The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One: Fuel - 34

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 4 – The Wizard of Chaos

(Continued...Pt. 3)

The voice of Gully sounds in Jack La Peigne's earpiece.

"I have him, sir."

That's all the big rabbit needs to hear, he leans forward, moving his right paw discreetly behind his back.

"So now YOU get off MY property!" he sneers, tensing and bracing himself.

Jerry Guilford lets out a howl of rage and lunges at Jack with his teeth bared.

But the big rabbit is too quick for him; he flattens down into a three point pancake-stance, leaving Gully with a clear shot at the coyote.

The wolverine pulls the trigger; the pellet strikes Jerry directly between the collar bones, leaving a blue splatter in its wake; the force of the impact hurls him backwards through the door and into the house again.

Or alternately...the pellet doesn't strike Jerry with quite enough force to propel him through the doorway, in which case Jack hits him with a flying knife-edge kick and sends him home that way. (He can do this without fear of being poisoned himself; unlike the dart-pellets used by Doug, this one dissolved within microseconds of hitting its target.)

Or alternately... perhaps Gully is able to get off a second shot and hit one of Jerry's brothers as well. It's not impossible; they're standing close enough to the front door to make decent targets.

Or... maybe Jack pulls the pistol from behind his back and tags one of the other coyotes himself; maybe both if he gets lucky. Or maybe he hits one and Gully takes down the other with his second shot.

In any case what happens next is, Jack slams the security door and throws the bolt, trapping the coyotes inside the house. Then he just stands there, drinking in the sounds from beyond the doorway like a fine, sweet nectar.

After a few moments of this, Racius appear from around the side of the house. He gives Jack a mask and dons one himself. Then the wolverine pulls the pin on a small, metal canister and tosses it through the bars of the security door; perhaps he pitches in a second grenade, just to make sure. There is no explosion, only a soft hissing noise, and within less than a minute everything on the inside of the house has gone quiet. Jack gives it just a moment longer, and then he unbolts the security door; he and Racius step inside what's left of the living room and search for Jerry Guilford. When they find him, Jack shoots the coyote with another dart-pellet, this one in dark red rather than blue. Meanwhile Racius gives the same treatment to any of the others that were hit in the first salvo. Perhaps Jack gives Jerry a kick in the chops as a going away present; perhaps he doesn't.

And then he and the wolverine turn and walk out of the house, closing both doors behind them. They hike down the road to the tactical vehicle—parked out of sight where none of the animals inside of the house could have seen it, (and also so as not to have left any tire tracks in the Guilford's yard—or on the roadside in front of the property.)

Gully is waiting behind the wheel when the other two arrive, and then the three of them simply drive away. As soon as they're gone a helicopter flies over, hovering low above the property for a second letting the backwash sweep away any traces of footprints.

Jack meanwhile does not bother to notify the Burrows County Sheriff's department; they'll find out for themselves anyway, sooner or later.

When they do, they'll have no idea what really happened here—but then Jerry Guilford was never the most stable compound on the shelf and is it any surprise that he finally lost it for real? And listen to the whopper he's telling THIS time! Rabbit, WHAT rabbit? There's no sign that anyone else was here. Shot you with some kind of toxin? Then how come there's no trace of it in your bloodstream? Oh, he gave you an eviction notice? Let's see. Hmmm, care to explain the stamp and postmark on this letter which you claim was paw-delivered? Yes, we checked; he never left his trailer; there's at least half a dozen witnesses. Ahhh, I'd advise against that kind of talk if I were you, Jerry. You'll be lucky if you get off with..."

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Jack La Peigne was thumping his foot and grimacing; that was how it was SUPPOSED to have gone. Instead Jerry Guilford had backed off; can you believe it? The coyote who was supposed to possess all the self-control of a mining disaster had actually backed off!

Shading himself beneath the spreading branches of an alder tree, the big bunny was directly across the Midway from the old, red barn that once been home to the Carrot Days Talent Show. (That thing was still standing?) He had his arms crossed and his back against the tree-trunk; e was partially concealed by the shadows.

