If there was one genre of movies that Frank would never have known Anne loved, just as much as he did, it was old black-and-white noir movies. That was mostly because of his dad and grandpa's love of them.
Right now, as Hop Pop drove Bessie down the street, they were watching a movie called Little Town Noir. The main detective character, Baskin, was doing his inner monologue as he stood in an office. The man he'd been hunting down was right in front of him, sitting behind a desk, with his chair facing away from him.
"There I was, about to split the case of the century wide open. The person behind it all was right behind this chair, and it was my job to deliver justice with my fists."
Polly, Sprig, and Hop Pop, who were leaning over to watch the show on Anne's phone, were all very impressed. "Whoa."
"Aren't these old detective films the greatest," Anne said as the big fistfight broke out. "It's like a normal movie, but no one talks out loud, and everybody loses in the end."
"I love it. Just a hard-boiled guy tryin' to right wrongs, without any of that fancy color nonsense getting in the way," Hop Pop said.
Frank raised an eyebrow. "Hop Pop, shouldn't you be focusing on driving," he asked, noting the long line of cars behind them. All thanks to Hop Pop driving Bessie so slowly just to watch the movie, traffic had become backed up.
Luckily, Hop Pop made a left turn, allowing traffic to resume at a normal pace, while he looked at the destination he intended to take the kids to.
"All right, kids. We're here," he said.
To Frank, Anne, Sprig, and Polly's utter amazement and excitement, across the street of the T-section was a massive arcade that looked like a mix between a casino and a movie theater. A large sign hung over the entrance of the building, and two wizard-like newt statues stood over it. Outside of the entrance, a long line of people waited to get into the arcade and have the time of their lives.
When the kids saw the arcade, they were thrilled and ready to jump off and run to it—especially the two humans, who had yearned to see an arcade for so long. Somewhere where they could eat pizza, play video games, and win tickets for cheap and breakable prizes that would only keep their attention until the day's end.
"An arcade?" Frank looked at the old frog with a big smile. "Honestly, this is the best thing you've ever done for us."
"Totally worth it," Anne said.
Polly exclaimed, "You're the best Hop Pop who ever hopped."
Hop Pop, however, like always, quickly dashed those hopes away when he looked back and said, "What? No, no, no. We're going there."
The four kids followed his finger as he pointed to an arcade, but two a different building next to it. Unlike the casino, which was doing very well for itself, and was brightly lit with customers, Hop Pop's intended destination was nothing more than a rundown sandwich shop. The sign above the shop, which was crooked from repairs having gone to waste, had the title of "Sal's Wartwood Style Sandwiches" on it, along with the bust of a frog that looked to be about Hop Pop's age with a small mustache, a hat on his head, and a tie.
Everyone instantly had a negative reaction, with Anne yelling, "Boo!"
Polly and Sprig moaned, "Aw, Hop Pop."
"Should've known it was too good to be true," Frank said, crossing his arms.
All that did was get them a slap in the face by the old frog's newspaper.
"Shush, youngsters. Have a little respect. This is Sal's," Hop Pop said as he packed the snail in front of the building.
"Do you know the guy," Frank asked as he hopped down with the others.
Hop Pop hop on the ground as well, before continuing his story. "Sal was like a brother to me. We've been friends since the old ways were just the ways. He was so good at making sandwiches, he decided to relocate to Newtopia to make the buko dolares," he said, walking up to the door.
"Are they really that good," Frank asked.
"Oh, Frank, they're beyond anything else you've ever had. I've dreamed of those sandwiches," Hop Pop said, the idea of experiencing the taste of a sandwich from Sal thrust him into a fantasy world of flavor. "That lightly toasted bread, the fresh green lettuce, the thin yet supple slices of roast beetle, and finally... the sauce . Tangy, zippy, and just plain amazing… OH, LORDY !!"
Needless to say, Hop Pop was drooling.
"Whoa. It sounds like you really need to be alone with this sandwich, HP," Anne said jokingly.
Sprig laughed. "Zing!"
"Hush! I promised myself that if I ever made it to Newtopia, I'd swing by for one of those sweet, sweet sandies." The old frog then turned back to the kids, excited to share the experience with them. "Now, come on, gang, who's ready to revisit the glory days?"
