The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One: Fuel - 71

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 8—Where There's Smoke...

(Continued...Pt. 5)

"Sorry Officer Hopps, Chief Bogo went home about an hour ago."

The voice was high, flat, nasal, and also completely uninterested in anything she might have to say...either to him, to the Chief, or to anyone else.

Judy tried not to groan as she looked at her watch. Was it that late already?

The animal she was speaking to was Benjamin Clawhauser's night-shift replacement, Officer Robert 'Bob' Sparks, an Asiatic Wild Ass. About as upbeat as the average canker sore, he was known throughout Precinct-1 as 'The Melancholy Donkey', and NOT affectionately. Whenever he was on duty, folks tended to avoid the dispatch desk like the plague.

"Do you want to leave him a message?" Sparks was asking her, still speaking in a dull, lackluster voice.

"No thanks, I'll shoot him a text," Judy answered, quickly. She was not about to relay the results of her and Nick's efforts by way of this indifferent character; what they'd found in locker-room L was much too important for that.

"Okaaaay," Sparks responded in that same leaden monotone, and disconnected without another word.

"That guy brightens up a room by leaving it," Nick Wilde observed, as Judy thumbed out her text-message for Chief Bogo.

"Tell me about it," she answered, hitting 'send'. She put away her phone and then hugged herself, shivering slightly. "Brrrr, is it just me, or did it get really cool out here all of a sudden?"

Nick only smiled. "No, it's not just you Carrots—and you can thank the Climate Wall for the temperature drop." He pointed north, towards a line of glowing red slats in the far distance. "See, it doesn't just heat up the air; it also sucks out the humidity. And dry air cools off a lot faster than moist air. Over in the Rainforest District, they probably haven't noticed a thing yet."

"Is that something else you learned from Finnick?" Judy asked him. Was it really that much cooler now, or did it only feel that way? After the broiling day she and her partner had suffered, it was hard to say for certain.

"No," Nick answered, beetling his brows for a second, "I picked that up back in grade school, on a field trip to the Climate Wall. Funny how some things stay with you." He frowned slightly, "But speaking of Finnick, I wonder if he got that van sold."

His change of expression was not lost on his partner.

"If you don't mind my saying so Nick, you don't seem very happy about it."

The red fox growled and looked away for a second.

"Ummm...can't help having some mixed feelings Carrots. " He turned to face her again. "Look, I know it's Finnick's ride, and he can do whatever he wants with it, but still...I have a lot of memories of my own to go with that van."

"Such as...?" Judy prompted, not sure at all if this was a good idea.

The response she got was Nick folding his arms and canting his gaze upwards, chewing on his lower lip.

"Ohhh let's see. There was the time we blew out the radiator and were stuck in the middle of nowhere for a week, there was the time we got carjacked and the cops found it propped up on blocks with the tires, wheels, and radio gone, there was the time the heater quit while we driving through a blizzard, and then of course, there's all the times it got towed and we had to get it out of the impound yard, and then ...uh, what are you looking at me like that for, Carrots? I never said they were good memories."

"Oh, YOU!" Judy punched him the ribs...but it was only a glancing blow. Nick wasn't fooling her; he'd been visiting with another memory of Finnick's van—of the times he'd spent there with the cross-fox vixen he'd loved and lost, those many years ago.

But then she saw him tilt his nose upwards, scenting the air.

"Finnick?" She asked.

"Nope, Conor." The red fox answered, pointing to the right, "he's over that way, by the bandstand, with a bunch of other kids."

As if to drive home the point, someone started playing a guitar solo just then. Judy recognized the tune, an ironic choice for Sahara Square, 'Welcome to the Jungle', by Guns n' Rodents.

She felt her nose starting to twitch, "Is that him playing now, you think?" She hadn't seen a guitar-case around when they'd bumped into the fox-kid earlier, but that didn't mean much. He'd been helping with a car-wash wash at the time; water, water everywhere, and not the best mix for a guitar.

"Mmm. I don't think so, Carrots " Nick scented the air again, "but he's over there somewhere, by the steps I think."

"Well, maybe we'll get a chance to hear him play; come on, let's go."

Nick hesitated for a second, "I-I don't..."

Judy grabbed his paw. "I won't ask you to dance, come on."

He slipped away from her, shaking his head "That's not it Carrots," he told her, nose wrinkling like a three-day-old orange peel, "The fossa-kid from the locker room is over there too—and did you get a whiff of that guy? Like walking into a clove-oil refinery; I'm liable to puke all over the sidewalk if I get too close to him."

Judy started to say, "Oh come on, already...' but then stopped herself. Maybe it hadn't been all that overwhelming for HER, but for Nick Wilde, with his keen sense of smell...okay, yes, now she got it.

But that didn't mean she was going to be put off completely.

"So we'll stay upwind of him, and didn't you tell me you thought that kid was up to something?"

Nick didn't answer her, not verbally anyway, but the expression on his face said two things quite clearly. One—yes, he'd told her that, and two—when was he going to learn to keep his fox-trap shut?

Just the same, he followed her...but only so far, insisting that they pull up the wagons a good 20 yards away from the bandstand.

"What is the smell that bad?" Judy's brows were raised and her nose was twitching again, but this time, the fox's answer was all business.

"No, I don't want that fossa-kid to see us." He looked around for a second, his ears shifting in several directions at once. "Mrrr, is there someplace around where we can...? Yeah, okay...over there, come on."

A moment later, they were crouching in the lee of a battered forklift; it was a small mammal machine, little more than two thirds the size of Judy's old meter-maid car, and it offered them only limited cover. Nick seemed to think it was enough, though.

"Won't that fossa-kid be able to smell us?" Judy asked him. Fossas were another species with a good sense of smell and as per her earlier suggestion she and Nick were watching the bandstand from an upwind location.

He turned and flashed her a sardonic smirk. "Not with all that clove oil he's wearing; that boy won't be able to pick up the scent of anything but himself for a week. Hmmm, wonder what he's doing over there..." Answering his own question, Nick pulled out a pair of mini binoculars, aiming them in the direction of the bandstand. Judy saw him roll the focus knob and then abruptly lower them again.

