I like big chapters and I can not lie. You other SPPF'ers cannot deny... *tomatoed*
If you're wondering why this took a bit longer than I usually do on these chapters... Well, I'm sure you can figure it out by seeing how gigantically large this chapter is.
Be warned as this chapter contains consistant swearing. Compliments of your Not-So-Friendly, Neighborhood Swear-Happy Trudly.
Anyways... Chapter Six!~
Chapter Six: The Voice of Silence
Folly never was much of a talkative person. At least not to most people. He would always overhear such interesting conversations in public that he would just love to take part in. Most of the time, Folly held so many of his opinions in his head about the discussion that he wanted to blurt out. But every time he even came close to attempting to join in, that small part of his conscience would whisper in his mind that it wasn’t a good idea and force him to back out. It didn’t matter whether it was starting a conversation or joining one; Folly found that talking to complete strangers gave him the most uncomfortable feeling.
Maybe that was why he never felt nervous about talking to Trudly. He had known him since he was six years old and was practically the only person on the face of the earth that he had no problems opening up to. While it was like pulling teeth to make himself utter a single word to everyone else, Folly could say whatever was on his mind to Trudly without a thought.
But even if Folly could speak to Trudly freely, it still didn’t mean he could usually talk for long periods of time. This time was a bit different. Half the time, when he spoke for so long, Trudly would eventually moan, “I don’t give a damn, Folly!”, but he had yet to do so. Folly thought that Trudly would’ve been bored out of his skull before long, but he hadn’t said so, so Folly kept on talking. Besides, he needed talk about
something that would allow him to get his mind off of unpleasant thoughts.
Folly thought that what he talked about as he and Trudly walked down the beach was interesting, though. He found it fascinating that all it took was a grain of sand, or any irritant for that matter, to enter a Shellder and within a few years, a person could find a pearl inside of it. Contrary to the image that came to mind when he thought of a pearl, round ones were actually quite rare. It didn’t really surprise him when he first learned that. He knew already that things didn’t usually turn out the way the plan went.
About thirty minutes after they left the cave, Folly could see the rocky hills surrounding Gateon Port jutting out from the horizon. With the knife-sharp rocks sticking out of it and the slopes at a near ninety-degree angle, the entire thing screamed "death trap". Nobody else dared to climb the hills, since all a person had to do was trip and they'd impale themselves. Since no one went within two yards of the hills, it was pretty much impossible for anyone to notice the tunnel that went through it. It was a miracle he and Trudly even found a safe way through. They seemed to be the only ones that knew about it, though. Otherwise, they would've been seeing people pass through the small tunnel for months.
Small was an understatement. The tunnel could be more accurately classified as low and claustrophobic. It was wide and high enough to fit two people carrying bags full of berries, but it was still too low to stand up in. In addition to having to crawl through it, Trudly and Folly had to feel around just to know where to go. The place was dark beyond comparison. It was easy for Folly to completely lose his sense of day and night inside the darkness. When they finally would reach the end of it, they'd be blinded by the sun the moment they'd set foot outside.
As they came closer to the hills, the entrance to the tunnel gradually became more visible. It appeared as tiny, horizontal slit in the steep walls. Trudly and Folly climbed up a less steep, but just as rocky, slope to get to it. Trudly climbed it, at least. Folly had to be
pulled up the hill in several spots. Just reaching the entrance expended enough effort. And they'd have to spend even more to get through it.
Before they entered the tunnel, Trudly took off his hat, revealing a giant mess of long, tangled, blond hair. It was so disorderly and filled with knots that it looked like at least four generations of Starly had made their nest in it. As a matter of fact, something probably
did live in that mess of Trudly's. In the past few weeks, Folly would frequently see Trudly scratching at his hair like a maniac, all while groaning and cussing.
After stuffing his hat inside his pocket, Trudly got down on his knees and crawled inside the tunnel. Folly reluctantly copied him and followed Trudly inside. He couldn't stand that place. Being in the dark wasn't the main problem. Folly was used to being in the dark and sometimes preferred it to the light. Even so, he'd still liked to be able to see what was more than an inch away from him.
But his central issue with the tunnel was how small and cramped it was. It didn't make Folly very relaxed to know that he could easily cut himself against one of the sharp rocks lining the wall. Pain didn't appeal much to Folly, and neither did the uncomfortable confinement and the inky darkness.
The real problems arose halfway through the tunnel, however. His left leg began to grow heavy and painful; it felt like somebody had stuck knives into it. Eventually, it got to the point where he had to drag it behind him as he crawled. As his leg continued to throb with sharp pain, Folly's urge to stop moving altogether intensified.
His leg never used to act up like that, but such pain recently became typical. Approximately a year ago, his leg had been bent into a position where it faced away from the right one at an unnatural angle. And on top of that, shards of glass had stabbed into the bone when he fell on a pile of them. The leg was able to be turned back close to how it originally was and the glass was taken out, but it still caused him frequent spasms of pain. Sometimes they happened spontaneously, but they also occured when he’d move faster than a short sprint.
