The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One: Fuel - 25

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

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The Fire Triangle-A Zootopia Fanfiction

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Part One:

Fuel

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Chapter 3 - Day of Carrots and Blueberries

(Continued...Pt. 17)

"Stop thief!"

Nick and the kids were at a face painting booth, watching Cotton getting her cheeks daubed with flowers and a sunburst when he heard the anguished cry.

He wheeled instantly in the direction of the sound, tense and ready for action. You could take the fox off of his police beat, but...

It would have greatly relieved Judy to see how quickly he'd gotten a grip on things. After only one or two more outbursts, the Hopps children had settled down quickly to enjoy their day at the Festival. (They'd initially been testing him; the red fox was certain of it.)

Now he saw a figure dashing flat out down the concourse in their direction. At first Nick thought it was a weasel, but the animal coming his way wasn't slender enough and his legs were much too long.

Then his nose caught the interloper's scent.

"A mongoose," he realized, and now he saw the purse clasped in the animal's fingers...and since he was obviously a male, it was pretty safe bet that it didn't belong to him.

"Everybody, get behind me," Nick ordered, waving the children back. A mongoose and a red fox were about an even match, but this one was bigger than most, (and also bigger than Nick.)

He ducked partway into the booth and sat down on his haunches.

"Huh? What the heck are you doing, fox?" Erin demanded, staring in confusion.

"I said get behind me." He told her again, this time in a no-nonsense voice. What he was doing was getting ready to pounce, but he didn't have time to explain that to her because here was the purse snatcher, running at full tilt. All right....3...2...1...GO!

Nick launched himself upwards into a jackknife, aiming with an open paw for the mongoose's weak spot, the back of his neck.

He never made contact, because at that second, something big, black, and bulky crashed headlong into the purse snatcher, bowling him backwards a good fifteen feet and leaving him in a confused sprawl. The suddenness of the attack caught Nick Wilde completely off-guard and he nearly came down on his chin, avoiding that epic fail only at the last second by tucking himself into a liquid roll, and tumbling over onto his feet.

When he got up again, Nick was able to get a closer look that the animal who'd knocked the mongoose into the middle of next Tuesday; the first thing he noticed was that the crime-buster wasn't actually black in color; he was dressed in black, the same black paramilitary fatigues the bighorn sheep minding the stage entrance had worn...and with the same three letters on the back, ASM.

This animal was no kind of ram however, although he was of a species Nick had encountered only recently.

He was a wolverine, a big one, and mean looking too. Behind him, the red fox heard Cotton starting to whimper. "Can we go please?"

Nick would have liked nothing better, but for the moment he was transfixed, watching mesmerized as the wolverine grabbed the mongoose's arm, twisting it behind his back as easily as a dishrag, while the would-be purse snatcher shrieked in agony.

"Nick, let's GO." It was Erin this time.

Her words didn't register with the fox. "What the HECK?"

Now having cuffed the mongoose (and none too gently) the wolverine picked him up by the scruff of the neck, hoisting him like a laundry sack. In the process he stepped all over the stolen purse, most likely destroying half the contents.

He didn't seem to care one bit; in fact, he appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

"NICK!" Erin was almost screaming now.

Two figures in green ran past him, Pete Buckley and a deputy Nick hadn't seen before, a pronghorn antelope.

That finally broke the spell.

"Yeah, kids, I'm sorry. C'mon, let's get out of here."

He did a quick head count and then shepherded them away from the crime scene...but for the next few moments his mind remained there.

A wolverine, they'd brought in wolverines to work security? Okay fine, if the Guilford brothers showed up again; Nick could see that, no problem. But using a wolverine to take down a purse snatcher, and a mongoose at that, was like using a flamethrower to remove a wasp's nest from your garage.

In plain language, it definitely counted as overkill.

"You're overthinking this Wilde," he told himself, attempting to rationalize the scene he'd just witnessed. "He was probably right there anyway, the same as you."

That argument might have flown with the fox a couple of years ago but not now that he was police officer. When the wolverine had tackled the mongoose, he'd nearly lost his radio; the loop on the holster had been unclipped.

...meaning he'd put the two-way back in a hurry. Had he been talking to someone on the radio when he'd spotted the mongoose...or had someone called him to the crime-scene? Try as he might, the red fox couldn't shake off the notion that the latter instance was the correct one.

"Nick, look out!" Erin Hopps was shouting again. He came back down to earth just in time to avoid being run over by an elephant.

"Sorry," he said after ducking out of the way, "Guess that wolverine shook me up a little more than I thought."

He braced himself for snarky comeback, but the young bunny only nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, even Judy gets nervous around that species."

Nick felt his ears prick up; while he didn't disagree with the sentiment, it was hard to imagine any animal that could frighten Judy Hopps.

