The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One: Fuel - 44

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. 13)

"What do you mean, you're staying here?"

Nick Wilde was staring at Conor Lewis as if the world had caught on fire and the kid had responded by pulling out a fiddle.

"I can do more good from here than from back at the dance, big guy." The young silver fox insisted, hefting his laptop to show what he meant. (It was still working perfectly.)

"Like WHAT?" Nick demanded, waving an aggravated arm.

Conor pointed at the computer screen.

"Like hacking into Craig's dad's cell-phone, and blocking any calls from his kid. That way even if the punk gets lucky and spots Jerk LaPine-Eye in the..."

"WHO?"

"Jack LaPeigne," Conor hurriedly corrected himself. "Look, what am I gonna do if I go with you, except nod my head like a bobble-fox every time you say something? What do you think, you're going to send me around to warn everyone else while you're to talking to Judy, 'The weed killer's coming! The weed-killer's coming!' Yeah, like that'll fly; I'm a fourteen year old kid for crying out in pain...and a fox, yeah, I'll say it. Who the heck's going to believe me? I'll end up in the back of a Sheriff's cruiser-and how's THAT supposed help everybody?"

Nick Wilde said nothing for several seconds, but the young fox could tell he was wavering; he moved in for the clincher.

"Nick, trust me," he said, holding up the laptop again, "I can help you out a lot more by going online than by going with you. Please...lemme do this."

The red fox stared for a second, and then let out a frustrated scream; he wanted to pound his fist against something, but there were no handy objects available.

"All right kid," he said, pointing at Conor with an admonishing finger, "but if you let me down, I'm coming back for you."

"I won't," The young silver fox promised, raising his paw in his own approximation of Nick's Ranger Scout salute, "You got my word, I won't mess this up."

"Better not," Nick nodded, turned, and sprinted for the campground entrance. Before he was halfway there, Conor's voice caught up with him again.

"Wait, hold up a sec."

Nick turned around with his ears laid back.

"NOW what?" If he'd been a bunny, his foot would have been thumping like a telegraph key. Then he saw the look on the young fox's face, determined, but also frightened.

"Whatever you do, please...don't let anyone know I'm helping you, especially don't let Jack La Peigne find out."

In spite of his irritation, Nick felt his ears turn upwards.

"La Peigne, what's your problem with him?"

"Just don't...please." Conor pleaded with an almost forlorn look on his face. "I'm not trying to blackmail you or anything; I'll help you no matter what, but please...keep me out of it."

Nick let out a breath that felt like a ton of lead.

"Okay," he said quietly and took off once again

Conor waited until he was out of sight and then settled down with the laptop once more.

Of course Nick had known at once that the real reason he was staying behind was because he was scared. Yes, he was, but not because he didn't want to get doused with Harequateline, as the older fox had initially assumed. Now-or so Conor reasoned-Nick Wilde had a clue at least as to why he really didn't want to return to the Festival; the possibility of an encounter with Jack LaPeigne (and of being recognized by the big jerkweed.)

He wondered for a moment if it been wise to mention the jerkrabbit by name like that...and then decided there was nothing he could do about it now, so get on with the job at paw, kid.

In trying to stay off the big bunny's radar-screen, Conor's motives were not entirely selfish. If Nick tried to sound the alarm while in his company (and if LaPeigne recognized him,) then forget about it; nobody would believe diddly about any coming attack on the Big Dance. For sure Jack La Peigne wouldn't-and this was a guy whose word carried some serious weight.

The young fox also hadn't been lying when he'd said he could do more good on his laptop than by tagging along with Nick-maybe! It all depended on whether there was anyone from The Circle online tonight; Conor could deliver on the promise he'd made, but he couldn't do it alone.

He slipped on his headset and crossed his fingers.

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Nick Wilde meanwhile was having problems of his own.

"Sorry, you can't get back inside without a paw stamp."

"Listen you; do you know who I am?"

As if to demonstrate his importance, the sheep in line ahead of Nick folded his arms and planted his hooves, refusing to budge, not even a centimeter.

Nick could have sheared him with a weed-whacker. Only ONE animal in front of him at the Festival's east-side gate, and it had to be some pea-brain with an attitude. He looked at his own wrist; yep, his stamp was still there, all nice and neat and in order.

For all the good that did him; now the sheep was pulling out his cell phone and making a show of dialing a number...and he was still blocking the way. And just Nick's luck, he was a ram on a par with Doug's former enforcers, Jesse and Woolter...big, burly, and with curling horns to match.

