AUTHOR'S NOTE: If Sollux's lisp is too difficult to read, just tell me and I'll use twos instead.
If it were any other troll that had to sit hunched over one of these husktops all day, they wouldn't survive as long as you. You've got a tolerance for being stuck in a chair for hours – sometimes even days. It's not even "tolerance" anymore; it's a talent. Codes and sequences are your thing, and they often come before sleep. You are perfect for this job. Sometimes you almost feel proud of yourself... then you remember where it is you work.
Your name is Sollux Captor, and you are an employee of the Betty Crocker Corporation. The difference between you and most other employees is that you make your living in a subdivision run by trolls. Since they now coexist with humans, many human products have troll variations or parts added to them. Obscenely delicious snacks are no exception. You're on the team that gets all the stuff done to make sure they're satisfying for trolls, too. Job benefits include reduced prices on all products and one of the highest quality computers they have to work with. No one cares that you're only six sweeps old. Tons of trolls your age have jobs, some even in the positions supervised by humans. Life on Earth is a different kind of free-for-all than what you hear about Alternia.
You've been checking codes for nearly twelve hours now and you're not quite tired yet. The troll division "enhances" most of the products before they go on the market, and you're the guy that writes those so-called recipes. Some of them are questionable, but what business doesn't have a few skeletons in their closet?
Eridan Ampora struts by you in the custom made white lab coat he insists on wearing. He must have just arrived, which means it's about sevemn thirty in the evening and his shift is starting. He's one of the scientists that makes your formulas a reality. The two of you don't get along. You're forced to interact because of your positions.
"Got some new recipes in," you say unenthusiastically. Your lips makes it sound like "Got thome new rethipeeth in" and you can't stand how much it makes you feel like a dork.
"Tell 'em to stop adding sopor slime to everythin'," he gripes. He has that distinct manner of speech that only seadwellers have, but he ruins it by talking like a human nitwit thug.
"You have to admit it'th deliciouth." You put unnecessary emphasis on the "to" because you really like how it sounds.
"More like disgustin'." He goes to a table on the other side of the lab to check one of those questionable experiments. He leans down to examine it, then makes an "ugh" sound. "If nothin' else in here makes me question my morals, it's this test."
It's funny because Eridan barely has morals. He hates anything that doesn't have gills. Glancing at the test, you recognize it immediately as the one that began last week. It's been putting you on edge ever since it began because now the laboratory has been given the task of putting something living in the newest products. You even had to swear to secrecy because of how outlandish this experiment is. Supposedly it's meant to increase a troll's senses tenfold. That is the one skeleton in the closet you wish didn't exist. You don't really care whether or not the trolls are actually trying to become supreme – the humans spread rumors about it – but this experiment seems too risky. The codes barely even made sense. They were just realistic enough to work.
Eridan carries the petri dish to another table – one that's full of Betty Crocker food products – and starts messing with it. He's only completely silent when working. You'll have a few minutes of peace. While you return to your own task, the room is quiet except for the tinkering of lab equipment and the smashing of keyboard keys. For a while you become so entranced in your work that you hardly notice Eridan has been calling your name. On the third time, you look up.
He has taken a step back from the table and is making an odd face at it, like he ate something sour. "This isn't gonna work, Sol," he says flatly, pointing at- holy shit.
Where he previously had the petri dish now lies the mutilated corpse of one of the lab's Earth rats. It's covered in blood and who knows what else, with something crawling out of it. This wasn't a factor of the experiment at all; Eridan must have left out the one thing you specifically told him not to.
"You left out the thopor thlime, didn't you?" you snap. He gives you a conflicted look. There's no point in scolding him yet: you have to clean up this mess. The creature, a tiny white lusus that has taken the form of a centipede, is trying to flee the scene. You stand up and approach the table, pull your red-and-blue glasses off, and put an end to the insect with a psychic blast.
Ampora is pretty worked up over it. He stares at you in awe as you put your glasses back on, and then he demands, "What the hell was that?"
"A mithtake." you answer pointedly. "Wouldn't have happened if you followed my directionth."
"I did. The boss told me to skip a few steps."
That's just wrong. Even if it was the head of the department giving orders, he should know how dangerous this is. He just tried to make Eridan fuse a live lusus with a rat... and it only took a few minutes for it to be slaughtered. For a second, you're just confused. Then you remember that it was done on purpose.
