Hurricane Trinity

by Lovesick-Ded

Trouble in Klugetown

            The sprawling, industrial mass of buildings and shops that formed up Klugetown had never seen brighter days, apparently. In this case it was both literal and figurative, seeing as no one seemed to be as shady as before, nor were there constant demands for currency nor patronage every time someone passed by a booth. It was…unusual, to say the least. The two had currently stationed themselves at the edge of town in a back-alley, trying to keep to the shadows while Grubber worked on a “proper disguise.”

                “Gods…” The stubby creature yanked down on the hood of the cloak that Storm was currently wearing, attempting to fully conceal his face but not having much luck. “Your…freakin’ horns are…really hard to deal with…”

                “Then just get a bigger cloak,” the taller beast retorted, attempting to pull away in resistance. “It’s pretty obvious that this is NOT working—“

                “I can’t afford it though! Do you know how expensive this stuff is around here?! I could barely afford this one!”

                “This entire situation is so pathetic…” Storm shook his head in disgust and rolled his eyes as Grubber moved his attention to the back of the cloak instead. The goat-creature clutched at the clasp of the garment and fingered it slightly. “All these years of conquering and I’m back to Square One. I could be on the deck of one of my beautiful airships, but noooo…” He stuck his tongue out in obvious revulsion at his situation. “Instead I’m stuck in friggin’ Klugetown, with one of my lower-ranking minions, trying to blend in because I can’t afford to be spotted.”

                “’Lower-ranking’?” Grubber repeated, pouting a bit at this statement. “I thought I was your favorite though.”

                “No…Tem…I mean, SHE...was my favorite.” Storm’s eyes clouded over for a moment. “Until she—HRRK!”

                His spine was jerked forward as Grubber tightened the strings on the middle of the cloak’s sash, causing it to press around his abdomen and needless to say feeling rather uncomfortable. “T-too tight…” The hedgehog minion rolled his eyes slightly and released the strings; Storm placed a hand on his chest and gasped in a breath. “I…I think we’re fine for now…stop messing around with the cloak. If we keep out of sunlit areas, we should be good enough to blend in.”

                “If you say so,” Grubber muttered; he paused for a moment to dust off the small black vest he had been wearing for the past several months…not that it was any different from his old one; it just lacked the Storm King insignia honestly. Mulling things over for a minute, he grabbed a nearby patch of dirt and started rubbing it into the silver spiked fur on his head and back; Storm eyed him with his tongue slightly out, as if getting filth on oneself were the worst thing in existence. The hedgehog glanced at him and shrugged, flipping his head back and forth like a wet dog and sending flecks of dirt flying. “Blendin’ in a little bit myself. Figure, if my fur’s all dirty and messy like this, they won’t suspect anything weird.”

                “Er…yeah.” Storm turned his attention to the front of the alleyway. “Makes perfect sense…let’s just get going already; we need to take care of a few things before we can leave this gods-awful place.”

                Drawing the cloak tighter around himself, he stepped out of the alley and into the crowd, Grubber close behind him; no one seemed to be making any sort of uproar nor displaying suspicious behavior so he assumed they were safe for now. Curiously, he looked around at the merchandise laid out on the booths; despite the fact that he was the one who had an iron grip on this part of the land prior to his defeat, he had never really bothered to fully explore nor investigate it, which he now considered a shame really. There were a lot of marketing opportunities to be had here...if he could have only—

                “Oi, you!”

                The goat-beast froze in his tracks, causing Grubber to bump into him from behind; his heartbeat starting to increase in intensity once more, he turned to look toward the source of the voice. A fat, rather homely-looking lizard lady waved a chubby hand at him, gesturing for him to come in the direction of her booth.

                “Yeah, you!” She called out again; for some reason she wanted his attention pretty badly. “You with the cloak and the really cute little pet! Come this way!!”

                “’Pet’…?” Grubber repeated, obviously quite offended; Storm attempted to keep walking but the woman was tenacious. Before he could take another step forward, she had already zipped up in front of him, holding up what appeared to be a necklace with…

                Wait.

                “Lookie here!” she declared, jingling the piece of jewelry almost directly in front of his nose. “Storm Armada insignia necklace! Genuine too…used to belong to one of the soldiers of the Storm King himself.”

                “I, uh—“ Storm held up his hand and attempted to back away, but the reptile woman continued to invade his personal bubble, her eyes glimmering as she continued to “advertise” her wares:

                “Are you sure you don’t want to buy anything, sir? I got lots of trinkets from the dark days…I got keychains, clothing, rations…I even got old pieces of armor off of the Storm Creatures; lemme tell you I was SUPER-lucky to get those babies. They go for a pretty penny at the auction house here nowadays since, you know, the era of the Storm King is over and all. Ugly brute, that guy. Heard somewhere he was actually—“

                Enough was enough. “BACK. OFF.”

