Recommended Songs
[1] Sugar Honey Ice Tea - OR3O (Repeat 0:00 - 0:45)
[2] These Boots Are Made for Walkin' - Nancy Sinatra
[3] Folsom Prison Blues - Johnny Cash
[4] Heat Seeker - DREAMERS
[5] The Other Side - SZA and Justin Timberlake
'Playing with the Matches' Part 2 - Welcome to My Playground
Charleston's room is a mess. [1]
Even though she had cleaned up her room yesterday and decorated it with all of her 'special moments', it already became a mess. It was as if she was having a wild slumber party. Her cane isn't in sight and it is like she must have buried it really deeply in one of the piles. However, after she looks through all of them right again with Bastille's begrudging help, it is nowhere.
It is gone.
"Are you sure that it is really gone?" asked Finn who was leaning against the door frame.
"I swear!" hissed Charleston as she threw a black shirt over her head in frustration. "I placed it right next to me. Near the bed. On the nearby cabinet. It just disappeared! It couldn't have fallen into a crack."
Bastille winced a little as he looked around. The room is already a mess and it is much worse than his. For all of Charleston's eccentricities, she isn't really a slacker in making things neat. She can be fussy at some times. However, this doesn't seem to be the case since she lost something.
"Shouldn't we pack things up first and then sort them out?" asked Bastille. "Wouldn't it be easier to look through a cleaner room?"
Charleston shook her head. "No, no, no. I already did that."
"It seems to be just one cane," said Finn. "Don't you have any other canes?"
The Swing Troll thought. "Nope."
"Wait, what?"
"I only have one and it used to be from my father," admitted Charleston, nervously rubbing her hands together. "I…don't have any money to buy another one."
"I'm sorry," said Finn. "You had a lot of stuff and you didn't really have money to buy more canes in case you lost one?"
"I always held it around with me! It's not like a water bottle!" Charleston thought for a while. "OK, hear me out on this. I think it must be one of the criminals who did this!"
"Do you think so?" asked Bastille, taking another look around the room. "Charlie, I don't think anyone stole your cane. If they would, they might have even raided your belongings as well."
"But a cane can cost a lot in the black market!"
"You mean a wooden stick?" asked Finn.
"Exactly!" Charleston then had an idea. "So, if we want to get ourselves prepared for the criminals now coming into TrollsTopia and get good money from being detectives, how about we start doing a search for my cane!"
Finn stared at the Swing Troll. "You can be too dramatic."
"Don't be silly," said Charleston, patting him on the head. "Call it an adventure, blue jay!"
The Trap Techno Troll growled as he swatted her hand away.
"So, all looking for just one cane?" he growled.
Bastille bit his lip. He remembered how much Charleston adores her own cane. It is one of the last few pieces to remind her of her parents. It meant a lot to her. And besides, maybe finding the person who stole her cane might start off as a fairly easy adventure. As a slow step-up.
"Say, mate," said Bastille finally, patting Charleston on the back. "Tell you what; we will find your cane."
The brown Swing Troll squealed and gave him a gentle hug. "Awesome! Now get to business."
"We can't just find a crate of hand-to-hand combat weapons?" asked Finn with a detached look.
"Nah," said Charleston, waving her head blissfully. "That's too expensive."
Bastille crossed his arms. "So…erm…'Detective Charlie', where do we search first?"
"Well, the place where the crime happened would be here!" said Charleston, spreading her arms around. "In my bedroom obviously. However, I can look through here to see any traces of the suspect!"
"You already looked through this room," grumbled Finn, turning to leave. "Why not fry a shrimp on the barbie?"
"Don't be so salty!" said Charleston as she took out a small magnifying glass. "Let's search."
Bastille is about to decide to play along until he sees the bathroom door opened to reveal the sink.
That is when he remembered something.
"Oh, bloody ripper," he said as he quickly ran out. "B-Be right back!"
The Indie Troll cursed to himself as he made his way back to the bathroom. During the morning, he would have just ignored it, but there was something bugging him on the sight of the tap dripping a little.
He wiped the small droplet off and checked that the tap was off. Twice. A few times. He kept pressing on the lever, making sure the tap was truly and properly off.
He sighs to himself. This has become a habit he has suddenly taken. He notices that he is starting to worry a lot on even the tiniest objects. Not only taps, but also making sure that there are no bugs around, no objects near the edge of falling down and paranoid on if he got everything done. It has started to bother him a lot and as much as he wants to just forget about it, he is really worried that he would forget something; water might be wasted.
This had consequences when he accidentally destroyed a tap lever back at the Indie Hideout due to him pressing on it really hard. A few of the Indie Trolls weren't happy with this. Some of them decided to just try to joke about it with Bastille. However, he wasn't proud of what happened.
Even though he learnt his lesson, he felt an urge to just slam the lever of the tap to make sure it is properly off the whole time with no excess water running out of it.
As soon as he feels that the tap is off, he hears a grunt of frustration from Finn.