And the animal pulling gate duty was a bunny even smaller than Judy, Aggggghhhh, grrrrrr! Give me strength!

Nick took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

"Uh excuse me, I need to get by?" he said tapping the sheep on the shoulder.

The ram just turned and glared at him. "You wait your turn, fox!"

Nick raised a finger, but another voice spoke just then.

"No, you need to move aside...and right NOW."

The sheep wheeled angrily on the newcomer and lowered his head aggressively...and then he was bleating like a frightened lamb. The interloper was another ram-a bighorn ram-at least head taller than he was and with a much more formidable array of head armor.

"Whoa, I never thought I'd be glad to see him again." Nick thought to himself. It was the same bighorn sheep that had refused to let him and Judy backstage in the wake of Erin's meltdown.

"Move aside, sir." He repeated, this time in a severe voice...and the other sheep practically tripped over his own hooves getting out of the way.

Nick flashed the wrist stamp at him and the bunny and hurried through the gate. Now he had to find Judy. "Dangit Carrots, why do you always have to be such a Bunny Scout? Couldn't you just once have forgotten to turn your cell-phone off?"

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There were animals from the Circle online tonight, at least one of them anyway...and Conor had been promised that more were coming.

Tradgehipp2+5: 'K, I alreted Guild. B on sun."

Feelsogud777#%: "Thanks"

The young fox's feelings about Tradge were slightly mixed. He was one of the sharper members of The Circle, but his posts were about as easy to read as Babylionian hieroglyphics. Conor could only hope that by 'soon' he'd meant right away. Every second was...

Guildenkranz&24X: "Fee, I'm here. Sup?"

Conor filled him and Tradge in as quickly as he could, informing them about the impending herbicide attack. With no time to spare, he divulged only the bare-bones details of what he'd heard on the hilltop up above, saying nothing about how he'd come to be in that particular spot at that particular moment. With such an incomplete version of the story, he had no idea whether or not Guild and Tradge would believe him. (The only thing in his favor was that he had never yet misled them.)

Tradgehipp2+5: "were U with soembody?" (Tradge was dyslexic.)

Feelsogud777#%: "Yes but can't say...made a prms."

Tradgehipp2+5: "K"

Guildenkranz&24X: "Alerted 2 others. 4tSQ and Ant. Need names. U got?"

Conor knew what he meant and typed rapidly. He wished he could have used the headset but they had a rule in The Circle; no voice communications, text only, (and NO webcams.)

Feelsogud777#%: "Jerry Guilford, Dad. Craig Guilford, Kid. Amanda Hill, GF" (He had finally remembered her last name.)

Just then another member of the Circle came online.

4tSQcristo31#&: Hi What's up?"

Guildenkranz&24X: "Tradge, fill him in; Ant 2, whn he shows up."

4tSQcristo31#&: "Is Jab coming?"

Guildenkranz&24X: "NO!"

"Heck, no!" Conor echoed Guild's sentiment aloud. The last thing they needed was for that nihilist head-case to stick his muzzle into this business; knowing him, he'd probably sympathize with the Guilfords. "Stick the system 'yotes, more power to the mammals, woo-hooo!"

A moment later Ant joined the group and then they went back and forth for a few moments, with Guild giving out assignments to each of them. Finally he informed the gathering; "K, got into dad's phone, blocking all calls from his kid. Wil do same with kid's phone."

AntilogmammalXJ77%: "Wn't he figr it out?"

Guildenkranz&24X: "LOL, when's last time U looked at UR blocked calls list?"

Conor almost grinned, but knew they had only bought themselves a reprieve. Sooner or later, dear ol' dad would start to wonder why his son hadn't called and would try to call him. What would he do when he couldn't get through, assume that Craig had messed up...or assume that he'd been busted? Either way he'd probably decide to forget about Jack La Peigne and launch Operation Spraydown immediately.

4tSQcristo31#&: "Okay, I'm inside the Burrows County Airport control tower." (Fort never used shortpaw.)

Guildenkranz&24X: "B Careful. U think UR spotted, get out fast N cover Ur tracks gd."

"A-men!" Conor muttered; if Fort was detected hacking into an airport control tower, the authorities' inevitable first thought would 'terrorist,' and their response would be appropriate to the word.

4tSQcristo31#&: "Just looking, won't touch. Fee, what's the location of Mr. Guilford's farm."

The young fox thought for a second.

Feelsogud777#%: "Star route 33. Don't know the exact."

4tSQcristo31#&: "No sweat, that's all I need."

