Vriska parried the chainsaw with her mechanical arm and sparks flew. Chainsaws are actually pretty crummy as weapons, and if the thing was messy because of why I thought it was, then it only got that way because Kanaya kept getting the drop on whatever unlucky punk had had the gall to ask Rose out. Within seconds all the teeth had been scraped off and the chain was a tangled mess; the engine sputtered and vomited black smoke all over the two trolls' faces. All four of us stared dumbfounded at the stupidity of the moment.

With a few deft movements, Vriska wrapped the chain around her mechanical knuckles and punched Kanaya in the face. She went flying all the way to Rose's feet. Her owner helped her up, and the troll spat out a glob of emerald saliva. "I think we won," I said. "That was really anti-climactic."

Rose shot me a withering glare, though honestly those eyes of hers are so fucking pretty that any kind of direct eye contact made me giddy, withering or not. "I will pick you up at eight," she hissed. I was about to give her my info but she cut me off with another glare that made me reconsider my previous statement. "I will know everything I need to by the appointed time, Mr. Chamberlain," she warned.

Vriska clamped onto my arm and squeezed hard. "We have an appointment to keep Neville," she hissed in my ear, and dragged me off as fast as she could. I briefly considered asking her if she was afraid of the gorgeous devilgirl, but a look into her eyes told me that that would not be a useful avenue of questioning.

But you know what? Fuck it. I am going on my first real legitimate date tonight! I could sing "Onna no Ko Otoko no Ko" by Yuko Ogura if I knew Japanese.

A few of the warehouses on the fringe of the warehouse district had been converted into apartments, just the sort of thing that attracts artistic types with a lot of vision and very little income. Sollux captor lived on the third floor of such a building, his room only accessible by fire escape. Even here, a pattern of card suits decorated the iron railings, proof that the city planners would meld form and function whenever possible.

What had once been a French window had been replaced with a crude door made of various bits of welded-together scrap metal. The left half of this barrier was made of three big pieces of shiny new metal, and the right half was composed only of stained or oxidized scraps cut into squares, making a sort of beautifully ugly mosaic of rust and verdigris and whatever the blue stuff is called. Right on the seam, a mechanical eye peered at us. I don't mean a camera lens, or rather I do, but a camera lens that had been built to look exactly like a creepy, huge, cyberpunk eyeball. "Stand back from the door," a voice commanded. It had a slight lisp.

"We're entertaining some ladies!" another, similar voice declared.

"Shut the fuck up Tuna and stop telling clients our personal business," the first voice snapped. A feminine voice could be heard shouting in the background. Only a few words were intelligible, like "booyeah!" and "make you my bitch!"

Vriska and I exchanged a glance as the sounds of evil laughter, loud banging, and sirens emanated from the apartment. "I am really uncomfortable here," I said.

Vriska just nodded, her face equal parts fascinated and horrified.

Finally the door hissed open, and out stepped a very attractive teen girl with 60s model hair, dyed brilliant pink. She beamed at me; it was a radiant smile, though it seemed to take a lot out of her as she chose that moment to stumble and almost crash into me. Thankfully her troll caught her arm just in time to prevent any animesque accidental fondling shenanigans; the only consequence was a very unsexy mutual headbutt. "Sorry to keep you waiting shorty," she said as she staggered to a standing posture as I narrowly kept myself from falling off the fire escape, with a half-hearted, nigh-on forced sleeve grab from Vriska. "We were having way too much fun in there," the girl added, ignoring my plight with a dramatic wink of a big, pink eye. Now, her eyes were a little bloodshot and she smelled like alcohol, but I'm, talking about her irises: they were a bombastic shade of pink. I had no clue what to make of her.

"So very sorry," said the troll as. She was a cute, petite thing with spiral horns and silver hair. I couldn't tell what model she was, maybe custom or maybe, judging by her slight accent, just foreign. "I'll get her out of your hair in just a mome—oh dear." The 'dear' was said with such a heartbreaking inflection that I almost didn't mind the human girl puking up a frankly heroic amount of sparkling rosé wine and amaretto flavored with stomach acid and thankfully nothing else, all over me. It hit me square in the chest and the stream moved down my body systematically, soaking my pants. The last pathetic dribbles, mixed with a few pathetic breakfast noodles, were coughed out onto my shoes.

