Against All Odds: Part One

     In the background he could hear the roar of the crowd cheering, but he knew that those cheers were not for him; they never were.

      There was a gap a mile long between him and the Poogles in front of him and he knew that there was no way that he'd be able to catch up. He crossed the finish line (coming in last, yet again) completely out of breath. There was an agonizing stitch in his side, and his breath was coming in shallow gasps; puffing and wheezing from the run he'd just endured. Collapsing on the floor, he lay on his back taking in huge gulps of air and wondering for the hundredth time why he didn't just retire.

     When his breathing had returned to normal, he rolled onto his side and looked over at the winners' podium, longingly. Each Poogle held a trophy cup, waving it in the air frivolously and grinning from ear to ear. The crowd was going mad with applause; clapping and stomping their feet in rhythm, and shouting their praise and admiration for the winning Poogles. His eyes roved over the third and second place podiums, before finally resting on first place, which was occupied by Dodie MacGillis (better known as Poogle One to the betters). She held a shiny gold cup in her hand that glinted beautifully in the sun, and she was waving contently at the huge crowd, who were throwing flowers in various colours at her feet.

     Heaving a loud sigh, he slowly lifted himself up from the itchy grass beneath him and trudged over to congratulate the three winning Poogles, his legs aching a little more with each step. As he made his way over to them, he found himself wishing once more, for a winning trophy. He'd been a pretty good contender a few years back, even winning the bronze trophy once in a while, though Dodie had always seemed to beat him to the finish line. Lately however, he'd been eating a little more than he should be and exercising a little less and so he'd started piling on the pounds; slowly at first, which had been barely noticeable to the crowd and the other Poogles, but then they'd started adding up, until before long, the yellow Poogle was barely recognisable as the same bronze trophy winner of years past.

     His odds started slipping, and the amount of Neopians betting on him did too. His speed, which had been relatively decent in the past, was now almost non-existent and he found it much harder to keep up with the other Poogles, let alone surpass them. The more races he lost, the more his odds slid, until he was the Poogle with the greatest odds against him, even more than Clifford: Poogle Four, who had been a champion in his day, but now was a little past his prime.

     As he lost more races, he became ever more disheartened and to make up for it, he started to comfort-eat. It was a vicious cycle, really; the more races he lost, the more he ate and the more he ate, the more races he lost... and now he would never be a trophy winner again.

     No-one even knew his name; he was simply a number and a number that no-one really cared about: Poogle number five.

     He could hear the joy and excitement of the three winning Poogles before he even reached the winners podium. Jarvis, who was the youngest racer there, was jumping up and down on the third place podium gleefully. A Faerie Shoyru, undoubtedly from NeoSport was trying to interview him after his first race, but she wasn't having much luck as it seemed that he was distracted by someone in the audience. Waving frantically, he could hear Jarvis telling Dodie enthusiastically, "Look, it's my Nan! She's come all the way from Moltara to see me race! HI NAN!"

     Dodie nodded uninterestedly, not even glancing towards the stands where Jarvis' flaming, Moltaran grandmother stood. Instead she eyed the Shoyru with the camera shrewdly and attempted to make conversation, as she innocuously stroked her gold trophy.

     "Congratulations, Dodie. Good race today," he said holding out his sweaty paw for her to shake. She looked down at him from the height of the podium, with a blank stare, after she'd reluctantly looked away from the camera woman.

     "Oh!" she uttered, as though only just remembering who he was. "Five... yes, good race. You did... really well. Sorry, but I was kind of in the middle of something here, so if it's okay with you..."

     Not waiting for an answer of any kind, and not even acknowledging his offered handshake, Dodie turned back to the Shoyru, plastered on a smile and started talking animatedly.

     The smile that he had forced onto his face to keep people from seeing how disappointed he was about losing again, slipped off as he moved away. He didn't bother congratulating Jarvis, as the kid was running off to meet his Magma grandmother on the sidelines and Helene who'd come second was talking to a Grarrl in a suit, but as he passed her, she did look up at him briefly, and call out, "See you, Five!"

     He mumbled a goodbye, but she'd already turned back to the professional looking Grarrl. With a despondent sigh, the discouraged Poogle lumbered off to the exit, hoping for a nice, hot bath and some chocolate chip cookies when he got back to his home in Faerieland.

     As he exited the stadium however, he was met by a very angry looking Darigan Techo, in a long, black, trench coat, who snarled at him viciously.

