John hadn't really known where he was going when he'd wound up stumbling upon a grand building situated at the edge of the funk troll territories. He'd just been exploring idly, hoping he was heading in the right direction to get to where he'd been told the country trolls lived, so finding such an especially tall and extravagant building in what was basically the middle of nowhere had been startling, but intriguing. It rose up towards the sky, higher than any troll made structure he'd seen before, and its glass and metal walls glistened brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight. The huge neon sign declaring "Jazzy's" was also something John hadn't seen before, so much like a moth to a flame, he wandered towards the building curiously.
"Woah there," an older, rather gruff looking country troll grunted at John Dory as he approached the front doors of the building, holding a hand out to stop him before he could go inside. He halted in his tracks, slightly on edge as the larger troll looked him up and down. "Haven't seen you around here before. What's yer name an' tribe?"
"Uh…it's John Dory. And I don't know what you mean by 'tribe'?" John offered, absently fixing how his goggles sat on his head as the other troll frown at him. He'd been to some of the other kingdoms. Was that what this troll was talking about?
"Y'know, yer tribe. Your genre? We don't take kindly to certain kinds of trolls 'round here," the troll practically snarled at John, rising up from his seat, as John took a step back and raised his hands in a placating gesture.
"Hey now, Axel," a well dressed purple troll came waltzing out the double doors of the building, a lazy grin on her face. She was wearing a loose, flowing red robe that practically hung off her frame, and wild blue hair seemingly floated around her face. "You tryin' to scare away fresh meat?"
"Meat?" John echoed quietly under his breath, suddenly very much wishing he hadn't even tried to approach this place.
"He won't tell me his tribe," the troll named Axel growled, still glaring down at John, only to deflate as this new troll placed her hand on his arm.
"You know that anyone who wasn't actually wanted around here would come up with a better lie than 'I don't know what you're talking about'," the blue haired troll said with a laugh, before turning a sharp eye towards John, who bristled slightly at the attention. "Besides…I'd say it's pretty obvious he's some kind of pop troll. Look at him, Axel. He's harmless." She chuckled and floated over to John, who swallowed thickly and suddenly wanted to be very far away from this place, but couldn't get his feet to move. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"John Dory," John found himself answering before a thought could pass through his brain.
"What a peculiar name," she hummed, a placid little smile on her face. "My name's Jazzy, like it says on the building," she said, gesturing vaguely at the sign shining down on them, while stepping next to John and wrapping her arm around his shoulders, "And this is my casino. Have you got anything worth trading? Coins, you know?"
John frowned, but nodded a little, reaching into his hair to pull out a handful of assorted coins from the various areas he'd passed through on his travels so far. "Sorry, but…what's a casino?" John had a feeling he'd asked the wrong question when Jazzy's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across her face.
"Oh, well now!" she cooed, tugging John in close to her shoulder and pulling him along with her into the building, "Don't I have a treat for you!"
Jazzy steered him through the casino, and John quickly realized his earlier feelings of trepidation were probably well founded. He spotted some rock trolls who looked like they were about to rough up a couple of country trolls over a card game, a handful of trolls who just looked like they were on their last legs, and others who waltzed around in the most glamorous outfits John had ever seen. The whole place just had a general uneasy energy that John was not pleased to be in the middle of. Jazzy assured him that he was perfectly safe when she noticed that he was looking a bit on edge, though he had a feeling that she was lying through her teeth as she took the coins from his hand, spoke quietly to a troll behind a barred off counter, and handed him back some colorful plastic chips.
"Now…You know how to play cards, don't you?" Jazzy asked, steering John in yet another direction.
"Uh, yeah. Sure," John said with a small nod, grunting as he was pushed into a seat at a table with several other trolls already sat around it.
"Perfect! This is Lonesome Hold 'em. Real easy to learn. You get two cards that my dealer here will toss you," Jazzy gestured at a young looking techno troll sat at the top of the table, with a rather nasty looking rock troll stood just behind them, "Don't let anybody see them, alright? Then the dealer will flip over five cards, one at a time. You need to make a good poker hand out of those cards. Best hand wins. You've played poker before, haven't you?"
John nodded quickly, as he was garnering glares from the other trolls sitting around the table. He'd never been so happy about his grandmother having an addiction to five card Rummy as he was right now.
"Excellent! Now, you boys have fun!" Jazzy cheered, waving at the table before whisking off to somewhere else in the casino.
"Minimum bet is a tenner," the dealer said, nodding towards John, "The blue chip. You need to put one in to play."
"Oh! Right," John quickly tossed one of his chips into the pile on the table, offering a nervous smile to those around him, only to have glares returned to him.
The first few hands went rather abysmally, with John quickly losing a good handful of his chips as he figured out how the betting system worked, along with the tells of the other players. But, once he'd worked out the reactions for good and bad hands for each of the trolls sat around him, and what hands he should bet high on, he found himself starting to win. He could really see why his grandma had loved gambling so much; it was a thrill when you were winning.
Unfortunately, that did mean that the other trolls at the table were getting tired of losing. Some got up and were replaced by other trolls who wanted to test their luck against John. They would win one or two hands, until John figured out how they played, and he'd start winning again.
Luck truly seemed to be on his side, and he was beginning to think that perhaps this casino place wasn't so bad, right up until he showed up. A rather sleek looking green troll, with a smarmy little grin on his face, slicked back orange hair, and a sharp suit. He sat down across from John Dory at the table with a friendly little nod, though John immediately got a sense that this troll was not one to be trifled with. It was relatively obvious from the way he held himself that this was not his first time at the table, and John had a funny feeling that this troll thought he'd be an easy mark.
They played a few hands, with John losing the first couple as he got a feel for how this new troll played, until he began to win again. But then something seemed to shift, and the trolls playing style changed. Which was strange, since most trolls had a set way they played and superstitions they followed, and those were not something most gamblers would alter on a whim. It was something his grandmother had taught him when he was young, telling him that being able to pick up on tells and playing styles wasn't just good for cards, but something that would come in handy throughout his life. He already knew this would be one of those times.
A few more rounds passed, with the rest of the table clearing out except for John and the slick troll who offered a wide grin as John won another hand.
"My, my. Can't say I've ever seen someone pick up a game so quickly before," the slick troll hummed, drumming his fingers along the edge of the table.
"My grandma was real into cards," John offered, stacking his winnings up carefully in front of himself.
"Is that so? She must be quite the lady."
"She is."
The slick troll nodded, rocking back in his chair for a moment, before dropping the legs back onto the floor with a loud thud. "The name's Hickory. Figured I should be properly introduced to one of the first players to give me a run for my money."
"John," John stated bluntly, a little more aware of himself this time around, and not quite as willing to give him name freely.
"John? That's it? Pretty plain name for a troll such as yourself," Hickory said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as they were dealt a fresh hand.
"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, wrinkling his nose as he checked his cards.
"Oh, not much," Hickory said with a light laugh and a shrug, "You're just a real, hm…rugged looking troll. I figured you'd have a more interesting name."
John scowled as he tossed chips into the pot, shooting Hickory a glare. "It's John Dory. Happy?"
"Like the fish?" Hickory laughed, adding his own chips to the pot, "Well. That shouldn't surprise me."
John bristled, sitting up in his seat with a low growl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Hickory shrugged, easy smirk on his face as he flipped over his cards. "I've got a straight. What about you?"
John blinked, not having noticed that the hand was even over. He flipped his own cards over. "Two pair."
"Looks like I win," Hickory hummed, scooping up his winnings. "Want to go again?" John scowled but nodded, tossing in his bet.
Hickory won a few more hands that way; riling John up to make him lose focus until the hand was over so he hadn't realized he was betting on garbage cards. But grandma Rosiepuff's voice rang in his head the third time he lost due to his own irritation, telling him to breath deep and calm down. He used to get riled up the same way when she'd beat him at Rummy when he was a little kid. She'd told him that if he didn't calm down, he'd never win, since anger would only ever lead to loss. Wise words that he should have listened to sooner, really. But that wasn't something he could focus on at the moment, with Hickory smirking at him infuriatingly across the table.
After taking a few deep breaths, John began to steadfastly ignore the barbs and jabs Hickory shot his way to try and get a rise out of him, and slowly he began to win again. As his pile of chip began to grow, Hickory's smirk began to fade, slowly being replaced by a scowl.
John lost track of time in the large, windowless room the poker table was in, so he wasn't sure how much time had passed before his pile of winnings was quite sizable and Hickory was down to a a small handful of chips. Enough, really, to get him through one or two hands more.
"I'd probably give up now," John said with a smirk, earning a sharp glare from Hickory, "I don't think your luck is going to drastically turn in one hand."
"You'd be surprised," Hickory snapped back, shoving his remaining chips into the pot as the cards were dealt, while John shook his head with a low chuckle.
