Jordan crashed on the sofa as soon as he got home. He sat up straight right after to take off his shirt before slouching again. Finally, he was home and didn’t need to wear this horrible thing anymore. The troll had opted to keep his black joggings to go outside today so he could have a little yellow as possible. He truly hated that colour; but it was everywhere on this god forsaken planet. Jordan often received odd glances for his clothing style but he didn’t really care. If someone dared to make a comment loud enough for the troll to hear it, that person would only get beaten to a pulp. Talking of pulp, Jordan grew under the impression that those goodie two shoes were sprouting like weed; they were everywhere lately. It was beginning to bug him; there was a limit to how many annoying bugs he could squash in a day.

Annoyed, he picked up a ball and started to throw it against the wall as he started to think what they could do to fix that ‘’population’s defensers’’ problem.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Jordan roared, throwing the ball hard enough to dent his wall. He kicked his feet up and left the house in a storm, forgetting to put his shirt back on. He needed to destroy something or someone.

To most people, the public park was a quiet and peaceful scene. Merkes was not most people. He stared at his feet as he staggered along the grass slowly, with a slight limp from where the blind girl had stabbed him in the leg with her cane. He had his left hand holding onto his head, and the other holding the small bag where his daily bread and cupcake were. The repetition usually helped him focus, but his hallucinations were unusually bad today.

"Shut up..." He murmured. The voices didn't stop. His old unit kept demanding he fight, constantly nagging at him.

"You don't care about me" He heard echo. He roared and swung his bag around to attack the imaginary figures around him.

"OF COURSE I FUCKING CARE. DO YOU NOT FUCKING CARE ABOUT ME" He roared, turning on the spot to stare each of the mirages in their imagined eyes, before settling on the one that last spoke.

"I'M DOING WHAT I CAN! IT'S YOU THAT FUCKING DIED!" He screeched, his voice getting hoarse. Part of him knew he shouldn't be shouting, he may not be in his combat gear, or wearing his Subjugglator make up, but he had a distinct broken horn and he shouldn't want to draw any other links to him and the rogue purple blood murdering people in the area. But he couldn't stop, as he stared at the illusion of Tynuss. Merkes' voice quietened.

"You fucking died....and...you fucking left me....YOU FUCKING LEFT ME!" He swung his bag at the figure, which moved straight through him. "I fucking loved you...by the Messiahs WHY did you do this to me!?"

Merkes was oblivious to the people staring at the large troll screaming at thin air, but as far as the Subjugglator was concerned, he was back on Alternia, and the Terror Troupe were still alive. He reached forward with his shaking hand, to try and hold the face of his dead matesprit one last time, only for the hallucinations to vanish. Merkes screamed. One more thing the Carapaces took from him.

He looked around at the people trying to enjoy the park. They were all staring at him. Perverse voyeuristic fuckwits. He was going to kill them. He was going to kill them all. Just not quite yet...

He turned and began to storm across the park. The voices were quiet but his rage burned inside him as strongly as the day the war started, a war that never ended for him.

Jordan paced across the golden city, carelessly shoving anyone in his path aside. His brother was god knows where, not that he gave a flying fuck about it. The people of Prospit would only suffer his bad mood instead of him.

The reasons fueling his bad mood was rather mysterious. The day hadn't been particularly bad but something was just bugging the young troll. It wasn't his nutrition either, his mother had made breakfast and diner as usual. Jordan had bullied a few lowbloods but he had done it half heartedely, his victims nearly asked him why he wasn't hitting as hard as usual. Anger was not the issue, it was still boiling inside him like a turmoil but he couldn't see to work the steam today.

Jordan was feeling as if he had reached the culminating point of his bully career. Now that they had taken Gamzee's pills away, he felt like bullying peasants wasn't satisfying anymore. He felt like he needed to take on something bigger, better. Of course, there was the rumors of the Condesce eventual coming to Prospit but he didn't feel like waiting until then. He felt like he'd be much more useful on Derse.

He strolled through the park where Merkes had just made a scene. He didn't pay much attention to the huge troll had first. He was just another craz old troll in the youngster's eyes. They crossed path, both angry. Jordan did stop a few steps further though. The troll had a broken horn like him. He brougth a han to the stub as he wondered if the purple blood had the same kind of accident he had younger. He turned around to see it again.

