The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One: Fuel - 8

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

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

The Fire Triangle-A Zootopia Fanfiction

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

Part One:

Fuel

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

Chapter 2 - Taking The Bull By The Horns

(Continued...pt. 4)

Seth Whitepaugh heard him even before the elevator reached the Penthouse level.

He couldn't make out everything of course; a wolverine's hearing is not particularly sharp, but every now and then a word would filter through the walls, each of them sharing a common purpose with the others.

"IDIOT!

MORON!

DIMWIT!

IMBECILE!"

My, but his employer was in fine fettle this morning the wolverine reflected to himself. Not that HE was bothered by any of it; if the animal on the carpet right now was who he thought it was, the fool was actually getting off lightly.

Whitepaugh had heard about the Nizhang press-conference downstairs at the reception desk and he'd known immediately that there would be an explosion. Heck, he was smoldering himself. What in name of all Perdition had those City Council drones thought they were doing?

The elevator opened and he stepped out into a circular hallway.

As befitting of the top floor of a Furtune 50 Company, the corridor was laid with extra plush carpeting and paneled in rich, dark wood, buffed to a high polish. The ceiling was arched, and the lights art nouveau; a first time visitor might be forgiven for thinking he had somehow wandered into the vestibule of a 5-Star Hotel.

Around the next bend, the hallway ended at a set of heavy, Blackwood double doors, the right one fitted with a plaque reading simply, 'Jack La Peigne', the name etched in gold, rather than brass.

There was only one nameplate affixed to the entrance, not the usual two or three, set a different levels for different species. If you didn't know whose office this was by the time you reached this floor, you didn't belong here anyway.

And besides, if all of Jack La Peigne's official titles had been listed on the door to his office, they would have started at the top and gone all the way down to knee-high-for-a-hedgehog. He was CEO of the Aker Group, which included Aker Security Solutions and Aker Correctional Corporation, and also Chief Operational officer and majority stockholder in LPN Pharma, one of the ten biggest drug companies on the planet, (and also one that for all practical purposes, he controlled with an iron fist.)

And those were only the crown jewels in his collection. There was also Waters and Downe Private Equity, the Warren Hutch Group, (hedge funds) and Multiplicity a software development firm; the list went on and on.

So it was that there only a single nameplate on the door...although at the moment it did have a pair of unofficial adornments; crouching around the edge of the frame were a bighorn ram and a female opossum, hunkering as close to the floor as they could get. The tableau reminded Seth Whitepaugh of soldiers taking cover during an artillery barrage, which was actually a pretty fair analogy; at that moment a word came thundering through the partition like an armor-piercing rocket.

"PINHEAD!"

The opossum and sheep cringed even more tightly into themselves. Whitepaugh was tempted to go over and cuff the ram back onto his feet; as head of operations for A.C.C's Youth Corrections division, Ken Dahlberg should have been setting a better example. (The opossum could stay where she was; Polly Walters was Jack La Peigne's fursonal assistant; her job requirements didn't include the rough stuff.)

The wolverine moved closer to the door and cocked an ear, drawing horrified looks from the both Dahlberg and Walters, and with good reason. If either one of them was ever caught eavesdropping on Jack La Peigne, they'd be out the door so fast, they'd barely have time to read their pink slips....IF they were lucky. Not so for Seth Whitepaugh however; rank has its privileges

The first thing he heard was...yes, it was Sven Kristofferson in there all right, and at the moment he was pleading his case.

"B-But I don't understand sir. We stopped Councilmember Nizhang before she could reveal anything that..."

The voice that cut him off was as sharp and unkind as an executioner's axe.

"You NUMBSKULL, that was exactly what she wanted you to do!" Jack La Peigne was all but roaring, and Seth Whitepaugh found himself nodding in agreement.

"You played right into her paws, you stupid idiot!" he heard his boss shouting, "Don't you get it? Nizhang was bluffing; she NEVER intended to reveal what happened at that council meeting."

A moment of awkward silence followed before Kristofferson spoke up again.

"Sh-She didn't? Then what was...?"

