Trolls: Dårlig and Feige
Chapter 3: Night For Cases
Feige had only seen police stations in crime TV shows back when she and Dårlig still lived in Baltimore. She had never been to an actual one in real life.
The Hun Elite Police Station, or HEPS for short, was a mix of neither ugly nor relaxing. The walls were flat white, but not so white that it made you want to vomit. Everyone had a personal office that was personally customized, Feige had actually seen one with a pink coffee machine. Everything was tidy, the two jail cells both had zero rusted bars. There were still those posters about how whatever you committed was wrong, but at the same time they weren't humiliating you to death. It was like having the old Uncle Sam tell you 'I want you to think over what you did' rather than 'I want you to die in Hell'.
Sitting in Sheriff Shan-Yu's office was not as pleasant as the rest of the station. For one, the room had the invading scent of falcon feathers despite the lack of fowl presence, and there wasn't a single wall that wasn't one giant police board. It was like the sheriff liked to turn his medium-sized office into a spiderweb of suspects and victims, the only furniture available were his desk, the grey cabinets he kept in only one corner, the chair Feige sat on, and the weapons rack... excuse me, the umbrella rack that held a crooked sword, an ax, and a crossbow.
"That's some office you have," Feige said.
Sheriff Shan-Yu nodded. He gruffly sat down on his desk and rubbed his half-bald head. One could guess that the cases he had did give the tough man stress.
"I'm sorry... Did I do something wrong?" Feige asked.
"No, of course not!" He shook his hand at sat upstraight. "It's just... people are disappearing! Yesterday's missing jewelry shop owner and now Sean Abyss's sister..."
"Did the victims know each other?" Feige asked.
"The family didn't even shop there," the sheriff shook his head. "However, I do know that both parties did at least one trading with black market crooks. Some members of that underground society have disappeared, and the Huns have disregarded their society's complaints. At first, I was assuming that the crooks were just getting back at us by harming their former customers, but then you showed me these."
He put down the doll and the candy wraps and bent down to grab a yellow folder with red printed words on it. "Seven years ago, we had a case of missing children and one dangerous witch trying to attack her prey right before he turned thirteen," he explained while he let Feige look through the pages. "The Hun Elites stopped her and banished her before the boy could be killed, and yet he still disappeared. We gave up after three years of searching. Yet you managed to find clues relating to that past case."
Feige grimaced in disgust when she saw the criminal profile of the child-killer that was Otrera Beldam. She looked like a teenager, roughly a year older than her, with black cracks covering her thin, porcelain face. Her dark hair was as dried up as dead cobwebs, and to go into the scary zone, she had arms and hands made of sewing needles and buttons for eyes. "Reminds me of the Other Mother from the Coraline movie," she said. "I saw it back in Baltimore."
The sheriff nodded. "The people of the 'real world dimension' think the Beldam is just a work of fiction, but in our dimension she and her daughter were part of the extinct species of the Aracdames. They were all confirmed dead, including the Beldam, until the Wonka-Beldam case proved to us that one monster, Otrera, managed to survive." He crossed his fingers. "Just the idea that she could have return and that adults are disappearing along with children is bad news. And I'm hoping you could join us."
Feige nearly fell of her chair. "I'm sorry, Sheriff, but you must understand that I am highly unqualified. For one, I am an immigrant to Villainapolis and no expert in the ways of investigation, and I'm a Troll..."
"Who's about six feet tall, I know, but you found the clues in Naomi Abyss' room faster than any of my men, and they've been searching the house for the entire day!" He almost yelled but caught himself. He took a deep breath and spoke firmly. "Look, Miss... Come to think of it, what is your full name?"
"Feige Blomstroll."
"Right. Look, Miss Blomstroll. I'm highly aware that you immigrated to Villainapolis with a Bergen."
Feige froze. "If you're thinking about using Dårlig to blackmail me!" She got up her chair and used her hair to lasso his wrist.