"You idiot, Charleston!" shouted Finn. "The whole room is spotless!" [1s]
"What?" said Charleston.
Bastille returned to the room to find Finn waving a hand across the carpet. Charleston is already on the floor, observing the carpet with her magnifying glass with a tongue poking out. She looks like a small kid trying to find the small biscuit she dropped on the floor.
"Were you able to find any fingerprints or footprints on the floor or the walls?" asked Finn. "At all?"
"I'm trying to check," said Charleston. "You have to keep the glass close to the floor and see if there are any inconveniences on it."
"The only inconvenience is that the magnifying glass in your hand doesn't seem to be a real one."
"Huh?" [1]
Bastille raised an eyebrow and took a look at the magnifying glass. The frame doesn't produce an enlarged image of the carpet. It is like looking through a see-through glass. And it looks like it is made from plastic! He rolled his eyes a little, taking the magnifying glass.
"I think you used the wrong one," he said. "That doesn't examine small detailed things correctly."
"Wait, what?" said Charleston, confused. "It didn't?"
Bastille couldn't help but laugh and charmed a little of her childishness. "Yeah. But thank you for the effort."
"C'mon! I was just improvising." Charleston jumped upwards. "What can you see through that magnifying glass?"
Bastille grinned. "Well…I could see your face. Some bags underneath your eyes as signs that you are a night owl. There is a booger hanging from your nose. Your hair is…oily. And your eyes look like they are ready to blow something up again."
Finn floated close. "Is that what you can see?"
"See it for yourself!" chuckled Bastille.
It would be a joke, but Finn doesn't really understand at first. However, he takes a look through the magnifying glass for fun and see that Bastille has a realistic point.
"Oh, you're right," said Finn, giving Charleston a strange look.
Charleston sighed, hanging her head. "OK! OK! I won't make another explosion."
Finn crossed his arms. "I don't trust you."
"I…did some thinking last night," said Charleston sheepishly. "And…you two boys are kind of right. And I was lucky that I wasn't fined for blowing up the pub! But, it won't happen again! I promise!"
BUZZ!
A red firefly appeared from the window, holding a paper-wrapped package. It smiled and dropped it off at the window porch.
"Aww!" cooed Charleston, rushing up to the window. "Thank you, pal! I forgot about this."
She patted the firefly in which it humbly like the affection. The Swing Troll gave it the daisy coins it needed before it buzzed and flew off.
"What is in that package?" asked Bastille.
"Oh!" said Charleston cheerfully as she tossed the package upwards. "It's a fireworks set!" [1s]
Out of nowhere, a blue dagger zipped through and stabbed the package by its edge onto the wall. Pinned there like loose paper with a ball pin on the wall. Charleston froze as she turned to a livid Finn in a position that looked like he just threw that dagger.
"Oh hell no," he growled. "Where did you get that?"
"I-I didn't get that one," lied Charleston.
Bastille narrowed his eyes. "I didn't know you were going to explode more buildings."
Charleston groaned. "OK. You caught me. I was actually supposed to get those yesterday here. I wanted to buy some fireworks for the dinner party, however, they came in late. So, it got delayed until this morning."
"And what are you going to do with the fireworks?"
Charleston doesn't have an answer. "For throwing a party.
"Yeah, yeah," said Finn as he took his dagger and the firework package. "That is not happening."
"Aww…" groaned Charleston. "You're no fun."
"Says the girl who caused collateral damage around here."
"Back to the case," said Bastille. "You have no idea of what you are doing?"
Charleston sighed sadly. "Sorry. I…don't really know how I am going to track down the footsteps and fingerprints. This place might be already coated on our own. And I don't think I have the…required liquid things to find them."
"Maybe we should call a detective over here," said Bastille. "I think it is because you might be missing out on a few things when it comes to…this task."
"But do you have an idea of where to look?"
Bastille shrugged. "My head is feeling a little heavy. We need all the help possible."
Finn stroked his chin. Honestly, he thinks that he should stay out of this, but if he did, Charleston would continue to make a mess around. And she would definitely steal the firework package to blow up his house or worse, make a huge crater in the dirt. He isn't really in the mood to help her out, but he got to distract her with something.
That is when he remembered one of the few contact cards he had on the fridge.
"I know a guy," he said with a smirk.
It took a few minutes for the detective to arrive, however, the person in question isn't who Bastille and Charleston expected. [2]
The Country Troll in front of them is the same one who joined them during the World Tour when they weren't able to get Delta.
A dull-golden skinned Troll with dark brown short hair, a beard and wears a black cowboy hat with a yellow trim, a red and black flannel shirt, a turquoise denim jacket with a yellow collar and dark blue jeans. Surprisingly, he is also wearing a sheriff's badge on his shirt.
"Vance Joy?" said Bastille.
Vance smiled. "The one and only!"
"W-Wait," said Charleston. "We didn't hear that you got a job here."
"You didn't know?" asked Finn, crossing his arms.
"No, not really." The Swing Troll rubbed her hands. "Delta didn't exactly say that you were moving here."
