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 2—Finding Conor
(Continued…Part 4)

"Hey-batter, hey-batter, hey-batter, hey-batter…SWING!"

With encouragement like that, it was hard to resist—and so the young nutria swung. A sharp ping followed as the aluminum bat connected with the softball and then it was floating upwards in a lazy, egg-shaped arc…right towards the young red panda playing shortstop. Raising a gloved paw, Lisa Nizhang easily bagged the pop-fly. It was a cakewalk catch but you'd never have known it from the reaction of her teammates; whoops, cheers, howls, high fives, and girls hugging each other while jumping up and down. The game was over, the Dodgers had won, and they were on their way to the playoffs.

In the bleachers adjoining the backstop there was plenty of enthusiasm as well; particularly in the third row, center section, where Claudia Nizhang was on her feet, calling through cupped paws. "Way to go, girls, way to go!" Beside her Nick Wilde was standing and applauding vigorously, swept up in the fervor of the moment.

He'd at first been surprised that Claudia would want to meet him here—until he'd learned that her daughter was playing today; Zootopia City Councilmember Nizhang had a long-standing reputation as a dedicated parent.

The game they'd just watched had taken place at a baseball diamond inside of Mount Tapir Park. It was your typical Old Growth City playing field, almost completely organic in construction. The backstop was a basket-weave of interwoven, living bamboo, the outfield fence consisted of neatly-trimmed hedges, and the scoreboard was suspended between the intertwining branches of a pair of flying spider-fern trees. The only parts of the field not fashioned by nature were the scoreboard itself and the bleacher seats…and even they had been built from recycled materials, as Claudia had proudly informed Nick upon his arrival. It had made the red fox wonder if this ball field wasn't one of her projects. OGC was the district she represented, after all.

Now, he followed as she led the way back down to ground level, amazingly spry for a mammal that needed a cane to get around. Seeing her approach, Lisa hurried to meet her at the edge of the field.

"Hey, mom!"

"Hey, Bǎo!" Claudia replied, pulling off her daughter's ball cap and giving her head-fur a quick tousle, "Good game."

And the game had been a good one; not a claw-biter to be sure, final score, 5-1, but a win is still a win. And Lisa Nizhang had done more than her share to bring it home, twice hitting singles and later driving in a run on a sacrifice fly. She'd also been part of the game's only double-play. At the moment however she was looking curiously at the fox standing next to her mother.

Claudia smiled and laid a paw on his shoulder.

"Lisa, say hello to Nick Wilde, the ZPD's newest detective."

"Nice to meet you Detective Wilde," Lisa said, offering a paw and a smile that revealed a set of braces. It seemed that any member of her mother's former profession was okay with her as well.

"Call me Nick," he replied, deciding at once that he liked this kid.

"Uh, Mom," Lisa had turned an uneasy look in her mother's direction. "We were gonna go…"

"Lisa, hurry up!" someone called from behind her.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Hold on!" the young red panda called back over her shoulder, and then turned to her mother again, "We were gonna go get pizza, and…"

"Yes, you can have some money for the air-hockey table." Claudia took out her wallet and extracted a bill, which she held out between her index and middle fingers. But when the young red panda tried to reach for it, it was pulled back out of her reach and replaced by the face of her mother.

"But NO betting, do I make myself clear?"

"Mommmmmmm!" Lisa's voice was a painful groan, "You know I don't bet on stuff!"

"And you know I want to keep it that way." Claudia smiled and held out the money again; this time, she allowed her daughter to take it. "Okay, have fun."

"Thanks Mom," Lisa leaped up and gave her a hug and peck on the cheek, and then hurried off to join her friends, "Hey guys, wait up!"

"Nice kid," Nick observed, watching her go, "How old is she, twelve?"

"Eleven, she's tall for her age," Claudia answered, and then she said. "Nick, I saw you looking around earlier, so let's get something out of the way…her father and I split up back when I was with the ZYPD. He works for Zoogle now; pays his child support and sends Lisa a prepaid debit card for her birthday and for Christmas. That's pretty much all the contact I have with him—and it's all the contact I want."

"Ah, I see," Nick nodded, wondering why his collar suddenly felt tighter. Yes he'd been wondering where Lisa's father was; who wouldn't have, after all? But oh-kayyy, he could show some prescience, too. "Let me guess," he said "Lisa doesn't like to bet on air-hockey—or pretty much anything else—but some of her friends do. And lately they've been pestering her about it because they can't understand why she doesn't like to gamble; am I right?"

"That's about the size of it, Nick," Claudia answered with a sigh and a lopsided smile, "Not all stereotypes are based on species, y'know."

