The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One: Fuel - 40

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

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The Fire Triangle-A Zootopia Fanfiction

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Part One:

Fuel

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Chapter 4 - The Wizard of Chaos(Continued...Pt. 9)

"What you must understand everyone is that Nighthowler serum is tricky stuff."

All of the bunnies in the waiting area nodded and looked at Dr. Honeybadger. Every face was rapt with attention-every face but one; Judy Hopps was leaning against the wall with crossed arms and a cross expression. (Nick Wilde didn't look any happier.) Hmph, as if she didn't know that already. "No kidding Basil of Baker Street!"

That, however, was the last thing the Doctor said she hadn't heard before.

"Nightowler toxin is an anomaly," the portly honey-badger told them. At some point after her arrival, she had donned a lab coat; it gave her the same busy appearance Judy remembered from their first encounter at the Cliffside Asylum.

"Technically, a poison like this shouldn't exist," She went on, "it acts quickly, but at the same time the effect is not merely long lasting, it's permanent; that's supposedly impossible, especially for an agent that's all but undetectable in the body by any forensic means." She looked at Judy for a second, "Believe me, I know. Not one of the original 14 missing mammals showed even a trace of poison in their systems."

Judy held the Doctor's gaze for a moment and then looked away, biting her lip. What was it she had overheard Hizzoner saying to her again? "I've got a dozen and a half animals here who've gone off the rails crazy and you can't tell me why!" In referring to that statement, was she still trying to duck her share of the responsibility for his actions, even now?

No, Judy decided, what the honey-badger just said had been a simple statement of fact, not a plea of innocence...and also a reminder that, like it or not, there was no one that knew more about the effects of Nighthowler serum than Dr. Magdalena 'Madge' Honeybadger.

As she now proceeded to demonstrate...

"It's not the Nighthowler toxin itself that causes the victim to go savage, what it does instead is trick the body into producing and releasing a set of very powerful hormones. These hormones in turn trigger what's known the Fight or Flight Response; the heart rate increases, the pupils dilate, the blood pressure spikes, and body liberates any stored fats and sugars for increased muscular action; that's why animals darted with Nighthowler show such a marked increase in speed and strength. The next thing that happens is the combination of hormones suppresses the flight response, while at same time boosting the fight response. Last but not least, they shut down the higher brain functions, turning the victim into a mindless aggressor, an animal who knows only that it must destroy any other animal that comes within its space; in other words, a savage."

She paused for a moment to allow any questions. The first to raise his paw was Stu Hopps, "But how does it manage to drive these animals completely off the deep end like that?"

"I'm glad you asked, Mr. Hopps," the honey-badger answered, waving an appreciative finger. "It's because Nighthowler toxin doesn't merely trigger the hormonal process I just mentioned, it throws it into overdrive. What you get is the aggressive side of the fight or flight response, jacked up to a literally insane level. It's like stomping down on your car's gas pedal so hard that you jam the accelerator open at full throttle."

"I see," Stu nodded, looking thoughtful.

There were no other questions and Dr. Honeybadge went on with her lecture.

"As I said before, we can't detect the presence of Nighthowler toxin in the body, but we can detect the hormonal response to it-and it's a very distinctive reaction; we call it the Nighthowler paw-print, it's never seen anywhere except in response to Nighthowler poisoning." She looked at Bonnie, "That's how we'll determine the best way to treat your brother. In fact, I've already ordered a full blood work-up. Once we know the level of hormones in his system, I'll be able to determine the proper dosage of the antidote and he should be just fine."

A collective sigh of relief breezed around the reception area, coming to an abrupt halt when a skeptical voice piped up.

"Should be?"

Everyone turned, it was Nick Wilde speaking. Several ears went back and several feet began to thump...and not in a friendly manner. The fox didn't care; it was a fair question and he knew it.

So did Dr. Honeybadger; her eyes began to semaphore and she started grasping for words.

"Yes, errrr...since we can't be certain of exactly what happened at the Carrot Days Festival, I hesitate to...ah, deliver a verdict....mmm, set in stone." She looked at Bonnie again, only this time she was barely able to meet the Hopps Family matriarch's eyes.