But surprised John was. Hickory won the next hand. And the next. It didn't seem to matter what cards John was dealt, Hickory always had something better. Until, finally, John was down to his last few chips.
"I'd probably give up now," Hickory mocked, a cruel gin on his face as he flipped a chip between his fingers, "I don't think your luck is going to turn in one hand."
But Hickory made a fatal mistake as he flipped his chip in the air, causing his sleeve to shift just enough for John to spot a card tucked into it.
"You're cheating!" John shouted, slamming his hands onto the table and swiftly rising from his chair, causing it to fall behind him with a clatter.
"I… what?" Hickory choked, dropping the chip he'd been playing with, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
"I can see the cards up your sleeve!" John snapped, pointing at the offending sleeve, while the rock troll behind the dealer began to shift and move towards Hickory.
"I-what? No, I-" Hickory glanced between John and the rock troll, swallowing thickly as he slowly rose from his seat. He shifted on his feet, shooting John a glare that made the teal troll freeze where he stood. "I'll get you back for this," he growled, before tossing a handful of chips into the air, gaining the attention of several trolls in the vicinity. They began to swarm the table, half blocking the rock troll from getting to Hickory, who began to run from the table. John watched as he dodged other rock trolls scattered around the casino floor, before ultimately booking it out the doors.
John slowly picked his chair up from the floor and sat heavily into it as Jazzy swept over to him and several trolls dispersed the crowd that had gathered to scoop up the fallen chips.
"Thank you for alerting us to that crook, John Dory," Jazzy cooed, reaching across the table to pull what was left of the chips over to John while patting him on the shoulder. "These are all yours, sweetheart."
"Thanks," John muttered, quickly pocketing the chips. "I think I'm done playing, if you don't mind."
"Of course," Jazzy nodded slightly, "Would you like a room? We've got lots upstairs that are open."
"I-No thank you, ma'am," John said, offering her a strained smile as he rose from his seat. "I think this was a bit more excitement than I was really prepared for. I should get going."
Jazzy made a face at him, but ultimately nodded. "All right. You can exchange your chips at the cashier cage," she said, gesturing towards the barred off counter she'd gotten his chips from earlier. "Be mindful of which coins you ask for. Some will cost more chips than others," she added. With that she turned to the trolls that had followed her to the table, leaving John to his own devices. Quickly he scurried to the cashier cage, exchanging his chips for country troll coins, since that was where he'd been planning on going before he'd found this place, and headed out the doors.
He didn't mange to get too far from the lavish building, before he found himself being tackled face first into the ground and sat on by none other than Hickory, though he looked distinctly more disheveled than he had inside the casino.
"Not very wise to be heading out all on your own after pissing someone off during poker," Hickory hissed, digging his knee into John's back, making the teal troll wheeze.
"M-maybe you shouldn't've cheated then," John gasped out, wriggling beneath Hickory to try and get his arms free.
"Maybe you should've minded your own damn business," Hickory growled, grabbing at John's wrists to pin them against his back, wrenching his shoulders in the process and making John yowl in pain. "I've been working that place for months, and then you come along," Hickory grunted, his weight shifting against John's back as the teal troll kicked his legs up to try and dislodge his attacker, "and ruin everything."
"Again," John wheezed, Hickory's weight shifting just enough that he could roll onto his side, dislodging the grifter entirely from his back, "Maybe you shouldn't have cheated!" He quickly scrambled to his feet, heaving for air as he rolled his now sore shoulders. "It's not my fault you decided to do something stupid and got too co*cky while doing it."
Hickory didn't even respond to John Dory this time, simply letting out an enraged bellow as he ran at the teal troll. He tried to tackle John again, but this time he was ready, quickly side stepping the grifter while swinging his arm down into his back, causing Hickory to stumble and fall with a shout as his momentum worked against him.
"Look, I don't want to fight you," John said quickly as Hickory pushed himself up, turning to John with a scowl.
"No. You don't," Hickory snarled, raking his hair out of his face and shifting as though he was going to run at John again, only to freeze at the sound of his name being shouted from off in the distance. He groaned, then spat at the ground near John's feet, making the teal troll recoil slightly. "You're lucky," Hickory snapped, straightening up and fixing his rumpled jacket. He then turned on his heel and dashed off into the underbrush, leaving a rather bewildered John Dory behind.
Time passed, and soon John had mostly forgotten about the odd troll who'd tried to beat him up outside the casino. However, he most certainly avoided the area where he'd come across the opulent building in the first place. Although he'd found Lonesome Hold 'em somewhat fun, he didn't particularly fancy getting caught up in whatever was going on inside that building. He had enough worries in regards to keeping himself alive in the wilderness, he didn't need to unnecessarily add to them by getting into trouble with the trolls he'd seen hanging out in there.
After a couple of years of roaming around and through the country and funk kingdoms, he found himself coming across the rock troll territories. When he had first started exploring the different areas the various genres called home, he hadn't wanted to try traversing through the volcano ridden territories of the rock trolls, especially not after hearing the stories that the other nations would mutter about the rambunctious and rowdy kingdom. But, now that he was a bit older, and had his sweet Rhonda at his side (who was nearly as tall as he was already, so he was fairly certain most other trolls would leave him alone if she was with him), he felt more at ease about crossing into and exploring the rough terrain.
Happily, John was quick to note that what the other trolls had said about the rock trolls seemed to be untrue. As he reached what he'd been told was Volcano Rock City, the main settlement of the territory, he was approached by a grinning red troll, who thrust a piece of paper into his hands, declaring an invite to a party.
"Hey, man! Wicked critter. You should, like, totally come to this party that's gonna be a total rager later," they said with a laugh, before trundling off to hand his flyers out to other trolls nearby. John watched them walk away with a confused little smile, before looking over the paper he'd been handed.
"Huh," John offered the flyer to Rhonda, who sniffed at it and churred, earning a chuckle from John. "What do you think, girl? Wanna go check out a rock troll party? It might be fun." Rhonda simply growled in an excited manner, her back end wiggling as John scratched at the back of her head. "Yeah, okay. It couldn't hurt to check it out."
John would later come to regret saying that.
He arrived to the party as it seemed to be getting into full swing, with music blaring from huge speakers next to a stage where a band was playing, and trolls milled about in nearly every available inch of space. Some were dancing near the stage, while others were trying to talk over the music, while still others gorged themselves on the swathes of snack foods that seemed to be floating around the party in random bags and bowls. It wasn't quite like the parties he'd attended when he was younger, but it was similar enough that he felt right at home. Rhonda, on the other hand, seemed to become somewhat skittish and agitated at all of the loud noise. John cooed at her to try and calm her down, but when that didn't work, he left her near the outer edges of the party, where there were fewer trolls, and the music was a little quieter. He promised he'd be back for her in a couple of hours, tops, before heading back into the crowd.
Admittedly, John's first taste of the rock genre was going pretty smoothly, in his opinion. One troll commented on his goggles, noting that they'd be cooler with spikes, while another told him that his fur lined jacket was 'sick', but it would look better in black. And the music, oh, the music. It was so different from anything else John had heard before, but something about it really struck a chord with him. He found himself head banging along with a group near the stage, and a rather gnarly looking blue troll showed him how to throw up 'devil horns' and 'rock out' appropriately. It was absolutely fantastic.
That was until a green troll with wildly curly orange and black hair appeared in front of him.
"John Dory," the troll shouted over the music with a rather unwelcoming grin.
"Uh, do I know you?" John asked, frowning slightly as he backed away from the troll as he stepped further into John's space.
"You sure do, fish boy," the troll snapped back, grabbing the front of John's jacket and yanking him close. John's eyes widened as he realized exactly who he was currently faced with.
"Hickory?!"
"Got it in one."
John made to pull away from Hickory, but the grifter's grip on his jacket was unyielding.
"I think it's about time I paid you back for the trouble you made for me, back at Jazzy's," Hickory said, grin widening at John's obvious struggle to get away from him.
"What are you even doing here?!" John asked, grabbing at Hickory's hand to try and pry his fingers from his jacket.
"None of your business," Hickory hissed, before turning his head and bellowing out, "MOSH PIT!"
John gasped as a rush of trolls started to crowd in and around where he and Hickory stood, jostling them roughly. John could feel Hickory's fingers loosening in his jacket, but the grifter's gaze snapped back to him quickly as he began to slip away.
"Nuh-uh. You're not getting away so easy this time," Hickory snapped, using the commotion and rowdiness of the crowd around them as an excuse to toss John to the ground. He shouted loudly, grinning as the trolls around them echoed the noise, before he pounced on John as he tried to scramble away.
They tussled through the crowd, Hickory obviously enjoying himself as he continuously shoved John into trolls who took no mind of him as they elbowed him, kicked him, and generally battered him ruthlessly as they moshed to the music blasting from the stage. Finally, John managed to stumble his way out of the crowd and fell to his knees, very much worse for wear, and fairly confident he had bruises littering about 90% of his body. Hickory, meanwhile, strode out of the crowd with nary a scratch, obviously quite used to the nature of mosh pits, and knew how to get out of them relatively unscathed.