"Well, what do you know? HE'S the one playing the guitar."

Judy reached for her own binoculars, "Really? Let me see."

What she saw was the fossa standing center stage in the bandstand, backed up by two other animals, a striped hyena with a Deejay setup and some other animal—Judy couldn't quite make him out—playing percussion.

"That animal on the drums, can you see him?" she asked, glancing briefly at Nick.

"No, but I can smell him," the red fox answered, still focusing on the bandstand, "He's an Afurican Wild Dog...Oops, I'm sorry, we don't call them that anymore, I should have said Painted Wolf."

He was smiling cynically and Judy didn't entirely disagree with him; even for her, that was going a little bit too far into PC territory. Just then the fossa wrapped up his solo, and took a bow. All around him, kids were whooping and applauding.

Judy felt her mouth pull sideways and turned to look at Nick.

"What the heck, now? He's good, but he's not that good. Conor's a hundred times better."

The red fox only grinned slightly, still keeping his eyes on the bandstand.

"Wellll, not that much better Carrots maybe fifty..." His tail frizzed suddenly, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, speak of the devil, there he is, look there...about halfway up the steps."

Judy looked, and saw him...a young silver-fox, standing on the steps of the gazebo with a slightly older coyote-girl beside him. That had to be Dana, Dana—Dana whatever-her-last-name was, the girl Conor had mentioned when they'd run into him earlier. At the moment he and the fossa were in the midst of an animated discussion.

"Can you make out what they're saying?" Nick asked her. Foxes had sharp hearing but nothing as good as a bunny.

"Let me turn on the radar and we'll find out." Judy raised her ears and swiveled them in the direction of the bandstand. Almost immediately she heard Conor speaking... in a decidedly aggressive tone of voice.

"...want that guitar, I've had my eye on that bad boy for months." He was pointing at something the fossa was holding; Judy couldn't quite see it, but there was no missing the superior expression on the treetop predator's face.

"Okay-y-y kid, what have you got to bet for it with?"

"Ouch, there's a kid who's not aceing his language classes," Nick Wilde sniggered from over on her left.

Conor meanwhile was answering the fossa's challenge.

"Same deal you had with that other kid last Saturday, my axe against yours." He was holding up a guitar case as if to prove that yes, he had one.

That guitar case...

Judy bit her lip and felt her nose begin to twitch again. That wasn't the same case Conor had brought with him to the Carrot Days festival, it looked almost as worn as the guitar he'd been playing; so either he had a different instrument with him tonight or else...she didn't know what else.

"Okay fox, let's see what you've got." The fossa replied, flipping his paw in an upward gesture. His lofty attitude reminded Judy of a king commanding a courtier. In response, Conor set down his guitar case and flipped it open...or that was what it looked like; Judy couldn't quite see. But she saw the reaction that followed all right; that was impossible to miss. The fossa and his crew all started laughing themselves sick.

Nick Wilde was laughing too...quietly, under his breath.

"Wh...What, Nick?" Judy stared at him, bewildered.

"Just keep watching Carrots," he said. She did and saw the fossa pointing scornfully at something on the ground.

"You want to bet THAT piece of junk against my new Mooserite? No way, dude. Crikes, I thought you foxes were supposed to be clever or something."

"It's a decent guitar." she heard the young fox protest; he sounded more than wee bit whiny, "and anyway, you're entitled to a handicap."

This show of bravado got exactly what was coming to it; the fossa sneered dismissively; a superstar, being pestered by a paparattzi."

"Ho, you think you're that good kid?"

"Better than YOU," Conor taunted, "and I don't think, I know."

When Judy repeated what she'd heard to Nick, he muttered softly under his breath, "That's it kid, now sweeten the pot." His gaze remained fixed on the bandstand.

From his lips to Conor's ears...or that was how it appeared. The next thing the young fox said was. "Okay your guitar against mine—plus three hundred smackers."

The fossa immediately shook his head. "Nope...five hundred bucks and your guitar and you got yourself a bet."

"Five hundred and my guitar, against your axe and another two hundred." the silver-fox countered immediately.

Before the fossa could answer this, the coyote-girl grabbed Conor by the arm.

"What are you doing, are you crazy, fox? You don't have fifty extra much less..." a sudden look of horror washed over her face. "Oh my God, you didn't; your dad'll KILL you."

Conor only brushed her off.

"Relax, I'll have it back before he knows it's missing."

The 'yote-girl threw up her paws and howled. "Owooo, that's what you said LAST time! Okay that's it, I'm out of here; it's your funeral, stupid."

She spun on her heel and stalked away from the bandstand with her paws jammed downward, growling at nobody. The fossa watched her go, laughed again and then said, "Okay kid, it's a deal."

60 feet away, Nick Wilde was laughing too. "Dang, he's good."

Judy gaped at her partner, wide-eyed and trembling; now she wasn't merely twitching her nose, she was tilting her head from side to side. "Nick what the heck?" Had he completely lost his mind? Poor Conor had just bitten off way more than he could chew—and set himself up who-knew-what—and HE thought it was funny?

By way of response, Nick pointed at the departing coyote girl, "It's called a shill, sweetheart. Don't worry, Conor knows what he's doing...and I bet he has few more cards up his sleeve." Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and put the binoculars away. "Come on, this I have to see."

"What?" Judy nearly dropped her own binoculars. "Nick what the heck is going on with on you? One minute, you want to keep out of sight, and then the next..."

"Conor already knows we're here, Come on."

"But want about...Ohhhh, what's the use?" Judy shook herself in frustration and trotted to catch up, the irony of the situation completely lost on her. Less than five minutes previously, Nick had been the one who'd needed to be dragged along.

Again, she needn't have concerned herself. The red fox wasn't about to get TOO close, stopping just short of the edge of the crowd, and hanging in the shadows on the periphery.