"Because of that, I'm...afraid I'll need to ask you to sign a release form before I can administer any treatment."

"I'll sign it," Bonnie answered, in that firm voice her family knew so well, "I'll sign it right now if you want."

"I hate to ask." The honey-badger said, unaware that she was quoting one of her patient's most oft used lines, "But in a situation like this, I'm afraid it's necessary."

Off to the side, Judy was nudging Nick in the side and offering him a thumbs-up. 'Way to go, that's how you cut a fake down to size!' she seemed to be saying.

"But what could have happened to my brother-in-law?" Stu Hopps suddenly lamented, giving voice to the question that had been on everyone's mind ever since the incident at the Festival. "No one was shooting any Nighthowler darts at Carrot Days!"

The query seemed to revive Dr. Honeybadger's confidence and when she answered the bunny's question, she was looking straight at him.

"I won't lie; we may never know exactly what it was that triggered his episode...although we can speculate." She shifted her attention to the group as a whole. "Most of the animals I've talked to since I got here seem to think that Mr. Haredigg suffered some kind of a flashback, am I correct in that assessment?"

She was met by a thicket of nodding faces, and quickly nodded back.

"I agree," she said, "but that episode didn't just happen spontaneously; something triggered it, something that I'm guessing Mr. Haredigg ate."

"Such as?" Violet Hopps' nose was twitching in all four directions at once; some of Nick and Judy's distrust seemed to have rubbed off on her

"Such as just about anything Vi," her father answered, before the honey-badger. could respond, "You saw what kinds of junk-foods they were selling out at the Carrot Days Festival; who knows what was in that stuff?"

"And you know your Uncle Terry," her mother put in, "He'll eat whatever you put in front of him...as long as it's bad for you."

A wave uneasy laughter rippled through the group, and Dr. Honeybadger smiled quietly to herself. Jack LaPeigne had been right; they had swallowed everything she'd told them...because it was what they wanted to believe. Heck if she had given them the truth, they'd have probably thought it was a bad joke. 'Someone accidentally fed Uncle Terry a Nighthowler pellet? Sorry, that's not funny!'

When she had worked for Leodore Lionheart, Doctor H. had quickly discovered how adept he was at manipulating public opinion...but compared to Jack LaPeigne he'd been a street corner heckler with a soap box. (Of course, she hastily reminded herself, much of that had to do with the fact that the big bunny was also far more ruthless than the former mayor; he had no compunction about the use of methods that even the most cynical politician wouldn't touch.)

She said, "I can worry about what caused the episode later. Right now I'm more concerned with deciding on a proper treatment for Mr. Haredigg, and so, if you'll please excuse me..."

"Yes, please go ahead," Bonnie told her and there were more nods of agreement, including from both Nick and Judy this time. Though neither one of them completely trusted Dr. Honeybadger, like it or not, she was the only game in town.

Erin found Conor Lewis on the Hopps Family Warren's eastside terrace again. This time, instead of pulling weeds, the young silver fox was lounging in an Adirondack chair with his laptop propped up on one knee. Okay, that was acceptable, the white-furred, black-tipped young bunny decided, it didn't count as work.

"Hey," she said, holding up an enameled pitcher and offering him a plastic cup, "I brought some more switchell, want some?"

"Yeah, great," the young fox answered, closing the laptop and setting it aside.

Erin gave him the pitcher and let him pour for both of them, then she settled down on the adjacent chair and pointed to a paper bag she'd she also brought with her.

"I've got scones too; help yourself."

Conor leaned over and reached for the sack.

"Got any blackberry scones in there?" he asked. Nick Wilde liked blueberries; he liked blackberries.

"I think there's one or two," Erin answered him.

Conor found what he was looking for and sat back in his chair again, taking a brief nibble from the edge the scone.

"Thanks."

"Welcome," the young bunny told him. She settled back in her own chair and took a sip of switchell. She had changed into denim shorts and a tank top, with a big floppy hat perched on her head, much like the one favored by her older sister, Judy. Conor thought she looked lovely.

