Disclaimer: Zootopia stories, characters, settings, and properties belong to the Walt Disney Co. This story is written under Fair Use Copyright laws
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The Fire Triangle - A Zootopia Fanfiction
Prologue - Escape From Zoo York
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Chapter 7
Dylan felt the cold and damp on his tail first, then his feet were wet, and then the soaking chill was crawling up his legs.
He shot upright as though is back were spring-loaded, looking wildly around the terminal. His body felt as though it had been charged with 20,000 volts of static electricity.
The airport was deserted; he was completely alone-and the floor was also knee deep in water. There was no electricity; all the lights were out and every board and display was dark; he could only see by way of the crisscross beams of the emergency lighting. The air around the young fox seemed to swirl with a billion dust particles, every time he moved.
He reached for his backpack. It was gone. He looked for the laptop. It too had vanished. How had Whitepaw pulled this off? Never mind, the water was rising, and rising fast. He had to get to the gate; the access ramp was safely above the flood-zone; if he could just reach the gate he'd be safe.
Dylan slipped off the chair-and plunged straight into ten feet of water. He flailed, splashing frantically as he sank into the depths. He tried to scream, but his cry came out as only a string of gurgling bubbles.
Someone grabbed him by the arm, hauling him to safety.
But when he looked, he saw that the paw holding him belonged to a wolverine-and was dirty white in col...
"Wake up, wake up young fox. Your flight is ready for boarding."
In the blink of an eye, Dylan was fully awake.
The terminal wasn't flooded, it wasn't deserted, and it still had power. The paw gripping his arm was white all right, but it belong to a lioness rather than a wolverine..
And she was looking at him with an alarmed expression...oops.
"Sorry," Dylan apologized rubbing the back of his neck. "Bad dream,"
The big cat relaxed, but not completely.
"All right then, but now hurry up and join the queue." She was pointing to the line of animals stacked up at the boarding gate.
The next thing she said was, "Excuse me, is this yours?"
Dylan turned and saw the lioness holding the laptop case. "Agggghhh, grrrrr, DUMB fox!" He could have face-pawlmed himself from here to Los Antelopes. Nearly leaving THA behind, way to go Lionstein!
When his turn to board finally came, things did not seem to improve for the young silver fox. The flight attendant, a female muntjac deer took one look at his ticket and began to flip her ears back and forth.
"Oh, but you should have boarded first."
That made Dylan's ears get moving-out to the side and backwards.
He stifled another fox-groan. Just when you think you're past the final roadblock...! And dangit, it wasn't his fault; they should have woke him up earlier.
"Is that a problem?" he asked, somehow managing to keep his voice on an even keel.
"Oh no," the muntjac doe reassured him, "Not at all. It's just that you could have boarded with the other first class passengers. Anyway, you're in seat D2." She noted the straps cinched around the young fox's shoulders, "Do you need any help getting your pack stowed in the overhead?"
"Please." He answered, looking relieved and feeling a small, wistful shaft at the same time. A first class ticket; wasn't it just like Kieran to book the best and leave it for a surprise? (Of course it hadn't cost the sea-mink a dime; he'd obtained the ticket by way of his hacking skills.)
Kieran, whom he was never going see again...bag it, Dylan!
"No, not Dylan, it's Conor now." The realization hit him with the jolt of a Taser dart.
(What the young fox could NOT realize was that while he'd been sleeping, Seth Whitepaugh had managed to track him as far as LaFurrdia airport-and there the trail had gone cold. Dylan Yeats, the boy he'd been searching for, had by that time ceased to exist.)
If the muntjac deer took notice of his agitation she gave no sign of it. Turning to her left, she signaled with a hoof to another one of the flight attendants.
"Tshonga, can you help this young fox with his pack please?"
"Right away, mam." A caracal cat answered, offering up a pearly grin.
Dylan quickly learned what the deer had meant when she said he could have boarded first. His seat was only three rows back from the cabin door, (and was also a window seat.)
"So what brings you on board today, young fox?" the Afurican lynx inquired as Dylan settled into his chair.
"Gonna visit my grandparents for a week," the young silver fox answered, another well-rehearsed line that rolled easily off his tongue.