"It's someone's first day in the scene, isn't it?" Hickory mocked as John staggered to his feet, clutching at his rather sore ribs.
"It was going fine until you showed up," John growled back, glaring at the grifter, who simply laughed at him. He bristled as Hickory approached him casually, an easy swagger to the way he was walking telling John that this troll didn't have a doubt in the world that he could and would get away with whatever he wanted here.
"Go home, pop troll," Hickory seethed at John, before reeling his arm back and punching the teal troll squarely in the face.
John stumbled back, spots already forming in his vision as he raised his hand to the now throbbing bridge of his nose, while Hickory smirked cruelly at him. The last thing he registered was the sound of Rhonda 's bellow over the din of the party, and Hickory quickly disappearing into the surrounding crowd, before his world went dark.
When John awoke, Rhonda was hovering over him, a worried little coo leaving her as he blinked up at the late evening sky. Slowly, he sat up to find that she had dragged him from Volcano Rock City into what looked like a forest. There were no other trolls around, though in the distance he could see the massive volcano that stood in the center of the city they'd left behind. He sighed and gave Rhonda a grateful little pat as she nuzzled up against his side, while gingerly touching his very tender nose.
"Maybe we keep avoiding rock trolls, huh?" he asked Rhonda, who churred unhappily next to him. "Yeah. I think it's probably best if we don't go back there."
And avoid it he did. John spent the next couple of years exploring the Neverglade trail, rather than continue through the troll kingdoms. Although exploring other genres was fun, a break from other trolls was more than necessary, he figured. Especially after his last run in with Hickory, which had really soured his urge to meet new people. That wasn't to say he didn't run into other trolls and sentient creatures while out on the trails, of course. He met many interesting characters over the years who had plenty of stories to share with him. Which did eventually lead to him learning about the various and notorious bounty hunters that roamed around; one of whom was described quite similarly to Hickory. A rather nasty sounding yodeling troll, who was one half of a pair of brothers with quite the reputation. Hickory was apparently known for his disguises and charming trickery, gaining the trust of his targets and drawing them away to somewhere secluded, where his older brother would inevitably ensnare them in a trap.
According to the hiker who had casually mentioned all of this to John, the brothers had a staggering track record with very few, if any, misses on their hit list. Which just made John somewhat confused as to why Hickory had let him go not once, but twice. Though, he supposed, that might have something to do with the fact that their encounters had little to nothing to do with Hickory's 'work', and capturing John wouldn't exactly be profitable to the bounty hunters. He decided to simply be thankful that he was unlikely to see Hickory again, and moved on with his life.
Eventually, John did find himself back in the kingdoms, with Rhonda now just big enough for him to ride inside, so long distance travel was much easier. He figured the coast would be the best place to check out, since he'd heard techno trolls lived just offshore and were pretty chill, and Rhonda loved a good beach. What he wasn't expecting to find was a community of trolls, who claimed themselves to simply be 'surfer trolls', living near the seaside. Their music was an odd sort of mixture of pop and rock, but it was catchy and fun, and John couldn't help but find himself humming along to the melodies.
They were friendly, too, inviting John to join in their dances and offering to teach him how to surf. He happily agreed to the surfing lessons, pleased when Rhonda jumped into the water after him to swim alongside their surfboards, much to the delight of the other trolls in the water. Anytime John began to wobble on his board, Rhonda would surface just below him, throwing him off and into the water, earning laughs from everyone around. John was fairly certain she thought she was helping, so he couldn't exactly get mad at her for accidentally sabotaging his lessons.
After roughly the tenth time Rhonda dumped him into the drink, John decided it was probably best if he leave surfing to the surf trolls and just enjoy the beach. So, he dragged his soggy self out of the water and propped his borrowed board up in the sand, as the other trolls had shown him to do, and turned to watch Rhonda continue to frolic in the waves. As he turned, however, he spotted a relatively familiar looking green and orange troll that immediately had his hackles rising up. Although he looked slightly different, with dreadlocked curls and baggy beach clothes, he just knew the troll he was looking at was Hickory. After all, hadn't that hiker told him that Hickory disguised himself frequently? It would explain why each time John had run into him, he'd looked different. The bounty hunter was casually chatting with a couple of other trolls just down the beach from where he'd gotten out of the water, and John had no doubt that Hickory was here for a bounty on one of the surfer trolls.
He decided that, for now, it would probably be best if he stayed back and just watch the bounty hunter. He was relatively certain that Hickory knew he was here, since Rhonda was sort of hard to miss. However, he did wonder if Hickory even remembered her, since he was also rather certain that the bounty hunter would've approached him by now if he had any sort of inkling that John was nearby. After all, they weren't exactly on the best of terms.
So, he sat and watched, noticing how Hickory kept gravitating to one rather pretty pastel green troll in particular. She had wavy pink hair with flowers nestled throughout, and appeared to have a rather easy going attitude, along with an absolutely phenomenal singing voice. John wondered, briefly, if perhaps Hickory was simply pursuing her in some sort of romantic sense. However, that idea was quickly squashed when he happened to spot a smaller green and orange troll half hidden in the beach scrub not too far off from where Hickory and the girl were. Likely the infamous older brother, Dickory, he'd heard about. That had to mean they were there for a bounty, and based on Hickory practically sticking like glue to the girl, it was most likely her.
A slow smirk crept across John's face as he watched Hickory and the girl chat, an idea forming in his mind. Another miss on the yodelers otherwise near spotless track record would certainly put John Dory in an even better mood than he already was.
John drew himself up from his seat on the beach, whistling for Rhonda, who bound out of the water with an excited trill, drenching the trolls around her on the beach as she shook herself off. He grinned as her antics drew the attention of everyone on the beach, including Hickory and the mystery girl he was following. A satisfied little chuckle escaped John as he spotted the way Hickory's expression soured upon spotting him. He eagerly waved at the bounty hunter, which only served to confuse Hickory, as he frowned and tilted his head, watching with dawning horror on his face as John practically skipped across the beach, Rhonda hot on his heels, towards the two trolls he'd been keeping an eye on.
"Hey!" John chirped, slapping his hand down on Hickory's shoulder and giving it a not so gentle squeeze as he reached the two, "It's been a while, man! How've you been?"
"John Dory," Hickory feigned cheer through gritted teeth, adjusting the yellow sunglasses perched precariously on his nose, "It's goin' swell, bro. Been real chill. What's brought you out to the beach?"
"Oh, you know," John let Hickory go, waving his hand through the air, while Rhonda flopped down into the sand behind him, "Just adventuring. Been out on the Neverglade trail. Heard some really interesting stories while I was out there." He glanced over to the pastel troll who was observing the two with open curiosity on her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry," John said with a light laugh, "How rude of me. I'm John Dory. You are?" He offered the pastel troll his hand, earning a soft giggle from the girl.
"Aquata," the troll hummed, taking John's hand and shaking it gently, "It's, like, totally righteous to meet you. It's wild to meet someone who knew Reef from before he came to the beach. How long have you two, like, known each other?"
John shot Hickory an amused look, earning a sharp glare from the bounty hunter from behind Aquata's shoulder. "Oh, I've known 'Reef' here for a few years. Met him pretty shortly after I started adventuring. He's always been a real character." Aquata simply laughed at John's anecdote, while Hickory fumed just outside her line of sight. It was incredibly entertaining to John, to watch the way Hickory's face contorted at John's antics.
"That's so rad! Reef is always so quiet about his past," Aquata sighed, turning a lazy smile on the bounty hunter, who quickly plastered a calm little grin on his own face.
"It's 'cause none of it matters, man," Hickory hummed, stepping up next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "The past is, like, unchangeable. Why bother dwelling on it?"
"Deep," John commented, barely able to keep a laugh from escaping him at the way Hickory's expression twitched, like he wanted to scowl at John but knew he couldn't. "But, y'know, the past sort of defines who we are, so it's kind of important."
"Wow! That's so true," Aquata said, patting at Hickory's hand on her shoulder. "Hey, why don't I go get us some drinks? And you two can, like, catch up for a minute?" She twirled easily away from Hickory's hold with a breathy laugh. "I'll be back in a sec!"
The two watched her sashay away, before Hickory turned a sharp glare on John Dory. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," John hissed back, hackles up. "I can only assume you're here to kidnap that poor girl."
Hickory scrunched up his nose, placing his hands on his hips. "Kidnap is a pretty strong word, fish boy."
"It's accurate though, isn't it? That's what you do. Kidnap trolls and deliver them to whoever pays you the most coin. I heard all about you and your brother," he nodded towards the tall grass along the far side of the beach where he knew Dickory was hiding, "while I was out on the Neverglade trail. You two have quite the reputation."