"Seriously?" he asked.

"Yeah." the young white bunny pulled at the base of an ear, "Something happened while she was going to the Police Academy." She looked away for a second, sucking air between her teeth, "Ahhh, but if she never talked to you about it, I guess I shouldn't either."

"No worries," Nick told her, hiding his annoyance. Wasn't it just like this girl to pique his curiosity and then shut the door?

Someone tugged at the leg of his pants, a little dun rabbit in shorts and a blue tee-shirt.

"Nick...?"

"No, you can't have deep-fried Orleos." He said.

"Awwww!"

The bunny thumped his foot and stalked away.

Erin laughed. "You really are getting the hang of this, fox" she said.

"Hey ev'ybody, look...LOOK!"

Little Cotton was pointing skyward with a quivering finger.

Nick turned and looked upwards; so did everyone else.

High overhead, a twin engine airplane was circling lazily over the Festival.

"What the heck is such a big deal about that?" the red fox wondered. Even way out here in the Burrows, airplanes weren't exactly a rare phenomenon.

He found out less than second later when a dark speck tumbled from the side door of the aircraft, followed by another...and then another and another. And now Nick saw that several others that had dropped out ahead of them.

Right then a billowing red rectangle bloomed open over one of the dots, followed by others of differing hues, each one attached to a flecks.

"Parachutes, I wonder what that's all about?" he asked of no one in particular. Was it some kind of demonstration, maybe a show?

It was Erin who answered him, pointing to nearby booth. The sign over the canopy read:

"Hoppy Landings Skydiving Adventures"

And beneath that, another one:

"Are you ready for an EXPERIENCE? Sign up here."

Nick Wilde let out a long, airy breath. Whoaf, it was a good thing Judy wasn't here; otherwise, she'd be hauling him in the direction of that booth, ready to sign the both of them up for....

"Awwww!" Little Timmy was pouting and thumping his foot. "It's just dumb ol' skydiving; I thought we were gonna get to see a planewreck!"

Nick's paw went over his eyes. Kids...

A serenade at his belt pulled him out of his reverie; a heavy guitar riff, followed by a pair of breathy lyrics.

"Foxy...

Foxy..."

Erin sniggered from beside him, "Jimi Hendrox...well at least you have good taste in music, fox."

Nick ignored her and picked up the call.

"This is Wilde."

"Nick, this is Conor," said the voice on the other end, "Good news, we got Erin's bass all fixed."

The red fox looked at his watch; they had dropped off the guitar only a couple of hours ago.

"Whoa that was some fast work, kid." He said, and saw Erin's ears spike upwards and her fingers crossing over one another. She had guessed who was calling and why.

"I know, right?' the young silver fox was saying, "Piece of cake once we got started. Can you let Erin know we got it done?"

"You can tell her yourself, she's right here." Nick answered, proffering the phone in the young rabbit's direction.

She snatched it out of his paw like a starving bunny, grabbing for a carrot.

"Conor?" she said, "Please tell me..."

Nick saw her eyes screw shut for a second and then she was pumping a fist and mouthing the word, 'Yes!'

She listened again for a moment and let out a sound that was almost a squeal.

"Oooo, thank you, thank you THANK you!"

Nick Wilde didn't know whether to laugh or slap himself. Yesterday Erin had been halfway ready to take Conor's head off. Now here she was, gushing like Benjamin Clawhauser when Judy had offered to get him one of those Gazelle Japanese tour-shirts.

"So, you're at the van?" she asked, crossing her fingers again, "Are you going to be there for a while, or...? Ooo, YES!" She looked at Nick with an anxious expression.

He nodded quickly, adding a mental note, not for public consumption.

"Heck yes, Erin. Do you think I want your foot planted upside MY face?"

"Okay be there in a few." She said, and then disconnected, turned and sprinted for the campground exit.

She managed to get about five yards before Nick Wilde's voice caught up with her.

"Erin-my phone?"

The young bunny skidded to a halt and turned a 180 with a vexed expression on her face, "I would have been right back." She protested.

"Well at least she didn't pretend not to hear me," Nick told himself, holstering his cell after she returned it.

A thought occurred to him then.

"If you don't mind Erin, I think we'll come along."

Actually, Erin did mind, (and she wasn't the only one,) but she was too elated over the news with her guitar to give full vent to her objection.

"Uhh, thanks Nick, but I can get there okay on my own."

"It's not getting there that concerns me, Erin." The red fox told her, hunkering partway down on his knees in order to make eye contact, "It's getting back again. From what Conor told me, that campground's kind of a lawless place. I'd for hate you to have your bass stolen right after it's working again."

It was a hustle her sister Judy would have seen through in a heartbeat; the real reason Nick wanted to tag along was in order to keep the peace. He had been exposed to enough of Erin Hopps' mood shifts by now to know that she could change from Miss Congeniality to Princess Harpy at the drop of an off-color comment.