Moving too much also presented problems. Usually, he and Trudly made one trip to Gateon Port a day. That still brought some stinging in his leg, but at least it wasn't pushing his limits. Folly wasn't used to moving so much in a few hours like he was that day. They didn't regularly travel such a distance even before Folly's leg had been bent.
Folly hated changing his typical routine. Certain things about his life he
did want to change. But those were different. He wanted change to happen
when he wanted it to happen. He remembered telling himself the previous day that he wanted to explore the PDA's functions a bit more to see what he could make it do. Instead of doing that like he planned, he was forced to crawl though some miserable and musty tunnel, straining himself just to move. All to meet up with someone he hated with every shred of his soul.
“Hey!” Folly heard Trudly yell ahead of him, “Quit laggin’!”
Folly was still scowling at his thoughts and ended up snarling, “Can’t.” He stopped moving and needed to rest for a brief moment.
“Whattaya mean ya...” Trudly began to shout, but quickly paused. Folly heard him moan and sigh to himself before saying in a much calmer tone, “Yer leg’s actin’ up again, ain’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Folly muttered, placed his head between his arms on the ground. The pain was becoming less easier to withstand as each second ticked by. His entire body began to sweat profusely, which was by not only the stabbing in his leg, but by the stagnant, hot air around him. As he breathed in and out heavily, he could feel his body shaking and his fingers digging into the ground without a conscious effort.
The sound made by his trembling breath filled his ears to the point where he couldn’t make out much of anything else. Folly could hear Trudly talking ahead of him, but it was difficult to decipher what he was saying through his clogged ears, “H... huh?”
“I said I can’t turn ‘round in here to get ya. Do ya think ya can make it to da end of da tunnel?” Folly focused less on the sound of his own breath and more on Trudly’s voice as he repeated himself. Most of the time when Trudly had to repeat himself to Folly, he’d scream his words back to him. But this time, his words seemed a lot... calmer.
And that was saying something. Usually, Trudly and the word “calm” was never used in the same sentence. Unless the word “not” was thrown in there as well. Trudly wasn’t known for placidness. He was known for his explosive temper. Trudly and Folly were extremely infamous throughout Orre, which meant that nearly everyone knew who they were. That also meant that most people knew better than to get Trudly angry. Trudly’s vocal conniptions were usually enough to deter the person that was ticking him off from doing it again. But it still wasn’t uncommon for him to use physical violence. And if Trudly
didn’t resort to using his fists to get his point across, he’d see to it that some of the agitator’s possessions would wind up either missing or broken.
But recently, Trudly had been turning his anger against Folly as well. Granted, he had never hit Folly, but he’d yell at him a lot more frequently than he used to. It seemed like Folly couldn’t move a muscle without Trudly criticizing him. Folly started to feel like there was nothing he’d do that wouldn’t frustrate Trudly.
Ironically, at other times, Trudly was calmer than he ever was before. One second, he’d be screaming at Folly, and the next he’d be rather tolerant of him. It was like flipping a switch on and off. Frankly, the continuous alternating between two opposite emotions began to worry Folly. And Trudly was usually the one to make complaints that
Folly “wasn’t his usual self.”
Trudly was a bit of a hypocrite that way.
“N...no...” Folly answered Trudly with a shuddering moan. Any movement that involved his impaired leg would intensify the strong pain. All Folly wanted to do was to just lay there and wait until his leg wasn’t throbbing anymore. He was willing to stay in that muggy tunnel all night if he had to. Discomfort Folly could handle. Pain he couldn’t.
Trudly was silent for a while; it took him a minute just to respond to Folly. When he finally did speak up, he also began to moan, “I don’t think we got much longer to go through here. Y...yer gonna have to keep movin’ Folly.”
The moment Trudly stopped talking, Folly lifted his head without a thought. It was too dark for Folly to see anything, so he figured Trudly was sightless in the tunnel as well. But despite that, Folly shot an incensed glare and scowled in his direction.
How on earth did Trudly expect Folly to just
ignore the pain in his leg that escalated with every pulse of blood in his veins? How could he just figure that Folly could just shrug it off and go on acting like everything was perfectly normal? Sure, Trudly could get over physical pain quickly. If he got hurt, Trudly would swear at the injury and that would be the end of it. He was probably disregarding the wound that the Krabby made earlier that day.
But Folly wasn’t Trudly. He couldn’t ignore pain. He couldn’t ignore the stinging dead weight he was forced to drag behind him though the tunnel. And he certainly couldn’t just “get over it.”
He'd never get over it. He wanted to, but Folly knew that it would always stick in his mind even if he lived to be one-hundred. Besides, how would eighty-one more years of thinking about the same thing again and again do any good for him? How on earth could time be his friend? Folly's tolerance for pain was low. His tolerance for
thoughts of pain was just as abysmal.
