Chapter Text
[“Uh.”]
The foreign syllable reaches his ears before his eyes can even register what the hell is happening.
The insectoid shell of Karkat’s phone clanks down the stairwell.
“What.”
“WHAT THE FUCK.”
A troll is standing in the middle of his living room, their eyes wide like a dog caught stealing a dishrag. A troll. Karkat thinks. At first. But the weirdest fucking troll he’s ever seen. Completely hornless, somehow. His hair is bleached white like some horrifying approximation of a lusus, his ragged clothes are blindingly colorful compared to anything he's seen worn by any troll with half a think pan, and his skin— That. Is definitely not gray.
What the fuck?
Holy fuck is it bleeding?
HOLY FUCK, IS THAT BRIGHT RED BLOOD.
The pair stand stock-still, poised as if the slightest noise could set them off bolting in opposite directions. This… THING looks just as confused as you do, at least from what can be gleaned beyond the massive pair of cracked black shades blocking most of his face. Slowly, glacially, the stranger’s hand begins to triumph over the immense inertia and rises into a trembling two-fingered salute.
[“Yo.”] A weak noise escapes the thing’s lips.
The thing promptly collapses to the ground.
Karkat tries his best to not have a complete meltdown.
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CG: SOLLUX.
CG: SOLLUX.
CG: RED FUCKING ALERT SOLLUX.
CG: SOLLUX PLEASE YOU NEVER FUCKING LEAVE YOUR HUSKTOP
CG: OPEN TROLLIAN OR I SWEAR TO GOG I WILL SHOVE YOUR DUMBASS GLASSES SO FAR UP YOUR EJECTION CHUTE YOUR EYES WILL POP OUT OF YOUR SKULL
TA: jegu2 kk.
TA: what.
CG: THERE’S A THING IN MY HIVE.
TA: .
TA: Im not your goddamn lu2u2. A2k him.
CG: NO. LIKE A WEIRD FUCKING TROLL.
TA: 2o why the fuck diid you need me.
TA: kiill iit.
CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME TALK YOU SHAMBLING MASS OF SHIT!
CG: ITS THE WEIRDEST GODDAMN TROLL IVE EVER SEEN. WHITE SKIN, WHITE HAIR, NO HORNS, AND ITS BLEEDING MY RED ALL OVER THE FUCKING CARPET.
CG: MY FUCKING RED SOLLUX.
CG: SOLLUX THE WEIRDEST FUCKING MUTANT JUST BROKE INTO MY HIVE HALF DEAD AND SPOKE SOME COMPLETE NONSENSE BEFORE LITERALLY COLLAPSING ON MY FLOOR.
CG: WHAT DO I DO HERE????? WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING???
TA: excu2e me what.
TA: iim goiing to 2leep lay off the fuckiing 2opor.
CG: WHY THE FUCK WOULD I LIE ABOUT THIS.
TA: ii don’t know.
TA: maybe you ju2t fiinally lo2t iit.
CG: I KNOW I SOUND LIKE I’VE JUST RAMMED MY HEAD INTO THE WALL BUT I AM BEGGING YOU TO TREAT THIS WITH AS MUCH SINCERITY AS YOUR EMPTY BLOOD PUSHER CAN EVEN MANIFEST.
CG: I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT, SOLLUX.
CG: THERE IS SOMEONE.
CG: IN MY HIVE.
CG: ALMOST DEAD.
TA: uuuuugggghhh
TA: you got a piicture?
-- carcinoGeneticist[CG] sent an image. --
TA: KK what the fuck
CG: THATS WHAT IM FUCKING ASKING SOLLUX!!!
TA: holy 2hiit what ii2 that
CG: I DONT FUCKING KNOW!
TA: you diidnt liike ediit that
CG: SOLLUX I SWEAR TO GOG.
TA: .
TA: gogdamn KK
TA: .
TA: ok.
TA: look let2 2ay there ii2 a fuckiing aliien iin your hiive.
TA: who the fuck care2?
TA: KK you are already walking cullbaiit.
TA: get iit out.
CG: I
CG: THE FUCK?
TA: what, you gonna keep iit liike a pet?
TA: get real, KK.
TA: just kiick iit out and let the drone2 deal wiith iit.
TA: youre a 2oft liittle 2weetiie ii know and iit’ll hurt your liittle bloodpusher to abandon some.
TA: thiing.
TA: iin need.
TA: but the co2t ii2 fuckiing death, KK.
CG: FUCK.
CG: YOURE RIGHT.
CG: WAIT. FUCK. WAIT. WAIT. SOLLUX.
CG: ITS BLOOD IS EVERYWHERE.
CG: I HAVENT LOOKED. DID IT BLEED IN THROUGH THE DOORWAY FUCK FUCK
CG: SOLLUX IF I THROW THE BODY OUT IT’LL GET TRACED BACK TO MY HIVE.
