The journey to the town square was difficult for all of the four remaining groups, namely due to the paranoia of death that seeped into all their minds as soon as they left their shelter. But it was an especially hard journey for that of Group Eight due to the nature of the injuries that plagued them. Sollux, the member of their team in best health, pushed Tavros's wheelie-chair through the silent, dusty streets, with the people he chauffeured offering little companionship… mainly due to one of them being passed out, and the other doing his best to keep her from falling to the ground.
A trail of blue blood followed them closely, the source of this path being Vriska's arm, or rather, the stub where the arm had once been. They had the actual arm with them as well, though, just in case they could somehow reattach it… but if honest, they had little hope for reattachment due to the condition of what remained of her arm; it was in about three pieces, with much of the flesh missing from the forearm, and the hand (or what remained of it), well, there was no way that she would ever be able to used those mangled remains again. But she was a blue-blood, so perhaps they could grow her a new one. The arm pieces joined her boiler-suit, which she hadn't been wearing when the orb exploded having washed it the night before. It was slightly funny in a morbid way, that she had taken the time to wash the article of clothing only to have it coated with more of her own blood in her bag.
In the square, groups Nine and Seven were waiting for the others to finally arrive so that they could get started on entering T.R.O.L.L. They had already introduced themselves to the other group due to the nature of their final murders. If Gamzee had not appeared and torn Essair from Nepeta, then Nepeta probably would have died, and the opening needed for Aradia to shoot the other member of Group One would not have arisen. To put it into simpler terms, it would have been Group One stood in the sun rather than Group Seven. Speaking of such things, Equius was still grovelling at the indigo-blood's feet, thanking him as if his life depended upon it… which if you thought about it, it kind of had. But it was still hideously embarrassing for Nepeta to watch his constant praise and submission, because the high-blood clearly did not give a shit.
"Thank you, grand highblood, for taking the time to save my sister. I apologise for the fact that you had to touch a yellow blood to do that, however."
"Ha, seriously, bro, it was a fucking pleasure." The stoner gave him a slow smile, slightly uncomfortable at the attention he was receiving, which grated with the lack of spoor-slime he had been having in the past few days.
"Oh my god, is that Vriska?" Terezi grinned after seeing the mane of hair in the distance, or rather after sniffing it.
Karkat pulled his gaze away from the amusing Equius to look in the direction that Terezi was pointing, "Who?"
"She has, like, loads of hair, pretty tanned… no wait, not anymore, he he. She has an expression like this," Terezi then proceeded to pull what she thought was a befitting expression, which was a sort of eerie, malicious smile. Karkat commented that he could see no difference in her face. "Whatever, Karkles."
"Tavros!" Aradia called, seeing him behind Vriska's slumped form and waving with big arches of her arms, yet she could soon see that something was wrong. "Tavros?"
Why was he not walking? Why was Sollux pushing Tavros and Vriska along on a wheelie-chair, why? Ideas began to float around in her mind, piecing themselves together but none were particularly nice. Panicking, she hurled the bow and arrow down onto the floor and began to sprint towards the eighth group. Did Vriska do something to him?
Skidding to a halt, she stopped before the chair, barely taking in Vriska sat on his lap, with Tavros's arms wrapped securely around her middle to stop her falling and Sollux's confused glance.
"Uh, hey Aradia." Tavros said, looking up at her form.
"Tavros? Are you okay? What… why are you not standing? Il y a une raison?" she panted.
A small wave of panic passed over his face, but he quickly gained control of it and replied, "We didn't eat much, and I'm, uh, pretty scrawny, so I've been getting dizzy spells. I can't really walk long distances without collapsing."
Sollux gave him a slightly confused look, but did not interrupt his ruse; evidently wanting to protect Vriska… but as to why he wanted to do that… Sollux hadn't a clue. "Yeah, he'th being a panthy."
"Shoosh! Don't be so rude!" Aradia smirked, playfully swatting at his arm.
"I, uh, think Vriska's the one you should be paying attention to." Despite the fact that she had removed his ability to walk on his legs forever (not that Aradia was to know this), he still worried for her.
"What… what happened to her arm?"