The kids looked at one another comfortably before looking at the old frog with kind smiles. "Hop Pop, this looks really important to you," Sprig said with genuine respect. "And the four of us would never want to get in the way of something so personal…"
Hop Pop, not buying it, gave the kids a deadpan expression. "You wanna go to the arcade, don't ya?"
"Yes, please," said Sprig, Anne, and Polly.
Hop Pop sighed. "Fine. Play your newfangled games," he said, glaring at them with disappointment. "But it's that attitude that's causing tradition to be left in the dust…"
The kids didn't care about traditions. They wanted to play games. And so, Anne, carrying Polly, and Sprig ran towards the arcade. They kicked up dust in the air, making the old frog cough. Seeing that his own grandkids don't want to experience the good old days, Hop Pop sighed in misery.
That was until he saw that Frank was still standing in front of him. "Well, aren't you going to go with them," he asked bitterly. "Go and play your fancy electronics, your jukeboxes, and your cassette players."
"Okay, one, two of those things we don't even use anymore. Two…" Frank was about to continue when he stopped, no things to his stomach growling loudly. "I, uh… the way you describe the sandwiches…kinda made me hungry."
That seemed to lighten Hop Pop's mood. "Well, at least someone in my family appreciates tradition," he said with his fists on his hips.
"Not really," Frank said. "I just want a sandwich.
"Good enough for me!" Hop Pop swung open the door and entered the shop, with the small, sandwich-shaped bell ringing over his head. "Guess what, Sal? It's your old pal Hop…"
Hop Pop let out a horrified gasp as Frank was shocked by the state the deli was in. "Whoa," he said, looking around.
Sal's deli was completely trashed. Tables and chairs were turned over, meat, cheese, and other ingredients were rutting away, there was moss everywhere, and it looked as though someone had completely ransacked the place.
"What the... Wha... What happened here?! Sal? Sal?!" Hop Pop quickly started looking for his best friend, while Frank followed behind him. Pulling out Hellcat's Claw, now polished and sharpened thanks to Indy and Rivet.
"Who would do this?" Frank asked as he looked around. He pushed away a turned-over table, revealing a fedora behind it.
When he saw it, Hop Pop gasped and rushed over to pick it up. "Sal's trademark fedora. But he never went anywhere without it," he said, looking at a photo of his best friend on the wall.
Sal looked similar to other elderly frogs Frank had met. He was a short blue frog with a lighter underbelly. He wore a striped waistcoat over a white T-shirt accompanied by a bow and dress pants. He had slick white hair and a wispy French mustache.
"Sal would never leave his shop unattended," Hop Pop thought to himself. "Something happened here, something bad. This was foul play, and it was my job to get to the bottom of it."
Realizing how silent Hop Pop was being, Frank looked at him. "Uh, Hop Pop, are you okay?"
"Huh, oh, yes," Hop Pop said, realizing that he was inner monologuing. He then placed the hat on his head and noticed that the photo was crooked. "I just wish I had some kind of clue."
When he approached the photo, he moved it so it could be straight. However, doing so caused a clicking sound. Then, the two watched as the photo of Sal swung away from the wall like a door, revealing a secret safe behind it.
"What's this?" Frank asked as he opened the unlocked safe and pulled out a piece of paper soaked in a red liquid. "Blood?"
Hop Pop shot out his tongue and licked some of the liquid off. "No, sauce," he said, before going really quiet again. Inner monologuing again.
"Dude!" Frank yelled, snapping the old frog out of his inner monologue. "Serious, stop that. You look like you're having a heart attack."
"What I was trying to say in my head is that people were always asking Sal for his secret recipe. Offer to pay big. But he said family tradition was more important than a few copper coins," he said, looking at the many framed photos on the wall. All of them depict Sal and his sauce, and how everyone was so eager to get their hands on it. Hop Pop chuckled. "My kinda frog, who made my kind of sauce."
Frank reached for the cash register and pulled open the slightly extended tray with the Hellcat. "Looks like he could have used a few coins," he said.
Looking back at the paper, he flicked it, getting some of the sauce off. That's when he saw the printing on it.
Newtropolitan Gala
Tonight!
8 pm
Wealthy Elites ONLY
"Must be an exclusive party," Frank said.
