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

Part Two:

Oxidizer

Chapter 6—The Children's Crusade
(Continued…Part 3)

"It is a fact that it takes experience before one can realize what is a catastrophe and what is not. Children have little faculty of distinguishing between disaster and the ordinary course of their lives."
Richard Hughes - A High Wind in Jamaica

Monday, 02:07 Hours, Precinct -1, Savanna Central, Zootopia

The hackers were a bunch of sharpies, even more so than Guild had first surmised.

They could have raised the loading dock door rather than simply unlocking it…but that would have given fair warning to the riot police deployed on the other side—and hackers are anything but fair-minded individuals.

And so they left the freight door closed but unlocked, trusting that the detainee-kids would figure out how to raise it on their own.

In this they would not have been disappointed. One of the first young escapees to reach the loading bay was a hartebeest whose father worked in a warehouse—and he quickly informed the others.

"That thing's gonna open REAL slow when you hit the button," he said—meaning the cops would be there long before it opened up all the way.

Then someone else noticed a pair of tiny windows set near the center of the door…and a flying squirrel and a sugar-glider, both animals with excellent night vision, were sent up to check out the lay of the land. What they had to report was both heartening and disheartening.

"There's a big line of cops out there…but they're facing away from us." The squirrel said, "can't be sure, but I think there's a whole bunch of those protesters out on the street in front of 'em."

It was no great surprise; there'd been a rumor making the rounds since yesterday; the kids picketing Precinct-1 basically had the place surrounded.

Nobody would remember who first suggested it, but everyone agreed. The only way they were getting out of here was by making use of the element of surprise—and if the freight door opened super-slowly, there went that idea. Luckily there was another way out; the drivers' entrance. Only a few detainees at a time could get out that way, but that door could be thrown open VERY quickly.

At once, a call for volunteers went up.

What happened next was later described by one of the cops holding the line in front of the loading dock—Officer McHorn, who normally worked the day shift.

"I was looking for a place to toss my coffee-cup when I heard this big, loud bang behind me. A bunch of us turned to look, and what we saw was that the driver's entrance was open and this gang of detainee kids was coming right at us. There weren't that many but they was all big species; a lion, a hippo, a couple of elephants and another rhino, like me. That many kids, even big ones, wouldn't normally have been anything we couldn't handle, but they'd got the drop on us; hit our line before we could even get halfway turned around…and there was more kids, running out the door behind them."

"And the freight door was coming up too. At first it was only rodents and smaller whatnot that got through, but the higher it got, the bigger the kids jumping out, off the freight-dock got. And they weren't any younger animals, neither; didn't see a single one that wasn't old enough to drive at least."

"Even so, we were holding our own pretty good—until the kids on the street side started coming over the wall at us…if you want to call that a wall, only came up to my belt buckle.

The first ones over were all jumping species, kangaroos, wallabies, rabbits, caracals, a springbok and a couple of armadillos."

"Heck yeah, armadillos can jump; clear a six-foot fence from a standing start. I've seen 'em do it."

"Anyways, now some of the larger-animal kids was coming over the wall. I saw these two young elephants try to both climb over at once, and it was way too much weight. The wall collapsed right out from under 'em, and they landed on top of a police cruiser; crushed the roof and popped three tires—and the rest of the kids just loved it. The only ones that wasn't cheering were laughing their tails off."

"Before we knew what was happening we were caught in a vice and couldn't get out; there were just so many of those crazies—and more were showing up every minute. Cars'd pull up in the street behind us; a bunch of kids would pile out and the next thing we knew they was coming right at us. I remember seeing a giraffe-girl get out of her car and not even bother to put it in park. It went rolling away without her and she never even looked at it…not even when it took down a mailbox. We found out later it was her step-dad's car that she stole."

"Yeah…and then her and some other giraffes started letting some of the arboreal kids use their necks as skybridges. Arboreal kids; tree-dwellers, you know…squirrels, chipmunks, marmosets and the like. What they did was lean out over our lines and then the arboreal kids would jump off their heads and onto the precinct roof. That's how the skylight got busted and all that graffiti got up there."

"Meanwhile, down where we were, things were getting desperate; we had used up all of our rubber bullets and was nearly out of tear gas."

"The weird thing is…what saved us, I think, was when our line finally broke and a bunch of the detainee kids went running past us and into the street. Soon as that happened, the protester-kids on the other side of us kind of….Mmmm, lost interest in kicking our tails; more concerned with helping the kids just busted out of jail to make their getaways."

