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Even among the Subjuggulators, there were those who were feared and respected among all others.
They dressed in white and wore masks, split down the middle. The left side was comedy and the right was tragedy.
They never spoke.
They never bloodied their hands.
They were the avatars of the mirthful messiahs.
They played the mean music.
*
“They say there's a traitor hiding here.” Said one of the Subjuggulators. His teeth were yellow and cracked and his eyes were vacant.
They were all packed in the back of one of the many too small vans that rolled down the road. The vans were all brightly colored, smeared and streaked with the colors of the hemospectrum. All except for one. The van in the front was white.
One of the new Subjuggulators looked up at the crooked smiled troll as he spoke.
“They say he spoke out against the empress. Planned to kill her. So we're going to make an example out of them”
“Th-them? But wh-why are...they...here for a few trolls?”
“Oh no little man. Not for a few trolls. We're going to burn the whole town to the ground.”
“Oh...”
The old troll looked at the nervous young one, in his new makeup and clean clothes.
“You haven't hit the wicked elixir yet, have you?”
“Y-yeah! A bunch of times!”
“Oh no. No, no, no. That stuff is just a funny little joke. A picture of the real thing.” He reached into a bag under the seat and pulled out a small bottle. It swirled in a rainbow of colors as he handed it to the young troll.
“You're probably not ready for the fairy dust yet. Drink up. This is the real deal. This will...open your mind.”
The skinny young troll looked nervously at the bottle. But this was what he was supposed to be, wasn't it? This is what he was raised for. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back and drained the bottle in one go. It was...sickeningly sweet. Like a concentrated syrup of the drink he was used to
His pupils opened wide. He felt the top of his head open up. Everything went blurry. Everything went slow. Everything went dull. He looked up at the elder troll. His horrible grin was exaggerated ten times. All he could see was sharp teeth. Hungry eyes. Dripping paint. He heard laughing, but it was coming from inside his head.
The others drank. Some took a white powder out of their bags, and rubbed it on their gums and in their eyes until they bled. They sat there giggling to themselves until the vans pulled to a stop.
“Wha...” He looked up dizzily at his mentor. The older troll put a finger to his lips.
“Shhh...The avatars are getting ready. Come on out. You'll know what to do.” And they all stumbled out of the van.
The avatars stood in the town square, back to back. They held long sticks with big, white, marshmallow looking heads on the ends. Four trolls rolled four large drums out and lay them reverently in a cross shape around the avatars.
The people in the town watched with growing horror as they realized what was happening. Some screamed. Some barred their doors, but to the young Subjuggulator it all seemed so far away, like he was watching it on TV.
The avatars head the sticks out. Everyone was quiet. They brought the sticks down.
Boom.
They turned slightly in unison, and hit one of the other drums.
Boom.
Turn, hit
Boom.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.
The rhythm picked up, and young troll felt something in the music.
He briefly recalled how he loved the music of the Subjuggulators. How it seemed to reach past the logic and memories in your brain and press those little emotional buttons. He associated some songs with happy or sad memories. Soon he forgot the memories, but the emotions remained and came out with the music.
He felt something.
BOOM, boom, BOOM, boom, BOOM, boom.
The rhythm rattled around in his drug addled brain and pulled out emotions.
He felt his heartbeat speed up. His mind was on fire. Everything could be okay, but something was wrong. Everything was so dull. So colorless and drab.
He needed to see the color again. He needed it more than he needed food or air. He needed to see a rainbow that matched the music.
He saw the scared trolls, all running into their houses, and he knew where to get the colors from.
*
The same song can bring out completely different emotions. For some it was a burning desire.
For others it was fear.
The music reverberated through the small town, echoing off the small buildings and punching its way through closed doors and locked windows.
Sickening dread overwhelmed them. Some took their own lives, wanting a quick and clean end. Some took the lives of their neighbors, to spare them the carnage. Some took the lives of their neighbors before they could be killed themselves. Maybe the lords will spare me. Maybe I can gain their favor. Maybe they will let me be one of them. I will kill him before he kills me. I will kill everyone to be safe. They are all against me.
BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom
The jungle drums sent them into a panic as the Subjuggulators laughed and danced. They broke into houses, tore open the other trolls and painted the walls with all the colors. Some begged. Some screamed. Some fought back. One pulled a gun and blew a hole in a ghastly clown face. The Subjuggulator caved his head in with a club. He wouldn't fall dead until the music stopped.
They grabbed juggling torches and set them to fabric and furniture. Anything that would burn. The fire was so bright and colorful. The music drove them on like a locomotive. Rhythmic and unstoppable.
BOOMboomBOOMboomBOOMboomBOOMboom
Fires roared. The gutters were running with rainbow colors.
BOOMboomBOOMboomBOOMboomBOOMboom
They laughed and they shouted at the colors. It was so wonderful. It was so bright. It was a miracle.
BOOMboomBOOMboomBOOMboomBOOMboom
The music stopped.
Silence reigned, except for the quiet crackle of the fires.
All that were left were corpses and some surviving Subjuggulators that collapsed in exhaustion the second the music ceased.
*
After some time, the surviving crew gathered up their things and stuffed them into any vans that survived the party.
One young troll, with a whole new, wonderful world in front of his eyes, sat in a cramped van and rode away, leaving a thousand corpses behind him.
No one ever spoke of the town again.
*
Gamzee wandered into a dark room. He hadn't had a pie in days and his head hurt. Everything was not okay.
He heard the blood pulse through his ears. He rubbed his face, smearing his makeup.
Oh man his head was POUNDING.
Pounding.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.