Hickory snarled quietly under his breath, before sucking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. "All right, fish boy," Hickory grunted, "What do you want?"
"I want you to leave this beach and that poor girl alone. I doubt she's done anything especially nefarious that would justify you and your brother dragging her away from her home."
"I can't do that," Hickory groaned, pushing his sunglasses up to rub at his eyes, "My brother would not like that."
John arched an eyebrow, an idea striking him as he reaching back to gently pat at Rhonda, who lifted her head with a curious trill. "Would your brother prefer it if I let Rhonda eat you, instead?"
Hickory blinked, quickly taking a step back as he eyed the armadillo bus, who stared right back at him. "What?!"
"You heard me. You can either take off, and haul your brother along with you, or I'll let Rhonda swallow you. She's eaten a few bigger critters out on the trail, so I know a troll wouldn't be much of an issue," John said, as Rhonda rose to her feet behind him and shook herself clean of the sand that clung to her carapace. He watched as Hickory eyed the critter, his demeanor quickly becoming more nervous and agitated. Of course John wouldn't really let Rhonda eat Hickory, though he did know she could. He'd just get her to store the bounty hunter in the weird pocket dimension trunk she'd developed over the last few months and drop him off somewhere in the woods. Not that he needed to know that, of course.
"You wouldn't," Hickory said with a shake of his head, swallowing thickly as a slow grin spread across John's face.
"Are you really willing to test those waters?"
Hickory looked between Rhonda and John once more, his gaze fleetingly darting off in the direction his brother was hidden, before finally settling back on John. "Fine. Fine! It's not like this was a big job, anyway. Just some rich arschloch who wanted a private, captive singer. We'll leave."
"Great," John hummed, his grin turning into a genuine smile. Even after Hickory had beaten him up a few years back, he really couldn't say he held a grudge against the other troll. As a matter of fact, he was growing just a little bit fond of the only troll that kept circling back into his life. Messing with him periodically was starting to be a bit like a game he got to play every couple years. "You know, this little game of kitty critter and mouse we've incidentally been playing over the last few years has, weirdly, been kind of fun. I hope you don't mind that I won this round." He offered Hickory his hand, at which the bounty hunter stared in mild confusion. "C'mon, man. You can't tell me you've never shook someone's hand before."
"…Not usually right after they've threatened to have their pet eat me," Hickory scoffed, though he did tentatively take John's hand.
"First time for everything, I suppose," John laughed.
"I guess that's true," Hickory hummed thoughtfully, gaze focused on their hands until he pulled his away. "You are a much more surprising, and dare I say tenacious troll than I gave you credit for, John Dory."
John's grin brightened considerably, another joyful little laugh escaping him. "Thanks! I'll take that as a compliment."
Hickory simply snorted quietly at that, a slight smile on his own face as John chuckled.
"Looks like you two had an excellent catch up," Aquata said merrily as she came trotting up to them with three cups in hand. She then offered Hickory and John each a cup of what looked to be fruit punch.
"It was pretty good, I think," John offered, shooting Hickory a cheeky wink, to which the bounty hunter simply rolled his eyes.
"Like, yeah, man. Wicked good," Hickory added, easily slipping into his laid back surfer persona. "But, like, totally bummer news. Johnny here reminded me of some family business I, like, totally forgot about. I'm gonna have to take off. Sorry, Aquata."
"Oh," the pastel troll seemed to deflate a little, though an understanding smile settled on her lips. "That's a drag, but I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do."
"Yeah. Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side," Hickory offered, handing his cup to John so he could tug Aquata into a quick hug. He then gave John a short nod, before turning and walking off into the beach grass where Dickory was hiding.
"So lame," Aquata sighed, rolling her cup back and forth between her hands, "He was gonna, like, take me on a trip to see Vibe City."
"I'm sure he's just as sad as you are that he can't take you there anymore," John consoled the pastel troll with an understanding frown, though inwardly he was quite pleased to have completely thwarted the yodelers mission. As well as, perhaps, come to some sort of understanding with Hickory. Or, at the very least, gotten more on his good side. Somewhat.
John hung around the little beach community for a good few months, both because he quite enjoyed the energy of the trolls that made their home there, but also to ensure that Hickory and Dickory were not planning on suddenly reappearing. Once he was well and truly certainly that Aquata was in no danger of being spirited away, John decided it was time to move on. He debated on visiting Volcano Rock City again, but ultimately decided he had his fill of socializing for a while, and headed back to the Neverglades to explore the trails once again.
Another year or two on the trails passed him by, with John eventually coming to realize that he'd been gone from the troll tree for roughly ten years. Far longer than he'd ever planned on, but time he felt was well spent, learning about the world at large and also about himself. Working out and past all of the issues that he'd let get so intricately wrapped around him that he'd lost sight of who he really was. He hoped that the time that had passed was long enough that his brothers would perhaps even forgive his past actions, and be at least somewhat happy to see him again.
And so, John Dory gathered as many supplies as he could fit into Rhonda, before taking off towards Bergen Town. He had hoped, over the years, that he'd hear news from one of the kingdoms he visited that the pop trolls had relocated somewhere outside the tree. That they'd somehow managed to escaped their prison. Unfortunately, no one had apparently seen any signs of other pop trolls until John Dory had come waltzing through. It didn't exactly fill him with joy to go back to his child hood home, knowing that his family had gone through so many Trollstices without him, all while he'd been galivanting around the world. But his grandma had always made sure they had the best possible hiding spot. Especially after what had happened to their parents.
He was sure they were fine.
Or, at least, that had been what he'd thought, right up until he scaled the wall of Bergen Town and spotted the decaying remains of the troll tree. His heart plummeted.
"No…"
Rhonda made concerned little churring sounds from where John left her near the base of the wall as the teal troll fell to his knees, but he quickly turned to shush her and tell her he'd be back as soon as he could.
Quickly, and as quietly as he could, he made his way through the town, making sure to stick to roof tops and shadows to keep any wayward Bergens from spotting him. Soon enough, he landed on the shriveled grass that surrounded the tree, dread and guilt rapidly filling his chest as he took in the carnage around the base of it. There wasn't a single soul anywhere to be seen, with pods laying shattered on the ground, scattered pieces strewn everywhere, alongside long rotted wooden carvings of what John assumed were supposed to be trolls. He hurried to scale the tree and ran to his grandmother's pod, hoping for some sort of sign or indication that his remaining family had somehow gotten out of this damnable place.
John was at least somewhat relieved to find his grandmother's pod still hanging securely amongst the branches, though the front door was limply hanging open, brokering no illusion that anyone was still living there. Gingerly, John crept towards the pod, not even conscience of the fact that he was holding his breath as he crossed the threshold.
The pod was a mess. Whatever had shaken the other pods from the tree had caused the cozy looking furniture to fall over, while any picture frames that had previously been hung on the walls lay scattered across the floor, the protective glass shattered into sharp shards. The thick layer of dust settled over every surface brought to sharp focus that whatever had happened to the tree had happened a long time ago, which only served to make the guilt in John's chest grow until he felt like he just might throw up. He should have been there to protect his little brothers. To make sure that whatever had befallen the tree didn't claim his family among the casualties.
Slowly, John picked his way through the pod, making his way to the bedroom he'd once shared with Spruce. Upon entering the room, he found it barely changed since the night he'd left. The beds were neatly made, as their grandmother always insisted, their posters were, surprisingly, still tacked up to the walls with little pins, and although any possessions that had once been on shelves and the dressers were scattered across the floor, John couldn't help but feel like he'd just stepped back in time. Seeing nothing of note that could tell him what had happened, he then moved on to the slightly larger bedroom that his three youngest brothers had shared.
What he found shocked him slightly. Where he'd been expecting a bunk bed and crib, he found a single toddler bed, and instead of two small desks crammed into opposite corners, he just found one, pushed up against the wall. He frowned as he approached the desk, finding childish little drawings that, frankly, didn't look like anything any of his brothers would've drawn. At least, not while he'd been around. The drawings were rough, like the artist had been pushing down on the crayons too hard. Simple little words like 'RUN', 'HIDE', and 'NO' were featured rather frequently throughout the drawings, while little figures that John assumed were trolls were being scooped into the mouths of what appeared to be Bergens. The drawings were dark, and frankly more than a little graphic and disturbing, as some of the crudely drawn trolls were being crushed between the teeth of the Bergens.
John felt tears welling in his eyes as he flipped through the plethora of drawings, a broken little sob escaping him as he came to a drawing at the very bottom of the stack, obviously from before all of the other scribbles, with a happy little blue signature that read 'Branch' across the bottom corner. Only two trolls were depicted in the drawing, labeled as 'Grandma' and 'Me'. The way Branch had drawn himself lead John to believe the sketch was from well after the band had broken up. There were no other drawings on the table, nor any scattered across the floor that depicted any of his brothers. It made John's heart twist in his chest. What had happened to his baby brother? And where were his other brothers when it had happened?
