Chapter 1

Karkat, Wake up.

You've got your plates up on the table. That's the first thing you notice. You wiggle your bare toes on the desk top and the next thing that comes to mind is that if Leijon sees them up there again she's gonna chew you out. It occurs to you that you should probably make sure she's not around if you wanna carry on in relative comfort. You reach up and pull your hat up over your shutters. It is in this roundabout way that you discover that your head really fucking hurts.
Christ, what is -with- that? You rub your nubs and groan a few curse words into the empty afternoon air. 'Afternoon?' You wonder, 'how did I sleep so late?' You look around your Office with blurry and burning eyes and- shit, hang on.
You reach a pair of soft hands up to your lamps and practically claw the contacts out of them. You blink a few times into the cold thick air and let out an irritated hiss. A lot of this isn't adding up. 'If I got drunk that'd explain the headache and the contacts, but it's late afternoon and Leijon woulda come in by now. So that means I was awake before now, and that means this headache isn't a hangover and that means I... Left my contacts in on purpose? This is stupid.' You decide to rewind a bit and try to get your bearings.
You pull your bare feet down from the desk and growl a few swearwords at no one in particular. You slump forward in your chair and reach for the pack of cigarettes on your desk. You spot a matchbook, and while that briefly strikes you as some sort of clue, you decide that's stupid and opt to strike a match instead. You bring the snipe to your mouth and run through your personal profile.
Your name is KARKAT VANTAS. Upon deep and painful reflection, you're pretty sure it's your WRIGGLING DAY, though maybe that's tomorrow. You'd really have to ask your secretary to be sure. You don't keep track of days and at this point she's the only one who cares about that particular day. For you and your family, it's just an annual reminder of the faults of your existence, of which there are assuredly many.
Equally plenty and definitely related are your INTERESTS. You have a passion for RIDICULOUSLY TERRIBLE ROMANTIC COMEDIES AND CORRESPONDING LITERATURE. You like to pretend Leijon hooked you on this DREADFUL STUFF, but you know that she didn't and you aren't even EMBARRASSED, although you really should be. You occasionally fancy yourself a novelist but you're NOTORIOUSLY PRETTY AWFUL AT IT. You usually end up destroying typewriters in a fit of rage, which is why you now have a secretary to take care of your paperwork and write YOUR MEMOIR. Of course that's slow going given how you can't bring yourself to relate any of the really compromising stuff to such a sweet kitten. In your youth you aspired to join the most lethal members of your society, the THRESHECUTIONERS, but they were merged with the LEGISLACERATORS following a rigorous social reform that you like to think (correctly) that you had something to do with. Even though you technically succeeded in your goal, no amount of favoritism was enough to keep you in the force after what you did.
You're a surprisingly social person, with friends across three species, most of whom drive you BATSHIT UP THE FUCKING BELFRY. Your communication both social and professional has been greatly affected by the acquisition of your secretary NEPETA LEIJON, and you are NOT REALLY SURE WHAT TO THINK ABOUT HER YET.
Your life now somewhat resembles an EARTH DETECTIVE NOVEL (Earth, for convenient reference, is a planet that will never exist) and you speak in a manner that is ALMOST EXCLUSIVELY ORNERY, ALL THE TIME.
Later you and your friends will get into all kinds of adventures that will likely involve a surprising lack of death, since the author has no stomach for that. At the moment however, you are just remembering that you don't smoke.
You begin coughing loudly and start cursing your own existence with various vulgarities at the same volume. Why the hell were you smoking? You're surprised you lasted that long without dying, though you suspect that it's because you shout so much. You shove the cigarettes and matchbook into your coat pocket, certain now that whoever left them there was some kind of villain whose capture will be aided by this invaluable clue, and drag yourself to your feet. Presently, you hear a soft knocking in your office door.
"Karkat?" A sweet frail's voice asks. You creep to the door and rasp out an answer with your disused gravelly voice.
"What is it Leijon?" You ask, leaning your aching head on the threshold.
She sounds surprised and relieved. "Um, Eridan's here, he wants to know if he can come in."
"Fuck, fine." You growl, rubbing your eyes. The door swings open a crack and you realize your mistake just in time. You squeeze your eyes shut and flail a bare foot out towards the door, slamming it closed again.
"Oww." Mumbles a nasal voice.
"Fuck just, hold on," you shout, panic creeping into your voice. You dive back over your desk and snatch the contact lenses from where you put them. The door begins to open again and you shove a garish lime green lense into your peeper just as Eridan's steps through the door. You keep the other eye closed and attempt to lower your hat over your uncovered eye with the hand that isn't clenched around your other contact. It doesn't work.
Eridan half turns around and then looks back at you with a quirked eyebrow. "Are you wwinking at me?"
"No asshole, I've got something in my eye," You say. 'Lack of something in my eye,' you think.