"It was crazy, what I saw. The animals coming through our line was all bigger species. The rest was getting past us in whatever way they could. For instance, there was these three young kangaroos, kept jumping over the top of us, grabbing kids and then jumping right back over the wall again."

"Noooo, they didn't use their pouches; they were guys. And then there was this foxbat-girl I saw; watched her swoop down, snatch a pika-kid detainee and then fly back over us and set him down on the street-side; must have done that at least six more times before she called it a night. Over on our left though, that was where things was really nuts; these kids were actually throwing some of the smaller detainees to their buds on the other side of us. No, I swear, right over the tops of our heads."

"Yeah, we tried to stop 'em but…"

"Wait, hold it… I need to be honest here; we didn't really try that hard. None of us were happy, seeing all those detainees getting away, but better that than our guys getting beat to a pulp—like what the cops out front of the precinct was looking at."

It was not an exaggeration; on the other side of Precinct-1 there was no permanent barrier separating the officers from the rioters and, even worse, no escapees to distract them. By now their line was backed up almost to the front door—while the officers on the other side could do nothing but look on in clenched-teeth frustration. Ohhhh why did this place have bullet-proof windows anyway?

And WHERE the heck was their backup?

Monday—02:10 Hours, Undisclosed Location, Zootopia

"Okay, I'm in." On the left-side screen of Conor's workstation, a sextet of 'jam-cam' images was visible, each one showing a different view of Precinct-1's exterior. The action on these screens was more or less the same as when the fugitive young silver fox had taken his seat inside the Furaday cage—except much more intense. The center one, by contrast, had shifted to an old and familiar location…for him at least; the ZPD database.

He would have preferred to use his VR headset for the task that lay ahead, but that idea was a total non-starter. Ever since his fight with Judy it had been giving him headaches whenever he tried to wear it.

Now he glanced at the right-side screen, and…what the FOXTROT?

It looked almost like a mosaic; a zillion tiny thumbnails. Conor clicked on one of them and watched it expand to show a view of an empty office. He knew where it was though—and he also knew what had happened.

It was the hackers; they must have turned on every webcam in the precinct…and all the body-cams too. Throw in the CCTV cameras, and it was hardly a wonder that his screen looked almost pixelated.

He moved the cursor and clicked over to voice-command.

"Overhead view, ZPD Youth Detention,"

At once the screen shifted to a trio of bird's-eye feeds from inside the facility; the commons area from three different angles. Whoa, it almost reminded him of a mosh-pit, there were just so many…

"Kid, what are you DOING? Get that stupid code uploaded before both our comps get fried!"

"Oops…sorry, Guild."

Conor thought it, but he didn't say it. His partner would only be angry with him for wasting even more time. What he did say was, "Access servers," and then watched as the appropriate window appeared.

"Ohhh-kay here comes the tough part," the young fox told himself, flexing his knuckles.

Hacking into a system that's already been accessed is a more difficult proposition than most folks realize. It's common practice among cyber criminals to, 'pull up the ladder behind you' after penetrating a system. To be sure, this tactic is aimed mostly at security and law enforcement—but it also serves to keep out any rival hackers.

…Unless said rivals have a ready-made back door—which Conor did, and which he presumed Guild also had.

The part that wasn't such a cakewalk was when he tried to find a port to upload the kill-code. Every time he attempted to access one of them, he got back a message:

Error 1179 - Access Not Available

Foxin'-A, this crew really had it together. But he wasn't beaten yet, not by a long shot. There was another upload port available…one the hackers wouldn't know about.

Conor knew…because he had put it there. And now he spoke the magic word aloud.

"Open File: Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious."

At once a new icon appeared on his screen, the outline of a nanny-goat with an umbrella. Working quickly, he dragged the kill-code over and let go, watching it seem to vanish inside the server button. There; now all he had to do was hit 'enter' and…

"Kid, heads up, they're onto you," the distorted voice of Guild rang in his headset once again. And almost immediately, a warning light began flashing on his screen.

Wait, hold the phone, it was showing on the right-side screen. Conor glanced for a second—or perhaps a second was all he intended. When he saw what was happening however, he ended up staring. What now? Two of the kids he saw were encased in pulsing red brackets. Wha…why? But then he saw the name over the first one—Erin Hopps—and he understood what was happening.

Whenever he chatted on a webcam—the way he was right now—Conor always made sure to deploy Flippar, an augmented reality app that could be used to create fake backgrounds; Guild might know WHO he was, but he didn't need to know where he was.