It was as John turned to leave the bedroom and explore the rest of the pod for clues that his heart stopped in his chest and all of the air left his lungs. There, carved into the wall and door of the bed room were the words 'THEY ARE GOING TO EAT US'.
It felt like the world was tipping as John fell to his knees in front of the display of complete and utter paranoia and despair that stood boldly in front of him. It was most likely that Branch had been the one to take a knife to the wall, since the lack of any other beds in the room and the drawings indicated he was the only one to dwell inside. But what had happened to their Grandmother? There was no way she would have let Branch near the knives, let alone take one to the wall and door. And if any of his other brothers had been around, surely they would have stopped him.
John's head spun, heaving as he emptied his stomach onto the floor of the bedroom, gagging as his body was wracked with shivers and tears fell down his cheeks in a torrent. His family - they had to be dead. It made so much sense, now, why not a soul in any of the kingdoms he'd travelled through had seen hide nor hair of another pop troll, besides him.
He didn't know how long he drifted around the pod in a daze after that, collecting up everything that wasn't broken or moldy into as many bags as he could feasibly carry. He then stumbled out of the pod, considerably less careful than he had been on his way up. But that didn't really appear to matter, as most of the Bergens roaming around the streets didn't seem to be looking for trolls. John vaguely thought that perhaps it had been so long since the troll tree had died that they didn't think there were any trolls left to even bother looking for.
Somehow, John made it back to Rhonda without being spotted, although he could barely recall the trip through Bergen town. She cooed at him worriedly, and he managed to scrape together enough wherewithal to give her a pat and tell her to head back towards the Neverglades, before he climbed inside. Once inside, he reverently set the bags of memories he'd collected down, crawled into his bed, and buried himself under a blanket. The near constant flow of tears had finally stopped, though where sadness and despair had only just had a chokehold on him, empty numbness had begun to take over. He felt like someone had pried open his chest and scooped out his heart, leaving him bereft.
After a time, though he truthfully wasn't sure how much, John could feel Rhonda come to a stop. Slowly, he dragged himself from the huddle of blankets he'd been bundled under and stumbled to the door, dehydration and lack of food making his head swim slightly. He'd definitely been cooped up in Rhonda longer than he'd intended. Which meant that the poor girl had been going for far longer than John Dory had ever driven her before. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest for his negligent behavior, and tumbled out the door, forgetting just how high it really was. John fell face first into the dirt, earning a churr of despair from Rhonda as she turned to watch her caretaker push himself up onto his knees. She turned to nuzzle at him, which John quickly returned, raising his arms to give her his best approximation of a hug.
"I'm sorry, baby girl," John murmured, the emptiness he'd been wallowing in slowly ebbing away to allow sadness to creep back in as he felt tears well in his eyes once more. "I'm so sorry. I promise I won't hole myself up like that again, okay? You deserve so many treats for being such a trooper." He hiccupped, a sob following shortly after. "I gotta make sure to take care of you. You're all I have left."
And take care of her, he did. She was a little worse for wear after having run what John would later figure out was nearly three days straight without stopping. He cleaned her up and made sure she had as many snacks and treats as she could eat, and let her rest where she'd stopped in the middle of the Neverglades for a week straight. Once he felt that Rhonda was well rewarded for dealing with his breakdown, he steered her to the nearest town and filled as many cupboards as he could with fermented juices, nectars, and barley. Anything and everything that he could get his hands on that would allow him to temporarily forget about his family and the state of the tree, when he wasn't taking care of Rhonda. Because as much as he wanted to drown himself in alcohol to forget what he'd seen, she needed him to take care of her, and he vowed not to fail another soul that relied on him.
Months passed before Johns supplies began to run low enough that he needed to venture back into a town to stock back up. Still feeling less than social, he decided to stick to the outskirts of most settlements, and avoided the larger cities all together. Rhonda seemed to love meeting new trolls who gushed over her, though, so John would stop in the little towns for a few days at a time so she could get her fill of social interaction. Meanwhile, John would fill his cupboards with whatever alcohol the town had to offer, and drink himself stupid, before the two would spend the next couple of weeks roaming the country side again.
It was during one of these spans between towns that John and Rhonda came across a little band of nomadic folk trolls, near the border of the desert where the country trolls lived and the forest that separated the rock kingdom from the others. The group was rag tag at best, their patchwork tents endearing in the way they were cobbled together in a multitude of materials and colors, while nearly every troll looked like they had rolled around in a meadow, with twigs and flowers sticking out of their hair that John could see even from a distance. Rhonda seemed especially interested in them, so John brought her to a stop near their encampment, and decided it was about time that he try to fill his social interaction quota once again. He was doing his best to get back into the swing of talking with other trolls again, but so far it hadn't exactly gone well.
"Hey there," he called to the camp, waving his arm above his head while trying his best to feign a smile.
Truly, the very last thing he'd been expecting was for a troll near the center of the camp to perk up at the sound of his voice and call back a confused, "John Dory?"
"Uh," John said rather eloquently, suddenly wishing he'd showered at some point in the last few days. He probably looked a mess and smelled just as unpleasant. The troll in question strode across the camp, John's eyes slowly widening as he took in the scruffy orange hair and beard of the familiar green troll he couldn't seem to stop running into. He didn't want to call the bounty hunters name, unsure as to what he'd even be doing with such a group. Surely a folk troll wouldn't fetch him much coin?
"What in the world are you doing here?" Hickory asked as he finally made it to John, a small frown on his face.
"Exploring," John offered bluntly with a small shrug, "What about you?"
"Trying to get away from my brother," Hickory replied with a shrug of his own, "You reek."
"Haven't showered in a few days," John sniffed, tugging absently at the bottom of his jacket. "What're you going by?"
Hickory scrunched his nose up and tilted his head, reminding John of a confused cuddle pup. "My name?"
"Yeah, but," John leaned in to Hickory's space, the bounty hunter gagging quietly at his smell as he did, "Can I call you Hickory? Or are you going by 'Reef' again?"
Hickory blinked, then snorted a quiet laugh, nodding his head slightly. "Oh, yeah, right. You can call me Silas. But, how about you go and take a shower, and then I'll introduce you to some of the group? You smell like you slept in a pile of garbage."
"Yeah, alright," John said, turning on his heel to head back into Rhonda. He did not miss the mildly concerned look Hickory shot him at his short, somewhat stilted answer. However, he really couldn't bring himself to care that much. Although he'd grown to think fondly of the bounty hunter over the years, they didn't really know each other. His apparent concern was appreciated, but John didn't really feel like he'd earned it.
John showered quickly, then took a moment as he dripped dry inside Rhonda to clean up a little. When Hickory had said he smelled like he slept in garbage, he hadn't really been that far off. Piles of food and drink containers had stacked up over time, and several dishes had been languishing in the sink, growing mold. John filled the sink with soapy water to let the dishes soak, and tossed all of the trash into a couple of bags to take out the next time he went through a town. Finally, he opened all of Rhonda's windows to let her air out, since her cabin was starting to smell a bit musty. It was while propping open her front window that he overheard who he assumed was Hickory talking to his baby girl.
"You're a good girl, aren't you? Does John Dory take good care of you? You certainly look nice and healthy. Would you eat me? No, you wouldn't. Noooo. You're too sweet for that."
John snorted into his hand at the babying voice the other troll was using on Rhonda, though it was obviously winning her over as she churred happily and audibly licked someone.
"Ah! Ew…Uh, thank you. I think," John heard the other troll say, mild disgust dripping from his tone, prompting the teal troll to slip back inside to stifle his laughter and get dressed.
Once he felt he was at least mildly presentable, he hopped back outside, finding Hickory covered head to toe in Rhonda's glittery spit, confirming that it had, indeed, been the bounty hunter talking to her while John was cleaning up.
"Making friends?" John teased, nodding towards the sparkly troll with a crooked little grin.
Hickory snorted, brushing glitter from his shoulder. "Trying to. I think I succeeded? She didn't eat me, at the very least."
"She might be marking you as prey," John offered, though he knew she definitely wasn't. She only licked people he liked.
"Well, isn't that a comforting thought," Hickory laughed, reaching out to wrap an arm around John's shoulders, effectively half covering him in drool as well.
"I thought the point of me going to take a shower was to get clean? Now I'm covered in slobber and glitter," John scoffed, following along with Hickory as the other troll began to steer him towards the camp.
"The shower was more to make you smell better. And you do! So now you have to suffer my glittery fate with me."
"That's fair," John said with a quiet laugh. He blinked at the sound as it left him, fairly certain it was the first time he'd actually, properly laughed since he'd gone back to the tree. He felt a little squeeze in his chest as he glanced at Hickory, who had an easy going little smile on his face as he lead John to a small group of trolls loitering by the camp fire.