"What, were you BORN clueless, or did you have to work at it?" La Peigne cut him off at the knees this time, "If you'd called her move, if you'd let her give that press conference, big deal, it would have been second tier news at best, the kind of item you see on ZNN after the commercial break. We could have managed a story like that, no problem." His voice went up a couple of notches and took on a demeaning mocking, overtone, "But not anymorrrrre. Now, thanks to you and those other two stooges, that city council executive session is the meeting the eeeeevil city government doesn't want YOU to know about. And now the media will be all over it like flies on a massacre. Don't believe me? Grab your cell-phone and check with your office; I'll give you ten to one you've gotten a hundred calls from reporters in the last half hour."

"I-I-I wouldn't take that bet if I were you," Whitepaugh chortled to himself. His employer certainly had a way with the words

"B-But you just said what happened in that meeting wasn't that big a deal." He herd reindeer offer lamely, and now Whitepaugh could almost see the fumes coming out of his boss's ears.

"Let me explain a little something to you, Kristofferson." La Peigne sounded as if he were lecturing an especially slow child, "Now that the media has invested so much time and effort in building up that story-yes they have, I've seen it, and yes they will continue to do so-when they finally get hold of what actually went on at that meeting they are NOT going to present it as a wet firecracker. We could have been discussing what color to paint the street signs; doesn't matter, they'll push it as the story of the DECADE! That's the way the press works, now do you understand?"

More silence followed, and Whitepaugh knew that his boss had finally gotten through to the reindeer.

"That was NOT a rhetorical question, Kristofferson." The wolverine heard him say, "Did...you...GET...that?"

"Yes...I..." Kristofferson was tripping over his words, "I...I'll take care of it."

A loud banging noise echoed through the door, Jack La Peigne pounding a fist on his desk.

"No, this is what you're going to do," he said, "You are going to go back to your Tundratown office and cancel every single one of your public appearances-for the next three weeks; you're also going to stay the heck away from city hall, and you're especially going to stay away from Judge Schatten. If a reporter asks you a question, your ONLY answer to them is, "no comment.' I don't care if you're being asked what time it is; 'No comment' is what you say, and that's all you say. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-Yes...yes sir." The reindeer sounded as if he were about to burst into tears.

"Good," La Peigne concluded brusquely. "Now get out of my office and get out of my sight!"

Seth Whitepaugh stepped swiftly away from the door and then even more swiftly looked to his left.

"You there, get up!' he snapped, and Ken Dahlberg all but jumped to his feet; as fearful as he was of his boss's wrath, the bighorn ram was even more fearful of his boss's senior field operative.

A split second later the door burst open like a starting gate and a frazzled Sven Kristofferson went rushing past the wolverine without looking at him. Whitepaugh watched him go and then stepped through the opening. Yes, Dahlberg and Polly Walters had been waiting a lot longer than he had, but once again, R.H.I.P.

The interior of the office could almost have been transplanted wholesale from an exclusive Liondon Mammals' Club. There were wingback chairs, a wall lined with bookshelves, a cathedral-high ceiling; there was even an antique pool table. Fine paintings adorned the paneling, a cozy fireplace nestled in the far wall, and over in the left rear corner, a tall grandfather clock chimed the Westminster melody and then the hour, 11:00. Whitepaugh frowned again; it was hard even for him to believe that it wasn't even noontime yet, not with everything that had happened since he'd started his day.

Evan so, the wolverine didn't bother to double check with his watch; the clock was correct and he knew it. While the ambience in this office might have been charmingly retro, the mechanism that ran it was cutting-edge, high-tech, and precise.

Take the chair in front of the massive Admiralty desk for example; when you sat down in it, the seat automatically adjusted itself to your size and species, (unless La Peigne chose to manually override that function-which he'd obviously done with his previous visitor.)

And then there were the overhead lights. Not only could they be made dimmer or brighter as the need arose, but it was also possible to move them to different locations. And all of it was controlled by either voice or foot command-and only Jack La Peigne's voice or foot could make it work; if anyone else tried it, they'd get no response at all. The same held true for the window shades and the flat-screen LED Panel concealed in the ceiling-and just about everything else in this office, truth be told.

And there he was, the mammal himself, Jack La Peigne, standing in the center of the room, facing away from the door with his paws behind his back. He stood bathed in the sunset-orange glow of a wall-sized holographic display, watching with interest as a parade of stock prices went marching past.

He was nearly the same size as Seth Whitepaugh, perhaps even an inch or two taller, something which in and of itself was not all that unusual. Wolverines are hardly the biggest of all predators. But in the case of this particular animal, his stature wasn't merely surprising; it was blow-you-away stunning!