"Ah, very good," the caracal nodded and then pointed to the laptop, "do you wish to put that in the overhead as well, or would you prefer to keep it with you?"
Dylan, aka Conor, thought it over for a second.
"Is there Wi-Fi on this flight?" he finally asked.
Tshonga nodded at once. "Yes young fox, free with all first class tickets. It will be available as soon as the captain turns off the 'fasten seat-belt sign.'
"Then I'll keep this with me," Dylan (now Conor) answered patting the case and then stowing it under his seat.
"Very good," Tshonga said again, and then turned, leaped upwards and dunked the young fox's backpack easily into the overhead luggage compartment, closing it with his other paw-a neat, fluid move that took him all of half a second.
Dylan (Conor) wanted to applauded. He had read somewhere that caracal cats were spectacular leapers, but he had never actually seen it before just now.
"If there is anything you need, please do ask me." The feline finished, with a slight bow. "I am Tshonga."
"Thanks, Tshonga." Conor (Formerly Dylan) answered, a little embarrassed. He was so unused to be treated deferentially-in his young life, it had been mostly just the opposite-he found that now, it actually made him feel uneasy. "I'm gonna have to work on that," he told himself.
"You are most welcome." The caracal said, and hurried off to assist a pair of elderly hamsters in the Rodent Section across the aisle, (located directly above the overhead carry-on compartment.) He had only been gone for a half a minute when another rodent, a woodchuck appeared and prepared to take the seat beside the young fox.
But then he noticed who was sitting in the space next to his and turned towards the front of the cabin, beckoning with a crooked finger.
"Excuse me...someone?"
Tshonga was there almost immediately.
"Yes sir?"
"Er, have you got another open seat?" The woodchuck asked, indicating Dylan (Conor) with an open paw. "I really don't want to sit next to a...err, that is I have work to do, and I need to concentrate, so is it possible...?
"I-I-I think we have another seat open, sir." The caracal answered, throwing Dylan an apologetic look. He knew as well as the fox did the REAL reason the woodchuck didn't want to sit here.
They moved off towards the rear of the cabin as Dylan reached to fasten his seat-belt...unaware that that the rodent who'd just snubbed him had a history with foxes-one that went all the way back to his days as a Junior Ranger Scout.
Neither could the silver fox have imagined that someday he and this woodchuck would meet again-and that it would be an even less pleasant encounter than this one.
...a MUCH less pleasant encounter!
He had to wonder though, how Tshonga had been able to accommodate the rodent's request so easily.
A look around the cabin answered that question. Only two-thirds of the seats were occupied, and the large-mammal section in the back had even fewer passengers. Furgin Airlines was sure as heck taking a bath on this one.
Then the cabin door began to close and the muntjac deer was standing with a microphone in her hoof.
"Ladies and Gentlemammals, please fasten your seat belts and prepare for departure..."
A moment later they were rolling out onto the taxiway. Outside the aircraft, a hard rain had begun to fall, and Conor could see that the tarmac was dappled with puddles.
At the head of the runway, the plane stopped for just a second, as if trying to make up its mind...and then plumes of water spurted from beneath the tires as the aircraft surged forward, rapidly gathering speed and lifting smoothly into the air.
As the airliner gained altitude, it slowly banked to the right. Outside his window, in the far distance, Dylan could see a faint, reddish glow.
It couldn't be Finagles of course, the ZYFD must have put out that fire by now. Just the same Conor Lewis, the young fox formerly known as Dylan Yeats felt his throat twist into a granny-knot
"G'bye Danny...G'bye Kieran" he murmured softly, "Thanks for the first class ticket."
It sounded pitiful even as he spoke the words, but what the heck else was he supposed to say?
He reached over and closed the window shade.
"No looking back," he swore to himself and then lay back, closing his eyes for minute.
When he opened them again, the cabin lights were dimmed and the seat-belt sign was off.
So much for only a minute, but not everyone was asleep; several of the passengers were up and moving about the cabin; an aardwolf, a brush-tailed opossum, and a leaf-nosed bat, nocturnal species all. Dylan, excuse me, Conor noted with amusement that the bat had taken wing and was flittering towards the front of the cabin.
"He's flying faster than the plane is going." The young fox chuckled to himself.
