AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do not know anything about coding and stuff. I am trying to use the correct technical terms and whatnot, but I don't actually know how it works. Please forgive any mistakes. As always, enjoy and review!-Manic-Catastrophe
Karkat sat down in front of his assigned computer, right next to Sollux. He had caught up with the rest of the class quickly, mainly because it moved at a turtle's pace. Sollux had outstripped the school's curriculum years ago, so he was allowed to do pretty much whatever he wanted. These past two months he had taught Karkat the entire semester's curriculum, and begun to teach him in-depth about coding. Specifically about security programs.
Sollux had designed a unique system where non-spreading computer bugs examined each bit of incoming data before allowing it to pass. If it did find a virus or bug, the defenders would return down the network to its source, thus eliminating most viruses. He prided himself on this, as it was nearly impossible for anyone but a trained professional with a week of spare time to break through. The program was nearly unnoticeable, except when a virus had been found. When that happened, the program caused a burst of fireworks to pop up on the screen.
When their instructor had sent his viruses against Sollux, the virus was completely destroyed, except for the file it was written on. He was flabbergasted by its efficiency and efficacy. The viruses, he explained, were only supposed to open up a file that said 'Virus', but their decryption methods were stronger than the average bear.
"Sollux? Are you going to send me the security file at all?"
"Yeah, sure. Jutht let me finish thith one thing up." He typed a few lines into the document, his fingers a blur and the keyboard rattling. "Alright, here you go." An e-mail entered Karkat's inbox from Sollux.
"What'd you add to it?"
"I added in a function to thweep the computer for virutheth already there."
Karkat checked the file, and the new lines of code performed that exact function. "And the system already installed won't see it as a threat?"
"It might, if the program only thcanth for virutheth. If it lookth at the function of the program, it'll be jutht fine."
"Alright, thanks man." Karkat began reading the code file, amazed at how he could change the variables here and here, and suddenly a virus that would freeze all incoming information and devour existing files. "Hey, Sollux," he nudged him slightly, "Do you realize that if I changed two variables, this virus could take the entire system down?"
"Yeah, I thaw thith viruth on Mituna'th computer and modified it thlightly."
"Well, it's an impressive system."
Sollux swelled with pride, and then got back to work on… whatever he was doing now. Karkat turned back to his own computer, and started running the Sollux's program. A firecracker popped on the screen, followed by another, and another. He counted fifteen in total. Satisfied, he looked at the instructor, who was looking at his own screen with his jaw catching flies. Right before the final bell rang, Karkat copied the program onto his flash drive, vowing to install BeeHive on his machine at home.
Karkat flopped down on his bed after walking home, the cuts on his legs burning from the exercise. Stifling a groan, he let his façade collapse. Good job Karkat. Still being a lazy piece of crap I see. Always taking advantage of people. He pounded his fist into his thighs, aggravating the pain. He felt the scabbed over skin twist and break. Little dark spots appeared on his jeans. He got up, the pain in his legs exacerbated by his motion and walked down the hall to the bathroom, where he replaced the bandages he had removed that morning.
Still feeling like it was not enough, he retrieved the knife from its drawer, careful not to make noise that Kanaya might hear. Returning to the bathroom, he drew the knife along his thighs again. You are disgusting. Slice. You're a lazy piece of shit. Slice, slice. You take advantage of everything that you can. Slice, slice, slice. People care about you, sure. But you aren't worth it. You can't even accept their love. As he internally abused himself, he lost track of what he was doing, but when the slicing stopped, he looked down and realized he had carved a word into his boy. Or rather, several words. They read: LAZY WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT. Blood dripped down the handle of the knife and his leg, flowing in a crimson river.
Moving fast and purposefully stretching the skin on his leg, he grabbed a washcloth and started wiping up the blood that had flowed to the floor. When finished with that, he wet a tissue with peroxide and wrung it out on the cuts, repeating the process multiple times. The disinfectant burned, but Karkat sat there, letting it do its work. You deserve this pain, Karkat. All you do it take. What do you do for anyone else, huh? Take, take, take, me, me, me. That's all you care about, Karkat. You're a repulsive, selfish pig!