"Someone set a trap for her, and they, uh, well they blew her arm off. She's pretty, uh, lucky though."
"How is this lucky? She's not even, euh, conscious!" Aradia quickly checked the bindings on the blue-blood's arm. The bindings seemed fairly secure, but much blood was still seeping through the fabric of the sheets they had used as makeshift bandages.
"What's wrong with Vriska?" Terezi demanded as she too joined the group of mutants. Inhaling deeply, she tried to piece together what she could sense, but all she was getting was a hell of a lot of blue. Well shit. "What is it?"
"The'th lucky becauthe the bomb wath obviouthly meant to kill. Tho jutht losing an arm ith pretty fucking good conthidering."
"She's lost an arm?" Definitely shit.
"H-ello!" Feferi cried as they got to the village square. "Oh my glub, Aradia, vous est pas mort! Well don-e!"
The princess embraced the French girl tightly, as if they had been friends for years rather than hours. Aradia was not sure what to do in such situations, but gave her a friendly pat on the back nevertheless. Encouraging such friendships between high-bloods and low bloods was good.
"Bonjour, Feferi. Ça va?"
"Oui, merci! Et vous?"
Aradia gave her a quick nod before the wheelie-chair reached the centre of the square, and she went to pick up her bag where she had stored a small supply of bandages and other medical supplies. They had no idea how long it would take for them to be taken into T.R.O.L.L, so it would do well for Vriska to be properly treated. There was about ten or fifteen centimetres left of her arm before the flesh was striped from bone, and only a couple more centimetres extending from this of bone.
"Oh dear. I take it this is the worst of our injuries?" Kanaya gasped as she approached. "Besides the countless people that we have, ah, people whose places we have taken."
The Russian then noticed Gamzee's tall form by a bench and made a beeline towards him, enquiring about the state of her childhood memento. Sure, Vriska was cute, but she did not know her well enough to stick around to gawk at her injury when there were bigger fish to fry.
"I trust that you have kept my book safe, Gamzee?"
Yet before he could say a word in reply, a strange shooshing sound filled the area as a square of black opened into the sky – a hole – and from this a lift slowly descended into the village, supported by thick steel cords.
With a soft and oddly menacing 'ding!' the doors slid open, cheery music playing on the inside pouring out to greet the survivors.
"Uh… is this actually happening?" Terezi rose an eyebrow at the scene before her. "Elevator music? For the lift into the freaky 'retainment organisation'? This woman's a bit of a creep."
"Well. As I believe you say. May as well get it over with, non, Nepeta?" Aradia smirked in the direction of her team mate. Poor Nepeta had had to be carried for the journey to the square, Equius worried that the girl would pass out any moment due to the pounding she had received. Yet after a sit down, she was feeling somewhat better.
With a flash of her wicked teeth, Nepeta grinned, "Yup, that's purrfectly correct usage of the term."
With a small amount of hassle, the twelve trolls got into the room of the lift. It was not a particularly large lift, and with the addition of Tavros's wheelie-chair there was little space.
"Wwould you shift already, low-blood?"
"Watch your language, thit-head."
"OW! Whose fucking horns were they?"
"Sorry, Karkat!"
"Cease your lewd language towards her."
"I'll clean my fucking language up when I fucking want to. Which for your information, won't be any fucking time soon."
"Come on, that was just lame, Karkles." Terezi cackled, covering Karkat's mouth with a hand to prevent any further continuation of the conversation.
The lift continued to shift for what felt like an hour to Tavros, but can't have been more than five minutes. Vriska's blood had long since begun to seep through the trousers of his boiler suit, but due to the nature of his injuries he could not feel a thing. Not the warmth or the blood, nor the stickiness of it, or even the dead weight of Vriska on his lap. In fact, if she was not slumped on him he may well have begun to freak out again, and unconsciously his grip around her waist increased. She was currently a stand in for Tinkerbull, and he hoped that she would not mind… ha, who was he kidding? If she found out that he was hugging her not only for her own security, but also his, she would have a major freak out.
With another 'ding!' the lift came to a gentle stop, and the children slowly got out. After what they had been put through last time they were here, they could not say they were looking on their next period of time in the retainment organisation.