By now the gaggle of onlookers had swelled considerably; Judy couldn't help noticing that many of the new arrivals were either painted wolves or hyenas, and all of them seemed to think that Conor had made a very bad mistake. "That silly fox, he has no idea what's coming," she heard a girl-jackal say to the brown hyena standing next to her. The hyena-girl only shrugged indifferently.

"He brought it on himself, girlfriend."

Judy felt her ears lay backwards. Dangit, couldn't Conor hear any of this, didn't he KNOW what was about to happen? The only animals the young fox seemed to have in his corner were a pair of young sand-cats, about 20 feet to her right. The older feline was watching with crossed fingers and a hopeful expression, while the smaller one had his eyes closed and seemed to be praying hard. Were they brothers, perhaps? They certainly looked the part. They also seemed to be trying to keep out of sight, watching the proceedings from behind the trunk of date-palm tree.

Up on the bandstand, Conor was performing his familiar ritual of spitting into his paw before offering it to the fossa. The treetop predator looked disgusted for a second, but then took it and shook with him anyway.

The bet was sealed.

"Okay," the fossa said, wiping his paw on his pants, "as the mammal accepting the challenge I claim the right to pick the tune, Paws in the Air by Joe Catriani, you guys know that one?" He was speaking to the hyena-deejay and the painted wolf on the drum-kit, both of whom nodded immediately.

"Yeahr, I've got that one in me mix," the hyena said, speaking in a broad, south Liondon accent.

The fossa nodded and offered him four; he didn't seem to care whether or not Conor knew how to play the tune. Not that it mattered; the young fox answered him anyway, "Done!"

That earned him a scornful look from the fossa, as if he were saying, "When did I ask you, fox!' and then he made another announcement, "'Kay, we need someone to hold the cash, anyone?"

"I got it, mammal." The Deejay hyena spoke up again, reaching over the top of console to take the money from him and Conor.

By now the tension on the bandstand was thick as a pea-soup fog, and it didn't lessen any when the fossa said, "Okay, I need to go use the restroom before we start," and then turned and walked away before the young fox could respond.

From beside her Judy heard a low, contemptuous growl, "Holy foxtrot, what is this, amateur night in Zoocamonga?" Nick sounded as if he wanted to spit on the floor.

Judy looked at him for a second with her nose twitching again, and then at rest of the animals occupying the bandstand. Ohhhh, Conor was even more seriously outnumbered than she'd thought; in addition to the striped hyena and the painted wolf, she could also see a pair of jaguars and a spotted hyena, much bigger than his striped cousin, lolling about the gazebo. All five of them were dressed in the same thrasher get-up as the fossa, even the one on the deejay console, studs, chains, leather and chrome; each one had a bandanna wrapped around either a neck or a forehead. Occasionally one of them would offer a disdainful, sideways glace to the young silver-fox who had foolishly dared to challenge their champion.

Conor just ignored them all, calmly setting up his pedalboard and plugging it in. And now Judy could see that yes, he had she same guitar with him that he'd been playing at the Carrot Days talent show.

When the fossa returned to the bandstand a moment later, the atmosphere changed completely; there were whoops, fist bumps, and double high fours all around, and then he turned to give Conor the degrading look that every fox knows all-too-well.

"Okay Shifty, you ready for this?"

"Nahh, I changed my mind, I'm out of here," the young fox answered smartly. It was obviously meant as sarcasm, but the fossa responded as if the words had been spoken in earnest.

"Sorry kid, we already shook on it; you back out now, you forfeit."

For just a hint of a second, a smirk seemed to flit across Conor's black-furred muzzle; there and gone, in the blink of an eye.

"Uh-huh, right...we gonna do this thing or what?" he said.

"Let's rock," the fossa responded, and then turned and crouched down beside a guitar case, (which Judy couldn't help noticing was trimmed in chromed studs, much like himself.) he gave Conor another smirk and then flipped it open.

What he pulled out drew a flurry 'Ooos' and 'Ahhhs' from the crowd of onlookers, even a few gasps. It was a guitar in gleaming, pearlescent black, and fitted out with gold hardware—all of it, even the frets and the twang-bar. It also came with a rather strange feature, a paw-grip carved out of one side. When Conor saw the instrument, he stabbed an angry finger in the fossa's direction.

"Hey, that's not the guitar I'm playing for."

The fossa gave him a toothy grin, showing both his fangs.

"No, but it's the one I'm playing WITH. Sorry Shifty, but we never agreed in advance on which axe we were gonna use."

Judy took a step forward, but immediately found her way blocked by Nick Wilde's outstretched arm.

"Easy Carrots, I already told you...Conor knows what he's doing; watch."

Yes, he did; instead of looking flustered, the young fox pointed to something behind the fossa.

"Then in that case, I want someone to hold that guitar, same as the cash." He sounded like an angry kit.

"Yeah, whatever dude." The fossa replied, and turned to one of the leopards, "Tino? You wanna slip my new axe over to Tre there?" The big cat nodded and picked up another guitar case, passing it to the striped hyena, who stashed it behind his deejay console.

But when the fossa turned around again, he found that his opponent's expression had changed completely, from a darting gaze and a quivering mouth to narrow eyes, and a wicked smile

"Wellll, " Conor pointed at the guitar draped around the fossa's neck, "I gotta admit, an Ibanex Jemsbok's a nice instrument," he patted his own guitar, "But me, I always go with my trusty Denfur Custom-Shop Strat."

The response to this was a screech of derisive laughter from the fossa, but with an anxious undercoating that made Judy Hopps wonder if Nick wasn't on to something; maybe Conor DID have this handled.

"Get lost fox," the treetop predator snarled, "you want me to believe that piece of junk is a Denfur Custom shop guitar? How stupid do you think I am?"

Conor just shrugged, "Wellll, not that stupid; smart enough at to have least heard of a Heavy Relic guitar...uh, you DO what that is, right? Anyway, check out the headstock if you don't believe me."

Judy watched as the fossa peered close and then then pulled back sharply. She turned to look at Nick, who was nodding his approval.