Vriska looked on in horror. The chubby little troll flushed luminescent green in embarrassment. The girl, on her knees, continued to dry-heave. "Neville," said Vriska, "we need to fight them."

The other troll cried.

Sollux was a gangly man, his hair was black and blonde, and he had one of those faces where you can't tell if he's unbearably ugly or incredibly handsome. He looked at me in disgust as the party of four tromped into his living room. "I'LL WASH IT," screamed a stuttering, lisping voice. A troll who resembled his master except for his glowing eyes, unruly mop of hair, and crooked mouthful of fangs, jogged up to me and started pulling off my suit. "YOU'RE FUCKING GROSS MAN," he slurred.

"Dammit Roxy, I don't need you puking on my customers," said Sollux, clutching at his head.

Roxy—the girl I'm assuming—was passed out and snoring like a chainsaw in the arms of her troll.

"Shower's down the hall," Sollux said irritatedly, the mere act of pointing looking like some German impressionist film villain's rise from the grave. "I'll work on Vriska while you're gone." I shot Vriska a look and she grinned, nodding enthusiastically. I sighed and walked on down, avoiding various computer parts and weird little machines that were haphazardly strewn about the floor, a task made harder by Sollux's troll, Mituna, who was still eagerly tugging at my jacket.

I reached the bathroom without stepping in something or electrocuting myself, miraculously, and undressed behind the door before handing the troll my things. Then I stepped into the shower, turned on the hot water, and—

Stared right into the barrel of an assault rifle. I slumped against the opposite wall, glad for the additional half-inch of distance, and looked around in a panic. The weapon was…melting through the wall.

"Oh yeah," I heard Sollux shouting, "me and Rx created a little artificial intelligence thing during our hack-off. On accident. Don't worry, he's harmless, restricted to the apartment. And, like, a lousy shot." None of that was reassuring.

I washed up quickly and basically said to hell with everything when he started shooting at me. The illusory bullets didn't even cause me physical discomfort but they were just as realistic as any other hologram made by the AR. I threw on a bathrobe to the *ratatatat* of an AK-47 and marched back into the hall.

It's really awkward being in someone else's house, in one of their bathrobes, because their girlfriend threw up all over your new suit.

Mituna's voice startled me again. "NOT DONE—"

"USE YOUR INSIDE VOICE!" Sollux growled, pounding his fist and making something rattle.

Mituna whispered very loudly. "Not done yet."

Roxy was asleep on the couch, drooling into her pillow while her troll stroked her back. She looked up at me and turned green with shame again, eyes turning watery, and I melted a little. "Hi," I said. "Neville Chamberlain."

"Calliope," she muttered. "My dear master is named Roxy Lalonde."

I felt a little throb all through my body. "Um. I think I might be going on a date with her sister later."

Calliope shrank; her ears, slightly pointed and calf-like, drooped just slightly. "I'm so sorry for you," she muttered. What?

"No," I stammered, "I actually like her."

"Then hopefully," she said with a slight smile, the kind that begins forced but ends as a self-sustaining expression of hope, "things may yet work out for the best!"

"Neville!" Vriska called from the other end of the room, "Come over here and keep me company!"

The "living room" was more of a big studio type of deal, and the far end was normally set aside with a heavy curtain. At the moment it only concealed about a fourth of a small workshop crammed with even more computer parts, machine parts, enough prosthetics matching Vriska's to build a whole new troll, and so many colorful troll weapons that it looked like a giant child's overturned toy chest.

Vriska's mechanical hand was up on a work-bench. The single metal plate over the inside of her forearm had been removed and the insides had been partially disassembled, wires and steel cable splayed carefully onto the workspace. There were a few twisted bars that Sollux had snipped off the sides to make room for…something, a metal ring with a transparent dome over it. Our dice were inside. "Almost done," he said. "I never liked the dicekind specibus; they're too easy to lose, especially when you have so many. This way you'll be able to use them way faster and won't have to worry about picking them up. It'll be easier to game the system too. Also, I'm going to increase the strength of her arm so the added weight doesn't throw her off."

"That's it?" I asked.

