Aria of Isolation
Chapter 1: Touring the Yordle Academy
Time was a fickle flow of unpredictable outcomes. One moment, a cheer of victory. Another moment, the death of a civilization. Like the twinkling of stars, they faded in and out of his vision. The past, the present, the future: were they even reachable here? He wondered how long he had been searching for as if time was measurable to him. Defeat weighed heavy on his tired, immortal eyes. Wide were they when he saw his answer, reaching for it like the last thread of hope it was. Where did lead from? How long would it take? What was to be put into motion? He peered in ever so curiously and what he saw was...unorthodox.
"Goo-ood morning all you beautiful deco-peop-oh! This is FM 989.0 HXTC comin' at ya with some steamin' hot tunes to get your gears turnin' all morning long! Let's hear it!" the transmission cheered. The music played.
It was a pointless effort to keep himself asleep; the ribbons of light seeping through the blinds made sure of that. The littered bedroom filled with the warmth of the sunrise's light and the blaring sound of the holo-radio.
The host, the music, they were more upbeat than the groaning yordle could ever bring himself to act that morning, or rather, since he settled here. He detested that radio, wanting to drag everything around him down with his misery. His sluggish hand clawed out from the covers, swiping and slapping the small nightstand next to him. Here? Nope, just some goggles. Here? Nope, wrong button. Fuck it. A balled-up fist hurled into the loud device, tugging right off one wall and crashing into another. The transmission promptly ended.
He couldn't even bring himself to get out of bed properly, his will absent and his body rolling out with a thud. This fatigue was unnatural and everything around him was blurred out of focus. Using the windowsill for leverage, he made a big mistake by parting the blinds as the hissing sunlight burned into his unprepared eyes. A few moments of adjustments and he could see the emptiness between the many trees scattered around the living community. In a blink, it was lush with residents walking around to their own business; they looked just like him.
His aching body stretched here and there and the more he came to his senses, the more he remembered just what day it was. There were weeks of planning and building for this day and he should have been proud, excited even. Yet the thought of home coming so close to work was frightening more than anything. Who would attend? Corki? He seemed interested in contraptions enough to give it a visit. Teemo? Maybe not, unless Tristana brought him along. Tristana. He missed her a great deal. Yet, whenever he thought of her, another blue yordle came into mind.
Damn it, not again. This was the 527th morning he popped into his head, not that he was counting or anything. Just the thought of him appearing so suddenly was enough to put a wrench in his gut. It had been over a year since he went radio silent from his homeland. What words would even come close to sufficient if he saw him? He had to shake the hopeless thoughts away from his head lest they drag him down on this momentous day.
A quick look in the mirror affirmed his sadness; this wouldn't do. He slapped his cheeks and tugged at his fur, "Pull yourself together, Ziggs…" he told himself, "…today is not the day to choke up. You got this! All you, baby!"
One pep talk later and it was off to wash up. He had an interesting ritual where he attempted to swiftly remove both his socks at once only to fall flat on his back with a giggle. By the time he returned to the mirror, his fur was much more kempt and teeth bright in another attempted smile. His headpiece slipped on snug and his earring situated on the left side.
"Looking good, handsome!" he complimented, "Just keep smiling…"
Out the door and under the leafy canopy, the living community was traced in winding paths and oddly-shaped trees to emulate the whimsical environments known around Yordleland; Piltover's attempt at appearing more inviting to their increasing yordle population. Under the arch, 'Daintree Cove' it was called, named after a location of the same moniker which grew bending trees in a small cove by the sea. And although the community was scaled down for typical yordle necessities, the remainder of the city was scaled to humans. This was made obvious by the enormous buildings that towered above him and the wide streets that accommodated large vehicles and varying groups of citizens. Ziggs always thought driving his own car would save him time and enhance his appeal, however, vehicles for yordles were somewhere between extremely rare and nonexistent; it would be one foot in front of the other for him.
The city itself was always bustling, to say the least, not just in the inhabitants walking, talking, pointing and building, but in the amount of information strewn about. Merchants shouting about their "latest" and "greatest" contraptions, advertisements and signs along the walls and fixtures, and the many elaborate architectures of the living, breathing towers. He didn't pass by people, rather, just their legs and hips. He could see a Wanted poster featuring his face in the corner of his vision, yet when he took another look it was just another common crook's. He'll arrive late if he kept stopping and selective attention was never his strong suit.
The Yordle Academy of Science and Progress was the shining pinnacle for yordles here amidst the other shining pinnacles that shined atop the city's pinnacles. Like their own capital, it rose high towards the sky, rivaling neighboring institutions. Its many towers, wide structure and open doors let anyone with aspirations know that they were invited here, Ziggs included. He smiled as he took step after step past conversing yordles and visiting humans.
Inside, the Academy was far from shy and made no effort in hiding its advances; the tall ceilings stretched several stories high and innovative machines were proudly displayed across the lobby. Networks of bridges and hallways created a collective atmosphere where every scientist worked in unison. Engineers followed each other with charts and papers, students followed instructors and onlookers stared and listened to on-display achievements. It was especially transient today, however, given the scheduled event that was hosted and Ziggs was ready to join the fray.
Shifting and dodging through the chaotic hullabaloo, he stopped at the elevators past the Hextech Grappling Hook station. He waited for the familiar ding to bring him up.
"Aha! There you are, Zigmund!" exclaimed a very familiar voice. He didn't need to turn around to figure out who it was, "I was beginning to worry myself with your lack of urgency!"
Heimerdinger, the famed yordle himself, titled the Revered Inventor, half responsible for the formation of the establishment and nearly entirely responsible for Ziggs' own title here. He was looked up to by just about every enrolled student and professor alike and the ability to learn in the same institution was an honor in and of itself.
His olive-furred assistant, however, was only beginning to find his own purpose at the Academy. Gustaav, he introduced himself as between adjustments to his round glasses. More of a multi-purpose subordinate, he was always excited to do his part to help even if his anxiety showed otherwise. His tuft of curly fur above his forehead bobbed with each step beside Heimerdinger and he clung onto his clipboard as if it was the last thing he owned.
"Good morning, Dean of Demolitions!" he greeted with a quick bow, aware of his presence amongst higher powers.
Ziggs took a moment to stand there, frozen in his own thoughts, "Don't let 'em see you worried. Don't let 'em see that you're scared shitless about today!" He painted a convincing smile on his face to shine at them with open arms, "Heimy! Gus! Just call me Ziggs, will ya? And don't worry about a thing, Heimy! Everything is under control! Yup! 100% not gonna choke!"
"I would expect nothing less from the Dean of Demolitions. You are the main attraction to the opening ceremony and we cannot have aspiring scientists sit in boredom when there is opportunity airborne!" Heimerdinger stressed with a finger in the air.
"Trust me, the crowd's gonna be so blown away they'll find themselves all the way back in Bandle! Haha!" Ziggs joked, "Not that I'm actually blowing people out of the room! …unless you want me to!?"
"No, no, nothing of the sort. Just remember that the touring group is set to appear here at noon. Will you be present during the rest of the opening debriefing?"
"No can do, Heimy! I gotta prep my lab for visitors so they don't get an eyeful of ammonium nitrate when they waltz in!"
"Oh, of course you must…" Heimerdinger shook his head in a huff, "I suppose your explosive demonstration will be presence enough. Remember, your performance will serve as a symbol of the knowledge you've accumulated here at the Academy inclusive to your hard work these past weeks! Imagine it as a way of displaying your potential as the Dean of Demolitions! Hold your title with pride, Zigmund!"
"D'aww, a pep talk from the big shot himself? You got me blushin' over here!" Ziggs smiled, holding his cheeks.
"Is this another one your protégés, Cecil?" an aged voice asked as it approached their meeting.
All at once, the yordles had to look up. With his cane in front of every authoritative step, the taller human stopped to loom over them. His black, leather shoes shined against the light that led up to his pinstripe suit, fasted with golden buttons. The rest of him was covered in a blood red robe, trimmed in gold that contrasted with his white gloves that sat atop one another against the ball of his cane. Even the book buckled to his hip was laced in gold. His judgmental eyes peered down, the left through his monocle and the right through his skepticism, with eyebrows furrowed under his wrinkled forehead and white tufts of hair.
"Ah, Mr. Medarda!" Heimerdinger's disposition changed drastically as if the alpha male in the room had arrived. "How are you this morning? I hope you're well-rested for today's proceedings!"