And that was why Erin was inside those brackets; Flippar also had a facial recognition function. He must have activated it by mistake when…

"Conor…what the heck? WAKE UP!"

The young fox heard, but paid scant attention; he had just taken note of the other animal in brackets…and he didn't need Flippar to know who THAT was.

And he didn't need to be told the meaning of the expression on Craig Guilford's face either. He'd seen something like it before, many times, in Granite Point. It was the look Crazy Wez got whenever he was preparing to take out a snitch—something that never happened quickly and painlessly.

And he was homing in on Erin like a….

"Conor, for God's sake…UPLOAD THAT CODE!"

Snapping halfway out of his trance, the young fox reached for his mouse and moved the cursor….but then he hesitated. When the servers cut out, so would the cameras inside the precinct. Worse still, the cops would be able to shut the dock door. What if that happened before Erin was able to make it through to the other side? She'd be trapped inside the youth jail, with…

All at once, his screens went black—and then came back on again. At the same time he heard Guild speaking, this time in a very crisp and even voice.

"You have six seconds, kid," was all he said…and that was all it took.

"Forgive me Erin," he pleaded silently, and then moved the cursor to the server icon and clicked 'Enter'.

The next thing he did was snarl in frustration. Aggghhh, grrr, he should have known. There it was; the ubiquitous annoying window with the ubiquitous annoying question.

ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO UPLOAD THIS FILE?
WARNING - (BLAH, BLAH, BLAH…)

[_]YES [_] NO

"YES!" Conor fox screamed at no one, rolling the cursor to the affirmative answer,

…And then watching it fly right off the screen.

Almost immediately another cursor appeared to take its place…in the shape of a finger…no, a wagging finger. And now it began to move swiftly towards the 'No' button. He had waited too long on the hackers and now he was p*wned.

Like HECK he was; he still had The Beast, and this time his fox-scream was for the computer's benefit. "Deploy Chaff App!"

At once the screen became a fuzzy snowstorm, with the finger stuttering in place. Okay, he had stifled the takeover, but could he still…?

"Never mind, DO it!"

He screamed a third time. "Click: Yes! Click: Enter!"

At once his center and right side screens went dark, so suddenly that the power appeared to have been cut. For perhaps half a second they remained like that, and then the center screen went back to his desktop, while the right-side display remained blank.

For an eternity of seconds Conor stared at the displays. Was what had just happened been his doing…or had the hackers ultimately succeeded in giving him the bum's rush?

Only one way to find out… "Guild, you there?"

The answer came in an exhausted rush of white noise.

"Yeah, kid….we did it. The servers are offline." More noise followed and then, "Crike, what the heck took you so long?"

"Sorry," the young fox answered, looking shamefacedly away from his webcam. It was totally inadequate, but all he had. "So…I guess this is good-bye?"

"Hmmmm, I'll think about it," Guild replied in a testy, sardonic voice, "But I swear, if you EVER pull a stunt like that again, I'll stick a fork in you myself."

He did not elaborate and Conor didn't need him to; they both knew exactly which stunt he was talking about…and what he'd meant by 'sticking a fork' in his young partner.

Now he heard a mile-deep yawn go rolling through his headset, triggering a wave of fatigue that just washed over and buried him; he had forgotten how late it was.

"All right, I'm out of here," Guild informed him curtly, and then his icon disappeared from the center screen leaving the fugitive young silver fox alone with his thoughts—and his fears.

Would Erin be able to get away all right—and even if she did, what about Craig? What if he made it outside, too? Dangit, there was no way to know.

Or—maybe there was; on the left side screen, the exterior view of Savanna Central Plaza was still visible. Right, right, right…the 'Jam Cams.' They were handled by City Hall, not the ZPD—which meant they were still up and running and so… He might be out of the loop on the inside of Precinct-1, but not on the outside.

He spoke quickly into his headset. "Mother…Engage Flippar and interface with the Zootopia Traffic Cam feed. Make the search area a five block radius of ZPD Precinct-1." From there, he went on to perform a little fine tuning, instructing the program to search specifically for Erin Hopps and/or Craig Guildford, and to ping him if either one appeared. As an afterthought, he instructed The Beast to sound the emergency alarm if it spotted them both at once. "Make the minimum separation distance, 50…no 100 yards." A coyote could cover that distance in mere seconds.

Finishing up the task, Conor tilted the zero-grav chair back to vertical. And then, shedding his headset, he swung around and got out of it.

