Chapter 9: Fight or Flight

Jim thought he would never feel it again. This excitement. This rush of adrenaline as he headed towards danger. He knew that he should be cringing internally. He was not endowed with magical armor or a sword. He didn't have the muscle mass or stamina of his previous life. And to top it off, he was putting Tobes in danger. His oldest friend … who somehow made every situation hilarious even when it was not.

Forget about being arrested, they were going to have the most hilarious deaths ever.

They were even dressed for the occasion…

"… Really, the museum? I don't know if I should be disappointed or impressed," said Tobias nonchalantly as he leaned forward on his handlebars as they stopped across the street from the museum; he looked almost bored behind his yellow and black goggles. "I mean … I thought trolls were supposed to be scary from the way you described them earlier, but now all I can imagine is that they are hipsters and art geeks if this is their hideout."

Jim quickly lost his train of thought as he imagined trolls in hipster clothes. He immediately banished the thought and turned back to Tobes, "Please … never say that again. The idea of Bular drinking soymilk and wearing a fedora while texting is traumatizing."

Tobes merely leaned forward farther, grinning in a way befitting of a villain's costume, "Well, at least you would know he wouldn't be up to anything … since, you know, he'd be a hipster."

Despite himself, Jim had to swallow a laugh while trying to take on a somber tone, "We … need to take this seriously, Tobes. Bular is dangerous and we might die horribly in there. I mean, Bular wears skull pants for goodness sake. He's not a hipster."

Toby, still thinking this was all a delusional dream of a stressed-out Jim, tried to look earnest for a total of three seconds before he realized that they were out in the middle of the night in cosplay costumes hunting imaginary monsters. He snorted and nearly fell off his bike as he choked on his own spit, "Pffff, skull pants?! Talk about tacky. And what … the gremlins are the equivalent of purse dogs? Please say yes."

Rolling his eyes, Jim waved his arms in explanation. "Okay, it's more like a loincloth, and now that I think about it … gross. Second of all, its goblins and they are more like angry spindly-legged French men."

Trying to hold in his laughter, Tobes asked, "So, they might yell at me and throw baguettes?"

Jim tried to glare at Tobes, unsure if he should be angry or not, for even though he was slightly irritated that Tobias was only humoring him, he still remembered the teen with a cursed hammer. In this new-world, Tobias was still his backup … even if all he had was his terrible wit and a tennis ball gun. He couldn't ask for a more loyal friend, even if he had entirely too much sass for a breaking and entering.

Rolling his eyes, Jim sighed, "Fine, let's see if you laugh when we are nearly murdered by man-eating troll-sters. Grab your tennis gun and through the window we go. Last time the alarm went off when we ran out the front doors and not the window. I can only guess that the window is another way for the goblins to get in and out. So … don't freak out when we see some. They can smell fear."

Thirty minutes later, Tobias was trying his best to not smell like fear. How someone didn't do that, he didn't know, but if Jim hadn't covered his mouth he was sure that the totally-not-angry-little-French-men mutant goblin monsters would have eaten them already. And so, they sat there behind a pot display, dressed in costumes worthy of bad cat burglars.

It seemed to take forever for the little beasts to eat out of all the garbage cans in the room, lick a few of the glass displays, fight over a sharpie marker and finally leave.

"Okay," said Jim, his eyes looking strangely ghoulish behind his mask in the dim lighting of the museum, "Don't scream … or panic … or flail … or much of anything you usually do when scared or panicked … or happy … or excited … or sad. Uh, you get the point. I'm gonna release your mouth … slowly."

Removing his hand, Jim nearly suffered whiplash as Tobias grabbed him by the front of his jacket and shook him, whisper-screaming to the best of his abilities, "Monsters! Are! Real! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Frowning behind his mask, Jim slowly pried himself free and stood, peaking around a corner as he whispered back, "I literally told you there were trolls and goblins about an hour ago. You called them hipsters and purse-dogs, Tobes."

