Chapter Text
The Conductor sat in his stuffy, dimly lit office, with his head down, pen to paper and his mind completely blank.
The floor was covered in a white mass of crumpled papers, piling over each other and covering half of the walls. He furiously racked his brain for ideas, but that noggin that had made all his past masterpieces refused to spit out ideas now. A cowboy chase film, he wrote again for what seemed like the hundredth time. A murder mystery set on a train, he wrote on the next line.
The Conductor sighed and continued the numbing process – cowboy chase film, murder mystery set on a train, cowboy chase film, murder mystery set on a train… He paused, feeling a sudden epiphany. That’s it! The renowned Conductor has finally overcome his writers block and is back in action with a brand-new blockbuster! He pushed his pen down and began to write, A mystery where cowboys murder each other on a trai-. He ripped the paper out of its notebook and hurled it against the wall in one quick motion, where it fell and joined its sea of brethren.
What was wrong with him? Had he, the once prodigy owl who had directed the past half a centuries award winning movies - save for award #42, curse DJ Grooves and his peck neck group of Moon Penguins – seriously been reduced to the one trick pony who recorded nothing but boring train related westerns? He hated how he could hear that in the buffoon’s voice. That poor disco-dancin’ excuse of a bird couldn’t write a movie with a compelling plot even if his stupid afro’s life was on the line, what did he know about movies!?
There was a knock at the Conductors door which made him jolt, and he realised with a start that it was the first noise he had heard in a very long while. How long had he been in his dingy office?
“Umm, excuse me, Mr. Conductor, sir?”. The Conductor sighed. It was just one of his no-good Express Owls. “Sir – I mean, Conductor – I-I mean Mr. Conductor, there’s been something we’ve been meaning to ask – Ow!”. The Conductor heard a sound like feathers slapping someone’s face followed by a few mutters from what seemed to be a crowd of timid Owls.
“I mean, I’VE been meaning to ask something. Sorry. We’ve all noticed that you’ve been shut inside your office for what, twelve hours now? I-I’m uh, really concerned for you sir, Mr. Conductor! (A-and could you please start the train... i need to get home to my wife and kids...)”.
The conductor quietly deflated against his chair, his back sprawled and his arms weakly dangling at his sides. Had he really been in his office for that long?
There was a long pause followed by another knock at the door. A different voice, “M-mr. Conductor! Are you alright in there?”. The Conductor groaned and didn’t respond, instead cupping his hands over his face.
The Annual Bird Awards ceremony was in a week, for pecks sake! He needed something, anything to give him the edge over Groove’s corny new musical.
The Conductor thought about how he had secured one of the best stunt actors he’d ever seen for his two most recent movies. The young lass could sprint, belly dive and hook swing so well it made him feel old! AND she didn’t do trivial things like ask to be paid or have opinions or talk behind his back like those buffoons outside his office!
But the problem was that Grooves had made the lass star in his film, as well.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last night, DJ Grooves had invited the Conductor to a premiere screening of The Big Parade. He had even gone so far as to pay for his ticket and reserve a seat (right next to himself) in the empty back row. With a free bucket of popcorn and a soda.
During the first half of the film, the Conductor sat on guard, eyeing Grooves from the corners of his eyes – who was suspiciously eyeing him back every time before turning innocently to the movie.
The owl tried to crack whatever devious plan the DJ was hatching this time. A silent assassination, away from the crowd of his audience? Cyanide laced popcorn, maybe? Whatever it was, the Conductor was not going down without a fight.
Eventually, the Conductor settled with the conclusion that the poor old Grooves had gone senile and was simply so naïve as to invite his own enemy to watch his film. HA!
He had finally decided to give whatever dumpster fire of a film the DJ had cooked up a chance – if only to see it fail – and paid attention to the movie.
He was struck speechless by the arguably engaging film that played before him, and even more shocked that he stayed awake for the entire screening.
The young lass playfully ran across the cityscape, guiding a line of owl performers behind her - who were miraculously good at their job, how the peck did Grooves find Owls who were GOOD at doing their job – and as she dashed over the rooftops, tight roped over wires, dodged exposed electricity, backflipped over a heat-censored ROCKET for pecks sake, the conductor simply gaped in awe at the film.
“Welll…”, the tacky penguin next to him drawled, “How was the film, darling? Pretty good right?”. Grooves sat facing him, elbows propped on the Conductor’s arm rest with his smug expression sitting over his interlaced flippers. With the DJ so close, the Conductor could feel his warm breath – mint bubble gum with a hint of something fruity.
He refused to be intimidated by the big oaf, so he instead brought his knees into his seat (for extra height, peck his forefathers and their genetics) and pushed his face so close to the DJ’s that their beaks almost touched.