"Right," the red fox nodded dryly, and watched as she hefted her cane

"But…I didn't ask you to meet me here to talk about my daughter. Come on, let's take a walk. I need to keep this knee of mine moving if I don't want it to lock up on me later."

She led him along a pathway that skirted the edge of the park.

"So…who's Bogo got you reporting to?" she asked, opening the conversation.

"Lieutenant Saw," the fox replied, "He thought that since the diamond courier was working for The Company, the Organized Crime division should handle it."

Claudia looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously? I'd have thought that with a possible gang-war coming down, he'd have put you somewhere else,"

Nick only shrugged. "Ask him, not me."

"I intend to, next time I see him," his companion replied. "Anyway, Saw's good; has kind of a broomstick up his tail and carries a little bit of a chip on his shoulder, but other than that, he's okay."

"Well, what I like about him is, he's a paws-off kind of boss," Nick offered her a foxy grin. "Doesn't ride your back all the time; as long as you get results, he's happy."

"UNLESS he finds out you got there by taking shortcuts, Nick." Claudia had stopped and was pointing her cane at him. "If there's anything that sun-bear can't stand, it's a rogue cop; don't ever forget that."

"I won't," he promised, raising a skittish paw. Her rejoinder had caught him completely off-guard. To compensate, he attempted a half-jest. "Anyway, very shortly I'm going to be 3000 miles away from him."

His remark was anything but amusing to his companion. Her expression became instantaneously unreadable and then she was scanning their surroundings, paying especially close attention to the tree line.

After a long moment of this, she looked at him again. "Yes, I heard; you're heading off to Zoo York City, that so?"

"Yep, that's right," the fox replied, "I leave Friday. The trail's pretty much stone-cold dead on this end, so we need to see if we can pick it up back where it started." He had a strong impression that he wasn't telling this red panda anything she didn't already know. Even so it felt like something that needed to be said.

"Mmm-hmm," Claudia regarded a nearby tree for a second, chewing on a corner of her mouth as if mulling her next words. Then her eyes found his again. "Nick, there's no way to make a soft landing on this, so I'll just come right out and say it. If you're expecting any help from the ZYPD in trying to track down that diamond courier, you can disabuse yourself of that notion right now! The only thing you're going to get from Zoo York's Finest is at best, suspicion and at worst, outright hostility. You may even be subject to some departmental harassment. And believe me, these guys know a thing or two about how to tighten the screws."

"Because of what happened during the Finagle's raid?" Nick asked her. He was stunned but only mildly stunned. It went without saying that he couldn't go looking for The Company's diamond mule without bringing up that incident. And given what a debacle it had been, it was a no-brainer that the Zoo York City Police wouldn't be eager to talk about it.

…But, actual harassment? Okay, that went beyond his expectations.

"Exactly," Claudia cocked a finger and then tilted her head sideways. "Tell me, Detective Wilde," she said, becoming almost icily formal for a moment, "How much do you know about that raid?"

Nick scratched at an ear, deciding at once to skip the preliminaries and go right to the sordid details.

"Well if nothing else, I know it wasn't one of the ZYPD's prouder achievements; three officers killed, and at least ten wound…injured." For a second, he faltered, realizing that he was talking to one of those ten injured officers. It was wholly unnecessary; if the memory of the Finagles raid was getting to Claudia Nizhang, she refused to let it show. Her gaze remained steely and unflinching; he couldn't help but be impressed. "And only two survivors, out of the more than two dozen Company soldiers holed up inside that nightclub; sooo, I can't say I'm entirely surprised the ZYPD won't want to discuss it."

Claudia narrowed her eyes and her mouth compressed into a long, flat line.

"That's what it said in the papers, Wilde…but now let me tell you something that didn't make the 6 O'clock News. You see this?" She was patting her bad knee. "I didn't get this from any Company thug. It was—and I use the term loosely—friendly fire."

Nick gasped, now he was genuinely stunned. He tried to respond, but couldn't find the words.

Councilmammal Nizhang, however, had plenty of words, and to spare. "And I wasn't the only one either. At least one, possibly two of the officers killed in that raid got it the same way I did. And that also applies to maybe half of the cops who got hurt…and compared to some of the others, I got off easy. I know of at least one officer who lost his eyesight and another who's going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. And none of that's on The Company, NOW do you understand? If what I just told you ever becomes public knowledge, there'll be a feeding frenzy in the press…and that'll be just for starters. The Governor will demand an investigation, and he'll get it. And then the Zoo York City Police Department will get ripped up one side and down the other; probably the Mayor's office, too. So what do you think will happen if some out-of-town rookie detective strolls in and starts dredging up The Company's downfall all over again?"