He didn't intend to take notice of the Troll walking by him. He was just another Carapace-raised race traitor. He meant to keep walking, to pretend the boy didn't exist, but he didn't. It was a simple glance, just an involuntary look at the boy's features. It didn't register at first, the significant of the flash of purple in his eyes. He was a few more steps forward when the thought fully formed.

The boy had purple blood. He was a Subjugglator.

Well that was mostly a lie. He had the heritage of the Subjugglators, but he was not one himself. How would he be, after being coddled and brain washed by the pathetic natives of this planet? It hit him how sad life must be to be alienated from such a powerful culture and his own Gods.

He turned to look back at the boy, as he did the same.

"Wriggler... Who are your masters?"

It was vague, but it sufficed. If he was aware of his legacy, he would respond appropriately, if not, then he would demonstrate his ignorance in abundance.

Jordan locked gazes with the Subjuggulator when he talked. Jordan shifted his weight on the side and rested his hand against his hip. An arrogant smile lit up his face and his pointed in front of him with his right hand bent backward.

- Queen Condesce ain't here, so I've got no master! I'm my own boss, pops.

It felt good for the teenager to nag an older troll. His purple eyes reflected his own with defiance. The old man was probably crazy if the yells he heard was coming from him and specimens of their blood caste were renowned to be aggressive people. A good beating ought to fix a few things in the head plus it would show it's time to let the youngsters take over.

'Pops'. The term made Merkes' insides writhe in disgust. It was not a Troll term. It meant he was calling him 'father' and Messiahs forbid he ever have any part in the revolting repoduction of the Carapaces or their squishy Human counterparts.

He ought to kill the boy for using such language. Every voice in his head riled up screaming, agreeing with his desire to take out the boy's skull here and now and make a pretty ornament out of it. He turned fully around to face the boy and let his bag of food drop to the ground.

"Ignorant wriggler. The Carapaces took even your history from you." He said, the sadness behind his words not being as well hid as he intended. "Had Alternia remained standing had....had our Mother Grub remained with us. You would be dead, or one of the greatest Trolls to walk across this miserable rock."

He shot his head to the left, as if listening to someone standing next to him. He pursed his lips and looked back to Jordan.

"A pathetic creature is a creature without his legacy." It wasn't clear if he was being serious or trying hard to make himself sound wise.

"And the Subjugglator tribe is dead to you...So many great battles. So much the purple blood in your veins offers but you have been denied the chance to collect. When the Mother Grub exhaled her last breath, as the bombs rained down on her very home. We stood there with the holy jade bloods, commanding the lower trolls in defence of our Messiah's herald..." Merkes preached, momentarily losing himself in his memories before looking down at the grass.

"There are no jade bloods left, the Mother Grub is dead, and our numbers are few." Merkes went unnervingly blank for a few seconds, before his face contorted into a snarl, he looked around at the few people still watching him. He began to roar like a feral monster.

"AND YOU TRIED TO KILL US. TO HANG US FROM YOUR STREETS, TO BURN US, TO DROWN US. THIS IS NOT GOING UNHEARD. THERE WILL. BE. RETRIBUTION."

Merkes stood there, panting aggressively. The park-goers didn't seem phased. They had won the war, and the lynching of many highbloods was public knowledge. To them the Trolls were killable, weak even. Merkes turned sadly back to Jordan.

"I both pity and envy your ignorance. Were these different times I would've taught you, until you proved weak and perished, or proved strong and rose above the filthy lowbloods." He shrugged. "Were they different times..."

He reached down for his bag and slowly turned to walk away, a relic of a bygone era.

The blood in his veins froze when Merkes fully turned to him. Of course, it wouldn't show in his face but Jordan hadn't failed to notice how imposing the old troll was. He was the size Jordan could only dream of ever getting. He was a short boy for his age and even though he did compensate with muscles, he still felt uneasy around taller trolls. He quickly glanced at the fallen bag of bread for a second, a grave mistake he was sure to regret but Merkes suddenly started to talk.

Jordan was about to reply that the fat larva-mom was pretty damn useless and gross if all she did was lay eggs, she must have been too fat to get away from the carapaces'attack. Him, nothing but a new-born wriggler at that time had survived and not some life-giving thing? Not the greatest reproduction system if you asked him.

- Oh ye--

The young troll shut his mouth as he noticed Merkes was not paying any attention to him even though he was still glaring at him from the corner of his eyes. His narrowed eyes clearly indicated he was listening to someone talking to him behind his large back but Jordan saw no one. The mercenary then blurted out some bullshit about being pathetic with out a legacy.