As the boy looked at it from the front, Hop Pop saw something written on the back. "'Get the sauce!!'?" he read aloud. "It looks like someone got tired of asking and took his recipe by force."
"Now all we had to do was follow the sauce to find Sal," Frank said, pocketing the flier.
"Follow the sauce. Find Sal."
"You don't have to repeat me."
"Sorry, sorry," he said. "But first, we need a disguise if we want to get into that party."
The Newtropolitan was just like Frank imagined it to be—a large, fancy building that looked like something from an Art Deco painting, with the addition of coral. Many fancy and rich newts entered the ballroom, all of them talking and feasting on the food provided to them by the cooks and carters.
Slowly, soothing jazz music was played on screen, giving the already neo-noir setting a certain feel that instantly made Frank feel like he was in one of the movies he watched with the others. Up on the stage was a young, beautiful newt woman singing a ballad.
"I haven't had a bite Since a quarter to three."
"Now I'm thinking Something's gonna take A bite outta me…"
Frank and Hop Pop stood together at a table in the back of the room. Both were dressed for the occasion, wearing nicely fitted tuxedos. Frank left his scythe outside on Bessie. However, he kept his knife on him.
"Oh, we don't see many frogs or…whatever you are at the Newtropolitan," said a woman who took an interest in the two travelers. "You must be quite wealthy. What do you do?"
"I'm a farmer," Hop Pop said.
Frank slapped the back of his head. "No!"
"Eh…Farmerceutical executive," he nervously corrected himself.
"Nice save," Frank said, deadpanning.
The young woman walked off to join what Frank was assuming to be her friends, leaving him and the old frog alone.
"I feel so out of place here," Frank said as he put back his hat. "Anne would have liked it more than I would."
"Hmm." Hop Pop hummed with a knowing smile. "Seems like your relationship with Anne is going pretty well."
"Yeah," he said with a smile and a light blush. "But…I don't know if now is the right time to make any kind of moves. I mean, we hug…a lot. But that doesn't mean that she feels the same way, right?"
Hop Pop sighed and shook his head. "Boy, you gotta go with the flow. Here look, let me explain some of the basics about dating," he said, pulling out a marker from his jacket pocket. The old frog then started drawing a line on the wall and 15 smaller lines across it, creating a timeline. "Right now, you're at Tier 1, which is hugging. But pretty soon, you'll be at Tier 2, which is smooching. Then down the road, you'll make it to Tier 5, where she'll let you discover all ten feet of her long, beautiful tongue. Then after a while, you'll make it to Tier 8, where you touch her legs for the very first time. Very special."
Frank had no idea if he wanted to experience the frog version of Tier 5 and 8, but he curiously pointed his finger to the fifteenth step. "What about Tier 15?"
"You stay away from that!"
"...."
" Do not do Tier 15! "
"Dude, I don't even know what you're talking about," Frank said as a waiter walked over with a tray of snacks for the party.
"Canapé? The sauce is to die for," he said, his voice echoing in Hop Pop's ears as he looked suspiciously at the snacks. Gasping when he saw the special sauce that was zigzagged on the plate.
"Sal's sauce, and not on a sandwich. He never would have stood for this. One thing was for sure, Sal was in trouble and needed my help."
"Oooooh, don't mind if I do," Frank said as he picked up one of the canapés.
"Don't eat that! It goes against traditions," Hop Pop yelled as he slapped the snack out of Frank's hand. Much to the annoyance of the young boy. The old frog then cleared his throat and turned to the waiter. "Say there, sonny. Would you mind doing a gentleman a favor?"
"Anything, sir," the newt said with a happy smile.
Hop Pop then took the tray and whacked the guy on the head, knocking him out cold!
"What're you doing?!" Frank yelled, panicking as he looked around with a frightened expression. "You can't just knock out the waiter in front of all these people."
"Oh please, they're rich, and he's a waiter. They don't care about working folks," he said, beginning to stripe the guy of his clothes.
However, this way of thinking was put to an end fast. They were stopped when someone screamed, only to look around and see that every fancy and rich newt at the party was looking at them, appalled by the old frog's actions.
"That deranged frog assaulted that poor waiter and is trying to take his dignity."
"You madman!"
"This is why frogs shouldn't be allowed in here."