Nick nodded and swallowed a lump. There was no need to respond; the answer to her question was self-evident. And now, finally, he was able to find his voice...sort of; the next thing he said came out as little more than a croak "Wha…? You're talking cover-up, Claudia."

"Yes, I am," the red panda responded, jutting her chin. Her gaze—and her voice— were as flinty as ever, "And don't ask me to either explain or apologize for any part I might have played in it, because that's not happening. I never met a cop in my life that didn't eventually have to choose between the lesser of two evils. It's a choice you'll have to make yourself someday...that is, if you haven't already."

Nick turned away for a second, unable to help himself. A wee, airy voice from a couple of years ago was echoing in his head. "ICE this weasel…!"

Claudia didn't seem to notice.

"And Zoo York isn't Zootopia, Nick; it's a completely different culture. You'll find that out for yourself when you get there."

"Ohhh-kayyy," He puffed out his cheeks, speaking in a taut voice, "So what should I do when I get there?"

For the first time in several minutes, his companion smiled; the poker-faced smirk of a game show host, just before informing a contestant that they answered the question correctly.

"You won't get any assistance from the ZYPD brass Nick. But from the rank-and-file you might—though not without a little help." She pulled out her wallet, searched through it for a second and then extracted a card, which she passed over to the fox. On it was a logo he recognized, an all-seeing eye with the words underneath, 'We Never Sleep.' Below this was a name, 'Martin J. Pennanti, Private Investigator', followed by an address and a phone number.

Nick studied it for a second and then looked up.

"Kind of retro, isn't it? Minkerton's hasn't used that emblem in more than a hundred years."

"What can I say?' Claudia shrugged, "Martin's a traditional kind of fisher."

A thread of ice ran through Nick's veins. A fisher; now there was a member of the weasel family you didn't want to fool with; only wolverines and ratels were tougher.

"Martin and I haven't talked in…oh, almost a year now," the red panda was saying, "I can't promise that he'll be willing, or even able to help you." She tapped the card with a finger-claw, "but if anyone can, it's him."

"Ummm, all right," Nick turned the card over in a fidgety gesture, "but Claudia, who is he?"

She straightened up as if preparing to swear allegiance.

"The best darn cop I ever knew!" Her voice was a mixture of reverence and defiance. "If you get stonewalled by the ZYPD, go and see him." She reached out and tapped the card again. "Tell him I sent you, and tell him this: 'Justice does not descend from its own pinnacle.' He'll know what it means."

"Justice does not…" Nick repeated the words under his breath, at the same time slipping the card into his own wallet. Catching a glimpse of his wristwatch he rolled it over and checked the time. He had another appointment today and the hour was getting close. "Anything else you can tell me?"

"Couple of things," Claudia said. "First one's kind of related to something I already mentioned. If you start to get too close to what really happened in Finagles, Chief Bogo's probably going to get a few phone-calls and/or memos from the Zoo York PD Commissioner's office, complaining about your behavior. I can help you with that, but be prepared. Second…got your cell phone handy?"

"Uh, yeah," the fox replied, reaching for his holster—before remembering he was a detective now and didn't wear one. Trying to appear as smooth as possible, he shifted his paw to the inside of his jacket and extracted his phone. "Okay…what?"

"Just hold on a second." Claudia had her own cell deployed and was thumbing in a set of instructions. After only a few seconds, Nick's phone pinged, alerting him to a new text message. "It's a list of places to eat in Zoo York," the red panda told him, nodding at his cell, "Places with good food but they won't break the budget; trust me, you're going to need it."

"Thanks." Nick studied the screen for a second. There were only eateries listed, no hotels. Claudia must have been aware that his choice of lodging was Chief Bogo's prerogative, not his own. Thinking about it, he mentally crossed his fingers. While he understood that the ZPD wasn't going to put him up in the likes of the Walrus Astauria, he could only hope that it wouldn't be the Bedbug Inn either. Like many another police official, the big Cape buffalo's philosophy was, pinch pennies first, ask questions never. "Anything else?" he asked, putting the phone away.

Claudia's answer was so long and drawn out, it almost might have come from a sloth.

"Mmmmm, noooo; I-I think that…about…covers it. If I come up with anything else you need to know, I'll call you. Oh, and don't hesitate to call ME if you have any more questions."

"I will," Nick promised, almost offering a ranger-scout and then stopping himself at the last second. Somehow, with this lady, it seemed utterly inappropriate. "Okay, I hope you don't mind me dashing off on you, but I have another meeting coming up and I don't want to be late."

"Of course, Detective," Claudia smiled and offered a paw, "In case I don't see you again before you leave, good luck." They shook, and then she cocked another finger, "and good hunting."

"Thanks Councilmammal," he answered her. He was thoroughly grateful for the information she'd provided—and even more grateful she hadn't asked him for any details regarding his next meeting.