He looked at his watch, wondering how long he'd been asleep...and groaned inwardly; he had no idea. When he'd boarded the plane, he hadn't thought to look...Aggggh, grrrr!
Feeling like King Moron, he pressed the flight-attendant call-button.
Once more Tshonga appeared within seconds.
"Can I get you anything, young fox?"
Conor rolled his lips together, not looking at the caracal, "Uhm, this is going to seem like a really dumb question, but uhhhh, what time did we finally take off? I was so hot get on board the plane, I forgot to check."
The caracal gave a short laugh.
"Not to worry, you're actually the fourth passenger to ask me that question. We departed Zoo York at 3:45 AM, Eastern Standard Time."
Conor (Dylan) sighed and almost groaned again; more than six hours late, no wonder the stupid plane was half empty.
He looked up at Tshonga again
"Thanks, listen as long as you're here, can you get me a Morn..."? He stopped, barely suppressing a hard grimace, "Errr, I-I mean a Mountain Mew?
"Coming right up," the Caracal answered, and went away for a moment.
When he was gone, the young silver fox puffed out his cheeks and glanced upwards towards the overhead compartment, where the red pellets Danny had given him lay hidden inside his backpack. He couldn't believe he'd come that close to saying...well, never mind, he hadn't said it.
Still, he'd have to mind his words carefully from now on; there was no longer anyone to cover for him when he made a mistake like that.
The unexpected realization made Dylan ("That's CONOR!) shudder a slightly. He really was on his own now, the last surviving member of The Company, albeit only an honorary member, (if that!)
Lying back in his seat once more, he tried to get his breathing under control, closing his eyes and clearing his mind, counting each individual inhalation and exhalation. (A method Kieran had taught him.)
He opened his eyes again just as Tshonga returned with his soda. When the caracal was gone, he took a long sip and tried to think.
Was that really true, was he the last of The Company mammals? He was probably-almost certainly the only one who'd made it out of Finagles in one piece, but was there anyone else who could have slipped the net...someone who hadn't been there? None of the actual gang members fit that category; per the Mister's orders every single one of them had been inside the club with him when the hammer dropped.
But like any good criminal enterprise the Company had numerous associates and free-lancers at their beck and call, the chemists who ran their bootleg pharma labs, the pilots and freighter captains who smuggled their weapons, the bankers and accountants who laundered their money. Would that white-pawed wolverine (or rather the slimeball he worked for) go after any of them?
No, the young fox swiftly decided, no those guys were safe, at least as long as they didn't cause Aker any more trouble. He couldn't say why he thought this; it was only a gut feeling, but hadn't Danny Tipperin once told him that sometimes a gut decision is the most logical move you could make?
Yes the swift fox had said that, and...
"Not so fast kid, what about The Circle?"
Conor felt his breathing ramping up again. No, Kieran McCrodon's crew of hackers was most definitely NOT in the safety zone. When the sea-mink had cracked The Aker Correctional Corporation database, they'd assisted him every step of the way. That alone would be enough to put them on White-paw's radar screen-and according to what Danny had said, the wolverine's boss knew only one solution to that kind of problem; kill it.
Somehow the young fox had to warn them; easily done from Finagles boiler room, but by now that place was charcoal.
"Wait, hold it, hollllld it."
Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Conor-formerly-Dylan pulled out the laptop from under his seat and booted up. Maybe-just maybe it had the #giantsdance app installed.
He opened the laptop's search window and typed in 'dissonance.' There were only three items with that name in the database, but only the first was the one he wanted. He double clicked the icon and waited for the program to open.
A split second later the 'password' window appeared. Conor typed his in and clicked enter.
An animated fidget spinner appeared on the screen, whirling rapidly and throwing off spots of light like a mirrored disco globe. Underneath the logo were the words. "Looking For The Heart Of Saturday Night', whatever the heck that meant.
Then the spinner vanished and Conor found himself inside a chat-room...but not the one he wanted. This one was the #general chat; the one he was looking for was #giantsdance; if there were any members of The Circle online at the moment, the Giant's Dance chatroom was the most likely place to find them.
There was no room by that name listed on the sidebar, but the young fox knew the secret. Opening the help window he typed in this username and password and clicked enter. Immediately a request appeared.