Folly pulled himself along the tunnel's floor languishingly, asking himself why he couldn't be more like Trudly. Why couldn't
he be tougher like Trudly was? Why couldn't
he dismiss pain as if it was nothing at all. Trudly could look fear in its cold eyes and not budge an inch. But two feet behind him would be Folly shivering and having the hair on the back of his neck stand up straight. While Trudly always seemed to have the right thing to say in the most terrifying situations, Folly became so locked up inside he couldn't ever
mutter. Folly would've thought that being around Trudly for so many years would've made him brave like him. Instead, he turned out to be a coward that feared fear itself.
It seemed like forever and a day before Folly saw sunlight peer at him. The small rays blinded him at first, even with his blue shades on. But after his eyes got used to the light being there, Folly was almost compelled to move faster. However, his legs was still in pangs and practically motionless.
He watched Trudly crawl out of the tunnel long before he was able to get close to the exit. When Folly finally did manage to come to the exit, Trudly's hand suddenly appeared as a shadow in the sunlight in front of him, "Grab my hand. I'll pull ya out."
Folly wanted to get out of that damned tunnel more than anything, but he was actually
reluctant to grab Trudly's hand. His foremost pet peeve was making physical contact with another person. It didn't matter whether it was somebody hitting him or giving a light tap on the shoulder, being touched always made him tense and nervous.
Despite his anxiety, Folly was willing to overcome it for a brief moment just to get out of the tunnel. But a chill still ran down his arms and through his spine when he grasped Trudly's hands with both of his. For a few seconds, Folly felt himself freeze up and allowed himself to be pulled out without any resistance.
Within seconds, Folly was laying on the rough, rocky ground with the sun beating on his back. The shards of rocks poking at his stomach was highly uncomfortable and the humidity wasn't any more soothing. The only thing that was even remotely comforting was being out in the open air. But he still would've rather stayed in that one spot than get up and move. Besides, any energy he had to do so had been sapped away.
But of course, Trudly had to object to staying in one place, "Hey. Not here. People are gonna see us."
Folly tried to lift his head up and defend his decision, but he had lost the energy to even do
that. His eyes nearly closed and breath rapid, Folly muttered weakly, "C...c...can't... can't move... no... no energy..."
His senses began to become scrambled as his mind forced him to drift off, even in such a discomforting place. His unconscious desire to fall asleep muffled the sound of Trudly's approaching footsteps. Folly could hear Trudly speaking in an audible tone, but he was unable to make out much of what he said. Trudly usually didn't mumble, so Folly knew that it had to have been his own exhausted self that was turning words unintelligible.
Before Folly could interpret any of what Trudly was saying, he suddenly felt Trudly's hands slip under him. A series of shudders shook his entire body and stole his breath for a moment. He froze up from head to toe and a cold, unnerving feeling spread through him yet again as Trudly lifted him off of the ground.
As Trudly slowly carried Folly down the slope, his mind raced with thoughts of both panic and self-reflection. When the panic faded away, Folly was left to muse about himself. Being nervous when people he didn't know or trust touched him he could understand. But what he couldn't understand was that he became just as paranoid when Trudly touched him. He knew that Trudly would never bring any harm to him; he could trust Trudly with his
life. But why did he
still flinch and shake like he
was going to hurt him?
Things just didn't make sense anymore.
* * *
Folly found himself about an hour later under the shade off a conifer tree. The soft breeze blowing at his face felt pleasant and the gentle rustling of the pine needles above sounded dulcet as well. Everything felt so relaxing, he was reluctant to move away from it all.
Although he probably could've then if he wanted to. He lifted his injured leg slightly, testing it out. It stung and tingled a small amount, but it certainly wasn't as painful as before.
As Folly gently laid his leg back on the soft grass, he heard some sort of scraping sound next to him. He turned his head in the sound's direction and saw Trudly, his hat back on his head, whittling away at the point of a stick with his pocket knife. Trudly's face was scrunched up a bit, like it was whenever something annoyed him.
It took a few seconds before he turned his head towards Folly. When he looked at Folly, his face loosened and he set the knife and stick down, "Yer leg feelin' better?"
"Mmm-hmm," Folly mumbled in response, adjusting his position against the tree, "For da most part, yeah."
Trudly sat up from his leaning position against the tree and stretched his arms. Before long, he picked the stick and knife back up and began peeling the wood off of it at an angle, "Think ya can walk with it?"
"Dunno. Maybe," Folly guessed rather blindly. His leg wasn't hurting as much anymore, but he wasn't sure how far he could go with it before it did again, "Whatcha doin'?"
"Y'know da Krabby I caught dis mornin'? 'Ere's gotta be more of 'em. So since I can't catch **** by fishin', I figure I might be able to find another one and eat
dat. 'Course, I need somethin' to stab it with." Trudly explained, not taking his eyes off of the stick and knife.
Just hearing Trudly's plans for the soon-to-be spear made Folly's stomach rumble. He didn't dislike the Cheri, Pecha, and Oran berries he usually ate, but he did have a desire for meat every now and then. Sometimes, Folly got a bit sick of the vegetarian diet he and Trudly had been forced to eat for the past few months. Live game might've been hard to find in Orre's wilderness, but packaged meat wasn't in the stores. But it always seemed like matches were never in stock when Trudly and Folly would break into the them. And Trudly's attempts to get Spook to make fire with his Will-o-Wisp technique hadn't been going so well.