Jack La Peigne was a rabbit!

No one knew where he got his size, at least two and a half times bigger than the average bunny; (Bonnie Hopps could have stood on her husband's shoulders and she still would have come up only to his collarbone-with her ears raised!)

The big bunny's last name however, provided a clue to his enormity. In ancient times there had supposedly been a tribe of rabbits called the Flemish Giants, who-so the story went-had selectively bred themselves into massive brutes in order to resist the Roamin invaders.

Whatever the case, La Peigne himself had always maintained that his size was par for the course for his family; in fact, he'd always insisted, he wasn't even the biggest member of his clan. That may have been true; he did look bigger than he actually was. A dedicated fitness buff and martial arts expert, Jack La Peigne's physique had been described by at least one observer as, "a cross between The Rock and Michelambgelo's David."

"I take it you heard that conversation just now, Whitepaugh?" the big rabbit said without turning around. His rich baritone seemed to go perfectly with the furnishings.

"I did." The wolverine answered simply.

La Peigne turned to looked over his shoulder, regarding his senior field operative with a cynical gleam in his eye.

"Of course you did, they probably heard me downstairs in the commissary."

He thumped his foot, thumped it again, and the holograph disappeared.

Then he turned the rest of the way around.

Jack La Peigne had fur the color of blue steel that lightened to sunset gray around his throat, and under his chin. (It was also the color of his chest-fur Whitepaugh knew.) His eyes, which appeared to be black at a distance were actually midnight-blue.

He was dressed as always in an impeccably tailored silk suit with a matching striped tie and a diamond stickpin, which ironically had been purchased from Rafaj Brothers Fine Jewelers the year before, (although it was NOT a blood diamond.)

"Idiot reindeer." The rabbit muttered, moving behind his desk. Whitepaugh waited until the rabbit took his seat before taking the chair in front of it. At once it rose up to meet him and adjusted its curvature to fit his frame. Just as the wolverine had suspected, his employer had deliberately set the chair too low when interviewing Sven Kristofferon. It was something he frequently did when delivering a tongue-lashing; it made whoever he'd called on the carpet feel small and inferior.

It also told him that, just as he'd suspected, a great deal of what he'd heard while standing on the other side of the door had been an act rather than acting out. He wasn't surprised; while Jack La Peigne was by no means slow to anger, his fuse wasn't quite THAT short.

And a good thing it was too, the wolverine reminded himself; on those rare occasions when his employer became truly enraged he tended to lash out impulsively or even recklessly. In Whitepaugh's opinion it was the big rabbit's one and only character flaw.

"So I take it we're NOT going to be backing Councilmember Kristofferson in upcoming the mayoral elections?" he asked.

La Peigne poured himself a glass of carrot juice before answering.

"Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to kick that reindeer to the curb right now, but until-and unless-we can find a suitable replacement, he's our guy. I've got Bob Rackham looking into it though; who knows, maybe we'll get lucky." He took a sip of juice and looked straight at the wolverine, "I blame myself for what happened, Whitepaugh. I wrote off Claudia Nizhang much too quickly; should have known she'd have at least one more card tucked up her sleeve." His expression became ironic, "Me...the mammal everyone ELSE is supposed to underrate."

Seth Whitepaugh nodded dryly. Because Jack La Peigne was a bunny, opponents tended to underestimate him...sometimes to their ultimate regret. But then the wolverine frowned for a second. All very nice, but the fact of his employer's species could occasionally become a double-edged sword, encouraging attacks that would never have occurred had he been of a species with a more aggressive reputation. That fat fool, The Mister; there had been the almost perfect example. The sea-mink wouldn't have dared to pull that blackmail scheme of his on say, a tiger or a bull elephant, but a bunny-even a bunny who surrounded himself with wolverines-The Mister had thought he'd be easy pickings. Ehhh, WRONG!

He pulled himself back to the present

"Just say the word Mr. La Peigne, and I'll have Nizhang dealt with."

The big bunny instantly threw up his paws in horror. "And make a martyr out of her? Noooo, thank you!"

"Oh, I didn't mean resorting to extreme measures, sir." The wolverine answered, annoyed with himself for having overstated his case. He leaned forward in his chair. "But that front she put on at the presser, looking all weary and defeated when she got down from the podium? No one would be surprised if say, she were to start having anxiety attacks."

La Peigne let out a soft, rumbling sigh.