"Put your eye to the webcam and keep it open for at least five seconds."
Hoping none of the other passengers would see what he was up to, Conor did as the program instructed. After three more seconds he found himself in the Giant's Dance chat room.
That was the good news; the bad news was that he was the only one there, and no one else had logged on since at least three hours before he'd boarded his flight. Disappointed but not surprised, he typed in a brief message and clicked Enter.
Felsogud+220: "Code APOC. This is not a drill. Ping me as soon as you log on."
He sat back in chair to wait. APOC was a corruption of the word 'Apocalypse', and it meant exactly what it implied, a catastrophe of biblical proportions.
But then, to the young fox's surprise, someone answered.
Cambrill64%: "What, R-U C-rus?" (What, are you serious?)
"She must have been lurking in 'invisible'," Conor said to himself as he entered his reply.
Cambrill was not one of his favorites in The Circle. She (Conor was fairly certain Cam was a 'she',) had the annoying habit of typing everything in online short-paw. Some of her messages were so cryptic even Kieran had needed clarification once in a while. Right now however, the young fox would take any member of The Circle he could get.
Felsogud+220: "To quote the Raven, Nevermore! Mainframe offline. Oysters#688&I either ded or in custody. Druid missing. I'm on the run. "
Oysters was Kieran McCrodon's username; neither Cambrill, not anyone else the Circle was aware that he and The Druid were (had been) the same mammal. And Conor had no intention of letting that secret out, even now. The sea-mink would have wanted it that way.
Cambrill didn't answer right away, and for a second the young fox was afraid that she'd bolted.
But then another message appeared.
Cambrill64%: "U cn-tctd N-E1 else yt?" (You contacted anyone else yet?)
Conor answered her.
Felsogud+220: "No, U 1st 1 I C." (No, you first one I see) and then he snarled inwardly.
"Agggghhh, grrrr, now she's got ME doing it!"
He continued in normal script.
Felsogud+220: "Would have notified you earlier, but had to make a run for it. Only able to get online now."
"Can U talk?" she asked him. Conor stared with one eye at the screen. Talk? What the plinkity-dang did she think he was doing alrea...? Oh, right.
Felsogud+220: "Can't use voice, might be overheard. Text only."
Cambrill64%: "U safe?"
Felsogud+220: "For now. Can you warn any of the others?"
"Yes pnging Jabbadawok and Donquare rt nw. Will tll thm2 spred word when I C. Ok GTG."
And with that, she was gone.
Conor wasn't offended by the brush-off. While Kieran had often allowed him to hang with some of The Circle, (under supervision of course,) and they had liked him for the most part,, he still wasn't ONE of them. And while none of The Circle, save Kieran were aware he was just a kid, they did recognize that he was still a newbie at computer hacking-a talented newbie to be sure, but still just a newbie. However much potential as a hacker the young fox might possess he was several years at least from being in the same league as Cambrill, much less Guildenkranz or Jabbadawokky.
A cold shudder rippled down the young fox's back. JabbaD, what the HECK had Kieran been thinking when he'd brought that psycho into The Circle? Mad computer skillz or no, JabbaD was Batilla The Hun with a desktop-and with Kieran no longer around to restrain him...
Conor didn't want to think about that right now; he had problems enough of his own.
He rang for Tshonga again, ordering another Mew and 'something munch on.' (At this point, the pizza he'd had back at the terminal felt like ancient history.) A moment later, the caracal returned with his drink and two bags of trail mix. Conor dove into the first one and ate the second bag at a somewhat more leisurely pace.
It was far from the only thing the young fox had to chew on. Had Cabrill had been sincere in her promise to spread the word to the others? For all Conor knew, she might have cut and run the instant she logged off #giantsdance; the temptation was certainly there. He didn't even know if she'd really warned Donquare33X% and Jabbadawokky2B#d.
Well, whatever had happened, the young fox knew he'd done his part. Still, it would be a good idea to stay logged into the Giant's-Dance chatroom for a while and see if any of the others logged on. He wished like anything that Guildenkranz93+X& would show up. Next to The Kieran himself, Guild had been far and away the most capable of The Circle's hack squad-and also the most level headed. Present company excluded, he was the closest thing to a protégé the Druid had ever taken on.