Driving back to Precinct-1, Nick wished he could just go there directly. No such luck; while his meeting with Claudia Nizhang had been police business, the one yet to come was of an entirely fursonal nature. He'd have to return his car to the motor pool before going there.

After filing a brief report with Lt. Tufts, he caught a Red-Line Metro Train at Savanna Central Station. A half hour later found him once again in Happytown, standing in front of an all-too-familiar door. After straightening his jacket and checking his collar he raised a shaky finger to the doorbell. He was just about to push it, when he remembered and felt at his belt.

"Yes, yes…your badge is still there; now quit being such a wussy-fox and RING already."

Gritting his teeth, Nick did as his inner voice commanded. Almost at once he saw a shadow moving behind the frosted glass window in the center of the door. A part of him wanted to turn and run, but before his feet could even begin to comply, it swung open and there was his mother—wearing a striped apron, and a yellow scarf, wrapped around her head.

"Nicholas?"

"Hi Mom," he said, feeling his teeth gnash together even more tightly. Here it comes, 'What did you do this time?' followed by the inevitable inquiry about grandchildren.

"Well, what a wonderful surprise; come in, come in," she said, taking him by the paw, and ushering him into the house. "Can I take your jacket?"

"Uh sure," Nick replied, somehow managing to resist the urge to grab her by the shoulders and scream in her face, "What did you do with my real mother?" Turning his back he shrugged off his jacket, allowing her to hang it on the hallway coat rack. Almost immediately, her eyes were drawn to his waistline.

"Hrm, what's that Nicholas?"

Looking down, he saw that she was pointing to the detective's shield clipped to his belt. He tried not to roll his eyes. Here we go again.

"It's my new badge, Mom," he said, extracting it and flipping it open for her to see. "I've been promoted, I'm a detective now." To himself he added, "Give me strength."

"Oh Nicholas," her eyes were glistening and her voice was cracking in a thousand places. "Can I see?" She held out a paw to him.

"Uh, sure," he replied, passing it over to her…and at the same time covertly pinching himself. Ouch! No, this wasn't a dream.

Taking the badge in her paws, Ellen Wilde cradled it as if it were a sacred icon. "Oh Nicholas…this is wonderfu…"

"Hold it, hold it; time out! time out! time out!" He had formed a T with his paws and was slapping them against one another. That was all he could stand, and what the HECK? Was this the same vixen who'd answered the door the last time he was here?

"What is it, Son?" She was staring in wide-eyed confusion.

Nick pointed to the badge she was holding. "Okay, you believe that's the real thing, right?"

Her head tilted ten degrees right. "Of course, I do Nicholas, why wouldn't I?"

"Why wouldn't…?" he demanded, flabbergasted. He was waving his arms, looking as if he was preparing to take off and fly around the room, "Mom, the last time I was here, I showed up in my full patrolmammal's uniform and the first thing you said was, 'Take that thing off; do you know what the penalty is for impersonating a police officer?' For crying out loud, you believe my badge is real now, but you didn't believe it then…WHY?"

Her expression at once turned dark and sardonic, narrowed eyes and a jagged line for a mouth.

"Well, let's see," she said, returning the badge to him and leaning against the wall while tapping a finger against her muzzle, "There was the time you came home wearing those fake sanitation-worker's coveralls…"

Nick winced and almost bit his tongue. "Um…all right, Mom."

She didn't seem to hear him, turning her eyes upwards, as if searching for an errant fly. "…And the time you came home wearing those fake doctor's scrubs…"

"All right, Mom."

"…Complete with a lab coat and a stethoscope."

"All riiight, Mom."

"And let's not forget the time I opened the door and there you were, wearing a fake mail-carrier's uniform…"

"All right, Mom!"

"And every single time, the same thing happened, you slammed the door, threw your back against it, and then what were the first words out of your mouth?" Her right eyebrow had squiggled upwards into a question-mark.

"'I'm not here,'" Nick quoted himself, sighing and feeling his body sag. She had him; it was no use, she had him. Dangit, why were mothers always right, anyway? "All right Mom," he breathed, in a much softer voice than before.

She reached out and took him by the paws, apparently satisfied that her boy had been properly censured.

And then her eyes began to moisten again.

"I'm so very proud of you, Nicholas," she said, nodding at a picture on the wall. Nick didn't have to look to see which one, but he did anyway. Yep, it was him alright. "And I know that wherever your father is right now you've made him very, very happy. Not just an honest fox, but a police detective." She sniffed deeply, "Ohhh, I wish he was here right now."

"So do I," Nick answered in a cracking voice, his throat seeming to have filled with hot coals. And then he was hugging his mother and feeling her hug him back. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, Nicholas," she said, "but when am I going to see some grandchildren?"