"It's a good thought, Whitepaugh...but it won't work. Have you seen her latest blog entry? She's already back to her old, feisty self."

"Dang!" the wolverine snapped his fingers and then looked at the rabbit again, "So how do you want to handle this?"

La Peigne reached for his glass and drained it.

"Well for starters we need to crank up the rumor mill." It was a cryptic statement at best but Whitepaugh knew exactly what the big bunny meant; it was a tactic Aker had used successfully before. First, they'd leak a rumor as to what had been discussed at the City Council executive session, completely untrue and only barely believable. And then as soon as the initial rumor began to spread, they'd start a second rumor and then a third...and then on and on and on until it became a flood. That way, by the time the truth of the matter came out, it would be a letdown, perhaps even dismissed as more fake news if they were lucky. "May I assume you already have it working?" the wolverine asked. If he knew his boss, the mill would already be chugging to life.

"You may," the big rabbit answered. "But you didn't just come up here just to discuss the Nizhang press conference, Whitepaugh. What else do you have for me?"

"Some good news for a change," the wolverine answered, offering a rare smile, "I just came from paying a visit to Pawvidence Memorial Hospital."

Jack La Peigne's face clouded over for a second. "Oh yes, that wolf Howell. He got the message I take it?" It was good news if he had, but hardly a cause for celebration.

"Yes, but that's not what I wanted to tell you." Whitepaugh answered him, "I also talked to the doctors, and they tell me that every single one of Officer Howell's injuries was acquired BEFORE the activation." He tapped his finger on the desk for emphasis.

La Peigne leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Really?" he said. "All right now THIS is some positive information, Whitepaugh."

"I know, right?" the wolverine was grinning, "One lone wolf was able to take out a huge hippo-by himself-while he was injured-and he came through it without so much as another scratch. I talked to the boys in the lab right before I came up here and they're just about over the moon. Dr. Honeybadger says this goes beyond even her most optimistic projections."

"Hmmm, make that very good news, Whitepaugh" the big rabbit said, sitting up in his chair and laying his paws on the desk. Just then his cellphone beckoned from its cradle, reciting the opening notes from Modest Mooseorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain.

La Peigne's expression was at first a darkening frown. "Ahhh darn, forgot to put it on 'do not disturb' again...hello?" But when he looked at the screen, his eyebrows lifted and his nose began to twitch. "Hmmmm, now what the heck do you suppose would HE'D be calling me for?" His voice rose sharply and then settled back down again "Speakerphone! This is La Peigne."

At once a familiar voice became audible, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

"Mr. La Peigne," the speaker's tone was neither timid nor forthright, but only quietly matter-of-fact. "Sorry if I'm interrupting, but I thought you'd want to hear this right away. All the charges against Mr. Big in the Pipeline Connection case were just dismissed; the City's star witness got cold feet, and when the corroborating witness heard, he bailed out, too."

La Peigne glanced at Seth Whitepaugh for a second; the wolverine's face was a mask, his expression unreadable.

He resumed speaking to his caller again

"Yes, that is important; thank you for bringing it to my attention. However, I'm in a meeting at the moment. I'll get back to you this afternoon."

"Very well sir." The caller said, and disconnected at once.

La Peigne looked over at Whitepaugh again.

"You have to give that shrew one thing," the wolverine said, a grudging note of admiration in his voice. "He knows how to plug a leak. I wonder what he had on Vinnie Blacktail?"

"I don't know, and frankly I don't care." His boss answered, tapping his fingers together, "What matters to me is, with the Zootopia Attorney General off his tail, Mr. Big is now fair game."

Seth Whitepaugh sat up abruptly in his chair, his head canted 5 degrees to the right.

"You're thinking of accelerating the timetable?" he asked. This time the note in his voice was one of caution.

La Peigne leaned back in his chair again, pulling at one of his cuffs with a pair of fingers.

"Maybe...I'll admit, I'm as leery of the idea as you seem to be, but it looks as if the stars may be aligning in that direction, whether we like it or not. First that press conference and now this news about Mr. Big...and there's a couple of other tidbits I discovered for myself just now and purely by accident." His voice became stentorian again, "Desktop-display, guest!"

A flat-panel computer screen rose silently out of the desk facing in Whitepaugh's direction.

"Police report," The big rabbit intoned. "G 40737 dash 6. Page 78."

