If You Trust Me - An Onward Fan-Novel

◊ Mid-Credits Scene ◊

Officer Colt Bronco sat down at his desk, reading a fitness magazine and drinking his coffee. When suddenly, his office phone began to ring.

At first, the centaur took in the moment. But then he put down his mug and picked up the phone.

With a noble tenor, he said, "New Mushroomton Police Department, this is Officer Colt Bronco, please state your emergency."

On the other line, he heard a youthful estuary accent.

"Help! Police! I'm being attacked by a terrible singing voice!"

Seconds later, the centaur heard the very voice the panicked citizen was describing to him.

"Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah, I've been really tryin', baby. Tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long..."

It sounded very familiar. But it was then that Colt knew just who was calling him.

While his heart had been beating a minute ago—ready for action and ready to face any new dangerous situation—the officer now slumped his shoulders and frowned, unimpressed.

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Barley," he finally said into the phone, afterwards he put it down, hanging up.

Then the centaur picked his magazine back up and began reading it again.

At the Lightfoot house, Barley and Ian were in the living room. The older Lightfoot was holding his smartphone out for him and his brother to speak into when they both heard the sound of the beep-beep-beep that came from a hung up phone call.

"Wow...he's good," Barley remarked.

"I told you he wouldn't fall for that," Ian said.

"But how did he even know it was me?"

The younger elf let out a pitiful chuckle. "I...hate to break this to you, Barley, but...you have a very distinctive voice."

"Hey, so do you!"

But in the accent that he gave over the phone, Ian countered, "do I though?"

The older elf was dumbfounded by this for a second. "Huh," he said. "Well then maybe you should've done the singing!"

"Hey, whether you did or I did, he still would've figured out that it was us eventually."

"I guess," Barley relented. But now putting his phone back in his vest pocket, he then took out his keys and asked, "so...now that that's done, wanna grab some griffin wings?"

Cracking a smile, the younger elf said, "sure."

"Well then, to Fry Fortress we go, Sir Iandore!"

With the older Lightfoot leading the way, he and Ian made their way to the front door and left for their next endeavor. Whether big or small, convenient or strange, when it came to the two Lightfoot brothers—and their van Guinevere the Second—wherever they went together was always, totally a quest.