It's some kind of love, it's some kind of fire
I'm already up, but you lift me higher...
Floyd smiled and hummed a bittersweet symphony at the memory. He would never forget the day his band broke up and his brothers fell down...a hole of despair.
Despite the unfortunate circumstances, it was quite remarkable that such a tiny mishap could lead to a large disaster. He vividly recalled the fateful night where emotions were running high and sensibleness was running low. According to his eldest brother, they were supposed to "make Boy Band history" that night if not for the concert's various other faults.
Floyd hated to single out the specific people, but there was no denying the fact that the eldest of his brothers in question was...a bit of a glory hound. He had an insatiable hunger for fame, fortune, and most importantly, attention. His eldest brother was a slave to his own perfectionist methods that it ran contrary to that of his brothers and the other Trolls around him. There were a few "inspired moments" of brilliance, but they were also few and far between.
In the end, it was his own hubris that led to their own undoing.
Gazing at the family photo, Floyd sighed in melancholy as he set it down on the nightstand and continued to get the pot boiling. Lifting up the cover and taking a whiff of the very nearly completed macaroni and cheese, he nodded in satisfaction before taking a jar of hazelnut chocolate spread and digging out a spoonful to eat while he worked. While he did, he rummaged in the fridge for a bottle of ketchup.
Floyd suddenly chuckled at the memory. He recalled Clay squirting a whole bottle of ketchup into the large bowl of macaroni and cheese, resulting in nearly everyone getting figurative and literal emotion sickness. As one could tell, he did not fall into that category. Much to his (and everybody else's) surprise, he actually enjoyed the unlikely combination of two different tastes. Much to his detriment, however, it became a running gag within the brotherly group that whenever macaroni and cheese was made, a mega bottle of ketchup was a prerequisite.
He took pride in the fact that Branch at least tolerated it.
Branch...
His train of thought now traveling to the station where his youngest brother was, he remembered meeting Branch when he was a literal little baby. Cradling him in his arms as he rocked him back and forth, Floyd recognized that moment as the one where he needed to set an example for him to follow if his brothers failed to consider it. He was always known as the shy and timid one of the bunch, so it could not hurt to step out of his shell once in a while, right?
Aside from his aforementioned reputation, Floyd also served as the heart of the group—the person that kept them together, the glue that stuck them together, the string that tied their world together. Heck, he even provided Branch some well-meaning advice regarding his pre-show jitters. When he and his brothers were together, there was nothing they could do.
My, my my...
. . .
How the times have changed...
. . .
What wouldn't I give to relive the old days...
. . .
KNOCK-KNOCK!
Before he could dig in, Floyd looked up from his entrée at the sound of his door being rapped upon. As it was in the middle of the night, confusion understandably settled in. He rarely had visitors at daytime, let alone nighttime.
Who would pay a visit to me either way?
A now cautious Floyd armed himself with a kitchen knife he took off the rack as he approached the front door. Deeply inhaling as he gently grabbed the doorknob, he slowly exhaled as he quickly turned it and pulled the door open.
He was not exactly sure what he had happened next.
All he knew was that he came face to face with quite possibly the most...
Tall?
. . .
Shiny?
. . .
No...
. . .
Handsome...
...thing he had ever seen.
The...thing before him resembled a doll...if that doll had a silver or matt chromic complexion. His short green hair had a long quiff and resembled smooth plastic while his cobalt blue eyes stood out from the night sky behind him. His outfit of choice was a bronze metallic top with shoulder pads and matching shorts, while his accessories included a golden earring on his right ear, dark blue chromic bracelets, and a matching necklace with boots.
"Hey there, cutie..." The male doll spoke in a silky, almost sultry voice as he leaned down to his level.
So lost in said silky, sultry voice Floyd was that he almost missed the photo of him and his brothers being held up to his face.
. . .
Wait...what?
. . .
"You're him? The pink-haired one?"
It was then that Floyd hesitated to answer, the realization that this male doll was strange and suspicious finally registering to him.
"I am..."
"Just making sure," The male doll stood back up and flashed a toothy smile as his arms stretched out to grab him.
While Floyd was denied the chance to scream, he was not denied the chance to fight back.
"Dear John Dory, I'm being held against my will by superstars Velvet and Veneer. Come to Mount Rageous at once and bring our brothers. Love, Floyd..."
Reading the letter before him, John Dory felt his heart stop and his breath hitch.
How could this happen?
. . .
How could they do this?
. . .
How could...I do this?
The last time he saw his third younger brother, he was having an argument with the second and third while the youngest...
Branch...
He never admitted it in public or even to the rest of his brothers (including the one in question), but he had grown fond of him during the few times they did spend time together. The first time he actually held his youngest brother in his arms when he was born was...a strange and surreal experience, to say the least. Sure, he already had his hands full taking care of three younger brothers, even with the help of Grandma Rosiepuff. But when it came to Branch, it was rather...comforting? Second only to Floyd, Branch was the brother he did not argue with, was not exasperated with, or hold a grudge against. Of course, he was the youngest at the time, meaning he looked up to the rest of his older brothers and he (the self-proclaimed "leader" of the five) had to set an example for the four to follow.
Another thing he would never admit?
John Dory was stubborn, but he was not stupid. Not completely. He saw how close Branch and Floyd were in their younger days, setting a stage for their perceived present-day relationship. So close were they that Floyd would stand up for him and actually yell in his face to leave him alone whenever Branch did something wrong. Yet another thing he would never admit, he was genuinely frightened what his third younger brother could and would do should he make Bitty B cry again. Their relationship was far closer than that with the rest of his brothers.
With that in mind, John Dory glanced at the letter again and realized something. Taking a much closer look at the handwriting, it seemed too...feminine, even for Floyd.
Could it be...a trap?
. . .
Maybe...
. . .
But I have to know for sure.
. . .
I have to try and find him.
Glancing all over the place, John Dory rummaged for whatever weapons he could inside Rhonda, his mode of transportation who growled in her sleep. Managing to find among other things a baseball bat, a frying pan, and the kitchen knife the note had came along with, he gathered them all and stuffed them all inside a backpack before starting Rhonda up. With a deep breath, he set a course for Mount Rageous and drove off into the night, determination worn on his sleeve and flashing in his eyes.
"Hang on, Floyd. I'm coming for you..."