Tales from NeoNoir: Pastel Persuasions

     Bank Manager Skeith pulls a trenchcoat over his broad form as I watch him exit the bank. The skies above Neopia have opened a chilly downpour that only the Drenched would find acceptable. I’m grateful for the stop into the General Store for the old coffee with marshmallow, its warmth in my gut, staving off the chill from my bones.

     The B.M., as I’ve been inclined to think of him, pulls out a grey fedora to keep the raindrops off his downcast demeanour. His furtive gaze sidelines the empty streets of Neopia as he rushes as quickly as his stocky legs can carry him in the direction of the dock and ferry, which will take him to Meridell. I stifle a sneeze as he passes the side of the building I had camped out waiting for his departure. This weather may push me over the edge of discovery, but thus far, he hasn’t noticed how I have become his shadow.

     While he spends his days at the bank, I take a nap at my desk. B.M. runs like clockwork, full day at the bank 6 a.m. NST to 8 p.m. NST, followed by his dark walk to the docks, continuing via ferry to Meridell and then into the castle, leaving at 5 a.m. NST to make it back to the bank for opening.

     Following behind his broad form, I can’t help but picture Uzzie, the delicate pastel Usul, such a far cry from this lumber grey Skeith. I miss her rose soap scent, and I am not so secretly glad we’re meeting tonight at the Grundos Cafe to discuss my findings.

     I’ve become accustomed to jumping onto the ferry last minute; the ferry operator barely glances my way anymore. He just holds out a hand for payment and heads up to the control room. One point in my favour for the grey haze.

     The rain continues to fall as we reach Meridell. The B.M. picks up his pace as he reaches our destination- the drawbridge into Meridell Castle. He eases his way into the doors to the main castle, the one place I have not been able to breach. I kick my boots into the muddy ground outside the drawbridge.

     “What haven’t I tried?” I whisper aloud to myself. I slump against a gnarled grey pine tree to think.

     “Back again, I see.” A grunt breaches through the rainy shadows to reveal a grizzled Skeith’s face covered mostly by a haggard cloak.

     “I.. I… haven’t been here bef…” I stammer, not realising my P.I. sleuth skills had abandoned me under the grey haze Neopia Central has been living, until this Skeith cuts me off.

     “I see your type all the time.” His toothy grin sets my hackles off with unease. “Follow me.”

     He waves my protests away until a beefy paw grasps the back of my neck. Feeling inclined to flee, I know I’m trapped in his clutches. My footfalls are as heavy as the weight in my chest. This Skeith is leading me across the drawbridge and into the castle. This is the closest I have come to the B.M. in the week of my scoutings.

     As I am led through the courtyard, I spot the B.M. speaking with King Skarl. The Grumpy Old King looks unamused and grey, just like the rest of us. Skarl’s agitation becomes palpable as he rises from his throne, the B.M. stepping forward, hands askew as if trying to placate the grumpy king.

     I’m so distracted, I barely notice the Skeith leading me has taken me to a side turret of the castle. As the door closes behind us in the small spiral staircase, my eyes fight to adjust to the lack of light when my “friend” ignites a torch and smiles at me.

     “How’s about a game with old Snargan?”

     I swallow audibly. Double or Nothing, and I’m erring on the side of Nothing. No clients for six months means my neopoints have dwindled down to Soup Faerie levels of assistance, and I had spent one hundred and thirty neopoints at the General Store to stave off the chilly rain. Fumbling in my pockets, I grasp the twenty neopoints I have left.

     “What? Too scared to face off against old Snargan?” The Skeith practically spits at me, “I know your type, you want a gamble, but can’t muster the courage.” He reaches for my paw that is grasping my last remaining neopoints and plucks the two-ten neopoint coins from my grasp.

     “That isn’t why…”

     “Oh, it isn’t,” he squints one eye at the coins he took from me, then continues, “If it’s not you’re a gambler, then you may be a spy?” His gaze hardens as he rolls the coin over his knuckles, awaiting my reply.

     “No… I’m not…” My mind was not functioning fast enough to come up with a plausible explanation. I’m too lethargic to muster much of a fight. Luckily for me, Snargan seems to think himself wise enough to move over to Brightvale as he ponders for a minute before smiling at me.