     "I lost a lot of money today because of you!" he growled, furiously, taking an intimidating step towards him.

     "You... bet on me?" he asked, surprised and momentarily flattered, despite the Techo's threatening stance.

     There used to be times when angry gamblers would confront him for their losses frequently, back when he was a decent racer, but those days were long gone and to the best of his knowledge, nobody had bet on him in years.

     The Techo didn't say a word; he didn't have to, his menacing glare spoke for itself.

     "But... why? Nobody's bet on me in ages. The odds speak for themselves... I'm a loser. You should have known that before you bet on me. Didn't the Scorchio behind the counter tell you that when placing your bets?"

     "He did," the Techo replied, in the same low growl, but he looked slightly less threatening than he had a moment ago.

     "Then why did you bet on me? I know my odds are high, which means a higher pay out, but you just had to take one look at me to know that I couldn't win."

     The Techo scowled, but his glowing red eyes seemed to possess a new kind of warmth in them.

     "I didn't think you were a loser," he answered, gruffly. "And I don't think you are now, even if you did lose the race... that doesn't make you a loser."

     Five stood in stunned silence, his eyebrows raised in surprise. There had been a moment that he'd thought the Techo would rob him in recompense for his loss... or at least challenge him to a battle, but the angry Techo had done a complete 180 and was actually... being nice to him.

     "Look... I don't expect you to understand but after the Battle for Meridell, us Darigan Neopets were looked down upon. The rest of the world thought that we were all criminals and bad eggs – trying to take over the world, and I've never really been treated right since. When I saw the odds stacked against you, it reminded me of myself. That's why I bet on you," he said, with a weary sigh.

     "Then, why were you angry at me for losing?" he asked, quietly, still a little wary of the Techo.

     "Well, you did cost me my last 10k!" he snapped, shaking a money bag that sounded, conspicuously empty.

     The Poogle gaped at the Techo in astonishment.

     "How much?!" he exclaimed, with wide eyes, thinking that perhaps he'd misheard him.

     "Exactly my point, boy!" the Techo replied, frowning.

     "But... why on earth would you bet that much? On me?"

     "Well, I thought that with you being the underdog, you'd rise up against the odds. But clearly you need a bit of training."

     "Training?" the Poogle asked, bewildered. Couldn't the Techo see that all the training in the world wouldn't help him?

     "That's what I said, didn't I?" he barked back. "I'll put you through my Darigan bootcamp and before you know it, you'll be winning me back my Neopoints!"

     "But... I –" he stammered, trying to think of a way to get out of this mess. He didn't want to go to a scary Darigan bootcamp, what would they do to him there?

     "But nothing!" the Techo interrupted, before he could say anything more. "Do you want to be the best, Poogle? Aren't you tired of losing all the time? Do you want to win a gold trophy?"

     "Well... yes," he squeaked, not able to lie about his dream to be standing on the first place podium with the golden cup in his hands.

     "Then follow me, son. Once I'm through with you, we'll have you fighting fit in no time! What's your name, anyway?"

     "Most people just call me Poogle... or Five," he answered, shakily, his palms sweating with anxiety about what this so-called 'bootcamp' would exactly entail.

     "Don't you have a name?" the Techo asked, in his brisk, frank tone.

     "Of course, I do! It's just that most people don't use it."

     "Well, what is it then? I want to use it... I can't keep on calling you Poogle, all the time, can I?"

     For the first time in a long while, the Poogle let a small smile creep onto his face.

     "It's Ernie. Ernest, really, but I prefer Ernie."

     "Well, it's nice to meet you Ernie. I'm Mekoides. Now, the bootcamp will officially start when we get back to my home in Darigan Citadel, but I think you need a bit of training before we even get there," he said, brutally, eyeing the Poogle's flabby arms and pouchy stomach with narrowed eyes.

     "So for that reason, we are going to walk. All the way there," Mekoides added, with a malicious smile and an evil glint in his eyes.

     "Walk?" the Poogle exclaimed, startled. "But – it must be over a hundred miles to Darigan! That'll take all night!"

     "Yes... and all day too," the Techo said, nodding. "So, you'd best start walking, Ernie. You don't want to reach Darigan after nightfall... not with all us evil-doers lurking in the shadows," he added, with a cackle.

     Ernie gave the Techo a nervous sideways glance, unsure on whether he was being serious or not. He decided he'd better not wait around to find out, so he hastily started walking.

To be continued...