"I am, but that doesn't answer my question."
"Right! Of course! Zigmund, this is Jago Medarda, head of the Medarda merchant clan and one of the most powerful and wealthiest people in all of Piltover! And this is Zigmund W. Quark! He's our institution's Dean of Demolitions and will be an integral part of this event's opening ceremony including the many workshops and exhibits we have prepared throughout the—"
"I see. I've heard your name perhaps once or twice in passing," Jago stepped closer to Ziggs who appeared unfazed by his presence. Meanwhile, Gustaav had resorted to cowering behind Heimerdinger in a shaken mess.
"That's me!" Ziggs extended an excited hand up, "Just call me Ziggs, Prego!" The older man scowled beneath his mustache.
"And you will address me as Jago…" he corrected, lifting the yordle's hand up with pinched fingers and dropping it back down, "…properly."
"Oh, my apologies, Mr. Medarda! All those years of close-proximity hexplosive testing have left his hearing impaired! Ohoho!" Heimerdinger stumbled for excuses.
"You bet it is! These ears are always ringin'! Listen!" Ziggs held his hands behind his fuzzy ears, still and silent, "…nope! Nothin'!"
Heimerdinger tapped his fingers, sweating beneath his frizzy fur and looking between the naïve demolitionist and the impatient clansman. "Ah, Mr. Medarda will be joining us for the event proceedings for funding opportunities. This would impact the Academy tremendously and allow us to expand and even establish remote locations! Think of all the research we could delve into with that support!"
"My hex doesn't just fund anyone and anything, only what I believe is most beneficial to this city's onward prosperity. Judging by Cecil's confidence in you I'm sure that's why you're here, isn't it?" Jago's eyes were much sharper now, as if trying to see right into Ziggs' soul, "That is why you're here, correct? You want to build this city up. Not tear it down, right?"
Ziggs was thankful that keeping his goggles on was a habit; had Jago seen his eyes past those green lenses he would surely have picked up on his shaking pupils. Maybe he would have seen the fear instilled in them or even the yordle standing atop a ruinous Piltover, laughing in the middle of the engulfing flames. What was this power overwhelming him? He told himself over and over to agree with the man. Why, oh why did it feel like such a lie? He was so tall now as if his head were to touch the ceiling. Frozen, all eyes on him, he couldn't move an inch.
Ding! Saved by the bell, the elevators finally opened to unload its passengers.
"Well, look at the time!" Ziggs saluted as he backed away from the ground, "Gotta go prep for that opening show! Hope to see ya there, old man— I mean, old wise man! Yeah, that's what I meant to say! After all, with all that grey hair you've gotta be some smart, clever master tactician and hoo, man don't get me started on that robe! I mean, look at that thing! If that doesn't say "Piltover's finest" I dunno what does around this place! Speaking of, great place ya got here! Really lovin' the big, tall everything and—"
The door closed on the rambling yordle and the group was left looking at one another; there was a mixture of disbelief and expectancy of Ziggs' behavior floating around them.
"…hah! Oh, that Zigmund! He may not have all of his bolts securely fastened, however he's a wonderful and completely harmless addition here!" Heimerdinger clapped his hands together.
"I'm sure," Jago responded plainly, turning his heel. The professor promptly followed and his assistant in suit.
"We'll happily have you up on stage with the rest of us, Mr. Medarda!"
"Save that for your own board members. I'll be just fine in the back by the exits. My…uh, these old bones of mine don't take me as far as they used to."
"Of course! I completely comprehend!"
In the elevator, Ziggs' eyes shook, starting to lose his focus again. He knew why he was here. How could just a few words from that man question everything he's done? Of course, he wanted Piltover to thrive. Weren't his actions enough to see that? Then he remembered the explosion. The kidnapped scientists. It was his fault.
"Keep it cool, Ziggs. People here like you. They love you here! Everyone's happy that you're here! Everyone's happy that you've left your homeland for a predominantly human city! They respect you. They're not mad at you at all. They're not scared. I'm not scared. How could I be scared? I've got enough firepower to send this city into the ground! STOP! Don't think like that! You big idiot! You say a word like that to anyone around here and they'll have you strung up on a raft floating back to Bandle and I don't wanna go back to Bandle! I can't go! They hate me there and I can't go back and face him because I'm a terrible friend and this is all I have to my name now and if I blow this opportunity I'm gonna blow this whole damn city down with it! HAHAHAHAHAHA—"
"Oof!" he grunted, running head-first into the large, steel door that sent him falling onto his bottom. He shook away every false reality to look at the one around him. No one else was here. Why would they? This was Ziggs' laboratory and even the most danger-loving of scientists feared what might emerge from it. Collecting himself and unlatching the door, he scurried in with one last peek out. With the door shut all the sounds behind it vanished.
Sanctuary. His back slid down the metal and the hymn of science commenced. Sparks from frayed wires flew, the bubbling of questionably volatile liquids in illuminated Erlenmeyer flasks, broken rune pieces suspended in a glass containment of blue essence, and the stray schematics strewn about the tabletops. Light rods hanging from the ceiling casted spotty but efficient brightness down to the dangerous laboratory. It all drew him in and he was more than willing to comply.
His fingertips traced along the center workbench's edge as he eyed up his latest project; a highly combustible core to fit inside a large casing. It would rival even the strongest of nukes and send nations to their knees…if he could focus. With all his new responsibilities and pro-Piltover projects piling up in his backlog, his own hobby was merely a passing thought.
"You're gonna be my next greatest invention. Runeterra'll never see you comin'! I might even be able to stop a war or two with you. Or perhaps start one?" he laughed to himself, "But no time for that just yet! I gotta deal with all your little, colorful cousins!"
Ziggs backed away from it to turn his attention to the tall, metal locker that stretched up the wall. Sure, it was twice his height, but that just meant more space for his odd designs. Swinging the doors open made a brown sack tumble out with its top open, spilling forth innumerable tiny fireworks; the result of tireless nights. They rolled along his feet only to find themselves collected and hoisted over his shoulder.
"No runnin' off now! We've had this thing planned for weeks! The only place you babies are flying off to is a fiery explosion!" he looked between the sack and the unfinished core in the center over and over, deciding to throw the core into the locker and slam it shut before taking his leave, "Yeesh. I gotta stop talking to myself or else people'll think I'm crazy! Naha-haha!"
All around the spacious event room, miniaturized turrets were constructed, test, and properly positioned along the corners and edges. The barrels were aimed upwards to avoid blowing off any unsuspecting heads and kept hidden enough to not cause a stir or spoil the surprise. The mumbles of reassurance made their rounds along the perimeter, giving each their own special assessment. The control stations upstairs overlooking the room's lighting and sound functions but also served as a perfect place to mount even more turrets along the railings. They were facing downward, ready to snipe the next yordle to walk by. Can't have that.
"How's about facing…that a-way? Hm…hit the ceiling and I'll be responsible for another hole in the Academy's walls! But if I adjust it like, however… There! Just like that! A little of column A, a little of column B!" Ziggs spoke to himself, anxious to see the fruits of his labor.
The new height allotted him a panoramic view of the large room, echoes of yordles and humans alike, practicing their speeches at the podium, chatting idly between seats. No sign of the older man he met at the elevators, though. Perhaps it was for the better.
"Ooooh, I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they're surrounded in colorful hexplosives!" he giggled to himself, wanting to paint a smile on each and every one of their faces. The ceremony would start in just a few minutes, "Oh! And just in time! This room is gonna be packed!" But just as he was on his way to slide down the railing of the steps, he stopped himself, "Hmm, maybe I'll watch 'em come in from up here. Might as well see if I can find any familiar faces amongst the crowd!"
And so, he did from the safety of the event room's control station, resting his elbows along the metal. Soon enough, one by one the election board members took their seats at the stage, Heimerdinger himself included. Following them, led by other staff members, was the touring group itself; a mass of yordles varying in color and size moving in unison. They invaded the room, occupying row after row of seats. Ziggs' eyes darted around the crowd, hastily scanning the sea of weaving heads until everyone had found their seats.