…And almost immediately collapsed onto his knees. Agggghhh, grrrr…blankety-blank leg!

Hauling himself back into the chair, he called up Zoogle, asking for instructions on how to construct a makeshift knee brace.

Hmmm, he thought as he scrolled down the list of components. He had that, he had plenty of THAT; he thought he had some of those. Well, if he didn't, he could probably find a good substitute. Okay, that should do it.

Conor exited the chair again, much more gingerly this time, and then opened the door to the Furaday cage. Directly in front of him, he could see his back-pack, hanging up on a peg, and also his bikes…they were pretty much useless now, except for the one he had never before ridden on the street; his Furzarelli DK electric mini-moto bike. It was currently hooked up to the charger, but he had better make sure, just in case.

But not right now; he had other tasks to perform…and so he began carefully pushing his way towards the door of store-room 3.

Monday—02:41 Hours, ZPD Precinct-1, Youth Detention Center Savanna Central. Zootopia

At that moment, Erin Hopps was also pushing towards a doorway. She had made it into the service corridor, and was being carried along with the crowd in the direction of the loading dock. She was unable to see the doors to Shipping and Receiving. The heads of the animals up front were blocking her view. But she could feel the breeze, wafting through the opening every time somebody passed through it. She must be close, at least.

She could also hear the sounds of the melee taking place outside the precinct. That was something of which the young, white-furred bunny wanted NO part…but it was a little too late to turn back now.

And besides…Craig Guilford was somewhere, back behind her.

So far, it had all gone smoothly enough; only once had she come close to being stepped on…and the culprit had been a Mazama, not even close to the biggest species of deer. But then, when she was about two thirds of the way to her goal, the lights went out and then came back on again. For perhaps half a second, everyone stopped, and then moved on. Oddly enough there was no panic, and no stampede. These kids had little desire to rush blindly through a freight door and into the great, wide open…not when there might be a whole, stinking army of cops, waiting for them on the other side; for some reason the, news of what was taking place outside the loading bay had failed to make its way back up the line.

For now, the would-be escapees were keeping it together. But upstairs in the Lieutenant's office—and elsewhere—things were happening.

When the lights went out and came back on again, at first nothing seemed to have changed. But then Beth Nysander shot a finger at the workstation display screen.

"Everyone, look!"

Everyone did…and at first seemed to have no idea why she was so jazzed. So…the screen had gone dark, so what?

But then the cow moose said, "If the computer goes offline, doesn't everything automatically…?"

"….switch over to manual—dang, you're right." Lieutenant Hsing finished the sentence for her. And then raising an arm, he swung it in a circle, pointing like a weathervane towards the entrance to his office. "Toby, check that door…but don't open it."

"Yes sir," the wild boar nodded, and then reached to toggle the handle. A smile creased his muzzle and he almost threw it wide before he remembered. "It's…open, Lieutenant," he breathed, turning to the panda bear with a puzzled expression. "But…no sir?"

"Not until we have some idea of what the heck is going on out there," Hsing informed him coolly, yanking open the desk drawer where he'd stashed all the cell-phones. "I don't want us just rushing out blindly. Jorge….come here and grab your phone. I can't use mine, it's probably compromised."

"Ah si, Jefe," the jaguar replied, stepping forward with a twitching tail, "But won't mine be…eh, infected too?"

"Maybe," Hsing grudgingly conceded. "But we've no choice, and besides…if there's any phone in here that hasn't been hacked it's yours." A grim smile stitched its way across the panda-bear's muzzle. "You weren't scheduled to be on duty tonight; remember?"

"Don't remind me." the big cat growled, and reached into the drawer.

Obviously calling the reception desk was out of the question—or calling any police-issue phone for that matter. Fortunately Jorge had the fursonal number of a buddy from his Police Academy days, an Indian Lion named Maynard Sayyat who had just recently been transferred to Precinct 7, Outback Island.

His call hit paydirt almost immediately.

"We are trying to get help to you," his friend informed him, "but our column stalled out as soon as we crossed over the Marahute Causeway"—the bridge linking Outback Island to the mainland.

"Okay," Jorge started to answer, but then stopped when his boss began motioning for him to pass the phone over.

"Officer Sayyat, this is Lieutenant Hsing. All our servers just went offline; try starting your engines again."

"Ummm, all right," the lion replied—dubiously; what the heck difference would that make? But when his voice went away, Hsing immediately heard the sound of engines revving in the background—together with a chorus of roars, howls, and cheers. When Officer Sayyat came back a moment later, he sounded almost electrified. "I don't believe it, but it worked! Hang on Lieutenant; we'll be rolling your way in less than a minute."