John barely paid attention as he was introduced to several of the folk trolls, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries on auto pilot. Finally, he was lead to a log set somewhat near the camp fire, just the right distance from everyone else meandering around the camp to be somewhat secluded. A bowl of stew was pushed into his hands as Hickory sat down next to him with a sigh.
"They seem friendly," John commented idly, before taking a sip of his stew and immediately perking up. "Wow! This is delicious."
"Thanks. I made it yesterday, so the flavor's gotten better. Wasn't as good then," Hickory said with an easy smile, "And, yeah. They're real nice. Took me in without asking a single question. I've been traveling with them for a few months now."
"Oh, yeah? And you promise you're not trying to snag one of these poor, unfortunate souls to sell to some high paying douchebag?"
Hickory sighed, swirling his stew idly in his bowl for a moment, before shaking his head. "I swear to you, I'm not. The last year or two of bounty hunting was just…It was getting to be too much. My brother was taking worse and worse jobs for us, and I was getting tired of the constant run around. I also realized one day that I really don't know who I am."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Every time you've met me, I've been someone different. In the early days I could at least still go by my own name here and there, but I don't think anyone but Dickory has called me 'Hickory' in years. I don't even know my own likes and dislikes at this point, having to change my personality to fit whatever persona my brothers come up with at the time. I wanted to figure out who I am, without Dickory breathing down my neck, or our job putting pressure on me."
John felt suddenly stricken at Hickory's response, memories of his own little brothers complaining about the parts he'd forced them to play flashing in his mind. The only one who'd never complained was Branch, but he was only a toddler, so that was to be expected. He had always just been happy to be included. Which then brought the realization to the forefront of his mind that Branch would only be fourteen this year. The same age as John had been when they'd started Brozone.
He hadn't even realized Hickory had continued talking until the sound of his voice suddenly stopped.
"…John?"
John startled slightly, his nearly untouched bowl of stew almost falling to the ground as he lifted his head. He blinked, feeling tears he hadn't registered catching on his eye lashes. "Sorry," he breathed, setting his bowl aside quickly and rubbing at his face. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to ignore the way Hickory was looking at him. "I gotta…Sorry, I just remembered something," he floundered, yanking his goggles down over his eyes as he rose from his seat. He then quickly took off towards Rhonda, ignoring her worried trills as he ducked through her door.
Perhaps if he'd been paying more attention, he would've noticed Hickory following close behind as he went inside. Instead, he pulled open one of his cupboards, grabbed a stout bottle of the strongest liquor he'd managed to find in the last town they'd passed through, and began to unceremoniously chug it down.
"Woah there!"
The half empty bottle slipped from John's fingers as he jumped at the sound of Hickory's voice, mildly irritated with himself at being so easily startled twice in a row by the same troll in such a short amount of time. He turned to glare at Hickory, forgetting his goggles were obscuring half of his face. "What?!" he snapped, stooping to scoop the bottle off the floor and putting it back to his lips to finish off what was left.
"Look, I know we don't really know each other that well, but you have to understand that this is concerning behavior," Hickory stated, hesitantly reaching towards John, "You just suddenly ran off and started trying to drink yourself into oblivion. What happened?"
"None of your business," John hissed, finishing off the bottle and reaching for another. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Hickory really didn't deserve his terse behavior, but all he wanted to do right now was forget.
"Hey, now," Hickory stepped forward and placed his hand over the top of the new bottle, frowning lightly at John, "You have every right to tell me to leave, but you've got to know that I'm worried. I've seen trolls do some awful things to themselves over the years, and drinking themselves to death isn't really that uncommon, or fun to watch. Believe it or not, you've been one of the only trolls I've managed to run into more than once over the years that didn't have anything to do with my work, so I've grown kind of partial to the idea of getting to run into you more. C'mon, John Dory. Talk to me."
John sniffed, tugging the bottle away from Hickory's hand to take a swig, though he didn't try to upend the bottle like he had the last one. After a moment he let out a slow breath, shoving his goggles back up into his hair to reveal his watery, red rimmed eyes. "You reminded me of my brother."
"And that made you need to drink an entire bottle of fermented nectar?" Hickory asked, taking a step back from John, now that he was less worried he was going to dump another bottle down his throat.
"Yeah. It did," John sighed, shortly followed by a sardonic little laugh. He gestured for Hickory to follow him over to the couch, flopping himself down onto it as he took another swig of his drink. He watched idly, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks, as Hickory gingerly settled himself down on the couch next to him. "My youngest brother would be fourteen now," he stated, as though it wasn't out of left field and a rather confusing thing to mention, given the situation.
"Good for him?" Hickory offered, shooting John a confused look.
John gave another hollow laugh, shaking his head as he sipped at his drink. "He's dead."
Hickory reeled back in surprise as if he'd been slapped, one hand going to his chest, while the other moved to hover in the air over John's shoulder. "Oh. I'm so sorry," he breathed, obviously not quite sure what to do with himself now.
"Yeah…I finally decided to go back home. It'd been ten years, y'know? I'd been running from my responsibilities for a long time. So I tried to go back, but…no one was there," John paused to swallow down more of his drink, the liquor just starting to make his head go a little bit fuzzy, "Not a single soul was anywhere. The tree I grew up in was rotting from the inside out, and our pod was in shambles. I thought, for just a minute, that maybe my family had escaped, or run away, but then I found-" he choked on tears, covering his mouth to stifle a sob.
"It's okay, John Dory," Hickory said softly, letting his hand settle on John's back to rub gentle little circles there, "Let it out."
A moment passed before John managed to suck air back into his lungs, coughing quietly as he struggled to get the next words out. "My youngest brother, he was only four when I left. I found drawings of his on a desk. They were so f*cked up," he wheezed, tipping the bottle back into his mouth once again. He hiccupped and shook his head as he continued, "Drawings of trolls getting eaten. And then I found words carved into the wall. There's no way, if anyone was around, they'd let him do that. My baby brother had to have been left all alone, before he probably got eaten, too." Another broken sob ripped itself from his chest as he doubled over his knees, clinging to the bottle in his hands like his life depended on it. He barely even registered Hickory still rubbing at his back and murmuring quiet little reassurances at him. "I should've been there," he finally wailed, sitting up and turning a wild look on Hickory, who sat back in surprise, "If I'd been there, maybe I could've done something. Maybe we could've escaped together, and-and…I don't know." He slumped back down, the bottle slipping from his fingers, allowing him to bury his face in his hands.
A few minutes passed, before he finally registered the feeling of fingers carding through his hair. Slowly, he lifted his head to find Hickory giving him the most sympathetic look he could muster through his stupid scruffy beard, his fingers gently combing along John's scalp before slipping through his hair. John wiped at his face, sitting himself up and somewhat lamenting the loss of Hickory's fingers as the bounty hunter tucked his hands back into his lap.
"Feeling any better now?" Hickory asked quietly, watching as John pulled his goggles off his head and tossed them aside.
"Got a bit of a headache," John admitted, rubbing at his forehead.
"That'll happen when you drink around a bottle and a half of booze, then cry your eyes out, without eating," Hickory said with a sad little laugh, watching John intently.
"Yeah," John sighed, grabbing a random rag from the floor to blow his nose, ignoring the way Hickory scrunched his face up at the action.
"Have you been doing this a lot? Drinking yourself silly when you think about your brother?"
"Brothers," John corrected idly, tossing the rag towards the rough proximity of his garbage can, "I had four younger brothers."
"I'm sorry…but that doesn't answer my question."
John sighed, rubbing at his eyes, noting that his vision swam minutely at the action. Apparently he'd managed to drink a bit more than he'd thought. He grunted quietly, shifting to sit back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. "For the last few months, yeah. I ran away from my family when they needed me most, and they all died before I could get the chance to make anything right. You can't blame me for not wanting to think about that. Booze helps."
Hickory shifted on the couch next to him, making a quiet humming sound. "I get wanting to drown your sorrows, I do. I've done it once or twice. But, I can tell you from experience, it'll only make things so much worse in the long run."
"Pretty sure you're younger than me," John muttered idly, tilting his head so he could watch the bounty hunter from the corner of his eye, "Shouldn't I be the one giving you sage advice?"
Hickory chuckled, combing his fingers through his wild, foliage filled locks, a few leaves cascading down to settle on John's couch. "Probably. Got any advice for someone currently running from their family?"
"Try giving them a chance," John sighed, reaching out to take Hickory's hand in his own. "You never know how much time you have left with them."
Hickory watched John with a pitying sort of expression for a moment, before giving a small nod. "Yeah, okay. I guess I can give my brother another shot."
John simply nodded, a sad smile on his face, before he tipped his head back and let his eyes slip shut. The two of them sat together on the couch with their hands entwined for quite a while, until someone came knocking on Rhonda's door looking for 'Silas'. Slowly, Hickory extracted his hand from John's and got up from the couch, the teal troll watching through half lidded eyes as he walked towards the door.