"I'm not, I swear!" He protested. "But hear me out! It's known in the records that the Villainapolis population of same-gender species don't have a shine on your partner's, but if you assisted us in the investigation, not only could I ensure your finance so that you two can easily move from the immigrants' neighborhood to a better, permanent, residence, but we could provide governmental protection to both you and... Dårlig."
Feige said nothing. She released him from her hairy grasp. "I need to think over it and discuss the matter with Dårlig," she said firmly.
He nodded. "Two days. You know where our station is."
She walked out off the office, ignoring the grunts the sheriff made as he rubbed his wrists. She dodged the passing Huns and managed to find Sean in the waiting area, right when he got his cup of coffee from the vending machine.
"What did Sheriff Shan-Yu want from you?" He asked.
"He was wondering if I could help out in the investigation," she said, not wanting to press information further. "He's giving me two days to think it through and talk it out with Dårlig."
"I hope you'll say yes." Sean took a sad cup of coffee. "I can't believe this is the first time I miss Naomi."
"Don't you ever?"
"No." They sat down in the waiting chairs. "Since cecaelias are mostly females, only they have the most magical powers. Me and my cousin Mordred were both the eldest and the only boys in the family, so... you know... Our mothers preferred the sixteen girls with the most magic capacities, while the boys did all the chores... Still, I miss the sound of Naomi irritating me with her doll stories..."
"I'm sure they'll find her," she said. She then pulled something out of her hair. "I stole this from a document the sheriff was showing me. Does the kid in the center tell you anything?"
Sean looked at the picture. "Hey, I've seen that picture in an article. It was taken before the disappearance of Willywaffle Wonka. That kid is him."
"Have you ever met him?" Feige asked.
"I never personally interacted with him, but I knew stuff about him and his family. You see, after his dad gave up his first chocolate factory to some British boy, he moved to Villainapolis and created a new one. He even got one of my friends' mom to give him a fertility spell so that he could finally have an heir." He pointed at the factory that stood in the background of the picture. "That place is just south from here, at the very end of 10th Street. The picture was taken on the week of Willywaffle's 13th birthday. At that time, everybody at school was talking about how his dad wanted to start training him in the art of chocolatier business when Willywaffle turned thirteen."
"Until he disappeared," Feige said as she took back the picture. "Is his dad still in the factory?"
"He still runs the place, but with his son gone, he's been decreasing his candy production. Mrs. Hexe is good friends with him and she claims that such a loss put him in depression. Why the questions?"
"It... It may seem a bit weird, but before Dårlig and I moved to Villainapolis, we had... a sort of conflict with a bunch of Baltimore humans helping out another Troll... and one of the humans reminded me a whole lot of this kid, only older." She pointed her finger at the image. "Now I know it's crazy, because I know that if a human from that realm comes to this dimension, they'll rejuvenate to death..."
"Hey, that's a good point!" Sean grabbed the picture and looked at it again. "There's this dimensional rule that an alternate copy can only exist if another one lives. For example, if I were to exist in this dimension, that means one exists in the realm Baltimore is from!" His eyes beamed. "So if you saw a guy in Baltimore who looked like an older Willywaffle, that must mean that the one from Villainapolis must still be alive!" He shoved the picture back in Feige's hands. "Feige, you have to go to Wonka's factory and tell him! He'd want to know that his son is still out there!"
"But I still have to talk it out to Dårlig!" Feige protested.
"Do you ever do anything without that guy?" Sean rolled his eyes.
"That's our problem, not yours." She got up and left, hiding the photo in her hair.
Meanwhile
Dårlig ran as fast as he could to the general store on the other side of the block. Feige still hadn't come home yet, which gave him time to start taking out ingredients to make dinner until he realized he was missing honeydew syrup, which is why he headed to the Tweedy General Store.
"I only need a good galleon or something," he told the man at the cashier booth.
"Whatever." The man shrugged, too busy with solving his sudoku than tending to the few customers he had inside his store. "Go to Aisle 5."
