The Fire Triangle -- Part II, Oxidizer

The Fire Triangle: Book II - Chapter 34

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

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Part Two:

Oxidizer

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Chapter 6—The Children's Crusade
(Continued...Part 5)

I want to go home
Take off this uniform and leave the show
And I'm waiting in this cell because I have to know
Have I been guilty all this time?

Pink Floyd – Stop

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Monday, 04;30, Unknown location, Savanna Central, Zootopia

When the door opened, Erin nearly jumped clear out of her seat. But of course, it wasn't Craig...it was only Conor.

"Okay, I got the bike put away," he said, closing it behind him.

She didn't know how to respond at first; her mind was a whirlwind of questions. Where had he stowed that bike? It couldn't be too far away from here, he'd only been gone for like twenty minutes. And what the heck was that thing; she'd never seen a ride quite like it...or sat on one. Dang, but that bike was fast, something made even more unnerving by the fact that it was virtually silent. And what the heck was in that backpack slung over his shoulders—and in that holster clipped to his belt? Was that a...gun? And how the heck had he found her—especially in his current state. Check out the brace propping up his knee; it looked like a reject from a junk pile. And why did he keep clutching at his side like that? Was it her imagination, or was he having trouble breathing? Nearly a minute passed before she was finally able to decide upon which of so many questions to ask first.

"Conor...where ARE we?" She was seated in a wing-chair, inside of an office somewhere; high ceiling, wood-paneled walls, lights mounted on overhead fans; fans that turned lazily at the flick of the switch. All of the furniture had been shrouded in drop-cloth when they'd entered; most of it still was. The coverings they'd removed had revealed an antique coffee-table with legs carved to resemble mangrove trees, and chairs of similar vintage, a mite too large for her, but just right for him. Well, wherever this was, it wasn't part of any recent construction; the staleness of the air in here easily belied that notion...but again, where was this place?

The path to get here was still a blur; dark streets, darkened alleyways, and then even darker passageways, followed by a labyrinth of corridors that had ultimately led them through a low-ceilinged room filled with row upon row of hydroponic planter tanks. Most were empty, but some had contained various types of plants and shrubs, sprouting beneath greenish-amber grow-lights. Nearly all of their species had been unknown to the white-furred young doe-bunny, never mind that she came from a horticultural background. There had, however, been one very large exception to that rule; a row of healthy-looking Nighthowler blossoms.