"I'll see you in the morning, John Dory," Hickory said as he got to the door, before disappearing through it.
John didn't stay until morning.
Once night fell, and all of the trolls in the camp were asleep, John crept through the tents until he found where Hickory was sleeping. As stealthily as he could, he tucked a small note under the edge of the bounty hunters pillow, simply stating 'Thanks for listening - JD', before sneaking off.
Back at Rhonda, he quietly urged her to move, leading her away from the camp, before climbing aboard and driving her away. As much as he appreciated Hickory offering an understanding ear, he didn't think he could really face him come morning. Or anytime soon, really. These burdens were his to bear, and it really wasn't fair of him to dump them on Hickory, who had his own issues to deal with.
And so, John spent the next several years roaming around anywhere and everywhere that Rhonda could go, trying to get a handle on his sorrow and work on being himself again, while also actively avoiding any green trolls with orange hair that he happened to spot. Something deep in his chest yearned to try and find Hickory again after that fateful evening spent in companionable silence, but he just couldn't bring himself to face the other troll until he could truthfully, and with his whole chest, say that he was doing okay again. And, perhaps then, they could actually start to properly get to know each other.
Everything seemed to finally be working out for John Dory, nearly ten years after discovering the troll tree in shambles. He managed to get himself sober, he was taking care of himself and Rhonda, and he was finally having fun travelling again. At least, he'd thought everything was going well, until one day while driving Rhonda through the funk troll territory and humming along to the radio, he suddenly felt like all of the joy was sucked out of him. He gasped at the jarring sensation and slammed on Rhonda's breaks, watching his hands on the wheel as they turned grey.
"What?" he murmured to himself, his heart jumping into his throat in a panic at the sight of his grey fur. He'd heard stories, when he was a child, about trolls turning grey, but he'd never actually seen it. He'd always chalked it up to being some sort of cautionary tale, especially after he'd fallen so far into the pits of despair all those years ago and had only ever dimmed in color.
He jumped from the drivers seat and hurried to look at himself in the bathroom mirror, finding what looked to be a ghost of himself staring back. He gingerly touched his face, feeling tears starting to well in his eyes, before he heard something on the radio. Someone declaring that the queen of pop had caused all trolls to lose their music. But that couldn't be right. All of the pop trolls were supposed to be dead.
But then something else came on the radio. Something that wasn't quite music, but had a bit of a beat to it. John all but ran to the radio to turn it up, listening as beat boxing, clapping and odd techno sounds soon changed to a single, clear voice singing a slow, but hopeful tune, which was shortly joined by a second. One that was distinctly older, but John could recognize any of his brothers singing voices.
"…Branch?"
John cranked up the radio even further and hopped back into the drivers seat, steering Rhonda towards where the radio station was broadcasting, all previous worries about his grey fur going out the window at the prospect of his baby brother being alive. He barely even registered when his colors came back, too focused on the prospect of seeing any of his family again.
It took longer than John would have liked to get to the rock troll kingdom. The drive typically took a handful of days, but with the right route and treats for Rhonda, he figured they could make it in roughly three. However, on the way, he found a rather startling note taped to his door. The signature said it was from Floyd, but it obviously wasn't, as his hand writing wasn't nearly so fancy. The note changed things, though. It made John realize that he'd wasted so much time wallowing in guilt ridden sorrow, when he could have been out looking for his brothers. And now, with the dire nature of Floyd's note, he'd have to put his plans to find Branch on hold until he figured out if his second youngest brother was truly in danger.
Mount Rageous was not a place John had ever explored before, given how much larger the inhabitants were in comparison to trolls. But he'd gone and found Floyd, trapped just like the note had said.
When breaking the bottle proved to be impossible, and Floyd brought up the perfect family harmony, John was hesitant. Not in saving his brother, of course, but to the idea of presenting the thing that shattered their family apart as the only way to rescue Floyd to their brothers. Not to mention, he still had no idea if Clay and Spruce were even alive, or where they might be if they were. But he agreed, and left Floyd to go and collect his brothers.
Now he really needed to find Branch.
Finding his baby brother had sent John's heart soaring to the moon. Getting him on board to help save Floyd brought him back down to earth. The itching feeling slowly crawling up his spine as they stood amongst a crowd of Bergens made him feel like crawling into a hole. But eventually, and with much cajoling from Poppy, Branch agreed and John steered Rhonda as quickly as he could away from Bergen Town and off in search of his remaining brothers.
Finding and convincing Spruce and Clay to join in their rescue mission had been tedious, but thankfully successful. John had his family back! All of his brothers were alive and well (for the most part). Sure, they'd fought, with John falling back into terrible old habits, almost breaking them apart yet again, but they were alive. Though he'd just about had a heart attack when Floyd nearly died in front of his eyes, even after they managed to pull off the perfect family harmony. But, somehow, they'd brought him back from the brink and John's heart hadn't felt so full in years, even despite the heart breaking news of his grandmothers death.
Eventually, his brothers did have to go back to their own lives. Reluctantly, after spending a few weeks in Pop Village (HOW had he never found it?!) while Floyd recovered from the worst of his injuries, John drove Bruce and Clay back to their respective homes. He then debated on staying out in the wilderness with Rhonda for a bit, before ultimately deciding that the best place he could be was in Pop Village, offering any help and support he could to his two youngest brothers.
Upon returning to Pop Village, he was surprised to find Hickory, of all trolls, chatting up with the Queen of Pop and his youngest brother. After the initial burst of joy he had at seeing the other troll after so long, knowing he could finally tell him how much their last talk had meant to him, he quickly became suspicious. Hickory was decked out in a cowboy hat and jeans. Certainly not what a yodeler would be wearing. The last time John had spotted the bounty hunter through a crowd a few years back, he'd been wearing lederhosen and a stupid little hat that John had immediately hated. It made John worry that Hickory had been dragged back into working with his brother, and that Branch or Poppy could be in danger. He hoped with every fiber of his being that that wasn't the case, but he had to be sure.
"Hickory!" John shouted as he jogged towards the trio. Unlike the last time John had approached the bounty hunter, he had no qualms in calling his name. If he was trying to trick the queen and his brother, he wanted that out in the open immediately. Even if it meant he'd have to save Hickory from the pop trolls, instead of the other way around.
Luckily, though, instead of panic or anger at his name being called, Hickory perked up and grinned widely upon seeing John approach. He lifted a hand in a wave, stepping forward eagerly as John came to a stop in front of them. "John Dory," Hickory said with a laugh, pulling the teal troll into a friendly hug, "If it ain't my fishy friend! It's been a dogs age."
John had to keep himself from melting into the hug, overjoyed that someone would be so happy to see him. The cold shoulders he'd received from his brothers had nearly broken his heart. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Hickory with an awkward laugh as Branch's voice asking, "Fishy friend?" caught his attention.
"Because he's named after a fish," Hickory offered, turning to Branch with a grin. "Call it a bit of a runnin' joke between us."
"I can't believe you know John Dory," Poppy chirped next to him, "What a small world! How did you two meet?"
It was Hickory's turn to look awkward, as John let a wicked grin split his face. "Hickory tried to fleece me at poker."
"Well," Hickory was quick to cut in, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully, "I feel like that's a bit of an oversimplification of what happened."
"Is it, though?" John snorted a laugh, enjoying the way Poppy giggled behind her hand at Hickory's obvious discomfort with how bluntly John described their first meeting. "As I recall, you were pretty confident that you'd be able to beat me. And then when you couldn't, you starting using cards tucked up your sleeve."
Hickory flushed, letting a stilted little cough escape him as he scuffed his heel on the ground. "I was just gettin' the hang of the whole gamblin' thing," he offered in way of explanation, but John wasn't having any of that.
"And the whole swindling thing, too, apparently," John added, folding his arms over his chest.
"I'm having a hard time believing that John, of all trolls, beat you at poker," Branch cut in with a snort, arching an eyebrow as he looked between the two.
"Grandma taught me Rummy before you were hatched," John said with a light laugh, reaching over to ruffle Branch's hair, much to the younger trolls chagrin, "I'm great at poker."
John couldn't help but notice the way Hickory was looking between him and Branch, seemingly completely bewildered at their interaction as his little brother shoved him away. John was tempted to let Hickory stew in his curiosity for a while, but was far too elated at being able to share his news with the other to bother trying to be coy. "He's my little brother," John said, realization dawning on Hickory's face, quickly followed by joy.
"That's fantastic!" Hickory crowed, yanking John into another hug, much to Poppy and Branch's blatant confusion, "I'm so happy for you!"
"Yeah," John laughed, squeezing Hickory back happily, before pulling away, "All of my brothers survived! My second youngest brother, Floyd, he's also in town right now. I just got back from taking the other two back home. They're all spread out, but they're alive."
"I, uhm, think it might be best if we let you two catch up for a bit?" Poppy interjected, leaning in towards where John and Hickory where practically huddled together.