"For a bunny," he hastily reminded himself.

She took another, longer sip and regarded her cup thoughtfully for a moment.

And then she looked over at the fox sitting beside her.

"Say Conor, have you ever thought about trying to get into the Zootopia Academy for the Performing Arts?"

He took a small bite from his scone before answering.

"I used to, all the time," he said.

Erin felt her nose twitching,

"Used to?" she asked, and then wanted to kick herself, realizing what must have happened. He'd wanted to go to ZAPA, but his grades hadn't been good enough; when was she going to learn to think before opening her mouth?

Conor's answer however was completely unexpected.

"Yeah, I don't need to get in there anymore."

That brought the young bunny's ears up and made her want to thump her foot;"Why you arrogant...!"

"Oh you think you're too good for that place. Is that it?" she said, unable to keep the mockery out of her voice.

"Who, me?" Conor answered, looking genuinely surprised, "No way; I could never be that good."

Now Erin's nose wasn't just twitching, it was working around in a circle, as if a fly had landed on it while her paws were full. What the heck, now?

"What don't you want to go there anymore?" she asked. Given his guitar and vocal skills, she found that one nearly impossible to believe. She took another sip of her drink, actually along pull.

"Heck no," Conor answered, setting down his own cup, "Going to ZAPA has been my dream since my first day in Zootopia."

"Then why...?"

Only half of the question had time to form before a brick wall ran into Erin Hopps as full tilt. Sweet cheez n' crackers, it had been right there in front of her all along!

The switchell she'd been drinking exploded out of her nose like the blast of a double-barreled water cannon, leaving her sputtering and choking and nearly beside herself.

"Erin what...?" Conor asked, still holding up his arm to shield himself. (The discharge had missed him by less than an inch.)

The young bunny coughed and shook her head and then she was staring at the silver fox as if he'd just sprouted a pair of dragon's wings.

"You...already go there!" It was a declaration, not a question...and also nearly a scream.

"Uh yeah, I got in with the first class last year," he said. He was looking at her as if he couldn't understand what the heck was the big deal here?

"Then..." Erin tried to say but the words hung up on a choke. She coughed and tried again. "Then why didn't you ever SAY anything?" Her voice was nearly shrill enough to crack a window.

"Because I didn't think I needed to," Conor told her simply, and seeing the bunny's expression, he turned in his chair to face her. "Here," he said, offering her a paper napkin. She took it without thinking and began to dry herself as best as she could; (it was about the size of a playing card.)

"Erin, lemme just say this," he told her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, "I didn't keep quiet about going to ZAPA coz I was waiting for the right time to spring it on you. It was because..." he looked around as if searching for just the right words, and then looked at her again.

"Look, where do you think I'm ranked in my class right now?" he asked her.

She crushed the tissue into tiny a pill, regarding the young fox sourly.

"Dead last?" she offered, nose pinching up into a sneer

"Har, har...no, seriously," he said

Erin's nose stopped crinkling and began to twitch; a tremor came into her voice.

"Are you...class valedictorian?" she asked tentatively.

Conor snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

"No Erin, that's what I'm trying to tell you, there IS no class valedictorian at the Academy; no Honor Roll or a Dean's List either. At ZAPA, everyone is judged strictly on their own performance, not against each other." He lifted up his pawlms as if to show he had nothing up his sleeve. "I know what my grades are, but I don't know how I stack up against everyone else; the Academy doesn't post your grades, you get them e-mailed to you at home." He flipped a paw back and forth. "Oh, I could ask around and get some idea of where I'm ranked, but the school wouldn't like it if I did." His head tilted five degrees to the right. "You follow what I'm bringing out?"

"I-I...think so." Erin eyed him cautiously. He could see that she had almost grasped it, but not quite, a moth fluttering just beyond her reach.

He said, "I don't talk much about going to the Performing Arts Academy coz that's the first step down a slippery slope; first you're talking, then you're bragging about going there. And prima donnas don't last long in that place. I saw some of the smartest, most talented kids I ever met end up leaving coz they couldn't keep a lid on their attitudes; two quit and one got expelled."