"Good….excellent!" the panda bear replied, cupping a paw over his other ear; the connection was getting a little spotty, "Do you have any idea what else is going on in Precinct-1? We're blind in here right now." He said this while crossing his fingers and hoping the lion wouldn't ask for any further explanation.

He didn't; instead he disappeared again, replaced by a new speaker, an animal with a slangy Down Under accent.

"L'tenant Hsing, this is Cap'n Bruce. Can't tell y' what's goin' on inside the precinct mate, but we've got a dragonfly chopper circlin' overhead." A short burst of static followed, and then, "Straight up Lieutenant, it don't look good for our blokes. The ones out front are holding their own, but the coppers inside can't get out to help 'em, and the ones who showed up f' the graveyard shift can't get through either. All their riot gear's stashed INSIDE the Precinct and there's just so many of those crazy little yobs; it's like bloody Thermopylae down there."

"Understood," Hsing was almost shouting, "Listen, can you get word to the rest of Precinct-1 that the servers are offline? My office door went to manual when they cut out, and I'm betting the front door did the same."

"Ahhh, no promises, but we'll try, mate," Captain Bruce assured him, and then almost as an afterthought, he said, "Oh, and you're the officer in charge o' the youth jail, right? Ehhh, then y'might want to know sommat, mate. There's a pack of those young detainees makin' a run for it out the back and being helped to get away by some of the rioters; looks like they're goin' out through the loading dock."

"Oh no, they're not!" The panda's brow set hard and his voice became an angry snarl. "Jorge!" he barked, stabbing a finger at the row of control switches next to his office door. "Get that freight door closed—NOW!"

"Yes sir!" the jaguar replied, moving swiftly to obey.

It began just after Erin passed through the double-door to Shipping and Receiving. The area here was more open than the hallway, and she was finally able to get a move on, if only by a tiny bit.

But then she heard what sounded like a latch being thrown, and the noise of rolling metal. She had no idea what any of it meant, but found out quickly when a lupine voice in front of her howled. "Oh yip, the door's closing!"

And now the stampede began.

Something struck the young doe bunny from behind, knocking her onto her paws and knees. Thinking fast, she rolled sideways—just in time to see a massive hoof come crashing down on the spot where she'd been.

"Get up, get UP!" Her inner voice was screaming like an industrial strength smoke alarm. She jumped to her feet; felt something hit her from behind and send her stumbling again, but this time she was able to keep her balance.

She had to move, she had to get out of here. Wait, in front of her, a space…in between a pair of larger species, she couldn't tell what kind, and—"Shut up and get going!" Erin jumped hard and dove through the gap, only to find another wall of legs before her…wait, no, another space. Get through it, quick. There, good girl. Come on, come on, you're almost there….

But that was when the mass of bodies came to grinding halt, to the sound of a hundred fists hammering on sheet metal. She was too late, the door had closed!

No…no wait, it hadn't, not all the way…only enough so that the larger species couldn't get out. For the smaller animals like her there was still a chance—IF she could get through the horde of kids massed in front of her, but how? It was like a stinking Great Wall of Mammals.

"All right, if you can't go through, go OVER, dumb bunny!"

Erin crouched down hard, leaping up and over with all her strength, landing with both feet on the shoulder of a young male tiger—and this time, she didn't wait for a reaction before bailing.

She came down next on the head of a zebra, and again she didn't hang around, leaping off immediately. Now she could finally see the freight door and sprang towards it at once. Only the top half was visible but it was still rolling downwards; it hadn't closed completely.

Landing lightly on dock-doors the insulated surface, Erin allowed herself to slide down to the dock-plate. Instantly, a striped hoof slammed into it beside her, and she heard an angry neigh, coming from above. "Jump on MY head willya, rabbit?" She moved fast as the hoof came down again, this time missing her by only a centimeter. She had to…

"No, you don't! Forget about him, the door's almost closed, HURRY!"

Erin flattened herself against the dock-plate, scrambling for all she was worth. She could see the bright lights in front of her; feel the warm air on her face. But the gap was closing fast now, only a few inches left…come on bunny, do it!

She squirmed through, felt the door brushing her rump, still coming down. The hoof smashed down into the dock plate a third time, causing her teeth to gnash together…but missing her by a wide margin. Now the door was grazing her thighs, her legs, her ankles, the tips of her toes—and then she was finally outside.