And then,

"Okay, if anything takes off from there, you'll hear this."

The wail of the Fur Trek 'battle stations' alert sounded in Conor's headset.

Guildenkranz&24X: "Gd wrk. Montor ther radio. Tower might try 2 contact 'yotes if they take off. Fee, I'm trying to fix dad's phone so U can call out on it by proxy. U knw wht hs voice sounds like?"

Feelsogud777#%: "No but hrd his son's voice. M sure I can do his dad." He was actually only halfway sure, but he'd figured out what Guild had in mind and there was no such thing as turning back now.

AntilogmammalXJ77%: "Hk Mt, he'd try 2 disg I's voice ne way." ('You don't have to get it exactl; he'd try to disguise his voice anyway') She too had figured out Guild's plan.

Guildenkranz&24X: "How U coming?" he asked her.

AntilogmammalXJ77%: "Redy on cals. Wt 4 Fee?"

Guildenkranz&24X: "Go now!"

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Burrows County Sheriff's Office

"How many calls again?" Sheriff's lieutenant Gary Norris, a black bear, was looking over the shoulder of Deputy Sergeant Jeff Winkler, the paunchy moose in charge of the dispatch desk.

"Three, two reporting they heard an explosion, another saying an explosion and what looked like a fire-ball."

"Where at?" Norris asked, leaning closer.

"Not exactly sure," the moose answered. "None of the callers were from around here, but all three calls came in from the south side of Burrow County; the one who says she saw the fireball, was driving down Star Route 33 when it happened."

Norris let out a short, sharp growl, "The Guilfords," he grumbled under his breath. He'd had more dealings with that family than he cared to think about and was well aware of Jerry Guilford's volatile nature-and also that his family now had twelve days to vacate their house.

"All right send Pomeroy and Cairns out to take a look," he said, and then frowned deeply. He hadn't made Lieutenant by going off half-cocked, and he didn't do it now. "Better send Catamount and Rockland to give them some backup. Those coyotes got served with an eviction this morning; and you know what they're like,"

"Don't I know it!" said the moose, reaching for his mike. "Should I notify the Fire Department?"

The black bear's frown deepened slightly.

"Were those 9-1-1 calls, any of 'em?

"Yep, the one about the fireball," The moose nodded

"Then they probably know already," Norris told him, "but yeah, let's be sure."

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Nick Wilde found Judy's parents right where he'd left them. She wasn't there with them but that was hardly a surprise. Pausing for half a second, he took out his cell-phone and punched in some instructions before continuing in his way. That was when he noticed the beaver talking with Stu, what was his name again? Oh yes, Chip Fielding.

"Probably waiting to see Jack LaPeigne, again," The red fox wryly mused. He hadn't worked the streets for all those years without knowing a brown-noser when he saw one. Nonetheless if there was anyone likely to believe his story about a chemical attack coming, it was this animal; Chip Fielding had a fursonal history with the Guilford family and with their patriarch in particular.

Nick took three steps...and paused again, this time involuntarily; his memory had just delivered another piece of late breaking news, something else Levon Chatterton had said when telling him about the Guilford clan...something that just might be the key to the biggest unanswered question still remaining.

But, first thing was first.

"Stu! Nick waved his cell in the air as he approached.

"What is it, Nick." The bunny asked, turning towards him. His manner was chilly but not nearly as cold as it had been earlier that evening. (He was actually glad for the interruption; Chip Fielding had never been one of his favorite mammals.)

By way of response, Nick showed him the phone; on the screen was the scowling visage of Chief Bogo.

"Judy's...got her phone turned off," he said, putting on his best sheepish face, "and...well you know how the Chief is." He quickly put the phone away-before Judy's dad could see that he was looking at a photo file and not the 'last call' screen.

"Oh dear," Stu Hopps put a paw to his chest, looking properly alarmed. (Judy had always said he was a worry-wart.) "She's not in any trouble is she?"

"I don't think so," Nick answered, raising his paws in a reassuring gesture, (while at the same time managing to sound just a teensy bit unsure of himself,) "but I need to find her right away; any idea where she is?"

"She's dancing with Jack LaPeigne again," the bunny said, pointing into the crowd with a shaky finger, "Over there, I think."

"Oh good, thanks." Nick said, trying his gosh-darnedest best to make his neck fur stay flat. ("No, I'm NOT jealous!") An afterthought occurred to him, and he motioned to Chip Fielding. "Sir would you mind coming with me?"

Stu Hopps' ears went up immediately.

"Nick, why would you...?"