Erin looked at him for a long second, and then she looked away.

"Tell me the truth fox...do you think I'm a prima donna?"

He smiled and almost took her paw; then pulled away before she could pull away.

"No Erin," he told her, "I'll admit that I did when we first met, but when I saw how bad you wanted to get back on that stage again, I knew that I was wrong. If you'd been that kind of bunny your attitude would've been, 'The heck with this, I'm too awesome for your crummy little talent show anyway!"'

The young bunny grinned in spite of herself, "Hey I thought sour grapes were a fox thing," she said, but Conor remained serious.

"They are kiddo, they are." He said, "You want a Prima Donna? I got yer Prima Donna right here."

Erin's eyes widened and her mouth fell open; he was pointing at himself with a pair of fingers

"You?" she said, nose twitching again.

"Me," he admitted with a quiet nod, "I almost washed out of the Academy too. But I got lucky; I had someone who believed in me enough to take me aside and straighten me out. I didn't like what she had to say at first, but now I think it was the best advice I ever got. 'The only animal you have to be better than is the animal you were yesterday,' is what she told me. That's why I don't talk so much about going to ZAPA. I hope you understand that."

"I do." She said...and in some weird and crazy way, she did; she could never explain it to anyone else, but somehow everything the fox had just told her made perfect sense.

But then...'she' Erin realized abruptly; he had said 'she'...and did that bother her? Noooo of course not...and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was suddenly at loss for words. No! Way!

Groping for something to say in a silence that was becoming rapidly awkward, the young bunny just latched onto the first thing that came to her.

"My audition is coming up next month." She said. "Maybe you could come and join me onstage again."

The young fox instantly shook his head, putting emphasis on the gesture by fanning his pawlm in a flat, sideways motion.

"Can't," he told her, "it's not allowed. When you perform for your ZAPA audition, it's just you and an Mp3, or a tape, or a disc. The school wants to keep the playing field level."

"Yeah, I guess," Erin admitted, half grudging and half contrite. No, it wouldn't be fair when you thought about it; some kids with back up and others all by themselves. Like it or not, it was the fair way to do things. But then she heard a noise and saw Conor was sniggering.

"What?"

He shook his head again, but this time almost gleefully.

"Oh I was just remembering last year, there was this one kid, keyboard player, his parents brought a whole band along to help him out, bass, guitar, drums, even a sax...professional musicians, wouldja believe; I later heard the bill came to something like over four grand." He laughed again, "Whoa, were his folks torqued when they found out he had to go it alone, they threatened to sue the school and every stupid thing."

"Did they?" an obvious question but Erin had to ask it.

The young fox's laughter ceased but a smile remained in its wake.

"Naw, they didn't need to; he got accepted anyway, went out there to his keyboard set up and just crushed it, no-back up required. Later on, when they read out the list of the kids who'd been accepted, he went straight up to his folks as soon as he heard his name. "See, I TOLD you I could handle it on my own!"

Now Erin was laughing—and clapping her paws

"I like this kid," She said.

"Me too," Conor told her, "Him and me got to be real good friends. His name's Mike Daehan, he's an Asian black rat. We jam together all the time; whoa, he plays a mean synth-piano."

"Ooo, I want to meet him," the white furred bunny said, mildly surprising herself; (if anyone had suggested even the day before yesterday that she might one day look forward to meeting a rat...) "But you'll still come to watch my audition, won't you?" She said; her expression almost coy.

Conor smiled, "Now, THAT I can manage; wouldn't miss it for anything Erin."

"Promise me you won't." she said, eyeing him with a sudden, startling intensity

"I won't miss it." he reassured her, raising his paws, "Don't worry, I'll be there.

"No, promise me!' she insisted, sitting up and thumping her foot.

Conor started to laugh but then stopped when he realized she was serious.

