Mordegan: Poogle Rights Advocate - Part Two

     The Scorchio nodded earnestly. "Yes, yes. That's it, just tell him that you've been running the Poogle races for as long as you can remember and that you love it."

     The bookie was walking along the temporarily deserted racetrack, speaking to a small Poogle with fur that was aggressively red. The Poogle, whose name was Bersicker, was Neopia's only actor for hire. Unable to get any decent parts in theatrical productions, Bersicker had lowered his sights significantly and abandoned his aspirations of stardom in favor of quick, easy jobs that anyone could do. He had been scouted out by the bookie earlier that day and been told promises of a simple gig with a tidy payoff. A few hours later, the Poogle was at the racetrack in Faerieland, meeting with the mysterious Scorchio.

     Bersicker nodded to the bookie, absentmindedly buffing his paw on his chest. "Yeah, yeah. I got it." The Poogle glanced up at the Scorchio. "And what's the catch?" he asked suspiciously.

     The Scorchio opened his arms. "No catch, no strings attached. Just say exactly what I told you say."

     The Poogle closed his eyes, a blissful smile inching across his face. "Ah, ten grand will be nice. I can finally buy that Petpet that I've been wanting." Bersicker's eyes snapped open suddenly. "Are you sure this Lupe's gonna fall for it? I mean, it might sound a bit weird, won't it?"

     The bookie laughed, shaking his head. "Don't worry, Bersicker, this Lupe's a real idiot. Thick as a tree trunk. If you can't pull the wool over his eyes, than you're a worse actor than I thought."

     Bersicker bristled angrily. "I'm a great actor. And don't worry, I'll put on the show of a lifetime with this guy..."

     ***

     Ezanna lounged in his hammock, the warm afternoon sun making his glossy black and white scales shimmer with health. The Krawk sighed blissfully, closing his eyes as he sipped an iced tea. Now, this is nice, he thought. No siblings, no owner, no noise... Just peace and quiet. Suddenly, Ezanna froze, his tail twitching agitatedly. There was a loud crash, and then he heard the door to his Neohome slam open, accompanied by a thundering of paws coming up the stairs. Ezanna groaned, shutting his eyes and plugging his ears with his claws.

     "Great," the skunk Krawk grumbled. "Just fantastic. That could only be Mordegan..."

     Sure enough, it was the Lupe. Mordegan came bounding up to Ezanna's hammock and jumped up on top of it, grinning like a crazy Mallard.

     "Ezanna!" he happily exclaimed. "Listen, Ez, I need your help for something."

     Ezanna rolled his eyes. "What is it now, Morty?" he asked, squirming out from under the Lupe's bulk. Mordegan's eyes gleamed.

     "Okay, you know how good you are at cross examining people?"

     The Krawk smiled smugly. "Of course I do. It's because of my steely gaze. No one can withstand it!" Ezanna declared. Mordegan nodded.

     "Uh huh. I know. So, listen, how would you like to help me with my interview with a Poogle racer?"

     Ezanna raised a scaly eyebrow. "What, for a school project or something?" he asked. Mordegan shook his head impatiently.

     "No! I want to call an end to Poogle racing! But first, I need to speak with a representative," he replied. Ezanna gave his brother a quizzical glance.

     "And why do want to stop Poogle racing?" he inquired. Mordegan bared his teeth.

     "Because it's cruel, that's why! They're forced to run exhausting races! They get yelled at! They have garbage thrown at them!" he shouted, flailing his paws in the air for added emphasis. Ezanna stroked his chin, smiling wistfully.

     "I think I read somewhere that Poogles like having garbage thrown at them..." he idly replied. Mordegan growled.

     "This is serious, Ez. I finally have a cause!" He shook the Krawk by his shoulders. "You promised to support my causes!"

     "No I didn't! That was our owner! Our OWNER promised to support your causes," he retorted, prying the Lupe's paws off his shoulders. Mordegan dropped his arms.

     "Oh yeah, I remember now." He looked pleadingly at Ezanna. "But you're so much better at interviewing people than she is!" He insisted. The Krawk gave a shrewd smile.

     "Yes, that's true. I remember when she tried to interview that pet rock..." he reminisced, smirking at the memory. Mordegan nodded.

