Cosette has a minion!

Darling the Sweetheart

Legacy Name: Cosette

The Angel Archan
Owner: Trithie

Age: 9 years, 2 months

Born: June 7th, 2011

Adopted: 2 years, 8 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: November 11th, 2017

Pet Spotlight Winner
December 10th, 2019


  • Level: 40
  • Strength: 100
  • Defense: 100
  • Speed: 100
  • Health: 101
  • HP: 101/101
  • Intelligence: 61
  • Books Read: 61
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed

This is Part One of an eight part story!

Our setting: a rickety brownstone deep in the Neutral Zone of Monster City. The Monsters-in-the-Closet and Monsters-Under-the-Bed each have half of the city, with the Zone running between them. The Zone is a seedy area where disgraced Monsters live and carry out their business.

Tramp leaned back in his office chair with a creeeeeeeek and put his feet up on his desk, which wobbled a little under the pressure. He kicked some of the cluttered papers off to the side to make space for his boots. With a sigh, he settled back for the first time in days, since he’d caught a lead on his last case and subsequently brought the perp in just hours ago. It was finally time to close up shop and maybe go sleep for three or four days-

His door banged open. ‘Well, this is just great,’ he thought to himself.

With a grunt he looked up, and saw a beautiful, what was she- an archan maybe- standing in front of him, gripping what was once probably an immaculately cleaned handkerchief- but was now certainly not so- in her paws. It was always tough to place species in Monster City, since half the population were dirty shapeshifters it seemed, and the other half were just plain weird (he was a Monster himself, although a disgraced one- but he kept the shape of a normal anyu, thank you very much).

“Sorry lady, we’re closed,” he stated gruffly.

“Oh, but please,” she said, her voice trembling, “my husband’s been murdered and I need your help, Mister, ummmm-”

“Tramp,” he interjected. “Name’s just Tramp. But like I said, we’re closed. Go to the cops, they’ll help you out.”

“You don’t understand, Mister... Tramp,” said the archan- yes, she must be an archan-, “The police don’t believe it was murder. They won’t listen to me, you must help me!”

He replied, “Well lady-”

“Cosette. My name is Cosette and my husband Lou, he’s been-”

“Murdered, you said,” he interrupted. “Look, the cops say that he wasn’t. That should be good enough. Unless...,” he tried to stop himself from going further, from getting invested in the case, but he couldn’t resist a pretty lady. “Unless you know something you can’t tell the cops?”

“Well, I never did ask about his business,” she replied, “but he sure did seem to have a lot of meetings with a dilemma and a mechanical bug in the bar below our apartment... not that I ever snooped or anything.”

Tramp’s ears had perked up at the last. “A bug, you say? Which bar was that?”

“Oh it’s the Monster Taph-”

But Tramp had already grabbed his hat and was halfway out the door.

profile | Paula :: art | frederick :: story | Trithie :: bg | toptal :: polaroid images | Pixabay

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