Bang, there it was; the inevitable question.

And yet, this time it didn't seem to bother him, not nearly as much as before anyway. And so, for once he didn't push away from her. Heck, he didn't even feel himself stiffening. "Mom, I don't honestly know," he said, stepping back and taking her by the shoulders, "Right now, everything's up in the air with me making detective and all…and to tell the truth, this job doesn't exactly lend itself to being a good parent. I just got done talking with a former police detective whose ex never sees his kid…and that's just how she wants it." His paws went down to hers, and he gave them a little squeeze. "And that's one thing I do know; I don't want to have kids unless I'm sure I can be a good dad to them."

"Of course, you do, son." His mother smiled; it wasn't the answer she'd been looking for, but it was one she could live with. With that in mind, Nick decided to change gears.

"Uhmmm, but Mom, there's still one question you haven't answered. You explained why you didn't believe I was really a police officer the last time I was here—and okay, I get that. But you still haven't told me what changed your mind."

Ellen sighed and looked down for a second, but did not let go of him. "Can we go sit down for a minute?" she asked, and led him into the living room. A moment later, they were sitting together on the sofa, with her barely able to meet his gaze. "Give her space," he reminded himself, "She'll get there in her own good time."

Finally, she said, "It was because of that awful Rock Hardesty—wait no, Nick—no, I don't watch his show or listen to him. Let me finish, please."

"Sorry, Mom," Nick wanted to kick himself. Come on—had she, or had she not just referred to the hyrax as 'that AWFUL Rock Hardesty?' "Cripes, cut her a little slack!" he mentally rebuked himself.

She nodded and then went on.

"I was in the check-out line at Cub Foods and there was this Mouflon Sheep ahead of me, talking on her cell phone about a video she'd seen on the Hardesty Show, something about a fox and bunny behaving badly. Normally, I would have paid no attention but then I heard her speak your name. So, when I got home, I went to Hardesty's website and looked it up."

"Mom," Nick said to her trying to put it as gently as he could, "You shouldn't have gone there." God only knew what she'd seen on that site.

"Yes, Nicholas," she sniffed, "B-But I HAD to know." Another sniff; "Oh Son, he said just the most horrible things about you…" She seemed unable to continue for a second, but it didn't matter; Nick knew what she'd been about to say before her voice failed her, "…and that bunny."

She sniffed a third time, but deeply and then cleared her throat, as if putting it all behind her; she even managed a ragged smile. "But at least I found out once and for all that you really were a police officer. That's one good thing I got out of visiting that website." Without warning, she took his paws again, "And…and I'm sorry for not believing you earlier, son."

"Aw Mom; don't worry about it." He smiled, giving her paws a little squeeze. But then he felt the smile fading as he became aware of an elephant in the room. And the longer he ignored it, the bigger it was going to get. "Since we're already on the subject though, I might as well tell you now. Judy...I-I mean Detective Hopps and I are no longer partners. We asked the Chief to separate us, and we've agreed not to see each other again…on or off duty."

His mother's reaction was yet another surprise. "Oh Nick, I'm so sorry." It wasn't the words, but the fact that he had spoken them with complete sincerity. This wasn't just her, trying to spare his feelings.

Maybe so but it was still time for him to get his diplomat on.

"Mom…when I was here last…you just about had a conniption when you found out about her."

"I did no such thing!" she snapped, but then hastily backpedaled. "It wasn't because she's a bunny, son. I would have felt the same way if she was a different pred species than you…even a grey fox."

There was meaning behind those words, and Nick grasped it almost at once.

"Because red and grey foxes can't have cubs," he thought but didn't say. They were back to the subject of grandchildren again, no surprise there.

The next thing she said, however, hit closer to home, "And also because you felt that you needed to keep her a secret from me."

Nick's mouth pulled backwards in a pained grimace and he looked away from her, wondering again, why were mothers always right? Prior to his last visit, he'd never once mentioned Judy Hopps to her—and even when he had it was only after she'd brought it up.

And she still had more to say.

"Oh Nick, I knew you were going to get hurt over her the minute I found out. It wasn't anything I thought, but I just felt it so strongly."

"Ahhh, what can I say Mom, your instincts were dead on target," he conceded with a rueful nod. "You're right; I did end up getting hurt—and I'm still hurting," he added silently, surprising himself.

"Yes, I know," she nodded back, blinking. "But Nicholas, even in my worst moments, I never dreamed it would get as bad as it did. Mammals chanting slogans at you in the street; I had no idea!" Her ears abruptly turned backwards. "Ooooo, that little jerk, Hardesty; he was almost gloating about it. When I heard that, I decided right then and there to call his show and give him a piece of my mind."

