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


Epilogue:

Polly Walters passed the tablet across the desk to her boss, and then sat back with her fingers working…while her long, prehensile tail coiled uneasily around the leg of her chair. She had no idea what was in the report she'd just delivered—it was fully encrypted—but it had arrived with a digital stamp that read, 'Urgt—Imdt Attn, JLP.'

Whenever one of THESE showed up, you took it to Mr. La Peigne's office right now.

After more than five years on the job, Polly should have been used to handling such hot potatoes, but over the past few weeks, she'd begun to notice some subtle changes in the big bunny's behavior—changes that she didn't like one bit. She had no idea how he might react to whatever was on that tablet. It might be nothing more than a nod and frown…or it might be something she didn't want to think about.

While bipolar mood-swings had never been an unknown quantity with the big bunny, lately they'd been getting worse. True, he wasn't any more PRONE to mood-shifts than he'd been before—they still occurred with relative infrequence—but if the quantity of his emotional fluctuations hadn't changed the quality was something else again. Whenever they happened now, the needle seemed to move just a little bit higher than the time before. Last week…Polly hadn't seen it, but she'd heard about it; her boss had erupted in a screaming fit—at Seth Whitepaugh! If it hadn't been for everything the opossum had observed for herself, she would have dismissed the tale as an urban legend. NOBODY talked to him that way, not even Jack LaPeigne—but now? Now the opossum was willing to concede that the story might contain at least a kernel of truth. Everything about him seemed to be changing, even his body language. Several times now, she'd observed him walking with a swagger, another thing she'd never seen before.

Even more disconcerting was that the alterations weren't just limited to Mr. La Peigne's fursonality; there'd been some physical changes as well. At times, he literally didn't seem to know his own strength. Just the other day, he had torn the handle off a washroom door without realizing it. That was something Polly had seen for herself, along with the big bunny's reaction, (half unsettled, and half giddy.)

Now she braced herself against the chair-arms; a kid on a roller-coaster, clutching the safety bar.

La Peigne lowered the tablet, his dark eyes appearing above the rim…and Polly felt the breath ease out of her. Their expression was soft and they were almost sparkling; whatever was in that report, he'd found it pleasing—and thank goodness for that.

Sitting up in her chair again, she watched as Mr. La Peigne pressed the button to transfer the data to his desktop. When he slid the tablet back in his assistant's direction, his expression was staid and all business.

"Ms. Walters, take a memo, please."

"Yes sir." Polly picked up the tablet and detached the stylus, holding it at the ready.

"To Waters and Downe Financial Corporation, Advertising Department, copy to Mr. Robert Shipley, CFO," Steepling his fingers, the big bunny directed his gaze upwards, as was his habit while dictating messages. "Re: Clarion Broadcasting Corporation, the ongoing negotiations for WaDown's proposed sponsorship of the Rock Hardesty radio and cable TV programs." He paused to clear his throat, and then continued. "To all parties concerned, I have become aware of Clarion Broadcasting's latest proposal, and I find it most congenial. I therefore wish to extend my firm recommendation that Waters and Downe accept the offer forthwith."

At this, Polly felt her eyebrow squirreling upwards. A 'firm recommendation' from this rabbit was a fatwa in all but name. Whoever turned out to be on the receiving end of this memo, they had better comply and ASAP, if they wanted to keep their job. The subject of the missive, however, was no surprise to her; for as long as she'd been working for him, the big bunny had been known to intervene in matters of sometimes astounding triviality.

"From: Jack M. La Peigne, Chief Executive Officer….etcetera, etcetera." Jack twirled his paw in the air as he concluded the dictation, another of his regular habits, and then tilted his chair upright and swiveled to face her. "That's to go out right away, Ms. Walters."

Polly jotted the last of the message and then looked up. "Yes sir, do you want me to mark it urgent?"

The big bunny frowned slightly.

"Nooo, that won't be necessary, but I would like it sent it off immediately."

"Yes sir," the opossum responded, tapping 'send' with her stylus and then looking up again, "Done and done."

"Very good," Jack leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, letting his ears fall backwards, "Have I anything of immediate concern, pending for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Nothing that can't wait, sir," Polly answered, unfazed. This was something else she'd seen many times before and besides—there really wasn't anything important on tap for the rest of today.

