I never meant..."
Someone grabbed her by the arm, the cheetah-guard. In the crowd below someone yelled out "Let her GO!" and someone else threw a crumpled drinking cup at the stage.
It fell well short of its target; the missiles that followed did not. Erin saw the cheetah stagger backwards as a sports-bottle struck her on the top of her head.
And then everything became a blur as the young doe bunny was whisked off stage and into the rehearsal room. Behind her, the rhino-cop shut the door and bolted it, further bracing it closed with a shoulder. From the edge of her eye, she saw the bear-cop had Dana, Saad, and Jason, lined up facing the mirrored wall, paws secured behind them with zip-ties. In the far right corner of the room, Gazelle was hunched over her cell phone; she looked like she was crying.
And over on Erin's right, the pig-cop was shouting into her radio, "Never mind dangit, get down here...NOW! We've got a situation...!"
And then another voice spoke up, this one from down around floor level.
"All right, young lady," Lieutenant Tufts chittered in a smoldering voice, paws clenched against his hips. "You wanted to be arrested? Very well, you've got your wish. Catano, read Ms. Hopps her..."
"Excuse me, sir." It was Officer Swinton, "SWAT team's got their riot-gear on; they'll be here within five."
Erin felt her stomach knotting up again.
"SWAT team? Riot gear? Oh Judy, Judy...where ARE you?"
Judy Hopps, at that moment, was pressing her ear against a door...an almost exact copy of the one she'd discovered earlier, but with one crucial difference. This time, there was no padlock barring the way.
Breathing lightly, she listened through the partition, hearing nothing on the other side.
It didn't matter; she might not be able to hear him, but she could feel him. He was there; she knew he was there.
Stepping back from the door, she studied the latch mechanism and tightened her grip on the nightstick.
On the other side of the doorway Conor Lewis was standing center-stage, frozen in place with his ears pricked up and his paws pressed into the side of his head.
It had nothing to do with the bunny behind the hidden panel where he'd entered the Lionheart Auditorium. He couldn't have heard her anyway, not with his earbuds in place. Putting them in and tuning into the police band had been the first thing he'd done after exiting the tunnel.
Nothing; there'd been nothing at all about him on any of the frequencies and he'd breathed a sigh of relief.
He had been SO right to come here. At the end of the day, after everything he'd been through, sneaking into the amphitheater to watch Erin's audition performance had been the right thing to do. Holy foxtrot, if she hadn't crushed it like a drink-box; was that the same bunny-girl who'd been unable to take the stage a minute earlier? Even now, he couldn't get over it.
Well, he could dwell on that when he got home. Right then, he'd had a loose end to tie up.
Incredibly, the ZPD had never found his drone...but that wasn't to say they weren't going to find it—unless he got it the heck out of here.
Conor knew he should wait until he was safely off-campus—but he really didn't want to lose that drone. Though a little bit dated, it was still top-of-the-line, an Anteater Ghost 3. Not one of your multi-rotor types; it looked more like a scaled-down, stretched-out version of a full sized, piloted helicopter. Waterproof and virtually silent, the young fox thought he stood a decent chance of recovering it if he moved quickly and carefully enough. And besides, he planned to fly it away in the opposite direction of his escape route; if the ZPD did spot and go after it, they'd be heading off on a wild goose chase. There's nothing like a little misdirection to keep the cops off your tail.
That made it worth the delay; he'd decided....especially since so far his exit plan was going as smoothly as a bobsled run on Teflon. None of his friends had seen him exit the stage; when he'd opened the secret door to the tunnel, they'd all been looking in the opposite direction—on purpose. And even if the ZPD did manage to figure out which way he'd gone, by the time they got through that first hidden door, he'd be long gone; thank you, Mr. Padlock.
In the event, his concerns had turned out to be unnecessary. When his drone had lifted off from the pavilion, he'd heard zippity about it on the police band. And so he had directed the miniature aircraft to a construction site out on Lion'sTail wharf, a spot where he could easily retrieve it later. And since no one would be working there until Monday, he'd have the rest of today and all day tomorrow to bring it on home.