Dårlig grunted. At least he's not rude because I'm a Bergen, he thought to himself as he walked into Aisle 5. Finding honeydew syrup wasn't so hard since they categorized everything in the aisle in alphabetical order and they only sold honeydew syrup in giant bottles they put only on top of water fountains. His muscles had enough experience to carry this 300-pound baby in his arms.
Paying, however, was going to take far longer. While Dårlig was busy holding up his syrup, the cashier was busy doing business with some teenager guy and a rolled up Persian market.
"40 blights?" The man at the register exclaimed. "Last time you said it would only be twenty!"
"Oh, I did, but that was before a Northern District aristocrat offered to double up the payment. I mean, can you blame him? This is purely exotic and with the sales for the upcoming Equinox Festival..." The teenager sighed before picking up something from behind the carpet: a crate of six bottles. Judging by the color and tagged picture of a drunken tree, Dårlig assumed it was alcoholic.
"Look, perhaps we can rearrange this little mix up," the teenager said as he placed the crate before the cashier. "I already have to pay like 18 blights for this, but I can easily give you 20. You could take that and add in the original twenty blights you owed me. That way, you get the Persian carpet your mom always wanted for Mother's day, and I leave with the alcohol."
"So I'm using your money and mine to pay for the carpet?" He then smiled deal. "Sounds legit. Thanks!"
Dårlig gasped at the monetary exchange, especially when the trader just took back his money after the cashier gave him the twenty blights. He scowled in disgust. All the trader had done was swindling the cashier by making him think he was still paying half when in reality, the trader tricked him into returning him the money he paid for the store product!
"Oh, she'll be happy when she sees it!" The cashier stepped out of his stand so that he could grab the Persian carpet and drag it to the door leading to the employees' lockers.
"Yeah, give her my regards!" The trader snickered to himself before taking the crate and walking off. The wind from outside blew into his patched trench coat, revealing the belt with the black pearls stitched to it to form the word WILL.
Dårlig gasped. His surroundings blurred and he found himself imagining himself back in the alley, only with a dozen copies of the old black market crook man with bleeding empty eye sockets, all of them marching towards Dårlig like mummies and repeating constantly. "Warn Will... at the Crooked Mill."
Later
"Warn Will at the Crooked Mill," Dårlig muttered as he unlocked the door of the apartment and stepped inside. "What does it mean?"
"Dårlig? Are you home?"
Dårlig smiled. Finally something to stir him away from all his troubling thoughts! He walked into the kitchen and instantly put the honeydew syrup bottle on the counter. His arms instantly got squeezed by Feige hugging him.
"I missed you," she said.
"So have I," he smiled through his constricted breath. She then let him go. "And just in time. I was about to make some salmon soup for dinner."
She sighed. "My favorite. Dårlig, you shouldn't have!"
"Too late," he said in a singsong voice. "Say, could you set up the counter? It's going to take a while to make the soup."
"Sure thing." Feige started pulling out the drawers and taking out utensils. "So how was the first day at the Brewing Cupcake?"
"Mixed." Dårlig chopped through the fish, separated the flesh from the bones, and dunked the stuff into two separate pots sitting on the flaming stove. "The good part is that I was treated well for my hard work and I actually got to meet a local blind philanthropist. The bad part is that my mother's responsible for the same-gender species citizens in Villainapolis."
"What did she do this time?" Feige rolled her eyes as she opened the fridge. She had never been a fan of the woman.
"You're gonna laugh. Apparently I had an ancestor who was a monster hunter killing child-murdering spider witches, and when mother dear was in town while one of the freaks was committing murder, everyone was like 'Why didn't your ancestor finish the job? No, why didn't you do it?'" He poured in ten cups of honeydew syrup into the pot holding the fish bones, creating a sizzling effect while he tended to the green vegetables that needed vicious dicing. "What about you? How was the babysitting?"
"I couldn't babysit... One of Sean's sisters went missing... And..." She stopped pouring the apple cider into the cups and rested her hands on the counter.
Dårlig stopped cutting the bok choy when he saw her expression. "Feige, you have the same guilt look you had when you broke Mr. Darwin's dragon vase and Chef threatened to eat you," he said firmly before asking sharply. "What happened?"