"Ah, that's just her," said Vance. "Remember; I'm not in the leader cycle, so nobody knows! So, long story short, Gust is running out of workers to help him out in his Fun Detective service, so I joined in. And it turns out, we are expanding our business to help those out with not only games, but rules of places, manners and crimes all around!"
Bastille made a lopsided smile. "I thought you were a coward to danger."
Vance Joy put on a cocky smirk as he placed his fists onto his hips. "Maybe, but I ain't going to be playing around."
Vance Joy
- The free wind of Lonesome Flats
- Honourable, cheeky and snappy
- The first and last to take a beer
"So," said Vance Joy. "What's the problem so far?"
"Well, Mr. Joy," said Charleston. "I just like to make a formal complaint that my walking cane has gone missing and that we may need your help in discovering it."
"Alongside teaching Charleston what to do when doing real detective work," muttered Bastille.
"No worries!" said Vance Joy. "In this matter, we will commence the investigation of 'The Case of the Missing Cane'.
Finn snorted. "That much of a title?"
"It's TrollsTopia! It's worth having the fun at least."
Charleston led Vance Joy to her bedroom with Bastille choosing to follow them. It was left untidy with Charleston explaining that she tried searching everywhere. Bastille got the prinkling urge to clean up again, but decided to just let Vance do his thing first. Fortunately, he didn't see it as a problem.
"So, where do you think the suspect got in?" he asked as he started to look around the room. "How do you think they snuck in?"
"My best bet is through the window," said Charleston. "But I can't find any traces around here?"
"Oh really?" said Vance. "I think you might have forgotten to see if there were any…traces on the outside?"
Charleston blinked. "Well, now that you put it that way…"
The Country Troll is already peeking out the window. Even though it is nearly hard to find and that the sun is shining so brightly that it could blind anyone from seeing properly, he spotted small but noticeable footprints left softly planted on the roof near the window. Using a REAL magnifying glass and observing the outside wall, he could see one handprint near the window frame.
"Just as I thought," he said. "Someone decided to go through here."
"Is there anything else up there?" asked Bastille.
"No, unfortunately. It seems that the handprints stopped there. The floor can't be used since you have been walking all over it, right?"
"Yep," said Charleston and Bastille in unison.
"I have a bit of a theory of how the suspect managed to grab your cane, but I need more."
He decided to try finding any sort of unusual footsteps first around the carpet, but there didn't seem to be. He did try finding fingerprints and he found a few new ones that riddled the bed blanket and the cabinet next to the bed. These aren't Charleston's. There is even a handprint on the wall nearby, but…why is there also another faded handprint above it?
"I'm gonna need all of you to clear the room so that you don't tangle each other," he said as he closed the window's curtains. "This is something I learnt from Gus."
With the room all dark, Vance took out what must be a spray bottle and spread a form-like substance that covered the ceiling. Soon enough, handprints can be seen clearly. However, these handprints are in a neon blue color, glowing like it is all blacklight painting. Bastille and Charleston are astonished by this.
"Whoa!" said Bastille. "What kind of spray is that?"
"That is the Blacklight Marking Chemical," explained Vance with a smirk. "Pretty cool, right? Well, please don't touch it. I learned that the hard way." He waved his hand across the glowing handprints. "You see, it works depending on the lighting of the place and if the marks of handprints are pressed properly. It seems that whoever broke in must have been…climbing walls."
"Wait, climbing walls?" said Bastille, confused.
Charleston scratched the top of her hat. "That is weird. There's a Spider-Troll in town?"
"That doesn't seem to be the case," said Vance as he observed one of the handprints. "It seems that these handprints aren't Troll-like. There shouldn't be buttons on the bottom of the palm and the thumbs. It is like…somebody made these kinds of gloves, but it doesn't really exactly hide their mark."
As he followed the handprints near the window, he noticed that there is one mark that seems to go deeper into the ceiling than the other handprints. In the shape of a fist. Deciding to take out a flashlight, Vance looks around the room further. It is when under the fist-shaped hole on the floor lies a lonely card.
"That's weird," said Bastille. "I didn't see this one before."
"I didn't touch it out of everything," said Charleston.
Vance opened the blinds and turned on the lights before kneeling down to collect the card.
"Have any of you…been there before?" he said as he turned the card around.
TrollsTopia Metroll System
That is what it read.
"I…don't recall going there or picking up a contact card of the area," said Bastille.
"I thought I already got that card before," said Charleston, taking one out. "Wait, no. That's the wrong one."
"Do you have similar cards to that one?" asked Bastille.
"What? Heaven forbid, no. That isn't even the same color as the ones I have! And surely, I don't usually leave all of my cards in a leaf pile."
When she spread her arms out, a number of cards fell out of her jacket suddenly. It is all the same with the words 'TrollsTopia Metroll System' printed on it. All the same color as the card Vance is holding.
"Well, some of them," corrected Charleston.
Bastille groaned a little before taking a look at the card Vance was holding. He notices a smudge on it of what appears to be caramel. It even has some marks of a fingerprint on it. Vance notices it as well before nodding.
