Hanso and the Blorbulous

          The vehement way he delivered this last bit always got you interested. Hanso did it on purpose, of course. He needed you to let your guard down by drawing you into a conversation.

          It was an entertaining story.

          By the end of it, your pockets would be lighter, and you wouldn’t be entirely sure if any of it had been true.

          Hanso held his breath, waiting for the smoke to clear. Slowly, the Laboratory came back into focus, and Hanso could once again see the metal surfaces, each covered with hundreds of differently sized coloured buttons.

          But Hanso didn’t care about the stray sparks shooting out from each corner of the room. He was single-mindedly focused on the Blorpulous standing on the small pedestal under the two large spiral ray guns, pointing straight at it and still emitting a low humming noise.

          Hanso was not impressed. As far as he could tell, the Blorpulous looked exactly the same, and that was not what he had signed up for.

          He turned towards the Kookith—the one wearing a white laboratory coat—and gestured wildly at the Petpet.

          “Seriously? It looks the same! What kind of mad scientist are you?”

          The Kookith shrugged, and Hanso felt the back of his neck flush with anger.

          “This is an outrage! A… a…” Hanso broke off. Then, with an accusatory finger, he punctured the air with each following word, “This. Is. A. Scam.”

          The Kookith remained silent.

          Hanso whirled around, looking at the long line of Neopians and Petpets waiting for their own turn. But just as he was about to speak (for a long and furious speech was brewing within him), the Blumaroo at the front of the queue pointedly cleared his throat. The stranger pointed to the sign hanging nearby.

          “RESULTS NOT GUARANTEED. WE TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR LOST, DAMAGED, STOLEN OR EXPLODED PETPETS.”

          Hanso opened his mouth, ready to let the words on the tip of his tongue fly with vigour, but the Blumaroo fixed him with such a ferocious glare that the words died in his throat. In a last-ditch effort to get what was rightfully his—a zap that turned his Petpet into an exciting, preferably exclusive colour or species (one that he could sell for a tidy sum)—he returned his gaze to the Kookith.

          The Kookith did not even look at him.

          Huffing, Hanso scooped the Blorpulous into his arms and stormed out of the Laboratory. Still fuming, he let the door slam behind him with more force than necessary, the loud clang filling him with a petty satisfaction. Outside, he dropped the Blorpulous to the ground, ignoring the Petpet as it squealed in shock.

          “Ridiculous,” Hanso muttered under his breath. “A total waste of time.”

          He’d always known the lab existed, but he hadn’t given it much thought until he’d overheard some individuals near Smuggler’s Cove… something about an average Angelpuss being turned into a Weebly. Hanso hadn’t even known what a Weebly was, and that told him it was expensive—even before one of the pirates had bragged about selling it to a rich mother for her probably spoilt little girl.

          Truthfully, Hanso was in desperate need of money.

          His recent ventures hadn’t exactly been successful. He’d tried throwing weighted balls at the Coconut Shy, only to be thrown out by Leroy the Quiggle. He’d tried using some sandpaper at Cheeseroller, but had found the cheese was more susceptible to crumble than smoothing. He had even half-heartedly mocked up a grand heist, but had then found out that that pesky bank manager had recently upped the security.

          But this? This was too easy. Pick up a Petpet—any old Petpet—take it to the Petpet Laboratory and… bam! Easy money. Yes, there was the matter of finding a buyer and ensuring that all business was handled confidentially… and yes, there was a risk of being caught and being pestered forever by the Petpet Protection League, but that could all be worked out at a later date.

          And yet, here he was. Standing in the middle of nowhere, with a Petpet that looked exactly the same as it had when he had plucked it from an alley where it was nosing around some cardboard boxes. In short, Hanso had gained nothing.

          “Can’t believe I fell for a scam,” Hanso muttered, kicking a pebble.

          “Ouch!”

          “Sorry.”

          As the word left his mouth, Hanso shot upright. He cast his eyes around, but saw no one. Then his eyes landed on the Blorpulous, which was licking a darkening spot on its paw. The pebble that Hanso had kicked sat next to it.

          It took him a second to remember the name he’d given the creature. “Tootsie? Was that…? No.” He shook his head. “I’m going crazy. It can’t have been.”

          “I thought the Kookith was nice. Funny looking, though.”

          Hanso’s mouth was agape. “You can talk?”

          The Blorpulous beamed. “I guess so.”

          “Have you… Uh, is this new? You talking?”

          “I think so.” Tootsie was being far too flippant for Hanso’s liking. A thoughtful expression crossed Tootsie’s face.