He sighed in disappointment, "Not a single one that I know… You gotta be kidding me! Sure, sure, I kept to myself later on in Bandle but I knew some folks!" Leaning forward over the ledge guards, he narrowed his vision to scan up and down each and every row, desperate for even the shallowest of acquaintances. "C'mon, c'mon, c'moooon…"
It seemed hopeless to look for anyone anymore. Had his friends forgotten about him? Or were they not interested in his practice? Perhaps they were just jealous of him, making the big time here in the city of progress. Ziggs' brainstorm of possibilities was put to an abrupt end, however, when he looked upon one yordle in specific. He rubbed his goggles as if they were his own eyes to see if it was just a mistake. Even with the smudges and dust gone, he remained. Row eight, three seats in the center. It was him. It was unbelievably, unquestionably, undeniably him.
"Rumble…" Ziggs whispered to himself, "It's him. It's him! I'd recognize that silly mohawk and funny-lookin' ears any day! I can't believe it! He's actually in Piltover! All on his own! What's he even doing here!? He hates this place! Woo, this is so awesome! Look at 'im!"
Sights locked on him, watching his every move, he could tell he wasn't the happiest to sit in the middle of what felt like enemy territory. His head was rested in his hand and elbow on the armrest. Listening to his rival speak in his own domain wasn't on Rumble's top thirteen activities he'd like to take part in, however his intentions were elsewhere.
"I've gotta give him a show… Oh! I gotta give 'em all a show!" Ziggs rushed behind the control board with clawed hands above the buttons and knobs. Some controlled the sound, some the lights. Perfect. He unstrapped the remote on his waist that would activate the turrets to unload their rounds. He had everything he needed. Heimerdinger's voice could be heard from the speakers inside.
"Now that I've got plenty of more reasons to really wow the crowd, I've just gotta wait for my cue." He listened in as Heimerdinger introduced the Academy more times than he could count, the various board members, and even try his hand at some witty jokes.
"…humbly invite you to this year's Yordle Academy of Science and Progress Touring Vent!" Heimerdinger announced. A loud applause followed and faded, "I would like to thank all of the staff members who made this endeavor possible and extend my gratitude to those of you here today! On behalf…" he continued. Ziggs tapped his foot in impatience, aware of how Heimerdinger can go off on tangents. All he needed was that one sentence and the room would be his, "…a special presentation for you all to commemorate this wonderous day! I welcome you all…to the Yordle Academy of Science…and Progress!"
"Bingo," Ziggs grinned, sliding the lighting knobs down with his fingers and watching the room slowly dim until it was left in almost complete darkness. The change brought about gasps and shrieks of surprise from the attendees. Unaware of this part, Heimerdinger, along with the rest of the members on-stage, looked up in confusion and concern; could the vent have gone awry already? Even near the entrance doors, Jago kept his skeptic gaze across his surroundings; yordles were an unruly bunch.
With the crowd in a haze, Ziggs depressed the "TALK-BACK" button and brought his mouth near the microphone. "Are you ready…" he began, his voice booming from all directions, "…for a hexplosive experience!?"
Rumble's head shot up, "That voice…"
With his piece said, he raised his remote up and mashed on the greenest button he could find. All at once, the room filled with lights and music. The ground turrets launched their firecrackers into the air with explosions from every side of the color spectrum. Sparklers outlined the walkway between the blocks of seats, making the yordles next to them both flinch in surprise and laugh in delight. Then came the upper turrets to send down their streams, spiraling just over their heads and leaving behind colorful trails and spherical blazes. Everyone darted their eyes around the room, unsure of whether to look at the bright green explosions to the left or the blaring flashes of pink to the right.
Ziggs took this opportunity to make his final move. He rushed down the row of mounted turrets fulfilling their purposes and approached the mother of all firecrackers, "The Finale" as he lovingly named it. A single rocket larger than he with a hissing fuse that creeped up to its base. It would be the last to launch, however, it served an even greater purpose now. Hoisting himself atop it, he used his arms and legs to grip it tightly with a smile of anticipation; this was going to be a blast.
"Let's ride, baby! YEEE-HAAA!"
As the fuse reached its end, The Finale launched into the ground. Screams and holler were heard as the couple nearly nosedived into the seats. Veering to the side in the nick of time, Ziggs' audible laughter spun around them, his bouts of laughter whizzing by them. Heimerdinger leaned forward to keep up with them.
"Is that…? It can't possibly be! Actually, it's quite likely…" he said to himself away from the microphone. It was behavior not unlike the yordle's, he had to admit.
"Ziggs is gonna kill himself trying to impress these idiots!" Rumble thought. He had to admit, this felt like Ziggs' handiwork and it brought him back to a much simpler time. Though, it only caused him to hate the predicament he was in now. If Ziggs was going to make it out of this alive, he'd be sure to give him a stern talking to.
After one final round, the rocket led itself down the walkway between the blocks of seating and ascended straight into the air. Ziggs waited for the precise moment before releasing his grip and jumping off the body, leaping away from the massive burst of colors and glitter that spelled out the large word "WECLOME!" over their heads. The audience stared in awe as he landed almost gracefully atop the podium, raising his arms into the air for one final pose.
A moment of huffing and puffing from him and the audience roared in contentment, nearly everyone standing to give a heavy applause and cheering. He kept his pose, basking in the glory and approval he oh-so yearned for. Lowering his arms, he bowed several times at the cheering audience and their praise continued even as the lights returned. Rumble looked at everyone standing around him, sinking into his seat and giving his own half-hearted clap.
"What am I even doing here?" he asked himself, "He loves it here…he's just one of them now. Unless…"
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you…very much!" Ziggs shouted back at the growth. Startled by him at first, Heimerdinger smirked in pride to both Ziggs and himself; he was impressed by his performance as it served to remind him that his invitation for Ziggs' hire was another one of his genius ideas.
He moved his head and microphone to look past the yordle and speak to the rest, "And might I introduce our very own Dean of Demolitions! Many of you may know him as the one and only…Zigmund!"
With the seats taken once again and the hailing hiked down, Ziggs took the floor into his own hands, snatching the microphone away from Heimerdinger and leaning in.
"Ain't it so nice to have home so close to work? Hope you all enjoyed my little show! I know I sure did!" Ziggs laughed aloud. "Now that you're all riled up and everything after this point will be boring and inferior…please, enjoy the rest of the tour! I'll be making special preparations in my lab for when you come around! See ya on the third floor, my yordle brethren!"
A walk of victory between the seats as he waved to the crowd, with a high-five here and a point of recognition there. Rumble didn't want to make himself obvious and tried to keep his attention towards the front, yet his sight couldn't help but wander towards Ziggs. In a brief moment, their eyes met. No words to say, no motions to make, just time stopping for that mere second. He looked away and Ziggs continued down only with a heavier heart this time. He caught a glimpse of that old man with the cane again, passing each other as one entered and the other exited. Ziggs looked behind him as the door opened with the sound of Heimerdinger continuing the opening ceremony and closed to conceal the human; he must have missed his performance.
Heimerdinger's words were falling on deaf ears now as Rumble tethered himself between chasing after Ziggs or accepting defeat before even trying. It would have been much easier for him to do the latter, assured by the other's excitement that he was content just where he was. That wasn't something Rumble wanted to accept, however, and he shook himself out of his seat. Sidestepping out of the row, he tried his hand at discreteness as he made his way down towards the far doors that he saw Ziggs leave out of.
Closer and closer, they expanded in his view until something cut him off with a powerful pound: a cane. His eyes trailed up it to see a much taller, much older human blocking his path. Humans were so far from Rumble's radar he hadn't noticed him until he got in the way. He was looking down on him and not just because of their height difference, Rumble was sure about that.
"And just where do you think you're going?" Jago asked, half expecting an intelligent answer, "You're going to miss your group assignment with your little friends, aren't you?" He went as far to nudge the bottom of his cane against Rumble's body, "Go on. Scurry back to your seat."
Retaliatory as always, Rumble had enough of this and shoved the cane away from him, "Ngh! And you're gonna miss your exhibit at the museum! What's it to you, old geezer?" Marching past him, he swatted his robe away from his path, continuing past the doors, "Fuck outta my way."
A piercing glare later and his visage was concealed behind the door once more. The Academy was large and intimidating, Rumble had to admit, but he made it this far and nothing would disappoint him more than succumbing to the towering pressures around him. No, he wouldn't be brought to his knees, not here, not now. Once he shook away the reminder of how far from home he was, he could recall Ziggs' words. Third floor, he said. Time to find a way up.