…And falling downwards! Oh, no…how far was it to the…? Wait, she wasn't falling, she was hanging in midair. The door had caught the cuff of her jeans when it shut. Great…just great; a hair's breadth from freedom and now here she was, hung up like…

"No worries there bunny, we got yer." She heard a chirpy voice call up from below, and then a quartet of paws was grabbing her by the wrists and pulling.

Almost at once, she realized…Ohhhh, NO!

"Eeep, stop. My pants are coming…!"

But they had already pulled her free, flipping the young doe-bunny upright and setting her down on her feet. She immediately crossed her paws to cover herself, only to discover that her jeans weren't gone after all, at least not all the way. She reached down to hike them up, listening with a cocked ear. The sounds of the door mechanism had ceased, but above and behind her, she could hear the pounding and cries of the detainees who hadn't been as lucky as herself.

"Thanks," she said, at last looking up and acknowledging her benefactors…who turned out to be Tasmanian Tiger and a…Oh, sweet cheese 'n crackers! It was…

No, scratch that, it wasn't Craig. As a matter of fact, it wasn't even a coyote but a side-striped jackal—and a girl jackal at that. Ha, ha brain…verrrry funny; go play your tricks on somebody else, why don't you?

But then the Thylacine's eyes narrowed. "Here, now…aren't you the bunny…?"

He stopped and snapped his fingers, turning to his companion. "Cor, Simone…it IS her. The rabbit-girl I was tellin' y'bout; that one that crushed it on 'er ZAPA audition."

"Oh, pleased to meet you," the girl jackal-said, offering a paw. "I'm Simone Tshubo, and this is Billy Mackenna."

"Nice t' meet yer." The Tasmanian tiger smiled, tipping an invisible hat.

"Uhm, same here," the doe bunny answered skittishly, and then angled her head in the direction of the street, "But, uh, couldn't we…?"

"Right, right, right," Billy jumped in quickly, making some kind of odd motion with his paws. "Don't worry…we'll get y' out of here. Grab on 'er legs Simone."

Erin's ears shot skywards; had she really just heard…?

"Wait, what…? Whoaaaaa!" Seized by the ankles and wrists, and hefted like a flour-sack, she saw the world flash by in a sideways swipe as they dashed in the direction of the battle line.

Somewhere close to it, she heard Billy call out, "Steady on, mates; one comin' over!"

"Ready and waiting," an unseen voice answered, and then they began to swing her back and forth; Erin tried to protest but to no avail.

"Guys, listen, this isn't a good…"

"One…."

"C'mon, really, I…"

"Two…"

"No, seriously…"

"THREE!"

"No, don't….EEEEEEEP!"

Flung up and over and writhing in the air, Erin saw one of the officers below—he looked like a leopard—jump up and try to grab her as she went sailing over his head. He wasn't even close and now she was coming down fast, heading for a group of kids gathered beneath her. She tried to turn upright to come down on her feet, but it wasn't really necessary. They knew what they were doing and had a blanket stretched out to catch her. She bounced lightly as she hit, bounced again and then they were setting her back on her feet once more. Brushing herself off, she saw several different species present, but noted that most of the group were fellow Leporids; hares, jackrabbits, and bunnies like herself.

Needless to say, it didn't take long for one of them to recognize her.

"Heyyy, you're Erin Hopps, right?" a volcano-rabbit sk8r-girl asked her.

"Uhhh, yeah that's me," she answered, feeling the heat rise up in her ears again. In another time and place, she would have been flattered by all the attention, but not here.

"Whoa, Awe-SOME!" a skinny hare in grunge gear declared, offering a high-five. He had more to say but was cut off by a tall, sinewy jackrabbit in a rolled bandanna and torn jeans.

"Can it, dude, we don't have time for this stuff!" he said, and the other kid shut up immediately. Clearly this was the animal in charge; a fact confirmed when he turned a no-nonsense expression on Erin. "The door; we thought we heard it closing, is that right?"

"Yes it's closed," the doe bunny told him, "But there's still plenty more kids trying to make it over the wall." She said this and wanted to slap herself, "Holy carrot sticks, what am I DOING?"

'Kay thanks," the jackrabbit nodded and then turned and called through a cupped paw, "Yo, got a bunny needs a ride, here!"

"Send her over this way, dude," a low, somewhat slurred voice called back, "we got room for one more smallie." Erin thanked the jackrabbit with a quick thumbs-up and then bounded off in the direction of the waiting vehicle.