He crossed his arms and lied through gritted teeth, “Yer know, I should congratulate yer for this wee film. Yer’ve somehow made somethin’ even more gaudy, over stimulatin’, and painfully flashin’ than that last drivel of a film yer directed. The only redeemin’ part of this whole clusterpeck was that lassie’s performance, and we both know yer stole the idea of havin’ her as the star from me!”.
Grooves backed away a bit but still wore his wry expression. If the lights weren’t so dim, the way his face had flushed from the Conductor getting all up in his face would’ve been obvious.
Grooves placed a hand on his puffed chest and turned his head upwards in exaggeration, “Of course, Darling. Every filmmaker in the in the world just doesn’t have any original ideas anymore. Nowadays, everyone just wants to copy off your dazzlingly magnificent... er, train-related westerns”.
The Conductor’s face boiled with rage, and he physically had to hold himself to not make a scene in the cinema. Was this peckneck making a stab at his film career?
Grooves paused his childish play of grandeur to peek at the conductor again. The poor man was clearly on his last straw and if Grooves kept poking fun at him he would surely explode. The DJ had overheard from the Express Owls of Cons rare fiery tantrums, and he decided that his picture-perfect hair getting singed was not worth the hilarious (and strangely endearing) motions the Conductor did when he made him mad.
The Conductor hopped off his seat and pointed at the DJ. “Grooves, yer bumbling buffoon of a director - even though I already know I’m gonna win by a landslide this comin’ award ceremony… Yer better hold on to yer stupid pompom afro and yer height cheatin’ red platforms, cus I’m gonna make a movie so new, so unexpected EVEN FOR MY BRILLIANCE that it’ll blow yer right out of me studio!!!”. The Conductor held his hand in a fist and demonstrated it blowing off to the side before exploding in a flutter of his fingers and a frankly adorable explosion noise from his beak.
DJ Grooves smiled his cocky smile yet again and the Conductor saw that his blue eyes behind his sunglasses were half closed. “Oh, I can’t wait Amos. I’m sure it’ll be positively explosive!”.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One self-absorbent pep talk, three cups of consecutive coffees and twelve hours of empty-headed nothingness later, the Conductor slammed his head onto his desk in regret. His pen rolled of the edge and disappeared into the white sea of papers. No use digging for it now.
Sure, the Conductor was rash, but even a reckless owl like him knew that there was just no way he could cram the production of an entire film in about a week. And especially not when he was stuck on the first step! If he had been challenged by anyone, literally ANYONE other than that DJ, he would’ve weighed his options out and settled with waiting to see the winner. But that stupid giant of a penguin just had a way of crawling under his skin, poking him in his worst places, teasing him with the most embarrassing things… Peck, he would rather eat his own Conductor’s hat then admit defeat to that round bird.
There was a knock at the door, followed by the voice he wanted to hear least right now.
“Conductor darling! I’m going to give you one last chance before I break this door down. Are you all right in there??”.
The Conductor was just about to open his dry beak and tell the penguin to peck off when there was a loud HIYAH!, followed by a slam as his door flung wide open. Grooves stood at the door frame in a ridiculous pose. His sunglasses perched on his forehead, and his hands tucked in with his foot stretched forward, like a knock-off karate warrior who decided halfway through his training that tacky jackets and golden belts were more his style.
Behind him stood a group of Moon Penguins and Express Owls, the owls peeking into the office with concern as those suck up penguins circled the DJ’s back with arms crossed and cold expressions, as if to protect him.
DJ Grooves stepped in uninvited.
“Hmm. Correct me if I’m wrong Amos, but I remember last time I entered your office it wasn’t so…”, he bent and picked up one of the crumpled balls, examining it like a specimen, “Er, filled to the brim with failed movie drafts.”.
“Ye-Yer BUFFOON, yer IDIOT, yer TASTELESS DISCO PRANCING PECKNECK!”.
The Conductor slammed his balled fists onto his desk so hard he momentarily floated, “THAT DOOR DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A PECKING LOCK!!!”.
There was a startled commotion from the owls as they dashed to look busy, two of them slamming face first into each other while the rest pretended that they had been recording the whole time. The penguins stood their ground, one of them shaking their head to themselves.
Grooves ignored the Conductor’s outburst and instead unfolded the crumpled paper in his hand, smoothing it out on his chest before holding it in front of him with squinted eyes. He read it in a similar flair to a parent pretending that their child’s drawing was the coolest thing in this world.
“A cowboy chase film, a murder mystery set on a train, a cowboy chase film, a murder mystery on a train… a mystery where cowboys murder each other on a trai-”, the Conductor hopped onto his desk and lunged forward like a professional wrestler going for the kill, snatching the dastardly paper from Grooves’s hand and tearing it to shreds in his mouth.