Security rushed over to the two and surrounded them, and Frank knew that they were in really deep shit.
"You two are gonna have to come with us," one guard said.
Frank gulped and raised his hands. "Hop Pop, let's just get out of here," he whispered.
"Okay, okay. Don't want any... trouble!" Hop Pop then did something stupid when he grabbed the tray and threw it at the guard. It hit him in the face and knocked him out, before landing on the head of the guard next to him, taking him out too. "Now, Frank, let's make our—."
Two guards walked up behind them and gave both the old frog and the young boy an electric shock when they zapped them with tasers. Making them yell in pain.
The next thing they knew, they were being dragged through the backdoor and thrown into the dumpster.
"And stay out!" yelled the waiter Hop Pop tried to depants, before he slammed the door behind him.
Frank and Hop Pop lay in the dumpster for a moment, with the Hispanic boy looking more annoyed than ever. "Congratulations, Hop Pop. Thanks to you, we've got no leads, and we've hit a dead end," the boy said, whipping the trash from his face.
"He's right, without a source on the sauce, or even an address, I was out of luck."
"I'm definitely gonna get you tested," Frank grumbled as he took the empty can off his head. Looking at it, he was surprised that the label was for a sauce company called 'Sauce, Inc.' which even had an address in Little Frogtown.
"Well, that works," he said. "Hey, Hop Pop."
"But I had to hurry. Whoever was behind this could be torturing Sal right now. Brutalizing him. Maiming him. Tearing him a…"
Frank hit him over the head with his hat.
"Ow! What was that for," he asked, whining.
"Look," Frank said, showing Hop Pop the can he'd found. "This is where they getting the sauce. This company is where they have Sal's recipe. Meaning that if we go there…"
"We'll find Sal!" Hop Pop exclaimed. "I knew that my partner had the biggest brains—"
Bonk!
"Ow! Alright, I'll stop!"
It didn't take long for the duo to drive Bessie to the Sauce, Inc. factory in Little Frogtown. It looked just like any other factor, with the expectation of the coral that could be seen on so many other buildings in Newtopia. It was massive, with two smoking smokestacks and a pair of silos.
Frank pulled Bessie into an alley and parked her. Jumping down from her saddle with Hop Pop, the human gave his snail friend a rubbed and a kiss on the neck. The loyal animal chippered as her owners marched towards the factory.
Reaching one of the windows, Frank opened it and climbed inside. Then Hop Pop came in after him. Hiding behind a stack of crates, they peeked around, and the old frog was beyond shocked to see what lay inside.
Giant vats with faucets hanging down from large pipes on the ceiling. Conveyor belts with bottles rolling down it as the factory workers monitored its process. Large bugs with long arms that acted like forklifts that carried pallets of crates, stuffed with the sauce bottles.
It sickened Hop Pop just how soulless it all was. "This was bigger than I could've imagined," he said, thankfully not in his head. "Whoever was behind this turned an old frog's family legacy into a soulless profit machine."
"And we're gonna stop them," Frank said with a determination.
"Uh, can I help you?"
Both of them froze in place and turned around to see that one of the workers had found them.
"You don't see anything," Frank said in a mystical tone. He already had superpowers, so why wouldn't Lief give him the Jedi mind trick?
"I…don't see anything?" said the guard, more confused than anything.
"Oh, wow, it works!" Frank exclaimed with a smile. "Uh…You will not report two instructors. You will go about your business, go home, and see your wife and kids."
"Uh, I don't have either of those last two, but yeah, sure. I didn't see anything," the newt said, walking away to continue his work.
Frank sighed and said, "Let's just go." So much for having the Jedi mind trick.
Together, they snuck their way through the floor of the factory. First, they ran and ducked behind the giant vats. Then they slid across the slippery floor, under the conveyor belt, and ran for the metal stairs. Thankfully, no one noticed them, making one question if they had any security.
Running across the elevated catwalk, they stopped to look inside the vats. There, they saw the bubbling hot sauce that made Hop Pop's friend so famous.
"We finally found the sauce, but where was Sal," Hop Pop asked.
Suddenly, a flashlight was shone onto them, and the two of them turned around to see a very large and muscular newt standing a few feet away from them, glaring at them.
"Oi! Who the hell are you?" He yelled at the duo.
