Ms. Paint arrived home before any of The Midnight Crew, which gave Karkat the idea that something more criminal was happening at Slick's branch of casinos tonight. Ms. Paint was Slick's latest girlfriend, and differed from the others before her in many ways. The first was that she wasn't being paid. And she had a genuine kindness to her. At first, Karkat had been wary of her. But she was nice, and Karkat was becoming quickly adjusted to a motherly presence.
"Happy birthday Karkat!" she exclaimed, carrying a cake in her arms. "I didn't have time to make one earlier, I hope store bought is fine?"
"Of course!" Karkat replied.
"Perfect! I have a gift for you dear. Oh, Kankri, will you be home for your birthday this year?"
"I believe so," he replied.
Ms. Paint grinned, and for a brief moment Karkat thought he might be able to help her with her plans and get out of giving Kankri a gift. Then he remembered the small package in his closet. He had found it weeks ago and thought Kankri would love it. Even if he was a completely obnoxious dickwad at the worst of times, Karkat thought he could also be a decent brother.
"Any idea when Slick will be home? I need to talk to him about something," Karkat said.
"He said he'll be back later than the others. Is it something I can help with?"
"Unless you know how to create a fake identity and infiltrate a powerful and dangerous gang in a short period of time," Kankri said, standing up to look at the cake. "Wow, this looks good."
"Kankri, what the fucking shit?"
"Karkat, it was obvious. And if I'm a good brother, I'll stop you from killing yourself."
Ms. Paint looked from Karkat to Kankri, and back to Karkat. "Please tell me he's not serious."
Karkat shrugged sheepishly. "Well, personally, I think Mr. Dick Fuckington is exaggerating. But, uh, mostly serious, yeah."
Ms. Paint put her head in her hands and groaned. "Spades is such a horrible influence on you boys, I swear!" She looked back at Karkat. "Honey, you know how dangerous that is! Why would you think of this! Spades tells you every day not to join The Midnight Crew, and you think joining a rival gang would be safer? Better?"
She wasn't yelling, just talking, but Karkat still felt guiltier than anytime Slick had screamed at him. How the fuck is that fair? "I just need to find something out."
"What could possibly be so important?"
"Who the fuck killed Dad!" Karkat shouted! A small burst of his former formidable temper shown through. He felt hot, as though lava had replaced the cherry red blood in his veins. Couldn't she understand? This was all that mattered!
Ms. Paint and Kankri both fell silent. Ms. Paint looked ready to cry. She never did good when anyone yelled. Kankri remained stoic. He was more like their father. They shared the same face, the same temper, the same easy voice. Karkat's anger was replaced with painful remorse. "I'm sorry," he whispered, audible enough for them to hear.
"Ms. Paint, you can go upstairs. I'll talk to him," Kankri said. Ms. Paint nodded and left, setting the cake on the table and grabbing a box of tissues. Karkat looked away from her and instead at Kankri. He looked like an adult, like a younger version of their father. His grayish eyes were turning redder and redder every day, a sure sign of maturity amongst trolls. He always put effort in combing down his hair, and did fairly well to the point of it looking only slightly messy.
"Karkat, I know you miss Dad."
"What, and you don't? Because that's bullshit Kankri, and we both know it! You were as big a fucking mess as I was, and you were nineteen! A fucking adult! Don't berate me because I'm the only fucking person in the goddamn shit storm of the world who cares about bringing justice to our Dad!"
"I love him as much as you do!" Kankri shouted. He never shouted. Karkat's awe must have registered in his head, as his tone immediately became quiet. "The man who shot him died in jail, Karkat. Let the dead bury the dead, and be done with this. You dying won't change anything. It won't bring him back." Karkat didn't say anything. "Maybe there is some conspiracy surrounding this, but it's just not worth pursuing."
Karkat glared at him. "Don't you want to be DA? Well, I just stumbled onto a fucking scandal, and you want to avoid it? Fuck off, you'll never be like Dad."
"You and I both know our father was a hypocrite. He turned a blind eye to some gang violence, he's not the hero you think he is."
"Fuck off!" Karkat shouted. "Get the fuck away from me! Don't talk about him that way!"
"Calm the fuck down!" Shit. Spades Slick walked in, a short, black, well dressed carapace. His switchblade was in his hand, closed. "Aren't you brats past the age of sibling rivalry."
Kankri glared at Karkat. "I'm sorry, Spades. I was about to leave anyway." Without saying good bye, Kankri walked out of the door.
"What's his problem. And where's Paint?" When Karkat didn't answer, Slick called upstairs, saying, "Honey, you up there? I'm home!"
"Give me a moment, Spades, I'll be right down!" Karkat only heard her faint voice, but it wasn't broken by sobs, so he supposed he didn't do too bad.
"What's the deal with the cake?" Slick asked.
"It's my birthday."
"I was joking."
"Jokes are supposed to be funny."
Slick laughed sarcastically. "Shut up brat. I actually got you something this year." He reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a watch. He tossed it to Karkat, who caught it. It was made of a dull gray metal, and the clock face was surrounded by small crabs. It didn't look expensive, and even had a childish air to it, but Karkat always had a softspot for crabs.
"Thanks," he said.
"Don't mention it. The boys will be over later, they probably have stuff to."
"Alright." Karkat looked at the watch, mulling over his next words. "I need your help."
"With what?"
"I need to find Lord English."
"Yeah, you and me both, brat. If you find him, tell him I'm gonna kill him."
"No, I seriously need to find him. I think he hired someone to kill my Dad."
Slick fell silent. He had been close friends with Karkat's father. His death left Slick without one of his friends, which was already a small group. If you asked the right people, you might be led to believe that Slick hired someone to kill Brots in jail. But he denied it. Deny, deny, deny, as he always said. "You're in over your head, kid."
"I know, but it's what I need to do."
Slick opened his switchblade. Twirling it in his fingers, he asked, "Do you have a plan yet?"
"So far, all I have is adopting an alias and joining The Felt."
"Stupid. They'll figure out who you are in relation to me and kill you. What else?"
"That was it, that's why I'm asking you."
"Get an informant."
"Can you help me with that?"
As soon as those words left Karkat's mouth, Slick threw his knife. It flew past Karkat's head, close enough for him to hear it pass, and landed firmly in the wall. Karkat's heart stopped. Slick rose from his chair and said, "Listen brat. I'm not gonna talk you out of this. I get it. You have to do it. But don't you fucking go and get me involved."
Karkat nodded, too stunned to reply, although a thousand curses were floating through his head. Someone knocked on the door, and Slick got up to answer. Before he did, he grabbed his blade from the wall. "Kid. I was kind enough to miss. They won't be." Scowling, he went to the door, which Karkat assumed Droog, Boxcars, and Deuce had knocked on. Karkat touched his ear, glad to find it free from harm. He looked at the new indent in the wall. Slick's words echoed in his mind, and his determination to avenge his father was replaced by a sick, nervous feeling.