But the red fox had already slipped away into the crowd. He didn't know if Fielding would follow him, but he was willing to bet that he would.

He was about fifteen feet inside the crowd when his roll of the dice came up a seven.

"This isn't really about any phone call, is it?" the beaver said from behind him.

Nick stopped and turned around.

"No, it isn't." he said, keeping his voice low, "I didn't want to say this in front of Stu or any of the other Hopps bunnies, but it's about some old friends of yours...the ones who paid you a visit at last year's Carrot Days." He allowed one ear to lift higher than the other, "And what's going on with them this year, better or worse?" He was taking yet another chance; that Chip Fielding would also know about the foreclosure and eviction notice.

This time however, the red fox's gambit didn't pay off, not at first anyway; the beaver knew the Guilfords were getting the boot, but didn't seem all that concerned. He made a small, barking noise.

"They were only served this morning," he scoffed, "Jerry Guilford isn't going pull any shines this soon afterward, not when he's got eleven more days to plan something." His words notwithstanding, there was a tiny thread of uncertainty in the beaver's voice; Nick grabbed it and pulled hard.

"Right, that's the last thing anyone would expect, isn't it?" he said, and then waved a paw at the crowd, "Except tonight is his chance to get even with EVERYBODY."

He turned and went on his way. This time the beaver was right on his heels.

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Inside the campground, Conor Lewis sat before his computer, paws clasped and eyes closed. He could imitate Craig's shtick no sweat, but what about his dad? Was Jerry Guilford's voice merely a deeper version of the way his kid spoke? A minute ago, it had all seemed obvious, (or at least probable,) but now the young fox wasn't so certain; he knew plenty of kids back in Zootopia who sounded nothing like their dads. If he messed this, up, if he got it wrong, no one would believe any the rest of it. And then everyone at the dance would be a sitting duck for that spray-down...including Erin Hopps, no!

He tightened his resolve and spoke aloud, "I won't let that happen."

"Won't let what happen, kid?" a deep voice asked from behind him.

If he hadn't been wearing a headset, Conor would have face-pawlmed himself. "Not NOW, Finnick!"

What the heck was he doing here? But when the young fox turned around, he almost wanted to laugh...almost. Finnick had his paw cupped over his right eye, and there was swelling and discoloration peeking around the edges.

"What'd you do, try to pick up on the wrong vixen again?" he wanted to ask. What he did ask was, "Where'd you get that, big guy?"

The desert fox's answer was both cryptic and explanatory.

"What'd you have to go an' dance with that bunny two more times for, huh?" he snarled, showing his teeth, "Now her girlfriends think it's all MY fault!"

"That I danced with Erin again?" Conor's ears were pointing skywards. He never thought they'd be that upset.

"No, that you bailed on her," Finnick looked like the top of his head was about to blow off like a pop-bottle cap. "I wouldn't wanna be in your fur when they catch up with you, kid-especially that bunny. She's ready to kick your head for a field goal...an' what-all are you doing here anyway?"

Dangit, there was no time to explain...but maybe, the young fox realized, maybe he didn't need to explain.

"Just watch me Finnick," he said.

The little fox's head tilted sideways.

"Watch what, what you up to, kid?"

Conor pretended not to hear him. On the laptop screen were several messages from Guildenkranz and the others, asking him what was going on. He ignored them too, moving the cursor to 'dial' and clicking twice.

There was a soft 'burring' on the line and then a clipped, precise voice answered.

"Burrows County Sheriff's Office."

The young fox was momentarily speechless. He had expected to be put on hold, (That was what happened when you called the ZPD.) He hurriedly adjusted his voice speaking in low growl that he hoped would be a fair approximation of Craig's father. Remember, keep it short and sweet, he reminded himself, and then spoke into the headset.

"You think you can run me off my property and nothing's goin' to happen? Think again, you sorry-tailed bunch of dumb-bunny jerks!"

He disconnected and turned to Finnick, once more keeping it short and to the point

"There's some coyotes planning to dump a load of weed killer on the dance; I'm hoping the Sheriff will think that call was I made was from the guy in charge."

The fennec-fox's paw fell away from his face. Whoa, shine-on harvest shiner; someone had tagged him good.

"What makes you think that's gonna happen kid? You hardly said nothin' just now."

Conor waved at the laptop.

"Coz when they try to trace that call, it's gonna take 'em straight to his cell-phone."

Finnick's ears went up even further.

"What? How'd you manage...?

"With help, all right?" the young fox cut him off, "Look I don't have time for any questions right now DF-and we got a deal, remember? When we're not working together, we stay out of each other's business, right?"