          “Hey! Maybe it’s because of that ray? It did make me feel kinda funny…”

          Hanso was too bamboozled to think straight. He had never heard of a talking Petpet. The cogs in Hanso’s head began to turn. Tootsie might not have zapped into a rare species, but was now valuable in an entirely different way.

          And Hanso knew exactly how to make the most of that.

          He reached down, picking Tootsie up by the scruff of the neck.

          “Oh!” Tootsie cried in surprise. “What are we doing?”

          “We’re going to Meridell.”

          “Yippee!”

          Hanso cursed under his breath as his shirt caught on a nail sticking out of the fence around the Turdle enclosure he was trying to shimmy under. His belly was on the ground, and his arms were covered in dirt (and Fyora knew what else) up to the elbows. He tried to reach around to free the fabric, but only succeeded in tweaking his shoulder.

          “Let me help!” Tootsie said, cheerfully.

          Hanso felt a growing patch of dampness against his back as the Blorpulous nibbled the fabric free. He wanted to just give up and lie there, but that would mean bringing his face even closer to the smell of dung that permeated the dirt.

          (The Petpet was always so, so cheerful. And chatty. Hanso had been glad to tell it that no one should hear it speaking. That had mercifully shut it up for the entire boat ride to Meridell).

          “Done!” Tootsie chirped. “Golly, I can’t wait to meet the Turdles.”

          “Me too, Tootsie.” Hanso crawled the rest of the way inside the enclosure. “Remember the plan, buddy?”

          The Blorpulous nodded vigorously. As it did not technically have a neck, this meant it threw its body aggressively against the ground, scattering pebbles everywhere. Before Hanso could tell Tootsie to be careful, he heard a shuffling noise behind him.

          When he turned, he saw a gaggle of Turdles, looking up at him with blank expressions. They were all identical, save for the numbers painted onto their shells. He blinked at them. They blinked back, in perfect sync. Then, one—the one with a red ‘1’ painted on him—shuffled forward. He turned his eyes towards Tootsie, and made a series of squeaks. The Blorpulous flapped its wings excitedly and chirped back. They went back and forth for about half a minute before Tootsie addressed Hanso again.

          “Hanso, this is Mortimer. He likes it when people call him Mortimer, and not just his number.”

          “Oh.”

          The Blorpulous looked at him expectantly. “Aren’t you going to say hi to Mortimer? Since he’s going to be doing us a favour and all?”

          “Oh, uh, hi, Mortimer.”

          The Turdle seemed quite happy about that. The group behind him squeaked excitedly.

          “I asked him just like you wanted me to,” Tootsie continued, “and he says what they want most of all is chokato Petpet food. He says they don’t get that a lot in Meridell, but it’s their favourite.”

          “Did you tell him that he and his friends can have as much chokato Petpet food as they want if they rig—uh, if they cross the finish line like I asked?”

          Tootsie nodded. “Three, four, five, one, two. Just like you said. He said usually it’s best to try and get across first, because they give that Turdle cheese bits, but there isn’t a cheese in the world that’s better than chokato.”

          Hanso didn’t quite agree with that; but then again, he wasn’t a Turdle.

          He made Tootsie go over the order the Turdles needed to finish their race in once more, and promised Mortimer he would be there with tins of chokato food first thing after the race. Mortimer was kind enough to show him the spot where there was the least Turdle dung mixed into the dirt, for him to crawl back under the fence.

          A few minutes later, he and Tootsie were walking around the Meridell marketplace, searching for chokato Petpet food among its many stalls. Meridellians apparently didn’t believe in treating their Petpets to tropical vegetables, because it was incredibly hard to find, and the tins ended up costing Hanso more than he had anticipated.

          It will be worth it, he told himself as he dug around his pockets to find the last coin he needed. The surly old Mynci at the stall glared at him as he stocked the display. After I take bets at the Turdle races tomorrow, and everyone loses all their money to me, I can buy all the chokato I want.

          “Can we get some Blue Doughnutfruit? Pretty please?” Tootsie suddenly gasped from Hanso’s shoulder as the Mynci pulled out the fruit. “It’s my favourite!”

          The Mynci glanced up sharply. “Why’re ya talkin’ like that? Speak normal. It ain’t cute.”

          Hanso forced himself to pitch his voice up as high as Tootsie’s. “I was just trying to brighten your day!”

          The Mynci gave him a look that clearly said he did not want his day brightened.

          Hanso sighed and dropped his voice back to its normal register. “Just give me the fruit, gramps.”

          When the Mynci was distracted again, Tootsie whispered an apology in Hanso’s ear. “Sorry! I was just so excited! I love doughnutfruit. But just the blue ones. The yellow ones are yucky.”