"Oh Mom, you didn't!" Nick was staring in wide-eyed shock. Was there ANYTHING that could have made the situation worse?

"Well…I tried," she said, rolling her lips in embarrassment, "But they wouldn't let me on the air."

"Lucky for you," Nick answered, letting out a huge breath. "Hardesty's got a habit of hanging up on callers when they start to score points with him—and then trashing them out to his audience after they're gone."

"He does WHAT?" Now Ellen was the one staring horrified. "Ohhh son, if I'd known that, I'd never have called him."

"It's okay, don't worry about it," Nick repeated again, patting her paw and getting rewarded with a wan smile. For several seconds afterwards, an awkward silence reigned.

"So, uh…have you been assigned a case yet?" His mother asked hesitantly; she was obviously grasping for a new subject. Fortunately for the both of them, it was a topic her son could easily talk about.

"Sure have," he said, "Chief Bogo's given me the job of tracking down a diamond smuggler." From there, he went on to tell her the story; his interrogation of the Rafaj brothers and how he'd figured out that a member of the Company was loose somewhere in Zootopia.

All the while, his mother listened with rapt attention. At one point she observed, "Looks like all those hustling skills were good for something besides peddling bootleg pawpsicles, Son."

"Tell me about it," Nick grinned at her. When it came to his current assignment, however, he had to be a lot more circumspect. There were more than a few details that he simply couldn't discuss—not just with her but with anyone else who didn't need to know. That held doubly true for the card Claudia Nizhang had given him. He hadn't mentioned that, even in the report he'd filed with Lieutenant Saw. "So I'm leaving for Zoo York City on Friday; gonna try to see if I can pick up his trail from that end, That's why I wanted to see you Mom; I wanted to let you know that I'm going to be out of town for a while," Actually, there was more to it than just that; he had originally planned to tell her that he was not leaving Zootopia because the law was after him. No need for that now of course, but…wait, what? "Mom, what's wrong?" Her left ear had begun to twitch, the way it always did when she had a bad feeling about something.

"I'm just worried about you and that gang…The Company, did you call them? The way you talk about them Nicholas, they make the Tundratown Mob look like The Ranger Sc…like a Kindergarten class."

Nick let out a long, slow breath. Whoa, if she'd almost referenced the Junior Ranger Scouts without realizing it, she was seriously worried about him. Moving quickly to reassure her, he said, "Mom, you don't have to worry about those guys; they were taken out of action more than three years ago. There are only two members of The Company still alive right now, and they're both behind bars, doing 25-to-life."

"Two…don't you mean three?" his mother was looking up at him sharply. "Didn't you just tell me there's a third member of that gang, still alive, and still on the street?" It was meant as a rebuttal, but it actually served to bolster Nick's argument.

"Yes, I did, and that's why I have to go," He told her, tight-lipped and grim, "We can NOT have a former member of The Company running loose in Zootopia." He almost added 'especially now', but stopped himself just in time. The gang-war brewing between Mr. Big and the Red Pig was most definitely not a topic for public consumption. "He's already corrupted one very promising young fox and if he's not put away, who knows what other damage he might cause." None of this was exactly true, but the whole truth was a luxury that Nick Wilde couldn't afford—not yet, anyway.

"I…understand," his mother said, nodding reluctantly, but still with a measure of pride in her voice; look out, Zoo York, here comes my son the detective. "How long will you be gone?" she asked.

He leaned back against the sofa, drumming his fingers on his knee.

"Mmmnnn, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure. I guess until I either find what I'm looking for or Chief Bogo orders me back home." Or, if his mission should prove to be a goose chase...but he shouldn't even be thinking about that possibility. So instead, he half smiled and said, "But I-I-I suspect there may be another reason why Big Chief Buffalo Nickel is sending me to Zoo York.

Ellen's brows knitted together. "Nicholas! Show some respect for your superiors. All right, what?"

A long smirk creased his muzzle, half wry and half sly.

"Because of Officer Hopps; ever since we ended our partnership, the Department's been doing everything under the sun to make sure we don't run into each other, even by mistake." He gave a small wink, "And that possibility doesn't get any more remote than if I'M in Zoo York City and she's here in Zootopia."

"No, I supposed it doesn't," his mother agreed, unable to keep from smiling. From the direction of the kitchen, a timer pinged. Ellen turned and looked towards it and then back at Nick.

"'Kay, there's dinner; why don't you stay, son?"

He stood up, smiling warmly.

"You know what, Mom? I believe I will."

She got up too, and gave him a lick on cheek.

At the same time this was happening, another fox was sitting in a zero-gravity chair, speaking into his headset and frowning deeply.