The desert fox shook his head, leaning his elbow on a nearby stump.

"Sorry kid, but if what you just told me is true, then that makes it my business; I'm at ground zero, just like you are...so I got to ask you something else."

Conor spun in his seat.

"Dangit, what'd I just...?"

"How can I help?"

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The good news (for Nick Wilde) was that Judy turned out to be very easy to spot, the bad news was, that was because Jack LaPeigne was holding her over his head in the 'swan-dive' pose made famous by Patrick Squirrelze and Jennifer Drey in Furry Dancing. (It didn't help that the band happened to be playing, "I've Had The Time of My Life.") Nick wanted to rush over there right now, but knew he'd have to wait at least until the big bunny put her down again.

When her feet finally touched the ground, he moved quickly before the big rabbit could pick her up again.

"Judy, Judy!" he called waving a paw as though trying to flag down a cab.

Jack LaPeigne saw him first and moved quickly in front of his dance partner with his arms laced together.

"See here Nick, you had your chance..."

Nick ignored him, focusing on his partner instead.

"Police business Judy, seriously," he said, and she moved quickly out from behind the big bunny.

It was a private code that each of them understood; shortly after Nick had graduated from the ZPD Academy the two of them had made a pact. Any time either one of the said, "Police business, seriously," that meant it was strictly police business and nothing fursonal. It also meant exactly what it implied, an urgent situation had arisen; in the two years that he'd been partnered with Judy, Nick had never once used those words without proper cause.

"Nick, what is it?" she asked him.

"Not here, come on," he said beckoning with a finger, and then seemingly as an afterthought, he turned to her dance partner, "You too, sir. I think you're also going to want to hear this."

Jack's nose began to twitch and for a second the red fox thought he was going to decline the request...until Chip Fielding noisily slapped his tail against the ground. "I-I-I really think you should come with us, Mr. LaPeigne."

The big rabbit sighed and gestured with a paw. "All right, lead on."

Nick led them to the space behind the trailer where had and Judy had talked earlier.

"All right Nick, what 's going on?" she asked him again. Her tone was completely neutral but here nose was twitching nervously.

He decided to play his ace immediately.

"I'll give you the full story later, Car...Judy, but right now there isn't time; what you need to know is this; the Guilfords are planning a revenge-attack for getting evicted this morning. They're going to crop-dust the dance with Harequatiline." He said this while looking at Chip Fielding, who slapped his paws to his cheeks in an unconscious imitation of Edvard Mewnch's famous lithograph, The Scream.

"Oh dear God, NO!"

"How do you know this?" it was Jack LaPeigne speaking. His tone was neither trusting, nor openly skeptical.

Nick told him and the others the story with only two minor embellishments; he had known the young coyote was Craig Guildford because he'd heard Amanda calling him that, and he'd known the Guilfords had been served with an eviction notice because he'd overheard a young bobcat talking about it with her friends. "I heard her saying her dad's a deputy," he told them, and for Conor Lewis's benefit, he added silently, "I hope you appreciate this, kid."

Judy was the first to react, "Ohhh sweet cheese 'n crackers," she groaned and Nick knew he had her convinced, at least. Jack La Peigne, on the other paw, still seemed to be sitting on the fence. Nick moved quickly to get him down by way of an end run. Once more ignoring the big bunny for the moment, he turned to Chip Fielding instead.

"Mr. Fielding, you know the Guilford family better than anyone." He lowered his ears and ducked his head, pretending to defer to the more experienced animal's judgement. (In fact, he was manipulating the beaver.) "Could what I heard be for real? Would even the Guilford family really go that far, just to get even?"

The query seemed to embolden the big rodent, (just Nick had known it would.)

"Heck YES, they would!" he declared, trying to look fierce. It was an almost laughable pose for his species, but it seemed to bring Jack LaPeigne around immediately.

"Okay," he nodded grimly...and now Nick had something else to tell him.

"Mr. La Peigne, there's one other thing I heard. For some reason Jerry Guildford is specifically targeting you."

"Jack? Why?" Judy's eyes had gone wide and her nose was twitching so rapidly it looked like she was trying not to sneeze.

"Because I fursonally served them with that foreclosure notice this morning," the big bunny told her, looking grimmer than ever.

Nick Wilde was almost floored; he'd expected thebig bunny's reaction to be confusion and a profession of ignorance...until he was reminded of everyone of something Levon Chatterton had said earlier, that the Guilford family lived 'out on the old La Peigne place.' Then there should have been denials, hemming and hawing, perhaps even an outright lie. The last thing he'd expected from the big bunny was a terse admission of the truth, a truth no one else had even suspected until just now.