Just as the point of the spear was getting fairly sharp, Trudly made a slip and sliced the point clean off. He growled, clenched his teeth, and threw the dulled stick in front of him, "If I can get it sharp, dat is! Dammit! Jus' ya watch! 'Ventually I'm gonna end up slicing my hand with dat damn thing!"
Why Trudly even processed the idea of doing that to himself was beyond Folly, he held out his hand before he did, "Lemme see it. Hand it over."
Trudly bent over, grabbed the stick, and placed it in Folly's hand.
Only the stick.
"Da knife too!" Folly groaned, sticking his hand back out after he placed the spear next to him. Trudly hand was even right
on the pocket knife.
Trudly narrowed his eyes and stared at Folly for a long moment. Folly recognized that look on Trudly's face; he often had that look around people he didn't know. But why was he looking at
him like that? Trudly's glare didn't disappear even after he finally placed the pocket knife in his hands.
Folly grasped the handle of the knife as slowly as Trudly put it there. He returned the strange look Trudly was giving him and attempted at whittling the spear himself. Folly wanted to make it sharp like Trudly tried to, but his concentration was disappearing with each glance he'd return to him. He'd look back at him several times, but Trudly expression failed to change.
"Stop starin'." Folly eventually got tired of Trudly looking at him like he was. He couldn't stand it when people would just
stare at him. It always made him nervous, uneasy, and unable to concentrate on anything knowing that somebody had their eyes on him unyieldingly. Folly thought Trudly knew that, but apparently he didn't.
"I ain't starin'. I'm watchin'." Trudly defended himself shortly.
He still didn't stop
watching Folly and it seemed like he wouldn't any time soon. Folly tried to turn his concentration solely on the spear, but he still glanced at Trudly periodically. Staring or simply watching, it was still unnerving all the same.
Folly lost track of the time eventually. Sometimes he'd get so engrossed in what he's doing that he couldn't say for sure how long he had been doing it for. The same went for sharpening the spear. He wasn't sure whether he had been whittling for thirty minutes or ten. Either way, it was starting to look a lot sharper.
"Hey listen," Trudly abruptly interrupted his concentration. Folly set the knife and spear down before he'd ruin it with his lack of complete focus, "Y'know dat da Krabby Club is right next to da shop we hit dis mornin', right?"
"Umm... right..." Folly replied curiously, wondering what Trudly was getting at.
"I don't got a good feelin' 'bout goin' 'round 'ere. If people see us in da area, they're gonna think somethin's up 'n then we're gonna get arrested. That, 'n da boss's never where he says he is, so we'll have to wait a few hours 'til he
does show up. Da longer we stay in one place, the more likely somebody's gonna catch us. Plus, I'd rather get da whole thing done 'n over with." Trudly began to explain, but still left Folly a bit in the dark. Being nervous about seeing Miror B. went without saying. Folly could honestly desire being arrested and locked in jail more than he could meeting up with him.
Trudly paused for a moment and sighed before continuing, "'Ere's dis bar in Gateon dat Reath told me 'bout. It's underground 'n they only allow people who have a decent criminal record in. Da boss has probably been 'ere, knowin' him. I wanna check dat place out and see if anyone knows for sure where he is."
"Reath? Haven't seen her in years!" Folly exclaimed, changing the subject.
"Good. Better stay dat way." Trudly spat with a groan.
Trudly never did like Reath or her friend, Ferma, very much. Unfortunately for him, they worked for Miror B. too when he was still part of Cipher. So Trudly and Folly had to spend nearly every day with them, much to Trudly's annoyance. Folly could remember Trudly griping about them once, saying "Reath 'n Ferma are kinda like us with boobs. 'Cept Reath's a lot *****ier than I could ever be. 'N Ferma ain't quiet 'cause she's 'fraid of being social. She's quiet 'cause she's a lil' priss dat don't give a **** 'bout anything dat don't involve her!" Maybe it was a good thing neither he or Folly had seen them since they got fired from Cipher. It would certainly explain why Trudly had been a bit less choleric for a few years since then.
"Anyways," Trudly got himself back on track, "Problem is dat its 'round da Parts Shop. 'N we gotta go through da center of town to get 'ere."
Just by hearing Trudly say "center of town" and "go through it," Folly's heart climbed up to his throat. Folly glanced past Trudly and at Gateon Port below, which looked like a ten minute walk from where he was sitting. Even from that distance, Folly could see how many people were there. And there was a lot of them. As he looked upon the dense crowds, he could feel the nervousness coming back, "L...lotta people 'ere..."
"I know. Dat's why I'm tellin' ya now," Trudly said as he stood up. He began to walk towards the city, but didn't get too far before he turned around, "C'mon, get up. We'll try to get through 'ere as fast as we can."
Folly planted himself firmly on the ground. Fast or not, Folly didn't want to go through such a daunting crowd and was determined to keep himself from doing so, "Can't run."
