Okay, someone told me I had to edit my writing. Long story short I did, but I think I missed a few 'you's. Either way. First chapter, tell me what you think.

I woke up from my sleep and gathered my thoughts. Who was I again? Oh yeah: Tavros Nitram. I had great difficulties climbing out of my recuperacoon. Specifically my horns made it the hardest job. I hope I'll eventually get used to them. Er, I've had them a long while already, but it's always going to be difficult, I suppose. I hung limply from the opening of my recuperacoon finally opening my eyes to look for my wheelchair. It usually isn't up on the ramp but today was my lucky day. I began to drag myself onto it when it slides away from beneath me. Gog dammit.

I don't usually swear or say anything rude but sometimes I say stuff like that when I'm alone. Which is fine, I guess.

I'm now sitting on the floor (kind of) and am giving my best angry glare at my wheelchair which just crashed into the wall. My angry glares are much too pleasant and happy looking. Thinking about myself glaring made me smile a bit. Thinking about what I looked like glaring and smiling made me uncomfortable. I stopped glaring and dragged myself over to my wheelchair and thanked everything that nobody had seen any of this predicament. If they had seen it they probably wouldn't be laughing. If anything they'd be tense and uncomfortable being in the same room as you.

I dragged myself into my wheelchair (finally) and sighed. I hated this routine.

I looked over to find someone bothering me via Trollian. The only person actually on my Trollian is quite literally who I'd prefer not to talk to...ever, really.

ArachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling adiosToreador

AT: hEY vRISKA,,,,,,

AG:heeeeeeeey

AG: you wouldn't 8elieve our good luck!

AT: ,,,,,,wHY

AG: ::::D you'll seeeeeeee

She ended the conversation and I wondered why she even still counted as a friend. She did paralyze me. What could she possibly want from me now?

I paused and processed what she wrote.

"You'll see"

Oh man. If she's planning on doing something rotten to me then I know I won't see it coming. What with my bad reflexes. The only thing worse than having bad reflexes is having no reflexes...oh yeah, that's right. I don't actually have any reflexes. I knew deep down that day would end in pain.

And Vriska always does her best when it comes to pain. Despite her luck she seems to have more than me. What with being a paralyzed big headed nobody that has no friends. Well, she's kind of my friend. So you say. I just wanted A friend. She'll have to do.

In the time it took me to gather my thoughts (again) I realized she was already at the door. I would have jumped right out of my chair if I had the ability. Which I didn't.

Instead of waiting to come in she simply walked inside. When she saw me, she gave me the same look she always does. This look mixed in many things: cruelty, evil happiness, hate...everything that just makes my neck hair stand up on edge.

"Now, I was shocked to hear this from someone as high and mighty as..." she glanced over at you and her smile disappeared. Her face read the words 'you aren't worthy'.

"Anyway. You remember...Equius. Don't you?" she asks...but didn't give me time to answer. Just the usual. Truth be told, I don't actually, not very well at least. Another repressed memory of someone I didn't want controlling my life as badly as Vriska has been.

"Well, he's got something for you. Him and a friend have something planned for you"

She saw your petrified face and her evil smile returned.

"Don't worry, it'll be fun"

I somehow doubted this. I cleared my throat.

"So...when are we...uh, leaving?" I asked quietly, as if to myself.

She pouts a bit and whines.

"I won't be there with you as sad as it may be. But I've got a lot of stuff to do...I have-"

Please don't say it please don't say it...

"-a lot of irons in the fire"

SON OF A -never mind. It's just another bothersome thing I couldn't prevent. Like being paralyzed, and having horns the size of my anger I can't express because I'm weak...and so on.