He had just finished closing up his backpack when all of a sudden the police-band burst into life. Tossing the pack up onto the scenery table for the moment, Conor listened with growing apprehension. What the fox? Riot gear? A SWAT team? What the heck was...?
Behind him in the stage wings, the secret door secret flew open and a gray-furred bunny exploded out into the auditiorium. Flying upwards in a rainbow arc, she ricocheted off the stage and sprang up onto the table above Conor, kicking his backpack to the floor, and then leaping off after it. She landed in between him and the rucksack in the same three-point stance her sister had assumed at the end of her audition...only that wasn't a bass guitar she was holding.
And then she straightened up again.
"Hello, Conor. Don't bother, I know it's you."
Slowly, almost deliberately, he reached up and plucked the earbuds from his head, never once taking his eyes off of her as he stuffed them in his pocket.
"Judy..." His eyes were flat and empty; the eyes of a lizard; the shock of her sudden appearance having already worn off...or maybe it had never been there in the first place And then his façade cracked, but only a tiny bit, a hairline fissure at most, "Why you, Judy?"
"Just plain dumb luck, I guess," she shrugged, and then pointed with the nightstick towards the front of the auditorium. Ahhh, thank God...it was over at last. "Okay, come on, let's go."
"No."
Judy froze in place with her nose twitching. What the...? She must have heard wrong.
"Wh-What did you say?"
Conor pulled back into a defensive stance. "I said 'no', bunny. I'm not going anywhere with you." His voice was like gears grinding.
Judy felt her own foot moving backwards, along with her ears. This wasn't happening, she wasn't hearing this.
"Conor, come on, you're a good kid, this isn't you..."
"You don't know what kind of kid I am." His eyes were boring into hers like drill bits.
Judy blinked and gritted her teeth; ohhh-kay then, no more Ms. nice bunny cop.
"Get this through your head, Foxy. Yes, you saved my life. No, that doesn't mean I'm going to let you walk out of here."
He only stared at her with that same unflinching gaze.
"You try to get past me, and I will take you down," she said...and to prove it, she slapped the nightstick into her pawlm.
"Then that's what's gonna happen," the young fox replied, and Judy felt an icy centipede crawling up her spine. He meant it...he didn't care what she did; he didn't care about anything. What made it even more awful was this wasn't the first time Judy had heard a young mammal express those sentiments—and in that tone of voice. Craig Guilford, after he'd been taken into custody, had said more or less the same thing. From a sociopath like him, it was to be expected—but from a kid like Conor, oh God, please no, not from him.
Something appeared in the young fox's paw, a cylinder, about the length of an empty paper-towel roll. She saw him press on it and flick his wrist...and watched as it extended outward into a telescoping baton.
At once Judy's horror turned to momentary disgust. Sweet cheez n' crackers, was he kidding with that thing? Never mind the movies; those batons were only one of the most overrated self-defense weapons in existence, especially the cheaper ones; you could literally bend them over your knee. And, how many times had she seen this before; some street jerk gets his paws on a fancy-looking weapon and then presto, instant Ninja!
Yep, right.
"Conor...what do you think you're doing? Do you seriously think you can take me just because I'm a bunny? Get real, fox-boy, you're just a kid and I'm a cop. I took down a rhino before I even... "
That was all she managed to say before he leaped to the attack.
Screaming down on her in a furious pounce, Conor slammed in hard with the baton. Caught off guard by the suddenness of the onslaught, Judy raised the tonfa barely in time. Even then, it was only partially effective and the force of the blow drove her down and onto her knees. Thinking quickly, she fell back into a tuck-and-roll, and was instantly up on her feet again.
Conor snapped his wrist, and as if by magic his grip on the baton switched from over pawed to under-pawed. And then his fist shot sideways and to the left, aiming with the weapon for her rib cage.
Oh no, you don't. Judy swatted it aside and switched her grip to the tonfa's side handle. Whirling it like a flail she swung hard, going for the young fox's wrist. Conor saw it coming and pulled back, but he couldn't avoid the blow completely. The tonfa smashed full-force into the baton, bending it into a deep U-shape.