"It seems that whoever broke in to get your cane must have been around at TrollsTopia Metroll System before or earlier," said Vacne. "This is our first clue and the start of a very long case."
"Ooh!" said Charleston. "Maybe we might also find other criminals associated with this! This is going to be fun!"
"I thought we were just gonna find your cane," said Bastille.
"We are, but maybe we can learn a thing with Vance and he will show us more!"
Bastille was about to protest since he was still nervous about fighting against criminals, but then he remembered. He remembered keeping Charleston's promise of helping her out as her partner-in-crime. And this is helping his friend after all. A stroll around to find a criminal wouldn't be that bad. And it looks so nice outside. Nothing can ruin that, right?
He shrugged and decided to go along.
"Alright, kids," said Vance. "Buckle up and hop on!"
"OK!" said Charleston, leaping onto him.
However, the Country Troll nearly loses his balance the second the Swing Troll sits on top of him.
"A-Alright!" he said, yelping a little. "But please don't tickle me or else I will kick you somewhere…"
Bastille chuckled at the sight of this. For a moment, he thought of Charleston reenacting the infamous pony movies some of his fellow Indie Trolls tend to watch. The trio start to make their way out, but Bastille stops by to see Finn placing the firework package on the table.
"Are you coming along, Finn?" asked Bastille.
"Electro Ray," hissed Finn, his ear twitching.
"Oh right, Ray?"
"Not today," he said. "I have to find out what I am going to do with those bloody fireworks first. And…I don't feel like going out today."
"Alright then, mate. Just…don't die."
"I'm trying not to be as much as you are," muttered Finn, smirking a little as if trying to tell a joke.
For some reason, Bastille feels a little hurt. A part of him told him off because Finn is just joking, but he seems to be condescending him. Bastille is an independent troll, so he should be respected at least. He decides to not think about it when he hears Charleston calling for him to come along.
He gently closes the door behind him, praying that the fireworks won't go out. [2s]
Several Miles Away From the Borders of Lonesome Flats
If you come unprepared, you wouldn't want to cross the desert.
Oh, you do not want to cross over it.
You sure do not want to.
Usually, you would imagine a desert to be all sandy, a bright yellow color, clear blue skies and dry bushes. The wind would be unforgiving as it would be hot and strong that you would think it could have blown your flesh out of your bones. If you weren't so lucky to get to night time, you would believe that the known-looking desert is horrible.
But in this world, it is much different and surprising.
Jazzy and Hickory trudged across the desert, trying to keep walking but also trying not to keep their heads down.
The entire desert is nearly made in crispy layers of what could be paper. The colors start to change as well, turning to a more reddish brown color unlike the light brown and orange colors you would in the land of Country Trolls.
Several plants - or at least what remained of them - that scattered around the land are nearly all dried up or black, nearly whittled out due to long exposure under the sun. The only plants that provided some sort of color are the needle thistles, but they too changed color - from mauve to a dull brown.
The wind roared, becoming hot and really strong. At one point, the two bounty hunters have to hold onto their hats before they could fly away.
The glaring sun is not holding back. Despite it being known to have the same texture and color in the other kingdoms, it is always known to be a flaming ball of fire. In an area where it is completely dry, not much shade and lacking of plants, it wouldn't be afraid to burn anyone who crosses over this place alive.
However, when you are a bounty hunter, you would learn how to take care of yourself when going across a hot desert.
Jazzy huffed as she took another bottle of water and gulped it. She turned to Hickory who had a stony face with a few sweat droplets dripping from his forehead, but barely unmoving. He has his hat off, but he doesn't seem to mind. The desert is one of the known environments he likes to be around anyway. He probably has learnt to treat himself if he ever got sunburnt.
He really has much tougher skin and experience than her. That must be why the Yodellers are really known to be some of the toughest bounty hunters that they are famously known for in magazines.
"Are we there yet?" asked Jazzy.
Hickory checked his map. "Not yet."
The wind roared once again.
Jazzy trudged, nearly slipping over when jumping off another layer of dry paper.
She drank her water.
She trudged.
Then, she drank again.
"Don't drink too much," said Hickory. "You don't want to drown yourself."
"I know that," sighed Jazzy as she wiped a sweat. "But it's so hot that it is really…hard to not stay thirsty."
She doesn't know when was the last time she complained about it, but because of how much time she spent in TrollsTopia, she probably needed to readjust to the conditions of the outside world.
Hickory smirked a little. "But I have to say, your outfit makes yourself look really hot today."
Jazzy gave him a glare. "Shut up."
"It was just a compliment. I think you look really darn skippy."
Jazzy snorted as she looked down. Maybe what she is wearing is REALLY inappropriate to go through a humid land. She is still wearing her new outfit from last night. Even though she meant it to be just for a grand party, she thinks she could fight in it. At least she decides to discard the skirt, with a black leather skirt with a left pink part of it since it would be much easier for her to move her legs around.
