Part 8: The Great Beebo Adventure

“Man, this car is ancient!”

“It’s only… er… six years old or so, I brought it with me from home.”

The skies of Mobius grew darker as the evening fell, the curtain of sunset dipping behind the skyline, leaving behind an indigo dusk. Oliver drove in traffic in a desperate attempt to get to the pet store before they closed, with Marcus giving directions, which were often spontaneous and contradictory. The entire city was an infinite loop of endless city blocks and winding roads, jammed with cars full of people who just wanted to get home. Due to his time in the scouts as a lad, Oliver had been able to navigate slightly easier over the past few months through the use of landmarks; he knew to go past the toilet paper emporium, but if he saw the twenty-meter tall bobblehead of Bongo the Gorilla, he’d went too far. He just hoped to God the biannual Deviled Egg Festival had wrapped up by now, or it was going to be nothing short of a nightmare getting in and out of this place.

“Right… No, next one!” Oliver turned the wheel onto an avenue as Marcus rubbed his temples. “Why’d you go that way?”

“What? You told me to!”

“No, I said- wait, whoops I meant left.” Oliver let out an exasperated grunt as he attempted to K-turn in the middle of the busy street. “My bad, Opposite Day was a few days ago and I’m still mentally in Opposite Day… or excuse me, not still-”

“It’s fine. Hang on, I’ve got to focus.”

Eventually, after breaking a few traffic laws and nearly hitting a festival-goer in a devil costume, Oliver pulled into the parking lot of Kits, Pups, n’ Bloinks, with only twelve minutes to spare.

“Hopefully he’s didn’t go home early.” Marcus got out of the car before Oliver had even fully stopped it, stumbling in the parking lot. Oliver wasn’t surprised that he just happened to know a guy- he always seemed to know a guy for whatever predicament you were in. It was also convenient that they hadn’t even needed to travel to another dimension. He just hoped he could find answers in time, gripping the beanie in his pocket.

As Oliver walked in behind Marcus, he heard the chitters, chirps, and hisses of various creatures he had never even fathomed, with a massive array of cages. The building looked small on the outside, no larger than the burger joint next door, but the inside was massive, likely due to Nth dimensional technology in the building’s structure. A dumpy figure behind the counter dragged a massive bag of pet food across the floor.

“Be right with ya, folks.” Oliver’s ears perked up. He instantly recognized that voice. Stan set the bag down and walked over, sweating and buzzing. “Cripes, my back. Aw hi there!”

“Stan the man!” Marcus grinned excitedly as he turned to Oliver.

“Ya know, I didn’t recognize ya for a sec without the uniform. I seen you so much over at Professor’s Pizza’s, I was startin’ to think ya lived there.”

Oliver let out a weary chuckle. “Sure feels like it.”

“What can I do for ya?”

“Sorry it’s late, man, but we could use your help with something,” Marcus chimed in. “We’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“Shoot.” Oliver pulled the hat out of his pocket, as Stan’s whiskery mustache and antennae twitched as he sniffed the air. “Woof, smells like beebos.” Oliver and Marcus glanced at each other. They knew they had the right guy.

Oliver explained the entire situation with Wing Guy- the ransom note, the severed finger, the hat by the dumpster, the feeding the beebos at night, the ‘Idiot Loser Stepdad’… Stan grew a look of concern.

“Jeez, poor kid. Hope he’s still with us.” Stan looked down, rubbing his fuzzy head. “I figured he was just in school or somethin’, I had no idea.”

“Well, that’s why we figured we’d ask.” Marcus itched his hand. “We heard rumors about Mobius’ first settlers bringing them in from one of the original sixty-four dimensions and training them to track things with their freakishly strong noses.”

“Yeah, some scientists claim they can even smell into parallel dimensions, and they say that’s how Mobius accessed so many open universes in the early day, though who knows how true any of that is.”

“Do you have any here already trained? Or do you know how we could tame and train one in an extremely short timeframe?”

“Not short enough. They’re very elusive critters. They so much as look at ya, poof, they’re gone. Plus, they’re notoriously tough to train.” Stan chuckled. “Ol’ fella I knew from back when I worked out in one of the infinite storage dimensions, he tried to keep one as a pet. Always hid so well he didn’t even know if it was still there. Cut to one month later, his whole apartment smells like beebo, the floors’re all stained with piss, everything’s chewed up and destroyed, it ate all his plants, it ate his parakeet, guy spends so much money on this little maniac that his car’s completely FUBAR and he can’t get it fixed, he gets evicted…”

Marcus chuckled, while Oliver couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. “Dude, that’s rough.”