Meanwhile, Ziggs was going through his own motions of uncertainty as he scrambled about to make his laboratory look something along the lines of presentable.
"C'mon, buddy…why are ya doin' this to me, huh?" he spoke to himself under his breath, arms full of schematic scrolls, "Just showing up like that outta nowhere!? Who does he think he is!?" Stuffing the papers haphazardly into a free drawer, he closed it with much less fervor, "…he's your best friend, that's who. Why else would he be here? …ah, bolts. Now what am I supposed to do!? I wasn't ready for this yet!"
There were many things Ziggs could not wrap his head around: the causation of blue essence's natural flow through runes and crystals, why Teemo always kept his eyes closed, and now, why he wished Rumble could be anywhere else but here. Had he truly lost touch with him that much? He should have been ecstatic that he could finally see him again, yet the more he recalled their last meeting at the docks outside Bandle City the more distress he put himself under. Who knew what lashing Rumble would give him for never coming back? Would he still even call him a friend? Did he bring his battle suit with him? Would he rampage through Piltover until Ziggs was forced to face him? Would he call him a talentless hack and a tool? Would he—
Thump. Ziggs' head snapped towards the open doorway. No one was there. He was clammy from nervousness and now his senses were going haywire. Grumbling, he snatched up more and more incoherent pieces and trash from the floor to toss away or store.
"And now I'm hearing things…again! Gyah! Just play it cool or somethin'! Be yourself! Be anyone but this!" He pounded his hands against his head, frustration building a heavy weight on his chest that made him breathe faster. If he had poked his head out to check, he would have noticed the blue yordle doing the same.
Rumble kept his back against the wall, looking towards the open, metal door and breath through his nose as quietly as he could. Though, with Ziggs making enough noise on his own, he needn't tip toe around. There was a part of Rumble that wanted to take in everything Ziggs had accomplished on his side; making it big in Piltover, a Dean in the Academy, his own private laboratory. The other part of him wanted to disregard it all, never feeling that any of those accomplishments spoke Ziggs' name. The yordle he grew alongside never needed the approval of anyone, only a field big enough to leave in ruin with his experiments. He was going to get to the bottom of this.
This was it, a moment of truth for Rumble. He could either confront the only reason he sailed so far from his homeland or leave broken promises shattered in the dust. Tristana told him it wouldn't come easy, but a hotheaded Rumble committed to his beliefs. This was Ziggs, his childhood, lifelong comrade.
"Act natural," he kept reciting to himself, "Just act like it's a regular day at the garage. It's noon. Ziggs is barging in. He's laughing. We're joking. And I…"
Knock, knock, knock.
"Who's that!?" Ziggs said in a startle, not bothering to turn around amid his arms full of broken runes and crumpled schematics, "I'm a little busy here so no time for chit-chat! And close my door behind you, will ya!?"
"Ahem! This is your superior, Heimerdinger, coming to inform you that I'm the biggest tool in Piltover! Hooray for science!" an exaggerated voice responded.
Those tones. That unforgettable mockery. Caught red-handed he looked up, returning anything he had in his arms back to the ground as they fell limp. His ears were attentive and reluctantly turned his head, now face-to-face to his visitor.
"…Rumble…" was the only word Ziggs could find to utter.
With a light-hearted sneer, Rumble stepped in slowly, "A thousand miles away…and you're still terrible at this game," When Ziggs wouldn't respond, Rumble crossed his arms, "What? Forgot how this works already? I found you. That means it's my turn to hide. So, close your eyes and count to—"
"RUMBLE!" Ziggs burst out, rushing down the other with a tight embrace. It was enough to make Rumble freeze in place, eyes wide beyond his assailant's shoulder. He'd been imagining this moment in his head yet failed to plan out any sort of fitting reaction. Control seemed to elude him as the closeness and warmth instinctively brought his hesitant arms around the other with soft pats.
Though, Ziggs was much more enthusiastic about it, "Woo! This is awesome! I can't believe it! You're here! All by yourself!" He released Rumble to flail his arms and pace in front of him, "How'd ya do it!? When did you leave!? How was the boat ride!? Did ya get lost!? Where's Trist!? Why did ya come here!? What's up with—"
A swift punch across his face silenced him in an instant. He rubbed the site of impact, that fist still clenched with its fuming owner.
"Over a year, Ziggs… Over a goddamn year!" Rumble shouted, gritting his teeth.
Now he was scared, his form shivering as he cowered away slowly. His hands were shaking, defensively in front of his hunched posture. "N-now, now…let's talk about this, buddy. I didn't mean to… Please… I mean, I couldn't… You wouldn't want to have… What I'm tryin' to say is… I guess…I mean… I just…"
Rumble curbed his violent demeanor; it wasn't in his plans to see Ziggs like this and he could tell the other was fearing this moment. His ears dropped back down with his shoulders as regret set in. "Ah, sorry. I'm just a little—" Rumble took a deep breath, "Listen, to answer your questions, this wasn't easy, okay? I heard about the whole 'Bandle going to Piltover' thing and I didn't give two shits about it. But…after a little convincing from you-know-who, I ended up getting a ticket myself and, well, here I am."
"G-good ol' Trist!" Ziggs identified immediately, trying to return to his chipper self, "You two finally hitting it off yet?" he crossed his arms with a smirk.
"Hitting it off!? Ah, jeez, not this again," Rumble rubbed behind his neck, "I don't think she's even into me like that. Pretty sure Teemo's already got that base covered."
"Well, she was hangin' around you, right? That's basically almost second base!"
"She was only doing that because I was—" Rumble stopped, "Sad and alone…" he thought to himself. It sounded pathetic to him and the longer he took to finish, the more Ziggs knew what words caught his tongue.
"Buddy, I—"
"Just…don't sweat it, okay?" Rumble looked around him, up at the ceiling and over at the schematics along the tables, "So, this is your new base of operations, huh?"
"Oh! Yeah! Take a gander!" Ziggs spread his arms out, an evident sense of pride, "I'm the Dean of Demolitions here! That means I oversee all the things that go boom in this place! Which are usually from me. Does that mean I'm overseeing myself?" he pondered.
"This is you making the big time, then? I guess this is everything you wanted, huh?" Walking around, Rumble took in the feel of where Ziggs had been all this time. This place, it reeked of accomplishment, of self-satisfaction, of reverence, of humans. He wanted to smash it to bits.
"I guess you could say that! Not that I've been able to get any new projects out the door yet."
"Why's that?" Rumble asked next to the shelf of eerie chemicals.
"Guess I'm still adjusting to the whole 'big city' thing!" Ziggs laughed.
"Yeah, no. Try again, Ziggs."
"Okay, okay! I've just been so busy with…the tour! Yeah!"
"One last chance."
"Will ya stop asking about it already!? I'm just busy, okay!?"
Rumble had to chuckle at that. Pressing Ziggs' buttons had become far too easy for him, "Hah! Some tour this is."
"I was tryin' to spruce up the place."
"Why? Your lab always used to be this messy. Might as well show them who you really are."
"But I want them to see me as the tidy, genius, and handsome yordle I am! Not like this!"
"So, you're going to lie to all these people?"
"What's that supposed to mean!?" Ziggs barked back. Boop. Another button pushed.
"Oh, nothing. While you're at it you might as well tell them that your goggles are surgically attached to your eyes, that you're actually a sane, level-headed yordle, and that you've actually gotten laid before!" Rumble laughed to himself but not after Ziggs put him in a headlock from behind with a Mohawk-destroying noogie.
"Ya got jokes now, huh?" Ziggs seethed through his teeth. His short fuse personality was something of a trademark to him and bringing this side of him out was Rumble's own way of making up for the years of teasing he endured.
"Alright! Alright! I give!" Rumble surrendered, pulling himself out of Ziggs' grip and straightening up his hairdo. "How this sound? I'll help you fix this place up before the group comes by and then we'll catch up later. Sound good?"
"You wanna help me here!?" Ziggs found it almost uncharacteristic for his friend to offer his assistance in a place like this. He wanted to question his intentions, however, there was no time for that; the clock was ticking. "Can't say no to that! Here!" Rumble found himself suddenly catching a broom and dustpan in his hands, "Takes these definitely-not-stolen-from-environmental-services things and start over there!"