"Oh! Excuse my manners, Miss Poppy," Hickory offered, sweeping his hat off his head and looking contrite, "That was mighty rude of me."
"Not at all," Poppy waved her hands in front of herself, smiling brightly, "I'm really happy to see you two reunite! You obviously have some catching up to do, so we'll just meet up with you again later, yeah?"
"That's mighty kind of ya," Hickory said, placing his hat back on his head, "I'll come an' find ya when we're done chattin'. How's that sound?"
"Sounds great," Poppy hummed, taking Branch's hand and tugging him away, even as he protested against leaving the two behind when he had questions, "Have fun!"
"We will," John called after them, waving until the royal couple were out of sight, before arching an eyebrow at Hickory. "Okay, spill. What's the cowboy get up for, and who are you after? I thought you were done with bounty hunting?"
Hickory blinked in mild surprise as John immediately launched into an interrogation, before chuckling quietly. "I am all done with huntin'," he sighed, wrapping an arm around John's shoulders and steering him towards the market, "Took a real long time, but I got out. I've got Poppy an' Branch to thank for that. In return, Miss Poppy asked that I visit Pop Village at least once a month to check in, an' make sure everythin' is still hunky dory. Mostly 'cause my brother wasn't too keen on me steppin' away again."
"So…you did find him again? After the folk trolls?" John asked, letting Hickory lead him to a set of table and chairs, outside a little cafe.
"Sure did," Hickory hummed, gesturing for John to wait as he trotted over to the counter and quickly placed an order. When he returned it was with two milkshakes in hand. He then sat across from John and slid one of the glasses across the table to him. "Picked up a real sweet tooth, hangin' out with Miss Poppy," he explained as John arched a perplexed eyebrow at the shake, "But, anyhow…yeah. After you vanished on me- thanks for the note, by the way- I kept to my word, an' went to go find Dickory. Didn't take too long, since apparently he'd been trackin' me. I told 'im I didn't wanna do huntin' no more, but he wasn't havin' any of that. Got real uppity with me, an' we had a pretty big fight. He apologized, but still didn't get out of huntin'. I spent the last nine or ten years bouncin' back an' forth like a yo-yo, tryin' to get out of the business. But then Queen Barb hired us to capture the Queen of Pop, an', well…here we are."
"So," John drew out the 'O' sound, his fingers curled absently around the cool glass of the milkshake, "That doesn't really explain why you're still in disguise."
Hickory let out a guffaw, shaking his head slightly. "Ain't no disguise. I spent a good bit of time with the country trolls, an' I finally figured out who 'Hickory' is. He ain't no bounty huntin' yodeler. He's a pretty laid back country troll, if I do say so myself. Which I do."
John felt a pleased little smile settle on his face as he reached across the table to place his hand over Hickory's. "I'm really happy you got to figure yourself out. And that you get to be yourself. And I'm sorry your brother never let you, before. Speaking as a bad older brother, myself, he never should've done that to you."
"I appreciate that," Hickory hummed, turning his hand over to give John's a gentle squeeze. "Now…tell me, where'd you run off to in the middle of the night, an' what've ya been up to since I last saw ya?"
John laughed heartily, drawing his hand away from Hickory to lean back in his chair. "I didn't really run off to anywhere in particular, honestly. I just didn't want to pile all of my baggage on top of what you were already dealing with. I just wound up back in the Neverglades. I sort of wished I'd stayed, though."
"Oh, yeah? Why's that? Picked up a taste for folk music?"
"No," John snorted, idly stirring his milkshake with his straw, "I should've stayed for you. I was only thinking about myself, but you probably could've used someone who actually knew who you were around, I'm sure. Plus, maybe then I could've helped you get away from bounty hunting sooner. Or, maybe-" John froze as Hickory reached across the table to flick him gently in the nose.
"Hey, now. Ain't no reason to go dwellin' on things we can't change," the ex-bounty hunter said with an easy smile.
John chuckled, tilting his head slightly with a smile of his own. "Yeah, but the past defines who we are. So, it's kind of important," he echoed his past self, causing Hickory to roll his eyes with a snort.
"That may be true, but what's really important are the decisions we make now. That way we can make sure that our future selves don't have no regrets about their past."
"You got so wise in your old age," John teased, propping his chin in his hand as he took a sip of his milkshake.
"You're one to talk, old man," Hickory shot back with a grin.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying their milkshakes, before an idea struck John and he reached across the table to flick Hickory in the nose, both for retaliation for earlier, and to catch the country trolls attention.
"May I help you?" Hickory laughed, rubbing at his nose.
"Yeah, actually. I was just thinking-"
"Don't hurt yerself."
"Shut up. I was thinking, if you come by Pop Village once a month to visit Poppy, where do you stay?"
Hickory frowned slightly, but shrugged. "Around. Usually someone's willin' to put me up for a night or two."
"Well, why don't you come stay with me?" John asked, drumming his fingers absently across the table. "Rhonda's even bigger than the last time you saw her. It'd be nice to actually get to know each other properly. And, y'know, see one another more frequently than every few years."
A slow smirk curled Hickory's lips as he steepled his hands in front of himself and leaned his chin on his fingers. "Why, John Dory," he hummed, "Are you asking me out on a standin' date?"
"What? No!" John sat back, nearly falling out of his chair in his haste, "I just thought it'd be nice! You can say no, if you think it'd be weird."
Hickory's expression softened as he dropped his hands back down to the table. "Never said I was opposed," he hummed, taking a sip of his milkshake, "I think that's a right fine idea. I usually come mid month, every month. It's when Miss Poppy has the most free time, in between all of the crazy holidays the pop trolls have."
"Great," John said, absently rubbing at one of his blatantly flushed cheeks before chugging down half his milkshake in one go. He let out a little breath as he set the glass down, glancing at Hickory who was simply watching him with a tender little smile. "It…it's a date, then."
For the next six months, Hickory arrived in Pop Village every month, just as he'd said he would, and spent the day with Poppy and Branch, catching up and gossiping about the goings on between Lonesome Flats and the village. He would then meander to where Rhonda parked at night, and spend the evening with John, swapping stories about anything and everything they had done in the years they hadn't seen each other, and generally getting to know one another. Frequently, Hickory would bring little gifts for John; simple little knickknacks or art he found and thought the teal troll would like, while John always made sure the food and snacks he had on hand for Hickory's visits were exclusively things the ex-bounty hunter declared were his favorites, or things he'd casually mentioned that he wanted to try. Both were always pleasantly surprised by the fact that the other had thought of them while they were apart.
And then one night, quite unexpectedly, Hickory slumped into John's lap while they'd been watching a movie, quiet little snores escaping him, and John felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. He'd never expected to develop feelings for the troll that had once punched him so hard that he passed out, but here he was, his face flushed the darkest teal it had ever been as he shakily let his fingers card through curly orange locks. He swallowed thickly, not letting a thought pass through his mind as he quietly whispered, barely audible above the movie, "I think I love you."
When the movie ended, Hickory woke with an undignified snort, earning a quiet laugh from John. "Have a good nap?"
"Yeah," Hickory grunted, sitting up and rubbing at his face, "Had a weird dream, though."
"Oh, yeah? Care to share?"
Hickory stretched his arms above his head, letting out a quiet groan, before turning to John with a curious little look. Hesitantly, he reached out and took John's hands in his own, brushing his thumbs gently over them. John simply watched him, slightly perplexed at the fact that Hickory was just staring at their hands, anxiety clearly growing in the ex-bounty hunter as his shoulders slowly started to creep up towards his ears and his expression began to scrunch up.
"Hey," John tried to soothe, tilting his head to try and catch Hickory's eye, "If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to tell me. I was just teasing."
"I know," Hickory was quick to reassure, lifting his gaze to meet John's eye, "I'm just pretty sure it wasn't really a dream. But, I can't be sure, an' I don't wanna freak you out."
John blinked, a tiny frown on his face, until it dawned on him what Hickory could be talking about. Slowly, he extracted his hands from Hickory's, ignoring the near inaudible noise of protest that left the ex-bounty hunter as he did it. Gently, and with mild trepidation, he cupped Hickory's face in his hands, doing his best to swallow down his nerves. "You can totally punch me, if this is out of line, okay?" he said, smiling crookedly at the way Hickory shook his head quickly at the offer. He then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hickory's, taking mild satisfaction at the surprised, but pleased little sound the country troll made.
When John pulled away he licked his lips and quirked an eyebrow at Hickory, who looked a little dazed. "Was that…was that okay?" he asked, his thumb absently stroking along Hickory's cheek bone.
"Hooweee," was Hickory's only response for a minute, his gaze slightly unfocused as he lifted his hands to hold John's to his face. "Oh, uh…yeah. Yeah, that was great," he finally said, blinking to focus on John with a dopey little smile on his face. "I think I love you, too, by the way."