“Well, what’d he expect? It’s a wild animal. Oy, I tell ya, tip of the iceberg with him. Guy had two brain cells fightin’ for third place. Anyways, needless to say we don’t sell them here either.” Marcus collected himself from laughing, as Oliver’s ears sunk.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Stan thought for a moment, his wings buzzing.

“You said the kid was rubbin’ its belly, didn’t get bit or scratched?”

“Yeah.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“Saw it with my own eyes.”

“Huh.” Stan sat, bewildered. “You never see that. They’re terrified of people.” He tapped on the counter with his insectoid hands in thought. “Either this kid’s good, or it imprinted on him as a baby.”

“Imprinted?” Oliver was intrigued.

“Yeah, that would explain if it was out looking for him. Either it wanted a meal, or he thinks the kid’s its mom.”

“Huh.” Marcus cracked up at the thought of Wing Guy being a mom.

“You know how old it was?”

“No idea.” Oliver had no idea about a beebo’s life cycle, as he wasn’t even from here.

“I might have just the thing. Hol’ on.” Stan walked into the back as Oliver and Marcus looked around aimlessly. Oliver admired all of the fascinating creatures, some of which were similar to things from his homeworld, and others he could barely even comprehend. A snake-like creature slithered in the tank, sniffing the air with its tongue. Oliver peered in through the glass, and it transformed into what looked like a fern! Incredible! If he weren’t watching it in real time, he would’ve thought it was a magic trick or an AI video. Oliver looked in the tank next to it, and the glimmer of several hundred tiny flickering sea creatures he couldn’t even describe caught his eye. The school floated around the tank in a dazzling display, in perfect synchronicity, shipped straight from Dimension 53A-742δ. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen back home. Oliver whipped out his phone and took a photo to send to Iris. Right on cue, every creature in the tank stopped in their tracks, floating to the top of the tank, belly up. Oliver looked horrified at the tank of hundreds of little dead critters, tapping desperately on the glass.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Wake up!”

“Dude, put it away!” Marcus pushed Oliver’s phone down, as he fumbled to put it in his pocket. It was then that Oliver saw the little sign in the corner of the tank.

No flash photography.

Crap! The duo heard a familiar voice behind them as they both jumped out of their skins.

“Don’t worry, happens more than you’d think.” They both turned around at the exotic birdcages, expecting to see a familiar fly, only to find he wasn’t there. The two looked at each other, confused. A small, peach-colored bird in a cage caught their eye, staring at them with curiosity. Marcus looked over and put his hand on the cage.

“Oh, no thanks. I’m a recovered barfly.” Marcus and Oliver looked at it in amazement. It matched Stan’s voice perfectly. It was uncanny. Suddenly, they looked back at each other at the same time.

“The forest!” They remembered their sighting of one, when they heard the enforcer jabber on their way back to the car. Oliver noticed as the moment of realization hit Marcus’ eyes the second it hit him too.

“Are you thinking-”

“Yeah.” Stan came out of the back, setting a large trap and a container full of some kind of olive-green food pellets on the counter.

“Yo Stan, what is this thing?” Stan walked over to the display. Suddenly, Marcus and Oliver remembered the aquarium, as Marcus stood in front of the tank, leaving Oliver by the bird cage.

“Oh, that’s Honey. She’s a jig-jig.

Marcus chuckled. “A jig-jig? Who names these things, a ten-year-old?” Stan chuckled.

“You’re tellin’ me. They’re in quite a few universes. They say one flew in through a wormhole and laid an egg, and now they’re all over the place. They’re like cane toads.” Oliver gulped. They have cane toads here now too? It was worse than he thought.

“They can mimic any sound they hear to a tee. Watch this.” Stan pulled out a plastic water bottle and crunched it up. The three paused, waiting in anticipation for Honey to respond.

“Ope. Well, at least they can whenever they feel like it, which isn’t all that often.” Stan led the duo back to the counter, as Oliver thought to himself. What were the enforcers doing in 44M-470λ right before it was destroyed?