Conor Lewis didn't like the idea of having to involve someone else in this enterprise; even less did he like the idea of having to communicate with them directly. Unfortunately, it couldn't be helped; the ZAPA auditions were almost within shouting distance and he simply didn't have time to make the usual set up; it was this or nothing.

In the beginning he had been determined to go it alone; he would make it to Erin's audition performance without any extra help. It was a position he'd maintained right up until the previous weekend. But even before then, an unsettling prospect had begun to loom. From his forays into the ZPD database, Conor had learned that Tuff-Guy Tufts was aware, or at least suspected that he might be planning to put in a clandestine appearance at those auditions. There'd been nothing definite—but with every passing day it was becoming more and more probable that the Kaibab squirrel and his merry band of geeks was planning to stake out the ZAPA auditions. If that happened, no way could he make this a solo flight.

The final nail had been when he'd learned the auditions were being moved to the Gazelle Amphitheater. That was it, resistance was useless; he either took on an assistant—or else he took a hike. And since the latter wasn't an option, here he was, inside the Furaday cage that he called the Furrison Hotel and plugged into the Dark Web by way of the computer known simply as The Beast. On the center screen of the console in front of him was the face of a young, four-point axis deer buck; three ear piercings, a nose piercing, and antlers covered in dark-red lacquer, giving him something of a demonic vibe—an effect greatly enhanced by the pendant worn around his neck, an inverted, jet-black pentagram. His name was Cary Vanderhoof, although he preferred to be addressed by his street-name of EventoeZ, or Eez for short. On the screen to the right was a digitally altered image of the young fox's own face—as it was appearing to the animal on the other end of the chat. Basically, it was the face of a young silver fox; Conor Lewis, before his transmutation into an arctic fox.

He had a VERY good reason for doing this; tonight was not the first time that he and Eez had met, ditto for their previous online chat sessions. Their initial encounter had been of the face-to-face variety—sort of, since Conor had been muzzled at the time.

It had happened at the tail-end of the young silver fox's arraignment, before his escape from custody. When the bailiffs had taken hold of him, and begun to lead out of the courtroom, he'd commenced to whistle the melody from the old rock-and-roll tune, "I Fought The Law."

The first one to recognize it had been Eez—who'd been instantly on his hooves and applauding, joined in rapid succession by every other kid in the courtroom. Later, in the city youth-jail, the young deer buck had given him a big thumbs-up. The bottom line was, he knew what Conor actually looked like…and so what he was seeing tonight was the kid he knew from court and from detention.

Ahhhh, the fugitive young silver fox lamented to himself, if he'd only known then what he knew now, this was how he would have appeared to Eez the first time they chatted. It would have saved a whole lot of grief.

Tracking him down had been, well, easy. According to the court records, there had been exactly ONE axis deer buck scheduled to appear before Judge Schatten on the day of Conor's arraignment. Digging a little deeper, he'd been delighted to learn that Eez had been arrested for reprogramming a freeway sign to read. "My Stepdad Abuses My Mom." followed by his stepfather's name and phone number. This kid was not someone to just take it lying down—and he had some 'mad computer skillZ' of his own. It might be useful to have someone like that in his corner.

But then had come the more difficult part, getting Eez to believe that he was who he said he was,

"Yeah babe, swear to God…I'm the real Conor Lewis."

"Uh-huh, surrrre you are, homes. And uh... how many times does this make you've been trying to contact me about my car's extended warranty?"

The problem was that Conor had been wearing a mask the first time they chatted—a mask he couldn't take off, not without revealing the changes he'd made to his appearance. Small wonder then, that the young axis deer-buck had been initially distrustful of him.

In retrospect, he should have known better. By that time, there'd been at least two other kids posting messages online, claiming to be Conor Lewis. It had taken a blistering guitar solo on the young fox's part to at least break the ice—and even then Eez had remained mostly unconvinced.

"Okay dude, if you're really him, tell me this. What was the last thing you said to the judge before they put that straitjacket on you?"

"It wasn't a straitjacket, it was a muzzle and shackles," the young fox had answered at once, "and I didn't say anything to Judge Predd after they put it on me. I talked to one of the bailiff's though; she asked me if I needed any help and I said I could manage it, just don't ask me to move too fast."

That was what had finally turned the trick. Eez Vanderhoof had become an instant believer, gushing almost like a groupie. "Oh wow dude, it really is you; ohhhh, this is soooo sick…" From there he had launched into an almost breathless recitation of what sounded like a nihilist manifesto, a broad-brush denunciation of any and all authority, coupled with a host of grandiose ideas.