Waiting for them was a group of twelve men and women in pale blue-green outfits. Medics.
"Three of us have each been allocated to your teams as to heal any injuries you have received. So separate into your original groups now," One ordered, and indeed the order was soon done, as this woman was clearly of the same blood caste as Eridan, and so commanded the attention of all. "We are all specialised in your respective blood castes and will do our best to help you. Now, Group Ten, with me."
Each of the three remaining teams of medics called for a group, and they then headed off to different wings of the floor they were on.
Which Group would you like to follow?
== Uhh…
Group 'uhh' not recognised. Please try again.
== Bluh, stupid computers! Oh whatever, go with Group Eight
Group 'Bluh, stupid computers! Oh whatever, go with Group Eight' not recognised. Please try again.
==Group Eight!
You are now Sollux Captor, and you are fed up with puthing your team mateth around everywhere already
Upon seeing Vriska's condition, the cerulean-blooded medic's eyes widened and he quickly ushered them towards a room. Inside, a hard looking bed stood in the centre of the room, with two chairs pushed up against the wall and an operating robot on hand in the corner.
"I had not known that her injury was this bad." he muttered as he pulled various objects from the cabinets and drawers that lined one of the walls before lifting Vriska up and placing her gently upon the bed.
"How did you know in the firtht place?" Sollux asked.
"Oh, uh, from the first glance I gave you."
Sollux, ever the cynic, soon picked up on his subtle hints. "You had camerath thet up in the village, right? To keep an eye on uth."
"Quite, yes, I suppose that there is no use in the delaying the matter anymore. Although I hardly believe that you would assume we weren't keeping an eye on you all." The cerulean-blooded doctor amused Sollux. It was funny to think that this is how Vriska should really be. Most people of her blood type were fairly odd as the castes went. Because they were only just blue-bloods, they often felt the need to do extra-special things to make up for that dash of green in their blood. Things such as becoming interesting professionals, or getting jobs with high prestige in society, or things such as speaking in a distinctly upper-class way. Or even things as odd as having the most elaborate houses, achieved only by saving the money they got until their homes could rival that of the indigo-bloods. Yes, Vriska was nothing like the man before them, having lived in terraced housing in an area dominated by green-blooded castes of all types: lime green, teal and olive.
"Have you got any of the arm's remains? The smoke created by the bomb rather obscured the camera, I'm afraid."
== Retrieve arms
Ath if that gag hath not been over uthed. But nonetheleth, you pull out the three pieceth of her arm that remain and hand them to the doctor
"Ah. Yes, these will not do. We may well have to grow her a new one then."
"You would, uh, pay for that? I'm fairly certain that's, uh, pretty expensive stuff to do." Tavros commented, then when he noticed the look the doctor was giving him soon slunk down low into his seat, his nervous grin adorning his face.
"Well, that is all. You may now accompany them to their respective rooms." the blue-blood ordered once more with a flick of his wrist, indicating that the other two doctors leave as well.
The first of these other doctors was an olive-blooded woman with a hard face, and the other, the vivid blue of Equius's caste. Odd. People of that blood colour tended to get fairly shirty about those of lower castes than they ordering them around. Sollux frowned, something odd was going on. Odder than the use of children as what were essentially gladiators anyway.
"Mr Nitram, we have reasons to believe that you are either unable to stand due to pain tolerance levels, or that you have been paralyzed," the blue-blood said as Sollux wheeled the boy down the twisting corridors. "Could you please confide to us what has occurred?"
"Well, uh, I was pushed out of a window and landed on my back. And now my legs, uh, and now they feel… invisible. Wow, I'm sure there was a better way to say that," A nervous grin worked its way onto his face with little challenge as he began to ramble in his characteristic faltering manner. "Anyway, that's really all there is, uh, to report on the subject, of me getting hurt."
"So the blue-blood pushed you out of a window, is what you are saying."
"Uh, yes."
"Where do your senses stop?"
"About the small of my back. Uh…" Tavros reached his hand down the back of the chair to point, but then realised that it would not help them much. Most could not see through chairs. "Well, uh, yeah. You get the idea."