"Shut up Neville," said Vriska, "this is awesome. I am popomatic."

"You're an idiot," I said, or rather, that's what I was going to say, before I saw the most fantastic thing. Sollux had a set of powered armor up against the wall, black and yellow, with a visor split between blue and red. The heavy yellow gauntlets each held a metallic black chakram with red and blue LED lights along the inside. "This is awesome! Who are you building this for?"

"It's mine," Sollux snorted. "I modded Mituna up until he could wear powered armor like a Sagittarius model to counteract that stupid "squishy wizard" bullshit all Geminis have."

"Sweet," I said, not quite touching the thing. "So you rely on your psionics?"

Sollux gagged. "That skill tree is bullshit, you only get the good moves at super high levels. I burnt that out pushing his energy attacks past max," he pointed at me with his screwdriver, grinning like a kid gushing about his favorite toy. "Tuna can actually generate heat now, that's how badass it is. If I went full power I could actually hurt someone."

Mituna peered around the corner, as if trying to be non-intrusive, and then shouted. "YO SOLLUX, WHAT'S THE RULE ABOUT BLEACH AND COLORS? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO USE LIKE, HELLA BLEACH RIGHT?" I felt as if I had been thrown out of a plain and all the blood flowed into my feet.

Sollux sighed. "You're not supposed to use any."

"Okay cool!" Mituna said with a happy smile before skipping off. My heart started beating again.

"Yeah…I wasn't the best at modding back then," Sollux said, raising his shoulders defensively. "He used to be…different." His face fell and something approaching guilt darkened his features. Then, Sollux abruptly cleared his throat. "Modding is serious business kid, always use a pro, like me."

When my clothes eventually emerged from the wash, I was relieved to see that they were actually clean, and not ruined in any detectable way. My luck is finally on the rise. We left with gratitude and a polite nod towards the sleeping Roxy.

"We need to get into a fight with some dude," said Vriska. The new panel in her arm opened up and out popped the popomatic dome, which she proceeded to pop mercilessly. "How about…" she scanned the crowd, "that guy!" She thrust her finger at some vaguely hipsterish Aquarius troll that had had the gall to cross the street near us.

I grabbed her hand and lowered it. "Monkeys point."

"Monkeys bite people's faces off," Vriska countered, baring her fangs at the other troll. He promptly ran away.

"Let's just go home so I can get ready, we can fight someone tomorrow," I groaned.

"I'm coming with you," Vriska said matter-of-factly.

I stumbled and nearly fell. "You really aren't," I said.

"Yup," she said, sounding as if she were correcting someone stupid, "I don't like or trust that girl. She's probably going to try to get revenge on you for having the audacity to survive a chainsaw attack."

Obviously I was powerless to stop Vriska from coming with me. Mom caught me walking in with a brand new suit and instantly asked, "Neville, are you going on a date in that little getup?"

I sighed. "No point in denying it."

Mom squealed. "Oh I'm so excited! When are you going to pick up Jade?"

My face felt really hot at that moment and my brain felt incredibly stupid. "No," I said feebly.

"Not Jade then?" she said, sounding more than a little disappointed. "She would be such a great daughter in law." I am thirteen and my mother is guilting me about marriage what is this? Next she'd be going on about grandchildren.

"You would have had such beautiful grandchildren," she sniffed, sounding as if she were about to cry.

"Okay no you're not allowed to be sadder about that relationship not happening than I was that is against the rules," I remonstrated, voice shaking a little.

My mom was about to say something else, but mercifully someone knocked on the door. It was Rose.

Notes: Yes this fic lives! It has been entirely too long *kisses the fic*. Neville, so you know, has not been resting all this time, but guest starring in one of my original works.

Kanaya apologizes for taking nine months to land that blow.

This chapter was originally going to be longer but I wanted to just fucking update already, so I cut it off arbitrarily right there. Hope you enjoyed.

Once again, the Ao3 versions of many of my stories involve a sountrack of some kind. Generally in this fic, Neville will tell you the name of the track and artist I want you to hear at that point, but I can't really do that in other stories, so go check out my account on Archive of Our Own, where I have the complete versions of this and many other stories that don't quite fit in on ff net!