Rising to his feet as well, hugging his oversized tennis-ball gun to his chest, Tobias swallowed his dry tongue a few times and whispered, "So, if what you told me is true … there are evil trolls then? That eat people."

"Yes, Tobes, which is why we need to stay quiet. Now, let's find the crate the Fetch is supposed to be in. I remember the size so hopefully its already here … and hopefully, it is nowhere near the bridge room yet either because if Bular is here he's in that room, and I don't feel like being mauled and/or eaten tonight," finished the other teenager.

"Agreed," said Tobes as they turned another corner, the other boy surprisingly adapting quickly.

It took about twenty more minutes of running down halls and dodging goblins (thankyou Nugget Yummy distraction) to get to the loading dock of the museum where all the bigger displays and packages came in. It was then traditional cat burger-ling at its finest, Tobes and Jim prying open smaller wooden boxes. They found some ancient pottery, what might have been a mummified hand and a Norse hammer.

Tobes, looking at the magnificent hammer, recalled Jim's quick mention that he had had an awesome hammer in his not-life. He couldn't help but wonder … had he been any good with it? Was he kick ass? Could he be kick ass again? Had he finally got his braces off? So many questions …

"It's not here," finally growled Jim as he crawled out of a large crate, looking at the small buckler shield he had dug out and suddenly longing for his own. "I think we need to check the bridge-room."

"Isn't that where the boss-level-murder-troll is located? Can we not? Besides, aren't we going to the museum in a few days anyway? Can't we just slip away and try again? It's obviously not here," said Toby logically.

Sighing, terrified he was going to let Claire down again, Jim slowly nodded, "Yeah, you are right. I suppose we can try to get the scrying stone instead tonight. We'll have to break into Strickler's house … or office, but if we break into his office we may have to run afterward… murder cloud and all."

Face morphing into dismay, Tobias asked, "So … we have to break into two maybe three places tonight and fight a murder cloud?"

Shrugging, Jim was about to throw out 'what's two more felonies' excuse when suddenly the loading dock door started screeching as it slid up. Tobes stood there like a deer in the headlights for a moment before Jim grabbed him and pulled them both behind the huge wooden crate he had been rummaging through. He pulled the shield close and put a hand over Toby's mouth just in case. He prayed it was just more goblins, but the two voices that echoed into the storage area proved otherwise.

"Scrying with the pot wasn't successful last night, Bular. So, I don't know why you are so adamant to try it again tonight. Last night was inconclusive. The pot obviously wasn't personal enough," argued Strickler as he followed in behind the hulking giant that was Bular, dusting himself as if this entrance to the museum was beneath him.

The Gumm Gumm grunted, baring his teeth for a moment as he growled, "Well, then go down to where I defeated the son of Kanjigar last night. I hope his blood on the wall is personal enough. If I can't have the hooded boy, I will have the champion's son. Given the hooded whelp saved Kanjigar, the coward, we can probably get the information we need from the teal fool."

Jim, peaking around the corner, swallowed as he thought of Draal being dragged into this. It just seemed to cruel to imagine. Draal finally got more time with his father … only to be the one torn away this time around. It wasn't that he doubted Draal's skill, but he could only recall the teal troll's zombified state the last time he had seen him in the old life… a mindless thing dragging himself down the school's halls like a cripple. It wore on him silently like so many other things in his old life.

Well, at least he knew the scrying crystal was here. This wasn't all a loss. He'd get the Fetch later. Right now, he just had to wait for an opening to grab the little glowing crystal Stricklander had. Maybe they'd even put it down. He just had to communicate this to Tobes and then tonight would be a win for team good. He just had to think out a quick, flawless plan.

"Wait. I smell something off … familiar … yet like cat ….and why are these crates open?" came Bular's voice.

Or he could just wing it. He was good with that.

Strapping the old buckler shield onto his hand, surprised it fit like a glove, he grabbed the tennis gun and growled to Tobes, "Grab the little blue glowing crystal from the shorter one while I distract them and then once you got it, we run."

