Intrigued and skeptical in equal measure, Jack and Anna turned towards him. The very notion of finding an ally in this desolate, subterranean world seemed far-fetched. Who, they wondered, could Captain Roger possibly know in such a place?

Following a winding path barely visible in the faint sunlight filtering through cracks in the ceiling, they ventured deeper into the earth. The air grew heavy with moisture, the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves clinging to their clothes. Captain Roger stopped abruptly, brushing aside a curtain of tangled vines to reveal a hidden entrance. Moss-covered rocks framed the opening, their jagged edges glinting with an otherworldly luminescence.

With a cautious step, they entered the passage, the cool, damp air washing over them. Darkness engulfed them completely, save for the faint glow emanating from a source deeper within. The silence was broken only by the soft drip of water somewhere in the distance and the rhythmic crunch of their footsteps on the uneven ground.

After what felt like an eternity, the passage opened into a vast, cavernous space. Their eyes, slowly adjusting to the dim light, revealed a sight that both astonished and unnerved them. The cavern walls were adorned with a chaotic collection of objects, each seemingly more peculiar than the last. Tarnished silver pocket watches hung next to dusty, leather-bound books. Gleaming gemstones winked from a pile of rusted tools and tarnished cutlery. It was a bizarre museum of forgotten treasures, a testament to some unseen collector's eccentric taste.

In the center of this cavern, bathed in the soft blue glow emanating from a strange crystalline formation, sat a figure. An elderly weasel, its fur a patchwork of brown and grey, looked up from a book clutched in its paws. Its sharp eyes, glinting with an intelligence that bordered on cunning, scanned them from head to toe. The way it held itself, the way its sharp claws tapped a silent rhythm on the rough wooden table before it, spoke volumes of a life spent navigating the shadows.

This was Joe, and despite the captain's confident introduction, a sense of unease settled upon Jack and Anna. The air crackled with unspoken tension as Captain Roger approached the weasel, his usual bravado seemingly diminished.

Joe's response was a slow, deliberate blink. He closed the book with a sharp snap, the sound echoing through the cavern like a gunshot. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, before Joe finally spoke. His voice, raspy with age, held a sardonic edge.

"Captain Roger. Fancy seeing you here, after all this time. Don't you usually confine your adventures to the surface world?"

The captain's weathered face flushed a faint red. "There's been… a predicament," he admitted, glancing back at Jack and Anna who stood hesitantly near the entrance. "These two are in need of your… expertise."

Joe's gaze flickered towards them, his sharp eyes missing nothing. He studied their travel-worn clothes, the tension etched on their faces. A flicker of something – perhaps curiosity, perhaps amusement – sparked in his gaze. "Expertise, eh? That's a rather grand way of putting it, wouldn't you say, Captain?"

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," the captain countered, a hint of defiance creeping into his voice. "They're facing a rather… unpleasant situation involving giant rats. They need a car for the race."

A dry chuckle escaped Joe's lips. "Giant rats, you say? Sounds like a thrilling adventure." He paused, his gaze returning to the captain. "But what makes you think I'd be willing to offer my… expertise… to strangers?"

The captain straightened, his posture regaining some of its usual confidence. "Surely you haven't forgotten our little… arrangement," he said, his voice low and measured. "The map, Joe. Remember the map?"

Joe's eyes narrowed. A low growl rumbled in his throat, a sound that sent shivers down Anna's spine. "That blasted map!" he spat. "Led me straight into a pirate's trap, lost me all my valuables. Thanks to you, Captain."

"It wasn't my intention," the captain said hurriedly, sensing his leverage slipping. "But surely you can see this as an opportunity. Help us out of this predicament, and I can offer you something even better – passage to the fabled Field of Sunflowers."

The name hung in the air, heavy with promise. A flicker of longing crossed Joe's face, a stark contrast to his usual cynicism. The Field of Sunflowers, whispered tales spoke of endless fields bursting with golden blooms, a haven far removed from the darkness of the sewers.

"The Field of Sunflowers, you say?" Joe's voice softened, a hint of his past dreams peeking through.

The captain pressed his advantage. "Think about it, Joe. Sunshine, fresh air, endless fields of flowers… a far cry from these damp tunnels, wouldn't you agree?"

Joe contemplated this in silence, his gaze fixed on the glowing crystal formation. A long moment passed, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Joe leaned back in his chair, a hint of a grudging smile playing on his lips.

"Alright, Captain," he said, his voice raspy but firm. "You've piqued my interest. But this won't be easy. What you need lies with a man we call… the Collector. But some people call him Mike the mole."

Anna, her curiosity piqued, couldn't help but inquire further. "And why do they call him the Collector?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of intrigue.

Joe's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ah, that, my dear, is where the tale takes a rather peculiar turn," he began, his voice dripping with anticipation. "The Collector, you see, is a man of… unusual tastes. He possesses an insatiable appetite for trinkets and treasures, amassing a collection that would make a king envious."

A pause hung in the air, the silence amplifying Joe's words. The flickering glow of the crystal formation cast dancing shadows on the cavern walls, adding to the mystique of the story.

"Rumors abound," Joe continued, his voice weaving a tapestry of intrigue, "But he won't just give away his property, you'll have to steal it."

Jack craned his neck outside, making sure they could finish the job before midnight.

“Can we get this done before midnight?” he asked.

“Don’t worry,” replied his companion, “one of the tunnels I dug leads right to Mike’s place. If we hurry, we can have this done before midnight. But we’ll have to be careful. Mike doesn’t take kindly to uninvited guests.”