"I knew I should have just worn a simple social shirt," said Jazzy.
Hickory shrugged. "You'll be alright. Make sure you won't fall asleep because the folks around here don't really last for long."
Jazzy turned around. "You mean like this guy?"
She is referring to a lying body. Well, what is left of it anyway. There is a skull of a head, completely dried out.
Hickory stared at it and nodded.
"Yeah…" he said. "This is not what I expect."
The two bounty hunters continue to march across the desert. There was little talk. It is already tiring to talk and only have a little energy to trudge against the fierce wind blowing against them. As they keep trudging across the desert, they notice that the land changes a little.
The clumps of needle thistles start to disappear.
The desert colors seem to take on a new color. It slowly turns from reddish brown to nearly yellowish white. There are also questionable splatters of different colors with black stain being the most noticeable.
There appears to be smoke in the distance.
Jazzy narrowed her eyes, trying to see what was going on underneath. [3]
Eventually, they stopped by when a huge ravine appeared in front of them. No, it looks more like a huge crack in the earth. Taking a look down, there are several cliff sides and torches all around. Different parts of carnivorous plants appear randomly in the ravine of different colors. There seemed to be what appears to be a large paint splatter in a color of pink, contrasting to the orange dirt.
The two bounty hunters would have left if it wasn't for the huts and tents surrounding the ravine. There is even a wooden hut nearby that looks like it came from Lonesome Flats. There aren't many people around and the noise going on inside the hut must be where the locals are at.
Jazzy turns around when she feels Hickory tapping on her shoulder. He is holding a red fox mask in his other hand.
"Take off your jacket," he said. "Wear this."
He is already wearing a new hat; a brown fedora with a wolf pin that mostly covers all of his hair. He even has a red bandanna covering his mouth.
"What are you doing?" asked Jazzy.
"Blending in," said Hickory. "We are bounty hunters, but we might have a huge bounty over our heads."
As Jazzy took the disguises, wrapping her jacket around her waist and placed on the fox mask, she noticed that there were 'WANTED' posters all around the hut, pinned against the wooden walls. Some of them are already dead. Some of them are lower-classed mercenaries. But one huge one is of the Reggaeton Trolls. There is another one with her head on it.
"Should have guessed," she said. "Maybe we can just hop through the ravine. That is another opening to getting into Indie Wasteland."
Hickory shook his head. "Too risky. It's more dangerous going down there than climbing up the ravine."
The two made their way inside to find the hut completely packed. It is filled with so many Trolls of different species, but nearly none of them are wearing vibrant colors. Strangely, the energy inside is pretty lively. Well, aside from all the random bar fights and stuff. Some of them are pushing each other as they fight over drinks. There are already a few in fist fights, slamming each other in the fists or throwing each other to the walls. The waiters don't seem to mind the rowdiness going on. A few of them are talking to each other, seemingly on dates. At least two or four men are having an arm wrestling competition. One Troll is playing on the piano set to what must be 'Everything Is Awesome'.
Jazzy wrinkled her nose to this. It smells pretty horrible.
Hickory looked to the side to see what appeared to be some female hookers. However, their makeup looks really over-the-top and their outfits look too tight, even though they luckily don't show too much skin. One of them, a ratty-looking female, makes eyes with Hickory.
The Yodelling Troll quickly averts his eyes and quickly walks away, visibly disturbed.
Jazzy follows suit.
The two arrive at one of the two bar decks of the place. This one appears to be the largest with a huge drink shelf that looks like it can be moved.
"Whoa there, bud," said the bartender; a muscular Troll who looks like he is a Bergan. "Got a reservation?"
Jazzy gulped a little as she sat down. Hickory gives her a gentle smile.
"Let me do the talking," he reassured in a smooth voice before turning to the bartender. "We are just some mercenaries looking to do some trading in the Indie Wasteland."
"Sorry, sir. We didn't have any reservations about you wanting to be underground."
"Do we need to have permission?"
"Erm…" The bartender gives him a look as if the answer is serious. "Yes. We are on a form right now."
"Never knew they would have an order by now," said Hickory.
"Well, if you have no reservation, no offer, no entry."
Hickory sat there as he tried to attempt to convince the bartender to let them through.
"Erm…maybe…we can have some kind of deal?" he offers.
The bartender gives him a questionable look. "Like?"
"Y-Y...You know, you have…really nice eyes…daddy?" said Hickory, trying to look like he was flattened.
The bartender is unamused. "Then give me a week."
"No, just a day after we do our business down there."
"Make it two weeks."
"Two days."
"A month."
"One night."
"Three nights."
"Done."
The bartender smirked. "I expect you to come back here for me once you are ready to leave the Indie Wasteland…cupcake."
Hickory mocked an eye wink. "You know it."
Jazzy looked worried.
He pressed a button nearby and the drink shelf moved aside to reveal itself to be a doorway. None of the people drinking noticed it, but Jazzy is surprised to see this. She heard a lot about secret doorways, but what caught her off guard is how long the hidden hallway appears to be. It is quite dark, but there are glowing mushrooms growing from the small cracks of the brick wall to provide some form of illumination. Wind suddenly blows from the doorway, actually really cold.