He was also something of an odd duck amongst the group; while the others were motived by greed, curiosity, or in the case of Jabbadawocky, just plain nihilism, Guild was a genuine cyberwarrior. He had joined The Circle in the hope of uncovering corporate malfeasance- and where Aker was concerned at least, he hadn't been disappointed. His real bête noir however was the banking community-and luckily for him neither The Mister nor his nephew had owned any qualms about hacking into a bank's data-base. While they'd never exactly given Guild free rein, neither had they made any attempt to muzzle him.
Conor took another pull of soda and some more of the trail mix. Guild was also the closest thing he had to a friend now that Danny and Kieran were gone. T Though they'd chatted only a grand total of three times, the young silver fox had found himself drawn to the unknown hacker's sense of gallantry-even if Guild's attitude had been a little too cynical for his tastes; you did NOT make the world a better place by hooking up with the likes of The Company. (And he must have at least suspected who he was really working for.)
Of course Conor had served the Company's interests as well. True, he hadn't been a willing participant-it had been that or Granite Point-but in his former life as Dylan Yeats, he'd still done many things he wasn't proud of now.
Former life...
What was it Danny had said to him? "It's your life kid, so go get that money and go live it."
Well, he didn't have the money quite yet, and he might very well step off the plane to find Whitepaw's thugs waiting for him, but still...if he pulled it off what would he do with his life?
Conor thought about it for a minute, and then for many more minutes.
And then he opened up Microsloth Word on the laptop...and then he just sat there, staring at the screen.
What should he call them, his pledges? No, that made it sound like he was joining a fraternity. His resolutions, perhaps? Nuh-uh, this was April not January and how many of those things did folks keep anyway? Oaths maybe? Forget it; that one was just plain weird. All right, then what about promises? Yeah, that would work...at least until he came up with something better.
He flexed his fingers and began to type.
On this day, April 6th
I, Dylan....Agghhh, Grrrrrr!
He face-pawlmed himself and started over.
On this day, April 6th
I, Conor Lewis, make the following promises to myself.
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1. From this day on, I promise I will never make another crooked dime. I may hustle, but I will never steal, cheat, con, or otherwise do harm to another mammal for cash or anything else. From now until I cack it, I will live my life as an honest fox.
2. For all the hurt I've laid on other mammals, from now on, I promise to dedicate myself to helping them. I don't how I'm going to do this, but I'll think of something.
3. I promise, first chance I get, to start going to school again. And when I do, I'm going to study my tail off. Even if I get grades that bite rocks, it won't be because I didn't try.
4. I promise to keep it up on the guitar, and on singing. That's one thing I know I'm good at and I won't ever stop trying to be better.
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The rest of the promises came more slowly, but the pace picked up considerably when the young fox decided to quit thinking so much and just write. He could worry about what order to put his promises in later. (And he could always add more at a later time.)
After giving the draft a quick examination, he pronounced it, 'so far, so good' and saved and closed the document.
Then he leaned back in his chair again, lacing his fingers behind his head.
Ohhh-kay, what should he do next, order an early breakfast? The eats in first class were primo. Watch a movie? Furgin offered a great selection of films including two that he had missed, Pig hero 7 and Thor Ragnarox
He buzzed for Tshonga once more.
"Can I get blanket and pillow?"
The heck with movies and munchies, right now he just wanted more sleep.
He was just about to close his eyes when the honk of a klaxon came from the laptop speakers; this time, someone was paging HIM.
"Whoa, good thing I forgot to shut it off," the young fox told himself, sitting up and flipping it open.
The first thing he saw was that the screen was still showing the Giant's Dance chat room. He could see that his screen-name Felsogud was flashing and one other name showing in the sidebar.
It was Guildenkranz, and he had entered only two words in the chat window:
Guildenkranz93+X&: "You there?"
"I'm hheer." The young fox answered quickly, not bothering to correct his spelling. Guild responded less than a tenth of a second later.
Guildenkranz93+X&: "Thank goodness. Your warning's been confirmed. I tried to contact Oysters through a private channel we have. I got back an automated message instead, 'Warning, Code Apok.'"