The big rabbit preferred it that way; back here he drew a lot less attention than out in the open. Of course every once in a while someone would stop to gawk....and it always followed the same pattern. First there'd be a quick glance in his direction; then would come the double take, (a fast one!) And then finally, when whoever it was realized they were looking a BUNNY, that was when they'd turn around and gape.

That is, until they noticed the expression on Jack La Peigne's face; then their next move would be an abrupt about-face and a forced march away from the vicinity of the alder tree.

And a well-considered move it was; Jack was nearly ready to go postal. After all the mounting frustrations of the week gone by, taking down Jerry Guilford should have given him at least a measure of satisfaction. Instead the coyote had cheated him, declining to take the bait Jack had waved so arrogantly under his nose. Oh sure, the Guilfords were about to be kicked out of the big bunny's childhood home; BIG whoop! It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. It was like going on a fast for ten days and then trying to satisfy your hunger with a single carrot canape; the only that happened was your craving doubled exponentially.

Polly Walters had tried to put the best face on it when he'd talked to her a few minutes ago, pointing out that now he could at least claim public credit for having rid the Burrow of the almost universally despised Guilford clan. "You'll be a hometown hero, sir." She'd said.

Jack had thanked her gratefully, disconnected and ten crushed his cell phone underfoot. (He went through more darn phones that way.) He didn't want to look on the bright side of life and he didn't want to be a hometown hero. What he wanted was Jerry Guilford in the ICU and then on his way to prison, (along with the rest of his mangy family); what he wanted was that busybody red panda, Claudia Nizhang run out of office and then run over by a bus. And what he especially wanted was that filthy, underpawed arctic fox, Dimitri Oloshenko bankrupt, disgraced, and hung out to dry beside a nest of angry hornets!

Jack knew he couldn't carry on like this, and it wasn't long before he decided he had to do something about it.

"'Kay, this isn't helping me." The big rabbit finally told himself. "Brooding will only make it worse. I need an attitude adjustment and right now."

He straightened his legs and leaned further back against the tree, closing his eyes and weaving his fingers together into a basket held at waist level.

Then he began to breathe, first through the nose; take it in for three seconds, hold it for three more, then out through the mouth for three more seconds, hold like that for another three, and then repeat the cycle. Now clear your mind as you breathe; if a thought comes, imagine it floating away like a dandelion petal. Nothing is here, nothing but you and your breathing. That's it, let it all drift away.

Taking one final breath, the big bunny opened his eyes. Yes, that was better...much better. All right, maybe now...

"Hey, you kids!"

Jack's ears went up and he leaned away from the tree, craning his neck. That was the voice of a wolverine, not Gully or Racius; it was female for one thing, and for another at least a decade younger. She had to be one of the Aker employees brought in to provide extra security for the Carrot Days Festival.

Only...where...? No wait, there she was, perhaps a hundred feet away with her paws on her hips, standing in front of a tall cyclone fence and gazing upwards with an impatient look on her face.

"Do you hear me?" she said, pointing at the ground in front of her, "Get down from there...right now!"

Jack raised his ears higher, just in time to catch the response; he was unable to make out the words but the voices were unmistakably youthful—and also unmistakably whiny. Curious, the big bunny moved out from beside the tree. There was nobody climbing the fence, so where was...? Ohhhh kay, there was the explanation.

From his new vantage point, Jack was able to see what was on the other side of the fence—the base of a cell-phone relay tower. He could also see a Furizon Wireless maintenance truck parked near the fence-line, and furthermore that the gate had been left open. He pursed his lips and slowly shook his head. Careless; unforgivably careless; if whoever was climbing that tower fell and hurt themselves Furizon would be held liable. (Any one of his employees making a blunder like that would be out the door so fast they'd catch cold from the breeze.)

Just then a trio of young bunnies jumped down from the tower. Jack almost groaned; instead he only shook his head and sighed.

"Sweet cheez n' crackers kids, since when are us rabbits an arboreal species?"

The Aker Security wolverine was meanwhile taking down their names.