"I..." Feige blurted out the facts. "I found evidence on Sean's sister's disappearance faster than the Hun Elites could and now the sheriff is giving me two days to decide whether or not I should join them in investigating the disappearances! He even offered a financial raise and a better residence if I complied, but I said I'd have to talk to you about it first!" She took several deep breaths and looked back at Dårlig.
Frustration bit him. "Damn it," he grumbled.
"Look, I personally don't want to get involved, but if the financial raise could help us improve our life here faster..."
"Feige, I worry about the money-handling here, but you could get hurt in these cases!" He bit his lip in sorrow. "What if you disappear as well and I... I end alone without my one true friend?"
"Dårlig!" She grabbed him by the hand. "We'll always be together no matter what!" She then spun him out of the kitchen and into the big space, bringing him to a smile.
Feige: Come now, you know me better than that.
We've known each other from the start.
You and I make quite a team
With the brains and heart.
Dårlig: I'm just one Bergen
But with you I feel so much more.
Feige: We work like apples and pie.
We make each other soar.
Feige's paintings came to life to fill the house with colors, turning the place into one giant living scrapbook.
Feige: My Bergen companion for infinity!
Dårlig: My Troll friend since the infancy!
Both: We function best when we're together
There's nothing we can't accomplish without one another.
Friends and lovers can do so much, but when combined
You and I are one of a kind.
They jumped on rainbow mushrooms like trampolines that exploded into glitter fireworks after each pounce.
Dårlig: You know, life wouldn't be the same
If you weren't there for me.
I'd probably be stuck in my cage
Until you set me free.
Feige: What's the point of singing and dancing
If you can't do it with the one you love?
Dårlig: Just being together since forever
Makes me believe I can go above!
They jumped into a volcano that erupted with bubbles instead of lava. The soapy orbs floated into space with Dårlig and Feige dancing on top of them.
Both: My companion for infinity!
My friend since the infancy!
We're like comrades forged with fire
By working together, we go higher.
We don't need to fear or eat each other
Because we function best when we're together!
The bubbles then exploded and dropped them into a stage of Bollywood dancers dancing under a rainbow of flying butterflies.
Feige: My Bergen companion.
Dancers: He's quite the companion.
Dårlig: My Troll friend.
Dancers: She's quite the friend.
Feige: We're as grand as a canyon.
Dancers: They're as grand as a canyon.
Dårlig: No gold could make me so contend!
Dancers: Only she can make him contend!
Dårlig and Feige: Is there anything we can't defy?
Dancers: I can't think of any!
The dancers and butterflies disappeared, leaving the duo to dance alone while the atmosphere around them turned into a night full of stars, giving lights in the dark.
Both: You and I are one of a kind.
Without you, I may have been too blind
To see how much I can accomplish
When we are each other's accomplice.
One of a kind may be hard,
But having you is better than being alone and scarred.
We function best when we're together
There's nothing we can't accomplish without one another.
Because we're one of a kind!
Bergen and Troll eyes were locked between each other while the atmosphere of stars grinded back to reality's apartment. Fingers crossed, lips just barely separated by two inches...
A clapping was then heard. Dårlig and Feige turned to see Genny Kowalski leaning on the doorway and clapping at way. "How long have you been there?" Feige asked.
"More like how she got in," Dårlig pointed out and let go of Feige.
"You guys got so distracted by your friendship-is-magic duet, you didn't hear me ring the doorbell and you forgot to lock the door." Genny followed them in the kitchen. "By the way, song was good. Though I fail to understand how you were capable of breaking the laws of physics to turn the environment into a singing scrapbook."
"It's a Troll thing." Feige shrugged. "Would you like to stay for dinner? Dårlig's making salmon soup."
"Made salmon soup." To make his point, Dårlig kicked on a cabinet, thus popping its door open and causing three bowls to fall out. Dårlig lifted his leg up and used it to create a landing spot for the bowls. After pouring soup in each of them, Feige used her hair to leash the three bowls and bring them up to the kitchen counter. Meanwhile, Genny looked in amazement at the entire scene, which concluded with Dårlig dicing some cilantro and brushing them evenly right into the bowls. "Soup's in."