Trudly glared at Folly sharply and said with a low tone, "Ya can walk fast, Folly. I've seen ya do it."
"But... people still gonna notice us. More than they would at da Krabby Club. 'Cause... y'know. 'Ere's more people dat can see us. 'N we stick out. Blond hair ain't common 'round here. 'N we stink. Bad." Folly still wouldn't give up, even though Trudly was seeing through him like glass.
"Folly, I don't wanna fight with ya! I'd rather not go into da city at all if I could. But dat ain't an option! I know ya don't like a lotta people. But it's either walk through a crowd dat'll take us five minutes to do, or sit in one for three hours!" Trudly began to raise voice, which caused Folly to flinch slightly.
Folly realized that nothing he'd say would convince Trudly from not going, so he didn't bother fighting it anymore. He still wasn't too happy about it, though. He reluctantly stood up and wouldn't even shoot a glance towards the city.
Before he walked over to Trudly, Folly remembered the pocket knife and spear and picked them up, "Don't know if it's sharp 'nuff." Folly commented on the quality of the spear before he handed it to Trudly.
Trudly didn't even glimpse at the spear before he glared at Folly again and held his hand out, "My knife?"
Folly gave Trudly his knife back carefully, confused at that look he kept giving him. Trudly continued his firm gaze at him as he folded the blade of the knife into the worn-out, leather handle. He finally took his eyes off Folly when stuffed the knife in his pocket and began to examine the spear.
"Well?" Folly asked Trudly as he gently tapped his finger on the point, anxiously waiting for his opinion.
"Eh...It's okay," Trudly shrugged his shoulders as he strode over to the tree with the spear, "I don't feel like draggin' dis all through town, so I'm just gonna set it here."
Trudly's reply was a bit broad to Folly, and he wanted a more detailed answer. "Sharp 'nuff? Too dull?" The longer the delay in Trudly's response became, the more Folly's confidence began to dwindle. He dropped his head and stared at the ground, refusing to even look at the spear as he muttered, "Screwed up again, didn't I?"
"I said it was okay!" Trudly finally responded with a groan, stemming from the fact that he had to repeat himself. "Y'know, not too sharp, not too dull."
Folly gave a sigh of relief, knowing that he didn't
completely mess up for once. For as long back as his memory could take him, he had always been labeled as a "Screw-up", or somebody that couldn't do anything right. Folly wasn't usually the one to become insulted at simple comments, but having almost no one believe in him was something that struck deep. Eventually, he became sick of it and continuously told himself that he'd never mess up on anything ever again. But despite that, it seemed like every attempt to do something right ironically ended up with him falling even harder.
After Trudly set the spear against the trunk of the tree and headed down the gradually less steep slope, Folly followed behind, carefully keeping his footing on the sharp rocks. Trudly seemed to be having a tougher time with it, as every time the foot that the Krabby attacked touched the rocks in just the right way, he'd wince and withdraw it with a jerk.
Folly looked back on the spear behind him, and began to think more about what Trudly wanted it for and then voiced his thoughts, "Couldn't ya jus' drop a rock on da Krabby?"
"Great idea, Folly!" Trudly exclaimed, but was rather unenthusiastic about it. Even though Trudly wasn't looking at Folly directly, he could still see Trudly's in the midst of a long eye-rolling sequence, "I'll jus' have to remember to drag a ten-pound
boulder with me everywhere 'case a Krabby come 'long!"
Once he could balance himself, Folly stopped in his tracks briefly to look at Trudly with a raised eyebrow. That was just like him to take Folly's words and blow them way out of proportion.
"Don't need to be
dat big..."
* * *
Folly was still breathing and his heart was still pumping blood through him with no signs of stopping in the near future. Since he was very much alive, he figured he would be ignorant to what hell really felt like for a little while. But he did get a fairly good idea of how it would be.
In his eyes, crowds were just an expansion of the two things he hated the most.
Dozens of people were incessantly making physical contact and bumping into him, and dozens
more were staring. Merely thinking about it sent a chill down his spine. Experiencing it first-hand made him break into a cold sweat.
As he pushed through the crowd as fast he could without his bad leg shutting down on him again, he began to wonder if he’d ever see the end of it. He didn’t know exactly how big the center of town was, but Trudly said it would take about five minutes to go through. But Folly’s distorted mind multiplied those five minutes into an amount that seemed like forever.
The crowd was so dense that it was hard to see anything that was farther than a few feet. The overabundance of people with their hands clasped around their noses made it exceedingly easy for Folly to lose sight of Trudly. And when that happened, his heart leapt a beat and his breath trembled. He knew that feeling. That cold, nervous feeling that was carried along with the sensation of being alone. It was like his vocal cords were being choked, rendering him helpless to say anything. He was left to scream Trudly’s name in his head, despite the fact that it was in vain. It would be nearly impossible for Trudly to hear him through the plethora of voices overlapping each other, even if he yelled. All Folly could do was trudge on in the faint hope that he could find Trudly while immersed in the paradox of it all. How there could be so many people around him, but still feel so alone.