For the next few minutes, Conor had listened to him ramble; the more he heard, the more he'd begun to wonder if contacting this deer-kid had been such a good idea. He'd met guys like him before; there's one at every skate-park and shopping mall, the kid who wears his heart on his sleeve—and an anarchist's 'A' on his heart, the kid who rebels strictly for the sake of rebellion.

That was Eez Vanderhoof five sides from Sunday. At one point, he'd removed his shirt to reveal a crude design shaved into his chest-fur; the face of Che Guanaco—an animal about whom he'd turned out to know nothing beyond the fact that he was a revolutionary and 'he's cool'. He didn't even seem to realize that his idol was long dead.

Conor had nearly logged out of their chat right then, but then he'd remembered something else. Say what you want about the young anarchist crowd; their loyalty to those they revered was blind, unswerving…almost fanatical.

And in the eyes of this young deer-buck, Conor Severus Lewis was practically a demigod.

Now, chatting with him again, the fugitive young silver fox was sincerely glad he hadn't dropped Eez when he'd had the chance—and in any case, his needs at the moment outweighed any lingering misgivings.

"Okay, tell me again; what are you going to do after you log out of here?"

At once, the young axis deer-buck straightened up in his chair, assuming an almost military bearing.

"I'm gonna ping one of my buds—just one of my buds—and make sure it's someone that I know I can trust. I'm gonna tell him to be at the Zootopia Performing Arts Academy on Saturday and go to the Gazelle Amphitheater where the auditions for the new students are happening. He'll need to bring a chartreuse hoodie with him—but not put it on until he hears the signal, which is the sound of an air-horn on the PA system. After I tell him this, I'm to tell him to pass the word to one, only ONE other kid that he knows he can trust, and then have that kid pass it on to someone he trusts. Or, uh...that she trusts," he amended quickly, "It doesn't have to be a guy."

"Ehhh-xellent," Conor nodded his approval, more satisfied than ever that he hadn't dropped this kid from his contact list. This was the third time he'd asked the young deer-buck to repeat his instructions; anyone else would have started an argument, 'What the heck do you need to hear it AGAIN for?' but not Eez; he was the perfect choice for the job.

A ping sounded in the young fox's ear, reminding him that he was closing in on his time limit. Following his escape from custody he had established a rigid set of boundaries for himself; for example, no more than two online chat sessions per day and no more than 30 minutes per chat—not counting his regular sessions with Guildenkranz of course.

Guild…

Whoa-boy, he'd have a meltdown if he ever discovered Conor had planned for this coming Saturday—which was why the young silver fox hadn't breathed so much as a word about it to his online collaborator.

To Eez he said, "Good work, my mammal…but now I need to get outta here." He didn't explain why and the young deer buck didn't ask; another small thing in his favor.

"Gotcha fox," he said, shooting a finger at Conor's screen, "'It is a good life we lead, brother.'"

"We work in the dark to serve the light," The young fox quoted back, trying not to groan as he spoke the words. "This isn't some stupid computer-game, dimbulb!" And then Eez's face disappeared from the screen.

For the next few minutes, Conor just leaned back in his chair, focusing on his breathing. In through the nose, and out through the mouth; in through the nose and out through the mouth.

Over the past few weeks he'd been a busy young mammal—and not just with his plans to attend Erin's audition. With Guild's help, the new identity he was creating for himself was coming along nicely. On the other paw, his attempts to ferret out the location of the 'second' secret loft, the one hidden somewhere in Zoo York City, were proving to be an exercise in frustration. Almost certainly it had been constructed inside a facility originally built for the same purpose as the place where he lived now. The only problem was, there were literally dozens of these structures, scattered across every single one of ZYC's Five Burrows. Even after eliminating the ones that had either been torn down or repurposed, there'd still been plenty left to go around. Agggghh, grrrr...how the heck was he supposed to tell which, out of all these joints, was the one that had been co-opted by The Company? The only other clues he had were buried somewhere in his memory; the conversations he'd overheard but given almost no thought to at the time.

And that was why he was leaning back in his zero-gravity chair with his eyes closed and his fingers laced together on top of his head, breathing….breathing. What was it he'd heard Gerry saying to Kieran that one time? "That place was good against…" the cops? Nooo, not the cops, but who…? Breathe in…breathe out...in through the nose, out through the…

The Zookranians! That was what Gerry had said, "That place was… no, it would have been good against the Zookranians."

Conor sat up in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "Foxin' A! It's not a hideout, it's a war room." And then he fell backwards again, half growling half sighing to himself, "Hey, brilliant deduction Slylock…now tell me how THAT'S supposed to help you find the place."

It wouldn't…and the young fox knew it. The only answer he could come with was. "Ahhh, the heck with this; I need to snag some grub." He had skipped lunch and by now, his stomach was sending up distress flares.

He tilted the chair up into a vertical position and got out of it.