“Whaddayah want yer penguin, I was almost done with formulatin’ the perfect plan for me new film when yer come bargin’ in guns blazin’…”, the Conductor stood angrily with his hands on his hips and his head pointed upwards to meet the insolent DJ’s eyes, trying (to no avail) to intimidate his opponent.
Grooves fought to keep a straight face and not chuckle. The poor old man was so short that his entire body beneath his chin was submerged beneath the layer of papers, leaving only his angry little head above the surface.
“Yer peckneck! I had the perfect idea in me mind, but…”, he gritted his teeth and furiously thought of how to cover up his embarrassing day. “But yer’ whole dramatic entrance made me lose me train of thought! Why'd yer barge in anyway?!”.
In truth, the DJ had been minding his own business and was about to head out to the club party he had organised for himself and his employees for a job well done on their newest movie, when he noticed a crowd of indiscreet owls huddled together outside the Conductor’s office.
“He’s done it now…”, one of the owls anxiously muttered with her head down.
“He always does this, the poor guy…”, another sighed, “He always bites off things too large for him to chew, then he spends all day and night working himself to the bone to succeed. It’s going to kill him one of these days!”.
Looking defeated, the owls took out their sleeping bags to pull another all-nighter in the office (the Conductor’s workaholic shifts were a staple for the owls, apparently) when the DJ decided that enough was enough. Was the Conductor seriously overworking himself to this extent just to keep his image?
Grooves glanced at the pitiful owls stature, noticing what looked like grey eyebags and how his feathers looked unusually dishevelled this night. The Conductor usually carried himself with a cocky sense of pride that the DJ admired, but right now, in this stuffy, dark dungeon of an office, he just looked like a weak old soul who need a good preening and a long nap. He decided not to tease him for now.
“Conductor, darling… I think we should just wait and see who the winner is instead of you frying your brain by trying to cram a whole movie in one week – I mean, you already made two films this year while I only made one!”.
The Conductor paused as the rusty cogs in his head rotated.
“What, yer think me TWO films are goin’ to lose to yer ONE?! HA! Nae gonna do that yer big peckneck!”.
The DJ palmed his own face in frustration. “No, no, Amos, infact the exact opposite. I think that your films are just so DAZZLING and so FIRST RATE that there isn’t even a sliver of a chance of me winning. But most of all I think you need a break after all the work you put into them, or else you might risk breaking something in your head”. Grooves cupped his palms together and forced a smile. This was how people convinced kids to listen, wasn’t it? Surely it would work on the Conductor.
“Nae means nae yer flightless bird. I don’t care if these orders are coming from me worst rival or me wee grandkids, I’m making this film and that’s that!”. He stomped for good measure, but it was concealed by all the papers.
Despite the Conductor’s raspy voice and his bird seed brain, it was clear as day to the DJ that there was just no way he could change his mind. But he would be damned if he didn’t at least take a bit of the load from him.
“Now, don’t call me an idiot just yet Con, but I think we should work on this film together. Because you’re clearly stuck on the first step, but I’ve got a good idea on what we could do”, the Conductor opened his mouth to argue in disbelief but he cut him off quickly, “Listen, there’s been a been a bit of a... topic trending on eBird recently. Have you checked your phone any time since yesterday?”.
The Conductor shook his head to himself, before rummaging through the papers around him and uncovering an ancient rotary phone. “Why, what could possibly be wrong with me phone?”.
It took all of Grooves’s goodwill to not throw the 1900’s antique out the window and hand him a real phone, but he vowed to himself that he would do it later.
“Never mind that Con, just check this out”. The DJ crouched to shoulder level next to the Conductor with his phone out and his eBird page open.
Despite the Conductor liking his things the old-fashioned way, he still remembered a thing or two from the time his daughter had attempted to teach him how to navigate eBird (so that he could be her first follower). The post he was showing him had an image of what looked like a cinema, the camera pointing upwards at two vip row birds who had their beaks very close together... And who was that handsome chap on the left with the yellow feathers, and... HOLY PECK –
Which miscreant had snuck a photo of him when he was arguing with the Conductor yesterday?!
He squinted at the post as the memories of his social media workshop with Mauve came flooding back.
The title read Caught these two lovebirds in the act lol. It had over a million likes and the comments were what really made the Conductor question what society had come to.
Can these old men just drop their whole enemies act and get together? Imagine the movies we could get if these two partnered up...
How were they caught if they clearly weren’t hiding it? XD
Wake me up when the memoir movie of their romance comes out.