                The sheer amount of venom in his tone surprised even him, but it was enough to get the point across; the woman shrank back in fear, her tail tucked between her legs, and gave him a wavering gaze before rushing back to her booth. Storm remained still for a few moments, before shooting a single glance back in her direction and continuing onward. Grubber gave him a disapproving glare but said nothing as they continued along in silence.

                Eventually, though, someone had to break the silence, and the little hedgehog figured he might as well be the one to do it. “You…you wanna get anything to eat or somethin’? I dunno about you, but I’m practically famished. Haven’t had anything to eat since we set out this morning.”

                “You always say—“ Storm began to retort, but as if on cue he heard a loud gurgling sound from his companion’s belly, and he sighed; although he was no longer in charge, technically, the needs of his men were still important. “Oh, fine. We’ll stop by someplace…to be honest, I’m a little hungry too.”

                “Hooray!” For the first time in awhile Grubber’s eyes lit up like stars; he began to scurry around, eyeing everything there was to offer food-wise in sight. “Oh man, what should we eat first…? You know what, what are you in the mood for, ‘cause like, I’m up for whatever.” He stopped to sniff the air, whipping his head in all directions. “Ooh, ooh! I smell cake. Do you smell cake? ‘Cause, I smell cake.”

                “Calm down,” the taller beast told him, shaking his head slightly, although it was rather amusing to see his companion happy for some odd reason. “I’m fine with anything you wish…although, I have to say no on the sweets. I tend to, uh…” His face flushed slightly. “Over-indulge…a bit.”

                “Ohhh, right. I remember now.” Grubber attempted to conceal a grin behind one paw. “That was the time two years ago that you gained like, thirty pounds off of those special sugar-cookies you liked so much.” He broke out into a slight giggle-fit, unable to contain himself, and broke into a slight ramble. “Oh man that was too funny. We had to like, literally force you through the doorway that one time, and it took two guards to get you unstuck from—“

                “Okay.” Storm hissed through his teeth and looked about nervously. “K…keep it down, will you? I don’t need anyone finding out about my sugar weakness.” He stopped for a second to re-do the cloak’s clasp and recover from his brief moment of embarrassment. “Guh…anyway…let’s just find the first place we come across and sit down there. We need to do some planning anyway, if we’re going to get anything done at all.”

                “Alright.” Grubber looked around, tongue lolled out a bit, before fixating his gaze on what appeared to be a bar and grill at the end of the road nearby. “Ooh, how about we eat there? Can we?”

                The goat-creature eyed the sign warily. “’Daughters of Slaughter’…” He looked down at Grubber as if his companion had gone legally insane. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re kidding me, right?”

                “Hey, don’t judge a book by its cover,” the little gray hedgehog replied, smiling knowingly. He looked toward the building and raised his nose up. “There’ll probably be a lot of locals to get some info from…plus, there’s like, a REALLY good smell coming from there.”

                “I bet,” Storm muttered under his breath, looking up in time to see Grubber heading in the direction of the doors. He shook his head and began pacing after him. “I swear to the gods, if this place turns out to be what I think it is…”

                Long story short, it wasn’t. The second the two stepped in through the doors an absolutely foul odor hit the goat-beast’s nostrils, causing him to cough slightly and take a step backward; if pure testosterone did indeed have an odor, and if you happened to mix it with sulfur…that was pretty much the scent of the place overall. Not to mention its upkeep was awful: It was littered with post-meal trash, dimly lit, and he could barely hear himself think over all of the clamoring voices—plus the annoying scratching sound of a record player in the back was destroying his hearing the more it went on, he was certain. He shielded one hand over his nose and forced himself to follow his companion to the bar, where he was already attempting to scramble onto one of the barstools.

                “Are you SURE you want to eat here…?” Storm paused to gag again slightly, as Grubber finally planted his behind atop the stool’s torn surface and reached for the stack of menus lying nearby. “This place really is…urk…not doing any favors for my appetite.”

                “Oh it’s not so bad once you get used to the smell.” Grubber smiled at him in a rather cute manner before managing to grasp the edge of a menu and pull it over towards him. As he began to scan the contents, Storm took his place on a stool adjacent, still feeling—and somewhat looking, for that matter—physically ill. The old phonograph switched to a country tune that grated on his ears the more it played, and he flopped his head down upon the counter in misery.

                “You boys all ready to order or what now?”

                All that the taller beast could manage to get out was “Idonwannanythankyu,” his stomach twisting a bit, but Grubber, on the other hand, faced the fish-like bartender with great anticipation, licking his chops.

                “Yeah, I am! I mean, you know, I looked over the menu and everything…” He pushed the folded-up, slightly-greasy paper in the bartender’s direction. “I REALLY am hungry tonight, so, I wanted your opinion on the menu itself. Like, what’s the biggest thing you have, and how good is it on the sugar content?”