Chip Fielding certainly hadn't suspected it, "You served them the eviction papers...yourself?" He was staring at the big bunny as if he'd just come back from the dead. "Why would you even do that?"

Jack turned to him; now he looked defiant....and indignant.

"That was the warren where I grew up," he said, poking himself in the chest with a pair of fingers, "And that made it fursonal; no pack of lowlifes is going to turn MY family home into a thieves' den."

From the corner of his eye, Nick saw Judy nod knowingly; even if she didn't agree with the big rabbit's action, she understood his motives. Roots were a big thing with the Burrow bunnies-and not just the ones they grew out in their carrot-fields. Nonetheless, there was one other thing he couldn't fathom.

"How the heck did you get away with it, Jack?" he wanted to know. From what he'd heard of the Guilfords, it was a miracle the big bunny hadn't been carried out of that place in six separate cartons.

LaPeigne only shrugged.

"Believe me Nick, I didn't go in there alone; I had two of my security operatives with me, both of them well armed." There was nothing defensive in his tone, but that was the way Chip Fielding seemed to take it.

"Well then, why didn't you at least leave someone there to keep watch?" He was becoming more and more agitated by the minute. "Didn't you at least notify the Sheriff's Office?"

"Of course, I did." La Peigne answered, favoring the beaver with a withering glance. The look on his face made Nick Wilde want to shudder. Bunny or no bunny, this was a dangerous animal.

And yet...

Oddly enough, he was starting to feel some sympathy for the big rabbit. According to what Conor had told him, the Burrows County Sheriff's Office had been notified of the foreclosure and eviction...so why hadn't they put the Guilford house under surveillance? A bunny from Zootopia might not have known of the coyote family's vengeful nature...but the Burrows County Sheriff's Department sure as heck did.

"Can we have this argument later, please?" It was Judy, practical as ever. "Right now, we've got a situation on our paws."

At once the bickering ceased, and then she looked at Nick.

"Did you call the Sheriff's department yet?"

"They've been notified." He answered, hoping it was the truth. "You BETTER have called them, kid!"

Something else occurred to him and he turned and spoke to Jack La Peigne.

"What about the helicopter that brought Doctor Honeyba...?" he started to ask-and then grimaced and waved a paw. "No wait, you sent it back to Zootopia, my bad."

"Yep, afraid I did." The big bunny answered, and then looked over at Chip Fielding, "Doesn't the Burrows County Sheriff's Department have a helicopter?"

"Well yes, but it's only a medevac chopper." The beaver protested.

"Commissioner we don't have time to be picky," Judy said, addressing him by his title to emphasize the point.

Fielding blew out his cheeks and nodded.

"Right, give me a second," he said, and pulled out his cell phone. While he talked, the others fell silent. There was an elephant in their presence, and no one wanted to acknowledge it.

They needed to evacuate the Festival and right now; that much was obvious, what wasn't so obvious was how they were supposed to pull it off. They couldn't just have someone go onstage and make an announcement. "Attention everyone please move to exits, the Big Dance is about to come under a chemical attack." That would lead to an immediate rush to the exits-and there only two of them for more than 3000 patrons. More mammals might die in the stampede than from the herbicide. And, Catch 22, if they made the announcement without explaining the reason, they'd be lucky if even a third of the animals here complied with the order...and even then they'd only move grudgingly-and slowly.

"Right, thanks." Chip Fielding disconnected and returned to the group. "No luck on the helicopter, it got called away to a car wreck out on the New Lee Highway." And then to everyone's surprise, he actually grinned, "The good news is that the Sheriff's office got a threatening phone call from Jerry Guilford a few minutes ago, and someone else called in earlier to say they heard an explosion out by his place. They're sending every available unit to the Guilford house, code red."

Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness," Judy breathed.

Nick Wilde just nodded; he suspected that goodness had had nothing to do with it...nor had Jerry Guilford been the true source of that phone call.

"I don't know how you did it kid, but good job."

But they weren't quite out of the woods just yet. If Guilford heard sirens approaching he might decide to take off for the Festival immediately. Hopefully the BCSD would figure that out and go in dark; no sirens and no lights. Probably they would; they seemed like a smart bunch of...wait a minute!

Nick yipped and snapped his fingers.

"I know how to do it!"

Everyone looked at him.

"What Nick?" It was Judy.