- Keh! I need no legacy to be great! I need no heritage to be great! If all the purple blooded are like you, I want nothing to do with them!

Jordan charged at the man but stopped when Merkes went into psycho-illusion mode. He quirked an eyebrow as he yelled at the peaceful park-goers. They didn't care for trolls, especially not the old ones. Everyone knew they were delusional freaks.

Jordan was going to cast off Merkes in the crazy old man category but then the Subjuggulator called him weak. w-e-a-k. Jordon could not accept, he simply couldn't; even coming from one his insane co-blooded troll. THe youngster took a few steps foward as he spoke in a very loud tone.

- I'm not like fuckin' Makara, old man. I still got some spine. Come at me, bro. I'll show ya!

Jordan slightly jumped on his feet as he rose his fists, ready to battle.

Merkes growled as the challenge was offered. The puny creature behind him, the godless purple blood, the Caparace raised filth, the insolent wriggler, had asked him to fight. He slowly lowered his bag to the floor this time, instead of dropping it, and turned around. People resumed watching them, to see the savages go at it.

“I… I was baptised in the fire that destroyed our world, a flame that consumed all I had. You…YOU ARE NOTHING” He roared. A moment of silence. He slowly cracked his head to his left, and then to his right. It was a threat rather than a necessity.

“I have made pets out of trolls stronger than you. I have had kismesies more threatening than you. I-”

Merkes went silent. His pupils dilated and he stared blankly, but just for a second. He blinked and gave a toothy grin.

“Let’s make a man out of you.” He growled. “You’ve been coddled too much, you disgusting abomination.” He paused as he inhaled sharply through his teeth. “You and the rest of your generation should have burned with the Mother Grub!” He finished.

He was clearly trying to antagonist Jordan and, despite his wounded leg, he seemed hell-bent on beating the shit out of the younger Troll. The voices in his head agreed. They wanted him to kill the heretic; regardless that Jordan had no chance to be otherwise. For the boy was still a blasphemer to the Mirthful Messiahs, but after all life isn’t fair, and they were sure to take glee in the blood-spilling.

Jordan rubbed the front of his shoes as he shook his arms to wake them up. The old man was injured but that wouldn't prevent him from going easy on the guy. He was beginning to really piss him off with all his yelled preachings.

- Hey! Shut the fuck up, gramps! I'm not dumb like Makara

Jordan dashed toward Merkes, kicking his bag of bread away as he slid beside the troll to climb on his back. He locked his arms around his neck to either choke him or break his neck; to hurt him in any case.

- I'll show you I'm not some weak little troll!

The carapaces in the park started to gradually stop their activities to pay attention to the outburst on the path in the middle of the park.

Merkes roared, the tip of his abnormally long tongue hanging from his sharp-toothed maw. He roared because the wriggler insisted on flamboyantly displaying how the Carapaces raised him, and he roared because he had the audacity to attack him. Either way he wanted to crush the bastard’s throat. He was unworthy of his blood.

He then began to demonstrate the unpredictability of a Subjugglator, as he flung himself onto his back. Jordan hit the ground hard with a loud crash, as the huge Troll landed on top of him, in an attempt to crush him. He rolled off and glared like a feral beast at the tiny purple-blood as he staggered to his feet. He snarled as the creature still had life in it. The crowd already stared on, horrified that actual blood may be shed in an actual fight.

The sheltered fucks were next.

He stood to his full height and, despite unfortunately not wearing his combat boots, he began to try and kick Jordan as hard as he could in the side. It was an odd role reversal to what the Troll on the floor was probably used to, but the thought never occurred to Merkes, only thinking about how much he wanted him to die.

Jordan never saw it coming. Despite his short height, he always had been heavy enough to prevent such a trick. The yellow brick cracked underneath him, shattered chunks bruising up the grey skin. The boy couldn't breath until Merkes lifted his heavy frame from over him. Oxygen burned his lungs as it came in rasped succession. He opened his purple eyes but couldn't see much more then a fuzzy blur so he closed them again. Slowly he tried to move his fingers. Good. He could still feel them; that meant he hadn't got paralyzed.