                “That’d be the Gut-Slaughter Special,” the bartender replied, grinning at the fact someone seemed interested in ordering it to begin with. He leaned down on one elbow in an attempt to get to Grubber’s level and added quietly: “Just between you and me…no one, and I mean NO one, has managed to down the entire thing without being sick to their stomachs. So I’ll tell you what—if you order it AND can eat the entire thing, it’s free.” He winked and his lips split, revealing rows of yellow teeth. “Just a little something to get y’all interested.”

                “You had my full attention at ‘entire thing.’” Grubber’s eyes were sparkling like gems at the concept. “Gimme one. I bet you anything I can eat that sucker in a pinch.”

                “I like your style.” The bartender flashed his teeth again before yelling toward the back. “OI, MARGARET! WE GOT ANOTHER VICTIM HERE!!”

                The little gray creature bounced up and down in his seat excitedly, his eyes still shining like stars; Storm coughed a bit and attempted to pull himself up from the counter, feeling as if he were drunk already from the atmosphere alone. There was too much going on…he wasn’t quite used to places like this, if at all…

                “You’re in my chair.”

                “Huh…?” The goat-creature looked up wearily toward the source of the voice, only to come face-to-chest with a behemoth of a fish creature that didn’t look quite that happy to see him at all. The fish’s glazed yellow eyes narrowed and he repeated:

                “I said, you’re in my chair.”

                Storm was too dizzy from the atmosphere to comprehend what the guy was trying to say at first, and he took a moment to shake off the feeling of illness before looking up at him. “Your chair?”

                “Are you deaf or somethin’?” The behemoth of a man slammed a fist into his open hand, baring his fangs in irritation. “I told you like t’ree times that’s MY chair! Anyone wit’ a brain in their head knows I rule the roost durin’ the nights.” He raised his head and hollered. “Ain’t that right, boys!?”

                A series of cheers echoed throughout the bar in response; Grubber turned his attention away from the counter and eyed the small crowd of males obviously basking in their masculinity, shuddering slightly. “Ugh…those guys…those guys look bad.”

                Despite the intimidation that was being placed upon him Storm was not one to easily submit; he looked up at the giant and glowered. “You may ‘rule the roost’, as you say, during the nights here, but that’s hardly an excuse to badger someone over their SEAT.”

                He practically spat the last word as if it were something mundane, and this seemed to heavily trigger the giant; an enormous fist reached out and grabbed the beast by the clasp of his cloak, yanking him forward.

                “I don’t like you,” the behemoth snarled, bringing Storm’s face up to his own. “I don’t like your FACE. Come to think of it…you look really familiar.”

                The furred beast continued to hold his ground. “Can’t say I’m really a fan of yours, either.”

                At that remark half the bar’s patrons gasped as if he had dropped the worst insult possible; Grubber grinned and thrust both paws downward as if to accentuate the current atmosphere. “Ooh, BURNED.”

                The brute’s face was stuck in surprise for a moment before it contorted into pure rage, and he tightened his grip, yanking loose a few bits of fur in the process. “You…LITTLE…”

                Before Storm knew what was happening he had been hurled across the room, colliding spine-first with the backend wall and falling forward onto one of the booth tables. His right leg twitched in pain and he winced as a shockwave of hurt surged through his back, struggling to raise his upper body and confront the bastard.

                He didn’t realize the hood of the cloak had fallen until it was way too late.

                There had been enough propaganda he had spread throughout the lands in the past for just about anyone to recognize his image, and now it had become so silent in the bar that you could probably hear a fork drop in the backroom. Every patron in the surrounding area was staring at him, some slack-jawed with disbelief, others angry; yet everyone still looked like they had just seen someone rise from the dead or something.

                …Then again, that probably wasn’t too far-fetched, considering the circumstances.

                After what seemed like an awkward eternity of them staring, murmurs broke out amongst the patrons and the brute and what appeared to be three other thugs approached the booth where he currently lay, stopping in front of him. The light was already dim but the combined bulk of the shadows completely eclipsed any source of light altogether. The beast looked up into the multi-colored eyes of the thug brigade, his heart beginning to race slightly with growing anxiety.

                “You…” The head of the behemoth squad, the one who had thrown him to begin with, narrowed his eyes dangerously. “You’re supposed to be dead. We all heard them tales.”

                “Uh…” Storm really did not know how to respond to this, so he said the only thing that came to mind at the moment. “I’m…not?”

                The brute growled in response, snorting a breath of hot air into the smaller beast’s face. “Well then, allow me to FIX that.” He slammed his fist into one hand, cracking his knuckles together in preparation. “I been waitin’ to do this for YEARS, ever since you and your damn army took over this joint—“

                “Wait, Marko.”