He didn’t know where it came from, but he was glad it did, although not right away. As he was still absorbed in loneliness, a hand came out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. Having somebody touch him like that,
especially in such a place made Folly panic and lose control of himself. Breathing even heavier than before, Folly instinctively ran in the opposite direction, but was futile as the hand pulled at him. Since he didn’t see a wide selection of options left, he let his thoughts of resorting to violence took control of his actions. He clenched his fists and teeth tightly, spun around, and blindly threw his fist in the direction the hand came from.
It wasn't until after the owner of the hand screamed Folly's name in a familiar voice was he able to put a face on him. Folly's eyes widened and he turned his head slowly and gingerly,
afraid of his sight confirming who the hand belonged to. There Trudly was, standing in front of him with the most infuriated look on his face. He could see Trudly's eyes dilate into brown fireballs, even behind his red sunglasses. Trudly's entire face was turning into a hot, explosive red, but what truly made Folly's heart sink was that his right cheek was considerably redder and stood out.
Trudly grit his teeth firmly, almost to the point where Folly could picture them bleeding at any moment, before he finally released Folly's arm and spun around furiously. His heavy stomping and enraged breathing suggested he was about to storm off like a hurricane and leave Folly in the wake of the destruction. But surprisingly, he kept a pace where Folly could keep up.
But Folly wasn't about to get too close to him. Sure, Trudly got angry often, and Folly always seemed to be the catalyst of his frustration. But to see him look like
that... it wasn't something that Folly witnessed frequently. He hated to think about it, but even as much as he tried to force his thoughts to deviate from that incensed image of Trudly's face, Folly couldn't escape the fact that for a few minutes, he became
scared of Trudly.
The crowd was starting to dissipate, but that didn't make Folly any less uneasy. He knew that Trudly couldn't keep his angry, nerve-wracking silence for much longer, and he dreaded the anger finally erupting. The longer the silence lasted, the longer Folly's head was filled with thoughts of self-hate. Why? Why did he let that foolish instinct of panic blind him? Why did he let it strike the one person out of dozens that surrounded him, or more accurately, the one person out of
billions in the
entire world that he truly considered a friend? Why did he have to be such a nervous wreck in the first place? Why did he have to break down in a anxious fit every time someone touched him?
It wasn't long before Folly's thoughts that made him hate everything he was evolved into thoughts that made him paranoid about what would happen next. What would Trudly do? He had seen the way Trudly acted towards people in a fit of rage. In certain instances, Trudly would end up beating whoever is causing him to go into such a frenzy until they became unconscious, bleeding, and broken-boned. What if Trudly did the same to Folly?
No... He wouldn't do that... Trudly would never do that...
...
...Would he?
"Ya friggin' dumbass! What da hell's wrong with ya?!"
Folly was so engrossed with thoughts he hated to be absorbed in, his guard was let down. That meant that Trudly screaming at him furiously seemed to come out of nowhere and caused Folly to back up hastily. He expected to back into a group of people and be bumped around like a ball in a pinball machine, but instead kept going until he stumbled into the side of a building.
Trudly still had the same look on his face as he did earlier, not toned down in the least bit. He walked, or rather stomped, towards Folly with a fierce glare aimed right at his eyes. That made Folly extremely nervous and uneasy, even more than he already was. He countered by dropping his head swiftly, but knowing that Trudly's death glare wasn't about to let up didn't help.
He didn't dare to look up at Trudly, and even the slight sound of Trudly's boots tapping against the concrete rapidly made him flinch. But knowing that Trudly wouldn't let him stay silent for much longer, Folly was forced to mutter timidly with his voice shaking, "S...s... sorry... D... didn't.... didn't know dat was you..."
"Dammit Folly! Dat's why I tell ya not to lag behind so much! If ya jus' listened once in a while, **** like dis wouldn't happen!" Folly heard Trudly's yells start to become more of an angry hiss more than a enraged snarl. Even though he began to tone down his voice, it still made Folly's heart pound in his ears.
"Sorry..." Folly repeated himself almost incoherently as he stared straight into the concrete below him. He lifted his head enough to see Trudly, but not enough to see his eyes, hoping he'd accept his apology. He still could barely fathom that he, out of all people, struck Trudly. If he had known the person who grabbed his arm was him, the thought of even clenching his fists wouldn't have crossed his mind.
Trudly's delay with his response was much longer than it previously was. Puzzled, Folly raised his head a little more, but still very slowly. He saw Trudly's eyes begin to shift gradually away from Folly. Within a matter of seconds, Trudly was not only not looking at Folly, but he had his back at him.
Folly's first thoughts about that was asking himself whether Trudly was still mad at him or not. He wasn't screaming at a frequency that normally only Riolu would be able to pick up, nor was Folly able to see if his face was still about to crack and burst into flames from so much scowling. So honestly, Folly found it impossible to figure it out.
“I heard ya da first time,” was all Trudly said to break the silence. His attention seemed to be off Folly completely, as he saw Trudly swivel his head slowly, like he was watching each person scattered around them, “I think dat most of da crowd’s behind us. C’mon, we’re almost ‘ere.”
