Chapter Text
“Runt!”
The yordle boy was tossed to the ground as casually as an unwanted shopping bag, a small stream of blood running from his nose, leaving his light blue fur a dark shade of purple. The small boy looked his attacker in the eye, “You know I won right! You can't be that dumb.” He was on the ground, surrounded by four other boys each about his age.
The other boys laughed, “Don't you realize It doesn’t matter if you won or not?” said the largest of the yordle boys, his name was Grail, a year ago he was one of the few people Rumble would have called a friend.
"Now. Give me the money, it's mine." He said with the closest a yordle could approach to a growl.
They were in one of their old hangout spots, it was a small clearing near a bridge over a brook that ran through their small neighborhood. Not long ago they would play card games or share comics down here in this secluded area. Now though much of charm of the place had gone, Rumble simply went here out of habit and the small hope he could regain his dwindling friendships.
Upon reflection later in life. This worked out about as well as anything else that Rumble did.
“So Runtle, what's it gonna be. The cash or do I start ripping out pieces of that trashy haircut of yours?” He gave his threat weight with a sharp tug to his signature mohawk. Rumble grunted at the pain, resisting the urge to cry out. The other three boys just watched, their smiles would join a choir of others when he got older. The people who doubted him, who laughed at him.
After what seemed several agonizing minutes, Grail let him go and held his hand out expectantly. Instead of forking over his small bit of money Rumble growled in defiance. He leaped up taking a swing at the bully, Grail easily dodged the hook and tackled the much smaller yordle until he was firmly in a headlock.“Check his pockets!” the bully cried.
The blue yordle couldn’t move and could barely breathe, “Let...me...go...or...you..will be sorry!” The response was laughter. They surrounded him and started trying to dig into his pockets.
Then he bit down.
“Argh! Stop!” He released the blue boy and gripped his arm, where the red indent of teeth marks could be seen even through his fur.
Rumble coughed and took an offensive stance, “Yeah, that's right! Any of you other pipsqueaks want some! I’ll take you all on.”
“You guys get his legs, I’ll take his arms.” Grail shouted to his friends before he was interrupted by a new voice, more manic than angry.
“Hey! Leave him alone!”
The other boys turned to see another yordle approach, he was in worn clothing and his brown fur was wildly unkempt and was slightly singed. He carried a small backpack that he kept securely taut to his shoulders. But was most distinctive about this one, was the wild grin he had on his face at all times.
“Hey watch out guys it’s the Psycho!” Grail pointed.
“Your dad kick you out for burning down his shed?” One of his friends laughed.
“Hey, psycho, you bite anybody lately?”Another added.
The brown yordle waved it off and with a smile, he approached the small crowd. He had something small and metal in his hand. He flicked it open, ran the flame on the lighter and snapped it shut Chik... Chik...
Rumble cursed his own luck. He recognized him, it was this kid.
Grail approached the brown one puffing his chest up, “You looking to try something, I’m not scared of some pyro freak.” Chik… Chik...
“Do you know what burning fur smells like?” He kept smiling, his posture relaxed. Grail stiffened.
Chik… Chik...
“Do ya?”
The large boy stepped back and with a loud 'gulp', he hurriedly motioned to his friends to leave. “Aight, let's go. Let the freak and the runt go play patty cake or whatever.” They scattered and made for the road, running straight and fast without looking back at the crazed individual they had just encountered.
“Yeah! That’s what I thought!” The brown yordle cheered as he dusted himself off. He then turned to the wounded Rumble, “Hey, you alright man?” He went to give him a hand, the blue yordle ignored it and got up on his own.
“I had that handled" He snorted. "I can take care of a few bullies by myself!”
Ziggs backed up hands raised. “Of course, I just wanted the chance to give you some backup!” He replied, sarcasm dripping. “But seriously, you alright?”
“I’ve had worse.” Rumble dusted himself off.
The other boy nods “Whelp! My jobs done, see ya around, tough guy.”
“Hey wait!”
The brown furred boy turned.
“Thanks. Even though I totally didn’t need the help.”
“No problem.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m Ziggs by the way, I’d like people to start using that instead of ya know, ‘the psycho’, it’s not exactly great for my reputation heh.”
“Didn’t you set a desk on fire last year?”
“Well it was asking for it!”
“Right, the inanimate object was asking for it, totally not psycho, at all.”
“At least I don’t walk around looking to get beat up!” Ziggs snickered.
“I look around to find people to beat up not the other way around! Bullies, evil doers, scrap metal thieves. I’m a regular hero that is what I am!” Said Rumble, providing a pause for dramatic effect and or applause from onlookers.
Ziggs whistled. “So Mr. Hero dude, what is your real name?”
“It’s Rumble. Better remember it, I’m gonna be an inventor someday. World famous.”
“Inventor huh? Heh, that's funny cause that's what I want to do too.”
Rumble shook his head. “Nuh uh, sorry dude, Rumble flies solo, I ain’t looking for any sidekick!” He took a running leap and landed on a nearby rock, striking a powerful pose, hand raised toward the sky in a declaration. “Rumble! Super Galaxy Ranger, using my vast array of hex-tech inventions to fight evil and right wrongs across space and time! With my genius, anyone joining me would just be a waste of space!”
Ziggs laughed, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Galaxy Defender Rumble.” He then noticed from his new vantage point that the various scrapes and wounds across Rumble had begun to open up slightly, small streams of blood inching down his legs.
"Why you looking at me like that?"
Ziggs grimaced. “So uh... you just gonna stand there till ya bleed out or are we gonna get you fixed up?" He patted his stomach then he added. "Oh! and some ice cream, I could use some ice cream.”
Rumble having been taken from his fantasy drops the pose suddenly and jumps down to join the other yordle. “Yeah. That sounds good, long as you’re buying.”
"What!? I saved your ass and you want me to pay?"
"Dunno if you noticed but I just got mugged pretty much."
"Oh yeah, heh that's right, sure no problem."
They left the bridge and ran for their very lives to the grocer. Leaving with pints of ice cream, bandages, and ice for Rumble's wounds.
There is a single image placed firmly in both of their minds. It is of two adolescent Yordles trodding along a dirt path, talking and laughing as the heat of the midday summer sun bore down on their backs and their ice cream melted onto their fingers, their paths blissfully uncertain.