Chapter Text
YOU are no one special.
Well that sounds rude, you probably are special in your own unique way.
The same however cannot be said about this Troll right here. His name is Rarnik Dornik, he is a Burgundy Blood, or Rust Blood as they are more commonly called, which happens to be the lowest in the Hemospectrum. Save for any blood colors that happen to be redder than red.
But uh… those don’t exist no matter who says what.
Still ignoring all that Rarnik truly is a Troll of no renown.
In fact watch him wake up, emerging from his recuperation cocoon.
Rarnik slowly got up from the sopor slime, his head throbbing and a vague sense of annoyance filled his think pan, as if someone rude had just insulted his own existence and declared him a schmuck.
Well jokes on them, he was a schmuck, and he’s all too happy for it. Because regular schmucks lived until adulthood, in which case he could potentially leave Alternia for even deadlier life out in space!
He sighed as he thought about what he just thought, his day already starting out bad if this was his first thought. Still, it didn’t pay to sit around moping all sad like, and if he didn’t get paid he couldn’t get food for him or his Lusus and that meant death.
Moving to his Ablution Chamber, cramped as it was, Rarnik looked into the mirror.
It’s him, Rarnik Dornik. Rust Blood troll ordinaire. With his two horns that just stuck out just like that, and a few bruises that showed his Burgundy blood under his skin. Honestly the only thing weird or special that he could really speak about himself was the fact that he could see the mid way deceased.
Which had a distinct difference between the long deceased, the recently deceased and soon to be deceased. Apparently his didn’t account for those that died within half of a sweeps time, but past about 2 sweeps they don’t show up.
What did that mean for Rarnik? Fuck if he knows, he’s just glad that he doesn’t have telekinetic powers like some of the other Rust Bloods or else he’d be pulling quadruple shifts instead of the doubles that he’s doing right now.
After freshening up inside, Rarnik was ready to leave his Hive to make some money so that he could survive. Hey, he’s managed to live about 7 sweeps now, which is more than some could say,
Because they’d be dead.
Passing by his Lusus, a white marchbug that skittered as it ate the scavenged grubs that it should be feeding him, and was as Rarnik noticed the extra plate but decided to ignore it for today. He left his hive, and got ready for another tiring day. Palmhusk in his pocket, in case someone needed him on call, he walked out of his hive.
He greeted a few of the other Rust Bloods, some of them returning his greetings with the same tired smile that he had. It was another day in the Rust Blocks in Outglut.
The first thing he did was moved towards the bulletin board of his little community. He shoved past a few of the other Rust and Bronze Bloods to get to it. It was important to check, because if he didn’t, he’d missed the memo of a culling drone coming their way or a Highblood was visiting.
And no one wanted that.
Luckily, there wasn’t anything to note. There was going to be a passing of a culling drone, sometime mid day, but he’d be at his job at that time so he would be fine. He grunted as a Bronze pushed him aside, and Rarnik fought the urge to shove him back.
He shook his head and then looked to see that he had been pushed to the In Memorium section. Once again he checked to see if any of his co workers were there, which he hoped wasn’t because double shifts were already too tiring, and was glad that the names were none that he could recognise.
He walked, patting a sobbing Rust Blood that had fallen to her knees when she spotted a name that she recognised. He gave a few words that managed to make the sobbing woman choke out a few laughs, and then headed to his job.
The Overseer, an Oliveblood that sneered at him when he arrive (He didn’t sneer back, it would be a waste of energy) and told him to get to work. He was handed a metal prier and was told to pry open the crates that had landed.
So he did, doing his job like any other troll would do. Ignoring the ghost of the mid way deceased, because of course there had to be some here, the only kind of safety you could expect was that at the least the overseers were below Teal Bloods, so you wouldn’t suddenly get Legislacerated when something went wrong and you had to take the blame.
Or was that a bad thing? He could never tell, he always kept his head down whenever he could so that no one could take him to court. He barely had enough as it is, getting his possession and possibly his limbs torn apart because he failed some legal law that he couldn’t even dream to understand sounded like it would suck. And he hated it when things suck.
Not like those Legislacetaros, they liked it when things sucked.
So he didn’t think about such things and went on with his work. Prying open crates, moving them along, pocketing the extra bits of gears and motors that no one would miss. Stepping over some of the bodies of his co workers when a ratty plank would rot and then fall apart under them.
It was sad seeing them go like that. Not today though, Rarnik barely knew the Bronze that had his thinkpan crushed by the crates filled with ablution blocks, so it was just another day.
When it was quitting time, you’d left just as punctually as you arrived. The sneer from your overseer didn’t mean anything if he didn’t do jack about it. You wonder if he could do anything about it, considering the Jade Supervisor above him.
He’s still never seen her, sometimes he think that hisr older co workers made her up. Besides, weren't all Jades supposed to tend to the breeding caverns?
Must have not gotten enough action there.
As he left his work block, Rarnik was happy to head to his favourite place of the day. The food vendors.
Nutrition blocks may gave you calories, but the sweet aroma and tastes of cheap grub cooked in equally cheap scuttlebuggy oil gave you purpose.
Either that, or the taste just kickstarted your blood pusher to take you to another day.
Rarnik reached his usual stall, the Bronze there grinning as he dropped 12 fried grubs into the pan, just the way he like it. Taking it in his hands he moved and took his seat.
Planting his behind ont op of a crate, he didn’t have to wait long before the other 3 crates were occupied by the glutes of your friends.
Well it was supposed to be three pairs of buttocks, but when only two sat onto them, the unspoken question was asked and then answered.