"I'm afraid that we may not be able to treat you, Mr Nitram. As of yet, you have not developed any talents, so the stem cell therapy cannot be funded. Unlike with your team mate, Ms Serket."
"Tho you're thaying 'get freaky thuper-human powerth, or we won't heal your thpine'? Way to be dickth."
The olive-blood pursed her lips, containing any anger that may break her calm mask. "And Mr Captor. We presume all is well with you?"
"Other than the rethidual poithon in my veinth, yeah. Doing pretty fucking good," he replied, sarcasm tinting his words a slight yellow that Terezi would have picked up straight away. "Can't you take my treatment cothtth and tranthfer them to him?"
With a small, sad smile that one might give a child whom relieved themselves upon the floor in attempt to show you how well they could use their potty, the blue-blood said, "Noble as your suggestion is, that is not how our system works here, Mr Captor."
The olive-blood took control of the wheelie-chair from Sollux, and carted Tavros into a room similar to that of Vriska's, leaving Sollux alone with the blue-blood. Like with his team mates, he was soon led into a medical room and told to lie down on the cold slab of metal in the centre. He shivered as he stretched back, and thought that it could do with one of those many bed sheets Feferi was telling them about excit-edly while in the lift. How odd that they would have so many bed sheets in one house…
"You will have been shot with one of our respiratory inhibitors. You are lucky to have been given the antidote within ten minutes of injection, or the damage to your body would have been permanent, even with the assistance of nanos and stem cells. They can't work miracles." the doctor commented as they worked on him, taking blood samples and generally prodding him all over. Yet it was soon over and done with, and Sollux was sent to a waiting room with the knowledge that he 'seemed to be okay'. Well thanks.
After a couple dozen minutes, Tavros wheeled himself in on a wheelchair, the kind that were made for those unable to walk, as opposed to a wheelie-chair with a belt. Evidently the doctors had decided that he was not worth the costs of treatment and so had decided to leave him disabled. Waving off his concerns, Tavros told him that while his spine was not fixed, his general cuts, including the large one on his back that had been causing him issues, had been healed. Well, stitched and slathered with antiseptic at any rate.
"Do you know what they're doing to Vrithka?" Sollux asked the other boy of Group Eight. "Thince you were with them longer."
With a frown, Tavros replied, "I tried, uhh, asking. But they were pretty, uh, unresponsive. I don't think they're low-blood's biggest fans, really."
Sollux snorted, "Stuck up pricks."
== Vriska, wake already
Right: you've got a head full of groggy, a belly full of period cramp and a left arm stuffed with… oh shit, you forgot about that. You are now Vriska Serket
What torture was this, Vriska pondered as she slowly regained consciousness. It felt like someone had taken an umbrella and were currently trying to slowly twist it through her lower abdomen. Like tiny little people in her stomach were punching her innards with a vengeance. Like a particularly angry hive of bees had decided there was pollen inside of her, and were now trying to break in through the means of repeated stinging, boring holes until they created a gap they could fly through. The pain came and receded like waves on the beach, indicating that whatever anaesthetic they were using for her arm and eye were local, because hell if it was having any effect on the agony in her gut. Welcome to period cramps.
Sweeping the hair from her face with one hand, the other… nope never mind. Only one hand… she had to get used to that quickly or bad things would happen. Opening her eyes… no, eye. Opening her eye a crack, she noticed that the depth of the room was destroyed since she had also lost the ability to see in one eye due to the incident with the magic eight ball. Ugh, she really should have seen through that. Pun unintentional.
The room she had awoken in was painted a pleasingly dark green, easy on her damaged eyes… not to mention the artist within her. A dark-red hardwood created panelling up to the middle height of the walls, with furniture in matching wood and a dark parquet floor. An immense grandfather clock rested against one of the walls, filling the room with a soft tick-tock that filled her with an incredibly contradictory mixture of serenity and apprehension, however that worked. The chair she had been placed in was a vast armchair in similar green and brown-red hues as the rest of the room. In the centre sat a large mahogany desk with several organised clumps of paper stacked high, a dip pen along with other assorted stationary, and a strange white bowl filled with dark little sweets in the shape of Scottie dogs. Bluh, she hated those little rats.