"That's it, kid...rattle his cage a little." And then he said, "Ohhhh, I don't know if I can bear to watch this, Carrots." It would have cranked up her anxiety all over again, except he said it with a wink and a grin.

The fossa, however, had already recovered...sort of.

"So you got a fancy guitar, big deal," he sneered, and flashed his fangs again, "I'm gonna enjoy adding it to my collection."

Instead of responding to this, Conor just preened his claws for a moment, and then regarded his opponent insouciantly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...you come here to rock or to flap your yap?"

By way of response the fossa wheeled and shouted to his deejay and drummer. "Punch it!"

The striped hyena reached for his console and did something. Judy couldn't see it, but she did hear the music start, a rolling riff, finishing on a pair of power chords. On the second riff, the painted wolf joined in on his drums, and on the third, the fossa began to play along, a hard fuzz-guitar.

Judy felt a ball of ice forming in the pit of her stomach. This animal was good—VERY good—a whole lot better than he'd been when she and Nick had first arrived. And Conor wasn't even trying to play along...oh wait, no, it wasn't his turn yet. He just kept watching the fossa without any sort of expression on his face—or in his eyes.

Now the treetop predator changed gears, playing a series of slide licks, each one more slithering than the last; on the third one, he held the final note.

Then he looked at Conor and grinned over his fangs again. The young fox nodded and took up the melody.

It was an inauspicious beginning, to say the least; he only seemed to be imitating his opponent. But then Judy noticed a strange look on the fossa's face...and she realized what was happening.

"Whoa, Conor's not imitating him, he's matching him—he's playing the exact same solo, note for note."

At the end of the first line, Conor looked at the fossa and yawned sleepily, 'Is that all you've got?' he seemed to be saying...as clearly as if he'd been shouting it from the rooftops.

And then he punched his pedal board and began to show what HE had.

He had a lot; under Conor's sure touch, the notes seemed to blend together into single, unbroken stream. As it that weren't enough, he capped each lick by using his whip-finger technique, snapping his fingers against the string and catching them with his other paw. But where he really began to strut his stuff was on the slide notes at the end. The fossa had played each of them on a descending note, helped out by his twang-bar. Conor played the first one on a descending note, then the next one an ascending note, and the final one on an undulating note.

And his instrument didn't even have a twang-bar.

On the next section, the two of them went toe to toe, power-chord against power chord. The fossa seemed to be holding his own, but even Judy knew that wasn't good enough. Having fallen behind, he'd have to do better than his opponent, not just as good, if he wanted to win the contest.

That was what he tried to do on the next section; where one animal played rhythm guitar while the other played lead and then switched roles on the following riff. What happened instead was that he stumbled out of the gate, missing the second and third notes of his first lick.

Conor nodded to let him know that he could try again and was rewarded with a look that would have turned this contest into a death-match if such a thing were possible. And in the next few minutes the fossa had reason to wish that it was possible, because this was where Conor utterly destroyed him. Every riff his opponent played the young fox answered in a different tone, first inquisitive, then imperative, then whining, and finally sarcastic.

Judy felt Nick nudging her in the side. "When that kid makes it talk, he REALLY make it talk."

When they went into the finale, the song was all Conor's; even by using his twang bar, the fossa couldn't match him around the bends, and when the silver fox used the whip-finger to make his axe let out a fox-scream, no one watching could doubt that it was scream of victory.

The song ended on a chopping chord and frenzy of whoops and cheers from the onlookers.

What it didn't end on was a friendly note from either competitor, no paws were offered, no high-fours or fist bumps were exchanged. Instead, Conor and the fossa glared daggers at each other for a long, interminable moment, until finally the young fox said, "Okay dude, you lost; I'll take my guitar and my money now."

Instead the fossa planted a pawlm in the young fox's chest and shoved him backward. Although as a species, they might be closely matched, the treetop predator was at least three years older and a head taller than his opponent.

"You think I'm gonna pay off a fox?" he said, "You're even dumber than I thought." And then he and his crew erupted in a chorus of raucous laughter.

Judy started to take a step forward again, and once more Nick restrained her. "Relax Carrots, just watch."

On the bandstand the fossa was beginning to lift his paw again. Conor just looked it him with a cool expression...and unsheathed claws

"If that paw touches me again, 'burbs, you're not getting it back. Now pay up."

The fossa just laughed, but lowered his paw just the same...and now Judy could see that it was trembling. Was that rage or fear, she wondered...or maybe both?

"Okay," he said, and then nodded at the Deejay hyena, "But I'm taking the money, punk...all of it." He pointed to at Conor's guitar, leering, "and just be glad I don't take that too." The leer broadened until all his teeth were showing and then he leaned in mockingly close, "It's called a hustle sweetheart."

Conor only shook his head; he seemed more disappointed than angry.

"Nope...nope, that's called a rip-off, you wanna see a hustle? I'll show ya a hustle, Okay, guys,..."

In response to this several things happened at once, the deejay hyena tossed something to Conor. It was only when he caught it that Judy saw what it was; a wad of bills. Meanwhile, the big spotted hyena was pushing past the fossa, elbowing him aside as easily as a cardboard-cutout standee-figure. As he passed by the Deejay console, the striped hyena passed him the guitar-case he'd been minding. The spotted hyena then passed it on to the young silver fox, and took up a protective stance in front of him. At the same time the painted wolf on drums let out a whistle between his teeth.

The fossa instantly turned to the pair of jaguars. "Gustavo...Tino!"

The pair of big cats started to move towards Conor and the spotted hyena...but then pulled up short when they looked over his shoulder and saw that the bandstand was surrounded by a phalanx of hyenas and painted wolves. Only moments before these animals had been looking at the young silver fox with piteous expressions on their faces; now they were regarding the fossa and his friends with dark menace...and bared teeth.

Both jags stopped instantly in their tracks.

"Wait, wait...we don't want any trouble with all of you," the first one said, hurriedly raising his paws. Someone grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. It was the big spotted hyena.