Ordinarily, she would have turned back the instant she saw it, a Voleswagen microbus that looked like a reject from a slacker movie; dents, rust, three cracked windows, a missing rear bumper—and an engine that wouldn't stop backfiring.

However in the young doe-bunny's present situation, it was 'any port in a storm'…and you had better believe there was a storm raging in Savanna Central right now.

Gritting her teeth, she hopped on board, instantly feeling the need to jump right back off again. Ewww…what was that SMELL?

Once again, she was recognized almost immediately.

"Whoa, you're like that bunny girl who killed it on Jump In The Fire."

It was the driver speaking…and when Erin looked, she was flabbergasted to discover that he wasn't a kid but a middle-aged yak with a face framed in flower-speckled dreadlocks and a cloud of flies buzzing around his head—and what the heck; was he naked?

Someone nudged her in the shoulder, a young raccoon in a punk get-up. "Hey-y-y, you're THAT bunny? Wow, awesome…do you know Conor Lewis?"

Oh-kayyyy, now Erin didn't know whether to bail or yeet somebody. If there was ONE animal she didn't want to think about right now…much less talk about…

She did neither of those things, turning instead to speak to the driver.

"Can we just get out of here…please?"

"Oh for sure, lil' bunny dudette," The yak responded cheerfully, and then spoke to himself in a near mumble. "Now-w-w what was that thing about the clutch again? Oh yeah, right…" As he put the micro-bus in gear, a noise like the world's biggest ratchet cried out from the tranny…and promptly elicited a cat-call from a margay kid on the sidelines.

"Hey Ace, grind me a pound!"

And then, with a blast from the tailpipe like a double-barreled shotgun, the vehicle lurched forward and they were rolling.

As the minibus began to jounce along the street—the shocks were no better than the engine—something occurred to Erin. For the first time, she realized she had no idea of where the heck she was going or what she was supposed to do when she got there. She hadn't wanted to break out of jail. Given the choice, she'd rather be back in her cell, hiding under the bed until things settled down.

She was not, however, beating herself up over that decision; for once, her inner voice was keeping its nagging mouth shut. There'd been no question of staying put—not with Craig Guilford chasing after her.

Craig…what the heck was he up to now? Oh God, she could only hope that Zack March had managed to get his cousin to safety before that crazed coyote caught up with them.

Yeah…and there was something else you didn't see every day. Max March, Mr. Swell-Head, saving her from falling and then offering to sacrifice himself in order to let her get away? Sweet cheez n' crackers; who was that guy…and what had he done with the REAL Max?

That was when it hit her, a thunderbolt out of nowhere, and she folded in her seat as the realization hit her—clutching herself and shivering, as if the microbus had just taken a sudden detour through Tundratown.

Craig had…killed that poor sand-cat…and she had seen him do it. He was a murderer—and she had witnessed it all. Whatever interest he'd had in the bunny he thought had snitched on him, it had ended right then and there. Max March couldn't put him away for life…but SHE could.

"Easy Erin, get a grip." she told herself. "You barely made it out of that jail and he was behind you; there's no way…"

A police cruiser shot suddenly out of a side-street in front of them, lights flashing and tires squealing as it slewed to a halt, blocking the road. The micro-bus also stopped—at least the brakes were good—pinned in the bleach-white glare of the cop-car's bullseye spotlight.

A brief whoop of a siren followed, and then a harsh, electrified voice spoke up, "Everyone in the van…paws up, and stay where you are…."

Nobody stayed where they were; the doors of the Vee-Dub flew open all at once, and then everyone was making a run for it. Erin would have liked to stay where she was, but once again found herself swept along with the tide.

Behind her the electrified voice kicked up a notch.

"All of you…stop! Halt…or you will be tranqed!"

Once again, nobody paid attention. A half second later, a green splotch burst against the neck of the meerkat running beside Erin. He managed two more steps before he pitched face-first into the pavement, out cold.

Erin dropped to all fours and put it in overdrive, just in time to see the pika up ahead of her clutch hard at a shoulder and go down in a sideways roll. Ohhh Crike, they could hit a target THAT small?

She dodged left; something whizzed past her cheek, so close she could feel the heat of the passing dart. She turned to look, and saw a bright red mini-sun blocking out everything behind it; a laser sight…locking onto her. No way was the next shot going to...

With a gut-wrenching crunch, something massive slammed into the cruiser from the other side, lifting it up and then dropping it down again—throwing the officers fanned out in front of it into a confused scramble. Erin heard more doors flying open, followed by roars, bellows, and assorted battle cries.