"All right," she said, flipping her notepad shut with a snap, "You three scoot and don't come back here. If I catch you inside of that fence again, I'm turning you over to the Sheriff, okay?"

The three young rabbits just nodded vigorously and then hurried away as fast as their feet would carry them. The female wolverine watched them go, and then moved over towards the open gate. She pulled out her radio, spoke into it briefly and then took up a sentry's stance in front of the entrance. There would be NO further unauthorized access here today

"Good mammal." Jack nodded approvingly. "That's what I call thinking on your feet."

That relay-tower might have been Furizon's property, but the safety and well-being of the Festival patrons was his company's responsibility. He would have to find out that wolverine's name and see that she received proper credit for her actions.

All of the ASM wolverines here at the Carrot Days Festival were new recruits—except for Gully and Racius, (and they weren't exactly old paws themselves.)

That had been Seth Whitepaugh's idea. "We don't really need to waste our experienced operatives on something like this," he'd said," but at the same time, those Guilford 'yotes will think twice before taking on a member of my species. So what I'd like to do is send some of our rookie wolverines in to work security at the Carrot Days Festival. Even our newbies should be able to handle a few rogue coyotes and it'll be a good experience for them."

Jack had immediately signed off on the proposal and was glad now that he'd done it. Clasping his paws behind his head, he leaned back against the alder tree again. For the first time since his arrival at the Festival, he was actually starting to enjoy it.

One of his ears went up again at the sound of an engine chugging. Chugging? Could that be...?

Jack turned and looked, just in time to see a decades-old tractor pass by with a vintage threshing machine in tow, a real museum piece; stove-pipe chute, huge gears, foot-wide wide belts and iron wheels.

So, the annual Parade of Antique Farm Vehicles was still a Carrot Days tradition. Jack smiled at the memory; when he'd been a boy, one of the highlights of the procession had been a genuine steam-powered tractor, complete with an awning and a big, shiny whistle. One year, he had gotten to ride on it and even been allowed give the steam whistle a couple of toots. He wondered if that tractor would be here again today. Hmmm, it might be the opportunity to put in his obligatory appearance. Yes, take a ride on the old steam tractor, make a few quick remarks afterwards, and then head back to the city.

Only...now the big bunny wasn't quite certain if he wanted to head home so soon. Welllll, he'd see how he felt after putting in his appearance.

Another, deeper rumbling came Jack's way and he turned again, just as a familiar sight came into view...Old # 28, the Burrows County Fire Department's beloved antique pumper, complete with a brass bell and a paw-cranked siren. She was a big rig, standing at least twice as tall as the thresher that had preceded her. (Back in the day when County Fire had been The Bunnyburrows Volunteer Fire Brigade, membership had been limited almost exclusively to larger mammals.) Although #28 was not a farm vehicle, the town fathers would never dream of not including her in today's procession. During one, terrible fire season, when Jack had been a little boy, the County had run so desperately short of firefighting vehicles they'd called her out of retirement. #28 had served with great distinction during that season, never once letting her crew down. With her help, they had almost single-pawedly saved the Chatterton Family's treehouse from incineration. For that and for her other performances, #28 had earned herself the nickname of Old Reliable and also a permanent place of honor in the annual Parade of Antique Farm vehicles. At the end of every procession, she would demonstrate that her pumps still had plenty of life in them, sending up a geyser hundreds of feet in the air.

"Hmm," Jack wondered as he watched the old fire engine pull to a halt just catty-wise from the cell-phone relay tower, if the steam tractor didn't show up today, maybe that was where he should take his ride. Now where was that administration booth agai...?

"Judy? Hey, Judy Hopps!"

The mention of this name broke Jack La Peigne's chain of thought and diverted his attention once again. Directly opposite from where he was standing was a pair of cougars, male and female. One of them, the guy-cougar, was waving with an open paw to someone the big rabbit couldn't see; he bore a strong resemblance to Gordon Catmull, one of his sons no doubt.