     His grin turns sinister, “We’ll let the coin decide. Heads, you’re a spy. Tails, and you’re just another gambler, fighting not to lose your last coin to old Snargan, eh?”

     The clink of the coin against his claws as he flips it into the air causes the air to leave my lungs. The glimmer reflects the light as it turns over and over in the air. I can’t tell where my mind wants this to go; I’m either losing my last few neopoints or losing several days in a Meridell dungeon. What I know is I can’t leave Uzzie waiting for me at the Grundos Cafe. Her perfect pastel face flashes in my mind as the coin lands back into Snargan’s beefy mitt.

     “Tough luck, gambler.” His attitude is friendly again as he shows me the tails end of my coin, “heh heh heh, I just love to win!”

     The gilded “tails” leaves me with an unexpected sense of relief. Rumour has it that Snargan believes in the fate of the coin more than a Neopets word anyway.

     “Drats,” I exaggerate as I reach for my remaining ten neopoints, “I better be going.”

     “Nuh uh, not so fast,” Snargan smiles again, “One more for the road.”

     My stomach hollows as he flips the remaining coin. I’ve been in the castle too long; I am going to be late for my meeting with Uzzie. My irritation at the thought is now visible on my features.

     “You must have cheated…” His grumble breaks my reverie. I heave a sigh. At least I could make it out of here with the twenty neopoints I started with. Snargan reaches to flip the coin again when King Skarl's booming summons shakes us both.

     “Snargan! We’ve got the plans for moving the treas…”

     Hearing the King at my back, I know I should feel anxious, but the amount of emotional upheaval I had experienced at the hands of Snargan, I can barely sputter a gasp. I turn, and standing in the turret’s spiral staircase is the King, shadowed by the B.M. Both Skeith’s brows crease as they see Snargan isn’t alone.

     “Snargan!” King Skarl snarls, “What have I told you about gambling on the castle grounds?! Were you using Castle funds again?! You knew this meeting was happening, and you still brought in some gambling riff-raff!”

     I am trapped in this small room with three angry Skeiths. Unsure if I should leave or flee, I use the time to study the B.M. up close. One point in favour of the grey curse, I have not broken a sweat this close to my client’s target. He looks tired, and he looks greyer than I feel. I swallow the pang of pity for him as I think of how Uzzie was left alone by this unworthy Neopian. Thinking of that pastel Usul gets my heart rate up more than this tense situation, a greyish blush now crossing my cheeks.

     “I was just leaving,” I peeped up, edging my way to the open doorway. The breeze from the castle’s courtyard was cooling my now-heated cheeks. I could hear the even patter of raindrops between the breaths I took.

     “Not so fast,” Skarl seethes, “Seize him.”

     The B.M. barely moves as he grabs my tail, holding me in place. King Skarl turns to Snargan and asks quietly, “Do you owe this young Neopian something?”

     The Meridellian Treasurer sneers as he flips twenty neopoints at my feet. They spin like tops, swirling faster than my thoughts as the tension in the room amplifies. I lift my foot and step on the coins. The room goes silent with the movement.

     Putting on the most rubbish accent I can muster, “Oi, tanks you mucho!” I collect the now silent coins.

     “Now. Leave.” Skarl breathes as he continues to stare down Snargan. The beefy castle treasurer seems smaller in the presence of the King, his attention now fully focused on the monarch.

     I rush out the door, but as it was closing slowly, I hear King Skarl begin a rant, “The most important and significant movement of treasure in Meridell history is happening in three weeks time, and you’re letting in strangers…”

     The boom of the door startles me. The din of the rain turns the Skeith’s muffled voices into the flitting of batterfly wings. I hurry out of the courtyard before looking at my watch. I need to scoot faster than a Poogle Racer if I am going to reach Grundos Cafe in a reasonable time for my meeting with Uzzie.

     Pulling the collar up on my jacket, I hurry out into the cold, wet night. Hopefully, my lift up to the Virtupets Space Station will still be ready for me.

To be continued…