The Auntie-Hero

It was dark.  It was silent.  It was time.

Source: CJD

She slipped out of her bed.  She had never really slept that night; she had only laid there, quietly contemplating her next move.  She knew she had to do the job; there was no staying in her cozy home anymore.

She walked to her closet, quietly.  She opened it and then, with the strike of an assassin, she kicked the back wall of her closet.  The wood  panel fell to the ground.  She felt no pain - years of training had made that so.

Behind that wood was a curious thing.  There was a safe that she had placed there years before whilst building the igloo.  In her line of work, she never knew if things would go south, meaning she would have to flee.  Because of this, she had installed a literal fail-safe secretly in her igloo.

Now she opened that safe, with the brush of a flipper on a pad and and a 27 digit code.  Inside there was a brief case, bulging from the pressure of various articles of clothing.  She took the case, closed the safe, placed the panel back on the wall, and closed her closet door.  The last minute could have very well never happened; she was too good to leave tracks behind.

She opened the case and selected an outfit.  She put it on and then quietly closed her door, as not to wake her puffles.  She walked towards the main Town, keeping herself obscured by the shadows as often as possible; she couldn't afford to be hounded for autographs by the few who were still roaming the streets at this hour.

As she continued towards her destination, she thought over what she was doing once again.  No moral person would participate in such an activity; at least, no moral person who still had hope left.

It had all started when her place of business - or, shall we say, one of her places of business - was brought to its knees in a horrible attack.  Seeing as she was the boss, she had to be noble and give up her paycheck so the building could be fixed.  Then, her job at the newspaper was cut back, with her losing an entire section of her column.  Barely a few pennies remained in her bank account meaning some nights her family would have to go without food.  She couldn't put herself - or, more importantly, her puffles - through this way of life.  And, with earning coins from games an impossibility (her celebrity status made it impossible to play such games without being hounded during the hours they were running), she would have to resort to this plot.  A devious plot.

Source: WYSV

But, no matter how despicable such a plan was, she knew it had to be done.  She had to do it for her family - her puffles!  She had to!

She arrived at her destination: the Coffee Shop.

Due to some delays, deliveries were only arriving at this late hour.  There were two men outside a truck behind the Coffee Shop, preparing to unload it.

"You don't know how hard it was to come across these last cases of it," said the driver, who was speaking to the Coffee Shop employee.  "When they announced that the company was going bankrupt, that drink sold out in minutes!  I had to do some searching to find one last shipment of it.  But, I found it!  Those bottles in there are the last ones ever filled up!  Very rare....very valuable."

She came closer and threw a rock at the doorknob of the Coffee Shop's backdoor.  The two stopped chatting and went towards the clink, trying to figure out where it had came from.  It was a diversion that would wear off in seconds - but that was all she needed.

She jumped into the truck.  The keys were still in the ignition.  The truck roared and she drove forward quickly.

The two turned and began to run after the truck.  They soon knew it was useless.  The truck turned and made for the dark forest; they would not be seeing it again anytime soon.

Source: Wonder Ground

She made it back to her igloo and quickly unlocked the door.  She carried her puffles and put them into the truck, buckling them up in the passenger seat.  She then furiously locked her door.

She knew she would never again return to this igloo, or to this island.  She knew this was the end.

A day or two would go by before people would start asking questions.  They would notice her absence at her jobs and perhaps come looking for clues in her igloo.  They would find nothing inside, or on any security cameras on the island.  Her puffles and herself were gone.  No loose ends would be left behind.  They would never really have an explanation.

She now got into her truck and revved forward again, picking up speed quickly.  She made for the shore.

As she went, she clamped a pod on the side of the vehicle.  She pressed a button and a dome appeared around the truck.

Once she got to the water, she kept going.  The truck was soon on the ocean floor moving forward at a brisk pace.  Impossible, you say?  Not with a dome around your truck.....or your stolen truck.

She was traveling to another island now.  This was an island few knew about - one she had learned of from Rockhopper.  It was here many filthy rich tycoons lived.  It was here where there was a large thirst for sweet products.  It was here where she would start over.

Source: Colorado Guy

She planned to sell the rare, out-of-production product to the rich people of the island when she reached the shore.  Seeing as the citizens would pay outrageous prices for just a few morsels or drops of an easy to find product, she knew she would be a billionaire once she sold the gallons of loved, but out-of-production products in the back of the truck.  Herself and her puffles would never have to worry about money again.  They would live lavishly and never have to fret about anything ever again.

Meanwhile, the Coffee Shop employee, who had just been hired, had reported the theft to the EPF.  During an interview with the Club Penguin Times, he was asked if he could remember anything about the thief.  He thought back, and realized he had caught one glimpse of the suspect.  He had seen the girl's glasses.  He had seen the woman's freckles - a peculiar thing for penguins to have....

And that was when he knew who did it.

The next day's special edition of the Club Penguin Times - one which was rushed to be published before the weekly one was due to be released - is still remembered as the most scandalous issue in the history of the fabled publication.  It was read by literally every penguin on the island.  What the issue contained was gossiped about constantly afterwards.  It was the sort of buzz-worthy event journalists dream of.  It was something that would have made the Chief Editor of the newspaper beam with pride - had it not been her in hot water.

Source: Ruston Home

The headline of that legendary publication read:

Aunt Arctic Stole My Gatorade