The hydrogen peroxide gone, he bound his leg again, this time binding it as tightly as he could so that the pressure would hurt more. Limping now, he washed the knife and returned it to the kitchen drawer again. Right as he closed it, the front door opened, admitting a rather tired Rosa.
"Hey, Karkat!" Although she was clearly exhausted, she still sounded incredibly cheerful.
"Hey Rosa," Karkat had a difficult time assuming his mask of happiness again, "Long day at the office?"
"Yeah, it sure was." She practically threw herself down on the couch. "Leijon certainly doesn't want to work by Makara's rules. Or anyone's but hers, for that matter." She made a noise of disgust.
"Makara's your boss?" Rosa nodded in reply. "Huh, I think his son Gamzee goes to Derse."
"Really? That's interesting."
"I don't really hang out with him much."
"And why would that be?"
"He's a good-for-nothing stoner who somehow manages to ace every single thing he's given. He's one of those… ach, what do you call them… idiot-savant types."
"Sounds kinda like his dad. Kurloz sometimes shows up to work hung over. I think there's some problems going on at home. When he's like that, though… he carries empty beer bottles and uses them like clubs. Or he juggles them." She laid her head back on the couch and closed her eyes.
"Not to mention the fact that he's an insanely good artist. He does a lot of…" Karkat trailed off when he saw that Rosa had fallen asleep. He walked away carefully, not making any noise. His legs were in agony, so he walked with a pronounced limp down the hall towards Kanaya's room. Her door opened after he knocked on it twice.
"Hey, Kanaya. Rosa's home, but she's out cold. Work was exhausting from the sounds of it." He kept a neutral face, not betraying any of the conflicting emotions within him.
"That doesn't exactly surprise me for some strange reason. Her coworkers are a real handful sometimes, from what I've heard." She stepped out into the hall and started walking to the kitchen. "We're not making anything tonight since Mom is dead to the world. I'll just warm up some leftovers, alright?"
"Sounds fine by me," Karkat agreed, limping back to the kitchen.
Kanaya took immediate notice of that, "Karkat? Why are you limping?"
"Oh, that?" lifted his leg to the side, covering a wince at the pain, "It cramped up when I got home. Nothing major."
"Okay… but be careful. Cramps can tear the muscle. It might hurt for a few days until it heals."
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Not that I'm likely to forget it, what with me carving words into my damn flesh. I really am no different than dad… He shook his head, trying to get that line of thinking out of his head around Kanaya, but as could be expected, thoughts cannot be shaken loose.
Later, after dinner, Karkat returned to Porrim's old room to do his homework. Groaning in disappointment, he remembered that he had yet another essay to get started for Ms. Lalonde's class. This week's topic: Write a personal narrative about a time when you did something difficult. Include what motivated your decision, as well as what effects it has had on you life. Well, that's a fairly easy topic for me. He already had it fully planned in his mind, he just needed to transcribe it. Well, when I called the ambulance, that changed my life. It still is. He put his pencil to the sheet of paper and began to write.
An hour and forty-eight minutes later, Karkat had a finished rough draft that was the longest he'd ever written: nearly six pages front and back, written in his small, cramped cursive. His hand ached and the side was shiny with graphite dust (He writes left-handed). Reading through it, he was astounded by how unbelievable it actually sounded. So you're telling me that you had just been half crucified, lost a quart of blood, had your torso covered in burns, and yet you still managed to get up and call an ambulance? Get real. But it was true, and he knew it.
His thoughts shifted away from English and onto the rest of his subjects. He once again groaned in dismay seeing that he still had at least another hour of homework left. You know what Karkat? Fuck you. You're so lazy. Just do the work! He proceeded to do exactly that. When he finished, he realized that it actually took him nearly three hours. He couldn't even muster the energy to turn down his bedcover, simply falling asleep was easier.