So, I know I never actually updated Dark Carnival and that I'm no where near the half-way mark of Call Me, but I just can't help myself. I thought up an idea I really liked, and BAM! Here it is. On the plus side, I'm REALLY liking this one though. Like, really REALLY liking it.
Warning: EXTREMELY animalist trolls.
Also, this is pretty much petstuck. Just thought you should know.
They had him trapped. Cornered like some kind of animal.
He was doomed, they all knew it, but he still kept his sickles up, fangs bared and eyes darting from figure to figure, furiously calculating how he should target first, who'd be the easiest to dispose of, how he'd go about slaying the others surrounding him. There were too many of them, there was no way he'd kill them all before they reached him—but he had to try. He couldn't surrender. Not now, not ever.
"Put your weapons down and place your hands above your head!" A deep voice boomed.
Karkat answered their command with an angry snarl, hackles raised and legs bent, ready to lunge at anyone who dared to move too close.
"I repeat, put your weapons down and place your hands above your head! If you don't, you can and will be subdued with force!"
Like these assholes were going to make it easy on him either way. No matter what he did at this point, he was well screwed over. They had already infiltrated the base, enslaved or slaughtered all of Karkat's companions. His reputation was tarnished, lies and gossip passed around to the point no one quite knew what was truth or myth anymore. The only possible good thing that could come out of this encounter would be for more people to realize he wasn't an aimless renegade set on killing—he was a fighter, and he'd go down fighting for his dreams if he couldn't obtain them.
Those surrounding him paused, probably waiting for him to give up, throw his weapons down. But he didn't.
Instead, he used their hesitation to dart for the closest person and chop his head clean from his shoulders, sending a geyser of blood up and many a cry of surprise as the others fumbled for their guns.
Vantas would be taken down eventually, this he knew, even as he danced between his foes, cutting and slicing and chopping them all down. To outsiders, it would appear he had the upper hand, that he was winning. And yes, he may have had the advantage, may have slaughtered many a human, but he knew this fight wouldn't end with him standing victorious. He'd be yet another body on the ground after this was over, and somehow, that spurred him on and made him all the angrier. He was going to **** these people up if he had to personally tear out every single one of his internal organs to do so.
When they did finally get him, it wasn't with a bullet. It was with a tranquilizer dart.
He only just had time to realize this meant they didn't plan to kill him—at least not immediately—which was somehow worse than actually dying, and meant this whole thing was just another screw up on the list of "Things Karkat Vantas ****ed Over Without Knowing How He Managed to Do It," before he crumbled to the ground, vision blurring, and then darkness was the only thing that stretched for miles.
John Egbert was pretty sure he needed a fish.
Fish were nice. They weren't noisy or got hair everywhere or eat all the food in the fridge, but were still good company. They floated around in a big ol' bowl of water and made bubbles and were pretty much just huge time killers and kind of nice to look at. A fish would be perfect for someone like John. He could use a good distraction these days.
It hadn't been so long ago that Dad's funeral had come to pass. He remembered the day clearly; the only day he'd allowed himself to wear black in four and a half months, the only day he'd allowed himself to tear up even a little over his father's death. Some strangers and distant family pointed out that it couldn't have been so bad; after all, Dad wasn't John's real father. It wasn't like the man helped to conceive John.
John tried not to be angry at those people, because he figured Dad wouldn't have wanted that and he understood that the other people just didn't get it, but it was hard. Whenever someone said stuff like that, all he really wanted to do was punch them right in their stupid face and tell them to screw off.
He didn't, though. Rose told him she was proud of his control. Dave told him he was on his way to "coolville," which was kind of ironic because "coolville" sounded like the very opposite of cool.
However, his control over his emotions was weak, and he wasn't about to deny it. His house felt lonely without his father, the normally heavy aromas of rising bread and sugary sweets absent, and leaving behind nothing but the smell of John. John didn't like the smell of John. It meant he couldn't smell Dad anymore, and for whatever reason, that broke his heart.
Luckily, Dad had taught John how to bake, and he still owned Nana's recipe book for pastries—the only problem was that John didn't like any of his family's cakes, and so had to pawn them off on other people.
At least it was good practice. As the last heir to the Betty Crocker line besides Jade, who wanted nothing to do with pastries aside from eating them, he was the one to inherit their family store, and so had to bake or cook everything himself. He didn't mind, either; not only did it keep him occupied six day a week for hours at a time, but it also gave him a job and a source of income, which was really great even though it was a bit small, since he was still only a senior in high school and had virtually no idea what he wanted to do with his life.