"Silly rabbit," he grumbled silently, and then raised his right paw, intoning in a voice of deep, feigned gravity, "I, Conor Severus Lewis do solemnly swear that I will for sure not miss attending the Zootopia Academy of the Performing Arts Audition of Miss Erin Whatever-The-Heck-Her-Middle-Name-Is..."

"It's Janelle..." she interrupted.

"...of Miss Erin Janelle Hopps," the young fox corrected smoothly, and then putting his other paw over his heart he added, "And if I should fail to keep this promise, may heaven strike me rich."

Erin swatted him with her hat again, "Oh, you!"

This time Conor saw it coming and ducked neatly underneath, with a sly, foxy grin.

He had no way of knowing that by the time of the white-furred bunny's ZAPA audition, he would be running for his life.

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"You wanted to see me privately, Doctor?"

"Yes sir, could you come in please and shut the door behind you?" Her voice was meek, but unafraid.

"All right," Jack LaPeigne stepped into the room and closed the door, hiding his irritation. From the tone of Dr. Honeybadger's voice, whatever she had to say to him was important, if not necessarily urgent-and if that was the case they should be meeting in the Command Car, not here in an empty office with a nonstop parade of nurses, doctors, etc. passing by in the hall just outside.

He pulled out his carrot-pen and clicked the switch, setting it on the desktop and settling himself into a chair opposite Dr. H, who had ensconced herself behind a cheap, metal desk; this office belonged to some maintenance honcho, not to any physician or staff member.

"Well?" he said, putting on his favorite, 'this-had-better-be-good' face.

The honey badger looked left and right before replying.

"Sir, I have the lab results from Terry Haredigg's blood workup..."

"What have you found, have you started treatment?" the big rabbit brusquely interrupted her. He wanted to get back to the Hopps family, to one Hopps family member in particular.

Doctor Honeybadger answered the second question first.

"I've started him on a glucose drip and administered 30 cc's of Tessyl....err Morningmew sir. He should be fine by tomorrow morning."

Jack felt his nose twitching and his ears standing at attention. That was only a little more than half the standard dosage needed to undo the effects of a Nighthowler pellet. However, he had another, more immediate inquiry.

"Not until tomorrow morning?" he asked; he had hoped to have everything set right by this evening.

Dr. Honeybadger's face became a mask of contempt.

"I wish it could be sooner Mr. La Peigne," she said, "but the idiot ER doc they have here sedated Mr. Haredigg from here to Dumbjerk Egypt...on TOP of the trank darts; it's a miracle they didn't put him into coma, Nighthowler or no Nighthowler.

"Yesssss," Jack's voice came out as a low, frustrated hiss, "And speaking of Nighthowler, I couldn't help noticing..."

"...that I prescribed a much smaller dose of the antidote than you expected," she finished for him. "Yes sir, and that's what I wanted to talk to you privately about. Believe it or not, Terry Haredigg really did have a flashback episode...of sorts anyway," she hastily qualified her statement.

Now it wasn't only the big bunny's ears that were standing upright, his entire body had gone rigid and ramrod-straight.

"Well I'll be fricasseed...seriously?"

"Yes Mr. LaPeigne," Madge Honybadger's nod was a sober as temperance meeting, "I went over the test results three times just to be sure; they clearly indicate that A, Haredigg didn't swallow that Nighthowler pellet; he was exposed somehow through skin contact and B, he did not receive a full dose. By rights, he should have suffered only a moderate-to-severe anger episode, not a full blown case of savagery."

"Then why did he go savage Doctor?" the big bunny asked. He had already guessed the answer-but only the short answer; he needed the full explanation.

"As you know sir," the honey badger told him, "this is the second time Mr. Haredigg has been exposed to Nighthowler toxin; apparently some of the first dose remained er, 'dormant' in his system for all these years. The original antidote didn't neutralize the toxin the way Morningmew does, it only blocked the effects."

"So what happened, the two toxins interacted?" LaPeigne was staring in fascination, the more he heard, the more unbelievable it all became.

Dr. Honeybadger shook her head, but not regretfully; she was actually smiling.