La Peigne nodded and then gestured with a pair of fingers.

"Very well, I want you to hold my calls and appointments, and put out the 'Do Not Disturb' sign." A sardonic grin flashed and then faded on his muzzle. "As always, that restriction does not apply to Mr. Whitepaugh." Polly started to make the notation, but then stopped when her boss raised a paw, "Ah, hmmm," he coughed, and the corners of his mouth turned in opposite directions. "Now that I think of it, if Dr. Honeybadger should request to see me, show her in as well. Other than that, no visitors."

"Yes, sir," Polly jotted the instructions and then slid out of her chair.

When she had gone, Jack got up as well, strolling over to his office refrigerator and pouring himself a tot of his private reserve, single-crop carrot-juice.

Finally, at last…he had gotten some good news. Taking an appreciative sip of his drink, he turned towards the window, feeling the liquid trickle down his throat, as he watched the summer monsoon lashing the Oswald Tower.

"Whoa, this one's a real scrubber," the big bunny noted to himself, employing a leftover term from his boyhood in Bunnyburrow. If anything, the thought was an understatement; his office might almost have been passing through a gigantic car-wash right about now.

He took another sip of his juice.

Things had not been going well for Jack La Peigne of late. First and foremost there was the matter of Project Fire Triangle. Despite all of Seth Whitepaugh's best efforts, his mammals still didn't know how the Red Pig had learned of the impending attack upon Flora and Fauna. And as long as that riddle remained unlocked, the operation would have to remain in a holding pattern.

Dangit!

And also…

Jack was not unaware of the recent changes in his fursonality. If his assistant was merely concerned about them, HE was downright anxious. Ohhh, could this possibly be happening at a less opportune moment? First thing tomorrow morning, he had an appointment scheduled with Dr. Honeybadger, to discuss his options for dealing with the problem.

He took another sip, almost slamming the dregs of his glass and went to get a refill. There was no point in berating himself for not having listened to the Good Doctor when he'd had the chance. He had tested his infusion device against all advice and against all safety protocols, and there'd be no such thing taking a Moleigan. What was done was done.

The worst part about it was that while the highs kept getting higher, the lows didn't appear to be getting any lower. That made the experience actually enjoyable, almost euphoric…dared he use the word seductive? And the unexpected increase in his physical strength; that was the most alluring aspect of all.

"This has to stop," he groused, going to the window and staring out into the teeth of the storm—as if daring it to come and take him.

The only good news was that most of the interoffice gossip regarding his mood changes was nothing more than idle gossip. The situation wasn't nearly as bad as the rumors made it out to be; case in point, the story that he'd torn Seth Whitepaugh a new one.

"As IF," the big bunny muttered, tightening his fingers around the glass. Even in his most reckless moments, he could never be so foolish. True, the wolverine had been PRESENT for Jack's tirade, but he hadn't been the target. That honor—if you could call it an honor—belonged to a bighorn sheep named Shane Byram,

Byram, Aker Security's head of operational recruitment, had committed a corker of a gaffe. In direct defiance of the big bunny's instructions, he had summarily rejected the employment application of…ah, what was that cow elephant's name again? Florence…no, Francine; Francine…Trunk-something; it didn't matter.

He took another swallow of carrot juice.

Byram had insisted that he hadn't gotten the memo, but Jack hadn't wanted to hear it. Neither had Seth Whitepaugh, who, thank God, had managed to intercept the order before it had left Aker headquarters. If he'd missed it…that danged elephant might have been tempted to reveal the part she'd played in Jack's 'other' operation.

His operation…

Now, at last, a mellow smile began to spread across the big bunny's face. At the same time, his left foot commenced to thump triumphantly.

Hopps and Wilde had gone their separate ways, never to see each other again. A 'clean break', the report had said. His plan had worked!

Taking another sip from his glass, Jack took the time to savor it. Mmmm, this was good, almost as delicious as the knowledge that it had all been HIS idea.

Posting that surveillance video from the jewelry shop on Fuzztube?

…His idea.

Faking all those hits on it?

...His idea.

Getting Rock Hardesty involved?

…His idea.

