Chapter One
You were feeling sick, and not in an ironic way. An honest to god sick, that made you want to rid your stomach of all contents.
You were sitting in the bleachers, staring mortified into the center ring of this twisted carnival. In the middle of the ring, the Ringmaster brought his whip down across the shoulders of a guy in a cloak, who had his hands behind his back, locked in red, burning cuffs. He grit his teeth, his head bowed as he kneeled on the ground.
"Go on, make me motherfucking stop!" the Ringmaster taunted, running a hand through his wild hair. He towered over the cloaked figure, who radiated a sense of power. As much as you wanted to turn away, you couldn't even move.
The Ringmaster brought the whip back, about to strike, when the man in the cloak raised his head, speaking clearly, in a way that caught you off guard.
"Stop!" he said, and even though he was far away, his voice rang clear through the tent. "Stop your acts of vile cruelty, and lower your weapon."
And he did. He dropped it, in a trance like state. Everyone else in the tent dropped what they were holding, and you even let go of your phone. That was powerful, his words shaking you to the core.
Then, a loud bell rang, snapping you from your trance. The Ringmaster shook his head, smiling in a twisted way.
"The Sufferer, and his miraculous power of Sermon." he yelled, gesturing to the bleeding man on the ground.
Everyone cheered. They fucking cheered. Seriously?
The 'Sufferer' was dragged out of the ring, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Sick. You covered your mouth, feeling like you were going throw up. You thought Striders could handle a little blood, but that was brutal, testing the limits of your cool kid facade.
"And now, I give you a real freak!" The Ringmaster spat, saying the word like an insult. The lights darkened slightly, a spot light on him. "Dragged straight from the depths of hell, straight to this motherfucking ring! Be warned, he's dangerous!"
Two guys dragged the guy out, throwing him to the center of the ring, where he landed harshly on his knees, his hands tied behind his back. He was looking down, his head bowed like the Sufferer.
The Ringmaster stuck his juggling club under the others chin, forcing his head up, to look at the audience, and when he looked up, his dichromatic eyes were staring right through you. It was like you were an open book, and he was staring straight at your soul.
"A psionic, and a young one!" You were really starting to hate the ring master. The guy was still staring right at you, and you couldn't stop staring at his eyes. One was red, the other blue, and they were impossibly bright. "Watch, as he uses this miraculous power!"
Then, he raised the club, swinging towards the kid, and you actually jumped. The boy didn't even look away from you, his eyes just glowed, crackling with red and blue sparks, and the club stopped, covered in the same sparks radiating from his eyes.
You couldn't turn away, especially now. Those sparks burned into your mind, and you didn't know if it was possible to not stare directly at the kid in the center of the ring.
The Ringmaster let go, and ran his hand above and below the club, proving there weren't any wires, and damn, it looked real.
"Can I have a volunteer from the audience?" the Ringmaster called, looking over the shocked crowd. Your hand went up, and when you looked up at the mutinous limb, you notice the red sparks around your wrist. You look at the 'psionic', seeing him wink his blue eye at you, the other crackling with the same red sparks around your wrist.
"We have our volunteer!" you heard the other spectators clap, and took half a second to hate everyone, before standing up. This 'psionic' guy was the real deal, and obviously he wanted you for something. Plus, you were kind of afraid the Ringmaster would bludgeon you to death with his clubs if you didn't comply.
So, you hesitantly walked down, jumped off the bleachers, and hopped over the barrier and into the ring. You walked over to the Ringleader, trying to ignore that creepy ass smile, when your eyes lock with the psionic.
You don't know how, but he sees straight through your shades. You feel vulnerable around him, like he's the only one who can break down the walls you've spent your whole life building.
"What's your name, boy?" The Ringleader asks, the imaginary line between you two severing. You look at him, weary of that smile.
"Dave." you say casually, like the huge eight foot dude in front of you isn't terrifying as all hell.
"Well Dave, I want you to look this psionic in the eyes, and tell me what you see." he says, laughing maniacally.
You nod, turning your head back to gaze at Sollux's eyes. You see nothing out of the ordinary, except for a deep pain. His eyes look impossibly older than him, and deeper, you see an uncontrollable rage burning deep down. Nothing out of the normal human range of emotion.
"I don't see anything." you say, still holding the connection between the two of you.
"Your vision is jaded, your world tinted, let me show you his true colors."
Before you can even react, your prized shades are taken from you. You stare at him in shock, before your eyes instinctively close. "Hey asshole, give those back."
He laughs again, and you open your eyes when he grabs your wrist, yanking you forward harshly. "Or, could he not see anything because he is a freak himself?"
Everyone gasps, looking at your eyes.
Your burning red eyes.
Your name is Dave Strider, you are seventeen years old, and you have just been called a freak in front of a massive audience by a giant, deranged clown. What will you do?