What is exactly down there?
"Meet you soon, hot stuff!" said the bartender with a suggestive smile.
"Yeah," said Hickory. "I'll be like coming up big and on fire."
As he and Jazzy made their way through the hallway, they heard the bar shelf closing behind them. There is a mysterious glow of green which sends a chilling sense to her body. Once she is sure that the people are too loud to hear them, she turns to the other bounty hunter.
"Are you really going to do that?" asked Jazzy, understandably frightened.
"Don't worry," said Hickory cooly. "We will go through the ravine to avoid him after we are done. I don't need to pay back when it comes to tasks like this."
Inside, he is dreading doing THAT thing with the bartender once he is done underground. Professionals have standards.
At the end of the hallway, there is a large rectangular-shaped opened elevator. It looks like it is roughly made and rushed as if trying to complete a school assignment one doesn't enjoy. There is nobody there, but a single lever.
"What is this?" asked Jazzy.
"That's the one way in," said Hickory. "So, just let you know, this place is filled with some of the worst in the world. It's best to act like you are one of the cold fish down there."
Jazzy frowns a little. She is really aware of how cold and bitter parts of the world are, but she can't really imagine anything worse than the past experiences she has. She knew and killed the worst criminals in the world, but coming to the home of some of the nuttiest and ruthless would be a nightmare. However, she reminds herself that she has faced the opposite of TrollsTopia before. This is for her new home. Her boyfriend.
"No turning back," she muttered. [3s]
Hickory nodded and pulled down the lever. The elevator makes a creaking noise before it starts to descend. Jazzy took out her cane, pressed the bottom of it on the floor and held onto it to at least try to maintain balance. However, a part of her is tempted to just enjoy the ride since there are no safety handles.
For the first few seconds, it is nearly darkness with the walls surrounding them being the earth. Dirt surrounded them with some twigs being pulled out by the elevator scratching against it. Jazzy can hear the sound of dirt falling through and the squeaks of worms who would dig underground.
And then, she hears it.
The sound of music. [4]
However, it is something different.
It sounds like it comes from the Rock Trolls, but there is something majestic about it. It is like Indie Alternative Music, but there is something grand about it. It is like Country Music, but there are more beats and a chilling melody to it. In fact, it is like a blend of those three, but it is kept at a sound as if telling you that you do not belong down here.
And then, the smell hits in.
It was like a sewage farm being brought to life and pouring out everywhere. No way it would be this smelly underneath; the surface is where all the fumes are released. There are also the mysterious stenches of oil, sugar and dirt. It smells like a fried food kitchen except with no sanitary requirements.
Lastly, the sight of the Indie Wasteland appears.
It is like a never-lasting-growing machine that is reproducing itself underground. Several buildings, stores and homes built from wood, steel and scraps can be seen spawned from different parts of the place. A mysterious dark blue glow emitted from the entire place. It would have been pretty dark and bleak if it wasn't for the several neon paintings splattered all over, similar to the blacklight colors in Techno Reef. Strangely, there were elements of the decorations of the other tribes hanging around in the place.
Despite being underground, all the buildings' lights are on to provide artificial sunlight for those around. Even if everything seems to be working on machinery, there are indeed trees growing around with the common weeds and vines growing from the cracks in the walls. Jazzy is surprised at how deep the town is, but there are several platforms and bridges people can walk across.
But what makes this place so alive is the Trolls around the place.
So many of them walk in groups or on their own. Some of them look like they are not even criminals or mercenaries! Like this place is their home. All of them are wearing worn-down or slightly ripped clothes, nearly like they are scavengers. It would be the most suitable clothing to wear in the desert when adventuring out there. Their colors range from vibrant to bland, but one thing is clear that they don't have the cheerful rainbow colors as the Pop Trolls.
Strangely, it seems that the place is a mix of all 6 tribes, but Jazzy isn't able to distinguish which ones they come from. They might even be from the sub-tribes since none of them look like a delegate of the Pop Trolls.
But one thing for sure is that while they seem to just leave everyone alone, it is best not to mess with them.
Two Trolls who look like they come from the Dark Pop Trolls on the bridge spot the elevator, giving Jazzy an inquisitive look.
The Chess Master gulped as she looked down.
The elevator finally stops at the bottom. Hickory hops off the elevator and this prompts Jazzy to do the same. The ground area is already filled with so many people walking by, either minding their own business, pickpocketing each other and pushing or carrying crates around. The markets around are the main spotlights, selling things ranging from surprisingly rare artifacts to smelly, expired food to sharp and deadly weapons known to the Troll eye.
"Fish here! Get your fish here!"
"Oi! Give me that back, you little punk!"
"Collect your new golden trophies! Totally not stolen by yours truly!"
"No one likes a peeping tom, you stupid-!"
"I need to breathe now. Give me a freaking break."
"Can someone pass me that? I need it!"