“Wh- “, the owl struggled to formulate a sentence, “What the hell is the meanin’ of this Grooves?! What the PECK did yer just show me?! I donae know what yer’ see in this digital mess, but all I see is a bunch of chronically online pecknecks who need to mind their own business!”. He was positively fuming.
Was this seriously what his degenerate fans had wanted all along? A trashy romance between him and the DJ? His face turned a searing red from his rage and a bit of something else.
“What I see”, the DJ announced languidly, “Is a perfectly good business opportunity, darling. If the public wants our romance, well then - we’ll give them just that!”.
He draped a large arm over the Conductor’s shoulder and pulled him to his side.
“Just imagine it with me! These fans are so primitive and simple minded, I bet we could get away with an equally primitive and simple short film. We won’t even need a compelling plot, as long as we just fill it to the brim with crummy pulp-romance.”
DJ Grooves dumbs down the whole topic of love and spice so that the Conductor can give his idea a chance, but in secret this was just his type of thing. Grooves LIVED off of sappy relationship films.
“I’m nae gonna do that yer peckneck! The last thing im doing is ruining me track record with a trashy film!”. The Conductor was now breaking in a cold sweat. Why was the DJ so determined to star in a romance with him? Was it not clocking in his airhead just how uncomfortable it sounded??
“Then… Then we can co-produce it, darling! With you as the lead director, you’ll receive most of the points towards the Bird Awards! And with me as the supporting director, everyone will think that the cornier scenes came from me!”, he snapped his fingers in glee at the full proof plan. He’s great ideas just kept flowing in today!
Despite the absurdity of the situation, the Conductor making some valuable ratings from this film was just the thing he needed to get the edge over DJ Grooves. The real issue was that his reputation would plummet with it. And the fact that DJ Grooves was going out of his way for him rubbed his feathers the wrong way.
Would it really count as a win if the Conductor beat him with points that Grooves himself had basically given up for his sake?
But worst of all was the way the Conductor was struggling to say no. He would’ve said no to anyone else, but a certain part of his heart felt like it would break if he refused.
Holding doors open for him, always saving a seat for him, laughing at what he thought were jokes but were actually threats directed at him – DJ Grooves did many strange things that were clearly part of an interconnected master plan aimed at finally defeating him, but the Conductor felt that sometimes they came from somewhere genuine. And that’s what scared him the most.
The DJ’s continued blabber blurred into a humming buzz in the back of the Conductor's mind. His hands clasped innocently in front of him as he begged, occasionally parting to make a theatrical motion. His large blue eyes shone in delight from behind his sunglasses like moonstones, and for a moment the Conductor was taken back to the simpler days when his daughter still lived with him. She would regularly plead for things that at the time he found useless, but would later come to display around his house when she left and started her own nest.
You don't always realise the value of a moment until it's gone.
But...
What if they have to hold hands and perform other obscene actions in this movie?
What if the Conductor messes up horribly and Grooves never thinks of him the same again?
What if he couldn’t control his emotions and ended up burning the DJ?
The questions bombarded his mind relentlessly until his head was searing with an iron hot pain, until he felt like he was falling down, down in a pit of infinite darkness.
“NO!”.
He stared in shock at Grooves for a moment before realising that the words had come out of him. His voice had come out completely wrong, all hoarse and wrenching, and he suddenly wished he could wither away and disappear. He took a cautious step back while struggling to maintaining eye contact with the poor shellshocked penguin who stared back at him with eyes like saucers. A black mass rose from his sides, and after palming his face he discovered that a charcoal smoke was floating out from the sides of his beak.
“Uh… Was this a no to the idea that we split the cost of props or a no to this whole film in general?”, the DJ mumbled slowly, looking down at his feet with a silent shame. The Conductor’s body could apparently reach such a heat when he was enraged that it burnt a ring of papers around him to ash. Was it something he said that had caused this?
“No, I –“, the Conductor’s throat felt like it was blocked and he struggled to swallow. He took a deep breath and clenched his arms against himself in a weak hug, “I don’t want to produce this movie, and...".
"And I definitely won’t be performing in it either”.
He bent his head down till his chin touched his chest, seeking refuge from the betrayed eyes of the DJ. The ground felt so far and his stomach sank towards it.
Grooves wrung his hands together awkwardly before fixing his glasses down over his eyes. “I – I understand. The movie sounded stupid anyway. I mean, as if we could finish that whole thing in one week!”, he chuckled awkwardly.
He turned towards the door before putting his arm on the door frame, and still facing away from the Conductor, he muttered, “I’ll be about my day then. I don’t want to force you, but if you do by some miracle change your mind, just…” – He signalled “give me a call” with his hand before lightly closing the door behind him.