And that was all she wanted to hear. Spying an alleyway just up ahead, she ducked hurriedly around the corner…and found herself alone and swaddled in the shadows.

What the…she was all by herself? Had she been…the only kid in that micro-bus who'd managed to get away, had none of the others escaped? Nooo, they'd been scattering in all directions; at least one of them must have made it—she hoped.

Erin turned and began to retreat down the alleyway, slowly at first, but then faster and faster until she was moving at a dead run.

She still had no idea of where she was going.

She knew only that she had to get away from HERE.

Monday—03:02 Hours, ZPD Precinct-1, Savanna Central Plaza. Savanna Central, Zootopia

What was happening behind the fleeing young doe-bunny was about to take place all over Savanna Central's main plaza. With their vehicles finally up and running the relief columns from the other ZPD precincts were on the move at last—and they were closing in on Savanna Central with a vengeance. They had plenty of extra gear with them, too. Now the Precinct-1 graveyard shift would be able to suit up and properly arm themselves.

But the rioters were also getting reinforcements, and they were well aware of what was coming. They'd had lookouts posted on the approaches to Savanna Central Plaza even before the cyberattack had begun. All around Precinct-1, they were setting up makeshift barricades and readying piles of brick and stone, along with an assortment of artisanal weapons.

They had also carried out a not-insignificant amount of vandalism, smashing windows and spray painting everything with graffiti. City Hall had come in for some especially rough treatment. The normally white facade was now all but invisible, hidden beneath layers of criminal artwork. Some enterprising young souls had even dropped packets of red dye into the 'waterfall fountain' cascading down the front of the building, transforming it into a river of blood. Of the other buildings surrounding the plaza, only the Natural History Museum had been left relatively untouched. Who cared about a bunch of moldy old artifacts, anyway? For the rest however, nothing had been spared. Benches had been torn up, awnings pulled down, and the coffee-stand out in front of Savanna Central Station was nothing but a gutted remnant of its former self. Even Gazelle's billboard had been targeted, reduced to a stuttering checkerboard.

As so often happens in situations like this, the riot had taken on a life of its own. The kids on the barricades had all but forgotten about the 'ZAPA Four' as they had come to be known—and the few that did remember no longer cared. They knew only that they were angry and wanted to break something, to vent their frustration with The System, once and for all.

And now, as the first police vehicles came rushing into the Plaza, they fell back to the barricades…and waited.

Monday—03:06 Hours, ZPD Precinct-1, Youth Detention Center Savanna Central. Zootopia

With a furious roar, the squad of correctional officers burst out of the Lieutenant's office and went charging onto the terraces of the youth jail.

What followed was a rout; most of the detainees who hadn't managed to get away were either crammed into the corridor leading to the loading bay, or else they had elected not to join the uprising; huddling quietly in their cells until order was restored. Of the few remaining on the walkways, almost none had any fight left…and those that did were quickly subdued.

Jorge Reyes had just finished putting the zip-ties around the wrist of a young okapi, when he became aware of movement behind him, whirling quickly around with his shield and baton at the ready.

He immediately lowered them; it was only a bunny, a smallish, grey-on-black rabbit, standing with his paws raised.

"Sir, no…please!" he said, pointing to the cell on his left, "Mac Cannon's in there, he's hurt bad. Please, he needs help."

For a second Jorge only stared with his tail twitching. Mac Cannon…who the heck was…?

But then, he remembered. "Si, si…el diputado del Condada de Burrow!"

Without another thought, he hurried to the cell and through the door.

The first thing he saw was another young rabbit, this one with light brown fur, propped up against the wall. He was bigger and more muscular than the other bunny—and also in obvious pain.

Seeing the jaguar enter the cell, he immediately threw up his paws. "We didn't do it!"

"Didn't…do what?" Jorge wondered for a second, but then followed the young rabbit's gaze, and….

"Madre de Dios!" Dropping his baton, the jaguar hastily crossed himself.

The thing laid out on the bunk-bed in front of him was barely recognizable as another feline…and also barely breathing.

Down below in the commons area, the kids who had failed to make it out through the loading bay were being forced-marched back inside of the jail, paws and hooves laced atop their heads. It was while this was going on that Officer Beth Nysander came upon the broken form of another feline, a cat much smaller and younger than Mac Cannon.

And this one wasn't breathing…and he wasn't ever going to, ever again.