Odd, for such a room to be in T.R.O.L.L. Something just seemed terribly off, but she could not quite figure out for the life of her what it was; probably because the soft tick-tock was calming her a great deal more than it should have been. Perhaps that was a side effect of the drugs pumping through her system.
"Please, feel free to help yourself to a liquorice. I my self are rather partial to such sweets." At the sound of the smooth American accent, Vriska turned in her seat, only to find that the high back hid the person who had entered. Instead, she looked back at the bowl on the table. Ugh, just her luck. Free food, and it was something she did not like.
"I don't like liquorice." she said, and pushed the bowl further away from her.
"Then I apologise. I shall be sure to use a different sort the next time we speak." Who was this? And why were they so concerned over what sweets she liked for heavens sake? Surely what with the kidnap of dozens of children, they would care little for something as insubstantial as getting the right sweets.
With a soft sigh from the velvet of the chair, the man behind her sat opposite to Vriska on the other side of the desk. He wore an immaculate white suit, and underneath this, a green shirt and bow-tie. Yet that was not what shot the warning signals to her brain. On his head, or rather where his head should be, was a giant white orb.
"Uh…" Then with a quick self-berate for sounding like Tavros, Vriska said, "What's with the headgear?"
"This? I beg your pardon for any inconveniences, but it is to prevent you from controlling my actions with your abilities."
A flicker of fear passed through her stomach. "What are you talking about?"
"Come, let us not spend an hour debating useless matters," the man chuckled in a good-natured fashion. We have been watching you all closely while you inhabited the village arena, and we have all taken a certain amount of interest in your abilities. You are able to control others actions merely by looking them in the eye. Astonishing!"
"Thanks?"
"You are quite welcome, my dear. Now then, the reason that I had you brought to my office is simple. We have found a small… complication on your treatment plans."
"What?"
"While your talents are certainly extraordinary, they are not enough to cover the treatment costs of growing you another fully functional arm. The more one has to grow, the more it costs. Although if these powers further develop, then you may be in for a chance at another human arm as we will be able to create a profit from them," The man paused to adjust the odd white orb atop his head before continuing. "Well, that is all I wish to speak of. You may leave now. And send Mr Zahak in on your way out, if you please."
Vriska rose from the chair and turned to where she assumed the door would be (since, you know, being brought into a room when you're unconscious tends to leave one a little disoriented), and left. Outside, her one working eye complained at the harsh lighting that suddenly met her, made worse by the reflective white walls surrounding her. When her vision returned, she noticed Equius sat by the door looking disgustingly sweaty, and said, "Hey, you're next, clammy."
With a nod, he got up and went into the room, but not before saying, "You should probably find something to cover yourself with."
Looking down at herself, she discovered that she was wearing nothing more than underwear and a hospital gown. Perverts. Well, that would explain why that Equius bloke was sweating all over the place.
Within seconds of standing uselessly in the hallway, a doctor appeared.
"Come with me, Ms Serket." he commanded, and without checking to see if she would follow, began to march down one of the corridors. Not wanting to get lost, she went along him.
After a couple of minutes, she broke the silence, "So do you have GPS in your head or what?"
The blue-blooded doctor stopped and turned to look at her. "Excuse me?"
"As in, is there a micro-chip implanted in your thick skull that allows one to know their directions in this maze." she said, slowly and sarcastically. "Or would you like me to phrase it differently again?"
"Ah. The drugs must be making you bad tempered."
"Not really." Vriska shrugged. "So where the fuck am I?"
"You would do well to clean up your language, Ms Serket. We are cerulean-bloods. We have an image to uphold!" he sighed as he guided them down another corridor, each as featureless as the last.
"Oh, you're one of those weird ones aren't you?" she snorted. "You guys make me almost embarrassed to be a blue-blood sometimes."
His neutral expression was beginning to look strained when he opened a set of double doors and said, "We have arrived. If you should need to contact me, ask for Dr Kajeor."