"You want trouble wit' de fox, de fox is us!" he snarled, getting right in the big cat's face and snapping his jaws, a none-too-subtle reminder that hyenas have the most powerful bite of any mammal.

"Uhm, Tino...Gus?" Conor Lewis piped up helpfully from the sidelines. "I-I-I think now would be a swell time to take a hike, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah...we're going, we're going." The other jaguar answered, looking briefly at the fossa, "Sorry dude" and then he and wing-cat were hurrying down the bandstand steps; the crowd parted to let them pass and then they were gone.

Conor looked at the fossa and winked, "THAT'S a hustle, 'burbs!"

One thing you had to give Conor's nemesis; he wasn't the kind of animal to say 'die' very easily, even in the middle of a hopeless position. That made him either very brave or very stupid, (the latter, in Judy Hopps' humble opinion.)

"You dirty cheater!" he screeched at Conor, but the fox only waved a finger.

"Uhhh...no Ray, sorry; I didn't cheat, YOU did....or at least you tried to....again!"

The fossa staggered as if the young fox had backpawed him, but once again swiftly regained his composure.

"You lying jerk, I never tried to cheat...and by the way DUMB fox, my name is Jay, not Ray." He sounded righteously indignant...but the way he averted his gaze told Judy that Conor had just landed a verbal haymaker.

The next one he threw landed even harder.

"Noooo, your name is Ray, Ray Savok," he said, still wagging that correcting finger, "Jay Savok's your brother, and... Ohhh, whaddaya know, here he comes now."

Conor craned his neck to look past the fossa's shoulder. Judy followed his gaze and saw the crowd parting yet again. She was unable to see much of anything else, but the animal they were making way for seemed to moving towards the bandstand at a double-time trot. Seconds later, another fossa stumbled into to view, a pair of painted wolves close at his heels. He was dressed exactly like the fossa up on the bandstand; in fact, he was exactly like him in every respect; same fur same height, same physique, same face, same clothes...and the same reek of clove-oil; the two of them might well have been clones.

...or twins.

"Ohhh," Judy heard herself groaning NOW she understood. Nick, on the other paw, had known all along, and cocked a finger in the hapless newcomer's direction.

"Bingo!"

The painted wolves marched him onto bandstand and stood him up next to his brother. Now they really looked like peas in a pod. Conor gave them the once-over with his eyes and his nose, and then he folded his arms.

"Soooo, let's unpack this thing," he said, nodding from one brother to the other and then back again. "After you two bums got thrown out of three bands in the last six months...what was that last one again? Oh right, Waterball...after they kicked your tails to the curb, you decided to form your own group. But when you tried to hold an audition, almost nobody showed up. In fact, you only had three takers—the word was out about what couple of jerks you were to work with—and one of the animals that did show up was only like eleven years old. Ahhh Saad, Yusuf...you here, guys?"

In response, the two sand-cats Judy had seen earlier stepped out of the crowd, the older one resting his paw on the younger one's shoulder. At the sight of them Jay Savok quailed and Ray Savok bristled. The two fossas might have looked like near-perfect copies of one another, but in terms of fursonality they were obviously leagues apart.

Ray pointed with a shaking finger. "I don't know who the heck..."

"Shut yer pie hole!" Conor's voice was like a slap across the face...and had exactly the same effect; the fossa's head spun sideways and he clammed up at once.

The young fox stared for a second and then shifted his attention to Jay.

"How about it dude; you recognize this kid?"

The tone of his voice suggested that if the fossa knew what was good for him, he had better answer in the affirmative. He did, nodding tightly while clasping his paws and looking downwards.

Conor nodded back and then went on. "Long story short, Jay tried to laugh him out of the rehearsal space—you were out back, Ray—Yusuf got mad, one thing led to another, and instead of auditioning the kid, you hustled him out of his guitar, using the same routine you tried to pull on me just now, the old bait-and-switch gimmick—except the first time you skipped the clove oil, of course."

He leaned over and spat, as if unable to hold it in any longer, then turned to look at the pair of fossa with an expression that made Judy reach unconsciously for her fox repellent...event though she hadn't carried that stuff for almost two years now.

"Taking advantage of a kit who ain't even in middle school yet," he snarled, "and then you show up here, calling me 'shifty', and accusing ME of cheating YOU? If I wasn't in such a good mood right now... I SAID SHUT IT, RAY!"

Ray Savok did as he was ordered but continued to regard the young silver fox with a stink-eye. Conor swiftly returned the favor, staring down the fossa as if he'd seen him emerging from a compost-heap just now.

"And that was when you two burbies REALLY messed up," he snarled again, this time showing his fangs, "You actually thought you could pull that score again. Lil' news flash, idiots, it only worked the first time coz your mark was just a kid." His expression became almost sorrowful—almost. "I mean seriously, trying to mask your scent with stinkin' CLOVE oil? How newbie can you get!"

"Exactly!' Nick Wilde was pointing again...and Judy was once more looking at him with her nose twitching. Sweet cheez n' crackers; he almost sounded proud of the younger fox.

And then surprisingly Jay Savok spoke up, voice quavering as if he was standing in an ice-storm with nothing to wear but a smile.

"But...h-how did you KNOW that it was...th-that my brother...that w-we...how did you know?"

Conor smirked at the fossa, the closest thing to a smile on his face in many long minutes. Then he tapped his right temple.

"You forgot punk...us foxes have the ability to sense another animal's magnetic field; you two may have looked alike...and smelled alike, but your magnetic auras are totally different."

Judy's jaw dropped open and she turned to Nick.

"You never told me that foxes can..."

He raised a paw to the side of his muzzle, speaking sotto voce.

"We can't, Conor's spinning him a line."

"Oh." But then how HAD he known, Judy wondered.

"Now," Conor held up the guitar case, and nodded at the older sand-cat, "Saad could have just gotten this back the easy way, but....Ahhh, I'll let you tell it, cat."

The feline was only too happy to take the baton.