     "Uh huh. And listen, if you help me out, I'll do something for you, Ez. Really, I'll make it up to you!" The Lupe was desperate now, practically begging at the Krawk's feet. Ezanna gave a small chuckle.

     "Alright, I'll do it. But you have to clean my Gruslen's teeth for a month," he said, conceding to the Lupe's request. Mordegan nodded happily and shook Ezanna's claws.

     "Okay, deal. Come on then, let's go."

     ***

     Mordegan fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. He had the strangest feeling, he felt as though he was being watched. The Lupe was sitting at one end of a small table in a dingy room that was lit by a single grimy light bulb that hung from the ceiling on a long chain, swaying slightly in the breeze. Mordegan shivered. There was a fan somewhere in the room, and it kept the place quite cold. This was where he was scheduled to meet with the representative of the Poogle Racing Union, or PRU, as the Scorchio had called it. He was supposed to have arrived five minutes ago, and the Lupe was beginning to feel a bit anxious. He turned to Ezanna.

     "He should've been here by now!" Mordegan hissed. The Krawk shrugged.

     "So he's decided to be fashionably late. It's an old trick to look cool and intimidating," he answered, not looking particularly alarmed.

     Suddenly, the door to the room swung open, and in sauntered, as Ezanna had said, a very cool and intimidating looking Poogle with vibrant red fur and a fancy studded collar. He seated himself at the opposite end of the table and leaned back in his chair, watching Mordegan and Ezanna expectantly. He frowned, eyeing the Krawk with distaste.

     "Who's he?" the Poogle asked, turning to Mordegan. "They said that there'd just be you here." Mordegan smiled nervously.

     "Oh, he's just a friend. He's going to help me interview you, since I get kind of, uh, nervous," the Lupe replied, tapping his paws anxiously against the table. The Poogle sighed.

     "Whatever." He waited for a few moments. "Well" he asked impatiently. "What do you wanna know?"

     The Lupe, feeling a bit intimidated by the Poogle's confident air, gulped nervously and gave a shaky reply.

     "Well," he began uncertainly. "I was just wondering if you could tell me how you feel about the Poogle races." Mordegan quickly changed his mind. "Wait, no, scratch that. Uh, let's introduce ourselves first." The Lupe grinned and extended his paw across the table.

     "I'm Mordegan V. Battlesunn, Poogle rights advocate," he said cheerfully.

     The Poogle raised a brow. Boy, he thought. The Scorchio wasn't lying when he said that this guy was thick. He gave a little snort.

     "I'm Bersicker, Poogle number..." He pulled a random number out of the air. "...Six. I'm Poogle number six."

     Mordegan's eyes widened. He turned to Ezanna. "There is no number six! They only go up to five!" he whispered excitedly. The Krawk smirked.

     "He's lying, then. He's probably a shill, just someone sent to throw you off or something. Let me handle this." Ezanna straightened up, putting his claws on the tabletop.

     "So Bersicker, tell me, do you enjoy racing?" he asked, intending to catch him in his own lie. Bersicker nodded.

     "Oh yeah, I love racing. There's nothing better, you know." He folded his paws on the table, meeting the Krawk's gaze.

     Ezanna clicked his tongue. "Okay. So, what number did you say you were? Just for the record."

     Bersicker blanched. Oh, Meepits! he thought. What number did I say... "Four?" he said hopefully. The Krawk smiled.

     "I thought you said you were six," he idly replied. Bersicker coughed.

     "That was a little slip of the tongue. I meant to say three. Four! I meant to say four!" The Poogle was sweating slightly, tugging at his collar. In the dim light, he could make out Ezanna's triumphant grin.

     "Really? How interesting. Now, tell me, Bersicker, why is it that your fur is red when yesterday it was yellow? Assuming that you were in the race."

     "I wasn't in the race yesterday. I was sick, I had Neggitus!" he frantically replied. Ezanna chuckled.

     "I didn't actually go to the race yesterday. But thanks for being so honest with me." The Krawk suddenly stopped laughing. He leaned in, his claws fully extended. He met the Poogle's eyes, and used his ultimate weapon, the steely gaze.

     "I know you're not a Poogle racer, Bersicker, assuming that's your real name." Ezanna straightened up, pushing back his chair and walking over to where the Poogle sat.

     "Now, why don't you tell me who you really are and who sent you?"

To be continued...