“Okay, so this here’s a trap big enough to fit an adult beebo, just in case. It’s totally harmless, they go through the door here, step on the plate, it locks over here. Can’t get out, unless it’s one of the rare species which can turn itself into ionized plasma, in which case you got a whole ‘nother problem on your hands. Now, these things are your best bet in terms of food. They’re brought in from a waste disposal dimension and processed into the most delicious-smelling garbage you’ll ever see. Even I eat these things from time to time.” He took out a little glass, putting a few in, before he spit into the glass, dissolving it into mush. He then drank it up with his straw-like proboscis. It smelled like burning garbage.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Just like ol’ Grandma Bzzszyszwicz used to make. Anywho, put these right in there with the hat and maybe some expired sauce for good measure, and once he’s caught, shake him up real good. Not to the point where ya go n’ hurt it, just enough that it riles him up. Wear some ol’ clothes, in case it tries inkin’ ya.” Stan tested the steel trap door with his hand. “And Bob’s your uncle. Now, if he did imprint on the wing kid like I’m guessing, it’s probably gonna run to him, wherever he is. At which point you can track it easily using this optic.” He placed the crystal lens device in with it, which looked like it was straight out of an anime. “I gotta be honest, it’s a total crapshoot, but at least it’s somethin’.”

“Thanks, Stan.” Oliver gulped nervously. “How much do we owe you?” Stan punched in some numbers.

“Typically all this would cost 2,940 MoCred but I’ll offer you fellas the friends n’ family discount… ope hit it twice, my bad… that’s only gonna be… 470.” Marcus’ eyes widened.

“Dude, you didn’t have to do that.” Stan smiled.

“‘Course I did. For the kid.” Oliver handed the money over the counter, as Marcus opened up his phone, paying Oliver back for half.

“Thanks again.” Stan looked disappointed.

“Wish I could help you guys some more, but I’m doing night security at the Deviled Egg Fest right after this, and I gotta make rent this month.”

“Don’t worry about it, man. You’ve helped enough.” Stan leaned in, a serious, fatherly tone in his voice.

“Now I know I said this before, but I gotta read you two the riot act. Don’t go and get yourselves killed. There’s lots of psychos out there. There’s lots of psychos here, in Mobius. These kids your age, they think they’re invincible, they screw with the wrong guys, next thing ya know their head’s mounted on a wall somewheres.” Oliver gulped.

“We’ll be careful.”

“Okay. Good.” Oliver knew this was most likely a lie, but they had no other choice. His demeanor shifted back. “Good luck, I’ll see ya around.”

“Later, Stan.” The two headed out, with Marcus carrying the goods. They hopped in the car. Next stop, Professor Pizza’s Pizzas.

“You know, I’d love to learn Fly.”

“Fly? Like, how to fly?”

“No, the language. What fly people like Stan speak.” Marcus rapped on the handle of the car door. “Tough language, though. Lots of consonants. Lots of ‘z’s. Plus I’ve heard the grammar is a total nightmare.”

Oliver and Marcus sat in the car outside of the restaurant, waiting eagerly for any action. There was still no sign of the creature. How long it would even take to catch one was a guessing game. Beebos were smart. The pair had scanned the area with their optics, revealing tracks and DNA in the area which matched the creatures in question, meaning there was likely a den of them living nearby. The car’s engine purred as it sat idly in the night parking lot.

“How about Australian?” Oliver turned towards the panda.

“Sorry, I don’t- what do you mean?” Marcus went on his phone.

“You guys speak Australian where you’re from, right? How easy would it be to teach me some?”

“Oh, we speak English.”

“Yeah, that.” Oliver sat confused.

“Could I teach you… some English?”

“Yeah.”

“…You’re speaking English right now, you absolute git.”

“…No, I’m speaking Mobian.” Oliver turned to the panda, bewildered.

“Wait, you’re kidding, right?” The panda’s eyes flashed with recognition.

“Oh hang on, you guys all speak Mobian?! I thought it was just you!”

“No, mate, I told you we- er… huh.” Oliver had wondered why almost everyone in Mobius understood him. He figured either it was some sort of implant or magic, or maybe the British had tried to invade this place, too. That explained a lot. Still, what were the chances of such a coincidence? Two nearly identical languages? 

Marcus scrolled on his phone as they waited. Oliver wanted to put on some music, but the two sat in silence, out of fear that any music would scare the creature off. Oliver glanced over at the phone screen, which showed Oliver and Professor Pizza posing with a guy in the dining area. He was a slender, yet athletic human-adjacent figure, with untamable, auburn hair which stuck out in every which way, a pair of long antennae on top of his head, a sharp, toothy grin, and a third eye which sat in the middle of his forehead. Marcus noticed Oliver glancing at his phone and showed him the picture.

“That’s him.” Oliver zoomed in.

“That’s a great photo.”

“Yeah, takes me back.” Marcus looked at it with a forlorn smile, lost in memories of a better time. He swiped away from it, almost as if he knew he couldn’t keep looking at it all night. Oliver looked over at Marcus, stopping himself from asking if he was all right. What good that question would do. A notification popped up, which Marcus clicked on instantly as he took his phone back. Suddenly, Marcus snapped out of it, as he leaned in.