"Yeesh, you don't waste any time, do you?" he rolled his eyes, sweeping up whatever general area the other pointed at. While the other rushed around the room, haphazardly throwing balls of papers and stray papers behind him, Rumble's dustpan caught gathering dust, dirt, and scrap parts. All this looking down he hadn't noticed the short bin filled with small, red spheres. They were smaller than golf balls but larger than grapes.
"Say, aren't these—" Rumble inquired, bending down to get a closer look.
"Cherry bombs? You bet! I still make 'em in my spare time. Can ya believe it!?"
"I mean, you've never not been making them every chance you got."
"They're still as harmless as ever! I promise! They'll tickle ya at most!" Ziggs took a handful from the bin, "Catch!"
Tossing them at Rumble, his first reaction was to cross his arms in protection. Yet, the only sensations he felt were the unimpressive strings of small detonations along his forearms, inspecting them afterwards, "That's it? No flesh-eating reactions? No reality-warping implosions?"
"I'm a chemist, buddy, not a sorcerer. But how cool would that be!?"
"We'd all be dead, that's how cool that'd be!"
"Aw, you gotta learn how to have fun, buddy! Here, try some out for yourse—" Crack! Pop! Snap! Rumble's assault had already begun as they flung his way, "Ack! Hey!"
"Say, you're right. These are fun!"
"Oh, so it's a war you want, eh?" Ziggs smirked at Rumble's contest. Swiftly, he grabbed another handful and tumbled for cover behind the island workbench as Rumble made the opposite side his base.
"You won't win, scoundrel!" Rumble called in a pirate-esque demeanor, lobbing some cherry bombs over.
"Oh yeah!? Wanna bet!?" Ziggs responded with his own aerial raid.
The two took turns peeking from their sides and launching their artillery at one another. Just like their childhood into their adult years; never a dull day to be had and nothing Ziggs couldn't make a game out of. This was the Ziggs he remembered, thankful that some of it was preserved despite his new residence. Their ammunition dwindled, and Rumble wished that these moments wouldn't end sometimes, that Ziggs would just hop on the next ship back and return to their roots. Wishes, however, are not always granted.
"AHEM," a voice abruptly shoved itself into the heated battle.
"Wow, Rumble! You're gettin' pretty good at your Heimy impressions!" Ziggs giggled.
"Uhh…that wasn't me, Ziggs."
Concerned, the two yordles stood up and faced the doorway. Caught in the act and their faces were just as guilty.
"I suspected as much," Heimerdinger stated condescendingly, stepping in, "Your early departure from the opening debriefing made your obvious intentions all too simple…Rumble."
"Heimerdinger…" Rumble said his name with teeth bared, their rivalry of ideology and practice evident by just the air around them. He threw the remainder of his cherry bombs on the ground and glared. Their eyes were deadlocked, staring one another down and circling as if two fighters in a ring. All at once, Ziggs could feel the tension in the room skyrocket.
"And to what do I owe this most unpleasant visit, hm? Finally come to your senses in regard to your inferior technology? Paying a visit for some legitimate inspiration?"
"As if," Rumble scoffed, "I just decided to stop by and count how many footprints I could find on your head. Y'know, after being stepped on by every higher-up in Piltover."
"Is that jealousy I detect? Envious that I will forever exceed you in any measurable parameter?"
"You're right. I guess you will always have a dumb, mutated head twice the size of mine! You're gonna end up with back problems when you're older, y'know?"
"The only problem I'm going to end up with is your continued presence here! The mere fact that you have entered the Academy is enough to disgust any scientist! And you have the mettles to go about sneaking around this establishment knowing full well that you are not welcome?"
"Your goons weren't exactly that hard to get through. You think some old man with a cane is gonna stop me?"
Heimerdinger's eyes widened in fear, "Old man with a cane? A human, old man with a cane?
"Yup."
"A human, old man with a cane and monocle!?"
"Uh-huh."
"A human, old man with a cane, monocle, and silver hair!?"
"Ah, jeez. You hear this guy?" Rumble looked over his shoulders at Ziggs, who shared his own expression of shock, "Always sucking up to these long legs, I swear. White hair, yeah. What's the big deal, anyway?"
"Ooooh, this is severe! This is grave! Awful! Horrific! …dire!" Heimerdinger pulled at his own hair, only further frustrated that Rumble's mere presence would spell the end for yordlekind in Piltover, "You must leave! Immediately! Posthaste, I demand!"
Rumble only crossed his arms when Heimerdinger pointed towards the doorway, "What's wrong? Afraid you won't look so hot around the humans?You're everything I knew you were! Just a big suck up! A sellout!"
"You know not the powers you're senselessly accosting! You are directly ruining everything for approximately everyone and I will see to it your immediate ejection from my institution!"
He could tell he struck a nerve with Heimerdinger when he roughly grasped the sleeve of his shirt and tugged him towards the exit. Rumble growled as broke away from it, "Get the hell off me! Ziggs! Are you seeing this!?" But when he looked for support from his friend, all he got was twiddling fingers on an unmoving statue of nervousness, "…Ziggs?"
"Uh, actually, Rumble. There are a couple of big-wigs scoutin' around the Academy today. It won't be for long! You can just…wait outside until it's all over! How's that sound? Promise when it's all over I can show ya around the city!" Ziggs tried to reassure.
Rumble wasn't having it, though. He looked disgusted and confused as the last thing he wanted to hear from the only reason for his departure from Bandle was to get out.
"Not you too, Ziggs…" with a suck of his teeth, he shook his head and stomped right out, "Whatever. I'm outta here."
It was quiet and tense. Heimerdinger watched Rumble leave, turning his attention back to Ziggs, "And you," he began. Ziggs' ears drooped, preparing himself for the inevitable scolding, "You should know better than to bring someone like him to a place like this."
"But, I didn't—"
"If you care about your position and title here then I suggest you think more thoroughly about your actions before committing to them. Do you comprehend, Zigmund?"
"Yes, Heimy…" Ziggs knew there was no persuading him. His rivalry with Rumble was too bitter to remedy and he was not in the position to challenge Heimerdinger's words. He owed too much to the veteran inventor and kept his thoughts in the back of his head.
"Gee! I sure feel lost out here! If only someone could guide me before I wander off again!" Rumble shouted in sarcasm from beyond the wall.
Heimerdinger growled and stomped out of the lab and past the equally disgruntled Rumble.
"I swear your personality better suits a child."
"I think your head's having one right now! We need a medic! Stat!"
Heimerdinger balled his hands into fists, withholding his anger the best he could, "Follow me," he growled out, gesturing Rumble to stay behind him.
The two walked in an unsettling silence, the distant voices of touring groups making their rounds of intrigue while Rumble was busy imitating Heimerdinger's usual walk cycle he witnessed on the Fields of Justice; bringing his head back and swaying from one side to the other. Heimerdinger, as if he had eyes behind his head, snapped back to look at him, though he was all but guilty-looking now. They continued walking.
"Out of curiosity, I must ask you Rumble: why did you decide to accompany the other yordles on this trip? It is most unlike you to willingly step into Piltover let alone the Academy itself given your views on humanity."
"I'm just here to check on Ziggs. Make sure you guys aren't drilling Anti-Bandle-hypno-devices in him."
"Oh, I almost forgot about your…colorful imagination. Zigmund arrived on his own accord, anyhow. You and I both know that."
"You just lured him in with your stupid promises of success and money!"
"Oh? Is his title as Dean of Demolitions in a prestigious institution not success for someone like him?" Rumble kept silent, "You know him far better than I. You of all yordles should know just what Ziggs would have wanted."
He didn't want to admit it, but he had a point; if Ziggs was craving anything it was acceptance after the many years he spent alone in the abandoned Industrial District making it a wasteland of experimentation. He talked of moving up in the world, making a name for himself, wanting to be more than the image people made of him. Rumble feared where his ambitions might have led him and, considering where he was now, he was begrudgingly correct.
"Yeah…but not like this," he thought to himself as he looked over the bridge that peered down to the main floor. That's when he noticed the familiar robe, "Oh. There's that guy again."
Hurriedly, Heimerdinger ran back and almost threw himself over the railing. Blood-red robe, white hair, classy monocle and all.
"Confound it all, my fears have been realized!" Heimerdinger slapped his forehead.
"What's the big deal, anyway? Shouldn't he be on his way back to some old age home?"