But then it snapped right back into a straight line again; this was no shlock baton; the top two stages were made of tightly wound spring-steel, and that knob on the end looked like it had some serious weight.
And the fox-kid wielding it was no wannabe street brawler either. He swung upward with the baton hooking Judy under the arm, pulling her sideways and sweeping with his foot. She felt her legs go out from under her; felt herself falling. She grabbed him by the sleeve, took him with her, driving the flat of the tonfa into his midsection as they hit the floor.
He grunted, rolled off her and onto his feet, switching back to an over-pawed grip on the baton. Judy also rolled upright, arms and nightstick held in a protective stance.
"All right, kid, if this is how you..."
Before she could finish, he went for her again, once more catching her off guard. Conor swung his baton; Judy parried it with her weapon, too late realizing that the move was only a feint. She felt a left hook slam into her midsection, doubling her over; knew the baton was coming next for her head. She fell over backwards, and kicked out with both legs. Conor missed her by centimeters, but she didn't miss him, catching the young fox full in the face and sending him sprawling.
Judy jumped and rushed in for the finish, but he was already back on his feet, the baton clenched between his teeth and charging on all fours, going for a head-butt. She sprang up onto the table again and he missed her. But now there was nothing between him and the backpack. In a hail-Mary move, she flung the tonfa at the fleeing young silver-fox. It struck him between the shoulder blades and drove him into the floor.
She jumped down again, and kicked the backpack out of his reach. But in an eyeblink, he was back on his feet again...and this time she was unarmed.
But so was he; his baton was lying over there on the floor and blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth.
He wiped it away with the back of his paw and dropped into another defensive crouch. Sweet cheez n' crackers, did this fox kid not know how to feel pain?
"Conor please; even if you get past me..."
His attack was almost blindingly fast, slashing with his claws unsheathed, but this time, Judy wasn't caught by surprise, ducking quickly out the way. He slashed again; she ducked again, dodging him easily.
Yes, a little too easily; he wasn't trying to claw her; he was trying to manipulate her, to move her out of the way so he could get to his baton. At that instant, he knew that she knew and dived for it. Judy dived for it too, the two of them grabbing it at the same instant; yanking it back and forth, like a pair of kits in a tug-of-war for a favorite toy.
...Except this was dead serious.
If Conor had been an adult fox he would have had a pretty decent strength advantage...but he wasn't and so he and Judy were about equally matched in that area.
And she had the kicking skillZ; his short hindquarters were no match for a pair of legs built for leaping long distances. That was Judy's strong suit and she quickly took full advantage, striking out at him with her feet, again and again and again.
He dodged once, twice, a third time, but he couldn't keep it up forev...
All of a sudden, Conor wasn't pulling on the baton he was pushing on it. Judy pushed back instinctively—and the weapon was instantly snatched from her grip.
She jumped back just as he swung the baton, missing her by only a whisker. The weapon whistled through the air as he swung it again, this time at a downwards angle. Judy dodged left; he wasn't even close this time. But then he dropped down low and spun like a break dancer, aiming to cut her off at the ankles. She hopped upwards, felt the baton whipping beneath her feet. But then Conor jumped up too, slamming the heel of his other paw into her chest. He had the full force of his pirouette behind it, enough to lift her up and throw her backwards, head over heels across the stage.
She landed face first, shaken and dazed.
"Get up dangit, he's coming!"
Judy pushed herself up...and saw him closing in for coup de grace. But there was her tonfa on the floor, a foot away from her. Leaping for the weapon with everything she had, felt her paws close around it and dived into a forward roll.
She came up nearly nose to nose with Conor. Lunging forward before the stunned young fox had time to react, she caught him with an elbow in the solar plexus, driving him back but not doubling him over; he still had plenty of fight left.
But then so did she.
For either a second or infinity their eyes locked.
And then they were charging headlong at each other.
Judy swung, Conor parried; Conor swung, Judy blocked it. She aimed for his ribs, he ducked underneath. He aimed for her knees, she jumped up over it. Thrust, dodge, swing, block, overhead, underpaw, parry, wheel, turn, punch, kick, backpaw; they were like a two-toned gray whirlwind, tearing up the stage. Neither one of them made a noise; the only sounds to be heard were hard breathing and the clash of steel against carbon fiber.
