I — AN OFFER SHE COULDN'T REFUSE
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The scene flickered in front of Rhubella as she stood and the simulator shut down, leaving four toons in a huge blue chamber that had a thin white grid on the walls, floor, and ceiling.
Roddy came up to me and hugged me, still holding his rifle, happy at how much I had improved over the weekend. The simulator had helped us get the feel of the rifles, the loading, and the whole sniper operation. My aim hadn't been that good at first, but in less than three days I could very much shoot off that jaguar's earring at 20 metres while blindfolded. Well, maybe not blindfolded, but the telescopic sight did do most of the work; I doubt I would have been able to do it without it.
I smiled weakly, still holding my own rifle. Roddy had seen how uncomfortable I had been when I first held that weapon, but he and the others assured me that we weren't going to use bullets or even a lethal dose of tranquilliser, only enough to knock out that panther for a day or two: enough to skin him and ship him back to Mexico where he belonged.
It had started last week. Roddy and I were waiting for our limousines in front of the entrance to Perfecto Prep. It had been another long day of not studying and criticising everything and everyone who wasn't from Perfecto, and I was looking forward to soaking in my own Jacuzzi instead of using the one here. We hadn't been waiting long when a limousine suddenly zoomed in and stopped in front of us. From the looks of it, it wasn't mine or Roddy's, or of any other student here.
The back window rolled down, and you can imagine our shock when we saw that it was that looser, Montana Max.
"Hey, Roddy, how would you like to get back the money you lost at the Acme Bowl?" he asked before we could tell him to get his looser limo off our campus.
Roddy froze for a moment, as I did, quite surprised at Montana's sudden offer. "Offer" was, of course, a misnomer. We all knew that whenever Montana made an offer of ANY kind he always tried to find a way to pay as little as possible, if at all.
"What do you want, looser?" asked Roddy.
"Get in," he replied, unfazed, as his door opened almost by itself.
"Listen, looser! If you think I'm going to defile myself by getting into a looser limo, you're—"
"How would you like to get your money back AND get rid of a looser?"
I stiffened at that, wondering what Montana meant. Roddy asked for me, "What do you mean 'get rid'?"
"Get in," he repeated. There was seriousness in Montana's face that almost seemed foreign, as if maybe this was no average "deal" he wanted to make.
Roddy looked at me for a moment, and then back at Montana. Suddenly, my boyfriend grabbed my paw and dragged me into the limousine. The door almost closed on my tail and we were suddenly driving away very fast.
Once inside, I was rather surprised to see that Montana had equipped his limousine with just about every luxury we knew about, including a big screen TV. One thing that was annoying, though, was the nearly overwhelming combined scents of paper money (his preferred air freshener) and concentrated human. Just as well, if he were to ride in Roddy's limo or mine he might have not liked the scent of rat musk or fresh cheese.
"Okay, looser, what's this all about?" asked Roddy.
Montana looked at us and began, "There is a looser, a newcomer AND a troublemaker, that just can't seem to understand who's the richest in the Looniversity. Not only that, he's attacked my girl, and two other girls as well. And yet, he's somehow managed to turn my techie against me, as well as gaining the loyalties of the faculty, the local media and several no-names."
When Montana said he had attacked other females, I suddenly started getting VERY interested in getting rid of whomever he was talking about. I asked, "If he has attacked females, why hasn't the Loo thrown him out?"
"I was just getting to that. This guy has managed to make his attacks look like acts of self-defence, but I ask you: do you think that a JAGUAR would need to 'defend' himself from a ditzy human girl?"
We were silent for a moment. A jaguar against a human girl? "That must have been an interesting staging on his part, Montana," I replied. "If he indeed managed to make it look like the girl attacked him and he had no choice but to retaliate. So you want to get rid of this jaguar, but apparently you can't do so by yourself?"
"Well, you can't say I haven't tried. This is no ordinary jaguar. Despite him being fat, he moves very fast, and he can sneak up on you while you're still thinking you're sneaking up on him. Even an attack from a skunk failed miserably. Also, he must have some type of strange magnetic repulsors that can somehow shield him from lightning bolts."
"So you couldn't shoot him if you wanted to?" asked Roddy.
"That's the strange thing: To make sure, I threw a few metal bb's at his back, but they were not magnetically repelled. He has protection from lightning, but not from anything else."
That's when I realised what Montana wanted to do. "Wait—you want to—kill this guy?"
He looked at me, "Why, don't be silly, rodent. I just want to shoot him with a tranquilliser and ship that wetback back to Mexico where he belongs!"
"He's a Mexican?" asked Roddy, suddenly rather interested in this project. We never did like foreigners, unless they were rich or famous.
"Yes, and he's smarter than I thought he would be. But he won't go back to Mexico without paying for his stay here. Once we knock him out, me and another friend will remove his hide—" he leaned closer, "—that's my girl's idea."
For some reason, I was feeling more and more disgusted at the offer, even if the intended target was someone who attacked females. "Won't that KILL HIM, looser?"
He looked at me for a moment, and then he laughed, "I guess there are some things that they still haven't taught you at your Prep. Listen, rodent, we're toons, so we're more than capable of skinning this wetback alive while KEEPING him alive. He'll survive the skinning, and the trip back. If you're still concerned, then rest assured that his fur will grow back…eventually," he leaned back again.
"What exactly do you need us for, looser? And what's in it for us?" asked Roddy.
"You will just need to be standing in the right place at the right time: it might be just shoving him into a bag, or a passing car; I'm still working out those details. I have another friend who is keeping tabs on that wetback to see where the best place to pull off our 'hunt' will be. As to what's in it for you, well…I'm sure you'll be the talk of the year when all the other Perfectoids hear how two rodents managed to get the best of a feline, and a jaguar, to boot!"
We looked at him for a moment. The times where a rodent would get the best of a feline was often staged, like with Tom and Jerry and other shows like that. Perhaps hunting a jaguar would be able to make the felines at Perfecto fear us, and all other rodents as well. It would be an interesting way of getting the upper paw on our traditional predators—
"Oh, you want money, then," he sighed. "Here." He pulled wads of cash from his pockets and threw them on our laps. "Five thousand dollars—EACH—right now, for being so nice to give me your time, AND for keeping things between us until we get the job done. Ten thousand more—each—if you agree, and ten thousand on top of that—again, for each—if we ship him back."
Our jaws would have dropped to the floor if we had received his toony training. We knew Montana never tossed out money like this—unless he was dead serious about getting something HERE and NOW.
"You're one desperate looser, aren't you?" asked Roddy.
"Let's just say that the sooner he's gone the better. Hey, it's one less Mexican gone from California; doesn't that sound patriotic, at least?"
"Then I'm in," said Roddy. "Ruby?"
It was an interesting amount of money, sure enough, though I wasn't exactly in debt. And the thought of felines fearing me seemed quite congenial. "He really has attacked females?"
"Three of them."
"And he's managed to make himself look like the victim?"
"The faculty and our news channel have swallowed his story hook, line, and sinker."
It was basically a combination of both arguments: striking fear into the hearts of felines, and getting rid of an attacker, rather than the money he offered, that did me in.
"Where and when?"
At this point, the limo stopped. "Just carry on as always—for now—and if anyone asks, just tell them that I tried to convince you to a double-or-nothing bet over what you lost at the Acme Bowl. I will contact you later."
He sat back and said nothing more. The door opened again, and we saw that we were in front of my house. Still quite surprised, we took the money and stepped out. No sooner had we done that when the door closed and the limo sped off again.
I had no idea what I had got myself into.