Stricklander barely had time to look surprised when Jim jumped up onto one of the wooden crates and started shooting off tennis balls like he was a gunslinger taking his final stand. Walt, in his changeling form, quickly got a tennis ball to the face before he could get his throwing knives out and yelped as he covered his eyes. Bular looked surprised for a total of ten seconds before he seemed to realize who was before him.

"Traitorous hooded whelg-guh!"

He had opened his mouth at the perfect moment to receive a tennis ball to the throat and immediately started choking, only to get a barrage of tennis balls to the face as he stumbled back. Toby, a collection of oh-my-gosh-oh-my-gosh chanting forming in the background, finally gathered a warrior's squeal in his throat and ran forward towards Stricklander. He almost faltered when Strickler made a blind swipe with one of his knives, but then seemed to remember he had a giant hammer and basically dropped it on one of Stricklander's knees as he made a clumsy swing with it.

The changeling went down with a pained yelp, the scrying crystal tumbling from his grasp with a small tinkling sound. Toby, still screaming, picked it up and showed it to his partner in crime. Jim shot off a few more tennis balls before running forward with his buckler in hand, slamming it right into Bular's face so he would trip farther back and away from their escape route. He then grabbed Toby by his cape and pulled him past the hulking giant, hoping that Bular was too busy choking and tripping to make a decent grab at them.

Running past, even though they were still in death's grip, Tobe's still had time to cry, 'Aweeeesommmee!' as he clicked an action selfie with Strickler and Bular in the background. And then they were running out into the night.

A minute later, a collection of goblins rushed in because of the noise. For a moment, they watched Bular choke. Right when the little monsters started to take bets if he would live or die, Bular managed to cough up the tennis ball, the wet glob bouncing off a crate and hitting a random goblin.

"... Well! What are you waiting for! Chase after the interlopers!" barked Bular as he wiped the drool from his chin and ran outside, roaring in excitement at the prospect of the hunt. The goblins, giving a rallying cry, followed after like a plague of locusts.

Walt, meanwhile, sat there babying his knee and probably his pride. All of the beasts were gone before he could retort. He was left behind. Sighing, bitterly muttering, Walt groused to no one, "Don't mind me … I'll just stay here."

Draal shifted through the shadows of a Nasty Burger, the dumpster smell behind the restaurant filling his nose in a tempting way. If he wasn't currently on the hunt with his father, he would have stopped for a quick snack.

Watching his father take a deep breath and then release it, he noticed that his father frowned before whispering, "It's strange. We were originally in the suburban area, but now the hooded boy's scent is leading us to the inner city. From my interpretations of human children, it is abnormal for them to be out this late. I fear our young prophet might actually be a changeling given the behavior."

"And we forgot the burlap sacks," said Draal as he finished his father's thoughts.

"Yes, we forgot the sacks. I do not look forward to being scratched or bit by a changeling-boy for I doubt he will come of his own accord," said Kanjigar as he tried to not look at the wrappings around his upper arm.

"Don't worry, father. I will carry the hooded boy if it comes to that," said Draal, part of his mind wondering if the hooded whelp should be called an informant more than a prophet. He hadn't heard the foretellings yet, but he found it unlikely that something like a changeling would have such power as his father described.

Humming in response, the older troll inhaled the cool night air and immediately frowned before swinging around, his armor and sword appearing in a moment along with a strong battle stance. Draal was withdrawing his blades a moment later as well as he smelled trolls behind them … only to stall when the light from Kanjigar's armor revealed who had snuck up behind them. He immediately ran a hand down his face and groaned in frustration.

Behind them, Blinky stood with his arms crossed over his chest in obvious disappointment while Aaarrrgghh's joints popped out of place so he could squeeze out of the manhole as well.

Kanjigar sighed and looked disappointed while Draal mentally prepared himself to be nagged. Really, how could Blinky sneak up on them almost soundlessly and yet could badger them on a near Vendel-level? All he needed was a staff and Blinky probably could be Vendel's next in line.