Conor nodded solemnly even though he knew Guild couldn't see him. It was (had been!) just like Kieran to have installed that kind of fail-safe.
"It prolly activated when Brenda went offline." He thought to himself; it was but one of The Druid's many tricks of the trade.
Guildenkranz had meanwhile just posted another message.
Guildenkranz93+X&: "Circle's ok. No one else been busted yet."
Conor started to reply, but Guild beat him to the punch
Guildenkranz93+X&: "The reason I pinged you is we took vote and we're calling an EMFOY."
Even though he'd half expected this, the young fox reeled back in his seat so violently he was sure he must have disturbed whoever was behind him. (Fortunately, when he looked the seat was empty.)
EMFOY-Every Mammal FOr Yourself. It meant cease all communications with the other Circle Members, scrub your hard drives, shred your files, destroy all your other hardware, and if you're capable of making a run for it, go and go right now!
It was already a done deal for him of course-and the boiler room. Even if it Brenda was taken offline, everything in that room and the onsite servers could still be set for self-destruct-and knowing Kieran, that would have been his next move after helping Conor into the escape chute. (Of that, the young fox had no doubt.)
As for the offsite servers-if they didn't hear from Brenda for more than24 hours, every file inside them would be encrypted to an unbreakable level...and then they were supposed to fry themselves.
Guild entered another message.
Guildenkranz93+X&: "We're also calling a VERA for one year from today 12:00 GMT. You're welcome to join us if you like."
Conor felt his eyebrows rise and ears standing up. Okay, THIS was something he hadn't expected.
Unlike EMFOY, VERA wasn't an acronym; it was taken from the name of Vera Lynx, a singer from way back before the young fox's time; her most memorable tune had been a number called, "We'll Meet Again." What Guild had just told him was that one year from today, the members of The Circle would gather here in the Giant's Dance once again. While Conor wasn't sure if that was such a good idea, he couldn't help but be flattered, even touched by their decision to include him.
Felsogud+220: "I'll be here. And thanks. "
He actually had no idea if he could make it-but then Guildenkranz probably didn't either.
Hisnext message was the biggest surprise of all
Guildenkranz93+X&: "No Fels, thank YOU for giving us that warning. You probably saved all our tails and everyone else agrees, even JabbaD."
Conor grinned slyly as he typed his response.
Felsogud+220: "Hallelujah, miracles exist!"
Guildenkranz93+X&: "Whoa, no snap!"
Guildenkranz93+X&: "Right, see you next year Fels. This server will be shutting down until then, starting in 30 seconds."
As he said this, a countdown appeared on Conor's laptop screen.
...25, 24, 23, 22...
Guild just had time to get it in.
Guildenkranz93+X&: "In the immortal words of Edward R. Burrows , 'Good Night and Good Luck."
...4, 3, 2, 1.
On the count of zero, the chat room vanished and Conor was looking at the laptop's wallpaper again.
He shut down and stowed the computer, and then rolled over and tried to get some sleep. His last thought before the world winked out was that he'd have to add VERA to his list of promises.
This time, the young fox did not dream. When he awoke to the feel of someone nudging his shoulder again, he knew immediately where he was and that the animal trying to rouse him must Tshonga.
He was right on both counts. "Sorry to wake you young fox." The Afurican lynx sounded genuinely apologetic, "But you must put up your seat and fasten your belt. We are preparing to make our final approach for landing."
Blinking twice, Conor saw that the cabin was lit, and that most of the illumination wasn't artificial; daylight could be seen, filtering through the windows.
"Oh, no problem Tshonga," he answered, passing over his blanket and pillow to the flight attendant, "Hey and thanks for everything, okay?"
"You are quite welcome..." The caracal beamed, but then lifted an eyebrow. "You know, I don't believe I ever caught your name."
"Oh, it's Conor...Conor Lewis," the young fox told him, secretly pleased that he had spoken the name without hesitation.
"Ah, a pleasure to have served you Mr. Lewis." Tshonga answered. He offered a brief nod, and then departed.
Conor watched him go, and put up his seat and fastened his belt. When he looked to his right, he saw that the window-shade was still down.
Easily corrected; he reached over and slid it upwards.
And all at once his young face was filled with wonder. There, beyond the window was his destination.
The city of Zootopia.