"Hey Bobby!" a female bunny's voice answered. But then a tractor hauling an antique hay-baler rolled past the alder-wood tree, dropping one of its bales in the process and muffling the rest of her words. When it passed out of sight again, presto; there she was, talking to the cougar.

The big bunny barely noticed him now; his attention was squarely focused on...

"Sweet cheez n' crackers, is THAT Judy Hopps?"

Jack could feel his tail quivering and a billiard ball rising in his throat...and who the heck let that hummingbird loose in his chest?

He had seen the pics and videos of her, on the web and also in the news. (He had also seen her on the surveillance vid from the jewelry store; don't forget that travesty.)

But nothing, none of that could even come close to the sight of Judy Hopps in real life. Even a little disheveled, with her fur out of place, she looked...she looked...

Oh

My

God!

Jack pulled himself back behind the tree, unaware of what he was doing, peering at her around the edge of the trunk.

"I just wanted to tell you," the cougar was saying, "Your sister Erin absolutely crushed it at the talent show last night; she just about blew me right out of my seat."

"Ohhh yeah," said the female big cat with him, "And that fox-kid on the guitar, just ....wow!"

A small frown scrolled momentarily across Jack's La Peigne's face. Had he heard correctly? It sounded like Judy's sister had appeared on stage backed up by a fox. That kind of thing went strictly against his principles.

Once again, he had to correct his thoughts

"Ahhh give it up Jack. So they played some music together, so WHAT? It's not as if they were getting flirty or anything!"

"Oh, I'm so glad you saw her, Bobby." Judy was clasping her paws with delight. "You should tell her yourself, though."

"I will," the big cat promised. "Is she around here anywhere?"

"She's off on a river rafting trip this morning." Judy told him, "but she'll be back in time for the big dance tonight."

Once again, the big bunny felt an ear rising up. The dance? He'd forgotten all about that. Hmmm, did Judy like to dance, he wondered? Thanks to all his martial arts training, Jack La Peine could cut quite the figure on the dance floor when the spirit moved him. He should go over and introduce himself—but not yet, wait until the cougars were gone.

It didn't take long; the male answered by nodding and promising to keep an eye out for her sister...and then he and his companion took their leave.

Jack gave it an extra second and then moved out from behind the tree.

...and stopped dead in his tracks as another animal came into view.

He was a fox...and not just any fox, THAT fox, the one called Nick Wilde.

The one from the surveillance video!

And not only that; now that Jack was finally seeing him in the flesh and fur, he recognized Nick as the animal he'd known by another name many years ago, (although there was no chance the fox would ever recognize him.) He felt his ears turn back and face becoming rigid, pulling taut as a drumhead.

Of all the foxes, it had to be that one! He looked even more unkempt and untidy than Judy did, staring uneasily in the direction the cougar had gone, and popping a blueberry into his mouth from a basket in his right paw.

What he heard next did nothing to improve Jack's outlook.

"Do you think he noticed, Nick?"

"Not that I saw Carrots."

She began to brush at her face with her paws.

"Tell me the truth; do I look that much of a mess?"

Nick looked away for a second before answering.

"I won't lie. You look like you've been up to something, Carrots." Another blueberry went into his mouth.

Jack's eyes narrowed into slivers of blue obsidian and his nose began to twitch rapidly; the only reason his foot wasn't thumping was because he was holding it down with the other one.

"I am NOT hearing this!" he told himself.

"Ohhhh, I was afraid of that." Judy turned a half circle and threw up her paws. "And you don't look so good yourself Nick." Now her foot began to thump, "Ohhh, carrot chips! My Uncle Terry would have had to be hanging out by the washroom trailer, pestering everyone for spare change again. If HE sees us like this..."

"I know I know," the red fox told her quickly, "he'll start grilling you and THEN he'll try to blackmail you."

Judy nodded and her shoulders slumped.

"Yeah, and my parents will just freak if they find out."

Nick reached out and put a paw on her shoulder. It was the closet Jack would come that morning to charging out from behind the tree and cleaning his clock.