"Not an interaction sir, a synergy...the residue of the Nighthowler blossoms he ate as a child was somehow working in concert with the refined serum he was exposed to earlier today-and it produced some effects we haven't seen before; the way he mimicked your tactics for one; that's what he was doing sir, not so much learning from you as copying you."

"Hmmm, I see," the big bunny told her. For some reason he felt slightly deflated. Dr. H. apparently didn't; she seemed almost energized.

"Copying, learning, it doesn't matter Mr. La Peigne; the end result was still the same. And there's more; when Haredigg went after that other bunny and that fox he didn't just attack mindlessly the way one of the Bellwether victims would have, he was stalking them...hunting them. That would be unusual enough in a predator darted with Nighthowler; in a PREY species, it's absolutely unprecedented!"

"Hmmm, yes." Jack leaned back in his chair, regarding the Doctor with a cool detachment. He might have found her level of excitement ludicrous, except...this was one mammal that was absolutely NOT given to emotional extremes. If Madge Honeybadger was this pumped, there had to be something of substance behind it.

She went on, "Under normal circumstances the Nighthowler toxin produces tunnel-vision and sharply reduced hearing, same as the fight-or-flight response." Her mouth split open in a toothy grin, "Not this time, in this instance, just the opposite occurred; Terry Haredigg's vison and hearing actually became sharper, or that's what his blood workup suggests, sir."

La Peigne made a fist with his left paw and wrapped it in his right one, drumming the fingers against the knuckles in a slow, almost funereal cadence.

"Very well Doctor, now would you mind explaining to me why you seem to think this is good news?"

"Because sir," she answered, leaning across the desk, "I believe it's possible to isolate the element that was creating the synergy; I already have everything I need, a sample of Terry Haredigg's blood, check... a supply of Nighthowler serum, check...and access to a supply of unprocessed Nighthowler blossoms, double check If I can isolate the synergy agent, I'm almost certain that I can use it to create an improved version of the infusion serum, one that will give our operatives improved vision and hearing and allow THEM to turn an enemy's tactics against him. I might even be able to develop a serum that triggers the hunting instinct." She paused for a second and then added modestly, "But first I'll need your permission to..."

"You've got it, Doctor!" The big bunny was out of his seat and thumping his foot like a war-drum. Now, this was the kind of initiative he appreciated, and wouldn't it be good to get something positive out of this mess? He told her, "As soon as you get back to Zootopia I want you to start work on this immediately."

Yes, sir!" the honey badger responded brightly; this was clearly the answer she'd been hoping for.

Jack debated for a moment whether he should tell her that he'd given to order to commence Phase One of The Fire Triangle. He reluctantly decide against it; if they were back in Aker Headquarters yes, but not here in Bunnyburrow, too much of a security risk-and the only thing more important than speed at the moment was secrecy.

"All right then Doctor," he said, pushing his chair away as he rose to his full height, "Right now, I need to get back to the family and you need to get back to your patient." Anticipating a protest, he raised a finger. "Yes, I know; there's nothing more you can do for him at the moment, but we need to keep up our appearances."

The big bunny turned and reached for the door, signaling that the discussion had concluded, but then stopped as if suddenly remembering something. (He hadn't, but he had just come to a decision.)

He turned to face her again.

"One final item on the agenda, Doctor; when I return to Zootopia, I intend to have myself fitted with an infusion module. Make the arrangements, if you would."

"Yes sir." Dr. Honeybadger's face had gone stiff and waxen. "But are you sure about this, Mr. LaPeigne?" She spoke as if she were stepping out onto thin ice; she also knew the risks of playing with Nighthowler serum better than any other mammal.

"Yes, Doctor, I'm certain," the big bunny told her gravely, "What nearly happened to me at the Carrot Days Festival this morning is never going to happen again...period! So make the arrangements, thank you." He raised and leveled a finger at her. "And one more thing, Mr. Whitepaugh is not to know anything about this until the procedure is completed. Is that understood, Doctor?"

"Yes Mr. La Peigne." the honey badger answered with a hard swallow, and then watched as he turned and walked out of the room.

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Easter Egg: Reference to a Disney Mouse. (No, not Mickey.)