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Genetic Disasters

Summary:

“Velvet-..Vels this is wrong they probably have families-”

“Oh boohoo, don't you want that fame?"

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A Trolls Band Together fanfic but with the dark twists in where Rageons came from and their lives.

Rageons were made in labs and used to capture Trolls this is a bit dark for warning

Notes:

I know this fic seems like really fucked, but I didn't know what to do with tags more or less this is dystopian and posting coincidentally on the birth of TBT.

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Sometimes you have to do things to survive, you spite morality with the DNA and instincts forcibly built into your heart and mind. It's not like you want to do this, but sometimes snuffing out the little lives of the tufted hair, colorful, happy filled beings is what you do. What you're built to do. You can hate it as much as you like, but without much can you fight something molded into your system.

 

Mount Rageons know that story all too well. Boneless brings in jagged mountain cities with clean cut gem towers. That was their contrast to the mostly plush world. The soft world has a foreign mountain, filled with mysterious creatives that don't hold bones and can contort in disturbing ways. The only other relatively sharp edged creatures were Bergens. Though they had soft skins and glum behavior it was like Rageons were a perfect mix. Perfect. 

 

That's another thing. Rageons had a different origins than most here, they didn't argue over harmony or anything of that nature. The first generation was born of tubes and experiments, test tubes babies locked in cells and given purposes beyond just breathing. Created to hunt and retrieve, to die with the happy happy species to the dimmed ones. Born to hunt, eat, die, cook, become the eaten. When King Gristle Sr. couldn't bear the thoughts of a troll-less life for him, his son, or his kingdom he took matters into his own hands with the help of funding from the upper class. 

 

Silicone jelly guts, vinyl skin, something that could easily slip around in its agility to find where the Trolls hid, sure they couldn't speak but if they could sniff out those musical notes and colorful hair, wide eyes watching in the dark. Waiting. Limps wrapping around trees, twisting, turning, doing whatever they could to fill their endless hunger. Eat until they were stuffed or until they were brought back into control by sundown.

 

That is in the times of Raging Trollstice however. Let's look into something more recent. 

 

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When a girl demanded love and praise from Rageous, she discovered a way to cheat. The boy offers that they should look for somewhere to practice their singing, the girl silenced him as she saved her spendings for the most expensive perfume bottle she could get her hands on. It hurts her watching the deliciously fruit scented liquid delight get poured down her shitty apartment sink in the kitchen. 

 

“We don't have to kidnap one! There's like- plenty to buy!” The boy speaks and is quickly deafened by gears turning in the girl’s head. So the green haired girl eventually shushes the boy.

 

“Veneer those things literally suck. I don't want a dingy Troll off a store shelf. I want something better, that actually has talent.” She held up a poster, not one of dingy quality like she found on the street. It was in pristine condition, likely bought and kept on a wall of the girl's old room from childhood. “We need them. They put their talent to waste, they're old and probably taking pills to keep going. We could use that talent, we’d be megastars.”

 

“Velvet-..Vels this is wrong they probably have families-”

 

“Oh boohoo, don't you want that fame? Money would be great, don't you want to live in a mansion with servants and not in this hell hole of poor people-ness?”

 

Veneer falls silent and Velvet takes that as her silent victory to continue on. She knew her brother was practically dying with the situation they were in, he didn't have face masks and robes to wear, no reason for anyone to do his nails again after he chewed them down and picked off the paint. If he wanted the sweet life of careless living so their faces don't wrinkle them he’d have to deal with it. She doesn't want to make sketchy deals or go buy a Troll with no worth. They need those stupid Brozone members, and if they did so happen to have happy families that was just a bonus in case they ran out.

 

Yes they may be starting at the very bottom, living off miniscule savings and no idea where to look. Until they could figure out where one of the Brozone brothers was they'd be stuck with what they have. Leaving those rich dentist parents felt more like a curse now as Velvet walked down the streets of the more sad streets and apartments. This was a midway between suburbs and the beautiful city central of Rageous. The place poor teens hid away because they couldn't live up to expectations, the place Velvet lived and worked because if we’re being honest Veneer’s anxiety would let him die before he even worked in any department that involved talking to intimidating people or frankly talking to anyone with how rigid his anxiety is with their current conditions. If he wasn't worrying about my apartment collapsing and killing them in their sleep, he was panicking about Velvet getting mugged. 

 

The sister carried the bottle in her bag, in case she found any Troll worth her time though it was unlikely. Velvet walked into a club one that barely breathed but it was income. Though now she knew more about mixology then she would ever care to. This place can attract passerby with the cheap costs and Velvet with the occasional extra cash or getting to fuck up a guy being perverted at any woman sitting around her bar. The one thing with how her night ended was the way she saw dark pink hair pull a smaller body than Rageous was used to seeing, soft blue skin with fuzzy that Velvet herself never expected to see. A member of a former band she could easily recognize, though she could not name him. He asked for a shot which was practically a pint for him. The drink he ordered was fruity and simple enough that Velvet didn't have to run around to get a little of everything like she would with some beverages. Then he talked a little bit, something about family problems that Velvet already didn't care about unless it told her where the rest of Brozone was. She eyes the Troll as he was the last customer, if she wasn't having to formulate a response she pretended to clean. 

 

By the nights end and most Rageons retired home to sleep as the sun rises, the Trolls stays walking out with Velvet. The mistake he made was turning his back and starting to walk at a wandering pace that gave the girl the time to crack open the diamond bottled quietly speed after her and nearly fall down as she scooped him into the pretty purple cage. 

 

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Maybe Troll huffing research should’ve been done before. One twin’s nose burns and the other coughs, the essence potent and heavy, concentrated and running down their throats and nostrils with that fruity scent the former liquid in the perfume bottle once held. It turns they're vocal cords into harps, plucking them carefully and making a proper pitch that would begin to make siren songs in the next month or so. This Troll could only last so long and the siblings were clueless of when a truly talented Troll would run dry. They'd need the others, they need that award, so that's when Velvet truly worked for this place, forging a letter in pretty cursive days before their first big performance at the Boombox. Golden sparkly ink cursive on the smallest paper she could find or even make.

 

That's what sent Trolls running from Bergen Town weddings to road trips of rough roads manufactured, looking for the brother they needed for the mystery ransom.