"Carrots, you're not little kit any more, you're a grown bunny," he said, "a police officer for heaven's sake; I think you're old enough to make your own decisions." A long smile stretched along his muzzle. "And it was fantastic."

Judy curled her head up and the insides of her ears darkened.

"I never DREAMED it would be that amazing." She turned to face him again, "I'm never going to forget it. Nick."

He set down the blueberries on top of the fallen hay-bale and took her by the paws. "Me either."

Twenty feet away, someone else was thinking, "See how amazing you think it feels when I tear your head off your shoulders, fox!"

Once again, Jack La Peigne was approaching critical mass...but then Judy hurriedly pulled away from Nick.

"Listen fox, we need to get off the Midway somewhere and find a place to freshen up—before we're spotted by someone else who knows us."

Once again, as he had so many times before, Nick Wilde was already on top it.

"Well what about right here?" He said, waving a paw at the old red barn.

Judy gave herself a face palm. "D'ohhhh, riiight. Why didn't I think of that?"

The two of them made a brief survey of their surroundings; (neither one so much as glanced at the alder-wood tree,) and then they ducked around the side of the barn with Judy leading the way.

Jack waited until he was certain they'd gone, and then moved out from behind the tree-trunk; if rabbits could vomit, he would have lost his breakfast right then and there.

Instead he settled for jamming his paws into his pockets, felt his right thumb stubbing against cold metal, ouch! (Ahhh, he should have left the thing in its holster where it belonged, even if it was more visible that way.)

He didn't know which was worse, his disgust at the scene he'd just witnessed or the fury he felt at having his good mood wiped away. A fox, another dirty fox; arctic or red, they were all the same.

Jack La Peigne was not anti-predator by nature; his most trusted subordinate was a wolverine for crying out loud. No, there were plenty of other species, prey as well as predators, that the big rabbit held in contempt; rats were sneaks, hyenas were cheats, wildebeests were dolts, and don't get him started on sea-mink, the only species he despised above even foxes.

Foxes, the perpetual thorn in his side; how many times had it happened? There were so many different examples; Dimitri Oloshenko, always ready to sink his fangs in your back; then there was that wiseacre fox kid, Dylan Yeats. When he'd escaped from Granite Point he'd caused Aker Correctional Corporation an untold amount of embarrassment—and that had been before he'd hooked up with The Company.

Now he could add Nick Wilde's name to the list.

"How could you do it, Hopps?" the big bunny marveled, "How could you abase your species that way? And do you really think this fox actually cares for you? If you believe THAT, I know this Bank President in Nigiraffia who'd like to be your e-mail buddy."

He shook his head, sighing. Sooner or later Nick Wilde was going to reveal the true nature of his species to her—and when he did it wasn't going to be pretty.

"I only hope it happens sooner rather than later." Jack told himself, "The longer the delay, the more it's going to hurt her when she..."

These thoughts came to a grinding halt as his eye fell on the basket of blueberries, still sitting on top of the hay bale.

He felt in his pocket for the object again and then looked once more towards the bale of hay.

What was it that he always said; what was it that he always telling the board? Seize the moment!

He pulled the pistol from his pocket and shucked the magazine, ejecting a pellet into this palm; a pellet resembling a blue-glass bead ...or a glass blueberry.

Perfect, except...

No one knew better than Jack La Peigne how much attention he attracted. If anyone should see him...!

He looked over to the left. There she was; the wolverine, still keeping watch on the relay tower gate. Yes, and animals tended to look away whenever one of HER species approached, at least the smaller mammals did, and at least four fifths of the attendees here today fit that category.

Seize the moment!

Jack palmed the pellet dart and moved out from behind the tree.

He was six feet away when the wolverine turned to look at him. (He had deliberately made his approach from upwind.)

For a tenth of a second her look was one of cool hostility, but then her eyes blinked and recognition dawned.

"Mr. La Peigne." she said, trying not to stammer.

Jack flashed his best PR smile.

"Ahhh, it's nice to be recognized." He said, and the wolverine immediately relaxed, realizing she wasn't in any trouble.