With a gentle push into the room, the doors were shut once more and she found herself in another green room. The walls were the same dark green, yet there was none of the hardwood panelling in here, and the floor was a faux-wood linoleum. Two tables sat side by side, with long benches on either side as seats, and on these most of the mutants that had fought for places in the establishment. Quickly spotting Tavros and Sollux, she headed for their table and took a seat next to the disabled boy, noting the folded up wheelchair propped up on the wall behind him.
"Missed me?" she grinned, amused by Tavros's flushed expression at the extent of back and leg shown by the hospital gown, although a few of them were wearing such outfits, well, Feferi and Tavros anyway.
"Thit, thought we got rid of you." Sollux drawled, fiddling on his iPhone and looking cut off from the world.
In the voice of the cerulean-blooded doctor, Dr Kajeor, she laughed, "Quite sorry, but no."
"Wriska? Wwhat the fuck are you doin' at our table?" Eridan demanded as he approached the table that held Group Eight and Feferi, also in a hospital gown as he sat. Vriska noted with a small amount of appreciation at his nice body.
"Sitting, I believe." Vriska smirked. "You, fish boy?"
"Fish boy? Wwoww you're runnin' out a' ideas."
"Eridan." Feferi said in a warning tone.
When the boy said nothing further, Vriska sneered, "'Atta boy, Eridan."
"Quiet!" The head guard had returned, along with the remainder of the children. Kanaya was the last to sit at their table, seating herself with an elegant fold opposite Vriska. While he wore the same outfit as before, and the same generally hard expression, there was an undercurrent of pride. "Now that we are all here, I would like to congratulate you on surviving. That all twelve of you managed to beat the others off is a great achievement.
'Now then. From now onwards, we have a new schedule for you all. Groups Seven and Nine have been grouped to form the Blue Team, and groups Eight and Ten will be the Red Team. Now then, it is currently one in the afternoon, so after lunch, you shall have a brief tour of the area, and after that you will be splitting into your four groups once more for some training. Now then, do we have any questions?"
Vriska raised her hand, "When can I get some decent clothes again?"
Your name is Kanaya Maryam.
Unlike many people your age, you have taken a shining to LANDSCAPING. You had cultivated a lush oasis around your home, and in particular, honed your craft through the art of TOPIARY. You have embraced the tool of this trade, which is CONVENIENT since this is the weapon you FOUND FIRST upon entering the village. Almost as if it was PRE-PLANNED. But that's silly.
You are one of the few humans with JADE GREEN BLOOD. As such you are one of the few raised by the VIRGIN MOTHER QUEEN, another jade-blood who has sacrificed her position to raise you. A position which involves the careful and delicate processes of PREVENTING HARMFUL MUTATIONS from entering the gene pool. Oh the delicious irony.
Another thing you enjoy are tales of RAINBOW DRINKERS and SHADOW DROPPERS and FORBIDDEN PASSION. You are also are one of the few that have developed a zeal for FASHION and DESIGN and LIVELY COLOURFUL PATTERNS. You are a SEAMSTRESS or a RAGRIPPER or a TREETRIMMER or a LUMBERJACK, whichever you care to be.
Most of the people in your home town of Moscow are too busy with their RADIATION SUITS in case of stray radiation sneaking in from the bombs. But pish posh. That's a load of RUBBISH and so you made an effort to LOOK GOOD before you were taken away. However, they were not the ones carted off because of a blotch of grey skin appearing on their cheeks, so MAYBE THEY WERE ONTO SOMETHING THERE.
Lousy goddamn stupid radiation.
A/N: I've finally caught up with Homestuck updates! So I know you'll probably be thinking 'what were you doing writing a fanfic before you'd caught up?'. Uh, can't say I've got an excuse for that!
And as someone pointed out, one of the more recent updates mentions the imperial condense trying to introduce the blood caste system into humans. So, uh, I did a little freak out. I doubt that the Hussie has read this, lol, but if he did and is stealing mah ideaz… hehe. Also, even more oddly, more of the ideas I was going to use for this have appeared in recent cannon. Crazy!
So yeah, final thing. The names for most of the OCs in this are quite literally me typing out two random sets of six letter words, as to keep with the name rule thingie XD
And thank you for reading! ^^