At the thought, Draal twitched in horror.

"Master Kanjigar, how could you go back on your word? Vendel will be livid. You vowed to stay at Draal's side," argued Blinky, waving two sets of his arms.

"And I am … right next to my son," said Kanjigar with far more cheek than was necessary.

Draal did his best not to snort in humor.

Rolling most of his eyes, Blinky added, "I think Vendel's ultimatum had more than literal proximity in mind, Master Kanjigar. You do know he is planning to rewrap your wounds once more before daybreak. Will you be so audacious then?"

Willing away his sword and armor, the Trollhunter smiled slightly as he headed towards the street, "Probably. Since we have a few more hours before his return. He won't even notice my missing. Now, where were we?"

"And if Vendel comes back early? He has trapping stones, Master Kanjigar, and I'm sure he will use them," added Blinky as he started to follow after his old friend. He honestly didn't expect Kanjigar to listen to him, but no one could say he didn't try to at least advise him. Not that he expected Kanjigar to complain if he became entrapped by the yellow barrier. He was too moral for that … but he did have this kicked gnome look to him that could make a lost whelp run for his money. Vendel had long become immune to it, but Aaarrrgghh could still be swayed from time to time.

Kanjigar stalled as if to consider it for a moment for nothing was truly more torturous to the Trollhunter than being forced to stay still, but he seemed to regain his zeal a moment later, stating simply, "I have a duty to uphold and I must stand by it, Blinkous. I will not be dissuaded to do otherwise."

Then, before he could even step into the lamplight and cross the intersection, a roar echoed down the dead street. All four trolls stalled and Kanjigar immediately summoned his sword and armor again, lip curling in a show of anger and slight discomfort. It was a sound they all were familiar with.

"Bular."

The Trollhunter and company didn't even get to wander from their alley and search for the origin of the roar when a whining sound started, growing closer and closer like an airy alarm. They all looked at each other, uncertain of the direction. It almost sounded like a bleating goat and they might have worried it was one supernatural force or another when suddenly the bleat developed into a girly scream. It was barely even a flash as a human on a bicycle rushed past the alleyway.

The cyclist was a pudgy, yellow and grey clad human with almost comically short legs as his short cape blew in the wind. He was the squealing alarm, his teeth glinting in the lamplight. And there, barely clinging to the seat, was another lanky human dressed just as questionable in all black and blue, too may buckles all over his clothes to seem reasonable. His strange ensemble was topped with a hood and a white mask full of holes. This human's blue eyes took a second to stare in surprise at the four trolls in the passing alley before he finished reloading a plastic gun he had on hand, lifted it up like a bazooka and fired yellow orbs at something behind them.

Then, as quickly as they had come, they were gone. Kanjigar and the others didn't even get to look at each other in confusion when another roar echoed over the expanse … Bular running by on all fours while being promptly followed after by a hoard of goblins. Said tailgaters passed the alley just as quickly, a few goblins making rude hand gestures as they passed by.

Standing still for a moment, all of the good trolls probably wondering if it was a mass delusion, Draal said what they were all thinking first, "Did those little monsters just insult our mothers?"

"Yes, their Gallaaack was quite spot on for a pack of vulgar and fowl-handed heathens," said Blinky calmly before he followed it up, "And I also find in impromptu to not inquire … but that was our young Prophet, wasn't it?"

"Smelled like him," agreed Kanjigar.

"Mmhhmm, spicy … I also smell cat," agreed Aaarrrgghh as he nodded.

The ensuing hustle of good trolls to join the race was almost comical. Each of them nearly tripping over each other to join the ridiculous rat race down the street.

XXX

Paw07: God, I wish I had a working scanner. I would total draw the bike scene or at least Tobe's and Jim's costumes. They are so cheesy-awesome in my mind that I can't even … Anyway, this chapter was fun. Now, cue the Benny Hill montage. ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