They fought with everything they had, their weapons, their paws, their elbows, their heads, their knees. Conor shoulder butted Judy, driving her backwards. She grabbed the tonfa at either end, pushing him back.
Dangit this was going nowhere fast; she had to...
Conor grabbed one of the stage chairs, whirling like a discus thrower, and then hurled it full-force in Judy's direction.
Not this time, kid. She caught the chair in a liquid roll, tossed it into the air, and then kicked it hard with both legs, hurling it back at the young silver fox, with even more power than he'd used to throw it.
Conor tried to duck, but he wasn't quick enough. The chair caught him smack in the forehead, shattering into a thousand pieces before he toppled face first to the floor.
A wave of contrition washed over Judy.
"Oh God, I hope I didn't hurt him." He didn't look injured, but you never knew.
She went to him, patting herself down on the way, checking for any damages; a lot of soreness in her chest, but other than that, nothing too serious. When she got to her hip her paw touched something hard and rectangular; her cell phone!
Sweet cheez n'....how could she have forgotten about...? "Oh, pleeeease...let it be undamaged and let there be bars this time."
There were four of them; four great, big, beautiful bars. Hmmm...now what? Should she check on Conor first or...? No time to think about it, Judy went with her first impulse, scrolling up the 'recents' screen and punching the number for the ZPD Command Truck.
This time the call connected almost immediately. "This is Command—wha...Hopps? Hopps, where are you?"
"I'm..." she started to say, but then stopped and looked down with her nose twitching. Something was off; those shards of wood on the floor. That chair shouldn't have completely disintegrated just from...
"Hopps?"
The phone smashed out of her grip, hurtling away into the seats in two separate pieces. She ducked downwards, barely avoiding the follow-up blow from the spring-steel baton.
She knew instantly what had happened. A breakaway—that chair had been a breakaway prop and Conor had only been faking it, hoping to lure her in and take her down, once and for all. But when he'd heard her talking to ZPD Command...he'd had to move before he was ready. That was the only reason she was still conscious. But she hadn't gotten off scot-free; a high, stinging pain in her paw said that one of her fingers was cracked.
Conor jumped up, leapfrogged over her shoulders and dropped down on all fours again, the baton once more between his jaws as he ran full-tilt for the backpack.
Judy jumped too, much higher than him.
He was five feet away from his goal when she swung down off the table by her uninjured paw, catching him in the shoulder and sending him flailing across the floor, in the direction of the orchestra pit.
Conor dug in with his claws, plowing furrows across the floorboards as he desperately tried to stop the skid. He managed it with only centimeters to spare and wheeled back up on his feet again.
Then he took the baton from his mouth again, holding it at the ready. Blood was running from one of his nostrils and his cheek was already beginning to swell from the face-kick she'd given him earlier.
He didn't seem to notice and/or care.
Judy could only marvel at his tenacity, "Where the heck did they GET this kid?"
She started to open her mouth but then caught herself. Every time she'd spoken so far, he'd immediately attacked her.
Hmmmm, mayyybe she could use that...
She stepped back and raised the tonfa. Her tone was mocking and as harsh as bleach.
"You'll have to pay for that floor out of your allowance, kid."
Conor stayed where he was, regarding her again with those basilisk eyes...as silent as ever.
"Good God, he knows I'm trying to sucker him...HOW? How did he know?"
Judy shook off the thought and tried a different tack.
"You can't get away, Conor. The ZPD got a lock on my phone before you trashed it. There'll be officers all over this place at any second."
He just continued to stare; only now she could see his lip curling. He still said nothing, but no words were necessary; he had just informed the doe-bunny that her bluff had been called.
But then Judy remembered something. Well, why not? A promise is a promise and this was as good a time as any. And who knew, maybe he might listen to her for once.
"I saw Vern Rodenberg the other day, Conor. He asked me to tell you something."
No reaction; his face remained cast in flint.
She pressed on anyway.