"Need I repeat myself all day!? That man down there is Jago Medarda! Leader of the Medarda merchant clan and an immensely powerful man across all Piltover! With as much influence as he has, it is imperative that we have his full support going forward as a growing establishment of science…" his words were falling on deaf ears as Rumble now feigned slumber with his head slouching forward and an obnoxious snore, "…and exploration. Oh, why do I even bother?"
"You're everything I knew you turned out to be. Just a big suck-up to all the humans in suits here! I bet they know Bandle inside and out now like it's their business!"
"Quite the broken record, you are. I uphold my integrity and have proven myself as capable as any human here! I've achieved something you could only wish to!"
"Yeah, right! If I had my battle suit here, you'd be toast just like the rest of these goons!"
"Your empty threats fall on uncaring ears, Rumble. You know where you are, the predicament that you're in, and the consequences of your actions. Thus, your next course of action is to immediately leave the premise! Your attempts at displaying yourself as a proud yordle will end up dooming yordlekind instead!"
Rumble crossed his arms, filled to the brim with irrational comebacks and aggressive snaps. While he could entertain his ego all day, his eyes brought him back to Jago who kept busy speaking between his female assistant and other yordles. If Heimerdinger wanted to appear as a unified race in front of Jago, he'd do anything to make that happen.
"…and what will you look like shoving me out the door, huh?"
"Elaborate."
"If you wanna get this guy to like yordles enough to support this dumb place, it wouldn't look so good pushing one of your own out. What'll he think then? Can't toss money at a place that's not getting along with itself."
"Bah! Don't try to associate yourself with the Academy now. However, you may have a point. I'll have to eject you through the garbage chute."
"Yeah, do that and I'll make sure everything in that chute is on the old man's clothes."
"Are you that incapable of compromise!?"
"Let me stay and I'll promise to stay as far away as possible from that guy for the rest of the tour. How's that for compromising?"
Heimerdinger looked with a scratch of his chin, assessing his options and possible outcomes. When he decided to look back at Rumble, he immediately regretted it as the blue yordle exaggerated a sad face with his bottom lip puffed out and sorrowful eyes.
"Pwease may I stay at your shitty establishment, Mr. Dinger, sir?"
He pinched between his eyes and groaned, "Ugh, fine! Fine. Zigmund's effect on you must be quite potent if you wish to stay in a place like this. But if I catch you so much as looking that man's way, you're out!"
"As if I wanted to from the start."
Heimerdinger looked around until he found a small group of yordles led by another on their way to the next workshop, "You'll be joining Touring Group B for the remainder of your stay."
"Does the 'B' stand for 'Boring'?" Rumble retorted.
"The 'B' stands for 'Brilliant-Individuals-Guiding-a-Feeble-Minded-Fool-Through-Exuberant-Inventions'!"
Rumble rolled his eyes, walking to the ground as he held his hands in his pockets, "You don't have to ruin everything, y'know."
"Follow them around the designated areas and nothing else! They are currently on their way to witness the production of light rods! Maybe you'll learn a thing or two!" Heimerdinger called.
"Great. Can't wait 'til we tour the exit."
Presentation after presentation, Rumble endured. Moving along with his group and pretending to be interested in the happenings around the Academy began to wear him down. Neurosciences, Biomedical Engineering, Hextech Fun Facts, and even the "Build-Your-Own Mercury Cannon-Hammer" stations became nothing more than mere bumps in the road for Rumble. On top of that, keeping a lookout for that old man kept him occupied.
Ziggs' presentation was the only spark of excitement Rumble could get. He brought the group around the laboratory, which, to Rumble's surprise, looked much cleaner and shinier than when he was kicked out. The cherry bombs were nowhere to be found, but that was most likely for the better. Showing off his previous models of hexplosives and even demonstrating the testing procedures to determine their volatility kept the group on their toes. For laughs, Ziggs would even explain his day-to-day schedule whilst juggling a few bombs. It pleased Rumble to know Ziggs was happy doing what he loved; he achieved his dream and nothing would have made him more proud. And yet, another part of Rumble's heart ached. It seemed both obvious and mystifying. Was he happy for his friend's achievement? Or was he disappointed in his position?
The Astrology department at the apex of the Academy was their last stop before the groups would reassemble at the exit, where the presenters and staff would wave goodbye to all the aspiring scientists. However, where Rumble's group decided to take the elevator, he opted for the empty stairwell. Where they stopped at the first floor, Rumble stopped at the third. And where they all gathered for one final speech, Rumble did not. He forced himself to lug around the small bag of meaningless souvenirs thrown at him.
"I've gotta talk him out of this," Rumble recited to himself, "I've gotta bring him back home."
Back at the lab, he peeked in. Looking left, looking right: no sign of Ziggs. He must have just missed him considering the rather open state it was left in. He should have left the Academy by now, he should be leaving with all the others back to Bandle. His mind told him this was wrong, that this was all a waste of time not worth risking everything Ziggs worked so hard for. And that man. What if he caught him again? He'd at least give himself some privacy.
Rumble closed the door behind him and let curiosity get the better of him. Trespassing into Ziggs' workspace was something he was used to and nothing felt more appropriate than to rummage through his friend's paraphernalia. He placed his bag onto the island workbench and stepped around it. The quietness accentuated the subtle sounds of the working laboratory and the scattered nature of everything was too characteristic of him. Bins of scrap parts, flash powder, fuses, and other miscellaneous tools filled buckets and drawers. Schematics hung on the walls and prototypes lied dormant on the tabletops.
This wasn't what he wanted, this wasn't where he belonged. He wanted to curse everyone that convinced him to come here, to integrate with these humans. Bandle City wasn't a book Rumble wanted to keep open for these people, yet here Ziggs was handing over all their secrets.
A shelf held a spare replica of Ziggs' goggles in case his would melt near his own experiments. He just couldn't help himself but to put in on his head and smile in the mirror, trying to imitate one of Ziggs' many laughs, "Man, how can he wear these all the time?"
Suddenly, his ear twitched. Footsteps, approaching fast. Rumble threw the goggles off and adrenaline burned through him. He shouldn't be here, either. Would Ziggs get mad at him staying? What if someone was with him? What if he's with Heimerdinger? Caught between his better judgement and self-afflicted consequences, his mind only thought one thing: hide.
He looked towards the tall locker against the wall near the door. Parting the metal doors, he jumped in and closed them. The locker was much taller than himself, yet deep enough to fit him even if uncomfortably. It was dark, cold, and unknown objects were poking his sides. He could see through the slivers of line running across his face. The lab door opened.
"Say, thanks! I didn't even know you could launch a yordle that far! Ehehe!" Ziggs shouted and waved to someone as he walked in and closed the door behind him. That persona he kept smiling and beaming shed away as he let out a long, drawn-out sigh, "Well, that was fun. I guess."
Rumble trailed what he could see of Ziggs through the narrow slits. His breaths were very audible to him, so he tried to breathe slower and deeper.
"They're all gone. Didn't even see Rumble there. Guess he really did hightail it outta here. Can't blame him. He doesn't wanna be here. Heck, neither do—" Ziggs mumbled, catching himself before he could finish that with a shake of his head.
He was listening to him through the door, helpless and trapped. He just wanted to jump out and make Ziggs laugh again. The thought of his unwanted presence in the Academy, however, kept him docile.
Ziggs continued to talk to himself as he jumped onto a stool by a cluttered countertop, "He sailed all the way from home to see me…and for what? All he did was argue with Heimy, see a bunch of stuff he probably doesn't care about, and leave."
"Well, he's not wrong," Rumble agreed.
"Rumble's never been away from home like that! …and I just let him go. If I could just see him one more time…maybe…" he opened a drawer beside him, lifting a small stack of flat squares. Rumble couldn't make them out, "…maybe I could have apologized to him right. Maybe he could have stuck around for a little bit, show him around the city. Maybe I'd actually be able to focus instead of being so—"
He froze; there were so many changes that he didn't want to accept, that he forced himself to fight through. It was back to the daily grind for him. Stowing the photos away, he slapped and pulled his cheeks for inspiration.
"Grrr! No more of this! That's it! Nu-uh! No way! No how! Back to work, me!" he rubbed his face and hopped off the stool, looking around, "Now where did I leave that prototype core at? Hmm… Huh? What's this doin' here?"
The stray bag of souvenirs sunk Rumble's heart and sent him into a heated sweat, "Shit! Shit! Shit! I forgot about my bag!"