He took her by the shoulders, "I know how to get everyone out of here without causing a panic. Remember the year before last when we worked Skunk Pride Day?"

Judy brow furrowed and her ears fell back, but then they shot back up again.

"Sweet cheeze n' crackers! Dang fox; you're right I forgot about that.

Two years earlier, she and Nick had been assigned to help keep order at that third annual Skunk Pride Day event, a street parade followed by a waterfront concert. It had been windy out that day and in the middle of the third set, the power had gone out for nearly six blocks around. When the emcee had announced that sorry, the power wouldn't be up again for at least another three hours, everyone had just packed up and left...quietly.

"All right, but then how do we turn the power off?" she asked him.

"And then how do we make that announcement without any electricity?" It was Chip Fielding.

"Same as at the Skunk Pride show, "Nick answered the beaver's question first. "Through a bullhorn; the Sheriff's Department some of those here with them, right?"

"I know my animals have them," Jack LaPeigne said, and then pulled out his cell, "And they won't panic, I'll alert them right now."

"But we still need to get the power turned off," Judy repeated, this time with a note of urgency in her voice.

At that instant, as if in response to her query, Nick's cell phone buzzed the opening from Foxy Lady. When he looked at the screen, his ears went up; the call was from Conor Lewis's cell, but the face on the display was...

"Finnick?" He answered, surprised.

"Yeah, it's me." The fennec fox replied, and then his face vanished in a blur as he put the phone to his ear. Nick understood the gesture and did the same.

"Okay, keep pretending it's me." Finnick said, and then Conor replaced him on the line.

"All right, we're monitoring Burrow County Airport traffic control and we ran a SWAT on the Guilfords. How's everything on your end?"

Nick swallowed hard, unable to speak for a few seconds. He had suspected the young silver fox had been behind the phone calls to the Burrows County Sheriff's office, but he'd never imagined... Holy fox-trot, no wonder he wanted his name kept out of it. SWATTING, as the practice was known was a fairly new Internet prank...and also one of the most notorious; if you were caught, the penalty ranged from severe to 'you don't want to THINK about it.'

Basically, it consisted of tricking a law enforcement agency into dispatching a SWAT team to the residence of an enemy. Sometimes it happened for the most trivial of reasons. Nick fursonally knew of one instance where a ground-squirrel SWATTED a leopard-cat for beating him at World of Warthog. (Neither one of them had been older than 16.)

Granted if there was anyone who deserved to have SWAT team sent racing to their door it was the Guilford family, but still...the kid had sounded so casual about it; he might as well have been talking about grabbing a snack on the way home. So young and yet so ruthless; the red fox couldn't help but feel uneasy. And who had the kid meant by 'we?' Not him and Finnick; he knew that much without even asking.

Conor's voice came back in his ear again.

"Nick...you still there, or what?"

"Sorry, there's a lot going here" the red fox answered curtly, feeling his cheeks change color to match his fut. And then something else occurred to him. If Conor (and his friends) could SWAT somebody, then maybe they could also...

He shook off his disquiet and spoke crisply into the phone.

"It's good, the Sheriff's got all units heading for the Guilford house, but..."

"Have you seen Erin, is she okay?" the young fox interrupted.

Nick shifted his voice from crisp to harsh, "If you really care about...that, then you need to be quiet and listen to me. We need to evacuate the dance and the only way to do it without causing a panic is to cut the power. (Please DON'T ask me to explain.) Can you help out with that at all?"

Once again the young fox's response was a corker.

"Yeah...I'll go take care of it right now." he answered in an almost breezy voice, and then to Nick's even greater astonishment, he disconnected.

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Conor's first action upon breaking the connection was to wave Finnick over.

"DF? I need you to sub for me over here for a few minutes." He removed his headset and held it out to the fennec-fox. "I gotta go take care of something."

Finnick hesitated as if it might be booby-trapped, "What happens when they see I'm not you?"

"Microphone's off and so's the webcam," Conor said to him, vacating the camp-chair. "We only talk by text. I told everyone I'm going into lurk for a few minutes, so no one's gonna ask you anything. Just keep an eye on the screen and if you get an alert that they're coming-it sounds like the Fur Trek Battle Stations call-if you hear that, click the 'call' button in the lower right corner of the screen, that'll hook you up direct to Nick's cell-phone, and mine. Okay, gotta move. Are the bolt cutters in the van? Please tell me you brought 'em." He was speaking as if he'd just slammed a double espresso.

"Yeah, they're in the back behind the tool-chest." Finnick pointed towards the rear of the van. "What do you need them for?"