Trudly continued on his way, seemingly perfectly normal again. His steps were a bit heavy, but of course, Trudly wasn’t a quiet walker. But Folly didn’t dare to think for a millisecond that Trudly’s anger ebbed away. He didn’t say anything more about it and his vocal conniptions ceased, so how could Folly tell? The ignorance did nothing to assuage Folly’s fears, and still made sure to keep a bit of a distance between him and Trudly. Besides, Folly would hate to have the mindset that Trudly had calmed down only for his volatility to rear it’s ugly head again.
Being out of the crowd and able to see more than a bunch of tall people looming over him, the open space gave Folly a chance to observe his surroundings. The southern section of town was drastically less crowded than the northern section, due to the lack of abundant businesses. The only notable business in the area was the Parts Shop, a long, two-story building with what looked like a giant scooter rotating on a platform. Folly had heard that the selection inside was fascinating; there were supposedly more parts of various machinery then he could possibly imagine. But even though he also heard that it didn’t get as superb business as the owners claimed, there were bound to be lots of people, people he
didn’t know, and that alone was enough to repel him. And besides, even if it was dead as a graveyard inside, Folly didn’t want to be met with that repetitive question coming out of Trudly: “What da hell are we gonna use ‘ose for?”
The Parts Shop was surrounded by a multitude of houses, most of them looking like they were former warehouses. They had similar structures as the larger warehouses nearby, such as being much broader than normal houses. There were few windows; the ones that were there were either placed relatively high up or looked like the owners had
just altered the architecture to be able to put some in. But even though there were few windows, there seemed to be more doors leading inside than one would usually need, and they seemed a lot bigger than usual. The warehouse-residence hybrids had a noticeable lack of colorful paint and most of them still retained the dull, gray color that came with the concrete walls. The roofs on them used the same kind of ridged metal as the bigger warehouse, and even in the same silver color.
To the right of the shop was the only other reason anybody would come to the area other than to live in dingy shacks or buy spare parts. A small dock was placed at the end of a strip of concrete stretching out into the sea. Folly would’ve thought that more ships would be there than the few that was sporadically docked there, since it was less of a hassle to go back to the sea from there instead of from the city’s center. But as he thought about it more, he realized that the bay in the center was probably a safer place to lay anchor rather than on the edge of the ocean where frequent storms could tear it apart easier.
Trudly led Folly to an old warehouse in between the docks and the Parts Shop. It had to be at least three times the size of the smaller ones that people lived in, but was also falling into obvious disrepair. Most of the paint from the roof had peeled off and chips got scattered everywhere when the wind would gust at it. The majority of the windows near the roof were broken and shattered. The dented and scratched up door was barely holding on to its hinges and nearly broke off completely when Trudly and Folly opened it.
The inside was even worse. The only light came from the cracks in the boarded up windows, and the thin rays still didn't do the dark interior much justice. There was nearly nothing in there except musty, still air, save for the occasional crate and a Rattata scurrying to them. The floor was covered with a layer of dust that propelled into the air with every step Trudly and Folly took.
Folly's coughing from the clouds of dust entering his lungs echoed in the empty space, as well as his voice, "Don't look like a bar."
"I
told ya already; it's underground!" The spacious room's ability to make sounds echo amplified Trudly's deep, heavy sigh. Folly flinched for a moment, since he expected Trudly to get angry again, judging by his annoyed retort.
Trudly scrutinized the room carefully, despite the limited light. Folly followed suit, assuming that he was looking for a entrance to the bar. In the midst of his examination, he shot a glance at a section of the floor that was illuminated by a ray of light. Folly limped over to it and bent down, spotting something suspicious. It was a footprint, one far too big to belong to either him or Trudly. Observing it closely, Folly found that the footprint was relatively fresh, since not much of a layer of dust had covered up the bare concrete made by the feet it belonged to. He guessed that it was made just that morning at the earliest. Folly looked behind and ahead of the footprint and saw a succession of them starting at the entrance of the warehouse and ending at a pile of crates stacked against the wall.
"Find somethin'?" Trudly asked behind Folly, jumping him for a moment. He continued to watch him even as Folly stood up and strode over to the crates, wanting a closer inspection.
Despite knowing that he was being stared at, Folly looked over each of the crates in the pyramid-like pile meticulously, although glimpsed at Trudly periodically. He knocked his fist against one of the crates and produced a hollow sound, meaning that there probably wasn't much of anything in them. But when Folly tried to pull the one on the top of the pile off, it wouldn't budge.
Just like he suspected.
"Trudly!" Folly called him over as he pressed his hands against the crates, "'Ese crates... they're all attached to each other! Bet 'ere's somethin' behind 'em. Help me push 'ese!"
Trudly strode over to Folly in silence. They both placed their hands against the crates and pushed at them in synchronization with each other. The crate pile grinding across the filthy floor caused another cloud of dust to fly up in their faces. Once they had gotten over their coughing fits, they frantically waved their arms to clear up the remaining dust. When the cloud faded away, Folly saw what he knew would be there: a winding tunnel leading underground.