"Wow, you guys make a spectacular duo." Genny tasted some of the soup and widened her eyes in pleasure. "Seriously, this is delicious! Have you ever thought of opening up your own restaurant?"
"Well we did dream of having our own diner," Feige sighed, "but then Dårlig's mom had to ruin everything."
"What did she do?" Genny asked Dårlig. The young Bergen said nothing. He didn't even look at the girls while he took care of cleaning up the kitchen, but his expression made it evident that he didn't want to talk about it. Instead, Feige gave a quick explanation.
"Cooking and knife-battling were the only things put on him by his heritage," she said. "He was still a kid when his mom forced him to be a kitchen rugrat and cook for anyone that wasn't him, and if it wasn't cooking, it was how to handle knives or any cooking tool that could be weaponized."
"Like training a puppy into the military," Genny determined.
"Point is, she wouldn't even let him be happy at something she herself liked, and since we spent most of the next years of our lives working around in the kitchen of somebody we didn't like... I mean, what would be the point of us opening up a diner if we have no joy in doing so?"
"But Dårlig just worked at the Brewing Cupcake today and he didn't have any problem." Genny then changed the subject and told Dårlig: "I heard you got shined on by Madleb Arerto."
"Oh yeah, she was awfully nice!" Dårlig stopped scrubbing the pots to give away a smile. "I can't believe how one blind philanthropist can make an impact on anyone who meets her!"
"I know! Having her for a connection is like... huge!"
Genny and Dårlig laughed about it, unaware that Feige kept frowning at them. For one, she had no idea who this 'Madleb' was and she didn't understand why she felt unpleasant when hearing about her. Either because she was the last to be informed about it or because the sentiment went to sour at the part of her Bergy Wuggy being shined on.
"Feige, I heard from Sean that the sheriff of the Hun Elites would like you to join them in their investigations," Genny said. "You know they pay amateur detectives very well. And you managed to link today's case with one that dates from seven years ago!"
"About that..." Feige pulled out the photo of the Wonka Clan and showed them to Genny and Dårlig, who took turns looking at it while she explained to them to details.
"And then when I told Sean that the Willywaffle Wonka in the photo looked like one of the humans that Princess Gladiola befriended back in Baltimore, he said it could mean that due to dimensional rules, Willywaffle Wonka should be alive."
Dårlig rubbed his chin. "Not too idiotic. After all, the human who befriended the Troll princess was named Willy, and from what I heard back in the deli of Mr. Darwin, he hates candy and has issues with his father. It would make sense if he had a parallel universe clone who happened to be Willy Wonka's son. But what does it have to do with the disappearances of a jewelry shop owner and a seven-year-old?"
"A button-eyed ragdoll of Sean's sister and a dozen paper wraps of Wonka's Everlasting Gobstoppers were found under her bed," Feige said, "and the Huns suspect that Otrera Beldam is returning and aiming adults." She turned to Genny. "Do you think I should reach out to Willy Wonka?"
"If there's a possibility that his son is alive and possibly in danger, he'll want to know." Genny nodded. "I can drive you to the factory tomorrow morning."
"Feige... it could be dangerous..." Dårlig said crossly. She merely rolled her eyes and walked over to him, wrapped her arms over his shoulders and looked at him fondly.
"I'll be fine," she told him with reassurance. "I learned a lot from you on how to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, must worry of your job at the Brewing Cupcake."
Dårlig gave a small smile. Yeah, I have a lot to worry about.
The next day
Dårlig left the apartment sooner than usual. His shift was starting at the same time as yesterday, but under the last stars remaining in the sky, the Bergen boy followed the path the tramway had taken to drop him off at the Brewing Cupcake. His eyes looked from left to right as he walked.
He stopped when he noticed a presence spotting him in a nearby alley. "You can come out now," he said, not even knowing who he was talking to.