Luckily, Erin didn't have her older sister's savvy, at least not yet.

"Right, right...yeah, thanks Nick," she answered, nodding vigorously

He got exactly two seconds worth of satisfaction before...

"Awwww, do we hafta go NOW?" Little Timmy had his arms crossed arms and an even more cross expression on his face.

The other kids quickly rallied to his banner, but before they could raise anything more than a half-hearted protest, Erin snuffed it out like a birthday candle.

"Yes! We! DO!" she declared; paws planted firmly on her hips.

That was the end of that; none of Erin Hopps' siblings were willing to tangle with HER.

When they got to the exit, they found a bighorn sheep had taken over on guard duty. Happily this one was much friendlier than the one from the talent show the night before...and he had also come equipped with a pad and rubber stamp. As the fox and the bunnies passed him by, he marked each of their paws for re-entry.

Inside the campground, a clean-up crew was hard at work, picking up the trash from the previous night. While they constituted a variety of species, all of them had one thing in common; a bright-orange jumpsuit with 'Burrows County Corrections' printed on the back in glowing, electric blue. They were presided over by a pair of mammals in mist gray uniforms, a bison and a bobcat.

Nick approved of this arrangement; the buffalo to mind the larger inmates, and the cat to keep an eye on the smaller ones

"Hi Mark." Erin waved to the feline, receiving a casual nod in return.

"H'lo Erin." He said, not taking his eye off his charges.

"That's my girlfriend Sue's uncle," the bunny explained to Nick Wilde after they'd passed

"Right." the fox nodded. (He'd already guessed it was something like that.)

When they arrived at Finnick's van, Conor and Bobby Catmull were seated at a camp table out front, kicking back and sharing drinks from a nearby cooler. Propped up on a stand behind them was Erin's bass, already hooked to an amplifier.

"Hey guys," Nick called, and the pair immediately got to their feet.

The exchange of greetings that followed was brief and perfunctory; Erin wanted to get her bass back, Bobby Catmull wanted to get back to his wife, and the kids all wanted to get back to The Carrot Days Festival. The only one who didn't seem in any kind of hurry was Conor. Nick found that kind of surprising; the young silver fox had been more or less hijacked into assisting with this enterprise.

"I went ahead and got it plugged into an amp for you," he said to Erin, waving a paw in the direction of her bass.

"Thanks." The young bunny answered, speaking in a near rasp; her voice seemed to be drying up in her throat. She went over to her bass and picked it up with a nervous paw and a guilty look on her face; this instrument was her treasure, her most cherished possession-and she'd come within an ace of destroying it.

Nick watched as Conor switched on the amplifier and saw Erin close her eyes and mouth something under her breath.

And then she braced herself, steeled herself, and slapped her fingers against the strings.

A riff burst from the amplifier, deep and rich and rumbling. Nick and Bobby exchanged a high five and two of the kids cheered. (The rest were rolling their eyes, as if to say, 'NOW can we get out of here?')

Erin looked over at Conor with tears of joy flecking her cheeks.

"Thank you," she told him again, this time in a little, choked voice.

"Ah don't worry about it," the young fox answered, waving a paw at the cougar on the other side of the table, "Bobby there did almost all the work."

"I did NOT!" the big cat protested, tail stiffening as if he'd just been accused of breaking a window, "Don't listen to him Erin, he carried more than his share of the load."

"Okay, I'm not gonna argue." Conor threw his paws upwards and outwards in gesture of frustration-and now Nick was the one rolling his eyes; the kid sounded as if Bobby was claiming he hadn't done his part.

The next thing Nick saw was the young silver fox propping his laptop on the table and opening it, and then typing in a quick set of instructions.

"Hang on a sec."

Nick tilted his head in curiosity, "What the...?" But then he noticed that the computer was also connected to the amplifier

There was brief pause, and then music began to play, pizzicato guitar notes over a chorus of synthesized strings.

Conor nodded to Erin

"Go for it."

She giggled, (Giggled!) and began to play along with the recording, a melodic bass solo. That lasted for about fifteen seconds and then a guitar came crashing in on the track and the tune took off at full gallop, with the young bunny's bass leading the charge.

But it wasn't until Erin began to sing that Nick finally recognized the song.

"My uncle has a country place

That no one know about..."

It was Red Bearchatta by Brush.

Erin's performance didn't quite measure up to her rendition inside the barn on the previous day-but that was through no fault of either her or her bass; she didn't have her pedalboard with her and there was no mike set up. Nonetheless, by the time the she was into the first refrain, the other Hopps kids were no longer in a hurry to get back to the Festival grounds, gazing raptly at their sister instead.