A page of documents appeared on the screen and then scrolled rapidly downwards.

"I was going over the police report on The Rafaj Bother's Jewelery sting." The big rabbit explained, "When I came across something rather curious. Third paragraph from the bottom, take a look."

The wolverine leaned in close to the screen and then looked up sharply.

"The Red Pig? Is the ZPD sure about this."

"No," La Peigne conceded, "If they were, there's no way this information would have been buried almost in the back of the report. No, it's only a rumor. Just the same thought, it might be worth a follow-up-because there's something else I saw in that report. Apparently the ZPD got the evidence on the Rafaj Brothers by sending in some undercover officers to purchase a lavender diamond."

"Yes I know." Whitepaugh nodded, wondering where his employer was going with this.

The big bunny was only too happy to explain.

"Well, it reminded me of something, an item about lavender diamonds I'd seen in the Mr. Big files some time ago; took me a while to find it again, but...Research Dossier 5-2795 3A, page 12!"

The screen changed and Whiitepaugh leaned in close again.

...and reeled back in slack-jawed surprise, so violently that the two front legs of his chair actually left the ground.

"Burn me in perdition..."the wolverine murmured breathlessly, shaking his head as though fighting off a dizzy spell, "You think it was the jackals who sold it to him?"

"Yes, I think so," La Peigne grinned, enjoying his subordinate's reaction. Putting Seth Whitepaugh off his stride was normally about as easy as shooting a hole-in-one while blindfolded. He lifted a paw and waved it "Who else COULD it have been?"

Whitepaugh stroked at his chin with a thumb and forefinger; to Jack La Peigne, he looked almost professorial.

"I-I see what you mean about the stars coming together." He finally said.

"Yes, but only if that information about The Red Pig and the other diamond turns out to be more than just gossip." Jack La Peigne answered while raising an index finger.

He was not being cautious or playing the Devil's advocate; he was prompting-and Whitepaugh immediately got the hint.

"I'll get our research staff right on it" he said, rising briskly from his chair.

"Good," his boss told him, offering a quick thumbs-up. "If it turns out to be solid, I want to be notified immediately."

"I'll see to it fursonally," Whitepaugh assured the big rabbit as he reached for the door. But then he stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow. "But...if it does turn out to be accurate; if the Red Pig IS involved and if that WAS the Rafaj brothers, what then?"

La Peigne quickly showed his pawlms.

"Let's not cross that bridge before get to it, Whitepaugh. Even if BOTH those items pan out, there are still a lot of other factors we need to consider." He lifted his gaze, looking over the wolverine's shoulder and towards his office door. "If you don't mind though, who else is out there waiting to see me?"

"Polly Walters and Ken Dahlberg," Whitepaugh scratched at an ear, "Or that's who was waiting when I arrived anyway."

"Right," the big rabbit nodded, "Have Walters come in next if you would. I don't need to see Dahlberg right now, please tell him to come back later this afternoon."

'Yes sir," the wolverine answered. Though it was somewhat beneath his position to serve as his boss's majordomo, he didn't mind the request...because it was a request, not an order.

The big rabbit watched as his senior operative closed the door, wondering what he'd do if the answer came back in the affirmative. While never a control freak, Jack La Peigne didn't like having his paw forced.

Just then the office door opened again and moment and Polly Walters slipped through, nearly dropping everything as usual.

Like everything else in the office, the door to Jack La Peigne's private sanctum was fitted with state-of-the-the art electronics, geared to accommodate whatever species was making use of it; the lower down you pushed on the door the less effort was required to open it, but also the lower down you pushed, the less it opened, period. That was fine if you didn't happen to have your paws full, but Polly Walters nearly always did. (Her nickname in the company was Polly the Juggler.) And right now was no exception; the opossum was bobbling a tablet, thee notepads and a Fursonal Data Assistant. She tried to make it in through the gap before the door closed, but wasn't quite fast enough; it promptly swatted everything out of her grip.

An observer hoping for a replay of Bellwether and Lionheart right then would have been sorely disappointed. Jack La Peigne hopped swiftly over the top of his desk and caught the load mere microseconds before it hit the carpet.

"Walters, when are you going to stop trying to carry the world on your shoulders?" he asked, rearranging the items into a neat stack before returning them to the opossum. His voice was a mixture of sympathy and exasperation. He must have asked her that question only a thousand times-and she always said the same thing.