"Sorry, no time," the young silver fox said, and bounded though the side-door of the van. A moment later he was on his way to the backstage access gate, cutters in paw.

When Nick Wilde had asked him to help, he had assumed, not unreasonably that the kid would try to assist him by way of the internet. It had never occurred to him that the young fox might have a 'paws-on' solution to the problem, but that was exactly what he had planned. He had seen the place while working as a volunteer that first night of the festival. Now, he checked his left-side pants pocket, yep, he still had his badge, but would it still be valid? He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that it would get him backstage, just one more time.

Well, even if it would, there'd be no such thing as getting through while carrying a pair of bolt-cutters, right?

Looking quickly to the left and right, Conor swung the cutters like an Olympic Hammer Thrower, and heaved them up and over the fence. They landed in a copse of tall grass, right beside the fence-line, but had anyone seen him?

For a few seconds the young fox just held still. Nothing happened, there was no "Hey kid, what are you doing there?" nothing at all.

He sprinted for the loading dock.

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"Jack?" Judy waited until he had hung up the phone, "Jack, listen...I just thought of something. There's a third way out of here, the stage entrance."

"What good is that?" Chip Fielding said, "They won't let anyone out that way."

All three of the others gave him a pained look. Finally Jack said, "'They' work for me, remember?"

"Listen Mr. La Peigne," It was Nick again, "There's one more thing. You need to get under cover where you can't be seen. If that kid up on the hillside spots you..."

"I thought you said his calls were blocked." Chip Fielding snorted, trying to make up for his faux pas.

"Only on HIS phone." The fox reminded him. "We don't know if that's the only one he has. If it was me up there, I'd sure as heck have a back-up."

"So? Even he does have another phone, no one can see me back here." This time it was Jack LaPeigne speaking.

"Not from the dance floor no," the red fox countered, waving paw at the surroundings hills, "but what about from up there?"

The big bunny let out a long, slow breath; he also knew a thing or two about surveillance.

"Right," he said, "Okay Nick, you've been up there. Where can I go where I won't be visible from that hill?"

"Behind the stage," the fox answered, pointing, "Even if Craig could see you back there, it's the last place he's likely to look."

'All right," the big bunny nodded, "I'll start working my way over in that direction." He looked over at Chip Fielding, "Need to get that hill cordoned off and get some animals up there, too."

The beaver spread his paws, "Didn't you hear what I said? All the deputies are on their way to..."

"I know that, I'll have my mammals take care of it," The big rabbit interrupted testily, "But first I'll need the County's authorization, that hill's outside of the Festival grounds."

"Authorized!' Fielding said, and then the big bunny began pumping for the cover of the stage with the others following behind. Several times Nick saw Judy looking backwards over her shoulder and at least once he saw her lower lip trembling. He knew why; her family was back there and she desperately wanted to warn them. But she wouldn't, she couldn't; if she did, the word would spread quickly through the crowd...and though the Hopps's would get out all right the animals following behind them might not be so lucky. And Judy would never let that happen, she was ZPD.

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Not far away, Conor Lewis slung the bolt cutters over his should like a musket, and moved with a jaunty pace. One of the first things he'd learned from Danny Tipperin was that if you wanted to avoid suspicion, the first thing was to look like you knew what you were doing (and also where you were going.)

"Best way to look like you belong is to look like you got a job to do," the swift fox had once told him.

In fact, the young silver fox did know what he was doing, and also where he was going, (and he DID have job to do.) Just beyond the far right side of the stage was a small electrical substation, a concrete box approximately the size of mobile storage unit. Conor had only noticed it the first time because he'd nearly tripped over one of the massive cables running into the outside junction box while running an errand.

The two levers on either side that box were each secured with a padlock, but that was why he'd brought the bolt cutters. Snip, snip, throw the switches and get the heck outta there, fast.

Not...quite. When he slipped the cutters around the U of first lock and pressed on the calipers, almost nothing happened; the blades made barely an indentation in the metal. He pushed again, harder. The blades dug in by maybe an eighth of an inch. He tried a third time, using all his strength; it was no use. The lock was built of face-hardened steel and refused to...

Without warning a shadow fell over the young fox...big and looming with two long ears poking out of the top. And then a familiar aroma assailed his nostrils, the smell of anger mixed with rabbit, a rabbit he had desperately hoped to avoid while on this mission.

He closed his eyes and whimpered silently.

"I'm toast; I am sooo toast!"

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Easter Egg: An obscure reference to one of the Disney animated classics, (one of the first five)