He was thinking he might just continue working the family shop. It was a nice, quaint little place, and since John liked working there, it could be just perfect. Imagine, him and a wife, baking and laughing and throwing icing at one another while the kids tried to steal a cupcake or two from the batch—all except for the youngest, who would hate Betty Crocker foods every bit as much as his father.
Okay, so maybe it was a bit of a daydream, but he really wouldn't mind it being a reality.
Man, he'd really drifted off from the point! The point was he could really use a pet fish to distract him from his empty house. It wasn't so bad when he was working the shop or in school, but coming home was always a lonely, dreadful experience.
A fish might help. Yeah.
This is how John Egbert found himself in a pet store come Sunday, the only day Crocker's Goods wasn't open to the public.
It was a rank place, the scent of dogs and cats and bird crap clinging to the air and making his nose wrinkle as soon as he stepped inside. The noise, too, was a bit overwhelming at first, since he'd just drove over from his silent home, only to walk into a room bursting with so much noise and liveliness it gave him a headache.
"Welcome to Pet Palace!" a cheery girl behind the counter called, smiling brightly at him, "How can I help you today?"
"Uh . . ." Come on, Egbert, no stuttering! What would Dave say if he knew you were standing about, sputtering because you couldn't take a few house pet noises? "I'm just looking for a fish."
Smooth, dude. Real smooth.
But at least what he wanted was communicated, because with a flash of dazzling white teeth, the girl exclaimed, "Sure! Follow me and I'll show you to them!"
He trotted after her as she rounded the wall behind her counter, chattering about their awesome selection of awesome fish, though John only half-listened. It was only ten a.m., and he was really feeling it wear on him! The only reason he was up at the pet store so early was because he had a terrible time sleeping last night, continuously waking up until he decided screw it, he was going to go ahead and get that stupid damn fish pet he'd been wanting.
The cashier left him at a wall made entirely of fish tanks with various lighting. She wasn't kidding about the good selection—there were jellyfish, turtles, your common goldfish, catfish, even those funny fish that followed your finger if you moved it around in front of the glass! So cool!
He was still playing with those fish, giggling to himself in a totally manly way, when he felt his phone began buzzing in his pocket. Almost unconsciously, he pulled it out of his pocket and answered, still grinning as the little fishies followed his hand. "Hello?"
"John!" Jade squawked angrily, "Where are you?"
"Hey, don't yell at me! It's my day off! I don't have to work on Sundays, Jade, remember?"
"I'm not talking about work, John! We had a meeting today!"
John cringed. Shit. He'd all but forgotten that Jade had told him they had an Animal Protection meeting, or whatever the club was called. He was mostly in it because Jade, herself, had started the club, and as a good half-brother and friend, he tried supporting her by supporting the club she was so proud of. A club, he might add, that had grown exponentially since its opening only two years ago, and which had rescued many an animal from abusive homes and from the streets. It was really a good cause. And he felt like utter shit for forgetting about the inner circle's meeting today.
"Whoops," he squeaked sheepishly into the phone.
"Ugh! Sometimes I think you're turning into one of those old people who can't remember anything, you know that? Just hurry up and get here. We're waiting for you."
Without waiting for a reply, she hung up, leaving John standing with his mouth half open in the middle of a pet store, finger still in front of a fish tank. Well, it looked like he wasn't going to be buying a fish today, not if he didn't want to rush the purchase.
John felt no need to hurry his selection of a pet, so with a sigh, he left the store, apologizing to the woman behind the desk and promising to come back sometime later for a fish. All she did was smile and wish him a good day.
He may or may not have sped his way to the warehouse they held their meetings in, and may or may not have ran through the halls, only to burst dramatically into the conference room, hair sticking up every which-way and breathing heavily, and he may or may not have asked, wheezing, what he missed.
"Nice, Egderp," Dave commented, looking his up and down, the only indication of this being the slight tilt of his head. "Way to be a hella late."
"Shut up and fill me in," he gasped, slumping into the empty chair between Rose and Jade.
"I was just saying," Jade hissed, glaring at Dave as he opened his mouth for a witty retort. She didn't stop until he closed his mouth and held up his hands in surrender, only then continuing on with, "You guys might have already heard, but the government recently busted a fighting ring where they pitted trolls against one another."
They all nodded. Even John had heard about the fighting rings cropping up recently—they were terrible, terrible things that many a time forced whoever found those abused trolls to put them down like dogs, too violent and angry to be properly tamed or treated. It left many people angry, but what could they do? Trolls were stronger and much more violent than humans; if they couldn't calm the trolls, they risked their and others' lives. There weren't many good options when dealing with the other species.