"I like my job Mr. La Peigne."

The big rabbit sighed, and then said what HE always said, "Fine, but don't go killing yourself on me."

He went back around behind his desk and sat down again, while Walters took the chair in front of it, the seat adjusting to suit her size as it had with Seth Whitepaugh.

"So, what have you brought me this morning?" La Peigne asked, fulfilling yet another part of their daily ritual.

In a neat, quick motion Polly Walters pulled her tablet from the bottom of the pile and slid it across the desk; when she wasn't trying to walk and sort things at the same time, she could be as deft as a stage magician.

"There's only one item on the agenda this morning, Mr. La Peigne. Mr. Shipley from Waters and Downes called; they've completed the acquisition."

"Excellent!" the big rabbit clapped his paws.

"Mr. Shipley said to tell there was no problem, sir." Walters was smiling as she nodded at the tablet. "Burrows Trust was more than happy to unload that mortgage. A slam dunk I think is what Mr. Shipley called it."

Jack La Peigne practically snatched the tablet from the desktop. He knew he looked like a kit who had just received exactly what he wanted for his birthday-and he didn't care. With the morning's business at last completed, he could afford to indulge in a little pleasure.

"If you'll just sign at the bottom sir," his assistant was pointing at the tablet, "Mr. Shipley says he can have the papers served this afternoon."

La Peigne affixed his signature with the pad's stylus, but then he shook his head.

"Nooo, tell Shipley I think I want to handle this fursonally." After all that had happened during the week, he felt he owed himself a treat, "What's my schedule like for Saturday?" (He already knew he was booked solid for tomorrow.)

The opossum consulted her FDA.

"You've got that teleconference with Zoo York and Mammila., starting at 10."

"Dangit," La Peigne slapped his paw on the desk, ""Kay, that's going to take up most the day." (How could it not, with the time zone differences?) "All right, what about Sunday? I REALLY want to get this done before Carrot Days is over."

Walters looked at the device again.

"Nothing you can't clear sir," she answered, looking up," just your usual golf game and that lunch-time meeting with Judge Schatten."

"Cancel them both." the big rabbit declared, pointing like a sovereign rendering judgement on an errant vassal.

"Very good sir," the opossum answered, jotting a note, "And do you want me to reserve the executive helicopter?"

The big rabbit couldn't help smiling. Always anticipating his needs; that was one reason why he valued Polly Walters so much. He thought it over for a second and then shook his head.

"Noooo, I think I'll drive. Call the house and tell them to make sure that the Roamac is charged and ready to go Sunday morning." He pulled at his chin for a second, "Hmmmm, and I'd better not go in alone. Have Hummel and his squad follow me in one of the tactical vehicles. Oh, and make sure it's got a solar panel with an EV hookup. There may not be a charging station in the Burrow."

"Very good sir." Walters answered, jotting another note.

La Peigne started to nod, but then stopped, noting for the first time that his fursonal assistant looked just a mite drawn this morning.

"Walters, did you skip breakfast...again?"

"The opossum looked away for a second, "I-I got off to kind of late start, sir."

"I thought so," the big rabbit sighed, "All right, soon as you talk to Shipley, I want you to get yourself down to the commissary and get yourself something to eat, put it on my tab. After that I want you to take the rest of the day off." He leaned over his desk and pointed straight at her with the tablet stylus. "And don't try to argue, that's a direct order."

"Yes sir," Polly answered, sliding out of her seat with a grateful smile. It was good to work for a company that took care of its own.

It should have occurred to her then; 'We take care of our own' was a phrase that could be interpreted in either one of two different ways.

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

Author's Note:

A few words about Jack La Peigne.

Jack was originally created as a character for a Zootopia RPG. (He was known back then as Jack La Pine.)

The second I introduced Jack, it seemed as if EVERY player in the group wanted to interact with him. That was nice; what wasn't so nice was that they all wanted to kick his butt on the very first encounter. (Cone on already, that's like the Joker losing to Batman right out of the gate and NEVER getting the better of him.)

Even so, with that kind of enthusiasm, I knew right away that if I ever got around to writing the Zootopia sequel I had buzzing around in my head, Jack La Peigne should be included.

Two things though. No, he's not a reworked version of the Jack Savage character, and no he's not intended as a caricature of any real person.

Easter Egg: A reference to another rabbit saga towards the end of the chapter