"Oh." He nods. "Need any help?"
"No fuckface, what're you my mother?" You snap at him, holding a hand in front of your eye.
He looks at you strangely and frowns. "No, your moirale," he thinks for a moment, "did you just use a human expression?"
You throw your empty hand in the air, keeping your unveiled eye shut. "Why the fuck are you on my case?" You shout, pushing past him and heading into your small bathroom.
Eridan's frowns again, "do you not knoww wwhat a moirale is?"
"Fuck you, leave me alone while I use the john." You slam the door in his bespectacled face and turn towards the cracked but spotless mirror. You don't know how or why Leijon cleans so well. You keep telling her she's your secretary and not your maid or your wife, but she just laughs at you and goes about her damn business.
You run the water and Eridan takes this as a cue to stay silent. You look into the bathroom mirror and study your mismatched eyes, one bright red and ions bright green. You slip the other line contact into your irritated eye and now the disguise is seamless. You take a few handfuls of water and splash them into your face. You wet down your cheeks and grimace into the mirror. You scowl and decide that if nothing else you'd better brush your teeth.
You exit the bathroom a few minutes later to find Eridan gone again. You suppose he didn't feel like awkwardly standing around in your office, which in your opinion is the only way he ever stands around anywhere. You trod over to your office door and listen at the crack, that being a habit you picked up sometime ago. Rudeness has never deterred you from an action before, so you see no reason not to eavesdrop.
"So what is your second job if you don't mind me asking," Eridan
'Second job?' Your brow furrows. Nepeta never mentioned a second job.
"I do actually. I'm sorry it's kind of pawrsonal." Nepeta says quickly.
'Damned cat puns,' you think to yourself, before your thoughts turn to guilt. 'I'm not paying her enough. I already give her half but she's probably got some freeloading relatives. It seems like she'd have those.' You grimace and dig through your pockets to see how much suds you have left this month.
"Of course, I understand. Evveryone's gotta have secrets."
You thumb through the fifty bucks in your pocket. This needs to last you another three weeks, but Leijon just might need it more. You decide that you should probably ask her.
"I just think it's a real shame a dish like you hasn't gotten a nice rich guy on her arm yet." Eridan says, and you can actually feel his slimy grin.
Yeah, you're not comfortable with this. You reach up to straighten your tie, only to find that you never loosened it. You take a brief moment to lament how much you've lost control of your own life, but decide that it'd be better for everyone to interrupt the scene in the other side of the door before it gets too mortifying. You do just that, pushing the door open and surveying the small front office with veiled interest.
Eridan blinks his purple eyes at you through his thick square glasses. He wears a hat, scarf, and high collar, concealing the majority of his face as usual. He's wearing an overcoat on top his gray three-piece and his wavy horns jut out of the holes in his hat. He grins a jagged smile.
"Heya Kar." Eridan says with a wave of his ring covered hand.
"Hello Karkat." Leijon says with a sigh of relief.
"Any calls?" You ask.
"Nope." Your secretary says.
"Rough." Eridan says.
"Shut the fuck up." You reply.
Nepeta giggles and turns back to her work. Her dark curls obscure her face as she starts typing. She's a short girl, still not as short as you. She's soft and a little rounded, but she's mentioned that she exercises, so you're not as worried about her as you might be otherwise. She's wearing a sensible white button down and a knee length skirt with a pair of dark green pantyhose underneath. The professionalism of this ensemble is completely ruined by the yellow and green cat sweater draped across her shoulders.
You make a concerted effort not to stare at her. It's not because staring would be rude, it's because you respect her as a person and because you don't want 'either' of them to get any ideas.
Eridan looks like he's going to say something to Leijon again, so you decide to cut him off.
"Alright we're leaving." You say to the open air. You turn to Leijon. "We need to talk when I get back."
Your secretary casts a questioning look at you with her pale green eyes, but she just nods and returns to her work.
"Eh... Karkat you're not wwearing any shoes," Eridan informs you.
"Who the fuck cares I said we're leaving." You say, opening the door and pulling him toward it.
"It's wwinter though." Eridan says with a raised eyebrow.
"I'LL PLUG YOU ERIDAN, DON'T THINK I WON'T!" You shout, digging your claws into his sleeve and yanking him out the door.
Eridan gives in. "Okay okay geeze." He mutters.
Leijon giggles again as you shut the door and you think you hear her laugh get louder as you step away from your office. You let go of Eridan and he shoves his hands in his pockets.
"Gosh Kar, bulge-block much?" Eridan sighs.
You give him a harsh, burning glare, but it doesn't seem to have any effect on him. You think this is probably because nobody can possibly take your limeblood eyes serious. But you realize it's probably because to people like Eridan who've had to endure your stares for so long, they've just lost all meaning.