Bringing that elephant on board?

…His idea, although he had to admit, submitting her resignation as if throwing down a gauntlet had been entirely on her… and also a brilliant move; she couldn't have timed it better.

"And Shane Byram didn't want to hire her!" He sniffed, derisively, and then checked himself. The bighorn ram's rationale for rejecting Trunkaby's application had been precisely because of the way she'd blown up at Chief Bogo. Little could he have known that she'd been acting on Jack La Peigne's behalf at the time, but still…even without knowing the reason, that sheep should have followed his orders.

And speaking of the big bunny's orders, hacking into the ZPD safe-house's CCTV system?

…His idea

And using those recordings to create a Deep-Fake video of Hopps and Wilde?

…His idea.

And then there'd been his leap of second sight, when he'd guessed correctly that they would be the first officers on the scene at the Flora and Fauna fire—and so he'd ordered that Rock Hardesty be notified as soon as the place went up.

He'd lost track of the pair after that. When news of the Razorbacks' ambush had come in, all other considerations had been shunted aside. No matter, Hardesty had posted an alert about the fox and bunny-cop on his message board, and his fans had duly risen to the occasion. Likewise, Hopps and Wilde being placed on administrative leave had happened without any sort of external influence.

What had occurred next had also been outside of Jack's control. Those gerbils had come across Judy Hopps and that no-good fox entirely on their own, and forwarding the video footage they'd shot to Rock Hardesty had been their decision as well.

But other than that…

Putting a tap on Hardesty's hotline?

…His idea—and thus he'd known about the skytram video even before the hyrax—and had time to prepare his masterstroke.

Hacking the Zootopia Police Union?

His idea…although his mammals hadn't learned anything they didn't already know.

Doxxing Hopps and that stinking fox?

…His idea.

Alerting the ZPD to the hack?

Jack considered that an especially brilliant ploy. It had set the ZPD against the ZPU, with Judy and Mr. Fox caught in the middle. And hadn't it played out nicely?

And then…

Hopps losing her fitness club membership?

…His idea.

The graffiti, painted on the door of Wilde's neighbor?

…His idea, and so had been having his operatives hit the flat upstairs instead of the fox's.

And then, on the night Rock Hardesty had aired that skytram video, Jack had unleashed his coup-de-grace—on the fennec-fox's van and that other fox's pastry-shop.

…And THAT was what had finally put an end to Judy's relationship with Mr. Wilde…just as the big bunny had known it would.

Outside his office window, the storm was rapidly dissipating, the clouds beginning to break up.

Jack raised his glass as if offering a toast.

"WildeHopps is dead; long live La PeigneHopps!"

It couldn't happen right away of course. She would have to reach the acceptance stage before he could make his move. And even then, he would need a legitimate reason to see her; Judy Hopps was nobody's dumb bunny, she would see right through an invented excuse.

His gaze turned briefly melancholy, and he stared down into his glass.

What if…what if she was repelled by him, put off by his size as, so many doe bunnies before her had been? He wished for a second that his father was here—so he could pitch that filthy slime-bucket right through the window.

"No son of mine's growing up a pygmy!"

Something bright caught the big bunny's eye and he looked up again. The clouds were parting, revealing a blazing sun, framed within an upside-down 'V'.

Jack blinked and squinted into the brightness; it hurt his eyes, but he did not turn away.

This was a sign, an omen; a portent for the future.

What he was seeing was not an inverted V-shape…

…it was a triangle.

To be continued in The Fire Triangle, Part II: Oxidizer


Afterword:

"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be." - Douglas Adams,

I would first of all like to thank everyone who has taken them time to read The Fire Triangle, Part 1, and especially everyone that's been kind enough to offer a comment. Also, a big thanks to my fellow members of the Zootopia Author's Association; I like to think my writing has been much improved by my association with you good folks.

It's been one heckuva ride so far; a false start and then a story that went on for much, much longer than I had originally planned. At the end of the day however, Part One concluded as I had always intended, and I'm highly pleased by that fact.

And now it's on to Part II, the ending of which I also have mapped out in my head…though I wouldn't be surprised if the journey to get there takes few unexpected turns of its own.

John Urie aka Merc Marten

November 2017 to January 2021.