The poor man had no more time to recover before his ribs were violently attacked by the veteran's kicks. They hurt like the fire of a burning iron but he didn't wonder a second if it was the same feeling he was inflicting upon his own victims. Jordan tried his best not to whimper, not even groan. He didn't want to look weak, being defeated was humiliating enough as it was.

He needed to get away.

Using the assault to his advantage and lifted his side just enough so Merkes would flip him over with one of his kick. It worked by the law of physics. As Jordan turned onto his stomach like a flipped turtle, Merkes could see the large gash on his back, heavily dripping with subjuggulator blood into the puddle that had begun to pool in the crater of the crash.

Jordan growled as he forced his shoulder to move in order for his arms to raise him up from above the ground. His vertebra popped as he folded his legs underneath him. A moment ago he wanted to retreat but now that he was back on his knees, pride kicked in and dared him to leave like this.

- It's not over...

His voice was low and his eyes were dark. his hair had fallen from their spiky style and lightly covered his eyebrows. Jordan then used another portion of raw force to get up. His body was shaken, his legs barely supporting him but he refused to buldge. He would not go home with his tail between his legs.

Aliyah came home late yet again this week. Since the day he saw this huge subjuggulator, the young troll was eager to find him again. He would walk calmly around prospit in search of this impressive troll screaming injustice. During the day he would look for him and at the same time he would try to find some information about the old Alternia. Both his research were pretty much just in vain.

So here he was again, empty-handed, back home. It was strangely silent for some reason, and Aliyah could tell his brother wasn’t home yet. He went to the kitchen to make sure about his theory and saw his mother washing the dishes. The tall troll laid a gentle kiss on his adopted mother’s cheek. She giggled but he could tell there was something on her mind.


“What’s wrong, ‘ma?” He asked, taking a few step back.

“Your brother left a while ago and he didn’t look in a good mood. Maybe I’m worrying too much, but I hope he isn’t putting himself in too much trouble this time!” She admitted.

“It’s Jordan, so yes, he’s probably in some kind of problem, but I’ll go get him, so everything will be fine, ok, ‘ma?” The troll promised before putting again a kiss on the carapace’s head and heading outside yet again.


Aliyah knew his ‘brother’. He knew where he would go when he’s a shitty mood. Which is almost all the time. The indigo-blooded bully headed calmly to the park near their district. From a far, he could hear some exclamations but couldn’t tell whose they were. He rolled his eyes thinking it was probably his brother. Aliyah was kind of right. The subjuggulator from last time was right there. And his brother too. What the fuck was he trying to do!? The troll couldn’t move as he witnessed his brother being crushed under this mountain of a troll. The older brother was able to shake it off when he saw the subject of his rather intensive research kicking the shit out of Jordan. He ran clumsily toward the fight and by the time he reached them, Jordan provoked his opponent again. Aliyah put himself between the two male without really thinking about it. The precarious mediator stayed silent for a few second, panting from his rush towards them, but also because he couldn’t really think of anything to say. He looked at him intensively before finally articulated words with determination.

“Please forgive me; my...um...Jordan can be a real motherfucker when he wants.” He explained while supporting the stare of the grown up troll without visible fear.

He was pretty excited on the inside though, but that’s not an important thing to say.

The blood dripping down Jordan’s back was meant to be a signification of brotherhood between him and Merkes, instead it was just insulting. The child should’ve been a rustblood for his attitude. The Subjugglator ground his teeth together as Jordan refused to stay down, spouting what could only been a challenge. He responded with one of his infamous feral growls, roaring from the back of his throat.

Then this… other little creature dared to stand in his way. As if this little pest had any right to defend the heretic on the floor. The new kid had muttered something, an apology maybe. He had prattled like words could fix the damage that was done. He responded as his position in a dead race demanded.

He rose his arm and swatted the small creature away with the back of his hand, knocking Aliyah to the ground, as Merkes’ focus warped. Staggering through the Alternian battlefield he grabbed Jordan, the paintless Subjugglator who attacked him.

“Race traitor.” He hissed. “Blasphemer. Heretic. Apostate. You are all of these things, and you will be judged, and drowned in your own elixir if you think you will get away with this!” He screeched, his voice cracking after so much strain on his vocal cords. Then he realised he wasn’t on Alternia. Alternia was gone. He looked around at the crowds again. Getting in trouble with the guards would be bad. They’d gossip about a fight, but they’d report a murder.

Merkes dropped Jordan to the ground.