CG: AND THIS BLOOD LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE MINE
CG: HOLY SHIT SOLLUX IM GONNA FUCKING DIE OH MY GOG
TA: oh 2hiit
“Uggh…”
FUCK! Karkat’s palmhusk clatters to the ground as his hands flail for his sickle. The thing- just groaned. Okay. Its not awake. His bloodpusher is pounding in his ears– Shit. Shit. Can’t collapse, yet. Or he’s dead. He’ll be dead. He dashes over to the door, ears ringing, swinging it open to assess the damage-
Blood leading directly to his hive. Vibrant, candy, red. Illuminated in the first rays of the sun as it crests the hills nearby. Fuck. Fuck fuck. He can’t run. He’ll burn to a crisp. It’s morning already. He forces another breath, his chest heaving, as he begins to feel lightheaded. Can’t lose focus. Can’t stop. He whips around.
Ok. Think. THINK, you half-panned waste of a troll. Your Karkat fucking Vantas. You’ve made it eight sweeps without dropping dead as literal walking cullbait. You know their schedules. You can’t run– hiding will get you under surveillance with the hive as it is. So you’ve got to fucking clean.
He whistles, dashing towards the cupboard on the other side of the room. He swings it open- bottles and rags come tumbling out as a scuttling approaches him from a hallway leading deeper into the hive. A rag and a bug, juice leaking from a frontal orifice, are chucked towards the crustacean creature that has come barreling into the main room. Karkat points at the door– the crab seems to get the message. Okay. That’s the outside covered. Karkat focuses on the floor. He drops to his knees, squeezing the entity and wiping the sludge it produces into the pooling lake of red. Candy red. A river of his blood adorning his respiteblock floor. What a great sight at this time of day.
The blood soaks into the sleeves his sweater as his face contorts with nausea. The bright red burns into his psyche as he desperately tries to soak it up, bit by bit. This is no time to collapse.
[“Oh. That is… Oh.”]
Karkat’s hand jerks and he barely catches himself, sparing him a makeout session with the bloodstained floors. He stares at the creature, whose head has tilted towards Karkat, mouth slightly agape. Its hard to tell where its looking with those stupid, ostentatious glasses, but its pretty clearly assessing the situation. Its head tilts further, peering at the floor, partially dislodging the facial ornament. Karkat freezes, his arms trembling. It presses its hands into the cushion, trying to sit up- and promptly falls back down, its arm still braced against the couch, trying to push but trembling like cornered prey. Or Karkat’s arms, at the moment. They’ve got something in common. Look at that.
Fuck.
What is he going to do with this-
THING?
Karkat releases his breath. He points at the creature, then holds up a palm. It seems to get the message, relaxing its arm and just letting itself rest. That’s a problem for future Karkat.
[“Sorry for uh. Fuckin. Ruining your- ugh. What even is this? A cell?”]
It coughs out a few raspy syllables, but Karkat shakes them off. he just keeps wiping, eyes stinging as the deep red reflects in the tears threatening to streak down his face.
'I just don’t want to fucking die. Not yet.'
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A late night in Houston. The moon shines through his window as a light-haired boy leans forward in front of his desk, bruised visage illuminated by his computer screen. The faintest hint of a smile plays on his vacant expression, for once unblocked by the aviators he’s left discarded next to him as he reads the purple lines popping up on his monitor, distracting himself from the lingering pain of a fight with his Bro and the anticipation of the next conflict. His only respite from the constant fear of the Strider apartment.
He’s exhausted, wounded, on the verge of a rare bout of tears, but he promised. Rose was hoping to play the game tonight, and he’d given his word he’d give it a shot with her.
He sighs as he clicks on the application.
Moments later, he pushes his desk back from his seat, shielding his eyes. He blindly gropes for his shades as his monitor shines with floursecent red, the lime green spirals having slowly faded as the sequence progressed. The light only seems to get brighter as it almost pulls his gaze- he can’t bring himself to look away, no matter how much it stings. He slams his glasses on his face, trying to find the closest thing to a shield he has on instinct, only for his raised arm to be ripped in the opposite direction, towards his monitor- He shouts, but there’s no response from beyond his thin walls.
Any hope of noise is ripped from his throat as he stares, breathless, at the hand stuck halfway through his monitor. All feeling in the limb is lost- he desperately tugs at his elbow, trying to undo whatever is about to happen. Any tugs only pull him deeper as he sinks up to his bicep. He scrabbles to grab at his desk, nearly tumbling over as his monitor remains still, untouched by his desperation, beginning to float an inch or so above its perch on his desk as the tugging force intensifies, ripping the boy’s arm deeper- His arm, gripped onto the edge of his desk, the contents of which have been scattered to the floor, feels like its being ripped out of its socket as he tries to pull himself free, but its not enough-
He gets one last glance at his bedroom, his only haven, before he vision is swallowed by agonizingly bright red.