"Conor is right," he spoke in a rolling North Afurican accent with just a touch of the Gallic. "You won that guitar by foul means; I would have perfectly within my rights to have had Turoc and his boys track you down and simply take it from you." He nodded at the spotted hyena, who nodded back with a grim smile, "But I thought it better to teach you a lesson. Now, you have not only lost back the guitar you cheated from my brother, but you are two hundred dollars poorer as well."

"Won't matter much to these 'burbies, Saad," Conor shook his head wearily, "Not with all the money their stepdad has, vice-prez or something with this big Pharma outfit, LPN. You know the drill, fancy car, tree-mansion up in the Rainforest Highlands, indoor pool and tennis courts, the works." He looked swiftly in the direction of the two fossas, as if just now realizing something. "Or...did your mom send you two morons to go live with your dad again?"

For the second time that evening, Jay Savok reeled backwards while his brother stepped forwards. Even now, he refused to give it up.

"You fox-jerk thief! I'm calling the police."

Everyone laughed—THAT threat wasn't just lame, it was quadriplegic—and then Conor smirked sardonically, his amber eyes turning into crafty little slits.

"You wanna call the cops? Here, I'll save you the trouble," he turned and beckoned with a pair of crooked fingers, "Hey Nick...Judy! This guy over here wants to talk to you."

"See, Carrots?" Nick turned to her with smirk of his own, "I told you he knew we were..."

"Yes, yes," Judy interrupted, nettled, "Of course he did; we've been standing upwind of him the whole time we've been here. Give me some credit, Slick."

"Oops, sorry," the red fox answered sheepishly. It had been a long time since he'd made this error and for some reason, it made Judy think of something. Did Nick see Conor as perhaps a younger version of himself? Hmmm...she'd never known her partner as a kid, so who could say? Still...it didn't feel like quite the snug fit.

At the sight of the two officers approaching—one of whom happened to be the same species as Mr. Smartmouth Silverfur, Ray Savok finally sagged in defeat. He wasn't going to have anything to say to these two officers; they had obviously seen everything that had happened. And if that was the case, it was a no-brainer that brother Jay wouldn't want to have a conversation with Nick and Judy. Their change of demeanor did not escape Conor Lewis' notice, and he looked over at Saad again.

"You got anything else for these two?" he said.

The sand-cat only hissed and laid his ears back, an answer Conor seemed to take as 'no.'

"Okay," he said, speaking to the fossa brothers, "you burbies can go ahead and take off back to the Rainforest District, but before you go, lemme offer you a couple of parting thoughts."

His eyes crinkled and his fangs appeared once more.

"Thought numero uno, you guys don't know a thing about me, not even my name. Thought the second, I haven't told you guys even half of what I know about you. Oh and here's a bonus thought, I may be a dumb fox but at least I get my homework done."

From the edge of the crowd a voice shouted. "Look out, cops are here for real!"

Conor laughed and signaled to the deejay hyena, who spoke quickly into his console mike.

"No worries mammal, everything's cool; Conor knows these coppers, they're both all right."

As if to reinforce this, the young fox immediately raised a paw and waved.

"Hi Nick, Hi Judy...whassup?"

Judy couldn't help sniggering...and this time, she was the one who took the lead, bounding up the bandstand steps with Nick Wilde right behind her.

When they arrived, Conor reached out to offer each of them a high-four. And then he said, "Anything you wanna say to these guys?" pointing at the two Savok brothers.

It was Nick who answered., "Nooo, I think you've pretty much got it taken care of."

"As long as you two are on your way home within in the next five minutes," Judy added, speaking directly to Ray and Jay.

Conor nodded at her and then at the two fossa. "You heard her, burbies; pack it up and get outta here...right now!"

But Judy wasn't done just yet, next she turned to speak to Conor, raising her voice so the other kids could hear as well. "And this is where it ends, okay? You got your friend's guitar back and you taught these two a lesson—and that's as far as it goes. There will be no further harassment of these boys, by you or anyone else...or you'll answer to me, kid. Do I make myself clear?"

"I getcha," the young fox answered simply, as if he'd been expecting this from the get-go, (he probably had,) and then he raised his voice as well, "You heard the lady; we're done with these guys okay? We got our justice; we don't need any revenge."

No one answered, but somehow Judy knew that they understood what the young fox had just said to them.

And then he turned to Ray and Jay, who had just finished packing up their gear. "However don't think that means you two just got yourselves a license to go looking for any payback. You try that schtick and YOU'LL be the ones that end up having to answer to Officer Hopps here...and trust me, she doesn't ask the easy questions." He looked at Judy for confirmation, and she nodded back immediately; that had been exactly the right way to handle it.

When the fossa brothers were gone, she saw Nick exchange a fist-bump with the younger fox.

"Pretty nice hustle there, kid."

Conor waved him off and turned away for a second, looking almost a little embarrassed.

"Ahhh, fish in a barrel, big guy; those jerks-from-the-'burbs had about as much street smarts between 'em as your average trees stump." He looked at the painted wolf on the drums and grinned sardonically, cocking a finger, "just like I told you, Jason."

The canine immediately threw up his paws...in frustration rather than defeat.

"Okay, I will say it; yes, you were right fox...yes, they thought we were part of their posse just because we dressed like them." He pointed with a drumstick, "But you still owe me Conah. Gah, if I nevah have to put on metal head clothes again, it's too soon."

The young fox remained unmoved. "Consider it a contribution to a worthy cause," he said, "and anyway, you never paid me back for last February, remember?"

The painted wolf growled and stood up from his drum-kit, "Whatevah...I'm going, go get out of dis idiot costume."

"Yeah...me too," The striped hyena said. His spotted cousin said nothing, only followed him off in the direction of the locker and changing rooms

Conor turned back to Nick and Judy again, but then he seemed to remember something.

"Oops, 'scuse me just a second."

He went over to the young sand-cat, offering him the guitar he'd just won.

"I think this is..."

Before he could say any more, it was snatched out of his grip by the older sand-cat.

"Sorry Conor, but when I told him never to touch this again, I meant it."

"I said I was sorry!" the younger feline all but yowled. His older brother was having none of it.