"Hmph, I don't remember this bein' here when I left," Ziggs scratched his chin, rummaging through it, "Must have been left by one of the tourists. Say, check this out!" he held a miniature replica of a notable hammer, "Look at that! Wittle, itty, bitty Mercury Hammer toy! That settles it! Finders keepers!"
He set the bag aside and began to survey his workspace, the course of the day briefly eluding him from his personal endeavors. If he were to ever take his mind off Rumble's brief visit, he'd need to get back to work, fast.
"Ah! Probably on the shelves! Hmm…nope. Workbench cabinets? …nada. IT'S UP IN THE CEILING! AAHH! …wait. False alarm. C'mon, think!" he pounded his head, walking from one spot to another. Soon, his scattered brain reached clarity, "Aha! That's right!"
Eye wide, pupils like tiny dots, the sweat beaded off Rumble's fur as he looked down by his foot. The core sat there waiting for Ziggs. He had to think quick or he was sure to get caught. His foot began to nudge it out.
"The lock—" Before Ziggs could face its way, the core dropped and rolled out along the floor, away from the metal doors, "—er?"
Curious, he thought, that it would suddenly move on its own. Perhaps a result of its unfinished nature. Nevertheless, he picked it up and inspected around its imperfectly spherical shape. Then he stopped his eyes at the locker and Rumble felt that he was staring directly at him. Was he too obvious? Surely Ziggs would suspect something. He was bound to approach the doors and swing them open any second now to—
"Woo! Thanks, locker! Wow, what a swell guy," Ziggs held it with a smile of reassurance.
Guess not. Rumble huffed as quietly as he could, trying to ease his shaky nerves. Business appeared to resume as usual for the demolitionist as he took the prototype away. He had to ask himself, though, how long would he stay cramped inside this tight, confining, uncomfortable, musty…dusty…sniffle-inducing…sinus-tickling…
"ACHOO!" Rumble sneezed, shaking the doors.
Ears at full attention, Ziggs faced the locker in another startle. Now something was fishy. In his feeble attempt to silence himself, Rumble slapped his palms over his mouth and nose. But it was too late; the other abandoned his core to step cautiously toward the metal storage.
"He definitely heard that! I'm screwed!" Rumble yelled to himself.
He knew not what lurked inside and it took for him to muster all his bravery to wrap his fingers around the handles. Their hearts pounding, he tightened his grip and…
…swung the noisy doors open. The young, blue yordle was quick to rummage through the dirty pile of discarded parts. After all, it was his 7th birthday today and he deserved something special. Something that would make him feel proud, triumphant. Something that resembled a head. All these pipes, springs, and scrap metal in the way wouldn't do.
"Aha!" he smiled, kicking his feet as he threw his arms down into the trash. He fished a stained, rubber kickball out and held it up. It even still had some air in it, too. Whoever tossed this out was surely missing out. It was his stuff now.
He hopped out with his dusty shoes crunching against the dirt and sometimes clanging against the metal sheets. All his.
The two figures were all but complete, comprised of wooden poles, torn up shirts and electrical tape holding up the rackets-for-limbs. He shook the grime off the red marker and made two circles, two dots, a frown and slanted eyebrows. It looked just like them. Atop the bucket, he balanced the head on the shoulders and looked back at his results. He'd show them what for.
Then it was up the steep hill. He used the stems of discarded handlebars and the jutting, wooden plants to climb up. Higher and higher to the dilapidated top, he would have been afraid of heights had he not liked what he saw. Standing on the summit, the lesser hills of junk and debris reached high and spread far. It was an endless world of mysteries and exploration. His kingdom.
He stood at the edge, the two figures at the base of the mound had to look up at their captor. After all, he had the high ground now.
"Well, well, well!" Rumble crossed his arms with a cocky grin, "Look who stumbled into my territory! You guys think it's so funny to hurt me! Well, not so tough now, huh?"
They pleaded for their release. They wanted to leave. They were helpless and scared, but Rumble showed them no quarter.
"What's that?" he leaned an ear over, "You wanna leave? Hah! Not today, fart-faces! Time for my revenge!"
Rumble approached the rusty engine teetering on the edge. Any more of a push and it'd tumble straight down into them. That's exactly what he had in mind as he put forth what little strength he could muster up to push it over.
"Right…about…now…! Ngh…! Almost…there…" he struggled until the engine finally succumbed to gravity. It threw him onto his bottom, and he turned to look at how his deadly trap worked out. Tumbling down, it banged and crashed against everything in its path until it barreled right through one of the bullies, his body a mangled mess now. Victory was his.
With a cheer, he followed the same path down until he stood over the mess with a hearty laugh, "How's it feel, loser? Dork! Wimp!" he blew a raspberry at the mess before turning to the other, unscathed one. That wouldn't do. "What're you lookin' at, dweeb?"
A kick to his base sent the rest of him toppling down and his rubber-ball-head to roll from his shoulders. He kicked that one away, too, but it bounced off a car door and landed right by his feet. That hostile look in his hands now as he picked it up. Rumble stared at the face he'd become accustomed to seeing. He couldn't seem to get rid of it. He was triumphant. He was the greatest. He was pathetic.
The young yordle's victory was short-lived; he knew the reality of it all. That none of this was real. That he'd never have the courage to face them. Hell, he was sure they'd find a way to hurt him here if they knew about this place.
The junkyard. It was all he had. This was his sanctum, his sanctuary, his reliable refuge. As he walked through it, the cold smell of metal and stagnant silence, he wondered about many things. Growing up, he was never acquainted with many other yordles and he couldn't consider anyone a friend. His loneliness and size made him an easy target to anyone larger than him: everyone. He was alright.
He didn't need anyone, anyway. They clearly didn't need him, either. All he needed was himself; the only person he knew wouldn't hurt him. Himself and the junkyard. He was free here, left to his own agenda and imagination. None of them would understand. None of them knew where he was. None of them missed him. He thought he was alright.
The skies were growing darker. He thought about a world without him. He thought about everyone that knew his name. What if he just disappeared without a trace? Stopped breathing and lied in the dirt? Would they cry if he died? Would they even remember his face? He wasn't alright.
His eyes were watery now. Not this again. His hands gripped the mean face even tighter until he threw it as far as he could. It was pointless now; the tears were running down his cheeks and he felt lost again. So, he did the only thing he could do for himself: he cried. Sitting under a broken, upside down bench, he cried and cried. He was confused, angry, sad, alone. This learned helplessness wasn't something he was used to quite yet. Maybe one day the pain will subside into something more manageable. Maybe one day the pain will end. For now, it was just him, his tears, and the wrenching in his chest. No one would dare come to this place. No one.
Clink! Clank! His eyes opened, uncurling himself. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there for. He wiped them off with his forearm and headed towards the sound. Who else could have known about this place? Could it be one of them? He had to investigate.
Peeking out from beside a pile of scrap, Rumble saw another pile, rustling and haphazardly shedding off its pieces. There was something inside. Was it someone looking for him? Someone or something? Was it a monster? He wasn't finished constructing his Super Atomic Mega Laser so he couldn't fight it. And just when he thought the worst, a head poked out of it all. It was another yordle.
He threw off the rest of the trash on his body and jumped out. A pair of stained, blue overalls and red undershirt. His fur was a tannish color with an odd pair of green goggles strapped around his head. Weren't those meant for swimming? He'd seen him somewhere prior but couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe at school? And what was he holding in his hands? It appeared to be a brake drum. Wait a moment…that was his stuff! How dare he!
The tan yordle just walked away, though, as if everything here was his business. Where was he going? He was used to seeing trucks come and dump more junk into the piles, but not another explorer. His curiosity led him to pursue.
He was light on his feet as careful measures were taken to conceal himself. Around the bends and paths, he followed, watching the other's every move. He climbed around as if he'd known the ins and outs of this place already. How was that possible? Had he been here before? Rumble didn't want to approach or call out to him. After all, he could easily be someone wanting to hurt him; he was larger than him, after all.