The figure stepped out of the alley. Unlike the first two black market crooks he had encountered so far, this one was a teenage girl dressed in a huge dark purple trench coat and matching flats. A white scarf hid the bottom half of her face, dark sunglasses rested on her eyes, and a black Fedora was giving more shade to her orange hair and lavender skin. A black pearl bead was seen on the ring she wore on her left index. Judging by how the girl was dressed in nice clothing that hid her so well, Dårlig could assume that she didn't want the whole world to know that she came from the underground.
"Only customers who seek information come out right before dawn." She tipped her hat. "Call me Nora. How can I assist you and at what price?"
Dårlig pulled out a small fist-sized pouch from his satchel and showed her its content: grinded remains of the twelve Troll gemstones he and Feige had used to escape their previous life. "How about a tablespoon of those grinded Troll gemstones?"
Nora nodded. She pulled out a test tube from her coat's pocket and discreetly put a tablespoon's worth of grinded Troll gemstones in it. "What kind of information are you looking for?"
"I got confronted by one of your black market crook peers yesterday. He died right in the alley after telling me 'Warn Will at the Crooked Mill'. Does a guy named Will ring a bell and where can I find him?"
Nora placed the test tube in her pocket and grimaced. "Came for the big game, huh? Our guy Will is by far the best con artist in the Villainapolis Black Market. Not even the rich people are safe from his swindling. The guy's been a criminal since he became a teen and the Huns have always been unable to catch him; Will's like a slippery eel that eludes your greasy fingers."
"I should have guessed." Dårlig mused. His mind flashed back to the store when he saw the black market crook tricking the vendor with the Persian market. So that was Will.
"The authorities think he's a menace, but the rest of the black market see him as a saint," Nora continued. "One quarter of his daily gains, he trades to the ones who don't have it as easy as him. The thieves and murderers treat him like the king of the forty-thieves."
"That answers a lot," he grumbled. "So where do I find him? I mean, assuming that the Crooked Mill..."
"Is his living space." Nora nodded. She pointed a finger, telling him to follow her up the alley's fire escape. Once they reached the roof, where they could see the sun faintly beginning to rise on the bay, she indicated him to the west. She showed him something that looked like it was curling up the way flower petals do when they wither. After a better squint, it was revealed to be a windmill with an awful curve that was being covered by mist.
"The Crooked Mill is in the part of Villainapolis that's known as the Stone Foundation, which was where Villainapolis first started in colonial days until it got modernized," Nora explained. "The Stone Foundation is like a Court of Miracles for black market crooks. With a maze of stone alleys and a mist to cover up their heads, it's the one place in Villainapolis that the police won't dare to step in. Customers get lost easily unless they carry a ticket."
"What kind of ticket?" Dårlig asked.
"Oysters holding black pearls. I can give you a name of contacts who deliberately sell black pearl-casing oysters. All you'd have to do is keep the oyster on you and anyone from the black market will know that you want to go to the Stone Foundation. They'll register the pearl and you'll be in their den. The Crooked Mill is right at the heart of Stone Foundation, so it shouldn't be hard to miss."
"And will I find Will there? Suppose I want to see him after I'm done with work?"
Nora shook her head. "Will's slippery, like I told you. He handles business so well, nobody knows at what time he comes back to the Mill. But we do know that he usually comes out around eight in the morning before doing his job."
Dårlig nodded. "I got nothing this Saturday. I'll give him a little visit. Thank you for doing business."
"Anytime." They went back down the fire escape and into the street. "Oh. Could you not tell anyone that you saw me, please?"
Dårlig frowned. "Why would I tell anyone that I saw you?"
"Don't spread the tale, but my folks have no idea that I'm a part-time black market crook," Nora admitted with guilt. "They think I'm taking nighttime classes to catch up on algebra, but I'm actually trying to make cash to save on art school."
Dårlig nodded. Nora tilted her hat and disappeared into the shadows of the alley. Dårlig saw the time on the nearest electronic billboard. He still had enough time to go find himself the nearest seafood store in the neighborhood before his shift started.