"'I'm sorry' does not get my guitar back, Yusuf." He said, holding it up the case like exhibit 'A', "Bad enough you took it without asking, but then you go and lose it in a bet?" He sounded equal parts angry and hurt.

"You won't tell father...please?" the younger sand-cat begged, "You said you wouldn't tell him if..."

"Yusuf, go home," his brother interrupted, wearily.

"Please brother, I said I was..."

Saad raised an arm and pointed left, "Go...HOME!"

The younger sand cat lit off down the street, mewling pitifully to no one in particular. Saad waited until he was gone then turned to Conor, shaking his head.

"Ai, brothers...what can you do with them?"

Conor held up his paws. "Don't look at me, cat. I never had any." It was meant as a wry jest, but there was a wistful quality to the young fox's voice Judy Hopps couldn't help but notice. (Nick hadn't missed it either, judging by the expression on his face; he too had been an only child.)

Judy swiftly decided she'd better move things on to another subject before the situation turned awkward. A simple clearing of her throat should take care of it.

It did; Conor immediately picked up on her cue.

"But hey, I'm being rude over here. Nick, Judy...this is another of my buds from school, Saad al-Zaqir, fantastic musician and the meanest surf guitar this side of Chip Dale."

"Heaven rest his soul," the sand cat answered, and then offered a paw to Nick and then to Judy, "Nice to meet you, Salaam."

"Judy's the older sister of that bunny plays bass, I was telling you about, Erin Hopps." Conor said to his friend, and then instantly seemed to regret his words; 'Here comes more embarrassment.' Fortunately, Saad al-Zaqir was bit more tactful than Mike Daehan had been.

"Well, I hope, truly, that she gets accepted at The Academy, "he said, "We need a good bass-player to round out our group."

"You have a group?" Judy asked, looking at Conor. This was news to her.

The young fox just flipped a pawlm back and forth. "Ahhh, nothing serious Judy, I wouldn't even call us a group, just some guys that like to get together and play once in a while; heck, we don't have name. There's Saad, me...oh, here come Jason and Treo again."

More introductions quickly followed. The painted wolf on drums was named Jason M'beke. He also sang vocals and like Saad al-Zaqir, was keeping his fingers crossed for Erin to make it into ZAPA, "Every good drummah needs good bass playah," he said.

Mike Daehan of course, they had already met, and Dana Alchesay, who had also returned, was someone they had heard of; (her stomp-off earlier had been part of the hustle of course.) She wore a broad bandanna around her forehead and had a beaded pouch on a lanyard around her neck. It was her other item of jewelry that drew Judy Hopp's attention however.

"Love your necklace," she said. It was a made up of tiny birds, each one carved from a different colored stone, strung together with bright, turquoise beads.

"Aw, thanks," the young coyote said, not nearly as self-conscious about her ensemble as Fru-Fru had been.

The odd mammal out turned out to be Treo, (no last name.) He was a friend of Conor's not from school, but from the hood. They had met at a street party the year before, where the striped hyena had been working the crowd, looking for a Deejay gig. No, he didn't go to the Performing Arts Academy, but it certainly wasn't from any lack of smarts; he had designed and built his deejay console himself...and it carried with it a unique feature—three turntables , (the source of his street-handle.)

"How the heck do you control all three tables at once?" Nick Wilde asked him, confused and fascinated at the same time.

"Use this foot-control for the third one," the young hyena explained, pointing beneath the console, "thought it up meself; still a few kinks I got to deal with, but she works pretty good, I don't mind sayin' so."

"Nice," Judy nodded approvingly. In truth, for all she knew this machine could be a glossed over piece of junk. Erin could probably tell her, but this was way outside of a bunny cop's area of expertise.

Then Saad spoke up again, touching his forehead and bowing slightly. "Before I forget Conor, I cannot thank you enough for getting this back for me." He had opened his guitar case and retrieved the contents. It looked almost like a left-pawed version of Conor's Strat—bottom horn longer than the top—done up in an eye-catching candy-apple red.

Once again, the young fox downplayed it for all it was worth.

"Ahhh, forget about it Saad, you could have taken that 'burbie punk at least as easy as I did."

"Probably, yes," the young sand cat agreed without the slightest trace of irony in his voice, and then held up his guitar again, "Only how was I supposed to do that when he had THIS?"

Conor's brows tilted upwards and the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"Yeah...yeah, right." he said, and then patted his pocket, flashing a foxy grin, "But still, there's no need to thank me, cat. I didn't exactly come outta this empty-pawed y'know."

"For certain you did not," the sand cat grinned back, offering a fist-bump which the young fox heartily returned. He hefted his guitar once more, "Well, I don't know about you Conor, but I feel the need for a jam."

The young fox frowned slightly. "Ah, you should have had Yusuf snag your pedalboard for you."

"No need, I have it with me," the sand-cat grinned and pointed, "In one of the lockers down there. Don't worry I used the small mammals locker room."

"Yeah, we brought our gear too," Dana Alchesay said, speaking for both herself and the black rat parched on her shoulder.

"So what say you then, Conah?" Jason spoke from behind his drum-kit. "I think you hardly can no to friends who had such faith in you, eh?"

The young fox held up a pair of fingers. "Two words, guys, let's...rock."

This was met by a chorus of whoops and cheers, followed by high fives and fist bumps. Then someone in the crowd called out, "Anybody got a cooler?"

"I got one at home." another voice answered.

"Okay, go get it."

"I'll go get mine too. We'll need more than one."

"Okay, we'll go snag the drinks."

"First things first, let's pass the hat."

It looked like they were going to turn this into a party. "Well, why not?" Judy thought to herself, but then she felt someone jerking at her sleeve; it was Nick.

"Think we've got time to hang around, Carrots?" he asked...and she really didn't want to laugh, but...well, it was his own darn fault; he sounded exactly like little Cotton, when she'd begged him to stay on in Bunnyburrow for, "just a little while longer....pleeeeeeeease."