          “It’s all right,” Hanso whispered back. He discreetly knocked an agueena into his pocket when the Mynci wasn’t looking. “Nobody saw.”

          Neither of them noticed the hooded figure who had stopped at the stall behind them, whose attention was most definitely not on the cheese they were handling.

          At first, Hanso thought he was being paranoid. But he took at least four wrong turns, and now he was sure that someone was following him. He wasn’t, however, one to be intimidated. The next time he spotted the cloaked figure, he stood straighter. Then, daringly, he made direct eye contact.

          The hooded figure did not seem surprised at Hanso’s bravado. If anything, the figure didn’t seem to react at all! Then, in a movement so slight that Hanso might have missed it, they nodded.

          It was an invitation.

          A quiet squeal of delight brought Hanso back to his senses. Tootsie was happily munching through the agueena Hanso had stolen. He went to collect the Petpet, but something made him hesitate. He had a feeling that this mysterious figure wanted to see him alone. Hanso muttered an excuse and left Tootsie with her snack. Hanso slipped easily through the crowd, trying his best to look confident as he approached. He wracked his brain for who the stranger could be. Perhaps someone from the Guilds? Or someone who had fallen for one of his

          previous schemes?

          A tail flicked from the bottom of the figure’s dark cloak, and Hanso decided that they must be a Kougra. His cloak was adorned with thick shoulder pads, that Hanso immediately deduced were armour rather than fashion. His white beard was split into two long braids. Most notable, though, was the glint of a silver blade, barely hidden under the large swathes of fabric.

          All of a sudden, Hanso felt underprepared for whatever was about to happen.

          “The Petpet…” The Kougra spoke gruffly. “How much for it?”

          Hanso stiffened. Did he know? But how? True, Tootsie wasn’t exactly the brightest of Petpets and hadn’t necessarily taken to the idea of not talking in public straight away, but it hadn’t been that bad. Hanso had been sure that no one had noticed. And yet…

          “It’s not for sale,” Hanso said carefully.

          “For the right price, anything is for sale,” the Kougra said bluntly. “Especially when the seller is someone the likes of you.”

          Hanso had the distinct impression that he had been insulted. He also had the distinct impression that this Kougra had very deep pockets. The two went back and forth for a while, Hanso trying to play coy and the Kougra not even pretending to fall for it. Eventually, they happened upon a deal that should have made Hanso’s head spin.

          “It’s a deal.”

          “It’s a deal,” Hanso echoed. As he said the words, he felt a knot forming at the back of his throat. “We’ll do the exchange tomorrow.”

          “I’ll find you.”

          The Kougra made to turn away, but Hanso reached out, grabbing hold of his sleeve.

          “Just…” He cleared his throat. “Tootsie… uh, the Petpet. It… she doesn’t like yellow doughnutfruit. Don’t feed her that, okay?”

          The Kougra raised an eyebrow. Then, without a word, he disappeared into the crowd. Hanso was left with a strange heaviness on his heart, which he quickly dismissed. He would feel better once the money was in hand, surely.

          At the race course the next day, Hanso couldn’t help but keep glancing over his shoulder, jumping every time he saw a Kougra in the crowd. Even Tootsie noticed. The Blorbulous bumped against Hanso’s leg until he knelt down next to her. The crowd milled around above them, oblivious to their whispered conversation.

          “Is everything okay?” Tootsie whispered.

          Hanso forced herself to look away from the Blorbulous’ incredibly large and ridiculously cute eyes. “Yeah, of course it is,” he whispered back. “Why don’t you go and remind Mortimer of the plan? I’ll be right here.”

          Hanso watched as Tootsie scampered down the field to the track where the Turdles were waiting. He puffed up his cheeks and exhaled as Mortimer excitedly greeted her. Was he really going through with this? Was he really going to let that Kougra buy Tootsie? Since when had Tootsie become a she and not an it, anyway?

          He was still thinking about it when Tootsie returned.

          “That took longer than I expected. Everything okay?” Hanso inquired.

          Tootsie looked up at him with the brightest smile he’d ever seen. “I was just telling Mortimer what a super fun day I had yesterday. He was so jealous that I got to eat agueena and Blue Doughnutfruit. You’re the bestest owner ever!”

          Hanso inhaled sharply, frozen for a second. He furiously rubbed at the sides of his temples with his knuckles, and then pulled a notepad and pen from his pockets. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. He needed to see this plan through.

          He took a deep breath and bellowed at the top of his lungs. “How about some off-book bets, folks? Is today your lucky day?”

          The crowd cheered.

          It went better than Hanso could have imagined. He had made more Neopoints in a single day than he had in months. He was so happy, he almost forgot about the other deal he had made.

          Almost.

