Episode 01 — The Wrong Turn That Started It All

The first Merge Corse story

The rain arrived with the confidence of someone who had not checked the forecast.

Lockpick, a kind-hearted raccoon who found loose objects almost impossible to ignore, ducked beneath the half-open door of an old roadside garage. It smelled of wet concrete, engine oil and races that had ended years ago. A faded chequered flag hung crookedly on one wall. Lockpick shook the water from his fur, inspected the room, picked up a brass washer from the floor and tucked it away for “research.” Then he nodded.

“Good news,” he whispered. “I’ve found shelter.”

A voice came from behind a stack of tyres.

“You have found a garage.”

Stoffel, a broad honey badger with the expression of someone already unimpressed, stepped into the light. He was carrying a small jar of honey as if it were a perfectly ordinary thing to bring to a garage.

"Same result," Lockpick said. "And this one has excellent character."

"Not the same." Stoffel looked at the door. "A shelter is chosen. A garage is where people put things they don’t know what to do with."

“Then we have something in common.”

Before Stoffel could answer, a red ball bounced through the doorway. A small dog followed it at full speed, slid across the smooth floor and stopped nose-first against a toolbox.

He lifted his head. His tail wagged once, then twice.

“Hello,” Lockpick said.

The dog looked from Lockpick to Stoffel, then to the ball under the toolbox.

“Monty,” he said.

“Lockpick.”

“Stoffel.”

Monty glanced at the locked garage door. “Are we trapped?”

“No,” said Lockpick. “We are temporarily indoors.”

Stoffel set down the honey. “That is what trapped means when you’re trying to sound clever.”

A gust of wind slammed the big door shut.

Lockpick examined the latch. “I can open that.”

“Can you?”

“I said I can.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Lockpick produced a thin piece of wire from somewhere inside his sleeve. He slipped it through the gap, gave it a confident twist and heard a small metallic click.

The latch did not move.

"Progress," he announced.

"You made a noise," said Stoffel.

"Progress often makes a noise."

Monty nudged his ball beneath the door. It rolled out of sight.

“The ball has escaped,” Lockpick said.

“It has found a gap,” Stoffel replied. “Try learning from it.”

They worked it out together. Stoffel braced his shoulder against the heavy door. Lockpick slipped a thin piece of wire through a narrow gap and hooked the manual latch. Monty pushed his ball back beneath the door, wedging it there so the door could not slam down again.

“Now,” Lockpick called.

Stoffel lifted. Lockpick pulled. Monty held the ball in place with one determined paw.

The latch clicked. The door rose a few inches, groaned, and stopped.

“Again,” Stoffel said.

They tried once more. The door rolled upward. Rain-scented air swept into the garage, followed by the sound of footsteps outside.

All three fell silent.

A human appeared in the doorway with a flashlight. He saw a raccoon, a honey badger and a small dog standing together in the garage. Monty’s ball sat neatly beside the open door.

“Well,” the human said. “You’ve made an unusual little team.”

No one answered. Monty noticed the human’s tight grip on the flashlight. He sat down beside his ball and gave the gentlest wag he could manage. The human’s shoulders relaxed. Stoffel looked unimpressed. Lockpick studied the flashlight as if he had meant to arrange the whole thing.

The human picked up the ball and gave it to Monty. Then he led the dog back towards the house. Monty glanced over his shoulder once before disappearing into the rain.

When the footsteps faded, Lockpick turned to Stoffel.

“Good work.”

“I held a door.”

“You held it in a very team-like way.”

“There was no team.”

The next evening, Monty returned. He brought the red ball, a biscuit, and no explanation at all. Lockpick had already found a dry place beneath the garage awning. Stoffel had brought the honey.

Monty dropped the ball between them.

Lockpick smiled. “So. We agree to meet again.”

Stoffel sat down. “I agree that the ground is dry.”

Monty leaned against his side.

Stoffel did not move away.

That was close enough to a yes.

From then on, they met whenever the humans were gone. They talked in the quiet, planned in the shadows and became a crew one small adventure at a time.

No human ever heard a word. The old garage kept their secret better than its door kept out the rain.

A week later, Monty found a postcard tucked beneath the garage door. It showed a bright blue sea, a line of palm trees and one word in large letters: RIVIERA.

Lockpick picked it up.

“I have a plan.”

Stoffel sighed. “Of course you do.”

Monty wagged his tail.

And that was how their first wrong turn became the beginning of everything.