"I don't see why not Nick, we're done here." she said. In fact she didn't want to miss this any more than he did. Ohhh, if only Erin was here.

But alas, it was not meant to be. At the very instant the words were out of her mouth, Nick's cell phone buzzed. He growled as he picked up; seeming to know as well as she did what was coming.

"This is Wilde," he said, "Yes? Yes sir, yes....uh, still in Sahara Square. We..." He stiffened unexpectedly. "What, sir....r-right now? But... Yes sir, okay...we'll be right there... but what...? Yes sir."

When he put the cell away, Nick was sorely disappointed ...and even more puzzled.

"Wh-What's going on?" Judy asked him; whatever it was, it was a lot more serious than she'd thought.

Instead of answering, the red fox pointed to a nearby alleyway, beckoning for her to follow.

"Was that Bogo?" she asked. He only nodded and repeated the gesture.

It wasn't until they were around the corner and out of earshot of the bandstand that Nick finally spoke to her.

"Yeah, that was Big Chief Buffalo Nickel. He wants to see us in his office...right now."

Judy's ears shot up and she felt her nose twitching. It sounded as if Chief Bogo hadn't even mentioned their discovery of the location of LB6.

"What? I thought he went home."

Nick's ears also went up...and then fell back down again.

"He did; he says he's on his way back to the precinct and for us to meet him there."

All at once, Judy felt small and defenseless.

"Holy sweet cheez n' crackers Nick, what did we do?"

She dared not say it but she couldn't help thinking it; Duke Weaselton, that had to be the reason for the Chief's peremptory summons. Infuriated by the bunny cop's faux double-cross, he'd decided to spill the beans regarding a certain incident involving himself, Nick and Judy...and also Mr. Bi..."

"I don't know Carrots," the red fox answered, looking even more confused, "that's the weird part. He didn't sound angry; well yes he did, you know the Chief, but he also sounded, well..." he looked around for a second as if to ensure that no one else was nearby, and then lowered his voice even further, "He sounded...you're not going to believe this Carrots, but The Chief actually sounded like he felt guilty about something."

Judy felt her mouth twist into a knot

"You're right Nick...I don't believe it; what on earth could have happened to make him come on like that?"

"I don't know," the red fox answered, "but there's only one way to find out," By way of explanation, he shifted his gaze in the direction of Savanna Central, "and anyway, we don't have a choice."

There was no response to that; Judy didn't even try.

She and Nick were halfway to the police cruiser when they heard Conor Lewis hailing them.

"Hey, are you guys leaving?" he sounded surprised and also mightily disappointed.

Nick held up his cell phone. "Sorry kid, duty calls...literally. We'll catch you next time, okay?"

"Just a second," Judy Hopps interjected, raising her paws in a 'stop' gesture. "Conor, can you come here for just a second?"

The young fox nodded and started towards them, raising an immediate protest on Nick Wilde's part.

"Carrots, the Chief said..."

"This won't take a minute. " Judy assured him, and then to the younger fox, she said, "Conor before we head back to the precinct, there's something I have to know. How did you see through the scam those fossa brothers were trying to pull?" He had obviously known the score long before confronting them.

From the direction of the bandstand, a voice called out, "Conah, where are you? We ready here, fox."

"Hang on, I'm coming!" he called back, and then to Judy he said. "No biggie; like I told those bums before they scrammed outta here, I did my homework,...and lemme tell you it didn't take a whole lot of effort to get the down and dirty on those two. They've been bragging all week about how they conned Yusuf...only to their friends, and only online, but you remember what Ben Panglin said, right?"

Judy laughed and repeated the quote, "Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead."

"Especially on the web, I bet." Nick put in with a grin.

"You got it, big guy," the young fox answered, "That, and those two burbies had eyes all over 'em the minute they showed their tails in Sahara Square...and of course, Jason, Treo, and Turoc were already waiting on the bandstand when they got here; they never had a chance." A second look of disappointment swiped across his face. "Listen, are you sure you guys can't hang for even a little while? We were gonna play a song just for you."

"Wish we could, but we've probably stayed too long already." Nick answered him immediately, a statement that Judy knew was intended for her as much as for the younger fox.

"Okay," Conor nodded. "Anyway, I gotta get going, too; the guys are waiting. Talk to ya later, okay? He offered each of them a final fist bump and then took off, shouting through cupped paws, "I'm here guys; I'm here!"

Judy was in the middle of opening her car door when the music started playing. It was a familiar tune, a fast punk-rocker...very familiar, but somehow she couldn't quite place it.

That is, until Conor started in on the vocals.

"Brrrrreakin' rocks in the...hot sun.

I fought the law, and the...law won.

I fought the law, and the...law won.

On the other side of the car, Nick Wilde let out a short, sharp fox-laugh.

"Cheeky little guy isn't he?" Those lyrics were not exactly appropriate for within hearing range of two police officers...which left no doubt in Judy Hopps' mind; this was the tune Conor had been referring to when he'd said, 'We're gonna play one just for you.'

"Like another fox I know," she said to Nick, winking and starting to get in again...but then, on the song's refrain, she hesitated once more.

"I miss my baby and I feel so bad, I guess my race is run.

But she's the best girl that I ever had.

I fought the law, and the...law won.

I fought the law, and the...law won."

"What, now?" Judy thought to herself. Had she heard right; had Conor just sung, 'I miss my bunny and I feel so bad?'

No, of course he hadn't.

She slipped into the driver's seat, closing the door behind her.

-----------------------------------------------------

Author's Note:

Originally written by Sonny Curtis of The Crickets, I Fought the Law (and the Law Won) is possibly the most covered rock-and-roll tune of all time. Among the artists who have performed it, the list includes...

The Bobby Fuller Four (The first version to hit the charts)

The Clash

The Pogues

Bruce Springsteen

The Stray Cats

The Dead Kennedys (in a seriously mangled version)

Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers

The Grateful Dead (!)

Bryan Adams

And my personal favorite, the Green Day cover version. (Billie Joe Armstrong was born to sing this song.)