          He was telling Tootsie that she could have all the Blue Doughnutfruit she wanted when the Kougra appeared out of nowhere, flanked by two intimidating Jetsams whose large fin muscles bulged out of their shirts. Before Hanso could protest, one of the thugs threw him to the ground while the other roughly grabbed the Blorpulous by the scruff of her neck. Tootsie made distressed noises but, catching sight of Hanso, did not speak.

          “Wait—” Hanso said, frantic. “Wait!”

          A leather pouch was thrown at his feet, coins spilling onto the ground.

          “Our deal is done.”

          Hanso couldn’t bring himself to look at Tootsie as the goons walked away. Ignoring the curious stares from nosy onlookers, Hanso slowly began to scoop up the coins. It really had been a profitable day.

          And yet, Hanso didn’t feel happy at all.

          Suddenly, a shadow appeared over Hanso. He looked up and, much to his dismay, was met with the face of a particularly grumpy Scorchio, who Hanso recognised as the owner of the Turdle Racing kiosk. He shook his fist down at him.

          “I don’t know how you did it, but I know you rigged the race!” he hissed.

          He caught sight of the coins, and his rage exploded. Unbothered by the quickly growing crowd, he launched into a tirade, screaming at Hanso with unfettered anger. Hanso couldn’t focus on the words. He was focused on one thing: how to get Tootsie back.

          “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll give you every coin in this bag if you help me with one thing.”

          The Scorchio was momentarily shocked into silence. “And why would I help you?”

          “For this.” Hanso scrambled to his feet and pressed the pouch into his hands. He hesitated. Then, casting a furtive glance around them, he quietly added, “And… uh, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

          The Scorchio’s eyes flicked to the bag, and then back up again. Then, much to Hanso’s relief, the Scorchio grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically.

          “What do I need to do?”

          Tootsie could see nothing but darkness.

          She paced anxiously inside a small cage. She couldn’t see anything that was going on outside—the cage was covered with a dark cloth—but she’d been left alone in a room for about an hour after that awful, awful Kougra had taken her away from Hanso. Then the cage had roughly been picked up, jostling her around as it was carried through the streets of Meridell. From the muffled sounds, Tootsie figured they had been going through a lot of back alleys.

          And then she’d been dropped in a cart.

          Tootsie’s little heart beat harder and harder as the sounds of Meridell faded behind them, and the nighttime sounds of the forest grew louder. How would Hanso find her if they went too far? Hanso was looking for her, right?

          Tootsie shook her head. What silly questions she was asking herself. Of course Hanso was coming. He was her owner, after all. The best owner in the world.

          She just had to be patient.

          The Blorpulous was in the middle of curling into a corner to begin being patient when there was a mighty shout from somewhere ahead of them. The cart lurched to a stop. Tootsie banged her leg against the metal of the cage. She rubbed her sore limb as she tried to listen to what was going on outside. Two voices—the Kougra and someone else—were having an argument.

          “Permit? Since when does Meridell have permits?”

          The other voice sounded strangely familiar, but it wasn’t Hanso. Tootsie deflated.

          “Uh… Since King Skarl said so! Now I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you.”

          “You’re not going to do that,” the Kougra said. “I am not the type of pet who gets arrested.”

          There was the jingling sound of armour, coming closer, as the other pet—a knight?— circled the cart to the back where Tootsie was. She could see the glow of a wavering flame through the cloth.

          “Oh, I see. You’ll make it worth my while to let you go, right? That’s what you’re saying?”

          “Wha—hey, don’t touch that cage!”

          Tootsie banged against the cage again as it was wrenched out of the cart, with a cacophonous jingling of armour. The knight began to run. The Blorpulous squealed as she was thrown around like a pinball in the darkness. They crashed through the forest, the Kougra’s angry shouts following them. Every few minutes, there was an especially loud bang, and the jingling of armour grew quieter. The second time it happened, Tootsie realised the knight was shedding his armour as he ran.

          Strangely, Tootsie could smell Turdles.

          What was going on? Tootsie wanted to cry. They were going so far. How would Hanso ever find her now?

          And then—for the third time that night—Tootsie was thrown against the wall of the cage as the knight came to a stop.

          He gasped as he spoke. “Here… here! Phew, you didn’t tell me he was going to chase me!”

          “Hey, think of it as being able to empathise better with your Turdles now.”

          Tootsie gasped as the cloth covering her cage lifted. That voice! The one she’d been waiting to hear. “Hanso!” she squealed. “You came for me!”

          Hanso grinned down at his Blorpulous, his face lit in orange torchlight. “Of course I did. Why don’t we go get you some Blue Doughnutfruit?”

     The End.