"Well, the government recently found another one," Jade continued. John noticed everyone but Dirk's shoulders tensed a bit, "This particular group they were planning to put down with the others once they were located, on account of how much more violent this group was—not to mention they have a psionic of all things—"
That was surprising. John had been so sure psionic trolls were nothing but a myth!
"—but fortunately for us, Dirk was able to pull some strings."
Everyone looked to the silent Strider, who pushed his anime shades further up the bridge of his nose, somehow looking cool as he did. How did he do that? John wanted to look cool in geeky things like anime shades! Life just wasn't fair sometimes.
"What was done with these trolls?" Rose questioned, frowning.
"Well . . . that's actually one of the main reasons I called this meeting . . ." Jade blushed sheepishly, "I couldn't ask the followers to do this, just because of how dangerous it is, and I wouldn't ask this of you guys either, but uh . . ."
"Spit it out, Harley," Dave said, raising a golden brow.
"Well . . . er, the deal was that if they didn't put down the trolls, we kind of have to find homes for them . . ."
"Oh my! Are you suggesting that we take these hooligan trolls in?" Jake, Dirk's practically-engaged boyfriend—and Jade's relative in some way John didn't quite get—exclaimed.
"Maybe?" She answered, her voice ending in a squeak.
"How 're we shupposhed to take in a b—a bunch of trollsh out of nowhere?" Roxy asked, hiccupping. She was most likely drunk, if her slurred speech and flushed face were indicators of such a thing. Then again, Roxy was always drunk, so no one paid it much attention.
"I did pick up some supplies and manuals on how to care for trolls," Jade responded a bit indignantly, "I wouldn't leave you guys to fend for yourselves without at least a little something to help you out! And you guys don't have to take them in if you really don't want to, or if you can't for some reason. I was just hoping a few of you would . . . if you don't mind. I'll be taking two of them in, myself."
"How many are there?" Rose asked.
"They found twelve in all, which means if we all take in one or two, we can get them all off the streets."
Everyone fell silent, contemplating. Waiting for someone else to come forward and speak up. After a few beats of silence, Rose said, "I won't be able to take in more than one, if any. I already have a troll at home and would prefer not to come home every day to a house overrun by trolls."
"Okay, that can work! You have more money than most, so would you mind if I gave you one of the higher-maintenance ones?" Jade asked hopefully.
"Go ahead; it matters not to me."
"I'll take in two," Dave volunteered as well, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat. "But I want the psionic to be one of them. That shit is cool as all hell."
"Are you sure? Psionics can be a bit . . . dangerous." He sent Jade a pointed look, making everyone chuckle, "Then again, I guess you Striders thrive off danger, huh? Well, alright. Any requests for you second troll? Like, on behavior or looks or something?"
"Just give me the most ironic one you can."
"Can do. I hope," She glanced at everyone else. "Would anyone else mind taking in a troll or two?"
"I'll take in shome," Roxy announced, slamming an empty wine glass down on to the table top. "Jusht make shure they're nice to look at. Or hot. Or shomething."
"Oh . . . kay?" Jade replied a bit hesitantly. "I guess that settles it, then? I'll message some of my more trustworthy followers, then. I'm sure I could find a few people who would take in the last few—"
"I'll take one," John blurted, cutting her off.
The room fell strangely silent all of a sudden. John fidgeted uncomfortably as everyone turned to stare at him in stunned surprise, mouths open and eyes wide. One would have thought he had just volunteered to marry a male alien and have a plethora of hybrid babies or something.
"John . . ." Jade started, biting her lip.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Rose asked gently, "Not to offend you, but I know you've been struggling lately, and I'm not sure a wild troll would be a good idea for you at the current moment. Maybe you should wait and—"
"No," John interrupted, frowning at his female friends. "I mean it. I'll take in a troll. It's not like I really mind. The house is too quiet as it is, and besides, some of those trolls probably need it more than I do right now. A pet of some kind would be good for me anyhow."
"Dude, no offense—" Dave began, but John was having none of it.
"I even went browsing at Pet Palace today," he admitted, shrugging. "It'll be fine! Who knows, it might even be fun! And if things get too out of hand, I promise I'll call one of you guys and we'll figure something out."
"Well . . . alright," Jade gave in.
Everyone else remained silent, but John tried to ignore them. "So . . . we good?"
"Any requests on the troll?" Jade asked after a moment.
"Just give me the loudest one you can."