You quickly return to your chair and delete the code you've been perfecting. Then you delete the ones that are already finished. This is just insane. There is no way you're letting the experiment go on. It was iffy enough already. Eridan creeps up behind you and watches.
"That's a great waste o' time," he says.
"Thomeone here hath to be reathonable and I gueth it'th me."
"I'll just tell the boss what went wrong, damn."
"He told you to thcrew it up on purpoth, Eridan," you remind him. "We were about to implant living luthii into food. Then trollth would eat that food and the luthii would be inthide of them. That'th wrong." Maybe the rumors humans spread are true. There's definitely some kind of radical action going on and Eridan doesn't realize this is just as bad for trolls as it is for humans. He remains behind you, processing your words carefully. His eyes shift to the deceased rat and then he says defeatedly, "I can't believe I'm agreein' with you. We're gonna lose our jobs, aren't we?"
You raise an eyebrow at him. "We dithcover an evil plot and you're worried about your job? I thee you've got your prioritieth in line. There are plenty other placeth to work."
"A troll needs income, Sol."
Your flaring aggravation incites the voices of the doomed to grow from hushed whispers to forceful commands. They were kepts mostly in the back of your mind while you worked, but now there's no stopping them since you're aware. You rub your temples and stand up, nearly hitting Eridan with the chair as it rolls back. "I'm not letting thith happen" is your exasperated response. The highblood rushes to his experiments and starts fooling with several of them. You watch him debate something internally as he stares at the deceased rat and the bloody infant lusus. Then he simply turns away and looks inquisitively at you.
"What are we gonna do now?" he asks.
"Rethearch." He looks displeased, but you quickly continue. "Cronuth uthed to work here, remember? Crocker Corp hath alwayth been a little weird. He can tell uth what projecth happened before he left."
"He left 'cause they treated him like shit, Sol, not 'cause o' some absurd evil plan," Eridan points out. He's too stubborn sometimes. You can't stand it and you don't know how Feferi can.
"Jutht thut the hell up and trutht me for once," you retort. After a bitter reply of "Fine," you lead him out of the lab and the two of you make your way towards his hive. It's above water like the dumbass he is, but thankfully that makes it easy for you to get to Cronus. The taxi ride lasts about an hour because of how far it is to the closest seadwelling cluster: it's a deep lake carved by trolls a few miles north of D.C. They provided him with a whole lake and he chose to have his hive built on an outcropping of rocks. Part of the reason you hate him (platonically) is because he's such an idiot. At least the taxi drivers get extra pay for driving this far - the Ampora hive might as well be in the main D.C. cluster since it's technically not even in the seadwelling one.
The cab pulls up about fifty feet from his hive, designed to look like a wrecked ship. The two of you exit the car and you tip the cab driver, asking him to wait, which means you owe him ten extra bucks. What a sourpus.
You follow Ampora into his hive and he leads you up to the deck of the ship, where Cronus stands facing away from the two of you, staring down at the water over the edge. The smell of cigarette smoke hovers around him when you get closer.
"Could you put that disgustin' thing out?" Eridan complains. This makes Cronus turn to look at the two of you, and his royal purple irises focus on you especially. You've never actually met him, so it might be odd to start an interrogation. But this is your only lead so far.
"Nice to see you too, Eri." Cronus coos sarcastically. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between his thumb and index phalanges as expertly as a human would. His voice is suave, but it irks you more than Eridan's because it sounds almost like troll Sean Connery mixed with the guy from that crappy human musical about the kids who can't get their quadrants straight in high school. (Which describes a lot of human musicals. They're another thing you hate.) Cronus asks, "Who's your friend?"
"Thollux Captor," you reply at the same time that Eridan says, "A coworker." You glance at him and continue. "I heard that you worked with Crocker Corp. And becauthe you left, I'm guething anything we thay here ith confidential and I won't have droneth on my ath later."
Now it's the older Ampora's turn to raise his eyebrows. He seems interested. "Go on," he says.
"They tried to futhe a luthuth with food. I thould've noticed earlier. I think they're trying to do thomething weird to the trollth who buy it."
Cronus stares at you for what feels like an eternity. It freaks you out a little. Finally he says, "I can't believe they're trying it again."