So was Bobby, so was Conor-and so was Nick. DAY-ang, the younger fox had been right about Erin; she really was that good.

Just the same, the police officer in him couldn't quite reconcile with something; this tune was basically an ode to an unlawful act.

"Tires spitting gravel,

I commit my weekly crime."

When the final verse came up, Nick became aware that the number of onlookers had nearly doubled in size; animals were coming in from all over the campground to listen. When Erin hit the finish, they gave her a rousing ovation.

All she could do was grin and take a bow.

It was while she was unplugging her bass that Ethan asked her the question...a query Nick Wilde might have made if he hadn't already known the answer.

"So are you going to play the talent show again?"

Erin sagged like a leaky grain sack, she also knew the answer, but that didn't make it any easier for her.

"I-I...can't Ethan." She told him sadly. "I wish I could, but all the slots are full, so unless somebody cancels, no."

"Then I'll cancel; take my spot."

Everyone turned to see Conor Lewis standing with a shocked expression on his face. "I...said...WHAT?" He seemed to be asking himself.

"Conor," Erin started to say, "You don't have to..."

"No, I don't." He was recovering rapidly, "I don't have to do anything except stay outta trouble and go to school-and since it's summer right now, you can bag on school." He looked straight at her. "This is what I want to do Erin," he said, and then he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, "but I got one condition."

"And what's that?" the young bunny asked, crossing her arms right back and eyeing him suspiciously. Unlike her older sister, she knew better than to expect Quid sans Quo from a fox.

"I get to join you onstage," he said, pointing to a guitar case tucked underneath the table "You can have my slot but I'm on lead guitar and backing vocals; I'm not gonna give it up completely." His eyebrow cocked up an extra two notches, "Do we have a deal?"

Nick gasped silently and then grimaced. The last time Conor had said that.... Ohhh boy, Erin was going to...he had to stop this before...

But it was already too late. "Deal!" she said...and before Nick could make a move or even speak, the young fox had spit into his paw again and was offering it to Erin.

She only stared in disgust for a second.

And then she spit into her paw and raised it at an upwards angle, "Not underpawed, OVER pawed, don't you know anything, fox?"

"Hey Snowdrop you got your way, I got mine, okay?" he growled, reaching out nonetheless...and then pulling away at the last second, "but first get your other paw out from behind your back."

Erin's ears laid back and her foot began to thump again. "I wasn't...! Ohhhh, YOU!"

She brought out her left paw where the fox could see it, "And DON'T call me Snowdrrop," she said, and then finally they shook on it, first high, then low, and then finishing up with fist bump.

The pact was sealed.

"Okay." The young fox said, in that throwaway manner of his, "Go get your pedalboard and let's start rehearsing."

Nick braced himself for a flashover from Erin, "Heyyyy, you don't tell me what to do, creep!" he could imagine her saying.

But she only shrugged quietly.

"Can't right now, I have to go watch my sister Judy in the Rabitthon."

Conor's answer to this was an even bigger surprise.

"Whoa yeah, gotta stick by your family Erin. Okay, we can meet at the red barn after the race, or..." He looked thoughtful for a second. "You know what, I think I'll come and watch too."

"Great, the more the merrier," Nick Wilde said, (quickly, before Erin could respond...and getting an angry glare from the bunny for his troubles.)

"Okay, lemme get my gear stowed in the van," Conor closed the laptop and unhooked it from the amp.

"May as well leave my bass here too," Erin told him, resigning herself to the inevitable-apparently.

"Hmmmm," Nick Wilde thought, stroking his chin with a finger, "Is it just me or does anyone else think Erin doesn't really mind him joining us...at least not as much as she's pretending?"

The thought brought a smile to the red fox's face-until the voice of another rabbit began to echo in his head, drowning out everything else. Oh Lord....JUDY. He could just imagine her reaction, when she heard about Conor's offer.

"See Nick? Wasn't I right, wanting to get Erin's guitar fixed ASAP?"

A painful grimace swept across Nick's muzzle. Oh GAW, he'd be hearing about it until the end of the festival...or even longer. Three weeks from now, there'd be a phone call in the middle of the night.

"Hi Nick, remember back at the Carrot Days Festival when I wanted to get Erin's bass repaired right away? Okay fine, go back to sleep."

"Hmmmm, maybe she'll be too tried after running in the Rabbitthon to give me hard time." The red fox suggested hopefully to himself.

"Yeah and maybe Chief Bogo will quit the ZPD to become a ballerina." He told himself right back. "Aggggggh, grrrrr, I could have insisted on paying for that Jumbo Pop myself, but noooooooo."

"Nick, what's wrong?" It was little Cotton asking.

"Nothing," he said, hurriedly smoothing down the front of his shirt. "Come on let's get back to the festival, we still have time to get more Carrot Days stuff done before the race."

"Yay!"