"He hasn't dropped you as a client; he's still willing to represent you...but he needs to know what was going on in court with that judge and prosecutor—what was really going on."
Now, at last, the fugitive young silver-fox spoke
"Then that rat's got a stinkin' death wish," he growled, "and he can't help me!"
A sagging feeling came over Judy. It was no use; she was never going to talk this boy into giving himself up. There was only one way this was going to end—the hard way.
Very well, so be it.
Judy forced herself not to look; she knew where it was. If she was right, if Conor was determined not to leave without it, she'd be able to take him. If not, he'd make his getaway and she'd be the fall-bunny. This was it, there was no middle ground; it was all or nothing.
She jumped suddenly to the left; Conor moved along with her. And then she leaped up, caroming off the table-top once more. The young fox braced and raised the baton.
But it was only feint; instead of going for him, Judy shot off towards the backpack with her ears turned backwards. Behind her she could hear the fugitive young silver-fox, coming up fast on all fours. Not yet...not yet....let him get closerrrrrrr....NOW!
She dived into a roll, came up facing him in a three-point stance, and then dropped down low, as low as she could. Conor tried to stop himself but he was too close, and as he started to go over the top of her, Judy caught him by the wrist, turned and swung him over her shoulder and down into the stage like a ginormous, gray-furred flyswatter.
Working fast, she turned him onto his face, twisting his captive wrist up and between his shoulder blades.
And then she shoved the tonfa into her belt and hoisted the fugitive young silver-fox to his feet, grabbing his other arm in vise-grip.
"I'm sorry it had to go this way—"
Her words ended in a scream as Conor raked down the front of her shin with his foot, jamming it into her instep. At the same time the thumb-claw of his captive paw drove up and into her wrist, and then the edge of the paw was pressing into it, wrapping around and reversing the grip. He stepped sideways; spun around and pulled his arm upwards—and now HE was the one holding her at a painful angle.
He kicked her in the stomach, back-knuckled her across the ear and then let go of her...finishing up with a pawlm heel to the side of her face.
Judy dropped to all fours, coughing and gagging. Her head was ringing; her jaw felt wobbly and something seemed to have come loose inside her abdomen.
"So am I," the young fox grated painfully. And then he turned and bolted—actually mostly hobbled—for his backpack.
"NNNoooo!" Judy cried through gritted teeth and launched herself after him in a desperate flying tackle.
She didn't quite make it, only managed to catch hold of his collar.
A scream like rending sheet-metal filled the air. It was a sound the doe-bunny had heard before—in an alley behind a burning tuxedo store; not a cry of rage, but of pure undiminished terror, the panicked screech of a cornered fox prepared to do anything to get away.
Conor screamed again and whipped around, claws extended. A searing pain slashed across Judy's left eye, turning her vision red on that side. She cried out, pushed him off, and went for the nightstick. The berserk young silver-fox saw what she was doing and threw himself on top of her. She fell over backwards, hitting the floor hard and feeling his breath on her face, barely able to hold him off as he snarled and snapped his teeth at her, trying to wrap his jaws around her throat. It was the Natural History Museum all over again—except this fox wasn't faking it.
She couldn't keep it up much longer. Conor's frenzy had driven his strength to almost unimaginable heights; she had to do something and fast. Wait, the nightstick, there it was lying beside her—but she'd have to let go of him in order to get to it.
His head pulled back, his lips pulled back, trembling under his guttural snarl, revealing fangs and all of his teeth.
"Move it, bunny...he's going for the kill!"
She snatched for the tonfa, felt her paw take hold of it, saw his jaws zeroing in on her larynx, and swung hard for the side of his head.
She never connected; at the last instant, Conor's head turned sideways. He caught the nightstick in his mouth and bit down hard, worrying his head from side to side and trying to shake it out of her grip.
Judy grabbed the tonfa with her other paw, hanging on for dear life with both of them. Her paw, her chest; it seemed like every part of her was crying out in pain—wait, that trick he'd used on her earlier. Instead of pulling on the nightstick she shoved it hard into the crazed young fox's mouth.