Oddly, there is some kind of order and harmony as they move around in the crowd. There are some talking together or hugging each other despite the grim lighting. A few of them are warding off little thieves trying to steal things from them. There are also some small tents for the homeless with one kind Troll providing one for a starving couple.
However, if there is one thing Jazzy knows as she walks by these mysterious people, there is one thing keeping them under control.
Fear.
That is just the word.
Fear.
The paranoia of being killed by someone. Robbed by someone. Backstabbed by someone.
In a ruined town like this, nobody wants to be attacked in any way.
No way.
"Keep a low profile," reminded Hickory. "We are in the area of dangerous people."
"I know that," said Jazzy, trying to reach in for the map. "Do you know where Pilot might be? Is his home not too far away?"
"That I don't know. He is at the high level of criminals like me and my brother are. This city goes on an unofficial leader hierarchy that goes by the most powerful and strongest criminals. Whoever gets to be the strongest gets to be the one mostly in control of the city."
"And what does that mean?" said Jazzy, getting worried.
"That means he must be where the high-ranking criminals usually hang out. He must be living right there if he is competing for the top spot."
"And where would he be?"
Hickory paused. "I…don't know. I only come here for service, not competing with the other criminals and bounty hunters. Some of my clients told me I can get a high spot, but I usually go back outside to earn another one."
Jazzy huffed as she looked around. There are a few people resting watching them with wary eyes.
"I am guessing we don't even have a map of where to go," she said.
"Once you get in here," explained Hickory. "The place seems to change a lot. It is like a maze and you have no idea where the right area is. They keep building without alerting everyone."
Jazzy sighed. "So that makes things harder for us." [4s]
Since she isn't looking where she is going, she accidentally bumped into a Troll. It is a male Reggaeton Troll with yellow skin, black and white tattoos. But suited to the fashionary, he is wearing a yellow and black leather jacket, black shorts, and black fingerless and toeless gloves on his hands and feet. His black dreadlocks are styled in a mohawk ponytail with blue tips.
He gives Jazzy a look. "Rude."
"You're one to talk," growled Jazzy.
Hickory huffed as he slightly pushed the Chess Master to the side. "Do you have any idea where Pilot Diamond might be?"
The Reggaeton Troll thinks for a while. "Well…"
"Excuse me! Excuse me!" called up a cheery voice. "Roller coming through!"
A section of the crowd suddenly split up as they yelled at the sight of somebody running through. Or riding through. They have roller skates on them. They are making their way to Jazzy and Hickory.
The Reggaeton Troll let out a groan. "Ugh…not HER again…"
The person in question is like the few Trolls who look like the bright stars of the Indie Wasteland. It is a female Troll with purple skin, two indigo afro pigtails, pink eyes and wears a shiny blue disco jumpsuit, silver disco earrings and blue roller-skates. Her skin is noticeably shiny even though she doesn't have glitter on her. [5]
Jazzy's eyes widened at this. Shiny skin. It doesn't look like the skin of the glittery or K-Pop Trolls.
T-This is a Disco Troll!
"Hello, newcomers!" said the Disco Troll, reaching out her hand to shake the two bounty hunters'. "It is nice to meet you."
"This is not the time now, Roller," snarled the Reggaeton Troll. "You're bothering people again."
"Well, when new people arrive, it is my duty to 'bother' them first before they go running around like headless men."
"I think we will be on our way now…" said Jazzy nervously, suddenly aware of how many people were watching.
"No, let's listen to them," said Hickory, trying to be polite.
"We are drawing a lot of attention by now."
True to her word, there is a small audience watching them. They are mostly whispering about the newcomers.
"So, do you know where Pilot Diamond is?" asked Hickory.
"Why of course!" said Roller. "It should be on the west-"
"East," corrected the Reggaeton Troll.
"Wait, I thought it was the west."
"No, no, no. Not on YOUR west. It's east."
"It's west."
"It is definitely west," called one person in the crowd.
The Reggaeton Troll sighed. "OK, I got that one wrong. So, if you go there, you would be able to find the street where the high-ranking mercenaries live at…right at the…"
"Large golden temple!" finished Roller.
"What? No, it's not. It's a gigantic club for partygoers."
"It's still a golden temple!"
"But a temple wouldn't exactly fit in the Indie Wasteland. Even if so, the tall construction for those would eventually topple over everyone!"
"Ah!" said Roller cockily. "Screw the construction. This is the Indie Wasteland! We can do what we want!"
"No, you don't screw the construction. The construction screws you along with the Wasteland!"
Roller hummed. "Well, if anyone here is a bit more ideal and adventurous."
"Oh, yeah, sorry. Do you remember that the high-ranking criminals are the ones watching us? What would happen if we built a tall temple? Pilot would have crushed that down."
That hits both Jazzy and Hickory.
"Wait," said Hickory. "Pilot is…ruling the Indie Wasteland?"
"A fraction of it," said the Reggaeton Troll, turning to him with hardened eyes. "Ever since he managed to claim the top spot and kick out the weaklings, he has the trust over the other leaders. He has been looking over us with an iron fist."