When they finally stopped, Rumble had climbed to the high ground and watched as the unknown yordle brought the brake drum over a mess of pipes, cogs, plates and plastic cups. Was that supposed to be a spaceship? How shoddy. It all looked wrong to Rumble. He could teach him how to make a better one. He seemed proud of his work, anyway, a bright smile across his face as he inspected it. He shot off sounds of pretend missile launchers, cannons, and laughter. He was having fun just as Rumble did here, but he was a trespasser and he didn't take too kindly to that. If he just reinforced the bottom with some tape and drilled some holes for screws, maybe it would stay together better. Rumble's mind trailed off as he tried to look at it closer and closer until…
Clink! Clank! A rusty, worn wrench fell from his hiding spot, loud and revealing. It didn't take long for the tan yordle to find the source as his eyes followed the trail the wrench took. Lifting the goggles from over his eyes, he met another's. They were the color of topaz, wide like saucers, and filled with fear. He hadn't noticed the blue yordle before, though a hint of familiarity was there. Curious, he stepped closer.
Anxiety set in and Rumble knew not what to do with himself as the other approached the base of his trash hill. His mind could only tell him the one thing he was good at it seemed: run. And so, he did, stumbling to pick himself up and darting down the other side of the hill.
"Hey! Wait!" the tan yordle called, snapping his goggles back on and giving chase. While Rumble tumbled down to the surface, the other ran around it. He could see the smaller one sprinting off anywhere he could to get away from him. What was his problem? He had to make sure that he wasn't going to take his stuff, too.
They ran and ran, the wind sweeping past their fur and hearts pounding. Rumble looked back and, much to his dismay, the other yordle wouldn't let up. He tried all the shortcuts he could remember, under the arc of the crane arm, bouncing off mattress springs, through the plastic mesh forest, none of it stopped him. He didn't want to get beat up, not here, not now, not when he was at his lowest.
Again and again their paths tried to cross. Just when the tan yordle thought he was about to corner the other, there was no one there. One head popped out of a wide pipe, the other would peek from another. An unintentional game of Hide and Seek that quickly turned into Tag You're It once Rumble found the opportunity to run through the clearings. He was starting to run out of breath, his chest weighted with exhaustion and anxiousness.
He found a weight-bearing rod in the side of a tall mound, forcing it out as the rest of it avalanched behind him. Cut off, the goggled yordle grimaced in frustration, looking for another way around it. Now was Rumble's chance. He could think of only one more place to run: his secret hideout. Hidden within a large pile of scrapped aircraft parts was the intact fuselage of a Screaming Yipsnakes plane. There were two paths into the empty space: a wide pipe at the top could drop you into it or a burrowed tunnel from the bottom led to an oven door exit. While it was easier to fall in, he was in a hurry; he'd have to climb the tunnel in.
So, he did just that, looking around before throwing the door open and crawling in. Dark and pointy, he grasped onto everything he could to lift himself up. Higher and higher until he felt the cold metal of the empty hull. There was just enough room sit up and crawl around with a lone, battery-powered lantern at his end. He turned the dial on it, illuminating the tight space. He was safe now. All was quiet and that yordle would eventually give up looking for him. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Unfortunately, that sigh was taken right back in with a gasp as he heard the pipe entrance reverberate on the other end. Soon, the sound stopped and the tan yordle fell bottom-first right in front of him. Unbelievable, he thought.
"How did you…!?" Rumble hugged his lantern.
"There you are! Sheesh! Why're you running!?" he asked, taking off his goggles again.
"Who are you!? What do you want!?"
"My name's Zigmund! But everyone just calls me Ziggs. This is my hideout you're in!"
"You're hideout!? I found this place first!"
"Nu-uh! I did! And who are you, huh!?"
"What does it matter? Just get the heck out of here and leave me alone!"
"Why were you running? I'm not gonna hurt you, ya idiot!"
"Yeah, that's what they all say before you start pushing me around."
Pushing. Shoving. A group of yordles surrounding another, much smaller one. Then he remembered, "Wait a sec… You're not the guy that always leaves really early?" Rumble stayed quiet, "You're gonna get in trouble, y'know?"
"Who cares? Beats having to deal with all the bullies after school."
"Why don't you just run away from them? You're pretty good at that?"
Another moment of silence and Rumble had enough, he took the handle of his lantern and descended back down the tunnel.
"Now where are ya going!? Hey!" Ziggs called out before trailing him again. He followed him all the way back to the entrance arch of the junkyard, stomp for stomp, berating him with questions, "You're in the lesser classes, right? What district are ya from? Does your fur just stick up like that between your ears every day?"
"I told you to leave me alone!"
"What's your big problem!? …Rumble!" Ziggs shouted at him. That made him stop dead in his tracks. Full of surprises, this one was, "They talk about you. At least, someone that sounds like you. I guess you're him, right? You're Rumble?"
The skies were even darker now and the lamplight was just about all he had. That, and this yordle he couldn't get rid of. He knew this was just one big scheme to garner his trust before leading him off, stabbing him in the back, and pummeling him with the rest of them. He wouldn't be made a fool again.
Rumble looked back at Ziggs and pointed to the open gates, "Go away. This is my place! My hideout! You're not supposed to be here! Nobody is!"
"Stop being mean! Maybe that's why no one likes you!" Ziggs stepped closer, grabbing the base of the lantern, "You think everything is yours, but it's not!"
"Get off! That's mine, too! You're stealing it!" Rumble retaliated, tugging back from the handle.
"No, it's not!"
"Yes, it is!"
The fought over their territory, testing the device's durability between them until the boom and flash of thunder and lightning awoke the skies. With a shriek, Rumble fell to his bottom, now placid under the roaring clouds that trickled down rain. Ziggs looked up, feeling the drops flick against his ears and fur more and more.
He loved this. The loud, explosive sounds of thunder as if they angered a god and the bright lightning as if trying to smite them. It was all so magical to him despite all Yordleland's oddities. And while he smiled at it all, the other yordle had the opposite reaction. By the time he looked at Rumble again, he had already cowered under the shade of an aluminum halfpipe.
He hated this. As if the dangers of school weren't hard enough, the risk of being struck and killed by lightning always played on his paranoia. He never felt safe in this weather and he made sure to either stay home or in his hideout until the rain stopped. Now he was out in the open and wishing he were anywhere else. His soft whimpers would turn into loud yelps with each crackle in the sky.
Ziggs looked past the gates, at the shaky Rumble, at the lantern in his hand, and at himself. It didn't sit well with him to leave the other like this. Sure, he didn't want him around in the first place, but Ziggs knew he was too stubborn to ask for help. And so, he walked over and took Rumble's hand into his. He was immediately met with that same resistance.
"G-get off! Go away!" Rumble yelled at him. It proved ineffective, however, as he soon found himself pulled right off the ground with more force than he could ever fight against. His tears betwixt the rain on his cheeks, he looked up at Ziggs who snapped the goggles back over his eyes. Unsure of what to say or do, Rumble followed along as he was led away from the Junkyard, the lantern their guiding light.
Along the dirt path, the pebbles crunched. Under the canopy of the forest, the wet leaves kicked up. Over the fences, the wood creaked. Through the fields, the mud sloshed. All the while, hand in hand. Rumble couldn't understand why Ziggs was doing this; he never wanted to believe someone was trustworthy, not after the repercussions of doing so. They didn't utter a word to each other with only the sound of rainfall filling the void.
The hut in Kindlegrain District, east of the Trotenscar Ridge. That's the direction Rumble gave Ziggs the moment he realized his intentions. A thanks was in order, though, he didn't have time for that when they stopped by his postage bin.
"Rumble! Rumble get in here!" a woman called from the doorway. Ziggs assumed it was his mother. Letting go of his hand, Rumble ran up to her, "Where have you been!? You're soaked!"
"Sorry," Rumble's ears drooped with the rest of his dripping fur.
"Get inside and hop into the tub with your brothers, now," she nudged him along, yet he could get his eyes off Ziggs who watched him from the fence.
"But what about Ziggs?" he asked.
Looking out, she could see the lonely lamplight behind the heavy rain. She had enough children to attend to, "He can find his own way home. Come on."
With one last nudge, the door clicked shut. Though weighted by the water soaking into his clothes and the smell of dirt and grease around him, a sense of accomplishment was enough to make the trip worthwhile. His lantern's light was fading in and out. He'd have to get home quickly.
One last look at the hut and Ziggs walked away. He should have been concerned about getting lost, catching a cold, or anything else along the way. Instead, his mind only wondered if he would see that yordle again. Maybe he'd see him around school. Maybe he'd see him around the junkyard again. Maybe.
"Rumble…" he thought, "…that's kind of a cool name."