Borovan Black Hole

     Most Neopians often find themselves preoccupied with one of two sets of activities.

     Either you could focus on the glitz and glamour of sparkling lights, lofty gifts, and hitting the right note while singing with your guildmates.

     Or, you could take a lift up to the tallest mountains with the sole goal of rushing yourself down those mountains as quickly as you can. Lather, rinse, and repeat until your paws or claws or fins grow numb, then cosy up in the Valley with good company and better food.

     All the norm, that is, unless your name is Tobias Sigmir. Then you might just happen to know a little better than that.

     While the big leagues were resting their laurels, there was a small, but promising Gormball Little League match coming up between two teams in Happy Valley. A blip on the calendar that most would overlook.

     Which should have made it the perfect opportunity for the Ixi to sneak in, to go unnoticed, and to simply enjoy the sport as a fan.

     Surely, Yooyuball was the very last thing on his mind when he planned this trip.

     Yet, here he sat. A hot cup of borovan in his hooves, and the familiar scowl of a certain Maraquan Acara directly across from him.

     “Does this place seriously not have a Rambus Cream Latte…?”

     Elon Hughlis grumbled as he flipped through his menu.

     Tobias tilted his head as he leaned forward slightly, trying his best to keep up an air of professionalism. Of all the Pets that could have spotted him in the hustle and bustle of the Mountain’s busiest season, it just had to be the infamous captain of the Maraquan Mermaids.

     Which was enough of a hindrance. But Elon insisted that he had important news that the top reporter in all of Yooyuball just couldn’t miss, and that an interview was in both of their best interests.

     Not that interviews were his specialty. He preferred to speak in the heat of the moment in an intense game. But he knew well that it could give an edge on his commentary come Yooyuball Season.

     And yet, the story seemed nonexistent. The mini recorder that Tobias kept in his pocket in case of emergencies only captured the musings of some spoiled All-Star.

     “If I may make a suggestion, I hear that the Mint Borovan is a fan favorite.”

     His talent for hiding any sense of annoyance in his tone was commendable.

     The Acara glanced quizzically past his menu to the Ixi. He seemed annoyed at the suggestion for a moment, before shrugging and looking back at the drink options and muttering to himself a little too loudly.

     “Toto is always going off about how I need to try new things…”

     And with that came a twitch of the ear. It seemed so mundane, but Tobias knew how to catch a story, even if there was not one to be told.

     Admittedly, he was never able to bring himself to finish reading ‘The Awesomeness of Me!’ He could barely get into the second chapter of Elon’s ramblings about his own greatness before he threw it across the room and decided that some publishers under the water’s edge must have been desperate to put those words on paper.

     But Hovri Sweet, his partner in every crime, had read the entire book, cover to cover, at least three times. And he had many times gushed over a chapter tucked in between the nonsense, that spoke of a time before Maraqua made a splash into the Altador Cup.

     A time in which the kingdom was under attack. A time in which many a commoner risked everything for their homeland. And a time in which Elon would meet, and fight alongside, the well-known Koi that would once again join his side, year after year.

     “You and Plessix go pretty far back, don’t you? How would you say that affects the way you take on the pitch?”

     There was a change in Elon’s demeanour, a smirk forming at the edge of his lips as he closed his menu and flagged for a waiter.

     “You know your stuff.”

     As an order for a large Super Spicy, a refill on that now lukewarm Apple, and two slices of Borovan Pavlova was made, Tobias perked up slightly. Under the table, he lightly tapped the floor with his hind left paw three times. A skill he often utilised to perfectly pace discussions.

     A skill that quickly proved useless as Elon spoke back up before he could.

     “Yeah,” he leaned back in his chair, raising his tentacles up dramatically, his eyes closed as he chuckled. Subtly was never his strong suit.

     “Toto and Runny and me? You could say we’re a bunch of ol’ war heroes.” He opened one eye, and just as quickly as he’d leaned back, he pushed himself forward, resting an elbow on the table as he waved a tentacle in Tobias’ general direction.

     “Little Miss Circus, too.”

     Tobias managed to catch himself, nodding along to beats when appropriate. Amused as he was, he really had no way of knowing how well these nicknames were going to be taken by those in question. Especially when it was no longer just a Team Maraqua matter, but also the business of the Rooligan known as Jair Tollet.

     Elon let out a laugh, which Tobias paced with four taps before tying the conversation back into something worth his while. Not that he didn’t enjoy the idle chitchat. The Black Hole was surprisingly charismatic, even off the pitch. But old habits die hard.

     “Team Maraqua has come toe to toe with all kinds of foes. Do you feel that your unique background changes the way you handle yourselves in game?”

     A slight pause as Elon took a sip. The smirk never parted from his lips. His eyes, however, seemed to darken ever so slightly.

     “When you live through something like that, it kinda changes you.”

     His tone was low. Tobias was unsure if his recorder caught it. He gently pushed the device a little further to Elon’s side of the table, determined to not lose this story.

     He thought that this move was undetected. Elon knew this.

     And he continued as if he didn’t.

     “It’s every man for himself out there. You don’t have someone watching your back at all times.”

     The Ixi caught the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

     He knew many things about The Black Hole.

     He could call out the Maraquan Forward’s stats without a second thought.

     He could relay many spats with referees. With rival teams. With his own teammates.

     He could point to the way that he riled up a crowd in the way that only he could.

     And he was beginning to understand that maybe there was more to this Black Hole than just some self-important Yooyuball pro.

     “I know my team’s great. I know we’ve got what it takes, and best believe this next Cup is ours!”

     Elon leaned his full form across the table, peering into Tobias’ eyes as his own regained their light.

     “But I’ve made it this far on my own. And I ain’t stopping now.”

     Silence.

     Then a click.

     They both looked down at the recorder. Just as he had planned, Elon ran the tape out to its very end.

     “That’s a…wrap.”

     Tobias’ tone was soft. Natural. Not the well-practiced result of years in the industry.

     He gave a thankful smile, holding as Elon crossed his tentacles and leaned back in his chair.

     The Acara glanced down at what remained of their dishes, nodding in the Ixi’s direction.

     “I’m paying, so don’t let it go to waste, Mister Sports Talk Man.”

     Finally, a nickname that could be met with a laugh, without any worries of unprofessionalism.

     Tobias brought his spoon to his mouth, taking a much needed bite just as Elon spoke again.

     “Besides, we’ve still gotta talk about that whole Krawk Island maybe getting a whole new team thing.”

     “Kr-”

     Tobias’ eyes grew wide as he dropped his spoon, nearly choking on his bite. Elon chuckled as the newscaster took a good moment to compose himself.

     “What are you-”

     The Black Hole interrupted, as he often did.

     “I told you I had a story for ya.”

     Thankfully there was no camera on him. Tobias’ mouth was wide open, half full, complementing his expression of sheer disbelief.

     For once, he was speechless. He motioned to the recorder, then to Elon, then to the recorder again.

      Elon just chuckled and shrugged. He always had to be in charge. This was no exception. He could barely feign ignorance, especially now he was able to speak candidly.

     He knew that even if some grand wartime exposé were to go out to the public, it wouldn’t change public perception of him.

     He also knew that Tobias wouldn’t have it in him to make such an intimate story public.

     Tobias would, however, find himself fixated on Elon more than anyone else on the pitch. Which would translate to more coverage. Which would translate to more attention in a matter of months, when he would climb himself up to the Winner’s Podium, Altador Cup in hand.

     Which was all The Black Hole of Maraqua ever really wanted.

     The End.