“What the crap?! They’re joking!”

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s a load of BS!!!” Oliver grew concerned. He checked and made sure the windows were rolled up, so as to not scare away the beebo.

“Marcus, what’s going on?!” Marcus slammed the phone down in frustration.

“Get this. The High Council are using the attack on the Sector 7465 gate to try and create a civilian legion of enforcers, and to charge a fee for any Mobian citizen attempting to travel through the gate, as well as increasing public surveillance.” Oliver blinked.

“You don’t… have all of those things already?”

“No, dude. That’s literally why the Mobian constitution created the enforcers in the first place! To allegedly protect its citizens from both crime and corruption, and to make sure Mobians are free from being forced to defend Mobius with their own blood. It also says that citizens of Mobius have a right to travel through the gates without having to pay exorbitant fees in the same section. These are two of our most basic rights, dude!”

“Huh… I’m sorry.” Oliver sat, deep in thought. Since his world didn’t have enforcers, with police and military made up of people just like the two of them, and he’d had to pay a small fortune just to come here through his homeworld’s gate, he hadn’t thought much of it, though he could see why that was considered a big deal here. It put a lot of things into perspective, to say the least, and the thought of everyone here, including Marcus and ultimately including him, no longer having these protections which meant a lot to them upset him deeply.

“This is gonna cripple so many small businesses like Professor Pizza’s that rely on that. And a good chunk of people according to these numbers are on board with this.” He put the phone down. “I gotta stop looking at this stuff, dude. It’s depressing.” He looked out of the passenger seat window, a resigned breath of air fogging up the glass. “It’s bad enough that they’ve still got my face everywhere with the word ‘terrorist’. I mean, it’s not my face, but it’s still my face. I constantly feel like I’m being watched, that’s only going to get better.”

The panda looked over at Oliver, who patiently listened. “Jeez, I’m sorry, dude.”

“For what?”

“I just- I feel like all I’ve done all night is just bitch to you about every little thing. I feel bad.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’ve been dealing with a lot.”

“I know, but still.” The quiet hum of the hybrid car filled the air. “It just feels like… I don’t know, like everything in my life is going to hell in a handbasket, like I’m just cooked, and so are all the people around me, and that there’s no way out. And I’m sick of pretending that that’s not the case.”

“I hear you, mate.” Marcus opened up his empty tin of gummies. “Oh, right.”

A part of Oliver had secretly felt the same way. Despite everything, he held out hope, as he always tried to do, even in the most desperate of times. The unspoken lingered in the back of his mind, that there was a chance that the wing guy was dead, or would never be seen again, that a world where everything was a replaceable commodity would go on without skipping a beat. That it was one more example of things going horribly wrong. He gripped the steering wheel, clinging to his dad’s old adage. She’ll be right.

The loud sound of a trap door snapping shut from outside of the car disrupted their thought. The duo glanced at each other with excitement. As the two apprehensively and quietly got out of their cars, they made their way towards the rattling trap. The startled beebo made a distressed noise similar to a squeegee on glass, desperately trying to get out. Oliver’s ears perked up, as Marcus pumped his fist. Their efforts hadn’t been in vain.

Oliver struggled to pick up the heavy cage, which Marcus lifted with ease. They examined the soft, white beebo up close, admiring its large nose, which resembled a kumquat, its tiny earflaps, pressed against its round head, and its chittering whiskers, as it paced around with large, black eyes, which shone with confusion. Its sides heaved in and out with each breath. Oliver couldn’t help but admire what a beautiful little creature he was looking at.

“I’ll do the honors.” Marcus took the cage and gave it a shake, with a snarl.

“Marcus, wait!”

The beebo sprayed a stream of black, inky spray out of its ink gland and all over Marcus’ yellow t-shirt. A moment of realization hit him, as his eyes slowly panned to the old, black hoodie he’d brought just for this reason, lying on the car seat. Oliver winced.

“It’ll probably wash out… I hope…”

“At least take me out to dinner first.” He slowly put the cage down and unlatched it, and before he could even react, the beebo darted off into the night. The bear fumbled around in the passenger seat and slid open the optic tracker’s compartment, inserting a strand of its fur as he sniffed the air. “Follow me in your car.” He donned the glowing, green optic and ran off, as Oliver got back into the car, shifted into drive, and slowly followed Marcus.