                The behemoth (“Marko”, apparently) stepped aside to let one of the smaller members of the brute squad pass in front of him; a rather lanky weasel-like creature with a buffalo-skin coat. He eyed Storm up for a moment, then gave a joking huff and crossed his arms. “Please. He’s not even worth our time. The Almighty Storm King…” He sneered in the goat-beast’s direction and raised a brow tauntingly. “Not so powerful without your fancy staff and your army, now, are ya?”

                That hit way too close to home, but before Storm could even open his mouth Marko slammed a fist down beside his body. “I still wanna teach this punk a lesson in manners. No one, and I mean NO ONE, mouths off to Marko and gets away wit’ it.”

                “Well I never said anything about the mouthing off.” The weasel creature snickered a bit. “Do with him as you must.”

                Marko gave a slightly menacing laugh and raised a fist, preparing to belt Storm one to the jaw. “Oh, I’m gonna ENJOY this.”

                The goat-beast knew immediately he was in serious trouble if he did not attempt to defend himself; then and there, he immediately remembered the basics of the training he had originally passed down to Tempest. Just as the behemoth fish brought his fist down, Storm raised both arms up in a block, managing to dull the force of the blow but still sending him sliding backward a bit. Marko’s eyes bulged in shock and he withdrew his fist.

                “Wh-what the…”

                While the brute was still dumbfounded, Storm leapt off the table and over the small group, landing on one knee beside an upset dining table, and got to his feet, his features set in determination as he eyed Marko and the others. He was prepared for a fight. Grubber, who had been watching the entire thing whilst gorging on the mountain of pure sugar that was his order, pumped his fist in encouragement, the other paw busy shoveling ice cream and various candies into his maw.

                “Oh yeah—mmpf.” He stopped to inhale another bite. “You wanna heckin’ razzle-dazzle?!”

                “You…friggin’…” Marko roared and lunged in Storm’s direction, both fists raised for attack. “Hold still so’s I can hit you!”

                He whipped both fists out in a pair of hard punches; the goat-beast ducked and lunged upward, hitting the fish-giant in the gut with one fist and winding him. The force of the blow caused the two to fall forward and into a nearby booth, Storm landing atop the bigger man’s chest and almost flipping over front-first as it was utterly splintered and destroyed by the combined girth of the two. He grunted and forced himself backward, landing on the floor and leaving Marko completely dazed, his eyes in two different directions.

                “Uggghhhh…you…you little…”

                It was clear the giant was disoriented for the time being, and for a brief moment the goat-beast let his guard down, only to be tackled from behind by another member of the brute squad. The two were both sent forward and into the record-player—and, yet again, another part of the bar was utterly demolished. The music had stopped playing though, thank the gods…

                “So you’re not as weak and helpless as you look.” The other brute, a lizard-man with an ugly, toothy maw, held Storm down as he spoke, raking his clawed feet across the beast’s back. “Yeah, you can dodge a few blows, and take out Marko, but so-friggin’-what. Anyone with a brain in their skull can take out Marko if they just THINK.”

                “Good advice,” Storm replied, giving a slightly confident smirk; he then flipped with sheer force onto his side, dislocating the lizard’s claws from his back, and rolled over onto both knees, braced for anything this lug might be able to throw at him. The smirk returned to his face. “Actually, fight me. I’m starting to enjoy this.”

                “Don’t be such a cocky little bastard!” The lizard hissed and leapt toward him, whipping his long tail in Storm’s direction in an attempt to knock him off-balance. The goat-beast retaliated by leaping upward and twisting into a kick, slamming down one cloven hoof directly into the nasal cavity of the enemy. A large spray of blood erupted from the brute’s nose and he howled in pain, clutching at his bleeding face with both hands. He glared daggers in Storm’s direction.

                “B-bitch…” He could say nothing further than that, as his heavily-bleeding nostrils were beginning to drip mucus and blood into his lower lip. He winced and lowered his head, panting through his mouth. The goat-beast dusted off his hands in a mock-gesture and looked around.

                “Well, that brought back some good memories…feels good to actually need to use those again.” He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, eyeing the destruction. “Er…looks like this place has seen better days though…and that’s really honestly saying something…”

                Grubber clapped his tiny paws together in praise and was about to say something when the door burst open, and a figure strode in, backed by what appeared to be several superior officers of some sort. It stopped in front of the first pile of wreckage and eyed the area.

                “Marko, I’ve told y’all a million times, your brute squad is not welcome in the—“

                Its gaze fell upon both Storm and Grubber, then, and there was utter silence. The being took a step forward in curiosity, brushing a strand of navy hair out of one enormous eye as he tried to process what he was seeing. His tail bristled slightly and he raised his shoulders.

                “YOU.”

                Capper appeared never LESS happy to see someone in his life.