The good mood that Rarnik had soured a bit, as he stared into the grub bowl for a moment before he took a deep breath and filled his bellowsacs. “I guess Gargat finally found his culling.”
It was a rather bitter and insensitive thing to say. But as he did, the frowns that was on Zergut and Hashaf turned upside down and both of them laughed at the statement.
“Fuuckiing hell Rarn.” Zergut squinted his eyes at him, the Gold Blood took a massive bite of his grubwich “Gargat just died and that’s the first thing you say?”
“I like it when things are fresh!” Rarnik defended himself, stabbing a fried grub with a toothpick and throwing it into his mouth “Can’t exactly wait 6/12 an hour before I can make a joke.”
“How bout not making jokezz at all?” Hashaf snarked, the Bronze Blood shook her head “I get that you like to try to be funny Rarnik, but zzhezzzzh mind the timing.”
Rarnik smiled, looked at his frond for a moment, before looking up again “Enough time Hashaf?”
Even the grub vendor snorted at that joke, causing Rarnik’s own smile to widen as his two friends shook their heads.
Still despite that, the somber feeling didn’t go away completely. Staring at the third crate, Rarnik sighed, Gargat always had tall dreams, living in a tall office block, where the toughest work he’d do is paper work.
Gog, did that really meant he deserved to…
Rarnik shook his head, and kept those thoughts out. It was bad to have them in the first place, because they grew into voices, that grew into actions that lead to death. And as Rarnik stared at the Mid Way deceased that haunted the streets of the Rust Blood neighbourhood, death was far too common.
“Shame thouugh,” Zergut took another bite “Ii even had a whole thiing for uus fourr. Now Ii gotta retuurn the damn thiing.”
“What’d you get?” Rarnik asked, stuffing another grub into his mouth. He had half left.
“Ticketzz to zzome kind of Teal performance,” Hashaf answered for the Gold Blood, she slurped up her grub noodles “Zzaid that it would be fun for Gargat to zzhow hizz zztuff there.”
“Damn that sucks, Gargat would’ve like that.” Rarnik ate a few more of his grubs, almost done “What’re you gonna do with them?”
“Retuurn them liike Ii said Rarn.” Zergut rolled his eyes with a smirk “Buut Iif Ii’m luucky, Ii can probably change iit for somethiing youu miight liike.”
“Oh yeah?” Rarnik could hear the joke coming “What’s what?”
“Clown tickets!” Zergut blurted out, before him and Hashaf bursted out laughing, even as Rarnik sighed and ate the last of his food.
“Very funny guys,” He muttered as they continued to laugh “A troll tries to makes a joke 3/12 of a sweep for a job, and you still won’t let it go.”
Even as their laughs filled his auditory bulbs, he smiled nonetheless.
The trio continued, laughing and eating until all of their food was done. The other lowbloods around them had also done the same and was clearing out of the location. Which meant that they should to.
“Probably zzhould get going.” Hashaf mentioned, standing up and stretching her body after sitting on the crate for so long.
Zergut agreed, tossing the nutrition wrap onto the floor “Yeah cuulliing drones are probably goiing to be ciircliing soon.”
“Evening sweep,” the metallic container of his fried grub was placed onto the crate “Stick to the back alleys guy, the drones are starting to go for big streets now.”
“Thankzz,” Hashaf shuddered “Wouldn’t want to end up on the board tomorrow.”
“Me neiither,” Zergut grinned “Besiides Ii wanna hear more jokes from Rarn!”
As the two chuckled, Rarnik turned to them with a raised eyebrow “I’ll make sure when I die, I tell one so good it’ll fill every blood pusher here. A real Rarnik special.”
That got them to laugh louder.
Soon they split, different Hives due to their different caste.
Moving through the neighbourhood at night was different during the day. The drones were in full force at that time, so Rarnik couldn’t just move ahead without caution.
Still at this point the ability to hear the Mid Way deceased was helpful. Occasionally giving guidance that, he assumed that the Long Deceased would provide outdated info and the Recently Deceased would be too emotional to give non-biased ways to sneak around the drones.
Other Rust Bloods followed his lead sometimes, and other times they did their own thing. Keeping their heads down enough to evade identification, as long as their horns weren’t too obvious, but high enough to see the search lights.
Rarnik turned a few corners, stopping at the end of one as a search light went past, before moving forward towards another alley close to his Hive.
He spotted an arcade left open, most likely from the owner leaving it so that they could hide in their Hive, and he spotted some of the banged up equipment that Rarnik couldn’t help but feel the desire to tinker with.
But he shook his head before he could let it influence it, besides the flickering ghost that stood next to the entrance told him that it could get him killed.
So he moved, dodging and dipping out of the alleyways.
Until finally he reached his Hive.
His hive welcomed him with the usual smell of mildew and scrap metal. The door creaked, and his lusus, skittered forward from the corner. Its antennae brushed his leg, leaving flecks of dirt and bug shell in its wake.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get us something,” Rarnik muttered, dropping a few leftover grubs from his pocket into a dented tin for it to chew on.
The lusus settled, curling up by the entrance like it was guarding something. Not that it could stop anything bigger than a stray grub worm, but the thought counted for something.
Rarnik exhaled slowly.
“Another day done,” he muttered to himself. “Still breathing.”
He lay back into the slime, letting the cocoon’s sopor seep over him. His eyes lingered one last time on the shapes in the corner of the hive pale, half-there figures watching silently.
He shut his eyes, choosing not to see this late in the day.
And like every other night, Rarnik Dornik, the most ordinary troll in Outglut, drifted into uneasy sleep to the sound of buzzing lights and the restless scratching of things he’d rather ignore.