"Uh, who are you," Hop Pop asked in a vain attempt to turn the question around on the guy.
"I'm the blooming floor manager," the manager said. "And you're trespassing." The manager put his flashlight back in its belt loop and charged at Frank and Hop Pop.
He was huge, ugly, and probably hit like a truck. Luckily, Frank knew a thing or two about fistfights. And he had a knife on him. "Stay behind me!" he yelled at his frog grandfather as he pulled out his combat knife.
The manager lashed out his tongue at Frank. The boy dodged the tongue attack and swiped at it, cutting him before he pulled his tongue back inside. Making him yell in pain before he started trying to punch Frank.
But the human boy dodged all of his attacks. He stepped to the side of a right hook and ducked under a left swing. Frank then jumped over a broad leg sweep and landed on the walkway's railing.
The floor manager growled and rushed at Frank again. But the young boy jumped over him when the muscular newt tried to slam his fist down on him.
Flipping in the air, Frank landed behind the manager and stabbed him in the thigh. The amphibian let out a scream of pain as the human pulled the knife out of him. Making him fall to the ground and clench his bloodied wound.
"I'd get yourself patched up," Frank said, wiping the knife on his pants. "The health inspector wouldn't like blood in the sauce."
"Uh, Frank," Hop Pop said, sounding nervous. "I think the health inspector was the least of our concerns."
Frank turned around, confused by what he meant. Only to see that they were completely surrounded on all sides by newts in suits, armed with crossbows aimed at them.
"You guys really took your time," Frank said to the guards, dropping his knife and raising his hands.
The duo had arrows pocked into their backs as they were led up some stairs and then shoved into a small office that hung over the factor like an ivory tower. It was a dim office, with a large wooden desk, a slowly turning fan, filing cabinets, and a luxurious chair that was turned around.
It was clear to Frank and Hop Pop that someone was inside that chair. They wanted answers. And right before them was the big cheese who had 'em all.
"The jig is up, villain," Hop Pop yelled at the amphibian on the other side. "Now tell me what you've done with…"
The amphibia turned around in his chair, and Hop Pop was left in a state of complete shock when he saw the villain. The very person he and Frank were hunting down, trying to find out where Sal was, was none other than Saul himself.
"Sal?" Hop Pop said in a dramatic gasp. Even Frank was surprised, staring at the other frog as he glared at his frog grandfather.
"Hopediah Plantar, you dung-shoveling, backwater, son of a bitch," Sal said, getting up from his chair and walking around the desk to stand in front of the wannabe detective duo. "You've got a lot of guts here, after what you pulled."
Hop Pop gulped in fear as he stared at his old friend. What did he do wrong? He and Frank watched with growing tension as the blue frog walked up to the orange one and stared at him for a moment.
Suddenly, Sal grabbed Hop Pop and pulled him into a hug. Surprising and confusing the old frog before he heard his old friend start to laugh.
"How are you doing, you old fart? So good to see you! It's been a long time," Sal said with a big smile on his face. He then looked at Frank. "Hey, who's this?"
"Uh, Frank," the young boy said as he was handed back his knife by the guard. The security then turned and exited the office, leaving the three allowed inside. Likely to get the floor manager to help. "So, you're Sal?"
"That's right," said the blue frog with a proud smile.
"I knew it! You're behind all this!" Hop Pop yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at his old friend. At the same time, Frank looked around the office, piecing together what was going on. "Of course, it all makes sense. You kidnapped yourself to steal your own…uh...uh…hang on a sec."
"Whoa, whoa. Slow down," Sal said, holding up his hands, beyond confused by the fact that his friend was accusing him of kidnapping. "What are you talking about?"
"We went by the deli. It was ransacked, and we thought someone stole your recipe and sold it off to the highest bidder," Hop Pop explained with desperation. "They were spreading your sauce on fancy food at a swanky gala!"
Sal looked at his old friend in confusion again. However, realizing what might have been going on, he facepalmed. "Oh no, did I not tell you? Did you get my letter," he asked.
"What letter? A cry for help?" Hop Pop jumped to conclusions while Frank understood what'd been going on. "That you were being held captive by the evil owner of this corporation?"