Trudly was quiet for a moment longer, staring down the tunnel in front of him. Eventually and all of sudden, he began to laugh under his breath and crossed his arms, "Leave it to ya to find what we're lookin' for."
Folly smiled weakly at the rare words that came out of Trudly's mouth. During a time when Trudly would criticize him about every other thing, compliments were uncommon. Knowing that he didn't screw up on something for once also felt rewarding to Folly as well. And it certainly made Folly a lot more comfortable to know that Trudly was no longer in such a mood where it was hazardous to get near him.
Trudly squeezed through the small space between the crates and the wall and into the entrance first. Wondering how they were supposed to get out after they were done in the bar without trying to topple the pyramid over, Folly lagged behind and began to search it again. In the dim light from the lamps hanging above him, Folly found that the back of the pyramid was entirely metal. Bolted onto it was a handle that one could pull in order to make the disguised entrance slide open.
That tunnel was the exact opposite of the one that they used to get into Gateon Port in the first place. It was tall enough to stand up in, wide enough to provide elbow room, and fairly cool. Instead of jagged rocks lining it, the tunnel was surrounded by strips of ridged metal, much like the kind on the roof.
It was still somewhat long, however. The length must've caused Trudly to be bored out of his mind, since he started telling Folly more about where they were all of a sudden. It did catch Folly's interest, though. Trudly said that he heard that there were a bunch of similar places scattered across Orre. Apparently, they were originally used as secret meeting places for Cipher agents. When the distance between two members was too great and the situation called for them to meet in person, they would rendezvous at one of those points. Trudly told Folly that there were places like that in every city, even in peaceful towns like Agate Village.
The rendezvous points in Pyrite Town weren't as modest, however. Just about the entire population were criminals in some fashion, so such places were free to advertise themselves above ground. Folly knew that quite well. He and Trudly used to live in one.
Before long, the end of the tunnel, an old wooden door was in sight. Standing guard there was a thin man looking like he was around Trudly's and Folly's age. He was wearing a style of clothing common in Orre, especially in places like Pyrite Town. The style was similar to what Trudly was wearing; both had baggy pants, a vest, and a hat that was hard to imagine what was supposed to be. But Trudly's vest was orange while the guard's was red. The guard's peculiar hat was brown instead of blue and the nubs were positioned on the sides of his head. He also wore a pair of sunglasses that resembled the ones Folly had, although his was a brighter shade of blue than the guard's.
Fashion didn't matter much to either Trudly or Folly. After all, they haven't changed a shred of what they wore for years. Trudly's hat was certainly laughable, even to Folly. But Trudly said that it was comfortable and he didn't care what people thought about it. Folly had also taken to following Trudly's philosophy about clothing. His blue tank top and his mud-stained jeans were worn-out, old, and not too pleasing to look at. But Folly could imagine that they would feel a lot better than some stuffy and hot clothes that others saw as fashionable.
It didn't take long for the guard to notice Trudly and Folly coming, and when he did, he backed right into the door. Folly heard him swear under his breath before hissing out loud, "What the hell do
you want?"
"Jus' to find out somethin'," Trudly replied nonchalantly at first, but soon returned the hiss, "Get outta may way."
The guard didn't budge, however, even as Trudly proceeded further towards him. Trudly was forced to stop eventually, as he was soon practically in the guard's face. The guard gave him a stern glare while standing his ground firmly and holding his nose.
Trudly looked back at him, but not at his face. Rather, he seemed to be examining his clothing, "Y'know, dat's a pretty nice vest ya got 'ere."
Both Folly and the guard raised a single eyebrow simultaneously. Folly thought Trudly would've went into conniptions at the stubbornness of the guard. But instead he was going off at an irrelevant tangent about
fashion, something he didn't even like?
"I like it," Trudly laughed briefly before crossing his arms and smirking, "I mean, I really,
really, like it."
The guard was silent for a few more moments. Folly's heart leapt in fear when the guard growled with clenched teeth under his breath. The guard calmed down, however, when he dragged himself out of Trudly's path. His fists were still balled up and muttered irately, "Go in."
The guard apparently figured out what Trudly meant by his statements, but Folly still didn't. Still confused, Folly followed Trudly inside, who was silently smirking with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
The faint sound of a television was the first thing that Folly noticed. He scanned his surroundings even more as he and Trudly advanced further into the tavern. The walls and ceiling were made of a rusty metal. If it wasn't for the darkness of the room and the atmosphere, Folly would've completely forgotten that he was underground. Against the wall in front of them were several glasses and a rainbow of bottles sitting on a series of shelves.
Much to Folly's surprise, there wasn't a whole lot of people there at the time. But of course, Gateon Port was no Pyrite Town. There may have been plenty of roughneck sailors in the city, but there certainly wasn't an overabundance of criminals. The only people that was there besides Folly and Trudly was the bartender ahead, and a single man sitting alone at one of the several round tables. As Folly and Trudly strode past the man, Folly saw him out of the corner of his eyes gaze at them and made Folly swiftly drop his head.
Continued...