Conor gagged, retched, rolled off her and retreated. Well, that wasn't quite what she'd had in mind, but any port in a storm. She got up on her elbows...and saw the young fox with his paw inside the backpack. Wha...? Why was he...? Never mind, you still have your weapon, get him!
She took a fast step towards him, felt herself stagger, shook it off and took another...
...And then stopped in her tracks as a red dot bloomed at the base of her neck.
"Enough!" Conor's growl was so hoarse, he might have had laryngitis. He was breathing in gulps and trembling all over—yet somehow managing to keep a bead on her with the dart-gun. "Are you...?" he swallowed and corrected himself. "Did...I hurt you?" Judy had never seen anyone look so stricken.
"I..." She reached up to brush at her injured eye. "I'll....be okay."
A ten-ton weight seemed to lift up off the young fox's shoulders.
"I'm...sorry." He croaked, "I haven't lost it like that since... I can't control it." He shook his head and his voice flattened out again. "All right, lose the nightstick and kick it over here."
Judy held the tonfa out to her side, as if preparing to perform a microphone drop...but then lowered her arm instead.
"No Conor, I don't think I'll do that," she told the young fox quietly.
"I mean it, Judy!" he snarled, brandishing the weapon.
"No...you don't," she told him, taking an awkward step in his direction. "If you were going to trank-dart me, you'd have pulled the trigger as soon as you got your paws on that thing."
"Back off rabbit...NOW!" he cried. His voice was taut, ragged, and for the first time since her appearance, he actually sounded scared.
Shaking her head, she took another step towards him. Her next words were weak and slightly mushy in her mouth...and yet they didn't feel that way. "You couldn't dart me then, and I'm willing to bet that you can't do it now. What are the odds?"
His ears went back and his paw began to shake, the red dot of the laser sight sketching a crude design all over her torso.
"You dumb bunny, this isn't a...I'll die before I go back there!"
He stuck the gun right in her chest; she continued to hold her ground.
"Back where, Con...?
She let go of the tonfa, heard it clatter to the floor; saw his eyes following it. Okay...GO! Ignoring the pain, she stepped inside of him and grabbed the dart-gun and snapped it out of his grip, whirling away and almost tripping over her own feet, but only almost. And then she was face to face with him again, clutching the weapon in a two-pawed grip. At the touch of her finger on the trigger, the laser sight activated, painting the young silver fox just below his right-side collarbone.
"All right, assume the position," She wheezed, "Or, make no mistake, I WILL dart you!"
Conor said nothing...and did nothing. But his eyes were resting on the tonfa, lying on the floor beside her.
"Don't!" she warned, stepping back and bracing her legs.
For a fraction of an instant, it seemed as if he might comply...
But then Judy saw his knees bend—and knew she had no choice.
She squeezed the trigger.
The weapon chuffed, bucked, and made her hurt finger sing with pain. She saw a splotch appear at the base of the young fox's neck. What the...? Not the neon-lime green of tranquilizer serum, but a black-cherry red whose purpose she'd couldn't quite place...and it wasn't having any effect! Conor only stood there, looking at her, and...was he trying not to smirk?
Without thinking, Judy shot him a second time—and felt her eyes go wide and her jaw drop open. This time the splotch wasn't green OR red, but a dark nimbus blue...and this time it was something she recognized.
"Sweet cheez n' crackers, that's Nighthowl...!"
Without warning, the doors to the theater lobby crashed open, and a pair of perforated metal cylinders came bouncing down the center aisle. Judy turned away just as the flash-bangs detonated, the second one bursting in mid-flight and almost blinding her, even with her face averted. A quintet of smaller cylinders followed, twirling through the air and spewing noxious, acrid, burning, vapor. She saw figures in helmets and body armor, advancing slowly through the haze and turned hurriedly in their direction.
Something wet and stinging struck her hard in the shoulder, and then again, just below her jawline. A sickly-sweet taste filled her mouth...and then everything began to fog over. Helpless to resist Judy watched the world swim away from her, fading into sepia tones. And her thoughts were dissolving; a sandcastle in the surf.
And then there was nothing but darkness and silence.
And then there was nothing at all.