Frank sighed exasperatedly and walked over to Sal's desk. "Hop Pop, don't you get it?" he said, grabbing the bottle of sauce on the desk and turning it around to show the label. "There was no evil corporation."
Sal's Famous Sauce.
"This is Sal's factory."
Sal nodded. "It's true," he said with a smile. "I sauce all the major events in Newtopia."
Hop Pop, stubborn as ever, said, "I don't believe it. The Sal I knew was a sandwich man, through and through. Who believed in the old ways as I did— I mean do!"
Sal chuckled and said, "After all these years, you still haven't figured out why they're now the old ways and no longer 'the ways' anymore?"
Hop Pop would have given a rebuttal if he had any.
"I did come to Newtopia as a sandwich man. For a while, it was great. People were coming in every day, and the sauce became the talk of the town. But the fun didn't last. The sandwich biz was dying. I knew my sauce was a hit, but nobody wanted it between slices of bread.
"I knew that if I wanted to survive, I had to give the people what they wanted. It was a tough call, and I was nervous at first, but the change ended up being great for me. Once people saw that my sauce was available, without being on a sandwich, they came in droves. There was no need for me to continue the deli anymore, so I retired. Heck, I even retired that silly fedora.
"Now, instead of making traditional sandwiches for no one, I make just the sauce for everyone," Sal said, concluding his story. "It turns out that if you embrace change instead of clinging to the past, you have a say in what the future looks like. Heck, you can even bring some of the past along with you."
Hop Pop looked at the frog in surprise before looking down. "Wow, I never thought of it like that," he said. Admittedly, he was never the one to embrace change. Maybe it was time to change that.
"So, what now," Frank asked.
Sal thought for a moment before a thought came over him.
An hour later, and with the help of some of his workers working overtime, Sal restored his restaurant. After making a few calls to some old friends he'd made in the meat industry, the old sandwich man was able to get fresh ingredients for Frank and Hop Pop.
The two Wartwood residents sat at a table and waited patiently until Sal came out with two freshly made sandwiches. Once they were set on the table, Frank wasted no time in grabbing one and taking a big bite out of it, moaning as he chewed on the sandwich. Savoring the lightly toasted bread, the fresh green lettuce, the thin yet supple slices of roast beetle, and... the sauce. Tangy, zippy, and just plain amazing. Everything that Hop Pop said it would be!
"Holy cow, that's incredible!" Frank exclaimed, taking another bite.
Sal smiled with satisfaction. How long had it been since he felt the satisfaction of a customer having one of his sandwiches?
"And for you, old friend," he said, giving Hop Pop a bottle of his sauce. A gift that Hop Pop was thankful to receive.
"Thanks, Sal," Hop Pop said to his old friend as he took the bottle. "You're a good frog. I'm sorry I got so carried away. I almost took it too far."
"Yeah, and sorry about stabbing your floor manager," Frank said, looking ashamed.
"Eh, the floor manager will get paid time off," Sal said with a shrug. He then looked around the deli. "But, maybe it's time to bring back some of this place. I am still a sandwich man, after all."
Just then, the door opened, and Anne, Sprig, and Polly came walking inside. "Hey…you guys still open?" Anne asked as the two old frogs, and Frank turned to her. The kids looked fine, if not grumpy, but the Thai girl looked as if she had been zipped by a Pikachu.
"Hey, kids. Play any newfangled games," Hop Pop asked.
"Actually, they banned us for life," Sprig said.
Polly added, "It was Anne's fault."
"Because I was willing to stand up for what was right after those kids cut in front of us," Anne said, pouting. "They cut, and when I told them to get to the back, they didn't. So, I said I would eat them, and then security came and zapped me! Can you believe it? Anyway, I was right, and that's that."
Seeing that his friend had a rough day, Frank pulled out his knife and cut his sandwich in half. "Sounds like you could use a sandwich," he said, offering Anne the other half.
"Yeah, I can go for one," Anne said with a smile as she walked over to join him at the table. Sprig and Polly did the same, as their grandfather cut his sandwich in half, before breaking that half in half.
Looking at him in his suit, Anne smirked and said in a flirting tone, "And might I say, you're looking quite snazzy."
Frank blushed and smiled with embarrassment as everyone else chuckled. Today might not have gone according to anyone's plans, and yet that didn't matter to them. They still got something great out of it.