Eridan shakes his head and smiles. "Whenever I ask you act like there's nothing going on and then when make my move you're right there in the middle. You don't want me to steal your flush crush all you gotta do is ask pally."
You grit your teeth and prepare to have this conversation with him for the sixth time. "First off 'pally,' she's not my fucking flush crush you dickwagon."
"Dickwagon?" Eridan asks with a grin.
"SECONDLY," you say, stepping down the stairs towards the foyer of the building your office is in. "I HAVE asked you. Multiple times." 'Six times.' You think, though there's no reason to be that specific.
"And it's not because of anything -she- and I have, it's what -you- and I have. As your moirale and a fucking expert prodigy on the subject of romance I can tell you that that's not a good fit for either of you." You explain, crossing the room to the door.
Eridan rolls his eyes and you can tell that you haven't convinced him. Of course you haven't been entirely honest with him. One of the agreements that formed the basis of your moiralegiance is that everyone has secrets. You hope that when the time comes you can use this as an excuse for not telling Eridan your blood color. For now, you're going to have to break the rule if you want to get him off your back about this.
"There's something else." You begin cryptically.
Eridan gives you a puzzled look and pushes the door open. You emerge from the base of a towering black and green skyscraper and step out into the shallow snow. Eridan wraps his scarf tighter and looks into your face, his purple lamps practically begging you to go on.
You stifle a chuckle at your moirale's expense and continue your explanation. "It's about... Back when I met her. When I got kicked off the force."
Eridan's expression grows dark and you're glad he understands how hard this is for you. You don't talk about either of those events with anyone, not even with him. This is for many reasons, not the least of which is that the two previously alluded to events are deeply, -intimately- connected.
"She was in the back room of this store, pet shop or butchers or something. Fuck I don't know it was really dark." You recover from your tangent and continue. "Goons everywhere, Clowns, Felt, Crew, you name em they were there. She was in real trouble."
Eridan tried to interrupt, "but-"
You return the favor. "She wasn't some innocent bystander. You don't get into a shindig like that by accident, she was with some of them. Maybe she still is."
"Her second job?" Eridan asks.
Fuck, you hadn't thought of that. That said, you decided it'd be best to pretend otherwise. "Probably. She's pretty cagey about it. I've got a few hunches, grifter, gunman, call girl." You trail off and the two of you share a deep frown.
You shake your head, "but if I'm being really honest, the vibe I get from her is moll. Maybe one of the guys at the shootout, but probably someone higher up, maybe even a boss."
You let those words hang in the air for a few moments, hoping they'll sink in and finally deter your friend from his ill fated pursuit. Naturally, your luck is absolute shit and your words don't have quite the desired effect.
"Ahahahaaahahahahaha." Eridan's hysterical laugh echoes just a little too loudly through the street for your comfort. You punch him in the arm and he stumbles off the curb. His laugh dies to a chuckle as he struggles to maintain his balance.
"What's so funny asshole?" You spit.
Eridan gasps for air and looks at you with tears in his eyes. He lifts his glasses and wipes them away. "You think a boss's girl is working as -your- secretary?"
You cross your arms and walk a little faster. "Fuck you man, I'm a person of interest. The dame's probably spying on me to learn my secrets."
"What, is ms. Paint your cleaning lady?" Eridan snickers.
"I really don't really see what's so fucking funny about this, shitbulge. These are some serious fucking accusations I'm slinging around here and the implications are frankly mind boggling." You spot your destination straight ahead. It's a bar and coffe shop, "The Windy Thing." You've been coming here with Eridan for several years, being one of the few places you could actually agree on. That made it incredibly difficult to tell your moirale that the entire restaurant has become somewhat of a sore subject for you. You seem to have trouble telling your moirale a lot of things.
Your moirale shrugs. "Sorry Kar. I guess I'm not as worried about it as you are."
"You should be worried." You growl. "Everyone should be worried. Everyone who's not in with a gang should be worried." As you glance at his purple eyes a thought occurs to you and your nose crinkles in mild disgust. "What're you down with the clown now?"
Eridan reacts with significantly more disgust. "It's not like that man." He says with a scowl. "I'm just... Not afraid of them."
You shake your head. The door to "The Windy Thing" is only a few feet away now, and you can't get out of the cold fast enough. The bell rings as you swing the door open and you hurry straight to the bar.
"Hey boys." The human behind the bat says, "The usual?"
You and Eridan nod in unison. John smiles a goofy smile. He pours you and your moirale a grub soda and a glass of salt liquor respectively.
"Enjoy." The human says. "Have a nice date."
You start swearing at him, but by that time he's already gone chuckling to his next customer at the end of the counter. You sigh in despair as you watch him go.
"You alright Karkat?" Eridan asks softly.
"I hate him." You mumble.
"I knoww" Eridan says. He swigs his beverage and smiles.