“Filthy creature.” He muttered, before turning to walk away yet again, snatching up his shopping bags as he walked on.

Jordan had rounded his back in anticipation of another barrage of hits. He was going to play it more defensively this time. He was a tank anyway, he could take some more damage before being really in problem.

That's when his brother suddenly appeared between the two rivals. Worse, Aliyah even apologized on his behalf. That wasn't his brother. They lived by a rule to never ask or show forgiveness.

- Piss off, Ali--- FUCKER!!!

Jordan would have ripped Merkes's head off if he hadn't already walked off. Nobody shoves his brother aside like he merely was a fly. Frowning, Jordan slipped a little dagger out of his boot and threw it at the giant troll, making a hit; it's hard to miss such a big target anyway.

- COME BACK AND FIGHT ME! NO ONE FUCKS WITH THE DEIMOS BROTHERS LIKE THAT!

The parkgoers were starting to leave in fright. They already had witnessed a violent fight but now the perspective of a murder was obvious. Trolls had a bad reputation of rampaging once the first life was lost and they didn't want to be part of the casualties.

The blow surprised him. He had never encountered a hit that strong yet in his life. It took some time before he actually hit the ground, and that impact was way more painful than what he usually had before. His whole body told him to stay put for a few minutes. He was already anticipates the pain that would invade his body the second he will finally decide to move.

He heard the giant troll walk away and Aliyah thought it was over, that he would have to find him in better circumstances and... He doesn’t know yet, but he’d find it.

But his brother decided otherwise. This troll is so full of pride, it’s unbelievable. Aliyah wonders how he managed to stay alive. Oh right, because he was there. The taller brother sighed and slowly and painfully stood on his knees. He observed the veteran with a better look. The first time he saw him was from afar and now he was close enough to beat their asses.

Aliyah passed his hand through his hair as he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the fight. He knew he would only have to stay there and wait. He would only be able to step in if Jordan is close to death.
Or perhaps he could join the fight?

Perhaps he could, be he would like to observe more before doing anything just yet, letting his brother into the mess he has put himself into alone.

There was anger, but there was sense. Sense enough to leave while he could, to go back to his hive (not a fucking HOUSE), and eat his food in peace. There was no point getting arrested now when his job had scarcely begun.

Then there was a sharp agonising pain in his back. He screeched and dropped his bags for the third time, spilling out their contents onto the grass. He hissed angrily through his teeth as he felt his aristocratic blood drip from his newly manifested wound and down his back, turning part of his golden Prospit attire a dark disgusting colour. A gasp-like honk escaped his lips.

He slowly reached one of his large hands over his head and down his back, gripping the hard handle of the knife embedded there. He pulled it out in one slick movement. and let it fall to the grass behind him. The blood oozing from his gash picked up. He turned back around.

There was anger, and the sense was gone.

To a normal sized Human, or Carapace, the gap between Merkes and Jordan was quite large. To the Subjugglator, it was nothing. With a roar and two long strides he slammed his hand around Jordan's throat and lifted the Troll off the ground, keeping him high in the air. He began to laugh, as he constricted his grip and suffocated his victim.

"Wrong motherfucking move."

Jordan didn't have the time to dodge the head-on offensive. He gasped when his feet were swept off the ground and groaned deeply as he felt Merkes's impressive thumbs press against his throat.

-A-arg y-you..

Jordan couldn't fight it. Weakened, he never stood a chance against the beast his elder was. He glanced at his brother but his vision was already a hazy blur. He passed out due to lack of oxygen before he turned back to the Subjugulator.

The Troll fell unconscious in Merkes’ hand. The giant hissed as he exhaled, the almost the entire crowd had fled to safety, but only almost. He knew he couldn’t kill Jordan. He wouldn’t get away with it, too many people had seen and he wasn’t in any position to begin hunting them all down, especially since the vast majority had left. Still, the urge to keep his fingers grasping the boy’s neck just a little bit longer was intense, throbbing at the front of his head.

Gut him! Show the heathens what it means to cross a Subjugglator! The voices began to roar. He brought his hands to his head and dropped the body. He turned around and snarled at the few people still remained, the disembodied voices still ordering him to rip into the boy.

He took once last glance at the ‘brothers’, before he marched over to his bags. He found his food sprawled onto the grass. A slow examination of his loaf of bread revealed it soggy and ruined. He stomped the remains of his shopping into the dirt, and stormed off.