After an hour or two of painstakingly searching around the area, Marcus signaled to Oliver, who pulled over and killed the engine. Marcus reached in, taking off his yellow shirt and throwing on his black hoodie. They both lit up the flashlights on their phones, as Oliver holstered his blaster.

“I’m catching its scent. It’s not far from here,” he whispered. He gestured over towards the nearby soup restaurant, which was closed for the night.

Oliver’s nerves began to grip his chest. “This is a bad idea. I’ve got a nasty feeling about this.”

“So do I, dude, but it’s the best chance we got.” They sniffed the air, with Marcus analyzing every paw print, hair, and scuff mark on the ground. Their efforts led to a dead end alleyway.

“Crap.” He picked up a broken glass pipe he found on the ground using the tracker. “Okay, I’ll look through the trash, you scan the area.”

“Alright.” Oliver couldn’t help but feel like some sort of burglar. He hoped no one called the enforcers on them, or it could scare the beebo off, give their position away, or more than likely, lead to an incredibly awkward situation.

The little koala scanned the area with a flashlight, leaning back against the graffiti’d brick wall. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched as he looked around the city streets.

“Ugh, lots of tomato soup in here. Guess I’m gonna smell like old gazpacho and grated parm all night.” Marcus dug through the trash, scanning every surface. Suddenly, Oliver tumbled backwards, as the secret door revealed itself. Marcus’ head snapped over, as he  saw the hidden doorway, gently creaking the door open and closed.

“Huh, how about that?” Oliver slipped in, as Marcus struggled to squeeze through the narrow hallways. The area was empty; sterile and furnished, yet run down. “It’s a tight fit,” Marcus whispered under his breath.

“I’m smaller. I’ll take point.” Oliver whispered barely above a hiss, as he drew his pistol. Suddenly, they both heard something coming, as they killed their flashlights dove behind a wall, with Marcus nearly crushing Oliver. They heard the click-clack sound growing ominously closer, the blaster shaking in Oliver’s hand, as four bug-like legs tapped against the cold floor. The spider-like creature investigated, holding a sublimator rifle in each pair of arms. Marcus and Oliver’s eyes widened. Atraxxans!

The sentry looked around, before a quiet hiss emanated from their body. The sickly-sweet pheromone spray filled the room, as it waited patiently for its prey. Oliver and Marcus’ heads began to pound, as endorphins flooded their brain. Oliver couldn’t breathe, as his chest pulsated, fighting every urge to scream in terror. His fight or flight kicked in, as he attempted to bolt, but got pinned down by Marcus, the whites of his eyes visible through his black markings. He covered Oliver’s mouth with his hand, the specimen around the corner not moving a muscle. Oliver wriggled to break free, sinking his teeth into Marcus’ massive paw as the metallic taste of his blood filled his mouth. Marcus stifled a cry of pain, biting the inside of his mouth, as he held the koala down with his ursine strength. After what felt like an eternity, something caught the guard’s attention, as they scurried back into the depths of the makeshift lair. Oliver felt lightheaded, as he was being smothered, as Marcus let go, the koala scrambling forward and hyperventilating. Their efforts led panda collapsed, hitting the deck in a panic. Both tried to scream as no words came out.

“You bit me!!!” Marcus hissed.

“You were suffocating me!!!”

“I had no choice!!! You were freaking out!!!” Oliver heaved, throwing up on the ground as quietly as possible. A barrage of chemical signals raced through his little body, through his nervous system. The two realized they needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. The pheromones were messing with their bodies, attempting to break their minds and get them killed. They ran as fast as they could to a large, filthy, underground chamber, filled with large animal cages. It smelled awful, the stench of filth, waste and hints of sauce and cheese filling the underground.

“Wing guy!!!” The panda ran over to the emaciated human teenager, who laid in the cramped cage like an animal. He looked over as his eyes widened. Oliver stepped back in shock at his condition, as Marcus tried to pry the gate open.

“What are you two doing here?! GET OUT!!! They’ll KILL you!!!”

“We’re not leaving without you, man!” With a mighty tug, Marcus ripped the door clean off the cage, throwing it aside with a loud clang. The wing guy stumbled forward with what little strength he had, terrified. Stealth was no longer an option.

“Come on!!!” Marcus grabbed his scrawny arm, attempting to run, as they heard a distressed, horrible squeal from inside the lair. Their heads darted around, as several atraxxans filled the room, weapons drawn. Oliver attempted to draw his gun, as thick, ethereal webs, conjured out of thin air, wrapped around their limbs and bound the three to the floor. The sorcerer stood at the back of the room, focusing through his gnarled bone staff, while the hunters stood over them with guns and tattered blades, silently debating which one to kill first.