Jazzy could only stare at Hickory and then at…everything in the underground town in shock. Pilot managed to rule over a single town after climbing his way through. She should have known it, but she thought that he would be just ruling his own criminal empire since they hadn't succeeded in conquering lands yet. With that, maybe being in the Indie Wasteland might be a bad idea. And after all, he had connections to nearly every mercenary in this place.
"You're welcome!" said Roller humbly.
The Reggaeton Troll sighed. "She is loco. Don't listen to her."
He walked away and the audience even dispersed. Roller smiled as she turned to the Yodeller and the Chess Master.
"Sorry about that drama," she said. "Everyone gets cranky when I try to help others."
"Thanks for including us," muttered Jazzy. "So, you're a Disco Troll, right?"
"Yep! The one and only!"
"I…thought they died out," said Hickory.
Roller chuckled sadly. "Well, not all of us. The remaining Disco Trolls - such as myself - have been scattered and living in places everywhere we can find."
"So you must have known a lot about the Indie Wasteland?" asked Hickory.
"Oh yeah, I do!" said Roller, spinning around. "I know about every cranny and nooky in this town! I know everyone at their best heart!"
That is when a mischievous punk ran past her and pushed her aside before running off.
"Hey!" yelled Roller. "That's not nice!"
"You sure know everyone at their best heart," snarked Jazzy.
"Oh." The Disco Troll switched back to being happy and hopped back on her feet. "And please, call me Roller!"
Roller the Disco Troll
- A brave and stylish fighter
- The DJ that diss out the dirty disco drop
- Just bounces everywhere
Hickory smiled and shook his hand with the chipper Disco Troll. "Well, hello there, Roller. Nice to meet you. So, you said you know where Pilot stays at?"
"Oh, I do!" squealed Roller as she spun around on her skates again. "I know the way!"
Jazzy felt weird that Hickory didn't introduce himself and her properly to Roller, but she remembered that they couldn't be exposed. Since Pilot ruled over the land, if anyone finds out, he might try to call them over for something they are not willing to do. And they have to keep it cool or otherwise they might be caught. Nevertheless, Roller doesn't seem to mind.
"Let's go, my friends!" said Roller as she started to skate away. "Follow me!"
"Hey!" called Jazzy. "Wait up!"
She had to hold onto Hickory as he could run faster than her. After all, he knows how to run fast like the Country Trolls. She wondered if they should trust someone who is too flashy for this place. But this underground city seems pretty weird, so she might as well take it anyhow. However, she wonders if there is something Pilot is doing or hiding.
She hopes that everyone back in TrollsTopia is doing fine. [5s]
AN: Welcome to the Indie Wasteland, everyone! Hope you enjoy your stay!
So here, we are reintroducing Vance Joy who appears as a minor character in my previous story 'Real Harmony Takes Lots of Voices'. I would have Norman Reedus to voice this character. So, at first, I thought of just having him as one of the ambassadors of the Country Trolls since in the movie, Delta was initially against Poppy and Branch. However, I decided to have him return to Voice of Rebels and give him a job to flesh him out as a unique character!
Secondly, we have the new character Roller the Disco Troll, made by the one and only dromerosonic777. She would be voiced by Mandonna. This is a fun character to play around because she is nice, adventurous, brave and love making friends. However, I wish that I written more about her in her introduction in this chapter, but you will all get to see more of her. She is one of the few Disco Trolls alive. Her design and personality are made by dromerosonic777 who brings in his own style with how she would look like.
This chapter is going to feel like the episode 'Detective Vector' from Sonic Boom.
The part where Vance uses a special kind of chemical to make handprints glow comes from the video called 'A Childhood Lesson' from Yandere Simulator. Because I don't usually know a lot when it comes to investigating crime scenes and trying to identify fingerprints, I decide to make a special kind of chemical that can trace footprints and handprints that are out of reach or invisible to people.
The scene where Jazzy and Hickory walk over the desert is inspired by a scene in 'The Day My Bum Go Psycho'. When Hickory tries to seduce the bartender, there is a quote you might recognize from 'Helluva Boss'.
The Indie Wasteland is practically based on the land of Zaun from 'Arcane'; an underground city known to be grim, poor and where the 'outcasts' live in. It is feared to be a criminal place. The idea of having the Indie Wasteland comes from another idea I had; for a Sonic story, I wanted to have an underground snowy village that is hidden away from society. However, since that didn't turn out to be good for me, I decided to move it to here except in a different terrain. I hope you are all excited about exploring Indie Wasteland.
In case you didn't notice, the wolf pin on Hickory's fedora is a reference to his voice actor's new role in 'The Bad Guys' coming this year.
Thanks for reading this chapter! If you enjoy this story, be sure to follow or favorite this story, so you can get updates about this story. Make sure to review this chapter on what you think about this chapter. I'm OK of hearing improvements from you (please no flames). Any questions, please ask me through PMs.
Until next time, keep on rocking!