"I just wanted to say," the big bunny went on, continuing to hold that smile, "I was watching you just now and I appreciate your initiative in offering to keep watch on his gate. May I ask you your name?"

(It was not a request of course; nothing Jack La Peigne asked of a junior grade employee was a request.)

"It's Clawson sir," The wolverine answered, straightening up and speaking in her most professional voice, "Sec-Op Provisional Grade, Laura Clawson." The big bunny was pleasantly surprised; her girlish groupie mode had lasted for all of five seconds.

This wolverine had potential...but right now, he didn't have any time to waste.

"Very good Clawson," He said, and then lowered his voice by three notches. "But now listen; I need your assistance; only a small matter, but one of some urgency." He paused for effect and then pointed discreetly, "Do you see that basket of blueberries on the hay-bale over there?

Laura Clawson craned her neck and squinted; wolverines have only so-so eyesight. "Yes sir." She finally said.

Jack produced the pellet from his pocket and gave it to her.

"Right, what I need is for you go over and put this in that basket...but you need to make the drop without anybody noticing, that's why if can't do it myself." He pretended to look embarrassed, "As I think you know, I tend to attract a few stares wherever I go."

"Yes sir. " Clawson answered but then held the pellet up to her face, sniffing and eyeing it minutely. "If I may ask, what is this sir?"

Jack La Peigne was only mildly annoyed; good, she didn't know what it was. That would add yet another layer of deniability to his plan.

"It's a message." He told her, keeping his voice even, "Now hurry; there isn't much time." (And there wasn't; Judy and that fox might be back any second.) "Don't worry, I'll keep watch here," he told her.

"I'm on it sir." The wolverine answered, and then strolled casually away from where he was standing.

Once again, the big rabbit couldn't help but be impressed; if he hadn't been watching for it, he never would have seen the pellet slip away from Laura Clawson's fingers and into the basket of fruit. All the while she kept looking straight ahead, never slowed down, never even glanced at the hay bale.

Even better, she didn't make the error of turning around immediately after making the 'delivery', and when she did reverse course, she made a brief stop on the way back to the relay tower, browsing for a few seconds at a booth selling souvenir T-shirts; no one watching could have guessed what she'd really been up to.

Definitely someone with potential Jack decided, but right now he needed someone with experience—and also with the proper armament.

He pulled out his back-up cell and keyed in a number

"Gully? I'm on the Midway, near the big red barn on the west side of the Festival. Do you know that location? Good...all right, I need you and Racius here ASAP...No, never mind about that for now, I need you here with me. And listen, I want each of you loaded up with both trank-darts and Morningmew—and be prepared to activate if necessary." His eyes darted to the right. Nick and Judy had just emerged from behind the barn. "On the double, Gully," he said, "La Peigne out."

He disconnected just in time for Laura Clawson's return.

"Nice job," he told her with another approving nod, "You did very well, Clawson."

"Thank you sir" she answered and then took up her position beside the gate again.

"And of course, I can count on your discretion," the big rabbit added. Not bothering to wait for an answer—it was a given that she would keep their interaction to herself—he turned and walked back to his spot beneath the alder tree. This time Jack didn't even try to move quietly, it didn't matter if anyone saw him now.

What did matter was...

Nooooo, the fox was walking away and ignoring the basket of blueberries; he'd forgotten all about them!

No, wait; he was slowing down—he was snapping his fingers...as if he'd forgotten something....come on...

YES! He was turning around and heading back to the hay bale.

Jack's expression was that of a kit watching the jerk that always picked on him performing an epic fail his skateboard. When the big bunny saw Nick Wilde stopping to pick up the basket of blueberries, he had to step on his foot again to keep it from thumping.

"Come on, come on, don't just stand there." he prompted mentally, "Aren't you hungry, fox?"

Almost as if Nick had heard him, he pegged two of the berries into his mouth.

Nothing happened; nothing should have happened for a minute anyway, but somehow the big bunny knew it wasn't going to. No matter...no problem; it was only a matter of time before the fox's lottery number came up.

And when it did, Jack would be ready.